From the Ashes (Witches of The Demon Isle Book 8) (7 page)

Michael rolled his eyes and leaned back. “I can’t believe we wasted hours researching this.”

Charlie grunted, in annoyed agreement. “Blood. What else would call out a vampire? Freaking duh.” He rubbed his temples.

“It’s not quite that easy though,” continued Melinda. “We need a willing victim. And it needs to be at night, somewhere remote enough that the vamp would not fear getting caught.” Melinda slapped the book down on the coffee table.

“We are really off our game,” muttered Charlie. “If William had been here we wouldn’t have wasted so many hours.”

“Or if we weren’t exhausted and still dealing with…” Michael didn’t bother finishing. He was getting tired of the topic. None of them needed the constant reminders of what they had lost, and gone through.

He ignored the sympathetic emotions pouring out of his siblings.

“So, a willing victim? I think that will be the hardest thing to find,” he said.

“Not that I’m all that excited about it, but it’s got to be me,” said Melinda.

Both brothers turned their heads thundering emphatic, “No’s,” at her simultaneously.

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll be on my own. You guys will be in hiding, close by.”

“If something goes wrong,” argued Charlie. “Just… no. Too many variables to account for. Cannot guarantee your safety.”

“You don’t believe I can do it? Or you playing big brother?”

“It’s nothing like that,” insisted Michael. “It’s simply too dangerous. Too unpredictable.”

“But not for one of you,” she fired back pointedly.

“Melinda…” Charlie’s tone begged her to drop it.

She jumped off the sofa, arms folded, rant at the ready.

“Everything we do is dangerous and unpredictable. You guys put your lives on the line all the time. I’m not saying I’m looking forward to it, but do you honestly think a vampire is going to be attracted to one of you?  Charlie, you’re out, because you know, werewolf. Vamp could kill you. And Michael, you may have a baby face charming enough to change your name to prince, but I’m the only one here that fits the bill of young, innocent, and helpless. A vampire’s favorite victim according to what I read.”
And worst possible argument
, she thought with a disgruntled silent moan.
Yes, let’s remind them of how useless I am…
that’ll help!

Charlie got up and pinned a firm gaze on her. “I know why you’re doing this and it’s not changing my mind. I get you want to be more involved…”
and feel like you have to prove yourself…
he clipped off. His sister in the clutches of a ravenous vampire, William or not, was not a sight he wanted to see. “Let’s think on it,” he suggested, attempting patience, and in no mood to argue.

“Well think fast.” She kept his gaze, refusing to back down. “Night’s coming and we don’t have another plan. We protect the Isle. Sometimes that means taking risks.”

“Not unnecessary ones,” refuted Charlie. He didn’t like this sudden gung-ho-ness his sister was developing. He understood she might want to prove herself, and have a need to gain some sort of control over her life, but he didn’t want her rushing into something and getting into trouble.

“Why don’t we focus on coming up with a plan that does not include any of us as bait,” suggested Michael, playing mediator. “There must be a safer option.” He hoped this would diffuse this argument. However, Melinda took on the glare of a wolverine going into battle. Charlie straightened to his full height, pulling out all the intimidation he dare with his sister.

“If William was here…” her rebuttal ended right there.

“If William were here,” stated Charlie, “this conversation would never take place. You think he’d allow you to be vampire bait?” His arms folded, body towering over her. There was no arguing this point because no way in hell would William allow Melinda to use herself as bait for anything.

“Okay, maybe not,” she backed down a little. “But I am capable of making my own choices.”

“Really? Name one that’s worked out.”

Her mouth fell open. Her body pulling inward like she’d been punched in the gut.

Charlie’s heart sank. His towering frame deflated in instant regret.

It slipped out in haste to end this idea of hers, the damage of his words already done with no way to undo it. He didn’t even mean it. Not even a little.

His brain was actually just starting a conversation with itself impressed at how she was standing up for herself, even if the argument was not valid.

And he’d responded with a punch-down. Knockout. Game over.

Walls she’d taken down, rebuilding right before his eyes in layers of cement and brick. They’d all made their fair share of mistakes. Judging her more harshly than himself or anyone else was more than unfair.

“Cracking under the pressure much?” Michael ground through his teeth.

Charlie ignored Michael, even though he was spot on, pleading silent forgiveness from Melinda.

Her initial shock wore off, her mouth closing itself, lips biting the insides of her cheeks. Arms around her stomach holding herself up.

“I’m sorry, Melinda. I did not mean what I said.”

“No. It’s good to know how you really feel.” She’d thought it was too good to be true that he did not judge her revelations harshly.

“It was said in anger, nothing more.”

“See, that’s bull though. You had to have been thinking it on some level for it to come out of your mouth so easily.” Her arms dropped to her sides. “And you’re hardly wrong.” She fell into the sofa, sulking.

