Broken Promises

By Evelyn Chartres

(Nom de plume)

Copyright 2021

Halifax, Nova Scotia

ABOUT

A young lady and her lord arrive in the New World with the promise of stability and an expanse of land to claim as their own. Surrounded by the beauty of the Appalachians, they count themselves amongst the blessed.

When the colony’s Governor General is recalled to Europe, rumours spread like wildfire that conflict is just over the horizon. The prosperous peace that brought them here is suddenly in danger of collapse. What does this mean for the lady of the house?

When tensions escalate, she finds herself isolated from all that is familiar. Desperate to survive, alone in the dark, and in a world unspoiled by the greed of men, what can she do?

Despite insurmountable odds, this young woman must risk traversing unfamiliar and hostile territory to find help. As you read, be sure to consider: When capture or surrender means that your life is forfeit, failure is not an option.

FROM ASHES TO MAGIC

Broken Promises was originally released as part of

From Ashes to Magic, a Supernatural Beings Anthology.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABOUT

FROM ASHES TO MAGIC

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION

BROKEN PROMISES

ABOUT EVELYN CHARTRES

ALSO, FROM EVELYN CHARTRES

THE PORTRAIT

THE GRAND

THE VAN HELSING PARADOX

THE VAN HELSING RESURGENCE

THE VAN HELSING INCURSION

THE VAN HELSING IMPETUS

HIGH WATER MARK

DARK HEARTS

LICENCE

DEDICATION

To Pamela, your spit and polish made this possible.

STORY

BROKEN PROMISES

Glass shattered in the parlour, followed by a loud thunk. Time stood still as the young woman ran through every scenario for the possible source of those sounds. Except for the lord, they were alone; staff had been dismissed for the night. If no staff were present, and the man of the house was not prone to being so maladroit, what could it be?

Reality struck with a whoosh followed by an intense yellow light seeping through cracks in the door, bringing her room alive with fanatical shadows. Fear poisoned her mind and left her unable to act. Were it not for her lord shouting, “Leave now,” she would have remained, leaving behind a charred corpse for the maid to find in the morning.

Without care or worry about being sensible, the girl ran from the door and pried open the window. Wearing nothing more than a shift, cap, and stockings, she stepped through and ran towards the woods. Even from this range, the tree line was easy to make out. Fire made the entire world glow in yellows and oranges like an artist’s rendition of the underworld.

There was a glimpse of movement in the distance and she guessed this was a perimeter patrol to prevent escape. The girl dropped to the ground, relying on the grass to conceal her advance. Behind her, a pistol rang out followed by the thunder of horses heading towards the source. She used the opportune distraction to race towards the tree line, and while it only took minutes, it felt as though she ran for miles. With no shoes, her soft feet felt every rock, twig, and blade of grass on her way. How long will it take before they turn into bloody stumps?

Once inside the relative safety of the forest, and exhausted, she leaned against the first tree along the way. This specimen was tall and sturdy, one that had survived several seasons of Mother Nature’s wrath. It filled her with a sense of safety given the cover provided. Her shift would be noticed, even at sunset, be it by the fire’s light or the silvery glow of the full moon ascending in the sky. She knew dense foliage and trees would keep her hidden as long as she remained in the shadows and was silent.

The girl surveyed the field. Despite their elevation, she made out details of the heavily forested mountain range in the distance. The beauty of the place came in stark contrast to the horrors of her home, now engulfed in flame. She watched helpless as heavy smoke blackened the crepuscular skies.

This was supposed to be their refuge from the world and the horrors that inevitably came with it. Watching it burn filled her with a deep sense of betrayal, one that welled up from within and hardened her soul. Alas, there was no time to come to terms with her situation, nor confront the bitterness growing within. I need to run.

With that thought, her senses came to life. She turned her head in time to see a tomahawk sail right past her cheek, then sink into the tree at her side. Her eyes followed the projectile as it rotated through the air and she noted a feather tied onto the handle. In that moment, she experienced perfect clarity. The young lady realised that the thunk she heard earlier had been from an arrow fired through the window.

The sight of that weapon prompted her to think back to something her lord had mentioned in the past concerning the governor returning to Europe with his riches.

“Here lies the key to stability in these lands,” he once postulated while indulging in cognac and tobacco.

When her eyes caught the silhouette of one of her attackers sitting atop a horse, she knew this stability was no more.

Without hesitation, she took immediate cover behind a stout tree before heading deeper into the woods at a sprint.

“Run to the water,” she muttered to herself while thinking of the miles of forest and mountain left to cover before reaching the water’s edge.

Along the shore, she would find villages and settlers ready to offer assistance. I might even get lucky and run into soldiers dispatched in response to this raid.

Her goal helped her focus, to ignore the pain while she ran through thick woods. Meanwhile, her attackers yelled out to draw in reinforcements. These woods were thick enough to prevent them from following on horseback, yet their advance had gone on undetected. These men were well-known trackers and hunters. They knew which direction she was headed and her likely destinations. Am I worth the chase?

