Tale of the Century Bride Complete: Historical Vampire Paranormal Romance Box Set (10 page)

“Are you asleep my love?” Count August asked her, no sooner than Catherine was repositioned.

Her eyes still hung about, though she grinned to his wavering voice. “No,” she said, in a playful, cheery tone. “I was waiting on you to make your presence known.”

He grinned at her as she continued to lay still. It was as if he gazed upon her for the first time all over again. His strides were silent as he made way to her bedside, crouching to a knee where he removed the drying rag from her forehead.

“What is this?” he asked, holding the rag ahead of her. “Are we feeling a bit under the weather?”

It was the way she hoped it would begin. If it had been a dream, then her dream would soon come true.

Catherine pried her sleepy eyes apart. There was no other way to say it to him but, “We’re having a baby.”

The Count stayed completely still, still crouched by her bed. The incredible words that had just pierced his highly sensitive ears, were that of which he had never thought to have been mentioned in his eternal lifespan. Beyond his understanding to digest the unimaginable, he could do nothing but wonder.

He wondered of how this could be possible, was it possible, and if so, then, could it have meant that he was blessed by a creator that he despised because of his timeless tribulation. His clan of vampire was thrown to the earth through the bolt of a lightning strike, through the fire of that which it created, and molded from the clay there forth. Not bred from the womb of a mortal woman. He could only gaze his sights toward the moon and remain silent, as if to be in prayer.

“What’s wrong?” Catherine asked. She reached out her arm to adorn his beautiful face with the palm of her hand.

Count August pulled away and rose to his feet. “How could this be possible?” he asked. “Are you sure? Have you spoken with anyone about this?”

“Well, my family… the twins and Colleen, but―”

“Have you spoken with anyone that would know for certain?”

“Why no, I’ve been here all day.”

Count August gently removed the quilt from over Catherine. He lifted her silk nightgown and wearily placed his hand upon her stomach. He closed his eyes as he touched her – he could sense life. He could sense death as well. If she was indeed impregnated with his seed, then he would be able to feel the unborn presence of his offspring that he never knew he was feasible to conceive.

It came as a shock to Catherine, the way he drew back so quickly and put his fingertips ahead of his eyes. Her mouth dropped. She sat up on her bed and watched as he stormed toward the window and took a long look, gazing upward to the dark, angry clouds in the sky. She wondered what was on his mind.

“This… this explains the clouds moving in.” he said, almost as if in a trance.

“How could that be?” she asked. “The clouds were here before we even―”

He stopped her before she could finish. “Yes. That is true. But they remained here without movement. Very unlike a normal cloud. Now they move within the days passing. I’ve been there.”

“You’ve been where?” Catherine asked.

“Beyond the mountainous region of Jotenheim, Home of the Giants… It began with a volcanic eruption promoted by the core of the Earth. But it all started with Him. He is the one who made this possible.”

“He… who… who are you talking about, August?”

“God,” Count August said, looking to Catherine. “A war has been forged with the merger of vampires and Werewolves. This has been foreseen and foretold by my ancestors and passed on over the centuries.”

“But I don’t understand? What are you talking about?” Catherine asked her husband, trying to understand the magnitude of his statements.

“Deleon of Mahesh spoke of Dalmar coming under siege by this new legion merger. And under the full moon, on the 30th night after his death, the legion he had hoped to betake our stronghold fell to the swords of mortal men with my lead.”

“Then the war you speak of is now over.” Catherine asked hopefully.

“No, the war has yet to come,” he corrected his sick bride.

“But when?” Catherine asked.

He did not answer. He remained silent as he strolled back to her bedside, knelt and took her hands within his own. He kissed her fingertips, her knuckles and the back of her hand. His voice was calm, yet she could tell that it held some concern.

He said, “Listen to me Catherine. And listen to me well, for this will come as a shock to me and you both. We will have a son. He will be given birth to in the shadows.”

