Of Light and Darkness

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  Of Light and Darkness

  Copyright © 2011 by Shayne Leighton

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-090-6

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde

  Cover model – Frantisek Mach

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  http://www.decadentpublishing.com

  Of Light and Darkness

  Shayne Leighton

  Book One

  The Vampire’s Daughter

  ~DEDICATION~

  For Frantisek Mach, my muse, my inspiration, and own personal Valek.

  And for my mother, who never stopped believing in magic, and never stopped believing in me.

  ~ Contents ~

  Prologue: A Narrative

  1. The Bohemian Occult

  2. Stripped

  3. No Fear for the Vampire

  4. The Spider’s Borough

  5. The Price of Sinning

  6. Bedrich, Danek, Kazimir…and Vladislov

  7. No Rest for the Wicked

  8. Reservations

  9. Bronze Light

  10. A Smoking Gun

  11. Nightmare

  12. Safe Haven

  13. Rogues

  14. At A Loss

  15. Beautiful Mind

  16. Bewitchments

  17. Children of the Revolution

  18. Refugee

  19. Nightmarish

  20. Taking Precautions

  21. Et Tu, Brute

  22. Promises Unkept

  23. The Fates

  24. V is for Vengeance

  25. Princess

  26. Blood Lust

  27. Broken Sound

  28. Equinox

  29. The End

  30. Reprise

  Epilogue: A Narrative

  Prologue

  A Narrative

  I, being of mind, body, and death was fully aware journeying beyond the borders of my Occult city was strictly against The Code of the Central European Magic Regime. I missed the human city beyond all reason—missed it enough even to break the law. There was no stopping me as I flew to my escape.

  I hurtled through the window, splintered glass flying around me as I plummeted several stories to the dark, alley floor. I glanced around to make sure I remained unseen by passing humans. Blood soaked my chest from where a nefarious wizard had stabbed me with his wretched letter opener. Though thankfully, I felt no pain. I could hear shouting above me. Guards were being called. I had to run.

  Too fast for any of them to see, I dodged each one, knowing I did not have time to act on any of my instincts. I held my breath and kept my pace as the flesh wound in my center began to slowly mend itself. Law One, arguably the most important law of The Magic Code, meant any creature of magic blood could not expose what they truly were to any mortal. I was already breaking Law One simply by being in the capital city, not to mention the many other laws I’d already violated that evening.

  None of the guards’ thoughts were audible to me anymore. I glanced back just in time to see the platoon run off in a different direction through the dimly lit alleys of Old Town. I was too fast—too powerful. Vladislov knew this was the case the moment I broke into his chamber, behind what he thought to be impenetrable palace walls. I chuckled as I slowed, the world breaking into real time around me. It seemed so much slower, like it was standing still, as I ran.

  Prague was unseasonably warm that evening, bustling with East Germans and natives thriving against the organized chaos in the streets. The majority of the German refugees packed themselves in and around the embassy walls, making it increasingly difficult for me to ignore the aroma of so much flesh in one place.

  The Golden City of my memory, gleaming brilliantly under the sun, was now a mere indigo shadow under oppressive red and yellow flags. The parallels between the mortal world and ours were uncanny. I cursed the tower of the Regime Palace as it dipped back beneath the sea of city spires behind me.

  Perching on a forsaken bench in the middle of Hradcany, I listened to a folk band play a native song under the glow of a crooked streetlamp. I recognized the song made famous by Karel Kryl. I studied them all. I smelled their warmth. I heard their happiness. It was as though I was watching a play, as if I were the reality looking in on the make-believe. The exact same way they would feel if they ever happened to look in on me.

  Passersby threw coins into a tattered hat near the band, and I stayed there into the early hours of the morning. Fixated. Memories of myself, as I used to be, surfaced in my mind.

  A group of drunken Russians stumbled out of a nearby tavern, their sound obnoxious and intruding against the peaceful acoustic din. The young women smiled flirtatiously at me as their pursuers pulled them past, casting threatening glares. I chuckled. Little did those men know what a threat I really could be. I shifted the chip on my shoulder and averted my gaze.

  Peering eagerly into the hat now filled with small change, the band celebrated their night’s earnings and packed their instruments away into their cases. Soon they disappeared from the city square. I was alone once more.

  The moon was beginning to retreat to the underbelly of the earth, dawn’s army of light invading over the horizon. I would be dying soon. It was time to return to my home—my prison. I craned my head up to look at the stars, delicately woven beading that mapped out our fate. Fate. The word used to make sense to me. Though now, I learned to only appreciate the idea of self. I had become my own friend over the vast years that turned on a dial like minutes. Expendable. Life to me was expendable.

  Walking out of the town square, I heard a wailing. Muffled and hidden, like no sound I had ever been familiar with before, it was slight enough so even the keenest human ear would have missed it. But there were also thoughts. Small, simple pictures that seemed human coming from just behind a nearby shrub.

