Willow by Missy Jenkins (ereader with dictionary .txt) 📕

Year: 1610
Near Csejte Castle, Slovakia

Willow Marx shuddered as a scoop of dirt landed on top of her beaten and bloody body. Chills spread from her spine in an outward direction. Her fingertips and toes were the last to feel the prickly cooling sensation. The shivering and quaking was not from lying in a shallow grave as two men buried her alive it was from the fear of not knowing what would happen next.

At any time, the two strangers could bash her head in or take advantage of her, which terrified her. However, whatever the two men could come up with was nothing compared to the torture her mistress, Lady Bathory, had subjected her to the night before. The woman was sadistic.

Willow also feared that her twin sister, Magna, would not rest until she discovered what happened to her, thus placing herself and Magna’s daughter, Zoya, in possible danger.

Deep down in her gut, Willow sensed that if the gravediggers saw her shed a tear they would receive some perverse enjoyment out of it, which would prolong her impending death. She bit her bottom lip as the weight of the dirt dug into her wounds.

A crow cawed as it flew over Willow’s grave. Instinctively she looked up at the same time a scoop of dirt came flying at her. She flinched as the soil landed on top of her chest. An earthworm crawled from a clump of dirt and inched its way toward her face. Willow gagged on vomit as she noticed the other spiders and bugs for the first time.

She wanted to die. She did not want to suffer any more. Yet, she wanted to live. She wanted to watch her niece grow up into a fine young woman. She wanted to search for the other missing girls who had worked for Bathory. It was hard to imagine that they received any better treatment than she did. Every time a servant girl disappeared the excuse was, “They ran off in the middle of the night.” Yet, the screams after midnight led her to believe otherwise.

Willow held her breath as the gravediggers peered over the edge of her grave. She avoided making eye contact and waited for them to strike her with a shovel.

“I say we just leave her. She cannot move anyhow. Let the critters eat her,” the first man slurred. “Who is gonna know we didn’t finish? No one is allowed back here in the woods except us or the mistress.”

The agitation in his voice was not hard to notice.

The other man tossed his shovel into her grave. “Let’s go. I’m tired of burying bodies.”

Willow detected a hint of agitation in his voice.

The other man tossed his shovel into her grave. “Let’s go. I’m tired of burying bodies.”

Willow wanted to scream once she knew the men had moved far enough away but her voice failed her. At the same time, she knew it was fruitless even if she could do so. Who would hear her pleas for help?

As minutes passed by, she watched as black birds flitted from one tree branch to another. Their flurry of activity kept her mind from thinking of her imminent doom. She never expected birds would be the last thing she would see before her death. Maybe they were angels in disguise to give her final moments some measure of comfort. Her body began to relax for the first time in over twenty-four hours.

Her short reprieve from the pain and panic ended as thunder rattled and raindrops pelted the ground.

She lost all hope. Mustering up what courage she had left in her bones, she begged God, “Please take me.” She truly was not ready for death even though it was inevitable. What she was ready for was for the fear, the pain, and suffering to end.

As she said her final prayer, a dark cloud moved over her and blocked what little light she had.

“Ssh… I am here. I’m going to save you.” A masculine voice whispered.

It had to be God

, Willow thought as she slid into unconsciousness.

Year 2010

When a person dies from a vampire’s feeding, they have three stages of emotions that flicker in their eyes. Shock is the first. Their wide eyes tend to stare into the eyes of the monster they never knew existed. The second emotion is the worst for Willow to see and that’s ‘Oh my God I’m going to die’ look. The third phase is when their eyes glaze over as they fade into the light of heaven or the fire of hell.

After four-hundred years, guilt still managed to find Willow as she fed from humans. Therefore, she tried her hardest to hunt those who deserved it the most like the child molester who lay at her feet.

He was not dead yet. His eyes stared into hers as she has seen at least a thousand times if not more.

