The Vampire & the Reporter (2 page)

* * *

They’d definitely gone all
out;
she’d give them that much, Kyra silently acknowledged as her things were transported from the sidewalk into the horse drawn carriage. It had been a short forty-five minute ride from the airport to the quaint town of Moraga. Once there, she’d barely had a chance to sightsee before the darkening sky rumbled with thunder. Ominous clouds drifted in swiftly. Perfect!

She stepped under the awning of what appeared to be a general store. According to her itinerary, she was to wait there for her coach. She hadn’t expected it would literally be a horse drawn carriage coming for her. The driver wore a period black cloak, complete with wide brimmed hat, which he tipped before helping her into the private interior.

The inside of the coach was done in a gaudy crushed velvet material that seemed to envelope her in warmth. Despite its garish interior, she was thankful for the dry enclosure. Outside the rain pelted the carriage in a steady stream. Periodic flashes of lightning and thunder accompanied the relentless onsl
aught, yet Kyra felt completely
secure in the safety of the cocoon. She only hoped the driver fared well under the slightly enclosed shelter that probably didn’t afford much insulation from the elements.

The ride up to the castle took longer than she’d originally expected. From the town, she could see two towers reaching toward the sky and assumed that they were probably a good twenty minutes away via the horse drawn contraption. Almost an hour later, her head lolled on the soft headrest as they pulled up the long dr
ive to the
entrance.

“Mistress,
ve
are here.”

Kyra came t
o with a start, embarrassed
she’d
finally succumbed to sleep since
she’d
barely
been unable to do so
on her journey over.

“I’m sorry.” Stepping out onto the
gravel road, she gasped, struck with the complete magnificence of the castle. She stared up at the large stone walls that seemed to go on for several stories. A raindrop fell in the center of her forehead as she craned her neck to take in the gray exterior.

“My God.”

“
Ve’d
betta
get inside,” th
e driver urged from behind her.

He didn’t need to tell her twice. Moisture added to her already skewed hair
wouldn’t be a good combination.
The inside proved to be just as impressive. High ceilings, a grand staircase, granite flooring, all add
ed to its out of the dark ages appearance.
Another man dressed in Renaissance style pants and ruffled top appeared from a side
door
as if
wai
ting for their
arrival.
His sudden manifestation startled her dulled senses. She was tired and in dire need of more sleep.

“I hope
your
flight was a pleasant
one, mistress.”

“It was fine.” No need sharing with him how close she’d come to shoving her seatmate into the aisle because his bobbing head refused to stay in his designated space, or the man’s loud snoring which was unable to be blocked out by her complimentary headset.

“I am Ivan.” He bowed slightly. His English, although accented, didn’t compare with the driver’s thick
er
brogue. “Please feel free to call o
n me for any of your needs. All
the guests are getting acquainted in the parlor should you wish to join them.”

“If I could be shown to my room, I would lik
e to freshen up first.”

“Certainly, this way,” he said before picking up her bags.

Kyra followed him up the long winding sta
ircase and down a hall
illuminated
by torch-like sconces casting
e
erie shadows against the walls.

“Here you are.” He swung open a heavy wooden door which silently gave way to an oversized room.

Kyra felt a chill course through her
as she entered the dim chamber.

“I will make sure a fire is lit before you retire. This castle can be quite drafty at night. When you are ready to come down, simply pull this cord.” He indicated a tassel that seemed to drop down from the ceiling near the door. “I will come to get you.”

“I’m sure I can find my way,” Kyra protested, although she didn’t loo
k forward to traversing the dim
halls on her own.
She understood the owner was going for and authentic feel but would it really kill him to add proper lighting?

“No,”
he
said abruptly. “It is best if I come for you until you’ve
bec
ome
acquainted with
the castle. There are many places to get lost here.”

She didn’t doubt it
.
A person could get lost in the bed
room
they put her in if they weren’t careful
.

* * *

Twenty minutes later she felt half way human again, dressed in dark cotton slacks and a peach
colored
short-sleeved
,
button-up shirt that dipped into a modest V at the neck. Chalking her hair up to a loss until she could get out all of the proper accessories, she brushed her kinky tresses into a ponytail, twisting and wrapping the dangling shoulder length fluff around itself until she fashioned a neat bun.
It was far from a glamorous look but w
ith he
r being jet lagged, it was as good as it would get
. It seemed only seconds after she pulled the corded rope that Ivan was tapping gently on her door. Hell, was this man always lurking about?

Kyra entered the parlor where six other guests sat debating the week’s activities.

