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

CHAPTER 6

A waste of time.

That’s what their previous night had been.

Emily had insisted Michael go with his siblings as they hunted for the vampire responsible for killing two tourists. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone at the mansion, but they did have better security now. Between the gargoyles and new protections Charlie had cast.

They’d searched long into the night, doing an island wide patrol, but found no vampire. Which wasn’t surprising being that they moved so much faster than humans. It could have been following them all night long and they’d have had no idea. Charlie didn’t think so, confident his werewolf senses would have picked up on it.

If they couldn’t luck out and happen across the vampire during a patrol, or come up with a different scenario other than using themselves as bait, fast, an innocent was going to die. Mack might even have to take more drastic measures, like enforce a curfew… yeah, that wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention when a tourist town closed up shop early due to a serial murderer on the loose!

Charlie hated to admit it, but Melinda was most likely correct in her assumptions. She was perfect vampire bait. But putting his sister’s life at risk was more than he could offer right now. If this situation went on too long, they’d start getting desperate, and have no choice. There had to be another way.

This only made him continue the vamp search throughout the night, hoping by some off chance they’d startle the thing mid-blood-suck.

The entire night, Michael and Melinda worried that Charlie would get hurt, but he insisted the Guardian ring would protect him from a vampire bite. His siblings were not as sure about this, but gave up arguing. In the end, they’d stuck together, deciding separating would be a bad idea. And drove the jeep down every cobblestone street in town, and dark road out of town.

But no vampire.

Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

They had a few vials of werewolf blood stored in the jeep’s dashboard, gifted from Charlie’s own veins, to use against the vampire should they find it. But come time to call it quits the vials were still in the dash, unused.

They’d given up an hour before sunup, each struggling to stay awake. However, once home, Charlie didn’t even bother crawling into bed. He watched his brother and sister do so, looking beaten, and made his way to William’s study. As tired as he was physically, his thoughts would not relent. His brain refused to shut down and rest.

He plunked down behind William’s desk, the chair rolling back a little.

“Maybe the murdering vamp will decide to up and leave the Isle,” he mumbled to himself. “Yeah, because we’re that lucky…” he argued.

He stared at the desk, the books, around the room, wishing some of William’s knowledge would rub off on him. Charlie needed some way to track the vampire without using his sister as bait… his head flicked upward. Ears honing in on an unfamiliar sound outside the mansion. Silver flashed through his eyes and a low growl swam around his throat. Invisible hackles went up on his back… danger. Something dangerous was close. And the gargoyles were on the move. Chasing an intruder.

Charlie raced out of the house, bounded off the porch and landed in a focused crouch, his gaze scrutinizing the front of the house. Muscles bulged and tensed, all his wolf senses in full awareness.

The sounds of the gargoyles in pursuit awakened the rest of the house. Footsteps came thundering down the stairs inside, plodding across the porch and came to a stop next to Charlie.

“What is it?” Michael stuck a firm pose, palm raised for attack. Or defense. Whatever was necessary.

“Not sure. Gargoyles caught onto something.”

Melinda and Emily made it to the porch, both with bare feet. Melinda with a thrown on tank and shorts, Emily pulling a light robe around a short nightdress.

Charlie ordered them to wait on the porch.

Emily plucked at her bottom lip with nervous fingers.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” stammered Melinda. Her heart pounded madly as they waited, having been jolted awake minutes after drifting off to sleep. Her heart beat off rhythm needing something to shock it back to normal speed.

One of the gargoyles jaunted through the front yard toward the side of the house, Charlie and Michael ran after it. Far too many pulse-pounding minutes later, Charlie and Michael stalked back around the corner, their gazes hardened.

One of the gargoyles was behind them. It snorted upon seeing Melinda, and she grinned, recognizing it as the one who’d taken a liking to her. It was also the one she and Lucas had followed into White Pines before getting captured by the Feyk.

Too bad they can’t smell a trap, and don’t fight.
It wasn’t their fault though; it wasn’t in their nature. They sense the supernatural, more specifically, evil. And she couldn’t stay mad at the thing when it came up and nuzzled its broad head against her side. It scampered off after a quick head pat, to join the other three.

Michael darted up the porch stairs to comfort Emily, her pallor queasy looking.

“What was it?”

“No idea. The gargoyles were chasing after something, but I guess that something left.”

“They didn’t leave any tracks behind,” reported Charlie. “And one of the gargoyles left the property to follow whatever it was, but came back a minute later so I guess it lost the scent.”

“There aren’t many things in the supernatural world that can move fast enough to outrun a gargoyle,” Melinda lamented.

“Still doesn’t mean it was William.” Charlie refused to believe it.

“No. But it was a vampire, wasn’t it?” she forced him to admit.