“Please kill me quickly,” he gurgled. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He should have been dead by now, Willow cursed at herself. It was not like her to stop when feeding on a criminal.

He reached out and grabbed her ankle, “Please…”

She knew this man was a child molester. She had heard him talking to a friend over the phone a few moments ago about his latest conquests as she prowled the night. She moved closer to his house and kicked the trashcans over hoping to coax him out. It had worked. She jumped him from behind before he knew what was happening.

However, something stopped her from finishing him off. This bothered her. She walked around him, watched him, listened to his erratic heartbeat and could not figure out what it was until she heard the soft tears of a child coming from inside his house.

“And you think I’m a monster?” She growled.

She wanted to tear into his flesh. She wanted to rip his body to pieces but the human side of her was just as strong and it wanted justice for the child. Killing him would be the easy way out for him but not for his victims.

There was only one thing she could do.

She knelt down as she bit into her wrist and forced her blood inside him. He gagged and fought against her.

“You crazy…” before he could finish she grabbed him by his neck and raised him off the ground.

“If I were you I wouldn’t finish that sentence.”

As his wounds healed she used her mind control to make him forget she was ever there but not before she implanted the idea he needed to call the cops and confess to his crimes.

She slinked back into the darkness and watched him wobble up his back steps. Five minutes passed before the first police cruiser slid to a stop in the man’s driveway. Simultaneously dozens of lights flickered on from various homes as the residents walked out onto their lawns to see what the commotion was about.

“You made a mistake,” a voice whispered from behind.

She spun around. There in the darkness her maker, Demetrius Alexander, leaned against a tree with a grim smirk across his face. Only he and her other maker, Kristof St. John, could sneak up on her.

“A mistake?”

She thought she had done right by the child.

“Yes…” He paused long enough to push himself off the tree and step forward. “What do you think will happen when that pervert is put into the already overcrowded jail system? His sentence will be shortened and he’ll be back out on the streets doing the same thing over again.”

In her rush to do the right thing, she may have done the wrong thing. She hated it when Demetrius was right. What she hated even more was that another child sometime in the future would suffer at the hands of the creep that now sat in the backseat of a police cruiser. She should have remembered to wipe away the man’s addiction.

“I didn’t think about that,” She mumbled as she brushed past Demetrius.

“Oh don’t hate yourself. Just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you should remember everything.” He chased after her through the darkness. “Mistakes happen.”

Willow spun around and stopped. “Why are you even here? I thought you were in Italy.”

“Kristof and I want to talk to you.”

An alarm went off inside her head. They rarely if ever had to talk to her together. This could not be good.

“Kristof is here to?”

Could this night get any worse

? She pondered as she wiped the blood from her mouth with a handkerchief she kept in her pockets.

She motioned with an outstretched arm for Demetrius to lead the way. As she followed him through the shadows, the sirens of other police cruisers penetrated the air…


***


Creed Hunter waited patiently as the other wolves in the pack left the barn they used as a meeting place. The last two wolves left were his father, Josiah the pack master, and himself. His father remained in the doorway watching the cars pull away as he always does.

“Dad”

Josiah spun around. “What is it?”

“You tell me. I can tell your holding something back.”

Just moments before, Creed had listened as his father gave notice that a female vampire was moving to Thorn Creek, Missouri. He warned the group that no harm would come to her by any of the pack members. In fact, they were to treat her with respect and befriend her if possible. They would look after her as if she was one of their own.

While the myth that vampires and wolves hated one another was not true, it was still a little weird. Most supernatural species tend to stick with their own kind.

“You are too perceptive for your age.” Josiah grumbled as he went around picking up the trash the wolves left behind.

Creed followed his dad’s actions and began picking up the red plastic cups left lying around. “So who is she and why is she so special?”

Josiah stopped and sat down on the nearest bale of hay. “Sit. We can get the trash later.”

Creed sat across from his dad. Moonlight filtered through the slats in the walls and roof casting a blue glow across the dirt packed floor.