Turning east on First Street, he spied a non-denominational church across the street from a one-story brick hospital. A single ambulance was parked in the lot. There were no other vehicles in sight. The Sheriff’s Department took up the end of the block next to the hospital. A single police car was parked on the street.
Carl made a U-Turn at the end of the block and drove west, crossing Main Street again. A gas station stood on the corner. A small, two-story hotel with a “Vacancy” sign out front was located across the street. Two vacant lots separated a drug store from the hotel.
A left turn at the end of First Street took him to the residential section. As expected, there was no activity outside. Every house had heavy curtains drawn against the noonday sun. No dogs barked. No kids played in the streets. There were no mailboxes. And no traffic.
After pulling over to the curb and putting his beat-up Dodge truck in Park, he picked up the small spiral-bound notebook and pencil lying on the passenger seat. Skipping past the first few pages, he wrote, “My informant’s info seems to be spot on. I’ve little doubt Susandale is home to a nest of vampires.”
He scanned the hastily scrawled notes on the first few pages. He had been in a seedy bar in New Jersey when he met Joey Cannon. The man had been middle-aged, but he’d looked old and worn out, as if someone had sucked most of the life out of him. As it turned out, that was pretty close to the truth. But he’d had a hell of a story to tell about a little town full of vampires and how he had barely escaped with his life.
Carl had retired from the news game over a year ago, but once a journalist, always a journalist, and Joey Cannon’s story begged to be told. So, he’d bought Joey a bottle of bonded bourbon and listened to a tale that seemed too far-fetched to be true, but something in the old drunk’s haunted eyes had sent Carl here, to this little town in the middle of nowhere, to uncover the truth.
Always a dangerous game, he thought, remembering the first time he had seen a vampire. It had been Ronan, though Carl hadn’t known who it was at the time. He had been in a town outside of Sacramento, sitting in a bar. He’d been more than a little drunk at the time and had slipped out the back door into the alley by mistake. He had come to an abrupt halt when he saw a tall, dark-haired man bending over a woman’s neck. At first, he’d thought he had interrupted a romantic encounter—until the man looked up, his eyes red as the fires of hell, his fangs dripping blood.
It was a sight never to be forgotten. Carl had run back into the bar and out the front door as fast as his legs would carry him and he hadn’t stopped running until he was back in his hotel room with the door locked and the windows closed.
Remembering that night, Overstreet wondered why on earth he was here, looking for another vampire. But what the hell? He wasn’t getting any younger and he didn’t have anything better to do.
Except get a late breakfast, he decided, when his stomach growled.
Turning the car around, he headed for Winona’s Café.
Chapter 6
Sara woke late after a long and restless night filled with nightmares that had seemed all too real. Her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep when she peered at the bedside clock. Ten-thirty! She shook her head as she threw back the covers and slid her legs over the edge of the mattress. She was late for work, she thought. Good thing she was the boss.
Rising, she pulled on her robe and padded into the living room to ask Travis what he wanted for breakfast. Only he wasn’t there.
And then she remembered why she had asked him to stay the night. How could she have forgotten the horrid creature that had attacked her? Had it really happened? In the bright light of day, with sunlight streaming through the window, it seemed impossible. Vampires were supposed to be legendary monsters. They weren’t supposed to be real.
But they were. She had seen one with her own eyes.
She wished Travis hadn’t left so early. She had questions. So many questions. Who better than a retired hunter to answer them?
Coffee, she thought, shuffling into the kitchen. She needed coffee and lots of it. She smiled when she saw the note on the refrigerator, held in place by one of her Star Wars magnets.
Hey, sleepy head: I’ll call you tonight.
Maybe we can take in a movie? Travis
She wondered where he’d gone. It was Saturday. He didn’t have a job. Had he gone looking for one? What kind of employment would appeal to a retired vampire hunter?
What he did was really none of her business, she thought. They had just met a few days ago, after all. He didn’t owe her any explanations.
She had just filled the coffee pot and was contemplating what to make for breakfast when, on the spur of the moment, she decided to walk to town and eat at the café. It was the only business that opened before noon. But first, she needed to call a repair service to pick up her car, though she didn’t know how she’d explain that a vampire had ripped the door off. The truth certainly didn’t seem like a good idea. They would probably haul her away instead of her car.
Sara had just ordered French toast, bacon, and orange juice when a heavy-set man wearing brown slacks and a tan sweater over a white dress shirt entered Winona’s Café. She’d seen so few men in town, she couldn’t help staring. She judged him to be in his late fifties. His hair was dark brown turning gray, his eyes pale brown behind thick glasses, his skin pale, as if he didn’t spend much time in the sun.
When his gaze met hers, he looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him. With a nod in her direction, he took the table across the aisle.
Sara acknowledged his greeting with a quick smile, then looked away.
