The First Bride: Oblivion

By Katja Brown

Darkness, hate and deceit lay in the heart of London with corruption leaving devastation and human wreckage in its wake. Iuliana and the Countess head into a new era where power and vengeance reign supreme over the minds of heroes and villains alike. After receiving a formal request from a highly respectable member of society, they journey to London only to find death's friendly greeting waiting for them. Iuliana disappears and the Countess is tasked with the case of finding her, making her question not only her own sanity, but also the how strong her resolve is. Asylums, caves and mansions hold the fear and doubt that rattle within her mind and bloody hands leave her alone and bitter, as her mate becomes the property of an old nemesis.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528954426

Katja Brown

Katja Brown, born 1997, lives in a dark, creepy castle in the middle of nowhere, with a deep moat, zombies and sleeps in a coffin… really? No. She lives in Nottingham and is studying English with Creative Writing at university. She earned her undergraduate degree and hopes to eventually write some more equally thrilling adventures.

Book preview

XXIX

About The Author

Katja Brown, born 1997, lives in a dark, creepy castle in the middle of nowhere, with a deep moat, zombies and sleeps in a coffin… really? No. She lives in Nottingham and is studying English with Creative Writing at university. She earned her undergraduate degree and hopes to eventually write some more equally thrilling adventures.

Dedication

For my all-time favourite, Lorraine Campbell. You are fantastic! An absolute gem. Don’t ever forget how important you are to so many people!!! xx

Copyright Information ©

Katja Brown (2019)

The right of Katja Brown to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781788484145 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781788484152 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781528954426 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgements

Emma Forster, my friend, the shiniest spoon in the drawer.

Come down from your crooked perch

to read my words and from despair,

resign yourself to rain.

Where doves and crows nest together,

leave behind your fluttered feathers,

your hermit rock, your wild endeavours.

Seek my voice in page and number,

dream my story in hearty slumber

and when the world falls apart,

you’re welcome to mine,

where the crow is a prized bird.

With love always,

from a Katfink x

Prologue

The end. That’s what I said, did I not? That was how my last story ended, but we know that all good stories, the ones that really grip and terrify us to the very core, often don’t end so easily. The really good ones end with a new beginning and so I shall tell you mine. This is a story of the unexpected and a journey not soon forgotten.

Many times I have looked back on my life so far and wondered how I was blessed, or cursed, with such an augmented existence and someone special to share it with. Iuliana my God-sent angel, my darling, my saviour. She is still, even now, as angelic as the first time I encountered her, still challenging and just as beautifully radiant as ever. That is something which knows no bounds, such celestial magnificence in one so fair and yet so very dangerous. We are the predators, the creatures of nightmare, forever watchful of the world beneath our frozen gaze. There is nothing we have not seen and yet in an ever-changing world, Iuliana and I serve, to each other, as a reminder of centuries past and the ways of old.

We were lying in our bed within the castle of my inheritance atop the cliff’s edge, so nearly falling and yet so nearly flying, in amongst the wind’s whispers before the congregation of foliage that obeyed our every whim. A forest that stood to attention even after all these years, a shield of wood and trees and leaves, a labyrinthine spectacle if ever I saw one. Time had passed us by like a blink of the eye. Although we managed to keep the castle in working order, we kept our distance from the servants that roamed the corridors during the day. Our affliction prevented us from stepping into the sun for fear of burning. Such grotesque perfection to be frozen in a moment of time. We idled away the days’ laborious hours with a multitudinous array of activities and kept each other in the best company. We drank together, lapping up the most exquisite fluids imaginable with tongue and teeth. The disembowelment of the lesser beings of this world to consume their vitality and fuel our animalistic appetite made us the monsters humans feared. We drew blood from each other and shared everything.

There was only one who knew our dark secret. Only one in whom we had the upmost faith would never betray us to the malicious mob of worshippers that lay just beyond the forest’s reach. Anca. She was the innkeeper from Transylvania who had aided my mother all those years ago when I was a mere babe. In her elderly years, I had her move to England to be with those who cared for her, and settled her into a comfortable cottage at the edge of the castle boundaries, where its shadow met the clawing grasps of the forest. She was content there, in her own solitary space, free from the tedium of society and yet perfectly within her rights to be a part of the hustle and bustle that lay just beyond the wooded border. My only request was for her to run the staff in a fair and orderly manner, which she did in perfect compliance.

