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    Vampire Morsels: Short Story Collection
    Vampire Morsels: Short Story Collection
    Vampire Morsels: Short Story Collection
    Ebook316 pages4 hours

    Vampire Morsels: Short Story Collection

    By Joleene Naylor

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    About this ebook

    Hungry for vampire fiction that goes deeper than the usual maniacal laugh? In these seventeen morsels, you’ll discover a myriad of vampires: some are cruel, some are kind, and some just want a quiet evening. Among the offerings you’ll meet:

    Claudius: A fresh vampire, Claude has only one thing on his mind: revenge. With the help of his new coven, he’ll make his father pay.

    Kariss: When tending her mother’s death bed, even vampirism can’t heal Kariss’ broken heart.

    Ashton: Looking for thrills to cope with family tragedy, Ashton falls in with a gang of vampires, but he’s about to discover the ultimate high: pure terror.

    Kateesha: When Kateesha and her partner are sent to apprehend a rogue coven, things go awry and carry terrible consequences.

    Benjamin: Settled in for a comfy evening, he’s surprised to discover it’s the weekly poker night, complete with some new “friends”.

    And more! Enjoy seventeen short bites from the world of Amaranthine - a perfect appetizer for those new to the universe, or a dark dessert for readers familiar with the world.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJoleene Naylor
    Release dateJul 28, 2012
    ISBN9781476119649
    Vampire Morsels: Short Story Collection
    Author

    Joleene Naylor

    Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine vampire universe, a world where vampires aren't for children. Comprised of a main series, a standalone prequel, and several short story collections, she has plans to continue expanding with a trilogy and several standalone novels.In her spare time, Joleene is a freelance book cover designer and for-fun photographer. She maintains several blogs, full of odd ramblings, and occasionally updates her website at JoleeneNaylor.com. In what little time is left ,she watches anime, plays PokemonGo, and works on her crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband, family, and pets, she is never lonely, in fact, quite the opposite. Should she disappear, one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise.Ramblings from the Darkness at www.JoleeneNaylor.comYou never know what you’ll find in the shadows.....

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    • 5/5
      As a huge fan of this author's works I've wondered about how different vampires became vampires. In this book, she takes her more popular characters and tells us about their lives both before and after becoming vampires. It's the best companion to all her other works.

    Book preview

    Vampire Morsels - Joleene Naylor

    Vampire Morsels

    A collection of short stories

    By Joleene Naylor

    http://www.joleenenaylor.com

    Joleene@joleenenaylor.com

    First Smashwords Edition, 2012

    Second Smashwords Edition 2015

    Third Smashwords Edition 2020

    Copyright 2012-2020 by Joleene Naylor

    Published by Smashwords

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Interior images by Joleene Naylor & Zanatlija

    Cover by Joleene Naylor

    Ramblings from the Darkness at http://www.joleenenaylor.com

    You never know what you’ll find in the shadows…..

    Check out Zanatlija’s awesome font Old Retro Labels

    Other books by Joleene Naylor:

    Amaranthine:

    0: Brothers of Darkness

    1: Shades of Gray

    2: Legacy of Ghosts

    3: Ties of Blood

    4: Ashes of Deceit

    5: Heart of the Raven

    6: Children of Shadows

    7. Clash of Legends

    8. Masque of the Vampire

    9: Goddess of Night

    Also:

    Vampire Morsels Collection: 17 Short Stories

    Tales of the Executioners Volume 1: Short Story Collection

    Tales of the Executioners Volume 2: Short Story Collection

    Heart of the Raven Mini Prologue Collection

    Tales from the Island: Six Short Stories

    Thirteen Guests: A Masque of the Vampire companion

    Road to Darkness: A short story companion to Brothers of Darkness

    Honeymoon Havoc: A short story

    A Different Time: A short story

    Deal with the Devil: Jorick’s origin story

    Weeping Hemlock

    COMING SOON:

    Micah’s road trip (not the final title)

    Vampire Morsels: Short stories from the Amaranthine Universe

    Seventeen short stories from the world of Amaranthine; a universe of blood and darkness where vampires don’t sparkle and night is eternal. Includes:

    Kateesha - When Kateesha and her partner are sent to apprehend a rogue coven, things go awry and carry terrible consequences.

