Dhampir Secrets

by Lewis, Shirlee

  Dhampir Secrets-Volume 1

  Shirlee Lewis

  Tattered Press Publishing LLC

  Prologue

  There are some things about the night, good and bad, that makes the day a better place to sleep. Never knowing what might be in store for anyone when they decide to strike, (Will they be home or out for the evening?) was one of them.

  Not knowing if the dark shadow was the burglar or a new addition to the landscape terrified me. Getting away from there was what I needed to do, but the terror froze me in place. I had never felt this way before.

  They preyed upon the innocent in the night…..

  Chapter One

  In the small town of Mayville, overlooking the Rocky Mountains, the clouds were starting to roll in for another night of rain. It rains a lot in Oregon and a cool breeze was starting up.

  The tenth floor window of County Hospital faced the Rockies. I loved standing at the window taking in the city after my paperwork was done. Mayville wasn’t a big city—population 5,942—but it was beautiful nonetheless. With day coming to a close and night beginning, it wouldn’t be long until the city glowed with glittering lights, but not before a breathtaking sunset. Although the sun had been down for about thirty minutes, the purple, pink and blue colors lingered in my mind making me smile. I could stand here forever, but my shift was over, it was time to head home.

  Movements on the ground below had me taking a second look. A shadow, over by the hedge, resembled a body looking toward the tenth floor. When I blinked it was gone. Looking closer all I could see were the shadows of trees, shrubs and buildings. But the feeling of being watched unnerved me and for good reason because in the past three weeks, several homes had been burglarized. Women living alone and single were targeted and I happened to be one of those women. I wasn’t afraid, just cautious.

  Hearing footsteps coming down the hall was common, but not for eleven o’clock in the evening. All the patients were bed ridden and the tenth floor was for the terminally ill. The nurse desk, nurse lounge and four patient’s rooms were all that made up the floor. Footsteps were coming closer to the room I was in, but figuring it was Mike, the night nurse, looking for me so he could start his shift.

  Mike a muscular 24yr old African/American man had been working at County Hospital for almost a year now. He loved working the 12hour night shift because to him it was peaceful and relaxing. He brought books to read when all of his paperwork was finished. Mike and I were the only nurses on the tenth floor. Two nurses, Michelle and Monique, worked our days off. County Hospital worked us in twelve hour shifts rotating four days on and four off. I had been at County Hospital for nearly 4 years and was content with the career choice I had made. I smiled.

  Looking at the city through the window and half glancing at the door, a man passed by and it wasn’t Mike. This man appeared to be fair skinned, five foot nine or ten, wearing dark clothing. Waiting for him to come back was unnerving and the burglaries came to mind. Turning to go to the hall, the man walked passed, looked in the room, and smiled.

  Hurrying to the door, I glanced up and down the corridor, but no one was there. Hearing the elevator, I watched as Mike came around the corner heading to the nurses’ station.

  “Hello, Jess,” he said, with a smile on his face. “How are the patients this evening?”

  “Mrs. Johnson has taken a turn for the worse. Mr. Wilcox is improving,” I calmly said. Mrs. Francis Johnson has Leukemia. Mr. Charlie Wilcox has prostate cancer.

  “Well then, it looks like a quiet night,” putting his lunch bag on the counter.

  Surely, Mike must have seen someone getting on or off the elevator so I asked, “Did you see anyone on the elevator?”

  “No, I didn’t. I was the only one.”

  “I saw someone wondering the hall and thought you might have seen them.”

  “No one here but us, Jess. Is everything okay?” he asked, with a concerned look on his face.

  “Of course everything is all right. It must have been a nurse from one of the other floors coming up to get something and didn’t see me in the room looking out the window,” I said, trying not to sound worried.

  Mike sat down at the computer to look at the daily log. “I see no new patients arrived today. It’s going to be a long night,” he said.

  “We hooked up a camera in Mrs. Johnson’s room to monitor her more closely. If you push this button, you’ll be able to see her room.”

