Touched By His Vampire Charm: A Nocturne Falls Universe story

by Kira Nyte

  “Damn. That sucks.”

  Draven flashed him a shaded grin that showed off the points of fangs. He grabbed the bag containing his few necessities from the pannier and slung it over his shoulder.

  “That means”—

  Draven dropped an arm around Clark’s shoulders and winked—“you’re going to show me all the fun that happens in this little place. I’m livin’ it up while I’m in Nocturne Falls.”

  “In between trying to find out if the rumors that Sal is still alive and being held hostage or that he had kids is true,” Clark reminded. Draven snorted and removed his arm from his friend, who continued, “Hey, I’ve been here for about eight months now and haven’t seen anyone or anything that stands out.” The guy snickered. “Well, except for the really gorgeous women in town.”

  Now that was something Draven could only hope for. Being part of the Levoire coven was as drab as drab got. The women were all pasty-skinned, dead-eyed, black-haired tiny things while the men were tall, brooding jerks with no personality. Living in the coven’s mansion was like living in a black-and-white movie with no sound.

  It was no wonder Salvatore Levoire left and never came back. If Draven were in his shoes, he wouldn’t want to lead the coven of walking corpses either. Efforts to push for any change that might move the coven into modern society came up against impenetrable walls. It didn’t make the situation of Sal’s disappearance any better. He was supposed to take over the coven when Garrett stepped down. He was a spark of hope for those who, like Draven, desperately wanted the family to see what the world was like today. Draven would be long gone from the Levoire coven if it wasn’t for his little sister, who was not only allergic to the sun, but had developed a rare allergy to any kind of artificial light. He needed a safe place for her.

  Sophia’s world was as drab as the coven tried to make it. She had no choice. Everyone else did.

  So Draven decided to live for her, to live wild and carefree so he could bring the world to his sister in the form of stories and tales, pictures and trinkets.

  That was the bulk of his outwardly carefree existence until he overheard talk about Salvatore’s accounts being opened and money withdrawn. After a little more research—according to the Elders, which included Garrett and two other old bones—the coven found that Sal might have left the accounts to children, though it seemed their names were strictly confidential. Those Elders didn’t understand identity theft in the current world.

  Draven laughed to himself, even now.

  Yeah, right. Sal was the ultimate bachelor. No way did he settle down and have a secret family.

  And that was being respectful. He owed the older vampire everything.

  Anyhow, here he was, following a far-fetched lead to a small Georgia town called Nocturne Falls. A place where his friend, whom Draven met on one of his adventures a few decades ago, set down roots because of the many paranormal residents and the freedom to live as who they really were.

  Vampires were a thing, apparently. Everyone wanted some fang after popular books and movies hit the world.

  Draven glanced at this watch. “It’s only nine. The night is still young. What do you say I drop my bag off inside and we hit the town?”

  “Man, you’re gonna love it here!”

  Draven tipped his head to the moon, a swollen silver beacon against the star-spangled black backdrop. A few more days, and the moon would be full. He’d be sure to take a picture of it rising behind the trees. Maybe some nighttime pictures of the mountains and the town.

  Sophia loved the full moon.

  Draven passed up the offer of a short tour of Clark’s house. After a few nights of travel, he wanted to get out. His skin itched and it had nothing to do with the chill in the autumn air. He was restless. A few drinks and maybe some darts. He’d prefer a club, but in his experience, midweek wasn’t ideal for that in most towns and cities. He doubted it was any different here.

  “You say this place is all about supernaturals, right? Any place to pick up some laced wine or, I dunno, a unit or two of A-positive?” Draven asked, settling his tall form in the passenger seat of Clark’s Porsche SUV.

  “There are a few places.” Clark smiled big. “Hope Sophia’s prepared for all the little goodies you’ll be bringing home with you.”

  Draven chuckled. “If I discover there is truth to these rumors about Sal having kids, maybe I’ll be bringing her to the goodies.”

  * * *

  Draven glanced at his watch for the tenth time. Forty-five minutes of driving around, listening to Clark’s descriptions of places and points of interest that he did care about—“That’s the old Piltcher manor, supposedly haunted” and “That’s the where the head of Nocturne Falls lives” and “That’s Mummy’s Diner, with some pancakes to die for”—it took every ounce of control to keep from jumping out of the SUV.

  “This is Main Street—”

  “Perfect! Let’s park and walk.”

  Draven unfastened his seatbelt and wrapped his hand around the door handle. Clark rolled his eyes and pulled the SUV into the first available spot. Draven was out of the car and on his feet before the vehicle was parked. He twisted at the waist, stretching his spine, and took a deep breath. A complex mixture of scents pummeled him, making his mouth water and his fangs tingle. All the old bones steered clear of food and drink, unless is was the thick red stuff, but he loved a rare steak, beer, and even ice cream.

  Right now, whatever the delicious aromas were that filled his lungs, he wanted. Bad.

  He looked up and down the street as Clark locked up the SUV and met him on the sidewalk. His brow quirked at the throngs of humans weaving about the sidewalks, streaming in and out of stores. He caught bits and pieces of excited conversation. He snickered at the sight of costumes.

  “Halloween is still a few days away,” Draven said. Perhaps a little too loudly. A group of young ladies dressed as fairies with glitter makeup and teased hair shot him a questioning look.

  One blushed and smiled.

  He winked.

  “It’s always Halloween here.” Clark knocked him in the shoulder. “Stop it. Don’t mess with the mortals. Damn, you’re like a caged dog on the free and clear after years on a leash.”

  “Decades, my friend. Many decades.” Draven shrugged, peeling his focused attention away from the women and back to Clark. “Where to eat?”

  “Right there, buddy.” Clark motioned to a building with Howler’s Bar and Grill on the sign. He brushed by Draven to lead the way. “C’mon. You’re gonna love the grub. Some of the best bar food you’ll ever have. Then I’ll challenge you to a round of darts.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Draven said, following Clark as he drank in the stores on Main Street, their unusual architecture, and caught whiff of some supernaturals. Shifters, if his nose was still spot on. “So, what types of…things…are here?”

  Clark grabbed the handle of one of the bar’s doors and held it open for Draven. “You name it, it’s probably here.”

  Stepping Howler’s was evidence enough that Clark wasn’t exaggerating. Shifters, witches, a vampire or two, humans. Draven smelled and saw and had to keep his jaw from crashing to the floor.

  He had never imagined a place like this existing in the world.

  “Looking for a roommate? I think I might move in with you,” Draven said, his voice vaguely awe-stricken. He shook off his amazement in time to see Clark dropping down into a booth. Draven took up the opposite seat and leaned over the table. “And the humans don’t realize that they’re walking among predators?”

  “Couple of rules, eager beaver. No attacking, feeding on, or messing with mortals. They have no clue that we’re real. The bottled water they drink has some kind of spell attached to it that causes humans not to realize what they’re seeing isn’t more than a show. A nice trick for a bit of freedom, right?”

  “Crazy,” Draven murmured, panning the bar with a slow glance. “I thought the sign coming into town was a sales gimmick.”

>   “Nope. Every day is Halloween here in good ol’ Nocturne Falls.”

  “Wow.” Wolves, panthers, bears. Oh, wait, did that woman just spell some light over her fingertips? And what the heck is that big, burly guy? He couldn’t get a solid scent, but the male was pretty damn stone-faced. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me that’s a”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—“gargoyle.”

  “I won’t, but he is.”

  Draven shook his head and turned back to Clark. “What about dragons?”

  “Yup. There were a few, as I understand it.”

  “Pixies? Brownies?”

  “Chocolate fudge, caramel filled—”

  “Stop.”

  They laughed as a server approached. He dropped some menus on the table. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Two IPA bottles and two orders of your bacon cheeseburgers. The half-pounders, rare, with all the trimmings sans onions, and an extra side of beer-battered chicken fingers,” Clark ordered.

  “That’ll be all?” The guy looked at Draven.

  “Well, I guess I’m having a cheeseburger and…chicken?” His lips curled back. “Do I look like a guy who eats chicken, Clark?”

  Clark made a dismissive motion with his hand. “That’ll be all. Thanks.” His smile grew as the server picked up the menus and left. “I hate chicken, but these things are ingenious.”

  “Next you’ll tell me dressed-up greens are delicious.” The corner of his friend’s mouth twitched. “Oh no.”

  “It’s really not bad, with good dressing.”

  Draven ran a hand down his face and groaned. After a long moment, he dared to meet his friend’s gaze, only to find Clark’s amused expression. Thankfully, their beers arrived a short time later and Draven took a hearty drink after ordering a backup.

  “So, tell me why Garrett thinks Sal might be coming out of the woodwork,” Clark said.

  “There’s been quite a bit of activity on accounts that have been untouched for decades. Not much money being taken out, but it’s triggered curiosity. When Garrett asked some of his outside sources to follow up on the activity, they were able to find that if it is Sal, he changed his name to Kalen Hawkins.” Draven took another guzzle of beer. “But, you know, if Garrett would shake hands with modern times, he might have asked to get some sort of video surveillance or something to show us if it is Sal or not.”

  “Do you think it’s him?”

  Draven almost snorted his next drink of beer out his nose. Somehow, he managed to get it down his throat. “Salvatore Levoire would not change his name for any reason. That guy was proud of who he was.”

  When the server came back with his second beer and their food, Draven grew quiet until he was alone once more with Clark. Keeping his voice hushed, he added, “I have a feeling Sal was sabotaged, kept under wraps. If he’s still alive, I think we’ll find him with this Kalen guy.”

  “Then the guy isn’t human. If he’s able to keep Sal contained, he’s a strong creature. Unless he got Sal on an off day with some hefty tranquilizers or something.”

  Draven was almost distracted by the delicious aroma wafting up from the burger. He lifted the bun and poked at the meat. Red juice ran out of the steaming hunk of goodness.

  “I’m not sure what I don’t like more. That Sal could have been bested by someone of lesser strength with drugs or that someone knew who and what Sal was and had the power to defeat him. But why keep him prisoner for decades and then, out of nowhere, start milking his accounts? Why not do it years ago? It wouldn’t have raised suspicion, at least not as strongly.”

  “You said not much is being withdrawn. Why would that be? Last I understood, Sal’s accounts were pretty healthy.”

  That was an understatement. Sal was the wealthiest member of the Levoire family, next to Garrett. He had access to funds Draven—part of a gypsy family of vampires Sal had convinced Garrett to take into the coven—could only dream of. Draven might not have the infinite wealth of the born Levoires, but he had earned himself a nice savings that, had he been mortal, would allow him to live extremely comfortably for the rest of his days.

  Draven had no answer for Clark. It was only a niggling feeling that perhaps speculation about Sal having sired offspring might be rooted in a seed of truth.

  The question remained: Where was Salvatore Levoire? And who was Kalen Hawkins?

  “Where do you plan on starting? And what links Sal to Nocturne Falls?” Clark asked, dabbing a chicken finger into some yellowish sauce. “The only bank in town is Nocturne Falls Credit Union, and I’d venture to say he doesn’t have an account with them. They’re not national or international. They’re only here.”

  “Debit card transactions are all linked to this town.”

  Clark’s brow lifted and he stopped dunking the chicken. “Here? Where here?”

  “I think a few of the places are Illusions, Enchanted Garden, The Hallowed Bean, Into The Woods. A few restaurants, I believe. I’ll start investigating tomorrow evening. Sun sets early this time of year, thankfully. It’ll give me a little more time to prod before places close.”

  “A great chance to get to know the town a bit more.”

  They finished up their meals and beers, played a few rounds of darts—Draven was chagrined to realize he needed to brush up on his skills—paid the tab, and left. Draven held the door for another couple coming out behind them. When he turned to follow Clark, he bumped into a woman, who stumbled a step before catching her balance. Her friend, a pretty golden-haired woman with lavender and gold eyes, cast Draven a pointed look.

