The annoying drumming went on for at least thirty minutes or longer. And just when Holland thought she’d finally have some peace and quiet, there were two soft knocks on her bedroom door.
“Yes!” she said sharply, trying to deter her mother from coming in her room and telling her all about her kooky witchcraft session. But it wasn’t her mother who opened her door. It was Ms. Pullman.
“I wanted to tell you how wonderful it was to meet you.”
“Okaaay?” Holland said with a perplexed look on her face. She wondered why her mother had allowed her client to roam through the house and come to her bedroom.
“We’ll meet again,” Ms. Pullman said. She gave Holland a lingering look, her dark eyes blazed with a sort of longing that Holland was unable to make sense of.
After Ms. Pullman closed the door, Holland sat stunned for a few moments. What was that about? She waited until she heard the front door close and then raced out of her bedroom.
“Mom!” Holland yelled. Phoebe was sitting on the floor, her back rigid, her eyes closed, caught up in a trance.
“Snap out of it, Mom!” She shook her mother’s shoulder.
Phoebe blinked and finally opened her eyes. “Oh, my goodness. I lost consciousness. I was in a really deep state.” She turned her head right and left. “Where’s Ms. Pullman?”
“She left.”
Holland and her mother simultaneously spotted the two fifties that Ms. Pullman had placed on top of the tom-tom that she’d used during the session.
“What a nice lady,” Phoebe said. “I hope I was able to help her.”
Sleep eluded Holland. From the footprints, the Ouija board, and the microwave malfunction to Ms. Pullman knocking on her bedroom door, there’d been far too many bizarre occurrences today.
Ms. Pullman was one creepy lady, and Holland could only hope that she never sought her mother’s services again. If she did, Holland would make sure she wasn’t around. She’d hang at Naomi’s house or go for a long walk . . . she didn’t want to see the strange woman ever again.
She plumped her pillow and tried to drift to sleep, but she couldn’t shake the icky feeling or the troubling sensation that someone was watching her. Her eyes roamed around her darkened bedroom. Ms. Pullman’s presence was thick in the air. Holland got out of bed and turned on the light. After checking the closet and under her bed, Holland made a mental note to give her bedroom a cleansing with sage first thing in the morning.
CHAPTER 9
Jonas pulled his hand away from the intricate patterns on the bottom of his foot, and stroked the bullet hole in the center of his chest. It was a tragic reminder that he was no longer human.
He heard something approaching. Fast-paced, determined footsteps treaded through leaves and crunched twigs. Jonas sniffed the air but couldn’t detect man or beast. Then suddenly, out of the darkness, a figure appeared. A young man, slightly older than Jonas, but no more than eighteen or nineteen.
He was dressed in a nineteenth-century costume that was more ragged and filthier than Jonas’s clothing. The necktie that was formed in a fanciful bow sagged to his chest and was matted with dirt. The cuffs of his sleeves were hanging by threads. Soil clung to his face and his head, disguising the true color of his hair. His eyes, however, a vivid blue, sparkled with confidence and gleamed like jewels.
Jonas stood upright, his fingers closed into fists. He was surprised by the low, rumbling growl that emanated from his throat.
“Friend or foe?” the oddly dressed young man asked in a challenging tone.
“Neither,” Jonas answered, his voice gruff. “Go away; I don’t want to hurt you.” Jonas found it strange that he didn’t detect a whiff of human scent emanating from the strange-looking person. The hunger continued to gnaw at him, but he had no desire to sink his teeth into the stranger’s flesh.
“I’d like to make your acquaintance,” the young man said in a Southern drawl and extended his. “My name’s Zacharias Hamilton. It’s a mouthful, so you can just call me Zac.”
“I’m not looking for a friend,” Jonas muttered in a surly tone.
“We have a lot in common. Like you, I was also called from my resting place.”
Shocked, Jonas flinched. “How do you know that I was pulled from the ground?”
