Chapter One
As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious. The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere. "Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late." She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul. "Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight." Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed. "Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here." Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated. "I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here." Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night." Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight. Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle. Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor. "Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight." "Why?" Emily asked subconsciously. Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up." When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass. In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.
Chapter Two
In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.
It was Draco.
"Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.
"How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.
Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"
The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.
"Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.
"You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."
At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.
"Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.
Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."
"The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.
Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.
Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."
As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.
Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.
Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.
"Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.
"Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."
Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.
Chapter Three
Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.
When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.
The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.
"She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.
"I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."
Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.
"Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.
The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.
"I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"
Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.
Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.
She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"
Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."
Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.
"So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.
Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."
Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.
It was Draco.
He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."
Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."
Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.
The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.
Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."
She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.
Chapter Four
As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.
That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.
"Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."
Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."
Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"
Emily froze. "What do you mean?"
"The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."
A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.
Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"
The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.
"Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.
Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.
Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."
She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.
As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.
Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.
Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.
As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.
Chapter Five
The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.
One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.
'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'
"Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."
Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"
Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."
"What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.
"There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."
Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.
"You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"
Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"
Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.
"Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"
She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."
When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.
"My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."
Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."
"She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."
The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.
"The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."
As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.
Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"
But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.
"It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."
In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.
Kapitel 1 (1)
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1
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Min nye familie var en del af Mohawk-stammen, men de blev ledet af en fredelig mand ved navn Deganawida, som var blevet adopteret ind i stammen. Det havde været ret svært at få en præcis forståelse af de forskellige stammer, og hvordan de interagerede med hinanden på grund af de forskellige sprog, de talte, men Deganawida kunne nok engelsk til, at jeg kunne skitsere et vagt begreb om deres kulturelle klima. Der var i det væsentlige flere andre nabolande, og de bekrigede ofte hinanden for varer, territorier eller på grund af personlige fejder, men Deganawida længtes efter varig fred mellem dem alle.
Alt i alt var Amerika - eller den Nye Verden, som mange kaldte det - et vildt og vildt sted sammenlignet med de andre civilisationer på den anden side af havet, men der var også en frisk ærlighed i luften her. Ingen foregav at være noget andet end det, de var.
Ingen bekymrede sig om min blodige historie. At tænke på den fortid - selv hvis det var uklart - fik altid mine skuldre til at rykke sig højere op, paranoid over at mine fjender holdt øje med mig fra de mørke skove. Jeg tog en beroligende indånding, jeg var fortrolig med følelsen nu.
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Verdens første vampyr, Sorin Ambrogio, var simpelthen forsvundet.
Sammen med verdens første varulv, Lucian, og verdens første troldmand, Nero. De tre mest usandsynlige venner.
Ingen vidste, at vi var flygtet til Amerika for at finde et nyt liv.
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De havde aldrig oplevet det isnende hyl fra en varulv som Lucian.
De utrolige kræfter hos en nysgerrig troldmand som Nero.
Eller jagtskriget fra verdens første vampyr-mig.
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Vi var hver især kommet hertil for at flygte fra vores mørke, blodige fortid. Jeg havde engang været en simpel, ydmyg eventyrer ved navn Sorin Ambrogio - en mand, der fandt en skat, som ikke var min at finde.
Jeg havde besøgt det sagnomspundne orakel i Delfi i Grækenland for at få min skæbne at vide. Hendes kryptiske ord havde for altid ændret mit enkle, nysgerrige liv:
Forbandelsen.
MånPen.J
Blodet vil løbe.
Bekymret over min dystre profeti var jeg blevet i nærheden af templet. Som skæbnen ville have det, mødte jeg en kvinde ved navn Selene, som tilfældigvis var Oraklets søster. Med tiden voksede jeg til at elske Selene.
Således begyndte min nedtur i blodet. Jeg havde fundet en skat, der ville koste mig min sjæl.
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Som bitter gengældelse for min uretfærdige straf havde jeg valgt at blive verdens mest berygtede morder og samle en hær af mænd og kvinder ligesom mig.
Jeg forvandlede en mand ved navn Dracula til at hjælpe mig i min søgen - for at spytte guderne i øjnene og grine.
Og så lavede jeg flere ... og flere ... og flere ... og flere. Min appetit havde været umættelig.
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Faktisk havde jeg elsket dem for det.
Men efterhånden som århundredernes erobringer trak ud, kedede jeg mig mere og mere af mit kald og var bekymret over, hvad jeg havde født i min hær af vampyrer. Jeg byggede et slot for at hjælpe med at holde dem tilbage, men det var ikke nok. Mine vampyrer spredte sig over Europa som en pest.
