Forbidden Feast

by Joelle Sterling

  Eden studied Tony suspiciously. “You don’t look well, Tony. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down,” Eden urged in a gentle tone.

  “I don’t wanna go upstairs. I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do!” He gestured with a sweeping motion that raised his shirt, and Eden winced when she spotted a deep scratch near his waistline.

  She pointed to the angry abrasion. “What happened there?”

  “It’s nothing. I got scraped up by a bush while I was running from the crazies.” Tony tugged on his shirt and covered the injury.

  “That scrape looks infected; can I have a look at it?” Eden said with a hint of apprehension in her voice. The change in Tony’s disposition reminded her of little Trey at the shelter. The child had gone from a quiet, agreeable little boy to a snarling and biting hellion. Trey had a scratch on his body also.

  “Get out of my room; I need some privacy!” Tony bellowed irrationally.

  “This isn’t your room; Leroy has been letting Charlotte stay in here.” Eden motioned for Charlotte to leave the room with Jane. Charlotte turned to leave, and Tony bolted after her.

  “Bring that baby back! I’m not gonna bite her. I promise; I just wanna hold her!” Tony’s fingers wiggled in eagerness. He licked at his lips as a yellowish drool poured from his mouth and ran down his chin.

  Charlotte ran screaming with Jane and Eden drew the gun. “Back up, Tony. Back up or I’ll shoot.”

  From outside the storage room, Jane began to wail. Unconcerned that a gun was pointed at him, Tony stormed toward the double door—growling, his jaws working up and down.

  Holding the gun with both hands, Eden aimed at Tony’s head, and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 22

  Jarrett met the moving van at the gate of the Sherwood Mansion, and motioned for the driver to take the delivery to the service entrance. The van rumbled past the open gate, and twenty-two caskets were unloaded and lined side-by-side in the bowels of the cellar. Two caskets remained in the van: Elson’s solid bronze casket and next to it was Ismene’s. Ismene’s coffin was white with the hand-painted images of red poppy and white chamomile flowers with a blue sky and sunshine background.

  “These two go upstairs,” Jarrett said and then pointed to the bronze casket. “Take that one to the master suite—east-wing. And be very, very careful.” The four movers didn’t ask any questions. They quietly and almost reverently removed the bronze casket from the van, their solemn faces suggesting that they probably thought the Sherman Mansion was now operating as a mortuary.

  Alone with Ismene’s coffin, Jarrett caressed the painted image that showed homage to the sunny sky that was lost to Ismene, forever.

  Desiring privacy, he closed the van’s door and was instantly engulfed in darkness. It was so dark, he considered lifting the lid of the coffin to steal a glance of his beautiful vampire girlfriend. No, he didn’t dare; it was too risky. He’d never forgive himself if through a chink or a crack of some sort, a sliver of sunlight found its way inside the van. The sun that Ismene had immortalized on her private resting place could scorch her skin—it could destroy her. If something happened to Ismene, not only would Jarrett be unable to forgive himself . . . Elson wouldn’t forgive him, either. And no matter how helpful Jarrett had become to the vampires, Elson would deliver a cruel death if he irresponsibly caused Ismene’s demise.

  He felt his heart begin to race at the very thought of losing Ismene. As badly as he wanted to gaze at his beloved, he realized that the consequences were not worth the risk.

  When the movers returned, Jarrett instructed them to place Ismene’s coffin in the small suite on the west wing. He checked the time and realized another van was scheduled to arrive soon. Jarrett scratched his head, wondering if the delivery would be the shipment of refrigerated blood or was the furniture and artwork scheduled next?

  A truck bumped along the driveway and Jarrett was stunned to see the town’s librarian, Tanya Fluegfelder, seated next to the driver. She slid down her window. “Hi there, Jarrett. I’m overseeing Mr. Chandler’s library, making sure that it’s properly categorized.”

  “No one told me about this.”

  “Travis put me in charge. I believe he got permission from Mr. Chandler.”

  “Oh.” Jarrett scanned the instructions on his clipboard, but there was nothing mentioned about Ms. Fluegfelder. He’d be facing a serious reprimand if he allowed someone in the mansion that didn’t have any business being there. “How about I relieve you of those book shelves and boxes of books? I’ll make sure they get where they’re supposed to go,” Jarrett said.

