Bound By Blood (The Vampires of Clyne)

By K.A Hambly

For hundreds of years, vampires have roamed Clyne Woods situated by a sea resort in South Wales. But up until now, nobody knew they were there. 

An ancient vampire is set rise and cause destruction to humanity, but there is one girl, Shelley Adams who possess the power to annihilate him. Except, she doesn't know it yet.

Marcus is a vampire whose un-dead life has led him on a journey to find Shelley and help her unleash her potential.

Will Marcus succeed in his mission and will Shelley come to terms with who she really is? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.A. Hambly
• Release date: Mar 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386014188

Book preview

Prologue

Clyne Woods, Swansea.

1786

She could still hear the cries of a newborn baby as she entered the circle, a sacred space in the deepest woods where her coven would gather to cast spells. But she was very much alone now, distraught as the cries grew louder and louder in her head. She wasn’t sure if it was her guilty conscience playing tricks, and she sobbed desperately into her wrinkled hand wishing it would stop. The first light of the day permeated through the gap between two trunks when a change in the ambiance of the woods prompted her to draw her hand down slowly. She swallowed hard, whispering a protection chant when a dark, ominous feeling shadowed her heart.

It was here.

‘Like old tales, we too shall be forgotten one day.’ The frail woman hunched over, holding a decorative carved wooden stick in her right hand, in the other she held the frayed ends of her blue headscarf firmly by her throat. She raised her clouded eyes to the man standing under the canopy of oak trees, casting him in shadow; his fists in balls by his side. He stood in annoyance, glaring at her with his preternatural, unpitying eyes.

‘Mrs. Fairweather, you do understand the repercussions of this unfortunate event, don’t you?’ He spat, his nerve unfaltering by the sight of a defenceless old woman, but Mrs. Fairweather wasn’t as vulnerable as she appeared. She was the elder witch of the Snow Moon coven. ‘One day, humanity must evolve if it’s to survive, anyway. What has happened is perhaps a blessing you cannot yet see.’

She bowed her head solemnly, as a single tear released from her eye, down the fine lines of her face. She nodded. Had she more control over her own flesh and blood, she would not be here now, making bargains with the devils themselves.

‘My dear Vivian gave birth to a daughter this morning. The child is well, but I fear for their lives. I have the visions, you see, Domenico and the news isn’t good.’ Her voice broke.

‘Oh?’ He drew forward a touch, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

She brought her woollen shawl around her shoulders and folded her arms, protecting her frail body from the cold wind.

‘The future is very bleak for humanity. I see in a few years to come there will be an uprising of a new race, a bit like yours, Domenico but far, far superior.’

‘Do you think this will be catastrophic?’

‘Yes, I do. There’s a girl who can save this world from them and she is my flesh and blood, and as I stand before you now I will make this decree.’ At this moment, she took something from the pocket of her skirt and then opened the palm of her hand. In it was a pile of earth and blood. ‘With this earth, I will make this known that if any harm comes to my family I will make sure your species will experience the most horrible of deaths.’

The news surprised him. He stood watching as she spoke in Latin. A dark shadow passed over the earth she had dropped to the muddy ground, and he knew then that this was more serious than a simple hybrid baby.

‘I have cast a spell to ensure the child’s identity will remain secret, and heaven forbid, her children thereafter, but it is not a hundred per cent fool-proof. She will not know of her true nature until the time is right, and I pray to the Goddess that day will never come.’

The man stepped forward, but soon hesitated and retreated. The glaring early morning sun was too much for him to handle.

‘This is why I seek your counsel this early, for I have too seen what you saw.’ His voice was calmer now as he relaxed in her company.

Fairweather nodded that she had understood. ‘And what did you see, sir?’ She asked.

‘I saw the end of her line, the last Fairweather fighting to save humanity against a monstrous beast. I believe we have a tremendous task ahead of us if we’re to keep them safe.’

‘I will bring the child to you at dusk. Do what you must, but lay one finger or fang on that child and I will not be held accountable for what will follow. Do we have a deal?’

A pale hand slipped from shadows.

‘The future will not remember us as we are right now, but what it remembers from the fragment of stories handed down through the generations. We are not evil, neither are we good, Mrs. Fairweather. We strike a balance between the two; forever walking along the fringes of life – passer-by’s, a shadow. Neither belonging to nor wishing to belong. From now on, do not fear us as we will not fear you. We, the vampires of Clyne swore to protect and we will take great care of this child and the secret she holds.’

