Outcast Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frigid Announcement

  Frigid Chapter 1

  Copyright © 2019 by Jesse Booth

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are of the author’s imagination.

  Front cover image by Angel Leya

  www.authorjessebooth.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  BLOODLUST.

  It replaced any form of civility and control with untamed, fiery desire.

  You cannot deny who you are, Love.

  Leif heard her voice as if she were really there. As if Gemma had always been at his side. As if she’d never died.

  Running his cold fingers along Gemma’s brooch — one of the two possessions she’d left behind and he’d received — Leif tried to draw strength from her memory.

  “I can try,” he mumbled, his voice cracking as he tried to conceal his instincts from himself.

  In an attempt to wean himself away from blood, Leif had waited too long between proper feedings. It was stupid, and he knew it. But he also knew what would happen if he didn’t satisfy his thirst soon.

  Sweat drenched his long, black hair against his forehead, and his limbs quaked uncontrollably. Gemma’s brooch was slick in his wet hands.

  You are not doing yourself any favors, Leif. This can only end badly.

  He couldn’t argue with her. Leif had never been able to.

  He stood up from the chair he was sitting in — the only intact object he’d retrieved from the Frost Boarding House after its destruction — then made his way past his antique piano and into the small kitchen of his backwoods, solitary cabin. It was daytime, and while the sunlight couldn’t hurt him, Leif preferred the darkness the uneven shutters in the windows provided. Not that much sun was showing — a constant drizzle of rain was falling, cooling the summer weather, as if Washington State wasn’t quite ready to give up on springtime yet.

  Upon entering the kitchen, Leif tripped on one of the deteriorating floorboards he’d been meaning to fix for weeks. Or maybe it had been months. Years? He couldn’t remember. Losing his balance, he crashed into his small, wooden table, accidentally crushing it to timbers with his super-strength. At least it hadn’t been the piano.

  Leif bared his fangs as the wildness within him spiked, as if some other power had tried resisting him in his moment of need.

  Just drink the blood. It will help you to feel better.

  Surprisingly, he was still clutching the golden brooch. Leif gazed at it fondly. It was in leaf-shape, but was outlined with diamonds. The bottom held a pearl that dangled freely. Where the leaf came to the middle, the diamonds formed a crown upon the face of a beautiful young woman. A selkie. It was Gemma’s face, perfectly etched in metal.

  “You are right, my love,” he replied, stroking the etching gingerly. “Forgive my stubbornness.”

  Scrambling away from the mess of the broken table, he finally made it to the humming, silver refrigerator. The hinges on the heavy metal door squealed as he pulled, nearly ripping it entirely off.

  A string of drool spilled from his watering mouth as he gazed at a single bag of blood sitting on one of the shelves. He’d stolen a dozen from the nearest hospital — Lewis and Clark Medical Center — weeks ago. This was the last one.

  Snatching it from the empty refrigerator, Leif punctured the thin plastic lining with one of his fangs and placed his mouth over the hole, sucking in mouthfuls of the ruby liquid and swallowing greedily.

  The chilled blood was instantaneously invigorating. It seemed its healing power began to send shockwaves throughout his body before it came to a sloshing stop in his stomach.

  There you go. This is the way it must be.

  Gulping greedily, Leif wondered why he did this to himself. After all these years of being a vampire, why was he still trying to fight what he was?

  The answer was obvious. Leif hated what he was. For so many reasons.

  His body stopped shaking. His head began to clear. The blood was taming the wild animal that had threatened to send him out of control. Leif could actually think past the need for blood.

  He breathed deeply, bringing the brooch up to his lips and gently kissed her stone face.

  “Thank you, Gemma. You have always there for me.”

  He longed for the time he hadn’t been like this — a hermit hiding himself from the world. He longed to return to a time when he lived at the Frost Boarding House, working in the orchards, or spending time with Camilla, the sister he’d never had. He wished he could go back to when he’d first met Gemma…

  No.

  He couldn’t bring the memories of Gemma to the forefront of his mind, not even the beautiful moments he’d spent with her. Those memories only led to the last one. They always led to the last memory he had of her, pained and bleeding.

  Leif focused his eyes on the empty blood bag still in his hand. Not even a drip remained within the clear plastic. There was no trace that blood had ever been inside.

  And he could tell that it hadn’t been enough. The urge to drink more was still there, like water about to boil, threatening to throw him out of control again. This was momentary relief.

  “More,” he mumbled. Gazing back into the dark, empty refrigerator, anxiety flooded into his soul. “No. There’s got to be more.”

  But there wasn’t. The shelves were as empty as the limp corpse of a bag still clutched in his hand.

  You needed to find more yesterday. Unfortunately, you have only slowed the beads of sand down. They were almost out before. You have only delayed the inevitable.

  Leif clenched his teeth and rubbed at his temple, still wet from sweating. Was there not enough time left to sprint to the hospital and sneak inside? If he made it into Vancouver and lost control there, he’d attack the first person he came across and drink until the urge settled.

