Supernatural Seduction: 5 Paranormal Novellas

by Holley Trent

  “Why did you take it?”

  “I thought it might have some value, since Abby coveted it. But I can’t even take it out of the box. It shocks the heck out of me.” She licked her lips. “Tell you what, you can have your silly gown, but only if you do the nasty with me first.” She batted her eyelashes so fast they vibrated.

  Malcolm was completely out of practice with the glamour. With one glance, he’d turned a well-bred woman, albeit bitch, into a horny streetwalker. He scanned her living room, hoping to locate the box that contained Sarah’s gown.

  Pamela clucked her tongue. “I see what you’re doing, looking around for that gown. You think you can grab it and get out of here, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve got it well hidden.”

  Seems he’d gone far enough with the glamour to make her libido rage, but not far enough to bend her will. “Let’s sit down and talk, Pamela.” He motioned to her black leather sofa.

  “I’m all for a little pillow talk, but let’s do it in my bedroom.” She took Malcolm’s hand, but when she tried to pull him toward her bedroom, he wouldn’t budge.

  “No, we’ll do it here.” He pushed her to the sofa.

  She pouted, but then sat on the sofa and patted the space next to her.

  Malcolm sat and turned to her. He took her chin in his hand.

  She fluttered her eyes shut and pursed her lips … like a guppy.

  “Cute.” Malcolm shook her chin and forced her to look at him. “Pamela, I’m going to tell you how things are going to be. I’m in love with Abby Potter, and I will not bed another woman. You are not half the woman she is, but you have a chance to redeem yourself. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to bring me the gown, and then you’re going to pack your bags and leave Gettysburg. Never come back here. When I walk out your door, you will not remember what happened this evening. You will only know that you have an overwhelming desire to leave.” He let go of her chin. “Now, be a good girl.”

  Pamela blinked a few times, and then looked down at her negligee … and gasped. She scurried to her bedroom, returning in record time with the box Malcolm had requested. “I think this is yours. I don’t know why I had it.” She shrugged, and then crossed her arms over her breasts. “Sorry for my inappropriate attire. I was just practicing some lines from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and I wanted to feel the part.”

  “You’ll make a great Maggie,” Malcolm said as he walked out the door. He turned to give her one last stare … for good measure. “Goodbye.”

  He placed the box on the passenger seat of his truck. Opening the lid, he carefully separated the tissue and breathed a deep sigh when the gown appeared to be unharmed. “Thank God,” Malcolm said out loud. He gently touched the fabric.

  His heart sped as he drove to his farmhouse. Would Abby be there?

  When his truck hit the gravel of his driveway, he stopped abruptly. Abby’s car was gone. His immediate inclination was to drive to her apartment, but then he sensed her fear. Like the day he’d returned home those many years ago and knew something horrible had happened to Sarah. Abby was in danger.

  He pounded the steering wheel with his open palms. He closed his eyes and willed his mind to conjure her location. He got snippets of a neon sign, the smell of bourbon and smoke. And then he knew.

  Spinning out of the driveway, he gunned the accelerator and headed to Interstate 95. If he drove like a bat out of hell, he could make it to Night Fright in half an hour. He considered resorting to bat form, but no other mode of transportation would get him there quicker than his truck. If the police nabbed him, he’d glamour them.

  He peeled off 95 and was in Night Fright’s parking lot just moments later. It seemed exceptionally quiet. For a weeknight, Malcolm supposed that wasn’t too unusual. Abby’s car was one of only five cars in the lot.

  He strode to the bar and slapped his hand on the varnished wood to get the bartender’s attention. It was the same walleyed, vampire bartender who’d been there that first night when Malcolm rescued Abby.

  “Uh, what can I get you?” The bartender swept the room with his good eye.

  “You know damn well why I’m here. Where’s Abby Potter?”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt her as long as she cooperates.”

  “Where is she?” Malcolm grabbed the bartender’s collar and pulled him halfway across the bar.

  A door behind the bar swung open, but when the vampire who was exiting saw Malcolm, he quickly retreated.

  Malcolm followed. The door led to a short corridor. He heard whimpering from a lighted room at the end. His heart leaped. If she was hurt in any way, he wouldn’t contain his rage. He burst into the room.

  Abby was sitting in a chair behind a desk, seemingly unharmed. She had a pen in her hand, and a vampire behind her had his hand wrapped around hers, trying to make her sign something. Two other vampires flanked her.

  “I’m who you want,” Malcolm said. “Let her go.”

  “Malcolm, no!” Abby looked up at him, fear in her eyes. Whatever they wanted her to sign, they hadn’t glamoured her to make her cooperate, which struck Malcolm as odd. But these were young vampires. Perhaps they didn’t understand the nuances of glamour and only used it to feed.

  The vampire who held Abby’s hand smiled broadly, revealing yellow fangs that matched his bleached hair. “You’ve been careless, Professor. All we need her to do is sign this affidavit, confirming what she knows. The council will take it from there.”

  “I won’t sign anything,” Abby said. She looked at each of her captors.

  Malcolm calculated his chances of killing the three vamps in the room and rescuing Abby. Even if he could get her out, he’d have to kill the bartender, too, and any other vamp he encountered on the way out. He couldn’t leave any evidence. Because of his age, he was stronger than these vampires, but his skills at fang-to-fang combat hadn’t been tested for more than a century. Still, he’d do whatever it took.

  The bleached blond grinned and bent his head to Abby’s throat.

  Malcolm backhanded him across the face. “Don’t touch her.”

  The vampire snarled, and then a lascivious grin curled the corners of his pale lips. “Or you’ll do … what?”

  “I shouldn’t have to tell you that my blood is ten times richer than yours, which makes me ten times stronger,” Malcolm said. “That thin stuff streaming through your arteries is like Boone’s Farm to my Bordeaux. I could take you all out in a matter of seconds.” More like half a minute, but intimidation couldn’t hurt.

  “Now, hold on, Professor.” This from the vampire who’d opened the door. “We all value our immortality.” He smirked. “We’re not here to off anybody, but since the little lady knows your secret, we can’t let that go unnoticed by the council. Humans are forbidden to know about our world.”

  “Wait a minute, fellows,” Abby said. “I’ve gone along with this charade because I always enjoy good role play, but what ‘secret’ are you talking about?”

  The vampires stole quick glances at each other.

  “Don’t play dumb,” Mr. Bleach said. “You know damn well that the professor is a vampire.”

  Abby let out a hoot. “Right, and I’m Marie Antoinette. Look, I can appreciate you like to have a little fun, and I’ll admit that the professor makes a great vampire, but he’s acting. I hate to burst your black bubble, but I don’t believe in vampires. I know you guys think you’re the real thing, and I’m not one to pass judgment on your idea of a good time. It’s a free country, but if you don’t mind, I’ll get my jollies elsewhere.”

  Malcolm could do nothing but stare at her, nor could the other vampires in the room.

  “What do you think of thith?” The third vampire displayed his fangs … with a lisp.

  Abby rolled her eyes, and then yawned. “Look, this has been fun, but I’ve got cla
sses tomorrow, and I need to get home.” She rose from the chair and stretched. “Thanks for the entertaining evening.” She looked around her. “I must have left my purse at the bar. I’ll just get it on the way out.” She pointed to the door, and then walked out of the room.

  Malcolm made eye contact with each of the vampires before turning to leave.

  “Just remember, Professor.” Mr. Bleach tapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll still be watching you.”

  • • •

  Abby didn’t slow her forward momentum. She swung her purse from the barstool to her shoulder, walked out Night Fright’s main entrance, and then broke into a trot to her car. She had no doubt Malcolm could handle himself with those goons, and when she heard someone else come out of Night Fright, she stole a glance over her shoulder. Malcolm motioned for her to get in the car.

  Once she was on 95, her cell phone chirped, displaying Malcolm’s name. “Was that a close call or did we have some wiggle room?”

