The Grisly Goremet

By Linda R Morris

"Food, true dining, is my muse, my one and only mistress. Always has been. Always will be."

On the eve of culinary success, young chef, Thelonious "Theo" Rendger finds himself burdened with a family legacy that tears his dreams to shreds - taking on the mantle of a bloodsucking vampire. Devastated, he is at first a rat

• Language: English
• Publisher: Manuscripts LLC
• Release date: Feb 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889268611

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The Grisly Goremet

The Grisly Goremet

Linda R. Morris

Copyright © 2023 Linda R. Morris

All rights reserved.

The Grisly Goremet

ISBN

979-8-88926-862-8 Paperback

979-8-88926-863-5 Hardcover

979-8-88926-861-1 Ebook

For Brandon and Nicholas

Believe

Contents

Prologue

Part I. La Fin

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Part II. Le Début

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Acknowledgments

Food, laying a table for others, is my muse, my one and only mistress. Always has been. Always will be.

—Sir Thelonious Rendger

Prologue

To be chosen a blood vampire is a great honor. There are other breeds—devourers of psychic and emotional energy to enhance their power—but feeders on the life-giving liquid that flows through human veins are the elite. Along with immortality, they are imbued with great physical prowess, heightened senses, the ability to move through shadow and mist, and more. This gift is not bestowed with merry abandon. Much thought is given to the chosen.

True vampires, regardless of type, are not brutal. Silvan, the original and solitary one endowed with the powers of all her kind, was created in kindness and hope, love, and illumination. It’s understandable that humans would not see it that way since vampires sup upon them. While still predators with the love of the hunt ingrained, those chosen for the elite control themselves. They take only what they need, keeping their blood supply alive and healthy for more feeding. When the wrong human takes on the mantle of a bloodsucker, this delicate balance between prey and predator goes awry. Hence, a rather intense vetting process.

The Rendger clan was identified in the nine hundredth year of the New Age, the first humans in their part of the world worthy of becoming. Silvan studied them for decades. Kind and giving, warm and loving landowners, they shared their wealth with their staff and tenants. The family also believed in magic and had a deep attachment to the earth. They communed with nature, created home remedies from herbs, indulged in pagan rituals, and delighted in learning from science and the unique wonders of Gaia. Their tenants excused their eccentricities because the potions and poultices the Rendgers whipped up worked.

Silvan, the Queen of Vampires, felt confident one of their family would do well as an elite blood feeder.

Being a vampire is difficult because existence for all forms of vampirism is eternal. Infinity is a very long time to be hated and feared, hunted and in danger. Those who become vampires must build goodwill wherever and whenever possible. The all-seeing, all-powerful Mother of Vampires had the right to choose whoever she wished to join her ranks. Regardless, Silvan always discussed her decisions with the other members of the council to which she belonged, Baraza la Milele.

Swahili for Eternal Council, Baraza la Milele was all-seeing, all-knowing over all creatures—otherworldly and human. Composed of seven beings of unfathomable power, they were brought together by Forever, the Infinite. No gender, Forever was and always had been. The others represented the different parts of magic and human—a demon from the shadow creatures (Broadus), a witch from magical beings (Suchin), a shapeshifter from paranormal and human miracles (Greyve), a bloodsucker from vampires (Silvan), and two humans (Oreta and Willow) empowered with immortality by the Infinite themself.

The council’s origins go back to when modern man was taking over from Neanderthals. Magical and human creatures coexisted in harmony, and the miraculous occurred without startling, terrifying, or creating scorn. Forever sensed the winds of change. A benefit of being omnipotent without being celestial, they knew this interconnectedness of wondrous and ordinary was a delicate balance that could not be sustained. With this foresight, they came up with a plan.

The race of man, Forever shared with the group, is a loose cannon. It has no moral compass but what it tells itself. It will soon come to realize these creatures with whom they cohabitate are far beyond their comprehension. Chaos will ensue, and many will be hurt. We cannot stop this shift, but together, we can provide a haven of order for these two unique factions when it comes.

Baraza was born.

Humans asserted their growing intellect. With it came suspicion and mistrust, and what was once embraced was feared. What was once accepted inspired a wish to destroy or usurp, and what was seen as magical and miraculous was labeled other and wrong. The beings who lived in the light now hid in the dark, and man stood up and walked into ruling all.

Silvan presented her choice of Drina, the only daughter of the current Rendger family, and Broadus grumbled, Why? What has she done?

