The Vampire Sorceress Omnibus

Chapter Two

I had no idea where I was, but I was pretty sure I was having a dream. I was walking through what seemed like an endless, pitch black void. There were no distinguishing features, no landmarks or objects to tell me where I was. There wasn’t a sun, moon, stars, or anything to indicate that I was on Earth, yet somehow I walked along what felt like pretty firm ground nonetheless. It was an odd sensation, but I didn’t question it because it was a dream and dreams didn’t have to make sense.

As I walked, I heard whispers around me, voices I didn’t recognize speaking in languages I didn’t understand. But one thing I did understand was that these voices were whispering about me. I heard my name, Tara Lee, mentioned more than once, but every time I looked around to see who was speaking, I saw nothing. I even reached out a few times, but could never feel anyone or anything other than empty shadows. Yet I was sure that somewhere just beyond my range of vision were a whole group of people watching my every move, waiting to see what I would do.

I felt the same way. Although this was my dream, I was just as curious to see what I would do as anyone else was. My legs walked with purpose, independent of whatever I wanted. It was like my legs knew where they were supposed to go and I was just supposed to be along for the ride. Such a thought would have terrified me under other circumstances, but in this dream, I just noted it in an abstract, clinical way, the way a scientist would write down interesting data from an experiment he just performed.

Soon, however, I saw something else in this void. It was far ahead at first, little more than a speck on the horizon, but as I drew closer, the object became easier to see. It was a sword of some sort, standing hilt up in a pedestal. It was a pretty large sword, too, about the size of a great sword. Its blade was not silver, however, but blood red, the exact same shade as the eyes of the man who saved me. Its hilt was shaped like bat wings, but that made it look intimidating rather than cute.

I stopped in front of the sword, which was glowing softly in the darkness, a soft red glow that made my skin look like blood. Somehow, the sword looked simultaneously new and old, like it had been crafted ages ago but had been preserved from the elements forever. I felt a compulsion to touch it, but I resisted because I was afraid of what might happen if I did.

“Touch it,” said a voice in my ear. It sounded like the voice of a monster, deep and guttural with barely a trace of humanity left in it. “Grab the hilt and pull. Take what is yours and wield the Sword you are destined to wield. Destroy those who stand in your way. Use its power and become a god.”

I had no idea who was speaking in my ear, but it sounded so compelling that I began reaching out toward the sword’s hilt. But when my fingers were less than an inch away from the sword, I heard another voice in my ear—Dad’s voice—saying, “Tara, wake up!”

The other voice—the guttural growl one—hissed in my ear as the sword started to vanish before me. As the darkness closed in on me, the voice growled in my ear, “Don’t forget what you saw here, daughter of the Hunter. Remember and return, for the Sword yearns for your touch.”

All of a sudden, my eyes opened and I found myself lying in my bed in the spare room of Dad’s house. Though the light on the ceiling wasn’t very bright, it still hurt my eyes because of how abrupt the transition was. It actually hurt to look at the light, and not just in the way that staring directly at lights hurts, either. It was like being stabbed in the eyes, so I looked at the face hovering above me for some relief.

It was Dad. He had a bandage around his head, where he had been injured, but other that, he looked okay for a middle-aged man who had been punched into a solid wood altar by a bodybuilder. He smiled when he saw my eyes open.

“Tara,” said Dad, who sounded relieved. “I thought you might not wake up. You were in such terrible condition, especially with your neck, and—”

“My neck,” I said. I absently touched the spot on my neck where I had been bitten, only to feel solid flesh without even a hint of a bite. “What? How did it heal so quickly?”

“So you remember what happened?” said Dad, leaning closer to me with an urgent look on his face. “Can you tell me what happened before you fell unconscious?”

I blinked and did my best to remember. “Um … I remember someone attacking me on the platform in front of the congregation. Then you shot him, but he punched you, but then some guy I don’t know saved me, and then I shot the guy who attacked me and killed him. I think.”

