A Romantic Fantasy Book Series
Rosewood by Sue Mydliak
Series Excerpt
Once I’d reached the comparative safety of home and leaned against the front door gasping for breath, the idea of the marks had taken on a completely new meaning. This wasn’t something out of a horror movie or fictional book; this was real. He’d been inside my thoughts all along; he’s a vampire and he’d murdered both my parents. The problem now is what could I do alone and how much should I trust Mr. Bennet?
“Perhaps I could get a protection order against him, but being a vampire, no amount of legal paperwork would keep him away from me.”
I hung up my coat, and then the words inside my head came back to me, clear as day.
“Charles Rosewood…” The name sounded familiar to me, but I couldn’t put a face to it, and why was Kane threatening one of my relatives? Did this give me more clues as to who may have killed my parents?
I wondered who Charles Rosewood was, obviously a relation of some sort, but I’d never met him or heard my parents talk of him.
I walked into my father’s study; the family album was there on the shelf so I took it down. Dust coated the brown leather cover and hid the family name. Lovingly, I wiped it clean and began to flick through the pictures. The memories flooded back as I looked at myself at two years old, and older, but there had been long gaps when I’d been away at school. All pleasure left me and sorrow seemed to weigh me down. I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t know how or what I should do to deal with the loss of my parents. Now horror that once, to me, written in only fictional stories seemed more real. My world had changed, almost from one breath to the next. I couldn’t quite believe it.
Sighing, I set the album on the desk and clasped my hands together, staring at them. Thoughts flashed like snapshots in my head. Something clicked in my mind. A terrifying realization washed over me. My parents gave him their friendship and they invited… him… in. My mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, they invited him into the house. How could they be so stupid? I whispered. I searched my memory of my childhood. Not once had our neighbor, Mr. Bennet, ever been invited into our home.
I went over what I thought I knew for sure meaning, vampires couldn’t walk into a house; they had to be invited in. I remembered that Mom and Dad had planted garlic, but I couldn’t remember my mother using it in cooking, although she did use the flowers inside the house, probably because somewhere they’d read that vampires didn’t like it maybe. For whatever reason, and…I don’t know what their thoughts were at the time, my parents seemed to have taken an interest in vampire mythology. I only know I’ve seen it in the movies and read about them in novels, but had someone asked me if my parents watched or read about vampires, I would have answered no, never. I had thought I knew my parents inside out and yet I now had a feeling that they’d had a life totally outside of my understanding. It was almost like finding out that your parents still had sex, or worse, catching them at it.
“Damn, why didn’t I know them better? Why hadn’t they talked to me about any of this?”
Confused, I wandered restlessly around the house. I visited my bedroom briefly and found it full of memories, but I was still too raw to linger, so I made my way back to the study and picked up the family album once more. I fell into my father’s leather wing back chair and laid my head against the back of it.
The album had opened, as I laid it on my lap, to a picture of a gentleman. His austere features seemed quite young but were framed by long sideburns flecked with gray. He had an air of authority, the appearance of one who commanded instant obedience.
I studied the picture for a long time; it had such an effect over me. I tilted my head from left to right, eyes focused on the picture. Then I took it out to see if there was something written on the back. The name, Charles Winslow Rosewood, written in the neatest lettering I had ever seen.
My muscles tensed and my heart began to race. Then a voice inside me spoke, “Candra, give yourself to us, not him, blood is thicker than water.” I quickly pushed the album away from me, landing on the floor.
The voice in my head sounded emotionless; it chilled me. The words repeated in my mind, intensifying my fear that the voice of Charles Winslow Rosewood was now part of me too. I looked at the album as though it was possessed. I wondered why I’d never seen the picture of Charles Rosewood before and why my parents never spoke of their own parents or grandparents. Then another connection hit me, that of the importance of my father’s position, why he never left home like everybody else’s father. Why had my parents never encouraged me to make friends either at Church or in school? My parents and I had been so close that I’d never needed anyone or anything from the outside world.
“I think I’ve had enough of this for one day.”
Then I thought, “No I had come this far, I needed to know more.” I needed to gather up my courage and invite Mr. Bennet over. Regretting this decision big time, but understanding I needed to find help, I went over to the closet to retrieve my coat when the doorbell rang. I peeked through the curtain. Mr. Bennet himself was standing on the other side of the door. Did he read my thoughts? Would my head become so crowded that eventually I would be pushed out?