Snart blev min bekymring kendt, og der opstod kløfter mellem mig og Dracula, mellem mig og mine vampyrer. De ville alle have deres Djævel tilbage, men jeg begyndte at tro, at jeg ville have manden Sorin tilbage.
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Men da jeg begyndte at gøre indsigelse, havde mine vampyrer vendt sig mod mig - tilskyndet af Dracula, som efterhånden havde vendt dem mod mig.
I stedet for at forsøge at dræbe hver eneste af mine skabninger - og sandsynligvis dø mod et så overvældende antal - var jeg flygtet, da jeg ikke længere ønskede at have noget med deres stræben efter magt at gøre. Jeg gav Dracula min figurative krone, gav ham mit slot og efterlod det hele.
For at blive en eventyrer igen. For at finde manden, Sorin Ambrogio - den mand, jeg engang havde været.
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Hvor vi var stødt på de amerikanske indianere - et folk, som ikke lignede noget, vi havde kendt i Europa. De tog imod os, uden at være bange for vores mærkelige kræfter og troede, at vi var store beskyttere. Hævnende ånder fanget i menneskekroppe.
"Fortryder du din beslutning om ikke at gå på jagt med dine venner?" spurgte en mand over min skulder og fik mig ud af mine minder. Hans stemme og den sædvanlige urteduft fra hans pibe havde en afslappende virkning på mine skuldre, og jeg udstødte et suk. Jeg havde fornemmet ham lurede i nærheden i et stykke tid nu.
Kapitel 1 (2)
"Der vil altid være en anden jagt, shaman," svarede jeg og vendte mig mod stammens medicinmand, Deganawida. Han kneb øjnene sammen over det udtryk, jeg havde brugt, selv om han vidste, at jeg kun brugte det for at gøre ham uvenner.
En medicinmand var ikke det samme som en shaman.
Og ingen af dem var det samme som en troldmand, selv om jeg ikke rigtigt kunne forklare de specifikke forskelle - alle tre brugte magi og bøjede elementerne efter deres vilje. Nero havde været konstant på kant, hver gang Deganawida begyndte at spidse ham med spørgsmål om hans kræfter.
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Deganawida var en stærk, imponerende mand med lysebrun hud og fyldigt sort hår, der var flettet ned ad ryggen hele vejen ned til taljen. Han så ud til at være sidst i trediverne, men hans aura var som en præsts eller en boksers - uden den rå vold, dømmekraft og fromhed, som jeg var mere vant til fra disse ædle erhverv. Medicinmanden aftvang respekt, førte visdom som det skarpeste af alle sværd og havde et bredt, kantet ansigt, der altid var på kanten af grin.
Deganawida nikkede og kastede et blik forbi mig på skoven. "De andre er bange for at jage med Lucian."
Jeg rynkede mine bryn. "Lucian ville aldrig gøre skade..."
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Jeg slap et suk og nikkede samstemmende. "Det gør han desværre," indrømmede jeg, uden at gøre mig den ulejlighed at skjule mit grin. "Jeg kommer til at savne ham og Nero. Jeg ville ønske, at de ville finde stærkere bånd til din stamme, men de er opdagelsesrejsende, erobrere og vandrere i hjertet."
"De vil finde deres fred i sidste ende, hvis det er det, de søger." Han holdt en tankefuld pause og pillede på en sten på en lædersnor, der var bundet om hans hals, mens han kiggede på mig fra sidelinjen. "Dette er også din stamme, Sorin. Jeg ville tro, at det i det mindste blev klart ved at gifte mig med min datter."
Jeg gryntede og smilede, da jeg så hans datter - min nye kone - bære en kurv med grøntsager hen til ilden. Hun smilede af min opmærksomhed, før hun fortsatte. Selv om hun var min kone, var hun på mange måder fremmed for mig, da vores kulturer var så vidt forskellige. Smertefulde minder om Selene gled ind i mine tanker, men jeg skubbede dem ned igen.
KæGrHl.iBgahyed yhaRvdeh fRorbOande'tV vm'ig føfrf,A kså& Gjeg vaOr f&owrsótåVelói_gtS nPoÉkZ tøvenvd,eD.
"Bubbling Brook er en fin kvinde," sagde jeg til Deganawida, "selv om der stadig er meget, jeg skal lære om hende."
