Blood Curse (Misty Cedars - Vampire Edition)

by Adrienne Blake

  And then the doorbell rang. MacMillan turned to answer it.

  Holly and Noah exchanged anxious glances while MacMillan fumbled with the door latch.

  "Package for you. I just need you to sign here."

  "Thanks."

  Hearing MacMillan's voice made the hairs on Holly's neck stand on end. It made him more real, somehow, and that gave her the willies. This poor guy's family had been brutally murdered, and now she was about to attack him with a sword. The world was fucked up.

  No, that wasn't true, she reminded herself. All she had to do was corner him. If things went well, there would be no need to spill his blood. Blood. Oooh. She licked her lips. No. Now wasn't the time.

  The door closed again, and Holly recovered her firm grip on the sword. This time MacMillan didn't turn their way, but walked straight past them with a small, flat package held precariously under his arm. He disappeared into the dining area.

  It was now or never.

  The second he was out of sight, Holly stood up, her back still arched a little, the sword ahead of her. Noah began to do the same, but she stopped him with a gesture.

  "Me first," she mouthed. There was no point putting all their cards on the table at once.

  Noah looked dubious at first, but then he nodded his agreement and crouched low again.

  Silently, Holly crept away from her hiding place and tiptoed over to the one section of wall which separated her from MacMillan. She offered up a silent prayer, and then, after a final glance around the corner, she stepped boldly into the room.

  MacMillan didn't even notice her. The newly-arrived package was left half-opened on the dining room table but it wasn't the package which caught her attention. MacMillan had rolled up his sleeve and was just pulling a fat little fish from the tank. The poor little critter wriggled and squirmed, fighting for dear life, almost as if it knew what was coming next. But it was no use.

  MacMillan threw his head back and with a single greedy gulp, swallowed the terrified fish whole.

  "Holy shit! What did you just do?" Oops.

  In a flash, MacMillan turned round. He took one look at Holly with her sword, and his cop instincts kicked in. He grabbed a chair, and with a powerful swing, almost knocked the sword from her grasp. But with her new reflexes, Holly managed to jump out of his way and held the katana high over her head.

  "Look, I just want you to listen!" gasped Holly. She stole a quick glance over her shoulder, expecting Noah to appear at any moment.

  But MacMillan wasn't that easily appeased. He ran around to the other side of the table, putting the tank of fish between him and her, his eyes darting about, searching for anything he could use to defend himself. Holly knew she could corner him; her reflexes were greater than any man's were now. All she had to do was dash around to where he was and corner him with the blade.

  She didn't have to. With a mighty leap the wolf sprang from around the corner and began snapping at MacMillan's hands while growling like crazy. Bewildered, MacMillan backed into his own window, and raised his shaking hands in defeat.

  "Alright, alright, take anything you want. Just call this fucking dog off me!"

  The wolf took a step back, though his ears remained high and alert. His low, menacing growl continued, reminding the trapped cop that he was one move away from being bitten.

  Holly lowered her sword just a fraction. "That's better. Trust me, we really do just wanna talk..." She was about to join them when her gaze fell on the open package lying on the table in front of her.

  "What the fuck! That's my picture, from my driving license!" gasped Holly, her mouth open in wonder.

  MacMillan made a small movement in her direction, but the wolf snapped, reminding the cop just who was in charge. She picked up the package and shook out the contents with her free hand. She grabbed the photograph first.

  "Why was my picture delivered to your fucking house?"

  MacMillan stared at her face and went to move again, but once again the wolf snapped at his heels, and he flattened himself up against the glass.

  And then a strange thing happened. MacMillan's face took on a whole different appearance, like a man possessed. He began to giggle like a lunatic. And then his features softened, and he grew deadly serious.

  "My m-master sent it."

  "Your master?"

  "Y-yes."

  She knew exactly who he meant, but she wanted him to answer her questions so she kept pressing, not giving him time to stop and think. "Who is your master?"

  MacMillan lowered his head and squinted, as if fighting an internal urge not to speak. "He m-makes me, do things. Arrrgh."

