Forbidden Feast

by Joelle Sterling

  Holland gazed out and noticed that a few people were outside milling about. No doubt, they were discussing the terrible events. “What about the mailman—did they get him?”

  “I would imagine. Three ambulances went one way and the police cars sped in the opposite direction with their lights flashing. It’s quiet now, so they must have apprehended him.” Phoebe walked toward the door. “I’m going outside to find out what everyone knows.”

  Holland nodded, but her thoughts were focused on Jonas.

  CHAPTER 25

  Holland changed from her PJs into jeans and a pullover sweater. While her mother was outside gossiping with the neighbors, Holland retrieved the ancient spell book from beneath folded sweaters on a shelf in her bedroom closet. Today’s awful events gave her a sense of urgency, and she desperately needed to work on a new spell for Jonas, and something to free the town from the curse. She had bookmarked the Hex-Removal spell, but she needed to find something more powerful to completely free Jonas from the curse. Sitting on her bed, Holland turned the pages, but the book was so thick, and contained so many different spells, she didn’t know where to begin.

  Suddenly her phone jingled next to her. Practically hyperventilating from excitement, she picked up the phone and checked out the screen. Seeing Rebecca’s name, Holland groaned in disappointment. “Hello,” she said with less than enthusiasm.

  “Are you okay, Holland?” Rebecca asked anxiously.

  “I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess? I heard about what happened on your street; have you or your mom been bitten?”

  “No! We’re fine. What’s going on, Rebecca?”

  After a deep intake of breath, Rebecca said, “You’re not going to like this, Holland.”

  “What?” Holland said in shaky voice.

  “I believe that Jonas is responsible for this biting epidemic. Last night, authorities were placing the blame on wild animals, but now there’s been a series of biting incidents all over the city—people from all walks of life are suddenly attacking and biting each other. No one knows what to make of it, but this has something to do with Jonas and that curse.”

  “It can’t be; Jonas has never bitten anyone in Frombleton. He had a few mishaps in other towns, but he’s controlling the situation . . . you know, as best he can.”

  “Obviously, he’s not controlling anything, with all the bloodshed and mayhem that’s occurring in Frombleton.”

  “There’re maybe a dozen or so, uh, creatures that he may have accidently . . . um . . . sired, but he’s been containing them at a location where they can’t hurt anyone.”

  “Whatever he created has spread to Frombleton and it couldn’t be happening at a more inopportune time. The vampires are taking over this city, and I don’t know how my coven is going to manage this new, unimaginable outbreak at the same time that we’re dealing with them. Look, your house is protected from the vampires at night, but you’re free game for the police and those flesh-eaters during the day.”

  “What do you mean, we’re free game for the police? The police are helping to keep things under control.”

  “No, they’re not. They’re working for the vampires, taking humans to the vampire nest.”

  But . . . but I saw them across the street from my house . . . helping.”

  “They’re pretending to help. Listen, I want you and your mom to drive to the old armory across town. My coven and I are staying there and we’re putting a force field around the building in exactly one hour. Of course, you can walk through the force field at any time . . . but your mother can’t. She has to get here ASAP!”

  “But what about Jonas? He needs me, and I can’t abandon him now.”

  “One hour, Holland,” Rebecca said firmly. “Don’t put your mother’s life at risk.”

  She had to save her mother from whatever was going on in Frombleton. Heartbroken that she had to leave without seeing or talking to Jonas, Holland plodded from her bedroom to the living room. She opened the front door just in time to see a fight breaking out between—of all people—her shy, gangly neighbor, thirteen-year-old Roger Hales, and nice Mr. Davidson, who enjoyed bird-watching. It was surreal to see sweet Roger with his face contorted in rage as he yelled and threw blows. And plump Mr. Davidson’s lips were curled viciously as he pounded scrawny Roger with his beefy fists.

  Mr. Davidson had Roger by at least a hundred pounds, and what would have ordinarily been an unfair fight had strangely become an even match, with the teen and the older man equally outraged and each holding his own.

