“I’ll take care of it,” Holland said, biting her lower lip as she braced herself for the task ahead. “Why don’t you check on all the windows, Mom? Make sure they’re all locked. We’re not safe until dawn.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. My friend, Jonas, sort of hangs around with Zac—”
“I hope Jonas isn’t a vampire, too!” Phoebe recoiled in horror.
“No, he’s human. He’s from Haiti, but he doesn’t have his immigration papers. Zac has been leading him to believe he can help him with his citizenship, but Zac’s been lying. Anyway, Jonas’s association with Zac has made him privy to vampire behavior. Jonas is our only hope at the moment.”
Her mother let out a long sigh. “I feel so stupid. Why wasn’t I able to see through Zac? I mean . . . I always thought I read people well, but I absolutely did not detect Zac’s diabolical tendencies.”
“First off, he’s not a person. He’s a vampire, and vamps are crafty. By the way, I think your client, Rebecca Pullman, is a vampire, too,” Holland added.
Phoebe looked stunned. “But . . . how can that be? Ms. Pullman is such a lovely person . . . so dignified and intelligent—so utterly human.”
“Vamps are able to disguise themselves pretty well, but the one thing they can’t do is walk around while the sun is shining.” Holland gave a short, bitter laugh. “We should be doing something useful, Mom. Why don’t you look online and find out if there are any spells of protection that’ll keep us safe until daybreak?”
“Sure, absolutely,” her mother said, eager to help. “I’ll also mix together those ingredients I used to heal the mosquito bites . . .” Phoebe lowered her eyes. “I mean . . . well, you know what I mean.”
Her mother looked at her intently, and then her body jerked in surprise. “Holland, those bites on your neck . . . they’re gone!”
Holland brushed her fingers across her neck. Feeling no punctures—only smooth, unscarred skin, she hurried over to a mirror and scrutinized her neck.
She looked at her mother and held up her hands. She gave a sigh of relief. “I’ll get a bucket of water and some disinfectant . . . and start cleaning up . . .” Holland became choked up. Swallowing back a hard knot of grief, she uttered, “I’ll start cleaning up Naomi.”
Throughout the remainder of the night, Holland’s phone had remained silent. No calls from Naomi’s parents and not a word from Jonas. He’d reassured her that he was coming over, but once again, Jonas was a no show. It was Zac! Holland’s gut instinct told her that Zac had found some sinister way to detain Jonas.
“The sun’s up,” Phoebe said, yawning and rubbing her eyes.
“Did you find anything online . . . you know, instructions on how to keep vamps away?” Holland asked.
“Nothing except the usual folklore: garlic, holy water, a crucifix, a stake in the heart. Oh, and a bullet to the head is supposed to be effective.”
“We’re both tired; we should try to get some sleep,” Holland suggested. “Can I sleep in your bed, Mom?” she asked, her voice tiny like a little girl’s.
“Of course, you can, hon.” Her mother put her arm around Holland’s shoulder as they padded toward her bedroom. “I stumbled on something online—something that I found particularly interesting.”
“Oh, yeah?” Holland hopped on Phoebe’s big comfy bed.
“I found a Wiccan site. There was an article about witch’s blood. Apparently, there’s a long-standing belief among the wiccan community that a witch’s blood is poisonous to vampires.”
Holland looked puzzled. “But I’m not a witch.”
“Yes, you are, Holland. I’ve always suspected it; now I know for sure.”
“But Mom, witchcraft is your thing. I don’t want any part of that . . . I just want to be a regular girl.”
“You are what you are, Holland. You should embrace your powers. I don’t think you can ignore it. Spirit will make its presence known . . . as it did with the microwave and the Ouija board.”
“It’s all so creepy. I don’t wanna embrace any powers. I’m not the type to sit around chanting and cooking up weird concoctions.”
Her mother nodded in understanding. “I’ve only been dabbling in witchcraft. Finding out whatever I could learn from books and online, but there are schools that can help you perfect your skills.”
“Witch-training schools?” Holland sounded appalled.
“They’re expensive, but if you demonstrate superior powers, you can get a full scholarship.”
