“You look like hell. Here,” she said and passed him the limp creature. The sound of the vampire sucking the blood caused a wave of nausea to roil through her stomach. While he sucked the little amount of blood the squirrel gave, the mansion came into view.
“Stay here. We’re going to check out the house. We’ll throw a spell when we need you,” Annie said, peering through the trees at the mansion. “No sign of the police,” she announced.
“What do you do when neither is here?” Sturtagaard asked. He leaned against a tree for a rest.
“We’ll deal with it when we get to the house. Either keep up or slink back to Paris. You’re no use to us like this.”
“Take off the shackles, girl.”
Annie rolled her eyes and walked along the tree line, away from the vampire.
“Let me feed,” the vampire growled. He staggered, weak from lack of blood and from spending so much time in the sun.
“Enough! You’re a pain in the ass. I have enough of those to contend with. Go back to Paris, go back to the States, I don’t care anymore. We’ll take off the shackles. You can go.” Annie turned and knelt beside the vampire, reaching for the cuff around his ankle.
“No! I want you to bring me back to the States. I’m here to help. Let me feed!” The vampire’s voice echoed through the forest. A bird squawked, its wings flapping as it flew away.
“No. You can feed on another woodland creature, but no humans. Get your shit together, or we’re leaving you here.”
He skulked after them.
The eleven-foot-high wooden doors had been ripped from their hinges.
“Amelie was back. How is that possible?” Annie mumbled.
Glancing down the lane and hearing no cars, Annie and Spencer took cautious steps up the stone staircase. Each held a palm up, and each carried a flashlight. They entered the darkened building.
They were greeted by a marble table that had been toppled; the stone slab was nothing more than chunks of rock and powder.
Their flashlights roamed the walls, the floor, the heavy drapes hanging askew. Dust covered everything and tickled Annie’s nose as their footsteps clicked against the marble floors.
“She’ll hear us,” Spencer said as they moved toward the back of the house.
“She’ll smell us first,” Annie responded. They turned the corner and headed down a long hallway.
“I see why they stayed here. It’s a good place to hide,” Spencer commented.
“Almost like home.”
In the distance, noises of a scuffle suddenly burst out. Bodies rolled, bumping into large furniture. They heard a groan and loan growl.
“Let’s go!” Spencer said as they ran for the den.
Amelie had pinned Louis to the ground, her eyes blank and distant. She had him so tightly secured between her legs that he struggled for air as he tried desperately to buck her from his abdomen.
Her cold hands held down his shoulders; he shuddered at her touch. Amelie laughed, her head falling backward in delight as she rubbed against him.
Louis’s eyes welled with tears, pleading for help as he struggled against Amelie’s control.
Annie shot a spell through the dim light, hitting Amelie in the side. The vampire slumped forward, landing on Louis. Free of her grasp, Louis pushed her off of him and rolled away. Her eyes grew wide with fury. She growled and flew forward, defying gravity and lunging for Annie, who ducked just in time. Spencer cast several successive jinxes that tossed the vampire into a stone fireplace.
As if fear paralyzed Louis, all he could do was stare at them, his mouth agape.
“Run you stupid fool!” Annie shouted.
“Louis, help me!” Amelie cried.
His eyes darted between the two women for a moment. Then he scrambled to Amelie.
You’ve got to be kidding me!
“Amelie, did she hurt you?” He held the princess’s hand, patting it in comfort as she roared with fury.
Annie jumped onto of the ottoman in the middle of the room and flew at Louis. Yanking on his arm, she pulled him from the vampire.
“No! Amelie, my love!” Louis whined, fighting against Annie’s grip.
Spencer whipped a second jinx, hitting Amelie in the chest. The princess growled and sprang for Spencer. The force of contact propelled him into the wall, leaving behind a man-sized dent. Not staying to be staked, Amelie jumped over Spencer, who lay splayed on the floor.
“Damn it!” Annie pursued the princess back out of the mansion, but the vampire’s super strength, endurance, and speed, meant that she was long lost in the trees by the time Annie jumped from the front stairs.
