VIOLINS AND VAMPIRES

VAMPIRES OF THE DAEMONVERSE #1

CEE BEE

COPYRIGHT

Newton, MA 02464

www.monsterhousebooks.com

ISBN 9781956114409

Second Edition

Copyright © 2023 by Monster House Books LLC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

DEDICATION

For all those who kick ass, take names

and read books.

VIOLINS AND VAMPIRES

I hope you enjoy this revised and expanded version of my serialized book, Blood Slave.

ONE THOUSAND YEARS AGO

1

KING CAELIN

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OLD

Scotland

Tonight, Clan MacGregor celebrates the Spring Equinox with feasting, music, and a contest called Kill the Vampire King. During this tournament, anyone may challenge me, King Caelin, to a wrestling match.

No rules.

No mercy.

All comers.

I fight on until death or morning. Naked.

Welcome to the best night of my year.

Many things happen before the contest begins. After dawn, I process through the castle complex with my queen and court. The afternoon features boat races along the coast. During the evening, my people enjoy feasting and music. Once night falls, everyone gathers at the sacred grove with its lone birch tree. The moon rises. The games commence.

Which brings me to the present moment.

Grinning, I stand on a muddy clearing beside our sacred birch. Moonbeams cast the rolling moors in an unearthly pattern of light and shadow. About a hundred onlookers stand in a circle, their bodies forming the round boundary line for the match. Once a wrestler is tossed into the crowd—or killed in combat—the fight is over.

So far, I’ve defeated twelve warriors. All remain alive. My current opponent is Tavish, a sturdy man with long red hair and a barrel chest. I’m tall and broad-shouldered with brown hair and blue eyes. As with every match, Tavish and I fight Roman-style. No clothing.

The crowd keeps up a steady chant. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Tavish and I slowly circle each other. “Mayhap this is a bad idea,” he murmurs.

In truth, my opponent has reason to worry. I’m bloodkin, which means I’m born a vampire. By contrast, Tavish is nightling, so he’s a human who was transformed into a vampire later in life. Compared to nightling, bloodkin are stronger, faster, and fear no sunlight. We also wield magic. In my case, I can control the will of others.

“You’re casting spells,” says Tavish. “Getting into my mind.”

In truth, I do sense Tavish’s pulse. I could easily tap into his life force and compel him to my will. I won’t, though. There’s no sport in it.

“Trust me,” I state. “If I were in your head, you wouldn’t be jabbering.”

The crowd laughs. And not due to my teasing alone. While I’m coated in mud, Tavish’s skin remains pale and clean. Instead of attacking, Tavish paces me. Every so often, he roars or shows his fangs.

We’ll never finish the match this way.

I lunge forward. Tavish and I grapple. Our shoulders press. Each tries to shove the other down. Cool mud slides beneath our feet.

The crowd chants faster: “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Tavish grunts with the effort. Angling my body, I kick out my opponent’s legs from beneath him, toppling him into the mud. Fast as lightning, I clasp Tavish’s right leg. In a shot put-style maneuver, I toss my opponent into the crowd. People step away from the potential impact point. Tavish slams onto an open stretch of green.

“The match is over,” I declare. Stepping over to Tavish, I offer him my hand and help him stand up.

“I donna what went wrong,” murmurs Tavish.

“Stop thinking about what I can do,” I tell him. “Focus on your own attack.”

“Easy words for you,” counters Tavish. “You’re bloodkin. I’m nightling and—”

“—your mouth is your hardest-working muscle,” I finish.

The crowd laughs once more.

I set my hand on Tavish’s shoulder. “We’ll spar another time. I believe you can best me. We’ll train on it, brother.”

Tavish smiles. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

I step back into the mud pit. “Who claims the next match?”

This time, a bloodkin steps forward. It’s Breagha, a female warrior on my personal guard. Even before the match officially starts, Breagha leaps for me across the mud. Her arms and legs are spread out like a starfish.

In response, I flip onto my back, careful to ensure Breagha’s belly hits my feet. With a vertical push from my legs, I launch her into the air. Breagha lands in a crouch on a bit of green that’s beyond the crowd.

“The match is over,” I declare.