“Oh, Mom, that sounds crazy.”
“No crazier than what we’ve been through tonight. And we have no idea what other horror is facing us. You may have the power to help people. To save lives. Sleep on it, hon—okay?”
Holland nodded as she snuggled beneath the soft coverlet, her heart filled with fear for Jonas’s safety and grief over the tragic loss of her best friend.
Steering her thoughts to a different topic, witchcraft training school popped in her mind. It was a wacky idea, but also something to consider. She couldn’t deny that she needed help, if only to learn how to prevent microwaves from going haywire, and how to keep Ouija boards from spelling out reminders of something she now wished she’d never seen.
Naomi! Holland couldn’t get her friend out of her mind. This was the year that Naomi was supposed to live her life free of being bullied. Now she was gone; she’d never get a chance to enjoy a new identity and acceptance at her new school. It was so unfair!
Holland tried to sleep, but she kept hearing Naomi’s horrifying wail . . . seeing her literally melting as if her body were made of wax. Holland shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the horrific images. She wanted to remember Naomi the way she used to be, but the gruesome last encounter played over and over in Holland’s mind. The scene was so firmly etched in her memory, Holland realized that she’d never be able to shake it away.
Oh, God . . . Naomi! Tears flooded her eyes, and then slid down her cheeks, dampening the pillow.
CHAPTER 32
Jonas was exhausted and hungry, but he didn’t have time to appease his cravings. He had a job to do. Once again, he’d disappointed Holland, but she’d understand after he explained that during his absence, he was working hard to protect her.
Keeping out the shimmer of the rising sun, the drapes were drawn tightly. While Zac snoozed inside the tomb-like closet, Jonas sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the ticking clock.
Zac had struck a deal with Jonas—a deal that would prevent the vampire constable from having Zac captured and condemned to the earth.
According to Zac’s plan, Jonas was to pay Jarrett a visit. Zac figured that Jarrett would know exactly where the new neighbors lived. Acting as a tour guide, Jarrett would be expected to lead Jonas to the front door of the newest residents of the upscale housing development.
And while Constable Sullivan and his lovely wife and son were vulnerable and resting in their lair, Jonas was expected to fling open the shutters, then roll up the shades. It was his responsibility to expose the vampire family to lethal rays of sunlight.
Jonas had no way of knowing if a human guard watched over the Sullivans as they slept. It was a dangerous mission, and Zac fully expected a successful outcome.
Zac had offered Jonas a large portion of his treasure—more than enough money to pay off the money lenders in Haiti, and there’d be enough left to pay the voodoo woman a hefty sum to remove the debilitating spell.
Jonas watched as the hands on the clock moved slowly. The sun was brightest at high noon, but Jonas didn’t have the patience to wait until the afternoon.
Jonas rose to his feet at seven o’clock sharp. Grim-faced, he took strides to Zac’s bedroom and opened the door. He drew back the heavy drapes, filling the darkened room with sunlight. When he heard anxious rustling inside the closet, he raced across the room and yanked open the closet door.
The closet was flooded with light. Zac hissed and shielded his face with his arm. Grimacing,
the vampire tried to scamper to the dark end of the closet, but he didn’t possess his usual speed—his movements were awkward and sluggish.
Capturing Zac by an ankle, Jonas used all his strength to pull the struggling vampire out of the closet and into the sun-filled bedroom.
Zac fought frantically, swinging his hands and trying to twist himself out of Jonas’s grasp. All to no avail. Holding both of Zac’s ankles now, Jonas dragged the vampire to the center of the room where the sun shone brightest.
Panting with exertion, Jonas pressed his foot on Zac’s chest, pinning him to the floor. Reflexively, Zac balled up into a writhing knot, hissing like a cornered snake as the sun baked his skin.
Jonas hadn’t known what to expect, but he was hardly prepared for the vampire’s white feet and legs to darken like charcoal and burn so rapidly. An unpleasant smell of smoldering flesh was thick in Jonas’s nostrils. The sensation of Zac’s ankles changing from soft, cold flesh to a hot, crumbling shell of crust was disturbing.
