Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Michaels, Lydia

  “Mom?” she heard Anna call from the hall.

  Abilene began to panic, her breath coming in short, hysterical pants. Were immortals known for psychotic fits? And if she were truly losing her mind, would she possess the humility needed to stand idly by and watch it go?

  There was a soft scratch at the door. “Abilene?”

  She stood motionless as the door opened and Annalise stepped in. “There you are. I wanted to see if you…oh.”

  Abilene watched as Anna’s eyes finally spotted the bloody state of her room. “I’ve made a mess,” Abilene mumbled lamely. Anna looked at her as if trying to understand what had happened. Abilene felt tears prickle her eyes. Her body began to quake as the reality of it all suddenly became too much, the silence of her life finally too heavy to bear. “I’ve made a mess of everything,” she said as the back of her palm pressed over her lips as if she could quiet the pain of her words.

  Annalise rushed to wrap her in her arms just as Abilene collapsed to the bloodied floor and began to sob. “Oh, Mom, no. Don’t do this to yourself. Whatever it is, whatever has happened, we will fix it.”

  Abilene sobbed like a babe. Her shift and apron slowly faded into pink as the puddle seeped into the fibers of her gown. Anna continued to hold her and whisper soothing words. She felt atrocious for being too weak to remain silent. It was as if she could actually see herself breaking into tiny pieces, parts of herself fragmenting and falling into spaces she could not collect them from. She felt as if she was dying and no one, save her daughter-in-law, would care.

  * * * *

  Cain watched as the blackness of sleep flickered at the waking of his subconscious. He was being pulled into a dream.

  “Cain?” He heard Anna’s distant voice calling to him.

  His dreaming world flickered as if trying to locate the exact frequency they connected on, as if there was one specific plane of existence that belonged only to them. First appeared the expansive grass, then a satisfying sense of nostalgia overcame him. This was his home. He knew he lay on a bed, sleeping in the noisy suburbs of Pennsylvania beside a lovely naked mortal woman, but his mind was elsewhere. Anna had called his sleeping mind home.

  He smiled as the sporadic trees took shape, building the world around them. There was a flicker of light and the scent of fresh air and the always-present honeysuckle fragrance that accompanied Annalise. And there she was. Always beautiful, with her fiery-golden hair and soft, loving smile. His brother was a lucky male to have the love of such an incredible woman.

  He looked toward her belly. The child in her womb was growing and this pleased him to no end. He smiled. “How is my brother, beautiful Anna? No doubt he is prouder than the proudest cock on the farm at the sight of you swelling with his seed.” When she did not immediately laugh at his teasing Cain looked to her eyes. Something was wrong. “What is it? What has happened? Is it Father?”

  She looked down. “No, not Jonas. It is your mother.”

  Cain sucked in a breath at the thought of trouble befalling his gentle mother. Although sweet and fiercely maternal, his mother was one of the most delicate females he had ever known. He loved her as completely as only a child could adore their mother and he would protect her with his last breath. “What is it?” He prayed she had not conceived and lost another babe. “Has she gotten with child again?”

  “No.” Whatever had happened, Annalise was having a difficult time telling him.

  “Just spit it out, Anna. If something has happened I need to know.”

  “Your mother is sick, Cain.”

  “Sick? Our kind does not get sick. Has she caught whatever has been ailing Father?”

  “Not that kind of sick.”

  “What other kind is there?”

  “I think she suffered a nervous breakdown.”

  “I do not understand what you are saying.”

  “Your father’s illness, not knowing what is causing him to withdraw and grow so lethargic, has taken a toll on all of us. We are concerned for him and do not want to alert the others to what is a private matter. Your mother wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened between her and Jonas, but I sort of walked in on her ‘falling apart.’”

  “What do you mean ‘falling apart’? My mother does not give in to emotional fits like many other females. I have watched her lose many children, a consequence of nature that would destroy lesser women, but she never handled it less than stoically. My mother is no crybaby.”

