Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

EPILOGUE

SO DEAD, MY LOVE

Other Books by Patty G. Henderson:

THE BRENDA STRANGE
SUPERNATURAL MYSTERY SERIES

The Burning of Her Sin, Bella Books, 2002
Tangled and Dark, Bella Books, 2004
The Missing Page, Bella Books, 2005

ANTHOLOGIES

Call of the Dark, Bella Books 2005
Chilling Tales of Terror and the Supernatural, Ed., PD Publishing, 2008

CHAPBOOKS

Blood of the Lamb, Bite-Sized Chapbooks, 2004

Author’s Choice Edition

Copyright © 2008 Patty G. Henderson

Cover Collage by: Boulevard Photografica

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this work covered by the copyright hereon may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

ISBN # 978-0-6151-4025-4

This one is for Heidi...The spark that started the fire.

Let me die
Let me die
And how can I possibly be consoled
In this cruel fate
In this great suffering
Let me die

“Lament of Arianna” by Monteverdi

Prologue

Karnov Mansion
Bayton Isle, off the coast of Maine,
early 1700’s

When they stormed through her door, she’d just sat down at the piano to play something for her mother. Immediately, Lara knew they’d come for her.

Her mother ran wildly to stand in front of her daughter, arms outstretched. Lara stood up behind her and watched Stefan, Nicolas and Johann approach. Darkhaired, slender and abnormally tall, they were her least favorite of the Karnov clan.

“Move away, my Lady,” Stefan said brusquely, “the Countess is to come with us.” His eyes were yellow, aglow with anticipation of the full moon.

“No,” Morina Karnov shrieked, “She is my daughter.”

Johann Karnov moved delicately forward and smiled down at her, the chilling smirk revealing yellow, sharp teeth.

“She is the Karnov prophecy.” His voice was mocking, inflicting ridicule. “You believe that as much as she does. Well then, she is to be put to the test.” He raised a hand with long, black fingernails. Nicholas handed him a short piece of thick rope. There were symbols and numbers burned into the length of the rope. Lara knew what they were.

“Take her,” Johann said, “We must hurry. The moon comes ever closer.” His face looked hungry, twisted in impatience.

Stefan pushed Morina aside violently, sending her back against the piano. Johann walked defiantly to Lara, his face so close she could smell his breath. Rancid, metallic. He’d been feasting already.

“You will be bound and laid to rest,” he stated arrogantly, “Wilmon has ordered it.” Nicolas suddenly grabbed her wrists together in front of her and began to tie the rope tightly around them. Johann was grinning from ear to ear.

“What a lovely little game, dear Lara, don’t you think? This rope binds you forever in darkness with the curse of fire.” His eyes glowed a deep maroon. “If you break the rope of your own free will, you will perish...”

He circled around her, making sure Nicolas had fastened her wrists securely. He came back to stand before her. “If you undo the rope, you will be consumed by fire,” he finished. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered.

“Unless, of course, your chosen one comes to your rescue.” He laughed so loud, his voice echoed in her head.

There was nothing to be done. Morina Karnov struggled in Stefan’s arms, cursing him and calling for Wilmon. Lara looked at her mother and smiled. Wilmon’s fear had consumed him. This was meant to be. Was this not what she had longed for?

“Take her down,” Johann said quickly, moving to the door. “And don’t forget to bind her feet as well.” Stefan released Morina and they walked out with Lara in their arms. Morina could do nothing but stand and watch them take her daughter. Johann turned abruptly to look back at her.

“Do not worry, dear Lady, Lara will be fed and cared for. In the meantime, we will methodically find every dirty little human female beast she’s had relations with and murder them. We must level the playing field.”

The smile that formed on his lips was cold. “I personally will enjoy selecting the sacrificial virgins. Her current little companion will be the first to shed her blood for your daughter.

“No. Do not touch her! She is just a frail girl, my personal maid, that is all!” Lara screamed. She tried desperately to escape their grip.

“Why fret so, dear cousin? If she is your chosen one, her death will not keep her from you. Besides, Wilmon suspects her attachment to you, and I do not care much for the color of her eyes. They are the color of steel.” Johann’s laughter began as a malicious giggle and erupted into a manic cackle as he walked away.

Bayton Isle, 1977

The bloodcurdling scream shattered the Barnes house. Haley Barnes sprang out of a light sleep. It was Samantha! She pushed her husband awake and ran off to her daughter’s room, not waiting for him to follow.

Ten year-old Samantha was sitting up in bed, hands wiping repeatedly at her tear-stained face.

“There, there, darling,” Haley sat on the bed next to her, holding Samantha’s shaking, sobbing form. Samantha buried her face in her mother’s chest, calmed by the soft hand that caressed her hair.

“Was it that nightmare again?” Marty Barnes stood in the doorway, brushing stray hairs from his face.

Samantha nodded her head weakly, the dream still far too vivid in her brain, the pain of the knife coming down on her stomach so real she wanted to retch.

After Haley and Marty were able to get Samantha sufficiently calmed and back into bed, they proceeded to have the same conversation that had become an unwanted part of their stay in the Bayton Isle vacation home.

“Haley, we’ve got to get help for her.” Marty was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Haley stir her coffee blindly, like a zombie. “This is getting too weird,” he finished.

“They’re just bad nightmares, Marty.”

“My ass they are. How come they get worse when we come here? To this house? She spends almost the entire two months out there on the beach, alone. I followed her once. She just stares up at that creepy house on the cliff.”

“Well, what do you expect her to do? We forbid her to go anywhere without us. The beach is her only outdoor entertainment. She prefers to read and draw.” Haley took a swallow of her coffee while staring into space. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe it’s just the change from her comfy room back home.”

“That’s bull. Her comfy room back home isn’t much better. She has the same nightmares there.”

Haley put the coffee cup down gently on the table. She knew her husband was right. There was something terribly wrong with their daughter. “I’m going to check into a good child psychologist when we get back home.”

She got up, kissed Marty lightly on the lips and began gathering the cups and saucers. “Come on, Marty. If we don’t stop drinking this coffee, we’ll never get to sleep.”

Bayton Isle, Present

Chapter 1

When Tamara Weissman made the cut deep across her forearm, Karnov Mansion seemed to sigh in relief, the heavy flow of blood a drink for the parched walls. But it wasn’t the house that screamed for the blood. It was something far more ancient.