  “But some of these books are rare and . . .” She paused, eyes shifting with fear and anxiety.

  Jarrett could understand her anxiousness. Disobeying a vampire’s instructions could have deadly consequences, but he had to think about numero uno. Tanya Fluegfelder was a sweet lady and easy on the eyes, but he wasn’t willing to allow her pretty face to get him in trouble. “Listen, until I speak to Travis personally, I can’t let you in the mansion. I’m sorry, Ms. Fluegfelder.”

  “That’s fine. I understand,” she said in her silvery, sweet voice. “Travis must have forgotten to mention that I’m the in-house librarian.”

  “Seems like he did, but I’ll get it straightened out tonight.”

  Tanya nodded. It wasn’t easy to deny such a good-looking woman entry, but he had to take every precaution while the vampires were sleeping. As far as he knew, Ms. Fluegfelder was merely a blood donor; he had no information that listed her as the official in-house librarian.

  After the shelves and boxes of books were unloaded, Jarrett waved at the truck driver and Ms. Fluegfelder as they turned around and departed the premises. He sure hoped he wasn’t in trouble for turning the librarian away. But for now, he’d rather be safe than sorry.

  Handling the daytime segment of the move was too much responsibility and too much pressure for one person. Sophia and Jarrett were supposed to share the responsibility, but Sophia hadn’t shown up. Knowing Sophia, she’d partied with Chaos until dawn and was probably at home, curled up in bed, while Jarrett had been busy, busting his butt since eight this morning. He intended to speak to Ismene and voice a complaint about Sophia’s work ethic—perhaps he’d suggest some type of painful punishment.

  What would be a suitable punishment for Sophia? Jarrett wondered. The average person would loathe getting bitten by a gang of vampires, but Sophia was so masochistic, she loved it. No point in suggesting any kind of vampire retaliation. The best way to get even with Sophia was to ban her from vampire activities for a few weeks. He could feel a sneaky smile curving the corner of his lips as he pictured Sophia’s response to discovering she was no longer welcome at vampire parties.

  The party being held in the parlor was in celebration of Elson’s first day in the mansion, and Jarrett had attended the gathering dressed in his best suit. There were perhaps a dozen of Elson’s favorite offspring in attendance, as well as Mayor Ringwood and a couple of his City Hall cronies. Jarrett also noticed Tanya Fluegfelder was among the guests. The petite librarian’s arm was linked with Travis’s beefy arm. When did they become a couple? He supposed she’d been telling the truth about her position at the mansion. Travis was coarse and gruff, while Ms. Fluegfelder was a soft-spoken, delicate flower. They made an odd pairing and Jarrett wondered what they had in common. Glancing around, he noticed that Chaos was there with Sophia and several other human pets.

  Mayor Ringwood was all smiles as he socialized with the vampire crowd, but Jarrett could tell that he was nervous by the subtle quivering of his bottom lip and the droplets of perspiration that gleamed on his face.

  Ismene had been busy for most of the evening, assisting Elson and making sure the blood donor rooms were operating in an organized manner. The new doom room was housed in the basement. Actually, the space that was reserved for human rebels was located in an area of the basement that resembled an old-fashioned dungeon. The basement must have been soundproof because
Jarrett didn’t hear the usual chorus of terrified screams and pained groans that used to emanate when they were at The Lilac.

  He watched Ms. Fluegfelder and Travis crossing the room, coming toward him. I hope I’m not in trouble.

  “How ya doing tonight, Jarrett?” Travis said in his strong, Southern twang. “I hear there was a mix-up this afternoon between you and my sweetie.” Clearly smitten, Travis looked upon the librarian with a warm smile, and then turned a surly gaze on Jarrett.

  “Yeah, my bad. No one told me she was supposed to be working in the mansion during the day.”

  “Now you know,” Travis said gruffly. “Tanya has fantastic organizational skills. The next time I hear about you interfering with her work, you’re gonna find yourself looking a lot paler and weighing a whole lot less. Catch my drift?”

  “Yeah, man. I said I’m sorry.”