  Mike pushed the button and Mrs. Johnson’s room came into view.

  “That will help out a lot. Now my paperwork will get done tonight.” He scowled at the thought of paperwork.

  “Have a good night, Mike.”

  “You too, Jess. See you in the morning.”

  Getting on the elevator, I couldn’t imagine who it could have been wondering the hall. The entire hospital knew the tenth floor was for the terminally ill and under no uncertain terms was anyone allowed after eight o’clock including the nurses. Doctor’s were the only exception.

  So, for someone, anyone to be wondering the hall, I knew was farfetched. But who could it have been? Thinking back—I doubled checked the patient’s room, didn’t I? Mike and Monique knew my habit of being in the room watching the sun set and didn’t think anything of it when I wasn’t at the nurse’s desk.

  Deep in thought about the man wandering the hall, I wasn’t aware the elevator had stopped. The bell dinged to say the door was opening and I jumped at the sound. Smiling because I had jumped, I stepped off the elevator.

  “Goodnight, Jess,” Vanessa said, getting on the elevator. Vanessa was the second floor nurse. She was starting her shift.

  “Goodnight, Vanessa,” I smiled at her and got off the elevator.

  Thunder cracked in the distance and it started sprinkling when I reached my car, a 1977 Monte Carlo, black. I had the oddest feeling someone was watching me. Looking around the parking lot, without seeing anyone, I fumbled with the keys, found the right one and unlocked the door, got in and quickly locked the door. My heart was beating so fast, as I scanned the parking lot.

  Leaning by the tree, behind the hedge and shrubs which stood in front of the hospital, was a silhouette of a person. Its outline appearing to be a waist, shoulder and head peering from around the tree. Why would someone just stand there? Keeping my eyes on the figure, I tried to put the key into the ignition without success. Glancing down for a second to find the ignition I looked back to the place where I had seen the figure, it was gone. Scanning the parking lot quickly to see if the figure had moved and without seeing anyone, I started the car and headed home.

  Driving home, I wondered if I imagined the dark figure standing by the tree because of the chaos going on in town. Not wanting to think about it anymore, I shrugged it off and continued home.

  Thirteenth Street is a dead-end street at the edge of town, with only two houses, the Morisons’ on the east side and a small log cabin, my home on the west. Rick and Jan Morison, an older couple, who had no children or relatives that I knew of lived in a house white with blue trim nestled in a small yard lined with pine trees on both sides and along the back. The front yard had no trees, just a driveway. At the end of the dead-end street, was my home. Sage bushes and small pine trees landscaped the front yard with larger pine trees surrounding the house on both sides and along the back. I had acquired the house from my parents who had been killed in a car wreck five years ago.

  Rounding the corner, my headlights caught a glimpse of a dark figure crossing the road. My heart stopped. Recalling the shadow at the hospital parking lot had me looking harder at the figure. Could it be the burglar? Who or whatever it was looked to be headed to the Morisons’ house. I stopped my car in the middle of the street, with my headlights shining in the direction of
where the dark figure crossed the road, it was gone.

  I started shaking and didn’t want to go home thinking it might be the burglar; I put my car in reverse and headed to Miller’s Diner.

  Miller’s Diner, a mile and a half from where I lived, made from an old passenger train car offered a warm and friendly atmosphere. Booths lined the windows facing the street, a bar and counter in the middle with lights hanging down from the ceiling were dim. The kitchen was in the back. I sat in a booth facing the street because it was a quiet and a peaceful place to sit and gather my thoughts, especially at night. I came here often.

  Malinda, a single, middle-aged lady, brought me a cup of coffee. She was the night shift waitress. We have been friends since I moved back to Mayville five years ago and best friends.

  “Have you heard any news about the police catching the burglar?”

  Malinda frowned. “Haven’t heard anything,”—putting my coffee on the table. “Hope they catch them soon!”

  “Ditto—thanks.”

