Twisted Fates Read online

  The cursory inspection of the others gathered at the table ended. Only then did he speak. “As head of the Elder Council, I feel it is time we address our shrinking numbers.” Thin lips stretched across yellowed fangs when he spoke. When done, he sucked his teeth while simultaneously flicking the tip of his tongue across said fangs.

  “Our dwindling numbers would not be an issue had you listened to my warning years ago, Silvanus. As our elder, you hold a responsibility to protect our kind,” Malachi hissed with narrowed eyes and an icy tone to his voice. All were signs of his discontent with the matter.

  “Regardless,” Silvanus growled, “We should address the matter now.”

  Idris, the only vampiress on the council, could stun anyone with her beauty. A curtain of waist-length auburn hair fell even with her waist. She stood without warning. The emerald silk gown she wore swayed as she walked to the fireplace. With a hand resting casually on the mantle she addressed those remaining at the table. “I will share my opinion on the matter. We must protect the sanctity of our kind and strengthen the vampire kingdom. Without appropriate leadership there is a distinct possibility we will be extinct in a few centuries.”

  “Spoken like a true-born vampire, Idris.” Malachi glanced around the table before speaking again. “I offer a solution of sorts. True-born vampire numbers are dwindling. Why not allow a king and queen to rule? Make the requirements difficult to achieve. Have them prove their worth by siring a child.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Nicodemus shouted. “A pure-blood vampire is nearly impossible. Most of our kind are turned by their sire. Why not elect members of the council?” Nicodemus glanced at Zaros, the remaining member of the council. “What do you say, Zaros?”

  Zaros grinned, white teeth contrasting against the swarthy skin of his face. “Why not put them to the test? Finding a mate and siring a child should test the mettle of any vampire.”

  “Let us vote,” Silvanus interjected. “All those in favor of creating an edict allowing a vampire and vampiress who bring a pure-blood vampire into the world to rule, say aye.”

  “Conditions are warranted,” Idris murmured from her place at the fireplace. Her eyes flicked to Malachi for a fraction of a second. None of the others noticed. “To ensure we have a ruler who understands our kind, require the vampire to be at least two centuries old.”

  “I say the vampiress should be at least a century in age.” Zaros’s deep voice boomed across the room.

  “Have we finished squabbling, children?” Silvanus drawled while inspecting his nails.

  In the end, every true-born in the room voted in favor of the edict. Idris penned several copies of the decree entitled the Elder Council’s Grimoire. Each copy held the signatures of all members of the council. Each council member retained a copy of the decree.

  The beginnings of a plan developed in my mind at that moment. I held my tongue until I could speak with Silvanus. My respect for my sire and adra grew to epic proportions while under his tutelage. One did not become an elder of his age by making foolish decisions.

  “We must make a plan. I overheard Idris and Malachi before the meeting began. They fully intend to seize power.”

  “We cannot allow him take power.” Silvanus grimaced at my profession.

  “I will never allow that to happen.” Silvanus sat in a chair by the fire sipping a heady mixture of blood and brandy combined to create a vampiric cocktail of pristine quality.

  I joined him there. The vacant chair creaked when I sat down. Flames licked along the length of a log. A burst of sparks and smoke swirled before being sucked through the chimney.

  “What can we do?”

  Silvanus sighed. The drawn-out whisper of his breath added import to his words. “He would destroy us all just to hold power. You have my blessings, Gareth. Do what must be done.”

  “Consider it done.”

  I would defeat Malachi by any means necessary. Only one question remained. But could I afford the ultimate cost?

  Chapter 2

  Simone

  My life as a girl passed in that guilt-free, tranquil way that only children can manage. My parents doted upon me. My birth in 1784 left my mother unable to have another child. All the love in her heart became mine. She doted upon me, as did my father. We were not rich but lived in adequate comfort for the time. My days were often spent running and playing with my friends.

  Our home on the outskirts of the town escaped the worst of the raiding that occurred during the Revolutionary War. Mother often said God protected us during those horrible times. Looking back at it, I wonder how we managed to escape without having been murdered.

  And as any rambunctious young lady who thought she knew it all, I threw caution to the wind and pursued a man who stole my heart. I thought I loved him. Much later I learned it was but a foolish thought for a foolish girl.

  Malcolm Swain was the epitome of a cultured southern gentleman in 1800. He was well-known around Richmond as a wealthy man. He wore suits most often with freshly starched white shirts and colorful cravats. He walked with the air of someone who was important.

  But that was not all. Malcolm kept his blonde hair tied back with a strip of leather. Blue eyes the color of the sky danced with merriment. He never seemed to be in a bad mood. His skin was tanned from many hours in the sun. Broad shouldered and narrow hipped, he easily stole the heart of more than one young lady.

  I should have known his whispered professions of love when he walked me home from the governor’s ball were lies. I let him pull me in, my innocent heart starved for affection.

