Chapter One

Please for the love of God keep in mind that this is a rough draft and it is more than likely going to undergo massive changes as I write and rewrite sections of this. Chapter one is bumpy and rough, it needs plently of TLC that I will get around to. Anyway, let me know how the plot seems thus far and I HOPE you enjoy it!

_______________

1287 AD, the countryside of France, Europe.

 

It would do, he thought dourly. The tavern stood a few hundred feet off of the main highway, the large building the only civilization for miles in either direction. Forest lay as far as the eye could see, mountains distantly peeked over the treetops. While half of the country was almost civilized, the other half of it was far from it.

Virgo closed his eyes as his anger began to mount. Honestly, if it weren’t for his foolish child, he wouldn’t be travelling across the damned country. Coldness fell over Virgo as thoughts of his first-born child penetrated past his defenses. She’d been such a beautiful mortal, had seemed like the perfect companion for him. Until she betrayed him, that is.

Lamiae La Boux had been a young aristocrat, beautiful and dainty. She had been charming and lovely, disarming. They had met through one of his brothers and it had been love at first sight. He’d thought himself immune to emotions, yet she had proved him wrong, time and again. Then her betrayal, her true motive for getting close to him.

She’d stolen an ancient and powerful artifact from him. The Cup of Ages. He knew naught what the cup did, exactly, only that it was extremely powerful and was never meant to be used by anyone.

His twin had volunteered to help track Lamiae but Virgo had refused. She was his child, his first-born, it was his duty to hunt her down and destroy her.

Virgo led his black stallion towards the stables off to the rear of the tavern. A ragged, weather-worn sign hung on the side of the tavern, The Nimble Skull burned into the wood.

A young stable hand approached him, he held a pitchfork in his right hand, and a rag in the other. The boy was no older than sixteen, yet he looked far older than his age. He was a few inches shorter than Virgo. He wore grubby overalls with an apron wrapped around his waist. But it was the boy’s eyes that caught Virgo’s attention. They were nearly pitch black, the irises almost blending in with his pupils.

Wearily, the boy wiped at his forehead with the rag, wiping away sweat. “Evening,” he nodded to Virgo, setting his pitch fork against a stall door. He had a heavy country accent, his words sounding harsh to Virgo’s sensitive hearing.

“Good evening, lad.” Virgo offered him a slight nod. “I would like to stable my horse for the night.”

“Sure thing,” he drawled, holding his hand out for the reins.

Virgo reluctantly released his horse into the care of this stable hand. He watched as the boy took his horse towards one of the clean stalls, actually amazed that the boy managed to handle Midnight so well. Midnight was still picky with Virgo most days.

The stable hand locked the stall and returned to where Virgo stood. Virgo offered him a nod, “My name is Virgo Vorigan,” he tilted his head towards his horse, “take good care of Midnight.”

He left the stable hand staring after him as he walked away. He cared little for mortals, even more so since Lamiae had betrayed him the way she had. No born vampire would ever act the way she had, perhaps a changed vampire was more feral, more calculating. No matter, he thought with determination, Lamiae was his prey and he the hunter.

He would find and destroy her, thus recovering his stolen artifact.

Maeve glanced past the kitchen archway towards the dining room, her gaze locked onto one of the new arrivals. The moment he had walked through the door, she felt everything inside her go cold. At first, she was unsure of what she had sensed, the air had been saturated with a heavy feeling, like an intense amount of power hung in the air.

Curious, she had snuck away from her duties in the back room folding laundry to investigate. As she rounded the kitchen archway, she had frozen on the spot. Standing in the tavern front door was a man who radiated with power. Her gaze had quickly darted around the room, wondering why none of the other patrons had yet to recognize him for what he was.

When his gaze started to move around the room, she quickly ducked into the kitchen, hiding from him. The cold hand of terror gripped her heart as she tried to make sense of why a vampire of such power would be standing in this tavern.