Sturtagaard leaned against the front column. “She went that way.” He pointed.
Grimacing, Annie followed his direction. She pulled out her binoculars and surveyed the landscape. As she suspected, Amelie was long gone.
“You’re never entering the U.S. again,” Annie proclaimed through gritted teeth.
“What? I should have chased her?” He shrugged.
“You worthless excuse for a demon!” Annie lunged at Sturtagaard with a stake in her hand. The sharp point pierced the first layer of skin. If she pressed further and entered the breast plate, he’d be dust.
“You need my help,” he reminded her.
“No. I really don’t. I have him.” Annie pointed to Louis Van Alton, his hands tied behind his back as Spencer led him from the house.
Louis looked as though he had taken a rather rough beating; both eyes were swollen shut, his lip was split, and his once neatly pressed shirt was covered in dirt and ripped at the sleeve.
“Really. He can smell her out? What good is the nonmagical?” Sturtagaard sneered.
“What the hell good are you? You let her leave, asshole.”
“Had you discovered she was a vampire when she died, you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. How will it look when the world finds out she’s still alive?”
I hate him!
Annie balled her fist and hit him in his sneering mouth. His neck cracked when his head jerked backwards, and he fell to the ground.
Chapter 17
“I’m hungry. Can’t we stop for food?” Louis had been whiny and soft since they forced him from the mansion outside of Dinan, France. He was no different the closer they came to Platja d’Aro, France, along the Mediterranean Sea.
As they had done in their travels throughout Europe, Annie and Spencer teleported into an area near yet just outside of town. This time it had been a mistake. They had to suffer a two-mile trek hampered by a surly vampire hiding under a blanket and a sniveling man-child. All Annie and Spencer wished to do was wait for Amelie where Louis suggested she would turn up, but all Louis wanted to do was make them miserable.
Since Amelie was limited by transportation methods, whether it was a cargo train, car, or walking, Annie estimated they still had hours before the vampire would arrive, if this is where she’d go. If Annie had to bet, she figured the princess would arrive by cargo train for speed—but then Amelie had arrived in Amborix from France in a short amount of time.
How is she managing that? Louis didn’t help her. Maybe she has other help?
Annie sighed. “Fine. We’ll stop at that fruit stand and grab some food. If that’s okay with you?” she asked Louis. He grumbled and nodded.
“I’m not paying for him,” Spencer whispered.
“He’s got a pocketful of cash. He’ll pay for all of us,” Annie said.
The family who owned the stand was helpful, leading them to apples, strawberries, olives, cheeses, and bread. The smell of barbequed meat from a portable fire wafted to them. Annie ordered a few skewers of what she thought might be pigeon and glared at Louis, forcing him to pay for the food. Annie pinched Louis in the back as he reluctantly took out his cash to pay for the food.
Conveniently, several makeshift picnic tables were scattered around the fruit stand. They took their seats with Sturtagaard sitting on the ground under a tree, away from the sunl
ight. He looked on, disgusted by the gluttony. Annie chuckled.
“Hungry?” she goaded as she ate a chunk of the meat. Sturtagaard looked away. “So where exactly is this house?” Annie asked Louis, unable to eat any more. She pushed her untouched food away. Spencer played with his bread, balling it and popping it into his mouth.
“I think it’s a mile that way. I haven’t been there in years. Why can’t I just go home?” Louis asked and hiccoughed. He reached for a bottle of wine, purchased at the stand, and took a swig directly from it.
“You idiot. You’re not going home. She’ll kill you,” Annie whispered loudly. Louis shrunk from her. The daughter of the stand’s owner glanced at them and backed away.
“The cottage is in the hills near these condos. It’s just near the sea here.” He pointed to the map Annie lay across the table. “We had talked about heading there after the mansion. It’s been abandoned for decades,” he offered in one quick breath. He reached for the bottle and chugged the red liquid without breathing. His hands shook as he lowered the bottle. It toppled over, and the wine leaked out.