* * * *

Time passed, though how long, she did not know. She was only aware of her exhaustion and hunger. As a precaution, she halted behind a large tree to listen. The girl had to rely on more than eyesight to determine if she had been followed. Even breathing risked foiling this opportunity, so she stopped altogether.

Her eyes widened in surprise once she discerned that some of her pursuers were on foot. To her chagrin, they knew well enough to halt their advance when their prey did the same. Cautiously, she peeked around the tree and made out details in the moonlight filtering through the forest cap. By her count, there were three in all, standing stoic and silent.

They must have decided she was worth the risk after all. The anxiety she managed to keep at bay surged, causing her heart to sink to the pit of her stomach. All that pain she ignored before then came flooding back. Her feet bled while her arms and legs throbbed in tune with her aching muscles. She did not acknowledge until now how badly she had been slashed while running through deadfall.

The girl realised too late that she had lingered too long. The leader nocked an arrow, drew his weapon, took aim, and released the shot. Had she not been ready for it, the arrow would have burrowed its way through an eye and into her skull. For a moment, her mind dwelled on the thought of her body spasming on the forest floor.

Instead, the arrow pierced the trunk deep enough to bury the tip. She eyed the broadhead as a fresh wave of fear washed over her. Adrenaline flowed through her veins, motivating her to run. Her body protested every step, every motion, but she ignored it. Relief would come by finding sanctuary—or by dropping dead.

The men fired two more arrows in her direction, but none hit home. One even sailed past her left, so close she felt its fletching brush against her hair.

That level of accuracy at night confirmed the rumours of their hunting prowess. She did her best to be a difficult target. While keeping a general heading, she ran from tree to tree without looking behind her. The forest provided cover and she was actually grateful her shift was caked in blood and dirt by now. Had her linen remained as white as freshly fallen snow, she would have been an easy target.

The forest grew denser as brush and shrubs now blocked her path. Fear pushed her through the thick foliage even as her clothes ripped. Behind her, men yelled to one another. She could not decipher what they were saying but guessed they were coordinating a plan to cut her off.

Finally, her advance led her to a large thicket of thorn bushes. These plants stood taller than her by several feet and were so dense that the moonlight barely filtered through. It formed a maze of thousands of sharp thorns waiting to dig deep into her flesh.

She slowed down to a light jog, then halted altogether once within a foot of Briar Rose’s barrier. The girl looked to either side but noticed no end in sight. All the while, footsteps grew more pronounced. They must have known these were here, forcing her into a proverbial corner. What’s a girl to do?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight. Another arrow flew towards the base of her spine. She dropped to the ground and the projectile travelled overhead. The change in perspective introduced her to a new world, including a path through the thorns. Without thought or hesitation, she crawled through the bushes, moving towards her escape.

The young lady’s heart beat at a fantastical rate, while her breathing raced to keep up with the excitement. As hope claimed dominion in her mind, she cracked a smile, confident that this path would severely deter their chase—wait! Is that rushing water?

Instead of touching the ground, her hand pawed thin air. The movement forced her centre of gravity to shift forward and sent her into free fall. A profound sense of weightlessness overwhelmed her, filled her throat with bile, and disconnected her mind from her body. For the moment, she was nothing more than a hapless observer in her own twisted misadventure.

Wind rushed over her body, the roar matched by the sound of running water. Above she caught sight of stars peering through the celestial veil. How can I only see a tiny sliver of the sky?

A pistol shot echoed between the canyon walls, thrusting a moment of clarity upon her. Has my lord been following me all this time? Did they abscond his weapon and are firing it off in frustration?

Her fall slowed as water enveloped her, while sounds from the world above grew distant and muffled. As the chilled mountain current flowed over her body, intense cold took over. Somehow, this distraction permitted her neglected senses, including a growing sense of hunger, to flood back into her mind. The young lady opened her eyes, but nothing more than a blurred watery nightscape greeted her, granting no time to evade rocks as the current slammed her against them.

She attempted to push against the rocky bottom but found her feet could not grip. Unable to see nor hear, she tried to swim, but the powerful flow contorted her body seemingly at random. The constant sense of disorientation made it impossible to find the surface. Panic overwhelmed, growing stronger with every moment, reinforced by her compounding list of failures. Her mind clouded over and dulled her reactions, brought on by her inability to break through the chaos. Is this the end?

“Leave now!” echoed from the depths of her mind, the words reverberating until they shattered.

If her lord had wanted her dead, he would have done so himself. Would she fail him by giving up? She managed to evade a raiding party, but would a little water get the better of her?

The river carried her away at a swift pace until her body broke through. She gasped for air, then opened her eyes to see the moon hanging high in the sky, before the current dragged her down. This time, she remained calm, relying on the flow to lead her back up. When the girl broke the surface, she was surrounded by swirling white water.