  I was, after all, at the age of twenty considered a spinster. Society neglected to understand my mother’s failing health kept me home. I regretted none of the time spent caring for her until her death six months earlier. I had no siblings. My father had been killed in an accident on a logging site three years before mama passed away.

  I was alone. Understanding developed afterwards. It is no wonder I fell under Malcolm’s spell. Vulnerable. Lonely. Grieving. The perfect opportunity presented to Malcolm. He simply could not resist.

  And yet I digress as I tell my tale.

  Warm, late spring air caressed my heaving bosom when Malcolm pressed me against a building in that alley.

  “I need you, Simone,” he breathed against my ear.

  The moist heat of his tongue against my ear brought my body to life. Nipples pebbled. A swirling vortex of desire expanded in my core until my entire body was consumed. His hands were skilled in the art of seduction. Their caress upon my body teased the flames higher. His kiss was intoxicating. I gave myself up to Malcolm Swain, moaning and writhing against him.

  “Malcolm.” I sighed when he trailed kisses from my bosom, along a collarbone, and upwards again to my neck.

  “Do you surrender to me, Simone?”

  “Yes!” came the whispered plea.

  His true intentions were revealed at that moment. Even as a hand stole beneath my petticoat to stroke a trembling thigh. The first nip of his teeth was gentle. The sensation only served to inflame my virginal need. Had I known then what I know now, I would have attempted escape.

  The piercing agony of his fangs brought a silent scream. My heart pounded in my ears as he drained my essence. Those fingers stroked and caressed my thigh, moving higher until he found the bundle of nerves at the apex of my sex. He roughly stimulated the nub through the cotton pantaloons I wore only because every proper woman wore them. The sick, twisted horror of it all did not diminish the powerful orgasm he forced upon me. He sought to give some form of solace while he butchered me.

  There would be no happily ever after for us. Malcolm tired of me even as I lay dying in his arms. When his thirst was quenched, he allowed my body to fall to the ground. Carelessly forgotten. Hazy darkness enclosed the periphery of my vision. Breaths so faint as to be undetectable filled my lungs with the scent of death.

  “You were as delicious as I suspected, Simone. What a pity. Had we met a hundred years ago this ni
ght would have ended much differently.” His voice was a low rasp vibrating in my ears. He cleansed the blood from his lips with a handkerchief. The crunch of gravel beneath his shoes signaled his retreat.

  I lay in that alley forever it seemed. Awareness faded only to return unexpectedly. Richmond’s streets were deserted at this hour. The agonizing burn of the venom began not long after Malcolm deserted me. A white-hot pain unlike any I have experienced grew in intensity. It spread throughout my body. Every cell of my being felt the excruciating pain of transformation.

  My body writhed and jerked in the alley’s filth. Tears poured from eyes that gazed unseeing at the night sky. When the first bit of strength filled my body, I dragged myself upright. I staggered and fought my way through the empty streets toward home.

  Isn’t that the way of it all? A dying dog seeks solitary solace. I was no different.

  Along the way I encountered a drunken bum in yet another alley. He called out with a bottle of liquor held aloft. No doubt the man thought I was inebriated when I staggered toward him. I joined him, but not for the drink of whiskey he suggested. I left him lying in the alley, exsanguinated and bereft of life. I would not make the same mistake as Malcolm. I would sire no vampires.

  The copper-laced, crimson cocktail gave me the strength I needed to push on. By the time I made it home, dawn’s rainbow inched across the sky. I locked the doors, retreating to my room on the second floor of the house. Shades drawn, I stripped the suddenly abhorrent gown from my body. Cool sheets assuaged the fiery burn of turning.

  Agony so exquisite my fingernails left claw marks in the headboard tormented me for hours. When at long last the venom became one with every last cell of my being, I fell into an exhausted slumber. Peace was not to be had. Nightmarish visions of the night filled my dreams.

  When I woke, everything changed. Instead of being sickened by my appearance, I found I rather liked what I saw in the mirror. My entire body assumed the sleek, lean appearance of an athlete. Full, firm breasts. A narrow waist. Hips the perfect proportion for my frame. My body was sheer perfection.

  No longer was I the pudgy spinster. My hair was long, shiny, and felt like silk between my fingers. My face was much different. Delicately arched brows would never need plucking. High cheekbones accentuated my features. Full, rosy lips smiled back at me from the mirror. Icy, silvery blue eyes caught my attention. Hours earlier the irises were crimson, no doubt the influence of the turning.

  “Beautiful,” I whispered at my reflection.

  Other changes came with Malcolm’s gift. Some I knew within hours of waking on the first day of my life as a vampire. Others I gained awareness of later.

  My mind moved at an astronomical speed. Deciphering. Plotting. Planning. All with an ease that evaded me before. I was no addlepated woman repressed by society, meant only to be kept barefoot and pregnant. I was now a force to be reckoned with. As a newborn, my skills were intrinsically more powerful and effective. My first target? Malcolm Swain.

