PART ONE
He stood in the doorway of an abandoned house watching as the night sky started to lighten. Zach only had a few minutes more before he would have to go inside where his new family waited in the cold dark cellar. It was during this time, every night, Zach would think and reflect.
To say he was a normal boy would be stretching it. He never got along with the other kids at school. They always seemed afraid of him. Even the bullies wouldn’t bother making him a target.
Zach’s parents whispered behind closed doors where they thought he couldn’t hear them. They worried about how out of control his aggression and anger had been getting. An eight-year-old should be out playing with other children or riding his Rover bicycle instead of holing away in his room alone.
A smile spread across Zach’s small features as he thought back to those moments. If they only knew about the horrible things he did in his private time. They would have skipped the family trip to Romania and moved up his appointment with the town psychiatrist.
He ran his short fingers through shaggy black hair, exposing pitch black eyes. The sky now threatened him with hues of red and orange. That trip had changed everything for him. That trip is what made him what he was… a vampire.
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It was 1886 and he stood at the bow of a rather large three mast sailing ship traveling from New York to Romania. His parents had made the plans telling all the gossipy community they were visiting relatives in Germany. However, their true destination was a bit more distant.
Apparently, Zach had family in Romania, Kronstadt in particular. He could care less about this wasted trip. All he wanted was to go back home to his dark room and even darker experiments, but his parents refused to leave him behind. They claimed he needed some adventure to hopefully brighten his moods.
That is how he found himself now leaving the ship and taking a carriage to the Express d’Orient. Once they reached Pitesti in Romania, they would travel the rest of the way to Kronstadt by carriage.
Servants loaded their baggage into one of the sleeping coaches while Zach was towed by his mother to the restaurant coach. They sat at an elaborately decorated table complete with oil lamps and velvet chairs. All the window curtains had been pulled down to keep the hot sun out. Once his father joined them, they order their meals and sat in silence.
“Zach, dear. Would you like some pudding?”
“No, mother, I would not.” Zach stared at her with narrowed eyes. His father ordered an alcoholic drink and pretended to not pay attention. That’s just how it always was, his mother trying to make him into a normal child and his father never noticing.
The train lurched forward rocking the hanging lamps. Workers hurried around cleaning up spilled drinks and delivering meals. It wasn’t the life of the train that interested Zach. People going about mundane lives doing mundane things bored him. Death fascinated him, however. He watched each waiter trying to think of different ways death might take them. A smile spread across his face as he mentally played the role delivering that death.
From in the back of the coach, an older man in thick furs coughed loudly. His skin was grey and eyes red. Zach noticed numerous glass cups scattered around his table. Just as he lifted his hand to order another, he went into a coughing fit and vomited all over the approaching waiter. Women screamed and men gasped. The man’s eyes grey wide when he couldn’t stop long enough to catch his breath. In a shudder, he collapsed dead on his table.
The coach erupted in chaos. Husbands clung to fainted wives and waiters scurried to and fro, not really knowing what to do. Zach stood up to get a better view. His mother tried grabbing him by his dress jacket sleeve, but he yanked free. This trip had just become interesting. The dead man’s vacant eyes seemed to look in his direction. Zach took several steps forward hoping to get closer, if he could just touch the body.
He dodged a waiter trying to push him back. Only a few more feet and he would be there. His mother yelled his name begging him to come back but Zach refused to listen. He stretched out a hand. Mere inches from his target an icy grip snatched him away. He tried to pull free, expecting to see his father, but the man was not his father.
A tall, older man with long black hair held his wrist firmly. No matter how hard he tried, Zach couldn’t pull free. He looked up at the man and glared hatred. “Let me go.”
In a thick Romanian accent, the stranger answered. “Do not disturb the dead, my son. I do believe you need to return to your seat.”
“I am not your son. Now let me go.” Zach’s voice was low and threatening.
This apparently amused the man. His lips curled in a grin and Zach gasped at the sharp pointed canine teeth. When his eyes traveled to meet the man’s, he blinked rapidly. A faint red glow emanated from his deep brown eyes. “What are you?”
“This is not the time, but you will know soon enough. Now go. We shall meet again.”
PART TWO
Zach’s mother tried to pull him into a tight embrace as his father towered over them. The look in his eyes was pure hatred. Did his father actually hate him? It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. Not really. Something inside him kept him from caring. He pushed against his mother’s hard abdomen. The corset giving him enough solidity to break free.
“Oh, Zach. Are you alright? Never leave me like that again. Do you hear me young man? A dead body is no place for a child to be.” His mother was in near hysterics.
If she only knew the dead things he played with in his room. Maybe that was why his father looked at him like that. Maybe he knew. Zach searched the train compartment for the cold man and couldn’t find him in all the chaos. Something told him his future lay with that man. He needed to find him. Needed to find out what he was. That strength, that coldness. He knew how that coldness felt from his experiments but the strength. Those eyes? He still felt as if those eyes were on him.
The rest of the trip went without incident. Well, mostly. Zach spent all his time searching the train for the cold man. He never found him, but he always searched. At night, he would wake from dreams of him in a cold sweat. It left him weak. His mother fussed over him, but he pushed her away saying he was fine. The food smelled foul. No matter how much water he drank, he was still left with a thirst.
Finally, as the train pulled into the station, his mother insisted on taking Zach to the town doctor. His father dismissed it all as another stunt for attention and went off to a local tavern. When they got to the doctor’s house, she told him of Zach’s progressive illness on the train. For a brief second, the doctor’s eyes dimmed with a knowledge he knew he couldn’t share. Instead, he gave Zach’s mother a brown glass bottle of tonic to give him every night before bed.