“Rapids,” she managed to gasp before being pushed under.

The violent current forced her to the middle of the waters, unable to swim against it or reach the shore. In that moment, the young lady could have given into her crippling despair and simply filled her lungs with water. Still, a part of her chose to persevere, focusing on the fact that every moment spent in these wild waters meant the men chasing her were losing ground.

A loud rumble soon came to her ears from both the surface and beneath. She dared not think of its source. It reminded her of a mob of people running away from danger, minus the screams of wild panic. Which of nature’s wonders would be capable of generating such an earth shattering—Waterfall!

Once again, she ended up in free fall. This time, she was propelled along at a fantastic rate, and her head managed to break through the water’s surface long enough to see jagged rocks below. With no opportunity to react, her body crashed into the pool with such force that crashed into rocks that sliced and pierced her flesh. Before pain could register, a blow to the head rendered her unconscious.

* * * *

A world without focus greeted her when she opened her eyes.

Her head throbbed and the taste of iron lingered in her mouth, leaving her parched. Nothing she heard nor felt against her skin was familiar. So where was she? Why was her skin covered in gooseflesh?

Unsure of her surroundings, her young eyes darted across the room, moving from shadow to shadow until a silvery sphere came into view. Curious, she focused on that spot long enough to find it was the moon hanging in the sky.

Stars joined this celestial tapestry followed by sheer curtains blowing in the wind. For a moment, she felt relief at the thought of waking up in bed. The lady closed her eyes and sighed, then listened for confirmation that she was still a part of this world. It was eerily silent, something she was unaccustomed to from living in cities most of her life. Where she grew up, the streets were always filled with sounds, day or night. It’s bizarre for it to be so quiet.

Why did she have such a sense of déjà vu? She turned to find a pair of eyes staring back at her. These were like the eyes of her lover, but different. Devoid of life, both wide and glassy. The body had grown cold and pale with blue lips. To think that hours ago they had undressed one another and kissed with enough passion to ignite their souls.

What’s going on? Why is she dead? While valid questions, the one that should have been asked never came to the tip of her tongue. In the hopes of this being a dream, she closed her eyes and prayed. With that, she hoped that once her eyes reopened, this wrong would be righted. Surely this has to be a dream?

A floorboard creaked in the background. Why was she not surprised by this development? The young lady turned to face a pair of glowing eyes. She should have been afraid and even screamed in panic. Instead, she remained calm. This time, it would be different. She would make an attempt at reasoning with the apparition.

Instead, she was met with the full strength of a hurricane wind that pushed her against a wall with such force that she nearly blacked out.

“You promised,” this force of nature appeared to say as the glowing eyes reverberated with every syllable.

The voice was deep and powerful conjuring up images of Zeus atop Olympus sending bolts to the mortal realm.

“Promised what?”

* * * *

Her eyes opened wide, darting from side-to-side, peering into an unfamiliar room. The room, dark and foreboding, filled her with dread. A wind blew in through an open window and turned her skin to gooseflesh. For a moment, the young lady wondered if she was dreaming. Where are my clothes?

Despite the darkness, she made out some of the room’s details. While large, there were no other connected rooms, and judging by the furnishings, this place supported a small family. Constructed out of logs, the interior was spartan and simple. In the corner, she spotted a hearth that gave off no heat as its flame died out long ago. How did she manage to make it here? More importantly, why did she have no memory of getting here? The young lady was certain of one thing: I would not have made it this far without help.

Hanging from a beam near the hearth, she found her shift and stockings – at least what remained of them as they were bloodied and torn. Her clothes were more like rags than clothing any respectable lady would be caught dead wearing. The girl looked down and noticed her body was free of scrapes and bruises. Surely, anything that turned her clothes to rags would have had a lasting effect on her. Confusion set in, which tempered her growing sense of contentment for being no worse for wear. What happened?

A moment of hesitation was all she had before the breeze blew over her naked body. The chill from the wind made her teeth chatter, driving her to retrieve her clothes. Tattered as they were, it had to be better than nothing.

The young lady rolled over to the edge of the straw bed before planting both bare feet onto the dirt floor. She recoiled from the cold but persisted so she could stand. The room spun as she stood, and her hand moved to her head in an effort to stabilise it. Her fingers carded through matted hair to find a large bump. Still, she had no idea how she got here, but remembered being caught in rapids and going over the falls. How did I survive?

Did this place exist as her welcome into the afterlife? The pain from the bump on her head reinforced the fact she remained firmly within the realm of the living. Paradise would certainly not have aches to contend with, whereas a trip to Hades would mean that her headache would be the least of her concerns.

When she took her first step, she tripped over something and fell face down on the floor. Pain shot through her chest and brought back a flood of memories. She glanced around to determine what caused her fall and found a pair of eyes waiting for her.

Just like her dream, these eyes were glassy and devoid of life.

