Dhampir Chronicles: the Awakening

By J.P. Dorsey

Dhampir Chronicles: The Awakening is the first book in the trilogy series. The Awakening begins with the awakening experience of a human male; evolving into his destiny as the Protector of the Ostlandik Clan residing on an island in Moose Head Lake, Maine. The Ostlandiks survive on synthetic blood to coexist with the human world. The European Clan follows the ancient ways of feeding from humans and will not accept a world of human and vampires as equal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 22, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453578582

J.P. Dorsey

J.P. Dorsey, RN, MS/MPA completed his undergraduate education in Health Care at the University of New Hampshire in Durham, NH. He obtained his Masters degree in Public Administration from Suffolk University in Boston. The author is currently semi-retired after thirty years of working at various levels in Nursing Administration in the acute care units for adult and pediatrics. He lives in Southern California with a partner of seven years and their two Dachshunds.

Book preview

Prologue

MOOSEHEAD LAKE

Moosehead Lake is the largest freshwater lake in the state of Maine, surrounded by the Longfellow Mountains and located in the Northwest Territory called Piscataquis. The lake contains over eighty islands of varying size with many of them inhabited during the summer months by vacationers. The fresh water of Moosehead Lake provides the headwaters for the Kennebec River and several smaller rivers that flow in a southwesterly direction through the central portions of the state. The size of this massive body of water is estimated to be nearly forty miles in length and reaching to a maximum of ten miles in width. A large protrusion of granite and flint rock along the northwestern part of the lake is called Mount Kineo. The flint rock was valued by many native Indian tribes over the centuries and used to make weapons for battle and hunting.

The shoreline of the lake is composed of large broken granite rocks, gravel, and driftwood slipping down from the mainland and can be completely changed after a harsh winter by expanding ice along the water’s edge. The residents living along the lake rely on floating docks during the mild seasons, and can easily be removed from the water during the winter months to prevent damage from the shifting frozen water.

The early inhabitants of Moosehead can be traced as far back as six thousand years ago through research on found artifacts discovered at or within several known burial sites along the lake. The first Indian inhabitants were called the Red Painted People, and they continue to remain a cultural mystery primarily due to the lack of written records of their migration and habitation in the lake area. It has largely been thought this tribe settled in the region to utilize the flint stone for weapons and hunt the abundance of large wild game found roaming in the surrounding forests of the lake. Several smaller tribes followed a similar migration in living along the lake after the demise of the Red Painted People. Many believe the native Indians from Eastern Canada and coastal Maine were more likely seeking wild game and the need to find isolation from the growing intrusion of the white man. Most of the Indian population moved away from the region by the late 1800s with the increased growth of the lumber industry and the migration of rustic pioneers to harvest the compacted pine forests surrounding the lake.

The first invasion of the white man into the region was land surveyors and a rough, hardy group of nomads called lumberjacks. The workers were housed in wooden dormitory buildings for months at a time while working on stripping large tracks of the forest. This model of temporary housing made it easier for the lumber mill owners to move the workers quickly to new tracks of heavy tree growth to be harvested. The permanent resident population along the lake did not begin to flourish until the mid to late 1800s, largely due to the lack of reliable transportation to the region. Eventually, a business marriage between one of the regional railroad companies and the township of Greenville during the late 1880s opened the entire region to become a thriving lumber and recreational industry. Reliable transportation by rail enabled the wealthy city dwellers along the East Coast to invest and build large vacation homes on the islands of the lake.

Today, the towns of Greenville, Rockwood, and Shirley continue to grow commercially despite the lumber bust of the mid-1900s and now rely heavily on recreational tourism and the influx of flatlander summer residents who vacation around the lake during the summer seasonal months.

Many of the summer homes located on the islands of Moosehead continue to be owned by influential families wanting to vacation or retreat from big city life. Occasionally, an island property may end up on the market for sale, but the majority remains within the surviving family members of the original owners for decades. The island owners enjoy and maintain complete privacy from the rest of the world during their annual summer vacations. Some of the wealthier families even go as far as owning private pontoon planes and luxury yachts for direct access to their homes to avoid any blending with the locals on the mainland. The rare and infrequent contact with townies happens only when there is need for employment to maintain their island sanctuaries during the off-seasons and to perform the annual housekeeping duties prior to the family’s arrival for vacations. Hence, this behavior of persistent anonymity between the islanders and the townies has served to fuel the local rumor mills within the town of Greenville.

