by Ruby Raine
“Just say where and I’ll send Michael right over.”
Michael sighed, relieved at the sound of his name. “Any excuse to get out of here,” he grumbled under his breath. “Even if it is work.”
“The morgue,” Charlie aimed at Michael. He spoke to Mack, “A local or tourist this time?”
“That’s what I’m hoping Michael can tell me, actually. You see, all I got is drybones...” Her tone turned ominous.
“A skeleton. I see.”
“Yeah, a first. Not a stitch of meat on’em.”
“Michael will be right over to help.” Charlie was about to hang up when he remembered his sister needed to speak with the sheriff. He tossed Melinda the phone.
“Hiya, Mack,” she greeted. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I’m afraid I have another job for you.”
“Anything you need. You just tell me what it is.”
“There’s a back door at the Fishhook Seafood Company that’s broken. A lock keeps jamming and if they don’t fix it, in three days someone who works there dies because it won’t open. They are working after the place closes and there’s a fire in the kitchen. Don’t know what starts it, but you might want to check that out too.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I’m on it! Just consider me your own personal dream killer,” the sheriff added with a haughty laugh.
Melinda let out a dark chuckle.
Mack disconnected.
Charlie and Michael stared at Melinda, awaiting explanation.
“Yeah yeah. Another dream. I took care of it didn’t I?”
“You’re supposed to tell us when you have a dream, so we can help,” Charlie reminded gently. Instant guilt consumed him. He’d been gone. Out of reach part of the time. She couldn’t have told him even if she’d needed to.
“I did. I told William, and we decided it was best handled by Mack. What are we going to do? Walk up to the owners of the Fishhook and say, hey, Melinda, yeah that girl everyone already thinks is a freak, also has prophetic dreams and last night, she dreamt your broken back door would cause someone to die?”
“Point noted. They’ve only been on the Isle for a couple years and are not aware of what goes on around here. However,” started Charlie, “how can we decide if it’s something we can or should handle if you don’t tell us? I trust William’s opinions, of course, and I wasn’t home. But you can tell us too, Melinda. Just remember that, okay.”
“Maybe she can make up her own mind,” Michael defended.
“This isn’t about you and me, Michael,” Charlie breathed out heavily.
“I’m just saying she’s not a kid. And who made you captain of this frigging ship? What rule says we have to tell you every little thing that happens?”
Charlie closed his eyes, searching for a reply that would not make the situation worse. But all he wanted to do was grab his brother by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. An annoyed groan slipped across his lips and he opened his eyes to see Michael booking it out of the kitchen in a huff.
“I gotta go. Job to do,” he spouted with mock enthusiasm.
“I think I’ll go with him,” Melinda said, frowning in displeasure. First, because she had just volunteered to leave the house, and second, that Charlie and Michael were no closer to ending their argument. She patted Charlie’s shoulder and followed Michael, hoping her voluntary departure from the house would help improve his mood.
After Charlie and William were alone Charlie let out a strained breath as if he’d been holding it in. “The full moon’s almost here. It’s so much harder not to get angry, about anything or everything, the closer it gets.”
“And they know this, Charlie.”
“I’m going to go unpack, take a cold shower,” Charlie decided. “Cool down a little.”
“I will be in my study, should anyone need me,” William spoke evenly.
However, Charlie didn’t leave, and instead, stared at the wall, rubbing his hand across his stubble covered chin.
“Is there something else, Charlie?”
“To be honest, William, I’m not sure. I’m not even sure how to explain it. Something about this approaching moon feels different. Harder to control myself than usual.”
“I will check if this particular moon has any unknown significance, just in case.”
“Thanks, William. I’d feel a heck of a lot better knowing I’ll still be me when the full moon rises.”
MELINDA FOLLOWED HER brother out of the front door, across the stone porch, and down the steps of the Howard Mansion, stepping onto a cobblestone driveway. She froze for a moment, her feet suddenly unwilling to move forward.
There’s so many people!
Just people vacationing and having fun.
She berated herself silently, fighting off the urge to run back inside the house. With a shaky, but determined breath, Melinda took the next step onto the street. Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulder, securing her to his side. Panic leaked into his senses; would she be able to continue? It was early summer, which meant fighting their way through bustling-about tourists. But driving would be harder and take twice as long as walking, while waiting for tourists to figure out where they were headed, or while they attempted to park in cramped spaces.
“Okay to keep going?” Michael prodded gently.
She nodded and shook it off. “Fine, let’s go.” She left the safety of his side, her thoughts screaming so not fine! But rather than turn and run home she sidetracked herself by talking to her brother. “You shouldn’t be so hard on Charlie. He’s doing his best.”
“Don’t be so hard on Charlie!” he repeated incredulously.
“I know, I know. It’s just, you know how he gets around the full moon.”
“How he gets is irritating. Infuriating. And a total Mr. Know-it-all jackass! And it doesn’t matter how close we are to the full moon.”
Melinda groaned. What she said next would make Michael angrier. “I’ll give you that he can be a pain in the ass, but he is kind of right though. You can’t leave, Michael. What would this town do without you? What would Charlie and I do without you? And he’s not the only one who’s a know-it-all jackass,” she mumbled under her breath.
