by Traci Wilton
Bills paid, website updated, Charlene allowed her curiosity to wander and typed Alaric Mayar into her search bar to see if anything new had popped up about his death overnight. Nope . . . same as yesterday. His murderer still at large. Not a thing about Orpheus either.
Allan/Alaric wasn’t on any of the standard social media sites, or the second tier, suggesting he avoided an online presence.
And yet, he’d targeted Serenity. He’d needed a witch. She was reminded of a predator watching his prey from the shadows and waiting for the right victim before making a move.
She typed modern-day vampires into the search bar next and was appalled that there were really people living off of human blood. Worse somehow was that it was all consensual.
“What’s got you so agitated?” a male voice rumbled behind her.
Her stomach leaped into her throat and she whirled toward Jack. “Just a little light reading, that’s all.”
Jack studied the image of a scalpel. “Tools of my old trade.”
“Well, Dr. Strathmore, did you ever have someone ask you to cut them so they could feed another person?”
“No.” He started to read over her shoulder, drawn in by the gruesome subject matter. “A fleshy part of the body, so as not to scar. Odd. Who would do this?”
Charlene rubbed her queasy tummy. “Not me! I don’t even like to donate blood in the doctor’s office.”
“This is by far different.” Jack glanced at Charlene. “Is the feeding sexual?”
“Not for everybody.” Charlene couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. With her ghost. “They have communities of real vampires living together in houses or covens. They can eat garlic and regular food but supposedly need blood to be their best self.” Charlene scanned the rest of the article with trepidation. “They don’t sleep in coffins and can handle the light.”
“Not at all like the movies.”
“No.” She turned toward Jack. “Or what Alaric and Elisabeta had set up in their rental house.” Charlene recalled the coffin with a shudder. “Blood and coffins, Jack.”
He nodded sagely. “They were putting on a show.”
“Alaric believed he was a vampire, from all accounts so far.” Serenity and Elisabeta had been adamant. “Oh—I meant to tell you that Orpheus said Alaric’s symptoms were psychosomatic, brought on by his crazy mother. What do you think?”
“The human brain is capable of just about anything. If he’d convinced some part of his mind that his skin blistering in the sun was essential to his survival as a vampire?” Jack spread his arms to his sides. “I wouldn’t rule it out. There are Christians who believe in stigmata, the wounds of Christ appearing on the faithful.”
“Maybe Orpheus was jealous of that too. Alaric believed it as much as he could, as anybody could.”
“Did Alaric have pointy teeth?” Jack asked. “Do the ‘real’ vampires have fangs?”
“One of the articles I read said that a person could have dental pieces made to fit in their mouth if they wanted a custom set. Or you can buy plastic ones online.”
Jack smoothed his chin in contemplation. “I’d want my own set. I mean, if I was going to commit to the vampire persona. No cheap plastic.”
“I think Orpheus had his done permanently. Sam said he was going to check Alaric’s dental work at the morgue.”
Serenity would know for sure—she and Alaric had been plenty close enough, kissing and whispering on the sofa of the Hawthorne Hotel lobby.
“Jack, you’re a doctor . . . is there a medical reason for Alaric’s skin to blister in the sun?”
Jack’s image clarified and he tilted his head. “I never dealt with anything like that in my particular practice, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Here in Salem, it was the routine stuff like high blood pressure from too much butter with the lobster.”
“Let’s check.” Charlene motioned to the laptop. “Perhaps Alaric had a physical reason to believe himself a real vampire.”
She watched over Jack’s shoulder as he typed blistered skin into the search bar.
The results at first had everything to do with sunburns or accidental burns, but by the second page, she stepped back and pressed her hand to her stomach at the photos of people with blistered skin. A father and son. Cousins. “Oh no. How unfortunate!”
“Solar urticaria . . . this can be inherited, poor folks.” Jack sighed. “That would explain the message on his mother’s obituary. She found eternal release from the light that had plagued her.”
