NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (27 page)

A few minutes later, Raven stepped into the hair salon to begin her transformation.

*

Simone grabbed a Granny Smith apple from the fruit bowl. She crunched down on a big bite. She savored the tart sweetness of the delicious fruit. Suddenly, images of Van swam in her mind. She wished he would savor her like a luscious piece of fruit.
Something along the lines of a juicy, ripe peach.
Mmmmmm,

Simone hoped Indea was having a great time tonight with Saldivar. Now, she just wished she and Van would get a special night as well. Her time in Paris was limited.

Saldivar had turned out to be pretty terrific and special to Indea. She couldn’t complain. Indea was happy and Simone was very happy for her.

But she now often wondered what Indea was going to do when she had to leave as well. Given the degree of their relationship thus far, she figured Indea was going to be crushed. Their place was
in Alabama. Saldivar and Van’s life was here
in Paris. They were worlds apart.
And yet, it still didn’t stop Simone from wanting to make love with Van. Even if it were for one night, she wanted to cherish whatever time they had left together.

The shrilling of the phone scattered Simone’s thoughts to the wind. She was the only one here, so she would have to answer it. She put down her apple and went to the phone.

“Sky’s residence?”
Simone
spoke politely into the receiver.

“Simone Timms, please,”
came an unfamiliar male voice.

Simone wrinkled her brows. No one called her by her last name. Not even Van. And this sure wasn’t Van.

“Speaking,”
Simone responded a little warily.

The male voice was deep, almost gravelly. It sounded strong and confident. She wondered who it could be. She racked her brain but couldn’t place the dark voice to anyone she knew. Everyone just called her Simone. Plus, not many knew she was in Paris. But what’s even creepier was that this man called the Sky’s home at this particular time asking for her.
And by her first and last name.

“You don’t know me, my dear,”
the stranger clarified.

That explains it,
Simone thought, somewhat baffled at what in the world this guy wanted.

“I call only to help you.” He stopped fo
r a second. “And to warn you,”
he stated in a hushed voice.

Simone stared at the phone like it had grown two heads. Okay, what is going on here?
What was he trying to hint around
at
with that conspiring tone?

“What are you talking about? And more importantly
, who are you?” Simone asked
, her voice a pitch higher.

“I’m sorry. I cannot say. I only know you are in danger.”

Was this some kind of bizarre game? If so, Simone wasn’t interested in playing.

“Listen, buddy. I don’t know what your freaky little game is. I don’t know you and quite frankly, could
n’t
care less on who you are or how important you
think
you are. I am going to hang up n––-“

“
I d
o not play games, young lady,”
he interrupted harshly. He paused for a moment before continuing more softly, though Simone had a feeling he was trying to talk down to her. “Van is not who you think he is.”

Simone scrunched her face and shook her head. “Excuse me? Just who are you? And how do you know Van?”

His laugh sent cold chills down her spine. “Oh, I know about Van.
And Saldivar as well.
Is he not out with Indea right now? I’d check her n
eck if I were you. Two marks,”
he said vaguely.

Simone let out a gasp before she could stop it and now this fruitcake of a stranger knew that he was correct.

“Well, my dear. You had better hope she comes back in one piece. That is, if she comes back at all. The same goes for you.” He hung up before Simone was able to form any coherent words.

Simone replaced the receiver in what felt like slow motion. She had to put her head in her hands to keep the world from spinning.

How did this pers
on know her? Or know about Van or
Indea and Saldivar and the
fact that they were out alone
together? Was he spying on them or having someone do it for him?

What did he mean by Indea coming back in one piece or not coming back at all? And look at her neck? What for?
A hickey?
Who cares? Two marks? What’s that supposed to mean?
A bite or something?
So what if they nibbled at each other? It sometimes happened in the throes of passion. She was sure Saldivar was a very passionate person.
Especially with Indea.
She saw how they responded to each other.

Simone chalked it up to the guy being some kind of pervert.
A creepy voyeur who couldn’t get a woman so he watched others to get his rocks off.

Sick. Simone twisted her mouth in disgust.

She was going to have to talk to Indea and then see if she can speak with Saldivar and Van about this strange caller. He seemed to know a great deal about them if going by the confidence in his voice was anything to go by.

A prickle of worry dripped down her back. The hairs on her neck stood out. Something was terribly wrong. She had a strong feeling deep in her gut that whatever this man knew could quite possibly ruin the lives of Indea, Saldivar, Van and herself.

She didn’t get these feelings very often, but when she did, she knew to listen to them closely.

Two bite marks? Two bite marks. She rolled it over in her brain repeatedly. What would have to happen to leave two bite marks on the neck? A hickey would just be a love bruise really. Nibbling would leave a little redness, but what about two bite marks? Like teeth punctures or something?

