Star, Starland Vamp Series, Book 1 (3 page)

It’s a long story.

During the years that passed, Fredrick and my father had become good friends. And although my father and other men seemed to grow older, I noticed that Fredrick did not. He stayed the same. But it had only been a few years, so I quickly pushed the thought aside. Fredrick began coming to our house for dinner or for tea. However, during these visits, he was pleasant and cordial, but always distant. He talked always to my father and seldom to me, unless it was proper or considered rude not to do so. I came to know him as my father’s good friend and an uncle, of sorts.

Over the next few years, our relations with the British became strained and secret meetings were necessary. At these secret meetings, the resistance to the British was planned, for Father and Fredrick were patriots. Together, they along with other men planned strategies against the British in hope of our land becoming self governed, self reliant, and not beholding to anyone.  A free nation.

It was at one of these secret meetings in April of 1775 that it all ended, or began, according to your point of view. I was 18. And even though I had many suitors, I had not fallen in love and, therefore, remained unmarried. As was the custom of the day, I still lived in my father’s home. It suited us both, as we got along well. My mother had died long ago and it was just the two of us. I took care of the house and him, and he took care of and protected me.

“Fredrick,” I greeted my father’s friend, opening the door one night.

“Abigail,” Fredrick replied with a nod, taking my hand and raising it to his lips. “How stunning you look tonight! Is your father in?”

“Of course, Master Fredrick,” I replied with a smile and a shallow curtsey, pinching my skirt between two fingers and lifting it slightly as I did so. “And awaiting your visit, I might add.”

“Divine!” Fredrick responded. “Shall I wait in the foyer?”

“No, silly,” I said, laughing. “By all means, come into the drawing room, please.”

With his hands folded neatly behind his back, he nodded slightly and smiled as I led him into the room. There were already several men speaking in hushed voices inside. Upon my arrival, the men promptly stood in my presence, but grew silent until I left, closing the double doors behind. My father was determined to keep me out of this treachery, although I had begged him many times to include me in his plans. But they were committing treason against Britain and plotting it in my father’s house, and he wanted me to have no part in it.

Although I was supposed to be in the other room actively working on my embroidery sampler, I stood with my ear pressed tightly to the door, listening and intrigued. I so much wanted to join in their cause. It didn’t seem fair that I should be left out, as I was as ardent a patriot as my father and Fredrick. The lights grew dim in the firelight as I listened silently to their plotting through the door.

Suddenly, the sound of horse’s hooves pounding against the dirt, the roaring of burning torches, and the shout of men’s voices created a great commotion outside. Immediately, I jumped back as the solid oak doors of the drawing room flew open. I looked at the men with wide eyes. The horse’s hooves dug into the dirt, stopping abruptly outside our door.

“Douglas Starland!” a man yelled from outside, not bothering to knock on the door. “I know you’re in there!”

My father held a hand to his lips, then spoke quickly in hushed tones. “Stay here and be silent,” he told the men and I. “I’ll bid them to leave.”

“I shall go with you, Douglas,” Fredrick interjected.

“Nay,” Father responded, his gaze falling upon me. “Take care of Abigail. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

Fredrick frowned, but gave one quick nod of his head.

“No, father!” I quietly interjected. “Don’t go alone! Take Fredrick with you. Maybe they will listen to reason.”

“No!” he sternly whispered. “Stay here and be safe.” He turned, but before opening the door, he looked over his shoulder, and our eyes met and held. “I love you, Abigail.”

“I love you, too, Father.”
             

Then a strong male voice from outside the door bellowed, “If you do not come out, I shall be forced to come in!”

“I’m coming,” Father yelled loudly, then motioned for us to remain silent once again. Alone, he opened the door to face the angry mob.

The door was ajar, so I could see what was happening, even though Fredrick stood before me blocking my way. Outside were many British soldiers, hungry, seething for blood.

