The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Once upon a time....



It was the first part of the 1700's, the western shores of Scotland, and two brothers buried their mother in the land their family had known for generations. The older brother had assumed the duties of the head of the family when their father had died two years before. He had succumbed to an illness, the chill caught after he helped a tenant pull an unfortunate child from an icy pond. A hero to his folk, they mourned him still.



As the young laird grew, he learned and did his best to follow the path set by his father. For, though it meant less profits, the benefits of a tightly woven community who supported each other was without price in this restless world. His position also brought him into the political world, listening to older – though not always wiser – heads and their words.



The younger brother held resentment that life had to be met so bluntly. He had been sent to England as the younger son, to be educated and to make connections to benefit the family. However, the times dictated intrigue, and young men such as he were singled out to be courted, not by lovely lasses, but by men who desired pawns. Attention and largess served to stroke a boy's homesick senses and to create and feed a bruised ego, assuring his allegiance should it be needed.



A year later, a young girl stared in shock as both her parents were lowered into a single grave. Her father had been a doctor, a true healer cherished in the small town they lived in. Her mother often assisted with her own skills, especially when there was a difficult birth or womanly ailments. It had been such a thing they were attending to when the small cottage caught fire, engulfing all three souls in an instant. Now, the young girl was alone.



Her father had made sure his daughter was provided for, and that she had a place with family, although it was far removed from her familiar world. Her mother's younger brother had agreed to become guardian for the girl, should the eventuality arise. Now the coach jolted and rocked her young frame as it made its long journey up to the highlands and the small manor town she would now call home.



Deep green eyes still misted with tears, as the scenery seemed to fly by. Held tightly to her heart was a wooden box, inlaid with intricate knot work designs that held her dearest treasures. Her inks and pencils, her papers and charcoal sticks that she used to continually draw her parents, holding on to the faces she missed so much. Pulled from her thoughts, she was startled as the coachman tugged at her arm. “Miss, we have arrived...”



Strong arms steadied her and lifted her from the coach, and she gasped softly at her first sight of her uncle. Her young girl's eyes widened and her heart seemed to wake up as he smiled down at his young charge. “Well, my girl! Let us make our way to your new home! Aye, and you are a bonnie wee lass, indeed! We'll have to double the guard when ye get a bit older, I think!”



His laugh was infectious and she could not help herself but smile. It felt strange to do so but it seemed her face did indeed remember how. She could not take her eyes from him, this new uncle of hers, and her fingers itched to set his likeness down on paper!



It was not long before she was a familiar sight at the manor an in the village. She loved the highland scenery and its unique folk. Sometimes her uncle was hard pressed to keep her in paper and ink, though he made sure never to let her run out. He knew it was often the only way she could express what was in her young heart. It let her heal.



One night in the late fall, there was a gather at the manor to celebrate the last of the harvesting work and the fruits of the labors. The seasons had been good and no one would hunger that winter. The village musicians assembled and the dancing commenced. The young girl took to the steps easily, her bright eyes merry as she moved happily to the familiar tunes.



As the evening wore to its end, the fiddler and whistler smiled at each other and struck up an old melody that always touched the hearts of those who heard. Surprise and wonder for all assembled, then, as a clear young voice lifted to sing the almost forgotten lyrics taught to her as a small child by her mother. No eye was without a tear by the end of the song. Her uncle picked up the girl as her own sobs shook her and carried her gently to her bed, stroking her hair till she slept.



During the merriment of the evening, there had been a discreet assembling of a group of local landholders. They had formed a group to speak with the young laird about a growing movement in the land. The word “freedom” was on their lips and their hearts were full of a growing hope that the yoke of England could be lifted from the Scottish land.



The laird was a well-read man, and had schooled himself well on philosophy and forward thinking. He was an idealist, as well, who loved his land and his country more than his own life. He heard the dreams of his friends and he shared them and the vision. However, he was also versed in the study of conflicts and strategic thought, and knew that such an ideal is never won without shedding blood and taking life. He looked about and asked himself if there were any there that he would sacrifice and sighed deeply.