  “You’re wrong. She cries. All women cry. Only she sheds her tears in private, but today, when I saw her, it was more than crying. She was hysterical. I couldn’t seem to break through the fog of sadness and reach her. She seems to believe whatever is happening with your father is somehow her fault.”

  “What does my father have to say about this?”

  “I’m not sure that he cares!” Anna snarled.

  Cain leaned back, unaccustomed to such chilly emotions coming from his sister-in-law. “I assure you, my father cares. My mother has always been the one thing he cared about above all else, above The Order, above his children and perhaps even above his God—”

  “Then why the hell isn’t he doing something?”

  Cain raised his eyebrows at her outburst. “Has this ordeal driven you to swearing?”

  She rolled her eyes. His brother was a male that did not approve of his mate’s use of English curse words. Cain couldn’t care either way, but he always enjoyed teasing Anna about his twin’s conservative beliefs. Anna did not seem to be in any mood to be teased. “God damn it, Cain! I am not kidding. I don’t know what I have to do to get even one of you Hartzler men to take me seriously. Your mother is not well! This is no joke! She cannot continue to carry on like this. Adam refuses to interfere in your parents’ business because it is against the protection of family law. Jonas won’t talk to me. I assumed I could at least depend on you, who is always making light of the laws of The Order, to at least do something. I swear you are all as stubborn as mules and sometimes as thick as molasses.”

  Cain finally held his hands up before she unraveled into a rant that he would never be able to stifle. “Okay, okay, I’ll listen. Tell me exactly what you think I should do.”

  She looked up at him and he noticed a sheen of tears coating the whites of her eyes. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do. She is just so sad. It’s heartbreaking to see her this way.”

  “I doubt she will discuss it with me.”

  “Perhaps, but you could approach your father about whatever is going on.”

  Cain did not look forward to returning home just yet, but the idea of his mother being so lost was something he could not abide. “Should I return home?”

  Anna’s mouth moved, but Cain could not make out her words. There seemed to be some sort of interruption to their dream. His vision flickered.

  “Bodies drained of blood,” he heard an unfamiliar voice say.

  He frowned. “What?”

  Anna frowned. Her mouth moved again as if she were repeating herself.

  “Waiting for autopsy reports,” the interfering voice continued.

  Cain looked around irritably for the unknown speaker. “Anna, is that you?”

  No sound came from his sister-in-law’s mouth, yet he read her lips. Is what me?

  “Don’t you hear that?”

  Hear what? her lips asked irritably.

  “Unidentified female victim,” the annoying voice spoke.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. Anna’s image wavered, flickering in and out. A small, dark-haired woman suddenly appeared. Cain jumped at the intrusion. “Who is that?” Anna’s image flickered again, fading into an insubstantial presence without dimension. The strange little woman flickered. She was holding something in her hand. He vaguely heard Anna’s distant voice yell for him, yet her shout was nothing more than a whisper by the time it reached his ears. “Who are you?” He shouted at the woman standing before him.

  “Following the death of Sharon Foste
r, leaving her two children Dane Foster, age sixteen, and daughter, Cybil Foster, age ten, in the custody of the victim’s mother and last surviving relative, Clara Barnes.”

  “What?” Cain wondered, shaking his head. Nothing like this had ever happened. Although his ability to share dreams with his brother’s mate had always been a phenomenon among their people, he had never dreamt of another being. Who was this woman and what was she doing in his and Anna’s dream? Suddenly angry, he yelled, “Get out of here!”

  The world began to fade to black, the woman fading with it. He felt the back of his head twisting across the cotton fabric covering his pillow. His eyes blinked open and he was again in his motel room with the blonde female he had spent the night with, draped across his body. Disoriented, he moved a curtain of blonde hair off the female’s face. Her nose was squished into his chest and she snored softly just below his armpit.

  “Experts are questioning local zoos to see if there have been any animal outbreaks.”

