The Vampire's Slayer: A Gothic Vampire Tale: The Calmet Chronicles, #2

By Leigh Anderson

Even in a remote convent, she's unable to escape her past...

A decade ago, Sister Maria Delphina did something so terrible, she ran away from her life and joined a convent in a remote area of Spain to spend the rest of her life in penance and quiet contemplation.

But she couldn't hide forever.

A stranger arrives at the convent door begging Delphina for help with a vampire that has killed his people, kidnapped his father, and settled inside his ancestral home. Delphina tries to refuse...until she finds out the man she fears and hates the most–her father, Dom Calmet–is dying after trying to fight the vampire alone.

Delphina agrees to go with the man to help him and Dom Calmet one last time. But inside, she fears that she will not be able to escape from the life of a slayer again.

Don't miss the entire Calmet Chronicles!
The Vampire's Gift
The Vampire's Daughter
The Vampire's Slayer
The Vampire's Lover

While the books in the Calmet Chronicles are related, each can be read as a complete, stand-alone novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Empress Publishing
• Release date: Jan 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393237617

Book preview

1

The smell of stale blood pierced Delphina’s nose and she grimaced. She knew she was close. She continued to step as quietly as possible along the stone edge of the river of sewage that ran next to her. The sewers beneath Paris were not a place many people went.

Which made them perfect hiding places for nosferatu.

Delphina held a torch to light her way and saw a rat scamper across her path. Her other hand gripped the hilt of her dagger. All around her were the sounds of water dripping from the wet ceiling, rats chittering inside the walls, and voices from the streets above drifting in through the sewer grates.

If only people knew the dangers that lurked below them.

Delphina knew the dangers all too well. She was only a young woman, but she had been fighting vampires her whole life. Ever since her mother was taken. The night that everything changed.

She came to a junction in the sewer system. According to her source, a scared city worker who had been sent down here, along with a partner, to clear a log that had blocked a drain, she would go to the left. The man had made it out alive. His partner had not.

The city worker had climbed out of a manhole, screaming, rambling about a monster in the sewers. Some thought he was mad. Others that he killed his workmate. Either way, he was arrested and thrown into prison. His mad tales might have died there with him had Rochelle not gotten wind of the story among gossiping crowds the next day.

Describe what you saw, Rochelle told him when she was able to secure an audience with him after bribing a guard.

Death, the man said, his body still shaking as he chewed his fingernails that were already bloody.

Be specific.

His knee trembled so hard it shook the table. He didn’t speak for a long time. But Rochelle waited. She knew he would need to tell the story eventually.

A man, he finally said. Pale. Too pale. White like a ghost.

Rochelle nodded for him to continue.

Two eyes, black as coal. We…we didn’t know what we was seeing. We thought…we thought it was…some-someone who had escaped an asylum. You hear stories. People who never see the light, they don’t look like the rest of us.

What made you change your mind? Rochelle asked to keep him focused.

He… The man gasped and began to cry into his hands. He opened his mouth. Growled…no, more like screeched as us, and his mouth was full of these long, sharp teeth. Like…I don’t know. Like a pirani fish or something. You know, like what the explorers always charge a copper to see at the exhibition halls. Like that.

Rochelle nodded. A piranha.

Yeah, that, the man said, wiping his nose with his sleeve. We shrieked when we saw them teeth. Well, we were shocked. We didn’t know what to think. We stepped back. Didn’t want to get to close. Figured we should alert the watch. But then he charged at us. Just ran! All arms and legs, and he was on us in a second. The man snapped his fingers. Like that.

What did you do?

Well, we both tried to run, but the beast, because it weren’t no man, you see, it grabbed Jim’s shoulder. Sort of random, I guess. It could have been me. But he grabbed Jim. I turned and tried to push it away, but…but it bit him. It bit Jim right in the neck! Blood spurted out, right in my face!

The man rubbed his sleeve over his face as though to wipe the blood away. But there wasn’t any blood. Not know. But the guards told her that he’d had quite a bit of blood on him when he was brought it.

And then? Rochelle said.

I…I don’t know, he said as he started chewing his non-existent nails again. I just panicked, I suppose. Jim was screaming, his arms flailing. But the beast, it was chewing on him, like a wild dog with a rat in his mouth. Just chewing…and the blood. I…I just backed away. I didn’t want to get bit. But then Jim, he…he stopped moving, just hung there all limp. The beast lowered him to the ground and kept…Well, I swear, mademoiselle, he was drinking the blood from the bloody hole in his neck.