Inside Karnov Mansion, the light was dim; the flickering candles playing hide and seek with the shadows that moved in slow motion like black figures in a macabre dance. The twenty first century had seemingly overlooked Karnov Mansion.

Tamara sat motionless in front of the large mirror at the far end of the sitting room. The ceiling was so high the light of the candles was sucked up into the darkness above. The furniture, the walls, the carpeting, everything in the room wore dark colors: reds, blacks, maroons, forest greens.

Before her, on the large marble table carved with sneering gargoyles indulging in obscure delights, all had been laid out as before. A gilded dagger lay shimmering on a red velvet cloth.

Tamara was a young woman, yet her eyes and skin were visions of age. Her color was pale and her dark hair was showing premature gray. She was still lovely in a dark, morbid way.

The ritual tonight was no different from any other night. For decades it had remained so. Preparations were always needed. All had been done according to tradition. She had washed and donned her white floor length gown.

Tamara found that putting herself into a semi-trance helped her forget things she didn’t want to remember anymore. Forget every night from now until the end. Sometimes her life flashed before her, the images like little chasing Christmas lights, except they were all red, like the color of blood. Everything was red.

Tamara took one of the candles and put it beside the dagger. As she stared deeply into the mirror, her image seemed to change before her eyes. She grew old, withered and toothless. She felt herself drawn deeper and deeper into that crone’s world. She picked up the knife again and cut a smaller slit on her lower arm. The other cut wasn’t bleeding fast enough. The blood trickled out slowly. It was becoming more difficult to get a steady flow.

Holding her arm over the brass urn atop the table, she let the ruby liquid drain into it. Up and down both her arms were tiny scars, dull reminders of the pain and suffering she had endured. She knew that her time was short. Everything would be coming to an end soon.

Tamara could feel her stirring. The air was alive with charged energy. Tamara’s body shook with exhaustion and fear. She had served her mistress well and had gained nothing in return. Hell would have a special place for her. Tears swelled as the blood now ran freely down her arm. The room itself seemed to dim ever so slightly and she thought she could feel the house shift on its foundations.

“Stop it now,” she heard herself moan. “It’s not time yet. Samantha Barnes must come to us. She is the chosen one.” Tamara broke the trance and grabbed a towel on the table, applying tight pressure to the wound. The frightening, fuzzy image of the crone in the mirror faded away, leaving only the too familiar sight of Tamara Weissman.

Staring at the still gushing wound on her arm, she made sure to drape over the ritual table, urn and knife with the velvet cover, hiding any indication of its unholy use.

As she walked slowly to every window in the room, making sure drapes were drawn and windows fastened, she managed to catch sight of the full, round moon casting a cold eye her way. She shivered, rubbing the wound on her arm gently, wishing she could turn off the light of the moon like she snuffed out a candle.

***

The pain in her stomach was so intense, she feared she would pass out. The knife plunged again, deeper and deeper, its thirst for blood tearing her flesh, the red life force exploding onto her face, chest and hands. She couldn’t move. They had tied her to a stone table in a dark, damp place. She was the sacrifice.

The figures in black with long, dark fingernails kept shouting a name at her face and laughing as the knife kept digging deeper, so deep she thought the tip had gone straight through her and imbedded itself in the stone bed beneath her.

Her body suddenly started to spasm. Death could be her only salvation. Instead, a tall, thin woman appeared to form out of a thick red fog. She looked surreal-Too gaunt for her height, and beautiful in a pale, haunting way. Her long, fiery auburn hair draped over her shoulders. The woman spoke softly.

“I will be with you always. Your love will keep me alive.”

Then she reached out with long, slender arms and began to stroke her intimately. Ecstasy exploded into pain, crushing her barely beating heart. But even death could not put an end to the orgasm which caused one final, brutal convulsion. A scream forced itself out of her mouth, cut short by a suffocating darkness.

Samantha Barnes woke up screaming in bed. The nightmare was back. Even after waking, it was hard to forget the pain of the plunging knife and the haunting woman who whispered words of undying love.

She wiped a light sweat from her face. In her younger days, the dream came often. The bad dreams had almost become part of her. Hell, she was almost possessive of them. Maybe she didn’t really want to get rid of them. That’s what one therapist insisted. Still, it left her with the same bad taste in her brain.

It was still dark outside and the alarm clock on her black night table blinked three a.m. Samantha remained quiet for a while, trying to compose her thoughts. She might have succeeded if her accelerated heartbeat hadn’t kept pounding in her chest.

Damn that dream. Why couldn’t she let go of it? She pushed the comforter off and got out of bed. In a cool morning like this, she was grateful for the fuzzy carpeting.

There was no way she was going to get back to sleep now. It was too close to dawn. She had to meet Bob Holder at the bank by eight and she hadn’t even gotten the initial presentation sketch finished.

Coffee. She needed coffee. A grizzly bear backed into a corner couldn’t be worse than Samantha Barnes in the morning without her coffee, although you couldn’t tell her that. She didn’t consider herself a coffee addict. Coffee and a glass of premium Merlot merely seemed like earthly saviors to her.

She draped the chenille robe tighter around her slim body as she worked her way down the stairs of her two-story home. There was a chill throughout the house and she made a mental note to call a repairman to check into it. The heating unit had always done the job even throughout the worst of Maine coastal winters.

As fluorescent light flooded the kitchen, Samantha felt an extra shiver as the dream came intruding into her memory again. Damn, she hated feeling this way. It made her vulnerable to those old lonely thoughts and the house suddenly loomed like an empty tomb. She thought of getting a cat, but just never felt ambitious enough to go out and do it. But most of all, she wanted to shake these negative feelings away. She didn’t want the melancholia to find its way into her life again. Not so soon. She had suffered from dark depressions and loneliness so heavy it had been suffocating.

The coffee maker was one of the most well used and appreciated gifts Carmen had given her. Samantha felt fortunate have Carmen as a friend. She’d never been able to make friends easily. That hadn’t changed much since her school days when she was scorned and ridiculed as “the fat kid” nobody wanted on their teams. No matter the sport or game, Samantha was always the last one no one waned. The lone reject. Softball and baseball were her favorites and when some unforeseen circumstance forced one of the other girls out of the game, Samantha actually got to play. Although a great hitter at bat, she was never allowed to continue once she got on base. Overweight and not a fast runner, she was always pulled for some skinny-minny who could streak across the field. Back to the bench she went. If only they could see her now. She was as thin as any model in those fashion magazines.

