by Rain, J. R.
But now I did. Go figure.
Parked next to my own truck was Gracie’s car. She had arrived with two iced coffees, which I thought was considerate of her. We had made some small talk, and I had gushed like a smitten teen. I wasn’t sure she knew that I was gushing. Maybe she just thought I had a speech impediment.
“So, now that you have me out here in the middle of nowhere, overlooking your bizarre idea of a scenic view,” said Gracie, sipping her iced coffee and watching me, “what did you want to talk about?”
“Vampires,” I said.
She nodded and continued watching from over her plastic cup. “I figured as much.”
“I met two of them this morning. Two brothers.”
“The Salvatore brothers, I assume.”
I glanced at her. “You assume correctly. How do you know about them?”
“You could say my family has a long history with the Salvatores, especially the brothers. Why do you bring them up?”
“Well, for one, because they are vampires.”
“Mr. Long, in this town, that doesn’t mean much.”
“What do you know of this town?” I asked.
“Nuh-uh, Mr. Detective Man. You tell me why you brought up the Salvatore brothers first, and then I’ll tell you what I know. Maybe.”
I sipped my own coffee. The setting sun was warm on my face, shining nearly directly into my car. Michael had said that the vampires of this town wore magical rings to exist in sunlight. I had to admit that I had already checked Gracie’s fingers for rings … and found none. Also, she didn’t give off that pungent hint of death. In fact, she smelled good. Very, very good. With no perfume on at all, her fragrance contained hints of toothpaste, soap, and the sun-kissed skin of a silky blonde who liked the outdoors, probably as much as I did.
She’s no vampire, I thought. She’s too … clean.
I considered her proposal then nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll tell you what I know, if you tell me what you know.”
“You might have yourself a deal there, partner,” she said.
“Damon Salvatore all but admitted to killing your sister and her boyfriend.”
Gracie had been about to drink from her straw when she paused. “He said that?”
“Actually, yes. Worse, he seemed proud of it.”
“Damon has always been a dick.”
“You seem to know him,” I said.
“I know of him. Through whisperings from my family. Remember, Mr. Long. I don’t live in town, and for the most part I have been shunned by my family. I am not privy to all the family secrets.”
“But you know about the vampires?”
“All the founding families are privy to the vampire problem, Mr. Long.”
I knew of the founding families, of course. You couldn’t go anywhere in this town without hearing something about them, or celebrating something about them. If ever there was a town that idolized its forefathers and foremothers, it was this one. Now I was beginning to see why.
“Privy, in what way?” I asked.
“The founding families have made it their life’s mission to control the vampire problem.”
“Then why do the Salvatore brothers walk in daylight?”
“The Salvatore brothers are in with the sheriff and other family members. They have proven to be helpful at times … .” Her voice trailed off.
“While other times they kill wantonly,” I said.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“They have to be stopped,” I said.
“I agree,” she said, setting her jaw. “I don’t much like vampires.”
We had both forgotten our iced coffees by now. The sun had set a little more, shining even more in our faces. I relished the warmth, even as my mind raced.
“They said something else, too.”
Gracie looked at me. “Do tell.”
“They said that it had come to their attention that I was much more than a private detective.”
“Oh? And why would they say that? Do you have your own deep dark secret, Max?”
God, I loved the way she said my name, drawing it out like a caress. I focused my slightly scattered thoughts. I debated how much to tell her. Really, really debated, then said, “I think so, yes.”
And then I told her everything, I mean everything.
Dear Bloody Diary,
We got a surprising visitor today. Imagine my astonishment when I opened our front door to find Gracie Lockwood standing there.
“You killed my sister,” she said.
“When? Who? You’ll have to be a little more specific.”
“How’s this for specific?” she said, and proceeded to level a few devastating punches that sent me reeling across the foyer.
I sat up, holding my jaw. “Let me guess,” I said, still feeling the effects of the blows. “You inherited the werewolf gene?”
She was on me again, moving supernaturally fast. But I’d had enough of her little tirade and swept under her in a blink. I was behind her before she knew it. I grabbed one of her arms and pressed her against the wall. I leaned in. “I’m sorry if I killed your sister,” I said. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m sure she was delicious, whoever she was.”
“The campers, last week.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “She was especially delicious.”
She spun out of my grip, swept my legs out from under me, and, as I fell, I just managed to stop a wooden stake she had been wielding. Turns out, it wasn’t meant for my heart. Instead, she drove it deep into my gut, where it veered off my spine. I hate when that happens.
I gasped and rolled over as Stefan came running in. He pulled out the stake and turned on Gracie. “What the hell is this all about?”
“Your brother is a bastard.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I should kill him.”
“Get in line, sister,” I said, still gasping. “Wrong choice of words.”
Fury lined her face, and her pupils, I saw, had flared yellow. Oh, yes, she carried the Lockwood curse indeed. The werewolf curse.
