Wuthering Bites by Sarah Gray Read Free Book Online Page B

He had come to believe that the orphan lad could do no wrong, and he believed that the rest of the household was jealous. In his sickness, he became certain that because he liked Heathcliff, all hated him and longed to do him ill. In truth, the master’s favor did more harm to the boy than good. To have peace in the house, we all humored Heathcliff. That is never best for any child. Giving him what he demanded without question turned a gentle, grateful lad to a youth full of pride and black tempers. As expected, Heathcliff and Hindley clashed. Perhaps there was jealousy of the love Mr. Earnshaw showered on the foundling, but denied his own son. We’ll never know. But our peaceful home became a battleground as Hindley defied his father again and again, rousing the old man to fury. In a fit of rage, Mr. Earnshaw would seize his cane to strike Hindley, and his son would heap scorn on him, moving out of range of the ivory-handled weapon. More than once, we feared the master’s terrible wrath would be the death of young Earnshaw.
    It was a bad time for all. Two households of our small church were ravished by the bloodsuckers. The small son of the butler at Grievegate Hall, not fifteen miles from here, was sent to fetch cheese from their well house at twilight. Six years of age was all he possessed. The child had run the distance a thousand times, yet on that night, he was snatched up by a heartless vampire. When they found poor Georgie, he was as pale as clabber, and two great wounds gaped on his throat.”
    â€œThe child was dead?” I asked, horrified and fascinated in the same blink of an eye. “Murdered by vampires?”
    â€œWorse,” the woman hissed. “Shortly after his recovery, he was found sinking his teeth into pigeons. Then it was rats and larger animals. The family did all they could, but little Georgie was lost to the darkness. When he sucked a parlor maid dry and went for his little sister, his own father surrendered him to the authorities.”
    â€œTo be imprisoned?” I pleaded, although I knew what the penalty for murder was, even for a child.
    â€œNot that.” She shrugged her shrunken shoulders. “What else could be done? Once they get the taste of human blood, even a servant’s blood, they will hunt. And even a six-year-old vampire has the strength of three human men. Sadly, it is kill or be killed.”
    â€œSadly,” I echoed. Then raised my gaze to her again. “Go on.”
    At last, our curate, who taught the little Lintons and Earnshaws their numbers and letters, advised that Hindley should be sent away to college to be educated and to learn skills in fighting the vampires. All knew the threat would be greater as time passed, and this was becoming a necessary part of a young man’s education. Mr. Earnshaw agreed, though with a heavy spirit, for he said—
    â€˜Hindley will never succeed no matter how many schools we send him to. It isn’t in his nature to defend those who cannot defend themselves. He is my son and it shames me to utter such words,’ the old man muttered. ‘But Hindley will be nearly useless should the vampires sweep the moors and invade Wuthering Heights. He doesn’t have it in his soul in the manner that Heathcliff does,’ he insisted, rapping his stick. ‘Heathcliff is the one who will save our immortal souls in the end!’
    With the boy gone, I hoped heartily we would have peace. It hurt me to think the master would regret his own good deed by bringing the gypsy orphan home. And we might have got on tolerably, notwithstanding, but for two people, Miss Cathy and Joseph. You saw old Joseph, I dare say, up yonder. He was more religious in those days. He used the word of God to heap praise on his own head and flung curses on his neighbors.
    Mrs. Dean waggled her finger. “I was suspicious of him, even then. There was something about Joseph’s manners that smelled of the undead. The