"She has done nothing, Broadus. But I have watched her. She is strong. She is smart. Wise for one so young." Silvan looked to Forever, who nodded.

Too young now? Greyve’s voice was a whisper on the wind, curious, sensing.

For now, Suchin intervened, eyes closed. They opened, and she turned to Silvan, realizing. But there is more with this family, I feel.

A reckoning, perhaps, Silvan? Oreta wondered.

Something about the Rendgers struck the Queen of Vampires. There was magic in them, yes, but a sense of bonding, an opportunity.

Forever moved to her side, knowing what they were all beginning to feel. Do what you will with the girl, Silvan, and we will keep an eye on the future. As we always do, always have, always will.

With Baraza’s approval, Silvan approached Drina’s parents. They were reluctant to hear out the Queen of Vampires. After all, the legends and myths around her kind were already rampant. For all their mystical attachment, having a vampire in the family was not top of mind. But Drina was listening from another room, intrigued. A vampire?

What would I have to do? Drina asked.

Walk with me, Silvan said, holding out her hand.

Without hesitation, Drina took it.

The two walked the family farms in the moonless night. Silvan explained the existence of a vampire, the responsibility to never make one without permission. Never drink more than your fill, always keep your food well-fed and well-cared for.

Keep your kindness, Silvan told her. Keep your curiosity.

May I fall in love? Drina asked.

Silvan stopped. No one had ever asked her that. Interesting. I suppose so.

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

That took the vampire queen aback sharply. You are very forward, are you not?

Drina didn’t respond, waiting for her answer.

Silvan stared at the dark sky, not trusting her gaze with the girl. "At times, I have felt something more than friendship, but I have a responsibility to all my kind. I cannot involve myself in ways that will create favoritism."

Silence reigned for a moment, and then Silvan turned to Drina. But you? You do not have that burden. You may love.

Will I still have children? Drina asked again.

Ah, yes. Children. "We who feed on blood are not so lucky in creating more of us through birth. You may become with child, but I have yet to hear of one of our kind surviving more than a few days."

Drina shrugged. I was just curious.

Silvan smiled. She liked the girl but wondered if she was too young. If they were to do the transformation now, Drina would be fifteen forever. It was far more difficult to explain away not growing older when the change happened before a certain age.

As if reading her mind, Drina said, I would be honored, but this should wait until I am older. I do not believe it will be quite so easy to explain not aging when I am still this young. I would guess there are rules about eternal living and changing your acquaintances to protect your immortality.

Yes, Silvan agreed, pleased by her wisdom and feeling more confident about her choice. I tend to choose new vampires no younger than their twenty-first year. Would that suit you?

Six years did not seem so far away. Drina nodded and then considered something. She did not know if she wanted to ask, but Silvan saw there was something more.

You have not been coy yet. Do not start now, girl. What is it? the Mother of Vampires asked.

If I were to have a child before my becoming, would that be all right? Drina wondered.

The queen regarded her, moved in a way she could not remember having been by a human. There was a refreshing boldness to the girl, and she didn’t want to lie to her. The choices you make before entering my ‘family’ are up to you. But I wonder, Drina, if you will want to do that. There is no guarantee the child you bring into this world before your becoming will be worthy of joining our ranks.

Silvan wasn’t surprised when she saw Drina understood and even started nodding, her eyes distant, thinking. I will outlive them. I will outlive everyone.

It wasn’t a question but an acknowledgment. If Silvan did not choose Drina’s offspring to enter their world, it would mean the girl would watch them grow old and die before her. Painful for a mother, Silvan assumed. All those she made who were killed by others or their own misfortune tore at her heart. Tragedy and torture seemed to be her lot in life, but this was her role, her destiny. With that, she took sheltering her children from the pain seriously.

The two parted. Over the next six years, Drina fell in love twice, married once, had a son, and lost her husband to a duel. Then, just before sunset of her twenty-first year, Drina walked into the Rendger great room to find it turned into something of a staging area. Silvan stood waiting, dressed in white from head to toe.

Tonight is your becoming, Drina. Once you go through, you can never go back.

A wise smile. I know.

Silvan returned it. The sun is setting. Shall we?

And so it began for the Rendgers. Drina’s son did not become a vampire, but his son’s son did, and his great-great-granddaughter. Then, both were killed during a brutal vampire hunt in the early 1600s, sending Drina into such deep hiding, only Silvan and Baraza knew where she was. There were no more Rendger vampires for a long time until…

Theo Rendger, the great vampire chef.