Somewhere in the shadows of the room, something skittered away, but when she looked around, she found nothing. While her eyes had yet to adjust to the dim light, she was left with an odd feeling of dread that left her both cold and numb. Without an immediate threat to distract her, the memory of those eyes resurfaced and brought back the source of those emotions.

With all due haste, she scrambled off the body, and went for her clothes. The idea of having been in close contact with a decaying corpse made her skin crawl. Still, there was potentially something else in this room. Was it the killer? Left with the possibility of there being another threat in the room, the young lady was forced to focus on what she could control.

Fortunately, her clothes were dry, but reeked of wood smoke and mud. Her shift went on first, followed by the stockings. Alas, her cap was nowhere to be found, and she assumed she’d lost it in the water. Her rags did little to protect her from the cool breeze but at least for now, she could move about with a sense of modesty. That’s a start, given the circumstances.

The skittering echoed again. This time, she was able to follow it to the door just as it blew wide open. As her eyes centred on the doorframe, a little girl’s silhouette disappeared as she ran away from the home. At first, she considered pleading for this child to stop. She imagined gaining the child’s trust, and ultimately finding out what happened. Alas the sound of galloping horses approaching from the distance quickly changed her mind.

As horses came into view, the child screeched and began to run her little heart out. What are her chances of escaping that raiding party? The young lady waited until they had travelled a distance before leaving through the door. Nothing in her power could help the child, so without hesitation, she headed in the opposite direction.

In the background, men yelled to urge their horses on. Soon they would catch this child. There would be screams and tears followed by an unknown fate…as was her own, since hers had just taken a turn for the worse. The young woman remained turned away from the situation that was unfolding. Despite being ashamed of abandoning the child to a fate worse than death, she knew that intervention would only increase Death’s workload.

“I’ll be able to get some help once I’m in friendly territory,” she lied as a way to convince herself that this was the right decision.

Before her, she faced the remnants of a village with various buildings aflame. Others were already reduced to ash. Everywhere, she found arrows buried into the wood frames of the homes, in livestock, and in bodies. At the periphery of the village, she saw a collapsed church steeple. Fire must have ravaged the inside of the brick structure as it still smouldered. With so much death and carnage to be found, it was difficult to imagine how someone could justify all this wanton destruction. What do they gain from killing women and children with reckless abandon?

The smell of charred meat permeated every breath. She chose to ignore its pull, preferring to keep her mind focused on escape. For now, she remained quiet to avoid drawing attention as that child had done. She needed something—anything—to provide her with an advantage over her pursuers. If only a garrison of soldiers would show up to save the day!

In the distance came a scream as the men caught up with the child. Unable to bear it, she covered her ears. Should I’ve tried to do something?

She continued moving deeper into the village until the river came into sight.

“Run to the water,” she said again under her breath. Perhaps these words still had value.

She would follow the shore to conceal her advance. At least, it’s a plan.

* * * *

She wandered along the edge of the river for hours, never looking back to the carnage. The young lady wondered what happened to the child, but quickly moved onto more pressing concerns. She needed to focus on things she had control over. Choosing to fight off a raiding party would have done little more than offer up two victims instead of one.

The moon hung lower in the eastern sky and was partially obscured by passing clouds, leading her to realise this was a new night. What exactly happened to her from the time she fell unconscious to when she awoke in the cabin? Why am I so important?

“No,” she said absentmindedly.

Those who attacked the village must have been different from the ones who raided her home.

Clouds moved away from the moon, showing her the world with silvery detail. If not for the fact that she was cold, hungry, and sore, the lady would have been in awe at its beauty. Her throbbing feet protested every step, leaving her weary and wanting nothing more than for this ordeal to end. Would it be too bold to hope to wake up from this nightmare?

Alas, her pain answered the question. This was real, and the only way to survive it would be to find something to render aid, anything—

“A horse!” she exclaimed as the familiar silhouette appeared up ahead.

The idea that this soul crushing journey might be blessed with much needed assistance made her entire body come alive. At first, she wanted to rush towards the beast, climb atop its saddle, and ride off to find help. Her entire body went slack, cold and numb when she caught the glow of campfires. Despite her eyes throbbing in sync with her heartbeat, she knew exactly what this meant for her. Where there are fires, there are people, and that comes with risk.

Since she had little choice, the young lady ventured forth using trees for cover. She hoped to hear something familiar, like men singing as they indulged in drink, or perhaps the sound of a skilfully played accordion. But there was nothing but the fire’s crackling and soft snoring, nothing that could render judgement on these being friend or foe.

Still she hoped, even prayed, that these were friendly folk. The closer she got, the more hope swelled within.

All of that was extinguished when the thunk of arrows hitting trees echoed back to her. The camp, asleep moments ago, became a hive of activity as the soldiers barked out orders. Before long, muskets joined the commotion, creating a cacophony of chaos. She could not tell who was winning, nor did she care. Staying long enough to determine the winner put her in peril. She would either be captured by the raiding party, dragged back as booty, or end up caught in the crossfire as the men waged war.