Fixing herself a strong cup of French Roast, Samantha settled down at her drawing board in the dining room. Although she loved the view across her table through the bay window during the day, it was still dark out. She couldn’t see a thing. Bayton Isle was one of the most picturesque places off the Maine Coast that Samantha could think of.

In any case, she had to finish the pencil and charcoal sketch for the commissioned painting at the Bayton Isle National Bank. Although she could and did make a comfortable living working as a freelance artist doing romance book covers, she once in a while liked to branch out and take a breather from the heaving bosoms and manly chests to create rich canvasses of landscapes and still life.

While an active wind played gently on the trees outside, Samantha Barnes worked her pencil on the sketch paper. The vision of a lonely cliff with wild, splashing waves cascading over jutting rocks began to take solid image.

Samantha often lost track of time when she worked. It wasn’t long in her mind before she added the final touch to her landscape. Holding it up at different angles to the light, she let a sigh of resigned satisfaction escape her lips.

She had spent so many years of her artistic life breathing life into portraits, she’d lost her touch with other things.

“It’ll have to do,” she told herself dryly, eying the inconsistent perspective between surf and rocks. “A bank VIP isn’t going to notice the problem. I can fix it when I paint it.” Convincing herself, she began putting her pencils away. She looked at the neon clock on the wall and saw that she had been working for close to two hours. She suddenly felt drowsy.

Unable to fight off the fatigue, she plopped herself on the couch. The thought of getting a nice fire going was tempting, but she just couldn’t muster the energy to throw some logs into the fireplace. Maybe she could catch a couple of hours of sleep instead.

As the dark curtain of sleep reached out and that nether world of unconsciousness swept over her, the unwelcome sound of heavy, frantic breathing began to ease into her mind and the vision of a beautiful, willowy woman covered in red, began to take form, like a distorted shadow on an empty movie screen.

Chapter 2

The meeting with Bob Holder was mercifully short. Her instincts had been right. He really had no idea of the artistic process. Samantha was thankful that he spent most of the time gushing about the importance of the bank in the Bayton Isle community and how she could make a mark in that community with her painting.

It was barely eight thirty when she got back into her car. The misty fog still blanketed the near empty parking lot, almost swallowing the few bicycles tied together at the bike stand. On Bayton Isle, bikes were the preferred mode of transportation. Owning and driving a car was almost frivolous, and some even believed, against God’s law. They gave in when the snows came. Then they were forced into their SUVs.

Samantha had owned her VW Bug convertible since college and with the money she’d spent on keeping it running and in good condition, she wasn’t about to let local superstitions ruin the love affair between car and herself.

As she shifted into reverse and pulled out of the Bayton Isle Bank, she suddenly realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t had time to catch a bite to eat and that coffee early this morning wasn’t going to take her very far.

She decided to head out to Carmen’s place. Carmen owned Bayton Bikes and Repairs in the heart of Bayton. Carmen did all her own repairs as well as sales, and being the only bike shop on the island, did quite well for herself. At six miles long and roughly four miles wide, Bayton Isle was small enough to bike your way through it.

You could always find a row of shiny new bikes bearing the latest brand names. A less appealing selection of used bikes could also be found lining the back wall. On Bayton Isle, not too many people gave up their bikes easily. Finding a decent used bike wasn’t easy work. Carmen did her best, though. She had a friend who did the re-painting and then Carmen would buff out the rust and imperfections and restore them to respectable condition. It was a good living.

Samantha knew Carmen would be at the shop, probably brewing a good cup of coffee. And she always seemed to have something sweet to go along with it like pastries or muffins. Whatever she had, Samantha was sure it would satisfy her aggressively vocal stomach.

Bayton Bikes and Repair was an older storefront with a good oldfashioned wooden walkway running in front of the store. Besides Bayton Bikes, Claire’s Beauty and Nails and the Island Newsstand shared the block.

Carmen Montoya opened Bayton Bikes with the money left to her by her parents. They had both come down with terminal illnesses, each passing away within five years of the other. Carmen, the oldest of two daughters, had been the rock of Gibraltar in their time of need. It was she who saw them through the bad times. It was she who got the money. Not without complications, though. Her younger sister Maria filed for a share and lost. The will was concrete. Seeking refuge from that nightmare, Carmen fled to Bayton Isle.

Although Samantha was considered a veritable newcomer here, having arrived one and a half years ago, Carmen Montoya was a more rooted transplant. She had opened Bayton Isle Bikes and Repair almost ten years before and struck a gold mine.

The natives of Bayton Isle loved their bicycles, but they didn’t necessarily love Carmen. Her alternative lifestyle was often the object of rude comments and whispered gossip. Never one to cower in a corner, Carmen was a real socialite and the current head of the Bayton Isle Business Guild. The Guild was Carmen’s baby, and whomever she didn’t know on Bayton Isle hadn’t moved there yet. With her positive attitude and infectious charm, whether they liked her lifestyle or not, most everyone on Bayton Isle had pleasant dealings with Carmen.

Samantha parked in front, noticing that Carmen had added a fresh coat of paint to her store. It gleamed fresh and new apart from the other two. Three of the newest high tech mountain bikes had been rigged in the front window. Carmen liked to promote new bikes. They generated a lot more cash flow and required less TLC.

As usual, even though opening time was still at least half an hour away, the door was open and Samantha walked in, the door chimes bringing Carmen from her workshop behind the floor room.

Carmen’s smile was as bright as the morning sun when she saw Samantha. Tall and muscular, with dark fluffy hair just below her jaw line, a rich olive skin color and warm smile, Samantha never could quite figure out why Carmen was still single.

“Hey, Sam. How come I’ve been blessed with your presence today?” She hugged Samantha tightly and looked straight into her eyes. “And, might I add, looking beautiful as usual.”

Samantha loved how Carmen made her feel. She was always such a positive presence.

“Actually, Carmen, I’m here to use you again,” Samantha joked and smiled, looking towards the small private area where Carmen kept all the goodies for her customers. It was Carmen’s customer appreciation room. “I had an early morning appointment with Bob Holder down at the bank and didn’t have time to catch breakfast. Got anything you can spare for a hungry friend?”

Carmen laughed and took her arm, gently pulling. “Come on. I’ve got all kinds of goodies. I know you like muffins. There some blueberry and-” She stopped just as they reached the small waiting room, “I have simply the best coffee this side of the Maine coastline.”