  Malinda went back behind the counter and started another pot of coffee. She knew me well enough to know, I never drink a couple of cups when I came in. Their coffee was the best in town. Of course, that could have been because it was the only diner in town.

  I started to say Malinda’s name when headlights from a truck pulling into the diner caught a glimpse of a shadow in the trees. Why was I seeing shadows of a figure every were I went tonight? Now I was beginning to think the burglar could possibly be stalking me to learn my routine. Headlights from a passing car shone on the place where I had seen the figure, but now all I could see were trees which relieved me.

  Sipping on my coffee, deep in thought about the dark figure, I didn’t hear the bell ring when the diner door opened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man walking to the empty booth in front of mine. Taking a seat, he faced me. Slowly, turning my head toward him I noticed his eyes on me. Was he looking at me or was my imagination hoping he was? Glancing around the diner I wanted to make sure he wasn’t looking at someone or something else. Turning back toward him, he smiled. The left corner of his lip curled playfully and the effect was stunning. I smiled back.

  His hair, brown with light brown highlights, mirrored my own and his face was pale and clean shaven, wearing a long-sleeved gray turtleneck and blue jeans. I know because I dropped my spoon, so I could lean down and look. It was the middle of August and getting cool outside, but he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Malinda refilled my coffee and went to take his order with a wide smile on her face. “May I get you anything?” she asked.

  “A glass of water would be nice,” he said.

  As I turned back to the window, thinking how drop dead gorgeous this guy was, a notion flashed through my mind: Could he be the burglar? I kept gazing out the window, although I wanted to look at him again because he was extremely handsome.

  Malinda brought him his water. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

  “No, thank you,” was all I heard him say.

  Malinda went back to the counter.

  The uneasy feeling I had at the hospital earlier was coming back with this guy. He was staring right at me and I never had someone just stare at me before. Ignoring him, I drank my coffee and continued to look out the window.

  I yawned and glanced at my watch, four-thirty. Getting up to leave, I leaned over the bench to get my purse and jacket, as I straightened up putting on my jacket my heart skipped a few beats when he said, “Hello.”

  Stopping by his table, I made sure he wasn’t talking to anyone else by looking around the diner. Malinda, Frank, the cook, this man and me were the only people in here. I stared at him for a few seconds, gathered myself and spoke. “Hello.”

  Continuing to the register I smiled wide. Malinda was smiling, too. We both had the same thought. How could anyone in Mayville be so handsome? All the local guys were average. No one I was interested in at least. Although several of the guys had asked me out, I always declined because I had no room for distractions in my life.

  Reaching to get my wallet, Malinda said, “Jess, he paid for your coffee.” She nodded toward the man.

  “He did? Why?”

  Malinda shrugged. “I guess he wanted to.”

  Turning to look at the guy, he smiled, but never faced me. “Okay, I’ll see you later. Have a good night.”

  “You too, Jess. Be careful, okay?”

  Getting into my car, I looked back at the diner. Leaning against the newspaper stand, looking in my direction was the guy. “He’s staring at me,” I whispered to myself thinking he might be the burglar. Why else would he be staring? The last thing I needed was for him to follow me home. Glancing around the parking lot, my car was the only car. Assuming he wasn’t the burglar I thought, maybe he was just a nice guy. After all, he did pay for my coffee, but why? Too extremely tired to really think about it, I went home.

  When I got home, I turned on the television dropping the remote on the sofa and went to the kitchen to get the coffee pot ready for in the morning. Setting my purse and cell phone on the counter, I hung my jacket on the back of the bar stool deciding a hot bubble bath would help. In my bedroom I turned down the covers before climbing in the tub. Settling into the hot water I closed my eyes and thought of the guy at the diner. Maybe, I would see him around town and hoped he wasn’t a stranger passing through. After my bath, with only my towel around me, I went to the sofa to hear the news.

