Midnight Cravings

by Joelle Sterling

  “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig. I’m really sorry, miss, but I can’t put you in my nice, clean truck. You understand, don’t you?”

  The girl opened her eyes questioningly. “Where’re you gonna put me?”

  Walter swiped his thick tongue across her forehead, lapping up a good amount of thick, bright red blood.

  “Stop! What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?” the girl shrieked.

  “Mmm-umph! That’s the taste I’ve been hankering for,” he said, nodding and licking his lips.

  “Let me go, you lunatic!” With terror and rage in her eyes, she squirmed inside Walter’s brawny arms, but Walter held her close, his grasp as firm as iron.

  The girl screamed and writhed, but Walter seemed to not hear her. He kept on lapping up blood, running his tongue along her cheek and across the bridge of her nose. Not wanting to miss a drop, he went so far as to dip the tip of his tongue into the corner of her eye where a small amount of blood had pooled. “You got a sweet taste to yourself; and I can tell that you’re gonna make for some real good eating!”

  “Help!” The girl kicked out her good leg, and flailed her arms, trying to propel herself out of Walter’s grasp. He loosened one arm and opened the back of the aluminum trailer. The two pigs were squealing like crazy, upset from all the commotion.

  “In you go,” Walter said in cheerful tone as he tossed the maimed girl into the trailer with the pigs.

  Back behind the wheel, the taste of the girl’s blood still on his tongue, Walter trembled in anticipation. The slaughterhouse was only ten miles away, but he was of a mind to pull over, crawl into the trailer, rip off the girl’s clothes, and commence to eating.

  CHAPTER 24

  Jonas had his hand on the doorknob to the closet, and was tempted to open it. Exposing Zac to the deadly rays of the sun would put an end to the threat he posed to Holland.

  But Zac was only part of the problem. Jonas needed backup to protect Holland from the swarm of vampires that prowled in the murky shadows.

  It was odd that they had never posed a threat to Holland before. What had prevented the other vampires from attacking her long before Jonas and Zac had risen from the ground? Puzzled, Jonas turned away from the closet and paced the floor. He was too wound up and anxious to sleep. There was no time to waste. He had approximately ten hours to put together a plan before Zac awakened and began probing his mind again.

  The first thing Holland did when she opened her eyes was reach for her phone to check her messages. There were two texts from Naomi, but nothing from Jonas. She didn’t actually expect to hear from him so soon, but it would be a nice surprise.

  Jonas had said that getting to a phone wouldn’t be easy. Not wanting to risk missing his call, she stuck her phone in the pocket of her PJs and took it into the bathroom.

  After her morning ritual of brushing her teeth for three minutes and then splashing her face with cold water, she trotted down the hallway.

  The house was awfully quiet, which was weird. Normally, Phoebe was in the kitchen clattering pots and pans as she concocted a love potion or other spells.

  “Mom!” she called, tapping on her mother’s bedroom door.

  “Come in, honey.” Phoebe’s voice was faint; she hardly sounded like herself.

  When Holland opened the door, she was surprised to find her mother buried under the covers. Her laptop, which was the lifeline to her witchcraft business, was on the bed next to Phoebe, but the lid was closed.

  “What’s wrong, Mom. Are you sick?”

  “A little under the weather. I’ll live; it’s nothing major.”

  “What are your symptoms?” Holland asked. Acting like the parent, she touched her mother’s forehead with the back of her hand. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

  “I’m feeling a little lightheaded. The room actually started spinning when I tried to get out of bed.”

  “Really? You’re scaring me, Mom. You never get sick.”

  “I’m not sick. Just a little woozy.”

  “You said you felt woozy last night while that Zac dude was here. What’s going on with you? Have you been blacking out . . . having fainting spells?”

  “No. All I need is a little bed rest and I’ll be fine.”

  “You may have picked up an infection from those mosquito bites.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Let me have a look.” Holland gently peeled back the adhesive and let out a little yelp when she saw the discolored, swollen skin surrounding three sets of punctures on her mother’s neck.

