Vampyre Desire Immortal

By Joni Green

Megara is getting ready for a wedding, and the bride is a vampire. Let the Blood Plague begin.

As her thirteenth birthday approaches, Ava, Princess of Megara, knows her upcoming marriage to Wolfstan will plunge her into hell. A raging storm and the incessant scratching sounds on her castle window pane threaten to drive her insane.
Ava relents, throws open the window, and submits to Evil. She is now one of the Clan of Ichor.

There is only one man in the kingdom who can save her – the aging sorcerer and alchemist, Perdix. But Perdix has many secrets and the strength of his magic is waning. Perdix seeks help from Fye, a witch who lives outside the castle walls.

Even with her aid, their magic may not be strong enough.
Can the aged wizard rescue Ava?
Or will the Ichor turn Perdix into one of their own?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joni Green
• Release date: Oct 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370095605

Joni Green

I’m Joni Green, author of fiction and illustrator of children’s books. My settings are as varied as the American landscape. My works of fiction cover a wide range of topics and themes. From ugly, racist attitudes to the humble kindness of strangers, from unavoidable tragedy and defeat to the unconquerable human spirit that rises from the ashes of chaos, from peace to war, from undying love to utter madness, I delve into the human soul and reveal glimpses of the frail and mortal character of Man. The settings are sometimes gritty and surreal, sometimes, simple and small town. My children’s books are full of entertaining and unique illustrations geared to making learning fun. I leave you with this invitation to step inside my world.

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Also by JONI GREEN

Murder at the Buy-Right – A Cozy Mystery

Secrets of Beddelac Island - A Cozy Mystery

Beastly House (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 1) – 1920’s Murder Mystery

Cupid’s Archer (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 2) – 1920’s Murder Mystery

The Dust of Death (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 3) – 1920’s Murder Mystery

Ashes of Yesterday (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 4) – 1920’s Murder Mystery

Pale Moon Over Paradise (Book 1) – 1950s Jim Crow Era

Five Miles to Paradise (Book 2) – 1950s Murder Mystery

Songs of the Night – Civil War Romance

The Bad Room – Horror

In the Belly of the Beast – Dark Paranormal Romance

Behind The Smile – Collection of Short Stories

Children’s Books by Joni Green

Let’s Count to 10

The Alphabet is Easy

One Raindrop

The Magic Trunk

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

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About the Author

Also by the Author

Chapter 1

Dead Man’s Sleep

Sleep the sleep of dead men drowning

In a sea of blood.

Let that sleep protect you, darling.

Vampires gather for the feast.

*****

I was a beautiful child. Everyone in the village said so. I look around the room: stone walls, a bed, a table, a bronze candle stand. No one else hears the faint scratching on the window pane. The whole house sleeps like dead men.

Dead.

That’s how I feel.

The cold winds blow in. I shiver, stuffing a rag tighter between the cracks at the sill. I hear the sound again above the screaming winds. Louder this time. More insistent. The candle’s orange flame flickers. Will it go out and leave me enveloped in the depths of darkness? Beads of sweat pop out on my forehead. I feel my fluttering heart waver inside my chest.

I should be under the covers, not traipsing about barefooted with nothing but my nightgown on. I will surely catch a cold. Then, what will I do?

Perdix says there’s only so much his alchemy can do to remedy the pangs of the body. I think Perdix can do anything. He’s a wonderful alchemist and a brilliant wizard. He knows the Great Secrets. But he says no, not everything. Perhaps, he is right.

A large rat skitters across the floor, seeking invisibility in some far corner. I pay him no heed. The scratching is getting louder. Louder still. It threatens to drive me mad.

"Who are you? Can’t you just leave me alone?"

I cover my ears. It does no good. It seems I will drown in this noise that grates on my nerves and echoes in the chambers of my ears. I sink to my knees.

"Oh Lord, help me."

The sound, like iron nails scoring over slate, stops. The winds abate. The room becomes as quiet as a tomb. The candle flame burns steadily, its faint glow casting dim shadows here and there.

