61 A.D. (Bachiyr, Book 2) (31 page)

Ramah nodded, but didn’t look up. Herris couldn’t believe it, he’d never seen Ramah this way. He looked so lost, almost... defeated. But it couldn’t be helped, the disorientation Ramah felt was part of the spell she had used on him. The effects would have made him more tractable and open to suggestion when he awoke. Herris knew; he had taught the bitch the spell himself over four thousand years ago. The strange feeling would
would
wear off in a few nights and Ramah would be fine, Herris was just glad the Blood Letter had awakened to see him and not Baella.

He left Ramah’s chambers and closed the massive oak and steel door behind him. Only when he was outside did he allow himself a relieved smile.

Ramah hadn’t seen her face. He didn’t know.

His secret was safe.

His mood as he left Ramah’s chambers was a great deal better than it had been when he arrived.

Epilogue

Mistress Baella walked through the door to her keep.
Feyo
stood just inside the entryway, a large glass of red liquid in his hand. Blood for the Mistress, altered via a special psalm—developed by Mistress Baella herself—to still be viable long after the host was dead. She kept a store of it downstairs. She took the glass and quaffed it, then stormed through the room.
Feyo
followed close at her heels in case she needed him.

“It did not go well?” he asked.

Baella turned around and reached up to grab him by the shoulder, then she pulled, forcing him to bend down to her height. Her nails dug into his cheek as she grabbed his face and shoved it to the side, then buried her fangs in his neck.

Feyo
did not struggle at all. They had been in this position many times before. He knew his role and dropped to his knees to give her a better angle. It only hurt for a moment, and afterward he slept for a night and a day as his body recuperated. But when he woke he would be as strong as five men, and faster than a deer. It was a good trade.

He realized something was wrong when he started to feel dizzy. Normally, Mistress Baella stopped drinking after a minute or so, but this time she’d gone on much, much longer.

Realization struck him like a hammer.

“No,” he whispered. He grabbed her head and tried to pull her mouth from his neck, but it was like trying to move a bronze statue. His arms bulged with muscle, enhanced by the strength she had lent him, but he could no more move her than he could move the mountain on which her keep was built.

“Why, Mistress?” he asked. His vision faded, and the strength left his limbs. In far too little time, his arms fell to his sides and his legs buckled. He simply lacked the strength to keep them functional.

“Why?” he asked again, just before he closed his eyes for the last time.

***

Baella stood and wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her sleeve. She looked down at the body. It was much paler than she thought it would be. She had not planned to kill him when she arrived, but his question irked her, and she was in no mood for it. Besides, she had a powerful psalm to work tonight, and fresh human blood was far stronger than the stuff she stored in her cellar. Tonight she would need all the extra energy she could get.

Feyo’s
blood coursed through her veins, igniting her nerves along the way, and the warmth made her feel better. Her plan had failed, but there would be other opportunities. After all, she had an eternity to try again.

But for tonight she would have to content herself with something else. She strode to the stone stairs on the far side of her foyer, headed for the topmost room of her keep. There she would find the mystical items she needed for tonight’s work, as well as the means to send the effects of her psalm across vast distances.

Time to send Ramah another dream.

THE END

Acknowledgements

No novel is ever a solitary endeavor. Each one is the result of a group of people working together to ensure the best possible story reaches the reader. In that regard I would like to thank the Indie Author Mafia for their faith and support: David
Dalglish
, Daniel
Arenson
, Sean Sweeney, Robert
Duperre
, Jason Letts, Michael Crane, and Amanda Hocking. Without you guys, I don’t know that I would be where I am today.

I also need to acknowledge several friends whose determination and talent have served as examples of the writer I should strive to be:
Aprilynne
Pike, Chris Stephenson, Patricia Wood, Jeremy Robinson, Stan Tremblay, and Jon F.
Merz
.

Thank you to Emily, Matt, Joseph, Todd, and Elizabeth; the best beta readers I’ve ever had. How I missed so many typos and weird sentences is beyond me, you guys really helped make this book what it is.

And to Cindy and Barbara, this book is for you just as much as it is for anyone else. I can always count on you for a boost of confidence when I need it. Thank you.

Last but certainly not least, I want to thank my wife Heather for her love and support, and also for her constant reminders during those early years that I needed to finish my book. Without her, my first novel would still be sitting, unedited, on a 3.5 inch floppy somewhere, never to be seen by another living soul. Thank you, Hon. I love you.

About the Author

David McAfee is the author of the 2010 bestselling horror novel,
33 A.D.
, as well as several other horror titles currently available on Amazon Kindle and elsewhere.
61 A.D.
is the follow up to his debut, and he is currently working on a collaborative novella with Jeremy Robinson featuring one of Robinson’s characters, Bishop. The next novel in the Theron and Taras storyline will be released in 2012.

David lives in Tennessee with his wife, daughter, and infant son.