Shackles of Sunlight Read online

  Shackles of Sunlight

  J Daniel Layfield

  Other works by J Daniel Layfield:

  Spell Fade

  A Lazy Fields book

  Cover design by Ampersand Book Covers

  Copyright © 2016 J Daniel Layfield

  All rights reserved

  ISBN-13: 978-0692693162

  ISBN-10: 0692693165

  For my wife, Cortney

  And my children, Katelyn and Ethan

  Honestly, I don’t know how you guys put up with me, but I’m so thankful you do!

  And

  For Mom and Dad

  Thanks for never making me feel like there was anything I couldn’t do

  Chapter One

  Why had she stayed so late? Her hands, deep in her coat pockets, brushed against the folded paper. Oh yes, that was why. The poem. Her poem. The one he had written as a tribute to her beauty, or so he said. She had no illusions as to its true purpose, and to some extent it had been successful.

  There was a slight chill in the late night air, but her body still held the warmth of his. Even now, rubbing her hands across her bare skin caused a renewed tingling over her entire body. She felt positively wicked for how far she had allowed his hands to roam, but there were boundaries, even for the son of the wealthiest merchant in four counties.

  That place of secret meetings and sweet promises was behind her now. She had to leave before being discovered missing by her mother, and due to the late hour had to take a shortcut through the woods. It would also mean straying near the ancient stone ruins outside of the village. The very ones he had begged her to avoid.

  Thinking of those crooked and broken relics gave her a chill, extinguishing some of the heat her body still held. She looked up, thankful for the clouds covering the moon. It did make staying on the trail a bit harder, but the gloom hid the ruins from her view.

  Why couldn’t she think of anything else now? She had played amongst the stones as a child. They all had. Small wonder. What bigger attraction is there for a child than that which is forbidden?

  Of all the memories from that time, her mind settled on only one. The dare. Lie on the large flat rock in the middle of the ring for ten seconds. Simple. Only it was more than just a rock. The ruins had been there even before her own village, and their purpose was nothing more than a guess. But that one rock, with its peculiar red stained face, had been given a name by the children – the sacrifice table.

  It was just a name, she had decided, climbing atop its smooth surface while the other children circled her in awed silence. A name can’t hurt you, she told herself, lying down on the cool, smooth stone. It was actually quite pleasant, she convinced herself, even as she spotted a large crimson stain under where her wrist now rested. The circle of children tightened and began their slow count to ten.

  It was when they reached five that she first began to feel uncomfortable. What started as a simple itch turned quickly to alarm when she realized she couldn’t lift a hand to scratch it. Things got even worse when she tried to move her head and look at her arm. Not only could she not move her head, but something was actually pressing it down, grinding the stone into the back of her head.

  The children reached ten and if she could, she would have cried out for help. The most she could manage was a muffled groan before her mouth clamped down on her tongue. Tears pooled in her eyes as her mouth filled with a warm, salty, copper taste. A trickle of bright red blood escaped the side of her mouth, slid down her cheek, and dropped onto the stone table where it greedily soaked into the stone. At once the hold on her body was released. Sensing its freedom, her entire body convulsed, pushing her up and off the table, into the silent crowd of staring children.

  The silence lasted but a moment before they broke into a cheer. In the celebration she quickly forgot the paralyzing pressure on her body, and the bite on her tongue became nothing more than an accident. It was the last time in her childhood she ventured into the ancient circle of stones, and the memory had faded almost completely within days. So why was she recalling it now?

  Her hands plunged back into her pockets, grasping for the folded paper. She needed another memory, something to drive this one from her head. Paper firmly in hand, she closed her eyes, recalling the memory of her love reciting the poem written for her. The words were lost in her mind, but the image of him was solid, and she felt that warmth begin to spread through her again. She wished there was some light so she could read the sweet words again.

  Perhaps hearing her wish, when she opened her eyes the moon was shining brightly down on her through some open patch of sky above. She regretted the thought immediately. The light was surely bright enough for her to read by, but her hand, and the paper it now held crumpled in a fist, lie forgotten in her pocket when she saw where she now stood. Somehow she had stumbled into those old ruins, stopping mere meters from the stone table. The sacrifice table. Something had been placed on it, the bones of several animals it seemed, but she was more concerned with what lie between her and the table.

  A crowd of hooded figures stood in front of the table, and though she could not see their faces, she could feel their eyes upon her. “Come closer, child,” she heard from one of them, but couldn’t tell which. None of them moved, and the voice seemed to come from everywhere around her. She smiled nervously and started to step backwards, apologies on her lips.

  “Come see what you have done,” the voice commanded. Her legs refused to budge in any direction away from the table, her throat wouldn’t carry her voice, and her eyes couldn’t look away. One of the figures stepped forward, pushing the hood off his head. It was his voice, she was sure, although she hadn’t seen his lips move.

  Lips. His were full, and stained a dark red, almost port. Surely it was a trick of the moonlight. He smiled, a half-smile that beckoned her come closer, to which her feet complied. A small complaint formed in the back of her mind, but she barely noticed it.

