“Fiona, I do not know your cousin! What are you talking about? Where did you get this information?”
“Haley told my mom you were going out with her tonight. Is this not true?”
“No, not in the least. I was actually going to call Maddie and see if she wanted to come over and watch movies.”
Something wasn’t right. How did I get this wrong? I apologized for the miscommunication, quickly ended the call and dialed Maddie as fast as I could, getting her voicemail after three rings—You’ve reached Maddie’s message emporium, say what you will!
I screamed as if screaming would make her check her messages faster.
“Maddie! Oh my gosh, Carden is not going out with Haley, he doesn’t even know her. Oh my gosh, don’t say a word to him about this! He was totally going to ask you over tonight, so don’t ruin it!”
I threw myself on my bed for a moment to gather my thoughts. Without further thought, I marched back to Haley’s room to interrogate her.
“Haley! Why’d you tell my mom you were going on a double-date tonight with Carden Doyle?”
Haley propped up in her bed, looking at me with her bright blue bloodshot eyes; her platinum curls in full disarray.
“Fiona, I said Duncan Doyle—Carden’s older brother from Hartford,” Haley’s voice crackled, she grabbed her forehead as if to steady herself as she positioned herself on her pillows.
I felt like an idiot the moment she said the word Duncan.
“Ralph Booner’s friend?”
“Yes,” she said, throwing her body backward and pulling her comforter to her nose.
“You did?”
She let out a moan.
“Yes, Fiona. Your mom’s an idiot.”
She endured another violent coughing spell.
“If you ever call my mom an idiot again, you will be sorry. She has a PhD in chemistry, and I hardly think that spells idiot. And did you know that Duncan Doyle is probably 21-years-old? You’re only 14!”
“I just turned 15, now you’re the idiot,” she said, coughing.
“When was your birthday?”
“Two days ago.”
For the first time, I felt a trace of guilt about Haley. My parents were not the type to skip over a birthday, even if it was the terror known as Haley Frost. My mom certainly couldn’t have known it was her birthday, or she would have made reservations for a family dinner, followed by a birthday cake with candles at home, and many presents.
“Really? Oh my, Haley. I’m so sorry we didn’t do anything for you. My parents couldn’t have known. Actually, Janice is the birthday tracker of the house and with everything going on—”
“Fiona, I don’t give a crap about my birthday, stop justifying things, and get the hell out of here. I’m sick and stop grilling me!”
I wanted to ask her about Camber and who she was going out with, but I didn’t want confirmation it was Wolfe, not from her mouth, at least. That would make the sting even worse, so I simply left her alone and returned to my bedroom. I kept my sanity with the hope that it could have been somebody else even though my instinct was telling me different.
I was still under house arrest because of Gerald Smith, so after my mom and Haley returned from the clinic, pills in hand, I enjoyed a relaxing night with my parents watching movies in the living room. Haley stayed in bed, so I had them to myself without her drama.
The following morning came in a blink of an eye, and as if on cue, I received a call from Detective Chase only moments after my alarm sounded.
“Fiona, would you like to ride along today? I’ve got a spot I want to visit to get more information about the items found around the victim’s body at the crime scene.”
“Sure thing. It will be just me since Maddie has to host a soccer camp at school today.”
After about an hour, Detective Chase knocked on the front door to pick me up. The skies were gloomy with abundant gray clouds but no rain. According to protocol, Agent Bronson still had to follow us, so we caravanned to a shop on the outskirts of town called Desde’s Gothic Garden. During the ride, he kept the small talk on the weather, politics, and the dynamics at the police station—who was being promoted and such. I kept a watchful eye out the window as we drove, as I had never been to this part of town before. We soon pulled into the parking lot in front of the shop.
“Almost forgot—we made a match to the unknown print on the sword,” he said, putting the car in park.
“Are you kidding me? Another teen vampire?”
“No, he’s from Hartford University. His name is Alex Drumley. He is a member of the Paranormal Science Department—”
“Knew it! I knew they were all freaks!” I said, my voice breathless from excitement.
“Don’t rush to judge. The department actually estimates Alex in the cave, specifically in the orb room that night, between one and one-thirty in the morning. They do research there frequently, and Alex is doing his graduate school thesis on the Arles Cave and needed to collect data prior to the Witching Hour.”
Agent Bronson pulled into the adjacent spot, nodding as I climbed out of the passenger’s seat.
“Well, he could be the murderer, right? If Emily Vance says she was attacked with chloroform, he could have been waiting for them when they arrived. Case solved?”
We walked in front of the store, pausing momentarily. The red brick building was shoddy, two stories, and it appeared as though the retail store was on the bottom floor with a residence on the top—probably the owner’s home. The storefront was intriguing with a deep burgundy awning hovering over the front entrance.
“Don’t move too quickly, we’re putting the pieces together on the timeline. Remember, Alex would need a motive, and being a college student ghost hunter isn’t exactly motive for murdering a random lady in the dungeon of a cave.”
I sighed, stressed we had gained another suspect. My phone rang. A blocked number, but I decided to answer it.
“Hello?” I said.
Breathing sounded from the other end of the line.
“Hello?” I said with a curious tone.
It was dead silent. The phone disconnected.
“Who was that?”
“No clue. The number was blocked, and they hung up. If it is important, they’ll call back.”
“True.”
“What exactly do they sell at this garden place?” I asked as we stood in front of the entryway, peering inside the door.
“Well, I’m not sure. We found a price tag with this store’s name on it on one of the gold goblets on the altar. I figured I’d go to the source and check it out. I assume the rest of the stuff, the bowls, the candles, were all bought here.”
“I get it. Yeah, I remember those black candles were all in different shapes with different symbols on them. Very creepy stuff, Detective.”
I gazed over at the shop’s windows, backed with a black velvet fabric from the inside with neon writing on the outside of the glass promoting capes, vampire teeth, and exotic oils. Highlighted in the display window was a black lacquer table with a human skull on top, tea light candles surrounding it. To me, it was a Halloween prop store.
“If these candles and such have a meaning, it can help us see exactly what these guys were up to in that cave,” he said, holding the door open to the shop.
I took slow steps inside; a thick aroma of incense burned the inner lining of my nasal cavity. The ceiling was painted in a mural as if it were cracked brick with a snake bursting through. The serpent’s head was enlarged, opened mouth, the fangs dripping with blood—right above the cash stand where we were headed.
“Hello, ma’am. My name is Detective Chase from the Godley Grove Police Department. I spoke to somebody here named Desde on the phone this morning.”
“Yesssssss, you did,” the lady sang mysteriously as she pulled her black veil away from her face.
Her face was painted a metallic white color, and she wore black, glittery lipstick. With long, black hair, bone straight, her eye makeup was thick and dark.
She wore black contacts covering most of the whites of her eyes—Dimitri must have used the same supplier. Unlike Dimitri, she was eerily pretty.
“You’re Desde?”
“Yessssss,” she hissed like a snake, her draped layers flowed gracefully as she moved in a fluid motion.
“I wanted to show you pictures of the items we discovered around a dead body in the Arles Cave. I’d like to see if you can tell us what these items are traditionally used for.”
“Yessssss, Desde is willing to help you,” she moved smoothly in a random, wiggling fashion.
Detective Chase looked at me through his peripheral vision. I knew he was trying to assess my reaction to this woman to ensure I was not going to lose it. She was soothing in a weird way—I wasn’t scared or intimidated, but rather amused.
“This is the first one,” he placed the pictures of the goblets on the altar on the counter. The lady studied the picture for a moment and then smiled, revealing her golden teeth and rhinestone fangs.