Charlene looked at Jack. “This is so sad. Does it hurt?”
“I don’t know. Let me do a little more research.”
She gave a half nod and another step backward.
“Any word from Sam?” Jack asked as he pulled up web pages.
“Nothing this morning. He’ll be in touch when he’s ready. Thanks for finding all of the waterways in Salem for me. Makes me think of pirates and bootlegging. I wish I could remember the name of the book Orpheus was reading.”
“This disease boggles the mind. Even with modern medicine, there are some things just out of a doctor’s reach.”
Charlene turned toward the kitchen to find her phone. “I’ll call Serenity about the vampire teeth before I forget.”
Jack didn’t look up. “Good luck.”
Charlene halted in the threshold. “I think I’ll go to Evergreen Bookstore. The book came from there. I can see what else they have on the subject while I have a free hour.” She and Minnie planned to take down all of the Halloween decorations to replace with fall foliage, but it could be done later.
Jack shot a grin over his shoulder at her. “What for? Gonna take up bootlegging? Rum smuggling?”
Charlene laughed at the idea of being a swashbuckling pirate like the one at the witch ball. “You never know. I liked being a Southern belle.”
“You can probably order the books online,” Jack said.
“I know. But I also want to talk to Lucas about that night, jog his memory to see if he remembers anything odd.”
Jack chuckled. “Now that is more believable. You’re a smart woman, Charlene Morris. Just be careful.”
“I will!”
Charlene dialed the Flints’ house but had to be content with leaving a message. She then drove to the bookstore. Lucas carried a lot of Salem memorabilia, as well as Wiccan nonfiction and fiction.
She walked inside and greeted him. “Hi, Lucas!”
There was a picture of Lucas and his wife Martine behind the register. A year ago they’d gone through some marital problems that seemed to have sorted themselves out, if their smiles were anything to go by.
“Charlene! How have you been since the ball? Stephanos and I hope you’ll judge again next year.”
She patted her heart. “Of course!”
“I’m so glad that we chose Aphrodite and the alien to win.” Lucas strolled around the long counter. “We may have created romance for them too—they were in to buy a few books on the area, holding hands and making moon-eyes at one another.”
Charlene clapped. “Wonderful! How’s your daughter? I meant to ask the other night but things got chaotic.”
“As well as can be expected. She’s on a new medication that she hates. Still, it could be worse.”
Charlene half-smiled in commiseration. “Listen, I had a few questions about Saturday night. Did you know Alaric at all?”
“The dead vampire?” He shook his head. “Never met him.”
“He moved to town two weeks ago and kept a low profile.” She asked casually, “Do you believe in vampires?”
Lucas did a double take to see if she was joking. “Do you?”
“I have an open mind,” Charlene said. “I’ve learned a lot since my move from Chicago, especially about the modern-day witches in Salem. So why not vampires? They have their own communities.”
“Well, when you put it like that . . . let’s just say I have never met an actual blood-sucking vampire with fangs.” He bared his t
eeth.
Charlene laughed and set her purse down on the glass counter. Shelves of books were all around the store. Tarot cards. Writing journals. It was an inviting shop and Lucas a knowledgeable bookseller.
“Me either—but according to Serenity Flint, Alaric believed himself to be a real vampire, not just dressing up as one for Halloween. It’s a lifestyle.”
“Hmm. I saw them dancing together right before he did his disappearing trick.”
The evening hadn’t gone according to plan. Charlene tilted her head, her elbow on the counter, showing she had time to chat.
“Were they a couple?” Lucas straightened a book on a shelf. “It’s hard to know these days.”
“Kind of—Serenity cared for him, very much. That’s why I’m asking around to see if you maybe noticed something off that night. An argument or an altercation.”
“Just the one Alaric had with Dru. Can’t believe the kid punched the guy.” Lucas sighed. “I saw Serenity and Dru last summer after Dru got the job at the Peabody. They exuded love and unity. You don’t think he had anything to do with it, do you?”