A moment later, Winona came out from behind the counter to take his order. From what Sara had seen, Winona was not only the waitress, but also the cook and the dishwasher. She was a nice-looking woman, with curly brown hair and blue eyes, perhaps forty years old. Sara had tried on several occasions to engage the woman in conversation, but Winona didn’t seem inclined to make small talk. Not with Sara, and not with the new customer.
“She isn’t very friendly, is she?” the man remarked when the waitress returned to the kitchen. “Are all the people in this town like her?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met that many.”
“Hmm. Seems like a nice, quiet place.”
“It is that. So, what brings you here?”
“I’m a freelance writer.”
“Really? Well, if you’re after an exciting story, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.” Or had he? For a moment, she was tempted to tell him about last night’s incident, but quickly changed her mind.
“I hope not.” Rising, he crossed the aisle and extended his hand. “I’m Carl Overstreet.”
“Sara Winters.” His hand was cool, his grip firm.
“Pleased to meet you.” He shifted from one foot to the other, as if his feet hurt.
She hesitated a moment. Inviting strangers to share her table was becoming a habit, she thought. First Travis Black and now Mr. Overstreet. But then, deciding it would be nice to have someone to talk to, she said, “Won’t you join me?”
“Thanks.”
He lowered himself carefully onto the chair across from hers and blew out a sigh. “Hell to get old,” he said. “I don’t recommend it.”
“Did you come here to cover a specific story?” Sara asked, although she couldn’t imagine that anything worth reporting had ever happened in Susandale.
“I got a hot lead on something that might pan out.” He smiled at the waitress as she brought their orders.
Winona didn’t smile back. “Can I get either of you anything else?”
Sara shook her head. “Not for me.”
“I’m good,” Carl said. “Thanks.”
With a curt nod, Winona scuffed back to the kitchen.
“I don’t know how this place stays in business,” Sara remarked, spreading grape jelly on her French toast. “I’ve never seen more than one or two people in here at a time.”
“I’m no
t surprised,” Carl muttered, sprinkling salt and pepper on his eggs.
“Why do you say that?”
“What?” He looked up, as if unaware he’d spoken out loud.
“You said you’re not surprised more people don’t come in here.”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know. Small town. They probably don’t get a lot of tourists most of the year.”
“I guess so,” she agreed. Now that he’d mentioned it, there hadn’t been more than a few visitors since she’d been here. Still, the town was off the beaten path. “Would I have read anything you’ve written?”
“It’s possible. I wrote a series of articles on vampires a while back.”
“Vampires!” Good Lord. Should she tell him about what had happened last night? she wondered, then decided against it. Just because he wrote about such things didn’t mean he believed in them. Or did he? “You don’t think they’re real, do you?”
“I know they are.”
“You’ve seen one?”
“Two of them. I don’t recommend it.”
Sara thought again of telling him about the attack last night, but decided it was best not to mention it. She wanted to forget it had ever happened, not share it with a stranger, especially when he was a writer. All she needed was for him to write a story about it that might make its way into a newspaper back home. Her father would be out here to drag her back home before the ink dried.
“So, have you lived here long?” he asked.
“Just a few months.”
“What brought you here?”
“I’m trying to prove to my father that I can make it on my own.”
“Good luck with that,” he said with a wink. “Seen anything unusual since you’ve been here?” He added two teaspoons of sugar to his coffee.
Sara stared at him, her heart pounding. Once again, she wondered if she should tell him about the incident last night. No doubt he would believe her, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk about it, nor did she want to become part of whatever story he might be writing. “Not really.”
He nodded, but she had the distinct feeling that he knew she was hiding something.
They finished the rest of the meal in silence. Overstreet insisted on paying the check.
Rising, Sara offered her thanks, then left him sitting at the table, lingering over a second cup of coffee.
As soon as she got home, Sara booted up her computer and searched for his name. And sure enough, a national magazine had published a series of articles titled Vampires Among us—Truth or Fiction?
A link took her to the story.
“Vampires. The very word makes your flesh crawl … with terror or titillation, depending on your point of view.
Vampires have been a subject of fascination and horror for countless centuries. Every culture and civilization throughout the known world, both past and present, has their own myths and legends about vampires, be they skeletal creatures who feast on human blood or psychic vampires who prey on the energy of their victims, leaving them exhausted in both body and spirit.
Thanks to the creative imagination of Bram Stoker, Count Dracula is probably the most famous blood-sucker of all time …
Sara read avidly, fear and fascination growing stronger with every word.
So, what do we really know about these creatures of the night? Popular fiction says they sleep by day and hunt by night. They can’t be seen in mirrors, they are repelled by crosses, holy water and garlic. Some believe they must sleep in their coffins; others believe they must rest on the earth of their homeland. Some believe vampires are capable of flight, of transforming into bats or wolves and of changing their size and dimension. It is commonly believed that they are able to control animals and the weather and hypnotize mortals to do their will.
But did vampires ever truly exist? Do they exist now? Do vampires walk among us, unseen and unknown? Every year, hundreds of people disappear without a trace, never to be heard from or seen again. Are vampires responsible? During the next few months I’ll be traveling the country, digging deeper into the legend and mystique of vampires and other so-called creatures of the night.