Dad sighed. “Good. You remember. I was worried that you might not.”

Still rubbing my neck, I said, “I remember all right, but I don’t understand—”

All of a sudden, a powerful thirst overcame me. My mouth felt suddenly dry and all I could think about was drinking. For some reason I was thinking about drinking blood, but that was probably just because I had been bitten on the neck recently and so that was still on my mind.

“Dad, I need water,” I said, licking my lips. “I need water now.”

Dad immediately handed me a cup of water—which he apparently had just for this emergency—and I greedily drank it. At first, the ice cold water felt good on my parched mouth, but as soon as the last drop went into my stomach, the overwhelming thirst returned.

“Dad,” I said, staring up at Dad again. “The water didn’t work. I’m still thirsty. I—”

I stopped speaking when I saw the horrified expression appear on Dad’s face. He looked as if all of his worst fears had just come true, like he was living in a nightmare. I didn’t understand what he found so scary, but it scared me as much as it did him.

“Dad?” I said. “Are you okay? You look scared.”

Dad opened his mouth, but then closed it abruptly, as if trying to decide what to say. For some reason I focused on Dad’s neck and started to think about how tasty his blood would feel in my mouth. It probably wouldn’t taste all that great, but at this point, I was willing to try anything to get my fix.

But then I shook my head. What was I thinking? Drinking blood was gross. Only crazy people and vampires did that. And because I wasn’t crazy nor a vampire, I couldn’t explain why I was so tempted to drink Dad’s blood. I must still have been suffering from blood loss or something, which was making me think crazy things.

“No …” Dad said in a low voice. “This can’t be … please God, don’t let this happen to my one and only daughter …”

“Don’t let what happen to your one and only daughter?” I said in alarm. “Dad, what’s the problem?”

Dad bit his lower lip. He looked like he was holding back his tears, which surprised me, because the last time I had seen Dad cry was at Mom’s funeral ten years ago. Why would he be crying now? I wasn’t dead or dying, after all. Sure, I’d suffered a pretty big wound, but even that had somehow healed up miraculously, and given how it happened in a church, maybe it was a miracle after all. Was Dad just so overcome with emotion that he was letting it get the best of him? Perhaps it was just the stress of the situation starting to get to him.

Still, I hated seeing Dad so sad, so I reached out to him and said, “Dad, please don’t look so afraid. You’re scaring me.”

But Dad suddenly stood up and backed away just before I could touch him. Surprised, I lowered my hand and looked at Dad, who was now looking at me as if I was a snake about to bite him.

“Don’t touch me,” said Dad, his words trembling. “I know what happens when Newborns touch a person. I’m not going to force you to go through that.”

I smiled nervously. “Dad, what are you talking about? I’m twenty-four-years-old. That hardly makes me a ‘Newborn,’ don’t you think?”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Dad. He put his head in his hands, a look of pure agony on his face. “Oh, it’s worse than I feared. Why, God? Why did you decide to put me through this? What have I done to deserve such a terrible fate?”

“Dad, you haven’t done anything wrong,” I said, sitting up in my bed. “You—”

My words were interrupted when the door to the room opened and someone I hadn’t expected to see stepped inside. It was the stranger who had saved me in the church earlier, the tall, dark, and handsome man. He looked exactly the same as he did before, but somehow he looked even more handsome to me, why, I wasn’t sure.

“What is the matter?” said the man, his voice as deep and sexy as ever. “I heard people talking. Is Tara okay?”

Dad whirled around and pointed an accusing finger at the man. “It’s your fault, you damn vamp.”

The man raised a quizzical eyebrow. “My fault? What do you mean, Richard? Saving your daughter’s life?”

Dad shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know. Tara’s awake, but she’s not herself anymore. She’s changed, Lucius.”

The man—who was apparently named Lucius—suddenly frowned seriously. “Wait, you don’t mean—”

“Yes, I do,” said Dad, nodding. “Tara is … Tara has become … she’s a vampire, Lucius. And she’s already thirsting for blood.”