Midnight Surrender: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Abel, Charlotte

  “Who is this fresh faced little gal?” teased Uncle Wyatt.

  “Good morning, Caro,” said her aunt. “Did you have a nice time last night? I am sorry I was asleep when you came in.”

  Caroline poured a glass of orange juice before turning back to her aunt and uncle. “You don’t have to wait up on me, Aunt Carol.”

  “I was reading the journals of Rosemary Wallace Stinton, so I was really engrossed and not,” she said, “waiting up on you exactly.”

  “Rosemary Wallace Stinton?” repeated Caroline. “Why does that name seem familiar to me?”

  “You have probably heard your mother mention that name. It is a local legend, the story of the missing kids from all those years ago.”

  “Maybe so.”

  Uncle Wyatt winked before going to refill his coffee. “So what are your plans for the day, Miss Caroline?”

  “Sheridan asked if I could do something tonight but nothing today.”

  “I am so glad you hit it off with Sheridan. I must say, I’m surprised but I may have misjudged that little lady,” said Uncle Wyatt.

  “I thought I might go to the drugstore and the library. Would that be alright?”

  “You can come with me into town. I have some errands to run and can just drop you off,” her aunt suggested.

  -oOo-

  For such a small town, the library was quite comprehensive. Now, with her books safely stashed in her backpack, she slung it on her shoulder and turned to the exit. Without looking up, she passed a guy who stopped to watch her leave.

  Changing his path, he trotted to the double doors and held them open for her. Surprised, she looked up.

  “You!”

  “Me,” he replied, lifting one eyebrow.

  Caroline just stood there, but then said, “Thank you.”

  She walked right by him without another glance. She had agreed to meet Aunt Carol on a bench outside the library when she was finished. Setting her backpack down, she unzipped the side pouch and pulled out her newly purchased bug spray. She shook the can and sprayed her arms. Twisting to see the back of her legs, she attempted to aim the can toward her calves and ankles in the back.

  “I realize that you consider me the devil or something,” said Cam, descending the library steps to join her, “but – here, allow me.” She turned reluctantly and passed him the can. She winced as the cool spray coated her legs.

  “There,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she muttered, trying to reach for the can of bug spray.

  He held the can up over his head.

  “Did I do something to you that I don’t remember?” he asked jokingly. When she remained quiet, the look of amusement changed, replaced by a wary frown. He handed her the bug spray, and studied her eyes.

  “Do you need a lift somewhere?” he asked.

  “My aunt is coming to get me,” she said, hoping he would go away.

  He ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair, allowing it to fall back over his forehead before shooting her another brief glance. “Well, see you around.”

  She watched as he walked away. He seemed so normal and nice. Still, Sheridan had told her what happened last summer. Treating anyone the way he had treated Sheridan was not the act of a good person.

  She sat, pulled out one of her books from her backpack never realizing that the very person that she was thinking about was watching her, confusion mingled with intrigue clouding his eyes.

  -oOo-

  One rainy afternoon found Caroline in the guestroom, surrounded by a carpet of old pictures, the ribbon tied journals of Rosemary Wallace Stinson, steamer ship tickets and old dolls that spilled out of the cedar chest. Caroline sat, so lost in the treasures that she didn’t hear the footsteps.

  “Caroline?” Carol poked her head around the corner to smile at her. “You have company.”

  Standing in the doorway was Sheridan, hair pulled up in a loose bun with tiny bits framing her face. All of a sudden her friend seemed as though she was from a different era. Caroline mentally chastised herself for her flights of fancy.

  “Sheridan, you should see some of these things. They’re so cool,” Caro said.

  Sheridan stepped closer. She picked up one of the handkerchiefs and lifted it to her nose, closing her eyes as she inhaled the scent. “How old is all this?”

  Caroline shrugged. “At least a hundred years old.”

  “This is really cool,” remarked Sheridan, glancing at the things scattered on the floor. She bent down and lifted up a tiny bisque doll. “Oh wow!” she said, awed.

