The Dead Speak: An Ophelia Moriarty Novel

By Brianna Vanderland

In a twisted world where many races are thrown together, vampire Ophelia Moriarty is a servant of the Council, the Elders that represent their race. When werewolves are slaughtered in the countryside, the Council decides to send Ophelia to solve the case with Elder Conall, a hot tempered werewolf who has his sight set on Ophelia, who hardly knows he's alive.

Can Ophelia solve the case or will the werewolf community be slowly killed off?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bree Vanderland
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536540055

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Text Copyright © 2014 Brianna S. Vanderland

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional. The author humbly begs your pardon. This is fiction, people.

Cover Art by Midnight Dreams: Designs and Editing

Editing by Midnight Dreams: Designs and Editing

Formatting by Midnight Dreams: Designs and Editing

ISBN-13: 978-1514336540

ISBN-10:1514336545

Table of contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Prologue

The rain fell in sheets, the sound of it hitting the pavement and the few ice droplets that were bouncing off the stone of the bridge echoed slightly through the short tunnel. The wind whipped the woman’s long blonde hair in every direction, making it nearly impossible to see as thunder sounded and lightening lit up the area. She was waiting for someone who was already late and in that moment, she felt like she had failed the first mission that the Elders sent her on after the many years it took for her training.

Glancing at her watch, she sighed. There was nothing that she could really do to get him here, but reaching up, she tied her hair at the base of her neck and waited as the rain soaked through her tight black jeans, loose black shirt, zipped black jacket, and the cloak that wrapped around her in the wind. The cloak that was billowing around her was just for appearances as she needed to show who she represented, not that the dark gray seal was visible against the black fabric since the moonlight was covered with the dark clouds that cried.

Glancing around, she gazed at the bridge that she was standing nearby. Wanting to be seen and to have her visitor realize she was alone, she resisted stepping under it for safety against the storm. There was a small stream that was running below the bridge and she was standing at the edge of the water. Looking up the small hill towards the edges of the road to her left, she could barely see the outline of her black Bentley she hardly drove, sitting next to the guard rail.

With everything that was going on, she knew that the deal needed to be made and it needed to be made quickly. That was why they had sent her and that was why she was standing in the rain, waiting on him to arrive. Time ticked by slowly as the wind picked up even more, the trees in the distance shifting their weight as they were moved. Once she heard the footsteps behind her, she sighed in relief, needing to update the Council all before the sun rose over the horizon.

You’re late, she spoke quietly, knowing that he would hear her anyway. You were supposed to be here an hour ago. For the one supposedly calling all the shots, you’re not doing a great job.

She turned around and only saw his shadow, but she was warned that would be all that she would see as she was warned beforehand. It had happened before, the last time he had threatened the peace between all the races and all the people, and everyone had bought it. Everyone had essentially, everyone had bowed down and given him what he wanted in return. Now he was back and the woman was stubborn – part of the Council had sent her. She wouldn’t bow down for anything.

Doesn’t matter, does it? His voice was soft and velvety, something that she could easily see herself begging to hear more of if it was a different situation. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse at his face, but it was useless. The dark hid him well, combined with the hood of his dark cloak, even if she had extraordinary sight. Did you bring the stuff?

She waited before replying because a part of her was scared. She was young and had her entire life ahead of her, but it could all disappear if she told him no. She didn’t have the drug and right in that moment, he knew and her quiet pulse quickened.

Damnit! he cursed, seeing the answer written in her face as he turned and started walking away from her briskly. When he turned back, it was clear that he was furious. Rushing up to her, he grabbed her shoulders quickly, pushing her against one of the pillars that held up the bridge. As he did so, his own hood fell, exposing his decomposing face, the flesh slowly peeling off of it, bone and blood present and oozing from different wounds. I don’t think you understand the severity of it. I need the drug. I need it to survive and if I don’t have it..."

He paused, leaving the woman anticipating the next part of the sentence. It was a good thing that she wasn’t squeamish as she would have shied away, but she didn’t. In fact, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horror. There was a piece right above his eye that was hanging down, brown and clotting blood where the skin use to be. A part of her wanted to reach up and tear the rest of it off for him, but she doubted that he would appreciate that very much.