Anca was beyond a shadow of a doubt my most trusted friend and confidant. Though time had turned her hair quite white with appeasement, she was still young at heart with one that beat so vibrantly in a world so decrepit and old. She was the anchor that held me down and stopped me from drifting away into treacherous waters where the rancid stench of humanity infected the fibre of the earth. It was Anca who kept me in line and protected the livestock night after night until it was absolutely necessary to feed again. Humanity, however, did not reward her for her tireless efforts. After all they are cruel and misguided.

It was thunderous weather. Rain battered against the window panes and the wind pleaded for entry into the warmth that emanated from my midnight activities. Iuliana and I beat at the rhythm of the thunder crashes and exhaled at the sound of the wind. We were never bored, never without each other and always happy to open our eyes to find both of us within reach of the other. It was a night of singular significance and despair, one which lodged a splinter in my ever-depleting heart.

Below the stare of our colossal sanctuary, Anca sat in the firelight immersed in her books. Like myself, she loved the poetry of the written word and became the foremost authority on literature of the times. Anca was pleasantly surprised by each new addition to the literary practices. She was given a library to hold all her most prized books to keep from the dangers of time which washed over everything, biting and destroying things in its wake. Her books were kept from the sun, wind and rain and so they were as pristine as when they were first acquired.

She would often bring me novels, tomes and works of literature to pass the time and where possible brought me poetry—little creations of pure ecstasy.

While she sat in her quietude, a figure moved in the dark, shifting from shadow to shadow under the gaze of the Moon, movements so swift the rain failed to subdue him. A man clad in black, tall and formidable, waited until Anca got up to say her nightly prayers and proceeded to break into her home. The door was splintered where he kicked it off the hinges; a door that protected her so caringly from the elements. The windows were shattered in the struggle between this elderly woman and the thief. He was young and ruggedly handsome, with short hair that made his facial features that much more prominent and emphasised his enraged jawline full of stubble and dirt. And his eyes, I had never looked upon eyes so absent of human decency. Anca tried to fend him off. She took up the All Father’s Bible and beat him repeatedly with it.

Do not be mistaken, dear boy, I do not suffer fools gladly! To covet another’s belongings is a sin of the utmost treacherous nature of the soul. I know who you are! You lay with many and steal from those you bed, but your charm will get you nowhere here, my boy.

The thief was beaten back into the firelight. He stumbled and fell putting his hand out to support himself. His right hand crossed the boundaries of light and fire. The skin seared at the heat and began to blister as it peeled and burned under the intensity of the flames. His blood now soaked the pages that had fended off so many a dark night. Stories and proverbs became lost in the tainted stain of sin and fury. That night, all morals were drowned out by the blood of the innocent and the guilty.

My ears pricked to the screams of his ongoing disfigurement, the wind carried the sounds like ships on a whispering ocean, but my speed was not enough that night. Anca retreated to the religious altar she prayed to and took up her old crossbow, but so did the thief. They both had the same idea…if only she reacted quicker. The arrow cut through the air dispelling any resistance along the way and entered right where you would expect, it pierced through her chest plate and skewered her heart.

I arrived too late. The door lay on the floor saddened and crippled by its absence of purpose. The cottage was in disarray, books scattered, glass shattered and fire burning through the home she had so lovingly created. In the heart of the fire between the smoke and chaos that danced around the body of my old friend, I saw the damage that had been done and my heart stopped. It sank from my ribs and crashed into the depths of my stomach. I couldn’t help it, I rushed to her side and cradled her head in my lap. Her eyes were vacant of all sensations, watered over with tears of loss. She looked up at me and struggled to smile.

No. Lie still. I…I’m going to help you…you’ll see, I said, fighting the urge to unleash a flood of water from my tear ducts. The arrow protruded from her chest so straight and perfect that the smell of blood intoxicated my senses. I pulled it out and she screamed such violent sadness. It must have caught a vein, because her vitality oozed from the hole in her skin, she wretched at the pain and seized my hand.

