Vampyr: A Novel of Supernatural Passion

by Jan Jennings

Overview

Supernatural passion...dangerous love...vampyrs are among us.

Dr. Theo James: Tall, handsome, brilliant, he discovers that he is dying. He is ripe for the unexpected...and it arrives, in the person of...

Valan: Slender, beautiful, rich, cosmopolitan--and a vampyr long since immune to the power of love, or so she thinks. She comes to Theo James with a problem that could destroy her, or change the world for good.

Together they encounter terror from beyond, and from the shadowy secrets of the heart. For Valan is not the only vampyr in the world. Far from it...

At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780765386601
Publisher:	Tor Publishing Group
Publication date:	07/28/2015
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	304
File size:	345 KB

About the Author

Jan Jennings is the author of Vampyr.

Read an Excerpt

Vampyr

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By Jan Jennings

Tom Doherty Associates

Copyright © 1981 Jan Jennings
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7653-8660-1

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CHAPTER 1

Friday, April 4

Theo James, M.D., retired, glanced absently through the pages of the medical report one more time before he dropped the thick folder on his desk. The latest page of test results, only a few days old, was nearly a carbon copy of the first from four years ago. It gave the same information and the same guarded prognosis, and, while many of the monthly reports were labeled "In Remission," he knew that sometime in the near future a final page reading "Terminal" would be added.

Theo stared at the plain manila folder, dogeared at the corners and badly worn along the spine. Chronic lymphocytic leukemia, generally striking men forty to fifty years of age, was almost invariably fatal within five years of onset. It was a death sentence in polite disguise; the name typed neatly on the file's index tab was JAMES, THEODORE MD.

He ran his square-tipped fingers through his hair and pursed his well-shaped lips in frustration. Theo was a handsome man in his early forties, of medium height and regular features. He had large inquisitive eyes and a healthful-looking tan that was the envy of the other university doctors. It was ironic, he thought, twisting his mouth slightly to the side, that he had fallen a victim to one of the most malignant diseases within his own specialty.

The chair squeaked as he settled back, resting his fingers lightly on the glossy surface of the mahogany desk. He considered with some apprehension the tangled series of events that were drawing him to the brink of uneasy familiarity with the supernatural, quackery, and a rapidly-approaching evening appointment with the unknown.

When he'd first experienced the alarming loss of stamina that presaged a bout with his disease, he had passed it off as overwork, but a routine physical exam had uncovered the truth. He'd taken the news quietly, with a calmness that was indicative of his determination to stay alive. He had sold his lucrative practice, taken a modest appointment as a consulting hematologist for the university and applied himself full time to researching blood diseases. The papers he had written and published on exotic blood disorders had made him a leading authority in the field of hematology and given him access to the otherwise inaccessible information he sought.

It was all part of his desperate plan for survival. Theo found it difficult to give up anything he cared much about, and life was high on his list. "Forty-two. Too damn young to die," he whispered, glancing around his office, the done-over third-floor landing of his spacious home. Downstairs he heard the click of a door closing and staccato footsteps coming up the steps.

"Poppa?" a cheerful soprano voice called. His daughter, Sarah, exuberantly healthy at fourteen, started talking before she was halfway up. "Is there anything I can do for you before I go out?" She finished the flight of stairs and plopped down in the chair at the end of his desk. She was the image of her long-dead mother: tall, with a gawky grace and golden hair that fell in satiny ribbons over her shoulders. Sarah was so beautiful in her unaffected innocence that it brought a lump to Theo's throat.

"One favor, sweetheart," he said, smiling broadly at her. "I have a six o'clock appointment with a patient. I'm a little tired. Could you show her the way up here?"

"Poppa," Sarah frowned prettily as she spoke. "You said you gave up all that stuff years ago. You don't need any patients. Besides, you've been pretty pooped out lately. She'll just be like that witch doctor you had here last month — another fake!"

"This patient's special."

"What's so special about her? She can't be any sicker than you." Sarah tossed her honey-colored mane of hair back. "She'll only make you overwork and get sick again."

"Her name is Valan Anderweldt, and her condition is very serious. Nothing like it has been reported before. But," he raised his hand as Sarah leaned forward to interrupt and waited until she settled back before he continued. "She may hold the key to my problem. Will you show her up? And promise not to mention that her new physician is having difficulty healing himself."

"Of course," Sarah gave in, brushing her skirt down smoothly as she stood up. She walked around the end of the desk, gave her father a quick kiss on the cheek, said, "I love you, Poppa," and was down the stairs in a clatter of leather soled sandals before he had time to ask her where she was going for the evening.

He shook his head and smiled, wondering briefly whether all fathers felt the same way about their teen-aged daughters. He knew she was spoiled rotten, and he enjoyed letting her have her own way. But sometimes, just sometimes, she acted a lot older than fourteen and, as far as he was concerned, a lot bossier than a little girl should.