What will happen? she questioned as she tried to struggle against him, but it was useless though as he pulled her away and then slammed her back against the stone again. She winced as the pain shot up her back, but she didn’t show it on her face.

What will happen is that this... this disease I have will be spread and that’s not what you want, is it? Think about it. All the races will be faced with this disease, this affliction, and you would have an outbreak on your hands. Is that really what the Elders want?

He took a step back from her and paced, but she was frightened, keeping against the stone, just in case he decided to attack. She was sure he didn’t know, but she had a dagger strapped beneath her cloak, one with an intricate design on it. It was made especially for her as the hilt was made of gold and the blade was made of the purest sapphire, formed into an unbreakable blade that made the smoothest of cuts.

You don’t understand what you’re doing, keeping the drug locked up the way that you do...

It’s not my call, she started to reply, but again, he spun around and slithered up to her quickly. She could feel his rancid breath against her cheek and the ooze of the blood as his cheek touched hers as he whispered in her ear.

That’s where you’re wrong, dear. Okay, maybe she was starting to feel a little nauseated from everything, holding back the vile that was rising in her throat. The people control the Elders, just remember that.

Stepping back, he raised his hands as his eyes bore into hers. I will give you one week and not a second longer to get me what I need or else, my dearest Ophelia Moriarty.

Her eyes grew wide as her name slithered off of his tongue. For a moment, there was something in the air, something that wanted her to retreat and find the Elders, telling them everything that had transpired, but the other part left her intrigued as to how he had known it was her and had her wanting to stay with

Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out, Princess? Princess was all but spat out as he rolled his eyes, stepping towards her again. Turn their heads, he whispered before he roams past her and back under the bridge.

And if I can’t convince them? she called out, thinking that he was already gone. His reply came, quietly and barely audible, but still it was there.

Then the countless deaths from the affliction will be your problem, not mine.

****

He was gone. He had already left, leaving her alone in the rain, leaving her to think about what he had just said. It was a no brainer, obviously, but something still told the Elders that they couldn’t give the man, if that’s what he even was, the drug. Something told them to it was a bad idea and no matter whether they gave him the drug or not, he would always hold it over their heads for countless years, decades, or even centuries to come considering that he was someone that would live for many more years. The only difference was how many others they had to deal with who fell ill if he decided to spread whatever he had.

There was a time, Ophelia thought back two hundred years, when there was an outbreak of what he had. He started it and yet, the Elders still allowed him to live. His name was Jinx back then as he liked to play tricks on people, but his kind of tricks weren’t very pleasant. The outbreak was before a crowd of humans and he reached out, grabbed a woman who was holding a baby, and bit into her throat, tearing out a piece of flesh. Blood spewed everywhere and Ophelia could still hear the echoing screams of innocent bystanders as they were in the middle of the city, celebrating. By now, Ophelia had forgotten what they were celebrating, but still – the blood spilled as the woman turned, the desire to eat human flesh filling her and carrying on into everyone else who she bit or they bit.

Zombies.

Isn’t that what they were considered as they were mindless reanimated bodies that craved the need to consume flesh? It didn’t have to be human flesh, goodness no. There were countless dead animals that were lying around as well eventually, but in the center of the city, people were fleeing, screaming, calling out for loved ones, and even crying. Innocent blood was spilled that day and there wasn’t a day that went by that Ophelia didn’t remember it. She was sure that the Elders thought the same as they were seated on the stage where everyone could see them.

Ophelia! she heard her father call out. When she turned on the stage, the moonlight shined in her eyes, but she shook it away as she saw his black robe as he was shuffling about, trying to maneuver through the crowds towards her. The stage was a large one, one that could probably hold about two hundred people on if needed, made of wood, many pillars underneath of the stage to hold it up. Cyan, her father, had panic in his bright blue eyes as he rushed towards his daughter, his hood falling to reveal his face. He was an old man, human, and a part of the Elders. Ophelia wasn’t like him. She wasn’t as weak. Her bones weren’t as brittle since she had the Blood running through her veins.

