The little girl sat cowering in the corner; her baby sister clutched in her arms. The expression on her face told the tale just as clearly as if the story had been smeared across the front page of the Times.
"The evil witch stole Mommy," the child said, through wracking sobs and weeping floods of tears. "She said she's keeping her-to teach you a lesson."
PROLOGUE
"I'm begging you, Jonathan. Let me do it."
"No," the elder brother said. "The responsibility is mine. The subject is closed."
The younger man, steeped in sorrow, nodded in silent acquiescence.
Jonathan faltered though he'd wielded this weapon of retribution countless times before. For the end of her existence meant the end of his as well. The stake, then, and with seemingly no mercy, plunged, pierced its mark dead center, and broke both their hearts in two. The blood, no longer foul but turned cleansed and pure, bubbled to the surface and pooled, peaceful as a meadow brook, around the stone-cold piece of wood. The momentary transformation was stunning; the blackened soul, dissolved. Felice was again as she had always been-a woman who'd known naught of fear or weakness. And yet was soft as stacks of autumn leaves.
"I'm sorry, Jonathan," she said, her cascading tears enabled one last time by this oh, so brief return of her soul. "Don't avenge me, darling. I beg you-don't even think of it."
With bitterness and despair, he choked on the words. "She will pay, though it costs me my life."
"No, you mustn't. You know how that twisted mind of hers works and how she'll interpret this. From this moment on she'll be consumed with thoughts of vengeance, and she'll not rest until the children have been brought into the fold. Oh Jonathan, take my little girls and fly from this place; never, ever to come back. Promise me this, my one sweet love-I shan't rest until I have your word of honor."
Felice was right of course. Avenging her and all that it would entail while having two little girls to watch over would be impossible. Unable to utter the words aloud, he nodded his oath to her.
Her eyes met his one last time, bringing to her lips a smile. For especially when good cheer was needed, her smiles had never been in short supply. But as that supply was about to meet its end, she placed into it all her heart, and all her soul, and every bit of love which she possessed; all in the hopes that it would help to carry her beloved husband through the darkened times which lay ahead.
"Kiss me," she said. And he obeyed.
"Now finish it."
Whereupon he took the few garlic cloves from his brother's hand and placed them in her mouth. And again he put his lips to hers until, and only but a moment later, an angel turned to dust.
Author Resource:
The Horrifying Tale of Mrs. Trollope has been called one of the greatest vampire books since Dracula.
Written by Martin Dubow. Author of the unversally acclaimed novel 'Francey.'
![[Valid RSS feed]](http://www.look4articles.com/images/icon_Rss.png "XML Feed For RSS"){kind=icon}
Category Rss Feed
Print This Article
Add To Favorites
![[Valid RSS feed]](http://www.look4articles.com/images/rss.jpg "XML Feed For RSS")