Vampire’s Descent: Willow Harbor - Book Two

by Jennifer Snyder

  Without hesitation, I moved toward her car and reached for the last box in her trunk. One of the flaps on the top came up, exposing its contents as I lifted it. There was a jewelry box inside, some stuffed animals, and a few old books.

  Was she moving home? What about college? Had she finished already?

  It was spring, which meant this would be her last semester of senior year. Did she finish early, or was she bringing stuff home for her dad to store because she’d decided she wanted more space? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t feel it was my place.

  Claire slammed the trunk of her car shut and headed for the stairs leading up to the apartments. I followed her.

  Once we hit the top of the stairs, she made her way to apartment number one—her brother’s apartment. My stomach tightened at the sight of his door. I should have put two and two together the second I noticed her heading toward the stairs and not the bookstore. Her dad didn’t live up here. He owned the bookstore downstairs and lived in town somewhere. Mr. Meyers was retired. Claire’s brother, Danny, had run the bookstore. He’d also lived in apartment one.

  The door to Danny’s apartment was slightly ajar. Claire kicked it open with her foot and slipped inside. I followed but paused inside the threshold. Should I close the door behind me? Should I leave it open? Should I wait for her to tell me where she wanted me to set the box?

  “You can set that one in here,” she said as she placed the box she was carrying on the kitchen counter and eyed me.

  I opted to leave the door open as I crossed the apartment to where she stood. After depositing the box on the counter, I crammed my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and tried to look at anything besides her. I didn’t want to see the sorrow reflected in her beautiful eyes. It would gut me because I knew I could do nothing to fix it.

  “Thanks. You saved me from having to endure more sympathetic looks from everyone stalking the streets tonight.” She rolled her eyes.

  I grinned at the sight, relieved to see the spunk she’d always harbored hadn’t died in the wake of her brother’s suicide.

  “Glad I could help.”

  “I would offer you something to drink as a thank you, but the only thing my brother seems to have is chunky milk and orange juice.”

  “That’s okay. I’m fine. Besides, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

  “So they say,” she muttered. She began to unpack the box in front of her.

  It was nothing but books. She stacked classic on top of classic, and I felt myself grow even more unworthy of her as I skimmed the titles. Out of the six she’d set out, I’d read only one—The Catcher in the Rye. I thought to strike up a conversation about it, but the only thing I could say was that it had been a good book. I couldn’t chat with her about what it was about, because honestly, there wasn’t much plot to the book. It was about a teenage boy who was rebellious as hell. He got himself kicked out of school and decided to loaf around, biding his time until he had to tell his parents. The voice the author used had been captivating as hell, though.

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” I said before I could stop myself. Claire flinched at my words, and I knew hearing people tell her they were sorry for her loss probably had already grown old.

  While I’d been lucky enough to not have death touch me in my twenty-two years—twenty-three and a half if you counted the time I’d now been a vampire—I could see how hearing something of that nature repeatedly might spark a sense of frustration or anger.

  “Thanks,” she said as her movements became jerky and tense while she continued unpacking the box in front of her. When she froze and shifted her eyes to mine, I could have sworn she was about to ask me what the hell I was still doing in her brother’s apartment, but she didn’t. Instead, she skimmed her teeth over her plump bottom lip as hesitation crept through her features. “Did you hear him, Danny I mean, the night it happened?”

  I wasn’t sure what hit me harder—the question she was asking or how utterly heartbroken she sounded. I shifted around on my feet and ran a hand through my hair.

  “No. I wasn’t home.” It was the truth. I’d been out strolling the beach, clearing my mind. When I passed by the bookstore on my way home I’d smelled the blood, though. In fact, I’d barricaded myself in my apartment because of it. It was because of Danny’s death my current blood supply was so low. The aroma had caused the monster inside me to awaken and exude his power. I’d barely been able to control myself that night. I’d gone through three bags of blood in a matter of minutes, all in an effort to subdue the bloodlust simmering inside me at the tantalizing scent of so much blood infusing the air. “I’m sorry.”

  Claire flinched again at the five-lettered word. I was sure she’d heard it more than a million times the last few days, but I didn’t know what else to say. The truth? No, I didn’t hear him but I smelled his blood. It tempted my vampire and caused me to blow through three bags of my supply. Hell no, that was insensitive as shit.

  “Well, someone had to hear something.” The brightness of her eyes darkened, becoming cold.

  I didn’t say anything. All I could do was stare at her.

  Of course someone had heard something. Half the town, maybe more, had supernatural hearing. She knew this. Claire was a Willow Harbor lifer, not a transplant like me.

  Why was she trying to torture herself with the details of her brother’s death, though? What could she gain by having someone admit they’d heard the gunshot go off when her brother killed himself?

  I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my place to have such a personal conversation with her. We weren’t friends. We were acquaintances who happened to meet a couple times last summer when she was in town visiting her dad and brother during her summer vacation.

  “That’s what I’m here to find out,” Claire said.

  I wasn’t following her. “What do you mean?”

  She lifted her gaze to mine. Her stormy blue eyes bored into me, reflecting a challenge I couldn’t decipher. “I don’t think my brother committed suicide. He wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t.”

