A Vampire's Tale

By Maya Tyler

The best laid plans...

Marisa Clements was never satisfied writing the ‘gossip column’ in the local paper so she quit her job to follow her dream of writing fiction. Floundering in an unforgiving industry, she wrote about vampires, a popular subject she considered fascinating but as real as unicorns, to pay the rent.

Corgan Halton was tired of human misconceptions about vampires. He planned on telling Marisa his story and end his existence. It was no coincidence Corgan selected Marisa to write his story. With the ability to see the future, he knew she would be a major part of it. He knew she would be the one to help him die, but in doing so, she’d be doomed to the same fate. Once they met, their futures would be irrevocably intertwined.

Corgan began caring for Marisa and finally revealed the truth to her. He admitted his quest to atone for his past sins had put her in grave danger from a nest of revenge-seeking vampires. Corgan must claim her for her own protection. But claiming her is not enough, he must ask for help from his wizard friends and his maker in order to destroy his enemy or Marisa will never be safe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
• Release date: Mar 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370697526

Book preview

The best laid plans…

Marisa Clements was never satisfied writing the ‘gossip column’ in the local paper and she quit her job to follow her dream of writing fiction. Floundering in an unforgiving industry, she wrote about vampires, a popular subject she considered fascinating but as real as unicorns, to pay the rent.

Corgan was tired of human misconceptions about vampires and ‘living’ as a vampire. He planned to tell Marisa his story and end his existence. It was no coincidence Corgan selected Marisa to write his story. With the ability to see the future, he knew she would be a major part of it. He knew if they met, she would help him die, but in doing so, she’d be doomed to the same fate. Once they met, their futures would be irrevocably intertwined.

Corgan began to care for Marisa and finally revealed the truth to her. He admitted his quest to atone for his past sins had put her in grave danger from a nest of revenge-seeking vampires. Corgan must claim her for her own protection. But claiming her is not enough, he must ask for help from his wizard friends and his maker in order to destroy his enemy or Marisa will never be safe.

A VAMPIRE'S TALE

Maya Tyler

Published by Tirgearr Publishing

Author Copyright 2017 Maya Tyler

Cover Art: EJR Digital Art (http://www.ejrdigitalart.com)

Editor: Sharon Pickrel

Proofreader: Christine McPherson

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you for the purpose of review, then please log into the publisher’s website and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting our author’s hard work.

This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

DEDICATION

For my husband who has always been there for me, in sickness and in health.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I thank my writing critique group who gave me honesty when I needed it. I thank my editors and Tirgearr Publishing who helped make A Vampire’s Tale a reality.

A VAMPIRE'S TALE

Maya Tyler

Chapter One

Friday

Under the cover of dusk, the city lights came alive. Her view, slightly obstructed by the rickety fire escape, did not keep her from seeing the flashing neon signs lining the street below.

That’s it. She’d wasted hours on this novel, immediately deleting every word she typed. The cursor blinked mockingly on the otherwise blank page of her document. Write something. Anything.

With her apartment now shrouded in darkness, intermittently illuminated by the street lights, Marisa Clements lit the white pillar candle on her desk. Its orange flame cast long shadows against the wall. So I can see what I’m not writing. An eclectic mix of music serenaded her from the neighborhood, a reminder of Lincoln Park’s active nightlife, a distinct contrast to her quiet Friday night at home.

The candle flickered and a cold shiver travelled down her spine. Then it came to her. Fingers poised over the keyboard, she typed.

And his eyes glowed with unholy flames.

She squirmed in her chair. Marisa could see the dark stranger, clad in black, standing before her like a real being. He blended with the shadows, the dim room serving as apt camouflage, except for his eyes. They bore straight through her.

What do you mean like a real being?

She jumped in her seat. Yikes. A little too real. Alone in her apartment, the voice could only be a figment of her imagination. She shivered with anticipation as her fingers flew over the keys of her beloved laptop. This would be her best story yet. To hell with all the non-believers—her wealthy, socialite parents who’d disowned her when she’d left business school, and the so-called friends who told her to get a real job. This was a real job… It paid the bills, after all. Sort of. It paid the minimum balance on her credit card.

Why did people choose the mundane office job—she shuddered—plastering themselves to a desk from nine-to-five? Sitting at a desk to write was completely different. No boss, no stress… No money, if she didn't get her head out of the clouds and back to her latest vamp.

