Vampire Soul Box Set (Vampire Romantic Comedy)

by Mac Flynn

  Candy snorted. "I know I'm not very bright, but I do know more about relationships than you, and that sounds like a heavy relationship."

  "There's nothing between us. All he does is sleep all day and go out at night," I assured her.

  She frowned. "And you, the Queen of No-bullshit, put up with that? Why?"

  "Why is everyone asking me that?" I growled.

  "Because it's so not like you to put up with any shit," Candy pointed out.

  "Maybe I feel sorry for him because he's got a bad case of narcolepsy. Happy?" I returned. I tried to get past her, but she stepped in my way.

  "He's gotta have a hell of a story for you to be this smitten with him. What's he like?" she questioned me.

  "Dark, brooding, and really, really pale, now can I get to work?" I pleaded.

  Candy frowned and studied my face. She dropped her arm and glared at me. "All right, but I'm going to want answers sooner or later."

  "We'll do the later. I'll have my people talk with your people," I quipped as I strode past her.

  I walked out and to the main part of the diner. All the men looked in my direction. I folded my arms across my chest and glared at them.

  "Keep staring and you're all drinking seconds of coffee," I warned them.

  They whipped their heads away faster than the tilt-o-hurl ride at a carnival. I marched behind the counter and rang up a bill. Candy came out of the bathroom and grabbed her coat. She winked at me.

  "Good luck with him," she teased.

  Candy left, and an officer entered. He was dressed in the uniform for the Northton patrol and he took a stool at the counter.

  "How's the coffee?" he asked me.

  "It hasn't run away yet," I told him.

  "Damn. I could use a strong cup of something," he returned.

  "Problems at the office, officer?" I quipped.

  "I'll take a cup. Black. No sugar. And yeah. One of the farmer's has a damn sheep that's been causing us problems the past few nights," he explained.

  I slid him his cup and raised an eyebrow. "What sheep?" I asked him.

  He took the cup in both hands and shrugged. "Just some sheep that hoodlums have been breaking out of the barn. One of them got itself hurt a week or so back and it's been nothing but trouble since then." He took a sip of his coffee and shuddered. "There was another breakout of the barn tonight and we got most of them in tonight, but that one's still missing."

  My blood ran as cold as a freezer in mid-December in the middle of the Arctic. "Do you know which way it went?" I wondered.

  He shrugged. "Nope, but I had to make a call to the Squash Festival guys to be on the lookout. Maybe it'll come wandering in looking for free handouts."

  "Or free hands. . ." I murmured.

  The cop looked up from his mug and frowned at me. "What was that?"

  I straightened and smiled. "Oh, would you look at the time? I think I forgot to feed my pet alligator. Don't worry about the coffee, it's on the house."

  "What?" I heard Ralph screech.

  The swinging doors flung open and Ralph stood there with narrowed eyes. "What do ya think yer doing-"

  "Not now, Ralph," I replied as I flung my apron in his face.

  I rushed past him and grabbed my coat. He pulled off the apron and followed me into the kitchen.

  What's the big idea?" he growled.

  I pulled on my coat and glanced between him and the door. "I-um, I just remembered I need to attend a wake."

  His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "For who?"

  "For a dead person. I'll be back later," I promised.

  I flew out the door and raced into my car. "If there is a later. . ." I mumbled as I backed out.

  CHAPTER 8

  A few broken speed limits later and I arrived at the site of the Squash Festival, the county fairgrounds. The fairgrounds was a large patch of ground beside the main county highway. The land was surrounded by cornfields on its three other sides and had a large, dusty parking lot along the road. There were a half dozen stall buildings for animals and a large closed hall for the larger, non-animal exhibits. The good weather meant the squash competition was on tables between the hall and the smaller buildings. The hundreds of squash were grouped into categories of variety, size, jack-o-lanterns and more. Crowds mingled in front of the tables and picked favorites to win the Squash Festival grand champion.

  The dry grass cracked under my feet as I hurried through the crowds to the jack-o-lantern section. I found her jack-o-lantern among the dozens of other lit pumpkins, but no relatives. They turned out to be staking out the competition in the nearby giant-gourd section. They were looking at a particularly long and thin squash. The owner was Elmira, a skinny old woman in a flowered dress. She stood beside her prized skinny squash with a broad grin on her face.

