A Vampyre's Daughter - Jeff Schanz (easy to read books for adults list TXT) 📗

to stand up. Brandt reached out quickly and grasped her knee. He wondered if that might offend her, but she said nothing and sat back down.

He said, “Thank you for taking care of me. I just need to know it’s ok if I get up sometimes and maybe get some fresh air. I don’t want to upset your dad, but I’m not very good at being locked up.”

She smiled patiently. “Of course. Anytime you like. You are a guest here. We should do something to keep you from reinjuring your ankles and keep your ribs from bending too much. Mild movement will be fine, and you are welcome to explore wherever you like, except for the cellar.”

Flatly said, with no hint of ulterior meaning. Brandt decided to take it at face value for the time being.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, feeling a need to be more forthcoming. “You may not want me here.”

She nodded and didn’t seem surprised. She once again locked her gaze on his eyes. “I understand. And there are things about us that you may not – be comfortable with. But I promise you will have time to tell us whatever you need to. And likewise, we will also. If you stay, you will eventually meet Father. And I promise it will be all right. No one will hurt you. Father promised that you would be safe.”

Well, those last few statements were loaded. Things about them I wouldn’t be comfortable with? If I stay? Dad promised I would be safe? From who – him or someone else? Brandt’s head hurt and it had nothing to do with his fever or his injuries.

Once again, Lia picked up on the concerned vibe. She patted his leg and said, “Rest. We can talk all about this later. We can both go out tomorrow morning and you can help me tend to the sheep. Get some fresh air?”

If one would call being around sheep “fresh air,” but I’ll take it. “I’d like that.”

She picked up the aged-leather book she had left open on the desk, closing it carefully, lovingly. Brandt couldn’t see what the title was. She walk-glided out the door and closed it behind her. The key stayed in the open lock.

Brandt still felt the lingering touch of Lia’s hand on his forehead. It was like there was comfort salve in Lia’s fingers and it just sunk into his skin. Whatever it was, it felt good and he felt more comfortable. A spooky bat-man keeps invading my dreams and knocking me unconscious, and I’ve never felt like I’ve been in a weirder situation, even when I was blowing up a boat with me in it. Yet, I’m suddenly comfy here? He shook his head. There had to be something wrong with his brain. It had to have been damaged in the explosion.

He carefully positioned himself on the edge of the bed. Though he didn’t want to be cooped up in bed anymore, he wasn’t about to roam around the house again for a while. Maybe some light calisthenics in his room? He remembered the last time he was limited to light calisthenics in his room. It wasn’t that long ago and it wasn’t a welcome memory.

 

 

The next morning, Brandt felt much better. He had no Batman nightmares, and he apparently had not damaged himself as much as he had feared during his ersatz exploration. Lia had placed a roll of some kind of cotton material on the desk, along with some cloth tape and safety pins. Brandt wound the wrapping around his ankles and torso, making sure the bindings were snug. Though he felt a bit like a B-movie mummy, the tight bindings did help to keep him steady and less likely to tweak his injuries. Lia was waiting for him downstairs (still no father in sight), and she jovially led him outside to the barn.

Her outfit was different, yet it still covered every part of her except for her head. It was a two-piece affair; a plain grey wool skirt and a baggy cream-colored sweater that wasn't meant to flatter her figure, but somehow did anyway. She wore a large-brimmed straw hat which might've been stylish at some point in its life, but had been used a lot and had been worn down, frayed, and its strands were coming loose. On her hands were some garden-style gloves. Her boots were the standard rubber, farmer variety. The most interesting thing to Brandt was that her hair was loose and down under her hat. It was a radiant golden blond that her previous updo simply did no justice to. She could be an ad for a ladies hair product if it wasn’t for the rest of her ensemble.

Brandt only had his jeans and t-shirt to his name, and luckily it wasn’t too cold for him to need anything else.

The sheep pen did indeed have a lot more sheep than Brandt had seen the other day. Maybe thirty or forty sheep. They must have been huddling inside the barn the previous day. They were all well fed and had nearly full coats. Brandt wasn’t a sheep expert, and he didn’t play one on TV either, but he thought he read somewhere that it was healthy for sheep to be sheared when their wool got too bulky. These were not too far away from needing it. They all had the same amount of growth, so it was a good bet that either Lia or her father had sheared them all together at some point. Lia and Brandt worked on getting water for them and cleaning the areas of the barn that they congregated. Lia went to each one, inspecting their feet, teeth, wool, etc. Brandt helped her calm the animals as she looked them over, and kept them from striking out or biting.

The sun crowned the mountainside on the eastern edge of the island. It lit the wave peaks which resembled a field of winking Christmas lights. Despite the obvious isolation and loneliness of living in a place like this, there was undeniable beauty. If it was any easier to get to and from the islands, and if the terrain was any more forgiving, there would be no question that people would line up to live here.

