My Lady Vampire - Book Three Read Online Free PDF Page A

Chesswell was a monk who lived in this place centuries ago. It was rumored that his interests were not quite as ecclesiastic as they should’ve been, and his studies got him exiled to a small hut next to the Chyne that bears his name.”
    “His studies?”
    Sidney chuckled. “Yes. He studied the black arts, which wouldn’t have gone over very well with his Abbott, I should imagine.”
    “I should think not.”
    “St. Chesswell wasn’t a necromancer, however. He simply had an insatiable curiosity into the mysteries of nature, and thought the darker side of people’s beliefs had just as much right to be part of his studies as did the teachings of his Church.”
    “A man of great perspicacity.” Adrian’s interest was caught and held by this strange little story.
    “Indeed. Well, as the tale goes, one stormy night the earth moved and released a great evil from the depths of the Chyne. The local villagers became its prey and they died, felled where they stood by the creature’s foul breath.” Sidney paused.
    “What sort of creature?” Adrian breathed out the question.
    Sidney grinned. “Great tale, isn’t it? Don’t take it literally. Anyway, to continue--St. Chesswell was among the few unaffected and he managed to cause a landslide which blocked the creature’s stronghold, entrapping it beneath the surface once again and saving the community.” He chuckled. “Who were appropriately grateful and sanctified the poor man after his death. Lot of good it did him at that point.”
    Adrian couldn’t stop the smile that followed Sir Sidney’s tale. It was a rather rusty smile, and for a second Adrian thought perhaps he’d forgotten how, but no. There it was. And it felt good .
    “Well, the point of all this local lore is that St. Chesswell’s Chyne developed a reputation for its association with the mystical, the magical--and even the satanic--from that point onwards. We Chesswells have amassed an interesting library on the dark arts over our generations as stewards of the Chyne, and your humble servant is no exception.” He graciously inclined his head.
    “So you are knowledgeable about these matters in a way unusual to men of your…your position?” Adrian struggled for the right word.
    Sidney shrugged. “It’s more than a hobby for me. More than a pastime. I am no magician, Adrian. I am a scientist with a thirst for information. And I too have a boundless curiosity.”
    He straightened in his chair. “I have read much of your kind. Of your needs, your hungers, your desires. I have dismissed that which I consider to be hyperbole. But there remains a fundamental truth--you exist. You move as a mortal moves, think as a mortal thinks, do all the things mortals do, with very few exceptions. And when you hunger--your eyes reveal your need.”
    Adrian blinked. “They do?”
    Sidney nodded. “Yes.” He stood, and Adrian stood with him, some reflex making him responsive to this gentle man with his amazing mind. “So that is why I am suggesting you feed from me.” He reached for his cravat and tugged it loose, baring the soft and lightly tanned skin of his neck. “There is one other thing.”
    “What is that?” Adrian’s head was buzzing a little. The scent of Sir Sidney’s blood was too near, and his hunger erupted within him like the red flames of an inferno. Truly his need was burgeoning, helped along by this unusual conversation.
    “This feeding will, I believe, bind us to each other in a way unique to your kind.” Sidney reached out a hand and rested it on Adrian’s shoulder. “I would ask that once you are sated you give serious consideration to staying here.” Sidney paused and moved closer, tilting his head and revealing the throbbing pulse at the base of his neck.
    “Stay here, Adrian. Stay with me. As my son.”
     
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    Sidney watched Adrian’s face as the impact of his words sank home.
    The hunger he knew was there remained, but became tempered with surprise, astonishment