  Leif squeezed the bag, crinkling the flat plastic into permanent wrinkles, then dropped it on the cabin floor. Carefully stepping over the ruined table and kitchen floorboards, he speed-walked to the door and went to push it open, his white t-shirt clinging to his sweaty, sculpted body.

  Leif stopped himself, staring at the closed door, and found his mind transport through his memories, placing him in his quarters at the Frost Boarding House.

  He blinked, the memory reawakening as if he were living it again.

  A knock came at the door.

  Leif struggled to sit up in his bed. He wasn’t under his blankets — he’d been too feverish for that.

  Another knock sounded, followed by a voice. Her voice.

  “Leif, it’s Gemma. May I come in?”

  Her words were slightly muted from the wooden door that separated them.

  Panic filled his heart. He felt a small pulsing at his neck, and his fingers touched the bandage he’d placed there two nights ago. The bandage that covered the only secret he had ever kept from Gemma.

  “I am still quite unwell,” he replied, fumbling with the words. Leif felt guilty for what he’d said to her the prior morning. A string of curses
had found their way out of his mouth when Gemma had knocked at his door yesterday.

  “That is why I desire to see you,” she said softly.

  Camilla had forced her way in and confronted him yesterday, her sisterly love driving her to check on him. But she’d made him promise that he’d make things right with Gemma. Leif wanted to, but he didn’t know if he had it in him to do that today. He still felt feverish and shaky, and his head throbbed with a headache beyond comprehension.

  “May I come in?” Gemma asked again.

  He’d have to face her at some point. And although Leif wanted to keep his transformation a secret, he knew he couldn’t do that forever.

  “You may enter,” he finally replied, laying back down on his bed.

  The door handle turned, and Gemma walked in wearing a forest green dress, which emboldened the beautiful emerald color in her eyes. Her red hair was curled, framing her perfect face.

  Leif felt a calm wash over him that somehow managed to veil his aches for a brief moment.

  “I am glad to see you,” he said, finding the strength to sit up again.

  “Your words are much kinder today,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.

  Her statement was a dagger of guilt sliding its way through his ribs, seeking to stab his heart.

  “My dear Gemma, I am so sorry,” he apologized. “I have never spoken like that to anybody before, and it has pained me to think that I did so with you.”

  She nodded, staying close to the door. “You deeply hurt me yesterday.”

  “I ask your forgiveness,” he said. “If my strength would allow it, I would be on the floor begging you to accept my apology.”

  Her stiff pose loosened, and she exhaled. “You have my forgiveness. But please, Leif, do tell me what ails you. I wish to help you.” She took a few steps closer to him.

  “Stop!” he yelled, his tone surprising even him. Gemma froze. He lowered his volume. “Please, Gemma, I do not want you to get too close.” He hoped his words would muster worry about his sickness spreading, even though that wouldn’t happen. There was only one way to spread what he was feeling, and he would never take that action with Gemma. Never.

  She came to his bedside anyway. “If you are ill, I must see to you.” Gemma glanced to the side at his end table that held a tray Camilla had brought to him. On that tray was cold tonic and broth. Her brow furrowed with worry. “Did you not eat yesterday?”

  Leif swallowed with difficulty and shook his head slowly. “I cannot. I cannot bring myself to eat.”

  “Perhaps you are too shaky. Would you like me to help you?” she offered.

  “No!” he exclaimed, causing her to jump. He let out a guilty breath and looked down sadly. “No thank you, Gemma. The food will not help my condition, nor give me strength.”

  She studied him for a few moments, and he felt guilty due to how timid she was acting. He had treated her poorly, which likely explained her gentleness. She was afraid of causing him to have another spell.

  “Perhaps some sunlight would be good for your mood?” she offered. “I could even open your window. Some fresh air might do you some good.”

  “Please, that will only make things worse,” Leif said, holding back the snappiness bubbling inside. ”My head aches, and the light only makes it much worse.”

  “Is there anything I can do to aid you?” she asked.

  “Your presence has helped me more than you know,” Leif replied. He hoped she felt the truth of his words.

  “I am glad that my presence has brought you some relief,” she replied. She reached a hand out toward him and he recoiled. “Is that a bandage? Leif, are you hurt?”

  He placed his hand over the bandage on his neck. Leif’s first instinct was to lie, to tell her it was nothing but a scratch he’d incurred from a tree in the orchard. But he couldn’t bring himself to claim the falsity. Should he tell her the truth? How would Gemma react?

  His lips were cracked and dry. He gripped his left wrist with his right hand, trying to keep it steady. Although it was dark in his room, he didn’t see it that way. Not with what he’d become. Looking into her green eyes, he said, “There is something I need to tell you, but I am scared to do so.”

  “You can tell me anything,” she replied softly, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

  Pulling his hand away from his unsteady arm, he offered it to Gemma. He was glad she did not hesitate to grasp it with her own hand. He welcomed the warmth he felt from the softness of her flesh.