Mrs. Fairweather winced and raised her shaking hand to his. She shivered in disgust as their fleshed touched. Domenico walked towards her and covered his eyes with the back of his hand. His skin was translucent with jet-black hair framing his long, angular jaw. He partly opened his rouged mouth to speak, closed them again, and then smiled exposing his pointed canines. ‘You shall not be forgotten. The name will live on forever.’

‘I thank you for this.’

‘So, we have an accord?’

‘We do.’

‘Then it’s done. We are bound by blood.’

Chapter One

London, England

Present day

TUESDAY 6.45 AM

I SEE HER IN MY DREAMS. She pops into my thoughts at the oddest of times. She’s everywhere. Everywhere she shouldn’t be. Yet, despite not knowing who she is, her alluring beauty is often a welcome distraction from the horrors that plague my mind - horrors of my past. Things I’d sooner store away in the dark recesses of my mind. But no man, mortal or immortal can ever truly escape his past. Especially when you have lived, breathed, and carried it around like a dead twin strapped to your chest. I am my past. And she is my escape.

‘Thinking again, Marcus?’ Godfrey said, peeling back the heavy, patterned curtains. Dust particles fell like raindrops onto his head, and the early morning light sliced through the gap, across the wooden floor; just missing the tip of Marcus’s black pointed boots. Godfrey stood with his back turned, gazing down at the early morning traffic below, both hands now behind his back. He was of medium height, wearing yesterday’s clothes. A grey fitted suit that accentuated his trim frame. And designer. Always designer. Nothing but the best was his motto.

‘You would know,’ Marcus replied, interlacing his long fingers pressed firmly by his mouth. His grey steely eyes were focused on the flickering amber flames from the old Victorian fire of his apartment. He had been sat on his chair like that for the last hour, just churning things over in his mind.

‘So, do you have any idea where the girl may be?’ He asked; his tone indifferent as he watched a woman step out of a taxi, her red skirt hitched to her thigh.

‘Nothing has come to mind yet. But I’m sure it won’t take a lot more effort.’

It was moments later when Godfrey replied. His stare was now fixated on woman beating the hell out of the door across the street, screaming to be let in.

‘Do you see any significant landmarks, recognize accents even?’ the man offered suggestions, hoping to speed up the whole debacle.

Irritated by his damn persistence, Marcus lifted his chin to the silhouette besides the window. ‘Jesus Christ, Godfrey. I am not a bloody psychic.’ He spat, turning to the fire once more as though it helped him get into a meditative state where he could think.

Godfrey turned sharply, his faced concealed by the shadow cast in the room.

‘Marcus...Marcus,’ he sniggered, tugging down his jacket. ‘You really do underestimate your abilities, you know. Now concentrate, will you. I’ve been here almost a day.’ He said, reaching to the small table beside Marcus’s chair. He picked up a glass decanter and poured himself a generous amount of whiskey.

Marcus gave a sideways glance, raised a brow, and went back to staring at the fire.

‘It’s seven in the morning. Not like you to indulge yourself.’

Godfrey snorted.

‘Yes, well,’ he sighed. ‘You have that effect on people sometimes.’

‘Oh touché. Like you don’t,’ he uttered under his breath, feeling slightly aggrieved by his company.

‘I heard that.’ He replied and then downed his drink. 

Marcus stood up, sighing heavily at the prospect of having to find this mystery woman he has been dreaming about for the last few months. He placed his hands on the oak mantle and bowed his head in desperation and despair. A blast of heat rose from the fire encasing his face. Three whole days cooped up in the dusty, mothball-smelling place, and yet he was so near, but so far. He also wanted to get rid of Godfrey, for despite being friends for decades, the reason their friendship had lasted so long was because of the little amount of time they’d spend together.

Think. Think. Come on, you can bloody do this. He thought, now rubbing his temples in a circular motion.

‘What is it?’ Godfrey asked sensing that Marcus knew something.

Marcus was too focused on the internal images in his head to answer him.

Seconds later, his mouth gaped. He looked up to the oval mirror hanging above the mantle.

He did not see his silky dark hair swept up into a coiffed nor his high cheekbones or the scar running across his neck to the edge of his black shirt. No. He saw her, the last living relative of the Fairweather’s.

‘You know where she is, don’t you, the next one on their list?’ Godfrey asked excitedly.

He turned to face to Godfrey whose lilac eyes gleamed from the light of the candle rested on the mantle. 

‘I do, but it’ll require a visit back home.’

