So Dead, My Love Read online

  “If you’ll wait, I’ll be right back.” The young man motioned swiftly to one of the chairs.

  “Oh, sure,” she acknowledged, distracted.

  As he left, he closed the two doors behind him. All of this, Samantha thought, hidden away in some God forsaken part of Bayton Isle, and no one even bothered discovering who lived here and why. And why hadn’t Tamara Weissman and her young live-in seen fit to associate with the rest of Bayton Isle?

  Samantha walked towards one of the huge paintings. It hung over the fireplace. The man was decked out in rich, lavish clothing. Samantha couldn’t be sure, but the painting could have been seventeenth century. The long hair, curled and puffed up, was black as coal. He had a neatly trimmed beard and moustache to match.

  But it was the eyes that frightened Samantha. They were blacker than his hair. Cold, deep and penetrating, there was more than a tinge of malevolence in his stare. His crooked smile was smug, as if possessing a secret that neither the painter nor any onlooker could ever share. Samantha walked to the other wall to stand before a slightly smaller portrait of a stunning woman. Placing her at around two centuries earlier, this woman also bore the strong, intense black eyes. Were they all Karnovs? Samantha could only guess.

  Already this house had captured her imagination. Hardly able to control herself, she wondered where Lara Karnov fit into all this. Where was her portrait? Samantha moved to take a look at some of the other portraits in the room, but as she did so, the double doors opened behind her.

  The young man who had greeted her walked in slowly, holding a very thin, wasted woman, gray hair pulled back behind her shoulders. She was hardly able to stand without his help, but even so, Samantha recognized her. It was the woman she had run into with her bike at the grocery store! The same, unmistakable blue eyes looked back at her. “You must pardon my appearance, Samantha, but I am not healthy. Thank you for coming.”

  Her withered hand was pointing Samantha to sit, just as she was being escorted to the couch. She could barely walk and she needed his help in sitting. Samantha sat down across her in an antique chair that must have been a family heirloom. Was she a Karnov, wondered Samantha?

  “You can go now, Tommy. I’ll call you when I’m ready.” She waved Tommy away and he obeyed, closing the double doors once again behind him. She set her weak gaze on Samantha.

  “Tommy is my only help here. Needless to say, he has been a life saver.” Her words were slow, raspy. She had difficulty in forming them. But her eyes held Samantha’s in a steady stare.

  “I didn’t think you would ever come, Samantha Barnes. You have made it just in time.”

  It was then that Samantha realized she had not given this woman her name and she hadn’t told Tommy either. Come to think of it, why had they welcomed a total stranger into their home?

  “Forgive me, but how do you know my name?”

  “Oh, my dear Samantha, I have known your name for a very long time now. Remember, I gave you this.” She held the crumpled note in her withered hand.

  “You know you have been chosen. Surely, you must feel it?”

  Samantha knew she had to answer, but all of a sudden, she was afraid.

  “I’m really not sure why I’m here,” she let her sentence trail off, knowing right away that it was a lie. There was an oppressive feel to the room, as if the air were getting difficult to breathe. “I’m sorry. That isn’t exactly true.”

  “She has called you. You have heard her in your dreams. In your waking hours she is always with you. Lara Karnov. That is why you are here. That is why I too came here.” Tamara looked wistfully around the room, then back at Samantha.

  “Yes,” Samantha blurted, “She’s come to me. I can think of nothing else. That’s why I came to see you.” She inched up onto the edge of her chair. “Please tell me why. Lara Karnov has been dead for centuries. What’s happening?”

  The old woman before her said nothing, only smiled. She got up slowly from the couch. Samantha wondered why she didn’t have a cane or walker to help her. As she finally struggled to her feet, she motioned for Samantha to follow.

  “Come, let me show something I am sure you have been wondering about and are most anxious to see.” She seemed animated despite her frail condition. Samantha didn’t think she could make it without Tommy.

  “Do you think we should call Tommy for you?”

  “No. It must be only you and I.” She seemed adamant, so Samantha inched behind her as they moved toward a door on the opposite end of the room.

