“And someone is going to pay dearly for that loss,” the woman declared as she floated upward, absurdly rising a few inches from the floor and then giving the constable several reassuring pats on the back.
Constable Sullivan nodded. “Indeed, that payment will be extracted in blood.”
Phoebe gasped at the vampire’s threat. With both arms wrapped around Holland’s waist, she drew her daughter near.
Her feet back on the ground, Andrea Sullivan placed a slender arm around her son’s shoulder. A delicate white hand with pointed, red-painted fingernails smoothed back the boy’s hair and dotingly caressed his face.
With a mass of black curls framing his face, Ryan had the angular-shaped face of his father, and the full sensual lips of his mother. He was unusually good looking, and so were his parents.
Holland found herself staring at the Sullivans in fascination. The unearthly beauty of this vampire family was breathtaking. No wonder Naomi and her parents had been lured into their clutches.
The boy’s thick eyebrows drew together in a curious frown. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. “There’s that uncanny odor again. Do you detect it, Mother?” His eyes settled on Holland.
“Yes, I do. The air is thick with the scent.” Through the veil of dark, long lashes, the female vampire squinted at Holland and sniffed. “You have a very appealing odor,” she said to Holland, and released a long sigh of yearning.
Holland shrank back and unconsciously placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart.
Jonas raised his stake defensively.
Constable Sullivan angled his head and regarded Jonas contemptuously. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? You were riding in the car with that no-account scoundrel, Zacharias Hamilton.”
Jonas didn’t deny the claim. He raised the stake higher, indicating that he had no intention of backing down.
An amused expression crossed the vampire’s face. “What do you plan on doing with that stick, boy?”
“Don’t come any closer,” Jonas warned.
The three vampires inched forward menacingly. Looks of hunger inhabited their dark eyes.
Holland wrenched free from her mother’s embrace and joined Jonas, trying to ward off the vampire family by stabbing at the air with the pointed end of the stake.
In a swirl of movements that were faster than the eye could see, the constable whizzed across the room. Before Holland and Jonas had time to aim their weapons at the target’s heart, the eerily fast vampire had ripped the stakes from their hands.
In horrorstruck surrender, Phoebe let the stake she was holding fall from her hand.
Ryan and his mother applauded. “Bravo, Father,” Ryan said.
“Well done, darling,” said the vampire wife.
Showing off his unnatural strength, the constable snapped each stake in two and sent the broken pieces of wood scattering about the room.
Wearing a triumphant smile, the vampire wife strutted toward Holland’s mother and yanked her by the arm. “We’ll take this one. Come, my son . . . give her the dark kiss. We’ll feed together.”
Phoebe let out a frightful shriek.
“Get your hands off of her; leave my mother alone!” Holland shouted.
“I don’t want to merely feed, Mother,” Ryan objected, folding his arms in defiance. “You promised me a mate. And I choose the strange-smelling girl.” He pointed to Holland.
The woman smiled at Holland. “My son’s smitten. What’s your name, my dear?”
Face twisted in sneer, Holland responded by holding up her middle finger.
“Vulgar manners for such a pretty girl.” The female vampire gazed at her son.
“Your mother’s right,” the constable agreed, “She’s not the one for you.”
“You don’t get to choose my mate. Not anymore,” Ryan bellowed. “I want her, and by all that’s unholy, I swear that I’ll have her.” Ryan made purposeful strides toward Holland.
Seething, Jonas glared at Ryan. “Stay away from her.” Jonas’s voice was barely recognizable as a deep, throaty growl distorted the sound of his voice. Without warning, and using all of his strength and speed, he charged into Ryan. Jaws open, his teeth sank into the boy’s neck. Taking a massive bite, he ripped out a chunk of the boy’s throat.
At the sight of such savagery, Holland’s mother released a strident scream.
Taking a flying leap, the constable shoved Jonas off of his son, and flung him across the room.
With his hands on his throat, the boy held his wound closed. The vampire couple rushed to their child’s aid.