  Travis wrapped his arm around Tanya’s shoulder. “Let’s go mingle, sweetheart.”

  “Sure,” Tanya said, casting Jarrett an apologetic look.

  It appeared that pretty much everyone at the gathering was hooked up with somebody. Everyone was happily in love, except Jarrett. Ismene was stuck to Elson like glue. If Jarrett didn’t know better, he’d think they were lovers. Feeling unloved and neglected, he guzzled down a glass of red wine. Its dry and bitter taste suited his mood perfectly.

  When Ismene finally joined him, Jarrett was feeling a little tipsy and argumentative. He complained that Sophia had been a no-show this morning. “I think she should be banished from future vampire events.”

  “Elson doesn’t get involved in disciplining Chaos’s human pets,” Ismene said, shooting down Jarrett’s suggestion.

  “I thought Elson was the top dog . . . you know, the leader of all the vampires.”

  “He is. He’s the constable, but he and Chaos have been friends for decades; they share a mutual respect.”

  “Are you saying that Sophia can do pretty much what she wants and doesn’t have to worry about consequences?”

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Depends on which law she breaches. Look, it’s complicated. Chaos told her to help us out with the blood drive campaign and she put in a lot of work.”

  “But she was supposed to help with the move this morning, yet she didn’t even bother to show up. As important as this move was to Elson, I don’t think he’d approve of Sophia’s lack of commitment.”

  “Like I said, Chaos was doing us a favor by loaning out Sophia. She may have been busy this morning . . . you know, handling something for Chaos.”

  Jarrett sighed, realizing that the discussion wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m starting to get the impression that I’m nothing more than your personal blood slave in the evening and during the day, I’m like, the hired help . . . only I don’t get paid.”

  Ismene rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Here we go again! I thought you helped out because you love me and that you believe that vampires are superior to humans.” Ismene sighed. “But, if you’d like to be put on the payroll, I can arrange that with Elson.” She turned to leave, but Jarrett grabbed her wrist.

  “Hey, I’ve been waiting all day to spend some time with you, so don’t walk away just because you don’t like something I’ve said.”

  Ismene glared at the hand that grasped her wrist. “Unhand me.”

  Jarrett released his grip. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Excuse me, I need a drink,” Ismene said, her eyes glancing around the parlor.

  Jarrett tapped the left side of his neck. “I got what you need, baby.” He hoped his offer, along with a smile, would be accepted as an apology for his childish outburst.

  “Maybe later,” Ismene said, and wove through the guests.

  Sophia sidled up next to Jarrett, wearing a catty grin. “Hey, Sloan, you’ll never guess where I’ve been sleeping?”

  “Don’t know and don’t care.”

  “With Chaos,” she blurted.

  “That’s old news.” He turned his mouth down, clearly annoyed with Sophia.

  “I’ve been sleeping with him during the day . . . inside his coffin.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’re getting like . . . super close, and he wants me near him at all times.”

  “Sounds real uncomfortable.”

  “No, I lie on top of Chaos, and with his arms wrapped around me, it’s warm and intimate. I wouldn’t be surprised if Chaos pops the question.”

  “That dude is wild and doesn’t seem like he’s ready to settle down. You’re gonna get your feelings hurt if you think he’s gonna ask you to marry him.”

  Sophia burst out laughing. “I’m not talking about marriage. I’m referring to a more permanent relationship—the kind that lasts forever.”

  Jarrett lifted a brow.

  “I think he’s gonna ask if I want to be a part of his family.”

  “Chaos doesn’t have a family.”

  “I know, so if he turns me, I’ll be his first—and I’ll always have a special place in his heart. We’ll be like Ismene and Elson.”

  “You’re such a moron. Ismene and Elson don’t sleep together—they’re family.” Jarrett’s pitch rose and he felt himself burning with envy.

  “Hey, get a grip, Sloan. It’s not my fault that Ismene treats you like an indentured slave.” She erupted in a cruel burst of laughter, and then strutted away.

  Jarrett scanned the crowd and noticed Ismene sipping blood from a crystal chalice as she chatted with Mayor Ringwood. A fresh wave of jealousy rushed through him. The evening passed so quickly, it was annoying that Ismene would waste the few precious hours they could spend together, making small talk with the boring mayor.