The unicorn hangs on my wall, white and noble, and about to be slain. It is a most lovely tapestry. I can spend hours looking at its intricate detail.

The dogs are many. The hunters number more. They have their spears drawn. It won’t be long before it’s all over. I feel the old ache in my heart. I wish I could enter that woven scene and set you free, my friend – my companion for all these years I have lived behind these castle walls.

I feel for you.

I am you in so many ways.

There are not many of us, you see.

Unicorns and princesses.

We are both dying breeds.

Perdix says so.

The wail of the gale picks up again. He rides the wind. There. There it is. The scratch upon the pane. Louder now. Louder still. It is no use. No use. I cannot stand it.

Throwing open the window I feel the damp cold burst upon my skin. I thrust my body into the blast. The howling madness of the night swallows me whole.

And there he is, floating in front of me, high above the ground like a black mourning dove. I wince as the needles of his sharp fangs pierce my neck.

I see the unicorn before my eyes.

The hunters’ spears have hit their mark.

Chapter 2

The Alchemist’s Spell

The earth sleeps for all save the nocturnal creatures of the night.

They are alert and roaming.

It is the feeding hour.

*****

Why in heaven’s name are you still up? The hour is late, and demons play in these moments before dawn.

It is Gilia.

Get to bed this minute. You will catch a chill. Off. Off with you. Why can’t you sleep? Is it the wind?

You hear it, too?

Of course, she said. It howls like a mad witch from Gilvynna.

Perdix says . . .

Please, milady. Permit me to speak. You mustn’t listen to anything that old Mahoun says. He is a fox, that one is. The devil’s apprentice, I say. And a mighty old, worn out one at that! Put no stock in the witchcraft he does. I don’t. And you shouldn’t either. His sorcery is as feeble as he is.

You speak ill of Perdix because his ointment failed to rid you of that lump that grows on the end of your nose. Speak truth, Gilia. That is the reason, isn’t it.

And why not? Look at this thing. It is awful. I’m ashamed to show my face outside your chambers. The salve does no good. It is useless. This hideous thing is getting as big as a toad. All I am doing now is waiting for it to sprout hairs so I can braid them.

But how can you expect the spell to work if you do not do as Perdix says?

Bah! Who has time to venture to the hog pen five times for three days to smooth pigs’ mud over it? A mask of mud he says. With piglets’ poop. I’m supposed to smear that scite all over my nose. I could not breathe for the stink. But a pretty corpse I’d surely make. Give me strength not to pop my cork. I must keep my wits about me.

I think you are too harsh. Again, I say, how can the ointment work if you do not follow what Perdix says?

The ointment should be enough. Enough, I say. The old man is daft."

You could let him cut it off with a hot knife like he suggested.

"And bleed to death!

Perdix says the heat of the blade will staunch the flow.

And what if he’s wrong? This thing grows larger every day. All my blood is pooling in this monstrous growth, Gilia said, pointing to her nose. I’m sure of it. No. No, thank you.

You favor Urien because my father likes him so, I said. But he hasn’t helped you either.

That’s because I was cursed by the old alchemist’s magic. Urien took one look at this wicked bump and said there’s nothing he can do. But Urien’s spell to rid your father of that pesky soreness of the foot worked didn’t it?

I think that had more to do with staying off it for several days.

You speak nonsense. It was Urien’s spell. He is young. His magic is strong. Ask anyone.

I pumped ship in your palm, and you took it straight to Urien. What did he tell you? Did he say I am mad because my piss tastes of henbane? Tell me, Gilia. Tell me now.

You talk out of your head, Milady. It is late. Now, get to bed this minute. Up all hours. I swear my eyes will snap shut tomorrow from the lack of sleep tonight! Get to bed. You will be the death of me.

*****

The brown-headed little boy was still crying. The piece of black, stale bread should have stopped the flow of tears. Mitings were such spoiled little