Damn it. Charlie wished one of them could be gifted with going back in time. He was beginning to think none of them was capable of making a decent choice about anything. He’d promised to try to be more open, and available, and patient, and here he was doing the exact opposite.

“Melinda, I’m not mad at your choices. Really, I’m not, because God knows I’ve mucked up my share lately. But I don’t want you, or any of us, to rush into something and get hurt. You know how I get when I’m on edge, but I can’t use that as an excuse anymore. I think we
all
feel like we have something to prove, but we’ve lost enough. Let’s do this right. Okay?”

Melinda looked at her brothers, unsure how to explain the things churning inside her mind. Her feet came up to the sofa, knees tucked into her chest. Then forced herself out of the pathetic
woe is me
pose and got back to her feet. Her arms fidgeted, she finally shoved them inside her shorts pockets.

“Me being vampire bait is a bad idea. I get it. I’m not stupid and I don’t have a death wish. But I’m sick of being afraid of things. I want to do my share. I need to. I’ve let you guys, and William, handle everything for way too long.”

“But that doesn’t mean we rush in,” proclaimed Charlie calmly.

“No,” settled Michael. “We don’t.” His siblings looked his direction, sensing he had something to add. “We do what Dad taught us. Work together to make a plan we can all agree to, and we stick to it.”

Charlie looked at Melinda for her approval. She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. Still not quite believing her brother was telling the truth… he did at some level, willing to admit it or not, think her choices were regrettable. There was also the extreme possibility,
so very Charlie
, he was blaming himself for
her
mistakes. As if he had anything at all to do with the decisions she’d made. Not all turned out bad, but none were working out in her favor. That much was true.

Tempers doused, the situation diffused for now, Michael got up to leave.

“My suggestion would be let’s take the necessary time to come up with a safe and solid plan. There must be a way to hunt this vampire without any of us directly used as bait. Because I do agree, we
have
lost enough.”

There was no argument here.

They all nodded in silent, albeit, tense agreement.

Charlie and Melinda didn’t have to ask Michael where he was headed. It was time for the bookstore to close and he was escorting Emily home whether she wanted him to or not.

Howards, stubbornness, and stupid decisions went hand in hand. Tenacity had its benefits, but it wasn’t working in their favor today.

Melinda reclaimed her seat on the sofa, pretending to shuffle through a book.
Poor Michael,
she thought.
Caught in the middle of sibling differences. Trying to keep Emily together. Not taking care of himself at all.
How much more could he take before he snapped?

There was a soft thud… Charlie sinking into the opposite side of the sofa. Melinda realized he wasn’t grieving or taking care of himself properly at all either. He’d been busy taking care of things,
all things
, while she’d been in the hospital. While Michael stayed focused on Emily… picking up the slack of William’s absence. Securing the mansion and the power source… and a thousand little things Melinda didn’t have the energy to think about.

Yet somehow, Charlie always got it done.

What they really needed was a break. Forget full on vacation, just a break in the craziness. Long enough to catch their breath. Collect themselves into some form not caving in on itself like blubbering boneless skin.

She fought the urge to drag her knees up against her chest, forcing her fingers to turn another page. This life was not being fair at all. Not that it ever was. But a break, was it too much to ask?

Although free in body, not bound to a stake watching one man she loved torture the other man she loved, Melinda’s spirit was helpless. As powerless as it had always been.

Her gaze fluttered upward, peering at the off-white ceiling overhead. Her bedroom right above it. Charlie wasn’t aware, but she was the quick sale buyer of that space he’d sold. The makeover would be simple enough. A comfy space made for full-time living. Make that full-time staying out of the way.

Her brothers had encouraged her to get a life.

Epic fail…

She imagined this topped their list of worst choices made, ever.

CHAPTER 5

Emily smiled widely when Michael sauntered into the store. “I’m almost done,” she called out, noting the heaviness in his gait. “You didn’t need to come all the way here to walk me home.”

“Actually, yes, I did.”

“What now?” her entire body sighed.

“There’s a vampire loose on the Isle. One who’s not like William.”

“Oh. I see.”

Michael hadn’t told her about it yet, having wanted to protect her from even more to worry about, and deal with.

“Any word from William?” she asked him.

“No. He seems to be AWOL, and now Mack is considering him a suspect.”

“No. Really? William would hurt anyone.”

“We don’t either. But we can’t find him to prove it’s not him. Regardless, I’m here to walk you home because the sun’s going down soon and it’s not safe to be alone with this problem hanging around. How was your day?” He tried to act normal as possible since that’s what Emily seemed to want. Or need.

“Long. Lots to catch up on, but I’m getting there.”

“How about I make you dinner?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Did you eat at all today?”

“Um,” she ruffled through a small stack of papers. “Yeah. Can’t remember what.”

Michael was sure she was lying. “Small dinner then,” he decided.

She shrugged in half-hearted acceptance and grabbed her purse.

It was a tense walk home. Emily put on a forced cheery façade that clenched his teeth as she greeted people along the way like any other day.