It didn’t make any sense. She peeked around the archway to see him again, but he was gone. She frowned as she came out of the kitchen, her gaze scanning over the heads of the patrons. She looked to the back of the room, there in a dark corner, the male vampire sat with his back to the wall. Even from this distance, he felt extremely powerful and intimidating.

“Aye,” Maeve flinched as one of the tavern owners, Anne Porte, smacked her arm with a towel. “I don’t pay you to stand around, girl. Get back to work.”

Maeve glanced at Anne, taking in her features that she knew so well and loathed. Anne had never been a pretty woman, even in her youth, she’d always had a round, ruddy face. Her nose was round, giving her a jovially look that didn’t match the woman’s sour personality. Her eyes were the color of dirt, they were small and beady, shrewd even. She had a weak mouth, her lips were always pinched as if she were sucking on a sour lemon. 

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Maeve offered her a small curtsy and quickly rushed back into the laundry room.

Time crawled by slowly as Maeve focused on folding the towels perfectly, just the way Anne preferred lest she be reprimanded. Sometimes it was hard for her to show Anne gratitude, while Maeve knew she had Anne to thank for her being alive, it didn’t give the old woman the right to treat her like a slave.

If only her mother hadn’t die during Maeve’s birth. Perhaps she would have had a better life.

A loud knock on the door startled Maeve, causing her to drop the towel she had been folding. Clearing her throat, Maeve told whomever was out there to come in.

Dylan, Anne’s eldest son, opened the door, a lazy grin on his face. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Ma wants you.”

Maeve cocked a brow, “Me? What did I do?”

He shrugged, “I think ma wants you to serve a guest.”

She ground her teeth, feeling her jaw crack. She absolutely hated being one of the only non-family employees. While Anne’s family lived and worked here, none of them were worked quite as hard as Maeve was. It was ridiculous and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

She had no family and friends to go to. She had almost no money to her name, Anne barely paid her enough to pay her dues for rent.

Maeve sighed, “Let’s get this over with.” She followed Dylan out of the room, into the kitchen. “Who am I serving?”

“Virgo Vorigan, he’s an aristo.” She noted the way Dylan’s mouth tightened in disgust at the mention of an aristocrat.

“Don’t like the aristocrats?”

“Bloody rich b******s.” Dylan shook his head, his gaze going towards his mother. “Here she is, ma.”

Anne turned and quickly snapped at Maeve, “took you long enough, girl. The gentleman would like his dinner, ten minutes ago.”

Maeve glanced at Dylan and wanted to slap him. The a*****e wore a smug expression, meaning he had probably delayed grabbing her just to see her get chewed out. She had no idea why and no matter what she did, Dylan had always hated her. He had always treated her like trash, as if she really were a slave. As far back as she could remember, he had always been like that.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Even though it rankled her, Maeve bowed her head in apology. “It won’t happen again.”

Anne’s face softened slightly, “alright, off with you. Take his dinner up to him, he’s in room four.”

Maeve picked up the platter quickly, grateful to escape from the Porte’s presence. She hurried through the dining room, weaving around the guests expertly. The smells of ale and tonight’s stew mingled in the air, alongside the smell of men and sweat. Even though she had grown up here, the smells had always bothered Maeve. Was personal hygiene too much to ask for?

The stairs creaked underneath her slight weight, the old wood was worn but was still sturdy. She doubted the inn would fall apart any time soon. Despite how sour Eugene, Anne’s husband, was, he was quite the talented artisan. He’d built the inn from the ground up and it had stood for nearly thirty years without wearing out.

At the top of the stairs, Maeve paused to straighten her dress. She didn’t own anything that would be pleasing to an aristo’s eyes, but at least it was clean and serviceable. She glanced down at her dress and gently fluffed the green skirt. She quickly picked up the tray and knocked on door number four.