Stories surfaced about the new owners of Granite Bar Island shortly after the property was bought in the latter half of 1941. Originally, the island was owned by a well-renowned writer of Western stories who lived with his family in New York City. He vacationed every summer with his wife and only child for five decades until tragedy struck his family in 1940. Both he and his wife were brutally murdered during a robbery attempt in their home in New York City. Their only heir was vacationing with friends in Europe at the time of the unfortunate incident. The son struggled with the loss of his parents for several months and eventually fell into severe bouts of depression requiring frequent hospitalization for electroshock therapy. He no longer wanted to retain the family compound on the island and made arrangements to sell the property. The locals of Greenville heard about the sale of the island to a family from Europe. The town council was notified by letter from an attorney in New York City of the deed exchange. An additional letter from the new owners contained a request that all employment of the island for general maintenance and housekeeping would no longer be required.

For months, the local gossip of Greenville burned daily about the sale and purchase of Granite Bar Island. Initial rumors told of the owners being of German or Jewish descent because of the fighting and political controversy occurring in Eastern Europe. There was even a rumor of the island being used as a stopping point for Europeans who were fleeing Nazi Germany and attempting to make their way north into Canada. Most of the gossip came from the men working in the lumber camps around the lake where there were numerous sightings of what appeared to be men running through the heavily wooded areas surrounding the lumber camps during the night and early mornings prior to sunrise. The men who worked the logging runs down Moosehead Lake would purposely cruise close to the shore of the island in hopes of seeing any activity of human habitation, but the island compound always appeared deserted.

All town gossip came to an alarming halt on the day several men appeared at the Greenville Western Union office and identified themselves as the new owners of Granite Bar Island. They were taller than most of the local residents of the town, extremely pale in appearance, and spoke with a mild Northern European accent. News of the foreigners’ arrival spread though the town by midday. Most important was the information on the owners’ intended return to town to conduct financial business with Greenville National Bank and Trust.

All hopes of attempting to find out more information on the foreigners and their plans on living in the area dissipated when the bank manager showed up at the Moosehead Tavern for lunch as usual after meeting with his new clients to set up personal accounts for Braques Ostlandik, the oldest brother of the new owners of Granite Bar Island. They jumped at the chance to learn any personal information about Mr. Ostlandik and his family. Unfortunately, the only items the manager seemed to remember were his client’s name and the fact that a large amount of money was being transferred from a European bank into the Ostlandik account. The bank manager could not explain his total lapse of memory of the meeting but assured his friends the Ostlandiks were extremely wealthy and wanted to remain anonymous to town life. For years, all personal contact between the locals in town and the Ostlandik family concluded with a similar vague acknowledgment in meeting with Mr. Braques Ostlandik.

Rumors of the Ostlandiks being suspected members of a religious cult from Europe circulated among the townies for years as they watched the original island family vacation compound transform into a two-story granite and cement complex. Today, the island supports a helicopter landing pad, a forty-foot luxury cruiser with sectional docking stretching seventy-five feet into the lake, and several storage buildings directly across from the island on the eastern shore of the mainland.

Nowadays, the locals of Moosehead Lake may take the time to turn their heads to acknowledge the Ostlandiks in town, but there is no longer an interest in uncovering any potential veil of mystery and the unknown. Instead, most people in town silently appreciate the large financial donations the Ostlandik Foundation make annually to numerous community improvement projects around town and the chamber of commerce to enhance local businesses and recreational tourism around the lake. They have long forgotten the rumors of the Ostlandiks being cult members hiding from the world outside of Moosehead Lake, or the fact of no longer finding an unusual number of large animals lying dead along the banks of the lake for years after the arrival of the new inhabitants of Granite Bar Island. There have been no sightings of dead animals with throats slashed, internal organs removed, and the complete absence of blood from the carcass in nearly twenty odd years. The stories of rogue bears or a pack of monstrous wolves wandering around the forest in search of food have long been forgotten by many of the permanent residents living around the majestic waters of Moosehead Lake.