‘Home? Are you serious?’ He replied, sensing Marcus’s disdain.

‘I have her telepathically, Godfrey. The connection has been made.’ He said with obvious contempt. Wales was the last place he wanted to visit. It harboured too many bad memories. Memories he wished he could wipe from his immortal mind, but no, they were going nowhere. He understood now that this may be his chance to settle the demons that had taken lodger in his head. Make peace with his devil once and for all.

‘But...’ Godfrey said; not sure if he was confused or should have known this the entire time. He stepped out from the shadow into the yellow-glow of the candlelight. His smooth pale face turned a shade lighter when he read Marcus’s thoughts. ‘It’s impossible.’ He spat.

‘It appears not. She’s in Wales.’ He said, also astonished by the revelation. ‘She’s not far from Clyne. I can’t pick up her exact location just yet, but for fuck sake, Godfrey, it means she’s been living in the place of her origins. What if the Nos vampires sense she’s there?’

‘What if they already have?’ He replied. ‘Listen, Marcus. I had word not so long ago from Danny that he sensed the vampires were on the move again, including Salamander. Either the spell that was cast to keep her safe is wearing thin, or... I don’t know what, but you have to go there. Today. The agreement must be kept or...’ he looked towards the window. ‘This is the end for us. The witch made it clear that no harm was to come to her family.’

‘I’m ready to end this, but this is different. She’s a grown woman, not a child. If only we could’ve tracked her down years ago, it wouldn’t have come to this.’

Godfrey shook his head and rested a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. ‘You tried, even Domenico, but she is too powerful, yes, she’s unaware of this now, but still, the gift is within her. You must break that spell, it’s the only way.’

‘I can’t. That will cause trouble with the coven, wouldn’t it?’

‘Do you know of any other way? You tell her of her past but keep her safe. There must be a way we can end this well for both parties involved without allowing Salamander getting hold of her.’

‘Then you had better wish me luck, eh?’

Godfrey reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his mobile. ‘It’s from Danny. He says it’s all about to kick off in Clyne. He has spotted the Nos vampires. You know what this means then?’ Godfrey picked up a gold case from the table, opened it, and placed a cigarette between his lips. ‘The Riches are getting ready for their sacrifice and if that’s not enough to send shivers up any mortal’s spine, they’re getting ready to reveal themselves to the world.’

‘Do you mean they’re getting hungry?’

‘It’s already begun, Marcus. Let the games commence.’ He said coldly. He loosened his tie, and walked to the flat door, stopped, then turned around with a smarmy look on his face. ‘Best you get a move on then, eh? I’ll speak to you later.’ He opened the door about to leave and stepped back in. ‘And do get something to drink. You cannot go out there dry as a fucking bone, do you hear me Marcus? Don’t deny yourself one of our most pleasurable luxuries.’

‘Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just watch you don’t get hit with a sun ray. Best to put your glasses on, eh, Godfrey.’ Marcus laughed.

Godfrey smiled, tight lipped, reached into his inside jacket pocket and slipped on a pair of Ray Bans.

‘How we are ever still friends is beyond me.’ He said as he left.

With a resigned sigh, Marcus turned towards the window and noticed the gap in the curtain, closed it, plunging the room into darkness. The echo of the city life below still loomed as loudly as ever to his oversensitive hearing. With a head full of scattered thoughts, he stood for a moment beside the fireplace gazing down at the dying embers. Sparing himself blood to enable him to connect with the girl more intensely had now left him a dithering wreck of a man, or a half-man. He had never felt complete since becoming immortal and oftentimes could not tell which side of his personality resonated with him more on any given day. Exasperated by it all, he could not go on denying himself blood any longer. Fuck, he craved it. But firstly, he had to go out in daylight and that required a little helping hand.

Between the lack of food and the burden he carried that weighed heavily on his chest, he became riveted. The last few days had been a living nightmare and had now taken its toll. He cursed so loudly, Pan, his black Labrador began howling.

‘It’s okay, girl.’ He shouted. ‘The worst is over, or is it?’ He mumbled, more to himself than to the dog.

Thanks to his sire’s company who had developed an antidote for the sunlight, he rushed to the kitchen cupboard, opened it, took out a small plastic box labelled with the word Lux in black biro and popped some pills, swallowing them down with a glass of water left beside the sink. His hands trembled as he set the glass down. He felt no side effects and often wondered if he was dosed up with placebos.