  “Oh, my God, Mom! Those wounds look serious . . . not like mosquito bites at all. It looks like you’ve been bitten by something with fangs. Like a rat or something. Maybe a bat! I really think you should see a doctor.”

  “Don’t be silly, Holland. I don’t trust doctors. I’m going to mix up a balm that will heal those bites and I’ll be good as new.”

  Holland knew it was pointless to try and talk her mother into seeing a doctor. Her mother hated doctors; she blamed them for misdiagnosing Holland’s dad—treating him for appendicitis when he actually had pancreatic cancer.

  “Are you hungry? Want some breakfast?” Holland asked, wanting to do something for her mother.

  “No, my stomach’s a little queasy. Just a cup of tea.”

  “Okay. I’ll fix you lunch this afternoon. Hopefully, you’ll have an appetite by then.”

  In the kitchen cabinet, Holland sorted through Phoebe’s vast assortment of tea and selected a lemon and orange spice mixture. Her mind was completely off of Jonas and totally focused on the weird wounds on her mother’s neck. Something had certainly bit her mother, but it sure wasn’t any mosquito.

  Do we have rats? Holland wondered, grimacing at the terrible thought. Some of the money that her mother had gotten from selling her car would have to go toward pest control. Holland planned to call around and get some estimates.

  Their money situation was getting critical. It was obvious that Phoebe’s witchcraft wasn’t going to pay the bills, and the money from selling the car was only a temporary fix to their financial woes. Holland babysat from time to time, but the money she earned was only chump change—enough for personal items. If she planned to help with the bills, she’d need a real job and a dependable income.

  Naomi and Holland walked to the mall together. Naomi chatted endlessly about her new obsession, fashion and makeup, while Holland was quiet and pensive.

  “What’s your preference—working in retail or fast food?” Naomi inquired.

  “Doesn’t matter; I’m not picky.”

  “You’ll have fewer encounters with Chaela if you work in a fast food joint. She’s too worried about her figure to munch on burgers and fries.”

  “Chaela is the least of my worries.”

  “Chaela and the rest of the bitch squad are retail junkies, and there’s no way to avoid her unless you get a job selling appliances or cleaning products. I mean . . . anything that has to do with housework would be taboo to a girl like Chaela. She might break a nail or something, you know what I mean?” Naomi giggled.

  “I don’t care if I bump into Chaela. She has what she wanted—she got Jarrett back. There’s nothing I can do except move on. And by the way, I have moved on.”

  Naomi grinned with excitement. “Moved on with whom? You should consider starting a romance with one of Jarrett’s football buddies. That would be the perfect way to get even with him!”

  “I don’t want anything to do with Jarrett’s crowd. My new friend isn’t from around here. He’s Haitian.”

  “Whaaat? How come I’m just hearing about your new man?”

  “He’s not exactly my man. Not officially. There’s definitely an attraction, but we’re just friends.” Holland pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Look, it’s complicated. We’re trying the long distance thing. Phone calls and emails . . . you know,” she said with a sheepish smile.

  “No, I don’t know. I’ve never had a long distance relationship or any
other kind. You can’t spring this kind of news on me without providing details, Holland. When, where, and how did you meet this boy? And as your best friend, I’m insulted that you’re just getting around to telling me.”

  “His family sent him here from Haiti to go to school, but he’s having some sort of difficulty with finances . . . maybe his citizenship. I don’t know all the particulars. I’ve only known him for a short while. But I do know that whatever’s going on between us is really intense.”

  “You hooked up with a Haitian guy after Jarrett Sloan? Hmmm. Kinda strange, even for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You went from a blond-haired Nordic type to a guy from Haiti. I’m surprised. I’ve never known you to go for black guys. I’m just saying . . .”

  “You’re trying to psychoanalyze me, but there’s nothing going on in my head except I discovered that I prefer a decent human being over a self-absorbed prick.”

  “Okay, I get it. No reason to go off on a tangent.” Naomi rolled her eyes in exasperation. “So does the new boyfriend have a name?”

  Holland’s expression brightened. “His name is Jonas, but he’s not my boyfriend. Not yet.”

