Mercy's Danger: Montgomery's Vampires Trilogy (Book #2) (Montgomery's Vampires Series) (26 page)

I’d done some embarrassing things in my lifetime, but dating Mathew just might have been number one. Like residual trauma leftover from a bad perm, every time I thought of him I couldn’t help asking myself:
What had I been thinking?
I could only hope that he’d go away for good after I’d commandeered Robert’s fangs, but I wasn’t optimistic on that front. Mathew had the tenacity of a tick.

As I arrived at Lakeside Plaza, I was once again reminded just how silly it was of me to wish for a positive outcome in any situation that involved Mathew. My first indication that something was amiss was the group of shoppers gathered around the fountain. My initial assumption, of course, was that Mathew had gotten a head start on his meltdown. But how wrong I was.

I knew it was Mathew, and that he was dead, before I saw all of him. I knew this because of the sneakers, which were motionless and pointed skyward, and the only things I could see through the crowd. Mathew had worn the same brand for as long as I’d known him. While the style and stripes always remained the same, the color was ever changing. His feet were clad in tan suede today, though they were and stained red by the violence that had been inflicted upon him.

I instantly felt bad for having so many evil thoughts about Mathew during my drive over to meet him. It was no great secret that the love I’d felt for him had run out a very long time ago. That didn’t mean, however, that I’d wanted him dead.

Imagining how Mathew’s death would affect his mother and sister was what made me saddest of all. Mathew had been an absolutely terrible boyfriend—really, there was no denying it—but he’d always been good to his family. His father had passed away when he was very young, so Mathew stepped up to take care of his family. He’d become the man of the house at an age when most kids were preoccupied with little league tryouts and dance recitals, which I’d always respected him for.

I elbowed my way through the slack-jawed ghouls who were taking videos on their cellphones and gaping at Mathew’s body like it was a Rembrandt up for auction. Disgusting excuses for human beings, every single one of them. What if it was
their
deceased son on the ground?

I’d always found people who took videos of crime scenes perplexing. What exactly did they do with the footage—save it for occasions when they felt particularly nostalgic for that time they witnessed a murder? Human behavior exasperated me on so many levels, which was yet another reason why my boyfriend and best friend were vampires. Living people didn’t seem to
get
me. And I was okay with that, since I didn’t get them much, either.

For an insane moment I wondered if Mathew had committed suicide to get back at me. Maybe he’d taken a handful of pills, timing it perfectly so he’d keel over at my feet as I made my approach. His plan might have even worked, had he not been foiled by my tardiness. The theory was ludicrous, of course, because of the river of blood surrounding Mathew’s body.

I didn’t think Mathew had been in an accident, either. Accidents usually didn’t summon a motorcade of police officers and crime scene investigators. And there were plenty here. Whatever crime had been committed, it had evidently happened very recently.

It was awful, but I couldn’t help thinking about how fortunate it was that I’d showed at the fountain ten minutes late. I’d actually arrived at the plaza
on time
, but had needed to circle the lot twice before I could find a spot close to the fountain. No way was I going to risk having Mathew screaming after me as I walked half a mile to my car. Guess my worry had been unnecessary, considering.

I tried getting the attention of an officer, who ignored me at first, dismissing me as one of the rubbernecking ghouls. After I explained who I was and why I was there, however, he was suddenly mighty interested in getting to know me.

The officer ducked under the caution tape, leading me away from the crime scene and over to a bench a few yards away. The bench’s thin metal slats, chilled from the costal air, bit painfully at my skin through my sweatpants as I took a seat. I was wishing that I’d dressed better, as if my disheveled appearance somehow implicated me of wrongdoing, which was absurd. I waited for the officer to start with the questions. Perhaps I was getting wiser with age, or maybe I’d witnessed enough crime that I knew the drill, but I realized that nervously yammering on and on would be the fastest way to incriminate myself.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

Thanks to my family and dear friends who have kept me from straying too far off the path during this topsy-turvy journey: Mom, Amanda Caudwell, M-2 and D-2, Jeralyn Pribyl, Sean McGill, Ashley Chase, and Brandon Marlan.

And a huge thanks to all you lovely readers for taking an interest in Mercy Montgomery. I hope you love reading about her life as much as I enjoy creating it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sloan Archer has been writing fiction since childhood; her first works were dark short stories inspired by howling coyotes on her family's farm, penned while Sloan was in grammar school. When Sloan isn't creating novels, she enjoys world travel, painting, and live music. She resides in Los Angele
s
.

WHERE TO FIND SLOAN:

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/SloanArcher

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SloanArcher

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SloanArcherWriter