At this point, Rochelle was convinced that the creature that had attacked the man and his friend was a nosferatu. No other animal on earth drank the blood of their victims in such a way. Except, perhaps, a breed of tiny bats.

Then it looked at me, the man went on, unable to stop his story now that he had found someone willing to listen. He just raised his eyes, his mouth still on Jim’s neck, and he looked at me with a…a hunger. Like he was saying I was next. So…so I ran. I ran and ran and didn’t look back. The man burst into tears. The guilt of being the one that lived was a reaction Rochelle had seen many times over the years.

That’s understandable, Rochelle said as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a map of Paris’s sewer system. He certainly would have killed you next if you’d stayed around much longer.

You believe me, then? the man said, wiping his eyes with his filthy hands. Can you get me out of here? Can you tell the guards I’m not crazy? That I didn’t kill Jim. He was my best mate. I would never have done nothing to hurt him.

Rochelle sighed. She didn’t want to lie to him. Give him false hope. She wasn’t anyone special among the people of Paris. Just a rich girl with an eccentric father. But she still needed this man’s cooperation to find the vampire’s lair.

I’ll do what I can, she said with a smile.

The man nods. Bless you, mademoiselle.

Rochelle spread the map out before him to try and get an exact location of where the creature was lurking. But map-reading was not a skill most working-class men possessed. He did his best, trying to trace where they entered the sewers and the path they took before they were attacked.

Now, standing at a junction that Rochelle was certain had not been on the map, she sighed and realized she would have to find the creature on her own. Her father seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to vampires. He just knew when they were lurking about. Not so for Rochelle.

Her father was out of the city, two days away in a village that had been telling tales of werewolves. He had gone to investigate, leaving Rochelle to keep an eye on things in Paris. If she heard anything, she was supposed to wait until he returned to examine the claims further.

But Rochelle knew there wasn’t enough time. The men had not completed their task, so the city would be sending more men down below—down to their deaths. And if too many men began infiltrating the vampire’s lair, it would flee, then they would never find it. Rochelle knew she needed to find and stake the creature before it was too late. She’d staked vampires many times before…always with her father watching on. This was the first time she had tracked and planned to kill a vampire all on her own. But she had been trained well. She knew what she was doing.

Didn’t she?

She closed her eyes and listened. She tried to isolate any sounds that shouldn’t be there. She had to ignore the water, the rats, the voices from above. But there was nothing.

Rochelle lifted her nose and inhaled deeply. The fetid smell of sewage threatened to gag her. She was glad she hadn’t eaten today. But the smell of blood was there too. She’d smelled it almost as soon as she had entered the sewer, but now she needed to discern where the smell was coming from. Where the creature was feeding.

She turned her head left and right, sniffing in each direction like a bloodhound. She thought the scent was stronger to the left, so she turned and walked in that direction.

She had not gotten far when she realized that she was right. The smell grew stronger quickly, and ahead of her, lying on the ground, was the unmistakable shape of a body.

Her heart began to race in her chest as she turned her dagger to a defensive position. Her father preferred the old-fashioned method of using wooden or silver stakes, but she found comfort in her dagger with a silver-coated blade. It was not looked down upon for a lady to train with blades with her father’s permission, so Rochelle had been training with a sword and dagger since she was quite young, during all the years her father had been absent.

She let out a soft whistle, as though calling a dog. Where are you? she whispered.

She heard a low growl behind her, almost like a laugh. She turned slowly and faced the beast.

He was just as terrifying as the worker had described, one of the most degraded vampires she had ever seen. Most retained their human appearance for years, decades even. But this one…it was almost reptilian.

Rochelle gulped. Stand down and I will end you quickly.

The creature laughed again. Too bad I cannot make you the same offer, it hissed.

The laughter grew louder, and Rochelle realized it was coming from behind her. No from her left—or was it her right? The laughter came closer. Rochelle finally tore her eyes away from the beast and saw more to each side of her. She could hear them behind her.

She was surrounded!

There was no way out. She was going to die! She swung her dagger at one of the creatures, but it dodged the attack easily, and the laughing intensified. It surrounded her, drummed in her head, shook her bones.

Her hand was sweaty on the hilt of her sword. It was usually not recommended to use a sword in such an enclosed space, but she had to at least try to fight. She looked back to face the first creature she had seen, but when she turned her head, she found herself face to face with him. As it grabbed her and pulled her toward him, she screamed.

Rochelle was still screaming when she woke up. She sat up and threw her blanket off, rubbing the sweat from her face.

