Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella (131 page)

The evening was warm and the front door was open.

Outside, children played in the cul-de-sac, laughing and sometimes shouting. I heard the rattle of bikes and skateboards and scooters. Not surprisingly, I didn’t hear my own kids.

These days, they stayed in with me. Somehow, some way, we had grown closer, and for that, I was pleasantly surprised. My life had gotten easier, too. Feigning eating or stomach aches and avoiding mirrors had been more stressful than I realized. Now, such worries—at least around my kids—were gone.

Thank God.

Yes, they still had many questions: What did I eat? How often do I eat? Did I kill people? How strong was I? Could I kick Daddy’s ass? Could I fly? And so on.

I answered the ones that were age-appropriate, although I suspected my own daughter could look far deeper into me than anyone else ever could.

Dammit.

No secrets,
I thought.

School was nearly out. The kids in the neighborhood were ready for summer. Everyone but my kids were ready. They were, at this very moment, playing a game of chess together since they had once again lost their TV, video games, computer games, iPod, iPad, Kindle, Nook, laptop, PS3, and phone privileges. Every now and then Anthony would yell that she was reading his mind and call out my name, in which I would shout back for Tammy to quit reading her brother’s mind.

Normal stuff.

Now, as I was folding laundry and watching the tail end of a new cable show called
Vampire Love Story
about, of all things, MMA fighters who happened to be vampires, a car pulled up in the cul-de-sac. I looked out the window. I didn’t know the car, but I sure as hell knew the tall figure who emerged.

It was Fang.

Chapter Forty-seven

We were sitting on my porch, legs and shoulders touching.

I didn’t mind touching Fang. I’d always liked Fang, and even now, I considered him one of my very best friends. What he thought about me, I didn’t know. Especially not now, not with his mind closed to me.

He had asked if we could talk alone. And with both kids home,
alone
meant sitting outside.

“
You’re looking lovely as always, Moon Dance,” he said.

“
Why thank you, Fang,” I said.

I couldn’t say the same for him. Unsurprisingly, he looked gaunt and pale. Unhealthy, at best. It was unusual for him, as he had always appeared the picture of health and vitality. He’d always been a good-looking guy, even back when I knew him only as my bartender.

Now, I found him sickly-looking. His once-handsome face was now skull-like. His cheeks sunken. Eyes dark hollows. Skin waxy. He was, I suspected, a living corpse. No doubt he was very much in need of a feeding.

“
You look, um, well,” I said.

He chuckled. “Bullshit. I still haven’t had my first feeding, and I’ve only now recovered enough to function.”

I motioned to the Cadillac, where Detective Hanner sat quietly. “I assume she will provide you with your first feeding.”

“
You assume correctly. We’re heading to her place now, and then...elsewhere.”

I snapped my head around. “Where?”

“I don’t know yet. But somewhere not close.”

“
Why?”

Fang looked down at his hands, which he was opening and closing as if he was getting used to his body all over again. Or perhaps the thing inside him was getting used to Fang’s body.

I shuddered.

“
She’s going to teach me, Sam.”

“
Teach you what?”

“
The one thing you were never taught, what you struggled with daily. What I did my best to help you understand.” He looked at me. “She’s going to teach me how to be a vampire. Her and others like her.”

“
What is this place?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t tell me much. But it appears to be a sort of coven of vampires.”

Coven of vampires?
I reached out and took his cold hand. Jesus, is that what I felt like?

“
She’s going to teach you to kill, Fang.”

He said nothing, although he did squeeze my hand back.

“She’s going to teach you to kill innocent people. How to manipulate them, hurt them, take from them. She’s going to teach you how to use them.”

“
I owe her everything, Moon Dance,” he said, and now released my hand. “I owe her my life.”

“
No, you don’t.”

He moved away from me, just a few inches, but it might as well have been a few hundred feet. “She gave me the one thing that you wouldn’t.”

“I never denied you, Fang. I still needed to think about it. It wasn’t an easy choice.”