  Is he in pain? "Who does? Who is your master? What does he make you do?"

  Holly walked around the table, the photograph in one hand, the sword in the other. She pointed the tip of the blade close to his chin.

  "Don't make me draw..." Holly licked her lips, "...blood. I'll ask again. Who is your master?"

  "My Master says his MacMillan is special. He has promised MacMillan that when he has reaped enough souls, he will give a gift to MacMillan." He rubbed his hands covetously. "He has promised me immortality, and I will be able to reap my own souls...." He stared hungrily at the fish tank and licked his lips.

  Holly felt sick. This was some fucked-up individual, she thought. And she wondered just how many souls Micah had reaped over the centuries.

  MacMillan bent over double, squinting and groaning in pain. Once again, Holly got the distinct impression he was fighting some irresistible urge. Holly shifted the blade out of harm's way. The poor man looked more to be pitied than feared.

  With the blade down, MacMillan seemed to relax a little.

  "Tell me about the picture?" said Holly. "Does he find pictures of all his victims and have them sent here?"

  "My master, he takes them. They are the ghosts of the souls he has taken."

  "Takes them?"

  "Not that one. That one I ordered for him. He asked me to."

  "How many has he taken?" she asked.

  "Hundreds. Maybe thousands, I dunno. He likes to look at them. See." In a flash, MacMillan snapped the photograph out of Holly's fingers and held it to his breast, as if cherishing a great prize. The wolf growled low, but MacMillan merely leaned away. "They're all so pretty. See?"

  MacMillan stared at the image, admiring it at first and then he gasped. "This is you!" he said. And then he smiled and slowly lowered himself onto a seat at the table. "So one little beauty got away, did she?" he mumbled under his breath. "Good for you, good for yoooou."

  "Where are all the other pictures?" asked Holly. She didn't see them here. If MacMillan delivered them to Micah....

  "I don't know. My Master takes them away, but he never tells...."

  The picture thing was creepy. Holly didn't know why he kept souvenirs of the dead, and what was more, she didn't want to know. Was it a sexual thing? Or like a serial killer did he just like mementos of his victims. In a few hours, would she be like this? It made her want to throw up.

  "Where is your master now?" asked Holly. "We need to find him."

  "He knows, he knows, he knows," said MacMillan.

  "What does he know?"

  "He knows you got away, my lovely. He thought you were dead, but now he knows."

  He began rocking on the seat, almost sadly. The man was clearly insane, but who could blame him, given what he had been through?

  "How does he know?"

  "He c-controls me," answered MacMillan. "He is coming now, yes, he is coming. He is coming for you." A cold snake of fear uncoiled in Holly's stomach.

  "How? How can he travel by day?"

  "Not travel. He comes in his mind. He haunts me. He stole my babies, and now I must serve him. I must do his bidding until he no longer has need of me. And I have been a good servant. I give my master what he needs. I give him souls, and I will be rewarded." MacMillan's face screwed up, as if the very thing he coveted also filled him with horror and dread.

  Holly felt s
ick, but she had to keep pressing. She needed to find out all she could from this poor, schizophrenic man.

  "Where is your master, now?"

  "He sleeps, he sleeps with the dead."

  "In a coffin?"

  "Yes, yes, that is where he rests."

  Holly looked to the ceiling, dubious. "Does he sleep here?"

  "No no, he would never honor me with that."

  "What do you mean, he sleeps with the dead? Is he buried some place?"

  "Buried, no, no, no. But he is deep within a crypt, yes, yes. He sleeps. Soon, he will awaken, and then there will be no more pretty lady. I am sorry. You are very beautiful, but no one can deny my master, no one."

  "But which cemetery?"

  "In the oldest one in Misty Cedars. My Master lies in the church. The old church. Beneath the broken altar."

  "You mean, don't tell me you mean, St. Judes?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "No holy fucking way! We were just there. Why didn't I sense him?"

  The wolf began to tremble and yelp, and MacMillan watched in frozen horror as he transformed back into a man. Holly kept her sword trained on the cop in case he panicked and attempted something stupid, but MacMillan remained glued to the spot throughout the entire show, seemingly mesmerized by what he was witnessing.

