Children of the Vampire by Jeanne Kalogridis

Author:Jeanne Kalogridis [Kalogridis, Jeanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Horror & Ghost Stories
Published: 2010-05-22T13:24:21.407000+00:00

Chapter 10

The Diary of Arkady Dracul

23 NOVEMBER.

I shall not be able to control the hunger much longer.

Travelling is problematic. Without my Amsterdam henchman, I have no means for feeding without creating others like me—and this I have sworn not to do. The world suffers enough from my existence; let me spawn no fresh monsters.

Perhaps if I can control myself, drink but a little and permit my victims to live, then pray that I and Vlad will soon meet with destruction . . . but I fear I have gone too long without nourishment for such self-control.

In my desperation, I thought to-night to broach the subject with Abraham. I have sensed Stefan's thoughts and know the fate that has befallen his little nephew, Jan; I cannot bring myself to tell the father this heartbreaking news. But Bram will learn of the grisly art of setting a vampire to rest one way or another. Why shall he not learn of it now?

But it is too soon, too soon.

I trust Abraham; trust him as I have always trusted my beloved Mary. He is so like her—

even, coinciden-tally, in appearance, for being Dutch, his eyes are blue and his colouring fair, though the gold in his hair is kissed with red. But it is in temperament that they are so utterly alike that one might think she bore him. She has raised him to share her calm, her strength, her loyalty—and even her stubbornness.

I will need to rely on that strength and determination when we arrive in Transylvania. Before then, there are many things he must be taught, for Stefan and Jan's sakes as well as his own. But I can see my trust in him is not returned.

After rising this evening, I found him in our compartment, lost in thought as he stared out at the grey wintry landscape, a writing tablet on his knee, one hand absently fingering his golden beard. He did not hear my approach; and I saw in his pale furrowed brow, in his blue eyes, slightly magnified by thick spectacle lenses, such worry and love that it touched my cold, unbeating heart. I have spent a quarter-century immersed in a decadent, predatory world, with only the hope of revenge and the fading memories of my dear ones to keep my humanity alive; my life as a murderer has calloused me.

But experiencing once more Mary's love, and her goodness, is sloughing the layers of coldness away. (I worried that my very touch might taint her—but no. I am convinced that, for all my wickedness, our act did not, could not sully her goodness; if anything, it redeemed and elevated me. For the first time in twenty-six years, at her caress, I felt a surge of honest warmth course through my being; I am ready now to face whatever fate awaits me. Mary, dear, can you forgive me for putting you gently to sleep afterwards? I cannot save your one son without the help of the other—and I remember all too well your resolve; I knew you would not let us leave without you.

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