Samantha hated it when Carmen hit all her weak points. Coffee was one of them. With a cup of coffee each, Carmen sat at the small table and watched Samantha across from her almost inhale a blueberry muffin.

“Yeah, I know him.” Carmen recalled Bob Holder. “He’s a nice guy, actually. Reclusive socially, but he’s been pretty generous with financial input for the community. Personally, I think he’s a closet case. He bought himself a fairly expensive Peugeot about two months ago. Single, I think. Did he like your proposal?”

Samantha had just stuffed the last piece of muffin into her mouth. “Mmmm, these muffins are so good.” She wiped at the sides of her lips with her hand. “Carmen, you should see this guy’s office! He’s a Disney freak. He must have every conceivable Disney collectible displayed in his place.” The image was hard to forget. “He hardly looked at my sketch. I don’t think he knew what the hell he wanted or maybe he didn’t care. One of those executive types, you know.”

Carmen got up, coffeepot in hand and proceeded to brew up another round. “It’s opening time, Sam. I have to replace all the coffee you drank up.”

Samantha hadn’t really intended to stay long. She got up and dusted off stray crumbs from her shirt. “Actually, I’ve got to get back home and start work on that painting. Got any plans for the weekend?”

Carmen wiped her hands on the counter towel and reached for a brochure printed on bright green paper.

“Now that you ask, yeah, let me show you.” She opened up the flyer to the second page and handed it to Samantha. “Edmund Furrows, a local guy, just published this book on the history of Bayton Isle. He’s going to be autographing copies of it down at Marlin’s Bookstore. I was thinking of going. Wanna come?”

Samantha looked at the flyer for Marlin’s. It was the one of only two bookstores in town. They didn’t have to work hard at all to stay in business, but they did anyway, always adding special activities. Samantha was antsy for a night out and Carmen was the best company to do it with.

“Yeah,” she said, handing the flyer back to Carmen, “I’d like to go. I’ll call you later in the week or you call me for the time.” Samantha smiled and turned to leave.

“Oh wait, Sam.” Carmen walked up to her. “Listen, how about you and I take a walk on the beach tonight? Watch the sun set. You can start your painting tomorrow.”

Carmen was witty, funny, and good-looking. How could she say no? Samantha pretended to be deep in thought, but broke into a big smile, unable to face the disappointment threatening to creep into Carmen’s face.

“I would love to. Come down to my house. We’ll go from there.” She turned again to leave but stopped to look back at Carmen. “And you said you’d bring the wine and cheese, right?”

***

“Don’t you ever miss New York? Your parents? Your friends?” They were sitting on the West side of Bayton Isle, the vast expanse

of undisturbed beach stretched up and down to meet the craggy cliffs beyond. The salty spray from the crashing waves stuck to Samantha’s skin, little droplets sometimes clinging to her black hair. The sand was cool as her toes played at making a pattern in front of her.

Carmen had brought sharp cheddar cheese, crackers, a bottle of Kiona Cabernet and apple turnovers from the bake shop.

“No, not much. My parents are quite content in New York,” Samantha said as she popped a slice of cheese into her mouth and looked at Carmen.

“Sam, I just can’t believe you left all your friends and your New York publishers.”

“Do you think me insensitive or selfish?” Samantha’s question was playful.

Carmen lay back on the blanket and looked seriously at Samantha. “Hey, we all have our reasons for what we do. Sometimes, people can’t always understand.” She kept her eyes on her.

“All I know is that this is where I have to be.” Samantha avoided Carmen’s gaze, noticing the seagulls circling for food scraps. “I didn’t have anyone I would call a close friend in New York anyway. It’s all true what they say. It’s a real rat race. I’ve only been here seven months and I’ve got more friends that I would miss than I did in New York.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Carmen sat up and opened the bottle of wine. She poured out two full glasses and handed one to Samantha. “Cheers, baby. To your continued success on Bayton Isle.”

Samantha raised her glass and sipped, feeling the strong Cab seep into her system. The sun was sinking slowly in the horizon and the sky was a pastel of blues, orange and fiery red.

By the time the bottle was empty, the sun had fully set. Some crackers and cheese still survived but the turnovers were history. Lying side by side, Samantha and Carmen laughed about Bayton Isle, Carmen’s stories of being a lesbian in a strict Spaniard household, life and the universe.

“Say, Carmen, what do you know about that mansion up there on the high peak?” Samantha’s eyes tried to focus on the big Queen Anne type house she had always found so intriguing. She’d spent hours of her childhood out here on this very beach fantasizing about the mysterious place. It always seemed so dark, sitting ominously atop the highest peak on Bayton Isle.

“Oh, that’s the Karnov Estate. It’s a creepy place. We have problems with the teens during the summer. They want to go prowling around the big haunted house.”

Samantha’s ears perked. “Oh, it’s haunted?”

“Nah. A strange couple lives there. An older woman and a young man. They don’t associate with anyone on the Island. Most everyone refer to them as shut-ins.”

“Well, has anyone tried to be friendly with them? I’ve asked around and no one seems to want to talk about it.” Samantha couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be a shut-in. She couldn’t take her eyes off the lonely house on the cliff.

“I don’t know, Sam. The woman ends up in the hospital often. Why are you so interested?”

Samantha felt her heart beating faster. Could it be the wine? Her nightmares came rushing up to strangle her. Although she had marvelous feelings for Carmen and was pretty sure she’d become someone to trust, she wasn’t quite ready to share the terrifying images in her sleep. “No reason really, just curious.”

Night had crept up on them and the stars sparkled brightly in the sky. Samantha inhaled and exhaled. The air was crisp, full of the smell of the Atlantic. The sound of the waves and the tide gurgling in and out was a powerful intoxicant.

“In New York, you could never see this many stars.” Samantha stretched and yawned. “It almost looks like a million little sequins on black velvet.”

Carmen had been looking at her, quietly listening. Without warning, she leaned over and kissed Samantha gently. Her lips were warm, salty. Samantha froze. It felt good. It felt bad. What the hell was going on? She didn’t know what to feel. This couldn’t happen. Not now. Samantha pulled back abruptly.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I...uh...didn’t mean...” Carmen stumbled her apology.

Poor Carmen was so flabbergasted that Samantha needed to save her. “It’s okay, Carmen.” She put her hand on Carmen’s. “I’m just not ready for that. You surprised me.” She tried to hide the confusion in her face. She smiled. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Carmen. She spoke softly. “Besides, I’m not an easy woman to be with. I’m moody and unpredictable.” The painful truth was that she was still smarting from her last relationship. Janet. The name brought with it bittersweet memories. Janet betrayed her. Cheated and stole her money. Devastating affairs had hurt her deeply.

Carmen managed a half smile. “Hey, I’m cool with that. For now. But we’ve got a special relationship going here. I’m convinced that’s why you were at Marlin’s books when I noticed you looking through the Bayton Isle commerce guide, and boldly offered my services. Well, that, and I never pass up the opportunity to engage willowy, ravenhaired beauties in conversation.”

“Oh, so you don’t think it was just chance that we met?”

“No. I don’t believe in chance encounters. Everything happens by choice, whether we plan it or not. We both chose to go to the bookstore that night. We both chose to talk to each other. And we both chose to be here tonight.” It was dark, but Samantha thought Carmen winked.

Samantha put a hand on Carmen’s arm and quickly withdrew it.

“I really hope you understand. You are special to me, it’s just that my last relationship almost devastated me.” Janet crept into her mind again. “I ran away from New York, Janet, people, cars and the therapists not just to escape, but to find the answers I couldn’t find there.”

“You had to go to a therapist to find answers?”

Samantha studied Carmen’s face in the creeping darkness. “Everyone in the New York publishing scene has therapists.” In her gut, she knew she’d have to open up to Carmen. Sooner than later, she feared. “I just felt like I needed a change. I need room to breathe. To explore my inner self.”

“You think the answers are here?” Carmen’s eyes twinkled.

“I don’t know, but I know it sure as hell isn’t in a two-hundred-anhour therapist’s chair in New York.”

Samantha sat up and dusted some sand off her elbows. “Do you know they almost had me convinced that I was suffering from a mother complex because I sought out relationships with older women?” Samantha shivered. The water splashing at them was cold.

“Was Janet an older woman?”

“Yes, but nothing like my mother.” Samantha wanted the images of Janet to disappear. She looked sideways at Carmen and smiled slowly. “You’re an older woman, you know.”

“Well, darling, this older woman doesn’t feel at all like your mother.” Carmen stared long at Samantha and put her arm around her. “C’mon, little girl, it’s too cold out here for you. You’ll catch your death for sure.”

They both laughed till their stomachs hurt as they gathered up their belongings, the moon peeking down at the footprints they left behind on the sand.

Chapter 3

Going into town was not a chore Tamara relished. But the food was getting low and cleaning supplies were due for restocking. Tommy wasn’t coming back from his counselor’s sessions for another two days.

She had hired Tommy because she couldn’t abide the trips into the Isle. She just couldn’t handle all the whispering and the stares. Besides, Tommy was the orphan boy nobody had wanted around. He and his parents had been residents of Bayton Isle before a terrible gas stove explosion killed both his parents, leaving him entirely alone. He was sent to an orphanage home on Mount Desert. It was there that Tamara sought him out. He was a solitary figure. There was no one left to inquire after him. There would be no one to miss him. He was just what she needed.

Tommy became caretaker for the entire Karnov Estate and the land surrounding it. He also did all the errands into town. He drove well enough and saved Tamara from her abuse at the hands of Bayton’s finest.

But today there would be no escape. Tamara felt weak and the wounds on her body were causing her pain. Still, as she dressed herself in flannel shirt and jeans, she couldn’t help missing the convenience of a Tommy. She wondered when Samantha would come, if she would even hear and listen. Or believe. Perhaps it was time for her to initiate contact. It was a struggle every day now to get the ritual done. How much longer could she have?

She tied her gray hair in a ponytail, grabbed the car keys and made sure she had her list of items to get. As she closed the door behind her, she felt it again. The house shuddered. At other times, she could almost feel the walls themselves sigh, as if a burden too heavy was taking its toll.

Tamara walked very slowly to her car. One would mistake her gait for that of a seventy year-old woman. Getting into the large Buick was at least sufferable. She relaxed as she sank into the seat, inhaling and exhaling slowly, letting the pain ease down, wondering silently when it would all end.

***

Located at the corner of Marlin and Chesapeake, Marlin’s Books was an exquisite little book boutique, a shining example of what a truly exceptional independent bookseller should be. Going the extra mile for their book patrons was like second nature. Gillian and John Haskell owned Marlin’s Books. They bought out the Marlins and proceeded to enhance the already comfortable image. John bowed out of active ownership after he was offered a too-good-to-be-true opportunity running the shipping yard for Mercury Lines, one of the country’s top shipbuilding companies. He had it in his blood, as his ancestors before him. Of course, he was hardly at home to share it with Gillian. His business called him away often into the Mainland and even out to the West Coast.

Gillian had added extra touches to the store, like book signings and discount days. On this Friday night, Gillian Haskell scheduled Edmund Furrows, author of The Myths and Facts of Bayton Isle. The book was doing brisk business in Maine and libraries were beginning to show an interest in stocking it on their shelves.

The week had progressed slowly for Samantha. She had hardly done any work on the Bank’s painting, only the white wash on the canvas and some light outlines sketched in. She could feel the melancholia begin to creep back into her soul. Fighting this had been a struggle for most of her teen and adult life. She was at least thankful that the dream hadn’t come back to haunt her.

Samantha was actually thankful to see Friday roll around, and she looked forward to the bookstore outing with Carmen. Usually, when she started a painting, she was able to devote her full attention to it and nothing else, but somehow, this one was becoming side tracked.

Barnum Books had phoned and were anxious for her to start on three new covers coming up for release. The synopsis’ for each book were on the way to her. She groaned, not anticipating the drudgery of the limited creativity romance book covers demanded.

It was a beautiful, clear crisp evening. In late November, the bitter Maine winter had not yet taken its stronghold, and if you listened with a peaceful ear, you could hear the Atlantic waves caress the Bayton shore.

The air was dry and salty. The sun was just setting and the magic of the evening had not been lost on Carmen and Samantha. They opted to take a couple of Carmen’s bikes out to Marlin Avenue instead of going in Samantha’s Bug.

Approaching Marlin’s Books, there was a shortcut most savvy bikers on the Isle took advantage of. If you cut across the Island Grocer’s parking lot, you could pedal right in behind the bookstore and reach the bike rack before everyone else did.

