The Vampire Pirate's Daughter (2 page)

I hear Amanda arrive, before she stops in
front of the house and I unfold myself from the chair, stretching
my legs. I walk toward the kitchen.

The many packages in her arms hide her when
she walks into the kitchen. She near drops them onto the counter
and then I start rummaging through the bags looking for a mini-size
chocolate mousse container.

While I am looking through the bags, Amanda
says, “Susanna! Stop that. Pack away the things instead of just
pushing them aside.”

Usually I am just Susie, so now I grunt, but
start packing it away anyway. She is obviously in a foul mood.
Shopping has never had a calming effect on her. She is from an era
where food magically appeared on her plate, presented by
servants.

I find the mousse, but leave it to one side,
while I continue to pack away the groceries, which is mainly
meat.

Amanda stands just outside the backdoor and
she lights a cigarette. She hates the newest craze where people
have decided that smoking is bad for you and she could no longer
smoke where she wanted. When she goes off on one of her rants, she
always insists, mockingly, that smoking only harms her. Second hand
smoke is no worse than pollution – surely. She does not smoke
inside the house because admittedly she also thinks it smells awful
and that it is a bad habit. A bad habit she does not even get any
enjoyment from at all.

She finishes her cigarette and then she
comes in. Her addiction fed, she is calmer and she smiles. “Thank
you, Susie. You must come see what I bought.”

I pick up the chocolate mousse from the
counter and I follow her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to
her room.

She upends the bags one after the other onto
the bed in her room and then she ruffles through the pile. She
finds what she is looking for and holding it up in front of her
from shoulder to shoulder, I see the green top. It is nice, but not
something I would wear. Amanda likes bling and shine, whereas I
like to wear whatever the latest fashion is. I do not prefer
designer to department store for everyday clothes, but it is always
nice when the clothes have a fitted feeling.

I say, “It’s nice. The color suits you. What
else did you get?”

I look through the pile of clothes on her bed
with one hand and then I sit back against the headboard, with my
legs pulled up in front of me. She shows me what she bought and I
eat my mousse. Although I cannot taste the decadent chocolate, I
love the texture on my tongue. I love the way my tongue folds into
the curve of the spoon when it licks the mousse off it.

Later when she has squashed her clothes,
labels and all into her overfull closet, she changes the subject
from clothes to me. “Are you enjoying school here?”

“I suppose so. You know kids are also home
schooled here and nobody will come knocking on our door when I do
not go to school?”

“Yes, but it gives you routine.”

I hate it when she assumes the mother figure;
she is only twenty-six and we are not even family. “Yeah, I know
and routine gives me purpose.”

She smiles. “There you go. We all have our
purpose. Shayne works at the University as a History Professor and
you go to school.”

I interrupt her, “And you keep us all
together - the hardest job of all. I know, don’t remind me
again.”

They have promised me that this will be
our last move for a while and I only have to go to school for the
next year and then university – again. This time around though, I
can start working. People stay younger looking for longer these
days, so it will be safe for me to join the workforce. I am looking
forward to not moving too soon again. It is getting more and more
difficult moving around with customs, passports and transfer cards.
Also, the invention of networks and the internet has restricted our
movements slightly. I have had so many forged birth certificates I
cannot remember the real year I was born.

Maybe I will be able to make some friends,
where before I had to avoid them or when I did make friends, I had
to leave them behind like junk collected along the way.

I have lived with Shayne and Amanda since the
day I turned sixteen, two hundred years ago.

Two hundred years ago, a week before I
turned sixteen I became seriously ill. I remember waking up as if
it was yesterday. Most of my memories over the years have faded,
because there are just too many things to remember, but some
moments have burnt into my memory forever.

The morning of my birthday,
I woke up and my stomach had a
queasy feeling, spasms in my abdominal area made me cringe and fold
up into myself. I could not get out of bed and all my muscles were
cramping, so I stayed in bed and by the time evening arrived, I had
a fever.

Carla, the girl who was my mother’s servant
and her close companion before my mother died, sat next to my bed
by now, and every so often, she rinsed the cotton cloth, wringed it
and then neatly folded, placed it back on my forehead. She spoke
softly to me in French, and those days I spoke French fluently.

She often told me little snippets of my
mother, like the first day she met her, how kind my mother was. She
never ever spoke about my mother and my father together though.
When I used to ask her, she would tell me to ask my father. Before
Amanda, she was the only mother figure I had.

The man, I then thought of as my father,
Francois, and the doctor were standing in the corner of my room,
the gaslight barely touching them, but I could hear every whispered
word. I heard the doctor say that I would not make it through the
night, and when he left, Francois walked worriedly to the side of
my bed. He sat down next to me and he took my hand into his.

He sent the servants from the room and after
they left, he whispered softly, “Oh, Susanna.” He had a distant
look in his eyes and I was not sure if he was talking to my mother
or me. I have the same name as my mother and she died giving birth
to me. Sometimes he would get confused and I would think he was
calling me, but then Carla would gently touch me on the shoulder
and shake her head sympathetically. I heard the servants talk
amongst themselves and they all thought he had gone a bit loony
since my mother died. When this happened, I obviously felt guilty
because unintentionally I killed my mother. My birthday was always
sad for my father, because it reminded him of my mother’s
death.

I smiled up at him weakly anyway.

He softly continued, “I have sent for a
specialist, so if you hold on until morning, he will be able to
help you.”

I felt confident that I would be able to do
that, although I felt extraordinarily weak. We did not speak and he
just sat there next to me, holding my hand in his and now and
again, he would moisten the cotton cloth on my forehead.

