Tormented (A Secret Salem Novel 4)

by J. N. Colon

  Peals of laughter tumbled out of Stoner and he slapped the wall audibly, making Victoria jump. He doubled over, holding his stomach. “This is priceless man. I would pay to watch this all day.”

  “Is something wrong?” Victoria asked, her gaze shifting around the room again. “Is he mad about something?”

  Samuel scoffed and peeled himself from the wall, mumbling under his breath.

  “Nope. He’s just excited to see you.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. People didn’t usually seek out the dead for the truth. They simply wanted closure and a sweet, tear-jerking memory to help them sleep at night.

  “And she’s feeding the dog way too much.” Samuel folded down in a chair against the wall, crossing his arms again. “He’s going to get fat.”

  Victoria blinked at me hopefully. “Anything else?”

  Chapter 3

  My hand trailed over the intricate vines of ivy engraved in the granite stone that sat atop the lush grass. It was cool to the touch—like my heart now that he was gone.

  McCollum Cambridge Davenport

  Loving son, friend, and husband

  Since Mac and I were already bonded and mated—married in the vampire world—Miranda and Whitmore put husband for me on his headstone. They didn’t care what the humans thought.

  The ground beneath it was completely undisturbed, plush green grass lying flat like a carpet. His final resting place was in a well kempt cemetery not far from the Davenport house. A beautiful maple tree sat close, the leaves setting the sky on fire in colors of sienna, gold, orange, and yellow.

  I sighed and sat against the headstone, the coolness leaking through my clothes. “Hey Mac,” I whispered, pulling my knees up to my chest. “I met some more ghosts today. I was hoping you’d show, but…” I shrugged. “I’m sure you would if you could. I still have a few more customers and of course there’s always tomorrow.” I picked a blade of grass, splitting it with my fingers. “Come any time you can baby. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing for you.” My throat began to clog as I continued asking—begging—him to show himself. “Just come.” A tear dropped down my eye, wetting my jeans.

  People say time heals all wounds. They were liars. Time only made them into ugly scars.

  The wind blew, leaves falling from the maple tree raining down on me and scattering across the grass. With it also began a sudden misty fog creeping across the cemetery.

  My brow arched. Well that wasn’t creepy at all.

  The sky darkened as the thick fog crawled and billowed like a monster, reminding me of the first time I attended Highland Academy. I stood and even with my vampire sight I could hardly see beyond the first few rows of headstones.

  My skin prickled and throat went dry. This was not normal.

  In the distance a massive life-size angel sat atop a grave, wings tucked against his side and hands clasped in prayer. For a split second it appeared to move. Or something moved behind it, stepping back into its shadow for cover.

  I gulped. This was so very familiar. If I didn’t know any better I’d say I was back at Highland Academy with a crazy stalker out to get me.

  Maybe it was a ghost. I’d seen plenty hanging out in the graveyard. Half of them didn’t even realize they were dead.

  A chill dusted down my spine and I felt a presence coalesce behind me. I whirled around, expecting either a hunter or ghost. It was neither.

  We both yelped at each other, grabbing our chests.

  “What the hell?” I gasped, staring at a very stunned Sasha Svensson.

  Her light blue eyes were wide as saucers and hands trembling. “I’m sorry Rubi. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Her voice came out like a gentle whisper of wind.

  I’d come in contact with the Svenssons several times, but I’d actually only heard Sasha speak once at my coronation when she claimed there were rumors about Demy and me being lovers. Any other time she seemed quiet, reserved, and almost distant. Nothing like her parents who loved the sound of their own nasally, haughty voices.

  The tall, waifish girl standing before me seemed fragile, almost breakable. Her skin was porcelain and equally delicate like a china doll. Long flaxen locks framed her elfin face where a pair of glacier clear blue eyes sat. A cupid’s bow mouth the color of pale pink sat atop a pointed chin. A tiny flat beauty mark sat in the upper right corner above her mouth, the only flaw in her perfect skin.

