Aaron Read online

  Aaron

  A Vampire Hunter’s Tale

  ID Johnson

  This book is dedicated to fans of The Clandestine Saga, the people who wanted to know what happened before the Eidolon Festival. This series is for you!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Also by ID Johnson

  Chapter 1

  Killarney, Ireland, 1837

  Voices from beneath the loft, off in the corner by the hearth, awoke him, and Aaron stilled himself to see if he could tell exactly what his mother and granddad were talking about. They were whispering, but in his eight years, he’d become an excellent eavesdropper. Though his older sisters and brother snored next to him on the mat they shared, he was closest to the ladder, and so he could easily lean just a bit over the edge, and with some concentration, make out what the hushed voices were saying.

  “That makes half a dozen this week,” his mother, Bree, was saying as she leaned in next to the elderly man who sat in a rickety chair next to her. Her hair was a dark auburn, curly, and unkempt. Though she was only in her late thirties, she looked tired. Her face was gaunt, and her shoulders stooped, even when she wasn’t leaning forward as she was now. Birthing six children and taking care of the four that survived past the age of two had taken its toll, and Aaron had noticed a significant change in her demeanor since his father had passed away almost three years ago. The mother he remembered from when he was younger smiled, sang him songs, spoke to the chickadees in the backyard. Now, everything seemed draining, and he often worried that something might happen to her as well.

  He knew his granddad, Ferris, was only sixty-one last spring, but he, too, looked haggard beyond his years. He often spent his days hunched over in the field, taking care of the meager potato crop, and while Aaron did his best to help, his mother insisted that he also learn to read, write, and do simple arithmetic so that he might have a proper profession someday. While Aaron thought all of that was important, he wanted to be like his older brother, Channing, who was ten and no longer had to sit with his mother for a few hours each day to study.

  Ferris McReynolds ran a tired, age-spotted hand through his thinning gray hair and said, “I know, Bree. And it’s takin’ its toll on the wee ones, too. They can hardly do without parents. The more they take, the harder it is for everyone to survive.”

  “The English will do somethin’, won’t they?” Bree asked, her expression changing from concern to despair in a second. “Surely, they’ll send someone who can handle them.”

  “The English do not care about the Irish,” Granddad said, his voice teetering on losing its whisper. “That I can assure you.”

  Bree nodded, as if she truly didn’t need the reminder after all. “Well, if things continue as they are, the resources will all be gone soon enough. Then, the treaty is liable to be broken, and our families will be next.”

  Ferris shook his head. “No, that cannot happen. We have an agreement. It must continue to stand.”

  “I do not think the Dark Ones care anymore for the Irish than the English do,” Bree replied, clasping her small hands in front of her body. “Perhaps it will be up to our children to make a new arrangement, one where the Dark Ones do not always have the upper hand.”

  “Bite your tongue!” Ferris snapped, his whisper becoming harsher. Aaron found himself scooting back a bit away from the unfamiliar sharpness of his granddad’s voice. “If they hear you… we will feel their wrath.”

  “If they can hear me in my own home, while the sun is rising, we are already at their mercy far more greatly than I had ever imagined,” Bree reminded him. She stood and began busying herself around the hearth, preparing breakfast for her brood of children who would be up and starving soon. Aaron watched as his granddad opened his mouth and then closed it, as if he wished to say something but wasn’t sure what to say. Eventually, his mother turned back to acknowledge her father-in-law and said, “I will not lose my children.”

  “God willing,” Ferris replied, his face turned upward and his expression thoughtful.

  “God or no God,” Bree mumbled, turning back to the pot she’d placed over the fire.

  Aaron rolled onto his back and looked up at the thatched roof so close to his face he couldn’t even stand upright if he’d wanted to. Though he was not completely sure of what his elders spoke, he knew about the Dark Ones. Some called them Banshees or Wraiths, but his mother always called them the Dark Ones despite their alleged translucent skin because they almost never came out to feast unless it was nighttime. Though some of his friends in the village were fearful to climb beneath the blankets at night, Aaron was never afraid; his granddad had explained that the Dark Ones had promised never to hurt the McReynolds clan. Now, hearing his mother’s words, he began to wonder if he was really safe or not. Perhaps he should also begin to fear the rising moon and the falling sun.

  Later that afternoon, once his lessons were finished and he was allowed to join his siblings working in the field, Aaron tentatively worked alongside his oldest sister, Genty. She was the only member of their family with brown hair, like him, the rest having taken after their mother. Often, people remarked that Aaron looked like his father, Justin, who had been a laborer in the lord’s service when he’d been killed in an accident. Aaron still wasn’t exactly sure what had happened to his da, but his mother was adamant that she did not want to discuss it. He had been a good provider for their family, and now that he was gone, Granddad did his best to make enough from their meager farmland to pay the rent and feed the family.

