At some point, I knew he was getting irritated about all the questions I was asking about vampires. He especially hated it when I mentioned them when Sofia was around.
“Cam, I’m warning you… I don’t ever want Sofia to be exposed to these monsters… I don’t even want her to know about them. If I could have my way, I’d remove everything in this world that points to the existence of these creatures. I would do everything possible to keep our daughter away from them.”
I barely even understood what he was saying at that time. I couldn’t understand his hatred toward vampires or why he was so adamant to keep his family away from those creatures. Whenever I thought of vampires, all I could think of was the power that came with them. I wanted that power.
I began asking Aiden about how to find vampires, how to track them down. During times when he obviously did not want to talk about vampires, I would turn on my charm and usually after a tumble in bed, he would oblige me and answer my questions.
I may not have realized it at first but I saw the vampires as my escape from the hopelessness brought about by my own daughter’s birth. I was tired of feeling so powerless against all the despair and all the fears, and the fascination I felt for those dark, mysterious creatures began to consume me.
When I felt ready to actually hunt for a vampire, I asked Aiden if I could start working as an archaeologist once again. Of course, he didn’t deny this request from me. He even encouraged it.
“I was wondering when you would once again give in to that adventurous streak I know you have,” he said as he kissed me on the forehead. “Maybe now that you’re on these expeditions of yours, you’ll think less about vampires and more about archaeology.” He seemed so pleased as he held me in his arms and kissed me.
I was so in love with him and I realized then that my love for him was the reason I was so weak. Two weeks after that, I was off to my first adventure in years. My first destination, of course, was Egypt.
I was determined not to leave Egypt until I found out who Borys Maslen was and whether or not he was what I suspected—a vampire. It took a couple of weeks of digging and prodding, following the tips and tricks I’d learned about to track down vampires, before the man I was looking for came to me.
It was the middle of the night and I had just crawled into my bed, when a hand clamped over my mouth and the weight of a man fell atop me. At first, I thought I was about to be assaulted, but when I saw the fangs, my emotions quickly shifted from terror to complete fascination.
“I know that you’ve been looking for me, woman,” he hissed into my ear. “Why is that? Choose your answer well for it may be your last. And don’t you dare scream or I will make sure your death will be a slow and painful one.”
He took his hand away from my mouth. I looked right into his face, unflinching and told him my request. “I want to become a vampire.”
At that, he scoffed. “You? A vampire?”
“Yes.”
“Why on earth would I give you that honor?”
“I’ll give you anything, do anything…”
His face broke into a manic smile, his dark eyes glimmering against the lamp’s dim light. “Anything? Prove your loyalty to me by giving me the person most precious to you.”
“If I do that, what are you going to do to that person?”
“Whatever I please.”
The most precious person in my life was and would always be Aiden. For a moment, I considered giving him to this stranger, this vampire, but I couldn’t. My love for him overpowered my desire to become like the powerful creature that found me that night. However, there was one person precious in my life whom I could offer to him. “I have a daughter. She’s nine years old. I’m willing to offer her up to you to prove my loyalty.”
The recollection of the delighted smile on his face still sent chills up my spine many years later. “Perfect,” he said, before biting into my neck, injecting the serum that would forever destroy Camilla Claremont and bring Ingrid Maslen into being.
I tried to convince myself that I never felt regret after that night. As Ingrid Maslen, I was immortal, I was powerful and I had a family of vampires who would never leave me. I would never again be abandoned. I did a good job pretending that I was alright, but many years later, I realized that I wasn’t.
I was in inner turmoil as I listened to my daughter hissing at Borys, “I’m not your betrothed.” She spat the words out, as if it was the most sickening notion she’d ever been forced to contemplate.
I knew then that that was my cue. I braced myself to once again face Sofia. This was after I had offered her up as prey for a vampire to feast on. “Actually, Sofia,” I spoke up, desperate to keep my voice steady and confident, as I stepped out of the curtains and took my place beside Borys’ throne, “you really are his betrothed.”
No words could explain the way I felt upon seeing the shocked and grief-stricken reaction on her face when she laid eyes on me. I wanted to wipe her tears away. I wanted to pull her into my arms and embrace her.
Seeing what a beauty my daughter had become—lovelier than I ever was at eighteen years old, it hit me full force what I had given up when I became Ingrid Maslen. I gave my daughter up. I gave my husband up. I gave my entire life up.
“She looks so happy to see you, Ingrid.” Borys tilted his head to the side, a manic smile on his face.
Sofia’s eyes were fixed on me. She couldn’t have possibly known the effect it had on me when she uttered, “Mom?”
I hated that I felt affection toward Sofia since I was loyal to Borys, but it was the truth nonetheless: I detested the idea of him touching my daughter. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I knew the things that he would put her through. I saw him do it to countless young women, and I didn’t want that for her, but I belonged to Borys and I knew it. Thus, being my daughter, Sofia belonged to him too. Not knowing how to handle the adverse reaction I felt, I did the only thing I could do: I inched closer to the dark side and turned my emotions off. I didn’t want to care about Sofia. I didn’t want to deal with any emotions I couldn’t understand, much less control.
Thus, I was able to smile at her—completely indifferent to her plight—and tell her, “Yes, Sofia. It’s me. Your mother. I betrothed you to Borys a long time ago. You are rightfully his.”
I stood by Sofia’s bed, my eyes fixed on the blood trickling down her milky white thighs. Her legs were quivering from the pain. She was obviously trying to fight back the tears. She gave me a quick look—accusing, hurt and full of contempt. I couldn’t blame her. I would’ve hated myself too had I been in her place.