Forbidden Feast

by Joelle Sterling

  At the mention of Chuck’s name, Charlotte began weeping loudly. Leroy’s arm immediately tightened around her; his hand clenching her shoulder comfortingly.

  Eden appealed to Leroy’s sense of decency. “Leroy, we need to get the baby to a safe place, but we’re getting low on gas. We can’t fight through that swarm of biters down at the BP station, so can you give us the directions to another nearby gas station?”

  “There’s a Texaco station on Pelham Avenue.” Leroy pointed eastward. “Go a mile or so down the road until you get to Fairfax Street, make a left and then go past two traffic lights. At the second light . . .” Leroy’s voice trailed off as booming sounds exploded from the crashed car that was stalled out on his lawn. The dead man inside was kicking and banging, apparently trying to get out of the car he was trapped inside.

  “Oh, my Jesus!” Charlotte screamed.

  “What in tarnation?” Eyes bugged out in astonishment, Leroy protectively pulled Charlotte closer.

  “Hurry! Get inside the store; they wake up hungry!” Gabe warned Leroy and Charlotte, and then quickly jabbed a button that raised the windows of the Explorer.

  “We’ve got to get to that filling station,” Eden said in a panicked voice. She leaned forward and gazed at the gas gauge. “My God, Gabe, the tank is nearly empty.”

  “I told you we were low.”

  “You said low . . . not empty!”

  “It’s not empty. Not quite. We can make it to the Texaco station.”

  “But suppose we get there and the place is swarming with biters. I don’t think we should risk it.”

  “We can’t stick around here,” Gabe said emphatically.

  Eden watched as Leroy escorted Charlotte across the lawn, grasping her arm as he guided her past the Prius that was rocking back and forth as the irate and famished driver tried to kick and punch his way out of the wreckage.

  Eden lowered her window and shouted, “We’re coming, Leroy. We’re right behind you.”

  Gabe gave Eden an incredulous look. Eden defiantly stared him down. “I’m not risking my life or Jane’s. Together we can help Leroy fortify the windows and doors. Maybe he’ll repay us by letting us siphon some gas from his truck.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

  “Look, you don’t get to make all the decisions. I’m not like Charlotte . . . I’m not some helpless chick that has to depend on a guy to survive. I listen to my instincts,” Eden yelled. “I think it’s a huge mistake to drive around searching for a filling station in an area that we know is crawling with biters!”

  “Okay, you’re right; you win,” Gabe conceded. “Now calm down, will you?” Gabe put the Explorer in reverse, backed along the pavement, and then swung into the lot.

  The baby squirmed in Eden’s arms and began screaming at the top of her lungs. Eden gave Jane a bottle and she quieted down, but a sudden explosion of shattering glass caused her to wail again.

  Reaching behind his seat, Gabe grabbed the rifle that was hidden beneath a blanket on the floorboard. “He’s breaking out of the car! Come on; let’s go!”

  Eden carried Jane, and the diaper bag was secured over her shoulder. Gabe held his rifle in one hand, and carried the bags of baby items in the other. Running side by side, Gabe and Eden gasped when a pair of arms groped through the windshield of the banged-up Prius. Next, a blood-covered head emerged.

  “Let us in!” Eden yelled, pounding on the red screen door. She looked over her shoulder and yelped when she saw the dead man’s shoulders and upper torso determinedly pushing through the opening in the windshield. He hissed and growled, and Eden’s first instinct was to reach for her gun. But she couldn’t get to it with the baby in her arms. “Shoot him, Gabe!” Eden shouted.

  Gabe set the baby supplies on the porch and carefully aimed the rifle. He fired a shot that struck the driver in the skull, taking off the top of his head.

  Leroy finally opened the door for Gabe and Eden; he flinched and grimaced when he saw what was left of the driver.

  CHAPTER 4

  His skin was smooth, the color of burnt sienna with a hint of crimson. With his broad nose, luscious full lips, and strong jawline, Elson Chandler was an undeniably beautiful man. Coils of kinky-curly hair fanned out against the pillow as he slept. Bare-chested and wearing black briefs, Elson was lean and muscular. His athletic body did not require grueling workouts at the gym. Forever young, Elson’s good looks had been maintained for over three hundred years.