    Michael - Michael isn't interested in finding a job, so his mother finds one for him. If only she'd known she was sending him to work for vampires.

    Troy - Claudius is having a get together, and leaves Troy in charge of greeting the guests. But what happens when he finds himself stuck babysitting a pretty boy vampire?

    Jesslynn - When Jesslynn's baby gets sick, she sees only way to save him; by discovering whatever dark ritual keeps their neighbor, Jorick, healthy and eternally young. She gets more than she bargained for.

    Also includes: Velnya, Sarah, Nirel, Kariss, Herrick, Elsa, Claudius, Bethina, Benjamin, Ashton, Arowenia, Alexander and Adam.

    Thanks to Juli Hoffman (the super editor), Susan Koenig, Bonnie Mutchler, Chris Harris and Barbara G. Tarn for their ninja-like proofreading skills, suggestions, and brilliant catches.

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    Intro

    Adam

    Alexander

    Arowenia

    Ashton

    Benjamin

    Bethina

    Claudius

    Elsa

    Herrick

    Jesslynn

    Kariss

    Kateesha

    Michael

    Nirel

    Sarah

    Troy

    Velnya

    About the Author

    INTRO & THIRD EDITION NOTES

    Third edition notes: What? Why do we need a third edition of a few short stories? Honestly, it wasn’t just to get rid of the pictures (though those pictures are gone because I was tired of them – you can still see the character art on my website.), it was because I expanded a bunch of the stories. This wasn’t done to make you get a new version, but because I am expanding my market and had to prepare the book for serialization – and it just wasn’t long enough to meet the requirements, so I had to add. But, why should those customers be the only ones to get the longer, more in depth versions? Sure, some of them have one hundred new words but others, like Bethina, have at least a couple thousand new words. In all, I’ve added around fourteen-thousand words. Oh, and I put the stories in chronological order instead of alphabetical, which I think makes more sense.

    This intro is also different. In the old one I pitched the series – the following stories are about random characters from the Amaranthine universe; a universe of night, blood, violence and vampires who don’t sparkle. The aforementioned Amaranthine universe takes place, primarily, in a series of novels that star Katelina, Jorick, and a cast of hundreds (or at least a hundred). – I then rambled about how much I love to make characters, and that I wrote these stories because these characters were interesting or actually integral to events that occur, but didn’t get much screen time, regardless. In fact, their contributions probably went unnoticed in some cases.

    Peppered throughout their stories, you’ll still find other characters; Micah, Loren, Jorick, and even Verchiel. You can use these stories to peer deeper into the murky darkness of the Amaranthine world, or you can enjoy them as a quick one off. It’s up to you. But, if you’d like more information on the universe, the novel series, and some of my other weirdness (including the old character artwork), you can check out my website at http://JoleeneNaylor.com,

    Thanks for reading!

    CLAUDIUS

    (You can find Claudius in Shades of Gray & Brothers of Darkness. This story takes place in France in the 1500’s.)

    The blood pounded through Claude’s head like white hot noise and he screamed. He fell to his knees, though he didn’t feel it. He was numb to everything but the pain that seared through his veins. Cold hands grabbed him. They held him down to stop his thrashing. He kicked and fought, but the hands were too strong.

    Then darkness came.

    The black swirled around him. It gave no comfort. It was like the dark inside a furnace; too hot and too dry. There was no escape. He choked on the air, or was it his own tongue? Something flashed behind his eyelids. It was an image and, though he recognized the face, the colors were too bright. He tried to call to her, but no sound came. There was only the dry, hot rasping of the damned.

    How long it lasted, he couldn’t tell. As the agony sliced through him, he forgot everything: his hopes, his dreams, his past, even his name. There was only one thing that he could remember and that was the too bright face with eyes that shied away from him.

    Then, it was over.

