The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) Read online

  However, once we cleared the window and hovered some forty feet above the ground below, they both took firm hold of my arms and shoulders. Everything suddenly sped up. Sped way up. It was as if we had been shot from a cannon into the sky. We flew so fast that the lights below became a streaming blur.

  It wasn’t long before the lights disappeared and the air around us grew even colder. Then, as quickly as Garvan predicted, we reached our destination.

  We slowed down dramatically as we approached a cave deep within the Smoky Mountains. I guessed that we were five to ten miles east of Knoxville by the tall cedars and eastern pines that stood near the cave’s entrance. A roaring fire glowed from within the cave. We floated gently above the ground, and Armando released me and knelt on the ground in front of me, placing my fuzzy warm slippers on my feet. Garvan gently guided me the rest of the way to the ground.

  My legs felt weak, and it took me a minute to catch my breath after such a frightening and exhilarating experience. I was surprised to find myself dressed in my parka, which covered much of my nightgown. I marveled at how the two had put it on me while we flew through the air, and without me being aware of this fact.

  Unlike the other night, both men—make that vampires—were dressed entirely in black, and each wore a leather trench coat that hung below the knees. Their boot heels crunched against loose gravel just outside the cave’s mouth.

  “You are now ready to meet the princess and the rest of her entourage!” Armando proudly announced. “Right this way, if you please!”

  He motioned for me to walk through the entrance, while Garvan joined him behind me. I could feel them withdraw as I stepped through a narrow passage that opened to a fairly large room. An immense fire burned within a large stone ring near the room’s center, and in front of it stood a tall female flanked by a slightly shorter male on her right, and a petite female on her left.

  “So we finally meet, Txema,” said the taller female. “Come closer. Let me have a better look at you, my cousin.”

  “Cousin?”

  I was confused. How could this pallid woman be any relation to me? I looked at her closely. She stood almost as tall as me with the same build. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair flowed the same way mine did—even with the same slight widow’s peak atop my forehead. Her eyes were greener than mine, like sultry emerald coals. They were similar to Tyreen’s eyes, only brighter and unearthly in their glow.

  Her lips were full and pouting—the same as mine, and according to Peter, they were amongst my best assets. She smiled, and the tips of her fangs peered out through those lips. Her subtle nod and amused smile let me know that she had just read my thoughts.

  “Yes, it’s sort of like looking in a mirror, eh?” She chuckled warmly, and in the next instant moved from the fire to a mere two feet in front of me. I wished they wouldn’t do that. It was extremely unsettling. A slight lilac scent arrived with her and I felt a familiar comfort settle over me like some cherished memory from a childhood spring day. That clinical part of my brain wondered if their scents were somehow altering my mood or if their mental powers extended so coercion as well as telepath.

  “You are as radiant as advertised, and you remind me of Bernadette Soubirous,” she said. She paused a moment before continuing, “The girl who put the city of Lourdes on the international map long ago.” I am sure she didn’t need to read my mind to realize that I needed clarification.

  She stepped back with one hand on her hip, studying me, while apparently comparing me to this Bernadette person. Then, in a flash, I remembered hearing my grandmother speak of that name when I was younger. The way this woman stood there reminded me of both my grandmother and Aunt Sylvia, Papa’s sister. That’s how they often stood, when ready to make a point about an issue.

  “You have heard of Bernadette, correct?”

  Her French accent was more pronounced than Garvan’s, but there was also some other influence in the delivery of her words. Perhaps, an older Basque touch?

  “She’s the one who saw visions and had a shrine built in her honor. Thousands of people come to visit the town every year,” I nodded shyly as I answered her. I could tell that I suffered a huge disadvantage in terms of what she knew about me and my family. It was her family too, apparently, which I struggled to wrap my mind around.

  “Actually, it is three million people each year that journey to Lourdes—many on pilgrimage,” she said, her eyes twinkling with the same mirth I’ve often felt when someone gets the facts wrong about a subject. “A basilica was built long ago in 1876, and an underground church was finished in 1958. The town served as a medieval stronghold for our ancestors, too.”