You look so much like your mother…and she would be so proud of you, she said, pinching my cheek as I began to cry. My tears gagged me, my voice shuddered and I felt the pain of loss envelop my entire body.

Let me save you, I pleaded, trying to avoid the reaction I was having at the smell of her fresh blood.

No, my time here is over. Just remember, my child, although you walk in forever, the rest of us must tread the path of time slowly and without second chances. I would have it no other way. Your time will come but I must leave you to walk a journey without me and that is the way it must be.

I looked down at the gaping hole that shredded Anca’s delicate exterior. She looked up at me as she took her last breath and I watched as her eyes faded into nothing. Dispelling the last spark of golden light from her being, the face that had smiled at me for so long smiled one last time and I slowly closed her eyes…ending her final chapter. I held her and rocked her to everlasting sleep, whereas I, the eternal somnambulist, must continue living. As the flames began to devour the cottage, I heard the cringing and rapid breaths of the thief. He gripped his burned hand and tried so hard to avoid any visible representations of pain. I have to give the man credit; he resisted the urge to scream with such ardent determination I almost regretted what was to come. My ears picked up the sound of his teeth grinding under the pressure of his torment. He propped himself up against the wall and smirked as he too realised my presence.

So it’s true then? he choked. Where’s your pet then, Milady? That woman who resides with you alone in that castle of yours. You who sicken the living and turn them into the walking dead. There are rumours, down in the town beyond the forest, rumours that you only emerge at night, that you both are the spawn of Satan.

Actually, I am perhaps the fallen angel.

I fixed my icy stare upon him, reducing him to the cretin he was and with that, his eyes met mine. I felt my breath stutter under the pressure of anger and grief. My hand slowly migrated from Anca’s forehead to the bloody arrow that lay beside her deceased body, fingers encasing the arrow in a prison of skin and bone there to await my final judgement.

It’s a shame really…right up until I shot her, we were really getting along, he scoffed.

My breathing increased as did my rage that bubbled and rioted beneath the surface. My mind raced with fantastic images and possibilities of his inevitable demise; what was to happen next would be my choice, my decision and my opportunity.

It was a mistake, dear boy, I started. You should not have come here.

I lay Anca’s head on the floor and stepped through the fire that surrounded us in a beautiful convulsion of amber, gold and a shroud of sanguine. My skin blistered and burned as the fire ate away at it and yet regenerated quickly enough for the process to begin again and again. My cloak turned to ashes as it disintegrated into the inferno and I felt the fire bow to me as a kindred spirit. He stood up as I approached with a new-found look of painful anguish etched into his face and I couldn’t help but smirk at the familiar rush I was feeling. My free hand was wrapped tightly around his throat, silencing the annoying sounds that emanated from the incessant twangs of his vocal chords.

The footsteps of my darling grew closer, harmonising beautifully with the symphonic rhythms of the rain. I lifted the thief just off the floor, just high enough to hear the tips of his shoes scratch against the floor, so close and yet so far. He shuddered at the touch of the arrow I stroked against his baking cheek. The cold steel of the arrow head traced his wounded skin. As I looked upon the face of Anca’s killer, my heart filled with hate and vexation. Iuliana grew closer and closer with each passing moment. I looked into his eyes and saw exactly what I expected, a twisted soul beneath a façade of charm.

You’re going to rot for this, I assured him. I hope you see yourself for what you are, a defecation of God’s creation. You are unworthy to be a part of this world! And with that, I plunged the stained arrow into his jugular, severing both artery and vein in that region. He burst into splatters of blood as the pressure excited the release of his vitality onto my face.

You poor girl, he sputtered, You will see me again, in one form or another. I will destroy this perfect life of yours and tear your heart from that ample chest. Death, as you well know, is merely a gateway and I shall find my way back! Even at death’s door, he irked me greatly and this ardent desire to watch him die grew beyond all measure.

Iuliana appeared in the desecrated doorway with rain in her hair and tears in her eyes, her empathy stretched across continents and ever since we met, I had her constantly in my heart always looking to her for support. The thief looked upon Iuliana and glutted on her celestial presence.

So it begins…

Chapter I

The walls crumbled around me and the company I had strung up just a few metres away. There was no penetrating light where we were, no fleeting sounds of life, no subtle breaths