Conrad left Liberty Dice with all the information Sabine had gathered. When he arrived in Mistwood, Lydia, his night daughter and right-hand vampire, was waiting for him. She was sitting beneath a street light on a public bench, her hands resting on her knees.
“You arrived faster than I expected,” he said.
Lydia stood up from the bench as he approached, the upturned collar of her burgundy jacket wobbling as she came to meet him. She was not a tall woman, but size did not dictate power in the vampire world. “I was in New Jersey when I got your call. Shall I summon the shades?”
The shades were the elite vampires who worked for Conrad. He’d trained them well to move in the shadows and carry out their tasks with ghost-like efficiency. They could be deployed as invisible agents, doing their work in secret and leaving before anybody knew they’d even been there, or they could be used as an army, marching in en masse to intimidate and subdue their enemy. Tonight, Conrad did not think they were needed. He and Lydia could handle this matter easily enough by themselves.
“Summon them to the state but not the city. I doubt I shall need them, but it would do well to have them nearby. I’m not yet certain how this matter will unfold,” he said, his mind still lingering on the silver chains. “And I need you to keep an eye on one of the elders — Gage Grant. His behavior has aroused my suspicion.”
“Consider it done,” she said and took her leave. Her dark ponytail swung like a pendulum as she vanished around the corner.
There was little more that Conrad could do until tomorrow night, not unless he abandoned subtlety. He needed to find a place to stay. There were a few hotels in Mistwood, but none that met Conrad’s standards and none that offered the level of privacy he would need. A house would be far more suitable.
He flew over the town, enjoying the way the wind swept through his hair and left a cool tingle on his skin. He searched the outskirts of Mistwood where it was less built up. He found what he was looking for fairly quickly; a cul-de-sac with just three large houses. It was the perfect place for him to reside unnoticed while he completed his task.
Staring down at the thermometer-shaped road, he spied a still-lit window on one of the three houses. That singular light had designated the house as his target. The hand of fate was sometimes cruel, as the resident night owl was about to learn.
The house stood tall and proud, with crisp white wood siding that glimmered under the moon’s light. Black-framed box windows shone with orange light from within. A neatly manicured lawn stretched out in front, and along the walkway, a row of vibrant flowers bloomed, adding a pop of color to the pristine exterior. A lot of work went into maintaining the front garden, but the owner’s pride and joy was clearly the spotless red Porche that stood on the drive in front of the closed garage.
As he approached the house, Conrad could hear the sound of the television inside. Conrad knocked three times on the front door and stood patiently waiting. The sound of the television ceased, and the house fell silent.
After a few moments, the door opened slightly and a middle-aged man peered through the crack. Overgrown chestnut hair framed the top half of his face like a pair of shaggy curtains. His eyes were light blue, his pupils large in the darkness. Unkempt facial hair coated his chin and cheeks. He was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a black T-shirt. Conrad picked up the smell of days-old sweat from the man and it was obvious that his last trip to the shower had been some time ago. He was not what Conrad had expected after viewing the pristine exterior of the house.
“It’s four in the fucking morning, what the hell do you want?” the man demanded.
Conrad smiled politely despite his rudeness; he needed to coax the man out of the house since he could not enter uninvited. “I am terribly sorry to disturb you at such an hour, it’s just that I happened to notice somebody trying to break into your car. I scared them away, but I thought I’d better inform you in case they’d caused any damage,” he said.
The man’s face changed like the wind. His hostility was exchanged for concern as his eyes moved from Conrad to the Porche. “They better not have damaged her.” He stormed out of the house and made a beeline for his precious car.
As the man passed, Conrad reached out and seized him by the throat. The man’s eyes bulged, and Conrad clapped his other hand over the man’s mouth. Conrad pulled him in close and whispered dangerously into his ear, “Invite me into your home right now or I will snap your neck.”
He lifted his hand from the man’s mouth and eased his grip on the man’s throat so he could speak more freely.
“Who the hell—” Conrad clamped back down on the man’s neck, cutting off his air and killing his words.
“Invite me into your home now or die. I will not say it a third time.” This time, Conrad gave the man an extra second to decide his fate before loosening his grip.
“Please come inside,” the man said quickly.
“Thank you. It would be my pleasure.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Conrad tossed the man back over the threshold of his house and followed him in a flash, shutting the door smoothly behind him. The man, who was sprawled on the floor of his minimalist hallway, scurried away from Conrad, his face twisted with terror.
“How?” the man spluttered. He was staring at Conrad as though he were the most impossible thing he’d ever seen.
“That’s a rather broad question,” Conrad replied. He opened his mouth and displayed his razor-sharp fangs. Ignoring the small gasp that fell out of the man’s mouth, Conrad bit down on his own hand. Blood pooled from the puncture marks he’d made, deep crimson, midnight red.
“You’re a vampire,” the man said, his tone was now more curious than afraid. One of his questions had been answered thus abating some of his fear. Conrad smiled, most people struggled with the realization for a while longer, choosing to stay in the realm of denial.