  “Oh,” I said, quietly. The warmth from the fire had reached me, and my parka had become a furnace on my shoulders and arms.

  “Allow me,” she said, moving to remove my coat so quickly that I scarcely felt my arms pulled through it. “Now, that’s better, eh?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “My earthly name was Berezi Ybarra, the great, great, great auntie to Bernadette—who is one of your most famous ancestors, as you’ve surely been told,” she continued, handing my coat to the other female, who stepped forward after a slight nod. “But our bloodline goes very far back… further than you can even begin to imagine.”

  “Which, again, is why we’re all here!”

  Armando’s booming voice echoed off the cave walls, drifting up through a small shaft nestled between an outcropping of stalactites above us. He danced around the fire, wearing a maniacal look on his face while playing an imaginary violin. The others all snickered.

  “Yes, it is the reason we’ve come,” this female, once known as Berezi, continued. “The bloodline that began thousands of years ago is now in danger of extinction. Armando and Garvan have advised me that you now know the reasons for our urgency to protect you. Less than ten years ago there were nearly one hundred females who carried the gift that our breed of vampires needs to survive, and which allows us to govern the less-fortunate of our kind. But, roughly six months ago, the gift carriers began to die. In September, the survivors numbered just fourteen. And that number dwindled further, down to just three as of two weeks ago.”

  Her voice trailed off, and she looked away, as if somehow reliving what had happened to these carriers. No doubt they bore the same birthmark as mine.

  “Yes, they did,” she said, answering my unspoken thought as she turned to face me again.

  She opened her dark trench coat and pulled her sweater away from her neck. The pastiness of her skin accentuated the tiny teardrops that marked her carotid artery, near the base of her throat.

  “It is the mark that we all bear—all of us who carry the gift,” she said. “But you are now the only living human being in the entire world that has it.”

  For the first time during our conversation, her eyes betrayed the depth of her worry. This was some serious shit! An enormous burden began to settle upon my shoulders, and its weight nearly took my breath away.

  “Armando called you a princess when we arrived here,” I said, looking for some distraction… something to lessen the impact of what she just told me. “My papa told me recently that the little tears on our necks were once the symbol of Basque royalty. Is that true, and is it the reason Armando said that?”

  “It’s more than that, I assure—”

  “Armando, let me handle this,” she scolded him, though lightly. He nodded his consent to her interruption, and she addressed me again. “Your papa is correct. Many members of the Basque royalty have been born with the same birthmark, as well as their ancestors from other cultures. Our lineage dates back thousands of years, when the carriers of this gift easily infiltrated the ruling classes of the world’s most highly developed civilizations.”

  The petite female suddenly joined us and brought with her a slight aroma of roses. She eyed me as though I were a very rare novelty. Or, perhaps, as a delectable treat to taste. Her voice had the same strong French accent as my ancestor. />
  “She is known to us all as ‘Chanson de l’Eternelle’, since she is the vampire who carries forth our Song forever.”

  The newcomer’s violet eyes flashed with desire as she spoke. Her face was a small oval framed by a rich halo of crimson hair that hung in loose curls upon her shoulders. She had thin lips and a delicate nose and cheekbones. Although she was dressed in a black leather trench coat and stiletto heels, her dainty features and porcelain skin made her appear more like the pin-up model for some men’s magazine than a fearsome creature of the night. It was only the predatory gaze in her eyes and the sharp fangs that revealed her true nature.

  “So, how should I address you, then?” I asked the princess, though really I wasn’t sure how to address either one at this point.

  “Chanson will be fine,” she said. “And, this is Raquel Meurtrier.”

  She gestured playfully to the flaming redhead, who curtseyed with dramatic flair.

  “Ah-hem!” A booming male voice resounded behind the females, as the lone remaining stranger lifted his chin in wounded pride at being ignored for so long. Even so, I detected an impish glint in his amber vampire eyes.

