The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) (25 page)

’m not sure when exactly I fell asleep that night. But, I can say it was sometime after midnight. It was one of those blissful experiences of slipping out of a tired mind and into the world of wonderful dreams. I loved the way it started; I ran through a field of golden wheat up to my waist. Racco waited for me with his arms opened wide. His muscular chest was exposed within his unbuttoned, long-sleeved white shirt, like what the men in France wore two centuries ago.

But, then something happened in the dream. Darkness descended rapidly from an ominous cloud above, and Racco turned away in terror. He ran for his life, screaming, while the darkness increased and filled my vision. Frigid air embraced me, and I felt the icy surface of a stone floor beneath the tips of my toes, and the unforgiving contours of a primitive wooden chair under my butt.

“Well, how nice-e-e-e!” rumbled a deep, and unfortunately, familiar voice. “Txema, you decided to drop by for another visit-t-t-t!”

“What? No way in hell would I ever want to visit with
you
, you sick bastard!” I hissed, while part of me worried that my mouth would surely bring a quick and premature end to my life—regardless of the fact I knew this was a dream. A very real and terrifying experience, but a dream nonetheless. A horrid nightmare, more like it. “Why don’t you get out of my head and go screw yourself, and leave me the hell alone?“

The rumble deepened, becoming a guttural laugh. At the same time, the darkness lifted. I found myself sitting in the same damned room I visited in my last encounter with the demon vampire named Ralu.

“As much as I appreciate your discomfort with my presence, you are in no position to make such a demand!” he replied, his tone icy with contempt.

I could make out his huge lumpy shape sitting behind the primitive desk I had seen in my last dream with him. The fire, which blazed so brightly in the fireplace during my previous visit, was a mere collection of smoldering coals. The short flames rising from the embers barely illuminated the room, but I could tell by the ornate tapestries that it was indeed the same chapel from my last ‘Ralu experience.’ Streams of moonlight poured through the stained glass windows, more light coming in than the last time I was “here.”

“There’s nothing you can do to make me become some defiled blood princess for you!” I was in no mood to go through the same shit as last time. If this son of a bitch was going to slice my throat open again, I wanted him to do it right away so I could wake up and be done with this nightmare.

“It is the
only
way you will survive, Txema!” he retorted, allowing himself to chuckle sardonically before going on. “Otherwise, you
will
die when Gustav’s kingdom is overthrown. It is inevitable that my army, which is growing in numbers every night, will become too great a force for your measly protectors to overcome. When they are destroyed, I will add your pretty face to my collection!”

I could feel the depth of his hatred as he said this, which made me wonder why in the hell he would even offer me a privileged place in his kingdom in the first place. His chuckle grew steadily into a fit of laughter as he threw his head back. His facial features looked more hideous than I previously recalled, stretched grotesquely as his malicious joy reverberated off the walls and filled the air around me.

“I will leave you with two things to consider during the last days of your pitiful existence!” he sneered, once the laughter faded. “Gustav’s centuries of uncontested prosperity and tyranny will finally end before dawn, two days hence. That is the first thing to remember, Txema, and you can tell them all that the alchemist’s preferred residence will be nothing more than a charred pile of wood and rubble. My army of thirty thousand angry souls is on the way, getting closer to you each night.”

He waited for me to acknowledge his warning before going on, and I offered a weak nod. The picture in my mind of an enormous mass of nosferatu vampires storming the castle in the darkest hours of the night scared the holy shit out of me—which brightened the mirthful grin on his face.

“Here is something else that will give you reason to reconsider my offer, if I am so inclined to extend it again in the near future,” he said, and in the next instant his shadow shifted. I gasped when I found him standing less than a foot away. There was no escape from the decaying flesh scent wafting toward me. “Meet your cousins, Sorne and Nere!”