I scanned the dark aisles of the store; black lights lining the shelves, giving a sinister Halloween night ambiance. There was an aisle of candles immediately in front of the cash stand, and I recognized a few of them from the crime scene. The aisle on the right had Gothic attire, and the aisle on the left was packed with oils, colorful bowls, lava lamps, and a large selection of gold and silver goblets. Turning back towards the counter, my eyes landed upon a swivel case full of golden fangs.
“Desde knows what these are. They are Goblets of Life. They are used for drinking blood and giving power to those who drink of life,” she said melodically, moving from side to side.
“Where does the blood typically come from? I mean, in the ceremony or whatever, do they have to kill the person and get the blood?” he probed.
She smiled, studying Detective Chase’s face before she continued. “Nooooo. The blood comes from the willing. If they are not willing, you cannot gain power.”
“It’s that tenet of consensual feeding, right?” I added boldly, proud I could contribute to the conversation.
“Yessssssss, young girl. You are quite smart if you already know the tenets. Do you wish to awaken? I see by the shape of your ear that you have the second life in you.”
“What does that mean?” I mused, pulling my hair forward to cover my ears.
“It means you, my dear, are a vampire, you are one of us, but you don’t know it yet. You need to be awakened. You need a Nosfu vampire.”
I paused in an awkward silence, glancing at the detective, begging him telepathically through my eyes to save me from this conversation. I was afraid to offend somebody like her for fear of what she could do to me. On the other hand, I didn’t want to act interested.
“Desde, I have another picture for you. Let’s not focus on recruiting Miss Frost into becoming a vampire,” he asserted as he placed the pictures of the candles on the counter.
She slowly rolled her head around before looking down at the counter to view the pictures.
She pointed to the first candle and added, “This is the Candle of the Second Life.”
He jotted notes on his notepad before locking eyes with Desde, “Why would you light this candle?”
“If you are going to awaken somebody. This,” she pointed to the second candle with extremely long, pointed, deep purple nails, “needs to be lit along with it, and it is the Candle of the Awakening.”
“What about this one,” Detective Chase pointed to the last candle.
With a mischievous smile, she searched the detective’s eyes before turning towards me to stare into my eyes.
“That is the Candle of Nosferatu. Very powerful. If you light this one, you become undead; you walk through the forest to the other side, notifying the others of your presence.”
Her description baffled me. I had no idea what planet’s rules she was delving into, but it didn’t make sense to me.
“What exactly do you mean by that?” he inquired.
“If these three candles are lit together, and you drink from the Goblet of Life, you will awaken somebody like young Miss Frost and the other vampires will sense her awakening,” Desde said grimly, extending her hand towards me. “It confirms an eternal bond with your House, your Order, and it can’t be broken.”
“I have a few more questions, and then we’re done, Desde. I appreciate your help,” he said as he placed a picture of the bowls on the counter. “What are these bowls used for? I see they are all shapes, sizes with various symbols on them.”
Desde shook her head slowly as she looked at Detective Chase, her expression morphed into a fervent seriousness.
“Ooooooh. These are Rinden Bowls. These are used to make oils.”
“What do these oils do?”
“Most are used for good spells,” she pointed to her selection of the bowls in the aisle behind us to the left, “but some are used solely for black magic. The bowls in the picture are for black magic. I don’t sell those; you have to custom order them. Not really related to the vampire culture, but some partake in the powers. I don’t suggest using them, however,” she shook her head in a somber manner, looking downward, avoiding eye contact.
“But what do they use the oils for, Desde?”
“They are used for curses, hexes, jinxes, protection against enemies.”
“Would they be used in a human sacrifice?”
“Nooooooo. The southern vampires don’t do human sacrifices, Detective. I heard some of the northerners do, however.”
“One last thing. What about this?” Detective Chase placed the picture of the murder weapon on the counter.
She immediately nodded her head, taking a long moment to stare into his eyes.
“This is a Sword of Moartea. It’ssss a death sword.”