    He blinked and tried to focus on the person bent over him. It wasn’t her, the girl he’d seen in his dream, but it was a woman. Francoise had dark hair and creamy skin, full lips colored in blood and long, pointed teeth. He gurgled; an attempt at speech, and she smiled at his efforts.

    So you have survived, le petit Claude.

    With that greeting, his memories slammed into his skull in a heated rush. He could see her; dark and coquettish. She batted her eyes like a virgin, but took him in the stables like a common whore.

    He didn’t love her, and she knew it, but she didn’t care. He was a game for her, a new toy to play with. That suited him fine. Her offerings were sweet enough. Then, they got sweeter. She showed him her immortality and let him taste it. It was a prize like no other, one that would give him everything he deserved. He craved it like he craved the girl in his pain smeared visions. Now that he had the one, he would soon have the other.

    Francoise watched him with keen interest. When she’d met him she had called him young. He told her he was sixteen and she laughed and said he was just a babe, but she could see the revenge that burned in his heart, and it intrigued her. She said that she could taste his hate; hate for the one who had sired him and turned him away. Other noblemen claimed their bastards, and without an heir, there was no reason for him not to. He was so desperate for a child that he laid claim to his only niece, yet refused to foster the one who shared his blood. Or so he said. Claude suspected it was not a daughter, rather a future bride he raised in those stone halls. That was something he would not allow. The Écuyer would never touch her.

    He sat up slowly and the world tilted. He caught himself on a roughhewn stall. The smell of horses filled his nose, suddenly too strong and too organic. His stomach lurched and his tongue burned. He needed a drink.

    With great effort he climbed to his feet and propped himself up. I thirst.

    Francoise’s smile grew. Yes, you must feed, but first you must be able to walk. She took his arm and helped him take an uncertain step. Yes. Yes. Come, now.

    They stopped at the opened door and he stared at the world beyond with new eyes. People bustled about their business in the late evening hours, some to bed, some to the taverns, and others to appointments of a more carnal nature. His legs felt stronger and he started forward. Francoise held him back and shook her head. I shall find you one, mon enfant.

    He scowled and pulled his arm free. I am no child of yours. I will do it alone.

    She laughed and let him go. He could feel her eyes on him as he stumbled into the street, and her scrutiny straightened his spine. The strength returned to his legs only to leech out again in an instant. He grabbed the wall of a nearby building to keep from falling in the mud. He heard her silvery laughter but he refused to succumb.

    The alley was dark. A man stood at the end of it, no doubt a thief waiting for some unlucky prey. Claude stalked towards him his every sense alive as if for the first time, and the man offered a too friendly greeting. He didn’t know it was his death that approached.

    It was over quickly. The man’s knife flashed and then his scream shook the night. The blade clattered to the ground, as Claude tore through his throat. Blood sprayed his face and shirt and filled his mouth. He gulped down mouthfuls of crimson. The burning agony in his throat eased, and the thirst was silenced. But there wasn’t enough.

    The blood stopped coming and he stared down at the limp body in his arms with a mixture of disappointment and confusion. Francoise was suddenly next to him. She took the corpse and cast it aside. Come, she said softly. We must quit this place before an alarm is given. She tugged the dark cloak from around her shoulders and used it to mop his face. He flinched away at first, but settled and let her clean him. You are hardly in a fit state to be seen and not accused of murder.

    Murder. The word rang through his mind and he looked at the corpse on the ground. He’d never killed a man before. If he wanted his due, he would have to kill many more. None would he enjoy so much as him.

    Oblivious to his thoughts, Francoise threw her ruined garment aside and pulled his cloak closed over his shirt. We are stronger than they are, but we are vulnerable to the sunlight. Never forget that. Besides, tonight you are weak, mon enfant. Your full strength will not find you until tomorrow’s sun sets.

    Though he sneered at the new endearment, he let it go. There would be time to deal with it later..

    As dawn approached, Francoise finished the letter with a flourish. I am coming, she read back. I will take what is mine and neither you, nor all the demons in hell, can stop me. Claude nodded and she held the quill towards him. He pushed it aside roughly. There had been no time in his previous life for things such as writing. He could do no more than make his mark, and more was needed here. His cheeks flamed in anger and shame and he determined that he would learn. He had all the time in the world now, and he would learn everything. He would put them to shame.

