Slave to a Vampire - Book 1 Catherine, Page 5

Chapter 4

  A hand reached out in the dark to grab Catherine’s, startling her from her dreams. “Catherine?”

  “What is it, Mary?”

  “I can’t sleep anymore,” she whispered. “All I see are their faces, leering at me from the darkness. I don’t want to see that.” She started to shake and Catherine knew the poor girl was crying. It was starting to happen to them all. One by one, they were falling into despair and misery, just like Rose. That girl hadn’t spoken in weeks.

  “Think of something that makes you happy,” Catherine said.

  “I don’t think I can.”

  Catherine shifted closer and put her arm around Mary’s shoulders. “Try. It’s the only way you’ll get through this alive.”

  Mary nodded against her shoulder and moved in closer. “Is that what you do? You think of the man you were supposed to wed?”

  She started to say yes, but then realized her thoughts hadn’t turned to Michael as of late, but another young man she’d fallen in love with; one she’d dreamed would take her away from her poor village life. She was not in love with Michael and was fairly certain he did not love her either. There’d been another girl he’d wanted in the village, but she’d already been promised. Well, not anymore. Catherine did not recall seeing that girl on board the ship. Her body was probably in a grave somewhere back along the coast of home or it had been burnt to ashes in the fire that night.

  “Catherine?”

  “Sorry, Mary. No, it was not Michael I was dreaming of.”

  “What…do you love another then?”

  Catherine couldn’t see any point in denying it so she nodded. “Yes. I love another. Charles. I have loved him for a long time and I do believe that he loved me too.”

  “Why were you not going to marry him then?”

  She shrugged as she remembered back to the conversation with her mother about it being time to find a husband. Charles was the son of a wealthy farmer and of English descent. There was no chance he would be allowed to wed a poor Irish peasant, no matter how much they cared for each other. Her mother had arranged for Catherine to wed Michael instead. He was a good man and friendly. Catherine knew he would take care of her if they were to be together. Despite what her heart wanted, she did not have a choice in the matter. It was either agree to marry Michael, or not marry at all.

  “It was an arranged marriage,” she finally said. “To another lad, Michael. He is a sweet young man, but not the man I loved. Charles was of a higher class than I. There was no chance I’d be allowed to wed him.”

  Mary sighed and Catherine felt her slump against her shoulder. “I wish I had been betrothed to someone. Had a lad to dream about.”

  Catherine put her arm around her. “Thoughts of Charles help me get through the nights.”

  That, and thoughts of home, lately it was all she’d been dreaming about. What her life might have been if the village hadn’t been raided. She would have wedded Michael and been living as his wife now, maybe even be with their first child on the way. It was all any of the other girls could dream about…having a family of their own. Catherine had sworn she would teach her children, girls and boys alike, to read and write as she could. It was not taught usually, but she had not been raised in normal circumstances.

  A famine had hit home hard and though she’d only been a wee child, she remembered the hunger pains, watching her mother cry and worry day and night as she carried her twin brothers in her belly. Her father did what he could to find them food, but everyone in the village struggled to survive. Catherine had only learned of why her father had died when it came time for her to wed Michael. She’d shared her fears with her mother of marrying a man she did not love or long for. How could that make a marriage as loving as her mother’s and father’s had been? But Margaret had sat her eldest child down and told her what her father did to save them all.

  “Catherine, my daughter, there was a time when I did not love your father.”

  “But how can that be?” Catherine had asked. “I have seen the way he looked at you when I was little. How much you laughed together.”

  Margaret smiled, “I grew to love your father after all he did for us. He worked hard to provide a roof over our heads and food for us. During the famine, your father let himself starve so we would not go hungry.” She’d hung her head as tears slid down her cheeks. “He sacrificed himself to save me and the babies I was carrying, to save you. How could I not love a man with such a heart as he had?”

  Catherine had never known what her father did for them. She just thought he grew ill like so many others in the village. She respected Michael already and if her mother could marry a man she did not love, then she could too. It was her duty as a daughter. And though Michael did not love Catherine, she knew he respected her, mostly admired her for being able to read and write. After her father died, Father John had helped raise her and the twins, giving lessons to Catherine until she could read the bible front to back, and write for others in the village. He also taught her how to balance the money ledgers. It had helped her stand out and bring in coin when her mother struggled to find work.

  Writing important letters for Charles’ father was how they’d met.

  “Catherine?”

  She glanced down at Mary and smiled. “Sorry, just thinking about my father is all. And my brothers.”

  “What are they like, your brothers?”

  “My brothers are twins, they are fifteen years old. Liam is a child who will never grow up,” she laughed. “With an impish grin and a much too impulsive attitude. And Dan is quieter, more serious but with a heart of gold,” a tear fell down her cheek as she wondered if Dan was still alive.

  “They sound charming to me.”

  Catherine shrugged. “My brothers are both lovely lads. I tried to teach both of them how to read and write, but they’d rather go off on adventures, climbing the high cliffs overlooking the sea or slip into the pub and see how much beer they could manage to sneak away before getting caught.”

  She couldn’t count the number of times her brothers had come home covered in muck and grime, talking so fast about where they had been that Catherine could barely keep up. She’d covered for them most days so they wouldn’t get in trouble from either Father John or their mother. Liam with his quirky sense of humor had been the one to make her laugh when the day seemed too hard for Catherine to handle.

  Catherine felt Mary shift beside her before her breathing changed. The girl had fallen asleep at least. Shutting her own eyes, Catherine willed sleep to come as her thoughts drifted to memories of her brothers’ grinning faces. With her last bit of wakefulness, she prayed to God that Liam was keeping his head down and not getting into trouble. And she prayed that Dan and her mother were still alive.