Remembering (Vampin Book Series #17) Read online



  Remembering

  Vampin Book Series #17

  Jamie Ott

  Copyright © 2012 Jamie Ott. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used without written permission from Vampin Official Syndicate.

  For more information, visit https://vampinofficialsite.com

  Vampin Official Syndicate

  Remembering

  Chapter 1

  Seth still slept, though she caught glimpses of what he saw in his mind. The glimpses were of him running about in renaissance dress. She never would have guessed he was that old.

  When they entered the castle, she fell into the same deep sleep. All the memories of her life as King Decebalus’ daughter came back to her. Now, in every room and through every window, and when looking at every castle flourish, she saw what was, millenniums ago. The way the tapestries, once, hung; guards were stationed at the end of every hall; the smell of straw stuffing in her bed and how it mingled with bowls of lavender placed in the corners of her room.

  Starr stood on the terrace, looking out over the trees, contemplating all this. She turned and looked at the fireplace, through the sliding glass door. On many nights, she sat on that very hearth and watched the moon while wondering when she’d take her last breath. The Romans were taking over the world, and her father refused to surrender.

  Starr walked to the place where she used to hide weapons; it was a carved out wall space. No longer was it hollow. Now, it was painted wood and insulation.

  In the corner of the room, the waiter she used to escape her assassins was now an electric elevator in a plastered shoot. Press the button and it hummed its way up and down the wall.

  The only thing that hadn’t changed was the sunset. Like a large orange dipped halfway into the Earth, it hovered between two groups of trees a few hundred yards out.

  She wondered if the government owned the castle, and what her chances of getting it back were. Maybe Credenza, herself, owned it.

  Over and over, she saw in her mind, the last time she saw her father. How he kissed her goodbye, nearly 2,000 years ago, and then took his own life some time later. She loved him, and now, she missed him more than anything. Did Credenza miss him, too?

  But at the same time, she reminded herself that she had a father. He was back at home, in New York.

  Yes, but he was not King Decebalus, not by any chance. The feeling she had with the King was wholesome and loving, despite that he could never claim her as his. Starr couldn’t recall ever feeling connected to her father in New York. He was always cool, distant.

  Then all of a sudden, it hit her.

  I’m adopted.

  She didn’t look like anyone in her family. For one, her parents were medium brunettes with medium toned skin colors. Starr was always pale with raven colored hair, though she died it blue-black to give it extra shine. They were short and stocky with strong facial features; she was long and lean with slender bones.

  Now, it made sense why her mom never looked at her with the same reverence as her dead sister, Meghan. Her mother had never really accepted her. Normally, this would have upset her, but now, knowing she was never really theirs, she hardly cared. No, because she knew she belonged to someone else, somewhere else that was lost long ago.

  Down below, Ikael and the others tended to the injured. They were healed but they were still slow to move, especially Aine who was literally torn apart when their bus flipped over, expelling her and breaking each of her limbs clean off her body.

  The strangest thing was Seth. More than anything, she wanted him to wake. Sure, she understood why she, herself, fell under. All the memories were overwhelming, but what had Seth that connected him to the old palace?

  She was sure that whatever it was, Credenza knew. Unfortunately, Starr only had memories up to the point when she went to Valhol. She supposed because that was when Credenza officially died.

  There was a knock at the door.

  She turned, remembering how, once, only the outsides of the castle were made with doors.

  Not waiting for her to answer, Ikael walked in.

  “You can’t hide in here forever.”

  “I’m not hiding. I just need some time to think. How’s everyone doing?”

  “Aine’s up and walking. The others are fine, except me,” he said, indicating his injured leg. It was pulverized in the accident. “A couple more days.”

  He stood beside her on the terrace.

  She got the feeling he wanted to say something.

  “What is it?”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “You think you’re somehow responsible for all of this, but you’re not any worse than the rest of us. We just don’t remember our past deeds; however, given what I do remember of myself in olden days, and of others, we could hardly point our fingers at you.”

  She smiled.

  “I figured as much.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That you’re all from a time filled with war. You all seemed to be enjoying this too much, almost as if you miss fighting.”

  “We are all warriors, though on different sides. Conquering is just a way of life for us. Humans are never content to be. We are competitive, and we need purpose in our lives.”

  “Well, perhaps it was that way, but most, nowadays, don’t think of conquering as just a way of life. Most would call us barbarians and primitives.”

  He laughed while shaking his head.

  “Yes, today, only a villain would dare use his fists rather than his brain. Still, a day always comes when people need to fight!”

  “That day is today.”

  “Come on,” he said as he tapped her on the shoulder. “You haven’t fed in a while, and it’s starting to show.”

  “It is?”

  “Your eyes become gaunt, and your skin becomes papery.”

  She followed him out of the room. Walking through the old halls gave her an eerie feeling. The sounds of their footsteps echoed off the walls of the stairwell.

  “I think I know where she’s keeping the kids, now: in the castle where the last monarch of Transylvania ruled. She, herself, lived there almost six centuries of the middle ages to renaissance, when she was overthrown. They’re fine, though. She doesn’t have any interest in anything, except being alive again, and with her powers and immortality intact.”

  “How do you know? I thought you only had memories up until year 120 or so.”

  “Nearly a year ago, she saved my life.”

  “You mean she gave you her blood?”

  “Yes, I was beheaded and trapped in a fire. I thought it was the end, but then, I woke and found that I was stronger than before.”