  From the confines of his satin-lined casket, Elson’s eyes opened at the sound of footsteps. He smiled faintly. Ismene, his devoted daughter-of-the night, was approaching with a glass of chilled blood. Her typically soft and graceful footsteps were uncharacteristically heavy and fast-paced. He listened intently, scowling as he heard a second set of footfalls that were shuffling and resistant.

  “Let me go!” a high-pitched female voice cried.

  Bracing himself for trouble, Elson bared his fangs. An instant later, he retracted the strong, sharp teeth and relaxed as he recalled the request he’d made before retiring at dawn: No refrigerated blood, tonight. I’d like to begin the evening with the taste of warm, living blood, and I expect you to make it happen, Ismene!

  Ismene raised the lid of the solid bronze casket with its gold-plate finish, and Elson was surprised to see four bloody etchings on her slender arm. Gripping the sides of the gleaming coffin, he sat upright, and gazed at her questioningly.

  “She scratched me,” Ismene responded, nodding at a squirming teenage girl who gawked at Elson through tearful eyes. Streaks of dark mascara and eye shadow smudged her face.

  “Why’s he lying in a casket?” the girl whined. “What’s going on? Are you guys in like . . . you know . . . involved in some kind of vampire cult?”

  Elson and Ismene shared amused smiles.

  “I have to go home; I really have to go,” the girl said, and then attempted to wrench herself free. But she couldn’t break away from Ismene’s vise-like grip. “That cop had no right bringing me to this creepy, old place. If I don’t get home soon, my parents are gonna be pissed. My dad’s a lawyer, and he’ll sue the entire police department for false arrest!”

  “A lawyer, huh?” Elson repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting. Perhaps I’ll have him draft some contracts for me. I look forward to meeting your father.” Elson threw one well-defined thigh and then the other over the side of the coffin and climbed out of his resting place. “How’d we acquire this delectable creature?” he asked Ismene.

  “One of the police officers picked her up at the mall; she was apprehended for shoplifting.”

  “Naughty girl,” Elson remarked with amusement.

  The girl shook her head adamantly. “I didn’t steal anything. I told the cop that there’d been a mistake. I was trying on headbands in Claire’s. I paid for all my other stuff . . . earrings and bracelets, but I forgot about the stupid headband.”

  “Wrong place; wrong time,” Elson commented and then focused on the droplets of blood that trickled down Ismene’s arm. “What happened?”

  “She attempted to get away, and scratched me,” Ismene said with a nonchalant shrug.

  “I’ll take care of that.” Elson reached out. Without question, Ismene extended her arm, and Elson licked away the trails of blood.

  The girl cringed. “Oh, gross! Look, there has to be some kind of mistake. I have no idea why that cop brought me here. But my dad’s gonna be furious; he’s gonna have that idiot’s badge, and that’s a promise,” she yelled bitterly.

  Elson looked up, regarding the outraged girl with amusement for a moment, and then returned his attention to Ismene’s injured arm. “Your skin is much too beautiful to be scarred.” Lowering his head, he swiped his tongue along Ismene’s wounds again, licking until the scratch marks miraculously healed.

  The girl’s eyes widened in shock as she regarded Ismene’s suddenly flawless skin. “I wanna go home.”

  “Relax. You’ll be taken home after I’ve fed,
” Elson said casually.

  “After you’ve fed! What do you mean? Oh, geez. Don’t tell me you guys are like . . . real vampires. I heard rumors at school, but I didn’t believe—”

  “Be quiet,” Ismene snapped and yanked the girl forward. “Drink, Elson; you need your strength. Tonight is the beginning of your reign and you must be strong and clear-minded.”

  “No! Wait! Ohmigod, please don’t bite me,” the girl pleaded, literally jumping up and down with fear. Her voice rose to a frenzied wail. “I wanna go hooome!”

  “Shh. Shh. What’s your name?” Elson asked quietly.

  Refusing to answer, the girl groaned and shook her head.

  Elson penetrated her thoughts and discovered her name. “Tessa . . . pretty name,” he said fondly.

  “How do you know my name?” she demanded.