  "You've got a nice squash there, Elmira," Uncle Seward told her.

  "It's expected to win grand champion," she replied.

  "I don't know about that, Elmira," Aunt Ma spoke up. "There's a lot of nice jack-o-lanterns this year."

  Elmira sneered. "Jack-o-lanterns aren't worth nothing but the candle that's in them."

  I averted World War Squash when I stumbled into their little group. I grinned at my surprised aunt and uncle. "Could I talk to you two for a sec?"

  "You said you couldn't come," Aunt Ma reminded me

  I looped my arm through one each of theirs and pulled them towards the jack-o-lanterns. "Sorry to pull the wool over your eyes, but on that note there's something I've got to tell you."

  "Were you fired?" Uncle Seward guessed.

  "I didn't give Ralph enough time to yell that to me, but probably," I replied.

  Aunt Ma glanced around us. "Where's Roland?"

  "Never around until the last minute," I told her. We reached the pumpkins and I looked over the crowds. They thinned enough that we wouldn't be easily overheard. I ducked my head down and pulled my aunt and uncle close. "You have to get your pumpkin and get out of here," I warned them.

  Uncle Seward frowned. "Why? What's going on?"

  "You wouldn't believe me if I tried," I told him.

  "Young lady, we're not going anywhere until you tell us what's wrong," Uncle Seward insisted.

  I took a deep breath. "All right, remember how we found those tracks by Aunt Ma's smashed pumpkin?"

  Aunt Ma sighed. "Yes, and that's still my favorite."

  "Well, Roland and I found out what broke it, and I think it's heading this way," I explained.

  "You make it sound like it's a stampede," my uncle commented.

  "No, it's-well, it's a were-sheep," I revealed.

  My uncle looked at me like I was a twenty pound bag of salted nuts. "A were-sheep?"

  "There's no time-" A heavy hand fell on me and I spun around to find it was attached to an arm. Then a shoulder, and finally Roland's face. "Please tell me you didn't track our woolen villain here."

  "I tracked him as far as the parking lot before his prints were lost in the dust," he told me.

  "Which means it's time to pack up Jack and get going," I told my relatives.

  Roland glanced over my head and frowned. "I believe we may be too late."

  I looked at what he stared at. A crowd gathered around something at the far end of the rows of tables.

  "Aunt Ma, Uncle Seward, stay here," I ordered them.

  "But-"

  "No buts, pork or otherwise," I insisted.

  Roland and I strode over to the people and pushed through the crowds. In the open center we saw the were-sheep face-deep in the shoe-in for largest squash.

  "What a great costume!" one person commented.

  "But what is it?" another asked.

  "Some sort of mutant," someone suggested.

  The owner of the former shoe-in stalked through the crowd and grabbed the were-sheep's shoulders. He pulled its head out of squash and shoved it a few feet away. The sheep fell on all fours and braced itself in the dry grass.

  "What the hell do you think you'
re doing?" he shouted.

  The were-sheep snarled and showed off a fine set of dentures that would make any dentist swoon. The crowd backed up and stopped their guessing game. A creeping fear swept over them that maybe the thing they were looking at wasn't such a great costume.

  The beast leapt at the squash owner. Roland jumped forward and shoved the man to the ground. The were-sheep flew over them and crashed into a table. Squash flew in every direction. Screams erupted from the crowd and the people performed a not-so-stationary panic. They trampled over tables, squash, and each other as they tried to get out of the hoofed clutches of the monstrous mutton. Not a single entree was saved from the carnage.

  Roland shoved the man away from the ruins and stood. The were-sheep rose from the ruined pumpkins like some demented childhood cartoon character. Its beady eyes swept over the vegetable wreck and its nose furiously twitched. The were-sheep whipped its woolly head to something behind me. I turned and saw Aunt Ma and Uncle Seward.

  They stood twenty yards off among less ruined tables. Half the crowd stood around them and watched the carnage in morbid fascination. The were-sheep broke from the mess of tables and raced down the track to the unspoiled tables. Aunt Ma held her precious prized pumpkin in her hands.