“Other than the obvious, you’re here for something else, or else you would have driven that stake into my brother’s heart.”
“I should have.”
“Well, maybe. So, why are you here?”
The hellion Lockwood stared at me some more, breathing hard—and looking ravishing—and said, “I have a proposal for you, boys.”
My brother and I looked at each other.
“Go on,” said Stefan.
She did … and what a proposal it was.
D. Salvatore
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
* * *
I chose the spot carefully.
Actually, the spot had been Gracie’s idea. She knew of a clearing in the woods that would be perfect. She liked my idea, and, after I had given her a little demonstration of what I could do, she was very enthusiastic about my idea. Boy, did she hate vampires—and who could blame her?
I had brought Maggie, my .44 Magnum, which was in a shoulder holster inside my light jacket. Fat lot of good a gun would do. According to Michael, regular bullets only slowed a vampire. When I had asked what irregular bullets were, he had said “wooden bullets, of course.”
“This is a crazy-ass world,” I whispered and stepped out into the clearing.
Still, having the gun by my side felt comforting, although I knew I could do so much more than a gun could these days. I had mentioned to the two vampire brothers that they could be doing good in the world, rather than plundering the world. The truth was, that could be said about me, too. I now possessed phenomenal gifts that I could use for good.
It was something to think about at a later time.
For now, I had two blood-sucking brothers to deal with.
I checked the time: 7:30 p.m. It was the appointed time. Funny, I should have felt more nervous than I did. However, seeing those two cocky bastards today took away my nerves. Now, I just wanted to help put them away. And, s
ince I knew no mortal jail would hold them—at least, not for long—I had a very different idea of how to put them away. Michael’s final instruction to me had been on working with the Earth Elementals, after all. Gracie had liked my plan. I liked that she liked my plan.
Yeah, I think I had a crush on her. Or more.
Go figure.
I made my way into the center of the clearing. There, I cleared my thoughts of Gracie and the brothers and vampires and Michael and everything. I did what I was taught and focused on my breathing and now, the whispering of the forest reached my ears. Soft whisperings at first, and then, more urgent. Michael had told me that with time and practice and long stretches of meditation, I would be able to understand the whisperings … and even speak back.
For now, I breathed deeply, filling my lungs and listened to the whispering … and was not very surprised when the whispering became more and more urgent. A breeze wafted over me, bring with it the tell-tale scent of decay.
They’re here, I thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
* * *
“Why hello! If it isn’t it our favorite private dick,” said a voice that I knew all too well.
I opened my eyes to find Damon standing before me. “Where’s your brother?”
“He’s preoccupied, Mr. Private Dick.”
“Enough with the dick jokes, okay?”
“Who’s joking?” he said, stepping out of the surrounding woods so I could see him a little more clearly. To my amazement, I could see better in the night. In fact, the night air seemed suffused with particles of light that I had never known existed. “Besides,” said Damon, “I’m the one you want, right?”
“You killed the campers,” I said. “So, yes, you have to pay.”
“Pay?” he said, smirking. “What is this, the Old West?”
“You tell me,” I said, “since you’re older than the hills.”
“Very funny, dick. So, how does this go down?”
I didn’t like that he was alone—no, he wasn’t alone. I caught more decay on the wind, a wind that was coming from a different direction … a wind that was meant for only me. Yes, Mother Nature was taking care of me.
“Your brother is behind me,” I said. “I can smell him.”
Damon smirked, and then called out, “Stefan, you might as well come out—and please shower next time. Sheesh. Way to screw up a perfectly good ambush.”
As I turned at the sound of footsteps behind me, Damon rushed me, moving faster than I could have possibly believed. I had just enough time to raise my palm and focus my thoughts, sending a blast of air that literally knocked the bastard off his feet.
Damon rolled a couple of times, scrambled to his feet, and then dusted himself. “What the hell just happened?”
“I don’t know,” said Stefan, behind me. “Maybe we should ask her.”
As he stepped out of the woods, he had Gracie by the hair, pulling her painfully along with him. She was oddly quiet, although her face was tear-streaked, until I realized she had been undoubtedly compelled to be here, to do as these bastards said. I saw how they played, and they played for keeps.
“Let her go,” I ordered. For the first time, I saw the perils of my new life—that others who I cared about could get hurt. Interestingly, my life was devoid of anyone close to me. I had no parents, siblings, wife, or kids. Maybe I was ideally suited to this line of work.
That is, until I’d developed feelings for Gracie.
Still, feelings or not, I would never allow someone innocent to be hurt.
“No deal,” said Stefan.
“She’s innocent.”
“No, she hired you,” said Damon, stepping closer to me. I noted he did so warily this time. I truly didn’t think he knew what hit him. “That makes her a problem. What do we do with problems, Stefan?”
The taller brother gave me a horrific smile, then flashed a small knife—and promptly plunged it into Gracie’s thigh. She screamed but did not fight.