Den gamle mand nikkede. "Hendes engelsk vil blive bedre, og I to vil blomstre op."
Jeg kneb øjnene sammen på ham og hadede, hvor hurtigt han var begyndt at forbedre sit eget engelsk. "Din hurtige forståelse af mit sprog er ret foruroligende, ved du. Jeg skulle aldrig have indvilget i at uddanne dig."
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Jeg spottede og smilede til ham. "Jeg taler ikke som en politiker eller en gudsmand, mener du."
"Du taler som en ydmyg mand, ja," var han enig og pustede tilfreds i sin pibe, "hvilket jeg finder mere ærligt og ægte. Der er selvfølgelig tid til begge dele. Især med vores nyeste... naboer, der bygger bosættelser langs hele kysten," sagde han træt. "Jeg tror, at kommunikation vil være afgørende i de kommende år. Ord eller våben... ord eller våben."
Jeg nikkede beklageligt. "Jeg er glad for at høre, at du endelig er begyndt at se, hvad jeg advarede dig om for mange år siden," sagde jeg blidt.
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Jeg lagde mærke til, at Deganawida holdt en dagbog i albuens bøjning og kradsede på siderne, mens han holdt sin pibe fast mellem tænderne. "Hvad skriver du, gamle mand?"
"Vores historie," sagde han glad. "Den sande historie," tilføjede han betydningsfuldt og kastede et blik på min søn, min kone og så på mig. "Hvordan tre monstre huskede, at de var mennesker, og at deres hjerter var stærkere end deres had. Selv om jeg var nødt til at overtale en af dem til at tro det," tilføjede han skævt.
Jeg gryntede og kiggede forsigtigt på journalen. "Det er en farlig historie at skrive på papir, Deganawida. Hvis de forkerte mennesker nogensinde fik sandheden om mig at vide, kunne det bringe problemer over dig..." Jeg rømmede mig efter hans buede bryn. "Vores folk. Ord er virkelig våben, og de vil blive holdt mod din egen strube som oftest..."
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Jeg spottede. "Næppe. Og jeg råder stadig til, at denne dagbog er en tåbelig risiko. Den tegner kun et mål på din ryg - endnu en grund til, at bosætterne vil jage dig. Tro mig, jeg kender tankerne hos mændene fra den anden side af havet - og jeg taler ikke engang om mit eget forbandede afkom." Jeg vred mig, da et barn i nærheden fnisede, da det faldt om på bagdelen.
Min søn.
Han var selvfølgelig ikke det forbandede afkom, som jeg havde talt om. Jeg havde talt om de vampyrer, jeg havde efterladt derhjemme - mine første børn.
Kapitel 1 (3)
Jeg smilede, da jeg så min nye kone grine, mens hun hjalp den solbrune unge dreng op på benene igen og opfordrede ham til at prøve igen. Månelyset ramte hendes sorte hår, der glimtede som poleret obsidian.
Jeg var begyndt at kalde hende Bubble. Det havde hun ikke brudt sig om i starten og havde krævet at vide, hvorfor jeg ville stjæle hendes navn. Det havde taget noget tid at overbevise hende om, at det var et kærlighedsudtryk - fordi stammen brugte deres fulde navne i alle undtagen de mest intime situationer.
Jeg var stædig og havde til sidst vundet.
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Verdens første vampyr havde undfanget en søn - noget, der var blevet anset for umuligt.
"Du ved, hvad jeg mener," sagde jeg til sidst og vendte mig tilbage til Deganawida. "Min historie er farlig at fortælle. Hvis de forkerte mennesker hørte den ..." Jeg afbrød, da jeg vidste, at vores endeløse debat var nyttesløs.
"Det beskriver mænd overalt, Sorin." Jeg kastede et tvivlsomt blik på ham, og han viftede med hånden. "Vi har også monstre her, Sorin. Hudvandrere er sjældne, men de kan være ubeskriveligt onde." Jeg nikkede dystert, da jeg kun havde hørt en enkelt historie - i et lukket telt - om de frygtede skinwalkers. "Jeg er sikker på, at der er lige så mange gode bosættere som der er onde bosættere. Mænd, der kæmper for at finde et nyt liv ..." sagde han og bøjede et spidst øjenbryn mod mig.
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"Jeg har den samme frygt, Sorin. Men denne dagbog er kun for vores familie - kun til at blive talt omkring vores bål. Hvil roligt."