    Without comment she dipped the quill into the pot of blood and signed his name to the end. Are you sure that you wish to give him warning? Would it not be better to sneak upon him on the ‘morrow?

    No, he rasped. His throat was tight and hot again. He will have the rest of this night and all the day to panic and then to posture and boast to himself. He will not run, but hide away like a rat in his hole. When we come upon him tomorrow, I want to watch the confidence in his eyes melt into terror. I want to feel his fear. He broke into a wide, sharp smile.

    Francoise’s eyes gleamed as she surveyed him. That is why I so enjoy you, mon enfant. She glanced to the darkness and shouted, Henri! Send a messenger to the castle!

    Claude bedded down for his first immortal slumber. A bout of pain came, and then receded, leaving him thirsty. But there was no blood to quench the fire, only the other immortals, snugged tight in their wooden boxes, hiding from the sunlight.

    He swallowed down his agony and tried to soothe himself with thoughts of her. Her long golden hair was so pale that at times it looked silver. Her blue eyes were the shade of a warm summer sky, her skin pale as a spring dawn, and her lips, soft and pink, begged for something more.

    Arowenia.

    He had known of her since childhood, though only laid eyes on her after the orphanage kicked him out. There were too many fatherless children to keep them all, and he’d been thirteen.

    That was when Sister Mary had told him the truth of his lineage. Though she said she knew not his mother’s name, his father was a mighty Écuyer in a castle of stone. Noblemen are known to acknowledge their bastards, for so is the unfair standards of this world. The world is an ugly place, but perhaps you will get lucky and find some beauty.

    Claude had pushed for his mother’s name, but came away with nothing. In the end, he’d told himself it was just as well. His mother had given him away once, denied him once, so even if he could find her, it was doubtful she’d welcome him with open arms. No. His mother would be useless to him, but his father…had the man had even a chance or choice? Perhaps Sister Mary was right and he would be delighted to have an heir. So, he set out to meet his father, dreams of a warm welcome rattling in his head.

    His naïve, stupid head.

    The guards had laughed at him. When he’d gotten angry, their humor reached new levels of levity, until one of them suggested they should actually take him to their master for an even greater laugh. Sniggering all the way, they’d escorted him to the Écuyer himself.

    They’d found the man sitting behind a table, a plate of half eaten chicken before him, a tankard by his hand. Claude had stared up at him in awe. He wore clothes after the latest fashion, his hair – the same golden blonde as Claude’s – in a fashionable style. Blue eyes snapped as he’d looked from the snickering guards to the ragged youth. What is this?

    Lord, this child claims to be your son, one of the guards had managed with minimum sniggers.

    Claude had held his breath while the man looked him over, taking in the color of his hair, the shade of his eyes, his pale pointed features.

    The Écuyer had given a snort of contempt. I have no son. Take the urchin away.

    A guard had grabbed him, but Claude slipped from his grasp to grab the table with both hands. Please, sir. My mother, she was sent to the sisters. Sister Mary-

    The man had drawn back, his nose wrinkled and lip curled. I said, I have no son. Take him.

    Perhaps no one told you! Claude had cried desperately, even as the men grabbed him. If you ask the sisters-

    The Écuyer had stood, his face contorted with rage. I will ask no one! I care not what some nun has told you, nor what some wayward woman may have blamed upon me. You are none of mine. Be gone and come not back, or the dogs will have at you.

    The men had dragged Claude out, and thrown him through the gate. He landed in the mud, rolling to a stop. The guards had laughed, until one shouted at him never to return.

    Claude had pulled himself to his feet and stared at the gate, closed to him. He’d left, but after a few days he’d come back, with every intention of doing so again and again, until he was granted an audience with the Écuyer – and audience where the man would actually listen to him.