“Well, isn’t this a coincidence, I was just about to come over to see you…” The words won’t you come in, gave me a reason to pause, but then I asked him in. I decided the need for more information was greater than my need to keep him out.
“Thank you, Candra; I’m glad you decided differently about me. So, why were you coming to visit me? More questions?”
“Nothing scares you does it, Mr. Bennet?”
He didn’t say anything, not yet, but I knew he would. The way he looked at me, it was as if he read my mind.
“As I said earlier, I want nothing more than to help you, Candra; you’re like family to me. I only wanted to help, but your parents were wary. Let me help you, please.”
I weighed each word carefully and I didn’t want to seem too eager for his help, but I did want to know more about the marks. I looked at the man who had been our neighbor for most of my life and realized something that previously never occurred to me. He never changed, never aged a day from the man in my vague childhood memories. He still appeared to be in his 40s, black hair with silver threads at his temples. His face was still unlined by time and even his clothes seemed unchanging.
“Candra, I can understand your hesitation, and I can tell you still have some unanswered questions. Am I right?”
Pacing myself, I had to continue my front as though he still annoyed the hell out of me, but that I would be willing to listen. I didn’t fully trust him, but I had to seem compliant as if I wanted his help. So I seated myself across from him. What if he killed my parents and not Kane? This brought on a whole new rush of panic because I had now welcomed him in. Good move Candra.
“This may seem a bit late, but how did you know I had come back? And do you know anything about my parent's mail?”
"Candra, come now, what kind of neighbor would I be, if I would let your parent's mail pile up outside, and as for knowing you had arrived, I was out on one of my late-night walks and I saw you arrive home.”
“Oh, well, true… thanks.” My cheeks grew warm as a small blush started to grow. I wondered if he knew that I’d already seen my parents' lawyer.
“You want more information on the markings don’t you?” He eased back into the couch while the tips of his fingers touched, making a pyramid. His gaze unsettled me and I was sure he found this sort of questioning a game of wits. A feeling inside, my connection, urged me to be careful and so I was.
I looked at him carefully, thoughtfully, wondering what it is that he was trying to do. “Yes, I suppose that would be wise to know what I am in for, just in case.” In case of what? I needed to think before I spoke.
His interest sparked and the gleam in his eye grew just a little brighter. “The first mark, which you’ve already received, is where he shares his life force with you, sort of a connection if you will. The first mark is given in person, but not always does he or she have to be present. The second mark, the human will see two spots of flames, the shade of the vampire’s eyes. These spots of flame will be coming toward you until they reach your eyes and then you will see the world through those eyes for only a moment and those who see you will see your eyes glowing. Again, this is usually done in person, but it is not always so.”
His voice was calm, though it seemed he enjoyed my education too much. Every so often I thought I saw a small smile played around his mouth, but every word he spoke seemed like a death sentence to me, and yet, something deep within, pleasurable at the same time, would make its presence known.
“The third mark is the most serious as it involves taking your blood…” He paused, waiting for me to become hysterical, but I sat quietly and waited for him to continue.
“The third and fourth marks are almost symbolic of a wedding. The vampire must take blood from you so that your memories, emotions, and thoughts can become one. Other things are shared as well, on a more personal level. These marks are like a sensual experience for the vampire and very rewarding. The vampire even can taste the food you eat. Obviously, this is done physically so you would have to be present. The fourth mark, the final mark, you will drink the vampire’s blood while he recites something to this effect, “Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, two minds with one body, two different souls now wedded as one.” There are other versions, every vampire has his or her own way of saying it, but you get the idea, what you say isn’t as important as the commitment the vampire makes to you. You two become as one, like in a marriage.”
I needed to take a moment; this was a little too much information for me to process. I asked Mr. Bennet if he would like some tea and he nodded. I was relieved just to leave the room. I had no idea what I’d be in for and now that I knew, I didn’t like it. When I returned, he still sat in the same chair, staring off into the distance. I handed him his cup and sat down with mine, sipping with much trepidation.
I was mortified. “This existed, this…ritual?” I tried to stay calm inside and out, but my voice came out screaming. Clearing my throat, I took a long sip of tea. Actually, it was more of a big gulp than a sip.
“So when you had told me that some “good” comes out of this before, you wanted to refresh my memory again, because I’m not seeing anything that resembles good.”
