A Bite of Blueberry

by Melissa Monroe

  Mark slammed his fist onto one of the chair’s wooden arms. “I didn’t want sorry! I wanted justice! And since the American court system wasn’t going to give me what I wanted, I decided to do it myself. But I knew Montgomery would recognize me. How could he not, after seeing me in court for three long years? I had to be sneaky.”

  Priscilla’s eyes darted to where DeLoreto sulked in the corner. “And where did he come into this, exactly?”

  “Almost a year after losing the case, I finally got lucky. I was living with my sister in LA, at the time, because I was dirt poor after my lawyer was through with me. I played the slots with what little I had left. I hit the jackpot. There was only one thing I wanted to spend it on.”

  “Revenge,” she concluded. “But how did you find him? He was living in Chicago. You never should have met.”

  He shrugged. “The internet is a beautiful thing. You can get whatever you want, if you know where to look.” Mark’s smile returned, and he looked genuinely pleased that she’d kept up. “You understand, don’t you? He had to pay. There’s just one thing left to do, and then I’ll take my leave of this depressing little town.”

  “What’s that?” Anna asked, speaking up for the first time.

  “I have to get rid of Nora, of course. It’s only fair. He took my family, now I take his.”

  Would Mark have been as pleased with himself if he knew he’d actually stolen someone else’s children, and not Lucas’? She doubted it.

  “You won’t get away with it,” Anna swore. “My father’s onto you. He’ll make sure you rot in a jail cell for this.”

  Mark’s smile broadened. “You think so? Because I think he’s going to have his hands full with Miss Pratt here. Once we leave, I’m sure she’s going to have trouble not eating you. Even if your father does get here in time, he’s going to be more concerned with you than trying to track me.”

  Priscilla’s stomach clenched again, almost in acknowledgment of his words. She was starving. She hadn’t felt like this in decades. Her mouth was desiccated, and her tongue felt fat and swollen. She wanted nothing more than to drink until her aching body had been appeased. And there was only one viable source for it when the two murderers left the room. She had no blood bags left in her fridge, and even if she did, one pint would not be enough. She’d lost too much blood.

  Anna’s eyes grew round and she risked a glance over at Priscilla. She looked away. She could practically taste Anna. The girl had donated for her once. She was sweet, like all the sugar she ate for a living.

  Mark sawed through her restraints while DeLoreto held a gun on her. She didn’t dare move, lest she be shot. She knew the hitman had silver bullets. Mark moved to Anna next, cutting through her restraints as well. Anna rubbed her wrists reflexively.

  Mark hauled her up by the front of her shirt. He took several steps back, holding her like that the whole time. To her credit, Anna tried to elbow him in the face, but missed. DeLoreto backed out the door, and left it open for his co-conspirator. Mark backed out of the room. Priscilla rose to her feet, ready to follow, now that the gun was out of sight.

  He shoved Anna at her. She pinwheeled forward, letting out a small cry as she hurtled toward the ground. Priscilla was too slow to catch her, and they ended up in a sprawled heap on the floor, with Anna beneath her.

  Anna’s scent was gloriously sweet to her over-sensitive nose. It reminded her of honey. She’d once had some as a human, to soothe a cough. It was what she needed now. Something to soothe the ache in her throat and clear the cobwebs from her brain. If she could feed, she’d be able to think. If she could—

  “Priscilla,” Anna whispered, eyes huge in her pale face. “Don’t.”

  “You smell so good,” Priscilla groaned.

  The light from her bathroom filtered out into the bedroom, illuminating the curtain of Anna’s blonde hair. She could also see the wildly beating pulse in her neck. The blood flowed more quickly when the prey was frightened.

  Her fangs itched and she leaned forward, toward Anna’s soft neck. Just a sip, she promised herself. She could probably stop. She zeroed in on that throbbing point, so helpfully illuminated by the lights.

  A shadow fell across the room.

  Priscilla looked up, baring her fangs at the intruding thing. The shadow wasn’t human, and that meant it was a threat. Her eyes swept up to the doorway, ready to face her adversary.