Much thought was given to the young girl's education, as well. Being the daughter of a doctor, at twelve she was already fluent and could read and write with ease. But, where her parents had directed her literary pursuits along the lines of well-raised young women, at her uncle's knee, her horizons widened. He introduced the classic philosophers to her and her quick mind grasped the principles. Their lively discussions of things grand and epic often lasted deep into the night, far past a decent hour for a young girl to be awake! But she and her uncle seemed to share a passion and a mind on the principles they delved in, and soon she could have held her own in any debate.



She also displayed signs that she had inherited other Gifts from her mother. Even as a small child, she had been a bit precocious, and had to taught quickly to keep her thoughts to herself, sharing them only with her parents. Fortunately, there was a woman who lived near the manor home who understood such things. She worked as healer for the villagers and gladly took the young lass on to share her knowledge, with gentle instruction on how to control one's Gifts. Often such abilities blossom with the coming of age, and both her teacher and uncle knew to watch for that in her.



She loved visiting the cottage where her teacher lived, and in the warm days she was often found in the garden. There is a special aura when women work side by side in a garden, and many lessons were shared there on wonderfully deep levels. They would often sing together, and the young girl's memory grew with the more ancient songs her teacher gave her. She loved learning to care for the animals, and the bad weather tunnel that led from the cottage to the stables became one of her favorite haunts in the winter months.



She didn't see much of her younger uncle, who was almost always away in England at school. When he did arrive, there always was a flurry of activity, for he had very structured tastes, now. His visits became shorter and further between, usually ending in some kind of confrontation with his older brother. The last one had been the worst so far. He had accosted one of the older retainers, claiming that proper respect had not been shown, and had caned the elderly man severely. It was the middle of the night when he left, and the aftermath to deal with was left to the older brother.



Her teacher was called, of course, and the young girl assisted, learning as she did many of the things her parents would have taught her. The old man lived in a cottage close by the manor, and she spent many mornings and afternoons with him as he healed. More often than not, she would bring a book to read, for he seemed to enjoy that so much.



One such day, the old man sighed, as she was getting ready to head back home. Tucking her book into her bag, she asked why he sighed. He told her how much it meant to him to have her read such wonderful tales to him, but he himself could not read a word at all. Then he told her that it was his dream before he died to be able to sign his own name. She smiled at the old man and the next time she arrived, she brought a primer and slate with her and started to teach him his letters.



The friendship forged between the two was strong, and he remained devoted to her once he was back on his feet. It was the day he celebrated his birth, guessing his real age at 60, that he proudly marked slow lines, signing his name for the first time as she, her uncle and her teacher looked on proudly. The tears in his eyes spoke volumes. It was a grand night they would all hold dear in times to come.







Her uncle, the laird, continued to work quietly for Scotland's freedom. Where visitors had been an infrequent happening before, now there was a regular round of visitors. Their often-heated discussions usually stretched far into the night, and as often as not, the young girl would fall asleep listening. She had developed quite a taste for political debate and had found a grand hiding place where she could listen in. However, it couldn't have been too well hidden. She always found herself in her own bed the next morning!



Her education continued on several levels, and some of that knowledge would have scandalized the matrons of the landed gentry. The times and the inherited abilities of her family dictated the need for an unusual series of subjects. Her uncle, too, not having a wife or children of his own, recognized in her a willing partner in his dream of a free Scotland. She seemed to mirror his own passion, and the servants would roll their eyes then grin at the two.



One day, her uncle took her up the mountain to one of his favorite spots, where stones had shifted just right to form a seat. The view from that seat looked out over the land, and the sea could be seen sparkling in the far distance. It was a breathtaking vista, and never failed to stir his Scottish heart. This day, armed with a copy of John Locke's “Two Treatises” he surveyed the lands that he held and smiled. The irony of an English philosopher fueling a Scottish dream of freedom was not lost on him.



The young girl listened as her uncle waxed almost poetic, seeing their country as he thought it should be. She gathered the mountain flowers and wove them into a crown for him, ceremoniously placing it on his head and bowing as she giggled. She started to dance as he spoke, and then stared, as something seemed to appear behind her uncle.



Her wondering eyes saw a mist take on the form of men approaching from behind her uncle as he spoke from the stone seat. She felt helpless to move, as they seemed to solidify, their hands filled with weapons, moving toward him. One figure seemed to step out with pointed intent. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she recognized her younger uncle! She tried to call out, tried to dispel this horrid vision. She knew without wanting to that someone was to betray him, and that he was in mortal danger. She wanted to warn her uncle but something prevented her from speaking. She felt panic rise and take her over as she turned quickly to flee from the horror she could not understand.