  Genty wore a bonnet; her skin was so fair she could burn even on a cold winter day. Aaron had heard his mother tell the story many times before of how she’d taken just one look at her fair-skinned child and said she looked like a field covered in snow in winter, thus earning her the name Genty, which meant “snow.” She was tall and strong and nearly twice his age; he always thought about how he would miss her when she would leave someday soon to become a wife and mother herself. Genty told him not to worry—there were no lads around that she fancied more than him, and he would giggle and hug her. He never said so, but she was his favorite.

  “Genty,” Aaron said as he dug a small potato out of the ground and tossed it into a basket, “have you ever wondered where potatoes come from?”

  “They come from America,” Genty replied, with a smile.

  “Oh,” Aaron said with a shrug. “I thought they came from God.”

  Genty laughed gently and ruffled his hair. “That, too. They come from God, by way of America, silly boy.”

  Still not exactly sure how both could be true, Aaron moved to the next potato and wiped his brow on the back of his dirt-covered hand. “Genty, do you ever listen to Ma and Granddad talking, when they think we are still asleep?”

  Genty paused for a moment, stretching her back as one eyebrow arched over a green eye. “Do you, little one?”

  “I’m not that little,” he reminded her. “I’m nearly nine.”

  “Pardon me,” she said, stifling another giggle. “No, I don’t listen to Ma and Granddad. It wouldn’t be right to listen to a conversation I’m not part of.”

  Aaron considered her statement. He knew she was correct, and yet, he still didn’t feel too awfully bad for eavesdropping; knowing as much as possible about wha
t was happening around him always felt most important. “I heard them talking about the Dark Ones this morning, Genty.” His voice was a whisper, and even though his other sister, Onora, and Channing were nearly half an acre away and Granddad was further still, he felt compelled to lower his voice. Perhaps, he thought, they were listening.

  Genty cleared her throat and averted her eyes, focusing back on the crops she was collecting. “We are not to speak of them, Aaron. You know that,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, I know,” he said, wondering why she would not look at him. “But Ma and Granddad were, and now, I’m a little frightened, Genty. Do you think they might be after us?”

  She looked up from the black earth and into his eyes now. “What would make you think such a thought? Granddad has told us we are safe. We have an agreement.”

  “I know, but Ma said that she didn’t know how much longer they would keep the agreement. What if… what if they come for us, too? What if we awake in the night to see them leaning over us in our bed?”

  “Aaron, don’t worry about that,” Genty assured him, but her smile looked forced, and he was not reassured. “If Granddad says we are safe, I believe him. Besides, we have more important things to worry about right now than the Dark Ones. We need to gather enough potatoes to make this month’s rent. You know how hard it’s been since….”

  “Since Da died,” Aaron finished. She could say it. He’d stopped crying over a year ago. They all missed him, but their mother had made it clear crying did little good.

  “That’s right,” she said with a nod. “No more need to fear the Dark Ones, little sprite. Now, let’s get these potatoes in before they become overripe. Heaven knows we can’t afford any spoiled potatas.”

  Chapter 2

  Killarney, Ireland, 1840

  Kian O'Braonain was the best friend anyone in the world could ever have. He could run as fast as lightening, climb like a cat, and hit a bird with a stone from twenty yards. While Aaron seldom had a chance to play with his friend now that he was older and had more responsibility, his Ma usually didn’t mind if he walked home with Kian after mass, and the boys would spend several hours running around the base of Torc Mountain, tossing stones in the lake, or running through the village scaring the chickens and the cows.

  Today was a bit different. Last night, there had been several taken from various homes around Killarney, and though the village was rather large as such towns went, the numbers were starting to dwindle. Not only were people being taken in the night by the Dark Ones, rumor had it that some of those who had been claimed were members of the Order, ones that were supposed to be left alone according to the agreement. Aaron heard the whispers, not only from the adults in his own home, but from behind hands in the market, in church, and as he and Kian made their way through the village. The weight of worry rested over Killarney like a woolen blanket, and despite their need to revel in the freedom of a few hours’ break from chores, Aaron did not feel like giving chase to his best friend that day.

  “I suppose you’ve heard what they’re all whispering about,” Kian said, sitting down next to Aaron on a large stone which was part of the ruins of an ancient castle they often came to explore.

  “Yeah,” Aaron muttered, his hands folded in front of him. “I’ve been hearing it for a while, but… do you think it’s true? The agreement is over?”

  Kian shrugged. “I don’t know. I ne’er hear my ma or da say two words about it. All I know is what my grandma told me before she passed away—not to worry because I am of Hunter stock, whatever that implies.”

  “Right,” Aaron nodded. He wasn’t sure either. “And my granddad insists we’ve nothing to worry about either. But I’m not so sure.”

  Kian scratched the back of his blond head. Aaron had always thought it was odd that his hair was so fair. He didn’t look like many other people he knew. He wondered if that had anything at all to do with the agreement or the Hunter stock he spoke of. “I don’t suppose there’s much we can do about it anyway. I’ve heard that once they get ahold of you, all you can do is pray that God takes you good and quick.”

