Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  No, I’ll find Riley.

  He might act like an asshole most of the time, but I was sure he’d genuinely been trying to warn as opposed to threaten me. The stupid, traitorous part of me couldn’t help but be a bit excited at the idea of seeing him again. I wanted to be in his presence, that hint of danger, or darkness about him. I recognized it because it was in me too, drawing me toward him. I couldn’t explain how everything dark, wicked, and gothic made my heart rate step up a notch, but in a good way. It was so unlike when I was in the presence of anything sweet or girlie. The darkness made me feel alive, true to myself. Real.

  I pushed my thoughts away and forced myself to my feet. I took a breath, steadying my nerves. I’d do my best not to be noticed, but if I was, I needed to remember that I was stronger and faster than any of them. They might only see a slim, dark-haired, dark-eyed slip of a girl, but I could be wicked when I wanted to be.

  Hoping not to be stopped by anyone, I grabbed my jacket and slunk from the room. I kept to the walls of the hallway, sneaking down into the stairwell to run the steps two at a time. I exited into the cool air, trying to spot any signs, physical or psychic, that might give me an idea about which direction Brooke had been taken.

  I glanced around. Surely they couldn’t have brought Brooke this way? Groups of students still hung out, chatting and laughing. A few gave me a fleeting look as I walked out, perhaps spotting my pallid face in the moonlight. If they’d brought her here, they’d have been noticed, and the alarm would have been called. But what other options did they have? Had our bedroom window been open again? I hadn’t thought to check. The fire escape led down the back of the building, but I was sure the alarm would have gone off if someone had opened it, unless they disabled the alarm first.

  With my head down, I walked at a fast pace toward the rental car I’d been loaned. I wished I had my old car back, wanting the comfort of slipping into the soft leather and ‘new car’ smell that reminded me of home.

  The SUV would make me fit in better, especially around the carny guys, but that didn’t stop me longing for home.

  I could always call Mom and Dad.

  But no, I didn’t want to do that. My parents had taken care of me all these years. They’d spent time apart so I was never without someone in the daytime. I knew how hard it must have been for them. My mom, Serenity, had always been awake in the day to be with me, and then she’d needed to sleep when the night came and my dad, Sebastian, finally woke up. I was an adult now, and this was their time. They’d done everything for me, and I loved them dearly for it. I needed to repay the favor.

  Climbing inside the truck, I turned the key in the ignition and started it up. The engine grumbled to life around me. I suppressed a smile, imagining what the rest of the L.A. crowd would have said if they’d been given this car as a replacement to their flash vehicles.

  Yanking the shift stick into reverse, I slung my arm over the passenger seat and backed out of the lot. No one paid me any attention.

  I drove down the road, the forest looming on one side, the buildings that made up Sage Springs on the other. Some buildings were still lit, but many now resided in darkness. My eyes were drawn back to the forest. Something about the tall pines seemed menacing, the spiky leaves reaching across the road.

  Bypassing town, I took the route down toward the beach, planning on pulling over before I reached the parking lot where most of the carnival had been erected and walking the rest. It wasn’t far. Within five minutes, I pulled the SUV over and parked beneath a tree, trying to ignore the rustling branches that felt like they were whispering a warning.

  Moving quickly and almost silently on my sneakered feet, I hurried down the road, toward the carnival. No cars passed by, and I was thankful not to meet anyone else on foot either. I preferred to go unseen.

  I rounded the bend, and the carnival stretched out before me. The line of the beach and the sea lay beyond, moonlight glinting off the waves. The shapes of the rides rose up into the moonlit sky like sleeping dinosaurs. It felt strange to see the place in darkness, void of bright lights, music and laughter. There was something creepy about the place now, threatening, though I suspected the vibrations I picked up were mainly caused by my knowledge that the people within might be dangerous.

  The trailers where the carnies slept were positioned beyond the fairway. Lights beamed from the mobile homes, so I knew people were still up. Could one of the trailers contain Brooke? And which one did Riley live in?

