History of the Vampire (The Vanderlind Castle Series Book 4) (18 page)

“Are any of the upstairs maids allowed downstairs?” Lilly asked, half jokingly.

“They can come down for meals and stuff,” was the reply. “But they all came over from Hungary and don’t really speak any English, so it’s not all that fun when they do.”

“Maybe we can learn to speak some Hungarian,” I suggested.

“I actually know a few words,” Millie told us. “My grandfather emigrated from there. That’s how I got this job. He walked over to the castle, knocked on the door, and introduced himself.”

“What words do you know?” Lilly asked.

Millie’s cheeks turned a little red. “Actually, most of the words I know aren’t appropriate for polite company,” she said in a low voice, and then giggled. “I guess by the time you get to the third generation, that’s all anyone remembers.”

Lilly and Millie got on like a house on fire, but I was too busy thinking to pay attention to most of the chatter. Mrs. Denkler was such a peculiar lady and the way she looked at me made me uncomfortable. “Papa, who was Empress Elisabeth?” I asked when Lilly paused for breath.

“I’m not sure.” Our father frowned a little and then smiled. “That seems a question out of the blue.”

“It’s the reason we got the jobs,” Lilly told him. “The housekeeper thinks that Lettie looks like some royal lady who was stabbed by an anarchist.”

“Oh.” Papa’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. And then he laughed. “Well.. that is one of the more peculiar reasons I’ve ever heard for someone being offered a job.”

Lilly bounced up and down, clapping her hands. “I can’t wait to tell Walter,” she exclaimed before dashing out of the room.

“You don’t seem as excited as your sister,” Papa said, turning his full attention to me.

“I’m excited,” I assured him. “Just in a different way.”

If I was being honest, Mrs. Denkler’s comments about how I looked like an Empress who had been stabbed to death unsettled me a little. I’d never found the whole idea of reincarnation very appealing. I was me. I never liked the idea of being anyone but me. Or that I could possibly be just a recycled version of someone who had lived before my time.

Chapter 24

Jessie

Tiburon was a small town in the middle of Ohio, just like any other small town in America, I had to imagine. But there was something about it that felt so right to me. There was an indefinable magic that hung in the air like pollen on a spring day.

Ever since I’d been transformed into a vampire, I found it hard to breathe. — Not that I actually needed to breathe anymore, but I felt a figurative tightness in my chest. — But as we arrived in Tiburon, in a motorcade of black sedans, I felt that tightness begin to dissipate. To my mind, becoming a member of the undead meant the end of my life. But being in Tiburon somehow made me feel like I had the chance to live again. I couldn’t have an ordinary life, but I started to feel that maybe I could somehow find happiness.

Or maybe it was just the absence of Grandfather that lifted my spirits. He’d been a black cloud hovering over the family for my entire life. I hated to be the kind of ugly person who was made happier by another person’s demise, but Grandfather was an incredibly difficult man to be around. Plus the knowledge that my beloved sister would not face the same curse of immortality as the rest of us put joy in my heart.

When my grandfather was a young man, the Vanderlind Castle was in the country. As he grew into a young man, Budapest also grew, expanding to the point that the castle was on the outskirts of town. By the time I was born, the city had swallowed up the open fields that had always surrounded the castle. Our home had become part of the metropolis.

Even though Budapest was a city with many architectural beauties, the castle always looked out of place there. It wasn’t meant to be crowded on all sides by the bustle of urban living. That’s why, when I first caught sight of the castle as we made our midnight arrival in Tiburon, it really resonated with me. The castle appeared at home; more so than it ever had in Budapest. It felt like the structure was meant to be there, majestically standing on the shores of the Tiburon River. It felt like home.

“My God,” Daniel exclaimed as we exited the cars. “Grandfather must have really been losing his marbles if he thought putting the castle here was a good idea. I’m surprised he didn’t relocate us to a swamp.”

“Stop being such a sourpuss, Daniel,” our mother gently chided him. “You might find that you grow to appreciate country living.”

My brother made a little snorting sound through his nose. “I know I’m immortal, but I doubt I’ll ever live that long.”

Mrs. Denkler was there to greet us bearing three glasses of refreshment on a tray. I don’t know how she managed to arrange for the blood already. I hoped it wasn’t through anything unsavory. But the Vanderlind housekeeper was as fastidious as she was well-mannered. I somehow doubted that she would do anything illegal. “The house is almost completely ready,” she informed us, once we exchanged the most minimal of greetings. “Except for the chandeliers in the great hall. There have been some challenges there and I’m afraid they have yet to be hung.”

“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Denkler,” our mother told her.

“I have the foreman’s promise that they’ll be in place by tomorrow afternoon,” the housekeeper insisted.

“That’s fine,” Mother said, trying to reassure her. “We’re just excited to be home.”

Mrs. Denkler stepped out of the way so that she could gesture toward the front door. “Welcome back to your home.”

It was so strange to wander the rooms of the castle, seeing each thing exactly in its place, as it had been back in Budapest. Mrs. Denkler must have had a photographic memory to been so exact. I only found the smallest of indiscretions as far as replicating the exact setup of our home. A few shirts that I liked to keep in a drawer had been hung up in the closet, and my cufflinks and shirt studs were in the wrong box. But that was all I could find. It was remarkable.

Was Mrs. Denkler really that familiar with the intimacies of my room? That surprised me. Or maybe she was just incredibly intuitive.