  Aaron shuddered at the thought. “But what if they turn ya, and you don’t go to God right away? Then what?” he asked.

  Shaking his head, Kian said, “My grandma said that we can’t be turned. Only the others, the ones without the agreement, can be turned. That’s why we have the agreement.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Aaron replied, biting the corner of his lower lip. “My ma said that Seana O’Malley was turned just last week, and she’s been thinkin’ she was safe because of the agreement for almost sixty years. That’s what my ma said anyway.”

  “I think your ma must be mistaken,” Kian interjected, picking up a rock off of the ground and tossing it nowhere in particular. “I think the O’Malley’s weren’t ever really part of the agreement. They’ve been boasting all along, but they are really just others like everyone else.”

  “You say it like being an other makes a person worth less,” Aaron pointed out, thinking of all the people he knew from church and town who were not protected, one in particular, who happened to be an O’Malley herself.

  Kian shrugged. “Maybe they are,” he said. “I mean, there must be some reason why the Dark Ones stay nigh of us.”

  Unable to reason that through his brain, Aaron just shrugged. “It seems to me that everyone should be able to go to bed at night without thinkin’ they might awake to a pale face and large teeth hovering above their bed.”

  “And it seems to me that the others might find a way to better protect themselves,” Kian replied, dismissively. “Now come on; let’s go back into town. I’m starving.”

  Without further argument, Aaron pulled himself up off the rough stone and followed Kian back toward the village. From here, they could see a sprinkling of houses, all small with thatched roofs and missing chinking. Most everyone had a plot between one and five acres; only a few had larger sections of land, and those people were considered a bit more important, whether they were others or not. The land was hilly with lots of little rocks, and Aaron could remember how he’d helped his granddad gather the stones when he’d first started tilling the land up several years ago, when his da had gone off to serve the landowner and they’d been given a larger plot. Though they grew a few other crops, mostly for sale, everyone here depended upon the potato. And the ones who were said to live in the hills and only came out at night depended upon the others.

  Neither of them felt like running today, and as they began to make their way past the houses on the outskirts of town, they heard lots of hushed voices and whispering. Clearly, everyone was still uneasy about the rise in deaths and turnings at the hands of the Dark Ones recently. Despite what Kian’s grandma or his own granddad said, Aaron was apprehensive, and not just for himself or his own family. As he plodded along, his thoughts turned to the beautiful face that had caught his mind’s attention earlier, and he hoped he might spy her on his way through town.

  He was lost in a daydream and might have walked right past her if Kian hadn’t nudged him and pointed to the yard near Renny O’Malley’s house, who happened to be her uncle. “There’s Aislyn,” he said in a whisper, “the girl you’re always gawking at.”

  Aaron turned to look at her, and without disagreeing with Kian’s chide, he felt a smile envelop his face. She was the most beautiful site he’d ever seen in all his eleven-and-a-half years. Though she wasn’t but nine, her green eyes twinkled, and her smile made his heart catch in his chest. She had long red hair that fell down her back in curly ribbons, and he loved to see it billow in the breeze. Today, she wore a simple brown frock, but it never mattered what she had on; she always looked lovely.

  “Are you plannin’ on starin’ at her all day, or are you going to say hello?” Kian asked, nudging him hard enough to knock him forward and out of his stupor.

  “Oh, right,” Aaron replied, a shade of red creeping up his neck. He waved at Aislyn O’Malley, and she raised her h
and slightly in recognition before she smiled in return, which lit Aaron’s heart on fire. Then she turned away, following her mother across the yard.

  “You’re such a dolt,” Kian said, a smirk forming across his face. “One glimpse of Aislyn and you turn into a blabbering fool.”

  Aaron felt a bit embarrassed, but he knew what his friend said was true. “I guess I just can’t help it,” he replied, running his hand through his light brown hair. “She’s… beautiful.”

  “You’re going to marry her someday,” Kian teased, his voice sing-song.

  “I hope so,” Aaron admitted, putting an end to the song. If what Kian said was true and the O’Malleys were never part of the agreement, then Aaron knew the sooner he married Aislyn, the better. He’d do anything he could to protect her from the Dark Ones. Of course, being only eleven and a half, he was aware that it would be several more years before he could marry anyone. Nevertheless, he vowed that day to always keep Aislyn safe, no matter what.

  Over the next several days, the Dark Ones went on a spree that left many homes missing loved ones, a few of whom would return in nights to come to other homes nearby to make their own claims. And as each day went by, Aaron became more and more concerned, not just about the welfare of his own family and Kian’s but of Aislyn’s as well.

  One afternoon, while working next to his granddad to clean the potatoes they’d just gathered, he decided to broach the one topic he was forbidden to discuss. At this point, it seemed like it just might be a matter of life or death.

  “Granddad, can I ask you a question?” he asked as he brushed the sod from the brown vegetable.