  “Get away from them, Mom,” Holland yelled, running toward her mother, who, along with Ms. Furman from around the corner, was trying to separate Roger and Mr. Davidson, and pleading with them to get a grip and to calm down.

  As Holland got closer, she could hear that Roger and Mr. Davidson weren’t making much sense; they were both yelling angrily, but weren’t speaking actual words. The sounds they produced were nothing more than rage-filled gibberish.

  Holland pulled her mother forcibly, and in the nick of time. The next howl of pain came from Ms. Furman, as Roger and Mr. Davidson inexplicably turned on her. Like two beasts from the wild, they attacked Ms. Furman. Roger’s teeth were locked on her shoulder, and Mr. Davidson was ripping into her back, pulling her down to the ground.

  Holland and Phoebe ran screaming into their house, and the onlookers scattered in all directions, yelling for help.

  From the safety of their home, Holland and her mother hugged each other. “My God, what’s happening to everyone?” Phoebe asked.

  “Rebecca called. She said people are going nuts all over town. She wants us to drive to the old armory. Her coven is staying there until this is over.”

  “Okay, grab some snacks from the kitchen while I pack an overnight bag for us.”

  “We don’t have time. Just pack something to sleep in, in case we have to stay overnight. They’re putting up a force field in less than hour. The drive is gonna take about forty minutes, so we have to leave now.”

  Phoebe nodded. My keys are in the bedroom,” she said, and trotted down the hall. Holland trekked to her own room, threw on a jacket and crammed pajamas and her laptop into the backpack she used for school. She placed the ancient spell book into a separate compartment.

  Back in the living room, she saw her mother standing at the window, a hand covering her mouth. “Ms. Furman,” she uttered, recoiling at the sight and shaking her head.

  “Are Roger and Mr. Davidson still out there?” Holland asked.

  “No, they’ve moved on. Come on, let’s go.”

  Racing to the Saab, Phoebe warned, “Keep moving, Holland; don’t look at Ms. Furman.”

  Holland tried her best to keep her eyes straight ahead, but she couldn’t help from stealing a glance. And what she saw took her breath away. All that was left of Ms. Furman was the shredded remains of her clothes, a blood-stained necklace, bones, hair, and gore.

  Phoebe backed the Saab out of the driveway and collided with a plastic trash can that had rolled from someone’s yard. Looking through the back window, Holland saw Roger violently kicking his own front door, and she assumed his family wouldn’t let him in. She couldn’t blame them. Mr. Davidson was not in her line of vision, but she could hear his distinct, anger-driven, deep-toned gibberish.

  Phoebe picked up speed, and out of nowhere a pink blur appeared. “Jesus Christ!” Phoebe shouted and slammed on the brakes. Four-year-old Kylie Rutherford, whom Holland had babysat occasionally, was wandering in the street. Wearing pink pajamas with the word PRINCESS imprinted on the front in sparkly, swirled letters, the little girl was holding the side of her head, and murmuring unhappily.

  “Is she okay? Did I hit her?” Phoebe said in a voice rising with hysteria. She quickly shifted into park and opened her door.

  “You didn’t hit her! She’s okay. Don’t get out, Mom. I . . . I’m not sure if we should uh, trust her,” Holland stammered.

  “She’s a helpless little kid, for
goodness sake. We can’t leave her alone in the street.”

  “Mom, please. Don’t get out of the car. Let me handle this.” Holland slid down her window. “Hey, Kylie,” she said in a gentle tone. “What are you doing out here by yourself—where are your mom and dad?”

  Kylie’s hand fell away from her head, revealing fingers sticky with blood and a ragged hole on the side of her head. Holland screamed, and Phoebe gaped in disbelief. Kylie’s upper lip curled into a snarl as she advanced toward the car. “She’s bitten! Pull off, Mom; let’s go!”

  Phoebe took off with a lurch and a skid, broadsiding several parked cars in her haste to get away. “Someone bit out a chunk of that child’s head. My God, they’re even biting little kids!”

  Holland recalled what Rebecca had said about people from all walks of life attacking each other. Could Jonas actually be responsible for such widespread devastation?