Her mind snapped back to her interview with Mr. Hobbs. He talked vehemently of vampires in the states. Could he also believe they were elsewhere as well? He did seem to have a lot of connections. He also seemed to believe that vampires are not just myth and legend but
unloving
…..breathing
?…….
creatures of the night. When she had looked into his eyes, she found no hint of a falsehood.

That was because, maybe in his own mind, he
really
believed they existed.

Wait a minute! This has got to be some kind of set up. Somehow, Mr. Hobbs found out about Indea and herself vacationing in Paris. But Mr. Brant was the only one who knew. Surely, he wouldn’t sell her
out to the likes of some loony
like Mr. Hobbs.

But that had to be the only reason. Mr. Hobbs paid someone to play a joke on her. They knew that Van and Saldivar owned a night club and therefore kept nightly shifts, making them seem like they were vampires. So they dressed eccentrically sometimes. So did
she
and Indea. Van and Saldivar had pale, smooth skin. No gray hair. Not a wrinkle marred their gorgeous faces. Their bodies were taunt and perfect.
As far as Simone could tell, not a scar either.
She would find out soon enough, hopefully, when she and Van were together.

Maybe Indea could tell her if Saldivar had any imperfections on his body. Somehow, she highly doubted it.

First things first.
She would e-mail Mr. Brant and find out what was going on. He
did
seem unnaturally intrigued by the night club and wanted to get her to write a piece on Van and Saldivar and their lives thus far.

Why did he want to know so badly? He even extended her stay in Paris. Whe
n she first read the e-mail he’d
sent her, she wasn’t thinking about why he let her stay longer. She was just ecstatic that she got to spend more time with Van.

She wished now in hindsight that she would have found out why before sending the article via e-mail attachment. But she trusted Mr. Brant. He was like a father. Would he screw her over for a delicious story? He had never done anything like that before and she has worked for him for six years. He was always up front about everything.

Simone walked over to her computer, flipped up the screen and booted up the e-mail.

She began to type: “Hello, Mr. Brant. I am still having a wonderful time here in Paris. Van and I have been getting along great. So have Indea and Saldivar.” She omitted the fact that they were out now. Usually, she wouldn’t have, but her gut told her to hold off. She typed on: “I hope the article was a good one. But I’m just wondering, because it’s been bothering me for some time now,
why did you need a piece on Van and Saldivar?
And the night club?
It is so far away from Alabama and why would anyone want to know from a small town newspaper? Couldn’t the people get the general information from the yellow pages or the internet like using ‘Goggle’? There are even television advertisements for international vacation. That would be where I would want to go for info on a night club outside the fifty. What was the point of getting deep info on the owners for? If it was me, I would be more concerned about the club’s many offerings. Please help me to understand why all this info was needed for what seems like small news. I would appreciate a quick response. Thank you and I will see you in a week.”

Simone signed off then closed the screen of her laptop. She hoped this was just some kind of prank. Not a nic
e one, but it would be better if it wasn’t
real.

*

Davis Brant read Simone’s e-mail at least four times, thinking of how he was going to explain to her what was really happening here in the states.

Oh, but he couldn’t tell her. Guilt ate away at his gut worse than any ulcer. He hated this whole debacle. He knew she wanted him to write back as quickly as possible. If he waited too long, it would make her think that he was cooking up something to tell her that wasn’t the truth. He needed to respond within ten minutes. A faster response would hopefully throw her off for a while. He would tell her in time but he wanted to get to the bottom of this mess, too. If he explained things to her too soon, she might be in danger and so would Indea, Van and Saldivar. They all seeme
d like great people. He really
didn’t want to hurt them.

Was it even worth making enough money to retire on? Was hurting Simone worth all the money in the world? No. He would tell her when he was certain that if couldn’t be found out. He most certainly couldn’t e-mail it or phone it.
Too easily traced.
If she found a coded letter, she would worry. Mailing wasn’t going to be any easier. Sure, t
here was cryptic e-mail. But if
he sent it to Simone, the people would
know something was up. He had gotten Simone to write a piece on the two men and if he sent a coded e-mail, they w
ould assume the worst. It would
get Simone hurt or worse. He would put himself in front of a bullet before he let Simo
n
e get hurt because of his pathetic greed.

He thought for a few minutes on how he was going to explain to her his motives on Van and Saldivar. He had to make it good. He had to make it sound plausible.

Davis began his e-mail:

“Hey, Simone.
I’m s
o glad you and your friends are
enjoying each other in Paris.

You deserve it. As for why I wanted some informatio
n on Van and Saldivar and their