  How could she think that? A self-inflicted gunshot wound was hard to dispute. Maybe she was in denial. It was probably normal in this situation.

  “What do you think happened then?” I asked carefully. The last thing I wanted was to say something that would piss her off or upset her. She was in a sensitive state; that much was clear.

  Her body grew rigid, but her eyes refused to leave mine. “I think my brother was murdered.”

  Two

  Claire

  Mason stared at me. His blue eyes darkened, and I knew it was because his heart broke for me. My heart pounded in my throat, and my skin itched with unease as he continued to stare. I waited for him to say something, to respond to what I’d said, but he didn’t. Instead, Mason remained mute as he pitied me.

  I didn’t want his pity. Seeing sympathy reflected in people’s eyes was not something I would ever get used to. When my mother had passed away a few years ago, each sympathetic look tossed my way had been like a knife twisting in the wound her sudden death left behind. I’d expected things to feel similar after Danny’s death, but they hadn’t. Sympathetic looks angered me this time around because I knew they were misplaced.

  Danny hadn’t killed himself. He’d been murdered. I was sure of it.

  My brother wasn’t the type to do something so stupid. He wasn’t depressed. He wasn’t in a bad place. He was fine. He lived a comfortable and content lifestyle. One that suited him. Danny had loved running our family’s bookstore. Routine and schedules had been his thing. He was happy, damn it. While everything about his life would have bogged me down into a thick state of depression, Danny had loved every second of it. My brother killing himself just didn’t make sense. He would’ve told me if things were that bad. I would’ve felt it, too.

  We were twins. We shared a bond unlike any other.

  “Why do you think he was murdered?” Mason asked as his brows furrowed.

  He didn’t b
elieve me.

  I debated whether I should fill him in or end the conversation. Screw it. Mason obviously thought I was nuts already. I might as well add him to the list of people I was determined to prove my brother’s innocence to.

  I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my cell, opting to show him the last text from my brother. It was all the tangible proof I had, but combined with the gut feeling I had, it was enough for me.

  “Because of this,” I said as I handed my cell to him.

  He took it and read the message. Deep lines formed between his brows as his eyes skimmed over the words. I chewed my bottom lip while I waited for him to react to Danny’s final text.

  Final text. None of this seemed real. I still couldn’t believe my brother was gone.

  Mason coughed into his hand. Either he didn’t believe the text was enough to prove my theory, or he thought it might be.

  “What book is he talking about?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I never got to ask him. My dad called the next morning to tell me he was gone.” I swallowed hard. Admitting Danny was gone would never be easy.

  Mason handed my cell back, and I skimmed over the text again, even though it was already burned into my memory.

  I found a book I want you to look at. Either it’s going to bring the shop loads of money or get me killed.

  I needed to find out what book he was talking about, but I couldn’t deny the hesitation I felt in searching through my brother’s things for it.

  “I hate to say this,” Mason said, drawing my attention back to him. “But I doubt a book would be reason enough to kill someone.” His words were hesitant and overly kind, but they still rubbed me the wrong way.

  My body trembled. My eyes watered. I was exhausted, but I was also hurt by his response. On the surface, I’d thought to prove to him Danny hadn’t done what everyone thought by showing him the text. Deep down though, I’d only wanted someone to believe me. Especially him. I’d always felt a connection with Mason. Something I couldn’t quite explain.

  “You’re wrong. There are books out there worth a lot of money because they’re first editions and incredibly rare. Maybe the book my brother was talking about happened to be one of them. Heck, maybe it was something more. Maybe it had ties to the supernatural world.” My mind was going off on a tangent, same as it had been since I’d learned of Danny’s death, but the last part I said might actually be true. There were supernatural books few knew about. Any one of them could hold information someone would kill for. It was possible Danny had gotten his hands on one.

  “I didn’t mean to discredit what you’re saying. I’m only trying to look at this all from a logical perspective.” Mason lifted his hands in front of him as though warding off my temper.

  Great. I wanted him to believe me, not act like I needed to be admitted to the insane asylum. No matter who I told though, I seemed to gain the same reaction. Even my dad had reacted the same way. How he could believe Danny would do such a thing I wasn’t sure, but he did.

  “Yeah well, I didn’t tell you what I thought happened so you’d think I was crazy. I guess neither of us got the reaction we were hoping for.” I returned my attention to the box in front of me. “I have a lot to unpack. Thanks for helping me carry the last of my boxes in. I’m sure I’ll see you around. I plan on being here a while.”

  “No problem.” He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair while heading toward the front door. “Yeah. See you around.”

  The second the door closed behind him, I exhaled a long breath. That would be the last time I shared the real reason I was back home with anyone. Twice I’d been treated as though I was certifiably insane. I refused to let it happen a third time.

  I stepped away from the box I’d been unpacking and headed toward my brother’s living room. Danny’s apartment was small, same as all of the apartments above the shops on Main Street. It was a good thing too; it meant it wouldn’t take much time to find the book mentioned in his text. I had a feeling once I found it I would have all the proof I needed to verify he hadn’t killed himself.