He heard the grandfather clock in the downstairs entryway chime six o'clock. Mrs. MacMullin, the housekeeper, spoke and he heard Sarah reply, but he couldn't make out the words. He pulled another file, a thick one, and set it on his desk. It was labeled ANDERWELDT VALAN. The two letters it contained were handwritten in neat, carefully controlled script. One requested an appointment and accompanied a packet of gruesome photographs. The second confirmed the date and time. A faint smile played across Theo's lips while he waited for Valan Anderweldt.

* * *

Val was distinctly ill at ease: acutely aware that she might be facing one of the most dangerous encounters of her life, acutely aware of how different she was from ordinary mortals and determined to play her hand to the end. The last few days of decision making had been pure hell for her, but there was too much at stake for her to back out now.

She parked the baby blue Ford in front of Dr. James' house, got out, and leaned against the door on the driver's side for a few minutes, working up nerve to go inside. She stared at the plants along the driveway and along the road in front of the house but didn't see them. She was concentrating on her heart. It was racing so fast her chest ached. "It's incredible," she thought, "that after all this time I have to beg for help from a human." With great conscious effort she slowed her heartbeat to its normal rate and felt the aching stop. She exhaled and straightened up.

There were eyes watching. Val could sense someone staring at her back. As she turned, stiffly, to face the house, the door opened and a young girl called, "Miss Anderweldt?"

"Yes?" The girl was a lovely child thirteen or fourteen, with a mane of silky blond hair and a red dress that stopped just above her knees. The girl stood poised in the doorway, beckoning with one hand.

"I'm Sarah James. Come on in. Poppa's expecting you." She pushed the door open all the way, watching the visitor with wide-open deep violet eyes. She didn't move as Val approached, and artlessly blocked the door, forcing Val to brush against her in passing. The girl was totally unaware of Val's sudden gasp for breath.

"Poppa asked me to keep watch for you. He's upstairs," she said, closing the door and moving quickly toward the stairs. "Come on up."

Val moved warily, tensely, struggling to maintain self-control. It was all she could do to keep from cringing away from the warmth of the girl. "Touching is so simple for her," Val thought. She rubbed her arms, which were covered with goosebumps. Her tongue was bleeding slightly where she'd bitten it, fighting to master the beast within her that hungered for blood. "It's a good thing I've already had my meal today, or I'd have taken her just now." Val shivered. "I'm so weak willed at times."

Sarah walked up the stairs, leading the way, completely unaware of the turmoil within the slight stranger who followed her, unaware that Val was far from being what she seemed, a well-dressed, attractive young woman with auburn hair and dark green eyes.

Val noticed a heavy medicinal smell in the air as they came up the marble stairs, faintly on the huge second floor landing, then stronger and stronger as they rose to the third floor. It was a mixture of herbs in a chemical base. The only ingredient Val could identify was wormwood. Its bitter astringent vapor masked whatever else was in the air. The odor assailed her nostrils, not unpleasantly, but it went through her like wind in a tree, leaving behind a feeling of relaxation and the sensation of time slowed down.

There were flowers in a vase on the third-floor landing, artificial but nice to look at. They were the first thing that came in view at the top of the stairs and she found herself staring at them with a morbid intensity as though the coral blossoms had some significance in her reason for being there. Reluctantly she pulled her attention away from the flowers.

"Here she is, Poppa," Sarah said and immediately turned, almost bumping into Val on her way back down. "See you later," she called, obviously in a hurry.

Val froze, waiting until Sarah was gone before she looked around the luxuriously panelled office that occupied the landing. When she finally focused her attention on Theo her knees were shaky.

Although he scarcely moved in his chair, Theo had watched her ascent onto the landing with undisguised interest. She was slender, with a willowy elegance that contrasted sharply with Sarah's golden charm. Valan Anderweldt wore a long-sleeved pantsuit of pale blue silk, white kid gloves and the largest pair of dark glasses he'd ever seen. She looked frail, expensive and frightened. He detected a slight tremor in her lower lip as she turned to look at him.

He stood up and extended his hand to her across the desk. She smiled hesitantly as she approached and touched his finger tips. "This may not be easy," he thought, "but it certainly will be pleasant." She was the most exquisite woman he'd ever seen. He found it difficult to believe that she could possibly be what she'd hinted at — what he desperately hoped she was.

Val was aware of the cat-like assuredness of his movements, interpreting it as a sign of strength. She was instantly attracted to him. He was dark-haired and deeply tanned, not what she'd expected from someone with an English surname like James. His dark brown eyes were steady and penetrating. He tried to hold her gaze, but she dropped her head, letting her long lashes shield her eyes from him. She should have been wary, she knew, but standing there in the late afternoon, with the strange odor enveloping her, she felt at ease, and not the least bit thirsty. The only light came from the setting sun, through the windows above the stairs. The alternating streaks of light and dark marched across the steps and flowers but left both of them standing in a pool of partial shadow.