Med et træt suk lod jeg den gå. Han lukkede sin dagbog og fortsatte med at stå ved siden af mig. Jeg studerede manden sidelæns. I ham så jeg en storhed, der ventede på at komme frem. Uanset om det ville være som en bloddryppende kriger eller som en statsmand, der formidlede fred mellem de hvide bosættere og de mange - til tider hensynsløse - andre stammer, der levede i denne modige nye verden.
Jeg vendte mig om efter en mærkelig lyd fra Deganawida og fandt ham bag mig stirrende og forfærdet på trægrænsen.
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Så kom skriget.
Kapitel 2 (1)
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2
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Jeg dykkede ned bag en træstub, da pilene slog ned i jorden omkring mig og forhindrede mig i at dykke dybt ned i kaoset. Skrig fyldte natten, og tiden syntes at gå langsommere, da mine rov-sanser tog over. Jeg havde ikke spist meget blod i de seneste dage, så mine kræfter var begrænsede, men jeg havde mere end nok styrke til at slagte vores dødelige, menneskelige angribere - medmindre jeg blev overdænget med pile. Jeg bar ingen af mine gamle rustninger. Jeg var trods alt kun lige vågnet op.
Men min familie var derude - to mennesker, som var afhængige af, at jeg sørgede for deres sikkerhed.
Det var tid for Djævelen at gå på arbejde.
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Mine kløer flåede kød af knoglerne, fjernede organer og skar lemmer af.
Jeg havde ikke engang tid til at spise, af frygt for at jeg var for sulten og ville miste mig selv i måltidet, hvilket ville være et perfekt mål for den næste angriber. Døden nu, middagen senere.
Men mens jeg slagtede og udtog angriber efter angriber, fik jeg svage glimt af overmenneskelig fart, hørte vilde brøl og skrig, der ikke tilhørte noget naturligt.
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Jeg skreg og brølede, mit raseri fordobledes for at lære de ikke-menneskelige trusler at kende, og mine arme glitrede snart af varmt, karminrødt blod, men angriberne havde først rettet sig mod vores krigere, og det så ud til, at jeg var den eneste, der kæmpede tilbage. Den eneste mand, der var tilbage til at forsvare kvinderne og børnene.
Jeg lyttede med fjern forfærdelse til, hvordan min stamme blev mejet ned af både traditionelle våben og uoverskuelige monstre, der flåede min stamme i stykker, hurtigere end jeg kunne beskytte dem.
Jeg slog ud og greb et væsen, mens det fløj forbi mig. Jeg sank mine hugtænder ned i hans skulder og risikerede en hurtig drik, før jeg flåede et stykke kød af hans krop ud af hans krop så let som et barberblad. Manden gispede og skreg, da han gik ned, mens han klamrede sig til sit sår og skreg af opgivenhed.
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Den udtørrede jord spiste af det spildte blod, og jeg måtte tvinge mine lavere instinkter til at ignorere den velsmagende sult, som det tændte i mig. Tørsten efter blod var overvældende, selv om jeg vidste, at det tilhørte min familie. For overalt hvor jeg så hen, var de døde, jeg havde efterladt i mit kølvand, blandet med min stammes, hvilket gjorde det umuligt at se, hvor et lig sluttede og et andet begyndte.
Umuligt at skelne fjendens blod fra min stammes blod.
Umuligt at finde rent blod, der ikke var bundet til min egen familie.
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Jeg havde lugtet både varulve og vampyrer og...
Mine læber krøllede sig tilbage. En købmand af magi. En troldmand af en slags. Det var derfor, jeg ikke havde fornemmet angrebet, før de allerede var over os. Nogen havde dækket lysningen med magi og sløret mine sanser. Tilsyneladende sløvede han selv Deganawidas sanser.
Men der var ingen troldmænd eller varulve her i Amerika - bortset fra Lucian og Nero. Og jeg havde hørt om ingen nye både, der gik i land.
Hvor XvUaJr midnZ xkLoKne og XmQiRn BsgøHn? éHdvHoAr var DReganhalwid&a?B
Jeg strejfede rundt i lejren og søgte efter overlevende, fjender, alle, der kunne give mig svar, og jeg snublede ved hvert skrig og råb. Døde, glasagtige øjne stirrede op på mig og gennemtrængte min sjæl, idet de bad til deres store beskytter om at hjælpe dem ...
Mig.
Men der var så få reelle overlevende.
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Det ophørte aldrig med at forbløffe mig, hvor hurtigt en mand kunne vågne op, når et spyd trængte ind i hans bagdel.
