Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between (26 page)

“The sun is setting, that’s the problem. I never should have come out this late, and from the looks of it, neither should you!”

He snatched the remaining books from my hands and stood, leaving some of the papers scattered on the sidewalk at our feet. He took off in a frantic jog, the black plastic bag rustling in front of him.

I fell back on my ass, the busted knee throbbing miserably. A newspaper was next to my hand, and I when I saw the headline, I lifted it with trembling fingers, certain it was a joke.

The header, printed in old English text, identified the newspaper as The Blood Times. The feature article was entitled, “The Future Of Blood Supply As Human Numbers Dwindle”. I scanned over it, reading about something called The Renfield Syndrome, a virus that had wiped out a majority of the population during the third world war between humans and vampires.

I flipped the paper over with shaking hands, staring at the classifieds.

People were presenting themselves on the market, offering blood and servitude in exchange for eternal life. There were details, as if they were nothing more than varieties of livestock on the open market—male, female, fat, skinny, tall, short, young, and old.

They even mentioned blood type.

I pulled the shaking paper toward my eyes, reading the bold date at the top right hand corner.

October 28
^th
, 2109.

I didn’t have to do the math. It was simple. Add one-hundred years to 2008 and carry over the one. Zagan had sent me into the future, using the number I’d picked from the top of my head as his marker.

I lifted my face toward the darkening sky as reality sank in.

I was in the same dimension, but now humans were the endangered species, vampires were out of the closet, and here I was—sitting on my ass while the sun dipped below the horizon, bringing on the night.

Rhiannon’s Law #101: Never make a deal with a demon. They are evil bastards that will screw your ass over and take you back to the future.

Where the hell did Doc park the DeLorean?

About the Author

Married for almost seven years (god bless the man), I am also a full-time Mother to four. In my free time I enjoy reading and writing, listening to great music (I am a huge NIN fan), shooting a game of pool (straight eight if you please), or watching an excellent horror movie.

Please visit J.A. Saare’s website at…

http://www.jasaare.com

Eleven year old, Lizzie Harper is a family’s worst nightmare. She is a compulsive killer and nothing short of a demon child. When Rachael Barter applies for a housekeeping job and is hired, little does she realize she will eventually assume the role of surrogate mother to an evil child that has the same traits as Satan, himself.

“Lizzie. You come out here this instant or I’ll go get your mother,” she yelled as she approached the white gate enclosing the cemetery. A distant noise startled her. She gripped the fence and stood wide-eyed. “This isn’t funny, young lady. You don’t scare me in the slightest.”

“Misssssss Barter.” Lizzie poked Rachael on the back, causing her to leap forward. She jerked around, her hand across her chest. “Where have you been? And where’s Piper?”

It only took one bite....now, the only way to free herself from the addiction is to kill him.

After vampire Lukoran first tastes Shauna, he induces an obsessive desire in her to be tasted again. To again feel that exquisitely pleasurable pain. Like an addict, she will crave it until it consumes her and she loses her freedom. Maybe even her life.

Although she’s felt the touch of many other vampires, no one can satisfy her never-ending craving as only the giver of the first bite can. That’s why she’s tracked down Lukoran tonight. She’ll rid herself of his hold over her—even if she has to kill him.

Shauna ignored the shapes for the moment and let the music pound into her bones. When her body started to move in a dance, the percussion of the music directed it. It was a hard, violent dance, just the way she liked it. Her head jerked, unhampered by her short spiked blond hair, as her stomping combat-boot-clad feet kept a different rhythm.

Shauna absorbed the chaotic dances of those around her, feeling their dances in her body one at a time. This one, sensual and serpentine; that one, angry and convulsive. She opened to the energy of each and knew they opened to her in turn. This ability to project one’s senses was a gift from their hosts, from the Brethren gazing at them from the sidelines. She opened herself up to feel them now, hoping to tempt one to taste her. The possibility of ecstasy, the promise of pain.

Shauna felt a tingling along the surface of her skin, just on her arms at first, but quickly spreading. Oh, yes! The first signs of a tasting! The Brethren’s touch began to solidify and Shauna felt a joyous thrill as she thought she recognized the touch of Lukoran.

Sadistic? Check. Domination? Check. Happiness? Not for all.

Antonio Welshire accepts the mysterious Mestiphles’ offer for vampiric power, but fails to consider that not all in his family desires evil. Daughter Victoria revels in the debauchery, but eldest daughter Samantha loathes the darkness. Enemies are in no short supply when the family turns to darkness. Charismatic rebel Gaston turns up to rival for Antonio’s power; the vampire lover Jean can destroy them once and for all, and henchwoman Lilith seeks to supplant Antonio as Mestiphles’ favorite.

The sun rose and Elizabeth woke in the pile of sheepskins by the fire. Antonio slept soundly in his own huddle. She caught a dreaming smile on his face; then it was gone. Ann was piled nearby, but she turned in a restless sleep. Elizabeth stretched and rubbed her eyes. She remembered the horrifying events belonging to last night and winced at a twinge in her leg.

Could I? Should I?

She slid the bolt carefully, but it squeaked a little. Her gaze fell to the floor of sheepskins. Antonio stirred, but did not wake. She grasped the handle and slowly opened the door.

Mother Eira stood frozen in the snow, a contorted and morbid statue. Her arms were in the air, fists clenched in their banging position. Frozen blood lined her arms and the collar of her sheepskin. The eyes were open, blue irises glazed over with a white frost. Forever was her mouth to be open, too. Her tongue captured midway between the chapped lips, and saliva dangled like icicles from what yellow teeth she had.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream, but a strong hand cupped her mouth shut. Antonio whispered in her ear, “Ann is still sleeping.”

He removed his hand, and Elizabeth looked into his cold blue eyes. She had not thought of him much before Father Welshire’s fall, but now she did fear him. His own will was his motivation, even when he cared for her. Antonio forced a disquieting smile, but Elizabeth was captivated by the opal-colored eyes.

They are so mysterious. Deceptive. Frightening!

Antonio shut the door on his mother and returned to the fire.