  “Well, thanks for finally putting me—your best friend—in the loop,” Naomi said, pouting.

  “He’s going to Miami for awhile. I have to wait and see how things go before I start putting labels on our friendship.”

  “So, tell me about him. Does he have a heavy accent? Is he cute?” Naomi inquired, pasting on a big smile that expressed her forgiveness.

  Holland’s expression brightened. “Ohmigod, his accent is so sexy. His English is excellent, though. And he’s gorgeous! His complexion is . . . it’s like a red clay brown. He has this killer combination of sculpted, high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Thick eyebrows and dreamy, dark brown eyes. I could stare into his eyes forever. And his lips . . .” Holland’s eyes rolled upward as she was close to swooning. “His lips are soft. Plump. Succulent.”

  “You kissed him?”

  Smiling dreamily, Holland nodded. “His kiss tops Jarrett’s. I mean . . . there’s no comparison, really. The chemistry between us is crazy. I’m crazy about him, Naomi,” Holland confessed, blushing.

  “I’m still trying to get over the interracial aspect. I never knew you were into black guys—you know, besides a celebrity—someone like Drake.”

  “Jarrett has been my major crush, but I’ve had others. And I don’t base my crushes on color!”

  “Who else have you been crushing on? I mean, which black guys, specifically. I can’t believe you’re so secretive.”

  “It doesn’t matter. My former love interests are all in the past now. But I don’t choose anyone based on color. You’re my best friend and you, of all people, should know that about me.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have made it a black or white thing. But I am a little concerned.”

  “About what?”

  “A few weeks ago you were all broken up over Jarrett. You were devastated! Now you’re head over heels for some guy you barely know. I don’t want to see you hurt again, Holland. Whatever’s going on between you and that Haitian dude is an end-of-summer fling. Summer romances are typically doomed from the start.”

  “I’ll keep your advice in mind,” Holland said in a tone that indicated the discussion was over. She realized that Naomi had her best interests at heart, but what did Naomi know about relationships? Nothing!

  “I’m gonna hit Wal-Mart first. I heard they’re hiring,” Holland said, steering Naomi toward the entrance of the store.

  “While you’re filling out the application, I’ll go browse the beauty products.”

  “You have a giant tub filled with makeup that you never wear. What else do you need?” Holland asked, shaking her head.

  Naomi shrugged. “I’m a hopeless junkie. See you in twenty minutes.”

  Sitting in front of the computer, Holland began keying in her personal information. Having held only babysitting jobs, she skipped past the work history section, hoping her lack of experience wouldn’t be held against her.

  Her phone jangled, and she groped inside her purse. The number on the screen was a shock. It was the number of the hotel where Jonas had been staying.

  “Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

  “It’s Jonas. How are you, Holland?”

  “I’m fine. Are you still in town? I thought you were catching an early morning bus to Miami.”

  “There’s been a change of plans. I’m not going to Miami—at least not for a while.” He sounded down in the dumps.

  “What happened? Why didn’t you go?”

  “A couple of problems that I have to work out.” Jonas didn’t seem to want to talk about what had detained him, and so Holland let it go.

  “I need to talk to you. It’s pretty serious. Can we meet somewhere?”

  “Sure. I’m at the mall filling out job applications. But you can stop by my house at, uh . . . around two?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure about coming to your house.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to risk anyone overhearing what I have to tell you. Do you mind meeting me at the park?”

  “Not a problem. See you at our favorite spot—at two.” Holland disconnected, feeling a mixture of joy and dread. She was super happy that Jonas was still in town. But his tone was so gloomy, she felt like she needed to brace herself for some really bad news. Was he going back to Haiti? Did she need to worry about him being deported?

  Clasping a blue and white plastic bag, Naomi was at Holland’s side when she finished the application. Honoring Jonas’s desire for secrecy, she didn’t mention his phone call, but it took a lot of willpower not to blurt out that he’d called her.

  “Guess who was in line in front of me at the register?” Naomi said.

  “No clue.”

  “Jarrett and Chaela.” Naomi gazed at Holland inquisitively as she waited for her response.

