The Vampire Covenant

Chapter One.

Ophelia knew something was horribly wrong from the look in her father’s eyes. The worst-case scenario came to her mind, but she brushed it off and forced the possibility of something so horrid happening to her family away to the deepest parts of her mind.

“Dad, what happened?” she asked, getting off the stool and placing her paintbrush and palette safely away. The white canvas she had been staring at for the past two hours was still blank, and the sunlight filtering in through the bare windows gave the room a dreamy haze.

David Clemonte looked white as a chalk, his eyes glazed over as he stared at his daughter from the doorway, unable to get a single word out. The world spun for him, and he rested his weight on the doorframe.

Ophelia quickly crossed over to her dad with long strides, and held onto his arm, her heart rate increasing and the blood in her veins going cold. She tried to stop herself from overthinking, but morbid scenarios kept playing themselves in her head. With little effort, she got her dad to sit down on the purple beanbag chair in her room and a moment later, he began to sob.

“She’s gone. They took her… Lia, Grace is gone.” He managed to wail out.

“No” she whispered quietly. A choked sob got stuck in her throat and Ophelia felt her world crashing down around her. She sank to the floor, at her father’s feet and curled into a fetus position.

“No” she said again, this time a little louder.

David was now fully weeping, and he sank to the floor next to his daughter, dragging her crumpled form onto his lap and hugging her tightly.

“She… she’s not gone. She’s coming back. She promised me she wouldn’t leave. She promised. She has to come back. She can’t be gone. She has to…” Ophelia hyperventilated with her head in the nook of her father’s neck. Tears were running down her face, but her eyes glazed over, only seeing the face of her sister.

-                                                            

TWENTY SIX HOURS AGO:

“Does this skirt make me look fat?” Grace asked, looking at herself in the wardrobe mirror, and smoothing down the nonexistent creases on the black pencil skirt. Her black blazer and white shirt were also in pristine condition, and her raven black hair, which was usually always down, was combed into a fancy bun.

“Yes. It makes your a*s look scrumptious.” Ophelia replied teasingly, doing a little chef kiss. She lay languidly on her queen sized bed, chomping down on a slice of pizza and scrolling through dresses on Pinterest with her phone.

Grace turned around, removing one of her kitten heels, and aiming it at Ophelia, threw with all her energy. She dodged the attack, in the process dropping her pizza on the floor, which made Grace burst out in a fit of evil laughter.

“Serves you right for calling me fat and using the word ‘scrumptious’ in a conversation” Grace laughed, grabbing her heels off the bed, and putting them back on.

“It’s not funny, that was the last slice.” Ophelia whined, picking up the slice of pizza and examining it. For a second, she contemplated dusting it off and eating, but she took one look at Grace, and decided against the idea. “Plus I was complimenting you, and hyping you up. You look good.” She added.

“I do?” Grace beamed hopefully, looking at herself in the mirror again. “Don’t you think the jewelry is a little too much?” she asked.

Ophelia smiled, looking at her sister’s reflection through the mirror. Grace was extremely beautiful, and despite only wearing mascara and lip balm, she looked perfect. Her emerald green iris stood out wonderfully, framed by her doe shaped eyes and oval face. Her features were almost an exact replica of their mother, except for the dyed black hair, and upturned nose; which was the only feature that made her alike to their father.

“It’s not. I think it’s perfect.”

Grace sighed, and pushed the floor length mirror back into the wardrobe, closing the door.

Rule number nine: Cover all the mirrors in the house when not in use.

“I hope the meeting goes well.” Ophelia murmured, searching through the pile of clean laundry on her bed for her blue dungarees.

“I hope so too. And I swear to God if Sally talks about Joe again, I’m going to punch her in the face.”

Ophelia snorted. “I never thought you’d get tired of hearing her talk about her ‘perfect’ boyfriend” she commented, still searching for the dungaree. She let out a cry of triumph, and pulled out the clothing from the pile.

“Planning to paint all day again?” Grace inquired.

“You betcha! The Apollo Art Gallery wants to showcase my works next year.” She replied.

“Lia, that’s great news! Does Dad know?”

“Not yet. But I’m telling him today when he comes back from his conference.” Ophelia replied, wiggling out of her pajamas and making her way to the bathroom. “Will you be out late today too?” she questioned her sister.

“I have a pretty tight schedule but I’m making it back before midnight. It’s not like we have a choice to stay outdoors after twelve anyways.” She said, murmuring the last part and polishing her glasses with a white, spotless handkerchief.

“Yeah…” Ophelia sadly muttered back. “Anyways, good luck.”

“Thanks. Please remind Sam to take his medications, and keep Will away from the fridge. My ice-cream is in there.” Grace instructed.

“Sure…” Ophelia mused, trying to hide an evil smile.

“And that is not a go head for you to steal the ice-cream.” Grace warned, making her sister chuckle and nod vigorously.

“Go, before you’re late.” Ophelia reminded, moving into the bathroom and her sister sauntered out of the room.

-

PRESENT DAY:

The tears had completely exhausted her, and after weeping in her father’s arms for what felt like eternity, Ophelia finally found enough courage to look at her father in the eye. She couldn’t help but ask herself if the same fate awaited all of the members of her family. Who was next? She had no idea, but she knew they wouldn’t stop until the whole of the Clemonte family were annihilated.

Robert Clemonte –her grandfather, had been the first to go missing. It was then that they realized the mess he had gotten them into, and her grandmother did everything she could to protect them. She was next.

Before Grace, it had been their mother, when Ophelia was fourteen. After that, her father had done everything in his power to keep his children safe and alive. They moved to a different town, became homeschooled, had bodyguards at some point, and followed their grandmother’s rules religiously.