Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part One. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1) Page 2

  “He threatened me, said he would make me pay… but I don't care. I'll be dead soon, either way,” I said with an air of indolence as I sat on Cook's favorite work chair, my feet dangling in the air.

  Cook's eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she heard me say those words. She opened her mouth and was about to intervene when Mother gave her a compelling gaze, urging her to abstain from offering any input.

  “Leave us,” she commanded.

  Cook went to the back door, both hands wet, wrinkling her apron with much haste on her way outside.

  Mother sat on a stool beside me. She dipped the white linen in her hands into a pot filled with hot water and wrung out the piece of cloth until it turned almost dry. She held my hands, and this warm gesture overwhelmed me because seldom had I witnessed such heartfelt care coming from her for me or any of my brothers.

  She wrapped my hands with the warm linen and cleared the dirt from them, first the palms and then she moved to my fingers.

  “If I know anyone in this world who can beat death, it is you.”

  Her words shocked me.

  “Me?” I said. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because… you have done it many times before,” she whispered.

  This priceless moment of intimacy with my mother I would forever cherish; however, I had no clue what she meant by those words. And if her aim had been set on confusing me by them, she had managed it quite well.

  “You were too young, Ivan... but I remember.” She folded the piece of cloth and put it away. Mother's hands landed on her knees and she returned to her composed and detached demeanor.

  “The first time it happened, you were but six months old,” she said. “Your brother Viktor carried you outside to play. He later returned home, leaving you behind.

  “By the time I realized your absence, two hours had passed and it was nightfall. I had little hope of finding you alive. I prepared myself for the worst.” She stopped, her gaze lost in the hearth.

  A bit of Mother's suffering surfaced as she reflected upon the loss of her children. However devastating it must have been for her, she showed but very little of her pain.

  “As darkness grew deep, I almost gave up my search. But then, you cried, loud enough for me to find you. Your tiny body lay trembling over a heap of snow, under a tree. I took you in my arms and you fell asleep.”

  “I was a baby,” I shrugged off.

  “Yes, you were. And you knew exactly when to call for me. Make no mistake believing otherwise... your cry saved your life, Ivan,” she said, raising her brow.

  Mother's story amazed me. And at the same time, it appalled me to learn my life had been in the hands of my brother at such a tender age. No wonder my other brothers had met their end prematurely—perhaps by Viktor's own doing? I entertained the idea for a brief moment but knew it was untrue. My brothers had died of disease and at childbirth—or so I had been told.

  “It happened again when you were three years old. Cook’s wretched cat, Mrs. Claw, she got stuck between the balcony's railings. You came to her rescue, but the creature fought through every minute, scratching and biting your small arms. The minute you set her free, Mrs. Claw charged against you… and as you stepped back, you slipped and fell off the balcony.

  “I found you in the garden, bruised, your head bleeding… I carried you to the kitchen, unconscious. With my heart constrained in worry, I cleaned your wounds, thinking I had lost you for certain. But then, you opened your eyes and stared into mine, and you giggled.

  “In time, your wounds healed, Mrs. Claw went away for good, and nothing more came out of that terrible accident, no complications from such a blow to your head... or so I believed,” she said with a hint of mischief.

  I broke into laughter and my mother joined in with a quiet laugh. I had never seen her laugh. She was beautiful.

  “I can't believe it! I don't remember a thing!”

  “Of course, you do not. But this you might recall. Three years ago, the blood moon?” She raised her brow. “Against my warning, you left the house at midnight because you wanted to see the blood moon... and what happened then?”

  I pressed my lips and lowered my chin. My young brain retained that vivid memory.

  “The wolf...” I mused.

  “The wolf,” she repeated with a knowing smile. “Your stubbornness prompted you to go into the woods, alone...”

  “I wandered far inside. A branch cracked behind me and when I turned... there it was.”

  “Inches away from you, and yet it did not touch you.” She rubbed my nose with her finger. “When that was over, you ran into the house making such noise that I caught you quick and punished you right then!”

  I remembered the wolf. I remembered staring into its fierce blue eyes, so close I could almost touch him... The possibility of this encounter was rather slim, for wolves had become almost extinct, which made that moment even more precious.

  The white-furred beast ran away before my bold fingers ever reached him, and I ran back home—not out of fear, but excited beyond belief! My joy had obliterated everything concerning Mother's rules.

  “So you see Ivan, you have engaged death more than once. And you have won every time.”

  I smiled. Her words granted me a strange sense of relief.

  “You needn't worry my son,” she added. “Let Death be the one to worry about you.”

  I wanted to believe Mother's words were true, that perhaps when the time came, I could cheat death after all.

  Saint Stephen's Church appeared in the distance. Its imposing bell tower stretched high above Bristol's crowded buildings as I followed Father's steps on the quay.

  It was my first time in the city, and the sight of many sailboats filled my hungry eyes with endless possibilities of adventure.

  Tales of new lands and discoveries of chests of gold quickened my mind as I saw those sails fly with the wind's fury. I fancied myself boarding one of those vessels, navigating deep into the Caribbean seas, battling naval wars for treasure and coming out victorious from those combats. And in those stories, I was always the pirate.