Arching my back, I hop up onto my feet. Next thing I know, I stand before my queen, Elisava. All my manhood is close and fully exposed. Elisava blushes.

Ah, my sweet bride.

Together, my queen and I are a study in opposites. I’m burly with sun-darkened skin and brown hair. Elisava’s pale and slight. The beautiful curve of her belly makes it clear that she’s with child. My soul warms at the thought.

I wink. “Good evening, Milady. Are ye well?”

Elisava replies in her native Rus. “Da.” Yes.

All the world fades away until it’s only me and my queen. Suddenly, I want the night to be over so we can be alone. I scan the horizon line. Not long now. Direct sunlight won’t hurt bloodkin, but it kills nightling. Once dawn arrives, the games must end.

I step back to the center of our makeshift ring. “Who challenges the king?”

A new bloodkin steps forward. This time, it’s Hunter, my second in command… and the only other bloodkin who’s as tall as I am. He has golden hair, green eyes, and a sharp wit.

“My turn,” announces Hunter.

“I was wondering when you’d step in.”

Behind me, Elisava coughs. All thoughts of the match vanish. Turning, I scan her carefully. Bands of anxiety tighten around my chest. Elisava’s been coughing for weeks. There’s no need for me to speak my concerns. My queen knows what I’m thinking. I pin her with a worried stare.

Are you and the bairn all right?

She nods and smiles. I know what she wishes to tell me, although she does not speak it aloud.

All is well.

Still, my protective instincts are on edge. It’s a reflex to inspect the crowd for danger. I find the usual mix of vampires—both bloodkin and nightling—as well as humans. The men wear tunics and leathers, while the ladies are wrapped in simple dresses. The blood brothers and sisters stand aside in a group, all of them wearing their characteristic red cloaks. These are honored humans who serve as willing blood donors.

Some of the alarm and tension seeps from my shoulders. There’s no threat here to Elisava.

“Why check the crowd?” Hunter gestures across himself. “I’m right here.”

I chuckle. This is why Hunter makes a great second-in-command. The man has both wit and strength. Like Breagha, Hunter leaps for me without waiting for the match to officially start.

It’s a sneaky move. How I’ll enjoy making him pay for it.

Hunter and I grapple. Our muscles strain. Bodies twist. Voices groan. Long minutes pass while Hunter maneuvers me face-down into the mud.

“Ha!” cries Hunter. “At last, I win!”

“Not yet.” I spring to stand. My momentum sends Hunter flying. In fact, he might have gone past the crowd—if he hadn’t hit a particular obstacle.

I step over to Hunter. “You slammed into the sacred birch.”

Hunter pats the trunk. “My apologies.”

I offer him my hand. “Well fought.”

“I’ll get you next year.”

With Hunter gone, I scan the crowd. “Who else wants a turn? The sun’s about to rise. We’ve time for one more battle.”

A female voice sounds behind me. “I wish to fight.”

It’s Iona, one of the clan’s blood sisters. At one time, Iona was a squat woman with full curves and long black hair. Now, she’s short and skeletal. Though only twenty years old, Iona’s dark hair has all turned gray.

My heart sinks. If bloodkin feed from one brother or sister for too long, the human donor can lose their sanity. We have a name for it.

Red madness.

In the past, I always tracked all our blood brothers and sisters carefully. If any donor shows signs of illness, I make them live with other humans until they recover. But I’ve been so concerned with Elisava and our bairn, I’ve stopped checking on human donors.

Which means that if Iona’s going mad, it’s all my fault.

“Fight me,” repeats Iona.

“Nae,” I say simply.

“You canna stop me,” counters Iona. “I have a right to battle. Your reign ruined me, just like you’ve destroy us all.”

Hunter steps forward. “Quiet, Iona.”

I shake my head. “Any in the clan may approach me. Perhaps Iona can fight with words and release her fury that way.”

Hunter knows what I mean. There still may be time to save Iona. If she speaks out her rage, we could reason with her to get help.