  At last, Noah crouched on the ground, naked and panting as he recovered from his metamorphosis.

  "You said you felt giddy," said Noah. "Maybe you did sense him, but just didn't realize what it was you were feeling."

  "Yeah, but why didn't he sense me?"

  "He was resting. Maybe he wasn't looking for you, I dunno. Even if he had sensed you, he would be powerless until sunset."

  Dammit! Micah had been RIGHT THERE, and they'd let him get away. She cursed their bad luck over this missed opportunity. Still, kicking herself now wasn't going to help any.

  "Hadn't you better put on some pants?" said Holly. "I've never heard of a vampire-slayer who did it in the buff."

  Unabashed, Noah took a moment to stretch his exhausted limbs, then dashed around the corner to recover his clothes and the bag.

  "But what are we gonna do with him?" asked Holly. "Should we tie him up or something? We can't just leave him here. He will betray us."

  "I don't know if you were listening, but he already has," said Noah, pulling up his jeans and fastening them at the waist. "He can communicate telepathically with Micah." MacMillan cringed at the mention of his master's name. "He's betrayed us, whether he wanted to or not," continued Noah. "No, we're gonna have to take him with us. Anyway, he might have more to tell, but we must hurry." Noah looked out of the window. "We don't have much time."

  "But if we take him, Micah will know everything we're doing, won't he?" said Holly. "Maybe we could knock him out?"

  Noah stared out the window, thinking. After a moment he turned around.

  "Do you own a bible?" he asked MacMillan.

  "It's... It's... in my bedroom. By the bed."

  "Okay. I'm gonna get it. Keep that sword on him until I come back." He looked threateningly at the cop. "Are we going to have any trouble from you?"

  MacMillan looked up. There was no fight left in him at all. "I'll be good."

  "Excellent."

  Without wasting any more time, Noah dashed up the stairs and returned quickly with the cop's bible. He also carried his Glock, which he checked was fully loaded before stashing it in the back of his pants.

  Noah held up the bible to MacMillan's face. MacMillan looked confused, but there was no other reaction.

  "Do you have a crucifix?" he asked Holly. She crinkled her brow. "Okay, maybe not." He turned to the cop.

  "Well? You got one?"

  "My master made me get rid of them...." Then, apparently eager to please, he added, "...but there's one in the kitchen in the drawer by the sink."

  Holly ran to get it and was back in a flash. It was a plain wooden cross with a rosary looped around the center.

  "Hold it to his forehead," said Noah.

  Holly did as she was told. Nothing happened.

  Noah sighed, but then his face lit up. "The cup, the chalice, get it out of the bag and put that on his skin."

  Holly was confused, but there was no time to ask questions. She rummaged through the bag and withdrew Mamaw's silver goblet.

  "Put it on his skin."

  MacMillan looked as confused as Holly felt but offered no resistance as she rubbed the cup against his face. There was a blistering sizzle; MacMillan yelped with pain and grabbed his face.

  After a few seconds he looked up, his expression a mixture of confusion and horror.

  "Oh God... what have I done... he knows you're here... you have to get out... He'll kill you both as soon as the sun goes down. Leave, you've got to get out of here."

  "What just happened?" asked Holly.

  Noah pointed to the goblet. "Somehow that blocks the connection between him and Micah. It breaks the telepathy."

  "Brilliant!" said Holly.

  "MacMillan," said Noah. "Can he still read you?"

  "I dunno," said MacMillan, still cradling his head. "It's not as strong as before. Maybe a little."

  "Okay, well you're coming with us. Holly, if he gets that look again, use the cup."

  She nodded.

  "One last thing," said Noah. "Give me that thing around your neck."

  Holly grasped the vial Mamaw had given her. "You mean this?" She took it off and handed to Noah, who pulled out the cork.

  "Now cut me."

  "What? Are you nuts?"

  "Trust me, the shit in that vial is useless against Micah. But with a drop of my shifter blood, it might actually kill him. I should have thought if it earlier!"