  Samantha noticed an unusually large table covered in a heavylooking velvet spread. The legs were ornately carved with figures she couldn’t quite make out. Sitting on top of this odd table were various statues and figurines of Eastern deities. It looked like an altar to her.

  Her attention was diverted when Tamara Weissman took out a large collection of keys on a round key holder and picked one out. She turned it slowly in the lock and opened the large door. She didn’t go in; instead, she turned around and smiled cryptically at Samantha.

  “Go on in. You will find her there.”

  For the first time since coming through the doors of Karnov House, Samantha felt afraid. But it was a fear tempered with a certain sense of exhilaration. She almost felt sexually charged. Alive. Whatever was going to happen in life beyond this door, she wanted to embrace it.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” Tamara urged her on. She motioned her forward with her eyes.

  Samantha walked into the most exquisite room she had ever seen. Everywhere her eyes traveled, bursts of flowers stood atop tables. Paintings and tapestries adorned the walls. Her eyes finally fell on a large piano and the two fireplaces. But it was above the magnificent, large, marbled fireplace directly across from her that the object she truly sought rested.

  The portrait was so large that she knew who it was from this distance. Lara Karnov waited, framed in gold and wearing blue. Samantha began to walk as in a daze, not caring whether Tamara Weissman could keep up with her or not. The smell of the fresh flowers was like an aphrodisiac to her senses. She wondered if Tamara was the one supplying these beautiful flowers.

  As she came to a stop before the extravagant fireplace, she let her gaze travel slowly, drinking in every detail of the surroundings, until they came to a stop on the portrait before her.

  Lara Karnov had been painted in a palette of rich, dark, vibrant colors. The image seemed to come alive with color, the intensity of the likeness flirting with the eyes and the senses. It was the portrait in the book, except that here, it seemed to envelope you till there was nothing in the room except you and portrait.

  It was the eyes that held Samantha. They looked out at curious onlookers with a certain smug amusement, black as coal. Like the impressive man in the sitting room, thought Samantha. It must have been a Karnov genetic trait. But the malice was missing from Lara Karnov’s eyes. There was a certain sadness in the intensely deep set eyes. Her face was almost too gaunt but beautiful in its haunting, otherworldly look. Well-defined high cheekbones met rather thin lips and finished in a decidedly pointed chin. The skin was so pale that it seemed to glow with incandescent color off the canvas.

  “She’s beautiful.” Samantha was spellbound, noticing the relatively frail body beneath the hypnotic face. The blue brocade dress fit snugly on her thin frame.

  “She was a Karnov like no other.” Tamara’s voice startled Samantha. She had crept up behind her and was standing so close that she could feel her breath.

  Tamara was staring trance like at the portrait. Slivers of sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, dancing across the room like tiny beams.

  “There are many secrets to be revealed to you. Do you wish to proceed?”

  Did she? The secrets of Lara Karnov lay before her, ready to break open. There was nothing on earth that could stop her.

  “I want to know everything about her.”

  Tamara smiled. A slow, deliberate smile. Samantha could almost swear that there was great
relief in Tamara’s face, as if a great weight had been lifted.

  Tamara unexpectedly curled her arm through Samantha’s and urged her away from the portrait. Samantha didn’t want to move. The portrait of Lara Karnov held her prisoner. This was as close as she had ever been to her. But Tamara tugged harder.

  “Come, Samantha. This is only an illusion. The real thing will be yours to have.” Tamara closed the door behind her.

  “That was Lara’s favorite room. She played beautifully.” She suddenly clutched at her chest and swayed back, leaning softly on the door. Samantha grabbed her by the arm.

  “It’s all right, Samantha. I’m getting weaker. I need to tell you everything quickly.”

  Samantha wondered what she meant. Tamara Weissman really didn’t look all that old. Perhaps she suffered from some chronic disease. After all, she had been in the hospital that night.

  “There, by the drapes. Pull on the rope. That will call Tommy. There is something from the library he must get for me.”