Chapter One

SEATTLE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Ulle was out of breath when he approached the terminal gate for his return flight to New Hampshire in the early morning at Seattle’s international airport. He wasn’t counting on heavy traffic during the morning for his six forty-five departure time or the fact that the rental car drop-off point was a mile from the terminal. The shuttle service to the terminal was delayed by an additional fifteen minutes, leaving him less than thirty minutes to make it through security and baggage checkpoints. He could see passengers were being boarded onto the plane as he approached the assigned gate entrance. A rather short, stocky male attendant with the classic service industry smile greeted Ulle and offered his hand out to check his boarding ticket.

You can relax, Mr. De’Orsay. We are still boarding passengers arriving late, but the flight will leave on time within the next fifteen minutes. You have first-class seating, and your seat will be in the third-row window seat on the right. The attendant handed Ulle his ticket pass and sleeve. You will have a short layover in Chicago while some of the passengers disembark and others board for the last leg to New Hampshire. Enjoy the flight and have a great day.

Ulle readjusted the laptop computer bag onto his right shoulder while grabbing the ticket from the attendant. He took in several relaxing deep breaths before entering the covered walk to the plane. A young male attendant was standing at the front door of the plane.

Good morning, sir. May I see your ticket? Our captain is about to announce we have been cleared to move to the runway.

Ulle handed the gentleman his ticket. I believe I have the window seat in the third row here in first class.

You are right, Mr. De’Orsay. The window seat on the right, but you will be able to stretch out after takeoff because it appears the rest of your row is empty until we reach Chicago.

Actually, that will work out well for me. I was up late last night working on details for another contract here in Seattle, and I could use a nap before arriving in New Hampshire.

Our pleasure, Mr. De’Orsay . . . I am John and will be your cabin attendant here in first class. I’ll drop off a pillow for you after we complete flight safety instructions.

That would be most appreciated, John. Thank you so much. By the way, can I get a double bourbon and Diet when you start serving liquids on board? A cocktail always helps me sleep during daylight hours if you know what I mean?

Certainly, Mr. De’Orsay, is there anything else you might like?

That should be fine for the time being, John. Ulle took his ticket from the attendant and headed to his assigned seat.

Ulle was exhausted from the lectures he gave on reducing health care costs for large teaching hospitals by realigning patient flow and staff efficiency for their surgical outpatient departments. He had been lecturing in Seattle for several weeks with one of the largest health care networks in the state of Washington. Apparently, his work was appreciated, and he received a call from similar-sized health networks in Oregon and Northern California for future lecturing engagements to promote organizational efficiency and optimum patient care. He was excited, knowing the rest of the year would be busy for his consulting business and glad to have the work, especially with the sagging economy and the increased numbers of health networks downsizing to cut financial losses.

Ulle was finally satisfied with himself as an independent contractor in the health care arena. For years, he worked in the clinical and administrative divisions of teaching hospitals but always under the direction of division dictates. His ultimate desire for personal satisfaction was to head his own business and specialize in organizational management for improving patient care, reducing organizational costs, and increasing patient satisfaction. His dream became a reality approximately two years ago when he decided to start his business on a part-time basis. Within six months, the business brought Ulle to the point where he needed to travel throughout the country, lecturing. After two years, he reached a point where he now could afford to take a long-anticipated vacation. All he wanted now was to head home to Ogunquit, Maine, visit his grandmother in Baltimore, and spend a few weeks fishing at his cottage on Moosehead Lake.

Ulle placed his laptop on the floor under his seat at the same time the door of the plane slammed shut. There was the usual increased sound of the jet engines beginning to whine, followed by the sensation of the plane moving in reverse from the terminal gate. The rush of cold air from the plane’s ventilation system startled him initially, but he appreciated the fact the air was not as muggy and stale as in the terminal. He checked one more time on his seat belt being tight around his waist and positioned himself to watch the takeoff from the window.

The plane had barely stopped at the beginning of the runway when the captain’s voice was heard over the intercom, welcoming passengers on board and providing an estimated time of arrival into Chicago. After a brief moment of silence, the engines roared, and the plane thrust forward. Ulle was trying to appear relaxed when the plane began to speed down the runway but couldn’t help being aware he was gripping both arms of the seat tightly and hyperventilating. He still found it difficult to believe that he always reacted in this manner during takeoff. Flying was not a problem; he just could not get over his fear of losing control of his body as the plane lifted from the ground. He had the same fear while riding roller coasters as a child.

