As Strong as Earth: Victorian Vampires, #2

By Amanda DeWees

"DeWees possesses a mastery of the Gothic. She draws a distinct lineage from the classics while making new worlds fresh and enthralling." —Leanna Renee Hieber, award-winning author of Strangely Beautiful and The Spectral City

Book 2 in the Victorian Vampires novella series by the author of the Daphne Award-winning gothic romance With This Curse. Just as Ned Alter leaves the British army to marry the lovely Rosamond Cargrave, his father and uncle inform him that he has a new mission--as a vampire hunter. Ever since Ned's grandmother was bitten decades ago, the Alter men have sought revenge. But soon Ned's loyalty is tested by a beautiful woman named Bianca, who claims to be a vampire...and therefore the enemy of his family.

Carefree vampire Bianca had no intention of seducing another woman's fiancé, especially when he's a mortal. Yet she and Ned share a passionate connection. Can Bianca convince him that she is not his enemy--and can he convince her that a mortal and a vampire can find happiness together? A love triangle, revenge, and undying evil collide in this unforgettable vampire yarn of about 100 pages, laced with rich period atmosphere and Amanda DeWees's sly humor. And be sure not to miss the other novellas in the Victorian Vampires series, As Vital as Blood and As Fierce as Flame!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda DeWees
• Release date: Jul 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386260677

Amanda DeWees

Amanda DeWees received her PhD in English literature from the University of Georgia and likes to startle people by announcing that her dissertation topic was vampire literature. Amanda's books include the widely praised historical gothic romance "Sea of Secrets," a finalist in the 2013 Maggie Award for Excellence historical category, and the Ash Grove Chronicles, a captivating young adult "paranormal lite" romance series set in modern-day North Carolina. Besides writing, Amanda's passions include theater, classic film, Ioan Gruffudd, costume design, and the preservation of apostrophes in their natural habitat. Visit her at www.amandadewees.com to explore book extras and more delightful diversions.

Book preview

Prologue

Bath, England: 1823

On this October night the graveled paths of the garden were a welcome respite from the party, although only one couple was to be found taking advantage of them. Young Mrs. Geoffrey Alter, strolling with her husband, sighed with pleasure to be away from the hot, brightly lit Assembly Rooms, where the dancing was still going on. It was refreshingly quiet out of doors, and cooler.

Perhaps too much so, in fact. The night air raised gooseflesh on her bare throat and chilled her arms where they were exposed between her gloves and the short puffed sleeves of her evening dress.

My dear, would you mind going in to fetch my shawl? she asked.

Her husband, slender and fair-haired, squeezed her hand affectionately. He was always solicitous where his wife was concerned, for they were but a year wedded, and the happy expectation they shared made him all the more careful of her comfort and welfare. Of course, he said. I don’t want you to catch a chill, especially...

Especially in your condition, he meant. See that you are quick about it, she said with mock severity. Such a moon mustn’t go to waste.

Laughing, he kissed her, and then with the long elastic stride of youth he strode away and vanished into the Assembly Rooms. A gust of warm, perfumed air and loud hilarity briefly reached her when he opened the door, then was snuffed out as it closed behind him.

Smiling to herself, she started down the gravel path between the boxwood hedges, one hand automatically coming to rest on the roundness of her belly. Her gown was high-waisted in accordance with the current fashion, so it disguised her still-young pregnancy, but she had already fallen into the expectant mother’s habit of touching her belly for reassurance—though whom she was reassuring, the unborn child or herself, she did not know.

The night was full of the brittle music of crickets, but otherwise it was so quiet that the scrape of shoes on gravel made her start and turn to look behind her.

Your pardon, said the stranger, bowing deeply. I did not mean to startle you.

He was dressed as if for court, or like a man of her father’s generation, in knee breeches and a heavily embroidered coat. His hair, too, followed an older fashion, being powdered and drawn back into a queue. But his most distinctive features were his black eyes, which bored into her with a concentration that, coupled with his oddly expressionless face, gave her a frisson of uneasiness.

You have the advantage of me, sir, she said. Are you a friend of my husband’s? Mr. Geoffrey Alter?

I’m afraid I’ve not had the honor of making his acquaintance, he returned softly. Nor yours, fair lady.

Why did his voice put her in mind of a snake’s slither? There was nothing she could put her finger on to explain her sudden sense of revulsion, but the gooseflesh that tightened her skin redoubled.

Well, we shall soon remedy that, she said with false brightness, as if she could will this encounter onto pleasanter footing. He will return straightaway. In the meantime, will you tell me whom I have the pleasure of addressing?

When he smiled, his teeth gleamed whitely in the light of the moon. Of course, he said. It is only fair that you should know my name, since we are shortly to be related in a sense. I am known as Greville.

And how exactly are we to be related, Mr. Greville? The thought only increased her unease. Though she didn’t mean to be rude, she could not help but back away as he drew nearer to her, those disturbing eyes fixed on her all the while.

Why, through the two boys in your belly, Mrs. Alter, he said. I am curious to put a theory to the test. If I’m correct, I may become a sort of second father to your babes.

How could he possibly know she was with child? And two boys. Did he possess some occult vision that had detected that she carried twins? Somehow it was easy to believe that there was something unearthly about him. His eyes gleamed so queerly, and even though she had backed into a hedge and could retreat no farther, he continued to glide irrevocably toward her.

Then he bared his teeth, and to her shock his canines seemed to lengthen and grow more pointed before her eyes.

She opened her mouth to call for help, but before she could utter a sound he was upon her. Crouching at her feet, he clutched her waist in a grip of iron. Ignoring her frantic attempts to fend him off, he sank his teeth into her stomach.