“I saw you crawl out of a hole. I watched as you wandered about, foraging for food.” He chuckled mockingly. “I watched you kill a half-dozen rodents—a couple raccoons. Personally, I don’t know how you do it—you know, substituting forest critters for a delicious meal.”
“That’s none of your business,” Jonas said angrily. It was embarrassing that he’d been secretly observed while he’d scavenged through the woods. “Why were you spying on me?”
“For pure entertainment,” said the bedraggled young man in his Southern twang.
“There’s nothing amusing about my predicament.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so touchy. Accept my apology.” Once again, Zacharias Hamilton extended a dirt-encrusted hand. And again, Jonas refused to accept it.
He gazed curiously at Jonas, trying to figure him out. “What are you? Vampire . . . werewolf?” Zac asked. His eyes glinted, and amusement stretched his mouth into a mocking smile.
Jonas scowled in disgust. “I’m neither. I’m a human being.” He gave a bewildered shrug. “At least, I used to be human. I don’t understand what’s happened to me, but I’m not a vampire or any of those creatures from horror movies. Someone used a poisonous powder to put a hex on me. The powder is what changed me.”
“Changed you into what?”
“I don’t know. I’m bewitched. I don’t think there’s a name for what I’ve become.” Jonas glanced surreptitiously at Zacharias. “You said that you were called out of the earth also. What happened to you?”
“Long story,” Zacharias muttered. “What’s your name, fella?” he asked, flashing a bright smile as he abruptly changed the subject.
Zacharias seemed a little dodgy—somewhat devious—and Jonas was hesitant to give him any personal information.
“Like I said, my friends call me Zac. What name do you go by?”
“Jonas,” he finally answered.
“You don’t talk like a Southerner, Jonas. And judging from the clothes you’re wearing, I’m gonna assume that you’re not from these parts.”
Jonas instantly thought of Haiti and felt a tug in his heart.
Zac peered at him closely. “The West Indies, huh?
It was if Zac had read his mind, and Jonas felt a chill go through him. “Yes, I’m from the Caribbean,” he acknowledged softly.
“You’re a long way from home.”
“I have relatives here in Florida, but I can’t let them see me in this condition.”
“Well, you’re not in Florida.” Zac stamped a scuffed boot on the ground. “This here is Georgia soil you’re standing on—Frombleton, Georgia. It’ll probably take a week or so to get to Florida by buggy. Much faster by railroad.”
“Buggy? What are you talking about?” Jonas asked, bewildered.
A look of confusion crossed Zac’s face. “You know . . . Horse and buggy.”
Jonas gazed at him curiously. “You can’t be serious.”
“Never mind the horse and buggy. We can travel on foot. I have to get out of these woods and find shelter before sunrise.”
Jonas backed up slightly. “What are you . . . a vampire?”
Zac nodded with pride. “That’s exactly what I am.”
“You’re a killer,” Jonas snapped, grimacing in disgust. He looked at Zac with revulsion. Despite what Jonas had become, he didn’t want anything to do with a vampire.
“I do what I have to for survival,” Zac said in an unapologetic tone.
Jonas forced the gruesome memory of his own attack on the farmer out of his mind. “I’m not like you,” Jonas insisted. “I can live off animals forever if I have to.”
“Stop pretending to be so innocent. You’ve had a taste of human flesh,” Za
c said knowingly.
“Shut your mouth! You don’t know anything about me. I’ve never taken a human life.” Jonas whirled around and stormed away from the vampire.
In a flash, Zac stood directly in front of Jonas, staring him down. Jonas flinched in surprise. “How’d you do that?”
“I have my ways. Nice trick, huh?” Zac fixed his mouth in a smug expression. “I think we have more in common than you realize. Let’s be friends, Jonas. We can help each other.” His voice was low and seductive.
Zac’s face was hideously caked with dirt and mud, yet his handsome features were evident. His lips stretched into a forced smile—a smile that held a hint of malevolence.
“I don’t associate with vampires.” Jonas folded his arms, adamant.