  “These were some dollhouse dolls my Great-Great-Grandmother had when she was little. I saw the dollhouse in the attic.”

  Taking up a doll herself, Caroline folded her legs Indian-style. So entranced were they with the little dolls and their things that both girls jumped when Uncle Wyatt stepped into the room.

  “You two have been quiet for so long, Carol and I were starting to wonder if you’d taken a nap,” he said.

  Both girls laughed. Caroline stood. “Let’s go downstairs and get some tea. You want to?”

  “Sure,” said Sheridan, giving the doll one last wistful glance before placing it back in the box.

  -oOo-

  “It’s the Midsummer’s Eve Bonfire and everyone will be there,” said Sheridan.

  “I have never been to something like that,” said Caroline. “What do I wear?”

  “Well, it is nicer than an actual bonfire really.” Sheridan continued enthusiastically, “I’m going to shop for a new dress I think.”

  “I wonder if anything I have will work,” said Caroline. “I may have to go shopping too.”

  “Let’s go this afternoon,” suggested Sheridan. “It’s going to rain, so that is about the best thing we can do.”

  “That sounds great!” Caroline jumped up.

  -oOo-

  Caroline walked into Landsdon’s Shoes. She had seen a pretty pair of sandals that would be perfect with her new dress. She only wished Sheridan had been able to come with her. Poor thing had come down with something unexpectedly, leaving Caroline to shop alone.

  “May I help you?”

  Spinning to face the owner of the voice, Caroline gasped, her hand flying to her chest. Cam stood there smiling down at her.

  “You! You work here?”

  He grinned. “I do.”

  Caroline looked down at the bag in her hands, knowing that Sheridan would be upset that she was talking to Cam, but she needed shoes.

  “Hey,” he said, attempting to catch her eye. “I know that you’re uncomfortable around me. I’m not sure why, but I would like to clear up whatever it is.”

  “It’s Sheridan,” said Caroline, jerking her face up to his. “It’s upsetting to her that you are here again this summer, what with all the stuff that happened —” Her voice trailed off when she saw the confusion on his face.

  “What does Sheridan say happened?”

  “Why don’t you tell me,” Caroline said sarcastically.

  “Humor me, Caroline,” he said.

  “She said that you two were friends and that you blew her off at the Midsummer’s Eve Bonfire to be with Monica.”

  Her explanation was greeted with silence and Caroline looked up to see Cam staring at her. “That explains a lot.”

  “Does it?” Caroline asked.

  “There are some things about last summer that remained confusing to me but. . .” he paused, “this point is clear. Sheridan and I never dated. I had been interested in Monica but she was dating Tanner. I never touched Monica.”

  Caroline just stared up into his face for a minute and then she turned away.

  “You don’t believe me?” he queried incredulously. He spun her around to face him again. “Sheridan lied to you, Caro.”

  Caroline could see the earnestness in his eyes and oddly believed him. Why had Sheridan made up such a lie? She made a mental note to find out the next time she saw her friend.

  -oOo-

  “Wha
t the hell are you doing here, Sheridan?” questioned Margery as she clenched her teeth around the tiny straight pins.

  “I thought you said it was safe to be out this afternoon,” Sheridan said accusingly. “I thought you said it was going to rain all afternoon. I almost fried out there, you bitch.”

  Her mother rounded on her. “You have one job. Just one thing you have to do, be her friend and prepare her for the bonfire.” The older woman reached out to rip the bag from Sheridan’s hands. “Been spending my money again, Sher?”

  “You said I should, Margery. You said to take her shopping for a dress, so I did. I couldn’t very well take her shopping without shopping for myself,” she said. “I’m supposed to be a teenager.”

  “Did she find a dress?”

  Sheridan took back her bag, “Yes, it’s white. Mine’s red.”

  “You’ve always had a delightful sense of humor, my dear. Red is so appropriate,” Margery stated, smiling serenely.

