Bonfire of the Vampires Read online

  BONFIRE OF THE VAMPIRES

  By

  Jennifer Colgan

  © copyright May 2005, Jennifer Colgan

  Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright May 2005

  ISBN 1-58608-584-0

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Prologue

  Jake Beaumont saw red. He sank against a granite pylon of the Church Street overpass and tried to rub the crimson haze from his vision.

  His hand came away bloody on both sides. Blood from the gash above his right eye smeared his palm. His knuckles oozed from the blows he’d managed to land on his assailant’s stocking-masked jaw.

  Jake sucked in a breath of damp December air just as a car passed on the roadway overhead. He looked up, blinked away another warm trickle of blood and considered his options.

  If he could make it to Church Street, he could flag down a car, but he’d have to climb the embankment. The only other well-traveled road that passed through Haverston Park was Oak Avenue at the south entrance and that was half a mile away. If the knife-wielding mugger was still lurking in the pine grove, Jake wouldn’t stand a chance.

  On a deep breath he pushed up with his knees, using the pylon to steady himself. He still felt the stitch in his side, the one that had slowed him down on the Kissing Bridge and almost got him killed.

  Damn. I thought I was in pretty good shape. He laughed. It was a sound of exhaustion and desperation, rather than humor. And it hurt. He coughed, tasted blood.

  His vision swam. The pain should have subsided by now. He’d steadied his breathing, slowed his heart rate ... but if anything, he felt worse. He put his left hand inside his open jacket and found a warm, wet spot below his ribs. The iron tang of blood in the air grew stronger when he raised his fingers in the silvery light that spilled over the guardrails from the street lamps above.

  Jake cursed. The bastard had cut him. He hadn’t even felt it until now.

  Still don’t have a choice, he told himself as he scrubbed both hands on his jean-clad thighs. Gotta climb.

  He turned away from the pylon and stumbled. The embankment looked so far away and so steep.

  Behind him, something skittered across the gravel jogging path. Someone emerged from the pine grove moving quickly. A slim figure in a dark, hooded jacket rounded the curve, hands jammed into deep pockets, head down.

  Jake froze. It wasn’t the mugger. He’d been just a hair shorter than Jake’s 6 feet 2 inches. Jake held his breath as he watched the figure approach. Should he ask for help or hope the newcomer didn’t notice him sagged against the pylon, bleeding all over his crisp white shirt?

  Caution won out. There were too many unknowns in the park at night. If he’d thought of that in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened at all. Jake retreated a scant inch into the shadows, but his movement must have caused a faint sound. The figure stopped abruptly and turned in his direction.

  “Are you all right?” Her voice was strong and clear. She wasn’t one of the strung out teenaged hookers that frequented the park’s dilapidated picnic area. Jake exhaled as he watched her move into the puddle of lamplight. She leaned forward a little to get a better look at him. “Are you hurt? Is that blood?”

  “I was ... mugged.” It stung to admit it. Jake worked out twice a week. He’d been varsity track in high school and college. Normally he’d have beaten anyone to a pulp who pulled a knife on him, but tonight he’d been careless, distracted. He’d allowed himself to be lured into the park out of his own careless desperation.

  “Do you have a cell phone?” she asked. “The nearest pay phone is on the other side of the pond.”

  Jake shook his head. The movement made him dizzy and he clutched the pylon’s cool surface for support. “Lost it in the fight.” He’d heard it clatter to the ground when he and his assailant crossed the bridge.

  “It’s almost 12:30,” she said, stepping a little closer. Jake remained still. How could this young woman be so calm? At this hour she probably had more to fear in the park than he did. “There’s a cop who hangs out across the street from the entrance by the kiddie playground. Come on, I’ll help you.”

  Jake steadied himself and focused on her shadowed features. She looked gaunt, but her eyes were clear. She reached out her hand as she moved toward him.

  “I’m Abby.”

  “I’m Jake.” He sighed heavily as she slid her shoulder beneath his arm and wrapped her arm around his waist. He probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds but she helped hold him up. Together they walked along the path toward the playground where railroad ties boxed in thick layers of wood chips and brightly painted playscapes made for toddlers had become canvases for graffiti artists.

  “What are you doing here at this hour?” Jake asked when they reached the outcropping of aluminum tables and benches just beyond the bucket swings.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Her answer came quickly as though she’d expected the question.

  “I was ... meeting someone. He didn’t show but the mugger did.” Jake’s reply ended in a grunt of pain. He felt lightheaded again.

  “Hey! Hang on. We’re almost there.” She pushed up with her shoulder and they stood for a moment in an awkward semi-embrace while he willed his legs to hold him up.

  “I think I’m going to pass out.”

  “Oh, come on,” she cajoled. “A big, strong guy like you? You can make it a little bit farther.”

  “No. I definitely need to sit down.” Jake sagged against her. She didn’t buckle under his weight but maneuvered him a few steps backward toward a bench. Her strength surprised him.

  He let her help lower him down when he felt the edge of the seat against the backs of his knees. Pain shot through his ribcage and he grunted. More disconcerting than the pain was the warm sticky feeling that seeped down his side.