“Mother,” the boy gurgled, his eyes wide and desperate.
“Shh, shh. Calm down,” she cooed. “You’re immortal; the wound will heal.”
The doorbell rang suddenly and insistently, while at the same time, there was a hard hammering on the door.
“The police!” Holland uttered with a look of relief in her eyes.
“Stay where you are; don’t move,” the constable warned. “I know how to handle the police.” Intending to bedevil the enforcers of the law with his mesmerizing eyes, the constable took purposeful steps toward the door.
But before he reached it, the doorknob began turning and there was the sound of locks disengaging.
Magically, the door opened on its own. And standing in the doorframe was Rebecca Pullman. She wore a vibrant blue Kimono jacket and wide-legged pants. “Good evening, Constable,” she greeted with a pleasant smile.
“You have no business here, witch,” the vampire spat and then drew back his lips, revealing fangs.
“I beg to differ.” Rebecca slid a hand inside her Kimono pocket and retrieved a shiny, silver blade. In a swift motion, she sliced the constable across the throat. The tall vampire’s legs buckled, and he stumbled backward as a fountain of blood gushed from the open wound.
“You’ll heal, father. We’re immortal,” the son called out, his neck miraculously healed and unscarred.
“He won’t heal; that blade is made of silver.” Rebecca held up the thin blade.
The constable fell, causing a thud when his lifeless body hit the floor.
Andrea Sullivan looked at her husband in horror. “You’ll pay for this, witch!” she cried, pointing a finger at Rebecca Pullman.
Andrea and Ryan both leapt to their feet, preparing to retreat through the window they’d crashed through when they’d entered the house.
“Stop!” Rebecca bellowed in a voice that echoed. The two vampires stood frozen in place as if surrounded by a force field.
Rebecca stared at the broken stakes and mumbled an incantation that enlivened the pieces of wood, causing them to elevate and soar through the air, staking both Andrea and Ryan through their hearts.
Mother and son struggled to pull the stakes out of their chests. “I’m dying, Mother, help me,” Ryan wailed.
With the stake jutting out from her chest, Andrea fought through the force field until she reached her son. She yanked and tugged on the broken piece of wood, to no avail. When Ryan began to lose consciousness, Andrea screamed, “Don’t leave me, Ryan. You’re my son; you can’t die!”
Standing upright, Ryan’s head fell forward. His eyes closed in death.
Andrea covered her face, and dropped to her knees. From her lips came a low, sustained moan that sounded very much like a wounded animal.
CHAPTER 37
Three dead vampires lay stretched out on the Mannings’ living room floor.
“They’ll disintegrate when the sun rises,” Rebecca said.
“I’m still in awe over the way you used your powers. I’ve been afraid of you, thinking that you were a vamp, too,” Holland confessed, gazing at the witch in gratitude.
Rebecca shook her head. “Ever since your mother awakened your dormant powers, I’ve had the singular urgent goal to protect you. I pretended that I needed financial advice so that I could make contact with you.”
Phoebe’s cheeks were flushed pink. “It’s embarrassing that I had the gall to try to assist a s
easoned witch.”
“The drum healing session was somewhat soothing. I apologize for being deceptive, but I must advise you that dabbling in the unknown often has adverse effects.”
Phoebe held up her hands in surrender. “Believe me, I’m through experimenting with the occult. I’m proud that Holland is a real witch, but I’m extremely curious about something . . . I don’t understand how, with my limited knowledge, I was able to awaken my daughter’s power?”
Rebecca gave her a patient smile. “Didn’t you cast a spell on your daughter’s behalf?”
Phoebe looked perplexed for a few moments. “Yes, I did, but that was quite a while back. She was upset over a bad haircut and wanted her hair to grow back.”
“That spell was more powerful than you realized. It was cast with an immense amount of love and caring. Your desire, coupled with your daughter’s desire, unleashed the magic in her.”
“Will I be able to make objects move and . . . and . . . you know . . . kill vampires?” Holland asked.