My stomach emptied, became a hollow pit. I had been so close to a sword so full of evil; it was used to take a life with an immoral and revolting intent.
“Would this be used in a human sacrifice in the vampire culture?”
“Yessssssssss. It can be used to cause death in any culture.”
Nausea consumed me. I needed fresh air. The incense was so thick; it made my throat feel sore again. The painted snake above the register on the ceiling seemed to have moved locations slightly, but I was most likely disoriented from the smoke and black lights. The time had come to leave.
“Thank you, Desde. You’ve been a great help. Have a great day,” the detective exclaimed as he ushered me out of the store.
We exited the store; the gloomy weather appeared bright in comparison to the inside of the store. I shielded my eyes from the weak sunrays sprinkling down from the gray, cloudy sky. I inhaled as much of the clean air as my lungs could hold to rid my body of the incense smoke. My nausea quickly faded.
11 SVA
As Detective Chase drove me home, I stared pensively out the windshield, reeling in my disordered thoughts. Snapping out of my trance, I sent text messages to my team to schedule a club meeting for Monday morning at the school lab, as we needed to meet and discuss the case—we were stronger as a team.
With Agent Bronson standing watch in front of the house, I grabbed a soda and brownie and set off for the living room to watch television. My father was in his office working, and my mother was busy working on her newest dollhouse in the room we referred to as Dollhouse Plaza.
Grabbing the remote, I flipped on the television to the news. An excited reporter announced a charitable event was being hosted at the civic center by a southern charitable organization called SVA. Openly nervous, she was interviewing none other than Dimitri LeMorte. After his release from jail, he had rallied the Southern Vampire Alliance for support, and was fundraising for Damien, Victoria and Sydney’s bond money—proclaiming they were children being held against their will with no evidence against them in a murder case.
I was shocked a popular alternative rock band, Tooth ‘n’ Nail, was set to perform at his event. Dimitri was collecting a sizeable amount per ticket. With the amount of sup
porters standing behind him in the newscast, I came to a quick realization how popular the vampire culture was.
It was quite odd he referred to his organization as the SVA with no explanation and never mentioned he was a leader of people who believed they were vampires, however, anybody who saw him knew he wasn’t an astronaut, teacher or dentist. He portrayed the SVA as philanthropic, but I knew better.
Lauren had received my text and called.
“Hello, Lauren! Please say you’re in for Monday morning!”
“When is the meeting, I’m in.”
“Oh, I guess I forgot the time, oops. 6 AM, that will give us two hours and if needed, we can also meet after school.”
“Sounds good to me. I spoke to Wolfe, by the way.”
“And?”
“He said you kicked him out of the club.”
My heart tried to burst from my rib cage. I hoped he would see reason and stay away from Camber. I suppose this was my answer, he chose her over the club.
“I had to, and I only suspended him, not kicked him out.”
“Well, he said his friend Camber is in a lot of danger. He’d like for you to know she is trying to get out of the vampire cult, and they said if she wants out, they will cut out her tongue, so she can never speak of them.”
“That’s so gross. But it’s kind of what she gets for being associated with them in the first place.”
“Fiona, that doesn’t sound like you.”
“I apologize. I agree, that was completely mean, and I didn’t mean it. I’ll notify the detective she is being threatened, and he can report it through the proper channels. Do you know who told her this? Damien Lee?”
“No, I think it was that other guy, the one that leads the Order.”
“Dimitri LeMorte?”
“That’s him.”
“Great. That’s not a guy I would mess with. He’s influential, it seems. Tell her to call the police and let them know she has been threatened with bodily harm. Don’t think they’ll do anything, but she might be able to file for a restraining order against him.”
“I will tell Wolfe to tell her. I think you should reconsider allowing him back in the club. I think it is a silly reason to kick him out. Plus he is the only major eye candy we have, girl.”
Fiona Frost: Order of the Black Moon Page 12