  Cain jolted upright at the sound of the woman’s voice. It was the woman who had interrupted his dream. His bed companion flopped back onto the mattress and muttered some indecisive complaint in her sleep. Her pale breasts were soft and Cain momentarily considered licking them into flushed pink peaks like he had the night before. His thoughts were dispelled as he saw what was showing on the motel television.

  The woman from his dream occupied half of the screen while a man sitting at a desk occupied the other half.

  “Is there any word on whether or not this will interfere with the upcoming hunting season, Destiny?” the man sitting at the desk asked.

  “From what I can gather, Mike, the local hunters are eager to hit the woods in search of what could be the next Bigfoot,” the girl answered with a smile. Her skin was the color of coffee and cream. Her lips were full and a deep shade of red. Her black hair curled wildly around her heart-shaped face and her eyes seemed unnaturally big and feline shaped. Who was this woman and how had she broken into his dream? It must have been the sound of the television interfering with his sleep.

  Suddenly he began to register what it was the newswoman was actually saying. “This is the twelfth case this year of a female victim being found in these woods. Police are now suspecting they may have a serial killer on their hands. Each victim, whether a Jane Doe or identified female, has bared the same twin telltale markings along the neck. Whatever is attacking these women, be it man or beast, it is draining them of blood from the neck. The DA has yet to release any reports of sexual assault.”

  The screen switched to a man standing on the steps of a police station. The reporter, Destiny, was there as well, but dressed in different clothing. “District Attorney Schwartz,” she began, pressing her microphone in the direction of the other man. “Can you comment on whether any of these women have suffered any other signs of assault prior to their deaths?”

  The man appeared rather serious and sternly replied, “I am not at liberty to comment. However, I would like to state, for the record, these are women of our community. They are mothers, daughters, wives, and sisters. Many of them have left families and friends behind. The majority of these women were reportedly camping in what has always been a favorable environment for such recreation. I want to make this perfectly clear. Until whatever is out there is caught, these woods are not safe. Whatever is killing these women is strong and large. Do not be foolish and tempt fate. I would also like to advise the men and women out there planning on participating in the upcoming hunting season. Do not try to be a hero. If you see an animal approaching, use your head. Get to safety or better yet, get out of there.”

  The screen switched back to a split-screen shot of Destiny and the man at the desk. “Tragic,” the man at the desk declared.

  “It is, Mike. While we wait for the identity of this most recent Jane Doe to be announced, families throughout the community are struggling with the loss of loved ones. We will keep the victims like Dane and Cybil Foster in our thoughts and hope that we can soon bring whatever or whoever is out there wreaking such havoc to justice. This is Destiny Santos, reporting live from Jim Thorpe, Channel Six News.”

  The screen cut away and the woman was gone. Cain turned and thought for a moment. Bodies drained of blood. Twelve victims. All women. Could it be?

  Movement to his left followed by a soft waking sigh and a warm hand reaching for him under the sheet caught his attention. He had a lot to do. He needed to check on Larissa then he needed to head home to see what was happening with his mother. Perhaps he should have a quick look in the woods surrounding Jim Thorpe before he returned to the farm. But first, he would enjoy the luscious blonde sharing his bed one last time.

  Chapter 5

  Eleazar stood in the shadows of the trees just off the shoulder of the highway. As the autumn chills approached, greens began to fade and then burst into vibrant hues of plum, sienna, and gold. Every ordinary background was now an extraordinary display of nature’s beauty. Horizons dappled in lustrous shades selfishly detracted from every sunset that would be that season. He had always found fall to be life’s most radiant bow before surrendering to winter’s cold. Yet, there was no sense of beauty where he stood now, only a sense of depravity lurking nearby.

  Upon rising that evening, he had felt an undeniable pull to come to this exact place. He recognized it as if he had been there before but his mind knew he had not. Cars rushed by in the dark night, shushing past with the fleeting impression of mortal thoughts tickling Eleazar’s mind. The establishment across the freeway was a nondescript building with several cars occupying the lot. Club Silhouettes.