Caught up in his speech and passion, all her uncle saw was her wide-eyed face and tear stained cheeks – which he took for the effect of his words on her heart. The dream of a free country had often brought the girl to tears. He wondered a little when she suddenly turned and ran back down the mountainside toward the manor, but then, she was a girl, after all. He smiled and continued to bask in his own vision of the future.



As the sun made its descent behind the mountains, he returned to the manor. He looked forward to the lively repartee that usually accompanied their dinners after such days as this. However, when it came time to sit down to eat, her place was empty. Thinking she must have fallen asleep, he sent one of the servants to call her down. He became concerned when the girl flustered back with the news that his young charge was not in her room! Actively worried now, he rose and ordered a search for her, and strode from the room calling for her favorite deer hound to help find the young mistress.



When she ran from the stone seat she was almost blinded by tears. Tree and stone both seemed to try to grab her, until finally both conspired to tumble her to the ground by a small flower covered knoll. There she sat and let the sobs come, her shock and her fear for her uncle burning inside, the vision still clear before her eyes. Asserting some kind of control she found her way back to the manor, slipping in through a back door so no one would see her red-rimmed eyes. She could not bear to be questioned at that point.



She knew she needed to be alone to try and sort out this strange thing that had happened so she went back to a little used store room she had discovered when she first arrived. It still held many of her little private treasures, and the layer of dust told her no one had been in here for a long time. Turning over the top blanket of those stacked in the corner, she sat down to think, and before long was asleep. Strong emotions do that, especially to young girls.



It was almost dark when she awakened. Fresh tears started as the impact of the vision returned and she knew she could not face her uncle at dinner – or at any time until she could control whatever was happening to her. Her teacher's face sprang to her mind and she realized that, of all the people in her life, she was the one who would know what to do.



Now that she had a plan, she rose and slipped out to the garden door, hearing dinner preparations in full swing. She knew she would be able to leave without notice, and her strong legs ran quickly to the stables. Pulling open the door, she peeked inside, sighing in relief to find no one about.



Opening the stall door, she led out her favorite mare, talking softly to her and sharing some of the terrible things she had seen. The horse whinnied softly, and looked right at her as if understanding every word and offering sympathy. She looked up at the tall beast, and over at the saddle rack, and sighed. She knew there was no way she could manage the gear, so she grabbed a bridle and, sitting on a rail, pulled that over her friend's head and slid onto her bare back.



Moving through the stable door, she pulled her mount over and pushed the door shut then turned down the path to the lane and the road. Keeping the horse to a walk for quiet's sake, she smiled as she reached the bend in the road that went right around the great oak tree.



She used to hide behind the tree, waiting for her uncle to return from the city and jump out at him, playing the highwayman, demanding his gold or his love! He would scoop her up and say that he captured her instead, and demanded her heart! Then they would gallop all the way home, accompanied by peals of her bright laughter.



The deepening shadows suddenly seemed to reach out, and it felt like cold hands grabbing her heart. The mare felt it too and started into a run. Fortunately, the young girl and her horse knew the way to her teacher's cottage intimately, as they ran though the darkened countryside.



The woman she was seeking raised her head as if hearing a distant knell. Recognizing the feeling, she set a pot of water on for tea, and laid out cups and some fresh short breads. Her heart beat a bit faster as the anticipated hoof beats pounded up the lane. A familiar whinny told her that her student had arrived and a strong sense of foreboding with her.



Not even bothering to knock, the young girl came through the door, tears once again streaming down her cheeks. Collapsing into the waiting arms of her teacher and confidante, she poured out the story of the terrible vision and how she seemed unable to speak of it to him. She told her teacher how she had fled down the mountain and had hidden in the storeroom until she thought to find solace here.



The older woman held her young student and friend tightly as she unburdened her heart. Sitting her down at the table, she kept the girl talking as she carefully selected and measured out certain herbs into a teapot. Schooling her face to be calm in spite of the dire feelings she herself was getting, she dabbed the tears from the girl's cheeks as she set a steaming cup of tea before her. She said to drink the tea all at once and then to sip on a second cup... and not to mind the bitter... and she said it with a kindly smile.

