Page 1 of Ashvale: The Vampire's Thrall
ChapterOne
Life sucksand then you die. Except, sometimes you don’t stay dead. It’s this thought that stood out as I blinked blearily at the rows and rows of tombstones, the neat lines stretching out in front of me. I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t remember how I’d got here. All I knew was that, judging by the incessant tug somewhere deep in my belly, this wasn’t my final destination.
The sky was a cheery blue and the stench of pollen and freshly cut grass overwhelmed my senses, making me gag. Up until that moment, I hadn’t noticed the way the sun seemed to beat down on me, making my limbs shake and my long, dark hair tremble against the ground with every strangely hollow breath that rattled my lungs.
Where the fuck was I?
The tug in my gut seemed to swell as if in answer, clenching so tightly a gasp escaped my mouth. I would have screamed if I’d had the breath. Had I eaten something bad? Was this the worst period cramp ever? My breathing sped up as I turned my head from side to side and spotted nothing but more graves and grass. Biting my lip against dizziness as the world threatened to go black, I swore when something sharp split my bottom lip.
Warmth cascaded over my chin and I fumbled a shaking hand up to scrub it away, freezing at the deep red that was smeared over my palm.
My hand flew up to prod my teeth, so fast I nearly knocked them out, and I sucked in another gasp of air when I felt the odd curve of my canine as the pad of my finger split.
Had someone strapped razors to my teeth? Oh god, had I been abducted for some kind of organ harvesting? Or experimentation? But then, how had I escaped? And why couldn’t I remember anything? I racked my brain, trying to remember what I’d been doing, where I’d been going, hell, who Iwasand came up with nothing.
The grave to my left was old, green growth beginning to creep over its stone base and up. If it wasn’t for the oppressive heat prickling my skin and the ache in my head and jaw, it would have been surprisingly comforting, cocooned safely between the stones rising up above me. It was tempting to stay here, to just lay down and hope that my memory came back, but there was a shivery sensation that kept moving over me, like I was feverish despite my sun-reddened skin being cold. I propped myself up on my elbows and swallowed heavily when the pain that was radiating throughout my body increased. I needed to take stock of what I did know so that I wouldn’t panic about what I didn’t.
I was wearing plain blue skinny jeans that stretched tight over thighs that curved impressively, the waistband uncomfortably tight around the soft roundness of my stomach. A red vest top covered my top half and breasts that looked barely constrained threatened to spill over the top the longer my breaths heaved. They were clearly casual clothes, I wasn’t dressed for school or for partying—in other words, there were no clues here.
The next wave of pain made me double over and I staggered forward a step without registering that I had even stood up. I careened into the tombstone to my left, rebounding to the one on my right as the pain tugged me forward and I blindly followed, shuddering when the pain eased so suddenly that I straightened in confusion. I wiped absently at my neck and then paused when I caught sight of my skin. Colourful, sweeping designs covered each of my arms down to my hands, partially obscuring my paleness. Tattoos. Roses and birds and berries and daggers, all looped together with impressive shading and pops of colour that curled effortlessly around my forearms and biceps.But nothing that helpfully said, oh, I don’t know, my name?But then again, why would you get your own name inked onto your skin?
I lowered my arms as I scowled at the hot sun, shining cheerfully as I looked in both directions surrounding me. It was like I’d crawled out of a grave, slap bang in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere, but I couldn't see anything on the floor where I’d awakened to indicate how I’d arrived. Aside from the wind in the trees and a cricket buzzing somewhere close by, I couldn’t hear or see any signs of civilisation. Was I drunk? Or on something? Was this just a seriously intense trip?
Another pulse of pain spiked through me and I hissed as I moved forwards, anything to make the unbearable ache ease. Someone was fucking with me. My hands curled into themselves, fingers digging into my palms with a strength I hadn’t known I possessed as I gazed out over the headstones. I followed my gut like it was a compass, and took another step forward. The pain eased further and I took another, surer, step. Someone was fucking with me, and I was going to find out why.
A breeze kicked up and I tensed. Nothing had changed, yet I had a strong feeling that I was no longer alone.
“You must be hungry,” a voice said from right beside my ear and I spun with a curse. A snicker sounded from my other side and I whirled again, the world tilting oddly like my centre of gravity had changed. That’s when the scent hit me.
I saw it before I saw him.
Blood. Thick and dark. Fresh. Sliding slowly down a stark white palm and I moved forwards a step before I even registered making the decision. The stranger smirked, waving his hand like it was a treat and I was a dog, grinning wider when I followed it with my eyes. I swallowed and my tongue felt thick in my mouth, like I hadn’t had a drink in months.
“Who are you? Did you do this to me?” I rasped, eyes never leaving the red spill that inched further down his forearm.
“I didn’t do a thing—except watch over you until you woke up, I suppose. It was my turn to do the retrieval” I finally dragged my eyes upwards and frowned at the man standing in front of me. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d neglected to explain who he was. Though perhapsmanmight have been a bit of a stretch. He looked maybe twenty and was made up of sharp angles. His jaw, his cheekbones—if not for the sharp blue clarity of his long-lashed eyes and blond hair, he would have been unattractive. Like a piece of artwork that was stunning in fragments and beautifully odd when knit together. The stranger cocked a smile at me and I stilled at the sight of the curling fangs that seemed to wink at me playfully. “I guess you could say I’m your guardian angel.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh and it burst out of me with a startling force that made the newcomer blink and then run a hand over the short buzzed side of his head. If this man had been sent from anywhere, it was hell. His cold beauty and unnatural stillness told me that much, at least.
“You were awoken too early,” he said in a bored tone, as if I was supposed to understand what that meant. “I know it can be confusing at first, but your memories will come back. If you come with me, I’ll explain it all.”
I frowned disbelievingly. I may have been stuck in the middle of nowhere without knowing so much as my own name, but that didn’t mean I was going to follow a strange person off into the wilderness to be murdered.
“I’m good, thanks.”
He snorted. “Oh yeah? And what about this?” He clenched his fist and more blood streaked down his hand, coating his fingers, and I moved forward shakily as an unbearable ache began in my jaw once more. “I think you’re hungry. I think you need me. If you follow me, if you follow that annoying pull,” he winked at my shocked look, “I promise everything will make sense.” He waved his hand airily as the breeze shifted and the full scent of his blood hit me. I expected it to smell metallic, heavy, but instead it was light, like honey and vanilla.
A soft gasp brought me back to myself and I stumbled away, shocked, as his finger slipped out of my mouth, now free of blood. His blue eyes were still wide but something about the way he bit his lip made my senses stand to attention, like his blood had awoken something in me. A ragged breath left him and I realised my right hand was still clasped around his elbow, like I was going to restrain him… or pull him closer.
“You can trust me,” he said in a low voice and everything in me ached to believe him, which was the exact reason I took another step back, letting his arm fall away from my grip. Who knew what I was feeling, or why, right now? I certainly couldn’t trust some random, bloody stranger who’d approached me in the middle of nowhere and claimed to have all the answers I sought. Maybe we’d escaped from a hospital together or something—none of this made any sense.
The stranger turned his back to me, wiping his arm off on the hem of the dark distressed jumper he was wearing. “Do you want answers or not?” he called when I stayed where I was before I shuffled back several steps.
The pain in my stomach was building the further away I moved, and I cursed as it grew unbearable again, faster than before, so I began to stomp after him, the pain dulling with every inch forward.
“Good,” he said, “good.”
I wasn’t sure yet whether or not I agreed with his assessment.
