The Campbell River: The Story of a Vampire and a Wolf

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow

Of crystal, wandering water,

Thou art an emblem of the glow

Of beauty- the unhidden heart-

The playful maziness of art

In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks-

Which glistens then, and trembles-

Why, then, the prettiest of brooks

Her worshipper resembles;

For in his heart, as in thy stream,

Her image deeply lies-

His heart which trembles at the beam

Of her soul-searching eyes.

-To the River, Edgar Allan Poe

Prologue

In 1848, in a remote portion of Romania, the centuries-long war between werewolves and vampires ended.

Encouraged by Anastase Constantin—the father of both races—the prince of the wolves, Quinn Campbell, took up the mantel of Canis Maximus, and regained leadership of the ancient Bodark pack.

With his best friend Dmitriy Gavrilov, a vampire, at his side, Campbell fought one last battle against the forces that opposed the peace treaty, and at its conclusion, the covens and packs signed a binding pact that would secure peace ever after.

Quinn Campbell married an ordinary human named Agatha Byrne, and lived the rest of his 210 years in England.

Quinn and Agatha had five children. The second son, Charles Campbell, married and had six children: three sons and three daughters. He alone of the Constantin pack decided to leave Europe and make his way in America. He and his family settled in Massachusetts near a small town called Heath, and named their expansive, wooded territory Campbellston. Soon, members of lesser packs came across the sea and settled with them.

However, vampires soon traveled from Europe also, and—disregarding the Constantin Pact—began to plague the rural regions. The Campbells and their families took it upon themselves to protect their human neighbors.

Tensions between the two factions rose, and at last, with the onset of the First World War, the Campbell pack and the Massachusetts vampires clashed. A bloody conflict ensued, halving the population of the Campbells and eliminating all vampires except one ancient coven: the Blackwoods. The leader of this coven had held land near Heath since 1750, and desired to retain it. He agreed that none of his kind would ever cross into Campbell territory, nor would they risk or take any human lives, or his own life and the lives of his coven would be forfeit.   

CHAPTER ONE

August 3rd, 2015

Albert Blackwood

Ihad ridden in coaches through the blackest streets of my native London, coal dust in my lungs and chill seeping through the wooden, rattling walls. I had been pulled down to the edge of Death by the icy grip of typhus at a wretched Yorkshire boy’s school. I had sat on the peak of Everest on the night of a new moon and gazed out over the desolate snow. But never had I felt so cold as I did sitting on that flight from Paris to Boston.

I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I just stared at the back of the first class seat in front of me, my hands clenched around the armrests.

Anna Porter was dead.

My coven was living in Boston now—and my sister Elizabeth had told me about what she had been told from a native of Heath: that Anna had gone missing in the woods of Campbellston, and presumed dead...

And then when I had called to speak to Anna’s father, he only had time to tell me that he appreciated the call but he didn’t have time to talk, because he was arranging a funeral.

There was only one thing that could mean.

And yet, as I once more sent the approaching stewardess a withering glare, I refused to believe it. Anna was stronger than that. I knew she was. And Mr. Porter was a rare good man, and Jack Campbell...

I knew Jack loved her. He had loved her before I had ever gone to college with Anna, before Anna had decided she would rather be with me than him—because, in spite of every bit of advice and everything I knew to be true about what I was and would always be...I had fallen madly in love with this enchanting, lively, optimistic, artistic, charming girl.

Before I had finally come to my senses, realizing that I was being utterly selfish, and if I loved her, I needed to—had to—break it off.

Jack was young, but fierce and resolute—even if he was one of them. I knew he would forgive her, and take her back. He and Mr. Porter could protect Anna, make her happy. I knew this. I had told myself that every time was about to hijack a plane and fly back from Europe.

Elizabeth's message, however, had shattered all my illusions. And I had the experience to know that even when they are surrounded by loving and protective friends, desperate and determined people can still do rash and stupid things. I remembered my own mother—I knew she had had people who loved her—and yet she had tried to kill herself.

I had to know. I had to make certain what had happened. I had to be sure that this was an accident, or a mistake.

Or I might do something rash and stupid of my own.

I had told Elizabeth I was going back to Heath—I called her right after I called the Porter residence. I also told her and my family to stay away. They were in Boston still, which was good enough. I told George, my best friend and leader, that I would meet them there. I did not say how prompt I would be.

I strode off the airplane first, carrying a small bag. I had a few clothes and things in there—I didn't want them, but after traveling to every country on the planet during the past one-hundred-seventy-five years, I knew that passengers without bags drew suspicion.

I swept up the ramp and into Logan International Airport, my long black coat fluttering behind me. The chatter of a thousand people's thoughts surrounded me as I passed through the gate and made my way down the white tiled hall, but I tuned out the bustle of the busy crowd. As I walked, I lowered my head and straightened my shoulders. Everyone got out of my way.

Evening rain hit my face as I stepped through the revolving doors and into the chill air. Staying under the overhang and peering through the swish and rumble of the traffic, I hailed the first cab I saw. I climbed in, and rode in silence until the cab reached the outskirts of Boston. I watched the rain leave trails on the window. I vaguely remembered a time when my breath would have fogged up the glass.

Let me off here, I finally said, without looking at the driver.

Here?

Yes.

He slowed down. I grabbed my bag and pushed open the door.