  “Excuse you,” the woman said.

  Draven barely noticed her reprimand as his eyes fixed on the gorgeous creature with hair so pale a blond it could easily pass as white and eyes so crystal clear and blue he thought he was looking into a shallow pool of ocean water. Or ice. But they weren’t cold. Not at all.

  The two women continued into the bar. He didn’t miss the lavender-eyed one’s muttered, “Lost his tongue. Can’t even apologize. What a jerk.”

  “Draven, you coming? Or should I pick your jaw up off the ground?”

  Draven cleared the knot from his throat and tried to will down other parts of his body.

  Oh, but that magnificent creature—she was far from a woman, too much of a goddess—cast him a shy glance over her slender shoulder before letting her friend led her into the bar he had just left.

  He had the urge to go back for another round of drinks and more chicken fingers.

  Clark scowled. “Man, do I need to teach you common courtesy? You could’ve apologized. Great way to make a good first impression. And to Fawn Ayre, of all people.” Draven rubbed the back of his neck, confused by the surge of sensations and tumultuous emotions that struck him like a truck straight into his belly and chest. “Drave?”

  “Yeah, okay. I was…” He tried to clear the sandy grit from his throat. “I was a bit stunned. Which one was Fawn?”

  “The blonde.”

  “They were both blond.”

  “The golden blonde, then.”

  “And the other?”

  When Clark didn’t answer, Draven turned a dour look on him. His friend shrugged.

  “She’s new to town. Only a couple months or so, but no one really knows much about her. I gather Fawn is protective of her.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “I understand she might work a few shifts at Fawn’s shop. It’s a smoothie place down the road. We can check it out tomorrow.”

  Draven took a single step toward Clark before throwing up his finger. “Hold on.”

  “Drave, what are you…seriously?”

  Draven yanked open the doors, strode into the bar and scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot the pale-haired goddess tucked in a booth, laughing with the female bartender and the golden-haired woman.

  Only now, he caught the pointed ears of both fair-haired ladies. Fae? Elves? What else was in this town?

  Before he lost his gall and his m
outh turned to desert sand, he bee-lined straight to the table.

  All three ladies grew silent and looked at him. The bartender—he scented werewolf—arched a brow over golden eyes. The golden-haired fairy-elf-creature with tight lips and a flare of disinterest in her eyes frowned. The goddess…

  She melted him with a look brimming with curiosity, innocence, wisdom, and timid reserve.

  “Did you forget something, sir?” the bartender asked.

  “Uh, no. Actually, I wanted to apologize to your guests. I bumped into this lovely woman”—he motioned to the blue-eyed beauty—“and I couldn’t find my voice to say sorry. I was, well, I guess you could say taken by…you.”

  Smoooooth operator.

  He mentally smacked the back of his head, followed by a swift kick to his butt. He sounded like an idiot.

  The bartender snickered. “You don’t come across too many like this.” She hitched her thumb at Draven. He wasn’t sure whether it was an insult or a compliment. “At least he has the guts to apologize.”

  “Must’ve overheard me call him a jerk.”

  “It’s okay,” the goddess said. “Really. It was an accident. I saw you holding the door for that couple.”

  Draven braced a hand on the back of the booth to hide the sudden tremor of his knees. The woman had a voice so soft and calm, so beautifully serene, that he wanted to fall into the seat beside her and listen to her speak for the rest of the night.

  What on Earth is wrong with you, man?

  Some part of his body or mind had to know. Consciously, he was clueless, but anatomically, he responded with a bit too much eagerness.

  He held out his hand. “Draven Lourdes. I just arrived here a few hours ago.”

  “Vivian—”

  “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

  A weighted ball dropped from Draven’s chest to his gut. The woman, Vivian, had started to reach out her hand to take his, but dropped it on the table as her attention diverted from him. He glanced from her as a tall woman with brown hair highlighted with hues of dark blue slid into the booth beside the woman Clark had identified as Fawn.