  He frowned. Why was he there? He had gone to bed hours before with a plan to travel east, yet here he stood, decidedly west, watching this place, without a clue as to why. He made to turn and continue on his search, but some deep part of his soul objected, causing his body to pivot once more and take in the slate-colored stucco building. Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned. He battled with his common sense telling him to move on and his instincts insisting he get closer.

  On a sigh he traveled across the street, hopped the median, and slipped into the lot between two parked cars. He heard a pulsing sound, rhythmic, pumping from deep within what a mortal would declare soundproof walls. His ears prickled at a muffled moan. His black eyes sought out where the moan was coming from. There, inside a shiny black car, was a woman leaning over a man’s lap. The man’s expression was enraptured by what the woman was doing to him. Eleazar felt the need to return to his morally sound home surge through him at the sight of such a public display. The English were hopeless.

  Running a hand down his crisp, white shirt, Eleazar moved toward the door of the facility. The brown paint of the heavy metal door was chipped, showing patches of battleship gray underneath. The knob was heavy and cool as it pressed into his palm. Once he opened the door, he was assailed with the scent he was now coming to categorize as human lust. What was this house of sin?

  The dark, stained carpet cushioned his steps. A low red light illuminated the small entry room. There were two doors ahead of him. Music pulsed through the walls loud enough to vibrate the soles of his feet. He heard someone approaching from the door on his left. Suddenly the knob turned and a large man entered the tight space. Eleazar took in the other male. He was overweight. A trickle of sweat rolled over the coarse stubble covering his flushed neck. The man adjusted his belt and pressed a few fingers into the waist of his pants, wedging his black shirt inside past his paunch.

  “Sorry, man, had to drop the kids off at the pool. If you know what I mean.”

  Eleazar did not. He gave the man a tight-lipped smile and probed his mind. Vito was the male’s name. He waited for the man to continue.

  Brushing his hands together, the man, Vito, asked, “Are you with either of the bachelor parties?”

  “I am not.”

  “Okay, then it’s gonna be an eight-dollar cover and there are two-dollar drafts ’til midnight. You got ID?”

&nbs
p; “ID?” Eleazar echoed.

  “Yeah, a license. Can’t go in if you are underage.”

  “I assure you I am certainly not ‘underage,’” Eleazar said, giving the mortal a gentle push to let him pass.

  The man stepped aside and he reached for the door on the right. “Wait,” Vito said, eyes still slightly glazed from the bishop’s compulsion. “You need a stamp to get in.”

  Eleazar looked at the device the man held in his hand. He then understood the man was waiting for his wrist. He extended his arm and waited as Vito press a red-ink silhouette of a female’s profile into the olive-colored flesh of his wrist. He frowned and decided he would wash off the mark as soon as he found a washroom.

  “One more thing,” Vito said as he again made to open the door. “No touching the girls unless you pay for it.”

  Pay for touching? The bishop nodded and opened the door. Loud music reverberated from one wall to the other. A voice that sounded almost robotic chanted followed by a raspy female voice singing about sex, chains, and whips. He was almost brought to his knees by the intensified emotions throbbing from the mortals in the room. All males. Crowds mulled around a bar and tables filled the dim room. Men of all ages occupied the seats, some dressed in street clothes, others dressed in formal attire.

  Lust. The stench of the emotion was suffocating. But what was causing it? His eyes surveyed the room and found the cause. Along the back wall, was a blue-lit stage, wide in the rear and shaping out like a T, the longest part extending in between the tables of men. There was a pole running from the platform to the ceiling at the end closest to the men.

  His mouth dropped slightly open at the sight of the woman dangling from the pole. She was bare breasted and covered in a sheen of sweat. Her hands caressed her hips and her fingers sensuously followed the line of her tapered midsection where they then fondled her large, firm breasts. She was dancing for these men! Completely disgusted, Eleazar turned.