The Vampire’s Servant novel Chapter 1

I slammed Springer’s head against the brick of the alleyway. If he breathed, he’d be purple by now. He was 5’9” with nearly white blond hair and violet eyes. It was the bloodline of my sire that gave him those eyes, and I was about to take them back if he didn’t have the money he stole from me and a damned good excuse for his flippant message.

“Grrllbplmm.” Springer gurgled.

My lip curled into a snarl. I wanted to properly crush his throat. After everything I had done for him, for nearly eighty years, the little bastard stole from me!

I’d spent fifteen years tracking him down. All the way to America! I had to live out of a suitcase while trying to figure out where he’d gone! No servant to take care of my needs! Nothing!

It wasn’t until a donor told me about a spell which hid you from others’ sight, that I figured it out. My work was put on hiatus while I tracked my wayward childe. Fifteen damned years!

Going dormant for that long, leaving my territory for that long. I was homeless and reputationless now. Only a rumor, a ghost, in the world of the undead. His little game had cost me everything I’d worked for.

I tightened my grip on his neck. Taking his head off would make me happier than any damage I could do now, but I wanted more than a pound of flesh. Of course he wouldn’t be able to tell me anything if I crushed his throat. At least, not until he healed and I didn’t want to wait that long.

I sighed, let him down, and stepped back. Springer dropped to his knees gripping his throat. I glared at him with disdain.

“Well, where is it?” I growled.

“I spent it all. I’m sorry, master! Please, don’t kill me.” He begged.

He was only a hundred years old, but he’d been trouble since before I brought him over. He wasn’t my first choice for a childe of mine. If not for the fact that his father had been a dear friend of mine, I wouldn’t have.

Jacob always regretted having me turn his son. So did I. He’d wanted his son to live, but life as a vampire wasn’t the same as life as a human. It had taken decades for the boy’s memory to come back. Just in time for him to sit by his father’s death bed.

–

“What did you spend my money on, Springer?” I hissed, stepping closer again.

“A house, cars, blood, clothes. They’re all yours… well, except the blood. I don’t think her parents will sell her, but I can tell you who to contact to feed on her.” He offered eagerly.

“Parents? You fed from a child?!” I saw red.

The words of the witch who had told me about the concealing spell rang in my head. He was hurting someone. He was hurting a child.

That was my one rule when it came to feeding. Never feed from someone who isn’t able to understand what they’re offering. Not the mentally disabled, not children, not intoxicated people, not the elderly. The punishment was death.

“It wasn’t my fault! I said it as a joke and the mom just let me! I didn’t know how to handle it when she took my joke seriously. Her mom insisted on triple the payment and let me have the girl. So… I fed on her.” He insisted.

“You tell her, you were only kidding and NO ONE feeds on a child. What kind of parents would let that happen? Is her mother an addict?” I asked, livid.

“No. Super middle-class average family. She was selling blood because they needed the money. Now, I think they do it so they can play more.”

“How long have you been feeding on the girl? You implied it was more than once.”

“Ten years. I usually see her once a month. Last time, her parents said, if I doubled my payment, they’d let me take it from the artery in her thigh. That’s why I’ve been working as an enforcer. I needed the money. She’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, master. I was addicted from the first drop. It’s been hell these last couple months, trying to earn it.” Springer whined.

I snarled. “How many others feed on her?”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify