Vampire Interrupted (Wicked Good Witches Book 8)

by Starla Silver

  “A definite possibility,” concurred Charlie. “How did you stick around without getting caught by us or our gargoyle?”

  “It’s a vampire thing. I think. I’m still figuring all of this out,” she drew her hands from head to toe. “But mainly, I hid behind a tree not too far away. It’s kind of fascinating actually, to be capable of such stillness. Not a breath. Not a movement of muscle. And I’m guessing the smell of that deer carcass probably worked in my favor. Kept the gargoyle confused.”

  Charlie too. His werewolf senses hadn’t picked her up either.

  “I think it’s time we get to the main point,” hollered in Mack. “How exactly did this happen to you?” She remained skeptical, unsure they were not harboring a wanted murderer.

  “I guess I’d better start from the beginning,” Courtney exhaled.

  Outside the cell, Emily tugged at Michael’s arm. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “Do you need me to come with you?”

  “No. Stay. It’s your job and all. I’m just tired. I don’t need to listen. Not tonight.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded and gave him a peck goodnight. He watched her walk upstairs into the kitchen and out of sight. He would stay long enough to hear out this reporter and follow as soon as possible. Melinda grasped his arm.

  “She’ll be okay. Let the woman get some sleep.” She tried to sound lighthearted.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” He surprised everyone by unlocking the cell door and joining Charlie. He was about to argue it wasn’t safe but Michael gave him a glare that said, don’t bother.

  Everyone else joined him. Why not? They decided. The cell might have been mini replica of William’s study, but it was nowhere near the size. It was a tight fit with all of them inside. Lizzy joined Charlie leaning against the edge of William’s desk. Michael and Melinda grabbed chairs and moved them nearby the desk while Courtney started. Mack guarded the door in case their prisoner got the idea to escape.

  Courtney laughed at that. “I could be through that door and out of this house before you even shot off that bow of yours.”

  “I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Mack returned flatly.

  “I wouldn’t try it anyway,” the reporter claimed. “Believe me, this is the most comfortable I’ve been in weeks. I may be a wild woman willing to go the distance for a story, but I don’t want to live like an animal. Anyway,” she looked at the Howards and Lizzy. “I came to the Isle in search of a Firebrand Feyk named Sir Tinkham Sickereaux.”

  “Stricker,” Lizzy groaned.

  Melinda winced, that name branded into so many of her bad memories.

  Michael was glad Emily decided to go to bed; she didn’t need to listen to this.

  “I tracked him here,” Courtney explained. “Took me months, but it was the closest I’d ever gotten to finding that spineless bastard.”

  “Sounds like we’re of the same mind at least on one subject,” mumbled Michael.

  “Why were you searching for Stricker?” Charlie questioned her.

  The reporter scraped teeth across her bottom lip. “He killed someone I cared about.” She shook her head. “A few someone’s… not by his own hand, of course. The bastard never lifts a hand himself. But he’s responsible, and I will make him pay.”

  “Another subject we all agree on,” Charlie returned in a dry timbre.

  “I’m just glad turning into a vampire didn’t change my mind, or make me forget. If it’s the last thing I do, Stricker will die.”

  “So you’re still yourself?” Melinda grilled the reporter. “Once you changed, I mean, you still feel like you?”

  “Yes. Me, just, a little different,” analyzed Courtney. “More like me, 2.0. Or me, enhanced. With a side of constant hunger for the red crack.”

  They each laughed at this.

  “Sorry, it’s not really funny,” Charlie said.

  “No. It’s not. And I’m kind of downright pissed off. But if I can’t have a poke at myself I’m done for, and might as well curl up in a corner and call it a day. Or have you stake me now.”

  “I didn’t mean to get too personal,” Melinda apologized. “I’ve known a vampire my whole life, but never a freshly turned one.”

  “It’s like seeing the world in a completely different way. Almost like you think you’ve seen things, but then really, you haven’t. Not that being human you’re missing out, I’d still take my human life back in a heartbeat. But I’m much stronger, physically. I can hear way more than I ever wanted to. Although that might come in handy for my job, if I can figure out a way to work in this condition. Oh, and I can run so fast, that’s actually kind of awesome. But I’d still prefer the option of being human me. I hadn’t planned on outliving my human timeline.”

  “You think you’ll adjust to this life though?” Melinda wondered curiously.

  “Don’t have a choice, do I? I’m just glad the craving for human food vanishes because being unable to eat my favorite foods, but dying to have them, would drive me into looney land.”

  “Do you still have your witch powers?” questioned Melinda.

  Charlie’s wolf senses tingled, disquieted over his sister’s interest in this subject, but he held his tongue after a caustic glare from Lizzy. And actually, was curious about this specific answer himself.

  “I did, right after I was changed,” Courtney answered. Her tone darkened some. “But as the last of my living human blood was taken over by the vampire blood,” she raised her palm. “Nothing.”

  “No, it wouldn’t stick around,” Lizzy said softly. “A witch’s power is tied to life and passed down through bloodlines. Once that life is ended, so is the power. That’s why in the old days witches were often hunted and their blood stolen, for its power. I don’t know if it still happens today.”

  Melinda gave a shudder. She had never heard of such a thing. So much I don’t even know about my own heritage.

  “Oh it does,” informed Courtney ominously. “Maybe not recently here, but out in the rest of the world, it’s still a problem. Although not as rampant a problem as it used to be. I guess it’s easier to be a witch in today’s world.”

  Michael grunted, rejecting that theory.

  “So if someone drank witches blood, could they become a witch? Even temporarily?” Melinda wondered.

  Charlie had never seen his sister so full of questions.

  “No,” answered Lizzy. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it’s out of the body, the blood starts to weaken. To be a true witch you must be born with it. Witch blood can be used to add power to, and enhance spells, and curses and the like, if used when freshly taken. But the strength starts to taper off within a few hours.”

  Courtney sighed gloomily. “It’s going to take some getting used to. I’m not a witch anymore.”

  “Wait, so how was Eva able to still use her powers after she died and took over Emily?” Melinda asked no one in particular, still stuck in trying to understand it all mode.

  “She wasn’t a witch for one thing,” said Charlie. “So her ability wasn’t just tied to her blood. I think being a shapeshifter and a werewolf born from a werewolf mother, takes it a cut deeper than bloodlines. At least, that would be my guess.” He eyed Lizzy to see if she knew more.

  “Not a subject I’m too familiar with. If you think about it in these terms, say you were not from a witch bloodline, you wake tomorrow just a guy…”

  Charlie finished catching her point. “I’d still be a werewolf.”

  “So I guess there’s your answer, the easy form of it anyway,” said Lizzy.

  Courtney’s eyes lit up. She hadn’t known Charlie was a werewolf he assumed.

  “And you guys are in with a spirit vessel,” Courtney chimed in, beaming. “Wow. I’ve never met one. You’ve got quite the list of secrets here on this little island of yours. Surprising with how legendary your family is.”

  Charlie lifted a brow. “Secrets we do prefer to stay on the island, as long as possible,” he
reasoned with gentle firmness. “The locals are loyal to our secrets.”

  “Of course. I may be a nosy reporter, but my loyalties to my profession always come first… did come first.” She frowned.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” started Charlie, “who did Stricker kill?”

  She looked at each of them, before finally letting out, “My coven. All of them.” She eyed them uneasily, a dry swallow stuck in her throat. “I’m all that’s left. They may not have been my blood family, but they were equally important to me. In some cases, more so.” She looked like she wanted to say more but held back.

  “I’m sorry for that loss,” commiserated Charlie. The Howards were a recognized coven, although never called themselves such. Regardless, his family was everything and he could not fathom losing any more of them. Especially to the hands of a slimy prick like Stricker.

  Michael asked her, “If revenge is what you were seeking, why come here and take a job as a reporter?”

  “It’s what I do. Did. In the real world. A girl’s gotta make a living, right? And I would have never actually given real secrets away. My boss wanted to stir up business. The reporter position opened up just as I’d tracked Stricker to The Demon Isle. I used a bit of hoodoo on the station manager and got the job. It was a good cover. And once I’d finished taking out Stricker, I’d have made some excuse, and quit, and left.”

  “But you’ve heard of the Howards?” questioned Mack, still guarding the door.

  “What witch hasn’t?” Courtney rebutted. “You guys don’t get off the Isle much, do you? I had hoped to do what I came to do, leave you guys to your own devices, and not interfere or get in the way, but our goals ended up aligning. I guess I should’ve just come out, joined you in your cause and gotten mine done at the same time. Instead, I was stubborn and did it my way, and now look.” She flashed her fangs again.

  “Yeah, okay, so we get why you came here,” started Charlie. He pointed at her fangs. “How the hell did that happen?”

  She shook her head in personal belittlement.

  “I snuck into White Pines, in the middle of your war with the Feyk. I was hoping I could take out Stricker in the mix. During your battle, while I was alone in the woods, this woman flew out of nowhere. She looked a few breaths away from death’s door. Had been hurt. Claimed a monster had taken her and was trying to kill her. Then, that monster prowled out of the woods behind the woman… talk about death’s door! Most frightening thing I’d ever seen.”

  Charlie’s stomach rolled, his heart sinking like he’d fallen a long distance and his organs hadn’t quite caught up to him. He avoided the gazes of everyone else in the room, swearing they’d all fallen alongside him.

  “Wh-what did this woman look like?” he asked Courtney in an uneasy stutter.

  “Um. Medium height, on the thin side but fit. Long, super white hair. Striking really. I’d never seen anything like it.”

  Charlie’s jaw ground together tightly, his gaze stuck to the floor. Lizzy reached over and grasped his hand but he barely noticed her soft touch.

  “Son of a bitch…” Mack breathed out. She left her post and slumped back against the wall, her hand washing down over her face.

  Michael tore out of the room without a word. For about one brief second that seemed to last ten years all emotion disappeared from everyone, sucked out of them all. And then as that ten-year-long second wound into the next a wave crashed into him he had to escape before it knocked him unconscious.

  Melinda’s heart fluttered madly, the rhythm erratic. She didn’t want to hear the rest. It couldn’t be. William wouldn’t do this… not even if… he’d only been willing to turn her if she’d been near death. This outcome was not possible.

  Courtney shrank into her chair a little. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Lizzy spoke on their behalf. “No. Go ahead and continue.”

  “Okay. Um. Well. I figured out almost instantly the monster was a vampire and this poor woman had no chance. So I took him on. Tried to fight him. But I was not prepared to fight a vampire, only Feyk. And this vamp was crazed. Severely injured. Smelled like burnt… vampire. It was a strange scene. But you know, vampire, bad. Human, innocent. I had to do what I could. I may have been out for revenge on the Feyk, but I am a good witch at the end of the day. At least I was. I’m not sure what I am now. I guess trying to be a good vampire,” she rambled uneasily. “Your vampire seems to have his shit together, that’s why I wanted his help…”

  No one said anything. Or looked at Courtney. She sank more deeply into her chair. The tension thick, but she in the dark as to why.

  Full body nausea. Melinda had it from head to toe. A cold sweat erupted on her brow.

  Charlie’s body came back to life, muscles relaxing enough to climb to his feet. But his brain hadn’t caught up. Melinda’s gaze lifted and found his.

  “William would never do this,” she whispered coarsely.

  This was not happening.

  No way. No how.

  In Melinda’s prophetic dream, William refused to change her unless it was the only way to save her life. It wasn’t an option for him. He would not do it. Ever. Even upon death’s door he had not wanted to change her.

  And yet the irrefutable proof was sitting in front of them.

  Courtney Jessup, William’s victim. His unwilling victim. Her life stripped away in the heat of the moment by a crazed vampire… their vampire. Melinda’s vampire…

  He’d killed this woman. And turned her into a vampire. Courtney Jessup was sired by William Wakefield. She’d been in the wrong place at the worst possible moment in time.