  A squat, fat bullfrog stared at her for a second before launching itself across the room, leaping straight over Anna’s head.

  It landed with a squish in Priscilla’s face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The smack of wet, smelly flesh against her face was enough to startle Priscilla out of her hunger-fueled haze. The frog that was currently squirming all over her didn’t smell remotely like food.

  Then, with a small pop, the frog became a much larger man. Priscilla groaned as her face was once more crushed into the floor. Her nose was going to stick in a new position if this kept up. She had enough sense not to breathe in, lest the scent entice her into another unforgivable act.

  Joseph Reed scrambled off of her and backed up several steps, assuming a defensive position against the wall, with Anna behind him. To Priscilla’s embarrassment, he was completely nude. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a man naked before, but it had still been several centuries since she’d indulged that particular appetite. After her sire, she hadn’t really dated all that much. She averted her eyes.

  If his nudity bothered him, he didn’t show it. He shook his head violently and then took stock of the situation. After a few seconds, the confusion seemed to clear.

  “You need to go,” he said firmly, pointing toward the door. “You’re dangerous in here.”

  Priscilla couldn’t help but agree. She staggered to her feet, stomach rolling. She was hungry, yes, but she was also overcome with an intense sense of shame. She hadn’t been that uncontrolled since her early days as a vampire. At three hundred and fifty three, one would think she’d have more control.

  She swept through the door. Mark couldn’t have much of a head start, and she knew where he was headed. She stumbled down her steps, dripping blood with every step. The wound wasn’t going to heal properly if there were any silver particulates still left in it.

  Priscilla retrieved the abandoned first-aid kit Arthur had loaned her. She was intensely grateful for his fussy, overbearing side in this instance. She used one hand to fish out the gauze while she dialed the rotary phone with the other.

  “Bellmare Police Department,” Arthur said, sounding weary. “What can I help you with?”

  “He was here,” Priscilla said. Did she really sound as breathy as she thought? “DeLoreto was here, with Mark Lupton. He’s the contractor.”

  There was a beat of stunned silence on the other end of the phone and then Arthur began cursing a blue streak. “Is Anna all right?”

  “Startled, I think. But she only has bruises. Joseph Reed is with her now.”

  “The frog?”

  “He’s a man again and he’s with her in my bedroom.”

  “I’m coming,” Arthur said, and the line went dead.

  Priscilla hung the phone back in its cradle and slumped against her counter for support. She was dangerous like this, and she knew it. She’d nearly eaten Anna, for Pete’s sake.

  She wrapped her wrist unsteadily, unsure how long it would hold up. She needed a doctor and an actual hospital. If she kept losing blood like this, she’d die, vampire or not. Priscilla watched the clock, every tick of the minute hand like a cheese grater against her nerves.

  Arthur’s car came screaming up to the building after five minutes. He was out of the passenger’s side before Jack could get the car completely stationary. Jamie scrambled out of the back as soon as Jack let him out. Her front door banged open and Arthur ran into the lobby. He stopped dead at the sight of her.

  “What happened to you?”

  “My nose is broken again, and they took silver to my wrist,�
� she said, gesturing to her clumsy first aid attempt.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked tiredly. “We need to catch Lupton and DeLoreto. They’re headed to the Montgomery house as we speak. If we leave now, we can catch up.”

  Arthur’s eyes found her stairs. “Anna. How is Anna? I need to make sure—”

  “No,” Jamie panted. “Chief, you need to catch this guy. I can take care of Anna.”

  “But—”

  Jack cut across him. “There’s no time, Arthur. We need to get to them now. Let Jamie take care of Anna. I’ll stay in the back with Priscilla and make sure she doesn’t go into shock.”

  Jack grabbed the first-aid kid and practically pushed her out the door and Arthur followed, jumping into the front seat. Jack helped her into the backseat, and then climbed in with her. They weren’t even buckled in before Arthur tore down the street.

  “I need to unwrap this,” Jack murmured. “We need to get the silver out of the wound.”

