Kindle Edition
Download to your Nook (eBook)
Amazon
Barnes & Noble.com
Author Laura Daleo - Official Site
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Story Bound Publishing, LLC
ISBN-10: 0997846100
Type: Fiction
Pages: 235
Copyright: 08/27/2016
ISBN-13: 9780997846102
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Dark Vampire Mystery
Finals are over, and twenty-year-old Claire Matthews can hardly wait to begin summer break until…she arrives home to an army of police swarming her parents’ front lawn. Detective Reynolds delivers the dreadful news that the man and woman inside the home are dead, and Claire is forced to identify their mummified exsanguinated bodies. Her world comes to a grinding halt when she learns that it is her mother and father who are the deceased, and her younger brother, JJ, is nowhere to be found. The predator accused…a vampire.
Claire is no stranger to vampires; in fact, these days’ vamps are a dime a dozen. One-hundred-thirty years ago a vow was made, combining the two worlds. A vampire’s survival no longer required a human sacrifice. Vampire Centers were created, offering human blood through transfusion; yet, why were her parents bled dry? Why now? What changed? Could a rogue vampire be responsible? Was it possible vampires, Nate and Parker, JJ’s best friends, suddenly hungered for human blood?
Excerpt
A vow of peace set forth this day, March 31st, 1885 joins mankind and vampire into one world, ending all bloodshed between species. The union of harmony must remain faithful for all time. Defiance of the vow by either race will render such truce null and void. If such a time should ever come, God help us all.
Seriously, where were my parents? I heaved a sigh of frustration as I scooped up my overnight bags for the third time and hoisted them over my shoulder. My phone calls went straight to voicemail, and my text messages remained unanswered. Even my brother, JJ, hadn’t responded. My parents were paradigms of punctuality, so overlooking their own daughter’s arrival at the airport seemed unlikely. An explanation existed, but what? I took one more glance around before heading back inside the terminal and skimming over the many faces within the cell phone waiting-lot. Not one of them belonged to my parents. “Oh, to hell with it, I’ll take a cab,” I mumbled under a strained breath, trekking through the airport doors and reclaiming my spot on the curb outside. I jetted up a hand, signaling for a cab.
With the raise of my hand, a taxi broke formation from the pack of yellow cars nearby and sped over to me, scrubbing up against the curb and idling. The driver lowered the window. “Where to, Flower Child?”
I glanced down at my cutoff shorts, lace crop-top, and floral kimono and then stared at the middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. I head cocked. How had the cab driver known my dad’s nickname for me? Truth be told, my closet was overflowing with flowy vintage pieces embellished with lace, embroidery, or fringe, but a 60s hippy I was not. I constantly reminded my dad that the proper term for the style was Boho Chic, but in his eyes, I was his Woodstock Flower Child—the one he forgot to pick up at the airport. “2863 Derrick Place,” I answered, opening the back door and tossing my bags onto the seat. As I slid down against the upholstery and crossed my arms, the image of a pouting child flashed inside my head, but I wasn’t about to let my parents live this one down. One guilt trip coming right up.
Twenty minutes later, the driver turned onto my parents’ street, slowing his speed. As our home came into view on the right, he glanced in the rearview mirror at me with raised brows. “Here?” he questioned as if I gave him the wrong address.
I didn’t speak and barely managed a nod, fixated on the police cars, bright yellow crime tape, and crisp white of the van decorating the front of my parent’s house like some bizarre Halloween scenario brought to life. I read the words Medical Examiner emblazoned across the van, blinked, and read them again before blankly staring into space. Was this some sick joke?
“That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” the cab driver rattled off, breaking my paralysis.
I fumbled with my wallet, flipping it open and paying him before slowly stepping out onto the street. As I took a few steps closer toward my childhood home, a sickeningly cold feeling swept over me, causing me to drop my bags on the pavement. A swarm of neighbors hovered close by, their eyes on me, their faces painted with gloom. I shuddered at the sudden prickling along my flesh, as though hundreds of ants were scurrying up my spine. I made it up onto the sidewalk somehow.
An officer clad in dark blue hurried toward me, blocking my path. “That’s far enough, Miss. No one is allowed inside.”
I stood my ground, not budging an inch. “That’s my parents’ house.” I didn’t wait for a reply, instead, pushing passed him. “I’m going in there.”
He grabbed my arm, stopping my progress. “I can’t allow that, Miss. This is an active crime scene.” He released my arm. “Now, please, stay back.”
A crime scene? I glanced at the words sprawling across the white van once more. Oh God. Mom? Dad? JJ? The chill mushroomed, slithering into my pores and gnawing at my bones. The sun’s golden rays reached down, drenching my body, but I couldn’t escape the fierce winter storm building momentum beneath my flesh. Something was horribly wrong. I looked back at him, desperation creeping up my throat. “What happened?”
His mouth tightened, forming a thin line. “I can’t discuss that with you at this time.”
“Then who can?”
“Right now, no one.”
What the hell happened in that house?! Had there been a murder? The word blinked on and off behind my eyes like a failing neon vacancy sign. I needed to get inside, and this fool was in my way. “You’re telling me there isn’t a single person who can tell me why I can’t enter my home?”
He glanced at my bags and then met my eyes. “You live here?”
I nodded my head, struggling to control the tremor in my voice. “I’m home for the summer.”
“College?”
“Yes. Finals are over.” I internally chastised myself. Why should he care about finals? My stomach clenched, the knot of fear tightening. I peered over his shoulder. “Where’s my family?” I locked eyes with him. “You need to let me go in.”
“Evidence is being collected. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here.”
Like hell, I will. A flurry of questions flew from my mouth. “Why is the medical examiner here? Did someone die? Who? Are my parents and my brother okay?” My voice grew frantic. “What happened!?”
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he turned toward the army of police officers scouring through trees and bushes and called, “Jenkins, find Detective Reynolds. Tell him I need him.”
Their search continued, no one taking notice of his request.
A pinched expression overtook his face as he shook his head. Focusing on me, he asked in a calm manner, “What’s your name?”
“Claire, Claire Matthews.”
“Wait here, Miss Matthews.” He hesitated before moving away and disappearing into the mystery beyond the front door some thirty feet away.
I stood alone, facing the house crammed packed with my memories of joy and watched the front porch become a revolving door of police officers. Rubber gloves covered their hands, blue booties swallowing their shoes. Some carried evidence bags; a few took notes, and others gathered around the doorway exchanging dialog. A flood of tears blurred my vision. My fingers swept them away as I gathered my resolve. There was no reason to cry. Not yet. Maybe robbers broke in while no one was home, and turned on each other. Maybe the neighbors heard the scuffle and called the police. My imagined theories slowed the panic racing through my veins and softened the repetitive drum of my heartbeat…yet, deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling something terrible filled the space behind the front door.
|