Several heartbeats passed before a deep voice told her to come in. She took a breath for courage and opened the door. A blast of energy struck her as soon as she stepped into the room, her gaze zeroing in on the vampire from earlier.

Oh, dear Lord. Upon closer inspection, she realized he was absolutely beautiful in the dimly lit room. She watched as shadows played across his face. His hair was so black it seemed to absorb the light; it fell in thick waves, some of the strands reaching his waist. He had high cheekbones that emphasized his almond-shaped eyes.

Her breath caught as she stared into his golden gaze. His irises were slightly glowing, but Maeve had no idea if it was real or a trick of the light.

He was an extremely large male, his shoulders were easily twice as wide as hers. Even sitting down, he radiated a dangerous aura.

Virgo sucked his breath in sharply as he studied the waitress that stood in his doorway, his dinner tray held in her tiny hands. She looked absolutely terrified of him, her face a mask of fear and weariness. Her grip on the tray left her knuckles white with tension.

She seemed transfixed upon his eyes, her own never leaving his. She had beautiful eyes, he conceded. They were a bright green, laced with a circle of yellow. Her hair was the color of gold, she had plaited it in one thick braid that fell to her waist. He wondered why she would bind it, hair like hers deserved to be seen.

Her beauty was not what startled him, however.

“Halfling,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Her eyes widened, her body tensing. “I’m sorry?”

Virgo stood up slowly, smelling her fear in the air. He approached her slowly, keeping himself calm and relaxed. She had yet to move away from the door as if she were afraid the moment she did, he would attack her. Which… he had half a mind to.

Halflings were dangerous creatures. There hadn’t been many Halflings in his time, perhaps half a dozen, and each one had eventually gone rabid. They were born of a human mother that had been changed during her pregnancy. Most pregnant women died in labor, however, something to do with their changed child.

He had smelled this Halfling the moment he had stepped into the tavern but had been unable to locate the source. He stopped in front of her, her gaze never straying from his.

He took the tray from her and set it on a side table to his left. “What is your name?”

She blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. “I-I am Maeve, my Lord.” She clumsily bowed. She had a slow drawl, her voice slightly husky sounding.

“Maeve,” he repeated slowly, enjoying the feel of it.

She took a step back from him, her eyes lighting with fear. “I-I must return to my duties. I hope you enjoy your dinner, my Lord.” She bowed and just as she went to turn away, he reached out and took hold of her arm.

“I need a moment of your time.”

“B-but I have duties to-”

“No,” he pulled her into his room, quickly shutting the door. She looked around his room frantically, avoiding his gaze.

“Please, my Lord-”

Virgo crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door. “I take it you know what I am.”

Her head snapped around, her eyes wide in fear as she looked at him. “Well, y-yes, I do. Why?”

He rose a questioning brow, “Do you know what you are?”

Maeve frowned at the vampire’s words, did she know what she was? Of course she did. “I’m a human.”

He seemed to find it amusing, one side of his lips curling into a smirk. Add in his stunning eyes and he was absolutely devastating. Whomever had changed this creature of the night from a human had made a wise choice. He was beautiful.

“You called me a Halfling, what exactly is that?”

He pushed away from the door and moved towards her, but she wasn’t willing to trust him yet. She moved away from him and only stopped when there was several feet between them.

He seemed annoyed that she kept moving, but didn’t comment. “A half vampire.”

“Half…?” Suddenly, she laughed in a loud rush. “I am not half vampire. My mother was human and so was my father.”

Despite how ridiculous it sounded, the vampire wasn’t smiling. His face was a mask of neutrality, not a single emotion showed. He stood behind the couch that sat in front of the fireplace, his face lit up by the warm fire.

“How do you think I was able to detect you and you I?” Maeve had no answer to that, her gaze darting away from his. “You haven’t changed yet, that is why you do not know what you are.”

“No,” she shook her head, unwilling to believe what he was saying. She slowly looked back at him, taking a breath for courage, “I’m a human, and I refuse to believe in what you are saying.”