I woke after a fitful sleep and I noticed
that he had also fallen asleep. His head had dropped down onto the
bed next to me and his face was close to our hands entwined
together.

A shadow danced across the wall in my room
and the gaslight sputtered.

I inhaled deeply when I saw a man and a
woman come out of the shadows and they slowly walked toward my bed.
They were smiling friendly, but I still felt apprehension. Then
with relief, I thought that they were the specialists my father was
talking about and it was probably already morning and thankfully, I
held on. I had made it.

The man remained standing erect by the foot
of my bed and for a brief moment I considered that he might be the
grim reaper, here to collect my soul. I turned my head toward the
sleeping figure of my father afraid, but he was still fast
asleep.

The girl knelt down next to my bed, on the
opposite side of my father. The faint light from the lamp shone on
her face and I saw how beautiful she was. Her skin was so smooth; I
had the urge to touch it. Her eyes were rich mahogany and her lips
were faintly pink. Her dark blonde hair hung over her shoulders and
reflected the light like a mirror.

She leaned toward me and her hair fell
forward softly. She whispered in my ear, barely audible, but I
could hear her every word clearly, “Dear Susanna, you are grown up
now and this might come as a shock to you, but I want you to trust
me.”

Weirdly, although I have never seen this
woman before, I trusted her with my life. I thought this strange,
because I have never been a very trusting person. I have grown up
secluded and the only people I have ever socialized with were my
father and the servants. As it was, before I became ill, I was in
pleading negotiations with my father regarding my coming-out. He
believed that there was no need for me to come out and he promised
me that he would never marry me off to anybody. When he said this,
he had a strange melancholy in his voice. He did not explain
himself though.

I nodded my head weakly toward this striking
girl, while her eyes held mine captive.

“You are a very special girl, Susanna. If you
agree, I will show you a way that will make you feel better. It
will make all this hurt go away. When last did you eat?”

I thought back and I could not remember when
last I had a meal. I remember that the idea of food revolted me. I
could not even contemplate letting food pass my lips and nobody in
the kitchen could tempt me. I replied weakly, “I cannot
remember.”

“If you agree, you will soon feel much
better. First, though, I have to explain it all to you. Would you
be able to stay awake, because it is important that you hear what I
have to say?”

I nodded my head again.

She moved her head away from mine, breaking
the spell between us and she looked toward my father thoughtfully
for a brief moment.

She leaned closer to me again, but she kept
her face in front of mine. I could see her lips move, but I could
not hear her, as she said, “Francois here is not your biological
father.”

As sick as I was, I still recoiled and
wheezed croakily.

She smiled reassuringly and took my hand
resting on my chest into hers. “Do not fret, girl. You will soon
understand everything. Your mom, Susanna came to France about
twenty years ago. However, a pirate ship attacked the ship that
gave her passage. A pirate, by the name of William kidnapped your
mother, but she escaped or he let her go.” She smiles. “Maybe a bit
of both. When your mother saw Francois, she did find him appealing,
but Francois fell in love with Susanna undeniably. The path for the
rest of his life was decided in that moment when he first saw your
mother. However, no matter what he did, he would never have been
able to stop the events that unfolded themselves. Francois has an
evil streak in him, and he was very pompous and arrogant, a
completely different person before your mother died. He thought
that if he wanted something, he could have it no matter what and
nobody could stand in his way. The pirate, William felt drawn to
your mother, so he came to France and when he saw her again, he was
forever hers. Your mother however chose Francois, because if she
chose William she would have had to live at night.”

I frowned confused.

“I will explain it all to you.” She smiled
kindly. “Francois started cheating on your mother, more to protect
his own feelings. He loved your mother so much, yet she did not
love him in return. I think Francois went astray somewhere, because
then he did everything to push Susanna away, instead of drawing her
closer to him.”

I looked toward the man I thought was my
father. He loved me and he often said that I resurrected him after
the death of my mother. I knew he loved her and that he still did.
Over the last sixteen years, he had never gone out and always
stayed home. I knew that he adored me and would do everything for
me.

The girl continued softly, “Your mother
realized that she had made the wrong choice the night she made the
decision to stay with Francois. Years later, she chose to leave
Francois and follow William into the night. On the ship back from
England to France, your mother and William made love and they
decided to run away together once they were back in France.”

I heard the man who remained just inside the
shadows sneer.

The girl ignored him and she continued,
“Francois returned unexpectedly and sadly your real father, William
died that day without even knowing about you. He did leave you a
legacy though - a choice you will have to make today. You see, your
father, William, was a vampire.”

I shut my eyes and I opened my mouth to
scream for help, but she put her hand softly over my lips. She
looked into my eyes deeply and for some peculiar reason this calmed
me.

She continued softly, whilst holding her cold
fingers over my lips, “There is an entire community of vampires and
you should not be afraid, because we are just like you. We have now
come to the most important part, the part where you have to make a
choice. You will either die before dawn or you can choose to become
one of us.”

I whispered softly under her fingers, “A
vampire?”

“As I see it, if you want to live you do not
really have a choice.”

I looked toward Francois sadly.

“He is going to lose you either way, so I
would not be concerned about him if I was you. If you choose to
live, you can always keep an eye on him, because he knows about
vampires, he knew William well.”

I saw her take a knife from the fold of her
dress and then she pressed it against the soft, pale skin of her
wrist. I saw the way the knife dented into her flesh and then I saw
the red drop of blood.

Just that one tiny drop made my nose tingle
and my mouth salivate. She smiled down at me as if she knew what I
suddenly felt.