Iona stalks closer. “Fyodor the Rus, a bloodkin raider, killed your father, the last MacGregor King. But when Fyodor’s daughter appeared on our shores, asking for refuge? You didn’t kill her. You married her. Fyodor came to reclaim his spawn. You didn’t turn Elisava over. Instead, you killed Fyodor, bringing ill luck on us all.” She points to Elisava. “Now, our queen is dying. She’s diseased by the bloodkin plague.”

Worry twists inside me. Everyone’s heard of this plague and how it kills only bloodkin women. We’ve been checking vessels before they unpack their cargo. So far, none in the clan have fallen ill. I won’t have Iona panicking the clan.

“That’s enough,” I say evenly. “We all can see that you’re the sick one.”

“Nae!” Iona tears at her red robe. The garment falls to the ground, revealing her naked form. A weight of sorrow settles into my bones. All Iona’s veins are dark red, making her pale skin looks as if it’s covered in a crimson web. It’s the worst case of red madness that I’ve ever seen.

The crowd steps back. It’s a wise move. Those with red madness can do anything.

“Fight me!” cries Iona.

“I’ve another offer.” I extend my hand toward Iona. “Let’s go to the Gray Woman. Perhaps she can heal you.”

“You won’t fight?” Iona’s body vibrates with rage. “You leave me no choice.”

And Iona charges toward Elisava.

Primal rage heats my veins. This is my wife. My bairn. I speed to Iona and set my palms on either side of her head. With one swift movement, I snap her neck.

Iona crumples at Elisava’s feet, dead. Grief and rage battle it out inside me. This is horrible.

Rising, I check Elisava once more. A thin line of blood trickles from her ear. A jolt of alarm runs down my spine.

“Are you well?” I ask.

She forces another smile. “Of course.”

“But, your ear.”

Elisava wipes at her cheek. When she examines her fingers, bright blood glistens on her skin. “Ah. Tis nothing.”

Despite my muddy body, I scoop Elisava into my arms. “I’ll get you safely to bed.”

“Please don’t,” says Elisava. “If I needed the Gray Woman, wouldn’t I say as much?”

“Indulge me,” I state. “While you’re pregnant, I’ll take no risks.” I call to the crowd. “Allow a protective husband to end our night early.” When I next speak, I force myself to appear calm.

“The festival is over.”

* * *

Carrying Elisava, I rush up the hill toward the castle. My queen and I sleep in a chamber on the top floor. I gently set my wife in bed, then order the servants to bring her clean linens and broth. All the while, my thoughts darken.

Elisava’s been coughing for too long. And now, she bleeds from her ear. Iona may be right. This could be the bloodkin plague.

Hours slowly pass as I watch my bride sleep. I wash up, change, and try to convince myself that Elisava and the bairn will be fine. Eventually, I take a perch on the windowsill and watch the sea lap against the shoreline.

That’s when I see it.

In the moonlight, a single Rus ship appears on the ocean. Our watchman’s basso voice echoes through the night.

“Rus Ahoy! Rus Ahoy!”

Elisava awakens. “Rus raiders are here. Tis likely my brother, Konstantin. This is good.”

I look out the window once more. Most of the Rus sailors keep to their vessel. One man marches through the shallows toward the castle. Although he wears battle leathers, this warrior doesn’t carry any weapons.

“You’re right,” I tell Elisava. “This could be Konstantin. And it seems he’s here to parlay.”

Yet, even as I speak those words, there’s no avoiding the truth: raiding ships bring trouble. Even if the Rus don’t fight, then neighboring humans and nightling will see this as a chance to attack.

After pulling on my battle leathers, I grab my obelisk dagger—it’s the best way to stake a vampire—and head for the door.

Time to meet the Rus.

2

KING CAELIN

Minutes later, I slog out into the surf. My warriors keep pace behind me. Off in the distance, the raider’s boat still bobs about a half-league away. The lone Rus warrior marches closer. If this were Fyodor, I’d expect a trick.

But this is likely to be Konstantin. Elisava trusts her brother.

Even so, every muscle in my body stays alert. Long minutes pass. Concentric circles fan out over the water where the Rus approaches. The moon remains bright. And the wind seems to whisper, Elisava.

Angling my body, I inspect the landscape behind me. The castle sits atop its bluff by the beach. No light shines from the top floor. Elisava must be asleep. I recall her words from before.