Carmen was riding beside Samantha and they both slowed down to avoid several women loaded down with overstuffed paper bags in their arms. Carmen joked about the benefits of living on an island where plastic bags hadn’t made their evil debut and then sped on ahead of Samantha.

Samantha didn’t see the woman who suddenly appeared in front of her. She slammed hard into the grocery basket the woman was pushing. Samantha steered the bike to a halt and looked back. The basket had tipped over, groceries littering the asphalt. She got off the bike and walked to the woman, who seemed to be just standing still. Carmen was biking back toward the commotion.

The woman appeared old and frail, her gray hair tied behind her. But as Samantha began to pick up the scattered groceries, she noticed that she had been wrong. The small woman with the oversized jeans and flannel shirt was actually much younger.

“I’m really sorry. I must not have been looking.” Samantha apologized as she finally put everything back into the one bag. It was a heavy bag. Lots of canned goods, she noticed.

The woman said nothing but eyed her intently. And in those icy blue eyes, Samantha thought she saw something sinister, a flicker of shadows. She had dark circles under her eyes and Samantha couldn’t help but notice how dreadfully thin her hands were. The veins were dark, blue and bulging.

Carmen had by now reached Samantha’s side. She said something, but Samantha didn’t hear her. Her mind and her eyes were following the haunting figure of the woman who was now moving ever so slowly away from them and into the parking lot with her basket. A bitter cold ran through her. She shivered and then jumped as Carmen put her hand on her shoulder from behind.

“Sam, you okay?”

She looked at Carmen. “Yeah, I’m all right,” she said, somewhat shaken, and smiled weakly. She looked back for the woman, but she was gone. Samantha thought she caught her in a large, late model Buick that was pulling out of the parking lot.

“Then let’s get going kiddo.” Carmen said, already on her bike and on her way. Samantha followed her, but as they wound their way to the bookstore, she couldn’t shake her encounter with the odd woman.

Edmund Furrows had drawn a small but relatively lively crowd. He was, after all, a well known and liked figure on Bayton Isle.

“It’s hopping tonight,” Carmen said as they entered Marlin’s Books. “I bet Gillian’s tickled pink about that.” Carmen left Samantha behind, working her way into the maze of tall bookshelves. Marlin’s Books always made Samantha feel warm and welcome. From the paneled wooden walls to the small comfy chairs placed about the store, everything felt right. She immediately began to relax after the accident back at the parking lot.

She heard low voices and a burst of light laughter at the back of the bookstore and found that a small table had been set up and a handful of people were standing in line. Just outside the small circle that was gathered around an older, gray-haired man signing books, Samantha spotted Carmen talking to Gillian Haskell. As she started to walk towards them, a pang of guilt hit her. The painting. She should be painting.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she muttered to herself, “I should be home working on that painting.” Why did she do this to herself? Why was she punishing herself for having a good time?

The therapist had told her it wouldn’t be easy. It would be a long, tough road, filled with obstacles she herself placed there. Obstacles only she could remove. Most of the time she felt secure with her life, but then came unexpected moments like this, where she had to fight them off and wonder why. The meds and tranquilizers had helped at first, but Samantha didn’t like who she’d become on the drugs. She’d put off taking them.

She tried to put the feelings aside as both Carmen and Gillian greeted her with big smiles.

“It’s a nice crowd, Gillian.” Samantha smiled as she greeted her.

Gillian Haskell smiled, her eyes lingering on Carmen before she looked at Samantha. “Oh, I’m not surprised. His book is doing real well all over Maine. I was lucky to get him here so soon after publication.” She glanced over at the table still drawing patrons. “He’s going off into the mainland and won’t be back for almost three weeks. Have you two seen the book yet?”

“We were on our way to get a copy,” Carmen added.

Samantha had already eyed the impressive stack of The Myths and Facts of Bayton Isle seductively placed on a second table next to Edmund Furrows with a tray of cookies.

Not waiting for Carmen, she walked to the table, picked up a copy of the book and leafed through it. It was a thin coffee table book, filled with picturesque views of Bayton Isle at various times in history. The somber faces of long dead Bayton Isle inhabitants and dignitaries crowded the pages.

Somehow, Samantha always found those ancient photos sad but fascinating. A camera had frozen the look in the eyes of some person ages ago, giving us permission to gaze upon their ghost.

Without giving it a second thought, she tucked the book under her arm, took a paper plate and napkin and began to pile cookies on the plate. Looking for a quiet spot and a free chair, she found both just beyond the Metaphysical and Religion selections.

Settling in, plate of cookies on her lap, she opened the book. Never one to tackle a new book page by page, she began to swiftly flip through it, stopping when an interesting photograph or chapter struck her fancy. Her true intent was on finding mention of her own house or at the very least, something about the area where it was built.

Ever since her father had bought it as a very prudent investment back in the Fifties, she had been attached to it. Property in Bayton Isle was going for a pauper’s price back then.

The family spent summer months there when she was little and when it landed in her lap as a surprise gift, she had wonderful, readymade memories to decorate it with. The high-priced therapists her parents insisted she see finally convinced her father that living in Bayton Isle would not damage Samantha’s mental health any further.

Samantha kept turning the pages of the book absentmindedly, keeping a roving eye on Edmund Furrows and the crowd. He was engaged in conversation with Mrs. Peabody, the town gossip and all around most annoying person to encounter at any given time or place. Samantha was hoping she could avoid her notice. Mrs. Peabody was always trying to set her up with what she considered eligible young men. Samantha had never given her any indication of interest in any of them and actually found her quite insufferable. She certainly wasn’t about to tell her how much she preferred to make passionate love with a woman.

Seeing that the well-wishers and autograph hounds for Edmund Furrows were winding down, and wanting desperately to avoid Mrs. Peabody, Samantha closed the book and made a dash to try and vanish in some other more obscure section of Marlin’s Books. She didn’t know where Carmen had gone off to and was feeling a bit exhausted and still guilty about leaving her painting. She really should get back to it. So instead of hiding, she decided to go ahead and buy the book, take it home and read it at her own pace and appropriate time.

She started out to look for Carmen and found her at Edmund Furrows’s table. Fortunately, Mrs. Peabody was nowhere in sight. Maybe she’d tired him as well. She walked up to Carmen just as Carmen was shaking his hand.

“Hey, Sam, I was just talking to Edmund about you. I told him about the painting they commissioned from you for the Bank. Edmund, this is Samantha Barnes.” Furrows was still standing as he offered his hand to her.