    That was when he first saw her. One or two years his junior, she was an unaware child bundled in finery. He’d watched his father lift her into a carriage and follow after, shutting the door with a slam of finality. Claude had stepped back, watching as they trundled past, his anger gone to the memory of her pale face.

    It hadn’t taken long to find out who she was. The Écuyer’s niece, daughter of his favorite sister. He’d taken her as his adopted daughter at a young age, and raised her. With no wife, and no heirs, it was whispered that she would inherit everything when he died.

    If only the stories had stopped there, but they didn’t. Venom laced rumors said he’d taken the child not as a daughter, but as something more sinister. More charitable tongues said the Écuyer planned to wed her when she came of age, while others suggested his only plan was to use her. Meanwhile, the most unfriendly suggested he was already doing so.

    The thought burned through Claude like fire, and he worked to get inside the fortress again, no longer to speak to the man, but instead to ask her himself what transpired behind those cold walls.

    It had taken him two months to find a way inside. Dressed in the rags of a street urchin, he’d managed to hide in shadows, away from eyes that would recognize him as a trespasser. He’d found Arowenia sitting before a window, her long silver blonde hair falling down her back, her eyes staring at something in another realm that only she could see.

    He’d stood, back pressed to the cold stone, watching her dream. At last, he’d whispered her name. She’d jolted, then spun, her blue eyes glittering with first surprise and then terror. He’d shushed her with a motion, and she’d backed away, until she was pressed against the wall, her hands clasped before her as though she were praying.

    You don’t need to be frightened of me, he’d whispered to her. "I’m not like him."

    Who…Who are you?

    Though a simple enough question to most, to him it was colored with complication and ire. His anger must have shown on his face, for she’d squealed and ducked around him, running from the room with a cry for her father.

    The guards had caught him fleeing and whipped him in the courtyard. The lashes stung, but worse had been knowing that she was somewhere inside, watching his humiliation. The Écuyer would pay for this, and for more.

    Over the next three years, Claude had haunted the place off and on. He’d watched Arowenia grow; seen her in stolen moments as she rode by in the carriage, or walked past a window, or strolled through the courtyard. To say she was beautiful was to say the sun was warm, or the snow was cool; a gross understatement with words that did no justice to the truth. Sister Mary – who had gone missing from the abbey shortly after he left – had been right. The world was ugliness, but he had found his beauty. Not a welcoming father, as Mary had hoped, but a beautiful girl.

    Still, he’d stayed back, waiting, watching, until his sixteenth birthday. Drunk with punch and youthful swagger, he’d climbed the wall and knocked out the first guard who found him. He’d left the man alive but unconscious and slipped through the fortress, up the winding stairs, and finally to her chambers. She lay asleep in the bed, her hair spread out over the pillows. Moonlight painted shadows on her delicate face and across the thin bedclothes.

    He’d watched the blankets rise and fall with her breaths, watched her as she lay dreaming. In his drunken impatience, he’d drawn close to the bed, reached out, trailed fingertips over her pale cheek.

    She’d jerked awake, blinking sleepy eyes. He could almost feel reality dropping over her like a mantle, and then he saw the fear take over.

    Her mouth opened to scream, but he’d silenced her with a hand. She’d made a high-pitched sound of terror as he lowered her back to the bed, telling her to hush, to stay quiet and he’d release her.

    When she’d nodded, he’d let go and stepped back, hands held up to show he meant no harm. She’d clutched her blankets in trembling white knuckled hands. Please, she’d whimpered. Please don’t.

    Don’t what? Do what the beast who calls himself your father has been doing?

    She’d blinked. I…I don’t understand what you mean.

    Whether it was the Écuyer’s innocence or hers that prompted her confusion Claude hadn’t known, and hadn’t cared. It is of no importance. Know only that I mean you no harm.

    She’d swallowed hard. Then why are you here? What do you want?

    I want what any man wants, to regain those things taken from him. Do you know who I am?

    She’d shaken her head fiercely. I…I know only that Father said to stay away from you. That you are…not of sound mind.

    Claude had laughed. So, he has seen me outside? He would say such things. He’d crept closer, careful lest he frighten her again. "Ask him who I am, how

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