“You absolutely sure?” Spencer asked. He took a bite of apple and placed the half-finished fruit on the table.
“Follow this road. There’s a small road leading to the house. Can I go now?”
“Not until we find her.” Annie said.
Louis sighed. “You need to teleport here.”
The young daughter passed their table and overheard what she shouldn’t have heard. Wearing a quizzical look, she steered clear of their table and stayed busy clearing one of the other picnic tables.
“Never mention magic in public,” Annie whispered when the girl left.
“Whatever. She’ll go there. It’s been unused for so long, and there are so few of us left. She’ll go there,” Louis said definitively.
“Don’t mess with me. This is serious.” Annie reached down and squeezed his knee hard while glaring at him.
“She won’t hurt me. She loves me,” Louis protested as they packed the rest of the food and headed out.
*
The Van Alton seaside cottage was small in comparison to the family mansion, but it was large enough, nestled in a dip in the hill. The two-story structure sat on an acre of land, overlooking the coast and the marina. Once it had been a very lovely vacation home. Now it sat in overgrown ruins. The group teleported behind the dilapidated shed in the back.
Louis was right. This is a good location to teleport.
They peered around the shed and glanced at the rest of the property, abandoned and in disarray. Though they were in a very wealthy neighborhood, it appeared at the moment, they were all alone.
The house sat in ruins like the mansion had. Shutters were missing or hung askew, paint peeled, a cold breeze blew through the cracked windows, and a light emanated from an upper window on the back side of the house.
What the hell!
“Someone’s in there! Who lives there?” Annie asked.
“It’s… they shouldn’t be here. It’s impossible,” Louis said quietly. He closed his eyes. “It’s a mistake.” He shivered violently, either due to fear or the damp chill that blew from the sea. Either way, Annie wasn’t concerned with his comfort; she had tied his hands together in an unbreakable magical silk rope. His wrists were raw and red from struggling against the tight restraints.
He knows something!
“Who’s here?” Spencer asked again.
“Am-Amelie. She’s… she’s here,” Louis stammered.
“She got here too quickly,” Annie whispered to Spencer.
“I thought the same thing. He begged to eat. To keep us away. He knows something.” Spencer peered at Louis, who shrank against the worn plank of the storage unit.
“I agree. I’ll take the vampire; you keep an eye on whiny boy. I’ll call you when I have her or have warned whoever’s in there,” Annie said.
Spencer placed a muffle bag over Louis’s head to keep from listening to his whimpering; it grated on all of their nerves. When he was secure, Annie nodded once, grabbed hold of Sturtagaard’s wrist, and teleported him to the back entrance of the home.
The door was slightly ajar, which worried Annie as she pushed it in and took a cautious step inside. Small windows let in very little light, rendering the room dark. Though supposedly no one had been here in years, the house appeared to have been cleaned recently. She took a whiff.
“Is that…?” Annie took a whiff and grimaced.
“Dead flesh,” Sturtagaard answered, and Annie groaned.
Her flashlight highlighted the hard stone floor. It was covered in floor rugs. The furniture was well worn but lovely, and canvas furniture covers were left in a pile by the window.
They skirted around fancy French chairs and sofas, antique French tables littered with books and knickknacks that must have once been lovingly chosen but then had been carelessly left behind. But now it seemed they were being enjoyed again. A book was opened on the sofa.
“Someone’s living here,” Annie said as she ran her finger across the tabletop. It was clean.
“I smell blood. A lot of it,” Sturtagaard said. Annie had no doubt; his fangs were extended as if he were ready to clean up a mess.
If Amelie were there, she could smell Annie now, or at the least hear their click and clack against the floor. Annie grabbed Sturtagaard’s arm and teleported to the top of the staircase.
