The Oldest Living Vampire Tells All: Revised and Expanded (The Oldest Living Vampire Saga Book 1) by Duncan Joseph

Author:Duncan, Joseph [Duncan, Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Cobra E-books
Published: 2010-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

11

It is no surprise how quickly the members of our war party were hunted down in the forest of the Gray Stone People. Knowing my own vampiric talents, the fact that five of us eluded detection and survived through the night gives testament only to the contempt our enemies had for us. By daybreak, the only ones left alive-- though we did not know the full count ourselves– was Kort-Lenthe, the half-breed Tavet, my companion Brulde, my father and myself.

We followed Halde's cry and found him lying in a shallow brook. I cannot say he was lying facedown in the water because he had no face. His entire head was missing. Brulde made a belching sound as we stood over Halde's body, fighting to hold down his breakfast. As Halde's blood drained from the tattered stump of his neck, swirling in strange patterns down the slowly moving rill, I was glad I had eaten very little that morning. I don’t think I would have fared as well as my companion.

“Where is his head?” Brulde whispered, gazing at me with fear-bright eyes.

I shrugged, trying to stay low and look in all directions at once. “They took it, I suppose.”

“Who took it?” Brulde hissed. “And why would they take his head?”

Before I could answer—not that I had an answer for my friend, only platitudes—we heard a rustle of movement. We crouched, fingers tightening on our weapons, hearts jumping into our throats.

But it was only Tavet.

The hybrid Neanderthal rounded the hill. Something wet and tangled hung from his fist. It was Halde's head. He saw the body lying in the rivulet and stopped. After a moment, he continued on. He drew alongside us and dropped the head beside its body. “Did you see Halde fall?” he asked, wiping his bloody hands on his thighs. “Someone threw his head at me, but I did not see who it was. Or what.”

“I've seen nothing but our own corpses,” I answered, scowling fiercely. Halde stared up at me, jaw agape. His eyes were wide and empty, like the eyes of a dead fish. I reached down and pushed them shut with my fingertips but they sprang open again. I looked away with a shudder, focused on Tavet, who stood surveying the forest with his fists planted on his hips.

“I’ve lost sight of Git and your father,” Tavet confessed.

“What do we do now?” Brulde asked. “We're just getting picked off one by one.”

“We should regroup,” Tavet replied. “We’ve allowed our enemy to separate us.”

I marveled at the hulking man. He was so nonchalant! Stony nerves were a trait of his Neanderthal ancestry, I knew, like his coarse red hair and broad, heavily muscled physique. Still I was impressed. Would that I could be so dispassionate! There was a small but piercing voice in my head that kept crying, Run away! Our enemy has out-maneuvered us! Run away! Run away now before it’s too late! Every man has a coward inside of him, a craven little spirit that cares for no one but himself, nothing but his own comfort and safety.

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