The Vampire's Mirror: Gothic Mysteries of Dracul

By Alyne de Winter

"The mirror possesses me." Analise whispered...

Transylvania, 1580

One hundred years after the death of Vlad Dracul...

When young nobleman, Stefan stumbles on the ruins of Castle Drag, he ignores the advice of his friends not to enter, and finds an ornate, golden hand mirror lying in the grass. Dazzled by the beauty of the dragon-ish designs, he takes the mirror home as a gift for his fiancé, Lady Analise, a woman whose beauty calls forth an ancient evil that will not be denied.

This Novella is Book I of an episodic series inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula. Book II: The Vampire's Bride will be released in May, and Book III: The Vampire's Tomb will be released in July, 2018.

"This is a gothic style tale one that could have sprung from the Victorian age. A truly, old fashioned Vampire story. Though it has romance elements, it is not a romance, but I think most romance readers will like it. Smoothly written with a Victorian flair. The descriptions are exquisite, even poetic. It's a short novella that can easily be finished in just a couple of hours." C. Amiri

"The author has created a magical story in The Vampire's Mirror, painted brightly with scenes of Gothic castles, tapestries and jewels. You can see, smell, hear, and feel every fiber of the story with the magical descriptions of places and people. The ancient phrases and descriptions drag you from the present and place you inside the story, in the moment with every character." L. Henderson

"You will find yourself transported to another place and time. The imagery is stunning, dark and foreboding. The atmosphere creepy and sinister. Romance flows from the beauty of her words. A very sinister mirror takes control and pulls and tugs on the characters--whose owner has very evil intentions." Sandy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alyne de Winter
• Release date: Apr 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386021100

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The

Vampire’s Mirror

Gothic Mysteries of Dracul:

Book One

Alyne de Winter

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House-of-Winterspells-logo-blackC:\Users\KShoffner\Desktop\DRAGON.JPG

This is a gothic style tale one that could have sprung from the Victorian age. A truly, old fashioned Vampire story. Though it has romance elements, it is not a romance, but I think most romance readers will like it. Smoothly written with a Victorian flair. The descriptions are exquisite, even poetic. It’s a short novella that can easily be finished in just a couple of hours.

C. Amiri

The author has created a magical story in The Vampire's Mirror, painted brightly with scenes of Gothic castles, tapestries and jewels. You can see, smell, hear, and feel every fiber of the story with the magical descriptions of places and people. The ancient phrases and descriptions drag you from the present and place you inside the story, in the moment with every character.

L. Henderson

You will find yourself transported to another place and time. The imagery is stunning, dark and foreboding. The atmosphere creepy and sinister. Romance flows from the beauty of her words. A very sinister mirror takes control and pulls and tugs on the characters—whose owner has very evil intentions.

Sandy

For Lovers of Traditional Vampire Stories Everywhere, especially Bram Stoker’s Dracula!

And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it! And opening the window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below."

—Bram Stoker, Dracula

The

Vampire’s

Mirror

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Transylvania

1580

*

The doors of Briarwood Manor slammed shut on poor Giselle, banishing her to the icy doorstep. She pulled the fur collar of her coat close around her shoulders and stared across the snow-glazed forecourt to the gate. Beyond the gate, the forest loomed, and the mountainside climbed into the mist. Somewhere out there was a village, but it was rumored that a plague walked there, making it no refuge.

Her badly shod feet were already numb.

Tears spilled down her face; she dashed them angrily away. It was her own fault, after all. She couldn't call herself a thief, but like a magpie, she was fascinated by bright, beautiful things: jewels and bangles, rings and beaded sashes, embroidered reticules and fans. The mere sight of a pair of earrings lying unattended on the dressing table would set her fingers fluttering to enclose them, secretly, in the palm of her hand, to be nonchalantly dropped in the pocket of her apron. Only cleaning, she'd tell herself. My Lady shouldn't leave valuable things lying around like that.

At night, in the privacy of her little hole under the stairs, she would admire each object: the gleaming softness of silk, strings of pearls, bracelets of diamonds and fine kidskin gloves... Pilfered gems sparkling in the light of her one meager candle inspired fancies of things magical and strange. These were adornments never meant for one as destitute as she.

In time, she'd gathered quite a hoard.

It was inevitable that Lady Cira would catch her. Screaming that she should drag the little wretch to the dungeon and leave her nasty, selfish, lazy little self to rot out of existence, her Ladyship chose the more expedient path, and hauled Giselle out of bed and threw her out, out into the dark, the morning dark, at the edge of the shivering world.

Giselle set her jaw and took her first steps toward the lofty, black curlicues of the gate. The sky had grown so heavy it seemed to be sinking the entire world under its clouds. A few snowflakes drifted down. Contemplating the endless vista of the wilderness, the dungeon seemed a mercy. And it was so early she hadn't even broken her fast.

Tears welled up again. Why did God punish her so? The rogue knights, raiding, killing everyone: her mother, her father, brothers, sisters... all were put to the sword. The kind Baron taking her in as maid to his beautiful young wife, Lady Cira, with her glossy midnight braids, and violet eyes, had seemed a blessing. Now it seemed she'd been spared one death only to be confronted with another. She didn't mean to steal. There was just a hunger in her soul that couldn't be fulfilled. Everything had been taken from her. Everything. Leaving a void inside that hungered for things of beauty.

The gate was weighty as she pulled it against the snow bank, silent on its well-oiled hinges. More silent yet the cushioned earth, quieter still the tapering green of the pines, and other, barer, branches reaching up as if to beseech the higher powers for mercy. A breeze poured frost around her neck. She gulped her terror down and prepared to blend into the white as if she'd never been.

Perhaps she never should have been.

C:\Users\KShoffner\Desktop\DRAGON.JPG

Giselle did not know how long she walked along the strip of whiteness that was the only evidence of a road. It led deep into the trees, under cathedral branches arching over, groaning with the weight of accumulating snow. Her stomach growled. The hunger pains would pass. She’d fasted before, many times. Denying food was Lady Cira’s favorite form of punishment.

But the cold was another matter. Cast out so abruptly, all she had on under her coat was her nightgown, woolen leggings, and her shoes.

The sun rarely rose in winter. Yet the sky was white, as was the earth, as was the road that had long ago dwindled down to a narrow path on which her footprints could no longer be seen. Giselle’s eyes grew blurry with exhaustion. Where was she to go? There was nowhere.

Half asleep, she trudged on. There had to