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A Vampire's Halloween

A production by TwoLoveBirds

Published by Smashwords

Copyright 2017 TwoLoveBirds

All Rights Reserved

Cover Design copyright 2017 TwoLoveBirds



This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, trademarked products, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.



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A Vampire's Halloween


It was a dark evening. The moon was a silver disk in the sky surrounded by vaporous clouds. The bare trees trembled in the whispering wind and the air was cold with the bite of fall.

How romantic.

I, Mortencia, stood before the giant doors of my mansion and awaited my beloved. She was not late... yet. It was a tendency of Gertrude's to be late. She would arrive in her rattling carriage pulled by ghost-like white horses with an apology on her sneering lips and, perhaps, a gift tucked away under her cloak. I loved her gifts. An Australian crow, a tamed pet bat, a rat that did tricks, all lovely creatures that I had promptly let loose in my mansion and ordered my skeletal servants to dote upon.

But tonight was our first Halloween. For those of us who were... eccentrically born, it was our version of a Valentine's. For us, the songs we would sing to each other were dark and whispering, caught full of the mysteries of cobwebs and the love of thorns- but with the soft touch of a velvety wing.

We were vampires, my love and I. Not exactly of any particular kind, and certainly not the kind to say 'we do not sparkle' with our noses in the air. No, we simply were. Like most other vampires who had left their parental nests or the coccoon of a mentor, we kept to ourselves.

Well, I kept to myself. Gertrude just sort of... tagged along. No, that is not a good way to describe her. She... how could one describe her?

With a rattle and bang, my thoughts were intruded upon. A whinnying in the distance warned me of the arrival of the doomed carriage. I smiled, then quickly ironed out my features into impossible carelessness as if I just so happened to be out here for no reason whatsoever. Then, as I was smoothing my ruffled black skirts out around me, the carriage arrived.

The horses dashed out of the mist, charging like phantoms bent on destruction. The carriage rattled and banged along. Just before they reached me, the hooded driver pulled the horses into a rearing and screeching halt. The carriage bumped one final time, then stopped with the side door before me.

The driver hopped down, then pulled open the door open. A villainous face appeared, grinning ethereally as she stepped out of the carriage.

“Ah, Gertrude,” I said sweetly, dipping into a curtsy.

Gertrude smirked, but with a spark of something more to her eyes. Her decadently smooth black hair was set back in a loose ribbon at the nape of her neck. Her darkly shimmering eyes were of the deepest green. Her face was narrow and smooth, her skin flawless and her eyes rimmed in tasteful black and emerald hues. Her delicious body was slim and she was clothed in a cape over a bustier and pants. One hand was clasped behind her back beneath her cape.

“Hello Mortencia,” she said silkily as she bowed to me. My heart fluttered, quite an unusual and rather embarrassing thing for a vampire without a heartbeat. I rose from my curtsy, eyeing her hidden arm in mock suspicion.

“My darling, what are you keeping from me?” I began to stroll around her, my skirts rustling thickly with every step. “Is this some trickery?”

“No, my love,” she said sweetly, turning to keep facing me as if we were dancing. “But-” and now she drew her arm out from behind her back. With a flourish a deep red and black rose was offered to me. “I have but a meager gift for you.”

My heart leaped. My stomach squirmed full of poisonous butterflies. Greedily, I reached for the rose- only to have it tugged away just out of reach.

“You should know something first,” Gertrude cooed as she stepped closer, holding the rose aside. Our lips brushed and she whispered “It is a cursed rose. If you take it-” she drew back. I shuddered at the intensity in her eyes as we gazed longingly into the other.

“If you take it, you must marry me,” she said softly.

I gasped.

Gertrude drew back, sinking to one knee before me. “Mortencia, my sweet love,” she said in the darkest and most devious of ways. She offered the rose to me again. “Will you marry me?”

I clasped my hands before myself. My thoughts raced, my heart pounded, and all I could think of was one word.

“Yes,” I said in an undignified squeak.

“Then please accept this rose,” she said softly, offering it to me. I took it, my hand trembling in anticipation at what it would do. After all, she had said it was cursed and she was not one to disappoint me usually. I loved curses.

As my fingers plucked the rose from her grasp, the stem of the rose twisted and shrank. It writhed around in my grasp, forming and shaping until it was a beautiful ring. The stem now circled my fourth finger, gnarly and thorny. At the top, much smaller but still magnificent, the rose bloomed.

Now it was I who offered her my hand. She took it, and I helped her to her feet. Once more we stood before each other, the chilly wind wrapped around us and the glow of the moonlight hidden by the creeping mist.

“I love you, my dear,” she said softly.

“More than?” I asked teasingly as I looped my arms around her neck. I leaned into her, my fingers winding through her hair to press our lips almost together. Almost. I could wait.

“I love you more than dark mysteries. More than magic. More than anything the underworld has to offer,” she whispered. My eyes fluttered closed at the brush of her lips against mine. My senses were overwhelmed by her luxurious perfume, by the gentle press of her hands taking my waist. Our lips pressed heatedly together.

“You are such a poet,” I murmured as we drew back. “Good with your lips.”

She smirked. “And you, my dear, are as thorny as a rose.”

I felt myself blushing. “You charmer,” I said teasingly. But then I turned sober. “I love you too,” I said firmly.

“More than?” she teased.

But I was no poet. “I do not know what I love you more than, for I have never felt this way for any other,” I said simply and truly. “But I can say that you, to be with you, is my deepest wish.”

Her lips curved into a sweet smile. Her eyes sparkled with tenderness. “My love,” she whispered, taking my hands in hers. I returned the smile, but my heart now felt too vulnerable and open.

“Come, enter before the sun rises,” I said hastily, tugging my hands from her grasp.

“Of course,” she murmured, following alongside me as I turned towards the mansion.


That night was decadent. We took our time, we cherished the other. We lavished each others body with care and love, and we brought each other to the greatest heights of pleasure. It made us giddy and happy, and perhaps even careless. For the next evening when we woke to the servants knocking on the door to my bedroom, we looked at each other and said “How about a party?”

Now, us damned folk know how to throw a party. Everyone knows that it is customary for those of us with affluence to throw lavish Halloweens and everyone knows that they love it when we do. But a party with a darkly romantic theme- ah that is something we all want to attend.

So we sent out bats with messages tied to their feet into the crisp evening air. They flew, flapping swiftly away into the dark night to our friends both grand and small, demanding their presence by midnight to celebrate our impending marriage.

Now some folks would certainly be offended by this sort of short notice, which is a good thing because if no one was offended that meant it was plain. After all, as the saying goes, the faster you spring it upon them the less time they have to plot trouble!

Or so... we thought.

As we stood there side by side, blissfully watching the flock of bats fly away, we were so happy. The servants were busy preparing ghoulish and ghastly treats and decorating to the utmost finesse. We simply stood together and watched the night sky, hand in hand.


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