Men jeg havde ikke tid til at nyde denne berettigede tortur. Jeg lod ham skrige og tigge, så rædselsslagen og tortureret, at han ikke turde sparke med fødderne af frygt for at øge sin nuværende grad af smerte. Jeg støttede ham nok til ikke at lade ham dø for hurtigt, idet jeg bogstaveligt talt holdt hans liv i min klo, mens jeg lænede mig tæt ind til ham for at afsløre mine hugtænder. Det krævede alt i min magt ikke at dræne ham ud, men jeg havde brug for information.
Og han var gennemvædet af blod fra min egen stamme; han havde ligget oven på en trio af unge piger. Unge piger, som tidligere havde lavet en krans af hvide blomster til mig, og som sang og grinede, mens de dansede op til mig.
"hHv!aÉd varm m.enRinggOe_n móevd )detKte an!grVeb?"v J,emgw pfUorQlaing_tce. G"HwvYem eOr* idduA?Q"P
Mandens øjne var vilde af rædsel og smerte, hans hals blødte frit. Jeg rystede ham og hvæsede, idet jeg åbnede kæberne vidt op. Hans øjne låste sig endelig fast på mine, og et udtryk af selvtilfreds stolthed flimrede kortvarigt over hans ansigt, da han så, at hans skæbne var beseglet. "Ingen kan undslippe deres fortid," knurrede han. "Dracula sender sine hilsner, Devil."
Før jeg kunne presse ham på svaret, mærkede jeg en pludselig opblomstring af smerte i mit bryst. Jeg tabte ham instinktivt, spidsen af spyddet flåede ud gennem hans hals, mens han udstødte et gispende gisp. Jeg snublede tilbage, mens ilden rasede gennem min krop. Jeg stirrede ned for at finde en grov træpæl i mit bryst, tæt nok til at barbere mit hjerte, men ikke gennembore det, ellers var jeg allerede død. Jeg blinkede i vantro og vaklede. Mennesket var blevet sendt af Dracula, min gamle tjener - den første mand, jeg havde forvandlet.
Kapitel 2 (2)
Den mand, som jeg havde overladt alt til, da jeg flygtede fra Europa.
Men til en mand, der levede af en uendelig tørst efter blod ... selv min sidste gave havde ikke været nok. Han havde endelig sendt mænd efter mig, og den fejltagelse havde slagtet min nye familie.
Det var et træk af en mand, der var desperat nok til at bide den hånd, der fodrede ham, i håb om at det ville være nok til at lade verden tro, at han var vigtigere, end han i virkeligheden var. En mand, der var så rædselsslagen for at lade verden opdage, at den eneste grund til, at han sad på min trone, var fordi jeg havde kastet min krone og givet den til ham uden så meget som et blik bagud.
Drxacu&laL f... deZn.nceb ÉpPestjildexn&siskTe, ynkelMi'ge cpóebstK a^fg JpakranMoiud( mangÉe*l *pWå& )pAarano.i!diteti.
Jeg faldt ned på knæ og stirrede på den døde mand. Men hans livløse blik stirrede ind i Djævelens øjne, og jeg ønskede intet mere end at vække ham til live igen, så jeg kunne dræbe ham igen. Langsomt. Gennem århundreder. Alt imens jeg forestillede mig ham som Dracula - mit hybris' afkom.
Verden begyndte at dreje rundt, og mine kløer sank ned i den blodige jord. Jeg spyttede mørkt blod og grimasserede over den mærkelige smag i min mund. Hans blod. Det ... var inficeret med noget.
Og jeg havde drukket af ham.
H*vaZd vaJrp hdUext? HivPaédL hJavde 'hjabnM gujLort? lHvga*dJ zhLavdfeR lDrbac*uVla fOådet hDarmi ztigl CatC dgør)e! vetd lsSiGtO Keget! Mbwlod?b
Jeg vidste, at hans påstand måtte være sand. Ingen af de mennesker, jeg havde mødt i Amerika, kendte til vampyrer - og de havde bestemt ikke hørt om Dracula. Deganawida havde sagt det og bedt mig om at forklare, hvad der var anderledes ved mig, da han aldrig var stødt på en mand som mig. Han havde holdt det hemmeligt - for det meste - for resten af stammen. De vidste, at jeg var en mand med dæmoner, og at jeg havde en form for kraft, at jeg drak blod, men ingen af dem havde virket særlig interesseret, da de var godt bekendt med magi, da de havde en magtfuld medicinmand som Deganawida til at vejlede dem. Hvis han troede, at jeg og mine venner var i sikkerhed, havde det været nok for dem.