  -oOo-

  The day of the bonfire, in the soft morning glow, Caroline crept silently through the house, careful not to alert her aunt and uncle. She was still disturbed by the idea that Sheridan had lied to her about Cam but she hadn’t had the opportunity to talk with her about it. There were also the wispy bits of a dream that clung to her curls, compelling her to try again to pry open the black velvet jewelry box and discover its treasures.

  Pushing open the door to the spare room, Caroline walked quickly to the trunk, lifted the lid and peered inside. There were the boxes of pictures and the little bisque dolls with yellowed postcards and letters tied up with ribbon and the faded black velvet box that seemed to be stuck closed. Caroline lifted the pretty box from the trunk. Then, as if guided by another hand, Caroline flipped the box over, and ran her fingers across the bottom. At the edge of an indentation, she pressed and the top sprung away from the box.

  There were delicate filigree and pearl earrings and a small stack of photos. In the first of the pictures there sat a stern faced man with dark hair and piercing black eyes. The next picture was a little boy wearing a sailor suit. The last picture was a matron with her hair pinned up on her head, wearing a high collared dress. Next to her sat a young woman, not much older than Caroline. The girl had startling eyes, dark and fringed with dark lashes. The amazing thing was that the girl from all those years ago bore an uncanny resemblance to Sheridan. If Caroline hadn’t known that it was impossible, she would have said it actually was Sheridan.

  Standing abruptly, several pictures falling from her lap to the floor, Caroline tried to shake the feeling that there was something horribly wrong but she couldn’t fathom what it could be. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she turned on a gasp to see Uncle Wyatt standing in the doorway.

  “I- I. . . I didn’t mean . . .” she said, her voice tremulous, “what are you doing here?”

  “I live here, little one,” he said, his voice gruff from sleep. “Normally I am the only one awake this early. Couldn’t you sleep?”

  “Well,” she said, clasping her hands tightly together, “I just woke up. I don’t know why.”

  Uncle Wyatt looked around. Caroline picked up every photograph and stacked them before she saw the slippered feet of her uncle enter her line of vision. She looked up and he smiled down at her, holding out his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  “Look all you want, darlin’. I am going to start the coffee for your aunt. It’s the smell that wakes her up each morning or so she says.”

  Caroline watched him walk away and she instantly began to put things to right in the room, arranging things just exactly except that in the right hand pocket of her housecoat there rested a picture of a girl who was the spitting image of Sheridan.

  -oOo-

  As Uncle Wyatt pulled up to the entry of the old wooded lot, Caroline could see that this was no ordinary bonfire. Caroline looked down at her white dress and sandals, pleased that she had taken pains to look nice.

  “Have a nice time, darlin’,” said Uncle Wyatt softly. “If you decide you want to come home before Sheridan is ready to leave, just call me.”

  Leaning over to kiss his cheek, she said softly, “I will.” Opening the truck door, she turned back and smiled at him, excitement shining in her eyes, “Love you.”

  “I love you, too,” said her uncle.

  -oOo-

  Sheridan was nowhere to be seen, Caroline realized as she joined handful of her friends nearby. Overhead, the sky was a lustrous black that reminded her of the jewelry box with its hidden treasures. The glow from the tiki torches lit their way as they walked around a bend. She was wondering again where Sheridan could be when she was suddenly aware of a presence just at her right side.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Caro,” said Sheridan. “Where have you been?”

  Turning, she took in her friend whose red dress glowed with a richness that seemed like liquid shadows.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” she returned, smiling. “Your dress is gorgeous, Sher. It looks better in the dark than it did in the light.”

  Sheridan laughed, threading her arm through Caroline’s and steering her back to the bar area. “Didn’t you know?” she teased. “Everything looks better in the dark. I like your dress too. You seem so pristine in white.”

  Caroline laughed. “Didn’t you know? Everyone looks pristine in white.”

  “No, they don’t,” came a voice from just behind her.