“Can’t be sure, but seems most likely.” He refused to outright admit it was a vampire, still stubbornly unwilling.

“But why?” questioned Emily. “You guys already know it’s on the Isle. Why come here?”

“Perhaps the vamp is not aware we know,” suggested Michael. “Or maybe they do, and they’re just playing with us. Taunting us.”

“What if it is William and he got scared off?” Melinda whispered. “What if he was trying to come home? And Get help?”

“Whatever the reason, or whoever it is, we’re safe here,” reminded Charlie. “Let’s go back inside.” He didn’t feel safe at all. Even with the gargoyles, and extra magical protections he’d put on the house, it wasn’t enough. His head cocked to the side, eyes pinching into a frown.

“What?” asked Michael.

“Um, just… the gargoyles picked up on something, obviously. But the magical protections I put up. None of those stopped the thing from getting onto the property. Or set off the alarm.” He’d set up a system that tied into an actual regular old house alarm system he’d installed, changing the function with the help of a few spells, so it would go off whenever something supernatural came onto the grounds.

“Which means?” Melinda questioned.

Charlie groaned out his answer. “The protections I put up were to stop supernatural beings from sneaking onto the grounds. I hoped it would scare them away if they heard our alarm system go off. But I just realized I made a huge mistake. It doesn’t cover any of us living here, the gargoyles, or vampires… I didn’t want the thing setting off every time we made a move in our own home. And well,
William…
I put the protections in place before I knew he’d left.”

“Or was a potential suspect,” murmured Melinda.

Charlie shrugged in exhausted approval.

“So I guess this means our intruder was a vampire,” Michael concluded.

“Yeah. Potentially witches could get through, as we’re witches and that’s a tricky protection to set up, but witches don’t move that fast,” sighed Charlie, caving to the truth of the matter.

“William would not sneak onto these grounds,” insisted Melinda. “He has no need to. He’d show himself.”

They all wanted to believe this true. Desperately. But her brothers did not argue or agree.

“I’ll make some coffee,” decided Melinda. There was no going back to sleep at this point. Golden sunbeams were beginning to peek over the horizon.

“Make two pots,” grumbled Michael. “Heck, let’s just start bathing in it. Maybe it’ll soak into our veins.”

“I don’t think there’s enough coffee to handle this day. Drinking or bathing in it.” Charlie did not follow them inside. He stayed out in the yard, lingering at the front of the house. The sky was getting lighter, which meant with dawn approaching the vampire would go into hiding.

“Unless it really is William…” he muttered. William still had the daylight potion working for him. “It can’t be him.” He shook his head. This vampire was only attacking at night. Although, it made no sense for any vampire to attack during the day as it was so much easier to get caught.

Charlie looked around, knowing that he’d have to come up with some extra precautions to secure the mansion, even if it meant keeping William away as well. But it would take time, which he did not have enough of.

CHAPTER 7

Michael escorted Emily to the bookstore again. Melinda joined them this time. She’d run out of coffee, gotten lazy, and voted against brewing another pot. Plus it had been too long since she’d visited Grace at the café.

A few days had passed, with no new dead bodies found, and no signs of the vampire during patrols across the Isle, and no more attempts to come onto the Howard’s property. Charlie was working on additional security, but hadn’t fully implemented anything yet.

Perhaps they’d get lucky and the vamp would leave. Go somewhere else.

The entire walk from the mansion to the coffee shop was long, tedious, and uncomfortable. Michael tried to engage Emily in conversation. She replied with one or two word answers, or shrugs, or nods. Her few days of trying to pretend that things were normal, or like any other day, had ended.

After the attempt to infiltrate the Howard grounds a few nights before, Emily had gotten more distant. Almost cold in a way. No longer able to fake a smile, or greeting. Just going through the motions of her day as if not fully present. Michael tried, time and time again, to get her to talk to him rather than shut down, but she refused. Or answered in short sentences meant to end the conversation.

Melinda had never seen her brother so disheveled and worn out. He wasn’t taking care to make sure every hair was in its perfect place. He wasn’t even shaving every day, not that his facial hair grew fast but there was a shadow where there’d never been one before. Purplish shadows sunk in under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Emily wasn’t faring much better. Her face looked a bit gaunt. And her eyes, vacant. She almost went straight by the Wicked Muddy Café without even noticing where she was.

“Emily…” called out Michael, twice. She stopped and realized where they were, said nothing and stared at the front door.

“Just get me a coffee, would you?”

“You won’t come in?” Michael tossed back.

She shook her head and sank into an open seat at a table outside.

“Crème horne?”

“Just coffee.”

Michael frowned, but nodded.

Melinda tapped his shoulder. “Why don’t I go in and you sit with Emily.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Sis.”

