Until then, be safe,
Trystan Vladu
My body was trembling. There were two words—you died—that slammed me, causing my adrenaline to pulse with anxiety.
But I wasn’t dead.
Was I truly reborn as an immortal like he said? A vampire?
A wave of panic had me hyperventilating. I sucked air deeply into my lungs, then slowly blew it out, attempting to settle my frazzled nerves.
Vampire.
Vampires were fables. Fantasy. They were the ominous creatures who resided between the pages of my novels. Terrifying, evil monsters who fed off mortal blood. They couldn’t likely live in my world. Could they?
A vision of Trystan’s teeth, his sharp incisors dripping with my blood, warned me otherwise.
I read the note a few more times, still skeptical. But deep inside, at the back of my mind, was that still small voice saying, “What if it is true?”
Was my biological grandfather truly a Dhampyr? I’d heard tales of them. Half breeds of mortals and the blood-sucking monsters. It was preposterous. But what if it was real? What if my grandfather was still alive and had murdered someone?
My parents told me my grandfather had passed before my father was born. If he was still alive, he’d never tried to contact his family to let us know. And now, the bastard had cursed us all to death.
That was only one of my concerns. The greatest now was . . . how the hell was I supposed to tell my parents? I already knew what would happen if I told them. My parents were well recognized and highly respected in our country of Sartha. They were also rational and analytical. To have a crazed daughter declaring she was a vampire, and that her deceased grandfather was still alive and had murdered a vampire prince, wouldn’t be favorable. That, and the fact we would soon be hunted by the deceased prince’s country. It was outrageous. They’d find a means to keep me quiet.
Which is why I was grateful they were on a merchant ship, sailing to Hale. For now, I wouldn’t have to explain this crazed situation.
Would anyone believe I’d been bitten by a vampire who wanted to save me from a rival clan’s execution? Did I believe that inside of the golden flask sitting on my nightstand was Trystan’s blood, and if I drank it, I would be bound to him?
Maybe it was real. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I was dead, and this was purgatory or even hell. Or perhaps it was all just a dream and I was still caught up in it.
But the anguish and misery I’d encountered over the previous days were all too real.
Had it only been three days? It seemed endless.
The whispers. The fevered hallucinations. The shadowed figure assisting me. The letter.
The only answer was that Trystan was here.
Goosebumps prickled my skin as I glanced over to the nightstand where the single red rose and golden flask sat gleaming under the lamplight. The rose was perfect, a deep blood-red with a strong, delightful fragrance.
I reached for the flask, taking the heavy object in my hand, inspecting it closer. By the weight and the gems set into it, it must have been valuable. In the center of the flask was the same crest as on the wax stamp. The shield was outlined in what looked like diamonds and rubies. A gold sword was faced downward, hilt to tip, and set in silver was an intricate dragon with wings outspread at its center, its tail coiled and pointed at the end. The interior of the shield was polished onyx. I ran my fingers over the exquisite details. This flask alone must have been worth a fortune.
My fingers quivered as I unscrewed the cap and brought it to my nose. My mouth watered, my pulse raced. My breathing hastened, and the world around me began to whirl. Suddenly, there was an unusual movement inside my mouth. I gasped as my eye teeth elongated, becoming razor sharp. My tongue flicked against one of them, piercing it, causing it to bleed.
I reached for the small hand mirror in my nightstand drawer and held it in front of me.
Gods be damned. I had fangs. Fangs!
These new incisors made it quite apparent I was no longer mortal. I was one of them. A monster. Gods above!
At least I didn’t look too dreadful. I still looked the same, aside from the dark creases surrounding my eyes. Feeling faint, I set the mirror down. The flask was still clutched securely in my other hand, filled with blood that my entire body craved.
“Trystan.” As soon as I whispered his name, tingles surged through my body.
I raised the flask to my nose and the potent odor of copper and iron struck me. My hands quivered, and it took everything inside me to hold back the unseen force pressing the flask toward my mouth, demanding me to sip. Every cell inside my body echoed the desire.
No, my mind hollered. Don’t do it. You’ll be bound forever.
I hurriedly screwed the cap back on, securing it shut, and set it on the nightstand. My treacherous body was battling with itself to open it back up and take a sip.
Trystan claimed he was giving me an option, but he lied. When he’d bit me, he sealed my fate, transforming me into something else. Something non-human. Something nightmarish. Something that craved blood.
From this moment on, I was going to determine what became of my life, whether right or wrong. Alive or dead. It was my decision and mine alone. Right now, I wasn’t going to be bound to anyone. Let alone someone I didn’t even know.
But those two words kept ringing like a resounding gong in my mind. You died. And Trystan was the cause of my death. But he was also the cause of my rebirth and immortality. If that was even the truth.
I dragged my feeble and shaking body out of bed and shuffled to a set of clothes folded on my dresser which consisted of black pants, a black tunic, and a black, hooded, knee-length cloak. They were brand new, the material soft. My gut twisted, wondering if Trystan was the one who had put them there.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I hurriedly put on the all-black attire. They’d probably chosen black to help me meld in with the darkness to avoid capture.
A new pair of black boots were also set next to my dresser. Sliding my feet into them, they were an exact fit. Someone had gone through the trouble of getting everything sized precisely, and not only that, they were the most comfortable footwear I’d ever worn.
Stepping up to the mirror, I examined myself. The girl staring back was still me, but different. Changed, but not entirely. My skin looked soft and unblemished, but I still looked fatigued.
My hair was silken, and my golden eyes were considerably pronounced, practically glowing, and everything around me looked more vibrant and intricate than I ever remembered it before.
I shuffled toward the window in my modest living space. I didn’t even know what time it was. It was around noon because the sun was full and brilliant, spilling in from a split in the curtain.
Maybe it was my over-inquisitiveness, but I had to know if the sun was my enemy. I gradually drew back a section of the drapery and slipped my hand into the narrow beam of light streaming through the window.
Nothing.
Then my skin started bubbling before bursting into flame.
A terrified scream ripped from my throat as I darted to the washroom and shoved my hand under the spigot. Cool water doused the flames but searing pain and festering charred flesh remained. My skin smoked and hissed under the water, but the pain gradually eased. In a few moments, the pain was totally gone.
Blood and pieces of charred flesh fell off and washed down the drain as I continued to keep my hand under the flow. When I finally turned off the water and lifted my hand, I gasped, gawking at the entirely new skin. What the hell? There was only one explanation.