Page 38 of Evidence of a Folktale

“All right.” He sighed, releasing the rope as the pitbull forgot it to go look out the front window, and Bel swore she felt his heart stutter below her hand. “But this conversation calls for a drink… a strong one.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a fierceness that stuck her feet to the tiles. “One last kiss in case you change your mind about loving me,” he said as he released her.

“Don’t say that.” She didn’t want that to be true.

“Learning about Ewan caused Olivia to not only end their relationship, but yours as well,” Eamon said. “And he’s a relatively innocent shifter.”

“And you’re evil.” She recited his favorite words of warning.

“It’s why I was brought into this world.” He started toward the kitchen. “You’ve always been forgiving, but I worry that not even your goodness can atone for my sins.”

“I’ll join you on the strong drink,” Bel said, her stomach twisting into knots. Oblivious to her nerves, Cerberus barreled after Eamon, whacking him in the legs with his remembered toy rope as he shook his head with a growl, and her heart swelled at the adorable interaction. She couldn’t hate her boyfriend, not when her beautiful dog wanted nothing more than to live with him. She’d noticed a difference in the animal’s behavior over the past few weeks. He was subdued when they spent long periods without him. Cerberus had accepted Eamon as part of his pack, and if she learned the truth, would she be like Olivia and sever ties with him? The separation would break her pitbull’s heart. She refused to imagine what it would do to hers.

“Make it a double,” she said as Eamon poured the alcohol into two glasses. He was the whiskey drinker, but wine wouldn’t cut it for this conversation.

“I love you.” He handed her the amber liquid that reminded her so much of his voice and then took a seat across the kitchen island from her, the sudden divide silencing her from returning the sentiment.

“You drink human blood,” she whispered when he remained silent, her fingers fighting the urge to touch the scars he’d gifted her. “You’re a vampire.”

“No,” Eamon found his voice. “The vampires are dead. I saw to that. But I am the son of one.”

“The son of one?” Bel asked. She didn’t think vampires could birth children, but then again, her knowledge came from fantasy novels and television shows. She’d never met a vampire, and if Eamon was telling the truth, it seemed no one had in centuries.

“I’m what they call a Dhampir, a human/vampire hybrid,” he explained. “A sin against nature.”

“That’s why you have a heartbeat and can walk through sunlight.” Bel exhaled the tension suffocating her chest. She’d always suspected Eamon was a vampire of sorts, so to hear he was half-human was a relief. How terrifying could the truth be if he shared the DNA that ran through her body?

“It’s why we were created,” Eamon said. “To survive the sun. In the first ages of men, vampires ruled the night. Superstition and mysticism reigned, and humanity’s primitive societies were no match for the demons that had crawled their way out of hell. Humans were nothing but blood bags to the first vampires, but mankind is surprisingly resilient. No matter the oppression, no matter their weakness, they always prevail, and eventually, they learned the vampires’ vulnerability. Sunlight. It burned them alive. They weren’t creatures of this world. They weren’t meant to dwell on Earth. Hell was their home, and the sunshine reminded them they were trespassers. Humans used their newfound knowledge to their advantage, and despite the heavy price, they began to wipe the vampires from the face of the earth. The human race didn’t care if the individuals perished as long as their sacrifice ensured the race’s survival. Fathers died so their sons might live, and that was a concept my ancestors couldn’t comprehend. Men hunted them like animals, and the death toll rose on both sides. Vampires turned humans with their venom in an attempt to bolster their ranks, but their efforts weren’t enough. They were dying out. So they created us.”

Eamon sipped the whiskey and leaned back in his chair as if the words about to leave his mouth were too heavy to bear sitting up straight. “The vampires discovered they could breed with humans, but we aren’t like shifters, who are symbols of mankind’s harmony with nature. Creatures like Ewan are both animal and human, a celebration of the life that walks this earth, but vampires clawed their way out of hell. To procreate with humans was a sin against nature, and invoking black magic was the only way their children survived. Dhampirs are a blasphemy, therefore they needed hate to create us… I meant what I told you at Thanksgiving. Love had no part in my making. It was all fear and anger.”

Bel shoved the whiskey away, the alcohol churning in her stomach, and stared at the liquid instead of the man sitting across from her. He didn’t have to spell it out. She understood his meaning, understood the nature of his birth, and she realized why he’d hesitated to tell her the truth. She wanted to reach out and capture his hand. To comfort him by taking him into her arms, but his tone warned this was only the beginning of his horrors.

“My father was one of the most powerful vampires to walk the earth,” Eamon continued, even though she wouldn’t look at him. “He forced my mother to stay alive to raise me. She hated him for it, but she hated me more. She raised me until I was old enough to survive on my own, and then she waited until he took me on a hunt. She killed herself, careful to leave her body where I’d find it. She bled out long before I returned because she wanted her scent to foul. All that blood I craved, yet I couldn’t drink it. It was her last punishment before she abandoned me to my father’s control.

“The vampires created us because they needed protection. Someone stronger than humans who could survive the sun. My father tortured me until I became the perfect soldier, and I spent decades spilling blood under his command.

“Eventually, I earned more fear than him, and that’s when the vampires realized their mistake. They assumed they were still the alpha predators, but we weren’t weaker versions of our fathers as they intended. We had the strength of the vampires, combined with mankind’s resilience. Immortality, power, and invincibility united with the ability to day walk and survive without blood for extended periods if we ate food. We were the best of both worlds. Our fathers bred their replacements, and we were gods. Dhampirs can reproduce both with venom and childbirth as long as they inspire enough hate to invoke black magic. We grew in numbers while they dwindled, for we were superior beings.”

“Did you…” Bel felt sick asking because that was one sin she couldn’t forgive.

“Bear children?” he asked. “Never. My brothers did, but I fathered no sons nor turned no humans.”

“Oh god.” Bel fell into her hands, the relief violent as she sobbed. She’d faced death before, yet fearing that the man she loved had possibly forced a woman to carry his child was unbearable. “You can continue,” she finally whispered, the tightness in her chest dissipating slightly at his confirmation.

“Realizing the power had shifted, my father sought to eradicate our kind. He was the most powerful of the vampires, but I’d sensed the oncoming war. I gathered my brothers and sisters to my cause and set out to seize power. I slaughtered my father’s men and then killed him, putting an end to the animal whose treachery is still written about today.”

“Written about today?” Bel repeated before she could stop herself. The pain pouring from Eamon’s mouth settled deep in her chest, and the despair settling over her begged to be satisfied.

“You know who I’m talking about,” Eamon answered. “Everyone does.”

“Dracula?” She met his gaze, her voice barely audible. Dracula was a myth. He was a story. He wasn’t real, yet the anger in Eamon’s death-black eyes was unmistakable.

“It’s what the legends call him,” he said. “A name created to instill fear through paper, but the man behind the inspiration was the devil who raised me.”

“Vlad the Impaler is the ruler historians credit with Dracula’s origins,” Bel said.

“Vlad was one of my father’s many personas,” Eamon said. “But he wasn’t the Impaler.”

“But history?—?”

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