Curse of Dracula (Immortal Soul, #2)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

I am not a vampire. I am far more, and far worse, than that. Within me beats the black heart of all that would splinter bone and pick their teeth with the remains. I am the river spring from which flows all cruelty on this Earth. And it was cruelty that made me.

he was death incarnate. Yet never allowed to die.

The past is only ever lesser. What may come is all that will ever give us hope.

You met me in a dream. Now we shall see how you fare with my nightmare.

But she had never been one to turn her gaze away from that which was unpalatable. She was a creature born to bear the suffering of those around her. And, in her own right, it was her responsibility to experience every drop of blood as though it were her own.

Will you love me when all is said and done? Or am I beyond all salvation?

America simply lacked the age, and was more interested in growing quickly than growing correctly.

“Honor. What a charmingly mortal notion. Honor. Dignity. Fairness.” He scoffed. “These are concepts created to keep you trapped within a spider’s web. They are constructs you build around your society to try to ensure that those with morals play within their pens only to be fed upon by those without such trivial philosophies. Abandon them, hunter, and see yourself plainly for what you are—a bloodthirsty thing driven forward only by the need for revenge.”

I don’t believe in killing people because they might do something.”

“I love you. And I will have you love me in return. All of me. Walk the streets of my pain, my darling. And when you find me at the end of it, I will accept your judgement on my knees. I will bow to you like a slave and take your forgiveness or wrath with a joyful heart.” He leaned down, ghosting his lips over hers. “But not until I have decided you have suffered enough.”

“That which I would desire for myself factors little to none into my own fate, vampire. I am always a product of others—their memories, their emotions, and their desires. What I want does not matter.”

“Is this love, Master?” “Perhaps.” Vlad shook his head and looked back out the window. “It’s terrible. It’s frightening and putrid. It hurts me in my heart when I think about her rejecting me. I despise it so very much. I think I can’t live without it.” Vlad shut his eyes. “Yes. You are in love.” Mordecai grunted. “Damn it.”

Rarely did she ever experience her own emotions. She was always so inundated with those of others, she became accustomed to ignoring what she felt.

“You show such compassion for others. I wish to show some to you. Accept it, stubborn girl. Do not bring yourself suffering merely because you are under the bullheaded opinion that you somehow deserve it.”

You poor mortal women are supposed to keep your bodies locked in a cage, but your heart is free to the first person who asks for it. And if you don’t grant it to them, it is you who are supposed to feel grief?

Your world is cruel to your gender, Bella. Your society wants to keep women like pets. Subservient and docile. Slaves to their wants. How is that not evil?”

Asking. Not taking.

“Really, I’m not sure how your gender gets anything done. It isn’t even the tits that are the problem—yes, fine, they’re distracting—it’s the damnable lack of pockets that is the real issue here.” Bella looked down at herself and picked up the folds of her skirt and dropped them in frustration. “Is this a manner of repression I have been previously unaware of? That if we let you wear comfortable clothing that serves any functional purpose, you might revolt?” Maxine rolled over to lie on her back, watching the false huntress complain. “It’s quite possible.”

“I am so sorry, Zadok…” she whispered. “My platitudes are vapid and bland, I know. There is little to be said for things that have been suffered. There is little condolence to be said to those whose lives have been like yours that does not feel insipid. But I am here, and I…I am sorry.”

What else would you like to know about me, oh glorious comptroller, tax collector of my life?”

What I found was more tragedy than I would have expected. I suppose that is the way of everyone who seems a monster at first blush—there is always more lurking beneath the surface.”

“How is it that you’ve come to be this way? I have never seen nor heard of anything quite like…you.” “Ah, yes. Well, you will find many of us with terribly unique afflictions serve Master Dracula. We are limited only by his imagination, I believe. And you can’t begin to fathom how troubled a mind he owns.” “I am beginning to suspect.”

Dracula is a tree. And from him grow the branches, and the leaves, and the fruit. But a tree does not support only its own life and its own progeny. It provides life to the birds, the squirrels, the ants, the bees, and more. We are drawn to that tree, and without him, we would die.”

“All the burdens of others are mine to share. Such is the nature of my own affliction, I fear.

“Humanity is its own downfall. No one else is to blame for their plight. Ignorance is their greatest sin.”

The tree pulls nutrients from the soil, and the weaker things will die.

But if this were a war—man against man? Have you seen what that looks like?” “I have witnessed what war can bring.” “Then tell me this, sweet thing. Tell me this looks no different save for that the creatures who are doing the slaughterin’ do not wear human faces. Tell me their cruelty is not matched by the generals who left boys lying in ditches to rot. Tell me this is worse at its heart, more rotten in nature, and I will believe you.”

“He is a warlord.” “And what is more human than that, I ask you?” She smiled sadly. “Well said, Witchdoctor. Well said.”

“Very clever indeed.” He grinned. “So quickly you learn.” “If you wish me to judge you fairly, then…be fair.”

Very few wake up in the morning and decide they are to be the villain of their own life stories.

“There are worse fates than to pay kindness to those in need of it.”

That was the crux of her dilemma at its heart. It was not whether she loved Vlad enough to forgive him. It was the possibility that some souls no longer deserved mercy.

“The city lies in ruin around you. One of your brief companions has become a succubus, the other is my prisoner to be tortured horrifically, and the third remains doomed. After all you have witnessed, I challenge your assertion that nothing is wrong.” “I will amend, then. Nothing new is wrong.” “Fair.”

My life has always seemed to have one purpose—to collect the suffering of others. To feel the pain of all those around me, and to sympathize with all that I witnessed. I should not have been surprised when the very King of Dread and Suffering himself came to call.”

Death is a mercy. It will not hurt you, not like what you know now.” She tried to put on her best gentle smile. “It is a kindness to those in need. A freedom from the pain and the disease of this world. Men may fear its touch, but it is with loving arms that it comes. To be denied death is a terrible thing.” She resisted the urge to glare at Vlad again. “It breeds only madness.”

No darkness came without reason.

And every day she commanded Vlad to return to her. And every day he defied her. Each day she lay curled at his side, her fingers twisted into the lapel of his suitcoat. And every day he defied her. Until the day he did not.