The Vampire & the Reporter

The Vampi
re

&

the
Reporter

Nia K. Foxx

After Dark Press, LLC

Prologue

Of all the hokey things Kyra Littleton had ever participated in, and as a reporter she’d been invol
ved in her fair share of crazy situations
, this one had to take the cake. Here she was on a red
eye flight to Europe, but was she
heading somewhere romantic like France or Italy? Hell, she’d even take Amsterdam. No, she was bound for Eastern Europe, or more precisely, Transylvania. Why? Because her superiors thought it would be a great idea for her to do a Halloween feature on the history of vampires.
And w
here better to get
first-hand
knowledge than the
mythological
motherland of all the
infamous
fanged creatures?

She would stay in a fully functioning castle with several
other
invited guests who
she supposed
eagerly awaited a view of the famed home of Vilhelm Dracul. According to local legend, Vilhelm, not his cousin Vlad the Impaler, was in fact the man behind the Dracula myth
os.

Vilhelm Dracul had
lived over five hundred years ago in the historic castle with his family and several servants, all of whom mysteriously vanished
one night
. For years
after
the
disappearance the castle
rem
ained vacant and
the me
mory of the Dracul family faded in
to
obscurity
;
until almost a century later when random murders began to ravage the nearby village. Suspicious that the killers were hiding in the abandoned relic, the local constable, along with several angry villagers, reopened the long forgotten ruins. Despite its outward appearance, it was reported that the castle’s interior remained in pristine condition as
if it were still maintained by its former
staff of servants. However, a thorough investigation of the castle failed to reveal anyone in residence.

Unsatisfied with his findings, the constable and a small band of men began a nightly vigil to determine if their murderers had found a secret entrance into the fortress. Each night a group would go out, and each night they would return shy a man or two. Frightened, the town’s people took matters into
their own hands by torching the castle in a
mi
d-afternoon celebration. For nearly two
centuries the ruins lay
as
a reminder of the atrocities
visited on the small community.

In 1781, construction began over the ashes of the old castle, much to the surprise of the locals who watched in silent awe as an exact replica
of the former structure
was erected. Although generations had passed since the murders and subsequent destruction, many people in the now thriving town felt a sense of unease at having the gruesome historical reminder reconstructed to loom over their homes.

The years to come proved
hist
ory didn’t always repeat itself; t
he castle changed hands to various descendants of the Dracul family, eventually employing many people from the town, once again, to handle the day-to-day maintenance required for its upkeep. While its pre
sent owner was rumored to split his time between homes in both Europe and the Mediterranean
, over the last two years he’d spent an unprecedented amount of it in Transylvania while he completed a project aimed to spark tourism to the forgotten community.

“Do you know ho
w many people would like an all-
expenses
paid trip to somewhere exotic?” her editor had asked when Kyra voiced her objections to the assignment.

“If you want to send me somewhere exotic, how about Morocco or Turkey? I’m sure I can find all types of wonderful stor
ies there. Why me
anyway
? I’m sure
anyone else can do this, would probably even want the assignment. Why now, when I’ve met the man who could quite possibly be the one? For God’s sake, I d
on’t even write tourism columns,
”
she rant
ed, not pausing to take a break until she ran out of steam.

“Number one, you’re a damned good reporter. Two, you’re not working on anything right now that can’t take a back burner. Besides, the new boss doesn’t want the traditional tourist piece; he wants something fresh and new from a novice traveler. Three, the new owner, Mr. Dracul requested you personally.”

“Why would he want me?”

She’d shrugged. “I guess he’s a fan of your work. The bottom line is I need you on that flight at the end of the week.”

***

“Like I had much of a choice,” Kyra muttered to herself as she squeezed her way into the plane’s narrow aisle en-route to the bathroom.
She
sent up a silent thank you to the powers-that-be at finding the
pantry sized rom
vacant.
Not only was she on her way across the ocean to a city whose name was synonymous with
undead bloodsuckers and
cult-like murders, but she’d also had a fight with William
, her current boyfriend,
over leaving town j
ust before his first pre-season
game.
They were on the last leg of their journey, and cabin fever was in full effect from the lengthy flight with a space-hording seatmate.
First class just didn’t carry the same meaning when you
r neighbor ignored the fact
it would be two people sharing the
not so
personal space
of the double leather seats
.
Her dark caramel reflection in the mirror looked as tired as she felt. Tig
ht curly tendrils had escaped her single braid and
looked as if she’d sle
pt on it
for days
. Her only hope was
the new boss would be kind enough to wait until his guests had a good night’s rest before requiring them to be social.

Her coffee-colored, almond shaped gaze
stared back at her in the mirror and
did a
s she performed a
slo
w assessment of her face. Not packing
her mak
eup in her carry-on was a mistake
. A little color to her plump lips, perhaps a bit of eyeliner, several swipes f
rom her brush and she could pass for
human again.
But she had none of that with her and was
truly a lost cause.

Kyra
took extra time in the bathroom to give herself a little alone time, no doubt the guy next to her had found a reason to spill his way into her seat in her absence. It was a battle she didn’t relish taking on
, again
. Kyra
sagged against the locked door
wanting the flight to be over; better still wanting to be back in Chicago. For a few seconds her mind drifted and she
found herself wondering
wha
t William was doing
. The thought was quickly banished by renewed irritation;
why
should she even care
since
he hadn’
t bothered to see her off or even return her calls
.
Typical, his superstar attitude had definitely begun to consume their relationship and she was starting to feel more like a personal assistant than a girlfriend.
When she got back to Chicago, she would
have to
reevaluate
their relationship.
Kyra
sighed heavily
. A week wouldn’t be too long,
in fact
it would pass in a heartbeat if she loosened up and allowed herself to have a bit of fun.