“Good to meet you, Samantha. I’m afraid I think of you as quite a brave soul. I don’t think I could ever find a way to work with bankers.” He had a wry smile on his lips and his eyes sparkled blue behind the wire frame glasses. Samantha put him at about sixty-five or so and very fit for his age.

“Oh no, the pleasure is mine. Your book is very intriguing and I’m taking a copy home with me.” Samantha shook his outstretched hand.

“Would you like me to sign it for you or would you prefer it unspoiled?” He was joking of course and Samantha was delighted to have him sign it for her.

After biking back to Carmen’s store, Samantha discovered how drained the night had left her. The incident at the grocery store parking lot still kept nagging at her like a pesky gnat you couldn’t swat away.

“I can’t believe you actually bought that book, Sam.” Carmen started to bring down some coffee mugs from her cabinet.

Samantha realized what she was doing and shook her head, hand up in a stop signal.

“Oh no, Carmen, I can’t stay. I’m dead beat.”

“Thinking about that painting, huh?” Carmen was rubbing it in.

Samantha didn’t mind the good-natured ribbing from her friend. “By the way, why can’t you believe I bought this book?”

Carmen gave her one of her “oh come on, you know why” looks.

“Sam, you were never interested in island lore or exploring the National Geographical points of Bayton Isle.”

Samantha hugged the book protectively to her chest and walked toward the door. “Well, changing my mind is a woman’s prerogative, isn’t it?” She was smiling, ready to say goodbye.

“Wait, Sam. I wanted to tell you earlier but forgot. I’m having one of my famous get-togethers next weekend. I want you there, so mark your calendar. I won’t take no for an answer and I don’t hand out rain checks.”

Carmen’s parties were extremely popular and a personal invitation was highly coveted. Samantha always made it a point to be there for Carmen and even though she was feeling a bit disconnected at the moment, she agreed to come and left the store.

***

At home, she had showered, taken a disinterested look at her work on the canvas and curled up in bed with The Myths and Facts of Bayton Isle. The house was particularly quiet and she was feeling its loneliness oppressive. She searched her inner self to find more positive thoughts.

She had just spent a wonderful evening with her most cherished friend. They had enjoyed a casual, relaxed experience in a friendly environment. The shadows haunting her mind were merely ghosts of herself going through withdrawal symptoms. She missed having someone there in her life - Someone who waited for her and soothed her soul when the times were rough. She missed Carmen and wished it could be different between them. But these were all past regrets or ongoing ones.

So Samantha cracked the book open and inhaled the crisp new book smell. She looked at the chapter titles and found one called “The Dark Side of Bayton Isle: Truth or Fantasy?” She flipped quickly to the page number, where she found a very fuzzy reproduction of an impressive-looking mansion captioned by “The Karnov Estate”. The house on the cliff! She admitted that she liked to look at the pictures first, so she turned to the next page and stopped.

Taking up about a fourth of the page was a black and white reproduction of an old painting. It was a portrait of a striking woman with dark, piercing eyes, high cheekbones and a strangely alluring smile. She found herself mesmerized by the woman whose haunting image looked out at her so ignorant of time. She tore her eyes off the portrait just long enough to read the printing underneath. “The Countess Lara Karnov: Evil incarnate or innocent victim? Shot to death in a hunting accident. Much speculation was raised regarding the real truth. The Karnov family covered up all trails leading to her death.”

Samantha knew there must be some mention of Lara Karnov within the text in the chapter itself, but her eyes were heavy and she found herself weak with sleep. She reached over and turned out the light, putting the book beside her. The bright, full moon was shining through her open second floor window and a slim shaft of moonlight caught the page where Samantha had left off.

Lara Karnov’s eyes seemed to glow off the page, her smile illuminated in some shared ancient secret.

Chapter 4

It was 2AM and conditions at Bayton Isle Medical Center were about the same as they were yesterday at this time. Exciting, largescale emergencies just didn’t happen on Bayton Isle. Of course, there was the time that Ted Ridley, the Bayton Power and Gas Company man, had almost electrocuted himself on one rainy morning, but that was a once in a lifetime happening. Accidents weren’t common. The few motorists who did brave it on Bayton’s streets couldn’t drive fast enough to cause any major damage to a bicyclist. Heart attacks were the more common emergencies.

John Chappel had just finished his third cup of coffee since eleven. He was cleaning the light tan ring of java that the bottom of his mug had made on the emergency room report when the head nurse walked in through the double doors.

Carol Mercer was about sixty years old, looked every bit of it and acted like half her age. She pursed her lips, flung down the patient chart in her hand and pointed with her eyes to John’s coffee mug.

“If you keep staining those reports, I’m going to have to transfer you to laundry duty.” Her eyes were smiling. John leaned closer to her.

“Same old same old in there?” His head nodded to the Emergency Room.

“Nothing new. Tommy boy brought her in again. He’s out there in the waiting room pacing like a lost puppy.” She picked up the chart she had flung down earlier and lifted the top cover.

“You know, she gives me the creeps. I just don’t understand what goes on out there. She’s wheeled in here on a regular basis, given blood transfusions for loss of blood due to an anemic condition she claims was diagnosed since childhood and then gets packed up and leaves.” Nurse Mercer shook her purple, permed hair. “I just don’t get it. Why do they let people like her get off without paying a penny for chronic health care?”

Carol Mercer was wound up tonight. Tamara Weissman had been brought in often enough to where Nurse Mercer didn’t even bother doing the mandatory procedures for new patients into emergency care. She knew the routine and the problem. It was always severe loss of blood and body fatigue.

And she wasn’t the only nurse who had noticed the scar tissues all over her body. Tamara Weissman had repeatedly refused treatment for them. She never spoke much and when probed regarding where she might have gotten her wounds, became restless and silent, like a caged animal wanting escape. The hospital considered refusing treatment until they could investigate the circumstances for her condition.

Nurse Mercer finally closed the patient report and handed it to John. “She’ll need another pint in about an hour. I’ll go and tell Tommy he might as well go home. She’ll have to stay longer.”

Just as she brushed past John, the Emergency Room receiver erupted into life. They both listened as Ambulance No.2 relayed a report. They had a patient that had taken a fall down her stairs in the middle of the night. She had visible bruises on her arms and legs and a blow to the head. There was light bleeding from the head wound. Patient was semi-conscience. No way to tell if there might be internal injuries.