“
For her, it was.”

“
Because she’s using you, Fang. She’s going to train you to be a killer. To kill for her. For them. Don’t let them use you.”

“
They gave me everything I ever wanted—something you never would.”

“
But that doesn’t mean you have to kill for them.”

“
They never said anything about killing, Moon Dance. They only want to help me, to teach me, to help me adjust.”

“
For what purpose, Fang?”

“
I’ll worry about that later, Moon Dance.”

We were quiet. Sitting in the driver’s seat was Detective Hanner. Her head was back. She appeared to be sleeping, but I suspected she was watching us. Indeed, every now and then I could detect a slight glow from her eyes. The flame within.

“I loved you, Moon Dance.”

“
Loved?” I said, wincing at the past tense.

“
Yes,
loved
. But you didn’t return my love. Not really. But most important, you didn’t trust me. You feared me on some level. And you denied me the one thing I wanted most in this world.”

“
Exactly,” I said. “So, how could I know if your love for me was real, or an infatuation?”

He turned his head and looked at me sharply. I saw the deep pain, but I also saw something else. Deep resentment. “You knew, Sam. You knew better than anyone how I felt about you.”

And with that, he stood. He was about to walk away when he paused and, without looking at me, said, “Goodbye, Moon Dance.”

He was about to leave when I reached out and grabbed his cold hand. “Wait.”

He waited, still not looking at me.

I held his hand, which hung limp in my own. I debated on how much to say, what to say, and in the end, I could only say, “Goodbye, Fang.”

He stood there for a second or two, then released my hand.

And left.

The End

Samantha Moon returns in:

Moon Island

Return to the Table of Contents

MOON ISLAND

by

J.R. RAIN

Vampire for Hire #7

Moon Island

Published by J.R. Rain

Copyright © 2012 by J.R. Rain

All rights reserved.

Dedication

Dedicated to all the loving parents.

Acknowledgments

A special thank you to Sandy Johnston, Eve Paludan and Elaine Babich. My first readers and editors who do such a bang-up job.

Moon Island

“
There, on our favorite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white...something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell.”

—
Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Chapter One

“
Someone killed my grandfather,” said the young lady sitting in my office, “and Detective Sherbet thinks you can help me.”

“
I pay Detective Sherbet to say that. In donuts, of course. But not the pink ones. He has something against the pink ones.”

The young girl, who was maybe twenty-five, grinned and almost clapped. “He was eating a donut when I met with him!”

“No surprise there. He’s a good man.”

She nodded, still grinning. A very big grin. “I got that impression, except he said there was nothing he could do for me, since my grandfather’s death was ruled an accident.”

“Nothing he could do,” I said, “except recommend me.”

“
Yes. He said I could trust you and that you would probably help, depending on your caseload.”

I looked down at my desktop calendar. My mostly empty calendar. There was an appointment in three days to meet with Tammy’s teacher...and that was it. The 15th was circled, which indicated that I was due a child support payment from Danny. I wasn’t holding my breath—and if I had, well, I could hold it for a very long time. So far, in seven months, Danny had given me precisely one payment, and that was because I had physically hauled his ass to the bank.

“I think I can fit you in,” I said. “Tell me why you think someone would want to kill your grandfather?”

“
Well, I don’t know.”

“
But you think his death is suspicious.”

“
Well, yes.”

“
When did he die?”

“
A year ago.”

“
His death was ruled an accident?” I asked, making notes on a notepad in front of me.

“
Yes.”

“
How did your grandfather pass away, if I may ask?”

“
He was found dead in his pool.”

“
I’m sorry to hear that.”

The young lady nodded. She reminded me of myself. Short, petite, curvy, dark hair. And unless she drank blood and hung out with other creatures of the night, that’s where the resemblance ended. Her name was Tara Thurman. I seemed to have heard her name from somewhere, although I couldn’t place it now.

“Where did your grandfather live?” I asked.

