The Vampire Trap: A Shadow World Gothic, Paranormal, Romantasy, stand alone novella (Shadow World: T

Chapter 1

“The Saint’sSlasher strikes again! Woman found dead near Saint’s Crossing Bridge!” the paperboy’s voice rings out from across the street.

The words stop me in my tracks as I exit Bramble and Thorne, causing my sister to collide with me.

“Oh, demons and saints, Zadie,” Sabrina huffs as she guides me off to the side to pass and join her friend. “You really ought to pay better attention to your surroundings.”

The bell on the haberdashery door jingles as it clicks shut. Other shoppers continue with their business, either chatting away with their companions or weaving between others and crossing the cobbled street… as if the death of another woman is not worthy of their time—the ninth victim of the grisly murders that started five months ago.

“They found another woman,” Jane says in a not-so-hushed whisper as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. “I thought the authorities had the man responsible in custody.”

Sabrina presses her lips into a thin line. “Clearly, they arrested the wrong one.”

Or there’s more than one person responsible, I think to myself. With as little as the authorities have learned, there are still countless possibilities.

The box in my hands starts to crinkle from my increasingly tight grip. I force myself to take a deep breath and loosen my hold. I’m tempted to run across the street to purchase the paper.

“We should get going, Father will be worried if we’re not back in time for tea,” Sabrina says pointedly. “I know what you’re thinking, Zadie—don’t you dare bring that into our home, you know how he feels about such things.”

The three of us make our way down the street, taking the road that leads to our manner on the Eastern side of Briar Field Park. I trail behind them. Jane’s thick ringlets bounce as she chats about their new hats and the dresses they are having made.

Sabrina and I look alike, but other than our sharp but delicate features, warm complexion, and sable hair of our mother, we have little in common. Even with Jane’s fair looks, anyone who has ever met the three of us has mentioned, at some point or another, they could swear the two of them were the real sisters.

Without turning to look back, I can sense the look my sister’s disapproval. She doesn’t like that I want to know the details about the murders. I don’t enjoy the gruesome details any more than she does but staying ignorant of what is happening around us is dangerous.

And if I hadn’t requested to stop at the haberdashery, we wouldn’t have heard of the latest one. I’d only wanted to pick up a cravat for Father’s birthday next month.

I brush off her annoyance and get lost in my thoughts until the tone of their voices change.

“… it would be decent amount of money. We could even go together?—”

A flush colors Jane’s fair cheeks. She throws a furtive glance back at me. There’s a brief pause before they begin describing their latest embroidery projects in excruciating detail.

I pretend not to notice their odd behavior. They are probably hungry or got too much sun after spending the last week of chilly afternoons inside… or talking about something more personal than I would like to know.

Couples and families stroll through the park or sit on their claimed plots of grass. It’s the same as always on a beautiful day. Except that everyone is giving the area around the covered bridge a wide berth. Our pace remains steady and relaxed until we near, then without a word spoken between us, we hurry across.

Every few steps, Sabrina throws furtive glances over her shoulder as if the murderer might have suddenly appeared behind us or snatched me before I stepped foot on the paved walkway again. I keep a pleasant smile plastered on my face and pretend I don’t notice.

Nearing the end of the park, I spot a familiar figure near a copse of trees. Though his back is to me, I’d know him anywhere. Benjamin Browning. He is striking with his sharp features and long golden hair pulled back into a bun, made brighter by the sun gilding the strands.

“Stop lagging behind, Zadie.”

Before she can stop me, I change course toward my childhood friend. Waving and smiling brightly, I call over my shoulder, “Go on without me! I’ll have Ben escort me home.”

He’s talking with our two friends, Wallace Gastrell and Oscar Northcott. They joined our duo four years ago.

As I close in on the grove, I slow, carefully avoiding making any noise that would alert him to my presence as I sneak up on him. But when I press my back to a tree, his words drain all sense of teasing.

“—We have to take action against the viscount, now, before anyone else ends up dead.”

I’m too shocked to retreat and catch up with Sabrina and Jane while I still have the chance.

“How can you be so sure that it’s him?” Wallace asks. He might be a full year younger than I, he’s always the first to question things. “The authorities haven’t found any clues to prove it whether or not a vampire or human is responsible.”

Oscar grunts but says nothing.

“I’ve been studying the papers since the first murder. If you look at the details, it’s the only thing that makes sense. No bruising or signs of struggle, which means they were probably compelled into passivity.”

There’s a long pause and I hold my breath waiting for the rest. Because there must be more. Benjamin has never liked vampires, but he’s not one to make claims without proof.

When he continues, his voice is so low, I have to strain to hear anything. “Then, there’s the way their throats are slit, almost to the bone in a single move. The killer would need considerable arm strength. It’s a clean cut, except for where it begins… it’s as if he twists the knife to mutilate the skin as if to hide something.”

“And you think the killer is trying to hide bite marks,” Wallace says, matter-of-factly.

