The Strongest Fire: Book One of the Vampiress Sagas

Stop. I would like you to think of yourself for a moment before you begin to read the story of my younger life. I want you to think of who you are and the changes that would happen to you if you were transformed into an immortal being. Think carefully about what you might do if you had to drink blood in order to keep your sanity. You are unique. I am sure you would do things that I could never think of. But what if you did not want the changes or you were forced to be somewhere you did not desire to be, how would you react then? This story, told from my memory, and in a language not my own, this is the second chapter of my life. The first is short. I was born. I grew up. I married. I had a daughter. My husband died. My daughter died. All of this occurred in a twenty-three-year time span. This is my story, my eternal life; this is how I reacted... Mary

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The Strongest FireBook One of The Vampiress SagasBy Sarah WintersiUniverse, Inc.Copyright © 2009 Sarah WintersAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4401-8321-8 Chapter OneThe Last Chapter I was born the first time in 976 ... and then again in the year 1000. Everyone thought the world would end that night. Midnight was to be the hour. We were all going to die. I didn't believe the tales, which might have been why I was more vulnerable. I was very alone that night and did not know that I had been hunted for a long time. My family had all gone to church, which left me alone. I was not a babe any longer. I was grown and could care for myself, but being a woman, I had always had someone watching after me ... nearby. Tonight was the first night I had not. I was alone in my family home, my home, the place I had married my husband who had left me a widow three years earlier. My daughter was five when she departed this world. She had been sick for weeks and then just faded away. Even with all that in my past, I still had hope and life, and I was helping my brother and his wife with their twelve children on my father's land. I did not want, need, or take much. The last time I spoke with my brother that night was not pleasant. To make matters worse, he was right. "Brother, this is silly!" I said as I followed him out of the house. He carried the two youngest children in his arms. "Why take the children in the dead of the night to a cold church and pray? If you believe so strongly that ill will fall on the world, we can all pray in the warmth of our home and not jeopardize the health of the children!" "Sister, I will fight you no longer." His voice rose as he lifted the children into the back of the wagon and handed them to his wife, who was already inside sitting in the hay in a nest of all of her children. "You stay if you will, but the more of us there are praying in the house of the Lord the stronger our voices are, and we will be heard." "William, God hears us all. We do not need to shout at Him. He is neither thickheaded nor deaf." I was trying my hardest to be heard, to get through to him. "What good will come to the world if you and the babes die of cold and disease being out in such a harsh night as tonight?" I was hoping to feel needed and wishing that I could persuade him to stay. "And with your wife ready to bear you another child any day?" "For the last time, Mary, Bridget and I are taking the children to church. Father is there waiting. The Lord will protect us in his place of sanctuary. If you choose to whisper for help, alone in the dark, then you are free to your solitude but we are going!" He rode off with the children and his wife in the back of a hay cart. That poor pony, to have to pull all that weight and Bridget big and round again, I thought. I walked into the house saying to myself, "If God had only made man less thickheaded, we would all be warm and safe. I pray for you and your family, William ... I pray." Once I was back inside, I shut the door. The room seemed empty with no one in it. The seats that surrounded the fire were vacant, even though the fire was still burning strong in the center of the room. I started to walk to the fire for warmth but stopped when I heard my name. "Mary." It was a man's voice, but it was not my father or my brother. I looked around to the dark shadows at the corners of the room. I turned back to the fire thinking that the night wind might just be playing a trick on my ears. But as I turned to walk to the fire, the figure of a very large cloaked and hooded man appeared and blocked my way. The fire was behind him, making it even harder to make out any details in him other than his size. Even though the fire was strong, I could feel his coldness and could tell he was unique. "Hello, Mary, I have been watching you for a while now ... You are very hard to get alone," said a deep voice. It was so hard to tell if it was the large man in front of me or if there was another person in the room. I looked around to see if he was alone or if there were others. "I stand before you ... You are not blind, and I am not hiding ... this time." "I am always alone," I said a bit bewildered as I heard my own heart beat in my head. It was echoing in my ears. I wasn't as scared as I should have been, but I did want away from this man. "Hah, never fully alone. There is always your father or big brother keeping an eye on you," he said as he was pulling the cloak down from around his brow. "You are very lovely. My great-grandson picked well when he chose you for a bride." I squinted my eyes to see if there was gray in his long, dark beard. I saw none. I had heard of men who lived long enough to see more then two generations of their families, but I had never met one. "My husband never spoke of any long-lived family," I said. I was wondering if the apocalyptic night had brought madness to this man. The belief and fear of the end being near was causing people to see and hear strange things. For some reason, I felt that he was telling the truth ... but I was hoping he was a crazy liar and soon would be off to church with the rest of the known world. "Oh." He started to move and shift his weight. I wanted to run, but with his intimidating size, if he caught me ... well, I had a better