  “And this… this is Franz Blutliebhaber,” Chanson said, motioning for him to join them.

  Franz stepped over to us, completing my immersion in a mixed bath of sensual aromas. He bore more of a sage-like musk scent that seemed to go well with his strong German features. He was blonde with high cheekbones and dimples framing a toothy smile; only the fangs and iridescent eyes would alert otherwise unsuspecting humans that a dangerous predator walked in their midst.

  I cracked a wry grin. These five gorgeous former humans would make one hell of an act, like some heavy metal band with a metaphysical twist. “America’s Got Talent” could do much worse. Maybe “America’s Goth Talent.” Too bad they were just visiting.

  “You are quite humorous.” Chanson chuckled, alluding to my latest musing. A moment later her demeanor turned solemn. “We have a proposal for you… something serious to consider. Alas, as time is against us, you do not have the time to mull it over. It is getting harder to protect you here. We ask tonight that you return immediately with us to Europe.”

  Wow. Part of me was flattered by all of this attention. But, I couldn’t even consider leaving my country… my homeland. I loved Virginia, and my second home of Knoxville had already found a place in my heart. Aside from not wanting to leave my friends and be any farther away from my family, I had a slew of homework and several tests to study for before Thanksgiving break began in a couple of weeks.

  I took several deep breaths before answering.

  “I can’t,” I said, lowering my gaze. I worried that this might piss her off enough to rip my head from my shoulders, and then the five of them would share my precious blood amongst themselves. “I need to stay here.”

  She nodded in response. The look on Chanson’s face was one of intense concentration. Perhaps, she searched my thoughts for a truthful confirmation of my words to her, or more likely some weakness she could use to twist my arm into going.

  “It’s far too dangerous for you to stay, Txema—I won’t allow it!”

  Everyone turned toward Garvan. Distressed, his green eyes flashed even brighter than Chanson’s. As he regarded me, I sensed intense longing emanating toward me like a powerful magnet. My pulse began to rise, and I could feel my face flush.

  It drew an amused laugh from Armando, who clapped his hands approvingly.

  “While I certainly share Garvan’s opinion for urgency, I can only admire his infatuation with our cherished guest,” he said, moving up to Garvan and grasping his shoulder in a show of brotherly affection. Garvan scowled. His face flushed as it had the other night, only this time from obvious embarrassment. “Perhaps you fancy this young girl—this young human—as your vampire bride, no?”

  “She needs to be safe and none of us can afford for anything tragic to happen to her!” he seethed in response.

  Apparently, there were limits to his subservience to Armando. A glance at Chanson confirmed that he needed her approval instead to go on. I gained another insight into the hierarchy of the vampires – I filed this away in case I needed it later. She nodded slightly, and Garvan continued.

  “Armando, you should be just as passionate as me in getting her to agree to leave with us—tonight! You should all be helping me convince her!”

  He looked at each of his companions individually, his eyes and quivering mouth imploring them to aid him. Everyone nodded quietly while a slight snicker escaped Armando’s mouth.

  He ignored Armando.

  “Come, Txema. Please, come with us back to France!” Garvan practically begged me. “It’s the surest way to save your life, and I guarantee every comfort imaginable will be provided to you!”

  The way he looked at me pulled on my heart and almost made me say ‘yes!,’ but I caught the word before it slipped past my lips. I felt like I was sixteen all over again, experiencing my first taste of love. I also knew the treachery of infatuation. Such infantile attachments often lead to empty promises and assuredly a broken heart. Not to mention the blatant betrayal of Peter’s devotion.

  “I’m not ready for this… I’m sorry,” I said, with finality. I knew I couldn’t leave, but I was struggling to control my heart’s sudden desire to do just that. My growing attraction to this gorgeous vampire stirred my heart and alarmed my conscience.

  “Then we must wait!” Chanson announced. She raised her open hand to quiet one last protest from Garvan. “We will continue to watch over and protect you, Txema. Contrary to what you might presume, you have no say in regard to our surveillance of you. Know that we will interfere if necessary to save your life.”