“Absolutely. You’re much more powerful than I am. I’m a witch of the Second Order; you’re one of the rare witches of the First Order.”
“What does that mean and how do you know so much about me?”
“I’ve always known about you. I’ve been assigned to watch over you since the day you were born.”
Holland’s mother frowned. “I appreciate what you’ve done for us, but I never assigned you or anyone to act as Holland’s guardian.”
“No offense to you, Mrs. Manning, but I was assigned by the Highest Order. Holland has been relatively safe up until the time she began emitting pheromones. But vampires being even vaguely aware of her puts her life in jeopardy.”
Holland and Phoebe exchanged an anxious look.
“But now that the head honcho vamp is dead, I should be okay, right?” Holland spoke up.
Rebecca shook her head. “I wish it were that simple. You’re a threat to vampires; your blood is poisonous . . . it can kill them.”
Feeling guilty, Holland winced and was briefly pensive. “So that’s what happened to Naomi. My blood killed her.” Holland winced.
“You must release that guilt, my dear. Your friend was already dead.”
“So, in a way, it’s like I kind of did her favor? You know, sparing her from being eternally damned.”
Rebecca smiled patiently. “I suppose you could put it that way. Thankfully, none of the remaining vampires in this town know about your blood, at least not yet, but it’s only a matter of time before they detect your scent. If the vampires discover that they can die from biting you, there’ll be a witch hunt of monumental proportions.”
Holland scratched her head in confusion. “You’re a powerful witch, Ms. Pullman; don’t you have the scent, too?”
“Call me Rebecca. Yes, I have the witch’s scent, but it’s faint, and my blood is not lethal.”
Phoebe cleared her throat. “Holland and I were looking at witch-training schools online, but the costs are astronomical. We were hoping she could get a scholarship.”
Rebecca pursed her lips. “Our school doesn’t advertise. Our scouts select the best candidates from all over the world. There’s no tuition, and Holland would be in a learning environment with girls her age who have similar abilities.”
“I’m very interested in the school, but I can’t commit. Not right now; I’m worried about Jonas’s . . . uh . . . his problem.” Holland reached for Jonas’s hand.
Jonas squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’ll be okay. I have the funds to get to Miami . . . to get the cure.”
“What kind of cure?” Phoebe’s voice rose with concern. “What are you, Jonas?” she asked, recalling the way he’d bitten into Ryan Sullivan’s throat.
Jonas took a deep breath and once again told his story, beginning with his harrowing voyage to America. While admitting to unusual strength and a propensity toward violence when offended, he intentionally avoided mentioning his desperate craving for living flesh and blood.
“But I don’t trust the voodoo woman in Miami,” Holland blurted at the conclusion of Jonas’s account. “Jonas believes that she’ll remove the spell for the right price, but I think it’s a big mistake for him to put any trust in a woman that was involved in a conspiracy to sell human beings for free labor.”
“I have no one else to turn to,” Jonas said, and then sighed in defeat.
“Can you use your magic to help him, Rebecca?” Holland pleaded.
Rebecca lips tightened into a sad smile. “Unfortunately, my powers don’t extend to voodoo magic, but I do know of someone that can help you, Jonas.”
“Who?” Jonas asked eagerly.
Rebecca fixed a serious gaze on him. “Young man, I’m aware of the extent of the troubles that plague you, but the relief you seek . . . the freedom from this curse can only be found in your native land.”
Jonas looked appalled. “You expect me to go back to Haiti—like this?”
“Yes, that’s where it all began and that is where the spell will be broken.”
“But how can I return to my island with this vile curse upon me?”
“A mother’s love endures all things—even a wicked curse. There’s good and bad voodoo, and the remedy you seek can only be found with one who practices good voodoo. I know such a person. She lives in Haiti, and her name is Mamba Mathilde. Go to her, she’ll help you.”
Jonas looked doubtful. Rebecca placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You must return home, Jonas. You have the ability to accomplish great things one day. Go home; the mamba will be expecting you.”