  Inching around the corner of the boxy greenery, I expected to find some malignant little monster waiting for me just on the other side. My hands hardened into claws. My cat’s eyes shifted around in the dark. I was ready to attack, to feed if I had to.

  But I found nothing like what I expected. I returned back from beast the moment I saw her, a tiny body wriggling in a pile of rags that did nothing to keep her warm. A mortal infant. Curious, I knelt over her and saw tear droplets quivering on her downy cheeks. Little auburn wisps from the top of her head shuddered in the breeze.

  The child stared at me with large, glassy eyes. I looked around to see if there was anyone to claim her, perhaps from some horrible mistake they made by leaving her there. Alas, the street now was empty, and no one seemed to have remembered the lonely little being. I sighed and my gums began to throb with a familiar pain. I gazed down at her and could feel my pupils spread, engulfing my entire eye in black. She smelled so pure. Clean and co
mpletely uncontaminated, like breathing fresh air. Her blood would taste sweet, but I feverishly shook those demons from my mind.

  I slid my long, cold hands underneath her and lifted her out of the crude nest of covers. The child cooed at me and looked wondrously at the world around us. Little noises continued to slip from her mouth. I watched her, rather surprised at myself. It was impossible—out of everything which existed in my horrible world of nightmarish things, this impossibly tiny human was the first thing in a hundred years that scared me. Me, the monster. I chuckled, despite my fear.

  She peered up at my grave-marker face and continued to make slight, curious noises at me, naïve to our deadly differences. This innocent little mortal was so weak, vulnerable, and terrifying.

  “I am not going to kill you,” I convinced myself. Glancing around the square, a sign indicating the Charles Bridge caught my eye. “Charlotte.” The name fit her so well. My decision had been made. Walking at a steady, human pace, all the while transfixed by her, I carried her away from the bushes, not taking my eyes off her for a second. I—we —made our way back home, into the deep woods of Bohemia.

  I was to be alone no more.

  Chapter One

  The Bohemian Occult

  A twig cracked behind Charlotte. She stopped to see where the sound had come from. Her pulse leapt into her throat as her eyes sifted around in the dark for a pursuer. The Regime had increased the security around Occult borders recently, and being human was never a good thing when faced with the magic or their laws. Her grip tightened around the wrist of the other mortal woman beside her, one Charlotte drugged using a borrowed Witch’s spell.

  Perspiration formed around her forehead as she stayed completely still, listening for another sign of movement. She had been so careful, waiting until the Lycanthrope guarding the Occult entrance became distracted by his supper, some passing animal. Now, it almost felt like she should feel his shiny eyes tracking her from within his hiding spot in the dense forest. Her hand quivered as she slid it up her chest, feeling for the little, silver pendant that normally hung there.

  Damn. She had forgotten her whistle at home. Now there was no way to call for Valek if she needed him.

  The woman groaned next to Charlotte, her head lolling to one side. Not hearing any further movement within the forest, Charlotte took the opportunity to get out of there. She sucked in a huge breath through her nose, straining to quiet her frenzied heartbeat. Perhaps it had been a rabbit or a deer, she told herself as she continued walking again.

  Charlotte continued to pull Valek’s stupefied dinner through the shadowed tree-tunnel leading to the hidden Bohemian Occult city. Silvery haze off the Vltava River streamed down the dirt path, kicking up with every step. The sticky, August air made her clothes cling to her skin and sweat beaded on the back of her neck as she huffed over her fast pace through the tunnel, every so often glancing behind her. She struggled to keep her grip on the magically intoxicated woman close beside her as she swifted through the darkness, her boots crunching in the packed dirt.

  The occult town was vibrant, busy with fiddles playing themselves on street corners, and enchanted paper lanterns hanging mysteriously string-less in the dead of night. Lycanthropes chattered with each other in alleyways between the hotels and inns. Fairies stalked in the shadows, preying on unfortunate cats and mice. Hearty Elves with round bellies and rosy smiles worked late into the night, pushing their wooden carts filled with baked goods and meats. They waved a greeting to Charlotte as she passed.

  Charlotte had become part of the secret of these towns guarded by Witchcraft and governed by Magic; the safe havens of things that stalked the shadows of human nightmares. Though she had never been to any of the other Occults, she knew some were the most beautiful empires ever built on Earth, and by far the greatest secrets ever kept from her kind. Yet out of every last Occult city that stood, she was the one and only human to live among the monsters. Charlotte, the Vampire’s foundling daughter.

  Charlotte grimaced as she passed tall, scandalous-looking Witches gossiping amongst themselves around the threshold of a smoky tavern on the square. They clutched their colorful drinks like an accessory as they lingered close to each other in the dense shadows. They spoke too low for her to hear under the sounds of the string quartet playing near the back of the bar, but she had no doubt they were talking about her.