  I wanted to instantly hate her, but her slight frame and timid demeanor wouldn’t let me. I could be wary of her though. She was after all Veronica and Anton’s daughter.

  I cleared my throat and attempted to calm my racing heart. “It’s okay. I’m usually jumpy.” Who wouldn’t be when they had daily visits from ghosts?

  Sasha nervously fiddled with the delicate heart charm on a thin white gold necklace. She wore an oversized light blue blouse with gray leggings and flat boots. She reminded me of an ethereal elf in a fairytale. “I saw you from the road and just wanted offer my condolences.”

  “Um. Thanks,” I said awkwardly.

  “Mac and I used to be friends when we were younger.” She whispered his name reverently, almost in praise.

  “I know.” My voice was harsher than I meant or maybe subconsciously I did meant it. Probably. How could I forget that Whitmore and the Svenssons had lengthy discussions about Mac and Sasha’s possible future nuptials and her being princess. Her parents reminded me every time I saw them until Mac’s death. Before me I wasn’t sure how Mac would have handled that kind of arrangement. Sasha was gorgeous—if you like that tall, ethereal blonde thing.

  Oh please. Who was I kidding? What guy wouldn’t find Sasha beautiful?

  A thought crossed my mind and I suddenly wondered why she was in Salem when she went to a boarding school in England. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?

  “Oh.” She smoothed down a leaf with the tip of her boot. “I transferred to Highland for my senior year. My parents wanted me closer with the hunters and everything…” She shrugged and her words trailed off as if there need be no other explanation.

  In ordinary circumstances there wasn’t. But not with the Svenssons. I had a feeling her parents always had ulterior motives.

  After my last customer I blew out the candles, trying not to let cold disappointment sink into my bones. Mac hadn’t come through.

  Tomorrow will be the day, the optimistic voice in my head said.

  With a sigh I shrugged out of the silky coat, tossing it on a chair. I opened the cabinet to begin removing the rest of my Medium Moon-gem costume when a cool air drifted down my spine. I glanced in the mirror, seeing a pair of familiar beady eyes, a bulbous bald head, and a white handlebar mustache.

  “Frying fish sticks!” I jumped and spun around, grabbing my rioting heart as I stared at the apparition before me. “Professor Forsyth?” Of all the dead people to visit me.

  “Rubiks Moon-gem, what a pleasure it is seeing you again.” His British accent was even more pretentious in death and still laced with annoyance.

  I glared and crossed my arms against my chest. “What are you doing here? Not enough dead people to torture?”

  He ignored my sarcasm, picking lint off his boring brown sweater vest. “Rubiks Moon-gem, you should show me a little more respect. I am still your elder.”

  My head snapped back as if he slapped me. “Are you joking! You’re dead. I don’t have to do squat.” I spun around and resumed de-Moon-geming.

  “Young lady, I’ll have you know…”

  His words were cut off by my bout of loud, obnoxious humming. Horace Forsyth was as much of a first rate jerk in death as he was in life. And to think I had felt sorry for him, getting ripped apart by one of those undead vampire creatures. What has he been doing since then? Running around berating other ghosts he thought were beneath him?

  His voice rose, prompting my humming to as well until I was practically screaming at the top of my lungs.

  “Moon-gem!” MJ peeked her head through the curtain, a c
oncerned expression creasing her face. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Just a grouchy old casper trying to irritate me to death.”

  A sympathetic smile split her lips. “Oh, well, you’re scaring some of the customers.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry.”

  She blinked. “Oh no. It’s good for business,” she whispered before disappearing again, letting the curtain fall back.

  I sighed and dropped my collection of rings onto the shelf. I might as well get this over with. I didn’t want moth balls following me around all night. “What do you want?”

  He twisted the ends of his mustache, pursing his lips. “What makes you think I desire anything from you Rubiks Moon-gem?”

  Ewwee. Did he have to use the word desire and me in the same sentence? “You’re here talking to me, aren’t you?”

  Professor Forsyth silently continued picking lint off his boring brown sweater vest. I rolled my eyes and turned around, tapping my foot impatiently. “Well… I haven’t got all day.”