The face the girl made was almost comical, and sparked a kind of silly laughter between the two that is often born of stressful times. The teacher added a generous dollop of honey to the second cup and set it down with instructions to sip. The girl looked confused for a moment, as her own training tried to name the different ingredients. Her teacher smiled in understanding, watching for signs of the potent recipe's effect. Suddenly, she lifted her head, as if listening for something... as did the girl.



For the second time that night, the door burst open, and a very distraught uncle strode into the cottage. His voice seemed to enter the room before he did, telling of the missing girl. Stopped mid-rant as he saw the object of his search sitting at the table, fear turned to anger. The teacher sprang up between him and the girl, placing a strong hand upon his chest.



Pulling him across the room to the tea, she quickly informed him that she had dosed the child with a strong sedative. His dark eyes flashed, as he demanded an explanation and a reason for this unusual behavior. Her skilled hands quickly pulled the herbs she knew he enjoyed, as she softly told him what had happened. They had known that the girl might display new talents, as she grew older. It had been more than the girl was able to bear.



Calming down some, and now also watching for signs the sedative was taking effect, he listened as the teacher gave him the import of the vision his niece had been given. His face grew dark to hear of betrayal, and his voice rose a bit. The last thing the girl heard that night was that he had to go forward anyway, even knowing he would be betrayed. His cause was noble and true and if God demanded his life, he would give it freely. He had to know that Scotland would be free! Her young eyes fell shut then, and she drifted off into a place where she neither heard nor felt.



He carried his young charge back home, cradling her close to him, knowing she was even more precious to him now. She woke in her own bed, and at first the previous day seemed to be only a bad dream. As she came down to breakfast, her uncle smiled and told her she was to spend the day at her teacher's house. Her eyes widened as she realized that the dream was reality. Understanding, her uncle told her that everything was all right, and that she had done the right thing. He only asked that if it happened again, she at least let someone know where she was going. She smiled in relief and dug into her morning meal with relish.



That day started a new set of lessons for her. She had gifts blossoming within her that had to be controlled and nurtured. She put all her energy into her studies, wanting so much to please her uncle and her teacher. She wanted to help in his cause, and maybe, she prayed, maybe the betrayal could be averted.



She still snuck down to listen in on the political debates, and realized that they had taken on a more subversive tone. She was there when they first decided to form a rebel group, and identify each other by placing a white cockade in their hats. She knew every man in the group, and she could not stop the cold stab of fear as she heard the plans laid. Yet, she knew without a doubt that none of the men involved would be a traitor to her uncle – or to each other!



Summertime settled in and with it preparations for a yearly celebration of the first harvest. The older folk called it Lughnasadh and it was a grand time that involved both village and manor folk. The girl always looked forward to the music and dancing, and loved to help with the baking and decorations. The elderly retainer would regale her with tales of old pagan practices, always making funny faces as he pretended to scare her. This year, though, there seemed to be an edge to life at the manor, as the festival time grew closer.



The day finally arrived, a lovely August day, full of bright sunshine and gentle breezes. She could see the young farm boys carrying in the baskets of harvested food and the songs they sang carried to her faintly on the wind. She finished dressing and blew a kiss to her reflection as she set the fresh garland of flowers the maid had brought up to her. She turned and grinned at the way her silken skirts swirled. She loved to dance and maybe she would catch some young man's eye tonight!



She heard the merry ruckus as the carriages and wagons assembled in the yard, and hurried downstairs, exclaiming as she saw her uncle in all his regalia. What a handsome figure he struck! Truth be told, it would be a difficult thing for any young suitor to find a place in her heart dearer than her uncle. She sighed happily, just being in his presence and primped with a giggle, acting the part of the Mistress of the Manor for him. It had them both laughing in seconds!



Arriving at the town hall with her uncle, still chuckling back and forth, the festivities were in full swing. Toasts were lifted as he entered and toasts returned. She smiled at the sons of other landholders, and curtsied genteelly to the other lairds and dames present. She smiled proudly to herself, as she heard one couple compliment her to her uncle.