“You commit treason tonight, Starland?” I recognized this man that was clearly the leader of the British soldiers that accompanied him. He wore a white powdered wig, but his features were young, despite his age. Funny. He lived on this soil, yet he stood with the British.

“I know not what you mean,” Father responded, feigning nonchalance. “Mr. Clark, please come in and have a cup of tea so we may talk rationally.”  In the firelight, I recognized the man as Richard Clark, a British sympathizer loyal to the crown now wearing a Red Coat uniform.

Still frozen, the men inside waited. We could tell there were many men outside. And if Mr. Clark were to come in, how would we explain the gathering?

“Nay,” Mr. Clark continued. “But pray bid the men inside to come out. We wish to speak to all of you. And I am now
Corporal
Clark.”

Through the doors, I saw many British soldiers on horseback. Each carried torches, and all carried hand guns or rifles with long swords at their sides. “I’m going out there,” I said under my breath as I headed for the door. “This is ridiculous.”

Within the beat of a butterfly’s wing, Fredrick grabbed my arm, gently restraining me. I looked into his bright green eyes with surprise coloring mine. He simply shook his head no.

“But I have to get out there!” I pulled with all my might against his grasp, but I could not budge my arm. “Let go of me! They’re going to kill him if we don’t go out there! We can’t leave his safety to the fate of those men!”

Fredrick held a finger to his lips, then shook his head no again. He was listening carefully to the exchange outside.

“I have no idea of what you are speaking,” Father replied, innocently. “Douglas, The hour is late. Pray ‘ye go home and we shall speak of this tomorrow.”

“Come out, all of you, or he dies!” Corporal Clark shouted at the house, pointing his musket at my father’s chest.

Inside we all gasped.

Fredrick’s eyes flared as he looked into my then blue eyes. “Stay here and don’t breathe a sound!” He whispered firmly, then turned for the door.

Fredrick opened the door wide, then stepped out. “What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”

Corporal Clark laughed. “Why, Mr. Lee! Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

“I was graciously invited to dinner by Mr. Starland tonight,” Fredrick calmly replied. “It appears you’ve spoiled the evening.”

“Oh, what a pity! Maybe you can reconvene at another time,” Clark replied sarcastically.

“Maybe we shall,” Fredrick replied, but he was through with pleasantries. “What seems to be the problem?” he repeated.

“Starland here seems to be hosting a secret meeting on these premises tonight,” Clark paused for effect.  “A dangerous endeavor.”

Fredrick’s eyes flared a bright green. “A dangerous accusation.”

“Indeed,” Corporal Clark said, laughing, clearly enjoying the exchange. “What say you, Starland? Shall we have that cup of tea after all?”

Inside, we all looked at one another. The men did not hide, but steadied themselves for the events to come.

“Why don’t we just settle our differences out here, like gentlemen?” Fredrick countered.

But Corporal Clark just laughed, not offering to dismount. Bullies usually find strength in numbers and solace within a crowd, flanked by British soldiers and men in gentlemen’s dress. “Why don’t we just burn the place to the ground?”

“No!” I yelled, running quickly out the door when Fredrick caught my arm. “What purpose would it serve to burn our home?”

Corporal Clark paused, looking directly in my eye, then leaned forward menacingly. “It will serve to rid the world of traitors.”

“We are not traitors!” I yelled, absolutely livid. “You are the ones who are traitors! Traitors to your countrymen!”

“I have not betrayed my country!” Clark’s words seethed like venom spewing from a snake. “It is you who have! Burn it to the ground and execute these traitors!”

Then Corporal Clark raised his musket to my father’s chest and fired.

“No!” I yelled, but it was too late. Fire sparked brightly from the end of his musket as I struggled to free myself from Fredrick’s grasp. Moving within the blink of an eye, Fredrick scooped me up, deposited me inside the house, and slammed the door.

Outside, I heard screaming as I struggled to open the door. Men screamed as they flew from their horses and thudded deftly against the house and upon the ground. A few of the men inside jumped out the back window, while another pushed me forcefully out of the way and opened the front door. Immediately, he was shot down in cold blood by a British soldier. Crimson blood spewed from his chest within the cold night air.

