Chapter one
As houses go, and I've lived in many, Dalborne Manor was nothing special. A six bedroom two storey Victorian on the outskirts of Paradise, Texas.
My last place was three times bigger and had a lot more class. But it would have to do. It was the only place available immediately and for cash.
"Dalborne Manor is highly sought after property," the realtor had told me. She failed to mention the three homicides five years ago. So much for full disclosure. I had done my research though. James Dalborne and his wife were murdered by their housekeeper before she turned the gun on herself. Love triangles suck.
To be honest murder doesn't bother me. I've been surrounded by death my whole life. Or unlife. God, I hate that expression. The undead. After all these years I would have thought the fiction writers of the world would come up with something new. Undead made me feel like a zombie. Some creature with rotting flesh, slowly decaying away.
Nothing could be further from the truth. I have the flesh of a twenty five year old, and the body to match. In short, I am not a zombie. I am for lack of a better term, a vampire. And I'm a lot older than twenty five.
I have lived in many places, mostly eastern Europe, over the years. Paradise was not somewhere I planned on calling home. It was merely a stop gap for now.
It was night time when I arrived at the house.
I walked slowly up the broken, weed choked driveway, taking in the scents the night had to offer. Various roses grew in the front yard and somebody nearby had recently mowed their lawn.
Underneath those sweet smells was the odour of decay. A raccoon or similar animal was lying dead, hidden in the grass. Making a mental note to get rid of it tomorrow, I retrieved the key from the hiding place the realtor had left it in and opened the front door.
A chill crawled up my spine as I crossed over the threshold.
It was now under my ownership. There have been occasions in the past where I have not been able to move into a house because legally there is a living relative somewhere that owns it.
That's why I chose Dalborne Manor. James Dalborne had no family other than his wife so I was free to move in.
My things were already in place. It's amazing how fast a furniture removal team can move if you offer them enough money.
I travel light, aside from my clothes I own only a few pieces of antique furniture and an extensive book collection. Mostly first editions.
I closed the door and flicked the light switch. No power.another thing I would have to take care of.
I was too tired from the trip to do the full tour. I made my way upstairs wondering if my bed was in place.
I paused on the top step as a faint glow caught my eye, coming from the master bedroom. I didn't sense anyone else in the house but I moved cautiously just in case.
The door was wide open so there was no cover. I stayed low and when I was close enough, peered into the room. My hand moved to my ankle. I slipped the knife I carried out of my boot. I may be fast and incredibly strong but I've learnt over the years that it never hurts to have a B plan.
My eyes found the source of the light, standing in the middle of the room was a middle aged man in his pyjamas with only half a face.
I sighed. Damn death echoes. I put my knife away and walked into the room. I guess I should have expected it. Death echoes are basically action replays of grisly murders. They aren't as common as you would think but every now and then I run across one.
This one was obviously James Dalborne after the housekeeper rearranged his face with a 12 gauge.
Being 'undead' as I was I had the ability to see them. Regular humans can see them too sometimes or at least feel their prescence. They are kind of horrible to look at but harmless.
I left him where he was and undressed. I tossed my clothes on the floor and slipped under the cool sheets.
I was glad my antique four poster bed had arrived in tact. Another myth dispelled. I don't own a coffin. Let's face it, if you had the choice between a hard wooden box or an orthopedic mattress, what would you choose?
I was just drifting off when Dalborne began moaning. I sighed and opened an eye to look at him. He was flickering like a dying light bulb, drifting back and forth across the room.
I swiped the curtains closed on the bed and tried to ignore the moans,
"Welcome to Paradise," I mutter.
Dublin 1880
I pulled the thick woollen traveling cloak tightly around me as I walked the cobbled streets, my heels clicking as I went.
A fine misting rain fell around me, soaking through the cloak, adding to the weight of it.
I cursed him for making me search for him. He knew we were supposed to be leaving this wretched little island and yet he chose now to go out drinking. The boat was leaving in less than two hours. The sooner the better.
The stench in these back streets would overpower anyone, and my sense of smell was particularly acute.
A vagrant lurched past me smelling of body odour and cheap liquor.
"Spare some change, miss?" he asked.
I snarled at him and he scampered away.
"Vermin," I hissed.
I turned down a narrow alley and arrived at the last tavern in the area. He had to be here.
Laughter erupted from just inside and the door opened. He staggered out into the street, completely oblivious to my prescence. I stood my ground waiting for him to notice me, growing more impatient by the second.
After swaying about on the spot, he finally looked up. His pale blue eyes took me in. He had a mischievous grin on his face. Anyone looking at him would see a young good looking man who came from money. They had no idea how dangerous he actually was.
"We're going to miss the boat," I said.
"I've been busy. I was talking to a local writer. Brian or Bran, something like that. I gave him a few ideas for a love story."
I resisted the urge to laugh at that. He may have lived for centuries but he knew nothing about love. He wasn't capable of it.
"We really should go."
He whistled as he walked along.
A couple passed us, an older man and a young blonde woman. I prayed he didn't see her although she definitely saw him. When they turned a corner, out of sight, I relaxed.
"How long until the boat leaves," he asked. He had seen her.
"Not long enough," I said pointedly.
"Go ahead to the boat. I'll meet you there."
He was gone before I could stop him.
I spent the next three hours trying to convince he captain to wait. Just before dawn, he appeared with the blonde in tow. He was leading her by the arm. She looked dazed and her neck was smeared with blood.
"This is Evelyn," he shoved her into my arms. She could barely stand up.
"I want her trained up by the time we reach France."
I looked down at the girl, I saw the terror in her eyes. If I had been stronger I would have snapped her neck there and then, and saved her anymore pain.
Instead I loaded her onto the boat.