  Bob Hunter, the news anchor, was reporting. “The victim was brutally attacked after she unwittingly interrupted the theft. Police are investigating. Annette Burke is standing by with a live report.”

  Annette came on the screen.

  The camera panned to the house behind her and immediately I recognized MaryAnn’s house. My eyes widened as I stared at the screen.

  Annette reported, “MaryAnn Cartwright had arrived home from work when she opened the door catching the burglar in her living room, police said. Her next door neighbor heard the commotion and called the police who found the victim beaten beyond recognition.”

  The camera showed the EMTs bringing MaryAnn out of the house on a stretcher and loading it into the ambulance. The camera panned back to Annette. “The authorities have no leads at this time. We will update you when we know more. Bob; back to you.”

  Bob came back on the screen.

  My mouth dropped open because MaryAnn was my friend and lived half a mile from me. I never locked my door until I’m ready to go to bed, but tonight I locked the door and the dead bolt.

  Halfway back to the sofa, a noise outside on the porch startled me.

  I froze.

  Footsteps were coming closer to the door. I panicked, but didn’t make a sound. What would I do and would I have time to get my cell phone on the counter from the kitchen?

  Instead I stayed listening for the footsteps. I heard nothing. Walking back to the sofa, I jumped when a loud knock sounded on my door. Holding my hand to my mouth not wanting whoever it was to hear me scream.

  Tiptoeing to the door afraid to open it, I listen for a sound, any sound. Not hearing anything, I heaved a sigh of relief.

  A louder knock on the door made me jump and I asked, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Detective Cooke and Officer Lewis, Jessica. Could we talk to you for a minute?”

  Detective Troy Cooke a 50yr old man showed signs of stress with his salt and pepper hair because he had been on the police force for thirty years with no immediate plans of retiring soon.

  Officer Sean Lewis was a 22yr old fresh from the police academy, hired on the police force about a year ago, wanting to become a detective so Cooke was teaching him the basics of being one.

  “Just a minute, please,” I said, heading to the bedroom to get my robe. Company at this hour of the morning was unheard of and I wasn’t dressed for it either.

  Back at the door, I opened it inviting them inside, but they chose to stay on the porch. “Jessica, a burglary happened down the road. We’re checking to
make sure you’re okay before we head back to the station,” Detective Cooke said.

  They knew I lived alone.

  “Thank you, I appreciate it. I heard the news report.”

  “Rest assured we’re looking for the suspect. If you see or hear anything, be sure to give us a call,” Detective Cooke said.

  “I’ll be sure to do that, Detective Cooke.”

  The officers headed back to the patrol car.

  Officer Sean already in the passenger seat; Detective Cooke was opening his door and I was an inch away from closing my door when I noticed a light come on at the Morisons’.

  I ran to the police car as it was pulling out of my driveway, pointing to the Morisons’ house.

  Officer Sean rolled down the window. “Jessica, what is it?”

  “No one is supposed to be at the Morison’s. They’re on vacation and a light just came on,” I said.

  Officer Sean told me to go back in my house and lock the door, they would check it out, but I went to the porch, stood in the doorway and watched. The Officers got out of the patrol car and the front door opened at the Morison’s. I gasped out loud, I recognized him. It was the hot guy from the diner. Watching the three of them talk, I noticed the man glance toward my house. It wasn’t long before the officers headed back to their car and left. Watching him turn towards the front door he suddenly looked in my direction. I hurried and closed my door, locked it and turned off the lamp, grabbed the remote, when a light knock was at the door. Thinking it was the police, coming back to tell me something important, I went to the door and opened it. Standing on my porch was the man from the diner.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, closing the door to put an inch or two between me and him.

  “Hi,” he said with a smile. “My name is Tony Mureaux.”

  “And you are here because?” I asked. I wasn’t sure about him, but he was the best looking thing on my porch or even in town. I even felt like I was blushing.

  “I noticed the police over here. They asked me some questions about the recent burglary and I’m here because I wanted to make sure everything was all right,” he said, with a smile.