A Vampire Paradox

By Elaine Waldron

What do you get when you have a seven-year-old little girl, wise beyond her years? Add her mother, recently widowed, and wondering what she is going to do with the rest of her life, mix that with a handsome but lonely vampire who thinks he wants to be left alone, but is desperately fighting his desire to get to know his lovely new neighbor and her daughter. Then add a rogue vampire who will stop at nothing to bring down his arch enemy, and the ones his enemy has recently come to love and will risk his own life to protect – A Vampire Paradox!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaine Waldron
• Release date: Aug 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466188440

Elaine Waldron

Elaine Waldron began her career as a novelist with Publish America, publishing her first two books with them. Aside from her novels, she has had numerous short stories published in various magazines and anthologies, such as Amazing Journeys and Trail of Indiscretion, winning best story based on cover art for issue #4. She was a newspaper journalist earlier on in her career, but shortly after leaving the newspaper, she began selling her short stories.Her favorite authors are: L.J. Smith, Stephen King, Stephanie Meyer, Jack Engelhard, and John W. Cassell. She enjoys Shakespeare and her favorite poet is Rainer Maria Rilke, and she mostly reads and listens to his works in German.She is an advocate for preserving our planet, believes in God, and recycles. Loves animals and has two cats.

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A Vampire Paradox

Elaine Waldron

Copyright © 2011 by Sandra Elaine Waldron

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Table of Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

About the Author

Prologue

Heart racing out of control, the young man ran for his life. Something was after him, something dark and horrible. He’d never known such fear. Though compelled to look back, he was afraid he’d stumble in his flight to get away from whatever it was. He couldn’t see it exactly. But he could feel it; the blackness, the intent.

It wanted to kill him.

In the brief seconds that sped past as he fled for his life, he knew he’d done wrong. He’d raped a young girl, no more than sixteen; had grabbed her as she came out of the theater with her friends. She’d been behind the rest, and when no one was noticing, he’d snatched her into the alley before they knew she was gone, covering her screams with his hand.

Her friends came looking for her briefly, and then decided she’d taken the bus home – something she sometimes did, and he had known this – and when they couldn’t find her they went on their way.

After the crowd dispersed – the movie had been the last one for the night – he had raped her and beat her until she was unconscious, and just as he finished and was about to leave, a strange fog rolled into the alley and headed straight for him. He’d never seen a fog quite like it: the weird luminous blue, the way it churned and moved so swiftly. Something innate knew it wasn’t any ordinary fog. It had stopped at his feet and rose swiftly up his legs, sending chills of absolute terror through his being. He screamed and took off running.

He rounded a corner and made himself look back. Nothing. Was it gone? He faced forward again. But before he could get the scream out the tall dark figure was upon him, sinking sharp fangs into his neck, draining him of his life-force. He was dead in less than a minute.

One

Darkness was no stranger to Donavan Mason. He had lived with it for centuries. Nor did he mind. It was the daylight that hurt his eyes and tended to be uncomfortable to his flesh, but what he disliked the most was that it reminded him of the human he’d once been. He could walk in the daylight, as most vampires actually could, when the sun wasn’t too severe. It was a myth that vamps exploded into flames in the light of the sun, but they were more sensitive to it than humans. For this reason, he had moved to the Pacific Northwest, as the sky was overcast more often than not. And there he had lived for the past hundred years, somewhat secluded, away from populated areas, appreciating the anonymity of the woods. Still, he was unbearably lonely. Something he’d resigned himself to many years ago.

At one point in time, he’d purchased a spider monkey for a pet, thinking it would help take away some of loneliness. Unfortunately, in a moment of extreme thirst, he had ended up killing his pet, draining him of his blood.

There were no more pets after that.

Money was no problem, for he enjoyed a more than plush income from investments he’d made in Europe over the long years he had lived there before moving to the United States. And if someone were to ask, he would say that the thing that kept him from losing his sanity was his art. He loved to paint with oils, acrylics, watercolors, basically any medium one could name. That was what he spent most of his time doing during the day.

Night was another story.

Donavan Mason was a vampire.

Night was when he hunted for his nourishment.

Though he was a killer by instinct, and had been extremely vicious when first turned, after a while he’d learned to curb some of that instinct, especially after seeing the pain and fear in the eyes of a young girl who had witnessed him kill her mother. He had been so filled with thirst for blood – hadn’t fed in several days – he had not realized that a child was close by. Seeing such profound horror in the child’s eyes had suddenly reached deeply into what was left of his humanity. He had compelled the child to forget and taken her into a nearby village, where he believed she had come from and left her asleep on a doorstep. And he had waited, hidden in a dark alley, watching until the following morning when a middle-aged woman opened her door and saw the child there. She had taken her inside immediately. Hoping the child would be safe; he had left and never returned.

