ReVamped

  ADA ADAMS

  Copyright © 2012 by Ada Adams

  ISBN: 978-1-62095-310-5

  All rights reserved.

  www.revampedbook.com

  Cover photo and design by Olga Barkhatova

  www.olgabarkhatova.ca

  To my mom,

  Thank you for always believing in each and every one of my dreams.

  PROLOGUE

  A sharp, searing pain pierced through my chest as I watched the guy I liked—the guy I was falling in love with—kiss another girl. With every fiber of my being, I willed myself to look away, my vision blurring in a desperate attempt to escape the agonizing scene before me. My body failed to obey; my gaze remained firmly glued to the couple.

  Powerless, I surrendered to the nightmare, for a brief moment allowing myself to imagine that his muscular arms were, in fact, embracing me. After all, the girl’s face, with its pale complexion, high cheekbones, straight nose and cupid-bow lips, was identical to mine. Her glossy brown hair cascaded down her back, each loose wave perfectly matching my own. Even her slender body curved in precisely the same places. Looking at her was like gazing into the smooth, reflective surface of a moving, breathing mirror.

  She was me.

  Or was I her?

  She fluttered open her long, dark lashes, and pulling me out of the fantasy, revealed the one perceptible difference between us: her emerald green eyes. While hauntingly beautiful, they looked nothing at all like my pale violet ones. She stared directly at me, tightening her grip on the only person in the world I had ever wanted to be with—mocking me for being too late.

  “Aurora,” he whispered in her ear.

  In that instant, I knew with certainty that he was not thinking about me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Dawn! Watch out!” A frantic scream echoed through the courtyard. The cry reverberated off of the old, stone walls, reaching my ears just as a burly, menacing vampire slammed his fist into my chest. His extended fangs gleamed in triumph as he readied himself for another powerful blow. I braced for the attack, firmly grounding my legs and twisting my torso to the side to evade the strike. The assailant continued to pounce, his arms oscillating in a blur of rapid punches. I swiftly blocked each one, finally delivering a disabling kick to his stomach. The hit sent him soaring through the air. His body emitted a loud crack upon contact with the hard surface of the courtyard wall.

  Before I could regain my bearing, two other vampires charged at me. Nostrils flaring and eyes blazing, they thirsted to avenge their fallen comrade. I divided my attention between them; defending from callous punches and hazardous kicks. At the same time, I worked to distribute my own skilled strikes. When the smaller vampire clipped my jaw with her knuckles, I utilized her extended limb to my advantage. Grabbing her arm and locking it in place, I used her body as a weapon against her much larger partner. With all my strength, I hurled her into the male vampire, sending both flying across the courtyard.

  The two collided, tumbling to the ground next to the first assailant, just as another group of vampires manifested in front of me. They surrounded me from all sides, carrying an array of weapons. One gripped a sharp sword, the other a pair of nunchucks, and the third clenched tightly onto a chain mace. The next few moments passed in a flash. I evaded jagged blades, leapt over deadly metal chains, and blocked vigorous blows.

  I was prepared to carry on the defense dance for as long as my body could hold out, but was secretly relieved upon succeeding in seizing the nunchucks away from their owner. In one calculated throw, I entangled them around both the sword and the mace, disarming the remaining vampires. Stripped of their weapons, the attackers appeared to lose all power, enabling me to easily triumph over them. When it was all over, the three vampires laid on the ground next to the rest of their team, panting and whimpering in agony.

  I looked around, satisfied at the tableau before me. Aside from a few minor bruises and scratches, I had escaped completely unscathed. I drew in a deep breath to steady myself, filling my lungs with warm summer air. In one swift motion, I smoothed out my black tank top and brushed off the dirt from my dark jeans. Running a hand through my disheveled brown locks, I attempted to loosen the tangles that had formed during the fight. When I was certain that I had fully regained my composure, I turned toward an awe-struck group of child vampires.

  “And that, class, is how you defend against multiple attackers,” I said, smiling triumphantly, my own fangs now peacefully retracted. “Any questions?”

  Five pairs of wide eyes gawked at me in amazement and admiration. In the early sessions of their training at the prestigious Scarlet House Program for New Vampires, the youngsters had learned much about defense and combat. Today, however, was the first time that they had ever seen the lessons put into practice.

  One of my brightest students, seven-year-old Julie, raised her hand. “Miss Dawn? Will this be on the final?” she asked in a small, but confident voice; the same voice that had frantically called out to me during the fight.

  Before I had a chance to respond, an elderly Scarlet House guard approached me. He glided over with an air of importance, his red and gold tunic swaying with each stride.

  “Miss Dawn, the President has requested your presence in his chambers,” he said, giving me a brief nod of acknowledgement. From the corner of his eye, he shot a pitiful glance at his six fellow guards; the same vampires who had acted as my practice attackers just moments before, and were now dolefully nursing their wounds on the courtyard floor. I stifled a smile, certain that he was secretly relieved that it hadn’t been his turn at the training station that afternoon.

  “Please tell the President that I’ll be on my way shortly,” I told the guard before turning my attention back to the students. “That’s all for today. Great work everyone!”