That afternoon they left by horse drawn carriages. The road was bumpy. There was nothing to do. His mother was fascinated by the scenery passing them by and tried hard to get him interested as well. Instead, he retreated to his dark thoughts. The eyes of that man still haunted him. He wasn’t afraid. He was simply curious. And you know what curiosity gets you.
His mother gave him his medicine as they traveled. He tried to refuse but his father made a point to hold him down. It made Zach violently ill. They stopped many times along the road just so he could vomit. Still, the medicine kept being given. The hatred emanating from his father was stifling.
After what seemed like forever, the carriage passed into Bucharest. This is what finally caught Zach’s attention. Countless Romanians filled the sidewalks. Top hats bounced up and down as they walked. Towering buildings lined the streets. Each one impersonated a palace. Fancy stonework decorated three or more stories of windows while even more intricate designs framed doorways. The only thing that Zach didn’t see was a blade of grass. That was fine by him. He never enjoyed nature anyway.
Come to think of it, the only time he enjoyed anything was when a life was held in his small hands. He held the choice between life or death. That was what fascinated him.
Several turns had them stopping in front of yet another three-story building. At this point, they all started looking the same. The only difference with this one was it had a small iron fence trapping one singular tree surrounded by perfectly cut grass.
When they came to a complete stop, a swarm of servants poured out of the house. They began taking in all of their luggage and his mother had a lot. Several unhitched the horses bringing them around another corner. Zach couldn’t see where they were going, however. As soon as the light flooded in from the now open carriage door, it stung his eyes. Maybe he had been in the damnable carriage for too long. He smiled knowing if his mother knew he thought that word, it would make her upset.
His father stepped out and walked straight into the building not even looking back to see if his wife or child followed. His mother was not as cold. She practically glided down onto the sidewalk as a proper lady should. One delicate hand lifted towards him. Zach stared at it but refused her help. He jumped down. He was eight after all. Not a child anymore.
Zach straightened his vest and jacket. One day he would get to wear a top hat and be a real gentleman, not that he was gentle by any means. A cold chill ran up his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. This was a feeling he was not familiar with. The feeling of fear.
With a slow turn, Zach faced the street. Their carriage still blocked his view of the other side, so he side-stepped a few times. What he saw froze him in place. Under the awning of the home across from him stood the cold man. He stared straight at Zach with a wide smile. One hand raised to his top hat. He barely lifted it in greeting.
Suddenly, a long carriage zipped by noisily causing Zach to jump. When it passed, the cold man was gone, and Zach passed out.
PART THREE
Zach woke with a start in an unfamiliar room. A heavy blanket secured him snuggly in a strange bed. He struggled to push the blanket off and sit up. Clearly, his mother had put him here and “tucked” him in. She always pulled the blankets too tightly. She meant well.
“Young lord, please lay back down. You are not well.” A woman in nurse garb stood up from a wooden rocking chair and scampered over to him. She tried to place a comforting hand on his tiny shoulder, but she shoved her off. “Please, sir, you must lay back down.”
Zach tried to speak but his throat was so dry. It took him several swallows before he could form any words. “How long?” It was all he could say.
“Five nights, sir.” She picked up a glass from beside his bed and filled it with water from a crystal carafe. “You poor lad, your throat must be parched.”
Zach snatched the glass from her and gulped some water down. Unfortunately, it did not stay down. It spewed from his mouth, soaking the blanket just in front of him. He threw the glass across the room, but it didn’t hit a wall. Instead, it smashed to the floor.
The nanny gasped. “Now, sir, that was uncalled for!” She went to his closet and pulled out a small dustpan and hand broom. Shaking her head, she tsked while cleaning up his mess.
His little eyebrows scrunched together. Why was the water not staying down? He wrapped one hand around his throat. What little water that did soak into it, helped but he was still so very thirsty. What was happening to him?
“Stay in bed until I return.” His nanny rushed out of the room and shut the door behind her. As soon as the door closed, Zach got out of bed. He walked over to the carafe and sniffed its contents. It didn’t smell like anything. It was just water.
He slowly inserted his hand and dipped one finger into the liquid. His stomach churned when he opened his mouth letting a single drop drip onto his tongue. When it hit, he was racked with spasms throughout all his organs.
Zach cried out and hit the floor clutching his stomach. In seconds, the nanny was back with his mother in tow. She ran to her son’s side and knelt. “Oh, Zach! What is wrong?” She wrapped one hand around his upper arm. “Here, baby, let me help you back in bed.”
Reluctantly, Zach let his mother help him. She was the only one who ever truly showed him kindness. Indulging her from time to time couldn’t hurt. “Thank you, mother.”
A small smile spread on her lips. “Of course. Did you need any water?”
He shook his head. “No, Mother. I simply need sleep.”
She tucked him in again just as tightly as before. “Whatever you need, son. Sorina will see to your needs tonight.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You are still warm. I shall send for the doctor tomorrow.”
“No, Mother. I will be fine. I just need rest.”
His mother nodded and left the room. Sorina reclaimed her spot in the rocking chair and began reading from her book. Zach rolled his eyes. It was probably a romance. How disgusting.
It took a while, but Zach finally fell back asleep. He wasn’t sure how long he slept but when he awoke again, it was still night. Sorina was no longer in the rocking chair. Someone else was. It creaked under the person’s weight.
Zach wasn’t afraid even though he knew who it was. He sat up in bed and stared directly at the cold man who’s eyes glowed red in the darkness of his room.
“Hello again, Zach. We have much to discuss.” This was the first night of many, that the cold man visited him.