If I needed the Gray Woman, wouldn’t I say as much?

Sadly, Elisava is too headstrong for her own good. She wouldn’t ask for the Gray Woman until it’s too late. Which is why I asked Hunter to prepare my fastest horse and keep it by the castle gate. If things get worse for Elisava, I’m ready to act.

Over in the shallows, the man pauses a few yards away. He wears heavy furs and his face is adorned with blue markings. His swagger and boxy frame remind me of Fyodor the Rus.

Must be Konstantin.

I raise my fist and issue a command to the warriors behind me. “Hold!”

My fighters stay in formation behind me as I wade out further. My senses heighten. Water gurgles as I move. The wind carries the scent of seaweed and salt. Moonlight glints on the shallows.

“Greetings, King Caelin,” says Konstantin. His voice is low and rough. He tilts his head. This close, I can see echoes of Elisava—the siblings share the same high cheekbones and full mouth. A pang tightens my chest.

How is Elisava now?

I force myself to reply. “And to you, King Konstantin.”

When Elisava’s brother next speaks, his voice turns gentle. “I come with dark news. Have you heard of the bloodkin plague?”

My skin chills over. “Aye.”

“Back in the Rus lands, all our bloodkin women are gone. The bloodkin plague killed them.”

Numbness moves over my body. What will this mean for my people?

A darker thought strikes me. Konstantin isn’t here because he cares for Clan MacGregor. Only one woman would make him take this journey.

“What does this mean for Elisava?” I ask.

Konstantin’s mouth thins to a determined line. “I had the same question. To get an answer, I climbed Siniy Mountain, entered a sacred cave, and summoned Zhenshchina Vody. You know her as the Gray Woman.”

“Aye, the Gray Woman is a water elemental,” I state. “She can appear anywhere water flows. To summon her, we also visit one of her sacred caves not far from here.”

“The Gray Woman told me Elisava is already ill, as are all your bloodkin ladies. I asked the Gray Woman to heal our people. She said that was too much to ask and vanished. I wouldn’t leave the cave. Although I summoned the Gray Woman a hundred more times, she did not return. I came here to ask your help. Perhaps if you bring Elisava to the cave, then…” He leaves the logic out there.

“I understand. It is hard for anyone to refuse your sister.” A sad smile rounds my mouth. “I’ll take Elisava to the Gray Woman right away. Perhaps the cure for my queen will help all our ladies.” The next question pains me to ask, but it must be done. “How long does Elisava have?”

Konstantin’s face draws tight with pain. “The plague works slowly, then fast. The signs of the end are clear. When blood trickles from the ear or nose, they are close to death.”

His words hit me like fists. “That has already begun.” I start to slog back to the castle, then pause. “Do you want to see your sister? I’ll grant you safe passage.”

Konstantin lifts his chin. “Nyet. Elisava knows me too well. One look at my face, and she’ll know she’s done for. We all need hope.” In the moonlight, it’s clear how Konstantin’s eyes shine with held-in tears. “I heard she’s with child. Is that true?”

“Aye. And it’s all the more reason for me to leave. Thank you for coming here with your warning. I hope there’s enough time.”

“As do I.”

Leaving Konstantin, I head back toward the castle. My warriors watch me silently, waiting for orders I never give. As I expected, Hunter already has my horse by the gate. Once I set my bride atop our steed, it’s a short ride to the Gray Woman’s cave.

Please, let this work.

3

KING CAELIN

I ride through the night with Elisava on the saddle before me. As we gallop toward the Gray Woman’s cave, Konstantin’s words echo through my mind.

The plague goes slowly, then all at once.

Hours slog by. The sky lightens. Elisava falls into an uneasy sleep. At last, I spy the Gray Woman’s cave. The entrance is a jagged break at the base of a cliff wall. I rush inside with Elisava in my arms. My heart beats with such fury, my pulse throbs in my temples.

The cave walls are covered in runes that have been deeply cut into the stone.

The Gray Woman heals and hides. Ask her for any boon, but be warned. Chaos lies ahead.