  After several seconds of a stare off he finally released a breath of air, his body deflating and slouching. His expression went from dower to somber in seconds. “I need you to get a message to my cat.”

  I nearly choked on my own tongue. “Your cat?” Of course it was a cat.

  “Yes.”

  I blinked, wondering if he was joking until I remembered who I was talking to. Professor Forsyth didn’t know the meaning of the word. “You do realize I can’t communicate with cats—or any animal.”

  “Well obviously. I’m requesting you tell Professor Wicks—he has inherited guardianship—he’s not properly feeding him.”

  My brow arched. How did the French teacher end up with Forsyth’s cat? I had a feeling that question was going to lead me down a dark, terrifying road of one long conversation so I refrained from asking it. “Okay…”

  He raised his palms in the air. “Chauncey doesn’t like all that dry food.”

  He named his cat Chauncey? The image of a fluffy white pompous feline turning up his nose and flicking his tail entered my mind.

  “Chauncey only likes Fancy Feast or tuna fish, but neither in the can. He only likes the kind from the fresh sealed packets.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting on my response.

  Holy frijoles. What a nut job?

  “Okay. Will do.” I spun back around and grabbed a tissue to wipe off the blood red lipstick.

  “That’s it?” he asked. “You’ll deliver the message Rubiks Moon-gem?”

  I met his ghostly reflection. “Oh I’ll deliver the message all right. Hell, I’ll even buy the food myself as long as you leave me alone.”

  A satisfactory smile slipped across his face, reaching his beady eyes. “Delightful. I should expect Chauncey to be well fed with the proper food by tomorrow evening then.”

  I saluted him, watching as he finally faded away.

  “If not,” his disembodied voice echoed. “I’ll be back.”

  I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I had half a mind to ignore his request, but I’d rather not see my former history professor again.

  Fully back to Rubi complete with hoodie I straightened up the mess MJ created on the counter, stowing away the assortment of stones in their rightful places—at least I think it was right. I couldn’t tell hematite from onyx.

  The door over the bell rang as another customer strolled in. I opened my mouth to greet them while looking down when the familiar scent of fire and earthly amber swam up my nostrils. My head snapped up to see Demyan Dragoniv strolling through the door.

  His inky black hair was tousled around his sharp angled face, falling in those enigmatic violet eyes. The silver stud piercing his eyebrow gleamed from the sunlight almost like a beacon for trouble. He was trouble. His lean muscles were visible beneath his black and gray t-shirt, stretching down his shredded biceps. He stalked rather than walked, a cocky grin twitching at his lips, but the real emotion was all in his eyes. He desperately missed me.

  “Princess.” His Russian accent flowed thicker than usual.

  I stared at him for a moment, my gaze caressing his familiar features. Up until a few weeks ago he had been by my side since Mac died. My throat suddenly clogged and eyes watered with how much I missed him.

  “You just going to stare at me or are you going to give me a hug?”

  I snapped back into the present and felt myself moving from behind the counter, crashing into his arms. His earthly amber scent swam around me as I melted into his warmth. I couldn’t break and ask him to stay. I couldn’t let myself get addicted to his company, but I couldn’t help savoring the comfort he brought.

  Reluctantly I pulled back and peered up into his face. “What are you doing here?”

  Demy bent and quickly pecked me on the lips, his tasting of fresh mint. This was nothing new. He kissed me on the lips even in front of Mac, much to his annoyance. “Nice to see you too.”

  I scoffed and slipped away from his arms before I became too comfortable. “You know what I mean. Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

  He shrugged. “It’s Friday. I hopped on a plane to visit you. No biggie.” Demy averted his eyes, a tell-tale sign he was trying to hide something. I could always read him through those eyes.

  “Okay.” I played along instead.

  His long fingers twisted one of the strings on my hoodie. “I thought we could get a bite to eat.” He chomped his teeth audibly and wiggled his brows suggestively.

  I smacked his chest. “You’re sick.”