  It was a slow process. She kept bleeding, and it took him several minutes to get the flecks of silver that remained in the wound with a pair of tweezers. She knew when he had, though, because the wound on her wrist dulled to a throbbing ache, just like the rest of her injuries.

  “You got it,” she panted. “Wrap it up.”

  “Are you sure?” Jack asked.

  She nodded. “It’s not burning anymore.”

  “Priscilla, are you sure you’re okay? You’ve barely breathed this entire time. I know you’re dead, but …” he trailed off, and began tightly wrapping the wound with gauze.

  “I’m hungry,” she said, glancing down at her boots.

  He chuckled. “Ah. And I smell like dinner. I got it.”

  “It’s not funny. I could hurt you.”

  Jack didn’t look convinced. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the approaching dawn. She must have lost at least an hour after she’d been knocked unconscious, if not more. She could have hurt Anna. Badly. Exsanguination was no joke. Humans didn’t have to lose all of their blood to die. She could have taken just half and killed her assistant as surely as DeLoreto would have.

  It was hard to perceive time without a visual to aid her, but she found that keeping her eyes closed helped her better fight off the gnawing hunger. The less she saw of her two compatriots, the better. With her eyes closed, she couldn’t focus on the sight of their pulses pounding, or the way the collar of a police uniform perfectly accentuated the carotid.

  “I see them,” Arthur said, and he put on a sudden burst of speed. The siren cut through Priscilla’s concentration like a knife and she actually cried out in pain. Her eyes snapped open. They were rocketing up a long, winding drive toward one of the largest houses she’d ever seen. They were gaining on a silver car.

  “Brace yourselves,” Arthur grunted, and floored the accelerator.

  “For what?” she shouted over the sirens.

  “The PIT maneuver,” Jack said, and got a hold on her arm.

  It wasn’t an illuminating answer, but she found out exactly what they meant by it a few seconds later. Arthur hit the silver car at an angle, and the vehicle went spinning off the drive. The tires tore muddy furrows in the ground as the driver braked. It wasn’t enough to stop them from running into a fountain.

  The car’s front wheels jumped over the lip of the fountain and spun wildly before the vehicle came to a complete stop. The driver’s side door opened and DeLoreto exited, making a break for the manor ahead.

  Arthur and Jack scrambled out of the car. Priscilla, even with the blood loss, was still faster. Perhaps not as graceful, but still faster. As long as they remained on flat terrain, she was sure she should catch the fleeing assassin.

  DeLoreto glanced back and blanched when he discovered her on his trail. She was gaining on him, but not fast enough. The door to the Montgomery house was just ahead, and DeLoreto already had his weapon ready. Priscilla took a chance and jumped, using her superior strength to push off of the ground, hard. She caught the assassin in a flying tackle just as he mounted the steps of the porch.

  The wooden deck gave her splinters as she slid across it, but that didn’t matter. DeLoreto’s improvised weapon went skittering away. She clambered on top of him, snarling into his ear when he tried to get up.

  “I am very hungry,” she told him. “And if you struggle, I swear I’ll bite you.”

  “Don’t eat me,” DeLoreto begged.

  “I don’t eat garbage.”

  There was a shot in the distance. Priscilla flinched, both at the realization of what it meant, and the noise itself.

  DeLoreto slumped, the fight going out of him. “Looks like I’m not getting paid.”

  “That’s the least of your worries, DeLoreto. You’re going to go to jail for a very long time.”

  He laughed. “You’ve never met a mob lawyer, have you? I’ll be off, scot free, and when I am, I’m coming for you.”

  Priscilla smiled wearily. “You may have lawyers, but they’re no Scott Allen. You’ll wish I’d killed you when the Montgomerys get through with you.”

  Jack and Arthur came sprinting up to the front door and paused when they saw her effectively sitting on the remaining killer. She didn’t let him up until Arthur had slapped cuffs on him.

  Jack steadied her as she swayed.

  “You going to be okay?” he asked. “You look like death. More so than usual, I mean.”