  “We heard you coming from over a kilometer away.” Impossible, her mind argued, but his eyes assured her it was true. “The mixture of fear and lust made your heartbeat intoxicating.”

  Lust. Yes, that was the feeling, although she had been too embarrassed to admit it even to herself.

  “Then we could smell you,” he continued, “and very nearly lost control of ourselves.” There was a groan of agreement from the crowd, and her feet continued to take her closer. “Once you stepped into the circle and we felt your heat, well, that was it.” His smile faded, and the crowd parted to her right, revealing a smaller stone table near the circle’s edge. “She didn’t stand a chance after that.”

  Her feet stopped. That table wasn’t empty either, but whatever creature lay upon it certainly appeared to be. Blood, the same color as his stained lips, trailed away from the eviscerated remains and dripped from the end of the table. She covered her mouth and nose with her hand when the thick stench hit her. The hooded figures closed in around her, their steps and rustling robes growing restless.

  “I know she doesn’t look like much now, but she used to be very pretty.” She noticed the smile had returned when she looked up at him. “Though not nearly as beautiful as you,” he remarked, trailing a finger down her smooth cheek. She inhaled sharply and pulled instinctively away from his icy touch, which only seemed to amuse him even more.

  Her thoughts were sluggish. What was he implying? Nothing of the remains appeared to be human, but he kept referring to them as if they were.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked hesitantly, her voice quiet in her head, as if she were hearing an echo down a long hall. He looked at her as one might an inquisitive child, delighting in her ignorance. Her eyes grew heavy under his ga
ze, but she held them open.

  “This one is strong,” he stated, echoed faintly by the chorus surrounding them. He stroked her cheek, and she shivered but did not pull away this time. He noted this with amusement as well, but did not let his hand linger.

  “It’s a summoning,” he announced with a sweep of his hand. “You see,” he pointed to the sacrifice table, “this is not a table of death, but one of rebirth.” She nodded, not because she understood, but because she sensed it was what he wanted from her.

  His face turned sullen when he looked back at his table of ‘rebirth’. Then he shrugged. Birth is a messy process. “It’s a long and complicated ceremony which we’ve been at most of the night,” he said as he gently patted her head. “And it requires a human to complete it. That one,” he looked towards the blood soaked preparation table, “I’m afraid, has been ruined. She simply will not do in her state,” he said.

  Whispers of “No” hissed from the crowd.

  “We’re going to need a replacement.” He flashed a ravenous smile and she caught sight of his teeth for the first time - his white, pointed teeth. The paralysis that had held her suddenly lost its grip, but it was too late. Surrounded by predators, the prey never escapes. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her was a closing ring of hungry, black, piercing eyes.

  “Ode to She” – it was her lover’s voice, but where was he? She couldn’t see anything, and already his voice had faded too far away for her to make out the words. She tried calling out to him, but couldn’t even hear her own voice. How she longed to hear him, see him, smell him … touch him.

  “Those thoughts are what got us all in this position in the first place.” The voice was everywhere around her, and brought with it a coldness that enveloped her entire body. She could see no source of the voice or the cold though. “I dare say you are stirring much more dangerous appetites within us.” This was followed by laughter and rustling of cloaks.

  “Open your eyes now, child,” the same voice commanded her. It was only then she realized they were shut, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted that to change. “Open them,” he insisted, and she was unable to resist.

  As her world came in to focus it revealed a series of horrors, each worse than the last. Surrounded by the hooded figures, she was bound to the still blood-soaked table … naked. Peering up above her head she finally found him, the one face that had emerged from its hood. She was again caught instantly by his eyes.

  “There now,” he soothed with mocking kindness, and she felt a calming warmth begin to soak through her body. “That’s better, isn’t it?” She answered with the same nod she felt he wanted. He smiled, revealing the mouthful of canines, but she didn’t notice. “Shall we begin?” She could feel her head begin to nod on its own, which she was inclined to allow, until he bent down towards her neck, breaking eye contact. The fear flooded back, and she very nearly had enough time to scream before she felt the sharp pain in her neck.

  The scream changed to a sharp inhale through her half-open mouth, closer to a sound of pleasure than pain. It was echoed by a similar hiss from the ever nearing crowd. Her eyes shifted towards the noise, and for the first time she was able to see the others faces. They were all smiling down at her. Not a kind or friendly smile though, these were knowing and malicious smiles. What kind of teeth were hiding behind them, she wondered. Her eyes began to close, and the faces disappeared as she was swept away by the feeling which started at her neck.

  It really was a pleasant, almost erotic, sensation. A soft, rhythmic suction was drawing the blood from her entire body, pulling it towards this new hole in her neck. It began at her feet then quickly moved up the rest of her body, making her feel like she was lying in a swiftly moving river. The current moved across her body, gently caressing every part. A slow moan escaped her lips as her fears washed away in her own river of pleasure.