  "Yeah, if we can only convince him to drink it somehow," sneered Holly.

  "Just do it."

  Reluctantly, Holly drew the sword away from MacMillan, and ever so carefully, she nicked Noah's finger.

  Noah rolled his eyes. "Oh for the love of the almost undead, don't pussyfoot about. Really cut me, for heaven's sake."

  Holly hesitated.

  "Oh for the love of God," said Noah. He clenched the blade in his palm and making a fist, squeezed the blood carefully into the vial. He then popped the cork back on top and shook it up some.

  Holly looped the necklace back round her neck, ready to go.

  Noah pointed the gun at MacMillan. "No funny business. and I promise we won't harm you. One false move, and I'll plug a bullet right between your eyes, capiche?"

  "I won't, I won't. You can trust me now, I swear."

  Holly had her doubts. She could see Noah had, too, but what choice did they have?

  "Okay, let's go," she said.

  MacMillan nodded, and with his head down, he shuffled over to the door, closely followed by Noah. It was seven-thirty already. Time was running out. They were down to the wire. Holly crossed herself, looked up to the darkening clouds above, and prayed the angels were still on their side.

  14

  Dark Angel

  Holly watched sadly as the sun turned a light pink and kissed the top of the distant mountain ahead of them. Normally she would have watched this in awe. There were enough Cirrus clouds to make for a blood-red sunset later. But she could not appreciate it. Before the sun rose again, her fate would be sealed. An eternity of blood-lust, darkness, and a soul damned forever loomed before her. A voice in the back of her mind said, Hey, that doesn't sound too bad! She dismissed the thought angrily. It was the last thing she wanted.

  Noah stopped the Alfa and immediately turned off the lights.

  Holly was sitting in the tiny back seat, the gun trained on MacMillan. She leaned forward. "What are we going to do with him? We can't leave him here and we shouldn't take him inside. Micah might gain control over him again, and then we'll have two to fight instead of one."

  "He won't, I give you my word," said MacMillan. "On the souls of my lost family." She saw how hard his eyes were, how his teeth now clenched with determination as
he recalled those he had lost to the vampire.

  "I appreciate that," said Noah, "but let's be real. It's not like you could stop him. I'm sorry, but we've enough to do without worrying about you. You're going to have to stay here in the car until we're done. Holly, get the rope out of the bag, please."

  "I promise I...," began MacMillan.

  "And maybe gag him, too," added Noah, although he was smiling.

  MacMillan sighed and shut up.

  As quick as she could, Holly fumbled around in the bag and pulled out a length of rope. She handed it to Noah.

  "Lean forward," he said.

  MacMillan grumbled, so Holly flashed his gun in front of his face. MacMillan shook his head, but did as he was told. "Okay, okay. Do what you gotta do."

  "Where is the coffin?" asked Noah.

  "Hidden in a crypt, below the altar. At least that's where I always used to meet him. There are doors to either side. You'll find a stairway that goes down. You'll need a flashlight."

  Holly watched as Noah expertly knotted the rope around MacMillan's wrists, behind his back. He secured him to the chair by looping the rope around the headrest and then the cop's neck, not tight enough to choke him but certainly enough to ensure he wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

  "Okay, you're done," said Noah. He opened the front windows a notch or two for air. "Let's do this. We'll be back as soon as we can."

  "We hope," added Holly.

  Holly and Noah got out of the car, Holly slinging the bag over her shoulder while Noah retrieved the sword from the trunk of the Alfa. He handed her the sword.

  "You should take this, as well as the gun. I may need to shift in there so there's no point me having them."

  "The gun's not going to be much use anyway, not against a vampire." She stuffed it into the bag.

  "Yeah, you're probably right. Come on," said Noah.

  They made their way quickly across the neglected cemetery. Holly pulled at the church door, then turned her back to it. Above her, the sinking sun was already a deep cerise. She clenched her teeth and hoped Noah couldn't see her fear.

  "We don't have much time, but there's something I need you to promise before we do this," said Holly, quickly.