  The reporter hadn’t known Eva Jordan needed to die, and got in the way thinking she was saving an innocent woman being attacked by a savage monster who was high on human blood after hours of endless torture, with one task on his mind. One they’d asked him to do. Needed him to do.

  Kill Eva, no matter what it took.

  And the price of what it took: Courtney Jessup dead and turned into a vampire.

  Melinda trembled all over. She wanted to flee, but her arms and legs refused to obey and move her body. If William had done this to Courtney…

  No. Don’t even think it.

  It was a heat of the moment thing.

  He was not on a rampage killing people.

  He’d come to her, said he was leaving. Had already left.

  Melinda saw in written in the silent gazes staring back at her. Charlie, Mack, Lizzy… probably even Michael wherever the hell he’d run off to.

  William was crazed enough to turn Courtney, and if he was crazed enough to do that maybe he hadn’t left the Isle after all. Perhaps she’d only dreamed he’d said goodbye.

  William, hostage to bloodlust, killing people.

  Melinda refused to believe it.

  “I’m obviously missing something,” said Courtney, her tone hopeful they’d explain.

  Charlie paced the room. He needed to hear her confirm it. Even though she hadn’t fully, his mind was already unwillingly condemning his friend. He stopped, staring down Courtney with a gaze that begged for the truth.

  “This crazed vampire chasing the white haired woman, this is the vampire that killed you? And turned you?”

  “Yes. It was.”

  Courtney kept talking but none of them heard the words clearly.

  “On his part, unintentional I think. Not that it makes it okay by a long shot. But he was unstoppable in his quest to take out this woman. So I did the only thing that came to mind. I jumped on his back and bit him. He freaked, flung me like a ragdoll and I wrapped around a tree. But I’d gotten his blood in me so, you know. Here I am now. Me vampire.”

  Silence.

  Shaky breaths.

  No one with any words to respond to this.

  Melinda didn’t think it was possible for her heart to shatter into smaller pieces, or get cut any deeper. William was in control after he’d rescued her from the Feyk. And they’d shared that dream… that never-going-t
o-forget-it-totally-awesome dream, and he was okay right after that.

  But Courtney’s death happened before the dream sharing, when he was wild trying to save Melinda from the Feyk. Which meant William had no idea this had happened. No idea he’d killed the reporter.

  It was possible that bloodlust set in without them knowing, things were chaotic in that day following, and William did not come to the hospital like he’d said he would. Or normally would have. But her dream in the hospital was so real. Melinda would have bet her life on it being real… until this moment.

  And if it wasn’t real, how the hell did she tell them apart? The fake, from the real, from the prophetic. She’d always been able to until recently.

  Mack adjusted her gun belt, grabbed the crossbow she’d dropped, and made to leave.

  “I’m sorry guys. You can’t imagine how damn sorry. But you know what this means.”

  “Please don’t say it,” begged Melinda in strained response.

  Lizzy and Charlie stared at each other. This was not the outcome they’d expected.

  “It still might not be him,” Charlie muttered.

  Mack heaved out a tense gushing of air.

  “It’s my job to protect the non-supernaturals on this island. I can’t let the bodies start piling up, no matter who’s at fault. Never mind if it gets out, this island will be bursting at the seams with more tourists and reporters than we’ll know what to do with. They’ll latch on to this story and won’t relent.”

  Something they were always worried about in the back of their minds. It wasn’t any sort of rule for the world to stay in the dark. Or for magic to remain secret. But it was sure a heck of a lot easier with the majority in the dark, so it was considered an underwritten rule. Not enforced. But something the supernatural community kept to, whether on the side of good, or evil.

  Anonymity was a plus in the supernatural world. There was no way of knowing how the public would react. The fantasy was better than the reality. And they’d always walked a fine line on The Demon Isle.

  If it got out there was a series of deaths, it would be bad enough.

  If it leaked out those deaths was a suspected vampire attack…