A Vampire's Christmas Carol

A VAMPIRE’S CHRISTMAS CAROL

A Novella by

Karen McCullough

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Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition Published By:

Karen McCullough

A VAMPIRE’S CHRISTMAS CAROL

Copyright © 2007 by Karen G. McCullough

Originally published as:

VAMPIRE’S CHRISTMAS CAROL

In the anthology

BENEATH A CHRISTMAS MOON

First electronic edition 2007

First print edition 2008

Cerridwen Press
An imprint of Ellora’s Cave

Electronic Edition License Notes

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Table
of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the Author

Chapter
1

Carol Prescott clung to the steering wheel of
the Neon. Her fingers wrapped it in a death grip as she stared
through the windshield, trying to keep the car on the road and
figure out where the hell she was. Even with her brights on, the
headlights barely pierced the stormy darkness for more than twenty
yards ahead.

The rain had changed to sleet a few miles
beyond Greenville, creating icy patches on the roads. No doubt the
weather had caused the accident that blocked both southbound lanes
of the interstate, forcing her to exit and detour on small country
roads. Traffic had been sparse on the highway. It dwindled to near
nothing when she got off it. No surprise. Everyone else had
traveled earlier.

Now, at nine-thirty on Christmas Eve, they
were all safe and snug, partying with relatives, hanging stockings,
toasting each other in front of a warm fire and trying to keep the
children entertained or induce them to get to sleep. All the things
she wanted to be doing at her parents’ house in Decatur. Would be
doing by now if her boss hadn’t insisted he needed that last report
done before she left. Instead she was still almost an hour and a
half from Atlanta. She cursed him under her breath, again, then
tightened her fingers on the wheel as the road curved around a bend
and the tires nearly lost traction on the slick surface. God, she
wanted to be finished with this trip.

A crossroads loomed ahead, with just a couple
of local road markers. No indication of how to get back to the
highway. She so needed to get a GPS navigation system. Put it on
the shopping list. She reached for her cell phone, thinking it was
time to call nine one one, then dropped it in disgust after a
glance at the screen. No signal. Figured. There was a whole lot of
nothing much in the area between Atlanta and Greenville. She needed
a new cell service too. One with better coverage.

Carol guessed she was south of the highway,
so she turned right on the theory that it should take her back
toward the interstate. She needed a service station or even a house
where she could ask directions, but for several miles she saw
nothing but trees, lonely pastureland and a few silos off in the
distance.

Panic set in after another few miles without
even the sight of a house. She passed a couple of driveways that
might have approached one, but given the weather, she didn’t want
to risk a passage that might lead nowhere. Her heart pounded and
her stomach twisted painfully as she debated her next move.

She’d almost driven past the side road that
branched off when she noticed a light shining from down that way.
Unfortunately, in her excitement at seeing that sign of life and
civilization, she forgot road conditions for a moment and swung the
wheel sharply to make the turn. The tires lost traction on the
slick surface and the car began to skid sideways.

With dim memories of instructions she’d
heard, she fought the urge to turn the other way and steered into
the skid. It worked—sort of. She regained control, just not in time
to keep the car from sliding into a ditch at the side of the road.
Carol shut her eyes for a moment, fearing the car would overturn or
ram into the enormous oak tree not far from the verge.

Neither happened, but the car did end up
sitting at a rather peculiar angle, its left side lower than the
right. The tires made an odd, scrunchy noise as they turned, but
the car remained in place. She put her foot on the brake pedal,
then switched gears, hoping to reverse out of the ditch.

The wheels spun and churned. The car lurched,
but then stuck and refused to move any farther. Her heart jerked
and beat faster as the danger of the situation penetrated.

The area was ominously quiet. Nothing stirred
on the road. For a few minutes, she just sat, breathing hard,
struggling against the panic. What to do? Wait for someone to come
by and see her distress, maybe offer to help out? But she hadn’t
seen another car for some time. Yell for help? It was doubtful
anyone was close enough to hear.

The light that had distracted her still shone
through the trees, almost dead ahead now, since the car had swerved
to the right. Should she wait for help or get out and head for the
light, hoping it was a dwelling and not just some sort of marker or
warning?

No other cars had passed for quite a while.
If she stayed, the gas would eventually run out and she’d begin to
freeze. Better she check out the light. She could always come back
to the car if it proved unhelpful.

Carol grabbed her coat from the back seat.
Her tennis shoes weren’t ideal footwear for the weather, but at
least she wasn’t wearing heels or her favorite mocs. She had a
flashlight in the glove box and fresh batteries. When she got out,
she took a moment to shine the light on the car’s wheels. The left
front tire was deep in the ditch and had spun in the half-frozen
mud. The right front tire wasn’t even touching the ground. She
definitely wouldn’t be getting out of there without some help.

Her best bet was to find a place she could
shelter and make a phone call, so she set off. With the sleet still
coming down, she made slow progress along the narrow side road,
drawn by the beacon of light, until she drew even with it. A paved
driveway curved up toward its radiance, passing through a thick
stand of trees. She almost broke down and cried when she realized
the path led to a house and the yellow glow poured from several
windows.