Crusted layers of skin on Zac’s face and arms began to slough off. Thankfully, Zac’s lips were charred and cracked, preventing him from discharging an alarming scream. In what seemed like a matter of seconds, all that was left of Zacharias Hamilton was a mound of ashes.
Clearing away evidence and saving the housekeeper extra work, Jonas scooped up the ashes and dumped them inside the plastic liner of a waste bin.
One vampire down and an entire swarm to go. Now Jonas had to figure out the combination to the safe. He tried to think like Zac. What numbers were important to the vampire? Seventeen-ninety-two, the year Zac was turned into a vampire came to mind.
Jonas pressed the numbers and like magic, the safe popped open. Inside were the keys and the title to the Saab, stacks of cash, and a jewelry collection that was all neatly organized. Gold, silver, and an assortment of diamonds gleamed as brightly as the beams of sunlight that had caused Zac’s demise.
Along with the money, jewelry, the keys to the Saab, and the plastic liner filled with Zac’s ashes, Jonas stuffed his remaining meager possessions into a bag, and left the hotel. Having access to transportation was convenient. Jonas wasn’t an inexperienced driver, but as long as he steered clear of the busy thoroughfare, he believed he was capable of handling the car.
Traveling slowly and carefully, Jonas drove to a pawnshop that was in the vicinity of the hotel. After exchanging the final piece of jewelry for cash, he felt a surge of relief. The nightmare he’d been living was almost over. The compulsion to eat living flesh and drink blood was sickening, and now he finally had enough money to pay Madame Collette to break the spell.
But he couldn’t go to Miami just yet. There was Holland to consider. She was depending on him for support and protection, yet once again, he was unable to go to her . . . at least not in his current condition.
Bone tired and weary, Jonas yearned to sleep, yet the nagging hunger denied him the possibility of even a brief rest. With his pockets stuffed with more cash than he could have ever earned from a menial job, he made what he prayed would be his final visit to the poultry market.
This time, he purchased an entire crate of chickens and carted them off to the deserted woods—the site of his former burial place. The first thing he did in the solitude of the woods was to scatter Zac’s ashes. Carried on a breeze, the vampire’s ashes began to spread. Airborne, Zac’s remains were dispersed in different directions. Jonas was satisfied that the crafty vampire would not be able to easily reassemble himself to wreak havoc once again.
The chickens’ squawks echoed through the trees. Ravenous, Jonas stomach knotted and cramped so violently, he bent over in pain. He snatched a bird from the cage and tore into it, spitting out mouthfuls of feathers. Jonas was concealed by foliage and low-hanging tree branches as he feasted in private, feeding until his voracious appetite was satisfied.
A running stream in the woods efficiently washed away the blood and feathers, and with a change of clothes in the trunk, Jonas made himself presentable.
Back in the car, he didn’t need a GPS to direct him to Holland’s address. Her enthralling scent guided him, taking him straight to her door.
CHAPTER 33
“Still no answer,” Phoebe said with a sigh after calling Naomi’s parents for the tenth time. Her tired eyes had dark circles underneath.
“They’re not going to answer, Mom,” Holland said gloomily. “They’ve probably been changed, and they’re hiding out somewhere with the vampire swarm.”
“Right here in Frombleton?” her mother said incredulously.
Holland nodded grimly.
“There’s also the possibility that they’re worried sick about Naomi. For all we know, they could be at the police station or the hospital . . . they could be driving around, frantically searching for their daughter.”
“If that’s the case, they would have checked with us. If they’re alive and cognizant, don’t you think they would have called me, Naomi’s best friend?”
“You have a point, but I’m not comfortable sitting around, doing nothing. It can’t hurt to take a walk to their house . . . check on them while it’s still daylight.”
“And suppose they’re home and unharmed? Suppose they’re in the midst of organizing a search party for Naomi? What’ll we do, Mom . . . grab some flyers and join the search team?” Nibbling on her bottom lip, Holland shook her head.
Worry lines etched Phoebe’s face. “I don’t know, hon, but we have to do something.