The girl opted for a different approach. She ran as bullets and arrows flew through the air. Focus was key. She had one goal to meet, and unless Death intervened, it would be met. I need to get that horse.

Once near the animal, she ignored cover to rely on speed. She grabbed the reins with enough strength to tear them from the branch and, with the grace of a dancer, vaulted onto the horse’s saddle. She then kicked the horse in the side, setting the creature off at a gallop. The two of them now pushed through the camp at a maniacal speed—

“Stop!” someone shouted.

It was a directive she had no intention of following. No second warning came. Instead, a musket shot struck her side. A bolt of excruciating pain tore through her. She dared not hesitate or stop, urging her horse to leave this skirmish behind.

Without knowing where she was or where she was going, she followed the moon and pushed the horse onward, even as the pain grew harder to ignore. She must have been mortally wounded but would not yield. Fearing the sight of the wound would cause panic, she used a hand to apply pressure. Pain raced through her as white-hot streaks shot before her eyes.

She would find help and be happy again, the girl told herself. If I give up now, this will all be for naught.

Despite her determination, the world grew dark as a primal hunger asserted itself. The moon turned from a silvery sphere of celestial light to a ball of burning embers. Just a little longer.

* * * *

A world without focus greeted her when she opened her eyes.

“Do you like it?” her lord asked, though only his white gloves were visible as he covered her eyes to keep the scene a surprise.

“How can I, with those in the way?” she exclaimed, giggling.

Her words were light in tone and musical in nature, encouraging those around her to laugh along.

“Of course,” he replied.

It infuriated her at times how little emotion this man conveyed. No matter how kind he appeared to be, the same monotone voice was always present.

There were rarely any deviations in his metronome-like pace. His words normally conformed to actions. When he made a heart-felt gesture, like the gift of a gown that made her the envy of the court, it seemed as though it were nothing more than a cold and deliberate act.

When his hands moved away, she gasped at the majesty of the sight in front of her. It took months to cross the sea and reach the new land, and then travelling overland lasted for weeks. The carriage rides alone seemed to stretch on forever, little comfort in the somniferous sounds of the clippity-cloppity horses pulling them along. All of that became inconsequential, as though the time she lost in getting here was a small price to pay to be presented with this reward.

Before her stood the home he commissioned to be built before they left Europe. This dwelling defined perfection, from style and architecture befitting a French château to the sumptuous furnishings within. To think of the level of detail that went into its construction! She knew that every single element of the home had been specified down to the inch. The young lady had been with the lord long enough to know that all matters had been controlled and managed. Nothing’s ever left to chance. Or was it?

“No!” she exclaimed when she caught a glimpse of flame, a yellow hue appearing from a window. The house is on fire!

How’s this possible? The young lady observed the fire spread. A voice in the back of her mind urged her to say something, anything, but her throat was constricted and dry. She might have run, if her legs had not felt as though they had been nailed to the ground. She was helpless, unable to warn others of the inferno that would soon render them to ash.

“You don’t like it?” her lord asked with a slight hint of worry.

She must have been dreaming to hear the emotion in that voice. Still, that hint of concern was enough to rouse some of her courage.

“Fire!” she cried out, although it was more of a squeak than a roar.

By now, flames licked the windowsill and had spread to other rooms.

“What fire?” he asked, confused.

She turned to plead for him to do something, anything, but nothing moved him. Damn him! Corpses are livelier than this!

Before more could be said, an arrow flew through the air and struck him dead in the chest. He looked down at the fletching protruding from his body and attempted to brush it off as nothing more than dust. When the effort proved to be unsuccessful, he gave up looking unaffected.

“You promised,” he said.

* * * *

“I promised?” she asked when she awoke.

Even with her sight restored, confusion remained. The steady beat of the horse’s heart acted like an anchor to focus her. She rode her mount hard, heading into the unknown while the sharp, stabbing pain in her side remained constant. Every other bit of trauma she had suffered over the past few nights was held at bay for the moment.

When she looked up through those throbbing eyes, she noticed the moon had neared its apex. Soon, it would be the witching hour, her favourite time, as it made her feel so alive and connected to the world. For now, that connection evaded her. She found it difficult to see through the pain. Hunger lurked behind all that, trying to claw its way to the forefront of her thoughts.

She hoped with all her heart that everything would turn out well. Perhaps her lord would be waiting for her when she made it through this endless night. Would he thank her for the perseverance shown throughout her ordeal, or instead reprimand her on some trivial decision made early on? It was always difficult to tell. No matter how many years she spent with him, there remained aspects of his being that were forever a mystery.

“Run to the water,” she managed to say, though she found the act of speaking difficult.