By the time she got to the door, she was
soaked, shivering with cold and desperate for the warmth the light
promised. She found no bell, but the door featured a heavy, iron
knocker shaped like the head of an old man. Marley’s ghost? Wasn’t
it on Christmas Eve that Scrooge had seen the face of his old
partner in the knocker on his door?

Deciding she was getting punchy with
exhaustion and cold, she raised the heavy iron bar of the knocker
and banged it several times. Nothing happened, so she repeated the
action. Finally, as she prepared for a third assault, the door
creaked open. A man stood there, backlit by a lamp in the hall,
leaving him almost entirely in shadow.

Her teeth chattered so hard it took an effort
to get anything out. “Please, I’m stranded up the—“

“Did Antoine send you?” The aggressive tone
as much as the words shocked her into taking a step backward.

“No, my car slid into a ditch.”

He ignored the response. “Tell him it won’t
work.” The door closed in her face.

Carol stared at it for a moment, then lifted
the knocker bar and began beating it against the base. She had to
keep at it for several minutes before the door opened again.

“I need help. I’m freezing out here and my
car’s in a ditch—“

“I can’t help you.” The man started to push
the door closed again.

Carol stepped forward and stuck her foot in
the opening to prevent it. “You have to. Please! I’m going to
freeze to death if you don’t help me. Honest to God.” He flinched
and she pressed the advantage. “At least let me come in and make a
phone call. I assure you I’m harmless. I’m just freezing.”

“Phone lines are down,” he said.

“Hell. And my cell phone’s not getting a
signal. Please, can I at least come in and get warm? I’m getting
totally desperate. In fact, I’ll just keep banging on your door
until you let me in or I collapse.”

He muttered something under his breath, then
said to her, “It’s dangerous to come in. You take your life in your
hands.”

“It’s dangerous out here too. I can’t imagine
what could be so risky inside, but it’s got to be better than
freezing to death out here.”

“Don’t be too sure.”

He didn’t stop her when she pushed past him
to get inside.

“On your own head be it.” The door closed
behind her with a resounding thud.

Blessed warmth settled like a cloak around
her, though icy water dripped off her hair onto her face and ran
down under her coat. She didn’t even want to think what she must
look like. Her embarrassment got worse when he stepped back far
enough to stand in the light pouring in from the next room. It left
shadows across his face, but still she could see the outlines of
features well enough to tell she faced a strikingly handsome man,
no more than a few years older than her own twenty-six years. A
frown tightened his sensual mouth. Cheeks and jaw were set in
tense, hard lines.

She smiled at him and held out a hand. “I’m
Carol Prescott. Thank you for letting me in.”

He shook his head. No answering smile touched
his stern features, nor did he take her hand or reach toward her.
“You’re a fool.” He said it softly, sounding more sad than
angry.

“Not arguing. I should have turned around
when it started sleeting. I could’ve found a hotel for the night. I
wish I had.”

His expression didn’t change. The man stared
hard at her, so she felt free to stare back. He was gorgeous. No
other way to put it. Glossy black hair, cut neatly, topped a
well-shaped head and set off big, deep blue eyes, a straight nose,
sensual lips, lean jaw and a fabulous set of cheekbones. All that
on top of six feet of lean, graceful, masculine muscle with broad
shoulders and slim hips. Damn. And she looked like something a cat
had dunked in the swamp before dragging in.

After a moment, he shook himself and said,
“I’ll get you a towel. There’s a fire in the parlor if you care to
go in and warm up.” He extended an arm toward the arch that led
into the brightly lit room.

The fire crackled merrily in an enormous
brick-lined fireplace. It pulled her toward it like a magnet. After
shrugging out of her coat, Carol stood in front of it and held her
hands out toward the flame. Warmth seeped into her icy fingers and
crawled through her system. When she finally began to feel less
shivery, other things struck her. Like how very quiet the house
was. A distant hum showed the refrigerator was running, and the
vague low rumble likely came from a furnace somewhere down below.
The phone line might be out, but the electricity was running…unless
he had a generator. An occasional snap from the fire and a creak
from some settling piece of wood rounded out the sounds of the
house. No other voices. Did he live in this big old house all by
himself?

Why would a young man choose to sequester
himself out here in the back of nowhere?

She glanced around the room, struck by its
odd combination of old and new. The sofa, end tables, desk, heavy
velvet drapes, lamps and pictures were clean and dust-free, but in
styles that were fashionable maybe a century ago. The Oriental rug
on the floor had worn well, but it too had an air of having been
there a long, long time. The lamps looked new, however, and one
stood beside a more modern leather recliner. Built-in shelves
covered the entire far wall. In addition to an abundant collection
of books, they held a wide-screen TV, a DVD-VCR machine and rows
upon rows of DVDs and tapes.

Out in the hall, an old-fashioned grandfather
clock bonged eleven times.

Her host returned to the room carrying a
stack of towels. He made almost no sound when he moved, not even a
squeak or tap of the leather loafers he wore. He handed her the
towels.

She looked up at him, seeing him more clearly
in the light of a nearby lamp. He was just as handsome as her first
shadowy view had suggested. Maybe even more so. But he also looked
thin and haggard, like someone fighting a long, wasting illness or
someone who’d carried a heavy burden for a long time. Even with the
warm firelight reflecting on it, his skin was very pale.