A Vampyre's Daughter by Jeff Schanz (ebooks children's books free TXT) 📕

on his shoulder. “You need to stay very quiet and do not move from this bed. Do you understand?”

He was partly annoyed that she wouldn’t tell him what was happening, and partly nervous about what that might mean, and partly intrigued by this shy little odd mouse becoming miss take-charge.

He nodded, trying to appear accepting of her directive.

Her expression went neutral as she stood up.

“My father is coming,” she said flatly, then glided to the door. Apparently, she assumed nothing else needed to be said.

Father? That’s what this is about? Brandt wanted to throw out his arms and say, “So? Your father brought me here. Obviously, he knows I’m here.” Maybe the father knew why Brandt had been out on that boat. Maybe her father knew exactly who Brandt was.

Brandt didn’t get the chance to voice any of this. Lia slipped through the door and pulled it behind her. As she closed the door, she slipped the key out of the lock. The door clicked shut.

She had just locked him in the room

 

 

Brandt waited. Time passed excruciatingly slow. His aversion to being locked in a room in an unknown place wasn’t making it easier.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he figured he would at least hear the father’s voice. Yet, he heard virtually nothing. No footsteps, no raised voices, no clanging or banging like someone was in the kitchen. Pretty much nothing. Once in a while, he heard Lia’s quiet voice say something unintelligible. At first, he thought she might be whispering something to him through the door. Later he understood that she was downstairs and was addressing someone else. Someone who didn’t seem to be answering. Maybe the father was deaf and used sign language.

Brandt tried to lay still, unsure why the father hearing him, or even knowing he was in the house, was somehow concerning. The guy had brought him here. How was Brandt’s presence a surprise? And why would it matter? Did the father think Brandt was going to rape his daughter? Or was the guy some kind of mentally unstable maniac that might go crazy and try to hurt Brandt? Or a fugitive that would be upset with someone seeing his face? Brandt could relate to that. But it still didn’t explain why the man would rescue him and then have an issue with him being here.

And the king question of the day was why had Lia locked him in this damned room? Was it for his safety or some kind of kinky control? If everything went over smoothly, and daddy dearest didn't try to kill Brandt, then there were some ground rules to get straight. Either Brandt was a guest, free to come and go, or he was a prisoner. In the latter case, the situation would most definitely need to be reassessed. He wanted to think that Lia was just overreacting. She didn't seem to have a concept of subtlety or middle ground, and this could be just another of her over-cranked emotional responses.

And maybe you’re just being testy because you know you don’t have any control over the situation.

Brandt hadn’t felt like he had been in control of his life for a while now. God in heaven, or maybe the one in Hell, seemed to be bouncing Brandt around on strings, performing some secret play. Brandt was tired of being controlled, and if he was honest with himself, it may have been the reason he blew up that boat with himself inside it. No one can control a corpse.

Brandt blew out a frustrated sigh before he caught himself. The sigh was loud and the father might hear. And so what? I can handle some old guy. Even busted up, I can take care of myself. He knew that, and yet he also knew better. Confidence or not, suspicions or not, he needed to trust Lia. This situation was going to get awkward – ok, more awkward – if he couldn’t count on his initial assumption that Lia and her father (hopefully) were here to help him. They weren’t trying to do anything to him. His own troubles were just that: his.

Lia doesn’t know anything. Her dad probably didn’t either. The man was just weird or something, or overly protective. Maybe Brandt would be overprotective too if his daughter was emotionally immature, drop-dead gorgeous, and alone on an island with a strange dude. Ok, I’ll cut the dad some slack.

Brandt continued to wait patiently. He had been patient before for much longer and under much more dire circumstances. In control, or not in control, he could behave. So, he waited.

And listened. It was even quieter than before. He didn’t hear Lia’s voice anymore. Something had changed. He had no idea how he knew that, but he did. Something was happening. No footsteps sounded, no noise or smell indicated anything was afoot, yet something was. He felt it in his bones. He was intensely aware of a growing fear of some kind. Fear of nothing in particular, but fear nonetheless, like someone had opened a bottle of generic fear and he was breathing it in. This place is really, really weird.

Brandt stared at the door like it was a monster that would come alive at any moment. No one had ascended the stairs, so there couldn’t be anyone near the door. But somebody was. Again, he knew it without any evidence. Nobody could possibly have come up the stairs and down the hall without making some kind of noise, even slight. He was good at listening for subtle things, and he absolutely would’ve heard someone.

Yet someone was outside the door. And as sure as he was of that, he was also sure it was not Lia. Whoever it was just stood there, apparently not breathing, not moving, not doing anything except lurking. Dude, you’re mentally unstable.

