Revamped (2 page)

The second law was created by the US Vampire Council and stated that “no vampire, under any circumstances, was permitted to turn a human”. The rule was not established for the protection of humans, but rather, to maintain the exclusivity of the vampire race. After all, vampires were now the new celebrities; they were invited to all the best parties, followed everywhere by paparazzi, and even offered starring roles in the latest films. The vampire council, headed by my father, President Alastair Fairchild, was in charge of preserving this exclusivity; though its efforts often went unnoticed. After all, the humans were not interested in some politician’s way of life. The public only had eyes for the young, good-looking vampires who were living life in the fast-lane and gracing the pages of tabloids. According to my father, “the good, dark days when vampires had a little more dignity and were not such sellouts, were long gone.”

Frowning at the curtains, but declining to close them, my father stood up from behind his desk and slowly approached me.

“Dawn,” he said with an air of regality. “I’ve called you here for a very serious matter. I trust I can count on your help.”

I nodded obediently. It was not a question, but an order. Being the president’s only child—his star warrior—it wasn’t like I had any other choice. All my life, my father had only cared about three things: my safety, my education, and my training. I spent most of my childhood and young adulthood on the Scarlet House grounds, working on strengthening my mind and body. Before I could even walk, I began combat training. The skills I learned drew from a combination of ancient martial art disciplines, as well as more contemporary battle techniques.

Weapons were my specialty. By age ten, I was wielding a katana in one hand, and a crossbow in the other. My father flew in tutors from every corner of the world to ensure that I was well-versed on every subject that ever existed. Foreign languages had always been my favorite. I loved the charm and musicality of language, my tongue and lips ravenously indulging in each new word.

Satisfied by my compliance, my father relaxed a little, offering me a sincere smile. “Good. Thank you, Dawn.”

He placed one of his large hands on my shoulder and patted me awkwardly. I stiffened, surprised by his touch. Never having been one to show much affection, my father was apparently just as startled as I by this uncharacteristic gesture. His green eyes widened as he pulled his hand away, briskly striding back to his desk. The brown leather chair gave out a small sigh as his burly frame settled into it once again.

“So, what’s up?” I asked, plopping myself into a seat across from him. I attempted to seem casual, all the while, my shoulder burned. Most nineteen-year-olds, both human and vampire, would not think twice about a pat on the shoulder from their dad, but for my father that was a first. I never doubted that he cared deeply for me, but he made certain that there was always a firm emotional barrier between us.

One day, many years ago, I accidentally overheard him arguing with my nanny, Miss Elisa, about this particular subject matter. I was on my way to his chambers to show him a new weapon that I had acquired from my trainer, when I caught their hushed voices mentioning my name. I froze in front of the closed office door, pressing my ear against the fine wood. Without much strain, my superior hearing had enabled me to listen in on the conversation.

“You need to be more affectionate towards Dawn!” I could almost imagine Elisa pacing back and forth as she spoke. “The poor child is growing up without a mother and you treat her like a soldier,” she said furiously. The most admirable thing about my nanny was her ability to, regardless of the circumstances, always speak her mind.

“I can’t get close.” The agony in my father’s voice made me flinch. “She reminds me too much of
her
!”

I quickly pulled away from the door, stifling back tears. Those few little words stung more than I could ever have anticipated. I didn’t dare stay and eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation, painfully assuming that my father was referring to my mother; the woman who, I was told, died shortly after giving birth to me.

Thinking about my mother always left me with an empty, aching void in my chest. To this day, she was a taboo subject within the walls of the Scarlet House. There were no pictures of her in our home, and while I desperately yearned to learn anything I could, the only thing I knew with certainty was that, like me, she had been one of the special vampires—
The Born
.

Vampires exist in two varieties—
The
Born
and
The Made.
My father, along with most vampires in the world, was part of the Made group; those who were once human and were turned by their vampire sires through an exchange of blood in death. There has always been much speculation regarding this procedure, but the only way for a human to be successfully turned is for him or her to ingest vampire blood in their dying moment. Because of the complex timing of this procedure—the human must have vampire blood coursing through the body as his or her heart stops—the turn is often made out of a loving gesture between the individual and his or her sire.

The Born, on the other hand, are actually born vampires. Most vampires cannot have children, but in rare circumstances a Born vampire can give birth to another Born. This occurs as a result of a union between a Born and a vampire she has sired with her own blood. The offspring of the couple—always a daughter—is a being more powerful than any Made vampire. The Born grows and ages much like a human child, and if she does not give birth, she continues out her lifespan and perishes in old age. Upon giving birth to another Born, however, the mother is frozen in time at that particular age for all eternity.

In total, only about five vampires are born in the world in every generation. Though their origin is unknown, most legends state that they are the direct descendants of Dracula himself. The Born are the envy of the entire vampire population, not just for their power, but also because they have the opportunity to choose a more human life. They’re able to experience birth, and even death of old age, if they so desire. Unfortunately, the downside to a vampire giving birth is that it is a very dangerous feat and most, like my mother, lose their own life in the process of bringing forth another.

The only time that I had ever gotten close to learning about my mother had been on the eve of my sixteenth birthday. As Miss Elisa carefully brushed out my long hair—a bedtime ritual we developed when I was too young to remember and had carried on over the years—I begged her to tell me everything she knew about Zora Fairchild. They had been old friends, and I was yearning to learn anything I possibly could about the woman who gave her life in exchange for mine.

“Your mother was extraordinary in every way,” Elisa began, her blue eyes brimming with memories of a time long ago. “She was full of life, so kind and loving. She adored your father and she would have loved you with all her heart if she had gotten a chance to meet you.”

“Tell me more about her,” I whispered, fearing that if I spoke out loud, it would break Elisa’s trance. To my relief, she continued to speak.

