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.
I just stood by and watched her scream as Borys kissed her the same time he sank his claws into her thighs, drawing blood. I did nothing. As I watched him do as he pleased with her, all I could think about was what she had just revealed to us—that she was already married to Derek Novak.
I realized that a part of me was still hoping that I would see her in an exquisite, white gown—a bride walking down the aisle to her groom. I missed it. I missed my own daughter’s wedding.
When Borys threatened to make a widow out of her and kill Derek, so that he could take his rightful place as Sofia’s husband, I was overwhelmed with relief. I could still be there at her wedding!
My stomach clenched at my own sick thinking, but before guilt could creep in, I snapped into attention when Borys pushed Sofia to the ground and looked my way to instruct me to “heal my daughter.” I was transfixed by the sight of Sofia whimpering on the ground. I had no idea what to do. I wanted to help her out and ease her pain. Yet another part of me just wanted to get as far away from her as possible.