  *****

  I spent a week roaming nightly about Malcolm’s mansion. I learned he was not alone. A half dozen others lived with him. Malcolm’s coven. Squatting at the edge of the forest near his home, I smiled. All of them would die.

  After a few days of following Malcolm I knew his habits. He and his coven retired to the basement of the mansion each night a few hours before dawn. I grew bolder, going so far as to creep into the basement to verify they slept. The risk was well worth the gain. Each of them slept in coffins lying on the floor.

  Malcolm grew lax in the false belief that he and his coven were the only vampires in Richmond. Silly man. He should have followed through with his plan to kill me. His carelessness gave birth to a formidable enemy. One he was blissfully unaware of.

  The city served as home for all sorts of people. Some innately good. Some innately evil. My search revealed those who were in the center of good and evil. Those who were down on their luck, in desperate need of coin. Their misfortune served my needs perfectly. The men I selected would do as I asked in return for money. Their first task came in the form of procuring lamp oil in kegs.

  After a late night spent at a ball at the governor’s mansion, Malcolm suspected nothing. I followed at a distance, ensuring he went home. My underlings lingered with me in the shadows for an hour. We crept into the basement. My hired hands paused at their assigned coffin, moving into action only when I nodded.

  A vampire’s death at the stake is an unsettling experience. The lesser vampires reacted with eyes opening, a soft hiss escaping the moment the stake pierced their hearts. I waited until the others were dead to destroy Malcolm.

  His face in repose was sculptured perfection. No. I would not let his magnetic pull distract me. The stake came to rest on his broad chest. Without hesitation, I drove the stake in with a solid strike of the mallet. His eyes opened, filling with terror. He did not hiss. Instead, he cried, “Simone!”

  I did not hesitate. A final pound of the mallet brought Malcolm’s demise.

  The task was not yet complete. Lamp oil poured over each coffin then throughout the mansion fulfilled the second part of my plan. A solitary lamp left burning in the mansion’s entryway provided the needed ignition. I tossed it to the floor, entranced with the ravenous hunger of flames for wood. The underlings pulled me away. They were concerned only for their pay.

  “Betray me not,” I intoned while placing the agreed upon amount of money in their outstretched hands. The men paled and backed away when I revealed my fangs.

  I stood watching as flames consumed the mansion. Satisfaction at a job well done filled me when the mansion’s roof collapsed.

  Just before the sun rose, I retired to my humble home to sleep with the blinds and drapes drawn. My first act of vengeance upon men made me sleep like a baby. It would not be the last.

  About the Author

  You came here looking to learn a bit more about me. I wanted to give you something more personal and interactive. Not the usual canned bio that goes in an author's book.

  Well, here goes. I've lived in the Appalachian Mountains my entire life. I met my soulmate and married him a month after we met. That was over thirty years ago. Sounds like true love, right? I know it's true love. We are closer now than we have ever been. We have an adult daughter who has developmental delays and severe mental health disorders. She lives at home with us. Two adorable fur babies round out our family.

  I've been an avid reader since learning how to read. I would read on the bus on the way home after school ended each day. I read anything I could get my hands on, including ingredient labels on food. My first romance novel was The Flame and The Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss. It rocked my world in more ways than one. It was an intense, dramatic enemies-to-lovers love story that lit the writing bug in my young heart. I began writing not long afterwards but was discouraged to continue as writing was not seen as an appropriate career to pursue and romance books were not seen as being appropriate by my traditional parents.

  Writing went on the back shelf while I grew up, fell in love, and became a wife. I returned to school for a master's degree during my daughter's worst struggles with bipolar disorder. I have worked in the behavioral health treatment field since 2013.

  Pursuing a doctoral degree made me realize an important fact. I don't like school and writing academic papers. The urge to write creatively returned in the winter of 2019. Since that time, I have written and published ten novellas under two pen names.

  I tend to write dark, twisted love stories that most often have a happy ending. Not all of my stories will have that happy ending. You have been warned, and I say that with a smile.

  Forever My Knight, my debut novella under this pen name, was published November 15, 2019. I haven't looked back since that day. I continue to write and make plans for future books.

  If you would like to stay updated on my books, visit my website located at https://www.authorarford.com

  You can join my mailing list at https://mailchi.mp
/80b5c8f40bb9/authorarford

  You can also follow me on the following social media channels:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/ARFord6

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  Books by A. R. Ford

  The Hunter (Prequel to the Hidden Gems series)

  The Warner Series

  Forever My Knight (Warner #1)

  Concrete Justice (Warner #2)

  Darkness Overcomes (Warner #3)

  The Warner Series Trilogy (Warner #1-#3)

  The Dirty Billionaire Series

  Dirty, Rotten Bastard

  Hidden Gems Dark Omegaverse Series

  Doppelgänger (February 14, 2020)

  Claiming an Alpha’s Heart (April 3, 2020)

  Twisted Fates (expected May 1, 2020)

  Vampire Passions Duet

  Simone (expected September 2020)

  Gareth (expected November 2020)