“But how do you know it’s a…” Catherine interrupted the Count.

Count August continued, “The bank of cloud that travels this way is not only ash clouds, but they bring with it the safety measures of much nightfall without sunlight. So in preparation for this season to come… we must salvage as much food, water and livestock as we can, for the land will soon be covered in dust. And just after that, a famine will triumph over that which is in this world… and of many who will be lost within it.”

The Count stopped for a moment, and looked into Catherine’s eyes as if he were calculating whether or not she understood what he had just told her before he went on. “When the darkness feeds on what the light cannot remember, and our innocent child is developed, we shall train him in all the continued existence skills in which is needed for him to become a great and auspicious leading light of his people, here in Dalmar, or wherever he shall rule after our reign comes to its closing legs. My love, this is prophecy.”

“But August, I have never heard of this prophecy…” Catherine said.

“And that is how it was meant to be. Only a few other immortals, other than myself, know of it. I would have never known it to be the inheritance of my family background, for there are many who knew of this coming, but none of which knew who would be chosen to carry on this life-altering task.”

Catherine reached for him again, wanting to comfort her husband as he was obviously distraught. He took her hands in his and kissed her hands repeatedly before he continued.

“Just a moment ago, I felt him growing inside of you, my love. And he listens to my words as they are spoken. For if you do not have a natural birth… then all will be nowhere to be found on the day of his emergence.” Count August clamped his eyes shut and lowered his head, rising from his knee. “It is not only I… that has been blessed. It is also you… having to give birth to a king.”

Catherine was speechless. She had so many questions. But she did not know where to start.

Count August Cornelius opened his eyes and gazed into Catherine’s deep blues. He took his time gathering the right words to utter. When he spoke again, it was with high regards. He said, “You have brought to fruition my every desire Catherine Cornelius, Countess of Dalmar. And for that, my darling love, I am exceptionally gratified.”

The world had begun to change right before their very eyes. It was out of the question to know how long the famine would carry on. No one could tell them that. And for that raison d’être, everyone was made aware of what was to take place in regards to preparation.

The townsfolk formed lines toward the castle’s main gates. On their backs, the men carried large sacks of perishables; seeds and grains. Carriages moved the young in loads, and horses dragged wood and other edible means of survival. They gathered in the courtyard and waited to be assisted by the Count and Countesses most trusted residents and knights. They were all addressed on their skill sets, and the most valuable of citizens gained access to the castle’s grounds for surety that their bloodline would prosper after the worst that was yet to come.

During this time the residents of Dalmar castle, and the village outside the stone walls, gathered their precious metals and valuables, stored their foods and water within the castle’s underground dungeon which soon became the storage quarters. The storage room became a tight fit, filled nearly to its capacity, much sooner than they would have liked.

Cored and Alice, along with the other small children of Dalmar, were commissioned to partake in the duties of delivering the food to their rightful owners during feeding time. It was nearly out of the question for anyone to travel through, but easy enough for a child to maneuver. This carried on nonstop in the days before darkness loomed overhead.

It was exactly the way that Count August had said that it would be. The birth of their son, Artois Sebastien Cornelius, took place underneath the shelter of the volcano’s smoke. The miraculous delivery happened in the master quarters. It rained ashes on that miraculous day, all day long.

The land was soon covered in black dust, the crops withered, the lakes, rivers and streams were tainted long before they completely vanished, and people died. Many people died. And this darkness reigned victorious over the sun for seven long, scrutinizing years.

To leave out into the most unforgiving of days would mean the threat, with a high probability, of a self-tormenting end of life expectancy. Terrible and ferocious living creatures roamed the land, and ran rabid, scurrying for somewhere to live, pillaging for refuge to escape the atrocious weather; attacking the people in a blood lust frenzy.

Humans were now the only natural spring of nourishment. That is, until they were hard to find. Then the animals became predators to themselves for continued existence. Masked marauders invaded, but were quickly subdued in their plights to overthrow what remained of the people within the outskirts of the castle.