I quickly flew to my father’s side as I rushed out the door, his starched white shirt was drenched in maroon blood, muted in the moonlight. I held his head in my lap as the fighting continued, for he was in no condition to be moved.

“Father …” I struggled with the words, but they wouldn’t move past the lump forming within my throat. Tears coursed down my cheeks and onto my father’s shirt mixing with his blood.

“Abigail, run!” Father said as loudly as he could, but it was more of a whisper. Crimson blood trickled from the side of his mouth. He coughed, and more blood spewed forth.

“Shush, father. I’m not leaving you,” I choked out through my tears. The fighting continued all around, but I only saw my father cradled within my arms. “Don’t talk.”

“Abigail, I love you,” Father began, stopping, coughing up more blood. “A father couldn’t be more proud than I. Now … I want you to run.”

“Shush, don’t say that,” I couldn’t leave him. I was about to tell him that he would live, that he would recover from his wounds, but the blood staining his shirt and trickling from the side of his mouth told me differently. “Father, no daughter could be prouder of you than I. I’m glad you are my father.”

Suddenly, an excruciatingly sharp pain pierced my back, and as my father drew his last breath, I kissed his cheek, stumbled to my feet and tried to run. Another sharp pain pierced my back and it was then that I realized I was shot. Looking through the fighting, with his sites lined at me, was Corporal Clark. He shot again and I fell to the ground as somewhere in the distance, I heard Fredrick loudly scream,
“No! Abigail!”

As I lay on the ground, I watched everything move in slow motion. The ground was hard and cold against my face as Fredrick moved faster than lightning, snapping the necks and ripping out the hearts of the British soldiers. For many, the sight of their own beating heart was the last thing they saw before they died. A moment later, everything was quiet and still.

I must be dying, I thought as I slowly closed my eyes. I seemed to drift, hovering between this world and the next.

“Abigail,” an echoing voice in my ear consoled. “Abigail, don’t die.” Then Fredrick drew me into his arms and a moment later, I was flying. I was incoherent as I looked around and the cold settled into my bones. The wind whipped past, and I knew that I would not live to see the night’s end. I would end with it. Soon, I was lying on a quilt, and I remember the smell of the soft down pillow under my head, caressing my cheek. I felt no pain.

I knew I was nearly dead, as my eyes slowly began to close.

Somewhere in the distance, Fredrick was talking to me, but I could not hear or understand.  I was floating, floating on a cloud. Death had come for me, and I was ready. I had lived my life, although short that it was. I saw my father, smiling, waiting for me …

But Fredrick had other plans.

Suddenly, Fredrick’s voice was in my ear, telling me things I couldn’t quite hear or understand. Then I thought he was bending close to kiss me goodbye when he bit my neck. I wondered what was happening, what he was doing as he bit my wrists, ankles, and arms. Then a sharp, searing pain moved through me like fire burning within my veins, threatening to overtake my body.

My heart beat frantically within my chest, and the pain burned me to the core, moving over my body. Had I died and gone to Hell? What had I done in my life to deserve this? I remembered hearing horror stories about Hell as a child, but this burning felt like someone was peeling off my skin, or better yet, burning it off. 
Oh, God, please don’t force me to endure an eternity of this hell,
I begged within my mind as the pain seared my body.

“Kill me! Please, do it now!” I begged Fredrick, as I slowly regained consciousness.

“No, Abigail,” he said softly in my ear. “You’re becoming a vampire. You feel pain, but you will heal quickly, and you will never die, at least of natural causes …”

His voice trailed off, but I paid no attention as I burned. At first I didn’t believe it. How could vampires really exist, right under our noses? How could this be true? But as the pain began to dissipate, and my heartbeat slowed, I knew it was true. The pain began to leave, but replacing it was an eternal thirst. As the pain faded, I slowly opened my eyes. My heartbeat slowed and my breathing became regular.