The doorknob jiggled. Or did it? Some part of the door had moved. Or did something move in front of the door? Like a rippled wave in water, the air in front of the door changed. There was something in the room with him!

Get a freaking grip!

He wasn’t imagining it. Something was there. The air felt different around Brandt. It sounded different. In fact, there was a kind of buzzing that he now noticed, like some electrical box humming from a flow of charged current. He had heard it before. And it was getting louder. The room became blurrier. His eyelids became heavier, and his eyes stung and began to water.

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now. His head felt thick like something was growing inside of it and coating his brain in cool fluid. His limbs were heavy and couldn't be raised. Nothing would respond. His entire body was going involuntarily catatonic. In his ears, he heard his heartbeat pumping its blood through his head. The edges of his eyelids drew each other together like magnets. His vision was almost gone, and still, nothing had stepped forward to show itself.

They drugged me. That damned girl drugged me somehow before she walked out of the room! There was no other explanation. Brandt had no idea if there was any real danger facing him, but he wouldn’t tolerate being unwillingly drugged regardless. As soon as he woke up, he was getting out of here.

If he woke up. Damn it, what have they done to me?

Everything went black.

CHAPTER 3

 

 

 

 

Brandt saw the bat guy with the glowing yellow eyes again, and once again, he felt like it was real. And as before, his internal voice told him he was just dreaming.

You’re paranoid and you need to stop.

The difference in this new dream was that Lia was present. She stood somewhere behind the bat guy. If she said something, Brandt didn’t hear it. She seemed to have a conversation with the bat man without either one speaking. And then Lia and the bat man exited, the door shut behind them, and Lia left the key in the door.

Well, it’s nice to dream about it, but good luck expecting the key to really be in the door once you wake up. If you wake up.

That realization snapped Brandt awake. He shot up in the bed, breathing hard and clutching his throat. He wasn’t sure why he needed to check his neck, but there was nothing wrong with it at least. He calmed down and looked around.

Still in his room. Still alone. The door was still… No, it wasn’t locked. The key was in the slot. But that didn’t mean his dream was real. It just meant that Lia had unlocked the door at some point.

So, what else happened? What was that humming, and buzzing, and invisible person in my room?

Your imagination, dumbass. Drug side effects.

He was back to that again. Lia must have drugged him somehow. He could handle all the weirdness, and maybe even the locked door, but not the roofie. If he was in constant and severe pain, or had a broken bone or two, he could see the need to keep him sedated without his initial permission. But once he was able to converse, he should have been told about the drugs. And considering that the father seemed to see Brandt as a threat, or an unwelcome guest, it was not an acceptable option for Brandt to be without his wits. If someone came in soon to apologize and explain, then maybe he could let it slide. Otherwise, no.

He glanced around the room, seeing if there was anything new to deduce. It was day again. Damn it, how long have I been out? The chair had been moved. It was behind the foot of his bed now. The rocking chair was roughly in the same place, only angled a little differently.

He checked under the covers. He was still dressed, but his shirt was bunched up past his midriff. Tough it was a reasonable possibility that his shirt could have ridden up as he slept, he didn’t think so in this case. They had been in his room. They had discussed him to some degree and Lia had likely shown her father Brandt’s bruises. She was probably trying to convince the man that Brandt wasn’t in any shape to be kicked out. Or too pathetic to kill.

That’s fine, sweetie. I appreciate the effort, but I think I’ll take my leave.

He didn't want to be somebody's caged experiment, and it wouldn't be a good idea to stay anyway. A day ago, people tried to kill him. Brandt had killed them instead. There were more of them though. He wasn't safe here.

Problem number two. Brandt had no transportation. There was likely no way off this island without a solid boat or aircraft. And though he was sure Lia and her dad had some kind of vehicle that would be adequate, and he could steal it, that meant he was leaving them completely stranded out here. He wasn’t that cruel.

He sighed. There had to be a way. Maybe it was simpler than he thought and he just needed to go have a look. Maybe they had two vehicles. One thing for sure, he was done being the helpless captive.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and his feet came to rest next to a pair of slippers. Now what? First, he was a guest, then a captive, then an intruder. Now a guest again?

The slippers were a little big for his feet. They were well worn, so he doubted the slippers had just been flown in from Wal-Mart. They probably belonged to Lia’s dad. The weirdness gets weirder. “Daddy, please don’t kill the nice boy. And can he borrow your slippers?” Considering Brandt was a fairly solid six foot with average feet for that height, dad must be even taller. If the feet matched the height, the dad may be about six-three. Someone taught him those calculations, but he never knew if they were accurate.

Brandt dismissed the slippers and walked slowly and carefully to the door.