Kingdom of the Damned: Provocation (KIngdom Journals)

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Forward

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  KINGDOM OF EMBERS

  KINGDOM OF THE DAMNED

  KINGDOM JOURNALS – PROVOCATION – ANNE’S STORY

  by Tricia Copeland

  Copyright © 2018 True Bird Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved

  License Notes:

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be copied or re-distributed in any way. Author holds all copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Edited by Tia Silverthorne Bach

  Proofread by Jennifer Oberth

  Interior Formatting by Jo Michaels

  all of Indie Books Gone Wild

  Cover by Daryl A. McCool of d.a.m. Cool Graphics

  Published by True Bird Publishing LLC, Superior, CO

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.FOREWARD

  The LORD God said to the serpent,

  “Because you have done this,

  cursed are you above all cattle,

  and above all wild animals;

  upon your belly you shall go,

  and dust you shall eat

  all the days of your life.”

  — Genesis 3:14

  The Edict of Châteaubriant, signed 27 June 1551 by King Henry II of France, censored Protestant rhetoric and enabled seizure of funds for punishment. The Edict of Compiègne, of 24 July 1557, allowed the death penalty for crimes of heresy. The witch community, garbed in the Catholic faith, hunted and killed vampires under the guise of bringing the pagans to justice.

  Mabon – 21 September 1557 – France, during the reign of King Henry II

  A vampire has memories from the time they are born. I recall my mother’s face and her warm skin, the sound of her voice that morning. I’ll see you tonight in your beautiful red dress. I love you. She kisses my forehead.

  In the evening, I slide the garment over my head, and Elizabeth curls my hair with a hot iron rod. She fits the sash around my waist and into a large bow on my back. I sit in a chair, waiting for the sun to set as she dresses her children for the party. Her daughter Elle twirls in a circle, making her skirt fan out. Even though Elle is older, I am as tall as her, because she and her brother, Hank, are halflings.

  Hank is two like me, but not as big or smart. He fiddles with his collar buttoned tight around his neck. As the sky grows dark, I climb atop the chair near the window, impatient to be united with my family and to begin the festivities. An orange glow rises over the hill where my house lies in the next valley. The color looks different than any sunset I remember.

  I run to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, the sky.”

  “What child?”

  “Come see.” I grab her hand and pull her to the window.

  As I push up on my toes to look out the glass, I see flames shooting above the ridge. Men carrying torches summit the hill and race towards us. At one’s signal, they circle the house, making a ring around Elizabeth’s cottage.

  “Finn!” Elizabeth yells.

  “There’s no way out.” Finn’s eyes dart around the room. I can smell the fear rolling off his skin.

  Elizabeth points out the window to a tall tree. “When we open the door, run.”

  Wide-eyed, I nod. Elizabeth scoops up Elle, and Finn grabs Hank. Opening the door, they sprint towards the forest. I dart off in the opposite direction. A large dog barks on my heels, but I am fast and reach the tree before the animal overtakes me. Low branches form stairs, and I jump to the first. I feel a tug at my skirt and hear it rip as I reach for the second limb. I catch it and swing to a higher branch. The beast jumps and yelps, but I focus on the limbs above. The branches become thinner, and the space between them shorter as I climb, hand over foot, until I feel the trunk sway with my weight.

  Looking down, I see the men with the torches have surrounded Elizabeth and her family. Flames close in on them, engulfing the group in smoke. A bitter smell assaults my nose. The men douse the flames with water from buckets. Raising the torches over their heads, they retreat. As the air clears of smoke, I see the forms of Elizabeth and her family lying atop the charred grass.

  Darkness descends on the clearing. I listen, but there is little sound. The night is quieter than I ever remember it being. The air smells of the metal pans and the out-building Elizabeth’s family uses, and I cover my nose with my skirt. Clutching the tree trunk, I watch the bodies on the ground, hoping for movement. I wait a long time, and tears form in my eyes. The wind picks up, clearing the air, and I let go of my skirt. I uncurl my fingers to find white lines where the fabric cut off the circulation. In the distance, I hear the hoot of an owl. Faint flapping sounds grow louder, and three black birds appear in the sky above me. I move down the trunk and cling to the bark, copying the hiding game Elizabeth taught me. Exhaling, I slow my heart rate and breathing.

  I train my eyes on the bodies, wondering when Elizabeth will get up. One of the birds lands near the forms and approaches with slow steps. Almost quicker than I can register, an arm snatches the bird and pins it to the ground. The bald bird emits a shrill squawk and then is silent. I watch as the person brings the animal to their mouth. Within seconds, they hurl the bird away. The form rises first to a sitting position and then to its knees and feet. I can’t make out the identity, save that the person is tall like Elizabeth and her mate. The frame is thin, rather than wide like Finn’s, and I decide it must be Elizabeth.