“In a world where people want to destroy our kind, we should band together and help each other.” He spoke in a gentle, persuasive manner.
“I’m not your kind!”
“We’re more alike than you want to admit. Come with me, my friend; it’s not safe to lurk in the woods. We need shelter. We’ll figure out your problem together.”
Exasperated, Jonas sighed. Zac was deliberately engaging him, ignoring the fact that he’d clearly stated that he wanted nothing to do with him.
“What island are you from . . . Jamaica?”
“No, I’m Haitian. Well . . . I was Haitian when I was normal; I don’t know what I’ve become.”
“You’re reborn,” Zac said.
Jonas snorted. “A rebirth is something to celebrate and rejoice over. Hiding out in the woods like a scared animal is not a rebirth; it’s a living hell.”
“Then let’s get out of here. Let’s begin the new life we’ve both been given.”
“How can I begin again?” Jonas yelled. Then, in a lowered voice, he admitted, “I miss my family. It’s agonizing to know that even if I found my way back home, my mother and my sisters would never accept me. Not like this.”
“I’ve never traveled to any island, but I’ve heard tales about Haiti and voodoo curses. Perhaps we can find a way to reverse the spell that was cast on you.”
“That’s impossible. The woman that hexed me is dead. This spell is irreversible.”
“Don’t be so sure of that.”
Refusing to get his hopes up, Jonas shook his head. “My only desire is to return to my resting place. I’d take my own life if I could. But I’m already dead . . . I guess.”
“If we find out who pulled us from sleep, we can get them to return you to your eternal slumber. Is that what you want?”
Jonas nodded.
“Not me. I have a different desire. I don’t want to lurk in the shadows forever. I want to exist among the living.”
Jonas looked at Zac with interest. “Is that possible?”
“I did it before. I had a wonderful time, living among mortals.” Zac gave a wistful smile.
Jonas didn’t completely trust Zac, but he was stirred by the possibility of living as close to a normal life as possible. Perhaps he could make a home here . . . send for his family.
Then Jonas pictured the face of the girl that had walked along the trail. Hoping that a hint of her remarkable scent still lingered, he sniffed the air. There was nothing but the smell of trees and forest animals, but in his mind, he remembered her glorious smell.
Zac interrupted Jonas’s reverie. “After we’ve cleaned up, we’ll both look like mortals. No one will be able to tell that we’re different.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. You’d be able to be a part of your family again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“More than anything,” Jonas whispered.
“Then let’s get moving.”
With an image in his mind of being reunited with his mother and his sisters, Jonas fell into step beside Zac.
CHAPTER 10
Taking purposeful strides along a trail that twisted and turned, Zac seemed to know exactly where he was going. After a few hundred yards, they found themselves in a meadow. Through the meadow and around a couple of bends, they passed an old horse farm.
Jonas slowed his steps when a sudden and powerful yearning twisted his insides.
Zac put a hand on Jonas’s shoulder, nudging him along. “Killing horses is not a smart idea, fella.”
“Why not?” Jonas was practically salivating. An animal as large as a horse could keep his hunger at bay for many hours. Maybe days.
“You gotta be discreet. Eating wildlife is one thing, but slaughtering horses won’t go unnoticed.”
“Who cares? What more can anyone do to me? I’m already dead,” he said in an agonized voice.
“Around these parts, there’s nothing worse than a horse thief.”
“How do you know? Are you a horse thief? Is that why you were put in the ground?” Jonas’s surly attitude was the result of raging hunger.
“I ain’t no horse thief, but I know human nature. Folks around here don’t take kindly to horse thieves, so be careful. You’ve already gone through the torture of being buried alive. Would you like to suffer that fate again?”
Jonas shuddered at the thought, and then he eyed Zac warily. “How do you know so much about me?”
Zac flashed a cocky smile. “Intuition.”
“What about you? How’d you end up buried in the woods?” Jonas was only striking up a conversation to keep his mind off of his growing hunger.