She took a step towards the door and the moment she did, his voice cut through the air like glass, sharp but quiet enough to almost be a whisper. “Don’t.” She frowned up at him questioningly. “In my world you are considered dangerous and therefore are to be placed under watchful supervision until the vampire of these lands claims you.”

Fear rammed down her throat, her eyes shooting wide. “W-what? Claims me?”

He nodded, “Now, we can do this my way, which is the easiest, or we can do it your way. You either come with me quietly or-”

Maeve dashed towards the room door, her heart catapulting into her throat as fear choked her. She didn’t care if she really was whatever the hell this vampire called her, she wanted her freedom, and by God, she was going to get it. She reached out her hand to grab the door handle, her fingers wrapping around the brass knob, but to her terror, it wouldn’t turn.

“Oh God, oh God,” she whispered in a slow mantra, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. This had to be a terrible dream.

Time seemed to halt, the very air stilling as Maeve stared at her hands that were wrapped around the brass doorknob. Why was she constantly attacked by vampires? She glanced over her shoulder expecting the vampire to wear a smug expression like Dylan always did whenever he’d bested her, but to her surprise, his face was a mask of stoicism.

He met her gaze steadily, calm as if he were having an afternoon tea. He stood with his legs apart, his arms crossed over his chest. Despite his calm appearance, he had an aura that said he’d kill anyone who so much as breathed his air wrong. And he was extremely powerful.

He wasn’t the first vampire she’d dealt with, but he was the first who hadn’t tried to ‘convert’ her as they’d called it. Maybe he was different, but perhaps not. Maeve released a pent up sigh, fear and nausea twisting like snakes in her stomach.

She released the doorknob, her hands felt stiff and cold. She turned around slowly, meeting his gaze head-on. She wasn’t a coward, had never been, and never would be if she could help it. She had fought too long for her life to just lie down and take it. Sometimes it was hard for her to face it, sometimes old memories clashed with the present, causing her to panic. But she’d had her moment of panic, now was the time for her to face whatever else destiny was ready to throw at her.

Even if said projectile was an extremely dangerous male vampire… who happened to be viciously handsome.

Virgo lifted a brow suddenly, the Halfling stood in front of him, her panic and terror hidden behind a façade of calm. Keeping the door locked had been an easy trick, calming her down had seemed trickier. He had fully expected her to panic the entire time. Yet she’d turned around and looked like a completely different person. Interesting.

“What do you want?” Maeve asked, her voice lilting slightly.

Virgo sighed, shaking his head. “You are misunderstanding the situation, Halfling.” Her eyes narrowed on him in warning. “I am acting in the Vampire Patriarch’s place and taking you into custody.”

“Did they send you?” Her voice was little more than a hiss, her tone deep.

“They?”

“The other vampires.”

He tilted his head as he furrowed his brows in confusion. As far as he knew, he was the first to find her. With a shake of his head, he answered her so.

“Lies,” she took a step towards him. “I give them credit this time, at least you made the effort to speak to me before you tried to convert me.”

That sent a chill down his spine. He knew instantly of who she spoke of. ‘They’ as she called them were a group of rebellious vampires, they were feral and aggressive, and had one thing in common with each other: they were all turned vampires, not a single one was a born vampire. The Turned were forever at the born vampires throats, they felt they were cheated of their dues.

In vampire society, turned vampires were considered secondary citizens, not worthy of Nobility or Royalty. Born vampires were considered nobility, regardless of bloodlines. That didn’t explain why they were seeking to convert this Halfling though.

“When have they tried to convert you?”

Maeve looked taken aback, her expression one of confusion. “When haven’t they?”

“How many times have they tried?”

Now suspicious, she tilted her head, her eyes holding his with a fiery determination. “Too many times.”

Author's Note

Chapter one is a ways off from being completed but I wanted to share. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Also... suggestions for a title would be great, thank you!