“I am.” Conrad grabbed a fistful of the man’s greasy hair and pulled him effortlessly to his feet. The man moaned in pain and tried to struggle, but his efforts were barely felt by Conrad. The man’s eyes widened in horrified disgust when Conrad pressed his palm to his lips, forcing them open and sending his blood flowing into the man’s warm mouth.
The man wriggled and tried to pull his head away, but Conrad’s hold was iron; the man had no hope of escaping him. “Stop struggling; even with the strength of a bear, you would be unable to fight me,” Conrad said matter-of-factly. He watched the man’s throat bob as he was forced to swallow the blood that filled his mouth, it was that or choke on it. He screwed up his face the way somebody does when they taste something sour.
“Do resist the urge to vomit, or I’ll have to repeat the process,” Conrad said as he let the man go.
The man staggered back, falling against the plushly carpeted stairs, too afraid to take his eyes off Conrad. He coughed several times to try and clear the metallic taste that coated his tongue and throat.
“Did you just turn me into a vampire?” he asked in a choked whisper when he was finally finished coughing.
Conrad laughed quietly, tickled by the notion. “You think I would make a vampire on a whim? An act of randomness? No, that is a gift one must earn,” he said.
“Then what did you do?”
Conrad held the man’s gaze with an intense stare. The man looked back into Conrad’s burning eyes, unable to look away. “You will follow every instruction I give you,” Conrad said.
The man’s eyes glossed over, and his jaw slackened as Conrad’s hooks sunk into his mind, digging in deep and taking control. A vampire’s blood was a powerful tool, especially one as old as Conrad. A drop of blood granted a human a portion of the vampire’s strength and durability, but it came with a cost. A vampire could use their blood to enthrall a human. With each sip of blood that Conrad gave him, the man would become easier to control until he was nothing but a mindless slave. However, Conrad rarely reduced humans to such pathetic shells of their former selves. He liked them to retain some autonomy; he liked them to think for themselves and use their initiative; they made for better servants that way.
Conrad had a familiar back in England, but he had been recruited willingly and whilst he did drink Conrad’s blood to inherit his strength, he had not been enthralled; his mind remained entirely his own. This man was not going to be a familiar, he would be nothing more than a thrall.
“Uh…” the man mumbled as his eyes regained their clarity. His eyes held a certain intelligence. That was good, smart thralls made better servants.
“Tell me your name,” Conrad said.
“Simon Grimshaw,” the man replied without hesitation. Good, he wasn’t trying to fight Conrad’s influence.
“Simon, let us go and sit down. Lead the way to your sitting room.”
“Come on through,” Simon said. Conrad followed him into a spacious sitting room. The decor was all black and white, giving it a less than relaxing ambience. A black corner sofa ran along two of the walls, and a huge white coffee table was positioned in front of it like a stone slab. Remote controls, a phone, a laptop, and several dirty bowls were scattered across the table. A huge television was fixed to the opposite wall, and a gunfight was paused on the screen.
Conrad settled on the sofa, nowhere near the array of chocolate wrappers that had congregated around the corner seat. Simon perched himself tensely on the edge of the seat farthest from Conrad. He studied Conrad keenly with a mixture of fear and curiosity. An inquisitive mind was something Conrad could respect since he’d always had one himself.
“Does anybody else live here with you?” Conrad asked. He couldn’t hear anybody else in the house, but even vampiric hearing, heightened though it was, was not infallible.
“No,” Simon said, shaking his head.
Conrad’s eyes swept over Simon’s scruffy appearance and then flicked to the mess over the sofa and coffee table. The rest of the house and the front garden were in perfect condition; a person in Simon’s current state was not responsible for that. “Do you have a maid or a gardener?”
Simon nodded. “Yes, erm, Denise. She comes by a few times a week to take care of the house and garden.”
Conrad sat back, allowing himself to fall into the cushions of the sofa. Denise was another variable. The more people he had to manage, the more likely it was that something might slip out of his control. “Give her the week off. You can do your own cleaning until she gets back. You’ll take the week off work too.”
A flicker of annoyance passed over his face. Simon was not the sort of person who liked being told what to do. Or perhaps he simply thought cleaning up his own mess was beneath him. “I don’t have a job anymore,” he said, his tone laced with sadness.
“And why is that?”
Simon released a long sigh, and his shoulders sagged down toward the ground. “I sold my company and can’t figure out what to do next,” he said.
“Tragic,” Conrad said, having already lost interest. “How many bedrooms are in this house?”
Simon blinked, surprised at the abrupt change in topic. “Erm, six.”
“Good. I will need a room, and in the morning you will prepare the other rooms. Tomorrow night, we will be hosting some guests.”
“Guests? Who?”
“Never mind that.” Conrad waved away his concerns. “Allow me to fully educate you on the present situation. As you correctly deduced, I am a vampire. I plan to be in town for no longer than one week while I tend to some matters. You will assist me for the duration of my stay. It may be that you find a way to resist my hold on your mind. I strongly advise you not to do so. Serve me well, and when I depart, I see no reason for you not to remain alive. However, should you cause me even the slightest inconvenience, you will disappear from the face of the Earth, and nobody will ever find what’s left of you. Do you understand?”
Simon’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped nervously. He opened his mouth and then changed his mind, settling on a simple, terrified nod instead.