Michael frowned. She wasn’t wrong. But still. “Just because I’m a Howard, this automatically gives me a life sentence to live on this desolate, boring, stuck-in-the-last-century-island?”
“I never said it was fair, but it’s not so bad either. You’ve got Emily,” she pointed out.
“We’re not dating,” he retorted haughtily.
“And whose fault is that?” she snapped just as haughtily. “All you need do is ask. That girl is head over heels crazy over you! You’re her baby face,” Melinda’s voice mocked.
“This face is appealing,” he agreed coolly, twirling his hand in circles around his face. Melinda hit his shoulder in a humored reply. “Really though, why start dating her now? I am leaving The Demon Isle,” he spoke determinedly. “And she has to stay with her father.”
Melinda bit her tongue to keep from responding. What would it take to keep her brother from leaving? Perhaps if she had another nervous breakdown, this would keep him around.
She chastised herself again. That was not a place she wanted to go back to, ever.
With nothing else to say, she focused on making eye contact with the locals and tourists that hustled about the town. Many of the tourists were surprisingly polite, returning her gesture. The locals, however, just stared or ignored her attempts to nod or say hello.
“And the friendly locals are part of what gives The Demon Isle its charm,” she grumbled sardonically, recalling that line from a Demon Isle vacation brochure.
“Be patient with them, Melinda. Just give them a chance. They don’t all think you’re a freak,” her brother razzed, with a loving wink tossed in her direction.
“That guy over there,” she pointed, “totally talking about me. It’s ridiculously obvious.”
“Well, what do you expect, Sis? They’re curious. You’ve hidden yourself away for the last four years, ever since your dreams started and Mom and Dad,” he didn’t finish. He was already arguing with Charlie, he didn’t want to argue with his sister, too. “Look, let’s just do this favor for Mack, and thanks for coming with me. I know how hard it is for you to leave the house, but you’re getting better at it every day.”
“There’s a part of me that wants to escape this place, too,” she admitted with a sigh. “But it won’t stop the dreams, which just get worse when I have actual contact with people. I really am trying.”
“I know, Sis. You are. You’re doing really great. I mean, you only pointed out one guy that was talking about you behind your back today,” he jested, nudging her arm.
She rolled her eyes as they turned the corner entering another street. It was lined with boutique stores, gift shops, pubs, grills, bars, cafés, and even a company that organized tours of the Isle – anything from trips to the beaches, the National Park, or even haunted tours through graveyards, lighthouses, and old homes, or buildings that were believed to be frequented by ghosts.
The end of this street curved, landing them in a section of the town nicknamed Fortune Alley. It drew many tourists, eager to seek details about their future, or learn more about the Isle’s mystical background, or people that just desired to wrap themselves in fantasy for a day.
Magic shops plotted this section of town, along with comic book stores, book and movie sellers specializing in sci-fi, fantasy and the paranormal; fortunetellers, and herb shops, which sold touristy things like love potions. A regular geekdom fit for any fan of the supernatural, or in the case of the Howard Witches, a place to buy the necessary ingredients for potions they used in real life. It also happened to be the fastest way to get to the morgue.
As they walked through Fortune Alley, Melinda saw three psychics set up at the edge of the street, offering free, five-minute readings to passersby. It was a promotion store owners did often, in hopes of attracting longer, purchased readings, or to drag customers into their shops.
Melinda wondered if they had any true foresight. She also wondered how many of them were aware of the true supernatural side of the Isle, as typically, only locals who had lived on the Isle for many years knew the truth that magic did exist here; a truth they preferred to keep to themselves. Nevertheless, they did allow rumors to spread, stories to leak, and even the occasional photo to surface (but only if blurry enough not to prove anything real).
The only fortuneteller Melinda recognized was a woman known as Mystic Mona. She sat draped in long flowing scarves, mysteriously moving her tattooed hands over a fogged up crystal ball. She had told the Howard’s a long time ago that she was a complete fake, but for some reason she was also the most visited reader on the Isle. She winked at the duo as they passed by her.
Near the end of the street, a light salty mist spread across Melinda’s skin. They were very close to the harbor. So close, she could hear the sloshing of the waves crashing up against the dock and the boats. “I do love this air,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling the damp saltiness layering her face. She sucked it in, and upon opening her eyes, noted, “The view isn’t too shabby either.”
Michael took a glance and looked at her as if to say No way in hell!
“What? He’s cute.” Actually, way more than cute. Yummy, to be more exact, but she’d never say that to her brother.
“You’re afraid to leave the house, and yet the first guy you pick out of the crowd is the one on the motorcycle.”
“Well it’s not like I’m running over there and just hopping on. Geesh! I just thought he was cute. And look, he wears a helmet. Safe driver,” she argued.