  Samantha helped her to one of the chairs then went to the window and pulled a worn, frayed thick cord hanging next to the heavy drapes.

  “Come and sit here next to me, Samantha. I must pass all that is Karnov to you.”

  Samantha pulled up one of the heavy chairs next to Tamara. They were sitting beneath the cold glare of that man’s portrait. Perhaps Tamara could tell her who he was? Tommy came in momentarily and left again in search of a book Tamara had requested from the family library. She looked again at Samantha.

  “I was so afraid you would not come in time. I was worried that the note at the hospital wouldn’t make sense to you.”

  Should Samantha tell her that it wasn’t just her note that brought her here? That Lara Karnov had somehow shown her the way long before the hospital stay? Lara Karnov had spoken to her heart, saying all the things Samantha Barnes desperately wanted to hear.

  “At first I thought you were a dream,” Samantha offered. “You were actually part of a very bizarre dream I had while I was unconscious.”

  “Maybe not so bizarre, Samantha. Dreams sometimes are messages sent from beyond for us to understand. We should always listen to our dreams.” Tamara was looking at Samantha through heavy-lidded eyes.

  Samantha wondered if her strength would allow her to stay up. Tommy interrupted her thoughts.

  He shuffled shyly up to Tamara and handed her a large, worn old book, the pages brown with age. It looked heavy. Tamara took it gently as if cradling a baby. She placed it neatly on her lap and motioned for Tommy to leave. As he closed the double doors behind him, Tamara took one deep breath and looked at Samantha.

  Her blue eyes were crystal clear. “Now, Samantha Barnes, are you ready to get what you came here for? What your destiny has delivered to you?”

  Samantha could only nod. Tamara opened the book somewhere near the center. There was a marker there of some sort, a faded ribbon. There appeared to be scratchy handwritten notes on the pages. The book was almost too big for Tamara to handle.

  “The Karnovs are a very ancient family. A family long hunted, feared and persecuted in Europe.”

  Tamara stopped only long enough to lick a fleck of spittle that had dropped onto her lip.

  “And please, don’t be frightened when I reveal to you why this was so.” She turned the fragile page. There was more writing, but this time, there was also a large, colorful emblem on the page. It looked to Samantha like a big black bird holding something in its beak, wings spread out across the page. The colors black, red and yellow jumped out at her.

  When Tamara looked back up at Samantha, there was a strange, hungry look on her face, like a ghoul waiting to feed off Samantha’s reaction. It startled her.

  “Do you believe in vampires, Samantha?”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about vampires much.”

  “No matter, because the world you once knew you must now leave behind.”

  “What does all this have to do with me?”

  Tamara merely smiled smugly. “Everything, my dear, everything. You see, the Karnov are vampires.”

  She let it sink in, then continued, “…and werewolves. Yes, those things exist. Those things are Karnov. For centuries they bore the brunt of this lifestyle. Some Karnov were brazen and lived recklessly. They suffered the most. Many of them met terrible fates. There really were vampire hunters long ago, although they were never historically identified as such. But then again, the story would be different if you had been the victim. To them, the Karnovs were unnatural monsters to be hunted and destroyed.”

  She stopped and the air was thick with silence. Samantha was frozen. Sure, she had read Furrows’s book and listened to his easy dismissal of the Karnov myths, but for the reality to be hitting her here, full in the face, was spell bounding. Unbelievable. Was this woman sane, she wondered? Should she stay and listen to more or leave? No. She could never leave Lara Karnov behind. Not now.

  Tamara had turned another page. “Wilmon Karnov,” Tamara pointed feebly to the portrait above them, “was the Karnov patriarch. It was his plan to scatter the Karnovs to the far reaches of the known world. His idea was to create a world dominated by Karnovs. Entire villages and cities under Karnov rule. They would allow the population to retain land, farm it and reap its benefits. In exchange, the villagers would supply the blood. The young virgins. The innocent children.”

  She stopped long enough to wipe her hands on her dress. “Most of the Karnov were without conscience, lacking mercy or consideration. Until Lara Karnov came into being.”