  Sophia was right; Ismene didn’t care about him. She had never invited him to share her flower and sunshine-painted coffin, and he doubted if she was interested in getting that intimate with him. And since she’d made it clear that she didn’t have the authority to turn him into a vampire, what was the point in continuing with their relationship? It was ironic that Sophia, the blood slut, was being treated with more dignity than Jarrett. Ismene took his devotion for granted, and he was getting sick and tired of continually moping around like a lovesick puppy.

  Without bothering to say good night to anyone, Jarrett slipped out of the parlor and walked down the long corridor that led to the main entrance. As he exited the mansion, he noticed two police squad cars pulling up. The city jail was pretty much empty now that lawbreakers were immediately handed over to Elson.

  CHAPTER 23

  In no rush to get home to listen to his parents’ innumerable complaints about him, Jarrett drove slowly, following the speed limit. A part of him wanted to turn his SUV around and go back to the party, but he realized that returning would reveal him to be as big of a chump as Ismene apparently thought he was. Women! Even dead ones were nothing but trouble.

  Times like now, Jarrett could really use a friend. He’d heard that Holland Manning was back in town, but unfortunately, he’d deleted her number. He wondered if he’d be welcome if he showed up at her door, uninvited. The last time they’d spoken, she made it clear that she didn’t hold a grudge against him. He toyed with the idea of popping up on Holland, and asking if she’d like to go for a ride. He finally decided that the only way to find out if they were still on speaking terms was to man-up and ring her doorbell.

  His ex-girlfriend, Chaela Vasquez, had been high-maintenance and fiery. Ismene was moody and often sullen, and it would be a pleasant change to spend some time with an easy-going girl who would lend a sympathetic ear. Feeling extremely lonely, Jarrett found himself wondering if there was a chance that he and Holland could be more than friends. After Ismene’s dizzying kisses, it would be weird making out with a regular girl—but it was something he’d have to get used to.

  Excited by the prospect of getting together with Holland, Jarrett picked up speed. In the distance, he saw something stumbling around in the dark. It was odd to see anyone out aft
er dark in Frombleton. Only a staggering drunk would be foolish enough to brave the night now that the vampires had made their presence known. Jarrett turned on his high beams to get a better look, and he let out a sound of surprise when he realized that the man was badly injured. A bar fight? Jarrett wondered as he noticed that blood was smeared over the man’s clothing. There was a gaping wound on the back of his head, and rivulets of blood ran down his neck.

  Had the vampires done that to the dude? Jarrett shook his head. That hole in dude’s head didn’t look like vampire work. Their bites were small punctures, not huge craters. It looked as if the poor fool had been attacked by a wild animal or maybe someone in the bar had wacked him in the back of the head with a golf club . . . or an ax. Curious to know what had happened, Jarrett honked his horn.

  The bloody drunk swung around. Frothing at the mouth, he growled and hissed as he lumbered toward the SUV. The man seemed beyond drunk; there was something not quite human about him. The maniac flung himself on the hood of the Durango. He began pounding and scratching at the windshield, snapping his teeth as if trying to bite through the glass.

  “What the—” Jarrett froze mid-sentence when the man began to grunt louder, his face contorted viciously. As he smashed through his windshield with his balled fists, there was a look of all-consuming hunger in his eyes.

  “What’s your problem? Get off my truck!” he shouted, honking his horn frantically. Trying to throw the drunken madman off the Durango, Jarrett shifted into reverse, pressed hard on the gas pedal, and then slammed on the brakes. Gripping the windshield wipers, the crazed man hung on.

  Desperate to lose his unwanted passenger, Jarrett accelerated. When the odometer shot to one-twenty, he made a sharp, right turn. And then something happened. For a moment, it seemed as if he were suspended in time. The SUV was briefly airborne and then landed with a boom on its side. Somehow Jarrett found himself in the back seat, his breath coming in heaving gasps. It took a moment to become oriented enough to realize that the drunk was gone. Probably smashed beneath the wreckage or hurled headfirst into a telephone pole. Giddy with relief, he began to check himself for injuries. Amazingly, he didn’t seem to have sustained even a tiny scratch.