Cradling my wife in my arms, I stride deeper into the cave. A small stone shrine sits at the far wall. It shows a woman standing in a low bowl of water. I set Elisava onto the sand and speak the incantation my father taught me.

I summon thee, water of chaos, woman of light.

Strands of seaweed wiggle up from the cave floor. As the long cords rise higher, they twist into the shape of a human. At last, the green seaweed turns pale as it solidifies into the Gray Woman herself. She’s tall, lithe, and wearing a silvery gown. Her ears angle upward. Just as her name promises, her skin’s the color of storm clouds.

“Greetings, King Caelin.”

I bow my head. “Gray Woman.”

“Did you bring your army to threaten me?”

“Nae. It’s only me and my bride. We’re here about—”

“I know why you are here,” interrupts the Gray Woman. “It was the same reason Konstantin bothered me.” She looks down upon Elisava. “There is nothing I can do for her. I’ve tried with others. Even magic has limits when it comes to the bloodkin plague.”

My heart cracks. “That can’t be true.”

Elisava sighs. “Don’t despair, my love.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper. “Now, you can find your fated mate. Your true wife awaits you.”

“Nae, Elisava. I already have my fated mate.” I pull her onto my lap. “Fated mates have marks on their throats. Only their soul’s partner can see these glowing red symbols. You may think you don’t have one for me, but I disagree.” I kiss her throat gently. “Right there.”

“Ah.” The trace of a smile rounds Elisava’s mouth.

“Fated mates also create unique magic between them,” I add. “And we’ve made the greatest spell of all.” I rest my hand on the slight curve of her belly. “Our bairn.”

“Oh, Caelin.” Elisava’s eyes brim with tears. “I’m so sorry to leave.”

My throat tightens with grief. “You’ll always live in my heart.”

“Promise me. Watch out for my brother.”

“I give you my word.”

Elisava stops breathing. She’s gone. I hold her to my chest while tears stream down my cheeks. I’ve already lost so much. More will soon fade as well.

The women of my clan.

The future of my people.

My own will to live.

It’s as if a great hole gets punched through my rib cage. All that was once worth fighting for seeps from my body. I’m no longer king. Who rules a nation of corpses?

I don’t know how long I sit there. When I look up, the Gray Woman still stands nearby.

“I’m a water elemental,” begins the Gray Woman. “You’re bloodkin. Both of us are daemon kind. As such, we rely on magic to solve every problem. But humans are clever. They’re forever creating little contraptions and storing up knowledge. One day, I believe humans will develop a power to rival ours.”

My voice chokes with emotion. “I don’t see how that helps my people.”

“When that time comes, I shall combine human cleverness with my magic. Perhaps then I can save the bloodkin.”

A chill runs through my veins. I cling onto the second part of her statement.

“What do you mean?”

“Konstantin was right to send you here. All the bloodkin women are doomed. Yet, that’s easy to accept when none of them are dead at your feet. I’ve changed my mind. In honor of your wife and child, I shall revive your people one day.”

Worry, grief, and joy battle it out inside me. If anyone can save the bloodkin, it’s the Gray Woman.

“Thank you.”

The Gray Woman transforms into water and vanishes. For my part, I hold onto my wife until her body goes as cold as my soul.

4

PRINCESS ALEXA

ELEVEN YEARS OLD

Rus Lands

The snowy paths of Siniy Mountain are a maze that’s built to madden the mind and dull the senses.

How perfect. I do love a good puzzle.

I march through an old forest of evergreens. Ice hangs from the pine needles. The rocky ground hides every footprint. All the trees look identical. That’s by design. Somewhere in these woods, there’s an entrance to an upper trail that winds to the mountaintop. And there lies the cave of Zhenshchina Vody, the Gray Woman.

My younger sister, Sash, trudges beside me. She’s tiny with golden hair and a nature to match. In terms of age, I’m pretty sure Sash is eight while I’m eleven, although it’s hard to know for certain. We’ve been meandering the countryside for years. At first, we were running from Norse kidnappers. Now, we search out the Gray Woman.

Why seek Zhenshchina Vody? Sash and I are bloodkin. I fear my sister is sick with the bloodkin plague. Once I find the Gray Woman, she’ll heal my sister in no time.