  “Don’t go south on me, Jake. The cop’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “How do you know?” He looked up into her face. A strand of dark brown hair had escaped from under her hood. She poked it back under with shaking fingers. His heart sank a notch. Maybe she was a junkie after all, haunting the park for a fix. If he hadn’t told her he’d been mugged, she’d probably have just taken his wallet and run.

  “I’ve been hanging out here a lot. You start to notice things....”

  “You’re homeless?” He grunted again and leaned forward against the pain.

  “I’m between apartments. I’m not looking for handouts.” Her voice rose slightly and Jake realized his question had sounded like an accusation. “Or a date, if you know what I mean. I’m not a hooker.”

  “I didn’t think you were.” Jake clamped his teeth shut over the shivers that had begun at the back of his jaw. Damn, it was getting so cold. His jacket was Corinthian leather, fleece lined. His work boots were designed for mountaineering, yet they felt full of ice right now. He looked at her in her tattered, oversized sweat jacket. It was zipped up her chin but there wasn’t much bulk underneath. If she wore anything at all under it, it was probably nothing more than a thin T-shirt. He looked down at her feet, which were encased in thin canvas sneakers, the kind they sold at Willard’s for $4.99.

  If he was cold, how did she feel?

  Jake thought of his wallet, still safe in a zippered inner pocket of his jacket. He could give her the $200 he carried and never miss a dime of it.

  “There.” She turned toward the park entrance. On the far side of Briarc
liff Avenue, beyond the sporadic traffic, a patrol car had just pulled into the Redi-Mart parking lot. “Will you be okay here? I’ll go get the cop.”

  Jake eyed the distance between them and Redi-Mart. If she didn’t come back, he could still make it to the side of the road if he forced himself. He nodded.

  “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

  Jack watched her run through the empty lot and across the street. He had to squint to keep track of her against the bright glow of the convenience store’s large front windows. When she reached the patrol car, she boldly tapped on the driver’s side window. The tempered glass rolled down and a local cop in the dark uniform of a rookie stuck his head out.

  That was the last thing Jake saw before he blacked out.

  * * * *

  He woke up in the ER with the blinding beam of a penlight stabbing him in the right eye. The pain in his side was gone, but his head hurt bad enough to make up for it.

  “What happened?” The words oozed out of his dry lips.

  A dark-skinned face swam into focus as the penlight beam snapped off. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Beaumont. Your knife wound is shallow but you sustained a concussion when you passed out and fell off the park bench. I’m Dr. Verash. I sewed you up. Only eighteen stitches.”

  That’s all? Jake thought. The idea of someone using a needle to bind his flesh back together made him suddenly queasy.

  “Do you have any drug allergies?”

  “N-no.”

  “Is there someone we can call for you? I’d like to keep you here overnight and do another MRI in the morning just to make sure.”

  “Abby?” Jake scanned the curtained alcove where he lay propped on one of the rolling stretcher beds. He saw his jacket lying on a chair next to the bed. A blonde nurse hovered just inside the curtain and she smiled at Jake when he caught her eye. “Where’s Abby?”

  “Is that your wife?” Dr. Verash asked as he pulled a blood pressure cuff from a metal basket on the wall.

  “No ... the girl from the park....”

  “You came in alone. A police officer found you and called an ambulance.”

  Jake sighed. He wasn’t surprised that she’d disappeared.

  “You can call my business partner. I have his card in my wallet.”

  The nurse nodded. She went to his jacket and took out the wallet. Obviously they’d already found his identification or they wouldn’t know his name. “We’ll call him for you,” she said.

  “It’s a slow night so we should be able to get you into a private room in an hour or so,” Verash said. “But before that, Officer Gerhardt would like to talk to you about what happened. Are you feeling up to that?”

  Jake nodded. The movement caused the world to tilt and he grabbed the edges of the bed.

  “Don’t try to move just yet,” the doctor said with a knowing smile.

  “Now you tell me.”

  * * * *

  Two days later Jake sat on the same park bench where Officer Gerhardt had found him. It was dusk and there was a bitter edge to the damp wind.

  The playground was empty except for an elderly man walking a small dog. The animal waddled around on stubby legs sniffing with intense fascination at tufts of winter-dry grass and bits of litter. It urinated at the base of the No Dogs Allowed sign, then led its owner off across the parking lot.

  Jake sighed. The cold air made his head hurt. He reasoned he should probably give up and go home, but an irrational need for closure forced him to wait another few minutes in the hopes she’d wander by.

  He blew on his fingers and jammed them into his pockets where his right hand encountered the envelope he’d prepared for her with a few crisp twenties and the phone number of the most reputable women’s shelter in the county. He planned to offer her a ride there if she needed it.

  Unfortunately Jake still couldn’t decide if it was a generous gift, or an insult, but he was going to give her the envelope anyway. If he found her.

  He didn’t notice her standing by the canvas-covered sand box until he rose to leave. She wore the same sweat jacket and scuffed sneakers, but her jeans looked much darker than the ones she’d been wearing the other night.