She spat dark blood over the noble steed’s mane. She felt the foreign object dig in, causing more damage with every gallop. Nevertheless, the words brought her comfort, focused her, and made the pain bearable.

She pushed the horse harder. The young lady knew she would eventually reach a great river, one accommodating ships like the one she used to cross the ocean. Boats of that size meant large cities full of people who could assist.

“Run to the…” her voice faded to a whisper.

* * * *

A world without focus greeted her when she opened her eyes.

The young lady found herself in a luxurious hall filled with mirrors and wonders her youthful eyes had never seen before. She looked down at her beautiful ball gown made of the finest silk. The dress made her feel like royalty and fit her perfectly. They were introduced, and the crowd applauded, her heart skipping a beat. Her head was light, and she felt as though she were walking in a dream when her lord took her hand to lead her into the fold.

Never had she been in the presence of such opulence or wealth, and yet, there were hints of something ghastly hiding under all of this finery. Her mind latched onto details in the masks other guests wore. While she and her lord arrived unmasked, all others had disguised their faces with morbid façades from the depth of a perverse mind, a gift even the Brothers Grimm would refuse.

“Beware,” someone said. “What lies beneath is far more dangerous than their masks would lead you to believe.”

She turned to confront whoever issued the warning but found there was no one there. Where’s my lord?

She could have sworn that he had been here a moment ago. Beware of what? Why does that warning seem so ominous? The words echoed in her mind with every repetition, worsening the anxiety that grew within.

She looked at a gentleman wearing the face of a dire wolf, complete with bloodied fangs and piercing eyes that burned through to her soul. She shuddered to think what would be revealed by peering behind this masquerade. If this was a tame version of what lay beneath, this lady was not interested.

“Do you promise?” a guest blurted out.

The young lady opened her mouth to respond, but could not make sense of what had been said.

“Promise what?” she countered.

“She’s not yet ready,” another woman added.

There was something in that tone that implied a great deal of experience in spite of those youthful features.

“Ready for what?” she asked as her emotions bubbled over.

It took all she had to maintain her self-control and not break into tears.

“Perhaps this will help her,” another said.

It seemed as though a strong gust of wind pushed her from the back. At that moment, she fell to the ground…

* * * *

She opened her eyes just as the horse’s legs gave out. The creature dropped head first onto the ground, ploughing its nose into the dirt. Until that moment, she had been unaware that exhaustion had overcome the animal. She tried to kick at its sides to motivate it further. Just a bit more. That was all she needed out of this beast. It was too much to hope for.

“Water,” she said while hearing the sounds of waves lapping on the shore.

She even smelled the faint odour of brine in the air and knew that somehow, she had made it. Before the last of her strength seeped out from her wound, she slid off the horse and tried to force herself to stand. She was weak and unsteady but managed to get up for the first time in hours.

The lady looked up at the sky and smiled at the sight of the moon being at its apex. She hoped this period would lend her strength as it had in the past. Still, doubt reigned on such pagan powers holding sway.

Her fortune seemed to change when she noticed the glow of a burning lantern. Hope provided her with enough strength to walk towards the light. There were no more than thirty feet between her and a home with a warm welcoming glow. Where there was fire, there were people. Someone’s here.

Her first step nearly became her last. The movement was enough to cause a spurt of blood to shoot out from the wound. She pushed her hand deep into the gash to stem the flow of blood. Every precious drop lost meant being one step closer to death. She ignored what the Fates had told her. For now, her life thread remained intact and she aimed to keep it that way.

The second step was sure and steady, quickly followed by others. Confidence returned, as her goal grew closer with every step. Salvation was so close, all she needed to get there was to—Call out! How could I have been this daft?

She tried to cry out for help, but the attempt resulted in convulsions so severe she nearly blacked out. Without the ability to plead, her journey progressed one painful step at a time. Will this ever end?

Fixated on the glow of the lantern, her feet collided with the stairs and brought her down hard. The young lady collapsed, spitting black blood over the treads of the stairs. With all her strength, she looked up at the light. The warm glow grew blurred and distorted.

The light disappeared along with her hopes of being saved. In the morning, when the inhabitants awoke to do chores, her remains would be found lying at their steps.

Would they be aghast at the sight of a woman pleading for help that never arrived? She was so close, but she had no strength left. With her mind drained, her body followed suit. The world grew darker and darker by the minute. Will this be my end?

She never heard the door open, nor was she aware of light flooding the night as an old man carried his lantern outside. He would have seen the rags she wore and the layers of dirt and blood caked in her hair. In the end, it was the wound on her side that caught his eye, prompting him to kneel down to get a better look.

His heart beat like the steady rhythm of a drum that formed the unifying force of an army. Hunger awoke a part of her long dormant; the feast was in sight, and that primal motivation brought her senses to the surface.

The lady opened her eyes, observing the veins pulsating on his neck as they carried blood through his body. Hunger assumed control. In a split second, she lunged towards the man with the speed of a viper.