Michael continued toward the morgue, dismissing her argument. Thinking of his sister being old enough to make her own choices about the men she dated was never going to be easy. She was perpetually a teenager in his mind. And in some ways, because of her anxiety and breakdown, and locking herself away these last four years, she was still naïve to the real world. But she was growing braver with each day, and she’d catch up, hopefully without getting her heart broken too many times. His sister was the type to fall, and fall hard, and want it to be forever. Regardless, she was always going to be his little sister and no guy would ever be good enough for her.
Please don’t let her find someone like me. The thought crept into his brain giving him an instant sourness in his gut. He really did string Emily along. Flaunting all his other girlfriends, dating like it was no big thing. And it wasn’t, and that was the point. He didn’t want the big thing. The real thing. He wanted off the Isle and to get a new life. Emily was beautiful and smart and had the most natural way of making him feel like he’d just come home every time he saw her, or heard her voice. But The Demon Isle was not going to be his home for much longer. Emily would have no trouble finding a good man. Someone who was not him. She deserved so much better than him.
Melinda watched the dark haired young man get onto his motorcycle. He slid over the seat with ease, straddling the metal machine and pumping the clutch hard. It roared to life, each pulse of the clutch and vroom of the gas shooting a zing of excitement up Melinda’s spine. She pictured herself as the bike, thinking she’d let the guy pump her to life any day.
Michael shook his head, letting out an annoyed groan. He didn’t need this. Didn’t need to sense his sister all worked up over a stranger on a motorcycle.
Melinda swallowed hard, clearing her throat. “Sorry.” She wasn’t sure who was mortified more, herself or Michael. How was she supposed to keep her feelings to herself when he was around?
“Just try to rein it in a little, please,” he groaned. Sometimes, being an empath really sucked. No strike that, it always sucked. Knowing what emotions people were feeling, all the time.
God damn it, I need to get off this freaking island.
Not that it would make any difference. He’d still sense what people were feeling.
“It’s partly my fault,” he said to her. “I have a hard time managing it when I’m pissed.” Which was all the time lately.
She tossed him an understanding shrug.
Traffic cleared and motorcycle man pulled away from the curb, making a U-turn. His dark eyes caught Melinda’s, drowning her in a sticky molasses stare that kept her eyes glued to his. There was something just a little wicked in that passing gaze. Something that promised reality would be crazy better than any daydream. It flooded Melinda with a self-conscious awareness that caught her breath for a second time that day. Her heart skipped a beat and she brushed her hand across her rosy cheek, and then gazed down at her dress, and sighed.
This was her reality.
She was certain any TV fashion show would call it a bag, not a dress. She’d be the woman they’d ambush on the street and transform from an ugly duckling to a swan. Only to give up mid-makeover after realizing this task was impossible.
The dress was old, baggy, and fell to her ankles. It was also comfortable and hid the shape of her body. No one needed to see her curves, or lack thereof. Curvy in all the wrong places. Maybe I should eat fewer donuts? What was it Jerkwad had called her? Oh, right, adorable. Not beautiful, or pretty, or sexy, but adorable, with that look of yeah, you should lose a few pounds. Yup, adorable was currently her least favorite word.
Michael shook his head but held his tongue. His sister flipped through emotions faster than changing the TV channels. He almost wished the guy on the motorcycle had hit on her, just to make her feel better about herself. Then again, his sister was vulnerable and would fall for just a single act of kindness, and he knew exactly what some guys did to those types of chicks. Because he was one of those guys. That sour pit in his gut dug a little deeper. Another reason he’d stopped dating recently. Even he was getting sick of his own bullshit. But yeah, screw motorcycle guy. His sister was sweet. Had a bit of a stubborn streak like her mother. And deserved way better than some fly by night tourist.
She squeezed her fists in frustration. William’s dream had left her worked up and unsatisfied. However, picking up a total stranger was not the answer to her conundrum. Although as she thought about it, perhaps it was exactly what she needed.
She squelched the thought. It was a bad idea. A stupid idea. Melinda Howard and strangers, even hot ones on motorcycles, did not mix. Look at what had happened with Jerkwad! Did she learn nothing?
Damn hormones and stupid sexy vampire dreams.
“And we’re here,” announced Michael, loudly intruding her thoughts. He held open the front door of The Demon Isle Morgue, eyeing Melinda as if about to ask her something uncomfortable. But he didn’t look any happier about asking it, than she did hearing it.
Damn it. If it wasn’t William and his super vampire hearing, it was Michael and his ability to sense her emotions. Could a girl not keep any secrets?
“You ready to do this?” she said instead, straying from topics she did not wish to discuss with her brother.
“Um. Never. But it’s my duty, isn’t it?” Bitterness skimmed across his tongue.
Mack, the town sheriff, met them just inside. She was a sturdy woman with keen eyes and sea-air worn skin that had never seen sunblock. Her real name was Mackenzie Briggs. Most of the townsfolk called her Sheriff Briggs. But the Howard Witches had been assisting the local police since the Isle’s inception, plus the sheriff had also been friends with the siblings’ parents.
“Ah, Michael Howard. You’re lookin’ as scrumptious as ever.” Mack’s eyes danced in a playfully lustful manner.
“Good morning, Mack.” He tossed her a seductive grin and a wink as he passed by her.