From the corner of my eye, I catch the movement of Ben’s head bobbing in a sharp nod.

“Why the viscount specifically? There are several vampires living within the city’s borders that are just as likely,” Wallace points out.

“The viscount has resided at Lakewood manor for nearly fifty years and nothing of this sort has ever happened in that time. Not everyone shares your views. You’re aware most of Sangate believe it is thanks to him that our city has flourished.”

“Just because something has not happened in the past, does not mean that it cannot happen, now or in the future.” Benjamin’s footsteps move near silently over the spring grass as he closes the distance between the others. He drapes an arm over each of their shoulders, then lowers his voice to say, “I did not come to this conclusion lightly.”

I find myself nodding along with his words. While it’s true that Benjamin has never quite trusted the vampires in our city, he has always been fair in his manner and dealings with everyone.

He doesn’t make rash decisions or lift a finger without consideration or sufficient evidence regarding anything. If there is even a sliver of doubt, he will continue to gather information until that doubt is assuaged.

Oscar and Wallace lean in.

“I stumbled upon an obvious clue that everyone seems to have missed thus far.”

“Demons and saints—out with it already.” Oscar shoves Ben’s arm off his shoulder.

I shuffle a bit closer and strain to hear what he says next.

“When I listed out the names of each victim, I realized the names I knew had one thing in common. Then upon looking into the other victims’ backgrounds, I found they, too, shared this commonality: Each have volunteered to feed at least one of the lesser vampires recently, and then slaughtered within a few nights of feeding the viscount.”

Ben reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of parchment, unfolding it before handing it over for Oscar and Wallace to read.

My stomach churns. I can’t read it from here, but the sunlight makes it easy to see the ink. The list is long. Much longer than I realized.

“What else could it be, if the viscount’s attempts to rid Sangate of all others of his kind, and gain power?”

“Jealousy?” Wallace offers.

Benjamin rounds on his friend and pokes him in the chest. “But even that still points directly—and only—to the viscount.” He holds his head with a triumphant tilt.

“Shouldn’t we take this information to the authorities and let them handle this?” Before Wallace even finishes, Ben is shaking his head.

“Normally, yes. But he’s part of the vampire court, it will take weeks, even months, before they get through all the paperwork and procedures before they even attempt to take him into custody. How many men and women do you think will be murdered in that time? If the people catch on to the connection between the victims, even the worshippers would refuse to let those things feed on them.”

The worshipers believe vampires were sent by the saints to watch over us. They revere them and are usually the first to volunteer during the Claiming each autumn. In addition to offering their blood to any vampire needing to feed, in the city or passing through.

Some say they are humans driven mad from the sheer power of compulsion. Others say they must have been infected by the bite of a demon cursed vampire.

Though, it always seemed to me that the latter was more likely a story intended to scare children. After all, being demon cursed was a death sentence. The demon’s power rotted inside their bonded vampire’s veins. It would be more logical for a bite to cause the rot to spread and kill the human, not cause unfaltering adoration. Regardless, I don’t suppose it matters what the true cause of such fanatical behavior is. They are harmless to others.

Still, volunteering to feed a vampire is considered an honor even among the rest of the city’s residents. The payment is no small thing either.

My blood chills as I finally understand what Jane and Sabrina discussed earlier.

I should say something… I can’t let them put themselves in harm’s way. Except doing so might cause rifts between both our families. There must be another way, because doing nothing isn’t an option.

“Without a willing food source,” Benjamin continues. “They will take what they want by force.” Ben runs a hand over his face. “I cannot sit here and wait for more people to needlessly die, or for something worse to happen.”

Benjamin’s sentiments echo my own.

“What do you propose we do about it?”

“It’s simple. We only need place ourselves close to him, and strike when he least expects it. The best part, is that he owns the weapon that will kill him.”

I wince. Get close to the viscount and stab him with his own night-forged silver weapon—assuming they can find it… That’s his plan?

There are many ways to do that, with just as many ways for things to go wrong. And if Benjamin is hoping the others will help him with the finer details, then he should know better. Oscar and Wallace are wonderful when it comes to finding potential issues with things already laid out, but they lack all creativity.

“I trust you have a way to avoid the punishment for killing a vampire?” Oscar adds.

“That only applies if we’re caught—which we won’t be. The evidence will point to another vampire.” A long silence stretches out as Benjamin waits for the others to consider their decision.

“I’m in,” Wallace says. “On the condition that the plan is a solid one.”

“I suppose I can’t let the two of you do this alone…” Oscar says with a tired sigh over the other man’s questions. “Count me in.”

“How can you be so sure we’ll find such a rare weapon?”

“There’s also the problem with his demon…” Oscar mutters. He looks up and scratches at the stubble on the underside of his chin in thought.

I already have the answers to these questions and more.

Wallace opens his mouth as if he’ll ask yet another question but snaps it close when he meets my gaze.