The man definitely had a flare for the dramatic, Sara mused as she pulled up the last installment. She read through the lasts few paragraphs quickly until she came to the last few lines.
He said there had been vampires since the beginning of time. When questioned, he said he didn’t know where the first vampire had come from, though there were some who believed that Vlad the Impaler was the father of the Undead. Whoever the first vampire was, it’s believed that he made a deal with the Devil, trading his soul for immortality.
Our vampire said he had never turned another into a vampire, but that he knew how it was done. Indeed, he even offered to show me. You may be sure that I quickly declined.
At this point, he grew impatient and the interview was over.
As for me, I hope never to see him again.
As someone once said, “Ignorance is bliss.”
Oh, how I long to be ignorant again.
Chilled to the marrow of her bones, Sara sat back in her chair, thinking that ignorance was, indeed, bliss. Overstreet had written the most remarkable story since Dracula. After what she’d seen last night, she had no doubt at all that the man had indeed met a vampire face-to-face. Judging from what she’d read, she thought he was lucky to be alive. As was she, having recently encountered one of the creatures herself.
And then she frowned. Had Overstreet come here looking for another vampire? Maybe the one Travis had killed last night?
Travis listened with growing concern as Sara told him about her day.
“… met this man at the café this morning. At first, he just looked like some ordinary old guy, and since we were both alone, I asked him to sit with me. You won’t believe this, but he used to be a freelance journalist! When I asked him if he’d written anything I might have read, he told me he’d written a series of articles on vampires. I wouldn’t have believed a word of it if I hadn’t seen one with my own eyes.” She shuddered. “I hope I never see another one.”
“Yeah,” Travis muttered. “So do I.”
“Do you think he came here for another story about those creatures? Maybe he was going to do a series on the one you killed last night.”
“Maybe.” Travis shifted on the sofa, a horrible suspicion working its way into his mind. “Did you get the guy’s name?”
“Overstreet. Carl Overstreet. Have you ever heard of him?”
“I might have.” Travis grunted softly, his mind racing. Last he knew, Overstreet had retired. Now he was here, in Susandale. And Travis was afraid he knew why. Damn.
“Travis?”
“What?”
“I asked if you wanted anything.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“So?”
“I’m good.”
“You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”
“No.” He forced a smile he was far from feeling, careful to keep his fangs out of sight.
“You don’t think there are more vampires in town, do you?”
“I hope not.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. He hated having to lie to her, but he had no choice. It was either keep lying or stop seeing her. And that just wasn’t an option. He wanted to know her better, be a part of her life if only for a short time, even though he knew that it was highly unlikely. Still, he enjoyed being with her. Enjoyed pretending he was the same man he had once been.
“I know you said something about going out to a movie, but would you mind if we stayed in tonight?” Sara asked. After last night and reading about vampires today, she was in the mood to stay home.
“It’s all right with me.”
“We can watch a movie on Netflix.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’m in the mood for a comedy.”
After all she’d been through, he couldn’t blame her. She found a romantic comedy starring Cameron Diaz and Jude Law, then sat bes
ide him, her thigh brushing against his. But tonight his mind wasn’t on Sara. He was thinking about Overstreet, trying to decide whether to confront the man, or avoid him. A writer nosing around, one who knew the truth, could cause a lot of trouble. The last thing the town needed was for Overstreet to start sniffing around, alerting hunters. If Carl knew what was good for him, he’d get the hell out of Susandale before the wrong people discovered what he was up to.
Travis blew out a sigh. Maybe he should go have a talk with him. They had been casual friends not long ago. And if he couldn’t convince Overstreet to move on, what then?
Damn. Just when he’d thought his life was looking better, trouble came to town.
There were all kinds of trouble, he thought, running his fingers through the silk of Sara’s hair. She had fallen asleep with her head pillowed on his shoulder, one hand resting on his thigh. Her scent surrounded him, warm, womanly, desirable. His gaze moved to the curve of her cheek, down to the pulse throbbing slow and steady in the hollow of her throat. He wanted her. Needed her.
Unable to help himself, he ran his tongue along the side of her neck. Since that night on the dance floor, he had been yearning to taste her again. Just a small taste. What harm could it do? She need never know.
Despising himself for his weakness, he spoke to her mind, willing her to stay asleep until morning as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. After brushing her hair aside, he murmured “Forgive me,” and then he took what he so desperately craved.
She stirred in his arms, a soft moan escaping her lips.
Stricken with guilt, he lifted his head. He had to get out of here, now, before his hunger burned out of control.
Cradling her in his arms, he carried her into her room and tucked her into bed. He stood there a moment, gazing down at her, thinking how beautiful she was. How innocent.
How vulnerable.
“I’ll keep you safe from the monsters, Sara, I swear I will, no matter what the cost.”
Dark of the Moon Page 4