  “I know how blood connections work. Have you used it much?”

  “What do mean?”

  “Have you tried to look into her mind?”

  He pushed open the twelve foot high door and they exited the castle.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “To see what she plans to do next.”

  “I know what she’s planning: a ritual that will assist in reclaiming her soul.”

  The wind blew back their hair as they walked down the winding road, across the field, to the forest.

  “Why would she do that? She’s already the strongest person in the world. Why does she need more power?”

  “I don’t think it’s about the power, even though she wants an entirely vampire world. No, she’s after something else, though I don’t know what.”

  “But why hasn’t she done the ritual yet?”

  “Because she hasn’t enough power.”

  As she said this, she instinctively r
eached to feel for the green stone around her neck. Only a couple people knew she had the Abatha crystal, and they were with Credenza.

  An ancient Primordial gave it to her. In the old days, witches preserved their powers into crystals before they died. Abatha was one of the first of the witches, a woman born of gods who could cross into, both, the physical world and the heavens. The power she left behind, in the green crystal, was the one thing Credenza needed to help her finish her ritual.

  They walked into the trees. Starr looked down and recognized the rocky forest floor, remembering the night she escaped the storming of the castle. Her brother had long before planned it, because he was the only one smart enough to know that King Decebalus was not undefeated; that he was a liar and the Romans would be coming, sooner or later.

  “There’s a family of bats over this way,” said Ikael, pointing west. “Some of them are very large and are killing off mass numbers of birds, here. Not even the eagles have a chance, which is a sacred bird where I come from. I say we try to kill only the bats and balance out nature.”

  Starr followed him up a rock embedded incline. Then they stepped-fast down a grass path that led them into a denser wood.

  Almost instantly, she could sense them: vampire bats. They were stirring, though not ready for hunting, yet.

  Ikael turned to her and raised his index finger to his lips in a shush motion. Then he pointed upward to a family of upside down bats. Several of them were as big as turkeys.

  One of the bats jerked its eyes open and floated toward Ikael’s open palm. It fought all the way, jerking and squeaking until its neck was well-placed in his hands.

  Without delay, he crushed it and drained it.

  Starr did the same, except calling two birds at a time. They continued in this fashion until they’d drunk every last bat in the tree.

  Dark had fallen by the time they headed back to the castle. Despite that they’d killed off about two dozen bats, the air was still thick with them. They were brave, too, as they whizzed around their heads as they made their way to the palace road.

  “Wow, there weren’t this many bats, here, before,” said Starr, thinking back to the second century.

  In the distance, she saw Seth standing at the palace wall. For a moment, she thought it was Dracus, and a smile lightened her face. She missed him almost as much as she missed her father.

  These memories would make it difficult. How could she kill Dracus when she missed him? Even killing Credenza would be like killing a sister.

  These thoughts filled her with dread.

  Seth looked like he wanted to hunt, but he turned away and went back inside.

  In the old library on the first floor is where they set up a common area. On a window seat, Aine sat with an ereader in her hand.

  Ciaran was over in a corner with some fellows, chatting. From the courtyard below, came the sounds of clinking swords, as Druce was continuing to train the young ones about sword fighting.

  Seth appeared in the door.

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared.

  “What?”

  “So what happened? What did you see?” asked Ciaran. “We all would like to know, especially if it’ll help us with our quest.”

  “Sorry,” said Seth, “but what I saw won’t help. It was a memory of the man I was before.”

  “Before?” asked Starr.

  He looked at her, and then left the room.

  She watched him walk away, wondering if he were angry with her.

  “Starr,” said Ciaran. An orange ray of sunlight hit his red eyes, making them look like pink lemonade. “I think we’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

  Starr’s back muscles tightened.

  “There is no need to leave just yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Credenza isn’t doing anything right now. The kids are fine.”

  “Well, maybe, now is the time to hit them. If they’re not doing anything, then they won’t be anticipating us.”

  Starr’s mind raced.

  “No, we rest and let the others heal. As you said before, we should go in with everyone, that way we’ll have enough people to rescue the kids and fight Credenza and her league. If we rescue the kids and lose people while doing so, we won’t have enough people to fight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Really, the kids are fine. Kris is fine, too. He’s being treated like royalty. People always like him, for some reason.”

  Ciaran merely looked at her.

  She went back to her room and closed the door.

  On the terrace, she sat in her chair and sank back into her memories. The night when her father first went off to war was the most stressful. The Romans had already closed in on Dacia, taking out many villages and killing large numbers of people. In an effort to spare his family from the fight for as long as he could, he left for Sarmizegetusa.

  But he came back! She was proud of him! He was a god, just like he said! They celebrated for many nights, but then, once more, the Romans came, and then they came again.

  Still, knowing what she knew, now, of the Romans, what he did was amazing. Her father was a real hero.

  To herself, she smiled, but then something dragged her away from her memories.

  Down below, three people were walking toward the palace. By the shapes of their bodies, highlighted by the moon, she knew they were not Irishmen come back from a hunt.

  One of them raised their arm to the palace; the other one flagged his arms, but because of the light behind them, she couldn’t see their faces, only black.

  Then all three waved.

  Curiously, Starr leapt off the balcony, falling two stories to the ground, and with ruby studded sickles raised, ran across the field. But as she got closer, she lowered her weapons.

  Under the light of the stars, three familiar faces shined.

  “Chanler, Saul, Emil!”

  Last of the Fleet