chance talking in hopes that he would just leave. "He would have had to have met me to know of me." Now he was pacing like my brother and father did when they were feeling long-winded. When I saw men do this, I usually worried, This speech is going to take all night. But this time, I was happy and hopeful that this speech might just take all night, so that he would still be talking when my father and brother returned. "The truth of the matter is I am dead and alive." Now I really was beginning to think this guy belonged in church to be healed. "You are my prey. You are my victim. I have kept close trace on my children and their families. When I knew that I had lost a grandson and then his daughter, I wanted to know who was left. I wanted to see you. And when I did, I knew I had to have you." "I may be kept by my brother and father, but I am not a pet. I was not picked from a tree like a fruit by your grandson. I accepted your grandson as my husband when he asked my father. I agreed that it would be a smart choice." I was getting upset. I could hold my tongue for those I loved, but strangers ... no. I would speak my mind even if I was fearful. What did I have to lose that was not already lost from me? "If you are as old as you say, then why do I see very few signs of age? Your beard is dark, your face has no cuts or deep wrinkles, and the hair on your head looks to all be there." Even my father, who was fifty-eight, was aged enough to have wrinkles. His hair was coming off his head quickly, and the strands staying on his head were not thick and red but fluffy and silver. This man must be mad. He had now walked to where I could see his face much better. The light was behind me now. He looked to be near thirty, near the age of my brother. This man might be a few years older, but not much. "I am flattered that you studied my looks and my face so carefully in this light, too. You must have been studying me very hard. It shows me you are interested ... that you cared to notice me. I have studied every aspect of you as well." His eyes slowly looked down from my face all the way to the floor. This made me feel even more uncomfortable. "And in very fine depth," he said with a not-so-innocent smirk as his eyes went back up to look at my face again. "I do not enjoy you near me, sir. Please leave." I was hoping that might make him leave, but I had very strong doubts. "Your spirit is as lovely and as fiery as your hair." He touched and twirled one of my red locks around his gloved fingers. I did all I could not to flinch at his closeness. "You are one of the only people I have seen in all of my days who has eyes the color of emeralds sparkling in the sunshine, hair as red and as curly as fire ... but your pale white skin doesn't have one freckle ... or blemish ...You are truly lovely to look at." I was hurt. My daughter, the child I loved so very much, had freckles, and I loved them. "Do you always converse with your victims, sir? Why not just kill me instead of cutting me with your words? Just cut me with your knife and leave." He let the lock of my hair drop back down and looked into my eyes with little interest in what I had said. "You are my first real victim ever. I have never wanted to have anyone last forever before, not even my kin. But if you were my cattle ... you would have never seen me coming." This was getting too odd. Cattle? Food? And to last forever? Was he going to kill me or imprison me? Then he started to circle me like a bird that has found its prey. "You are an emerald." His compliments made me feel unclean. Why hadn't I gone with William? "Before I do this, I want you to know I do pick my fruit from the tree, and I only pick the best. In my day, I was a treasure hunter. I did not take it all, but I did take the most precious." I was confused. What was going on? "You are strong. You are healthy. You can stand the cold of the night. You can be alone without madness. You can let go and still love the ones in your past. You can be full of fear and still be rational and sturdy. You are lovely, and you are now mine ..." His teeth grew into fangs. I was very cold. And I was lost to the waking world forever. Chapter TwoI Woke Up for This? "Oh, my head," I moaned as I slowly sat up. I felt sick to my stomach a little too. My intestines felt like they had when I was pregnant with my baby girl, churning and bubbly. This was not a sensation I enjoyed. I knew that if I'd had any food in my system, it would definitely have come out of me. "This is the worst hangover you'll ever have, but the good news is it will be your last," the same voice from the night before boomed back at me, and that was when I realized where I was and remembered some but not all of the night before. I did not know how I got where I was or why I was in the back of a hay cart. "Why are we moving?" I asked, feeling a little worse than before. I was trying to focus my eyes. A hand reached back to help me pull myself forward to the front. "If you give me your hand, I will help you up here. You might feel a little better if you watch the road," the large man from last night said. I crawled like a babe up to the front. I was holding my cramping stomach with the hand that was not being guided by him. Normally, I would have huffed and puffed in the back and not sat up next to him, but I would have done anything to feel better. Under normal circumstances, I would have never, ever taken his hand. "Oh Lord, what did I do to deserve this?" I muttered to myself. The move was a bad mistake; I should have stayed in the back and curled up into a ball. Now that I was in the front, it was a little easier to take in my surroundings. He and I were alone, headed to the beach on a hay cart pulled by two large ponies. The sun was up there somewhere, but it was overcast and I couldn't see where it was. This upset me a good deal; I was always the first one up to help out with the babies and to make breakfast. I got up before the sun. I enjoyed these things. I loved the children. I wondered if they had found me missing yet or if they were still in church. I wished I was ... but I couldn't think of these things now. I hurt. I needed to ... We were coming up to a few trees. "Please, I beg you. Let us stop for just a minute. I need