  Malcolm chuckled. “Hard to say. Those guys can’t assemble a critical thought between them, so I half expected one of them to either lunge at me or sink their fangs into you.”

  Abby shuddered. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to swear on my mother’s grave that I don’t believe in vampires. She wouldn’t have appreciated my taking her name in vain.”

  “Not to mention that she isn’t dead.”

  “True.” Abby sighed. “Thank God.”

  “You were brilliant — and brave.”

  “A girl does what she has to do, and I wasn’t up for witnessing a blood bath. You would have killed those guys.”

  “I’d do anything to keep you safe, Abby. You are everything to me.”

  “I know.” Her voice shook.

  “You created your own cyclone back there. You see now what I mean when I call you ‘proactive?’”

  “I suppose. The thought just popped into my head that I could fool them. Now that it’s over, it seems surreal.”

  “Promise me you won’t take a chance like that again. You were brave, but it wasn’t the smartest move.”

  “I know. I didn’t think it through before I hopped in my car. I thought I could reason with them.”

  “They don’t reason. Sure you’re okay?”

  “I think it’s finally sinking in.”

  “Do you want to pull over and let me drive? I can pick the other car up later.”

  “No. I’m all right. I just want to go back to your house. And get naked.”

  “You’re starting to sound like a vampire. Near-death experiences are an aphrodisiac.”

  “Must be the company I keep. Oh, wait, I don’t believe in vampires, remember?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Opening Night - December 16

  Abby blew on her cold fingers and shuffled her feet, which wasn’t easy in three-inch heels. She watched Kyle’s mouth move but was too nervous to pay attention to his words. If he hadn’t looked her way and nodded, she would have completely missed her cue to take the stage.

  She allowed herself one cleansing breath, and then counted the steps slowly that led to the microphone.

  “Good evening, faculty, students, and Gettysburg residents, and thank you, Kyle, for that lovely introduction.” Whatever you said.

  “The holiday play is a tradition at the college, and I am pleased to have participated in its success for the past three years. This year, however, I have an added responsibility as the playwright, so I’m more nervous than usual. I hope that any failings in my prose will be more than compensated by the delightful performances of our stars, Karen Thompson, a junior theater major, and Dr. Malcolm McClellan, professor of Civil War history. They are joined by a fine supporting cast. I trust you will find Vampire Train to be a wild romp through an era of love and war, of parasols and cannon balls. And for your protection, the stage crew will be passing baskets of garlic cloves. If you don’t need them to ward off a vampire, you can save them for your pasta puttanesca. Now, please join me as the curtain rises on Act One.”

  Abby swept her hand across the stage and backed away from the curtain as the heavy velvet drapes crept upward and strains of eerie music from the sound system pulsated toward the full house. Once concealed in the left wing, she had a straight-on view of stage right, where the actors were set to enter. She shifted her feet and counted to ten. Malcolm materialized out of thin air and met her gaze across the stage. When she smiled at him, he winked back, and then glided onto the set. His larger-than-life presence — ironic for a dead man — captured the stage. The music stopped and Malcolm spoke.

  “Good evening.” His deep baritone echoed in the silent theater. “I roam the streets of this city at night, searching for what I loved and what I left unfinished.”

  Uh-oh, that wasn’t in the script.

  Abby swiped a finger across her forehead, catching beads of perspiration in spite of the theater’s lack of heat. She listened closely as the Gettysburg Vampire introduced himself to the audience and regaled them with Civil War history and his conversion to immortality. He was improvising, and with intensity that hadn’t been present in rehearsals. Goose bumps rose on her flesh, and she waved her arms at Malcolm, hoping to get his attention. She knew his vision could take in a more expansive landscape than any human, so she wasn’t surprised when he looked her way.

  Careful not to step within the view of the audience, she made a chopping motion across her throat. Malcolm raised one eyebrow at her and returned to his soliloquy.

  “There are days when I hardly remember what it was like to be human,” he said, pacing the full breadth of the stage, “and then there are days when I almost think I am human.”