  Did he live alone, or with his parents? Hell, he might even live with a girlfriend for all I knew, though from the way he looked and spoke to me, I’d feel damn sorry for her if he did.

  I snuck toward the entrance. Though a large gate blocked the way, it was all for show. No fencing circled the rides, or the area where the carnies lived. I could easily skirt around the gates and head onto the midway. Which is exactly what I did.

  Running at a slow jog, I kept close to the big rides on my left. I allowed my fingertips to trail the cool metal of the sides of the rides and stalls, the Tilt-a-Whirl, a miniature rollercoaster, the Chair-o-Planes, as I passed by. On the other side of the midway, numerous stands to test people’s skills, strength, and luck were partially covered with brightly colored awnings. Prizes of over-sized, over-stuffed teddy bears hung from almost macabre hooks. Adjacent to all the games and rides were the refreshments stands that should have been selling cotton candy, ice cream, funnel cakes and French fries. But instead, the place was dark and deserted, at a time when it should have been bustlingly busy, the carnies relieving all us marks of our money. I bet they were spitting blood at the loss of revenue.

  I hoped to pick up on some kind of premonition or insight into the events that had happened around the rides, perhaps absorbing the energy of Brooke as she’d been dragged or carried past, kicking and screaming. For the first time, I realized I wanted whatever psychic screw-up my genetics had thrown at me to work. Normally, I dreaded picking anything up—it only ever seemed to get me into trouble—but if I could have made a giant glowing arrow appear above the trailer where either Riley or Brooke might be, then I would have.

  Voices came, muffled and male, from somewhere in front of me. I ducked to my left to hide in the closest ride. Carousel horses were frozen at their points of gallop, legs lifted, and heads thrown back in a parody of a horse’s freedom.

  I crouched between two of the horses, my breath held. Two men walked past, one I recognized as the guy who had tried to help me from the car after the electric wire had fallen down. The other man I didn’t recognize, but yet a shot of adrenaline fired through me at the sight of him. Something about the guy glowed a warning red to my psychic senses, and I was sure it wasn’t just because of the way he looked. He was massive, his head, neck, and shoulders blending into one. Though where the man walking beside him was fat, this guy was all muscle. He moved with a swagger, his arms held to either side of him, his fists bunched, as though expecting a fight at any moment.

  I strained to pick up on what the men were talking about ...

  “One of the busiest nights of the year, and we’re sitting around with our asses in our hands.”

  “What else were we supposed to do? It’s not like we could open up with the cops breathing down our necks.”

  “I know, but I still think shutting us down is overkill. Why not just shut the one ride ...”

  Their voices faded as they moved past me and continued down the midway. When they were far enough away, I allowed myself to exhale. They’d not shown any sign of knowing I was there, so as soon as they were gone, I slipped out from behind the horses, with their wide, wild eyes, and hurried on down the midway.

  My ears picked up on a sound. It started as a hum, and developed into a low roar the closer I got. I don’t know why I was drawn, but I moved toward the drone without even giving my actions a conscious thought.

  The direction steered me away from both the midway and the trailers farther back where most of the carnies lived. I slipped betw
een the sideshows—advertising kootch shows, fire eaters, and knife swallowers—and followed the sound. Set to one side was the source of the now loud roar. A huge metal mesh sphere was suspended several feet from the earth, metal poles and cables rooted into the ground. Inside the sphere, a motorbike roared around, looping vertically as well as horizontally. The bike whipped around so fast, the rider was almost a blur.

  Mesmerized, I completely forget I was supposed to be hiding. The roar and whine of the bike as it zoomed around made me catch my breath and bite my knuckles. How was it even possible to ride upside down without the rider falling off?