The guilt of that experience had never left him. After that, he had always been careful as to his choice of victims, and had for the past century fed primarily on animals; only feeding on humans when he deemed the circumstances acceptable. He had no mercy on criminals and what he considered lowlife. Still, he tried to feed only on people when the thirst for human blood became intolerable and no blood banks were handy.

There was plenty of wildlife in Washington. For that, he was grateful.

Still, he was lonely, especially for the company of a female, and often desired death, believing that death would be the only thing that could ever bring him peace. Only his vampire instinct for survival wouldn’t let him destroy himself; which was something that was nearly impossible for him to do.

Vampires were immortal.

That is unless one lost his head, was staked, or burned to death. The only three ways a vampire could be killed. He wasn’t about to sever his own head or step willingly into a fire. And he certainly wasn’t going to stake himself.

There was a small diner about ten miles up the highway from where he lived in the woods. Next to it was a modest gas and grocery.

He gassed up there occasionally, as he didn’t drive much. Didn’t need to. He could get around faster as a vampire. Still, he liked driving his crimson – reminded him of the color of blood – Dodge Ram, taking it out for an occasional spin; something to help him deal with the relentless boredom and loneliness.

There was a vacant log cabin only a few hundred yards from his, but not nearly in as good a shape, needed a lot of work. He had lived in what was now Kitsap County for ninety something years, having only moved to Pierce County about six months ago. When he’d questioned the realtor about the other one, as he wanted to keep his distance from any neighbors, she’d said she truly believed no one would ever buy or lease the place. It had been vacant for five years. Too much work needed to be done on it and no one seemed to want to pay to fix it up.

That was why he was stunned when he stepped out onto his back porch early one morning and saw an old Mercury wagon with fake wood paneling pulling into the neighboring driveway. He stood there in disbelief as an attractive woman with long golden brown hair got out on the driver’s side, and immediately after, a young girl of around six, with bright red hair in banana curls, jumped out from the back seat, carrying a doll with black hair. No man was with them.

No! He shook his head. No!

The little girl heard him and whipped her head around in his direction, though he was reasonably sure she didn’t see him for the overgrown hedgerow that separated their driveways. But he could see them from where he stood; leaning against the wall of his back porch. Dammit! he hissed, speaking lower now.

The little girl stood there briefly, staring his way, but her mother called out to her and she dashed on up the steps and inside.

Dammit! Donavan said again and went back in his cabin. He was beside himself. No way did he want neighbors. Not this close. Wait a minute, he said to himself. Doesn’t mean they’re moving here. Just looking. Still, she had a key. Obviously, the realtor had given it to her.

He glanced out the window, could just see over the overgrowth. He slipped outside, making himself invisible, and quietly slipped into the yard.

The little girl soon rushed out ahead of her mother. But I don’t want to live way out here in the woods, Mommy!

You’ll love it once you get used to it, Sally. I promise. There’s a small school not too far from here. And you love animals. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of squirrels and other animals for you to see here.

But it’s so far from everything! Sally protested, getting into her seat in the back with her doll and slamming her door.

Looking tired and exasperated, the woman just shook her head and mumbled that it was the best she could do under the circumstances. She just wanted to escape from city life. She got in and drove off.

Donavan took out his cell phone and tried Wilma Henson, his realtor, and apparently also the woman’s. But it was Sunday and she wasn’t answering. However, she did leave a message on her phone that she was on vacation and a Mr. Johnson was filling in for her. And if there were any problems, she left his number. Donavan sputtered some obscenities and went back outside to sit on the porch steps, hoping the woman and her daughter would not be moving in. He had another six months on his lease. He’d never broken a lease before and didn’t want to start now.

A little over a week later, a big moving truck backed into the neighboring drive and immediately behind it was the woman’s station wagon.

Donavan was on his back porch painting Mount Rainer from where he could see it in the distance. Without even looking, he had known it was them – had recognized the purr of the car’s engine before it even pulled in. He was so upset, he yanked his canvas off the tripod and stuffed it in the garbage can sitting by the back porch steps and quickly put his painting supplies away. No way was he in the mood to paint now.

He went inside to wash his hands. The next thing he knew, there was a light knock on his back door. What the—? At first, he didn’t want to answer. But the knocking was persistent, and the woman called out that her cell phone was dead and her electricity hadn’t been turned on yet. She needed to use his phone, if she could.

Shit! he huffed and finally went to the back door and opened it.