  She walks in my direction, but I don’t dare move an inch. Then, she cups her hands to her mouth and coos. I recognize the call and release my breath. Backing down the trunk, Elizabeth catches me in her arms as I drop the last few feet. The skin on her face is black, and I freeze. I wriggle out of her grasp and hold out my arm to her. Flipping my wrist over, I point to my vein. She shakes her head. My eyes scan the area, looking and listening for signs of life. Above us, the remaining two birds have abandoned their circles, and the air is quiet.

  Elizabeth kneels before me. “Anne, dear, let’s see about your family.” She points in the direction of my home.

  We creep over the tall grass, keeping close to the trees for cover. Elizabeth’s hand shakes in mine, and I fear she may fall any minute. The smell of smoke wanes as the wind sweeps through the valley. As it dies, my ears detect the flutter of a heartbeat. I motion for Elizabeth to stop and scan the clearing. Light fur catches my eye, and I bolt to the animal. It startles and runs, but I am faster and catch him before he enters a hole. Sprinting back to Elizabeth, I offer her the animal. Extending her fangs, she pierces the rabbit’s skin. After
a few seconds of sucking, she offers the limp body to me. I take the hare and sip the remaining fluid from its arteries.

  Looking to Elizabeth’s face, I see black flakes slough off and pink skin forming underneath. I wrap my hand around hers, and we continue under the cover of the trees west to my house. A red glow grows just over the next hill, and the smell of smoke wafts to my nose. I drop Elizabeth’s fingers and run. At the crest, I stop short and drop to my belly. Only the chimney stands among a pile of embers. The men poke at the ashes. One of them uses a stick to overturn a body. The smell of metal hits my nose, and I bury my face in the grass.

  Elizabeth covers my back with her arm and rolls me into her chest. “It’s just you and me, little dove.”

  I want to scream and yell for my mother, but my survival instinct is stronger. Peeking out at the scene, I expect to see my parents, siblings rise at any moment. We lie there huddled on the ground waiting for the men to leave. But they don’t. They circle the bodies like birds of prey. I’m overwhelmed with confusion and hatred. How could my family be trapped? Why were the men able to overpower them? A gust of wind brings a new smell to my nostrils. The scent of honey, grain, and flowers surrounds me. I realize the beings are not human men but witches and squirm from Elizabeth’s embrace and ball my hands into fists.

  Elizabeth grips my shoulders. “We’re no match for them. We must go.”

  Perhaps human children do not comprehend death at the age of two, but vampires do. I’m taught to recognize, even value, the animals I take for food. But these deaths were not like those of the bird or rabbit. What purpose did they serve? A guttural scream forms in my chest, and I yell into the dirt. Red mud forms under me as my bloody tears soak the ground. Elizabeth tugs me from the spot, and the earth cakes under my nails as I fight being separated from my family.

  Stronger than me, she snatches me up and tucks me under one arm. I cling to her as she runs, my only sensations the wind in my hair and the smell of her skin. There is a slight pause, and fabric appears around me. Her pulse quickens, and breath comes faster as we climb a ridge and descend again. When her pace slows, I open my eyes to near darkness. A brook gurgles beside me, and Elizabeth lowers me into the stream. Tall trees tower over my head, blocking the sky from my view.

  “Wash,” she instructs, splashing water over her pink healing skin.

  I slip off the red silk dress and wash and change into a cotton tunic from a clothes line Elizabeth raided. Climbing up a tree, she breaks branches and makes a bed of leaves. “Rest child. I will keep you safe.”

  I point to my silk dress, and she hands me the garment. Clutching it to my chest, I climb to the nest and lie down as she instructs. Images of the orange flames engulfing Elizabeth’s home, my cottage, the memory of the heat wafting off the structures, the bitter smell of metal, and the sweet tinge of witches causes bile to rise in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears with my hands.

  “All will be well,” Elizabeth whispers, smoothing my hair.

  Spent from the trauma, I drift into a resting slumber. Vampires do not sleep as humans do. We rest more like cats, in a semi-alert state. After some time, bouncing branches jostle me. I lift my head and peer to the ground below. Elizabeth straddles a deer, her teeth dug into the major artery of its neck. Climbing down the trunk, I watch as she gets her fill. As she drinks, sections of skin returns to its tan color, and new hairs, like fuzz of a peach, replace the singed wisps on her head. When full, she offers me the remaining blood from the animal.

  We drag the deer downstream for other animals to feed on. Following the water as it winds through the valley, we look for shelter. I love frolicking in the darkness, jumping rocks and fording tree stumps, but not this night. With every step, the image of my burning home replays through my brain.

  Finding a cavity a few feet up an embankment, we dig out the back so there’s space for both of us to lie down. I snuggle in beside Elizabeth, the red dress still tight in my arms, realizing my mother will never come for me. Elizabeth rubs my head and kisses my cheek.

  “You rest,” I whisper into her ear. She falls into a sleep-like state. Too confused and anxious to be still, I crawl to the opening, watching and listening for any sign of danger.

  We spend two days in the cave, waiting for Elizabeth’s skin and hair to heal. During the day, I hunt rabbits and squirrels. At night, we wait in the trees above the stream for deer. The third day, we rouse at first light, wash our clothes in the stream, and hang them in the sun to dry. By midday, we start out.