A dream. It had been a dream. No. A memory. The trek down into the sewers had happened, many years ago, but there had only been the one vampire. And she’d killed him. Hadn’t she? She’d been in so many similar situations over the years, they all seemed to blend together now.

The bells rang twice, calling the sisters to Matins. Rochelle…No, she was Delphina now. Sister Maria Delphina. Delphina crossed herself and poured a basin of wash water from a pitcher. She wiped away the sweat as much as she could and then threw on her robe, habit, and shoes. She then left the room, joining the other nuns for first prayers.

2

Delphina listened approvingly as one of her students, Sofía, a girl of but twelve, read from Dante’s Paradisio in almost perfect Italian.

"‘Where now is the world, Lord,’ I asked, as I sighed,

‘And the light of the sun, and the starlight, which vied

‘With its glory, when I was released?’ —

‘Asleep in my dreamland,’ God said with a smile

‘Which lighted my soul’s new sky…’"

Beautiful, Delphina said as Sofía paused, setting the book down on her desk, a troubled look on her face. What does the passage say to you?

I…I do not want to speak heresy, Sister, Sofía said, her voice small and soft.

Delphina chuckled. I doubt you would be thinking something as serious as that. Besides, I wish this to be a place where all can speak and discuss the divine in comfort. Please, tell me your thoughts. I do so wish to hear them now.

After a moment, Sofía finally spoke. Do you really think Dante was inspired by God to write his story? He invokes God so…so casually, as if God is his dear friend. Was Dante not guilty of the sin of pride?

That is an excellent question, Sofía, Delphina said. "What do you think? We have read Inferno and Purgatorio, so I think we have come to know Dante rather well. Do you think he was inspired by God?"

Sofía only shrugged, clearly afraid to speak too plainly. Delphina had done her best over the years to encourage the girls to ask questions, and to even speak their minds. But one woman could hardly undo centuries of tradition in a few of years.

Anyone have a thought on Dante’s inspiration? Whether it was from God? Delphina opened to the class.

Another girl, Elena, raised her hand. Delphina nodded to her.

There is much inspiration to find in God’s creation, Elena said. Many poets and painters find inspiration—and therefore God—in the physical world. Perhaps that is what Dante meant.

Very good, Delphina said. Thank you for that insight.

But, Sofía said without waiting to be called upon, "Dante claims to speak for God, his actual words, as if he were a prophet."

That would be blasphemous! another girl, Gabriella, said.

Is it? Delphina asked. Many people have claimed to have heard God’s word since the time of the prophets. Many of those people we now call saints.

Do you think Dante should be a saint? Elena asked.

That’s not for me to decide— Delphina said just as the bells rang to signal the end of classes and beginning of afternoon chores. We will have to continue this discussion tomorrow. Thank you, girls.

Thank you, Sister Delphina, the girls as said in unison as they gathered their things and left the room.

Sofía, Delphina called out as the girl started to leave. You really did ask such thoughtful questions today. Don’t ever be afraid to speak your mind, especially in defense of the Lord.

Sofía raised her eyes to the statue in the corner of the room that represented St. Dymphna, a girl who had been beheaded for defying her pagan father. Delphina sighed and offered a small smile of condolence.

Yes, Sister, Sofía said as she left the room.

Delphina had many years ago resigned herself to the fact that she would have to be satisfied with teaching the girls to read and write and be happy with that. Still, she could not help but strive to teach them more. While most of the girls she had grown up with in France were literate, here in rural Spain, it was still something of a novelty.

Delphina straightened the room, said prayers of thanks to all the saints who watched over her students, and then put out the candles before attending to her own chores.

It was Delphina’s favorite time of day. For many of the girls, their afternoon work was to attend to their personal studies in music, art, or embroidery. As such, the sounds of music and laughter echoed through the stone convent walls. The girls often took too long at their chores as they chased each other and enjoyed the warm afternoon sun. But the convent’s Mother Superior was not a harsh woman, and she knew that children needed at least some freedom. Delphina was beyond such play, but the youthful exuberance from the girls brought her a measure of happiness. It reminded her that not every corner of the world was dark and full of horrors lurking in shadow.

Delphina’s pace slowed as she felt a shiver run down her spine. She looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She chalked it up to still being shaken by her nightmare from the night before…and the one she’d had a few days before that, and the one a few weeks before that.

She shook the feeling off and rushed out of the convent into the sunshine. The warm, safe sunshine. She drew a bucket of water from the well and cooled her parched throat. She was safe here, had been safe for years. She’d been cleansed of her sins and had dedicated her life to God. The Mother Superior had assured her that God was glad of her service and would protect her. She hadn’t even thought of her old life for ages.