He didn't have a name yet, but he had a face. A dark, mysterious face with a century's worth of secrets. Secrets he would tell her, only her, if she would listen.

Marisa took a deep, calming breath. I’m listening. She closed her eyes, waiting. A cool breeze shifted her hair and her eyes popped open. The old floorboards creaked, and she spun her chair around. Who's there? The candle blew out. What the—

Time—and her heartbeat—stood still. Paranoia set in, the consequence of writing too many vampire stories. She must've left a window open. Or something. She re-lit the candle and turned her attention back to her laptop, staring at the last words she'd typed.

Corgan Halton.

She didn't remember typing that.

Corgan Halton. She said the name slowly. I like that. She'd written a dozen vampire stories and this would be her best name yet. It had an old-worldly feel to it. Like a real name. She'd better look it up to make sure it wasn't a real name; she didn’t need a lawsuit. Did people sue for name infringement?

Okay, Corgan Halton. Are you real? She typed the name into a search engine.

As real as you are. The distinctive male voice resonated in the otherwise quiet room.

Marisa froze. She didn't dare turn around. It was her overactive imagination at play. There was no one there. She hoped. Maybe one of her friends? Is this a joke?

Not a joke, Marisa.

Gasping, she stood and spun around toward the sound of his voice.

As he stepped out of the shadows, she took in the man before her. Pale with black, curly hair, dressed in an impeccable suit. Dark and intimidating, he stood in her living room, shrinking the already small space.

Exactly as she’d imagined. She conjured him from her imagination? No… This is not happening.

She rubbed her unbelieving eyes. There couldn't actually be anyone there. When did she last eat? Did low blood sugar cause hallucinations?

He smiled at her, and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

Who are you? she demanded.

Corgan Halton. He gave a courtly bow. At your service.

No… She stared at him in shocked silence. It isn't possible.

I assure you, my dear, it's entirely possible.

Do you read minds, too? She held her breath and waited for his reply.

You tell me. You're the vampire expert.

Vampire? He’s a vampire? There’s an actual vampire in my apartment? The blood drained from her face as she promptly hit the floor.

Marisa found herself sprawled on her living room floor. I must’ve fainted. Remaining still, she willed the stranger out of her apartment. She never invited him in. If he was a vampire, and that was a big if, he shouldn't even be here.

He couldn’t be a vampire. No way. Why did she even entertain such a thought? She didn't believe in vampires. She wrote about them because they were an awesome mystical creature, like unicorns or the tooth fairy.

You're actually comparing me to the tooth fairy? His voice rose an octave and he shot her a disbelieving look.

With her eyes trained on the floor, she refused to look at him. Stop it. You aren’t here. You aren’t real.

Corgan.

What?

Say my name. Corgan.

Corgan. A cold shiver crossed her spine, and she continued her refusal to look up. Hearing his hypnotic voice was enough. She couldn’t handle looking at him, too.

That's better.

Against her better judgement, she stood. With a force similar to gravity, she moved toward him and took his outstretched hand. He kissed her knuckles, grazing them with his teeth, and she fought the urge to swoon. Instead, she snatched her hand back and glared at him, using insolence as a defense mechanism.

Her mind raced, jumping from one thought to the next. Many unasked questions muddled on her tongue, and she stared at him, waiting for a coherent thought to form. You're a vampire? she blurted out.

Yes.

How is that possible?

His mouth curled into a sardonic smile. There are many impossible things, my dear, that are indeed possible.

Her gaze darted around the room. How did you get in here?

You invited me.

That's ridiculous. I didn’t invite you here. How could I? I didn't even know your name.

You deny you invited me in, but I know you want me here. I see my face in your mind and feel the slow burn of desire in your heart.

Marisa gasped and clutched her chest. That's enough. I've had it with you. Get out. She waited for him to be compelled to leave her apartment, but instead he took a seat on her sofa, leaned back, and crossed his ankle over his knee. I don't understand.

That's the first intelligent thing I've heard you say all evening. You're right, you don't understand. You think you know about my kind. You know nothing about us. His voice lowered, took on a sinister edge.

Her stomach churned, and she looked for anything she could use as a weapon.

Relax, Marisa, I mean you no harm. If I did, you'd never see it coming. He smiled, showing off his sharp, elongated eye teeth.