  I glanced around Danny’s apartment for the first time since arriving. God, he was such a neat freak. The only thing out of place where the boxes I’d brought in and my purse I’d tossed on the floor inside the front door. Danny had always been anal when it came to organization. Even as kids, his bedroom had always been the one without a thing out of place. We were polar opposites in more ways than one, I guess. That was generally how it was with twins, though. While we might look similar, everything else about us was different.

  My arms wrapped around my middle, grief wracking my body, while I took in his space.

  The sage green walls and dark hardwood floors had always seemed calming but not tonight. They made the space feel too big and lonely. My gaze landed on the sleek leather couch the color of dark chocolate that occupied the length of one wall. It was covered in a throw, which made the piece of furniture seem more welcoming than what it was. I hated that couch. It was the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever sat on. No amount of pillows or blankets Danny tossed on it would ever make it any better. You couldn’t tell him this, though. He’d refused to believe it when he’d bought the thing.

  My lips twisted into a slight smirk at a memory of us arguing about it.

  I ran my fingers through my hair in an effort to gather myself. A book on the end table captured my attention, and I was across the room, scooping it up in the span of a single heartbeat. Its worn cover felt buttery against my fingertips. My thumb trailed over the title as I read it to myself—To Kill A Mockingbird. Danny’s favorite book. However, it wasn’t the book I was searching for. I fingered the gum wrapper he’d placed inside as a bookmark. It was the only sense of chaos my brother harbored—he rarely used an actual bookmark. Instead, he was more apt to grab whatever was around and mark his place with it. I’d once seen him use a square of toilet paper.

  I opened the book to where he’d left off. Chapter fifteen. An ache built inside my chest and my vision blurred with unshed tears. Danny would never read past this point again. He couldn’t.

  He was gone.

  I closed the paperback and placed it on the table where I’d found it. After wiping my eyes, I resumed glancing around the apartment. Everything about the place felt different. Empty. What had I been thinking when I decided to stay here? I should be at Dad’s, sleeping in my old bedroom. Not here.

  Anywhere but here.

  Danny was everywhere I looked here. His scent still saturated his belongings, and for whatever reason, I kept expecting him to walk through the door with a book in hand.

  Book.

  I glanced at the bookshelf unit dominating the wall to my left. Its dark wood matched the hardwood flooring. I remembered how much that had mattered to my brother at one time. Books decorated the shelves inside the glass door cabinets. Old and new. Thick and thin. I crossed the room to scan their spines, even though I didn’t think the book Danny had mentioned would be among them. Knowing him, he’d have hidden it somewhere if he felt it was truly worth something or seemed too dangerous to leave in the open.

  Nothing jumped out at me among his private collection. My heart shrank. I wasn’t sure why; I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I placed a hand on my hip. Where should I look now? My gaze drifted to Danny’s closed bedroom door. I crossed the apartment and reached for the knob, but the instant my hand gripped its cool metal, I felt myself break apart.

  My chest caved in making it hard to breathe, while at the same time my bones seemed to become brittle as grief powered through me.

  One room at a time. It was all I could do. All I could handle.

  My shoulders slouched forward as I moved toward the uncomfortable couch. I adjusted the pillows and covered up with one of Danny’s many soft throw blankets before curling myself into the fetal position and closing my eyes. Tears tracked down my cheeks. I didn’t stop them. Instead, I allowed myself to truly mourn the loss of my brother for the
first time since learning he was gone. Being surrounded by his things made it hard to focus on what I was here for. While I knew I was here to say goodbye, I was also here to unearth what really happened to him.

  It was going to be harder than I’d thought.

  I wasn’t sure how long I cried, or exactly when my tears dried up, but at some point I was lulled into a restless sleep. Nightmares plagued me. In them, the ground beneath my feet had become a treadmill that prevented me from getting to the bookstore so I could stop whatever happened to Danny. Growling ripped through the night, but it was something deeper and darker than any animal I’d ever heard. My brother’s cries of pain filtered through the night, tormenting me, as the scent of his blood saturated the air. People walked by oblivious to what was happening, but I could hear everything.

  The second the treadmill beneath my feet ceased, I lunged for the handle to the bookshop door. It didn’t matter though because that was the instant I woke up.

  Sweat beaded on my skin as my heart pounded against my rib cage. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. I couldn’t get the sounds of Danny’s panicked cries out of my head.

  Everything about the nightmare had felt real.

  The faint scent of his blood still lingered in my nostrils, and the dark and dangerous growl of the creature I’d heard looped through my mind. It sent the fine hairs on the back of my neck on end and increased the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream.

  The dream meant something. I was sure of it.

  It was too vivid to be something my dull imagination conjured on its own. I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them before wrapping my arms around my shins and pulling my legs tightly to me.

  “Danny, was that nightmare you trying to tell me something?” I whispered into the silence of his apartment.

  A cold sensation gathered on my right shoulder and I flinched. My heart kick-started inside my chest as I tried to rationalize what I’d experienced. Was it possible Danny was lingering here, watching and waiting for me to speak to him? My teeth sank into my bottom lip as my eyes darted around.