There was a sharp pain, but it waned quickly. A kind of numb lassitude stole over her, and she no longer tried to fight him as he sucked her blood through the thin fabric of her dress.

That was how her husband found them. The shawl slipped from his hands and lay in a pool of brightly colored fabric against the pale gravel.

What are you doing to my wife?

At his cry, her assailant released her, so suddenly that she lurched and had to clutch at the hedge to keep from falling.

The creature who called himself Greville smiled. His teeth and lips were smeared with her blood, but she was too dazed to feel horror or anger. She is yours again, he told Geoffrey. Never fear, she will live. As will the babes.

With an inarticulate cry Geoffrey flung himself at her attacker, but all at once he was gone. Her husband staggered to a stop, staring wildly about.

Where the devil did he go?

Geoffrey, she whispered, and he turned instantly to take her in his arms and help her to her feet.

Did he hurt you?

"He... he bit me. Have you ever heard of anything so outlandish?" She tried to laugh, but it sounded more like weeping.

Gently he turned her so that the moonlight fell on her dress, revealing blotches of blood and rents left by the attacker’s teeth. She heard the breath hiss between his teeth. He must have been a madman, he said. I pray no harm came to you or the child.

She shuddered. She could see again the transfixing gaze of those empty eyes, feel again the cold grip of his hands on her. I fear he was no mortal man. Geoffrey, please take me home.

At once, dearest. I shall summon a doctor straightaway. His voice hardened. And then I am notifying the nearest constable. We won’t let that monster get away with this.

Somehow she knew that appealing to the law would be of no use. Suddenly exhausted, she slumped against him, and his arm tightened about her waist to support her just as her own arm curved around her belly as if to belatedly protect the child within.

Or children.

Fighting back tears, she let her husband lead her from the garden. How would she bear it if the monster had made good his threat and somehow tainted the precious burden she carried?

Chapter I

Bath, England: September 1881

The party was fairly tedious until the naked woman arrived.

Captain Ned Alter stood in the reception room of his family’s townhouse, half wishing he were back on the battlefield. He felt more comfortable holding a Martini-Henry than a teacup and china plate, and civilian clothes sat strangely on him after so many years in uniform. The dirt and danger and rough camaraderie of battle would almost have been preferable to this party, even though it celebrated his own engagement.

His fiancée, now, seemed perfectly at home in this atmosphere. Miss Rosamond Cargrave, eighteen years old, flaxen-haired, dressed demurely in a pale blue frilly thing that matched her innocent blue eyes, might have been created for just this occasion. Her mouth was always curved in a charming smile, and she listened with patient attentiveness when older ladies wittered on to her about bloodlines and babies and heaven knew what all else.

Ned thanked providence that he was, for the most part, spared this sort of conversation. His father, learning of his decision to marry, had clapped him on the back and told him, We’ll be expecting an heir soon, lad! and that had been the end of it.

At twenty-eight, he had spent more than ten years in Her Majesty’s army. It was time to settle down, his father had told him, and to begin learning how to run the family estate. But his father and grandmother showed no signs of relinquishing their hold, so he imagined he would have plenty of time. His grandmother still held the reins, as best he could tell, and a sharper, more efficient mind he had yet to encounter in anyone, man or woman.

As if summoned by his thought, she appeared at his side. Well? she challenged. Still pleased with the choice you’ve made?

Though nearing eighty years old, Mrs. Geoffrey Alter was still a force to be reckoned with. Standing tall and strong as a saber, she bore a cloud of perfectly white hair, but her face, astonishingly, was almost unlined. Her hazel eyes, which Ned had inherited, were unclouded by senility. Indeed, they seemed to see more than others’ did.

Rosamond is a lovely girl, he said. I think she and I will be quite contented together.

The hazel eyes regarded him shrewdly. If I were a young man, I think I’d want more than contentment. Do you love her? Does she love you?

Hers had been a love match, so her query was understandable. All the same, letting oneself be overmastered by passion didn’t seem like a sensible way to make a choice that would shape the rest of his life. She has a sweet nature, he said. I’m certain we’ll suit each other.

Hmm. She regarded Rosamond where she sat across the room, nodding earnestly as Mrs. Hightower—if past experience was anything to go by—described her sufferings from rheumatism. Don’t let her looks fool you. I suspect she isn’t as docile as she seems.

Grandmother, you aren’t suggesting that she has deliberately set out to deceive us? His tone was jesting, as befitted the absurdity of the suggestion, but there was no answering levity in the old woman’s response.

Consider, she said, that despite her father’s recent death she made her entrance into society straightaway instead of waiting until next Season.

Courageous of her, I thought.

Desperate, I should say. Perhaps even calculating. Mind you, she added, as he stared at her in surprise, she is far from the only young woman in society to disguise the urgency of her need to wed. The death of her father left her and her sister in debt, so making a good marriage was vital, and the sooner the better.

Why hasn’t she said anything of this to me?

You young men have such sensitive natures that a girl doesn’t dare let a man know she’s marrying him for his financial situation and not his sterling character alone.

This unexpected new perspective on his engagement caught him off balance. I thought you liked her, he said. It was the only solid fact he could grasp at the moment.

She smiled. I do like her. Though she tries to hide it, she has a kind of toughness that will serve her well—far better than if she were the vacuous, childlike fool she pretends to be. She won’t collapse in the face of a crisis. And that will make her a very valuable partner in life, my dear. She linked her arm with his, one of the few affectionate gestures in which she indulged—or perhaps she needed the support of his arm since she refused to use a walking stick.

She had been widowed since before Ned’s birth, so he was accustomed to seeing her proud, black-clad figure at family functions, but at this evening party her long-sleeved, high-necked black dress made a startling contrast to the pastel-hued dresses of the women guests. Unaccustomed as he was to English fashions after his years abroad, it seemed to