“Zora was graceful and charming, but also very child-like,” she said, smiling wistfully at the recollection. “Her laugh sounded like a thousand little bells going off at once.”

“What did she look like?” I pressed, more bravely.

“She was very pretty,” Elisa said, looking at my face intently. I straightened my shoulders and I lifted my chin in an attempt to emulate an air of confidence and regality I had always attributed to the imaginary Zora within my mind.

As if she knew exactly what I was doing, Elisa smiled sadly. “Zora was extremely slight, only about five feet tall and very pale, with straight white-blond hair,” she explained.

“So, she looked nothing like me?” I asked, blinking back burning tears.

“Oh, Dawn!” Elisa’s voice suddenly became stronger. “You are your father’s daughter. You’re taller and have darker hair than your mother. And you’re even more beautiful—the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

When she realized that the flattery did not appease me, Elisa quickly added, “But you two did have one special thing in common,” she gushed, stroking my cheek lovingly. “Your eyes! I’ve never seen anyone else with eyes the color of amethysts.”

I brightened at the prospect of sharing something so unique with my mother, but was suddenly overcome by a darker, more chilling thought.

“If my mother was one of the Born, and my father was made vampire by her in 1856, then how did she give birth to me in 1996? The Born don’t stop aging until they have a child.” Numbers and equations ran through my head at lightning speed. “She would have been over a hundred-and-fifty-years-old by the time I came into the world!”

Elisa fell silent. For a long time, she just sat there, nervously running her fingers back and forth over her lips, as if racking her brain for something clever to tell me. She was about to speak, when my father entered the room, startling us both, and causing Elisa to jump out of her seat.

She bent her head to mine, urgently whispering, “Dawn, your birth was a complicated procedure. Now be a good girl and don’t ask any more questions. You don’t want to upset your father.” She never said another word about my mother or my birth again, and I never dared to ask.

Now, sitting in my father’s office, across from the only man who knew everything there was to know about my mother, I wondered if I would ever gather enough courage to ask the many questions I had surrounding the mystery of my birth.

“Dawn? Are you still with me?” my father asked, pulling me back into the present with a sudden jolt.

I quickly focused my eyes back on his face and nodded.

“Good. I have something very important to show you.” He opened the door of a massive wooden cabinet, revealing a large flat-screen television.

I stifled a chuckle. Here was a man trying to
keep up appearances
by hiding from the sun and using candle chandeliers, who, at the same time dispensed assignments on big-screen, high-definition televisions.

With a click of a remote, images of a quaint little town began to flash in front of us.

“Angel Creek, population nine-hundred,” my father narrated. “Over the past three years, all nine-hundred of those human lives were protected by a group of five extremely powerful vampires. They were known throughout the town as the
Fab Five
.”

My eyes widened at the sight on the screen. Two tall, slender female vampires and three strikingly muscular male vampires strutted down a small street. Their luscious hair swayed in the wind as their chiseled faces and toned bodies moved from side to side in rhythmic motion. The five looked like they had stepped directly out of the latest fashion magazine, or perhaps as if they belonged in some high-end perfume ad. As they paraded by a bright blue sign with the words
Welcome to Angel Creek
inscribed on it in white, I could no longer contain my laughter. My father shot me a disapproving glare.

“Yes, they were young and good-looking, but they had more skill and power than some of our most seasoned teams,” he explained, his voice somber. “More importantly, they were adored by the humans in town.”

I didn’t even have to use my imagination to decipher what that meant. I was bombarded by images of the hotshots in various compromising positions with an assortment of their human peers. No amount of eye-rolling on my part could convince my father to turn off the television until the clip finished playing.

“A week ago, it all came to an end. The council summoned the Fab Five to New York City to aid our army forces in a covert operation against a legion of rebel vampires. Once they arrived in the city, things completely unraveled.” My father’s voice was grave, his face solemn.

“They were killed by the rebels?” Even though I fought it, I couldn’t hide the panic in my voice. I had always known peace among the vampires in my home country and around the world. At the same time, I was well aware of the gruesome tales of unrest and war from my father’s initial years as president in the early 1900’s.

My father frowned. “No, they weren't killed, Dawn. Didn't I say they were strong and skilled?” he sighed. “The Fab Five quit the organization for other pursuits,” he explained slowly. “A couple of them were cast in the
Next Vamp Idol
—that new program looking for hot young vampire triple threats. The others flew to Europe for
Transylvania Shore
.”

I stared at him blankly.

“You know, the
television
shows?” he offered. “You must have seen them on TV.”

I shook my head. “I can’t say that I spend much time watching TV.” Then, a little more teasingly, I added, “But I’m glad to see that the President does.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Dawn.” A sheepish expression crossed my father’s face. “It’s for
research
purposes,” he said. “And, it’s reality television at its best.”

I simply smiled, opting to let this one slide. After all, having dedicated his entire existence to his presidency and the vampire public, my father did deserve a break occasionally.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “Angel Creek has lost its guardians. Without a group of vampires to protect the town, the humans are vulnerable. There has been peace among our people for a long time, but we have recently been receiving reports that rebel vamp groups are popping up in various areas across the country. While our council is strong and we have ensured protection of large cities, it’s the small towns that are at risk. We can’t take our chances. We need to defend the humans and maintain peace between our two worlds,” he said firmly. The man in front of me was no longer a reality-show fanatic, but was once again a powerful leader, well-respected and admired by vampires and humans around the world.

“Unfortunately, many young vampires are leaving their assigned posts in rural towns to chase after their dreams in the big cities. We have lost countless talented warriors this year to vampire casting calls in Hollywood and even charitable organizations like
Vamps Without Borders
,” he sighed dejectedly, rubbing his temples. “And that doesn’t even factor in the human love affairs we’re constantly faced with.”