I screamed and was about to rush forward when the bastard held the now-bloody knife high and said, “The next one goes right into her heart.”
I stopped, breathing hard. The whisperings of the woods seemed to surround me, nearly overwhelming me. I got a strong sense that something was wrong with this picture, except I didn’t know what. The only thing that I could see that was wrong was that a girl I had started caring for was being used as a human pincushion.
“Let her go.”
“No.”
“What do you want?” I asked. I noted that Damon was creeping even closer.
“We want to drink from you,” said Stefan, still holding Gracie and still holding the small dagger over her heart.
“Why?”
“Because we’re thirsty, that’s why,” said Damon.
“So, if I let you drink from me, you will release her?”
“That’s the plan,” said the taller brother.
I pretended to think about it, knowing that an innocent girl’s life hung in the balance, knowing that if I screwed this up, more than likely she would be dead, and me as well. As I pretended to think about it, storm clouds began appearing above, building rapidly. Supernaturally fast.
Damon pointed up as a cold wind began to blow. “Is that you? You’re going to bring a little rain? How cute. Stefan, kill her.”
“Wait!” I shouted.
The taller brother did wait, the knife hovering over Gracie’s heart. And that was all the time I needed. Two jagged bolts of lightning appeared from the sky, ripped through the night air, and drove deep into the hearts of both vampires.
I stumbled back, amazed by the power and fury of the lightning. Both vampires were hurled back into the trees. I could smell burning flesh. Mercifully, Gracie seemed unhurt, at least not mortally wounded. She had crumpled to the ground, holding her leg and weeping.
I dashed to her side. She grabbed onto me tightly.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I knew that she wasn’t okay. The bastard had stabbed her leg.
“I’m okay now,” she said, a perhaps a little too calmly for me.
I was about to frown when a great force threw me to the ground. That great force had been Gracie herself. I was about to ask what the hell was going on when I saw her blazing yellow eyes.
“What the hell is going on?”
“What’s going on, Detective,” said a familiar cocky voice behind me, “is that we need your heart.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
* * *
I craned my head to see Damon appear in my line of sight. His leather jacket was still smoking from the lightning strike. He peeled it off. The shirt beneath had a black hole in the center of it.
“That was my favorite jacket. That’ll cost you one heart. Yours.”
I looked back up at Gracie who was currently pinning me to the ground. Her amber eyes blazed and I sensed a sadness in her, but that didn’t stop her from keeping me pinned down.
“Gracie, snap out of it!” I said.
“Hurry,” she said to the vampires, as if I wasn’t even a blip on her emotional radar. “We don’t want another lightning trick.”
And with that, Damon pounced—or, rather, tried to. After all, the ground beneath him gave way, swallowing him up in the process. And just as quickly as he disappeared, the ground above him sealed up.
“Damon!” shouted Stefan, and even as he lunged forward, the ground beneath him fell away, as well. He was gone in a blink … even as the ground reappeared.
Gracie leaped back, stumbling. “I’m sorry, Max. I—I was compelled. They forced me to attack you.”
I recalled Michael’s words that supernatural creatures cannot be compelled.
My head was still spinning. Jesus, had I really just sealed up two vampires within the Earth? Had Gracie just betrayed me? She continued backing up, holding her hands out before her.
“What—what are you?” I asked. And then it occurred to me … those eyes. Wolf eyes. “You lie.”
“No, Ma
x—I swear!”
“You are not human.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, then decided better of it. “I’m sorry, Max.”
“They were going to kill me. They were going to take my heart.”
Her betrayal hit me like a bomb, blowing up everything I had built her up to be in my mind. As the realization hit me that the girl I was interested in, a girl I was crushing on, was plotting to kill me—and feast from my heart, with the vampires, Gracie turned and dashed off, running faster than I had ever seen any human run. Except, of course, she wasn’t a human.
She was a werewolf.
We stood together, scanning our surroundings. Neither of us could see much, but it was obvious we weren’t going anywhere soon.
“It’s a cavern,” said Stefan. “Sealed all around.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I said. “That private dick is really beginning to annoy me.”
“Well, that private dick is a very powerful Elemental, and we’re screwed, big brother.”
“Your cell phone working?” I asked.
“No, crushed. Yours?”
“Crushed.”
“Great,” said Stefan. “So, we’re trapped.”
“Looks like it. Any chance Bambi got trapped down here with us? We’re gonna be hungry soon.”
And that’s when my little brother sucker punched me, really laying me out. As I picked myself up, rubbing my jaw, I said, “What was that for?”
“Getting me into this mess.”
“How was I supposed to know the bastard could booby-trap the forest?”
“We have to think of a way out of here.”
“While you think, I’m going to start digging.”
“There’s probably a few tons of dirt above us,” said my bro, ever the pessimist.
“Then I suggest you start digging, too,” I said, and then whispered to myself: “Dear Bloody Diary … I’m screwed.”