  “Cam,” she said, wondering how this would go with Sheridan there. She had not confronted Sheridan yet and didn’t want to do it now. Cam smiled down into her eyes, and then he turned decidedly cooler eyes to greet Sheridan.

  “Ladies,” he said.

  “Come on, Caro,” said Sheridan. “I’m thirsty.”

  Sheridan looked up at Cam’s face and he lifted his eyebrows before saying, “I’m thirsty, too. Shall we, ladies?”

  -oOo-

  Caroline could not remember when the evening became blurry but she just couldn’t seem to focus. Somewhere in the crowd of people, she had lost track of Cam, but Sheridan was still standing beside her and they were standing in a larger circle of people with whom she had met that summer. With everyone talking and the fuzzy feeling around her head, Caro was wondering if she should call Uncle Wyatt to come pick her up.

  Sheridan’s mother stepped out from the trees dressed in a red lined black robe. Several kids laughed and some started to whisper. There was a trancelike look on several faces of the people standing there and Caroline began to wonder if anyone else had noticed. When she turned her head quickly to see what Sheridan thought, she could feel her equilibrium tilt a bit. Suddenly there were hands there to hold her upright, a voice in her ear, “I’ve got you, Caroline.”

  Then the woman in the robes, Sheridan’s mother, came to stand before her.

  “Is this the sacrifice?” Her voice seemed to come from far away and Caroline couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong, very wrong.

  Suddenly, the faces of those who had become friends during the summer seemed strange, harsh, the shadows creating hooked noses and cruel, hungry eyes.

  “I have prepared her for you, Mistress.” Caroline turned her head slowly to see Sheridan’s face. She seemed to be in a trance as well and her fingers were gripping her arms tightly.

  The feeling of two fingers caressing her neck, stroking the fluttering pulse had her looking back into the eyes of a monster. Sheridan’s mother looked just the same but the gleam of something evil seemed to seep into her sluggish mind. Someone was screaming in her mind, screaming for her to run. The woman whose cold fingers pressed against her pulse smiled and revealed her elongated fangs.

  This had to be a dream. Vampires weren’t real.

  Sheridan lifted Caroline’s hand, sniffing delicately at her wrist, a humming sound coming from her throat. “So sweet is the blood of virgins.”

  A hiss rose up from the gathered crowd and from where she stood; their eyes were glowing in
the darkness. Hungry eyes.

  Suddenly the crowd parted and several pairs of eyes watched as two men stepped into the circle. Caroline tried to focus on the men but was sure she was seeing things because she thought one of them was Uncle Wyatt.

  “Caroline? I thought you might want to be coming home now, darlin’.”

  It was Uncle Wyatt and Caroline started to feel less strange, and pulled away from the tight grip on her arm. She seemed to be able to see more clearly. The man beside Uncle Wyatt moved then, walking toward her and she could see that it was Cam. He came to stand just beside Margery. Without looking at the woman to his right, he extended his hand toward her and said, “Shall we?”

  Caroline placed her hand in his. “Yes.”

  “You could stay with us. The party is still going on,” said Sheridan. “I would bring you home when it is over.”

  “You lied to me, Sheridan,” she said. “Why?”

  Sheridan looked down, muttering something beneath her breath. When she lifted her eyes, there was something dreamy in hers. She started talking in a sing song voice, her appearance slowly changing as she spoke.

  “I loved my little bisque doll. Mama was so sick. She wouldn’t stop coughing,” she let her voice drop to a whisper. “Margaret said she could make Mama get better and then she would live forever.”

  A trickle of blood spilled from her eye, falling down her cheek.

  “Hush up, Sheridan,” hissed Margery.

  Caroline felt more coherent by the moment, the effects of the trance or poison wearing off. She could see that Sheridan seemed to have some lines around her eyes now but her manner seemed to grow younger.

  “Mama’s blood was everywhere. She tried to run and Margery had to bite her to make her stay. Make her stay, make her stay . . . she bit her to make her stay.”

  Caroline shivered and stepped toward Cam. He pulled her to him and pushed her behind him.