Part I

La Fin

(THE END)

Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.

—Anne Roiphe

Chapter One

Circa Fall 1898

Dinner was set for six o’clock. In a little over two hours, Thelonious Theo Rendger’s life would change forever. For the last three years, he’d poured his heart into his studies at the new Le Cordon Bleu School in France. He spent hours imagining the dishes he would serve to the great culinary champions whose collective opinion determined whether he was good enough to take what had long been a mere passion and turn it into a true profession. After countless nights creating fanciful menus and testing them on friends and family, the day had come to show what he was indeed made of.

If all went well, Theo Rendger would earn the title he dreamed of: Master Chef. Instead of sweaty-palmed hand wringing and a sheen of anxiety-induced perspiration across his freshly shaven top lip, the young chef was preternaturally calm. He sensed something greater as the hour approached.

Four hundred connoisseurs were invited, and all RSVP’d a resounding yes. Theo wasn’t the only presenter of culinary wares that evening, but he was the most anticipated. Here in 1898, his flavors were legendary—spices from far-away lands at a time when travel to such places was not for the faint of heart. The Rendger propensity for obtaining such foreign, almost mystical ingredients was a forever enigma to all those who were lucky enough to gain entry to one of Theo’s feasts. His dear friend, King Amun the Ancient, marveled at his prowess and even hinted at going into business together someday, which intrigued Theo.

The young chef’s cooking style came from parts so deep inside his twenty-five-year-old mind, body, and soul even Baraza La Milele—The Council of Eternals who oversaw the lives of both Homo sapiens and all who live below the sights, sounds, and beliefs of humans—was impressed by him. The casual dining with friends and family that manifested into days-long feasts were mere practice. Tonight was everything. The second Rendger son was presenting to Le Confrérie de la Chaîne des Rôtisseurs, already one of the most legendary culinary societies in the world and an epic doorway to his future.

His menu was infused with a symphony of flavors, turning the familiar on its head and reflecting his adventurous spirit. The mouthwatering aroma of warm spices hinted at the global nature of Theo’s dishes—cardamom, curry leaves, Szechuan peppercorns, sumac… The list went on. He looked around at the hive-like activity, sous chefs and kitchen assistants prepping, chopping, placing plates in the oven to warm—every moment timed to perfection. A sudden warmth filled Theo’s body, a fuse lit by knowing this was just the beginning of the path he’d set for himself, a journey he’d dreamed of for so long, he barely recalled what life was like before it.

The chef watched as Lady Elyse Danger scanned the list of dishes, her profile in silent study. Where others would sweat under the legendary connoisseur’s scrutiny, Theo wore a slight grin. Not so much anticipating her response as welcoming it, he embraced it before it was shared. His ability to create amazing food was his calling, his passion, and he reveled in Elyse’s inspection.

His mother, the spark behind his epicurean interests, said of his cooking, I can taste your heart in every bite. Be careful, my love.

Careful was not in Theo’s vocabulary. He was a dangerous man in many ways, risking everything for his greatest love—food.

When his older brother Sheffield was chosen to take on the mantle of bloodsucking vampire to carry the Rendger name through the unique world they’d inhabited for centuries, Theo rejoiced at being passed over. He celebrated with a two-day feast so lush and indulgent, three Le Cordon Bleu instructors congratulated him in their subtle, officious way. Sheff’s transformation meant Theo could follow his dream unburdened. He would someday die while his brother lived on, yes, but Theo had no doubt his culinary legacy would astound across the ages. He envisioned changing how people ate, which was worth every moment spent peeling potatoes, being yelled at by ornery chefs, and almost losing his entire beautiful face from an open cook fire.

This was his moment. He felt it.

With unhurried grace, Elyse shut both the menu and her eyes. She was musing. Sometimes good, sometimes bad; always revelatory. Theo watched the face that made others swoon but never him. No one had his heart, and as far as he knew, no being ever would. Food, feeding others, bringing joy to the table—they were all to him.

Extraordinary, Theo, Elyse said, her eyes still closed.

Theo nodded, pleased, and then heard, Be careful, love.

A cold shiver raced up his back. Theo felt a strong need to straighten his shoulders against the sudden tightness but held still. Elyse’s eyes opened and peered up at him from beneath her lashes. There it was again, that damn careful.