  One Witch in particular eyed Charlotte passing in the dank street just outside the tavern entrance. The corners of her wine-stained lips curled upward.

  “Hello there!” Evangeline hailed from her circle of chatty friends.

  They all turned their heads to snicker and appraise Charlotte. She rolled her eyes and stopped to watch the leather-clad figure snake through the tavern threshold to meet her in the center of the road.

  “I see my spell worked.” Evangeline analyzed the drugged mortal’s glassy stare. “It took me ages to conjure it up, but it was the least I could do to help you hunt for Valek.” She tossed her long, chestnut hair behind one shoulder, revealing a circular scar.

  Charlotte stared at her, stomach twisting in an envious fit. She remembered when Evangeline received that scar, another particularly warm night only a few weeks earlier.

  “Yes.” Charlotte studied the catatonic woman next to her. “Your spell worked very well, actually. It saved me a lot of time. Thank you, Evangeline.” She muttered the last part under her breath.

  She could never understand why the Witch made her skin crawl. She’d always been kind enough to her. Charlotte chalked it up to Evangeline being so sickeningly beautiful. Charlotte’s stomach turned again.

  “Where did you find this…woman?” Evangeline asked, eyeing her Prague sweatshirt and torn jeans. “She must be a tourist.”

  “She was alone outside a nightclub. It sounded like she was arguing with someone on her telephone. American, I think. It was very easy. I approached her, pretended I was lost…” Charlotte trailed off. “But I really have to be getting home now. Valek is expecting me.” Yanking at Valek’s dinner to follow, she started walking again.

  Evangeline fell into step beside them.

  “I’ll go with you!” the Witch chirped. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen Valek. He seems so busy with patients lately. I’d love to catch up with him.”

  Charlotte dropped her gaze, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Evangeline and Valek both looked about the same age—their mid-twenties. They had known each other for years before Charlotte was brought into the picture. She knew that. In all of those years, Valek had never tried to pursue anything romantic with the Witch, yet something still burned inside of Charlotte whenever Evangeline wanted to see him. The feeling twisted around like a tapeworm in her bowels.

  “I don’t think he wants any visitors tonight. I’ll be sure to send him your regards, though.”

  “Oh.” Evangeline halted. Her face fell for a moment, but snapped back into a fake, bubbly smile. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then, Charlotte.” The Witch turned and began walking back toward the pub.

  Charlotte’s conscience kicked her in the gut and the words spilled out before she could stop them. “But maybe you can stop by tomorrow night. I don’t think Valek has any appointments scheduled.” The truth was, Valek had not had any appointments in a long while, since Evangeline had been attacked by the Lycan-guard. That was the first night Charlotte realized how serious the Regime had gotten about their laws. She remembered the deep gash in her shoulder as she screamed and retched on the gurney as Valek sewed her up again.

  Evangeline spun around, her eyes bright. “Perfect! I will be there when I get off work, around midnight.”

  “Fine. I should be out hunting, but Valek will be home.” Charlotte forced a smile. She dug her nails into the other mortal’s arm as they began walking again. She swore under her breath.

  Charlotte made her way down the small, stony footpath that branched out from the end of the square and led in the direction of home. Partially tucked away b
ehind tall evergreens, the house used to be an old, abandoned cathedral Valek converted into his residence back when the Occult had first been created, years ago. Its stony facade made it look like a miniature castle sitting against the dreamy backdrop of the Bohemian forests. All of the lights were still on inside, casting an inviting glow from the windows as Charlotte trudged up the crooked porch steps, dragging Valek’s mortal meal along.

  It was the only home Charlotte had ever known, and he was the only family she ever had. She always did whatever he asked of her, even if that meant luring her own kind to their fate so Valek could survive. It was the only way for him to feed due to the tyrannical laws of the Central European Magic Regime. Laws that forced all beings of magic blood to stay within the confines of the small Occult towns, so no mortal would become aware of the existence of magic. Valek could only feed if a mortal happened to stumble upon the borders of the secret village, or if Charlotte lured one in.

  Charlotte parked the bewitched woman next to her on the stair. She shrugged out of her oversized pea coat and hung it on the oak coat-stand with the dozens of horrid faces carved into its trunk.

  Valek bounded out from the library.

  “Lottie!” He greeted her with a large, toothy grin and lifted her in an enormous hug that swung her around off the floor. “I was beginning to worry, my Lottie. You did not take your whistle.” He pulled it from his pocket and dangled it on the end of a long, silver chain in front of her.

  The whistle was their only means of communication when they were apart. Valek’s acute ears could catch its sound from miles away. He had it made of pure silver, so nothing sinister could snatch it from her if she ever found herself in any kind of trouble without him.

  “Sorry. I was in a hurry this evening. I suppose I forgot it.” Charlotte grabbed the ornate whistle and strung it back around her neck. She smiled at him, melting the worried creases in his forehead.