  She had no idea how long she remained in this state, but she was slowly becoming aware of another sensation. It also was not entirely unpleasant, but it was unnerving. Something was rubbing, no, caressing her back. Her back, which was lying against a stone table, being gently stroked by what felt like dozens of fingertips. The sensations slowly moved down, running counter to the current still flowing towards her neck, and lingered at her hips. She moaned louder and her back arched. After the night they had experienced, this was more than any of them could handle.

  She was knocked back into full consciousness by an icy penetration ripping through her thighs, and spreading up to her stomach. The cold was so severe her teeth chattered uncontrollably and her entire body convulsed against it. The draining at her neck stopped, taking with it the only warmth she had to defend against the invading cold.

  Free now to move her head, she looked down towards the origin of this icy onslaught, and there she saw the one who had been standing over her now between her legs. His robe thrown open, he forced himself into her. He thrust his body against hers rapidly and roughly, but she felt little besides the numbing cold. After several minutes he finally let out a howl that echoed and rang in her ears long after he had disappeared back into the crowd, only to be replaced by another. Each one took his turn, emerging from the crowd, raping her, adding his own grunt, growl, and howl to the collective in her head, and then disappearing again. Her thighs and back were covered in scratches from rubbing against the rough stone beneath her, and the rough hands held her tight.

  Eventually even the dullness of the cold wasn’t enough to mask the pain of their savagery, and tears gave way to screams of agony. It only seemed to fuel their assault. She screamed until she had no more voice, her mouth continuing to open and close, but producing no more than a rasp. Even her eyes began to rebel as no more tears would roll down her face. She missed the tears. They at least held a little warmth.

  It was then she started to die. It was just as she had heard – a bright, warm light appeared in front of her, forcing everything else from her vision. It was so beautiful, and she wanted nothing more than to move into its radiance. So then why was she screaming?

  I must have found my voice again, she thought offhandedly. How such a noise came from her weakened body and small mouth was unimaginable, and she wanted it to stop. She put her hands over her mouth, barely registering she was no longer restrained, but the screeching continued. Who was screaming if it wasn’t her?

  She covered her ears, but the sound didn’t lessen. It was then she knew it was coming from inside her head. All of those guttural noises in her head had become a chorus of screaming voices, filling it so completely she hardly noticed the pain lessen and the cold retreat.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes watered as the stench of burnt flesh reached her. It was then she finally opened her eyes and found herself alone, bathed in the warm sunlight of a new day. She was alive, but the screaming continued.

  Chapter Two

  They say the devil is in the details, whatever that means. All he knew for certain was he was having a hell of a time getting them. It had taken a few decades, but he was finally making some progress. It was amazing how much a reputation could loosen tongues, and the vampire he had found here was eagerly wagging his. Unfortunately, it was the same story he had already heard too many times before.

  “That’s all I know,” the creature snarled at him, then snapped his mouth shut. This was where he always got stuck. No matter the threats, or the subsequent torture he inflicted, there was simply no answer to his next questions. What were their plans for the beast they were summoning? Where were the artifacts they stole to perform the ritual? How many elder vampires survived exposure to the dawn? Silence. Were they unable to answer, or unwilling?

  Apparently his reputation alone still wasn’t enough. Whatever the consequences were for answering the questions, they still preferred taking their chances with him. Maybe another decade, he thought, as he separated the vampire’s head from its body.

  They called themselves historians, but most were
not much more than slaves. Bound to their libraries, secreted away inside vampire nests, they spent their immortal lives surrounded by ancient tomes and parchments. This was perhaps the largest library he had found so far, as was the house he found it in. Not that size mattered. Besides the librarian, the house was empty and none of the books belonged to the collection for which he had been searching.

  Lately these hidden libraries and their keepers had turned up little more than more questions, but he was sure someone knew something. It was only a matter of time before they talked, and time was something of which he had plenty.

  The historian’s body lay crumpled on the floor, black sludge oozing from the open neck, but he barely noticed. The fire he started in the stacks was raging well out of control now, and the flames reflection danced across the polished marble floor. He watched it for a moment, listening to the roar consume the dry paper, then shook his head.

  He had to destroy it, but sometimes he felt like a traitor, destroying part of his own past. The slain vampire’s empty eyes stared up at him accusingly. Strange, these creatures were just as much a part of him as their history, yet he felt no remorse in killing them.

  Why should he? They had certainly taken no interest in him, and no one else seemed to care about his systematic destruction of their past. How many of these had he sat and watched burn to ash? And how many had anyone bothered to show up to save? Was he really searching in the right places?

  “Master?” The voice came from behind, and he inwardly cringed. He hated when Garrett called him that, it made him feel so much like one of them. Still, no matter how much he hated it, or how much he insisted they call him something else, all of his bonded had used the term.

  He silently turned to face his long-time servant and friend, and found him pointing towards an odd section of books. What made the seven-foot by eight-foot section strange was that it refused to burn. Flames licked along one side of it, but the shelves remained unscathed. Now this was something new.