The woman’s sparkling hazel eyes got his attention right away. There was something there that, surprisingly, touched him. She was lonely too. His demeanor softened. Yes?

I hate to bother you, Mr.—? But I need to use a phone. Would you have one I could use? she winced apologetically. The movers said they can’t let me use their company phone. Can you believe that?

He simply bobbed his head as though sympathetic to her plight. Then, without taking his eyes off of her, he fished in his back pocket and withdrew his mobile phone. He handed it over.

Thank you! she said, smiling charmingly; mouth up-tilting to the right slightly. I’ll try not to be too long. She pulled a piece of paper out of her jean’s pocket and called the number. She stepped off the porch momentarily while she made her call. When finished, she came back up and handed the phone to Donavan. Thank you so much.

My pleasure.

He went to turn and go inside.

My name’s Sophia.

He turned on his heels.

She had her hand out. We’re going to be your new neighbors for a while. Hopefully, Sally and I will stay here. But I’m not sure how Sally is going to like it. And there’s so much work to do. But it seems I have plenty of time on my hands now. My husband was killed in Afghanistan a few months ago… her eyes misted over. She quickly regained her composure though and said, I just couldn’t stay in Ohio another second. Too much there that reminded me of Bill.

Tentatively, he reached out and took her hand. Donavan.

Just then, Sally bounced up the porch steps. Hi, Mr.! she said, eyes bright. Apparently she was in a better mood than the last time he’d seen her.

Hey there, he said, fighting back the powerful thirst the two humans stirred within him. He hadn’t fed for a couple of days, other than a few ill-fated rabbits. Both mother and daughter smelled very… tasty. This wasn’t going to be easy.

I’m Sally, she announced.

This is Donavan, Sophia said to her daughter. She turned to Donavan. I didn’t get your last name.

Mason… Donavan Mason. They needed to go. He stood there staring at them as the urge to feed quickly grew in intensity. They really needed to go! He glanced at his watch. I hate to rush you off, he said, apologetically. But I have a doctor’s appointment. In a bit of a hurry.

Oh! Sorry. Hope we aren’t making you late. She took Sally’s hand. Thank you for the use of your phone.

No problem. He wasted not a second in stepping back into his cabin and closing his door, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly to quiet the powerful urge, realizing that he was practically drooling. Shit! Shit! Shit! Now he was definitely going to have to keep his appetite for blood sated with them so near. After hunting tonight he would hit the blood banks and stock up. Animal blood wasn’t going to do the job with them living so close. He would drink a unit every day to keep himself at a reasonably safe level in case they came too near. But as soon as his lease was up, he would be gone. Unless they moved away first, which he hoped they would, for he had been realistically content here. He just hoped he could make it until then without either killing them or turning them.

Though he really didn’t need to go anywhere, he grabbed his jacket and his keys and left in a hurry. Now he’d have to drive around a while or find something else to do to pass the time. It was only a few hours to dark. Of that, he was grateful.

After the movers finished unloading what furniture Sophia had kept, and the boxes of what belongings she’d decided were necessary, she just stood there staring at the mess. Little Sally sat at the small table by the wall in the kitchen, eyeing her mother inquisitively, holding her well-loved doll that Daddy had bought her before leaving for Afghanistan. What’s wrong, Mommy?

All this, she said, indicating with a nod to the stack of boxes. I have no idea where to put most of it. She turned in a circle, taking in the rundown cabin that she had so hastily grabbed, because it was reasonable, not thinking that fixing it up might be more than just a little work.

The movers said they could put it away for you. Why didn’t you let them?

Because the place is worse than I realized. Some of the kitchen drawers really need to be rebuilt. Darn! I can’t believe how utterly stupid I’ve been.

You’re not stupid, Mommy. Sally laid her doll on the table and rushed over to hug her mother, sniffling.

Oh don’t cry, sweetheart. Sophia bent over and kissed the crown of her child’s head. I’ll make this work… somehow.

Maybe that nice man will help us?

What nice—? Oh… You mean Mr. Mason.

He’s got really pretty green eyes, Mommy.

Sophia considered her daughter’s words for a minute. Yes. Come to think of it, he does have really pretty eyes."

They kind of remind me of Daddy’s.

Really? She thought back to earlier when she’d briefly spoken to their neighbor. His eyes were similar to the color Bill’s had been. Only Donavan Mason was a good two inches taller. And Bill had been six-foot-two.

Sally pulled back from her mother. I’m getting really hungry.

Sophia glanced over at the gas range that was in dire need of cleaning. She wondered now if it even worked. She’d probably have to buy a new one. She let out a long, tired sigh. Tell you what. There’s that little diner we passed on the way here. Let’s go eat supper there. What do you think?