Shortly after the flight reached its designated altitude, the passenger seat belt light was turned off. He removed his seat belt and pulled the table down in front of the middle seat. He immediately discarded his L.L.Bean loafers and shoved them under the seat in front, next to his laptop bag. As Ulle eased back in his seat, the flight attendant dropped a glass of ice, two mini bottles of bourbon, and a Diet Coke on the table as he continued on to take drink orders for the other passengers.

Ulle welcomed the taste of the bourbon as he sipped the liquor, allowing the fluid to seep to the back of his tongue and throat before swallowing. He let out a deep sigh, knowing he would be relaxed and ready to sleep within the next thirty minutes. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he found the small rounded 25 mg capsule of Benadryl. The mild sedative effect would not only help him relax but would also improve the sinus congestion caused by breathing in the stark aroma of multiple colognes from the passengers onboard. Like clockwork, he reached down to remove his cell phone and place it in the laptop bag. To his surprise, the phone was not attached to his belt. A low chuckle escaped his throat as he tried to remember if he placed the cell phone in the luggage bag that went into the belly of the plane. He again let another chuckle pass his lips with a deep sigh and swallowed the capsule with the last of the bourbon.

Ulle fell asleep while reading an article in one of the travel magazines about short weekend trips throughout New England to catch the beauty of the fall season and the magnificence of the fall foliage. His eyes began to feel heavy with the increased blurring of the font of the article. The conversations of the first-class passengers faded in and out, his body began to slump against the wall of the plane, and his head rolled nearer to the small pillow brought by the flight attendant earlier. Within a few minutes, the passengers seated directly in front of Ulle could hear the low monotone snoring sound escaping Ulle’s throat.

The dream began as it did over the last few weeks. Ulle awakens to find he is lying in bed at the cottage on Moosehead Lake. He can hear the wind blowing through the thick pine trees surrounding the property. The cottage is filled with the fragrance of pine needles that drifts through the open windows during the summer. He wanders from the bedroom and heads toward the large deck area that wraps around the rear of the cottage. Entering the living and family room area, he discovers all the French doors opened to allow an unobstructed view of the dark blue water of Moosehead. The only movement on the redwood deck is the shadows of swaying pine branches brushed by the surging wind.

Ulle calls out to his grandmother but does not hear her respond. He and his grandmother came to the cottage to celebrate Ulle’s graduation from graduate school and the promotion to a director position in one of Boston’s leading teaching hospitals. Not finding his grandmother sitting on the deck reading as usual, he looked out toward the dock and still could not see her. Calling her several times with no response, Ulle decided to check her bedroom. He found the door to her bedroom wide open and the bed empty. The only thing he did notice was an opened drawer to one of her jewelry boxes. He decided she may have gone into town to do a few errands. The town of Greenville was approximately five miles from the cottage, and he knew she would use the car.

Ulle checked the garage located along the eastern side of the house. The cottage sat on two acres with half an acre of green lush grass divided in half by a semicircular paved driveway in the front of the cottage. The rest of the acreage ran along the shoreline of the lake and ended on the rocky point far back from the cottage. He looked into the garage through one of the windows and accounted for all the vehicles being present.

He walked down to the beach and proceeded along the shoreline leading to the point located on the far northern area of the property. It was highly unusual for his grandmother not to leave a note as to her whereabouts, remembering all the times she would place a note on the kitchen counter even if she happened to be weeding the few flower beds around the cottage.

As he rounded the small cove leading to the far end of the point, he felt a disturbing aura flooding over his body. For some strange reason, he felt saddened and fearful at the same time. He sensed his grandmother was frightened at this particular moment and could not reason how or why he was feeling her emotions along with the contracting magnetic sensation pulling at the hair follicles along his extremities. The tingling sensation continued up though his spine until it reached the hair on the back of his head. Looking around the final curvature of the shoreline leading to the point, he could see his grandmother standing motionless while gazing out into the northern section of the lake. He called her several times without her acknowledging. Slowly approaching Nesah so she would not be startled, he called out to her, Nesah, is everything okay with you? I have been looking all over for you.

Nesah remained still and responded to Ulle without turning toward his direction, "I am very concerned for you, Ulle. I know I am having a moment reflecting on how our lives came