“Me?” She moved to a set of tall wooden shelves and scanned the titles. “No, no.” Sam might think differently so she changed the subject. “Hey, do you happen to have any books on Salem’s bootlegging days?”
Charlene hoped to visually match what she remembered of the cover on Orpheus’s bed to the book in the store since she couldn’t recall the title or author.
Lucas immediately turned to his left and a middle shelf with a book facing out. “We carry this nonfiction book by a local author. There are a few dryer pieces, but this is the one I recommend for sheer factual entertainment.”
She reached for a copy. “Salem Confidential: Secret Societies, Rum Smugglers, and Hidden Tunnels.”
“Catchy title, isn’t it? I know the author personally. Dr. Patrick Steel.” Lucas gestured to the stacks of three or four books behind five in stock. “He poured over those documents and books for fascinating details.”
Her mind put the waterways and tunnels together. “Are all of the tunnels open?”
“Goddess no.” Lucas grimaced. “Most are an accident waiting to happen. But the smuggling was a real deal. Lots of treasure from the seafaring days is kept right here in Salem.”
“Where?”
“The Peabody Essex Museum, of course. Did you know that it’s the oldest, longest running museum in the United States?”
“That’s a cool claim to fame.” Charlene brought the book to the counter, opening it to the first page of maps.
Lucas joined her to read the pages. “That’s the Derby Wharf there, with the lighthouse. And the old Derby tunnel.”
“Such a great view those old houses had, right on the water.”
“It used to be where the ships came in to unload their goods. Molasses was worth a bundle because it made rum.”
Salem’s inhabitants still liked their drinks. “I learned some of that on the history tour I took with Kass.” Charlene traced the familiar main streets with her finger. “Old Salem Hall. Hard to believe these streets were under water once.”
“Yep. Another place the boats were unloaded. I’m pretty sure there were tunnels there too.”
The area today was all filled in and paved. “Did the townspeople use the tunnels back then?”
Lucas waggled his brows. “From what I understand, some were secret passageways.”
She grinned. “Like the secret staircase in the House of the Seven Gables?”
“Salem Confidential probably touches on that too.” He tapped the open pages. “It’s a fun read on Salem’s secrets.”
“I’ll buy it, please. Guests at the B and B will love it. Too bad there are no tours of the tunnels.”
Lucas rung up the book and bagged it for her. “There was talk of making it into an attraction, but the city can’t afford it. The liability would be through the roof! First time a tourist tripped and fell, and sued? There go Salem’s coffers.”
Salem was all about the tourists to make up for the loss of the glory, and profit, of their ship trading days—and Lucas sat on the city council.
“You have a point.” Charlene held her bag. “You know the author, you say?”
“Patrick and I go way back. He had his first big signing here, before the town put the kibosh on the tunnel tours actually being underground.”
“Thanks, Lucas.” Charlene tried one more time to shake something free from his mind of the night. “You’re sure you didn’t notice anything odd right before the lights went out?”
“Nope. I mean, I kept waiting for him, Alaric, to pop back into the room to finish the trick, but he never did.” Lucas shrugged. “It’s sad.”
Had Alaric been dead already by then?
“I could have introduced you to Patrick at the ball—he was the pirate you almost voted for, but he’d already won before.”
“I loved his parrot.”
“And I’m sure you’ll love his book too.”
Charlene exited the bookstore feeling very confident that Patrick Steel would know secret tunnels and ways in and out, along with a wealth of information that might lead them straight to Alaric’s killer.
CHAPTER 13
Charlene took the book home, anxious to get started, but there was work to be done so it would be a treat for later. Her phone rang as she prepped for Tuesday afternoon’s happy hour.
“Hi, Charlene, it’s Serenity. Mom said you called this morning?”
Charlene put her earbuds in so that she could have her hands free and still talk. “I did.”
