Page 34 of Bitten Vampire
Right, he mentioned in the car that he is the Raven of the North.
“The writing is Elder Futhark,” he continues, a hint of weariness ghosting his voice, “the oldest runic alphabet.Blóðvakt – Ære fremfor alttranslates toBlood Watch – Honour Above All. But it’s more than a motto; it’s a soul-oath.” He points to each rune in turn. “Ansuz—divine truth.Ehwaz—loyalty.Othala—ancestral duty.Tiwaz—sacred sacrifice.”
“Oh.” That’s… a lot. I’ll never remember it, let alone pronounce it.
He reaches for my hand again. “Dawn is close; I want you to feel safe while you sleep. Come.” When our skin meets, power zips between us once more.
He leads me, not to a crypt, not to a basement, but upstairs.
“You will be perfectly secure. A ward strong enough to keep out enemies and the sun.”
The room is beautiful. No windows, yet not claustrophobic.Warm lights, soft grey walls and creamy bedding, and the air smells faintly of cedar and old paper. A reading nook is tucked into the far corner. For something so secure, it feels comforting.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I have nothing for you to change into, but I’ll make sure you have fresh clothes when you rise.”
“It’s all right.” I try for casual. “I will be daytime dead in a few minutes.”
He frowns.
Perhaps that’s not the politically correct phrasing. I don’t care. He practically kidnapped me.
“I’ll see you at sunset.” He moves to the door.
“Valdarr?” My voice is soft, almost sad; I will miss him when I escape. “I didn’t like you stamping me with your clan mark, but I do appreciate your help. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Rest well, Winifred.” He nods once, then steps back and shuts the door.
The lock engages with a deep metallic clunk. Bars slide into place top and bottom, turning the bedroom into a vault.
Safe or a cage. I’m not sure which.
I sit on the bed and scan the ceiling and walls—no cameras, no blinking lights. I don’t have my phone, so I can’t download an app to run a sweep for hidden tech. But I can’t imagine Valdarr spying on me.
I wait.
The moment the sun rises, my heart stutters—a single, pathetic beat—then nothing.
I suck in a gasp, eyes fluttering shut. It doesn’t hurt; it’s merely strange. I roll my shoulders, thenwhump. The sleeping organ kicks in thudding sluggishly, then settles into something steady. Breath floods in and warmth chases through my limbs.
I wait for what feels like another thirty minutes. I listen. Silence.
Is Valdarr still awake like me, or does he sleep? Die for the day?
I creep from the bed, unlatching the reinforced door as quietly as possible and then tiptoe along the corridor, down the stairs.
The front door is locked tight, but in the main living room, a large bay window slides open soundlessly.
My heart pounds as I slip through. No alarms flare; the ward built to keep threatsoutand let occupants go doesn’t fight me. After wrestling past the window boxes and their spiky greenery, I land gracelessly outside, my feet finally finding purchase on solid ground.
I run.
Except I’m human now, and running as a human?
Nought out of ten, would not recommend.
I huff, puff, and stumble. Within three minutes I’m wheezing and clutching a lamppost, desperate not to vomit. My legs are jelly; my face, beet-red. Eventually I recover and start walking. It’s roughly six miles the long way round to avoid main roads and border cams.
Two hours later I’m home.