  "Run!" I shouted.

  The people screamed and turned tail into the tables. The lit pumpkins scattered onto the ground. Their candles tumbled onto the ground, and the flickering fires caught on the dry grass. Flames leapt up and slithered along the ground. The keep-away game was changed to a disorganized game of beat-you-to-the-car as people parted and raced to the parking lot. Uncle Seward grabbed a long, unblemished squash and stepped in front of Aunt Ma.

  "You're not getting-" The were-sheep sprinted past them and leapt onto the piles of ruined squash.

  It stuffed its face into the broken rinds. Roland and I hurried over to my aunt and uncle, but there was one tiny problem in reaching them. The flames from the ground gobbled up the flimsy paper table decorations and crackled to life. They swept across the ground and blocked the two directions that led away from the parking lot. A few separate walls of flames rose up between Roland and me, and my relatives.

  "Aunt Ma! Uncle Seward!" I yelled.

  "We're okay!" Uncle Seward replied.

  Something past them moved. I saw the were-sheep rise from the ashes like a wool-lined phoenix. Its eyes swept over the burnt remains of its food until they came upon my aunt and uncle. Aunt Ma still had her pumpkin in her hand, and Uncle Seward was armed with the long squash. The were-sheep leapt across the flames and landed in the open area where they stood. Its lips curled back and it crept towards them.

  "The squash! Throw the squash!" I ordered them.

  The were-sheep leapt at them. Uncle Seward swung the squash and it smashed into the face of the creature. The squash exploded and the were-sheep was knocked to the side, but it stood and growled at my uncle.

  Roland swept past me and flew over the flames. He landed between the were-sheep and my uncle just as the monster jumped. Roland grabbed the creature's wide mouth, but he was forced to the ground. Apparently it wasn't all wool under that coat.

  I saw a clearing in the flames and made my way to Aunt Ma. She stood five yards from the battle. I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the men and monster. She dug her heels into the ground and tried to shake off my hand.

  "We can't leave Pat!" she insisted.

  "Roland's with him, and if we don't get out now there won't be enough of us left to fill a teaspoon!" I told her.

  I pulled her away even as the were-sheep lifted his head from Roland's face. Its eyes zeroed in on the last untouched pumpkin. The one in my aunt's hand. The aunt who stood right beside me.

  "Um, Aunt Ma?"

  "Yes?"

  "Run!"

  I pushed her ahead of me and we ran down the row of overturned tables. I looked over my shoulder in time to see the were-sheep push off from Roland and race towards us. Roland tried to follow, but my uncle had more troubles. The flames closed in on them and my uncle was trapped. Roland looked between my fleeing back and my uncle. I pointed at my uncle and turned my attention to the were-sheep. It was ten yards from us and closing.

  I looked ahead of us. We faced the left side of the fairgrounds, and twenty yards ahead was one of the corn fields. My aunt wasn't a spring chicken, and at her speed she'd be plucked before she could reach the corn.

  "Sorry, Aunt Ma!" I shouted at her.

  "Sorry for-" I snatched the pumpkin from her and shoved her to the ground.

  I raced towards the corn field and held up the pumpkin.

  "Here, sheepy! Here, sheepy!" I called without turning around.

  "Misty!" Aunt Ma called behind me. "You get back here this-run, Misty! Run!"

  I looked over my shoulder and watched the were-sheep jump my aunt and sprint towards me.

  "Oh shit!" I yelped.

  CHAPTER 9

  I booked it into the cornfield and zigged and zagged through the rows. The were-sheep crashed through the dry, crunchy stalks behind me, but I could hear myself gaining some ground. Unfortunately, I didn't know what ground I was gaining because I couldn't tell which way I was going. I stopped a couple dozen rows in and turned left and right. Nothing but corn and the slight smell of popcorn from the fire in the fairground.

  My only solace was the dark, clear sky. The full moon shone brightly above me. A cool wind rustled the corn leaves. I stiffened as, from the darkness, came the hideous cry of the were-sheep.

  "Baaaa!"

