The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier (Book 1) by K. P. Ambroziak Page A

the possibility of
extinction, but we cannot be faulted for our sentimentality. We are fiercely
nostalgic creatures, though never to be taken for mawkish ones.
    Vlad is no threat now, but difficulty will arise
when several vampires know about the girl. If she is the last blood source for
us all, she may surely be torn to pieces.
     
    8 October. — We are desperate.
The girl grows weaker by the day. We are out of options and have to push on. I
regret to abandon the last place I held Byron. He had made the cathedral his home,
a final laboratory among hallowed walls. He would grieve our parting too, but
it is dangerous to stay. We can no longer make runs into town without endangering
both those who remain and those who go. Vlad’s diversion beckoned the bloodless
to the cathedral, as a church bell calls its faithful to the altar. Our walls will
not keep them out forever. Minor tremors rattle the stained glass windows each day,
and soon an earthquake will shake the foundation, cracking open our fortification.
    I have spent the last two nights planning our
escape, and have almost worked it out but struggle with how to mask the girl’s
scent. Nothing seems to do. Even cloaking her in our clothes, our scent, is
weak at best. I have to find a way to get her through the field and dell, all
the way to the shore of the river without detection. Once we reach the water, the
stream will carry us out to sea, where I am certain we can keep her safe. I
have given the others instructions, and assured them we will leave tomorrow at
dusk.
     
    Later. — When I went to see
the girl about our plans to leave, I told her of her stepfather’s death. She
had not seen him since we separated them, but seemed to appreciate the privacy.
“Marco saved me,” she had said to Byron. “I’m grateful for that, but he isn’t
the most honest man, if you know what I mean.” Byron confessed that he did. “And
he wasn’t much of a father.” My beloved reassured her she was safe, and expected
me to carry out the task of keeping the man from the girl.
    She was asleep when I entered her chamber, a tantalizing
vision lying on the bed. I fantasized about seizing her and penetrating her
neck; her tan skin, exposed at the round of her shoulder, begged to be touched.
The blood pulsed beneath, urging me to taste it. I gazed on her, sucking in her
saccharine aroma with each inhale and exhale she took. She is more trouble than
I care to admit—but I have shaken off the temptation. It may seem out of
character for an old vampire like me to resist such a savory morsel, but actually
it is beneath me not to. My long years have granted me a willpower well beyond
any other, and I am resilient to desire.
    I floated to her side and sat on her bed,
whispering her name. She was deep asleep and so I allowed my fingertips to
touch the crown of her head, brushing her skin ever so lightly before drawing a
line across her forehead with my thumb. Delectable creature that she is, my
fangs still dropped—they have a mind of their own—and my points
pierced my bottom lip, arousing me. I closed my eyes and thought of Byron. Was
I really taken with this girl or did I simply desire her because my beloved had
admired her so? Perhaps I wanted her because she was one of the last human
beings on earth. I really could not tell. When she stirred a little and let out
a long exaggerated sigh, I pulled my hand away.
    “Why did you stop?” Her voice was faint.
    “I am sorry,” I said. “I was merely trying to
wake you.”
    She left her head on the pillow and looked up
at me with sleepy eyes. “I’m awake now.”
    “I can see that.” She smiled at me but my
moment of weakness had passed. “I have news that I fear might upset you,” I
said.
    She sat up and looked at me with wide eyes. “You’re
not leaving me are you?”
    She was so vulnerable, like a wounded animal,
and I wondered if she would not be better off as a vampire. “No,” I said. “We are
not leaving you.” She