Before my mind fully understood what he meant, he pulled out two severed heads from his cloak and laid them at my feet. He made sure to position their horrified expressions to where I could see them clearly, bathed in the light from a slender moonbeam. They both looked quite similar to me, with hazel eyes frozen in terror, and their mouths opened in the screams that must’ve taken place right before their heads were separated from their bodies. Although I had no way of knowing which one was Sorne or Nere, one of them had their neck severed low enough to see the familiar birthmark.

I screamed.

“It must be something in the family that makes you all uncooperative,” he said, seemingly unaffected by the screeching that poured out of my open mouth. “Well, at least they will not be alone much longer… unless you come to your senses and join us, Txema. Join us before it is too
late!”

He laughed again, and this time he didn’t restrain himself. He gave in to an even more uproarious fit, one that grew louder by the moment. All the while I screamed, and neither my hoarse cries nor his gleeful cacophony stopped—not until the world around me went black.

he last time I had a dream like this, I immediately awoke in a panic, grasping desperately at my throat to make sure it was still intact. Not this time. Instead, I slumbered in apparent uneventful peace, although scientists insist we dream all night long. The thing I remembered most, upon waking, were the bleeding heads of my cousins, as they laid lifeless near my feet.

I awoke just before 11:00 a.m., which gave me an hour to prepare for my noon rendezvous with Racco. Even though I bathed the night before, I decided to linger in the shower, letting the soft jets and waterfalls pour over me. I guess I hoped to wash away the memory of my most recent nightmare, while trying to savor the dream image of Racco’s bare muscular chest. I wondered if that part was an accurate representation, and whether or not in a few hours I would find myself in a warm embrace, stroking the soft, dark hair so openly displayed.

After dressing in the outfit left for me the night before, I headed downstairs to the foyer. Unlike last night, when I saw vampires frolicking throughout the castle during my tour, and human servants hustling about to meet the seemingly endless demands for one item or another, the place was deserted. Only the echo from a door closing, somewhere along the grand corridor behind me, interrupted the stillness that surrounded me.

No sign of Racco. With a few minutes to spare, I didn’t worry about whether he stood me up or not. However, I started to consider that notion seriously once a large grandfather clock chimed twelve o’clock.

Fortunately, the clock’s gothic chimes drew my attention to its glass case. Another envelope peered out through the door of the pendulum case. Smaller than the one left for me the previous night, it bore my name in script cursive. Also, unlike last night’s invitation, this one bore a red wax seal with a lion’s head pressed into it.

Of course, I opened it without delay. Racco’s favored cologne drifted toward me from the note.

My dearest Txema. If you are ready for a delightful afternoon, step outside and allow Mercel to lead you to your seat next to mine. Racco.

Intrigued where this latest invitation would lead, I immediately headed for the castle’s main entrance, slightly surprised when the heavy medieval door opened easily, perhaps enabled by an electronic sensor I noticed on the wall to my right near the doorway.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Ybarra! Right this way, please!”

Despite the temperature in the mid-fifties from what I could tell, Mercel was dressed similar to me, wearing a full snowsuit. Great, we could both sweat like pigs. It would really piss me off if Racco was dressed in something more comfortable.

Mercel led me past a pair of Jaguars parked in the circular drive in front of the castle, and at first I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice the large black helicopter idling nearby. The engine quietly purred, and the blades slowly turned. From inside, Racco motioned for us to hurry and climb aboard. Immediately the blades sped up, sending strong gusts toward `Mercel and me.

“I am greatly pleased you decided to join me!” beamed Racco, speaking above the din. He helped me up into the spacious cabin behind the cockpit, where several leather chairs and a round cherry table were attached to the floor. Two servants stood by him—one carrying a chilled bottle of champagne, while the other held three glasses. They, like Mercel, were wearing snowsuits, although the tops were pulled down and tied at the waist.

Another servant, whom I hadn’t noticed, closed the sliding door behind us. An assault rifle was strapped to his side, and he nodded politely to me when we exchanged wary glances. Along with a touch screen computer and a large plasma TV upon one of the walls, the cabin looked like it belonged in some espionage flick.