With a single and practised strike, she bit down on his neck and pierced the jugular, letting his heart furnish her with nourishment. Her victim struggled and tried to call out for help, but the woman overpowered him. With every drop of blood he gave, she gained strength that enabled her to heal the gaping wound at her side. In moments, there was no trace of her fatal blow.

The young lady gorged herself on the old man’s blood. She continued to feast until the flow slowed to a trickle. Cocking her head, she noticed twitching and thought it would serve well as a lure. Leaving his body, she skirted out of sight, then screamed so loud a banshee would have been shamed.

In mere moments, the sound of hurried footsteps heading downstairs were heard. She waited, observing an old woman in a nightgown. It took no time for the old lady to catch sight of her husband. She rushed to his side, and once her back was turned, the vampire walked casually towards a fresh victim.

Her hunger would not be so easily satiated. She needed one additional kill to be satisfied. After the last couple of nights, who could hold it against her? Once within an inch of the woman, she smiled and giggled. She was curious to see exactly how this one would react to such a sound, given the situation.

The old woman jumped, grasping her chest while gasping for air. In a moment, she would hyperventilate. All the while, the lady saved her the trouble of moving by walking into her line of sight. Her smile grew twisted, and her fangs protruded from her reddened lips.

“Because of you two, I shall live past this night,” the lady said to her elder, who had turned as white as a sheet. “Be sure to tell Saint Peter of your good deed tonight.”

With a vicious strike, she exposed her victim’s neck. There was no playing with her prey tonight. She bit down, draining her quickly. Even after this kill, she longed for more. A shame that no one else lives here.

ABOUT EVELYN CHARTRES

Evelyn Chartres is the nom de plume for a self-published Canadian author. The writer of eight Gothic fantasy novels, Evelyn released her debut novel, The Portrait, in 2016, and her latest, The Van Helsing Impetus, in 2023.

A fan of the phrase ‘live to eat’, Evelyn shares her recipes on evelynchartres.com. These recipes have a loose focus on French-Canadian cuisine, which feature deep-dish meat pies, seafood, and desserts that are rarely seen outside of La Belle Province.

Evelyn is currently living in Ottawa, Ontario, and is busy laying the foundations for her next book featuring Marc.

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ALSO, FROM EVELYN CHARTRES

THE PORTRAIT

“A vision from the past becomes a writer's deadly obsession.”

The Portrait is a Gothic fantasy about Victoria Frost, an author who develops an unhealthy obsession for her character. As events unfold, her infatuation sours, forcing Victoria to question her sanity. Is she simply slipping into madness, or is there something else at play?

The Portrait features a mixture of contemporary and historical scenes brought forward as Victoria explores the world of her muse. Using both prose and art, every scene yields a new piece of the puzzle, providing insights on the origins of her character's portrait and its featured model.

Discover how a vision from the past becomes a writer's deadly obsession.

THE GRAND

“Even things that go bump in the night need a place to unwind.”

You will find The Grand nestled atop a cliff that overlooks a cursed valley. Surrounded by foreboding mountains, this ritzy French palatial-style hotel is a place where a roaring party’s success is measured by its body count. This hotel does not cater to the rich or famous. Instead, its staff and facilities serve a clientele with a more discerning palate.

The Grand is a collection of Gothic fantasy stories with an overarching storyline that incorporates supernatural themes. The Roaring Twenties serves as a rich historical, linguistic, and cultural backdrop.

Centred on the victims, each story brings a unique perspective to the hotel, the staff, and their esteemed guests. At The Grand, it is best to remember: Even things that go bump in the night need a place to unwind.

THE VAN HELSING PARADOX

“A gal has to look out for herself, after all.”

Clara Grey’s parents once said that the world was a dark and dangerous place. There was more truth than fiction in those words. There were things that lurked in the shadows which defied the laws of nature: perversions that fed on the dead, terrorised the living, or escaped the chill touch of the grave.

Clara is a member of The Tower, a religious order of hunters who work outside the confines of the Church. As keepers of the arcane, her order takes an active role in countering such threats. Alas, the life of a hunter can be short, and many go missing before they are ready to serve. So, what does it take to succeed against all odds?

Explore Clara’s origin, a child born before the dawn of the twentieth century. Witness her rigorous education, how she faces adversity, and how she fights in the Great War to become the derringer-wielding flapper she is.

Throughout her tale, keep in mind: No matter the threat, a gal has to look out for herself, after all.

THE VAN HELSING RESURGENCE

“While the Roaring Twenties are long gone, a heroine’s work is never done.”

Clara Grey was a hunter and part of a secret organisation known only as The Tower. During the Roaring Twenties, she sacrificed herself to destroy a powerful vampire. As a reward, she joined the ranks of Heaven’s army, and for ninety years, Clara yearned to take an active role in the mortal realm.

In an attempt to alter the course of history, scientists trigger an experiment with devastating results. The effects are felt not only on Earth, but in other realms as well.