  “Keep up, Ivan!”

  “I'm coming, Father!”

  The stench of sweat and wood and oils lingered in the air.

  The reason for our journey revolved around Father's business, naturally; but also, his intentions were set on Viktor's introduction to his affairs. Father wanted him to learn his trade quick and expected he would soon take charge of his dealings in the trading of fish, butter, and cheese.

  My presence on this trip had been Mother's design. She knew that stories of pirates and sailing across the raging sea in search of glory flourished in my imagination... not the makings of a prodigal businessman, I am afraid.

  “Go with them, Ivan,” she had told me as we said our goodbyes at the doorway.

  “But I want to stay home,” I argued.

  “A larger world lies beyond this little town,” she whispered. And knowing I cared nothing for trades, exports and such, she hinted at the one thing that was sure to persuade me, “There might be pirates on the quay... It could be dangerous.”

  I accepted immediately.

  And here I was.

  While Father and Viktor took turns reviewing the ship's inventory, I spoke to an old sailor. I badgered him with questions, and he granted my inquiry much leniency, perhaps knowing I was his Master's youngest son.

  “Have you traveled far, old man?” I asked.

  “Farther than you, lad. That's for certain,” he mumbled as he fixed his boots.

  “Have you been to the New World?”

  “Aye, many times.”

  “I wish I could go…”

  “Well, what yer waiting for, laddie? Hop on, yer old enough!”

  The man turned and fixed his brown eyes on me. With a tilt of his head, he showed me a deep scar that spread across his face. Frightened at the sight of it, I stepped back.

  “That is enough, Gallagher...” Father said. “Come on boy,
we're leaving.” He grabbed my hand and pulled it. And as my father all but dragged me away from the quay, I stared back and saw the old man taunt me with a sardonic bow.

  I jumped into the carriage. Viktor was already inside, fast asleep.

  Father removed his hat, stepped inside the coach, and sat before me. He tapped the roof and the carriage moved. And so our journey back home began.

  I drew back the curtain and saw Bristol's towers fade behind us.

  “Father?” I mused.

  “Yes?”

  “Can I be a pirate?”

  “You most certainly cannot be a pirate!” he said. “Is that what Gallagher filled your head with? I will hear no more of it, Ivan.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Father took a pair of apples out of his jacket and tossed one to me. He half smiled. I took one hard bite at my piece of fruit and peered through the carriage's window once more.

  “Father?”

  “Yes, Ivan...”

  “Am I going to die next Saturday, when I turn ten years old?”

  He raised his brow in wonder, perhaps startled by the talk of death coming from someone so young.

  “Why on earth would you say that?”

  “My brothers died before then,” I added, tilting my head and giving him a knowing gaze.

  “I will tell you one thing, Ivan. Your brothers died because they were weak. Nature chose to pluck them off of this good Earth for a reason, and that reason was that they lacked the character and fortitude required to face the harsh world we live in.”

  And there it was. Father's concept of Natural Selection applied to his offspring.

  Of course, at the time, I could not understand what he meant by those words. But I pretended to, nonetheless.

  “So the answer to your question is another question, son. Do you have what it takes to keep living? Are you as strong as your brother Viktor or are you weak like Anton, or any of your other deceased brothers?”

  His answer shook the floor beneath my feet.

  I knew Father thought me weak because I wept when faced with Viktor's abusive schemes. I had only decided to stop tolerating his mistreatment a few months ago—since I was about to turn ten years old and die anyway.

  The dreaded day came.

  I turned ten years old.

  Nothing happened.

  The following day, I counted myself as a survivor. And once it became clear to me that lightning would not strike me on my birthday—or any other day soon—the most liberating sense of empowerment overcame me.

  As years passed, my gripping fear of dying vanished. I realized death would not chase me down the street when I least expected it–or at least this notion concerned me less as I grew up. Life offered too many beautiful distractions for someone as curious as me; they left no time to ponder about my defiant nature against premature death.

  2

  The Red Fox

  Uncommon as it was in these lands, it snowed.

  I ran to the stables to fetch my horse, Viktor ran behind. Within seconds, he gained enough speed to pass me and reached them sooner.

  The moment the sun's first light beams struck the skies, we gathered our gear and rode out into a vast white horizon. Armed with muskets and enough daggers, we prepared to hunt as many rabbits, deer, or whatever prey met our path.

  Viktor was an abusive sibling, no doubt about that. But he was also my one and only brother, and sometimes we do what we must to have a good time, right? Regardless of his regular animosity towards me, I did not hate my brother.

  He stormed out of the stables on his gorgeous white mare and soon got lost in the glacial fields—invisible, if not for his brown furred cloak soaring in the winter wind. Viktor was the eldest and that meant he got the best of everything: the best weapons, best horses, best clothing, our parents' undivided attention and interest. He got it all.

  At twenty years of age, Viktor had grown much to Father's likeness: six feet and two inches tall, with a lean but muscular body. He met no hardship arousing the town's female interest—women of all ages fell for his charm. It had gotten him into trouble more than once.

  I had just turned sixteen.