Inhaling sharply, she stepped back until she pressed against the wall. He retracted his teeth and, only then, she released her breath. Why are you here?

He propped his hands behind his head. To educate you.

Why me?

Not you precisely. Humans. So many misconceptions about our race. Sparkling skin? Sleeping in coffins? Like the caricatures Hollywood calls ‘vampires’. He snorted. That's how humans view us.

Marisa nibbled on her bottom lip. She needed to know more. That still doesn't explain why you're here.

All your vampires are wrong—

Hey! Marisa puffed up her chest, preparing to give Corgan a piece of her mind.

Let me continue before you overreact. Your vampires are factually incorrect, but beneath the surface you acknowledge the truth of the matter. I need other humans to see the truth, too.

The truth? What do you mean by ‘acknowledge the truth’? Her pulse raced as she waited for his reply.

Not all your facts are right, but you still believe.

She snorted. That's where you're wrong, mister. I don't believe in you at all. Not you or any other vampire. There's no such thing.

Corgan's fangs snapped down, his eyes glowed red, and he stood and moved in her direction.

You take one step closer and I'll scream for help. I'll call the police. Wrapping her arms around her, she inched toward the cordless phone on the kitchenette counter.

Advancing toward her, he smiled. You think your neighbors can help you? He laughed. You think they'll believe you? You think they won't lock you up?

The truth of what he said sunk in. Fine. Marisa ducked her head. Her shoulders slumped forward, and she fought back tears. I get the drift. Now what?

He smirked. Now we begin.

Squaring her shoulders, she levelled her gaze with his. I never said I would—

He returned to the sofa and leaned back into the plush cushions. Gazing off, he spoke in a language she didn't understand. Her mind filled with images, changing each time she blinked, of places she'd never seen before.

Bombarded with unfamiliar images, strange smells, and loud sounds, the sensory overload caused her head to spin. The images blurred around her. Dust stirred under her feet, encasing her like a tornado, blinding her. Then the horrific screaming began. Several voices joined in a chorus of ear-shattering wails, all calling for help.

Overcome and unable to process all the information projected directly into her mind, she couldn’t take it any longer. Clamping her hands over her ears, she shook her head to sever the connection. Stop it! Her mind returned to her. What the hell was that?

He looked as stunned as she felt. I didn't know that was possible without the blood exchange, he murmured.

Blood exchange?

Those were my memories. You could see into my mind.

She shook her head. How could that be possible? She must’ve heard him wrong. Did she? The night had gone from super strange to off-the-rails. This went beyond even her overactive imagination, and she wrote paranormal fiction. There had to be a reasonable explanation; one that didn’t involve watching a vampire home movie in her mind. Whoa, mister. Back up the cart. That doesn't make any sense.

He gave her an assessing look. For a vampire writer, you certainly aren't very open-minded.

She shrugged her shoulders. What? I have bills to pay, you know. Vampire stuff is hot right now.

You speak defensively, as if you need to prove something to yourself. What are you afraid of, my dear?

Her breath hitched. You.

What can I do to put your mind at ease?

You can leave me alone.

He disappeared like he had never even been there. The room returned to its previous state of quiet. She started to laugh, a nervous, almost hysterical, laugh. Where did he go?

Nowhere.

She jerked her head up and looked around the room. Who said that?

Miss me?

Not a chance!

I fear the lady doth protest too much. He re-materialized in a puff of smoke, and smoothed non-existent wrinkles from his suit. Now, where were we?

She rubbed her arms, easing the chill seeping into her bones. Stop toying with me. There is nothing for you here.

Stop kidding yourself. Your reaction to my brief disappearance told me everything I need to know.

He walked over and cupped her chin. His gaze bore through her eyes, but she wouldn't dream of looking away. If he wanted to play chicken, she was game.

Brave, my dear. That trait will serve me well. He released her and returned to the sofa. Looking as if he owned the place, he gestured for her to sit down.

She refused. If he thought he could get the best of her, then he had another thing coming.

You'll be much more comfortable sitting.

Who is this guy? Who does he think he is? He appears out of nowhere and makes himself at home. Something about his story didn’t ring true. What had she missed? He wanted to tell the truth? Well, this was a good time to start. She needed to know. What was he doing here? What did he want? She glared at him and continued to stand.

Brave and stubborn. I have the luxury of time, but you do not.

His words hit the mark. If I give in now,