The hallway was dark, devoid of pictures or furniture. They trekked to the bedroom that faced the Mediterranean Sea. It emanated a low, dim light, just enough for Annie to see her way. She shuddered as Sturtagaard followed so closely that she could feel the icy cold that radiated from his skin; she could hear him sniff her hair. Annie turned and slapped him.
“Enough,” she whispered and continued to the bedroom door. An overwhelming stench of death filled her nostrils. Her stomach lurched when she peered into the bedroom. Three dead bodies lay scattered across the room. One was sprawled across the bed, another victim was slumped in a chair, and the final body, a child, lay on the floor near a fireplace that burned and blazed with a newly started fire.
The scene showed shades of what Amelie had done to her mother: sucking the body nearly dry and opening the vampire tracks deeper, enough to drain the remaining blood to the floor beneath them. Even Sturtagaard, a master of evil, looked on in disbelief.
“She did this to her mother. Left enough blood to pump all over,” Annie said in shock. Her voice could barely register above a whisper.
“Vampires, we don’t do this. Not anymore,” Sturtagaard announced.
Annie glared at him, disgusted. “Why don’t they, anymore?” she managed to ask.
“Most of us want to keep on living, as it were. This, this draws attention to us. The fury running through her is poisoning her.”
Annie observed him and his extended fangs. He longed to lap up the remaining blood that saturated the rugs and upholstery.
I hate him!
“Don’t think about cleaning this up,” she ordered and dialed Spencer.
“She was here,” Annie said when he answered.
“It’s the same?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Annie could barely speak, anxious that they had let her slip by again.
Or was she here before the other murders?
Spencer yanked a reluctant Louis Van Alton up the central stairs off the family home and dragged him inside to see the horror Amelie left for them.
“Oh man,” Spencer said softly. “Who are they?” he asked Louis. The nonmagical man, horrified, fell to his knees shaking and crying.
After several moments, Louis hiccoughed and looked at them. “My Aunt Marguerite, Uncle Louis, and cousin Elizabeth. She’s only a child.” His voice quivered, holding back additional tears.
Annie took another look at the girl beside the fire. She was so very young and now so cold. She placed a hand on the girl’s cheek.
“Don’t touch them, girl. Verify they’re not turned. We need to leave
!” Sturtagaard ordered.
Annie pulled her hand back, surprised by his gesture. But he was right. Eventually someone would come and find the bodies. Annie and Spencer couldn’t leave any trace of their presence here.
They worked quickly, opening vials of holy water, letting the potions drop on the exposed skin. None of the bodies rose. They had clearly been killed.
“Amelie could not have made it here so quickly. She should have been weak and in hiding. Someone’s helping her,” Sturtagaard remarked.
“I’m thinking that myself,” Annie said. She glanced at Spencer, both of them worried at the prospect she had assistance.
“Who’s helping her?” Spencer asked as he yanked Louis Van Alton up from the floor, shaking him as he did. “Who’s helping her?”
“I… I…” Louis hiccoughed and sniffled. “I don’t know.”
“She made it here too quickly. I believe that.” Annie strode to the desk near the window.
“Girl, don’t touch anything!” Sturtagaard screamed.
Annie glared, summoned two gloves, and yanked them on as she examined the papers strewn across the desk, unsure of what she was looking for.
“Yes. Someone comes. I don’t know who. A woman, I think. Brown hair, maybe. I’ve seen Amelie speak with her. I swear, that’s all I know. Amelie, she… she never shared,” Louis said.
The desk was covered in bills, in letters that Amelie probably wouldn’t have read. Annie shuffled through them. A short note was attached to what looked to be a deed to the house, though without time to translate, Annie perused the letter in French. It was addressed to Aunt Marguerite and Uncle Louis Van Alton, signed, ‘Yours, M.’
“Who’s M?” Annie asked.
“M? I don’t know who that is,” Louis said.
“Whoever it was, addressed them as aunt and uncle. Could it be a cousin, maybe?” Annie asked, irritated at the man.
“I… I don’t know. I swear,” he said. “Maybe it was Marguerite’s side of the family,” he added hopefully.
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