"In your letter," he said, as she settled gracefully into the chair at the end of his desk, "you wrote that you have a serious blood condition that has proven to be very resistant to treatment. I don't believe in vampyrs. You are aware, of course, that I am no longer in active practice. My time is taken up almost entirely by my research and writing. I'm not quite sure what you expect of me." He spread his hands, palms up, on his desk and leaned back. Val smiled; he wasn't rejecting her outright. But the dangerous part was yet to come.

"Perhaps," she began, "if you knew more about the nature of my affliction you'd be interested in studying me. I don't expect or even hope for a cure, doctor. It's knowledge I desire. People like me have been hunted and hounded for centuries. We need help. We know how to control the less attractive symptoms. We're a bit like epileptics or lepers — we can get along without being noticed most of the time, but if we're ever discovered people can't accept us. It's getting harder and harder to hide with all the electronic record keeping. We need secrecy and security. And this Darrell Montana business" — she gestured at the file containing the photographs — "has made matters much more urgent." In fact, I'm scared just being here."

Theo leaned forward and looked at her closely with his knuckles over his mouth, his elbow on the desk and a studious look on his face. "All right. Tell me more."

"Look at me," she said standing up. She pulled off her gloves and jacket and dropped the sunglasses on his desk. "Do I look like a normal, healthy, twenty-year-old woman to you?" She turned completely around, and then put both hands on his desk.

Suddenly she realized that she couldn't smell a thing. The disinfectant had completely stopped up her sinuses, making her voice husky. "Would it surprise you to know that I am nearly seventy years old?" He stared at her and leaned forward, his pupils wide with interest. Val looked away, and sat back down. "It's sometimes called the 'dracula syndrome' or the 'curse of the undead.' I am a vampyr, doctor. It doesn't matter what you believe. I've come to you in desperate need of help. I have to know why I'm the way I am. What is it that makes me a vampyr?"

Theo frowned. "I was rather under the impression that vampyrs can't travel abroad in daylight." There was an obviously sarcastic arch to his left eyebrow. "You don't even have fangs."

"What proof would satisfy you?" she shrugged. "I don't turn into a bat or sleep in a coffin full of dirt from my homeland, if that's what you want. Most of the popular ideas about us are absolutely false. But I am a vampyr. The only thing my system can absorb for nourishment is fresh blood. I must have it."

His face took on a dreamy, faraway look. He sat there absorbed in thought for a long time. She waited.

"And where do you get it?" he asked, suddenly drumming his fingers on the desktop.

"Anywhere I can. If I can stay ahead of my needs, most of the vampyr impulses are easy to control, but if I get too hungry I can't stop myself. The longer I fast, the stronger the urges get, until it's like riding a tiger. You have no idea how incredibly strong my muscles are or how fast I can react. When I'm hungry everything is intensified." She reached out quickly and touched his neck as though to grab it, and just as quickly leaned back at ease in the chair.

He felt her fingers on his neck, as though a fly had momentarily landed there, and saw her enigmatic smile. He was suddenly aware of the power in her fragile-looking body. He was also suddenly aware that he hadn't seen her move.

His reaction was quite gratifying to Val. He jerked back and flushed darkly, then just sat there staring at her for more than a minute. She could almost see the wheels going around in his head. His chin was lowered onto his chest so he had to look up to see her. He looked so virile sitting there thinking about her that she was drawn to him in a way she hadn't felt in years. The chemical odor of the room, the shifting light from the setting sun and the slowness of their conversation all made her feel nearly human; as though she had come home from a long, frightening journey.

"All right," he said finally. "That was impressive. I think there's something here we can look into. What exactly is it you're offering?"

She sighed. He'd accepted her. It had been a lot easier than she'd expected. Now if they could agree on how to work together, she thought, she would have good news for the others.

"I can only offer myself," she said. "I'll answer all your questions and submit to your examinations and any reasonable experiments. All I ask is absolute privacy and freedom. I won't harm anyone and I'll cooperate fully. But if I have to go, I will go. It's my nature."

"Where will you get your blood, then, if you say you won't harm anyone?"

"Blood is blood. Any blood will do. Cattle blood is good, horse is better. There's only one better than human blood though, that's blood from another vampyr. I've tasted vampyr blood once — no one ever tastes it more than once that I know of. I've never even tasted human blood, but I know its smell."

"You can't go around killing a cow every night."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Vampyr by Jan Jennings. Copyright © 1981 Jan Jennings. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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