Lia patted the sheep on its rump and sent it trotting away. She looked at Brandt and noticed he was a little preoccupied, staring at the water. Lia glanced at it, then asked, “Do you see something?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. No, I was just a little taken by the sight. Everything’s so quiet and beautiful here. I suppose you’re used to it, but it’s new to me.”

She cocked her head to regard him. “Used to it, perhaps, but I still enjoy it. Like I told you, I like to go up on the mountain and just watch everything. I find it beautiful too.”

Beautiful. He glanced at Lia, who was looking in the direction of the ocean. Despite the old-fashioned farm-girl duds, or maybe because of them, she looked adorable. His inner cave-man decided that his revelation was something significant that should require action. “Girl pretty. Place pretty. Kiss girl.” He shook off the brutish thought and changed the subject.

“I saw goats earlier. What all animals do you have?”

She said, “Goats, chickens, and sheep of course.”

“You seem pretty self-sufficient”

She nodded. “We have to be.” The comment was innocuous, but for some reason, her eyes darted a little nervously. In a more guarded voice, she said, “It is difficult to obtain things. So, whatever we can grow, make, or supply for ourselves here, we do. The sheep give wool, the chickens supply feathers. We also have some gardens and things we’ve planted like cotton. Cotton doesn’t grow easily here, but we manage. And sometimes we trade for things we can’t make ourselves.”

Brandt noticed that everything she mentioned had to do with household goods but not food. Chickens and goats would be usually kept for milk, eggs, and meat. And indeed that may be the case, that’s just not how she presented it. But, he didn’t trust his currently faulty brain to reason what kind of information was significant and what was not.

“It’s been a while since I had fresh eggs straight from a farm,” he said absently.

Her smile brightened instantaneously like someone turned on a light switch. It was still a curious phenomenon, but he was getting used to it. “Would you like some?” she asked.

After a small hesitation, he said, “Sure.”

He realized she was trying hard to please him and likely try to give him anything he requested. That made him feel a little guilty, but he was also starving. He was hoping breakfast would’ve come before the sheep tending. Maybe since she and her father ate imaginary food, she didn’t think anyone else got hungry.

“But you don’t have to go to any trouble. I’d be happy with a granola bar.”

He realized his attempt at humor wasn’t an immediate hit. She squinted in confusion at the granola bar line.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “Whatever you have lying around would be fine. You don’t need to…”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” she said. She seemed genuine.

Bets were off if they even had anything at all lying around to eat. Maybe they ate grass like the sheep.

She grasped his arm and began to lead him toward the chicken coop. “Please, forgive me. I’ve been neglecting your diet. You must be so hungry. Help me get some eggs and milk for you.”

“Sure, thank you. And I’ll help any way I can. But, I’ve never milked a chicken before.”

She let out a little giggle and tugged at his arm like the chickens might have a date if they didn’t hurry.

 

 

Luckily the hens were roaming around the pen, so heisting their eggs was easy. The chicken coop was a small little box on the edge of a bare pen that had a patch of grass in the corner. They seemed healthy and happy for chickens, and they wandered about the yard with no fear of either Lia or Brandt. Lia had a little woven bag that she placed the eggs in.

There were maybe a dozen goats and they found one that was suitable to give milk. Lia seemed surprised that Brandt offered to do the milking and knew how to do it. She stood back against the wall of the barn, entertained by Brandt's milking skills. It truth, Brandt was barely adequate at milking a goat, having only learned enough to get the job done. The goat looked nonplussed at Brandt's attempt at gentleness.

As Brandt worked, his mind wandered back to when he had learned the skills. Lia had the look of someone who wanted to ask something but wasn't sure if she should.

Brandt offered the answer anyway.

“I, uh, learned how to do this in Pakistan.” There. I started it.

Lia nodded and looked intrigued, her curious eyes asking for more. Brandt obliged.

“I was in the Army. Cashed out at Sergeant, First Class. Two tours, mostly in Afghanistan. We – were tracking a group of insurgents that had blown up a convoy. Our mission wasn't officially sanctioned, but it was quietly ordered by our C.O. We weren't going after them to arrest them or try them. And we didn't have video evidence to back up our claims that they had done it, but we knew, and we had orders to target them with extreme prejudice. Anyway, we were hot on their heels. Everything would've been fine if we stayed inside the Afghani border, but they crossed into Pakistan. And maybe we would've asked for help from the Pakistani government, except for two things. One, the Pakistani government was less trustworthy than an unexploded bomb. And two, someone in the Pakistani government had actually helped the assholes cross the border without hassle. Again, no proof, but… Anyway, it was left up to us. We could turn around and let them go, or pursue. Our Captain got a cryptic message from base that meant we