  They got out of Holland’s neighborhood without any other altercations, but when they reached downtown Frombleton, they discovered that Edgemont Avenue was clogged with traffic, and many people were running and screaming in terror.

  “What’s happening now?” Phoebe said, gawking in astonishment at the people that were stampeding in the street and on the sidewalk.

  “Everyone’s running that way,” Holland said pointing behind her. “Maybe we should turn around and go back home.”

  “Make up your mind,” Phoebe snapped. “You rushed me out of the house to get to Rebecca’s safe place, and now you want me to turn around?”

  “Yeah, I think we should.” Holland surveyed the traffic jam; all the cars on both sides of the street had stopped moving.

  Phoebe backed up a little, and Holland turned around, motioning for the car behind them to back up and give them a little room. Instead of backing up, the driver inched closer.

  Phoebe sighed in exasperation. “I can’t turn around; they’ve got me boxed in.”

  “Drive on the pavement; do whatever you have to do to. We shouldn’t sit in traffic while people are running in the opposite direction,” Holland said, her head poked out the window, trying to see what was causing the traffic jam.

  Split seconds later, a swarm of people with repulsive, dead eyes, and rotting flesh stormed down Edgemont Avenue. The gruesome crowd swiftly descended on a white Chevy Malibu. Trying to get to the unfortunate family that was trapped inside the vehicle, the monstrous horde grunted and drooled as they pounded against metal and glass with tremendous force. A cacophony of shattering glass and chilling screams filled the air as they broke through the car windows and began clawing at the people inside.

  While the unbelievable horror unfolded, more and more people scrambled out of their cars, leaving keys in the ignitions and engines running as they fled in different directions.

  “We have to run, Mom,” Holland shouted. Frozen with fear, Phoebe sat with her hands wrapped around the steering wheel.

  “Mom, let’s go!” She clenched her mother’s shoulder, and shook her as hard as she could. Jolted into attentiveness, Phoebe scooted over and followed Holland out of the passenger’s side. No sooner had their feet hit the asphalt when approximately half of the drooling monsters abandoned the Chevy and came after them.

  CHAPTER 26

  Holland and Phoebe ran as fast as they could. Looking wildly to the left and right, Holland shouted, “This way, Mom!” and veered to the right, turning onto a small, deserted street.

  Holland and Phoebe ran aimlessly for at least ten minutes before they stopped to catch their breath. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” Phoebe said over and over, holding her chest and panting. “What are those things? The mailman, Roger, and Mr. Davidson . . . even little Kylie—they were all acting violent and crazy, but they looked very much alive. But those things on Edgemont Avenue . . . their bodies were decaying, and the sounds they were making didn’t seem human at all. What could have caused them to change into living corpses?”

  Holland shrugged, but she knew the answer. That rabid mob of corpses were the creatures that Jonas was trying to protect and shelter. How can he possibly believe they have any redeeming qualities? Holland wondered, horrified. They were obviously dead, responding only to the movement and the scent of blood. Holland was certain that the corpses and not wild animals had killed Jarrett Sloan and the others last night, and there was no telling how many others they’d eaten alive.

  A nearby explosion of gunshots created a calamitous roar. More screaming, more pounding footfalls as people ran for cover. Holding their heads, Holland and Phoebe dropped to the ground. “Are they shooting at us now?” Phoebe asked in a trembling voice.

  “I don’t think those creatures are capable of firing a weapon.”

  Two more shots were fired and these sounded extremely close. Phoebe covered her face with her hands, and a strangled sob tore from her throat. “This is insane. We’d be better off if we’d stayed in the basement.”

  Holland couldn’t disagree, and she felt responsible for taking them out of the safety of their home. “We can make it back home, Mom. We’re only a few miles away.”

  Phoebe looked around, taking in her surroundings. “No, we’re at least ten miles from home, and that’s pretty far when you’re on foot, ducking gunshots and killer corpses.”

  A car roared behind them, and tires squealed as the car came to a stop. Holland and Phoebe whirled around and both blinked in surprise at the sight of a police squad car. Phoebe let out a long sigh of relief, while Holland stared at the vehicle suspiciously. There were two people in the back and someone else sat up front, next to the police officer, but Holland couldn’t make out their faces.