The tables were laid out with all the bounty of the season. Cakes had been brought from all the kitchens, and so many other delights for the palate. She had been given leave to drink a single cup of the punch and it made her giggle a bit as she felt it warm her from inside out. She laughed lightly as she heard the band setting up, and quickly made her way over to see them. The older man she had taught to read and write played the drum better than anyone else in the county!



The music started and kept playing until everyone was dancing and clapping. Sometimes folks got up to recite or sing a song. She was invited to sing twice, the second time with another girl and their celtic harmonies left few dry eyes by the end of their song. Then she heard the familiar strains of her favorite reel, which was based on an old faery tale. Her uncle came and offered his hand, and off they went, dancing and laughing into the night. At the end of the reel, she saw her old friend reach down into his bag and withdraw something. Curious at first, she gasped lightly as she recognized a white cockade. He pinned it to his tam and started an unsettling rhythm, a march, she thought. The fiddler took up the song and the whistler added the high clear notes. Her heart raced as she looked around the hall, and saw so many of the men also adding white cockades to their hats or clothing.



She looked about for her uncle and saw him dancing with her teacher. Their eyes were locked one on the other and the girl suddenly knew there was far more between the two than she had realized before. Part of her heart wanted to break but stronger was the joy for them.



As she watched them, the fear that she had set out of her mind returned like a sharp knife. Her uncle's hat also sported the white cockade! Her world spun for a moment and the willing hands of a couple of young men caught her and set her on a chair. She smiled at them, and thanked them for their concern, but her attention stayed close on all the white cockades in the room.



At the close of the song, there was a gentle movement through the hall. Men and lads were kissing their ladies and sweethearts and moving toward the door. She saw her uncle kiss her teacher deeply, then turn to seek her out. She tried to keep the tears from falling, but was not strong enough. He softly kissed them as he held her, telling her not to worry. Then he put her in the arms of her teacher, and strode out of the hall, joining the rest of the patriots as they marched into the night.



Her teacher took out a handkerchief and gently wiped her wet cheeks. “War and rebellion are never easy, child,” her teacher said. “They may believe in their cause and in their victory, but it is never that easy or clean. Should you know that something is wrong, you need to come to my cottage immediately. Promise me now!” The young girl nodded and whispered, “I promise...” Her teacher saw her home and then left to do what all women do in times like these. Wait.



The manor house seemed so big and empty. She sat down by his chair, close to the hearth, where she had spent so many nights reading and arguing points of philosophy with him. He was such a good teacher. She smiled and offered prayers for his safety, laying her head on his seat and drifting off to sleep. Her dreams were disturbed though, and she kept seeing flashes of light and smelling sulfur, crying out softly as she dozed.



Startled back to awareness by a commotion from the entry, she immediately rose and ran to see what was going on, feeling fear growing inside her. The old retainer was there, his face contorted by grief, telling the housekeeper that something terrible had happened!



“Here, Jock! What is it? What has happened?” she demanded, still wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Jock, tell me now! I have to know... please!”



His ancient eyes looked back at her in a deep pain. “Och, Mistress! They were done in! Ambushed by the bend in the road by the old oak! There was a bunch of the Anglish there, lying in wait on both sides of the road. Master had said I was to stay and care for you, but I had to follow for a bit... I just had to! And that is how I saw it all! They shot them down like animals, Mistress! Like animals!!! Everyone gone.... all that was left was the smell of blood and gunpowder... and they just left them there... for the carrion eaters... “ He broke down and sobbed like a small child, the house keeper's arms about him.



“Nanny, I have to leave – and right now!” she said. “I have to go to my teacher. It is what my uncle wanted.” Thinking swiftly, she added, “You might gather up the staff and make ready to leave. There may be trouble for everyone from the tragedy of the night. Tell Toby to saddle my horse quickly!” Holding back the tears, she left the shocked woman with the old man, and ran to her room to gather her art box and the few treasures she could not live without.



Returning to the entryway, she hugged them both, and ran as fast as her young legs could carry her to the stable. Toby was there with her mare and she mounted quickly, telling him to get himself and his family to safety too. She wheeled the horse and headed for her teacher's cottage.



She pulled up short at the road, realizing that there may be watchers on the normal routes. She pulled her horse around and headed for the forest path, grateful that she knew it well enough to ride it in the dark! Twice, she reined in, seeing lanterns in the distance, cautioning her friend to be still. Finally she reached the cottage, falling to her knees at her teacher's side.