It was their desperate, unplanned and feral attacks and mortified decisions that cemented the way to their unperceived deaths. It was as if cloud nine, the one above the current ash cloud, had left in the lurch the land in which all of the people knew.

Artois grew at an unprecedented rate – he basically aged four years to one regular calendar year. No one knew how long this would last, since he was the only one of his kind, but for now his compressed growth rate was welcomed. Trained by August and Catherine and her mother as well, he was soon an expert in archery, sword fighting and hunting. He was also a great mason, and an assassin, and for his size, his strength was unparalleled.

It was by design that he was taught so much so that he could become so well rounded, because no one knew what may be expected of him in the years to come. Well, in all actuality, he really became the greatest assassin known to man that the remaining survivors of Dalmar ever knew. A combination of his mother’s love and his father’s strength, made him one of the most prestigious characters of all the land that remained after the days of the ash cloud.

Of course, they expected that his cravings for blood would soon emerge. As if what vampire does not crave or desire to be nourished with fresh blood? Because of this, both Count August and young Artois drank the blood of the marauders who came across their path. When there were no captives in the prison tower, a resident of the castle would sacrifice themselves as repayment to the royal couple’s deliverance, and to preserve the livelihood of their offspring and, more than likely, those to come.

As the children of Castle Dalmar aged, Artois led them in training under his watchful eyes. The twins, Alice and Cored, became his most trusted aids. They were his right hand in arms, trained by his side and traveled the lands as his pride and joy. They were now his brother and sister, adopted by Catherine and August, years ago, after the death of their father.

A new world was surfacing through the cracks of the planet; a new world filled with new enemies and strangely evolved animals. These new species of reptilians and mammals were vicious and unimaginable. They struck without warning, their sight adapted to the night. And they all craved blood. Everything and everyone, who had not planned ahead, but survived the darkest of the coldest days until now, were now savage and merciless themselves.

On one particular crusade that was formed to protect the inhabitants of Dalmar, Count August was nearly murdered, in fact, by one of these newly evolved beasts. This crusade left the castle vulnerable. There were only but a few knights to stand guard over the survivors, in which Catherine’s mother and sisters perished in the losing fight for their lives.

15 years after the plague…

“Victory!” Artois yelled, as he pulled his broad sword from the neck of a two-headed wolf. It was three times the size of the average beast that once roamed the land, with powerful claws that were known to dig in rocks.

His long and dark matted hair, his strong face and steel armor, were nearly concealed in blood. All of who survived the battle were bloody and fatigued. As he looked around the war-struck plains, to the dead of animals and man combined, through the fire and smoke of a torn land, tattered in gore, he found his father; he had emerged with the help of a group of knights of Dalmar.

“Let’s see what precious jewels these marauders have left us.” Cored said as he strolled up to Artois’s left.

Alice sucked her teeth, not at all interested in her brother’s suggestion. “Come on Cored, really? Leave it alone.”

They were still together. After all those years, these three were inseparable.

“We have enough, brother. We shall let the knights gather the valuables.” Artois said. “For us, we will soon feast at the table with mother.”

“That’s a better plan if any, my son.” August said as he neared. “The four of us should head home before sunrise.”

The group of four mounted their mares and headed back to Castle Dalmar. Upon reaching the castle’s drawbridge, they were met by Colleen. She was frantic, hollering at the top of her lungs; something about, “Come quick, she doesn’t have long.”

“Calm down, Colleen,” August said to her. “What’s the problem?” he asked.

“The Countess,” Colleen cried, her red eyes filled with panic. “Come quick, the Countess… the Countess has been attacked.”

Without another word, August and his children flew through the castle’s gates. Once in the courtyard, August stood on the saddle of his mare and leaped through the air, headed straight to the window of the master quarters that they had shared for years. Alice, Cored and Artois, demounted their mares within the main hall and hurried up the stairs. No one knew what to expect when they got there.