Clara and an echo from her past are sent to Earth to investigate the case of a stolen soul. For this transgression, Heaven could go to war, but they choose to send Clara—and Edith. They fall to Earth, focused on their mission.

Both had been isolated from the mortal realm for generations. In their lifetimes, monsters were on the decline, but learn how much the modern world has changed. While navigating this alien land, will they adapt to their surroundings to fulfil their mission? Or be swallowed up by the evil that lurks in the shadows?

Before reading on, be sure to remember: While the Roaring Twenties are long gone, a heroine’s work is never done.

THE VAN HELSING INCURSION

“Hunting things that go bump in the night is child's play when compared to juggling relationships.”

During the Roaring Twenties, Clara Grey hunted things that went bump in the night. On her last mission, she paid the ultimate price to rid the world of a powerful foe. As a reward, she ascended to Heaven and joined its ranks as an angel.

Ninety years after her death, Clara fell to Earth, intent on saving a soul. While successful, killing an old god in self-defence barred her from returning to Heaven. Lost in the modern world, Clara was forced to seek unlikely allies to navigate through these uncertain times.

Four months later, Clara has settled in with Elizabeth, a young woman she saved shortly after descending to Earth. For a gal who had sworn off anything that hinted at normalcy, Clara learns that being average takes more effort than she suspected.

Alas, repercussions from choices made on that fateful mission have not been idle. Her enemies trigger a chain of events that force our fated femme fatale to act. Is Clara prepared to deal with the fallout? Will her allies come to her aid? Or must she stand on her own?

Before reading on, be sure to consider: Hunting things that go bump in the night is child’s play when compared to juggling relationships.

THE VAN HELSING IMPETUS

“While she failed at normal, she's still a force to be reckoned with.”

Clara Grey is a fallen angel, one who tried her hand at having a normal life. That experiment came to an abrupt end when werewolves kidnapped her gal. While victorious, tales from that fateful night became the stuff of legend. Now known as ‘the Valkyrie,’ she is a wanted fugitive.

She has been on the lam for months, using a nondescript persona to evade the authorities. All the while, Clara is tormented by voices from a goddess that she thought long dead.

Clara has never faced an enemy that can strike from the shadows, forcing her to align herself with the things she hunted in life. Even with an army at her back, does she have what it takes to defeat her foe?

Before reading on, be sure to consider: While she failed at normal, she's still a force to be reckoned with.

HIGH WATER MARK

“When humanity has been driven into the sea, what lurks above the waves?”

Anna is a humanoid mermaid who spends her days with the local timekeeper until a podmate comes to her with a proposal. They hatch a plan to head out into the watery ruins of humanity in search of lost technology and materials. For a young mermaid living in the dredges of society, the promise of riches from such a find is just too good to pass up.

Armed with nothing more than an old map and some rusty road signs to follow, they are soon reminded that adventure often brings forth more than its fair share of rough waters. Her friend gets captured, leaving Anna alone in a world where mermaids are nowhere near the top of the food chain.

Follow Anna as she makes landfall and learns why her ancestors abandoned the surface. Lost in a world that is perpetually covered in a thick fog, Anna must navigate through what remains above the high-water mark. What will she find? An ally? A foe? Or will she find nothing but death and destruction?

Before reading on, be sure to consider: With humanity driven into the sea, what lurks above the waves?

DARK HEARTS

“She may look like the Little Red Riding Hood, but she really is the wolf!”

Julia is a werewolf who turned against her pack and saved an innocent life. As a reward for her good deed, she ends up in prison, but thrives while others like her waste away.

On the eve of a full moon, an unknown benefactor arranges for Julia’s release. Faced with the prospect of returning to the city that nearly killed her, she opts to disappear into the surrounding woods.

This is the opportunity she needs to find herself and reconnect with the wild. As her past resurfaces, the supernatural and dark elements within humanity take notice of her.

Before reading on, be sure to consider: She may look like the Little Red Riding Hood, but she really is the wolf.

LICENCE

Broken Promises is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblances to reality are purely coincidental.

The text herein is copyrighted:

Broken Promises

Copyright © 2021 by

Evelyn Chartres (Nom de plume)

theportraitofawoman@gmail.com

All rights reserved.

Draft2Digital – Second Edition – ISBN 978-1-7774480-7-3

Cover art designed by Faera Lane

http://faylane.com

Table of Contents

Title_Page

ABOUT

FROM ASHES TO MAGIC

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION

BROKEN PROMISES

ABOUT EVELYN CHARTRES

ALSO, FROM EVELYN CHARTRES

THE PORTRAIT

THE GRAND

THE VAN HELSING PARADOX

THE VAN HELSING RESURGENCE

THE VAN HELSING INCURSION

THE VAN HELSING IMPETUS

HIGH WATER MARK

DARK HEARTS

LICENCE