  As if my thoughts had somehow jeopardized him, the bike stuttered on its descent, and then skidded, the wheels spinning to one side. The rider just managed to catch himself before he was completely thrown. But still, he was dragged along the bottom of the sphere, one side of his body and head scraping against the metal. A scream almost burst from my throat, but I managed to clamp my mouth down around it, silencing myself. I couldn’t help but run forward, unable to turn and leave someone who might be badly hurt, even if he was a carny and part of the people who had been threatening me and possibly abducted my roommate.

  As I reached the sphere, the rider groaned and began to move. I banged on the wall with the palm of my hand. “Hey,” I hissed, still mindful of where I was. “Are you okay?” I tried to see a door to the sphere, and ran around, my palms slapping against the metal until I located it. But the door was flush with the rest of the sphere, and I couldn’t see a way to get it open.

  The person pushed the bike off their body and started to sit up.

  My heart almost stopped. I would recognize that dark hair and leather jacket anywhere.

  “Riley?”

  He got to his feet and ran a hand through his scruffy, jaw length hair. He looked at me with his head tilted to one side, squinting. A graze ran down one side of his face, the sight of the blood making my pulse pick up a rate, my mouth running dry.

  “Jeez, Icy,” he said bending to right his bike. His tone was cold, and I wondered if I should be the one calling him icy. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He unlocked a catch on the inside of the sphere and dragged his bike out.

  I stared at him, still unable to believe what I’d seen him doing, but I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked him one of my own. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay. I know what I’m doing. This is my job here.”

  “I thought you worked the Waltzer?”

  He huffed air out through his mouth, puffing away a lock of hair that had fallen in his face. “That night, I did. I was covering for someone who’d gotten sick.” His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave right now.”

  Riley threw his bike to the ground. He turned and grabbed my wrist, meaning to pull me somewhere—away from the carnival, I assumed—but I planted my feet and refused to move.

  His eyes widened in surprise at my strength, but he didn’t say anything. Once again, I noticed I hadn’t picked up anything psychically about him.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Not yet. I need to ask you some questions.”

  “No. You need to leave. I’m not kidding.”

  “So, it’s okay for you to come onto my turf, but I’m not allowed onto yours? Talk about double standards.”

  He glared at me, but something about my expression must have convinced him I was serious. “Okay, fine. But we can’t stand out in the open like this. Someone could come along at any moment. My trailer’s on the outskirts. As long as we keep quiet, no one should notice us.”

  “You live alone? I asked, fishing for information.

  He gave me that narrow-eyed look again, the one that told me he was trying to figure me out. “Yeah, why?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t want anyone else to know I’m here, do we?”

  He dropped his hold on my arm, but my skin buzzed where he had touched me. For once, this had nothing to do with my vampire side, and everything to do with being a teenage girl.

  “Okay, come on then. Follow me. But if I lift my hand, it means stop. Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He set off at a fast walk, almost a jog, doing as I had only minutes earlier and staying close to the rides and stalls to avoid being seen. We were at the back of the stands now. The sound of voices and movement grew louder as we approached the large sprawl of trailers. Obviously wanting some modicum of privacy, the mobile homes were spread a fair distance apart, allowing for each of the carnies to live their home lives without worrying about being overheard by their neighbor. In fact, they had more privacy than I did in my dorm, or even most apartment-block living folks in town. A few people sat on foldout chairs outside their front doors, drinking or smoking, or sometimes both. They spoke in low voices, the mood somber, caused, I assumed by the fact they should have been working their concessions and earning much needed money, rather than hanging out. I tried to catch any sign of Brooke, or anyone who appeared on edge, or suspicious, but nothing caught my eye.

  Riley had pulled up short right ahead of me. Distracted by the carny folk, I almost walked right into his back. I wondered what it would feel like to wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek against his back, feel the soft leather of his jacket beneath my cheek, and inhale the scent of him. I shook my head at myself. Where the hell had that thought come from? I couldn’t think of him that way.

  He nodded toward a rundown mobile home right of the outskirts of the circle of homes. It would originally have been white, with a green trim, but was now a dirty shade of grey, the paint flaking off. Dirt caked the outside of the windows, and I shuddered to think what the inside would be like.

