Free The Vampire & the Reporter by Nia K. Foxx

 
     
     
     
     
    Prologue
     
    Of all the hokey things Kyra Littleton had ever participated in, and as a reporter she’d been invol ved in her fair share of crazy situations , this one had to take the cake. Here she was on a red eye flight to Europe, but was she heading somewhere romantic like France or Italy? Hell, she’d even take Amsterdam. No, she was bound for Eastern Europe, or more precisely, Transylvania. Why? Because her superiors thought it would be a great idea for her to do a Halloween feature on the history of vampires. And w here better to get first-hand knowledge than the mythological motherland of all the infamous fanged creatures?
     
    She would stay in a fully functioning castle with several other invited guests who she supposed eagerly awaited a view of the famed home of Vilhelm Dracul. According to local legend, Vilhelm, not his cousin Vlad the Impaler, was in fact the man behind the Dracula myth os.
     
    Vilhelm Dracul had lived over five hundred years ago in the historic castle with his family and several servants, all of whom mysteriously vanished one night . For years after the disappearance the castle rem ained vacant and the me mory of the Dracul family faded in to obscurity ; until almost a century later when random murders began to ravage the nearby village. Suspicious that the killers were hiding in the abandoned relic, the local constable, along with several angry villagers, reopened the long forgotten ruins. Despite its outward appearance, it was reported that the castle’s interior remained in pristine condition as if it were still maintained by its former staff of servants. However, a thorough investigation of the castle failed to reveal anyone in residence.
     
    Unsatisfied with his findings, the constable and a small band of men began a nightly vigil to determine if their murderers had found a secret entrance into the fortress. Each night a group would go out, and each night they would return shy a man or two. Frightened, the town’s people took matters into their own hands by torching the castle in a mi d-afternoon celebration. For nearly two centuries the ruins lay as a reminder of the atrocities visited on the small community.
     
    In 1781, construction began over the ashes of the old castle, much to the surprise of the locals who watched in silent awe as an exact replica of the former structure was erected. Although generations had passed since the murders and subsequent destruction, many people in the now thriving town felt a sense of unease at having the gruesome historical reminder reconstructed to loom over their homes.
     
    The years to come proved hist ory didn’t always repeat itself; t he castle changed hands to various descendants of the Dracul family, eventually employing many people from the town, once again, to handle the day-to-day maintenance required for its upkeep. While its pre sent owner was rumored to split his time between homes in both Europe and the Mediterranean , over the last two years he’d spent an unprecedented amount of it in Transylvania while he completed a project aimed to spark tourism to the forgotten community.
     
    “Do you know ho w many people would like an all- expenses paid trip to somewhere exotic?” her editor had asked when Kyra voiced her objections to the assignment.
     
    “If you want to send me somewhere exotic, how about Morocco or Turkey? I’m sure I can find all types of wonderful stor ies there. Why me anyway ? I’m sure anyone else can do this, would probably even want the assignment. Why now, when I’ve met the man who could quite possibly be the one? For God’s sake, I d on’t even write tourism columns, ” she rant ed, not pausing to take a break until she ran out of steam.
     
    “Number one, you’re a damned good reporter. Two, you’re not working on anything right now that can’t take a back burner. Besides, the new boss doesn’t want the traditional tourist piece; he wants something fresh and new from a