  Karen wandered onto the stage, swinging a parasol. Good grief, she’s only supposed to use that in the daylight scenes. Maybe she was just so nervous she had to have something in her hand.

  As the Gettysburg Vampire saw her, he said, “The evening is becoming more interesting.” He glided toward her from behind, tapping her on the shoulder. When she turned and gasped, he caught her at the waist and peered intensely into her eyes. “It isn’t prudent for a young woman to be out at night,” he said, “but you are safe now.”

  Abby held her breath. Something was going on with Karen. Though she was playing a part in which her character was required to fall under the vampire’s spell, in all the rehearsals she’d seemed to be acting. Abby watched Karen’s eyes glaze over as she swooned, and then fainted. Yes — fainted — dead away. And she wasn’t acting.

  At this point, the vampire was supposed to sweep the maiden into his arms and exit stage left, cueing the stagehands to lower the curtain and begin set-up of the next scene, which took place at the vampire’s home. However, Abby didn’t wait for Malcolm to carry Karen off the stage. She signaled for the curtain to be lowered as soon as Malcolm caught the unconscious Karen. She had about seven minutes to talk with Malcolm before the next act, and she needed to make a few points abundantly clear.

  The curtain had barely brushed the floor when she stormed onto the stage and grabbed Malcolm by his rock-hard bicep. He was fanning the face of his “victim.” Abby motioned offstage for some smelling salts, and then she said to Malcolm, “I need a word — now!” She pointed to stage left.

  Kyle came running with a capsule of ammonia as the stage crew scurried to bring in living room furniture and a fake staircase. Karen flung Kyle’s hand away from her face as the broken capsule stunned her to attention, and Kyle helped her to her feet.

  “Let her rest for a few minutes,” Abby said to Kyle. “We can delay Act Two if she needs more time.” Abby retrieved a tissue from her pocket and mopped Karen’s brow. “Just a touch of stage fright, Karen. Don’t worry. It happens to all of us. Take some deep breaths.” She patted Karen’s hand. “Have a few sips of water.” Abby nodded to Kyle, and with his arm around Karen, he helped he
r off the stage, though the smirk on his face told Abby that he was pleased as punch with this calamity.

  Abby turned to stage left, where Malcolm waited for her in the shadows. She tromped toward him and steered him behind a rack of costumes. His eyes glowed red. “No wonder you scared the hell out of her.” She punched him in the chest to no visual effect. “What are you doing out there?”

  “I’m being myself.” His neon eyes were the only things Abby could see as they huddled in the dark corner.

  “That’s just it. Don’t be yourself!” She clamped a hand over her mouth, worried she was being too loud, and then she contemplated the rafters. When she looked back at Malcolm, she said, “I can’t take this, Malcolm. I’ve been a nervous wreck for the past few weeks, worried sick you’d expose yourself. I haven’t seen those vampire goons in the audience tonight. They may have bolted when we handed out the garlic, but that doesn’t mean they won’t show up.” Abby huffed and folded her arms across her chest.

  The redness of Malcolm’s eyes faded, and he spoke in hushed tones. “Just don’t wave one of those garlic bulbs in front of me.” He smiled. “I will admit that I’m enjoying the opportunity to play a role that is my nature, but I’m not going to bite my leading lady — much as I might be tempted.”

  “I can’t believe you said that.” Abby took a step back, bumping into the costume rack.

  “This has nothing to do with my feelings for you. It’s the animal in me. I’ve controlled my base nature for more than a century, but a pulsing vein is difficult to resist.”

  Abby stomped her foot. “What’s become of my life?” She threw up her hands. “Damn you, Malcolm McClellan. Damn you for making me fall in love with you.” Abby swiped at the welling tears in her eyes, and then shoved the costume rack out of her way. She turned from Malcolm and without looking back at him, said, “For your own sake — behave.”

  As she began to walk away, the vise of Malcolm’s grip on her arm stopped her.

  “Who do you love, Abby? Malcolm the man … or the vampire?” he asked hoarsely.