  Riley leaned back to me and kept his voice low. “Move quickly and stay down. We don’t want anyone to see us.”

  I glanced around to spot if anyone was paying us any attention, but everyone appeared to be too caught up in their own conversations to notice us. Even so, I did as Riley asked. We ran, with Riley just ahead of me, between the trailers and up to his place. A couple of metal steps led up to the front door, and he jumped up them, pulling the door open. I noticed he’d not needed to use a key to unlock the trailer. Whatever else he thought, he obviously trusted the other carnies.

  I followed him inside, eagerly taking in the sight of Riley’s home. The place was run down, second or even third hand cushions on the couch, which also served as a bench-type table. The material threadbare. A small kitchen was at the far end, the Formica tops scraped and scarred, many of the cupboards missing their handles. But the place was clean; no dirty dishes piled high in the sink, or overflowing trashcan as I had expected.

  “Welcome to the palace,” he said, his voice filled with sarcasm.

  I offered him a smile, wanting to say something to make him more comfortable, for some reason, but struggling to come up with the words. After all, I grew up in a huge mansion in the Los Angeles hills. I wasn’t naive enough to try to make out like Riley’s place was anything more than what it was.

  “Where are your parents?” I asked, curious.

  Something in his face tightened. “Mom died when I was fifteen. Dad took off when I was four, I barely remember him.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Wasn’t your fault, was it?”

  He turned away from me, busying himself in the kitchen. I had a feeling it was his way of changing the topic of conversation. He grabbed two tumblers from the cupboard and then pulled out a bottle of whisky. He poured two shots and handed one to me.

  “I’d offer you some ice,” he said. “But I don’t have any.”

  I glanced down at the amber liquid and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you old enough to be drinking?”

  “I’m twenty-two. I’m old enough to do whatever I want.”

  “You must realize I’m not old enough.” I don’t know why I said it—certainly not out of some moral code—more to see if it would get a reaction out of him.

  He shrugge
d. “What the hell do I care?”

  We stood a mere foot apart, but it could have been a gulf. There was a wall around him, a space I could feel but couldn’t see. I don’t know why I wanted to bridge the gap so badly, but I did.

  I reached up and touched the graze that ran down beside his eye, toward his cheekbone. He didn’t flinch away from me.

  “You should clean that up,” I told him.

  My fingertips were smeared with red. I resisted the urge to put them in my mouth.

  His eyes locked on mine, those deep pools of blue I could so easily lose myself in. “It’s fine, Icy. Barely a scratch.”

  “My name’s Elizabeth,” I said, trying to remember to breathe.

  I wanted to touch him again. I couldn’t remember the last time I was with someone whose skin I didn’t have to avoid. My palms itched, my fingers tingling. I knew I should wipe my bloodied fingertips on my jeans, but a dark part of me wanted the blood to dry there, so later, when I was alone, I could lift my fingers to my nose, and inhale the scent of his blood.

  God, I was such a freak.

  “So what are you doing here?” he asked, breaking the moment.

  I glanced away, and took a drink of the whisky. The liquid burned down my throat, settling to warm my stomach. I fought not to cough. “My roommate has gone missing. I think some of your people had something to do with it.”

  He didn’t bat an eyelash. “Probably.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Aren’t you bothered?”

  “Why would I be?”

  “Err, because men can’t just go around kidnapping college girls.” I thought of something. “And anyway, you came to warn me that I might be in trouble. Why worry about me, but not about her?”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, a crease appearing between his dark brows as though he were pondering something. “I’m not sure. You seem different.”

  That’s because I am.

  I wondered on what scale he’d picked up on there being something different about me. Did it have to do with my prediction of the accident, or was it something more, a kind of subconscious lean toward the paranormal part of me. The vampires I’d met, including my father, had all been charismatic, and some even beautiful—a perfect way for a predator to lure in its prey. I’d never considered myself to be either of those things, but for the first time, I wondered ...