Explaining as quickly as she could, there was no time for tears, though the man they both loved was certainly no more. If he were known to be involved in a rebellion, then both of them would be sought as well. Her teacher slid back two boards that led to the tunnel where she used to play. The two women moved quickly down the stairs, setting the boards back in place. So well built was the hidey-hole that only the initiated could have found it.



Down the tunnel they went towards the stables when they heard the sound of horses and men outside. Pulling the young girl back to a corner, and motioning to be silent, the two of them waited. They heard shouting and stomping. They heard the horses above them going crazy for moments then the sound of receding hooves. The teacher's eyes brimmed over with tears as the smell of smoke wafted down to them.



“Stay close to me now, dear, and if something should happen that we get separated, here is something for you to remember. The old yew tree at the edge of the garden... beneath the larger rock where I set the seed for the birds in wintertime, there is a cache. You are to take that and make your way to a ship. Buy passage to the Americas and seek out your cousin there. All of the information is there for you, lass.” Her teacher's eyes were bright as she spoke, and the smoke grew thicker.



“Aye, I think they have set the stables ablaze as well as the cottage, lass!” They both looked up as the first embers rained down from the wooden floor above. The hiding place was right below the tack shed. Suddenly they heard a tremendous crack, and the ceiling above started to cave in. Her teacher threw the young girl down and covered her with her own body. There were impacts and concussions, and the horrific smells of burning. The smoke was so thick, the girl passed out, praying to awaken in heaven with her parents and her uncle.



Fate, it seemed, had other designs for her. She came back to consciousness, feeling a terrible weight upon her. Confused by the smells and constriction, she screamed as she realized where she was and what had happened! She called out to her teacher, pushing up and jostling her to bring her out of her stupor. There was no response from the older woman, though.



Her young mind started to turn and panic provided the adrenaline to lift the body of her teacher and friend from her. A board had fallen on the woman's head, killing her while protecting her young charge from harm. As she stood, she noticed boot prints in the ash. Apparently, the soldiers wanted to make sure their job was done.



Choking back the tears she did not have time for, she held herself still, centering as she had been instructed. She listened for a time, though if there had been anyone about, she was sure they would have come running to her wakening scream. Fairly sure she was now alone, she managed to climb out of the hidey-hole and make her way to the cache by the old yew tree. She whistled low at the amount of money there, and read over the information to find the cousin that lived in the colonies. If she committed the information to memory, no one could steal it and she would not lose it.



Replacing the rock, she wrapped the money and papers in part of her petticoat, tying it securely next to her body. Then she set out towards the manor house, being careful not to be seen. The woodcraft she had learned from old Jock stood her well, now. Barring a few tense moments when troops of red-coated marchers went by, she made her way across the countryside with little problem.



Rather than approach the big house, she decided to try the small cottage in the forest where Jock lived, hoping it would not be under scrutiny. Peeking in the windows, she saw only Jock and the housekeeper, sitting by the fire. Knocking on the door, she softly called to them. The door flew open and she was pulled inside, to tight embraces and grateful tears. “Och, Lass! They told us you were dead, they did!”



“No, Jock... though my teacher is.” as her young legs collapsed into a chair. This was the first time days that she was not on edge about simply surviving. “Can you tell me anything, Jock? Does anyone know what happened?” Her eyes begged him to tell her only the truth, no matter how it hurt.



“Aye, wee lass. We know now. It is your other uncle who sits in the manor house now – with his English friends that may one day slit his throat! It was he that betrayed us all!” The old retainer's eyes were filled with a sadness that would never heal. “There will be no Scotland left if is up to his kind!”



The girl could no longer hold back the tears. Jock and the housekeeper held her and all three wept for a life that would never again be, and for the country that had been so sorely betrayed with their kin.



Later, over a simple meal of bread and ale, she told them about the cache and that there was more than enough money there to take them all to the colonies. Between the three, it was decided to make the journey. She would be their granddaughter as they traveled. In the morning, they loaded the wagon and set out, leaving all they had known and loved behind them. She never looked back even once until she stood on the fantail of the ship watching the Scottish coastline recede.