Thank you, I said, putting my hand on the wet roof of the car. I bent, and handed him a $100 bill through the gap in the plastic partition. He yelped about my change, but I was already gone. I slammed the door and stepped off the road into the grass as the driving rain hit me. It soaked my coat and hair and ran down my face. My boots sloshed through a puddle in the ditch as I made for the dark of the forest. I sensed the cab driver's unspoken bafflement behind me as he stalled there, watching me go. I did not look back.

As soon as the towering, silent trees shielded me from sight, and the pine needles silenced my footsteps, I dropped my bag, shed my coat and broke into a run.

Trees, ferns and boulders flashed past, and the raindrops that made it through the thick branches struck me like nails. The rain rushed like the sound of a river over my head. The wind cried—moaned, as if it was weary. I ran faster.

I knew these woods—they had been my backyard for many years. I knew every deer trail, every fallen log, and every bend in each stream.

I knew, exactly, the border of Campbellston. I gritted my teeth...

And crossed it.

I swept through the woods, not even displacing a leaf, my limbs feeling like ice. I ran until I heard whispers, fragments, of human sound. And then I slowed. I had to fight to do that—I wanted to run right up to the people and demand to know what had happened. I glimpsed a clearing up ahead. I approached with care, keeping myself hidden.

I squinted against the rain as I edged closer. A group of people stood in a huddled group beneath umbrellas, just on the edge of my range. They had their backs to me. Gray tombstones stood in lines, as silent as the people were. The rain droned all around.

It was a funeral. White light flashed across my vision as, for one sickening moment, I thought I'd stumbled across Anna's burial.

And then I blinked. Would Anna be buried in Campbell territory, rather than at Heath?

Then, the strong, musky scent of dozens of Canis overpowered me.

And as it did, a flicker of light began in my chest, like a candle in a vast cave.

Suddenly, my eyes fell upon young, dark-haired, good-looking Jack Campbell—whose face always bore a wolfish aspect, whether good-natured or fierce. The one who had abdicated his rightful title of the American Canis Maximus three years ago to pursue a more human life. He wore black, and carried an umbrella.

And then, as I clutched a tree for support, unblinking, frozen to the spot, I saw movement at the edge of the group.

A girl came up beside him and clasped his arm.

She smiled at him. Jack earnestly searched her face. The face I had memorized. The crystal-blue eyes, pretty features and sunset-red hair.

Anna.

Anna Porter.

I stared at her, unable to look away.

The two of them didn't speak, except with their eyes. Anna's gaze softened at Jack—an entirely unfamiliar look to me. She said something to him, then reached down and slid her hand into his. Jack gazed at her, transfixed.

I swallowed hard, digging my fingers into the bark of the tree.

Elizabeth had made a mistake.

She was alive. My Anna was alive. And she had smiled, and taken the hand of another man. She didn't need me anymore.

I backpedaled. I almost slipped on wet foliage. I turned and ran.

I ran as hard as I could, not caring that I was plunging deeper and deeper into the Campbells’ territory, even as the dusk deepened all around me.

I had only traveled a few miles before I began to shake. My feet stumbled. I caught myself against a tree, bent and threw up what I had eaten a week ago.

It's better this way, you fool, I rasped through bloody lips. But the pain in my chest and gut kept traveling, kept clenching, so I staggered on.

Then, like a mounted highwayman, my guilt thundered up behind me, and rattled all my bones.

You selfish coward, it growled. You twisted monster. You cannot be happy she's alive? You would rather she was dead?

I snatched up a big stone from the base of a tree and struck myself across the head with it, trying to silence that voice. Pieces of rock flew. My head rang and my balance fled.

I let go, tumbling forward and downward into a knee-deep river.

The Campbell River.

The heart of Canis territory here in Massachusetts.

The icy liquid shocked me for a moment. Then, I tore open my shirt. If the cold couldn't numb my limbs, perhaps it could numb my mind.

I surrendered to my vertigo and plunged into the water, face first.

Striking the surface was like flash-freezing myself. I let out all my air, the bubbles hissing around my head, and sucked the water right into my lungs. It hurt. But not enough.

The night had come. I couldn’t die of drowning, now.

But I could let the ice water numb me to my bones.

I sank to the bottom and closed my eyes. My nose bumped a rock.

It's better this way...I repeated to myself, over and over.

But though my thoughts faded into nothing, I still felt as if a long, narrow knife stuck out from between my ribs.

b

Something tugged sharply on the back of my shirt, with enough force to halfway rouse me.

It flipped me over and slapped me down, like a caught fish on a rock. My head lolled back. My eyes did not move beneath their lids. It was as if I was frozen. Or dead.

My lungs were still full of water, so I could not draw breath to smell anything. But my upper body lay out of the water now. The air felt cool on my face. My ears picked up nothing but dull thuds. My head was full of water, too.

I forced my eyes open just a bit. Ice broke away from my lashes. I saw nothing.

Except two eyes. They glinted in the moonlight, several feet in front of me, on the other side of the creek. I tried to frown, to lift my head. I couldn't move. Perhaps the eyes were not real.

The wolf's gleaming teeth bared.

It was real. And it was going to kill me. It should. I was an invader in Campbellston. I closed my eyes. I hoped it would kill me.

I waited. The water drained out of my ears. The dullness was replaced by the monotony of the creek.

Nothing happened. And I faded back down into the dark.

Chapter Two

MARA Kaylock