‘How I’d love to feed on a mortal right now.’ He turned to Pan, who had tottered into the room whining by his legs. ‘Fancy a trip away?’ He asked, as the anger led him to throw the glass against the wall. ‘Well, let’s get the fuck out of here, then.’ He grabbed his car keys from the counter top, walked down the hall and into his room. Two suitcases rested against his unmade bed. He bent to pick them up when the overwhelming thirst for blood came over him. This was often a signal that someone was near and since he was already craving, it was a dangerous predicament to be in. In his small dark room, the voices of his neighbours drowned out his thoughts like a loudspeaker in his head. He sunk to the floor, clutching his hair, rocking back and forth. He felt like a caged animal in a concrete jungle, desiring the freedom to live as he pleases.

‘Go away. Just please fucking go AWAY.’ He begged the voices. He couldn’t afford the mistake of draining mortals right now, not if he wanted to give his presence away to the Riches. ‘Drink, Marcus.’ His other ego teased, ‘you know you want to.’ He gripped the sheets, tearing them, when he caught sight of the corner of a leather-bound book under the bed. Like an eager child in a candy shop, he snatched the book and opened it, feeling rather pleased with himself. Inside was a vial of blood he had kept from his last victim. He twisted the cap, and at that moment the voices quietened down. Their front door slammed closed and the sound of children laughing trailed down the hallway to the staircase. Hardly believing what he had thought of doing, especially after helping the single woman move her furniture in to her flat only a few weeks ago, he held the bottle in his palm and relaxed his hunched shoulders, thankful for the ounce of compassion he still had left in his heart.

He got to his feet, internally beating himself up for losing control. The modern world still took getting used to especially when he still craved the past, a long-forgotten era that lingered like a ghost about his person.

It was almost afternoon now, and he was still fraught about going back to Wales, to his old home. After much procrastination, he picked up his silver watch from the bedside table and slipped it on. It was a present from a victim on his first visit to London in 1935 and it was the only item he owned of any worth except for his car. He drew a breath, and gave one last look around the room. Being a man of little possessions, everything that ever meant anything to him was now contained in the two black suitcases on the floor. There was nothing for him here anymore. It was time to move on to the next part of the puzzle that had dominated his life since he became a vampire. Pan stood in the doorway, ears pricked. The happy sound of children’s laughter permeated through the thin plasterboard walls.

‘Are you ready to go?’ He picked up his suitcases, walked through the living room to the front door. Out in the hallway, the neighbours’ two children were sat on top of the staircase playing with plastic toy cars. The older boy with short, sandy coloured hair nudged his little brother with a worried nod to the door.

‘Where’s your mother?’ Marcus asked, towering over them. The children stopped what they were doing and turned to face him, eyes wide and wary.

‘She’s in the flat, mister. Shower I think.’ The older boy answered scrutinising Marcus’s every move.

Marcus dug deep into his jacket pocket and took out his set of keys. He handed the boy the chain with two dangling silver cut keys.

‘Give these to her. Tell her it’s from the man next door.’

The elder boy duly took them, but his stare remained fixed on Marcus’s pale face.

‘Really? Where are you going then?’

‘Away. Tell your mother it’s a parting gift, could you do that?’

The boys nodded.

‘Good. Be good for your mother, always. You only get one.’ He smiled at them, and walked down the stairs to the lobby and left the building.

Standing on the busy pavement, rain lashing against his head, he threw his hood over, and walked down the street to his car. 

‘Marcus!’ A voice shouted. He stopped and turned around. In amongst the bustle of people he saw his neighbour standing on the pavement with a pink towel wrapped like a turban about her head.

‘Your keys,’ she yelled, waving them in the air. ‘The kids gave me them and said you were leaving?’

‘I am leaving, yes. I need a change of scenery. The keys are yours; the flat is yours to do as you please. It’s all paid for.’

‘Are you shitting me?’

He raised his suitcases to make the point.

‘No. Well, good luck with it.’

He walked a few yards down the road, aware the woman was still standing on the pavement, perplexed and stunned by his generosity. There was nothing he enjoyed more than this side of his complex personality. A grin formed at the corner of his mouth, and as if by a flick of a switch, his mood lifted and the damp, miserable London rain brought him peace. 

His walk became a confident strut as he headed toward the crossing. A group of Japanese tourists waited beside the kerb, chatting excitedly and pointing at a map marked with red crosses indicating the landmarks. Standing at the back, he towered over them, wondering why he hadn’t yet tasted the delights that Asia had to offer. Perhaps a