Broken Heart Tails (Broken Heart Vampires)

by Michele Bardsley

  Larry paused and looked up into the night sky. In his pocket, the wishing stone pulsed warmly, just like a heartbeat.

  Just like a second chance.

  Gravely Yours

  Tamara LeRoy zipped her coat up to her chin and stuck her hands into her pockets. She’d forgotten her gloves and her fingers were already like Popsicles. It was freaking cold. It was October, after all, which meant Oklahoma winter would soon arrive. The Old Sass Cafe had killer hot chocolate, and she really wanted to go sit in the warm restaurant with her boyfriend and have a mug of delicious mocha.

  With marshmallows.

  “We shouldn’t be out here,” said Tamara.

  Durriken winked at her then looked casually around the cemetery. Okay then, oh mysterious boyfriend. She studied the night sky. The crescent moon offered very little light. Durriken had that great werewolf vision. Her? Not so much. She was a plain ol’ human, unlike most of the residents of Broken Heart.

  Tamara might’ve left her gloves at the house, but at least she’d remembered to bring the flashlight. She flicked it on and shone it around the gravestones. She didn’t like the smell of this place. It was ripe earth mixed with that odd mold smell. A couple years ago, one of her mom’s friends had raised a zombie army from the cemetery. Things had never really gone back to normal after that. She knew better than anyone that the dead didn’t always stay dead.

  “Are you scared?” Durriken had a slight accent, which she usually found sexy. Not that she would tell her mother that. She turned seventeen last month and Eva O’Halloran was wallowing in that whole “my baby is growing up” emotional goo. Tamara loved her mom, so she put up with the extra hugs and the semi-clingy behavior. Luckily, her stepfather Lorcan managed to intervene when Code Red Smothering threatened.

  “I’m not scared, Durry. Bored.”

  “Liar.” He swooped her into his arms and kissed her. She tingled all the way to her toes. He moved back slightly. Their breath in the chill air created little puffs. “You know you want to see it.”

  “A zombie?” Her heart, which had been beating with excitement from Durry’s kiss, dove down to her toes.

  “What?” Durriken looked genuinely surprised.

  “Sometimes the bodies here go zombie again. They claw up from their coffins and the dirt and meander around until someone puts them back.” Tamara looked around, spooked. “It’s something about the residual magic.”

  Durriken let go of her and backed up a few steps, his expression serious as he scanned the grounds. “I wanted to see the ghost, Tamara. I didn’t know about the zombies.”

  Durriken often traveled with his family, who were Roma—werewolves. Roma could only shift during the full moon, unlike the full-bloods, who could shift whenever they wanted. The Roma were also vampire hunters and often went after rogue vamps who didn’t have the same kind of felicitous feelings about humans that the Consortium vampires had. The Consortium had rolled into town a few years back and sorta taken over. It was like a paranormal think tank working on ways to one day bridge the gap between humankind and parakind. Tamara thought it was a noble goal and all, but she figured it would be a long time in coming.

  Anyway.

  Durriken didn’t always know what was going on in town. When he had to leave, she texted him all the time, but since zombies geeked her out, she hadn’t brought them up during their convos. Besides, they had way better things to talk about than the shuffling, stank-ass dead.

  Then Durry’s words filtered through her thoughts. He said ghost. Sheesh. Cold must be freezing her brain. “What ghost?”

  “The lady in white. During the crescent moon, she crosses the graveyard looking for her lost love.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Tamara closed the gap between them and grabbed his hand. “I’ve never heard of this ghost, and I live here.”

  “Phoebe told me about her,” said Durriken. Phoebe ran the Old Sass Cafe; she’d lived here her whole life, and subsequent unlife. She was nice, kinda fun, and had the cutest kid, a little boy named Danny. “The lady in white has been haunting the town forever. Phoebe said when she was in high school, her and her friends would come down here and watch for her.”

  Tamara wondered if her mother knew about this ghost. Mom was the unofficial historian of the town; she collected tons of stories for the archives.

  “Who is she supposed to be?” asked Tamara.

  Durry shrugged. “Phoebe didn’t know her name. Said she was a bride who died on her wedding night. She was in love with another man, but married someone else. And her husband strangled her.”

  “There are a lot of holes in that story,” said Tamara. But she was already thinking about what research could be done to figure out this little mystery. “She knows all the details, but not her name? And ‘lady in white’? Really? Like there aren’t a hundred of those around. This screams urban legend.”

  “Sometimes urban legends are true.”

  Tamara couldn’t argue with that. Her mother was a vampire, and her boyfriend was a werewolf. She couldn’t dismiss the possibility that some ghostly bride wandered around Broken Heart’s graveyard every so often.

  Durry drew her into his embrace. “You’re cold.”

  “Freezing.”

  “Wanna go to the cafe?”

  “You’re giving up on the lady in white?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to get you alone so I could kiss you.”

  “Yeah? How’s that working out?”

  Durry kissed her again, splitting the seam of her lips with his tongue. He was a really good kisser. She got the tingles again, and it felt as though the world had shifted. When they finally came up for air, her legs felt like wet noodles. He stared at her, and she stared at him, and though they’d talked about, you know, going all the way, she wasn’t ready. Her mom had been a teenager when she’d gotten pregnant with Tamara. She gave up everything, including school, to get a job and support her kid.

  Besides, the werewolves sorta had a thing about actually mating with humans. She knew Durry’s parents liked her, but they really wanted their son to be with another Roma.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Durry kissed her one more time, very softly, then took her hand and led her to his car. Within minutes, they were on their way to the Old Sass Cafe for hot chocolate and hand-holding.

  For now, it was enough.

  * * * * *

  In the graveyard, underneath the crescent moon, the ghost of a woman clad in bridal white moved through the tombstones.

  Silent tears tracked her pale cheeks … as she mourned the loss of her true love.

  Note from the Author: Do you know who the lady in white is? If you’ve read Book 8 in the Broken Heart series, Cross Your Heart … I bet you can guess!

  You Don’t Know Jack O’ Lantern

  Simone Hayes held Glory’s hand as they approached the Three Sisters Bed & Breakfast. Glory was dressed like a black cat and held an empty plastic bucket.

  Braddock Hayes came up the walk behind them, settling his hands on the shoulders of his wife and daughter. “Ready, ladies?”

  Glory stopped on the porch, her eyes wide as she stared at all the spooky decorations: the grinning jack o’ lanterns, the hay-stuffed carcass of a scarecrow, and neon spiders stuck to yards of webbing.

  “No.” She turned and sat down on the first step. “I’ll stay here. You can bring me candy.”

  “Honey, the haunted house is fun,” said Simone. “Sure, you’ll get a little scared, but it’s all fake.”

  “Vampires are real. Werewolves are real. Zombies are real. Ghosts are real. Dragons are real.” Glory held up one finger for every statement, then she showed her mom and dad her hand. “Five real things. So what’s fake in the haunted house?”

  “I’m pretty sure they don’t have dragons,” said Brady. “They’re too big to fit.”

  Glory fixed her suspicious gaze on her father. “I’ll stay here.”

  “Welcome!” said Lenette Stinson as she stepped out onto the porch.
“Did you come to enjoy our scary fun?”

  Lenette was Wiccan. She owned the B & B with her two sisters. Though Samhain was an important holiday in their religion, she and her sisters embraced the campy side of Halloween, too. No one liked a haunted house better than they did.

  She took one look at the stubborn six-year-old planted on the first step, and waved Simone and Brady forward. “Why don’t you and Brady go enjoy some punch? I’d like to introduce Glory to a friend of mine.”

  Simone looked at Brady, then at Glory. Finally, she nodded, and they went into the house. Lenette sat on the step next to Glory and patted the top of the jack o’ lantern next to her. “Say hello to Jack.”

  Glory glared at the carved pumpkin. “Jack?” Her tone seemed to suggest the name wasn’t too original.

  Lenette smiled. “Yes. Jack. He’s a very special pumpkin, Glory. He eats your fears. All you have to do is tell him what they are then gulp, he gobbles them up like Halloween candy.”

  “And I won’t be scared anymore?”

  “That’s right. You wanna try it?”

  Glory’s gaze flicked down the well lit sidewalk and at the twinkle lights strung in the trees and bushes. She wasn’t scared. Much.

  “Okay.”

  Lenette patted the pumpkin again then she stood up. “I’m going to check the decorations on the gate. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  Glory nodded, and waited until Lenette reached the wrought iron gate. She fussed with the webbing strung across the top.

  Glory scooted closer to Jack and leaned down to peer into his face, which looked kinda like a goblins. “Um … Jack?”

  “Hello, Glory.”

  She squeaked and reared back. “You talk!”

  “I prefer to use my pumpkin ears to absorb from you all those delicious fears.”

  The pumpkin seemed to have some kind of orange sparkle. His mouth wasn’t moving, but he was definitely talking. She slanted a look at Lenette, who was still messing with the decorations on the gate.

  “I’m scared of the dark,” whispered Glory to Jack. “I’m scared of … of blood.”

  “The dark is yummy, sweet as cake, and blood is the kind of frosting I take.”

  Glory felt funny for a second, as if those fears that made her chest go tight and her heart skip beats were being pulled from her. Then suddenly, she wasn’t scared anymore.

  “Nom, nom, nom!” cried Jack. “Thank you, Glory. Is there more?”

  She flicked one more look at Lenette to make sure she was out of hearing range then she leaned very close to Jack and said, “I don’t like spiders.”

  “Spiders are crunchy treats, and so it’s my pleasure to eat, eat, eat.”

  Glory felt the strange sensation again … then her fear was gone. “Thank you, Jack,” she whispered. Then she kissed the top of the pumpkin. He glowed bright then she heard a little pop.

  The pumpkin was a jack o’ lantern once more.

  “Feel better?” asked Lenette. She was walking toward Glory, her hand extended.

  Glory stood up and took her hand, eager now to visit the haunted house with her mom and dad. “There’s candy, right?”

  “Lots and lots of candy,” said Lenette.

  Together, they went inside.

  Jack grinned.

  Dragon Me to Broken Heart

  The Prequel to Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home

  “Oklahoma?” Libby Monroe stared at the map her parents rolled out on the chipped table. She tugged her sweater around her and pressed her lips together to keep from chattering. The RV was freezing thanks to a broken heater. It was just one of a million fixes needed. Her parents spent money on state-of-the-art equipment such as sensitive recorders to catch electronic voice phenomena and thermal video cameras to catch the heat signatures of ghosts. “Seriously? Oklafreakinghoma? In February?”

  “Yep. Broken Heart,” said Dora Monroe, tapping a spot on the map. “Our online forums are buzzing with constant news of activity. Sightings of Bigfoot, monster wolves, and in one instance, a flying man.”

  Elmore Monroe grinned. “Now, that would be something. Jet pack? Or…”

  Her parents began a debate about how a man would manage to zoom around the sky. Libby stopped short of rolling her eyes. She loved her parents. She loved their work for the Paranormal Research and Investigation Services, the organization they co-founded. However, she didn’t think every report was credible and every situation was paranormal. Her parents approached each investigation realistically and used science-based methods (and okay, the occasional psychic)—but they were so open-minded about the supernatural it was a wonder their brains hadn’t fallen out.

  “Where’s Brady?” she asked. He was good back-up when her parents got … er, enthusiastic. Braddock Hayes had joined PRIS ten years ago. He was a firm believer in the paranormal, although he never fully explained why. The most Libby had ever gotten out of him was that he’d experienced something unexplainable. He was the one who created the security protocols everyone used when on-site. Sometimes, she thought that Brady was just paranoid, but he was obviously good at his job. Plus, he had some seriously great electro-whatsits. He also had weapons. Weird ones.

  “Braddock’s with his team in Texas,” said Mom. “One of these days, we’re gonna get that Chupacabra.”

  “Mom. Focus.”

  “Yes, dear. We have to cross Oklahoma to rendezvous with Braddock, so Broken Heart is right on the way.”

  Woo. Libby scooted out from the bench seat and went to the temperature controls. Fifty-eight degrees? Ugh. She messed with the fan and heat settings, but nothing kicked on. She sighed. Her parents had moved on to the Bigfoot sightings. Dad was tapping away on the laptop, checking out the PRIS message boards.

  Libby put on her parka and slipped out of the RV. She crossed to the fire pit. They’d piled it with wood earlier, so it was just a matter of lighting it. She got a blaze going and sat on a camp chair, staring at the flames. Even though it had been ten years, fire still reminded her of the explosion. She wasn’t scared of fire … not any more.

  That awful night, she’d been thirteen, checking out an abandoned farm with her parents. Their friend Archie had been inside the decrepit old barn when it blew.

  Shivering, Libby veered off memory lane. She walked down it often enough, especially lately. She was twenty-three now, and had been living her parents’ dream—one she thought was hers, too. She wasn’t exactly qualified to do much else since her education and experience were paranormal-related. Still, she’d been thinking more and more about going off on her own—maybe it was just time. She couldn’t live forever with her parents. She wanted to date, and one day, to get married and have a family.

  Night sounds filtered into her consciousness—chirping crickets, scurrying animals, a chill wind tickling dead leaves. She shivered again, staring up at the night sky. The moon winked down at her, unaffected by her internal drama. Maybe after the Broken Heart investigation, she’d take her meager savings and go … well, somewhere. Her parents would understand. They’d even encourage her. They wanted her happiness, no matter what form it might take.

  “Hey, Libs!” called her father from the doorway of the RV. “Your mom and I are mapping out the Broken Heart investigation. How do you feel about taking the cemetery?”

  “Again?” she called. “I always get the dead people.”

  He chuckled. “So long as they don’t get you.”

  Her dad shut the door with a tinny bang. Libby scooted closer to the fire then returned her gaze to the sky as if her future were there, waiting for her among the stars.

  * * * * *

  “Synd is back,” said Elder Raine.

  Sylphina put down her delicate china teacup, careful not to slosh the hot liquid. Fear spiderwebbed through her. Her brother was back? Unable to form words around the knot in her throat, she took a moment to study the drawing room. That’s what they called it—the drawing room. Brocade curtains, dark antique furniture, doilies sitting like snowflakes
on the overstuffed furniture, and ceramic knickknacks crowding every surface.

  “How?” she asked.

  “We don’t know.” Raine’s gaze was as steady as always, but lurking in those teal depths was sadness. Sylphina knew then that her life was forfeit. An event Raine had predicted to her sorrow on the day of Sylphina and Synd’s births five-hundred years before.

  Sylphina studied her friend and mentor. Raine was dressed in the traditional blue robes that denoted her status as a Council member. Her silver hair was plaited into a single braid that was so long it coiled behind her chair. Her teal eyes burned with ancient dragonfire. The gold-rope necklace with its fire-red jewel rested just above her bosom. Raine clung to the traditions of their kind, though dragons were nearly extinct.

  Next to her, the only other remaining member of the old Council, Elder Amethyst, sat wringing her hands. She was nearly as old as Raine. In human form, she looked in her early sixties. She wore a crocheted white sweater with a pink dragon on it, purple knit pants, and thick-soled orthopedic shoes. Her lilac eyes were filled with dread.

  “Oh, my,” she said. “Oh, my.”

  Sylphina clasped her hands, mostly to keep them from trembling. After Synd made a bargain with a powerful demon, he lost what few morals he had. In his quest for power, he didn’t care who he hurt—humans, dragons, parakind. The Elders had tracked him down, subdued him and encased him in stone. They did it for her. Synd wanted from his sister what he had given away for power. He wanted Sylphina’s essence, and now … now he was free to pursue her. To take it from her. Synd had always been the stronger one, even before he gave in to the dark magic that now ruled him.

  “I’ll call Ash and make arrangements,” said Sylphina.

  “The soul shifter?” Amethyst’s eyes went wide. “She’s … not very nice.”

  “Most assassins aren’t,” agreed Sylphina dryly. “But she’s got a moral code and a sense of honor. Giving her my soul and my powers is far better than Synd taking them.” Her gaze met Raine’s. “Is there any way…” She trailed off, already knowing the answer to her unasked question.