  She nodded her head and then motioned for Garvan and Armando to lead me from her presence. Right before we stepped out of the cave, I heard her call to me one last time.

  “Make sure you avoid the shadows, Txema! The monstres glabres are growing in number and will continue to hunt for you, following your blood scent! You can call us anytime, and we will be there quickly. Stay safe! Stay alive, Txema!”

  As her words finished, Armando and Garvan pulled me into the air, and we again traveled through the surrounding darkness at incredible speed. The return trip seemed even faster than the journey to the cave. Once we reached Knoxville’s city lights, everything became an indiscernible blur. I feared we’d crash into Massey Hall as it came up suddenly into my field of vision.

  Then we slowed. My window opened, as if some unseen hand loosened the latch and pulled the pane aside. I floated into the room in much the same way I floated out.

  Peter still snored, unaware of our return, and thankfully there remained no sign of my roommate nor her boyfriend. I didn’t want to consider what might occur if Tyreen and Johnny awakened to find two members of the undead guiding my floating body through our dorm room.

  “Good night, Txema!” Garvan and Armando whispered together, after they positioned my body next to Peter’s.

  Peter stirred slightly as the window closed and the latch clicked shut, announcing my companions’ swift departure. The coolness that slipped into the room brought a shiver to him, and he pulled up the comforter to cover us both, despite the parka I still wore. A moment later, he snored again, completely oblivious to what just happened. Clueless and innocent… a state of being I coveted, fearing it was gone forever. Life had quickly become so complicated.

  t was almost eight o’clock when Peter woke me. By then, bright sunlight filled my room, and a busy Saturday morning was already underway. Yet, it felt as if I had just gone to sleep an hour or so earlier.

  “You had better get up, babe. The best of breakfast will be over and done with if we wait much longer,” he said.

  My only response was to roll away from him and the harsh light pouring in my window.

  “Tyreen and Johnny have already left, and they promised to save us a couple of seats in the cafeteria provided you wake up and take your shower.”
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br />   I really wanted to sleep, especially since I felt light-headed. A headache would be coming soon. These late night vampire visits weren’t such a good thing for my health. Sleep while your persistent boyfriend tries to wake you up is by no means an easy proposition either.

  Peter had already showered, and was dressed in a faded pair of Levis and a Tennessee Volunteers sweatshirt. I wished I had my cell phone handy, so I could’ve taken a picture of him dressed this casually. His hair was still wet, combed back from his forehead to reveal his regal hairline. Peter’s thick head of hair often has reminded me of Hollywood. Or royalty. Or maybe even Hollywood royalty.

  “I’m up,” I muttered, slowly bringing my leg over so I could step down from my bed.

  He grinned while he watched me slide down from my bunk and stumble to my dresser. “If you want to rough it today, just throw on some sweats and a ball cap and we can go eat first, and come back here afterward. It’s up to you.”

  “Let me take a quick shower, and I’ll be right back,” I told him.

  My head throbbed, and I thought for a moment I’d have to lie back down. But after I grabbed my shampoo and body wash much of the throbbing passed.

  “Go ahead and text Tyreen to let her know we should be there within the next twenty minutes.” I felt like sticking my tongue out at him just out of general grumpiness, but I refrained.

  “All right.”

  I watched him pull out his handset and plop down in a beanbag chair in front of the TV. Before he could look over at me again, I was already on my way to the showers. The expressions on the faces I passed along the way were a curious mixture of worry and tension, and just a few smiles. Classes had been canceled for Monday, and UT’s Regent Board of Directors were discussing the possibility of closing school until after Thanksgiving.

  “Ha! You look like a drenched Cousin It like that!” teased Peter, once I returned to my room with my dripping hair hanging over my face.

  “Careful, buster, or it could be Broom Hilda instead!” I countered. The confused expression he made told me he had no idea who the comic witch I mentioned was. I decided to help him out. “You might end up turning into a little horny toad with a wart on its head!”