  I snatched a soft pouch filled with a mix of donor blood and all-natural fruit juice from the snack table.

  “Remember kids, Blood Juice is a healthy, appropriate meal,” I said, tossing the concoction to a nine-year-old student named Eddie. “Your human friends at school are not. I heard what happened at recess last week!” I shot the boy a disapproving look as I exited the courtyard.

  I briskly strode toward the building that housed the Vampire President’s office, the heels of my long, black boots pounding against the winding cobblestone path leading to the mansion. The July sun had begun to fade beyond the horizon, but I could still feel the warm, comforting heat of its rays on my cool skin.

  As the imposing structure of the Scarlet House came into view, I relished its familiarity. Never having been allowed to venture far from the building and its grounds, they were everything I had ever known. The lavish thirty-room estate was made entirely of exquisite white stone, adorned with marble accents and animal sculptures. Eagles, falcons and other birds of prey perched around its exterior, but one had to examine the manor in more detail to discover the serpents, lions and tigers carved into its walls. In the many years that I had spent exploring the house, I still had not found them all.

  My favorite part of the Scarlet House had always been its large, reflective windows. Depending on the time of day and the strength of the light, the structure would morph, taking on unique characteristics. This evening, as the red and orange glow of the setting sun reflected against the glass, the entire building looked ablaze. Conversely, on some calm, clear nights, as I strolled through the garden and glanced back at the house, the silver moonlight dancing across the sleek surfaces would give it a glistening, watery effect. It was such an exhilarating sight, one that never failed to fascinate me.

  The grand mansion was full of surprises. Most who had seen the building, likened it to an ethereal castle. Today, the living and the undead from all over the world congregated for daily tours of the premises, but
for more than a century before, the only information anyone had about the mansion’s location was that it could be found “a hundred or so miles northeast of one of the largest cities in America”. Three years ago, the US Vampire President’s command centre was finally revealed to the public. The president’s press office had proudly christened it The Scarlet House.

  After all, the Scarlet House is exactly like the White House, but in a more vampiric sense, they gushed, delighted with their ingenuity.

  Upon entering the grand hall of the headquarters, I was greeted by an assembly of guards. As I passed by, they bent their heads in greeting, the fabrics of their long burgundy cloaks spilling gently around them with a soft swish. I made my way to the back of the building, weaving swiftly through a maze of dimly lit halls. Within seconds, I found myself in front of the President’s chambers. Without pausing to knock, I pushed open the heavy oak door, quietly slipping into the room.

  Though the house was equipped with the best amenities and most current technology, the office interior was dark and stuffy. Thick blood-colored curtains hung across the windows, drowning the entire room, and all the lavish Victorian furniture inside it, in deep crimson. The only light emanated from a lone candle within an oversized wrought iron chandelier. The shadows created by the candle’s weak flame flickered across the stone walls, desperately trying to escape the confines of the dark environment.

  The President sat in his usual wingback chair, staring ominously at a pile of papers strewn across his desk. He was a tall, well-built man, and although he was made vampire only in his late thirties, his dark brown hair was already lined with silver, bestowing him with a mature, distinguished appearance. His neatly-pressed black suit and long cloak added to his stately image, simultaneously making him seem both modern and ancient.

  “Really father, why must you live like this?” I groaned into the darkness. In one quick motion, I swiped open the curtains, allowing the late afternoon light to fill the room.

  My father flinched, as if the sun’s rays had somehow burned him. “How many times have I told you, Dawn? We must keep up appearances,” he lectured.

  Being born a human in 1818 and made vampire in 1856, my father had never had any difficulty embracing the modern way of life. From the few stories he had shared with me, I discovered that with each new era, he and his followers would learn to adapt and grow, much like technology and inventions had over time. Nevertheless, the romantic within him took great solace in reenacting a time long ago; a time when vampires lived in secret and were only found in fictional tales of love, lust and terror. I often had to remind him that those days were now long gone.

  A little over three years ago, due to a love-of-all-things-vampire mania brought on by the emergence of copious popular novels, television shows and films glorifying the vampire race, vampires had proudly surfaced into the public eye. In the early spring of 2012, after centuries upon centuries of being forced to hide their existence, vampire citizens finally became free to walk in the light. The first few who emerged out of the darkness feared vast repercussions, but the human public was absolutely enthralled by them, greeting them with open arms and, in some cases, even extended necks. In fact, the big cities—the first areas to see the emergence of vampires—became such hotspots and tourist destinations that mayors of all small towns across the United States launched an elaborate Vampire Immigration Campaign. They offered protection, fame, fortune, discounts to blood banks—whatever it took to encourage vampires to move to their areas.

  Of course, certain rules had to be established so that, throughout the world, vampires and humans could coexist peacefully. The constitution was fairly basic, consisting of two main laws. The first law stated that “no vampire was allowed to draw blood from an unwilling human”. The word “unwilling” had to be added into the amended law, as some lovesick teens complained that it wasn’t fair for their parents to keep turning in their vampire girlfriends and boyfriends to the authorities, just because they engaged in some much-enjoyed necking.