Speaking of Sash, she marches along beside me, smiling while she tells one of her fairy tales. “My favorite story is Queen Belobog and King Chernobog,” says Sash. “Once upon a time, they were a regular human king and queen. She was all things light and sunshine, he was darkness and death.”

While Sash rattles on, I pull out the pendant I stole from a Saxon nightling. It looks like a wooden disc that’s covered with the carving of an intricate triangle. In reality, it’s a map to finding the Gray Woman atop Siniy Mountain. I run my finger across the pattern and contemplate our next turn.

“But then, everything changes,” continues Sash. “Belobog and Chernobog see marks on each other’s necks—the image of an entwined sun and moon. They fall in love and magic transforms them into the first bloodkin vampires. That makes Belobog and Chernobog the original fated mates of our people.”

“That’s fine, Sash.”

“Fated mates are rare along bloodkin, but I think you and I have them.”

“Sure.”

Sash is so sweet. She belongs back in the palace with my stepmother, reading stories and playing with dolls. I don’t have the heart to tell her that the tale of Belobog and Chernobog isn’t true.

Memories appear. I picture the onion dome of our palace as it crackles with fire against the night sky. Servants’ bodies blaze as they jump from the windows. I weep while dragging Sash across a smoke-covered field. Shivers move up my spine.

Focus, Lexa. Leave the palace behind. You must help Sash.

Shaking my head, I force myself to refocus on the moment. “Where’s Anya?” She’s an adult human that I talked into helping us. Sash and I look more believable—and less easy to attack—with a grown-up along.

Plus, everyone wants to kidnap vampire royalty. Anya’s a human. She helps hide the fact that Sash and I are bloodkin.

Anya steps out from behind a tree. “Do you see this?” Anya’s tall and lovely with dark hair and pale skin. Like always, she’s wrapped in heavy furs and scarves. Anya extends her hand to show some kind of yellow sap. It’s yet another treasure for her collection.

I half-listen as Anya explains where she found the sap and how she can use it in a poultice. It’s hard to seem very interested. None of Anya’s creations cure the bloodkin plague. That said, I’m glad she has something to keep herself busy. Following me and Sash around can’t be too enjoyable.

With Anya back, I lead us through the forest and into a snow-covered clearing. There’s a break in the trees on the opposite side. My heart soars.

“It’s here,” I declare. “If we go through those trees, we’ll find a path up the mountain.”

Sash scans the mountain itself. “That’s really high.” I know what she means. The path itself will be a thin one. Even worse, a rock wall will border us on the left… and nothing but a deadly fall will be on the right.

I pat my sister’s hand. “It’s fine, Sash. I’ll be behind you.”

Rustling sounds nearby. I step about in a slow circle. All my senses are on high alert. The barest smell of vinegar and garlic fills the air. That means humans are nearby.

“There are others in the forest,” I announce. “We better hurry.”

“I smell them, too,” says Sash. “I bet they want to see the Gray Woman, same as we do.” She coughs. A light spray of pink settles onto the snow. My eyes widen. Now, there’s blood in Sash’s coughs. My sister is getting worse.

Anya notices the blood as well. “We better get hiking if we’re to reach the Gray Woman’s cave before sundown.”

I wrap my arm around Sash’s shoulder and lead her toward the icy path.

Not long now.

5

PRINCESS ALEXA

The three of us march slowly up the mountain trail. More than once, we almost slip off. Wind whips through our clothes and tears at our skin. Still, we’re somehow able to reach the summit.

At last, Sash, Anya, and I step inside the Gray Woman’s cave. It’s a small space. A spray of snow covers the stone floor. By the far wall, there sits a small pedestal that holds the carving of a woman.

“What do we do now?” whispers Anya.

“Remember the spell I bartered off that Norse hedge witch?” I ask.

“Da,” says Sash at the same time Anya says, “Nyet.”

“Follow me.” I kneel before the shrine and speak the incantation.

I summon thee, water of chaos, woman of light.

The air turns so heavy, it seems to press in around us. Seaweed winds up from the center of the cave floor and into a humanoid shape.