“So it seems our final player has arrived,” an
older man with an unmistakably
British accent stated.

“Indeed,” a woman, close to Kyra’s own twenty-nine years, added. Her bot
tle
blonde hair, in dire need of a touch up, sat stiffly around her head as if it had been overly moussed. Definitely British as well.

“May I present, Ms. Kyra Littleton?” Ivan introduced.

“You must be the American contingent,” a dark haired woman with a thick
Spanish accent stated in a friendly tone.

“I’m not sure about a contingent, but yes, I’m American,” Kyra admitted, quickly perusing the eclectic group assembled. She wasn’t surprised to find herself the only black person represented in the group. In her line of work it had become somewhat expected. Although amongst this European bunch she doubted her race would matter as much as
in
her country of origin.

Quick introductions were made and she tallied up two Brits, a French man, the Spanish woman she’d taken an instant liking to, a German man who seemed friendly enough and a short Greek fellow who looked like he’d much rather be any place else but in the castle.

“So has our illustrious host made an appearance yet?” Kyra asked, not hesitating to pour herself a cup of tea and take an empty seat on the sofa next to the French man, whose eyes seemed to linger on her breasts.

“Not yet.” Bottle blonde sounded annoyed. “
Which is really quite rude when you think of the distance I…we’ve come to participate in this show?
”

Thunder rumbled loudly outside causing the blonde to jump. Kyra smiled into her mug, taking a sip to mask her amusement.

“You are quite right
, Madame Smiley. It appears
I have neglected my guests long enough
today
.
I apologize for my absence, there were some pressing matters which required my undivided attention.
” The distinctly Romanian accented voice reverberated against the walls, although the man who suddenly appeared had not raised his voice above the average tone. Several gasps went up around the room,
mostly female,
accompanied by the clanking of goblets and cups.

Kyra wasn’t sure if the responses were from the unannounced manifestation of the man or from the shock of his overall form. He stood several i
nches over
six feet;
what promised to be a slender but muscular physique was
shrouded in Renaissance
attire. Normally Kyra didn’t go in for costumes
but on him it worked. Straight dark
hair hung
in
disarray
but instead of looking unkempt and boy bandish it was distinctly masculine on him.
A
pronounced
but rounded
nose jutted out
from
underneath
deep-set eyes that appeared to be green
in color, although Kyra couldn’t be certain without a closer look.

Hubba hubba
, s
he didn’t try to harness the thought that came instantly to mind. The man was a hottie with a capital H.

His gaze
fixed on her for several seconds and she paused, wondering if she’d actually communicated her thoughts out loud. It wouldn
’t be the first time. Hell, it
was how she’d caught William’s attention. He’d walked passed her at a charity function and there, in front of a room full of do gooders, she’d commented on how nicely he filled out a pair of pants.

Enough!

Kyra stared unblinki
ngly at their new arrival. Had he just spoke
or was it her imagination?

“I am glad
you could all make it for the w
eek’s festivities. I am Dumitri
Dracul, and I personally welcome you to my home.”

“Mr. Dracul, why exactly have you chosen to open your castle
after all this time
?” the Spanish woman began.

“As I have stated in numerous press conferences, I hope to attract tourism to this
region of t
he world, but please, I ask
you save your questions until the last day of our adventure. It is my hope that once you have enjoyed your journey in Dracula’s castle you will be able to write up a report based on your firsthand experiences.”

“What exactly does this journey entail?” Kyra finally found her voice.

“All i
n due time, my dear.” He zeroed in on her
again.

All in due time
, he repeated, but she could have sworn his mouth hadn’t moved.

Chapter Two

Kyra stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, not recognizing the woman in the white chemise who stared back at her. The skintight bodice of the garment pushed her already ample breasts to the forefront. She
knew if she breathed too deeply
they would spill out over the
top.

You are beautiful.

She turned to the vaguely familiar voice although she was fairly certain the sound came from within her head. The swift motion caused the material to billow around her ankles as she twirled.
Dumitri Dracul stood there
minus the filmy white shirt he’d worn earlier.
Bare chested
he was amazing, trimmed to
m
uscular perfection. He wasn’t large like
William
’s more bearesque stature
but was far from being a slouch.

“What are you doing here?”

“I coul
d not wait another night to see
you,
meu dulciuri
. I hav
e been denied
you far
too long, not knowing you had come
into existence.
”

“What do you mean come into existence? I don’t understand.”

“You will, but now is not the time for talking.”

This isn’t real
, she silently chanted as she took
cautious step
s backward.
She didn’t even own a nightgown like that
for God’s sake.