  The second law was created by the US Vampire Council and stated that “no vampire, under any circumstances, was permitted to turn a human”. The rule was not established for the protection of humans, but rather, to maintain the exclusivity of the vampire race. After all, vampires were now the new celebrities; they were invited to all the best parties, followed everywhere by paparazzi, and even offered starring roles in the latest films. The vampire council, headed by my father, President Alastair Fairchild, was in charge of preserving this exclusivity; though its efforts often went unnoticed. After all, the humans were not interested in some politician’s way of life. The public only had eyes for the young, good-looking vampires who were living life in the fast-lane and gracing the pages of tabloids. According to my father, “the good, dark days when vampires had a little more dignity and were not such sellouts, were long gone.”

  Frowning at the curtains, but declining to close them, my father stood up from behind his desk and slowly approached me.

  “Dawn,” he said with an air of regality. “I’ve called you here for a very serious matter. I trust I can count on your help.”

  I nodded obediently. It was not a question, but an order. Being the president’s only child—his star warrior—it wasn’t like I had any other choice. All my life, my father had only cared about three things: my safety, my education, and my training. I spent most of my childhood and young adulthood on the Scarlet House grounds, working on strengthening my mind and body. Before I could even walk, I began combat training. The skills I learned drew from a combination of ancient martial art disciplines, as well as more contemporary battle techniques.

  Weapons were my specialty. By age ten, I was wielding a katana in one hand, and a crossbow in the other. My father flew in tutors from every corner of the world to ensure that I was well-versed on every subject that ever existed. Foreign languages had always been my favorite. I loved the charm and musicality of language, my tongue and lips ravenously indulging in each new word.

  Satisfied by my compliance, my father relaxed a little, offering me a sincere smile. “Good. Thank you, Dawn.”

  He placed one of his large hands on my shoulder and patted me awkwardly. I stiffened, surprised by his touch. Never having been one to show much affection, my father was apparently just as startled as I by this uncharacteristic gesture. His green eyes widened as he pulled his hand away, briskly striding back to his desk. The brown leather chair gave out a small sigh as his burly frame settled into it once again.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked, plopping myself into a seat across from him. I attempted to seem casual, all the while, my shoulder burned. Most nineteen-year-olds, both human and vampire, would not think twice about a pat on the shoulder from their dad, but for my father that was a first. I never doubted that he cared deeply for me, but he made certain that there was always a firm emotional barrier between us.

  One day, many years ago, I accidentally overheard him arguing with my nanny, Miss Elisa, about this particular subject matter. I was on my way to his chambers to show him a new weapon that I had acquired from my trainer, when I caught their hushed voices mentioning my name. I froze in front of the closed office door, pressing my ear against the fine wood. Without much strain, my superior hearing had enabled me to listen in on the conversation.

  “You need to be more affectionate towards Dawn!” I could almost imagine Elisa pacing back and forth as she spoke. “The poor child is growing up without a mother and you treat her like a soldier,” she said furiously. The most admirable thing about my nanny was her ability to, regardless of the circumstances, always speak her mind.

  “I can’t get close.” The agony in my father’s voice made me flinch. “She reminds me too much of her!”

  I quickly pulled away from the door, stifling back tears. Those few little words stung more than I could ever have anticipated. I didn’t dare stay and eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation, painfully assuming that my father was referring to my mother; the wom
an who, I was told, died shortly after giving birth to me.

  Thinking about my mother always left me with an empty, aching void in my chest. To this day, she was a taboo subject within the walls of the Scarlet House. There were no pictures of her in our home, and while I desperately yearned to learn anything I could, the only thing I knew with certainty was that, like me, she had been one of the special vampires—The Born.

  Vampires exist in two varieties—The Born and The Made. My father, along with most vampires in the world, was part of the Made group; those who were once human and were turned by their vampire sires through an exchange of blood in death. There has always been much speculation regarding this procedure, but the only way for a human to be successfully turned is for him or her to ingest vampire blood in their dying moment. Because of the complex timing of this procedure—the human must have vampire blood coursing through the body as his or her heart stops—the turn is often made out of a loving gesture between the individual and his or her sire.

  The Born, on the other hand, are actually born vampires. Most vampires cannot have children, but in rare circumstances a Born vampire can give birth to another Born. This occurs as a result of a union between a Born and a vampire she has sired with her own blood. The offspring of the couple—always a daughter—is a being more powerful than any Made vampire. The Born grows and ages much like a human child, and if she does not give birth, she continues out her lifespan and perishes in old age. Upon giving birth to another Born, however, the mother is frozen in time at that particular age for all eternity.

  In total, only about five vampires are born in the world in every generation. Though their origin is unknown, most legends state that they are the direct descendants of Dracula himself. The Born are the envy of the entire vampire population, not just for their power, but also because they have the opportunity to choose a more human life. They’re able to experience birth, and even death of old age, if they so desire. Unfortunately, the downside to a vampire giving birth is that it is a very dangerous feat and most, like my mother, lose their own life in the process of bringing forth another.