you to ..." My eyes darted around in pain. "... stop." "I would rather not. I want to get to my ship as soon as possible and leave this rock." Then he looked over at me. I assumed I looked as awful as I felt, because we slowed to a stop. "Do you promise not to run away?" "Sir, the way I feel, you will be lucky if I can hold myself up once I am off this evil thing." He snickered and jumped down. The cart rocked so hard when he left, I felt I was going to die. He walked over to my side. "Here," he said holding up his hand to help me down. I took it and then fell over from the cramping into his arms as he asked, "Why do you need-" Just as he caught me and in the middle of his sentence, I turned my head and vomited. Yellow, all of it was yellow and nasty. I started stumbling for the brush. "Where are you going?" he demanded as he started after me. "I have to finish," I replied doubled over as I staggered away. "You can follow if you feel that's necessary." I must be feeling a little better, I thought to myself. I was able to be flippant just then. He stopped dead in his tracks. I guess he didn't want to be there for that. After I was a little way into the woods, I rested my head on a tree for a minute, letting the tree do the standing for me. "Ooooh, this is a nasty feeling," I muttered. Then I vomited more of the yellow substance. I knew I had nothing solid in me, so why all this retching? And why the need for the other reason I was in the bushes? Crouching did not feel much better than standing. I stood up after a few minutes of wincing and wished for death. I did feel a little better but still woozy. My head spun some, and I wasn't at all chipper. But I could stand upright. I wasn't trying to walk curled up in a ball. The giant was coming my way. I heard him. Should I run? I took a step forward. If I ran, where would I go? I couldn't go home. My thoughts were coming hard and fast. He would find me and catch me. I took another step forward. There was still pain, and my head was still spinning a little. No, I had best stay for now. I was not bound, and he did let me out. There would be other times. I would get a chance. "Are you feeling better?" he asked in a very soft, sincere voice. "Yes. A little," I responded. "Do you need me to carry you?" Was he being serious? "I think I can walk." But just as I said that, I stumbled and was lifted up and tossed over his shoulder. That was it. I retched again. How intelligent could he be? When my gut is in pain, please do not apply pressure! "Oh no." More vomit, I smiled to myself and thought, Poetic justice, that one was all over his backside. And just like with my daughter, I was starting to get hungry. This was a much different kind of hunger. It was more of a need ... a need to feed. I was able to suppress it just because I still didn't feel all that well. "How much stomach juice do you have in you?" he asked while he jogged a rather wiggly up and down line back to the cart. "If you don't slow down and carry me in a straight line, I'm sure I will find more to cover your rear end, "I groaned back at him. "And please get me off your shoulder." He stopped. "We are here anyway," he said as he placed me carefully on the ground. I walked over to the cart, and he followed. "Do you need help up?" he offered as I started to climb in. I flinched away from him and barked, "No!" I was scared to death he might lift me around my stomach and I might vomit again. He looked hurt. "I can get in alone. Thank you for the offer," I said after I realized I was being rather rude. Then I started thinking, here he was taking me from my family and my home, kidnapping me, and I was worried about being rude to him! I must be going mad. Chapter ThreeThe First Day of the Last Day that I Will Live Through but yet Be Dead Through ... So, here I sat, dead and alive. I rode in a cart with a man named Barnabas who had vomit on his buttocks. He explained some simple rules of being one of the damned. I could not see my family. I could not be near people I loved-or any people-for the longest time, not until I get could get control of this wanting to drink blood thing. I know it sounds odd, but that is why "my kind" doesn't go back and see the ones we love ... because we know that there is a very good chance that we might hurt them. He told me some individuals had wonderful self-control while others did not. It is best not to chance anything with people you care about until you know how you will react around people and all fully living things. Although my maker seemed to be telling me the truth about who he was and what he was after, he wasn't being completely truthful. According to him, the man I had married was his great-great-great-grandson-and oddly his only one. He left on a Viking voyage when his son was only weeks old, promising his young wife he would return. By the time he could be near humans and he was freed from his maker for a short while, his wife was on her deathbed and his son had had a son but his poor wife had died in childbirth. That grandson had been raised by Barnabas's wife (the grandmother) when their son had killed himself over the grief of losing his wife. His grandson married late after years of taking care of his grandmother. He only lived to have one child-another boy. Then that boy had six children, all but two of whom died of illness before the oldest was nine. The two who lived were a girl who was lame from polio and my husband's grandfather. My husband's grandfather had one son. The boy had three older sisters, but all of the sisters died before he was born. Then there was my husband and his brother, who had both had the mumps. My husband was fine and was blessed with a daughter. His brother (the oldest) was unable to have children, and no one knew his whereabouts, it was believed he was dead. My husband left me just as did his daughter ... my daughter ... our daughter ... my favorite person ... my little freckles. I was very confused when he first told me all of this, and he had to repeat it a number of times. (Continues...) Excerpted from The Strongest Fireby Sarah Winters Copyright © 2009 by Sarah Winters. Excerpted by permission. 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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