“
On an island.”

“
An island?”

“
Yes.”

“
Catalina?” I asked, which was really the only habitable island off the coast of southern California.

“
No. It’s in Washington State.”

“
I didn’t know there were islands in Washington.”

“
There are dozens of them.”

I nodded, and wondered if I had ever actually looked at a map of Washington. I didn’t think so. Then again, geography was never my strong suit. Catching bad guys, now, that was a different story entirely.

“Lots of people live on the islands,” she went on. “Except for my grandfather’s island.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
It’s a private island. His is the only house, along with a few guest bungalows.”

I thought it was time for that map. I asked her to step around my desk and show me on Google Earth where he lived. She did, leaning in next to me, smelling of perfume that I didn’t recognize. She had me scroll above Seattle and—son of a bitch—there were various chains of islands scattered up there. No doubt the last Ice Age had had something to do with that, but I knew as much about ice ages as I did about maps of Washington State.

Next, she took over control of the mouse and positioned it over a speck of land above an island called Whidbey, and near another island called Lopez Island.

“
I don’t see it,” I said.

“
Hang on.” She magnified the page and soon, the very small speck of land became much bigger than a speck. As it took shape, the name of the island appeared on the screen.

I looked at Tara. “You’re kidding.”

“About the name? No, that’s what it’s called.”

“
Skull Island?”

“
Yes. I kinda like it. I used to love going there as a kid, especially telling my friends that my grandfather lived on an island called ‘Skull Island.’”

“
Why is it called Skull Island?”

“
There was a shipwreck there a hundred or so years ago. One person died, I think. Not to mention we’ve unearthed a Native American burial ground. The island, I think, must have been the scene of a horrendous battle. My family has found dozens of graves.”

“
Sounds...creepy.”

“
I guess so,” said Tara. “But my grandfather’s home is on the other side of the island.”

“
Not on an Indian burial ground, I hope.”

“
No,” she said, smiling oddly. She seemed to smile at me oddly, and often. A big smile that seemed to painfully stretch her lips. “But we do have the family mausoleum nearby.”

“
Excuse me?” I asked.

“
The family mausoleum. The island has been in my family for nearly a century, and, well, we’re all buried in the mausoleum.”

“
I see,” I said, although I wasn’t certain I did. Private islands and family mausoleums reeked of a lot of money. If I wasn’t so scrupulous, my daily rates might have just increased.

Damn morals.

Tara slipped back to her seat across from my desk. As she did so, I studied her aura. It had bright yellows and greens, mixed with a pulsating thread of darkness that could have been anything. I suspected that it indicated grief.

I said, “You loved your grandfather.”

She nodded and looked away. She tried to speak but instead tears suddenly burst from her eyes. I snapped out a tissue from the box on my desk, and handed it to her. She dabbed her eyes and looked away. Finally, when she’d gotten control of herself, she said, “Yes. He was so much more than a grandfather, you know? My best friend. Always there for me.”

As she spoke, the dark threads of vapor that wound through her aura bulged slightly, expanding, engorging. Her grief, I suspected, ran deep.

“Do you live in Southern California?” I asked.

“
Yes.”

“
Have you spoken to the police in Washington State?”

“
No. Not yet.”

“
Why not use a private eye in Washington State?”

“
Because Detective Sherbet recommended you.”

“
How do you know Sherbet?”

“
He’s a friend of a friend. I was told he was someone who could help.”

I nodded. Something about her story wasn’t jiving. And perhaps more interesting, my inner alarm began to gently ring just inside my ear. I said, “Why do you think someone killed your grandfather?”

“Because he was very rich.”

“
That’s a reason,” I said. “But that’s not enough for me to take this case and to take your money. Who was there when he died?”

“
We were all there.”

“
Who’s we?”

“
The entire family. We use his house and island for our annual reunion.”

“
You said he died a year ago.”

“
Right,” she said, nodding. “It’s coming up again. The family reunion. This weekend, in fact. And I want you to come with me.”