Half an hour later, Holland and Phoebe stood outside Naomi’s house. They were mixed in with a cluster of people from the neighborhood, watching with wide-eyed horror as an emergency rescue team brought Naomi’s parents out on stretchers. They were both zipped into body bags.
“Probably a murder-suicide,” one neighbor speculated.
“There’s talk that the daughter’s on drugs. They say she went wild and slaughtered her own parents,” said another neighbor.
Hugging each other, Holland and her mother backed away. They turned around and eased out of the crowd.
“Well, you have your answer now, Mom. Those bloodsuckers killed them,” Holland murmured harshly as she and her mother headed down the path that led home.
Phoebe pressed her lips together tightly. “Maybe it’s for the best. Personally, I’d rather die than roam the night thirsting for blood.”
“You’re not looking at the big picture. Naomi is dead, and so are her parents . . . no one in town in safe until every one of those vamps has a stake in its heart!”
“The police will think we’re nuts if we report what we know, but an anonymous tip might be good idea. Seriously, hon, taking on vampires is out of our league,” her mother said, her expression fearful.
Holland didn’t respond. She thought about Naomi’s violent reaction after drinking her blood. Maybe her blood actually had some type of anti-vampire properties. No, that wasn’t possible. Naomi was a new and inexperienced vampire; she probably drank too quickly and choked. She could have made any number of fatal mistakes.
“Our best defense is to stay in at night, and to not extend an invitation to anyone,” Holland said firmly. Regretfully, that rule now applied to Jonas, too. The last time she’d spoken to him, he was with Zac. Though it clenched her heart to think that Jonas may have been turned, she had to be realistic . . . Jonas had been in the company of a vampire last night. He’d promised to come over, but hadn’t shown up. Holland couldn’t help from thinking the worst.
“Shouldn’t we at least alert the neighbors . . . you know, make them aware that there’re vampires in our midst?” Phoebe asked.
Holland shook her head. “They’ll think we’re crazy.”
Holland and Phoebe made the rest of the trek home in silence. Both dreaded nightfall, and neither had the vaguest idea of what to do next.
When they reached their street, her mother’s stride slowed and then came to a complete stop. “Ohmigod!”
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Holland looked at Phoebe and t
hen followed her shocked gaze. Astonishingly, her mother’s old Saab was parked in their driveway.
“Zac is visiting in the daylight; how is that possible?” Holland blurted, her voice tinged with fear.
Mother and daughter grasped hands and took two timid steps forward. When the car door opened and Jonas emerged, Holland’s heart soared; she let out a shriek of joy.
Unclasping her mother’s hand, Holland raced ahead; her breath came out in hot gasps as she fell into Jonas’s embrace.
“Jonas! Jonas! You’re alive,” she said, touching his face in disbelief. “When you didn’t show up last night, I thought Zac had turned you.” Feeling extraordinarily relieved, Holland took a step back and grinned at Jonas, and then furrowed her brow. “You look tired; are you okay?”
“Other than a lack of sleep, I’m fine,” he said, leaning in and giving Holland a quick kiss on the lips.
When Phoebe caught up to Holland and Jonas, she stroked the Saab affectionately, and said, “You must be Jonas. I’m Phoebe Manning, Holland’s mother.”
“Hello, Mrs. Manning. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jonas said.
“Is something wrong with the car? Does Zac want his money back?” Holland asked.
“No. I’m returning your mother’s car, along with the title. Zac won’t need a vehicle any longer.” Jonas reached in his pocket, withdrew the folded document, and handed it to Phoebe.
“This is a pleasant surprise, but with all that’s going on, I hope Zac doesn’t come around tonight, trying to get the car back.”
“He’s not going to bother you ever again,” Jonas said with conviction.
Holland broke into a grin. “Thank goodness. How’d you get rid of him? Did you put a stake in his heart?”
Jonas looked around embarrassedly. “No, uh—”
“Let’s go inside and talk,” Holland interjected.
In the living room, Jonas took a seat next to Holland on the sofa. Phoebe sat in the chair across from Holland and Jonas. Leaning forward anxiously, she said, “Please tell me Zac’s dead. Holland and I are absolutely terrified of him.”
Midnight Cravings Page 20