So why had the nightmares returned?

Sister Delphina! one of the girls called out. Delphina looked and saw that the girls were waving her over to play a game of kick the ball. She was glad of the distraction and joined the girls, and a few of the more enthusiastic sisters, to kick the stitched leather ball, which had been stuffed with moss and wool, around a walled courtyard.

Eventually, one of the senior sisters appeared and clapped her hands together. That’s quite enough, girls. Be sure to cleanse your bodies before evening prayers.

Yes, Sister, the girls grumbled as they abandoned the game and went back to their work. Delphina waited a moment to catch her breath before following them.

Sister Delphina, the nun called. Mother Superior sent me for you. She’s in her office.

Of course, Sister, Delphina said. Thank you. She stopped back by the well, using a cloth to wipe the sweat from her face and neck and to wash her hands before going back inside.

You wanted to see me, Reverend Mother? Delphina asked after she was granted permission to enter the Mother Superior’s office.

Yes, come in.

Delphina did as she was bid and awaited further instruction. The Mother Superior walked over to Delphina, holding an envelope. This came for you.

Delphina’s heart began to race and sweat once again beaded on her forehead. There was only one person who had ever sent her a letter before, and that was many years ago.

No, Delphina said. I..I don’t want it.

Are you sure? the Mother Superior asked. The Lord admonishes us to honor our parents. He would not have written to you without good reason.

Reverend Mother… Delphina pleaded. Don’t make me take it.

The Mother Superior took Delphina’s hand, placed the letter in her palm, and then closed her fingers around it. I have done my duty, she said. Whether you chose to read it is up to you and your conscience.

When the Mother Superior released Delphina’s hand, it was shaking. Delphina nodded, but she could not speak for fear she would not be able to stop the tears from falling. Tears of fear? Of regret? Of hope? After so long, she wasn’t sure.

Delphina walked back to her room in silence. It was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other. When she arrived at her room, she stopped with her hand on the latch. She then backed away. She would not bring him—not even just his words—into her sacred living space. She heard the bells chime and knew that everyone would be gathering for prayer before evening meal. She would be missed, but this would be the best time for her to slip into the library unnoticed. She waited until the bells finished ringing before walking the silent halls that were now growing dark with the fading sunlight.

Once in the library, Delphina walked past the many shelves of books and scrolls, the tables for contemplation and study, and the sitting area around the fireplace that allowed for close discussion of things learned.

In a nearly forgotten corner stood a life-sized painting of St. Teresa of Avila. Of all the saints and blessèd women who adorned the walls of the convent, it was to St. Teresa Delphina went for help in her most trying times.

Dearest Lady, Delphina prayed, blessèd saint, please hear me and guide my hand. She pulled out the letter and looked over the envelope. She saw that it was addressed to Rochelle Calmet and her mouth went dry. He knew that she did not go by that name. That she had left Rochelle behind in Paris. She felt a surge of anger, but knew better than to let wrath take control. She turned the envelope over and waited for Teresa’s guidance.

Saint Teresa had traveled extensively, especially for a woman who lived hundreds of years ago. She had found solace in God rather late in life. She wrote letters, poems, philosophical musings, and even an autobiography. There were many reasons why Saint Teresa appealed to Delphina. But the reason Delphina most believed that Teresa was the wisest saint to guide her was because Teresa had also fought against evil in the world.

Not in the way that all saints battled the evil spirit of the world in their pursuit to worship God, but real, living, fleshly evils. She believed the Devil was not to be feared, but fought. She wrote about battling against two devils of hideous aspect as they assaulted a priest. Delphina had no evidence that Teresa had actually held a sword and dispatched the monsters, but she liked to think she did. If men could hold a sword to defend the world from evil, then women could as well.

After a few moments of prayer, Delphina’s anger cooled and she could consider what to do with the letter from a more rational place.

On the one hand, perhaps the Mother Superior was right, that she should show her father respect by reading his words. What if he was writing to make amends? What if he had something important to tell her? What if he was dying?

Delphina tried to feel guilty over the way her heart leaped at the idea of her father dead, but she could not. Even now, after so much time and space, so much prayer, she hated him.

If he was dying, why should it be her responsibility to give him peace? Forgiveness. Redemption. No. She refused to play that role.

It was far more likely that the letter was meant to draw her back to him in some way. To lure her into a life of fighting. Of torture. Of murder.

Was the letter the reason for her nightmares? Did the Holy Spirit somehow know that the letter was coming, and the nightmares were sent ahead of its arrival