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Chapter Nineteen
Veronica Black Dear readers, My apologies for the delayed update, I have been without Internet until this morning, but everything is back up and running now, thankfully. I hope you are enjoying Marcel’s story, and I'm continually grateful for all of your support, comments, gems and thumbs up. Happy reading, Vb xx
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Marcel of The Lone Mountains- A Vampyre’s story Chapter One
Chapter OneMarcel’s POV “Open your eyes and watch, boy.” My father snarls through gritted teeth and spittle flies from his taught lips into my face. He roughly grabs the loosely tied pony tail at the back of my head and wrenches my head back, which forces me to look up and watch the carnage unfolding in front of my eyes. My jaw tightens in frustration but I bite my tongue. I hate that he calls me ‘boy’. I haven’t been a boy for over a century, but he still looks down on me as if I am dirt beneath his boot and nothing more than a juvenile inconvenience. “This... is what we are. This... is what they made us. You can not fight nature son.” He shakes my head, pulling my hair out at its roots, as he aggressively makes his point.He is not wrong about not being able to fight nature, however, we are anything but natural. He continues his speech, the same one I have heard almost daily for decades. “They call us demon, devil, night walker, shadow reaper, but we would not be, were it not f
Marcel of The Lone Mountains- A Vampyre’s story Chapter Two
Chapter TwoConstance’s POV With the raiding party away, a rare calmness has come over the castle. I often find myself eagerly awaiting their departure so I can let down my guard and just be. This place is the only home I have ever known. I grew up within these walls and every room, every portrait and piece of furniture is attached to a memory of my life before, though it feels less and less like my sanctuary as Halen continues to fill it with his experiments.He says we are all one clan, the vampires he creates are family, and his creations will assure our safety and our place in the world. I know he believes every word he speaks, but I can not get a moments peace with them around. I am constantly on edge, waiting for one of them to go feral and kill the human pets Halen keeps around for us to feed upon. He is adamant thst it will not happen again, but I have quickly learned that his belief in something doesn’t make it so.The dining hall is my second favourite room, and as I walk
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Evangeline’s POVIf you see the Blackledge Raiders, run!That is what we were taught when we were children and we were told the same thing every single day. If I wanted to go to the river to wash, my mother would stop me at the door and say, “Take a friend with you, and if you see the Blackledge Raiders...” I would finish the sentence for her. “Run. I know.”The same rules applied to fruit picking, walking in the woods, feeding the horses and pigs, hanging out the clean clothes to dry. Everywhere I went was in tandem, and I never had a minute to myself unless I woke up early enough to sneak out alone and unseen.I never really believed the raiders would come for us. Why would they? We were seven families living on the Blackledge boundaries, hardly worth their trouble or the distance they would have to ride to reach us. We had nothing of value, not really, and we caused no trouble.Oh, how wrong I was.The day they came, I was being punished as usual. My mother had caught me at the riv
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Evangeline’s POV I didn’t get the chance to ask Marcel how he knew about our magic or what he meant about our parents until some time later. We did as instructed, and he walked us right past the gathering of blood drenched animals who were crouched and contorted on all fours, picking through pieces of torn and mangled meat. Two men stood out from the others. One of them was tall and broad, with long silver hair and scars that crisscrossed his exposed chest, arms, and face. He was the Lord. It was obvious from just a glance. He was well dressed from the waist down, like Marcel, and the man like creatures would not look him directly in the eye. The man beside him was smaller in every way and looked to be nothing more or less than an average person, except for the leather collar around his neck and the long leather strap which hung from the collar, down towards the ground, then turned up and led right into Lord Halen’s hand where he was sat atop a magnificent stallion.When I looked
Marcel of The Lone Mountains- A Vampyre’s story Chapter Five
Marcel’s POV I stand in silent contemplation for a moment and consider my options. The answers to every question I have asked could be right behind this door and honestly, now that I’m potentially stood on the precipice of finding what I have been searching for, I’m terrified. If these people are descended from Hikura, they could be the answer to everything, the key to the lock I have been unable to open thus far. Well… they could have been had I found my voice and spoken out against my father. I know that not a single person survived this culling, Halen came here with the sole intent of wiping out the entire coven and that is precisely what happened. When it comes to witches my father becomes a whole different kind of beast and I get a glimpse of the pure evil that resides within his comparatively innocuous shell. As I reach out to push the heavy looking door open, it moves just a bit, as if of its own volition and my breath sticks in my throat. The hairs on the back of my neck stan
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Marcel’s POV The ride home is not a particularly long one, and most of it passes in a haze. As expected, Halen set the meeting house alight and watched with sadistic satisfaction as the roof caved in, and flames leapt out of the windows as if desperately seeking an escape. I know that feeling well. Halen is practically foaming at the mouth with rage, and he stops on more than one occasion to feed from his unfortunate, human pet. Vincent is the current flavour of the month, I don’t see the appeal personally, he is almost as repulsive in both appearance and attitude as the man who currently dines on him, or perhaps that is the point, I doubt I will ever understand the twisted workings of my father’s mind. Blood quenches not only his thirst but also his anger. The way he feeds, by sinking his teeth into his victims neck, is unnecessarily brutal.If he knew I drank from a cup, he would most likely implode with shame and disappointment. The coven’s priestess, who I assume is Imelda, ha
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