Black Blood. Dyvina Sollena

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Chapter 1

      Rebecca

      My name is Rebecca Janette Cross, but everyone knows me as Reb J. Cross, or simply Reb. I was a journalist and I was writing for Hazy Daily, the local Hazycreek's newspaper.

      I loved my job, looking for news to propose to people, that always stimulated me a lot. The column which I was dedicated to dealt with daily facts, news and every sort of hearsays. From Mrs. Ryder's cinnamon biscuits to commissioner Tanner's shooting parties.

      I thought it was fun in the beginning, but as years passed by, I realized that I was longing for something more.

      My biggest dream was to emerge in journalism. I was aiming to the Capital, any well-known editing department of success. The place where I was born hadn't much to offer but a peaceful living, labored at times, but still carefree.

      Hazycreek was a joyful town not very far from London. It seemed like a bubble was shielding it from the world's disgraces. Not many crimes were happening and for me finding interesting stuff to write about was everyday harder.

      All this until ten days ago.

      «Dear God, Reb! You must be kidding, you can’t really want to go there», Josh fussed while looking at me with wide open eyes and stretched facial features.

      I was sitting at my desk in our Hazy Daily's office.

      Josh Coleman stood at my side, shaken and a bit upset. He was my best friend, also a colleague at the editorial. He was in charge of sport news, he was a great football fan, also rugby and many other sports of what I personally didn't understand a damn.

      We grew up together, close friends since early ages; on the other hand, we all knew each other in Hazycreek. It was a small hamlet where getting unnoticed was difficult.

      «Of course, I want to.»

      «It’s crazy. Nobody ever gets close to Black Raven Hill», he went on, putting his hands on his head. He kept watching me incredulous, diving his fingers into his brown curls.

      He could have kept that chocolate eyed look on me all day long, still I wouldn’t have changed my mind. My decision was taken: I was going to the mansion, with or without his help.

      «Nobody is disappearing in Hazycreek», I argued, turning off my laptop.

      «Well, it has happened. We have gangs here too and it won't be the first time», he persisted.

      I got the office chair I was on turning, I crossed my arms under my breast and stared at him sulking.

      A week or so had passed when the Harpers had called the police denouncing their younger daughter Claire's disappearance.

      I took advantage of that and started some researches. I managed to write a good article, different than usual. I received good criticisms; local people loved my job. I rolled up my sleeves, I grabbed pen and note and I started interviewing the locals.

      It seemed that nobody knew, everyone was denying and scared for what had happened.

      That same morning however, a new reporting came: also Rose Weather had disappeared.

      Something to sink my teeth in!

      I was scared and bewildered as everyone, but I had big potential that rarely I was able to exploit, I had to grab this chance that I was given, even if at the expense of those poor people.

      While investigating on Harpers' case, I ran into some strange declarations coming from some old people. Citizens having the same age my grandfather would have had, sometimes talked about strange tales, some sort of macabre stories, quite scary, dealing with the Winterbournes.

      They referred to them calling them: The Thirsty.

      I barely believed, I took those as same old plebeian tales meant to scare children and keep them away from that noble family.

      The Thirsty. They described them as parched vampires longing for blood, but the Winterbournes did not look at all as demons with strange habits, they were just an egocentric family, extremely powerful.

      Rich with no doubts: they owned vast properties and a large amount of local commercial activities, and not only in Hazycreek. They had properties all over England: in London, Manchester, Liverpool, Oxford, Cambridge and in Nottingham. It must be said that they did nothing to be loved, their presence in town was leading to fuss, everyone was looking at them with fear, most people didn't even stare at them, they went on straight avoiding any type of contact.

      I had to admit that a mysterious aura seemed to lead them, but I thought this was a consequence to the narrow-minded mentality prevailing in Hazycreek.

      A kind of mass hysteria led people to keep the Winterbournes away.

      But the situation seemed not bothering them. After all, they lived at Black Raven Hill.

      The endless mansion was a property of their family since ever. It was a bit far, like half an hour by car from the center and it was in the middle of the forest.

      The Winterbournes stayed isolated from common people, it was clear, but how to blame them?

      They were relevant, they needed nobody, they could afford it at the end of the day. But assuming that they were the cause of those two current disappearances, that sounded a bit excessive to me.

      But this all story drawn a super idea in my mind, an idea that apparently Josh didn't like at all.

      «I don't believe they have something to do with those disappearances, ok? However, they might have something to say», I explained to my friend.

      Josh still shaked his head, more and more closed to his surrender.

      «It is not wise, nor even necessary. Maybe they did it for real.»

      «How can you believe those bullshits? What do you think? Persons drinking human blood? Dracula is a Bram Stoker's book, not reality!»

      «I am not joking. You look like a fool. Nobody ever dared much», he addressed me once again trying to keep me from my intentions. But he couldn't succeed, I was stubborn and willful. I had already made my mind.

      «They'll know for sure what people say. It may be interesting having also their opinion», I insisted, every second more convinced.

      «Don't get involved with that family. Stay out of this, Reb.»

      «Oh, come on, Josh! You are always the same old chicken», I laughed at him, raising my arms. I got up from the chair snorting and placing in front of him. I poked his chest with my forefinger and a little grin appeared on my face.

      «I want to write the article of the year. The one that will lead me straight to London and the Winterbournes are going to be my golden goose. That's it», I said nailing my green eyes into his.

      I noticed him tensely swallowing.

      «Why can't you just do your job without digging too much? You are a journalist, not a detective», Josh's voice had become shrill and hysterical. He cared about me, but I wouldn't have run any risk.

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