  “We’re going to London, England,” Elizabeth tells me as we find a road. “We’ll travel to the sea and cross to England on a boat. The Catholic Church is not as active there. Being Protestant is tolerated in England, and it will be safe.” I assume we are to be Protestant now. For all the people at the French court, we attended Catholic mass, pretending to practice their religion to avoid persecution. I realize we failed. Witches found us.

  Elizabeth trades labor for shoes, food, and rides across the countryside. It takes us ten days to arrive at the port. The seaside city bustles with more people than I’ve ever seen. A horrible stench invades my nostrils as we walk through the streets, and I cover my nose with my sleeve. Elizabeth swats my hand from my face as she pulls me along the cobbled street. Stopping in front of a structure reeking of cooked meat, Elizabeth leads me inside. She inquires about work and serves food to the loud humans gathered there. I hold my skirt over my nostrils to keep the smell of their blood from making me crazed with hunger. Elizabeth's payment is a loaf of bread and some broth. She tears small pieces and dips them in the meat drippings, telling me to go easy so my stomach will adjust to the food. I don’t prefer the taste, but it fills my belly. After nightfall, as the town grows quiet, we creep through the alleys to the docks.

  The first ship we board is empty, and we jump to the second. Finding its hull full of supplies, we hide among the boxes. At daybreak, the crew boards, and the ship sets sail. We bounce on the waves, and I hate being unable to tell where we are and how far we’ve traveled. At night, I crouch through empty spaces and find drinking water. When I bring several rats back to Elizabeth for food, she hits them from my hands and kicks the animals away. She uses the water to wash us, and I weave through the boxes again to procure more water and food. I return with a chicken and a mug, and although she doesn’t look happy, she accepts the bird. It is one more day and a night before the ship docks. Again, we wait till it’s dark to make our way to land.

  In the town, we find a building where they house animals and make a bed of hay in the loft. The horses and scent of the fresh grass reminds me of home, and my eyes begin to tear.

  “There, there, little dove, we’ve had enough tears for a lifetime. Tomorrow, you’ll learn proper English.” Elizabeth hugs me to her chest and sings my lullaby. Falling into a dream-filled slumber, the faces of my family members flash through my mind. Mother in her chateau gown, hasn’t changed since returning from attending her lady, father in his chainmail, Beatrice with her blue bow, Sebastian with soiled shirt, and Mina sewing cloth in her lap, sit around our table, enjoying dinner.

  Hearing the rooster crow, I rouse with a start to the unfamiliar surroundings. We wash and I follow Elizabeth through the streets. She teaches me English, pointing to various things and repeating the correct word. We stop at an inn, and she reminds me of my curtsey, which I practice before we enter. I hide behind her skirt as she talks to the innkeeper. We move to two more shops before she finds an owner willing to trade rations for labor. I play beside the hearth as she works, listening to the odd dialect and committing all to memory.

  The day affords us more than a meal as she finds transport to London. We rest in the inn’s stable for the night and, at first light, board the back of a cart bound for the great city. As we pass frost-covered fields, Elizabeth continues my language training. We’re at an advantage as vampires, because I’ll remember everything exactly as she teaches me. The carriage bumps over the rocky path for two days
before the countryside begins to meld into house-dotted plots and then building-lined streets.

  I’m used to pastures and forest land, and the smell and noise of so many humans, animals, fires, and cooked meats overwhelms my senses as we enter the city. The driver has fish he delivers to inns, and Elizabeth, who I have been instructed to call mother, helps him carry boxes to each customer. Not knowing the dangers of the strange environment, I stay fast on her heels.

  A large man with a round belly licks meat drippings from his mouth as we approach a table at the last stop. “Well, what have ye here, Adam?”

  “Greetings, Walter, a widow from the coast, looking for work.” Adam motions to Elizabeth.

  Walter heaves his large frame to a standing position. “She’s too little for the inn. My brother’s master is looking for kitchen help though.”

  Adam looks to Elizabeth who nods. It’s late, and we cannot meet the brother till the next day. Elizabeth and I clean the kitchen and dining room in exchange for a meal and room in his stable. Walter doesn’t include meat with our plates, and watching the chickens strut across the barn, my mouth begins to water.

  “Child, come here.” Elizabeth offers me her hand. I follow her to the back door of the inn, where she raps on the weathered wood door.

  Walter greets us with a stern look. “What is it, woman?”

  “Please, my child’s belly will be empty before dawn without meat.”

  I meet Walter’s stare with pleading eyes. A sneer spreads across his face, and he takes a step towards us. “Well, that may require some extra work, woman.” Quicker than I thought he could move, his arm wraps around Elizabeth and grabs her buttocks. My pulse quickens as I witness the scene. I know Elizabeth can defend herself, but I’ve been taught that hiding our nature trumps almost every other response. As he backs her towards the wall, I extend my leg into his path, causing his huge form to come down on the floor with a thud. “Uhhh,” he screams. “What has that child done?”