  “No,” she said faintly. Her ears had begun to ring. “I think I’m going to pass out again.”

  And she proceeded to do just that.

  Epilogue

  Fangs in Fondant was closed for a week. It was the longest break Priscilla had taken from the business since beginning it nearly six years before.

  The first three days of rest had been mandatory, ordered by a doctor at a nearby hospital. He’d sent her home with a cooler full of blood and ordered her to refuel over a period of days. This batch was nastier than usual. She didn’t like bagged blood, as a rule. Too many chemicals were injected into it so it wouldn’t clot or go bad.

  Still, she drank the stuff. What choice did she have?

  The remaining four days were voluntary on her part. She needed the time to reflect, on many things. First, that her faerie godmother seemed to have decided to stay in Bellmare. She was now living in Arthur’s basement until she could afford to rent out a home. Her godmother hadn’t been working for the last century, it appeared, and had made a career out of sponging off rich old men.

  Second, that Ava had apparently taken a liking to Arthur after meeting him in the hospital while Priscilla had been a patient. Poor Arthur seemed frankly bewildered by all the female attention he’d been getting lately.

  And thirdly, she had a big decision ahead of her. Priscilla had almost made up her mind to go through with her plan when she received two unexpected and uninvited visitors.

  They were an odd pair, but they looked formidable standing in her doorway, haloed by the light of a neon sign. They came inside without being welcomed and plopped down in the chairs nearest to the counter.

  “Anna,” she remarked in surprise. “And Joseph. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Anna crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s because you’ve been sulking in this place for a week. Come on, open up the bakery. Maddison and I will take up the slack if you’re still tired. This place can’t remain closed forever.”

  “Actually, I was thinking it should,” she said, avoiding Anna’s eyes.

  “What?” she exclaimed. “No! You can’t.”

  “Anna, I nearly killed you. I’m too dangerous to be interacting with humans like this. I couldn’t save your mother from dying, but I can sure as hell save you. It’s safer if I close up shop.”

  Anna snorted. “What a load.”

  Priscilla’s head snapped up and she finally looked at Anna. “What?”

  “Dad’s right. You are a martyr. What, you think it was your fault you were drained of ha
lf your body’s supply of blood? Or that I landed on top of you right after?”

  “I could have—”

  “Yeah, and a human being could have killed me too, a long time ago, Priscilla. It nearly happened once when I was a lifeguard. People panic. You have a survival instinct, just like the rest of us. I guess it means you’re only human after all.”

  Priscilla shook her head. “It’s not the same thing, Anna.”

  “And you think closing your doors is going to stop bad things from happening in Bellmare? Priscilla, bad things have always happened in Bellmare. They’ll continue to happen, whether or not you stay open. All you’re doing by closing up is getting rid of the best place to drown the misery in chocolate.”

  Joseph nodded. “I must say, your cookies are exquisite. My staff approves.”

  She turned to him. “And what exactly are you here for?”

  “To assure you I won’t be pressing charges.” He chuckled ruefully. “Who would believe my story, anyway? Besides, I’ve gotten fantastic material for our next movie.”

  She quirked a brow. “Oh?”

  He gave her a devilish smile. “Vampire femme fatale versus mobsters. Any similarities to real- life persons are purely coincidental, of course.”

  Priscilla smiled in spite of her bad mood. “All right. I suppose I owe you for protecting Anna. I won’t get in a snit about it. Does this make us even? Will you stop pestering me?”

  “For now.”

  Priscilla kneaded her temples and blew out a breath. “I don’t like this, Anna.”

  “You can’t stop now. We’ve got the Dead Man’s March coming up. It’s one of the busiest times of the year, besides Halloween and Christmas. You can’t quit until after that, obviously.”

  Priscilla pursed her lips. The Dead Man’s March was a silly tradition, in her opinion, but Anna was right. It was one of the most profitable days of the year, if you were a business in Bellmare.

  “I shouldn’t,” she said finally. “I wanted to see if I could be human again. It’s never going to happen, Anna. The experiment failed. It’s time to throw in the towel.”