Father? Ophelia called out, but she couldn’t see him. In a panic, people had rushed and clambered on to the stage, blocking the way to her father who she had cared for over the years. Cyan? There was no reply except for the screaming. Screams echoed over the high, stone walls of the city. There was a castle that stood behind the stage and the Elders and that was when people were rushing into the building that they thought was safe. Once inside, many people thought it would be a good idea to lock the door, keeping those now infected out as well as many innocents, something that would have been a good idea had there not already been people infected inside.

Ophelia had been dragged in with them as she was looking for her father, the people pushing her back as they rushed towards the castle. Not seeing him, she rushed to the stairs and ran up a few stories before she came to a window, looking out in the crowds. There were countless dead bodies, all piled on top of one another, blood everywhere, even splattered on the stone walls. In the distance, at the back of the crowd where the bodies started piling up, there was a figure standing on the bodies, a villainous sneer on his face. As Ophelia tore her eyes away from the pile, she looked to the stage, looking for her father.

She had found him all right, his face already changed and all emotion gone from his eyes as he sauntered over the bodies that littered the stage. His flesh was still intact for the most part, all except for the portion that was taken out of his arm, the black fabric of his robe torn away. The veins in his face became more pro-dominant and black as vile now ran through them. Ophelia shed a single tear for her loss, but quickly wiped it away as she began planning.

The humans wouldn’t make it out alive – she knew that, but the vampires could. The elves could. The werewolves could, the older ones who could change at will at least. The pixies, dragons, selkies, and mermaids would be able to survive, fighting their way out or fleeing, but that still left the death of countless humans and those that were the weakest of their race, unable to fight or flee, lacking the supernatural abilities that the others held.

Coming to her senses, Ophelia shook her head and spun back around to the stairs. She didn’t go down to fight with the others, she went up. Getting to the top of the tower, she pushed open the door and the metallic smell of blood hit her. The vampire part of her wanted to go down there and share in the bloodbath as it was calling her, as it was calling to all the vampires, some already down and biting into the supple flesh of innocents. Its voice soft and sweet against the screams, but she shook her head, knowing she needed to resist. She knew most of the blood was tainted and she needed to get away.

Turning to face the ocean that was on the other side of the castle, she made a split decision and got a running start, jumping off of the building. She feared hitting the rocks below and not being able to heal swiftly enough, but still she reached out, turning her body so her hands would hit the water first, her hands pressed together tightly to make a perfect dive. And she did.

She survived.

Chapter One

Did you complete the mission? Zyra was now standing before her as she made her way back to the Temple where the Elders were waiting. The Temple was nothing more than a skyscraper that was made of tinted glass to protect those who couldn’t live in the sunlight. Did you tell him no?

Ophelia nodded as she unclipped the clamp of her cloak, folding it over her arm. I did tell him that the Elders would not be giving the F-89 to him, but...

No buts, Ophelia. You know how we Elders are.

Ophelia nodded as Zyra led her into the building. The inside was something that was rather classical, white flooring and there was a waiting area, black wooden chairs contrasting against the flooring. In front of the double doors was a desk, one that matched the chairs where there was a secretary directing people to their chairs or to the office where someone was waiting to listen to their problems. The offices lined both walls that were decorated according to each employees tastes, differing in many things, but Zyra and Ophelia headed towards the elevator that was farther behind the desk.

In that moment, Ophelia thought about her position here and longed for more. She was a Protector, someone who did the Council’s bidding. When something needed investigating, they sent her out to some remote place where no one wanted her snooping in on their secrets. And it was Grail’s fault. It was Grail, the Elder of the vampires who had sired her, making it impossible for her to inherit Cyan’s position on the Council. Instead, upon Grail’s death, she would inherit his all because she fell ill and Cyan couldn’t bear to part with his daughter just yet.

Finally stepping past the offices, Zyra led Ophelia to the elevator and when the silver doors opened, they stepped into the elevator. The walls of the elevator were silver while the carpet was the color of blood and Zyra could see her reflection in the mirror-like metal as could Ophelia, despite all the fantasies that vampires didn’t have reflections.

I apologize for this, Ophelia. I know you don’t like tight spaces, but it’s the only way.

Ophelia didn’t reply, but only nodded, her lips pursed as she was counting the floors, looking at the number change quickly, wishing like hell that there were stairs.

23.

24.

25.

26.

Closing her eyes, Ophelia took deep breaths, stretching her lungs as best she could even though she technically didn’t need