She closed her eyes and tried to keep the image of her sister’s cold, lifeless body from invading her thoughts. Christine’s only wound was a bite on her neck, a bite that was unlike any animal’s bite. Two puncture holes with no other wounds in sight had marred her pale skin. It was such a stereotypical vampire wound that it almost made Charlie laugh. But the death of her sister was anything but funny.
What had happened to her life? She and her sisters had grown up as privileged children, living in the wealthiest part of Boston, with parents who felt more at home managing their global business than going to PTA meetings and soccer matches. The girls had flourished even without their parents’ attention and love.
All three sisters had been groomed to help run the family business. Charlie had accepted that as her fate, but Shannon had rebelled, claiming a life apart from her family by working in a used car dealership. She’d hated the family business and wanted nothing to do with it.
Christine’s life had taken a tragic turn when she’d gotten involved with the wrong crowd during her first year of college. They’d introduced her to drinking and drugs. From that moment, her life had spiraled out of control until she’d found herself in Dallas, willing to take drugs from any stranger on the street. Her luck ran out for good when she’d followed a supposed dealer into a back alley. But the stranger was even worse than a dealer. He’d drained her body and left her to rot beside a Dumpster.
Some people believed in fate or destiny or whatever they wanted to call it. Charlie was willing to believe in fate, but she had a difficult time letting go of the idea that she had the ultimate control over her life. Especially since fate had a way of kicking a person when they least expected it.
She’d had her life planned out. She’d work in the family business and one day prove worthy of becoming the CEO. At least that was her plan until that awful day when the authorities had called to say Christine was dead from “suspicious circumstances.”
Charlie snorted at the idea. “Suspicious circumstances” was the police department’s way of not having to admit that they didn’t have a clue who’d killed Christine.
The shock of her sister being a drug addict wasn’t nearly as hard to come to grips with as the fact that her sister had been drained dry by a real undead creature of the night. And yet, she’d still stayed in Boston, taking care of business and doing what her parents expected of her.
Charlie slumped in the seat of the rented pickup and tugged the baseball cap down to cover more of her face. She didn’t expect anyone to recognize her, but she didn’t want to take any chances. After leaving Shannon, she’d vowed to come back more prepared to take on the creatures that had somehow captured her sister’s mind and heart.
She ignored the sickening feeling in her stomach and checked the map she’d made of Forever and the nearby town of Shatland. The landlord who’d rented the small one-bedroom house located between the two towns had drawn a map for her, but she wasn’t sure how accurate it was. Something about the man had made her jumpy. Listening to her gut, she’d paid him a month’s rent in advance just to keep from having to see him again anytime soon.
The house was simple, with only the barest of furnishings, but it was clean and had a window air conditioner that roared to life every ten minutes. The reject from a garbage dump would spew out semicool air then sputter and threaten to die for several minutes before starting the cycle all over again. But the place provided her with shelter, a shower, and a lumpy bed. It suited her needs, since she wasn’t planning on staying long. As soon as she could either convince or, if necessary, force Shannon to leave with her, she’d get out of town as fast as she could.
She ran her finger along the map, noting the area between the rental house and Forever. The vampire Deacon Slater’s house was outside of Shatland, but she knew her sister wasn’t there. Shannon had gone on and on about Daniel and Anderson Holms as well as their ranch, going into a detailed description of the white two-story home with a wraparound porch. But as Charlie soon found out, white two-story houses with wraparound porches were plentiful in the area.
She could still hear the excitement in Shannon’s voice as she told her sister how she loved helping the men with the horses and cattle. She’d talked the men into building a chicken pen for ten chickens and one rooster that she planned on adding to the livestock.
The ranch was called Moonbeam Ranch. Charlie thought it sounded like a name a ten-year-old girl would choose, but Shannon went on to explain how many of the ranches in the area had the word “moon” in their names. There was even a local dance bar called The Moonstone Bar.