  “You ladies okay? Have you been bitten?” the officer asked, brown eyes narrowed as he scrutinized them. He was a handsome guy with a quick smile, but his good looks and easy smile didn’t fool Holland.

  “We’re okay; we haven’t been bitten,” Holland said warily.

  “Get in; I’ll take you to a safe place,” the cop said, offering a wider smile that was meant to put them at ease. He got out of the car and slowly approached them. Holland noticed he was all brawn and muscle; the kind of guy that seemed perfectly capable of rescuing her and Phoebe.

  “Thank God you’re here,” Phoebe exclaimed. “Those walking corpses are terrorizing people on Edgemont Avenue—where did they come from?”

  “We don’t know, ma’am, but we’re handling the situation as best we can.”

  Phoebe nodded eagerly. “Good, good. We were trying to get to the old armory—”

  Remembering Rebecca’s comment that the police were helping the vampires, Holland grasped her mother’s hand. “Shh, don’t give out information,” she scolded in a whisper, and then began backing away. “Thanks, officer; we’re okay. We’re close to home; we can walk,” Holland said, her eyes darting back and forth.

  Phoebe shot Holland a look of bewilderment. “Are you nuts? Of course, we need a ride; all hell is breaking loose around us!”

  “Which is it—home or the armory?” the cop asked, his eyes darkening with suspicion.

  “The armory,” Phoebe blurted. She glanced at Holland. “Sorry, hon, but the only way we’re going to get there is under police protection.”

  Holland groaned. Her mom could be such a ditz sometimes, and whenever she slipped into kook mode, Holland had to assume the role of parent. Phoebe couldn’t have chosen a more inappropriate time to place blind faith into a man merely because he was wearing a badge and a uniform.

  The cop eyed Phoebe. “Why’re you headed for the old armory? It’s shut down, and I don’t have any information about the place being used as an emergency shelter.”

  “We’ve been through a lot and she’s confused; like I said, we’re going home.” Holland squeezed her mother’s hand, silently pleading for her to please stop talking.

  The cop looked at Phoebe. “What’s your address, ma’am? I have orders to assist all citizens. Now, I need you ladies to get in the car and come with me,” he said gruffly. His patient smi
le had been replaced with something that resembled a sneer.

  “We’re not going with you!” Holland shouted and then squeezed her eyes closed and began softly chanting a short, Latin incantation that she’d memorized—just in case.

  The cop gawked at Holland. “Is she okay . . . you know, up here?” he asked, tapping his temple with the pad of his finger.

  Phoebe shrugged embarrassedly. “She has these spells sometimes.”

  His eyes shifted to Holland, whose lips were moving so fast, they seemed to be trembling, and the drone of her voice sounded similar to the soft buzz of bees inside a hive. “What kind of spell is she having?” the cop demanded.

  Phoebe held out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “You know, an ordinary spell.”

  “What’s an ordinary spell? Is she going into a seizure—what’s wrong with her?” He sounded irritated as if having to deal with an illness was a huge inconvenience. “Look, she’s freaking me out . . . you two can get going,” the cop said disgustedly, and turned around.

  But instead of taking steps toward the squad car, he began teetering back and forth, arms stretched out at his sides and one leg lifting slightly as he struggled to keep his balance.

  “Are you all right, officer?” Phoebe inquired.

  “What’s she doing to me?” he yelled. “Make her stop!” He took another unsteady step, and sweat poured down his face. “Let me off this thing!” he yelled.

  “What thing?” Phoebe asked, while Holland continued chanting.

  “She’s got me up in the air; I’m on a tightrope. Let me off; I wanna get down!” he hollered.

  Holland went quiet and opened her eyes. The cop’s face had gone pale, and he wore a look of utter terror as he propelled his arms, trying to stay atop the imaginary tight rope. Holland opened the front door of the squad car. “Listen carefully. I assume you all escaped the madness on Edgemont Avenue, and you believed that the cop was going to take you to a safe place—well, he wasn’t. He works for the vampires, and he intended to deliver you to them.”