  Holland merely shrugged. “So. What do I care? Those two egomaniacs deserve each other.”

  “Jarrett was sporting a huge bandage on the side of his neck. Chaela must have scratched him in a fit of jealous rage!” Naomi giggled.

  Holland’s brows furrowed. “What kind of bandage? Gauze and tape?”

  “No, more like a giant Band-Aid. And his skin looked sickly—really pale. He was alarmingly thin. Looks like he’s going to have to sit out the season. Jarrett looks way too fragile to be effective on the football field.”

  “That’s weird,” Holland mumbled, thinking about her mother’s neck injury and her sickly pallor. “Have you heard anything about a mosquito plague?”

  Naomi turned up a corner of her top lip. “Don’t tell me you think he was attacked by killer mosquitoes? I’ll stick to my theory that Chaela caught him looking at another girl and went for the jugular using a sharpened fingernail.”

  Holland had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was it a coincidence that Jarrett and her mother were both pale and sporting large bandages on their necks?

  “That’s it for the applications.”

  “You only filled out one!”

  “I know, but I’m worried about my Mom. She wasn’t feeling well when I left. Said she was dizzy. I should check on her.”

  Naomi gave Holland a doubtful look. “Is this about Jarrett and Chaela?”

  “No. Not at all. I’m over him. I swear.”

  During the walk from the mall, Jarrett’s shiny Durango cruised up to Holland and Naomi. Chaela was at the wheel, and Jarrett was sitting slumped in the passenger seat. As usual, Chaela was tanned and gorgeous as ever. In stark contrast, Jarrett’s complexion was ghastly pale. He had on dark sunglasses, presumably to hide his sickly appearance, but the camouflage wasn’t working. His lips were set in a grim line of misery, like he was suffering unbearably.

  “Hey, losers!” Chaela called out of the window in a saccharin-sweet voice typically used when giving a compliment. “Looks like you two co
uld use a ride.”

  “No, we’re okay,” Naomi responded meekly.

  Holland glared at Chaela and held up her middle finger. “Fuck off, Chaela!”

  Chaela looked briefly stunned. Then her pretty face twisted into an ugly mask of rage. “You tried to steal my boyfriend and now you’re giving me the finger!”

  Jarrett looked at Holland. His mouth twitched into something that resembled an apologetic smile. “Let’s go, Chaela. I’m going to be late for practice,” he said in a weak, irritated voice.

  “It’s your lucky day, Holland Manning. Jarrett’s in a rush, so I don’t have time to give you the beat down that you deserve,” Chaela said, still smiling and tossing her hair around. “But I’ll catch up with you when school starts.” Chaela narrowed her eyes threateningly. She sped away, leaving behind the echo of her taunting laughter.

  “Oh, no. This is bad,” Naomi whispered. “We worked so hard to redefine your identity so that you could gain acceptance. And it’s all for naught. Chaela and the bitch squad are going to make your life hell.”

  “I don’t need acceptance from Chaela and her crowd. There’re more important things in life than fitting in with a pack of mean, shallow girls.”

  “I know, but . . .” Naomi gave Holland a look of sympathy. “I’m really worried for you. Look, Holland, I know your mom can’t afford private school, but maybe you should consider transferring to a different public school.” Fear for Holland shone in Naomi’s eyes. “I don’t think Chaela’s going to be satisfied pulling cruel pranks. Did you see that vicious look on her face? She’s out for blood.”

  “No offense, Naomi, but I’m not letting Chaela or any other bullies chase me out of school. I’m standing my ground, and I’m not going anywhere.” Something had changed in Holland—a new confidence that went beyond a beauty makeover. She wondered if the humiliation she’d suffered over Jarrett had hardened her. Or maybe she’d evolved beyond teenage angst after hearing from Jonas a firsthand account of the tragedies that still prevail in Haiti.

  Warm and compassionate, Jonas had touched her on a deep level. She now realized that there was much more to life than an updated wardrobe. Holland wanted to help people. Fight for the rights of people who didn’t have a voice. But how could she help others if she didn’t start sticking up for herself?