  Samantha felt her body tense up. The mere mention of her name was like a powerful magnet. The drug for her addiction. A ripple through her heart. Tamara closed her eyes for a few moments, as if recollecting some far away memory.

  “I must have you understand that the Karnov family was vampire by nature. They are a race apart from us, yet walking the Earth side by side with humans since the beginning of time. That is not a fact the world ever knew or cared to know. When Lara was born, she already bore the mark of the vampire.”

  Here she stopped as if to take a breath. She turned the page again. At the top of the page, Samantha could see the name Countess Lara Karnov written in lovely handwriting.

  Her hands were moist with anxiety and she was finding it hard to breathe in the dark room.

  “Please go on, Tamara.”

  “Lara Karnov believed in things other than greed, darkness, power and revenge.” Tamara’s voice was low, personal. “Above all else, Lara Karnov was convinced that love, not everlasting life and darkness, would be the only thing that would save her. Her mother believed this also, for they say it was written here, in the ancient book of the Karnov family, that a female Karnov child would be born who could change the Karnov vampire curse forever. This was Lara Karnov.”

  Samantha’s stomach growled and she smiled in apology. The absurdity of it all, she thought. How hunger could be such an allconsuming need in the face of life’s revelations.

  “It is I who must apologize,” Tamara was saying, “but I seldom eat more than once a day, usually an early supper. I am too weak. I did not realize it was so late.”

  “Oh no, please, continue. I usually skip lunch myself when I get busy.” Samantha looked at her watch. Time had flown. How could she even think of food when her life was changing before her eyes? What she was hungry for was not food.

  “Tamara, why was Lara different? How could she change her people from being vampires? Did she really die in that accident? And why me?”

  Tamara put both her hands on the pages of the book and nodded slowly.

  “I know you are very curious about these things. All will be revealed to you. Lara was never allowed to fulfill her destiny. And now she can only be awakened only by the true love of the chosen one. Only you could bring her life back to her.”

  Samantha’s mouth was open in a question. Tamara put one hand up in the air and shook her head. “It will make sense to you when I am done.”

 
Her hand now pointed at Samantha. “You were called by Lara. You are the chosen one.” She stopped and eyed Samantha intently with squinted eyes.

  “I am barely half a century and look at me. She has kept me alive for too long you see. It wasn’t me that was meant to give her life, only sustain what she already has. You are the One, Samantha. Your love will bring her life and she will belong to you.”

  Samantha was shaking her head well before Tamara could finish. This was too much. She couldn’t understand. She felt like she was awake in some crazy nightmare. But she had come here wanting to know this. Wanting Lara.

  “Do not be frightened,” Tamara continued, “The voice you have heard in your dreams is not an illusion. It is Lara. You will know that is your destiny. You want Lara as much as she needs you.”

  She was telling the truth. Samantha knew it. That was the scariest part of this damned thing. She was consumed by Lara Karnov.

  “There is more.” Tamara reached out, her eyes pleading. Samantha gave her a half nod.

  “Driven by dark and ruthless motivation, they made the decision to test Lara’s beliefs and the Karnov prophecy.” Tamara fidgeted in her chair as she turned another page.

  “The Karnovs bound Lara and had her entombed here. Special servants and attendants were brought in to keep Lara…” she paused briefly, “…sustained, until and if her predictions came true. They have waited all these centuries for Lara’s mythical lover to release her from the fingers of eternal darkness. I am the last of a long line of those who have served the Karnov in this task. You see that table there?”

  She pointed to the long, draped table Samantha had noticed earlier. “There is a tube attached to it where the blood I draw from my own body each night is fed to Lara.”

  Samantha felt a chill go through her heart. And a great sadness too. How could your own family, regardless of how ruthless they might have been, have their own daughter buried alive?

  “They didn’t talk much about it to the townsfolk of Bayton Isle,” Tamara continued, “The villagers were below them in rank and in worth. They were told Lara was mistakenly shot in a hunting accident. Only we knew. It’s all here.” Tamara patted the book on her lap.