“Candra, once you have the fourth mark, you don’t age. You remain human; you still can receive blessed sacraments and go into holy buildings such as churches and cemeteries and, most important of all, you won’t need to drink blood to survive.” Mr. Bennet picked up his cup of untouched tea, but sniffed the air and put the cup down. I almost asked if there was something wrong with the tea, but I was too concerned with what he’d just said.
“Never age… never grow old, never die and see my parents… ever, and you call that good? Yeah, you are just like Kane in every sense of the word, cold and heartless.” I got up and walked over to the window. I was fighting back tears that were on the verge of spilling out.
“I’m sorry Candra, I didn’t mean it that way, I was trying to…I think I’ve said enough for one day, I’ll show myself out. If you have any other questions, you know where to find me. Good day.”
The click of the front door being firmly shut was the last sound I heard.
My mind was languid, without hope. I pressed my hand over my face and resigned myself that all was lost. I decided that a drive, a short drive, would do me good. Just to get away from the house, Mr. Bennet and Kane. This would help me think better, not to mention the fresh air might help as well.
Dressed in a warm coat, I headed out to the car and back into town. I looked for Kane, but I saw nothing, I was relieved and yet, disappointed at the same time, which troubled me. He was the reason for my obsession with the whole vampire thing. He also is someone who should be, in my mind, spat on and vilified as unclean. Something about him meant I couldn’t hate him, and I felt guilty. Keeping my eyes focused on the road ahead, I tried blocking out whatever it was that bothered me, but it proved impossible.
“Stop,” I shouted aloud. “Enough is enough, God, what am I doing? This jerk is the lowest of lows, and I’m letting him get inside me, crawl in, and make himself at home.”
I pulled into the parking lot, got out of my car, and slammed the door shut. He was somewhere close by, and it awakened something raw and uncivilized inside me. I looked around briefly but saw no one. Still, he was there. Voices whispered in my head, but I couldn’t make out the words. I began to wonder if he could be baiting me. Then, a cynical inner voice cut through my thoughts. My heart started to beat wildly. Was I scared? I thought this over and found I wasn’t and that it intrigued me. Excitement coursed through my veins, like energy. It increased as the need for more filled me. I felt his pleasure.
“You feel me, don’t you? That is good, Candra. Embrace me.” His words, smooth like honey, clung to me. In a dreamlike stupor, I stood frozen and afraid that if I moved the feeling would disappear. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, intense and excitingly seductive. Having never been on a date, I now knew what sexual anticipation felt like.
“Go… our time will come… e?ti cea mai frumoas? femeie.”
He was gone, and I wanted to melt right there. His voice, like butter, spread over me, hypnotizing my very soul.
After a few minutes, I felt a little more like myself. Even though I felt calmer, I still had an odd sensation that I couldn’t shake and I thought that my anxiety was getting the best of me. I remembered the last time I had this anxiety problem: food seemed to cure it, so I began to think of what I could have to eat. Not coming up with anything and finding out that driving to “get away” was futile, I decided to just head back home.
I got back into the car and looked around me to see if anyone had noticed my strange behavior. No one did, thank God, so I drove off, keeping my focus on the road. My only goal at that point was to get home, eat, and try to get back to some normalcy. Also, I intended to ignore my freaky obsession with Kane, and I was going to stick with it, no more looking for him, although this encounter I just had was pretty intense… “No Candra, don’t think, drive!”
“A hot shower!” the words, unbidden, came out, like pieces of heaven, and the more I thought about it, with its warmth bathing every inch of my body, the more relaxed I became. This alone gave me the incentive to get home fast.
***
In my dreams, a tall, dark figure stepped from the shadows, Kane. He approached the house, restless energy in his movements, as he came to the window. The drapes slid apart and the window opened. He stopped and inhaled deeply as if my fragrance intoxicated him completely.
“I know you are asleep, you lay there so tempting, so vulnerable, but I will not attempt to wake you now. I want you when the moment is just right when you are ready; your sweetness will bring such pleasure to us both.” His gaze fell to the creamy expanse of my neck, he turned, easing into a smile and then vanished into the darkness.
I woke and my dream felt so real. Instantly my eyes were drawn to the drapes. They moved gently in the breeze from the open window.
Praesent id libero id metus varius consectetur ac eget diam. Nulla felis nunc, consequat laoreet lacus id.