Beyond His Reach

Vampires were exclusively male—or so everyone believed. Yet I was living proof otherwise. The daughter of an immortal father and a human mother, I was a dhampir. Unlike my father, I could eat solid food without feeling ill and walk freely in daylight. Please read on.

Father belonged to the Night Feeders, a three-hundred-year-old coven. A century ago, his refusal to follow the family's rigid rules made him a rebel. After a long, bitter debate, the elders banished him, warning that his return would have dire consequences.

***

He settled in one of the family's castles at the edge of the Albanian Alps. Winters were harsh, driven by polar blasts from the north and northeast. Summers wrapped you in its warmth like a mother cradling an infant.

A loner, he avoided the generations of farming families who worked the surrounding land. Mother belonged to one of those families.

Villagers feared the tall figure with coal-black hair, pale skin, and eyes like the setting sun. All but one, my mother.

 Her long blonde hair bounced off her shoulders. A faint lavender scent trailed her like a persistent lover as she moved through the fields to pull the root vegetables.

One evening, as the Albanian sunset painted the sky in different shades, Father rode his mare through the valley. He saw Mother working in the fields. She stood up to wipe her brow and stretch her legs and saw Father watching her from atop his horse. A chill unrelated to the autumn air prickled her neck at the appearance of this stranger draped in a black cloak. The intensity of his gaze rendered her speechless. It was though he had cast a spell over her.

Her attraction to the mysterious stranger deepened with each of his daily rides through the valley.

But the crude remarks from farmers in the neighboring fields made her uncomfortable, so she walked great distances to visit Father at the castle. She brought enough food to sustain him through the winter months and ignored the whispers that he was only interested in sampling her blood.

Despite their opposite beliefs and temperaments their attraction deepened. And when I was born, they named me Drusilla. Father often disappeared for days, leaving Mother and me alone in the dark, damp castle.

One day, while I was preparing food, I cut my finger on an onion. Blood flowed, but the wound vanished minutes later. It was as if it never existed.

"Mother, look."

She ran to my side.

I held out my hand and explained what happened. There was nothing to see.

"Like your father, you can heal herself."

I stayed quiet. Not sure if Mother's observation was a good thing.

Afterward, Mother insisted that I move out of the castle. She feared Father would uncover and exploit otherworldly abilities I had yet to discover on my own. Although her family disliked him, they were willing to accept me as one of their own.

"I'll miss you," I said, kissing her cheek and wondering if I would ever see her again.

So, I packed a small case and went to live in the valley.

Farming did not suit me. I lacked the patience and stamina, and my heightened senses made the livestock's odor unbearable. Maps and tales of distant lands had always captivated me. Fortunately, I had recently discovered another gift: teleportation.

***

I entered the hospital's blood bank, where I had managed daily operations for ten years. I ensured supplies were safe, sufficient, and handled according to strict medical standards. My work also helped atone for the people Father may have exploited over the years.

I immediately reviewed the previous night's Product Issue Log. One name on the list stood out. I read it again, just to be sure.

It was my father's name.