Så hvordan havde disse angribere vidst det? Hvordan havde de fundet mig?
"Jeg er nødt til at finde Bubble... Min søn," mumlede jeg og indså, at jeg nu sad i en pøl af blodigt mudder ved siden af trioen af unge piger. Deres hænder rakte ud efter mig og tiggede om min hjælp, min hævn.
NogRle afV Kdmimss!e raXrm^e& vsa_r iBkkQeé lDænRgeyre fa'st)gdjor_t*.)
Og mens jeg stirrede nedad, mens jeg kæmpede for at bekæmpe min egen svimmelhed, hørte jeg deres latter fra tidligere - overlejret over deres livløse kroppe. Jeg begyndte at kaste op og forsøgte desperat at uddrive det forgiftede blod fra min krop, men hvert forsøg mindede mig om pælen i mit bryst.
Deganawida kom skrævende ud af et brændende telt, og hans øjne låste sig fast på mig. Hans ansigt var dækket af aske og mudder og blod, og hans fingre var blæret og brændt - enten fra at bruge sin magi eller fra at trække overlevende ud af flammerne. Men hans blik i øjnene fortalte mig, at der ikke var mange - hvis nogen - af de sidstnævnte.
Han snublede tættere på, øjnene var fastlåst på mit sår i brystet, og hans læber strammede sig sammen.
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"Blod," indrømmede jeg med et smertefuldt støn. "Og jeg kan ikke se nogen fjendekroppe at drikke," snerrede jeg og scannede mine omgivelser. Mit tidligere offer var dødt, ikke langt væk, men hans blod var forgiftet. Sandsynligvis havde alle angriberne gift i deres blod - det var praktisk talt en garanti for min død. Hvis jeg ikke havde været målet, ville jeg have været imponeret over taktikken.
Jeg havde lært min protegé for godt.
Jeg stirrede ud på den stønnende stamme, dem der stadig var i live, vel vidende at de kun var få øjeblikke fra døden - hvis de var heldige. Alt det blod. Det eneste, der kunne hjælpe mig med at helbrede mig, var omkring mig.
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Situationen gjorde mig syg. "Jeg må finde min familie," raspede jeg og greb desperat fat i hans ærme. Det var flænset af kløer, og jeg så vredt huller i kødet på hans skulder. Han vred sig ikke ved mit greb, så jeg kiggede igen op på den hårde skiderik. "Bubbling Brook. Min søn," hviskede jeg desperat. "Jeg har brug for rent blod!"
Hans beskidte ansigt var stribet af tåreflader. "De brændte teltet med dine blodlagre, og-" hans stemme blev kvalt, og hans skuldre sank sammen. "Min datter og mit barnebarn... klarede sig ikke," hviskede han, og hans stemme knækkede til sidst. "Jeg kunne ikke finde dem!"
Min verden rystede, som om jeg var blevet slået i hovedet, og en konstant klynkende lyd fyldte mine ører. Nej ... det kunne ikke passe. De havde været så tæt på mig, da det hele begyndte. De måtte være lige rundt om hjørnet. Mit syn svømmede og snurrede vildt, mens jeg ventede på, at min kone og min søn skulle komme ud bag et af de brændende telte, ivrige efter at vise mig, at de havde overlevet - at min unavngivne søn havde lært at gå!
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Havde oraklet i Delfi haft ret?
Som om det var et svar, hørte jeg kun flere klager, jamren og skrig af smerte. De fordømtes helvedes kor. Djævelens bøn.
Deganawida slog mig på kæben og fik mig ud af mit mareridt. "Sorin! Du er den eneste, der kan hævne os. Du skal spise."
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Vi havde prøvet det en gang - bare en prøve. Det havde været katastrofalt. Jeg havde svoret aldrig mere at drikke blodet fra en medicinmand. Jeg ville sandsynligvis ende med at dræbe de få, der havde overlevet i min vilde, ukontrollerbare blodtørst.
Forståelsen gryede i Deganawidas ansigt, og han rystede og nikkede sørgmodigt. "Der er ... måske en anden måde, Sorin. Nogen må få dem til at betale for det, de gjorde, og jeg må hjælpe de sårede. Få dem i sikkerhed..."
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