  “Lucky guess.” Gently, he grasped her wrist. “Relax; don’t fight it, Tessa. Okay?” His rich, baritone voice was soft and thrillingly seductive.

  “No. Don’t,” Tessa cried. “Let me go. Please. I don’t wanna be turned into a vampire.”

  Elson put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “You won’t be turned. You have my word.” Tessa recoiled from his touch, grimacing as Elson began to run his fingers along the length of her arm. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the warm blood that pulsed through her veins. Elson’s fangs pushed through his gums, and a clicking sound reverberated around the room.

  A ragged cry tore from Tessa’s throat. “Ohigod, ohmigod! This is insane; this can’t be really happening,” she babbled in terror.

  “Be still and be quiet,” Elson commanded, staring hypnotically into his captive’s eyes.

  Tessa’s shoulders slumped in submission. “Okay,” she agreed, her brown eyes suddenly vacant.

  Elson’s gaze wandered down to the pulse at the crook of her elbow. He brought her arm to his mouth and plunged his fangs deeply into her flesh. Under Elson’s spell, Tessa’s only reaction was a sharp intake of breath.

  Ismene observed yearningly as Elson fed on the teenage girl. He drank with great, thirsty gulps, and Ismene involuntarily licked her lips. Sensing her discomfort, Elson withdrew his fangs and said, “Come and join me, my dear.”

  In an instant, Ismene’s slender body was pressed into Tessa’s, her fangs deeply embedded in the girl’s neck.

  At seven-fifty in the evening, Bradley M. Jones, Esquire was still at his desk, hunched over a yellow legal pad. Pen in hand, he quibbled over every word of the brief he was preparing. His staff had gone home hours ago, but Bradley had an important case in the morning, and he was willing to work through the night if necessary. He didn’t mind working late. In fact, he preferred the solitude of an empty building. His thoughts were clearer in the peaceful environment where there were no ringing phones and no noisy conversations among staff. The ticking of his desk clock and the patter of raindrops that tapped against the window pane were the only audible sounds. There was a certain comfort in being inside, cozy and dry, while the rest of the world dashed around in unpleasant weather.

  The annoying buzz of his cell interrupted the quiet. He glanced at the screen and sneered when he saw his estranged wife’s name. “What is it, Nicole? Your substantial child support and alimony check isn’t due for two weeks.”

  “Can’t you ever be civil?” Nicole complained with a long sigh. “I’m calling about Tessa. She hasn’t come home from school.”

  Bradley’s face flushed with sudden anger. “It’s eight o’clock in the evening, and you’re just noticing that she isn’t home?”

  “She told me she was going to stop at the mall after school—”

  “I’m earning a living—running my firm and actively practicing law, while you lead a life of leisure. Your single obligation is to look after our daughter, but apparently you can’t even do that.”

  “I’m a good mother and you know it!”

  Nicole was right; she was a decent enough mother, but Bradley refused to admit it. For all the child support and alimony that came out of his pocket, she should have been a supermom.

  “This isn’t about us, Bradley. I’m worried sick about Tessa,” she said anxiously. “I called all of her friends, but no one has seen or heard from her.”

  “Maybe she’s hanging out with some kids outside her normal circle—you know, the kind of kids that snub their noses at curfew and other rules,” Bradley said weakly. His suggestion sounded ludicrous to his own ears. Tessa was a good kid. She was responsible and trustworthy, and she didn’t hang out with losers.

  “She’s had the same group of friends since grade school; she wouldn’t suddenly pick up new friends.”

  “Well, where the heck is she?” he barked, now imagining that his naïve, fifteen-year-old daughter fancied herself in love with some smooth-talking, pimply-faced boy. A boy who was able to persuade her to get in his car and take a ride to Marshall’s Peak . . . or wherever kids went nowadays to make out. Fury washed over him as he imagined his daughter’s innocence being stolen in the back seat of a car.

  “The mall closed at seven.” Nicole’s voice cracked. “Do you think we should call the police?”

  “Yes, report her missing. I’m leaving the office now; I’ll be at the house in fifteen minutes.” Bradley disconnected the call.