Serenity’s exhale held a tinge of annoyance. “Listen, I complained to Mom—four phone calls in two days? Right? But she explained that she asked you to help out so I don’t go to jail.”
Charlene bit her lip to keep from laughing. “That’s true.”
She snorted. “So. Ask away. Goddess forbid I spend time at the police station around actual criminals.”
Laughter bubbled but she kept it in. The Flint spirit in Serenity ran strong. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with Alaric’s death”—she hoped and prayed, but she’d been mistaken before—“and I owed your mom a favor or two.” Which was now paid in full. “I also care about you.”
Sigh. “Whatchya want to know? I’ve already told you everything. I haven’t seen Dru, either.”
That sounded very defensive, but Charlene stayed on course. “I was reading up on ‘real’ vampires. It seems that there are communities all over the world of people who drink or consume human blood.”
“Yeah. That grossed me out, but Alaric told me not to worry about it. His way was the old way, but together we would be strong enough to change whatever we wanted. I liked that modern idea.”
“See? That’s something you haven’t told me before.”
“I didn’t think it pertained.”
“It might not—but it’s an interesting point, growing away from the ancient toward modern views.” Change often scared others.
Was it a motive to kill?
“It’s why Alaric was glad to find out that I was a true witch, tracing my ancestry back to Armand Sheffield.”
“How did he find that out?”
“I don’t know. I probably told him.”
Charlene pushed aside the cabbage and ginger salad she’d been mixing and reached for her pen. “You are truly magically powerful, as he claimed to be . . . but he wasn’t really, was he?” She jotted that thought down on the kitchen tablet next to the fridge.
“He was . . . but it’s all so confusing. When I was with him, everything made sense.” Serenity blew out a breath, back to being annoyed.
Charlene set down the pen. “The article made me wonder if Alaric used his teeth to . . . drink blood.”
“Yuck. I never saw him do that. He never tried to do that with me. Just tasted my blood, that one time.”
“How was he going to turn you into a vampire, then?”
“The blood transfusion was g
oing to happen that night at two in the morning. Between me and Alaric. He wanted Elisabeta and another guy too, but I said no way.”
“Why two in the morning?”
“I read an astrological chart, and that was the most fortuitous time to raise the dead . . . which I double-checked with my spirit guides.”
Accepting that this was true came easier now than it had a year ago. “Did you ask your guides if you should do the spell or transfusion?”
“No.” Serenity spoke in a lower voice. “I knew the answer wouldn’t be positive.”
“I see.” Charlene leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. Serenity’d had a very close call of her own making. “Did Alaric have enlarged eyeteeth? From what I read online, some ‘real’ vampires have custom prosthetic fan—teeth.”
Serenity sucked in a breath. “I . . . I guess so. Not abnormal though.”
“Did you notice them the night of the ball?”
“Uh . . . yes. I thought they were sexy—part of his vampire persona as an immortal being.”
Alaric had been very sensual. Primal. “The spell cast . . .”
“A traveling through the cosmos spell. He was supposed to be waiting for me in his house. The stake wasn’t part of the plan that I knew of.” She sniffed. “I really do want to find out who killed Alaric—even if he was a fake.”
“Have you had a change of heart?”
She paused, then admitted, “My mind is clearer this morning than it has been.”
“That’s so good to know.”
“Yeah. I guess I was stupid to fall for him like that.”
“Not stupid. Don’t say that.” The oven timer went off for the first batch of egg rolls. “Thanks again for calling me back. Shoot me a text if you think of anything else?”
“I will. Bye.”
Charlene turned her phone off and got the egg rolls out of the oven.
Jack appeared at the kitchen table. “Those smell amazing. I don’t often miss food, but I like a good spring roll with wasabi. Well, I used to.”
“Ah, Jack. I don’t have wasabi. Will ginger do?”
“It’s fine.” He rotated the bowl on the table. “That slaw looks good too.”
“Serenity called. Alaric had fake teeth.”