Chapter Two

My sister and I were jogging along the boardwalk at Huntington Beach. It was midday, Saturday. My kids and her kids were with her husband at Disneyland. I wondered what her husband did to deserve such cruel and unusual punishment. I said as much to Mary Lou.

“Oh, he loves it. He’s a big kid himself, you know.”

“
Does your husband know about me?” I asked suddenly.

Mary Lou shot me a quick look. We were both dressed in workout pants and tank tops. We both
swished
as we ran. Mary Lou’s expansive upper half bounced furiously, despite her tight sports bra. Her crazily bouncing chest reminded me of two cats trying to escape a paper bag.

“
Of course not,” she said. “I haven’t told anyone.”

I nodded and frowned. I had gotten a sudden hit of her husband isolating my kids to ask them questions about me. Then again,
you
try living with a secret that could ruin you and see how suspicious you might become. A husband taking not only his own kids—but mine as well—raised some questions.

“
Does he suspect anything?” I asked.

“
No.”

“
Has he ever mentioned me?”

“
Mentioned you how?”

“
In a way that might make it seem like he was digging for information.”

“
Nothing that I can remember. C’mon, Sam. He’s just doing something nice for us so that we can spend the day together. It’s been so long since we could just be sisters and nothing more. And now we can spend
days
together. Glorious days. Not just nights. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

But there was something here. Unfortunately, I couldn’t read family members, although I could read their auras. I felt guilty as hell searching my own sister’s aura to see if she was telling me the truth, but that’s exactly what I did as we spoke. The verdict: I
thought
she was telling me the truth. Something suspicious had passed through her aura as she answered my questions. A ripple of sorts. What that ripple meant, I didn’t know. Reading auras was still new to me. Having psychic abilities was still new to me. Being a blood-sucking fiend...not so new to me.

I let it go. For now.

Mary Lou and I continued along the boardwalk at a steady clip. She was huffing and puffing. I don’t huff or puff, although Kingsley might blow your house down. The big bad wolf that he was. Granted, I was much weaker during the day, but not so weak that I would need to stop jogging.

It was late spring and the days were growing warmer, but not so much by the beach. Mary Lou and I didn’t live by the beach. We lived about ten miles inland. So a trip to the beach took planning and driving. Therefore, we planned and we drove. I probably would have preferred to sleep—okay, I most definitely would have preferred to sleep—but I could tell my sister needed some Sam time.

Hey, I was nothing if not an awesome sister.

Now Mary Lou’s boobs seemed to be the main attraction on the beach. One guy stared at them for so long that he just missed running into a trash can. Mary Lou and I giggled.

These days, I could continue jogging into infinity. I was pretty sure my body didn’t need to jog, that I didn’t need exercise. I was pretty sure my body was a self-sustaining machine. But jogging felt...normal. It reminded me that I wasn’t very far removed from the human species. I mean, I still looked human. I mostly acted human.

Mostly.

I am human,
I thought.
Just...different.

Yeah, different.

As we jogged, I told Mary Lou about my business trip this weekend, and that I would need her to watch the kids for a few days.

“
They have islands in Washington?” she asked.

“
That’s the rumor.”

“
Sounds far,” she said. “And cold.”

“
I think you and I need to buy an atlas. Or get out more.”

She waved her hand at the sunny beaches. “And leave this? No thanks. Tell me about your case.”

I did, easily and smoothly—and never sounded winded. Speaking as if I were sitting across from my sister at a Starbucks. Sipping water, of course. Always water.

When I finished, Mary Lou said, “Sounds dangerous. I mean, there might be a killer among them.”

“Or not,” I said. “My client could be delusional. The police already ruled it an accident.”

“
The island is isolated, right?”

I thought about that, nodding. “I think so, yeah. There’s a ferry service to the island, I think.”

“So, if it was isolated, perhaps the evidence had been well tampered with far before the police could come out.”