She watched him take the seat next to his girlfriend. Emily didn’t give him any notice. And it was killing him a little more each day. Melinda feared the reason Emily was growing so distant, but did not dare say it to her brother. She had a terribly suspicious feeling it wasn’t just his empathic side keeping Emily’s feelings all locked up. It wasn’t that she feared overloading him, although Melinda was sure Emily didn’t want that either.

No. These things mattered too, but they would not keep Emily holding onto her emotions so closely, for so long. She was guarded. Hiding something. Melinda recognized it from within herself having done it so many times. And what Emily was hiding Melinda had no clue, other than it had to be something she unequivocally did not want Michael to find out. And when it came out into the open, which is would at some point, her brother was going to break. Emily was going to break. And inevitably, Emily and Michael would break.

The question that remained, would they be able to piece themselves back together? It was difficult to watch. But Melinda could not judge either of their actions harshly. They were coping the best they could. Trying to protect the other, and neither doing what they really needed to do.

Melinda stepped inside the café only to freeze to the spot for a moment as the place went silent, every eye landing on her. She took a hard swallow, having forgotten what it was like to be The Demon Isle’s weird girl who everyone always stared at.

“Oh come off it now!” Grace grumbled gruffly from behind the counter.

“Sorry,” one of them called out. It was Freddy Collier, an older man who as a young boy had gotten himself into some supernatural trouble in the Isle’s lighthouses. “We’re happy to see ya is all.”

The rest nodded and greeted kindly.

Melinda hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since the first time she’d stepped into Grace’s shop, and they’d all given her a similar look. Was she back to being the local freak? She thought she’d gotten past that.

“Oh ignore that bunch,” pish-poshed Grace. “They are happy to see you. As am I. You look good, all things considered.”

Melinda hadn’t even thought of the locals in these last weeks. Not on any personal level anyway. Many of them had come to Emily’s father’s funeral, and paid final respects to Jack Howard, but she hadn’t interacted with them much.

“I hear you’re already back on a case,” whispered Grace, tossing a knowing wink at her.

Melinda cracked a smile.

“I do hear things…” Grace grabbed three to-go cups and filled each. She went to grab a crème horne and Melinda almost told her not to bother but changed her mind. Maybe Emily would too. The woman needed to eat before she wasted away to nothing. Pretty soon her waistline would be skinnier than her ponytail. And perhaps a sugar bomb was exactly what the woman needed.

“Thanks, Grace.” Melinda reached into her pocket for some cash.

Grace shook her head and waved her arms. “Nope. Can’t take that.”

“Um. Okay…”

“For the Howards, it’s always on the house from now on.” Her tone said all the things she could not seem to vocalize.
Thank you. For keeping the island safe… putting your lives at risk.
“Besides, I make all my real money from the tourists and these bums…” She eyed one of the older gentleman sitting nearby. “Yeah, I’m looking at you, Mason Fuller. Tab’s gone unpaid for over a year now.”

The old man shrugged. The other locals laughed together.

“Hey, if Mason pays his, I’ll pay mine,” Freddy Collier shouted. “Mine’s only three months behind.”

Grace rolled her eyes.

“Thanks, Grace.” Melinda grabbed the cups and exited the shop. Michael grabbed his and Emily’s, who got up to continue to the store. Michael got up like the shadow he’d become, to follow.

“Do you guys mind if I stay here for a bit?” Melinda asked them. She couldn’t stand their tension any longer.

“No. Of course, stay. Relax for a few minutes,” said her brother. “God knows it won’t last long…” he finished in a bitter mumble.

“Have a good day, Emily,” Melinda called out, shooting her brother a sympathetic gaze. “Oh, and Grace is so used to your order, she had the crème horne bagged before I could stop her.”

Emily twisted and tossed her a tight smile.

Michael looked like steam was about to explode out of his ears. If he didn’t get Emily to talk to him, for real, soon, and if she continued this stubborn refusal to let her emotions free… he tore off after her. Determined.

“What a mess.” Melinda plunked back in her chair, wondering if things would ever get back to normal again. Of course, there was a realistic answer to that question.

No.

They could only hope for a new, different version of normal. And she didn’t want things to be exactly like they’d been before. Not everything that had changed was bad. Although most of it was.

She usually didn’t like the hustle and bustle of the tourists, but today it was a nice distraction. Kept her thoughts from becoming too much for her overworked brain. Anyhow, all the caffeine, probably not helping her jitters. Regardless, she sipped on the hot energy in a cup and closed her eyes, soaking in all the sounds.

The clip-clop and shuffling of passersby. A horse drawn carriage carrying tourists on a tour of downtown. Laughter. Bicycles whizzing by. Distant car motors. The ferry blowing its horn announcing either its arrival or departure from the Isle. Seagulls crying, flying low in search of dropped food.