Zac ignored the question, and once again, he changed the subject. “I know you’re hungry, and I’ll make sure that you feed when it’s safe.”
Feed! It was a terrible expression with hideous connotations. Jonas had no intention of ever feeding! Feeling petulant, he tagged along quietly. For a few miles, they traveled along an old gravel road that came to a fork. Zac yielded to the right, and after another mile, they came upon a creek.
“We’re close,” Zac informed.
“Close to what?”
“Shelter. Come on, we have to cross the water.”
The cool water felt good on Jonas’s bare feet. Heeding the desires of his former life, he bent over, cupped his palms and scooped up water from the creek.
Zac watched with great interest as Jonas sipped water from his hands.
Jonas grimaced when the water touched his tongue. It had such an acrid and disgusting taste, it was unpalatable. He expelled a blast of creek water, misting the air and nearly splashing Zac in the face. But with his supernaturally quick reflexes, Zac dodged the spray of water.
Muttering a few choice curse words in Creole, Jonas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“We have more in common than you’d like to admit,” Zac said with laughter. “Our thirst can only be quenched with blood.”
Jonas recalled that the farmer had given him water. He also remembered that the water had never entered his mouth. The farmer’s presence . . . the sound and smell of blood pulsing in his veins had stirred a dark desire that Jonas was unable to control.
That one bite from the farmer’s shoulder had tasted amazing. There was nothing to compare to the flavor. Jonas groaned inwardly. The very thought caused him unbearable hunger.
Jonas and Zac continued their trek. Another desolate gravel road and they finally came upon an old deserted sugar mill. It was a huge structure with several adjacent buildings. The battered sign at the chained gate cautioned, NO TRESPASSING, but there was no presence of security.
“How’d you know about this place?” Jonas asked.
Astonished, Zac’s muddied fingers gripped the rusted metal gate. “What happened to the sugar mill? Seems like only yesterday that construction began. Folks from around here were delighted to have steady work.”
Jonas gave Zac a baffled look. “You were around when this place was built?”
Zac nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two. I was changed a few days after my twenty-second birthday.”
“When was that . . . what year?”
“Seventeen-ninety-tw
o.”
“And when were you put in the ground?”
Zac winced at the memory. “Late eighteen hundreds.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century. Lots of things have changed in these modern times.” Jonas cracked a smile. It felt good to have an advantage over Zac.
Zac scratched his head and regarded Jonas. “What year is it exactly?”
“Twenty-twelve.”
Zac let out a long whistle. “A lot of years have passed by . . . more than a century.” He shook his head, dumbfounded.
“I thought your clothes . . . well, I actually thought you were wearing a costume.”
Zac ran his hands over his filthy garments. “This here is gentlemen’s attire, suitable for Sunday service and a moonlight stroll with a lady friend.”
Zac tried the door handles, but every door was locked tight. “Let’s take a walk around the back. I know this building like the back of my hand. Hid out and slept in the bowels of this factory more times than I care to count.”
At the rear of the main building, Zac tore away boards from an entryway. Inside, the vacant building was dark and decayed. It was pitch black inside, but Zac and Jonas had no difficulty seeing in the dark. Like laser beams, their eyes probed the old, rundown factory.
The walls and floors were corroded, and the dilapidated structure was filled with exposed pipes and rusted industrial equipment.
They came upon a huge boiler with two heavy metal doors. On the outside, the boiler looked like a humongous pot-bellied stove with circular piping at the top that spiraled high into the rafters.
Zac poked his head inside to inspect the deterioration inside. “Roomy! Exactly the way I remember it. With a little dusting, it’ll be like old times,” he exclaimed.
Jonas was appalled. Though he didn’t require a soft mattress for comfort, he doubted if he’d be able to get a wink of sleep if he were closed up inside that claustrophobic-looking boiler. He and Zac were obviously two different breeds of undead. Zac was comfortable in his skin while Jonas was sickened by his monstrous transition.
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