  I gathered my hair into a low ponytail and fetched my black horse, Lucifer. Yes, you may laugh; but the fact remains, the name I chose scared the hell out of my parents, and by doing so, it had met its purpose.

  Lucifer and I galloped across the country until we reached Viktor at the mountain's snowy summit. His mare grew unsteady; moving from side to side, it screeched a hideous cry.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I said, annoyed by her constant neighing.

  “I don’t know.” Viktor frowned. He pierced the horizon with his large squinting eyes. “There!”

  “What is it? I see nothing but snow for miles!” I whined.

  “A red fox, Ivan... There, by the lake!” he muttered, impatient. “Come on!”

  Viktor's mare reached the lake's embankment long before I did. I dismounted and secured Lucifer's reins to a tree. My brother stood by the shoreline of the frozen lake, motionless, his eyes locked on the fox's fierce yellow eyes.

  “You cannot possibly get him, Viktor!” I argued as I drew near. “We have no hounds to fetch him… This is nonsense! We were supposed to hunt deer!”

  But Viktor remained silent, unresponsive. And at that moment, it was as if I did not exist. In my brother's mind, there was only him and his prey, and the frozen lake standing between them.

  He removed his gloves and then spoke in a soft, almost inaudible voice.

  “Kill it,” he said. His hand moved in my direction with much stealth as he clutched his newest hunting dagger and offered it to me.

  The fox turned into stone, caught in my brother's menacing gaze.

  It shocked me. Viktor, handing me his precious dagger, conceding me his prey—it was completely unheard of. Perhaps this small gesture meant the end of his disdain for me? Perhaps, now that we were older, Viktor and I would no longer be enemies, but accomplices in life?

  Is this a truce you offer with this dagger, Viktor?

  My heart pounded hard against my chest.

  A voice in my mind instigated me to take that dagger and plunge it deep into the fox's heart, forever sealing the relationship I had always dreamed of having with my brother.

  “I cannot,” I said to my astonishment, and his.

  Something stirred within my loins when I contemplated that poor creature as it stood beyond the lake, helpless. Once I noticed its leg stuck between the roots of a tree, I realized the fox's terrible disadvantage—and my brother's vicious gaze added much more to its fright.

  It was wrong. I could not do it.

  “Be a man, Ivan!” Viktor pressed. “Kill it!” This time, he shoved the knife against my arm.

  “I will not,” I said with a cool, determined voice.

  “You are hopeless, Ivan!” Viktor said under his breath. He tossed the dagger at my feet and drew a larger hunting knife out of his boot, where he always kept it. With impressive skill, he turned it over with his fingers as he crouched like a wildcat without ever parting his eyes from the fox.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered as he moved. “You are mine.” And the creature stood as frozen as the lake when my brother lunged at it and grasped it quick in his powerful hands. He then plunged the knife straight into the creature's heart. It whined, and that was that.

  A clean kill—but, was it?

  Viktor raised his prey sky-high for my eyes to see and he laughed, unable to conceal the wondrous satisfaction of his triumph.

  “I cannot believe you did it,” I mused. I cannot believe you would make an unfair kill. Indeed, my brother surpassed all expectations; a reason for Father's pride, I am certain.

  He cleared the blood off of his face with his hands and then squeezed my cheek with his bloody fingers.

  “You better believe it, little brother.”

  Then I heard it. A noise so faint it could have passed without warning. Like th
e sound of wood crackling as it recedes under the hearth's furious flames. At first, I thought perhaps Lucifer had set loose. I feared I might have had to find my way back home walking miles upon miles in the heavy snow.

  Viktor was laughing so hard, I bet he didn't hear it.

  With the back of my hand, I wiped the blood from my face. Viktor tossed me the dead animal as if it had lost all meaning to him. The coveted treasure, once obtained, deprived of its value. I caught it and went back to check on Lucifer.

  The reins were fixed tight around the tree. Lucifer was secure. I placed the fox in a bag and fastened it to my saddle.

  I heard it again.

  This time, it cracked louder. I turned and saw my brother. He had heard it too.

  His eyes went blank with horror and his lips parted without uttering a sound. And the next thing I knew, the ice broke beneath my brother's feet and his body plummeted into the chilling water.

  He disappeared from my sight.

  I stopped breathing.

  This is not happening. This is not real!

  My body froze. But something inside me triggered every muscle anchored to my bones to move, and I did, against every shocked fiber in my being! I ran towards the lake's embankment and stepped further in, only to discover floating pieces of broken ice and my brother's absence.

  Panic took over me.

  I took one more step and loomed over the water. My desperate eyes searched for a trace of his furred cape but found nothing. Tears clouded my sight.

  “Viktor! Viktor!” I screamed in vain.

  The stillness of the lake horrified me, and I stared at it stunned beyond my senses.

  A minute later, my brother emerged from the freezing water gasping for air with pressing anxiety. The coarseness of his panting breath sent a chilling wave down my spine. His hands went to the verge where I stood. He was fighting for his life with such passion, and still, I could not move!

  Viktor's hands waved over the ice, landing in a maddening frenzy. He reached far enough that he grabbed my ankle and pulled so hard that he dragged me down with him into the unforgiving water.

  I closed my eyes.