Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
I placed my box of extra buckshot on the nightstand and gave it a pat. “We got this, boys. Don’t we.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Just past one in the morning, my vibrating cell began line dancing across the nightstand. I was in bed with the lights off, Betsy tucked under the covers by my side. I hoped that the crazy man wouldn’t come to my house once he realized I was a no-show, but I had to be prepared, which was why I wore black sweatpants and a black T-shirt instead of my favorite pink flannel PJs. I wasn’t about to confront him looking like I was going to a pajama party.
I looked at the number on my cell. This time there was a name attached to it. Ronnie Foreman?
My heart skipped a beat, and I answered. “Hello?”
“You think I am playing a game?” the gravelly-voiced man asked.
“How are you callin’ from this number?”
“If you had bothered to show up, you would know,” he said.
“Didn’t you say you admired my lack of trust? Well, here’s me. Not trusting.”
“You are a wicked little thing.” He snickered. “But you have a valid point.”
“What do you want?” I growled.
“I want you to receive your gift; however, seeing as you do not wish to come and get it, I have brought it to you.”
There was a loud knock at the front door.
I jumped from bed, nearly peeing myself.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Masie.” The call ended.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I dialed Sheriff Idiot, slid on my tennies, and bolted to my front door with Betsy.
I checked the peephole and stumbled back. “That’s not possible.” I looked again.
Standing on my porch was Ronnie Foreman, the man who’d murdered Deedee.
“Hello? Masie? What’s wrong?” Thomas’s voice came over my cell.
I looked at the phone and then at the door. Then I looked at Betsy.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Sorry, Thomas. I musta butt-dialed you. Go back to sleep.” I hung up and opened the front door, pointing the barrel of my gun at Ronnie’s chest. “How the hell are you still alive?”
Ronnie stared, a blank look on his bluish-white face.
“I have instructed him not to speak.” The man with the gravelly voice appeared behind Ronnie, as if stepping out of a cocoon of shadows.
“What the hell is this?” I kept my gun pointed at Ronnie’s chest.
“Your gift.” He smiled, flashing his bright white teeth, including two sharp fangs.
My mouth fell open. “But I saw you kill him.”
“Let’s just say that a vampire my age always has a few tricks up his sleeve.” He jerked his head of long, silky black hair at the murderer on my front porch.
“And what-what sort of trick is this?” I stammered.
“Is it not obvious? I turned him, though he has not yet fed and is very weak. Either way, he is mine to do with as I please—torture, kill, command.”
“You’re telling me he’s a vampire.”
“As are his friends. One can never have too many thugs at their disposal. However, this fine specimen, I gift to you.” He shrugged. “You may make his suffering last a lifetime. Longer if you give yourself to me. Or,” his pale eyes focused on Betsy, “you may end him right here and now.”
My mind began spitting out any logical reason it could come up with for what my eyes were seeing: Had I dreamed Ronnie’s death? Was I dreaming now? Did he have a twin? Was I going mad? No. Maybe. Probably not. Absolutely, yes.
Still, there was only one explanation, albeit totally impossible, to explain what was happening. Ronnie is a vampire. Which meant the shadowy man was also one?
My fingers tightened around Betsy. “I can’t believe it.”
“If you do not believe, shoot him. In the chest. He will not die.”
I wasn’t going to do that. If Ronnie was still alive, he belonged in jail. “You just told me I could end him.”
“Not with your gun. You merely need to command him to die. I have instructed Ronnie to obey your every wish.”
“Die, Ronnie.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t mean it. I wanted him to live in prison.
Ronnie collapsed on my front porch.
The man hunched over Ronnie, stroking back his sticky blond hair. “You are free now. You will leave your body and roam the earth until the end of time.”
I watched a smokey wisp rise from Ronnie’s body and dissipate into the air.
“Sweet Jesus, what was that?” I took a step back, my fear and confusion turning to sheer panic.
He shrugged. “His soul. It will drift with the wind until this world is no more. A man like him does not deserve peace.”
“Did I really kill him?” I stared down at the lifeless body.
“Technically, you cannot kill something that is already dead. But yes.”
This wasn’t me. I didn’t take vengeance. I was a good, good person.