Page 1 of The Vampire Curse

Chapter One

Alaric

“Shall we go meet our guests?”Lawrence says, striding toward the door. Any lingering emotion over my refusal to mark Clara has vanished from his demeanor.

I clench my fists at my sides. The empty glass in my hand shatters and the shards fall to the floor at my feet, crunching underfoot as I turn.

I don’t even feel the sting of cuts along my palm, though they are healed before I’m halfway across the room.

From their perch on the mantle of the fireplace, Cherno lifts their small head and cocks it to the side in silent question. I jerk my chin in the direction of Clara’s room in answer, then I am out of the office and at the front door of the manor two seconds later, with Lawrence following at my heels.

Mr. Steward waits by the door for me to give him orders. Usually, he would greet any visitors and bring them into the drawing room to await my arrival. Tonight, I dismiss him. I’d rather not have these visitors get any ideas about his purpose in this household.

Once he is safely away, I open the door.

Three vampires stride from the black carriage, their attire is equally dark, and without a shred of any other color. The female—though the weakest of the lot—ascends the steps, preceding the two men.

“Della,” I say, infusing as much cheer into my voice as possible. “I was beginning to think you would never grace Windbury with your radiance.”

“You are full of demon shit, Mr. Devereaux,” she says, but a smile still graces her lips as she enters. Della runs a finger along the edge of my jaw, her long nail scratching at my skin. I feel small beads of blood well up before the cut knits itself back together.

Della’s eyes remain locked on Lawrence. She doesn’t slow until she stands before him, her chest pressed to his. She reaches up to the back of his head to pull him down to place a kiss on his mouth. He doesn’t return the kiss, but he doesn’t fight it either, he just allows it to happen.

A pale white and gold rat scurries from her shoulder to his, flicking Della’s chin length black hair with the pink whip-like tail.

Lawrence left his demon with Della. It was his way of keeping an eye on the others. His distrust in such a seemingly ordinary gesture tells me all I need to know.

“I missed you too, Arinah,” Lawrence whispers as the demon nuzzles him with their little pink nose.

I face the two vampires standing just outside the threshold.

Cassius wears his white blond hair loose as always. Though now it has grown more than halfway down his back from the shoulder length it was the last time we crossed paths.

The other man?Him,I do not know.

“It has been a long time, friend,” I say, greeting only Cassius, though he is anything but a friend.

“Are you not going to invite us in?” he asks. His expression is passive, the only hint of his true thoughts show in a singularly raised brow.

A breeze picks up, bringing with it the bite of an early winter chill—another reminder that in two months, Clara and I will venture north and face Elizabeth. But if I have any say in the matter, we will avoid it altogether.

The demons in the forest howl as they emerge for the night. They are louder than usual—closer.

I hold in a curse. Their presence has been an ever-increasing problem lately that demands more and more of my attention. And I must go out again soon to chase them back.

However, with my newly arrived guests to keep me occupied, I don’t know how or when I will be able to take care of the encroaching demons or find the cause, let alone keep any one of these vampires from draining every last drop of blood from Clara’s veins.

“Yes, please come in, Cassius… and,” I pause, finally turning to the unknown man.

Red rings his irises. It is not an uncommon sight for a vampire needing to feed, but he is the only one showing that trait at this moment. He would have fed with the others. Which only means one thing—his bloodlust is barely contained.

My blood boils. Upon hearing I claimed a human for the first time, Elizabeth has deemed fit to send a newly created vampire to my home.

“I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting yet,” I say with false pleasantries. “I am Alaric Devereaux.”

His hair is short and is a mix of blond and light brown. His clothes are neatly pressed without a single stitch out of place—exactly how Elizabeth prefers us. In his left, he carries a fat toad, thick with warts.

Charming.