Sally’s face lit up. I was hoping you’d want to. Can I have a hamburger?

If they have them, you certainly can. And I am sure they do.

Sally ran over and grabbed her doll. Can I take Becca with me?

I doubt if anyone will object. Come on. Take your red sweater.

Where is it? Sally turned and looked around.

I see it. Sophia grabbed it off one of the boxes in the living room. Come on, Sally. Sophia snatched her keys off the table and they were out the door.

The little diner was packed when Sophia and her daughter walked in. And she was just about to turn around and go back home when a friendly woman’s voice said, There’s a couple of seats over here, sugar.

They turned around. A pleasant-faced woman, late thirties or early forties, brown hair back in a bun and a pencil behind her ear, motioned for them to come over.

That is, if you don’t mind sitting on stools?

Stools are fine. Thank you! Sophia urged Sally on and they quickly grabbed the seats.

What can I get for you, cutie? The waitress asked Sally.

Do you have hamburgers?

Certainly do.

Sally replied that she’d take one with lots of fries and a Coke.

You got it, sugar. The waitress turned to Sophia. And how about you? A burger too?

You know… A burger does sound really good. Fries too. Just give me the same as Sally.

Sally, the waitress said, extending a hand to the child. So glad to meet you. I’m Flo.

Sally glanced at her mother, who gave an approving nod and Sally accepted Flo’s hand.

Nice strong grip you have there. Flo then shook hands with Sophia. And Sophia introduced herself. Then, releasing Sophia’s hand, Flow held up her order pad. I’ll get Jim on these right now. She winked. He’s not only the owner. He’s our chief cook. And a darn good one.

Good. Can’t wait to dig in, Sophia said. She turned and smiled happily to Sally as Flo walked off to give the cook their orders.

Most of the crowd dwindled out by the time Sophia and Sally got their meals. Flo cleaned up after the departing patrons and then returned behind the counter, keeping busy and smiling amiably ever so often as the newcomers ate their meals.

Sophia couldn’t have felt more at home in the little restaurant. At least the locals seemed friendly. That could be a big plus. Then, just as they were about to leave, a burly man with a pleasant face and sandy hair came out from the back. Instantly, he noticed Sophia and Sally. He was wiping his hands on a towel and laid the towel aside and came over and introduced himself.

I’m Jim Green, he said, offering his hand to Sophia. They shook. Then he took Sally’s hand but spoke to Sophia. You’re new here. Are you just passing through?

No. We just moved in, Sophia said and then went on to explain what she felt had been a foolish decision in grabbing up the little cabin so quickly.

Jim chuckled just as she finished.

Sophia blushed. You’re laughing at me.

He was obviously surprised. Oh… No. Just sounds like something I’d do.

Seriously? she asked, gazing into friendly brown eyes.

Yeah… He’s serious, Flo interjected as she walked up. He tends to act and think later. Sometimes it gets him into real trouble. But buying the diner here was one of the good ones."

Are you and Flo married?

Oh goodness no! Flo explained. Jim’s my baby brother.

He gave his sister a teasing scowl. By one year. What’s this baby stuff? I’m thirty-five.

And never been married, Flo said.

Flo!

Now Sophia and Sally were the ones giggling.

What? he asked, face red.

Just that you certainly do act like brother and sister. She smiled up at him. He was a little heavy but still attractive; with an energetic air about him. Then she spoke before she thought, How is it you escaped getting married? You’re not bad looking. She put her hand to her mouth. Oh! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.

After recovering from the suddenness of her question, he looked as though he wanted to believe her, but he wasn’t quite sure she meant it. Just never found the right lady, I guess… He was embarrassed.

Before she could respond, the pleasant conversation was interrupted when a very upset young man ran in yelling that he’d found a dead man lying alongside the highway on the way to the diner. He thought the victim had been attacked by a wild animal, for them to call the sheriff.

Grief! Jim exclaimed, glancing at his sister, who already had her phone out of her pocket. She nodded that she was on it already.

Sophia stood. Guess we’d better get going.

No! Jim swirled around. Might not be safe. Wait! He held out a hand.

But—.

Please. At least, let me follow you home. But let’s get the sheriff here first.

Okay. She realized he was right. And she liked the fact that there was already someone who cared about their safety. Certainly. We’ll wait."

Flo got off the phone and walked over, announcing that Sheriff Gibbs was on her way."

Her?

Uh-huh. Flo grinned. Voted for her myself. She may be blonde and pretty, but she’s not anyone you want to mess with. I’ve seen her tackle men down twice her size. Guess she used to be a professional wrestler.

Wow!