There was a feather light breeze; it wasn’t heavy and humid like so many mid-July days on the Isle. Her lips formed into a contented grin.

A moment of peace.

Not quiet.

But a serenity nonetheless.

She blew out satisfied breath. Took another sip… Grace had added a dash of cinnamon. She worked her own kind of caffeinated magic, that woman.

The Isle as it should be.

And that sound. There it was. The electrifying vroom of Riley Deane’s motorcycle…

Melinda’s eyes flew open, breath caught. Heart skidding across a few beats.

In excitement…

This surprised her. At first pleasantly. Right after, shocked she was so eager… but it wasn’t Riley’s two-wheeled metal machine. Just another motorcycle similar to his, carrying a couple driving through town. Seeing the woman with her arms wrapped around her traveling companion left a throbbing anguish around Melinda’s heart.

She missed riding around the Isle with her motorcycle man. Missed her arms embracing him, teasing him as he drove. The smell of his leather jacket. The smells of the island in bloom, the ocean spitting salt into the air. She had a sudden emptiness sweep through her, missing the way he wrapped himself around her like he was her own personal security blanket. The things he’d whisper in her ear. Every word exactly what she needed or wanted to hear. The way he’d touch her and drive her mad… the way he could be a little shy, and yet a little cocky, and at the same time treat her like a queen he cherished above all else.

Why did it have to happen the way it did? What was the point of Riley and his brother coming here, if only to do this terrible thing that forced him to leave the Isle? And why wasn’t it easy to forgive and forget? She had mostly forgiven him at this point. But did it make any difference? Riley might never come back. He might never want her the same way again. Even if she could forget all he’d done and forgive him, completely.

And how much harder was all this for him? To think of it from his point of view, to be the one who’d done those terrible things.

In her heart of hearts, she wanted him to come back, to move beyond everything that happened. She had an aching desire to reach out to him and beg him to come home. Melinda had a suspicion that she might be the only person Riley would listen to.

But was it because she wanted him to come home? Or because she needed him to? Was she in need of his attention, and security? Or did she really want all of him? Was it fair to Riley to be second place, when if she had her first choice, she’d choose William? Even as she thought this, she was unsure William would be the winner. There was no future with the vampire. Not a romantic one at least.

This was a decision the universe might have to make for her; other than tossing a coin her heart flipped back and forth between the two hour to hour. Which was stupid seeing as William wasn’t even a choice! Yet her heart refused to give him up.

And this dependency thing… this need for a man-sized security blanket… it had to end. Maybe it was a good thing both men were gone.

“Well hello there,” a voice called out. Melinda lifted her starry gaze to see Mack approaching. “Mind if I join ya?”

“Please,” replied Melinda. “Slow morning?” Her body tensed, hoping for a yes.

“No new bodies.”

“Phew.”

“Yeah. Exactly. Quiet mornin’ actually. I might have enough time for an entire cup of coffee.”

“Shall we take bets?” enticed Melinda.

“I don’t know as I’d go that far…” She barked out a sharp laugh. Like clockwork, Grace appeared with a filled mug.

“Much obliged,” thanked Mack, taking a long swig. She took it black with heaps of sugar, and as soon as she set the mug down Grace poured her own and grabbed herself a seat.

“Don’t want to bother ya, but the crowd,” she aimed at the locals inside her café, “just want to know if there’s anything doin’ to these dead bodies you’re both investigatin’.” She cast her gaze between Mack and Melinda, eagerly noting it had to be supernatural or the Howards wouldn’t be involved.

Mack thrust out her half-empty mug with a sly, how-the-heck-did-you-find-out-about-that grin, and a refill me, and I’ll-share-what-I-can, head shake.

The café owner topped off the mug pouring in more sugar.

“I don’t want no friggin’ panic started,” warned Mack, straight off.

That perked up Grace even more.

“Two dead. Determined cause right now, vampire bite.”

“Jumpin’ jellybeans!” gasped out Grace. The playful need to know, gone.

“Two tourists.
Probable
cause of death is vampire…” Mack restated. “Don’t have any solid proof one way or the other.” Mack leaned in, a haughty grin on her lips. “Want to hear the excuse I used this time?” Like she already fully believed it was vampire bite and had to come up with a credible excuse for the outside world.

“Oh you do come up with some doozies,” Grace praised.

Ah, small town life,
thought Melinda. Everyone knows everyone, and everything, and there is no business that can or will stay your own. It’s also easy to get bored and the best way to pass the time… gossip. Grace being the queen.

“It’s almost too easy on this one,” Mack stated. “Rabies infected bats.”

“Oh, good one. And so true. So true. Completely plausible. We do have some bigguns on the Isle.”

“And sadly, not far from the actual truth,” Mack said less enthusiastically. “Like I said, Grace. No need to panic just yet. If I get proof, I’ll let you know.”