  “I thought it was you,” she said as she pushed the hood of her jacket down. She smiled and it occurred to him that he hadn’t noticed before how pretty she was. That was all the more reason to help get her someplace safe to stay.

  Despite her disheveled appearance, there was a quiet grace about her that showed in her determined stride. Jake watched her pick her way over the railroad ties and he moved over to give her room on the bench.

  “How’s your side?”

  “Nothing important fell out.” He shrugged. Medical humor wasn’t his strong suit these days. “I’m doing okay.”

  “Good. Sorry I disappeared--”

  “Don’t apologize. I didn’t expect you to spend half the night in the ER.”

  An awkward silence descended and the wind picked up. Jake saw her shoulders tense, but she stalwartly refused to shiver.

  “You hungry?” He hoped he didn’t sound like a social worker.

  She shook her head but the gesture didn’t convince him. “Nah.”

  “Well I’m starving. I was going to the diner up the block. They’ve got pretty good burgers.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I’ve eaten there a few times.” Her eyes traced the lines of the empty swing set in front of them. Jake noticed they were an odd shade of blue, almost violet. He tried not to stare too long. “Did they catch the guy?”

  “The mugger? No. I didn’t get a good enough look at him. The description I gave could have been half the twenty-year-olds in Haverston.”

  “Too bad.”

  Jake shrugged. “Yeah. Well. I figure he’ll get caught eventually. I ... uh....” His hand closed over the envelope. He thought of simply thrusting it into her hands and walking away but some part of him refused to treat her like that. She had saved his life, what there was of it, anyway. She deserved more than what amounted to a gratuity. He felt an inexplicable need to get involved in her problems. That was something his parents, friends and business associates would have vehemently advised against. Despite her brave exterior, she looked like she needed somebody.

  Maybe he was just going all “Highway to Heaven.” That age-old need for redemption hit hard when it hit. He never would have believed it.

  “Well,” he said, rising from the bench. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to thank you for helping me.”

  “Don’t mention it, really.”

  He waited a beat. “Come on, Abby. Have dinner with me. No strings.” That made it sound more like he was begging for a date than trying to foist some much-needed charity on her. Apparently it worked.

  Either that or hunger got the better of her pride. “I could actually go for a burger.”

  Her admission warmed him, but he knew he had no right to feel triumphant. Once again the silence was awkward, but he had the feeling that he’d made an overture that would not be taken the wrong way. That was a good place to start.

  As he fell into step behind her and they trekked across the parking lot, he wondered if it was truly wise to start something he wouldn’t be able to finish.

  Chapter One

  Three Years Later

  “Miss Shore has arrived, sir.” Jake Beaumont’s butler, Martin, bowed slightly at the waist as he made the announcement.

  Jake looked away from the nest of spiral ribbons he’d created atop a gold-wrapped Christmas gift. “Show her into the library please, and then bring in the champagne.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Jake sighed as the butler left. Martin was indispensable to him, but all Jake’s attempts to convince the man to be a little less formal had failed. Things would never change.

  He surveyed his handiwork with the gift wrap and ribbon and decided he’d achieved the slightly hopeful, tad-less-than-perfect look he’d been shooting for. The long jewelry box looked like a gold brick with an explosion o
f silver and gold corkscrews all over it. Not bad for a man who’s more comfortable with a hammer in his hand than a pair of scissors, he thought.

  He picked up the box and dusted a few scraps of wrapping paper off his black Dockers. As he passed the dresser on his way out of the bedroom he glanced self-consciously toward the mirror and shrugged. Martin had assured him twice that he looked fine. The dark pants and tan sweater were casual and elegant and that was a look he could deal with. Normally he wouldn’t have thought twice about his appearance, but tonight was special. He wanted to make an impression.

  He jogged easily down the curving staircase, careful to avoid the garland of lights and fresh pine boughs that decorated the banister. A seven-tiered tree of potted poinsettias sitting at the base of the stairs filled most of the foyer. Jake canted around it and slowed his pace so he wouldn’t appear anxious when he arrived in the library. She’d be waiting for him there with a glass of champagne in her hand, snowflakes melting in her dark hair, cheeks bright with the cold.

  He put the gift behind his back as he shouldered through the door.

  “Jake! The place looks so beautiful from outside. You really outdid yourself with the lights this year,” she said with a warm smile. God, she was beautiful.

  He crossed the room and caught her in a one-armed hug, planting a quick kiss on her lips. It was all he could do not to linger there and melt the chill she’d acquired on her walk up the driveway.

  He gave her a crooked grin, one eyebrow cocked, and produced the gift from behind his back. Her eyes lit when he placed the box in her hands. “Merry Christmas, Abby.”

  * * * *

  It had been a long day at work and Abby had been exhausted when she dragged herself up the long front walkway of Jake’s house. The six-bedroom Tudor boasted one tennis court, a fabulous in-ground pool and a gourmet kitchen, but it was just a shade too small to be called a mansion.

  The existence of Martin, Jake’s butler, added a few points to the score, but overall, the understated taste of the place made it more homey than ostentatious.