“But I don’t have the proper documents to return to Haiti.”
“Leave that to me. Manifesting documents is much easier than slaying vampires.”
The next day, while the sun glowed brightly, Holland drove Jonas to the airport.
Rebecca had whipped up a cocktail made of pulverized animal skin, inner organs, and blood to stave off the craving during Jonas’s journey home. The mixture was a tidier way of managing his hunger, and he was enormously grateful.
Still, nothing could compare to the glorious taste of human flesh. He hadn’t derived any enjoyment when he’d bitten into Ryan Sullivan’s cold, dead, and tasteless neck. He wanted to share all of his inner thoughts with Holland, but he couldn’t bear the idea of her fearing or being repelled by him.
Looking on the bright side, Jonas held up the documents that Rebecca had acquired for him. “Now that I can travel freely, I hope we won’t become strangers.”
“Never!” Holland vowed. “You have my email address, and until we can plan an actual visit, we can always communicate with each other online.”
“Oh.” There was sadness in his tone, and he glanced downward. “I don’t have a computer, but who knows, I may find a way to access the Internet.” His pockets were bulging with American dollars, but he couldn’t worry about purchasing a computer when he had to take care of his family and pay off the big debt that he owed the moneylenders.
“We can write letters,” Holland said optimistically. “I have your home address; I’ll write you every day, Jonas. Of course, with the school being in a secret location, you’ll have to send your letters to my home address.”
“Of course,” he said gloomily.
“Don’t be so glum; my mom will make sure that I get your letters.”
“I know, but I can’t help it if I’m starting to miss you already. Teenage love affairs are supposedly doomed from the start.” Jonas laughed sardonically. “And with the distance between us . . . well, the odds are terribly stacked against us.”
“Hey, stop being so pessimistic. Don’t you believe in destiny?”
A slight smile formed on his face. “Destiny led me to you.”
“And destiny will reunite us again,” Holland said, nodding.
Their farewell kiss was the sweetest ever, and for the first time, Jonas was sated and calm, with no overwhelming urges to tear into Holland’s supple flesh.
Par
ked at the curb, Holland watched Jonas exit her life. She touched her chest, aware of the perceptible sensation of her heart breaking in two. Tears that she’d bravely held back while Jonas was in the car now fell freely.
Oh, Jonas, I miss you already, too!
CHAPTER 38
Stoneham Academy was nothing like Holland had expected. She’d imagined it would look like a castle or a stately old structure that was covered in ivy. Stoneham was thoroughly modern—a magnificent glass, metal, and mirrored architecture that required no artificial lighting during the day.
There were no stern-faced portraits of the school’s founders lining the walls. Inside the hallowed halls was an interesting collection of abstract art and crystal sculptures.
The dress code was relaxed, and with only ninety-eight students enrolled, the girls were treated as individuals and were not required to wear the traditional private school tartan skirt and white blouse.
During the tour given by Miss Livingston, the head mistress, Holland marveled at how normal all the girls looked. Never in a million years would she have guessed they were witches possessing special powers.
And the perks were plentiful: dozens of computers, PC tablets, netbooks, e-Readers, iPads, and iPods. The state of the art facilities included Jacuzzis, two heated swimming pools, a five-star fitness center, and en suite bedrooms took the place of drafty dorms and dreary common areas.
“You have a choice of eating in the school’s dining room area or having your meal delivered to your room,” Miss Livingston said with a radiant smile.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to eat in my room,” Holland responded, needing a few moments of privacy to take in her new environment. She also wanted to call her mother and give her the scoop on her cool, new school.
Holland’s accommodations were spacious, airy, and elegant and seemed more suited for a member of the royal family than for a lowly student. Never in her life had she been surrounded in so much luxury.
She thought of the devastated island that Jonas had returned to, and felt a pang of guilt. Weeks had passed since she’d dropped him off at the airport, and there hadn’t been a word. Hopefully, she’d get a letter or an email from him soon.
Midnight Cravings Page 22