It was nothing of the sort.

When would she start acting like it? Because happy was not an emotion radiating out of her. It was nearly impossible to dampen happiness.

She’d opened up some, admitting she was riddled with guilt, and blamed herself. But then the next day shut it down like that conversation never happened. Emotions buried some place Michael’s empathy could not reach. And if she wasn’t suppressing her feelings for his benefit, it was because she was in denial. Probably a mixture of both, and neither of which he was certain how to shake her out of.

At the end of the Howard driveway, he stopped her.

“What?” she bleated tiredly. Happy act over.

“Emily…” Just the way her name rolled off his tongue she knew what was coming and tensed. She attempted to escape but he held her shoulders firmly. “I’ve said it a lot, but you don’t have to hold back your feelings because of me. I can handle it.”

“I’m fine, Michael.”

“I know you’re not.”

“What do you want me to do?” she snapped back. “Fall to pieces, day after day after day. You’re right. I’m not okay. But I can’t deal with
not okay
right now. And you can’t deal with how I really feel.”

“So you are holding back because of me?”

She escaped his grasp, refusing to say more, her emotions stirring and struggling to keep themselves in.

“Emily. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to push, I just…”

She paused, but didn’t look at him.

“This is new territory for me too,” he told her. “I won’t lie and pretend being around all this pain is easy, because it’s far from it. It’s testing my strength to the limit. But I
can
take it, Emily. You need to let your feelings out, you can’t hold them in.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Or think about it,” she responded less hotly. “I want dinner. A bath. And bed.”

Michael followed after a minute. It couldn’t keep going on like this though. He was a candle burning at both ends. If he could just get the emotional gates to open, perhaps she’d let it all out. It was disconcerting having no idea what was going on in her mind.

He supposed that’s how everyone else felt all the time. How he used to, before getting his gift. But he was used to knowing. And used to his girlfriend sharing. She wasn’t the type to hold back, at least not like this. But none of them had ever gone through anything like this.

He sighed… he needed William. They all needed William. He’d chosen the worst time to leave them. Michael’s heart filled with guilt… the vampire deserved better. But his advice right now would be invaluable. He always had the best advice to offer. Seemed to have the answer to almost anything and if he didn’t, where to find it. And if he could not find it, the tenacity to keep searching.

His father’s advice would be pretty awesome right about now too. Maybe more so than William’s in this case being that it was woman problems, something a bit more up his dad’s knowledge bracket than the vampire’s.

Charlie was busy keeping things around the Isle in check, and worrying about Melinda, who was barely keeping herself together. His brother was also not the one for advice on the relationship subject. His dealings with females was limited to the kind who only wanted one thing: a fun time with no strings attached after.

Michael decided to give Emily a little more time. Try not to push too hard. But if she didn’t open up and let her emotions out soon, he’d be forced to seek out some kind of professional help. The only problem being, finding someone who was familiar with the true nature of The Demon Isle so they’d understand and not think her crazy.

Heck, maybe they needed to find this magical someone and hire them permanently, for each of them. This life left scars behind. The kind none of them were trained to heal.

#

The motorcycle rolled along of its own volition. Riley was aware, and yet not. Almost letting the road carry him wherever it chose to. He passed a sign,
Welcome to Louisiana.

I guess that’s where I’m going.

He wanted to pretend he wasn’t feeling it. That familiar tug in his core that made him need to be places. But it was there, dragging him along. Like some inner force he could not control, or stop, or deny.

What good was this ability?

No good.

No good at all.

It had brought him nothing but strife.

He’d never done anything truly important because of it.

Other than saving Melinda from drowning…

Just so you could treat her in the exact manner you swore you’d never do. Like dirt… no, worse than dirt. Like trash to be crushed, trampled on, and thrown away.

Whatever.

Not going back to the Isle anyway… she and the vampire can live happily ever after. He’d probably slit my throat on sight.

Heck, I should let him after what I did.

Thoughts of Melinda warmed him, even if he didn’t want them to. It wasn’t a warmth he deserved. He’d never be able to make up for what he’d done. He didn’t want to look into her eyes and see pain or loathing staring back at him; things he’d caused. But when he closed his own this is all he saw. Misery swimming in baby blue.

So here he was, letting his ball and chain of a gift drag him down the road to the unknown. He was fine with that as long as once he arrived he no longer needed to be Riley Deane. He wanted to be anyone else, but.

Another sign. Fifty-nine miles to New Orleans. That thing in his core that he despised tingled softly. His destination was another hour’s drive ahead.

A few car lengths behind him rolled along a rented vehicle. A dark red, sporty two-door with tinted windows. But Riley was so focused on the road ahead, he hadn’t noticed the car had been following him for many miles.

Whenever Riley pulled off for gas, a minute later so followed the red car. When he drove back onto the highway it ambled along at a safe distance behind him. This pattern had continued the last few days.

But Riley did not notice.