You sound like my mother. What does that even mean? Theo asked, perturbed.

Chef?

An unfamiliar voice, polite, tinged with… Sorrow? Fear? Something painful lurking beneath the surface, like a shudder.

Theo turned to see Lord Chef Dominick in his whites, his face ashen. The man’s indifference was notorious, something the young chef was used to. But this? The voice calling him was at odds with what Theo came to know these last years of his culinary journey, and it took him a moment to recognize it as his teacher’s.

Yes, Chef?

Dominick left the room, indicating Theo follow.

The two moved without a word, the older chef by Theo’s side. A first. If not for his deep, dark silence, Theo would have basked in it. He started to ask the legendary epicurean master what was happening but one look at the gray face and rigid jowls gave him pause. When they arrived at Dominick’s office door, Theo was hit by a terrifying thought.

What if…

Theo swallowed the thick fear rising in his throat, beads of panic-induced sweat forming on his forehead for the first time since he began pursuing his passion.

What if the old master realized I did not have the gift of creating truly great food?

What if—

My deepest condolences, Theo, Dominick said, his hand on the doorknob to his office.

Condolences? Chef? Theo was taken aback, the fear evaporating as he stared in confusion.

Dominick shook his head, at a loss, and then opened the door to an office that was far more modest than the great teacher’s position deserved. Elyse herself always said so.

Theo’s eyes widened in shock to see his youngest sister, Nicole, looking out the window in the tiny office. Her back was to him, but he’d know her even if he were blind. Her smell was warm and floral. Nicole loved gardening and had an uncanny, magical hand with the earth. He procured all the herbs and vegetables for his dishes from her. Even clothed in rich, deep robes for the harsh British winter, she shivered, her arms hugging her body as if she would never be warm again. Theo stepped inside, his legs like lead.

Once Theo heard the door close behind him, and they were alone, Nicole’s usual vibrant voice now choked out in whispered sorrow, Sheff is dead.

Theo’s brow furrowed as he tried to comprehend the three simple words. His brain couldn’t connect them to anything that made sense, and a deep ache settled behind his eyes.

Sheff? I… wait… wait… Theo stammered, shaking his head to clear it from what Nicole had just said, mentally pushing it away.

Theo’s little sister was now looking at him. The twenty-year-old’s welcoming, bright hazel eyes were dull and red from weeping, her golden-brown skin pale and chalky. Theirs was a close family, and the sight of whimsical Nicole in such agony should have sent him rushing to console her, to seek comfort for himself but… He was frozen in place, his body leaden. Theo’s heart pounded hard enough he believed she must see it through his chef’s whites. A deep, impenetrable sorrow raced through him, but there was something else—a slow-dawning horror that rendered his limbs useless. His older brother, the one tapped to join the ranks of Rendger vampires, was dead on the eve of his transformation, and here was his sister telling him rather than waiting until after his feast.

The realization sent lava hot, pain shooting through Theo’s skull, pounding into his temples.

Sheff, his wife, the baby… The war in Cuba… The Spanish and the Americans… Their ship was returning and got… they are gone, lost at… sea… not even the crew or the… Nicole clapped her hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. The tears were flowing again.

Mm, hmm, was all Theo got out of tight lips.

A Rendger had to be initiated into the eternal bloodsucking fold the following night, or none would be chosen from their family again. After spending the last two millennia proving that adding one more from their lineage was worthwhile, they could not let that slip through their fingers. All was prepared, and time was of the essence. Someone needed to step in for Sheffield.

Someone old enough, someone strong enough.

"We leave immediately. You must take his place, Theo. La Milele deemed it and tomorrow night is all we have to ensure another Rendger chosen for this honor. Nicole stopped, her heart breaking for him. Elian offered herself, but they would not allow our sister to do it."

Uh-huh, fell out of Theo’s mouth like wood.

His eyes felt full of sand, and his vision was blurry. He turned away from Nicole, unable to face her or the depth of loss and sorrow he felt. Not for his brother. None of it for Sheffield. His skin tightened over his knuckles, and he was flushed with rage and feelings he could not handle. Yet inside his soul, his very center, a golden warmth filled Theo’s eyes with tears as he thought about his beloved older brother. The one who taught him how to find the beauty in the little things when he—the younger, more intense sibling—took them far too seriously. The person who told him of the eternals who watched over them all. The teller