Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

tales of the daywalkers (week 27)

Weekly Feature…Vampire Fiction Serial (Click to read week 26)

The Daywalker Chronicles

“Ah, dear sister,” Elizabeth breathed the words against my ear then released her crushing hold on me to wander her way around the foyer taking in her surroundings. “Swanky set up you have here.”

She picked up a large shard from a once priceless vase and I snatched it from her gloved fingers. “What brings you to Atlanta, Lizzie?”

“Daddy asked me to come talk some sense into you.” She stole a quick glance at the spot where Sebastian and Claude stood silently. “And your husband.

Claude laughed. “Your sister has an interesting sense of humor.”

“Yes…well.” Elizabeth glided in Claude’s direction and pushed her fiery red curls over her shoulder as she leaned in closely, “My sister seems to have her priorities somewhat out of order.”

“I’ve often told her that myself,” Claude said with a smirk.

I cleared my throat. “Lizzie, that’s not my husband.”

She turned quickly, her eyes boring into mine. “But your scent is all over him.”

“It’s a long story,” I groaned.

She raised her eyebrows and turned back to Claude. “Interesting.”

“Elizabeth!” Father’s voice boomed from behind me as he crossed the foyer.

“Daddy,” she replied, spinning to face him before rushing into his outstretched arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you. Did you take care of the items I requested?”

“Oh yes.” She smirked. “Just as you asked.”

“Very good…very good.” Father patted her cheek gently. “Such a good girl. Now go walk with your sister…catch up. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, Father…far too long,” Lizzie agreed, eyeing me cautiously.

And I had to agree, as well. I hadn’t seen either of my sisters since that night I left our family home to meet Sebastian over two centuries ago.

 

“Victoria, where will you go?” Lizzie asked as the servants packed my trunk.

We sat in my bed, whispering back and forth by candlelight, as we did many an evening.

“I don’t know,” I told her. “Father’s message only said I should come quickly.”

“Catherine is furious,” Lizzie whispered. “She thinks you’re being stolen away to be married to the rich man Father spoke of.”

Lizzie was always looking for a conspiracy.

My laughter was muffled by the back of my hand. “That’s ridiculous. Why would she think such a thing?”

Lizzie looked over her shoulder at the two maids scurrying around the room. “The servants talk. They swear they’ve heard Father tell of it.” She leaned in to whisper. “Catherine would never forgive you, but I would. I wouldn’t blame you for a minute if you married a King and ran off.”

“Lizzie!” I sat up straight, my eyes wide. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“I pay attention, Victoria. There’s something very wrong happening here. You don’t see it. Catherine thinks I’m mad. But I know what I’ve seen…the things Father brings back from his buying trips. I’ve heard Mother crying when she thinks no one can hear.” She pulled my face closer to whisper straight into my ear. “Have you noticed no one comes around anymore? Just the servants? We haven’t had anyone to dinner. We haven’t gone to a single ball. Mother hasn’t arranged a tea in ages.” She sat straight again and shook her head. “It’s not right, Victoria. Not right at all. You’d be lucky to be stolen away to marry. I’ll light a candle for you once you’ve gone.”

I forced a smile. “You can light the whole sky if you like…it won’t do any good. There’s nothing strange happening. And father would never have me marry first. You have such an imagination, Lizzie.” I tried to laugh, but her words sunk in deep.

“Promise you won’t forget me when you’re gone. Promise you’ll think of me at least once every day,” she urged, a grave look in her eyes.

“Don’t be silly, Lizzie.” I waved her off but she caught my hand in hers.

“No, Victoria. Promise me,” she begged.

My heart skipped. “I promise, Lizzie. I’ll never forget you.”

 

Until the next time…I’ll be waiting for the sun to rise. 

Copyright © 2000-2016, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.