  “Only kidding. Maybe just a steak or two.” The Russian shifter liked meat almost as much as me.

  We ordered steak sandwiches and sat outside in the small square at a rot iron table. Fallen leaves danced across the concrete and the trees swayed gently, creating a soft, rhythmic cadence. The sun was beginning to set, painting the skies in brilliant pinks, purples, and oranges. The crisp air was filled with spices and the aroma of food. Rufus was sitting at one table while Daedalus leaned against a shop window, pretending to read a paper. Several other guards were stationed around.

  “You barely touched your sandwich.” Demy mumbled through his last bite, motioning toward my plate were a nearly full sandwich sat.

  “Oh, um…” I picked it up and took a massive bite to satisfy him. Food didn’t have the same appeal it used to. Often—like now—it tasted like sawdust. Even blood didn’t have the same effect. Or maybe it was because it was always from a glass. Either way it was different.

  I’d even lost weight and by the scrutinizing gaze Demy was giving me, I was guessing it was noticeable. If I kept it up I might just waste away to nothing.

  It was weird how that thought didn’t frighten me as much as it should.

  With huge effort I finally swallowed and sipped my soda. “How are classes going?”

  “Good,” he said, watching me pick at my fries.

  “Got a girlfriend yet?” I teased.

  He grinned devilishly. “Please. You know I have several girlfriends Rubi.” He reached over and grabbed my hand, kissing my fingers. “But you’ll always be my number one.”

  I rolled my eyes and took my hand back. “Oh please. Save your charm for someone who doesn’t know the real scoundrel under that handsome face.”

  He gasped in mock offense and grabbed his chest. “Me? A scoundrel? Whatever could you mean?”

  “Oh, like that one time you turned into a kitten caught in the rain and let me bring you up to my dorm and watched me change.”

  Demy pursed his lips. “That was a misunderstanding.”

  “You fell asleep on my boobs!”

  He nearly choked on his soda, coughing before he spoke. “I couldn’t help it.” He held his hands out, cupping the air in front of my chest. “They were like little pillows from heaven.”

  I slapped his hands away and leaned forward, quickly flicking his piercing.”

  “Ah!” He pressed his han
d over his brow. “Why do you always do that?”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “It’s the only way to get you to shut up.”

  He pouted, curving those sensual lips. “You brought it up.”

  I had a hard time fighting the smile trying to escape. “You’re still sick.”

  “I know.” He rubbed his brow one more time before letting his hand fall back on the table. “I’ve been missing by doses of medicine. You.”

  I swallowed hard at his sudden serious tone and averted my eyes to my barely eaten sandwich. “I miss you too Demy.” My finger absentmindedly twisted the silver band with a panther engraved he got me for my seventeenth birthday.

  “Then why did you send me away?” His voice was soft, but I could detect the hurt and accusation in it.

  “I didn’t want you missing out on college because of me. It’s important you go and…”

  His fist suddenly slammed against the table, rattling our drinks. “This is not about school!” he growled, his eyes glowing unnaturally bright.

  I stared, opened mouth shocked at his outburst. “Demy, of course it is. Why else…?”

  “Do not lie to me Rubi.” His jaw clenched tight around his gritted teeth. “You’re pushing me away like you’ve done with everyone else.”

  “That’s not true,” I lied.

  “Bullshit.” He leaned forward, whispering so only I could hear. “You made me go away because you don’t want me to see what you’re doing to yourself. You don’t want me to pull you out of the darkness.”

  I swallowed hard several time to force the lump down. Of course Demy would know. He knew me almost as much as Mac. I was stupid to think I could fool him.

  He took my silence as confirmation and then pointed to my uneaten food. “You’re not eating and I can bet you’re barely drinking blood.”

  “I’m fine,” I hissed, attempting to find my anger. “I’m an adult and can do whatever the hell I want.”

  Demy stood, his chair scraping against the concrete. “You’re right Rubi. You can do whatever you want. Just remember Mac isn’t the only one that loves you.” With that Demy stormed off, leaving me watching his retreating form while my heart squeezed painfully within my chest.