  She gasped. “Leif, your hand is freezing!”

  Leif nodded. “And yet, I do not feel the cold. In fact, I have been feverish.”

  “That is what Camilla told me,” Gemma said. She reached a hand to his head. “But your skin is as cold as a winter breeze.”

  “My sickness,” he started. “It is the result of something that happened two nights ago.”

  “What happened?” she asked, rubbing her hands against his in an effort to warm them. But Leif knew his hands would never be warm again. The cold was now a part of him.

  “Two nights ago, Beatrice came here,” he said.

  She stopped rubbing his hands at the mention of his former sweetheart. “Camilla told me she had made a visit.”

  Leif nodded, the wound in his neck pulsing beneath his bandage. He could almost feel the vampire fangs still lodged there.

  “What did she want?” Gemma asked.

  His eyes went distant and he shuddered as he recalled the dark memory. “She came for me.”

  Seconds passed before Gemma spoke. “Camilla also said that you sent her on her way.”

  Leif nodded. “Yes,” he said, pulling one his hands away and touching at the bandage on his neck. “But not until she’d done this to me.”

  He withdrew the bandage from his neck.

  “I cannot see,” Gemma said. “May I light a candle?”

  “Of course,” Leif replied. She was aware he kept a few on his dresser, and she stood up and made her way there. He regretted having to release her hand.

  “She attacked you because you refused to leave with her?” Gemma said before whispering a word in a language he did not understand. Her magic set the candle wick aflame.

  “I am afraid Beatrice had… other intentions,” he replied, wincing at the new light in his room.

  Holding the candle up, she gasped. “Leif! You look as pale as a ghost!”

  He hadn’t noticed this, and he lifted his hands in front of him to inspect his own coloring. Sure enough, his skin that was well-tanned from his labors in the orchard was as white as milk.

  “Can you not guess what my illness is after having seen me?” he said, dropping his hands in disgust.

  Gemma stepped lightly to him and held the candle close to his neck to inspect the wound there.

  She ran her fingers just under the marks. “A bite?” she asked, her own face going pale. “Oh no.”

  Leif could see her solving the riddle, and he looked away with embarrassment.

  “The vampire attacked you after you sent Beatrice away?”

  Leif looked at her with confusion and shook his head. “No, my dear Gemma. Beatrice was the vampire. And now, I am one of them.”

  Leif forced himself to pull away from the memory, slapping his forehead as tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t think about her, not right now. He couldn’t walk down that path.

  “Stop it!” he yelled at himself, pulling at his hair.

  And then the urge washed away all memories. Instinct started to take over. He licked at his teeth, searching for any hidden dregs of blood that might still be clinging to the inside of his mouth.

  Sprinting out of the cabin, Leif let his speed carry him through the woods that kept his small home sheltered from the world. Washougal was a great place to hide, but unfortunately, it also kept him distant from his food source.

  He realized he wouldn’t be able to make it to the medical center in time. Letting the short memory of Gemma take over had wasted cruci
al time. He couldn’t subdue his thirst with the blood of animals — he’d tried that before. No, only human blood could extinguish the fire raging within his body.

  Minutes flew by, and all he could think about was the fresh, pumping blood of a living human. The potency of ichor straight from the veins would sustain him a lot longer than a stored blood bag.

  The foliage began to lessen as he quickly approached civilization. He didn’t have the cover of night to protect him. As far as he knew, he was the only vampire who could survive under sunlight — a gift bestowed by his beloved Gemma over a century ago. At the same time, Leif only knew of one other vampire.

  Beatrice. The one who had turned him. The very thought of her added fuel to his bubbling rage. His anger convinced him that he’d drink his next victim dry. He deserved such an indulgence.

  The sound of a motor drew his attention and the scent of engine exhaust filled the air.

  Blasted humans and their loud, smelly tools.

  As he drew closer to the obnoxious sound, he found three human males surrounding a fourth who was cutting down a fir tree. Leif analyzed them; they didn’t seem to be lumberjacks, but a group of college-aged kids looking for trouble. The three watchers were holding bottles of beer, and Leif could see more boxes of booze on the endgate of the red truck they were leaning against.

  “Timber!” the tree cutter exclaimed, releasing the trigger of the chainsaw. The fir tree groaned bitterly as it began tipping away from the truck and the drinkers. Loud snapping and cracking continued as the weight of the tree tore free from its last connected fibers, sending it crashing to the floor of the woods and causing the ground to shake.

  Leif wished for just a moment that the tree would have fallen the opposite way, smashing the vandals as punishment. That thought left in an instant, though, as he saw the four males cheering and jumping, their drinks sloshing out of their bottles as they celebrated.

  Eyes narrowing, Leif was among them in mere seconds.

  Easy, Love, Gemma whispered to his mind. The weight of her brooch was in his pocket, and he couldn’t remember when he’d put it there.

  He ignored her.

  “Killing things that stand still and can’t fight back?” Leif said to the delinquents through gritted teeth.