The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) Read Online Free

speak into my thoughts, and I his,
but since his falling ill, he has not been able to converse with me
telepathically. I cannot express how relieved I was the power had returned. I
rushed to his side, but he was more depleted than before. That bit of telepathy
had zapped him of all the energy he had received from the blood. I searched his
eyes, fearing nothing would bring him back.
    Not ready to accept his fate yet, I left him
to fetch more blood. I recruited Stephen’s help again, this time drawing from
the girl.
    “Please,” she said. “We are starved.”
    As are we, I thought.
    I siphoned more blood from the man and when I
had taken the most I could from both of them without draining them completely,
I ordered Stephen to get them some food. The ecclesiastics had left a pantry
full of preserves and canned foodstuffs. Useless to us, they had gone untouched
since we moved in. We lost our appetite for food when we lost our only true
sustenance.
    Stephen returned with a feast, and the two
humans, near fainting, gorged on the spread of viands. The food appeased them,
making them appreciate their captivity. I tossed Stephen two vials of the man’s
blood before I rushed back to Byron. “Savor it,” I said.
    When I brought the new vials to my beloved,
he consumed them more reluctantly. “I have barely kept the others down,” he
said.
    It pained me to hear of his suffering; I would
give my life to save my beloved.
    “What can I do?” I said.
    “One must resign oneself to defeat.” I could
not accept that. This was not his end. There was a way to bring him
back—there had to be.
    I coaxed him to take a sip of the girl’s
blood, reminding him the sexes carry different properties. I hoped hers would
impact him greatly. He took the vial, forcing a smile. He tore off the cap and
raised the container to his lips, tipping the end up gently and letting a few
drops hit his tongue. I waited for him to take a proper swig. “Does she taste
as sweet as she smells?”
    He took another swig and rolled the serum
around in his mouth as though sampling a Beaujolais. When he finally swallowed,
he grinned. “Saccharine,” he said.
    I had only tasted blood that sweet once, soon
after I had become a vampire. I resided in a tomb, living among the dead by day
since it felt like the most apt place to be in the beginning. We lived in a
different world then and at night I would wander the gardens and fields,
preying on any human that crossed my path—I did not discriminate. One
evening, taking in the fresh Mediterranean air, I came upon a woman sitting
alone between two olive trees.
    “Salutations, my sister.”
    “And to you, my brother.”
    Her belly was round and full. “May I give you
a hand?”
    “No, I am well,” she said. “Just waiting for
the pass to come.”
    She was about to deliver, sent out to give
birth alone in the night. It was not the custom for mothers to give birth to
their sons alone, for they would often die before hearing their child’s first
cry, but this woman and her child were abandoned.
    “Shall I wait with you?” I was just a novice
then with remnants of my humanity.
    When her labor began, I held her hands,
letting her use me as leverage. She squeezed me with all her might, but barely
crushed my hardened skin, and I was careful not to squeeze back. She squatted
between the trees, pushing down on her pelvis with her body’s whole force, and
the dewy grass beneath her glistened with drops of blood. The smell overwhelmed
me, and though I had wanted to wait for the baby, the sight of her torn flesh,
bloody and ripe, drove me into a frenzy. I reached down and touched the wet
grass below her. When I brought my fingers up to my lips, I was lost. My fangs
tore into her neck, and I sucked the life from her, as she delivered her
stillborn child onto the slippery grass between her legs. It was the sweetest
blood I had ever tasted—dulcet and candied.
    The human girl I had brought into the
cathedral, the one whose