  He snatched his suit jacket off the bronze coat rack and grabbed his umbrella. Dangling his key ring, he hurried out of his office suite and walked swiftly along the corridor. He wanted to be standing in the driveway with the police at his side when the young punk with raging hormones dropped off his daughter. After he finished roughing up the low-life character, he planned to press charges. A night or two in the slammer would give the sleazebag a powerful message: Bradley M. Jones, Esquire’s daughter is strictly off limits.

  Striding urgently toward the stairs, he heard something that sounded like gusts of wind coming from the conference room, and though he was in a rush, the sound emanating from the conference room was too loud and too persistent to ignore. If a member of his staff had carelessly left a window open while sneaking a smoke, there was going to be hell to pay in the morning. Bradley had built his law firm from the ground up with limited funds and lots of hard work. Allowing a thief easy access to laptops and other expensive office equipment was unconscionable.

  Frowning in displeasure, Bradley opened the door. His eyes scanned the darkness and sure enough, one of the windows was open. Blasts of chilly air filled the room. He reached for the light switch, but froze mid-reach and gasped. A form that was blacker than the darkness seemed to be suspended from the ceiling.

  “What the—?” In a panic, Bradley flicked on the switch and immediately wished he hadn’t. Defying gravity, a black-clad human form was grotesquely clinging to the ceiling like an enormous bat. The tails of its coat whipped and twisted, resembling furled wings. His heart thundering, Bradley gave a cry of shock as he gawked upward.

  Aside from its billowing coattails, the coat-clad creature was as immobile as a macabre chandelier. Sweet Jesus! What is that thing? Deciding he didn’t want to find out, Bradley inched backward, with his umbrella extended for protection. But when the thing ever so slowly turned its head, showing the unnaturally pale face of a man with a leering grin and vicious fangs, Bradley’s umbrella clattered to the floor as he made a stumbling run for it.

  Racing down the corridor with his heart pounding out of his chest, Bradley heard a heavy thud behind him. The monstrous being had dropped to the floor. The high ceiling in the conference room made for a pretty long fall, and he prayed that the beastly intruder had been critically injured. Or killed! But all hope was instantly dashed when something grabbed him by the shoulder. He was suddenly lifted from the floor by strong hands with nails like curved daggers. The nails sank into his flesh . . . down to the bone. Overtaken by blinding agony, Bradley shrieked in pain and terror.

  CHAPTER 5

  The darkening sky loomed ominously. Nerves rattled from the horrors he’d witnessed in the past
few hours, Leroy kept peering through the windows, hoping to see a police car, but help had yet to arrive.

  Turning away from the window, Leroy asked Gabe, “Are you sure that fella was all the way dead before you shot his head off? It’s possible he was merely trying to free himself from the car he was trapped inside.”

  Gabe gave a frustrated sigh. “He came back from the dead, and if I hadn’t shot him, he’d be having us for dinner.”

  Leroy called 9-1-1 for the umpteenth time. “Line’s still busy! What kind of crap is that?”

  Charlotte glanced at Leroy. “Can I borrow your phone, again— I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time getting through to my parents.”

  Leroy handed Charlotte his phone. “Here you go. Keep trying until you get through; I can use the landline phone to try and get a hold of the police.” He marched over to a wall-mounted, old-fashioned pay phone that Eden had assumed was part of the décor and only for show. He plunked change into the coin slot and turned the rotary dial with his finger.

  “My calls keep going to voicemail,” Charlotte complained, shaking her head. “I’m afraid to call Chuck’s mama . . . I’m not ready to talk to her yet.” Wringing her hands fretfully, she wandered toward the window and stared out as if entranced.

  “I’ll be danged! I finally got through to 9-1-1, but instead of talking to a live person, they got me listening to a recorded message,” Leroy groused, standing in front of the pay phone.

  Noticing that Jane had fallen asleep, Eden tucked her inside an empty cardboard box. “While we’re waiting to get through to the police, we should start boarding up the windows,” Eden suggested after sheltering Jane in the baby products aisle. “Do you have any lumber around here, Leroy?” she asked, glancing around.

  Frustrated, Leroy hung up the phone with a bang. “Can’t get a dang human being on the phone; I hate talking to machines.”

  “We need lumber . . . for the windows,” Eden repeated. “Do you have any?”