As dawn broke over Tiburon, I lay down on my bed, hoping to lose myself to a few hours of oblivion,— I had not yet accustomed myself to sleeping in a coffin — but rest did not come to me. I felt a great anticipation deep in my belly and the sensation prevented me from being able to lie quietly. I rolled around on the bed for a few hours, even attempting the first chapter of several books, before getting up and dressing. One of the benefits of the castle was its noticeable lack of windows. A member of the undead could climb from his coffin at midnight or at high noon and still have no fear of shriveling in the sun.

I could hear a bit of commotion coming from downstairs, so I wandered down to see what was causing the hubbub. It was a dozen workmen in the great hall trying to suspend one of the enormous chandeliers that some relative had seen fit to purchase for the castle.  Each chandelier was bedecked with over a thousand leaded crystals, which made the fixtures enormously heavy. The men had assembled scaffolding and a pulley system to hoist the chandelier up, inch-by-inch, to the vaulted ceiling. I didn’t envy them their task, but it was a marvel to watch. Many members of the castle’s staff were standing around the edges of the room in order to take in the spectacle.

I strolled across the polished stone floor with my eyes glued to the dangling crystals of the chandelier. They were all singing as they swayed and clinked together. Their music caused me a pang of sadness. I would never again see the scores of rainbows created by the prisms when they were caught in direct sunlight.

I heard a small gasp. It was like a whisper being carried by the wind. I turned my eyes to see a beautiful young woman with tresses of dark hair spilling around her shoulder. And then my world fell away.

I could see nothing and no one but her. It was as if my world had been blank and this girl appeared to fill it. She was dressed in black with a white apron. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew her clothing was significant, but somehow that didn’t matter. Somehow, deep inside of me, I knew we were meant to be together.

And she was looking at me too. Her eyes were glued to me and she wore the most astonished expression on her face. She opened her mouth and I thought she might speak to me, but then she looked up and started to scream.

I had been so captivated by the beautiful creature standing before me that I didn’t realize the workmen had somehow lost control of the massive chandelier. It was crashing toward the ground, heading for the very spot on which I stood.

If it hadn’t been for my lightning fast undead reflexes and my incredible ability to heal, I would have been squashed like a bug under a barman’s boot. Even still, I was knocked to the ground.

The young woman came running toward me. “Somebody call a doctor!” Pointing toward one of the footmen, she commanded, “Call a doctor this instant,” as if she was the mistress of the castle.

Kneeling down, she took my hand. The mere touch of her skin made me feel like my heart had started beating again. “Don’t move,” she said, in a voice that was so lovely it made me shiver. “We’re sending for a doctor.”

“I’m fine,” I told her, unable to tear my eyes away from her face.

“You’re not fine,” she insisted. “You just had a massive chandelier nearly crush you. You’re lucky to still be alive.”

“Very lucky,” I whispered, looking deep into her eyes of emerald green. “Because it allowed me to meet you.”

She laid her hand to her cheek and shook her head a little. “Oh, how can you flirt at a time like this? I think you must be in shock.” She scanned my body with an assessing eye. “I hope you don’t have any internal injuries.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, trying to untangle myself from the giant arms of the chandelier. “Perhaps a twisted ankle, but that’s all.” My ankle felt fine, but I thought it would be too peculiar if I suffered no injuries at all.

“I don’t think you should try to get up,” she told me, pressing her hands gently against my chest to try to coax me back onto the floor. “The doctor will be here soon, I’m sure.”

I lay back for a moment, toying with the idea of allowing her to tend to me for a little while longer. But I knew that plan was ungentlemanly, so I decided it was better to get to my feet. “I promise you I am not injured,” I told her. “But perhaps you could be good enough to assist me to a chair.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. As she said, put an arm around me to help me to my feet, I felt a moment of sheer happiness.

“What is your name?” I asked as she helped me to a small loveseat. Once I was seated, she tried to pull away, but I held onto her hands so that she was forced to take the seat next to me.

“Colette Gibson,” she told me. “But most people call me Lettie.”

“Colette Gibson,” I said, tasting the words in my mouth. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Colette Gibson,” I told her. “I’m Jessie Vanderlind.”

“Vander…” The girl gulped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Jessie Vanderlind.” Then she added, “But I’m horribly concerned that you’re injured. Are you sure you’re not feeling any discomfort?” she asked, her lovely brow furrowing slightly.

“I feel wonderful,” I assured her. “If I wanted to, I’m sure I could fly.”

Chapter 25

Colette

The week before school let out was excruciatingly long for me. I wasn’t even sure how I got through my final exams. In between studying, I looked up the Empress Elisabeth in an encyclopedia at the school library. It took a little research, but I finally managed to find a photograph of the Empress of Austria, who was also the Queen of Hungary. It was a snapshot of her on her coronation day, back in 1867. She was a beautiful young woman with a curvy figure. Her neck and hands were dripping with pearls and other extravagant jewelry. Her hair appeared to be dark brown in color and she had an abundant amount of it. But beyond the hair, I wasn’t sure how much the Empress and I shared in appearance. She was very beautiful, but she also looked a little forlorn as she gazed into the lens of the camera. Her eyes appeared plaintiff and solemn. It wasn’t how I imagined a person would look after just having a crown of diamonds and pearls placed on her head. I thought I might be a little happier about it. But then the encyclopedia went on to explain that she didn’t have a very happy life. And it turned out that the anarchist stabbed her simply because he had missed the opportunity to stab a Duke who claimed to be an heir to the French throne. He vowed to stab the next royal he encountered. Elisabeth was that unfortunately soul.

Even staring at her photograph, I felt no connection to her. At least not in the way that Mrs. Denkler had implied. If anything, I felt a little sorry for her, as much as a cat can feel sorry for a king. No, I was positive there was no connection beyond that. I had to conclude that the whole concept of reincarnation was simply hogwash.