  That was followed shortly by something that crashed through the cornstalks just to my left. I decided the right was a good direction and took off down the rows. The pumpkin in my hands grew heavier and heavier.

  "You need to go on a diet, Jack," I gasped. "And I'm not just talking about brain weight-loss."

  I saw a light at the end of the tunnels and stumbled out onto the far lane of the main road in front of the fairgrounds. The noise behind me grew louder and I turned around in time to see the were-sheep emerge from the cornfield. It flew through the air at me with its teeth bared and its sharp hooves pointed at my gut.

  A pair of strong headlights and a blare of a horn caught both our attentions. I looked down the road and watched a semi truck barreling towards us. The shiny grate slammed into the were-sheep and drove it down the road a few yards before the driver slammed his foot on the brake. The truck skidded to a stop two dozen yards from where I stood.

  The truck door opened and the driver hopped out. He glanced back and squinted his eyes at me.

  "That you, Misty?" he called out.

  I blinked at him. "Charlie?"

  He walked towards me and looked me over. "Sherry told me about last night, so when I heard on the CB about some trouble at the fairgrounds I came right over."

  I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Perfect timing."

  He glanced over his shoulder at his truck and frowned. "What was that thing I hit, anyway? Was it chasing you?"

  "A were-sheep," I told him. I passed him and walked over to the truck.

  "Where's what?" he returned.

  A shadow flew overhead and Roland landed in front of me. He stepped forward and grasped my shoulders. His lips were tight and his eyes looked me over.

  "Are you all right?" he asked me.

  I held up the pumpkin. "Me and Jack are fine, but I don't know about the were-sheep."

  We all glanced at the front of the truck. There wasn't a bleat out of our foe. We inched forward and peeked around the front. We found the sheep, or what was left of it. I cringed and turned away.

  "That's gotta hurt," I commented.

  Charlie pursed his lips and shook his head. "If I would've known it was just a sheep-"

  "It was a were-sheep," Roland corrected him.

  Charlie took off his cap and scratched his head. "What's that?"

  "A sheep with attitude," I quipped. Roland stepped forward and inspected the grill of the truck. "That's going to take a hell
of a cleaning."

  Roland frowned and turned to Charlie. "Silver?"

  Charlie smiled and shrugged. "I thought it might be useful. My truck's the biggest weapon I've got."

  "Silver what?" I asked them.

  "My grate," Charlie explained. "And I've got a garlic-scented freshener in the cab and this baby-" he pulled a large pistol from his coat, "-I got just the other day after I called you, Misty. The clip's got twenty silver bullets in it.

  "Misty!"

  I turned and saw my aunt and uncle rush down the trucks towards me. Aunt Ma wrapped me in a hug that threatened to make my victory pointless.

  "Are you all right?" Uncle Seward asked me.

  "Fine," I squeaked.

  Aunt Ma pulled us apart and looked down at Jack.

  "And my pumpkin!" she exclaimed. I handed the jack-o-lantern back to her and she smiled at me. "I'm so proud of you, Misty, but never do that to me again."

  I snorted. "I don't think I'll be in that position again."

  Uncle Seward looked past me at the truck. "Is it dead?"

  "Deader than Roland," I assured him.

  "So what now?"

  I glanced at the fairgrounds. The fires danced high in the air, and far-off came the cry of the firetruck and ambulance sirens. Most of the parking lot was empty, but a few other people straggled out from the dark corners of the fairgrounds buildings.

  "I think Roland and I'll get going. I don't think we could explain to the medics why he doesn't have a pulse," I pointed out.

  "Then we'll see you tomorrow night for dinner," Aunt Ma insisted. "It's the least we could do for you both."

  "Just as long as there isn't any squash on the menu," I requested.

  She smiled and held up the pumpkin I'd risked my life to save. "Of course. My jack-o-lantern will be the prized centerpiece as a pie."

  My face fell and I turned to Roland. "You ready?"

  "Very much so," he replied.

  He swept me into his arms and jumped into the air. We flew over the decimation once before headed back home. I snuggled against his cool chest and glanced up into his pale face.

  "So what was it you wanted to talk to me about earlier?" I asked him.