“Get off your butt, stat, Chappel, they’re right at our back door!” Nurse Mercer was up and moving quicker than anyone would imagine a woman her age could.

Barely had she and Chappel left their station toward the Emergency Entrance when the doors burst open with an abrupt bang. Two paramedics, a man and a woman, came in wheeling a small, darkhaired woman whose bandaged head was smeared with a tiny mushrooming blood stain. The paramedic holding the IV looked at Nurse Mercer.

“She apparently took a bad fall down the stairs. The initial call came in from a friend who says she found her at the foot of the stairs, unconscious. We’ve got the bleeding pretty much under control. Don’t know how much trauma she received to the head.”

“Doctor Kendall, code blue Emergency Room.” Nurse Mercer’s voice rang through the intercom. “Doctor Kendall, code blue Emergency Room.”

Chappel was busy taking information from the paramedics as they wheeled the woman into the Emergency Room.

“Name?”

“Samantha Barnes.”

***

Samantha opened her eyes and awoke to a nightmare world drenched in red. Blood red. The room was a swimming haze of crimson. The curtains surrounding her were red. Her hands, her gown, the world was red. Was she dead and entombed in her hellish afterlife? In controlled panic, she realized her heart wasn’t beating. She was awake, aware and able to see, yet her heart was still. And her surroundings were just as quiet. No sound, just the suffocating color of red.

Then she heard it-A distinctive voice calling her name ever so softly. She was sure it was the same voice she had heard in her house. The voice that startled her from her sleep. The voice that sent her down the stairs. It was a woman. She was calling her by name. Somehow, she knew the voice had no owner, substance. Yet inexplicably she felt there was nothing to fear.

Suddenly, her curtains were drawn open and two figures draped in crimson operating dress towered over her. Their masks and gloved hands were covered in blood! They both approached her slowly, making no sound. Samantha couldn’t move.

One of the figures held up something wet, pulpy and vaguely familiar. Samantha realized it was a heart. A human heart. Still pumping. As it pumped, blood gushed out, spilling onto her chest. She stared at the red on red dripping down her body and felt no panic. She smiled numbly. The unholy red figures smiled with her as the blood spilled out ever so thickly from the red smeared heart. Suddenly, a shadowy figure worked its way in between the two surgeons.

Samantha couldn’t make out her features. She could see that it was a woman with long hair, in a hospital gown. The red shadow woman crept closer to Samantha but she still couldn’t focus on the mysterious woman’s face. Suddenly, a flash of recognition hit her. The icy blue eyes and gray hair of the woman in the supermarket!

The woman inched closer and closer until Samantha could feel her breath on her cheek. The woman reached out and ran a hand over Samantha’s head. Samantha felt pain again. Then in a swift move, the woman lifted Samantha’s pillow and stuck something underneath.

Like she had come, the mysterious woman shuffled back without a sound, disappearing behind the two ominous figures. They held up the pumping heart again, except this time, when the one squeezed it, Samantha felt the stabbing pain in her own chest.

Samantha Barnes woke up, her fists clenched, holding the bed sheet of her hospital bed tightly. She was soaked with sweat. What had happened? She couldn’t remember much. Everything seemed too foggy and so far away. But there was the dream! The dream in red.

She ran her fingers through where her hair should have been. There was a bandage around her head. A stab of pain hit hard as she pressed her hand on it. She had fallen, of course. She remembered now. The fear she experienced as she was tumbling down her stairs was real panic. Samantha moved to adjust her pillow when the needle attached to her arm pulled her back. She noticed she was attached to a blood transfusion unit. “Oh great, this looks long term. How will I ever finish that painting on time?”

But then something intruded into her thoughts. The voice. She had heard a voice in her house! That’s what awakened her. That’s what got her out of bed and into the dark hallway. A voice led her into the darkness. But had she been sleeping? Sleep walking? No, she remembered clearly waking to the rays of the moon hitting her bed and listening. It was a woman’s voice. A voice that called her by name!

She’d been startled. She remembered that her heart felt like it was ready to take the next available flight out of her chest! But why hadn’t she turned the lights on? None of it was making sense. What if it had just been some crazy dream? She seemed to have the market on bizarre dreams.

She was getting frustrated just thinking about everything that would be delayed if she stayed here longer than she needed to. Not only was the commissioned painting in jeopardy, but Barnum Books and Taylor Publishing House were getting pretty demanding in their deadlines.

She took one quick look around the room she was shut in. Of course, every room in Bayton Medical Center was a private room. The door was closed and her clothes lay in a neat little bundle on one of the chairs across the bed. The ill-fitting gown she was wearing now was not part of her collection.

A television hung up on the wall and the heart monitor beeped a steady, rhythmic pulse. She had no idea what time it was.

Samantha sighed and wished she were still back in her bed and all of this just a bad nightmare. Nightmare. That word stuck in her brain like old bubble gum. She remembered the nightmare in red. The two figures with the still pumping heart and the shadowy, frail woman. The woman!

Samantha didn’t know why, but she reached quickly under her pillow, part of her more rational mind hoping that nothing would be there, that it had all been some creepy, nightmarish near death experience. There was something there. She pulled it out carefully as if its mere exposure to the air might cause it to disintegrate.

The piece of paper was textured, like part of those paper gowns the hospital gives you in the emergency rooms. There was writing on the paper, shaky but legible. You must come to see me. Tamara Weissman, Karnov Mansion on Karnov Estate. You are the chosen.

There was a light tap on her door. Carmen poked her head in with a concerned smile.

“I hope I didn’t wake you?”

Startled, Samantha crumpled the piece of paper into a little ball and tucked it quickly back under her pillow. “Oh, Carmen, come on in. I was getting a little lonesome actually.”

From behind her back, Carmen revealed a bouquet of the most colorful flowers Samantha had ever seen.

“Carmen, you’re always too kind. They’re beautiful!”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“Oh please, I’m a total wreck.” Samantha felt like a wreck and was pretty sure she looked like one too. All her bones ached. Carmen put the flowers on the window ledge and pulled up a chair. The look on her turned serious.

“You gave me one hell of a scare, you know. When you didn’t answer your phone, I decided to go over and see if everything was okay. You were out cold.”

“I’m sorry,” Samantha said, shaking her head and looking at Carmen with a sheepish grin. “I sleepwalk sometimes.”

“Then you’d best think about making your bedroom downstairs.”

They both laughed.

“Oh, before I forget.” Carmen started rummaging in her large bag that she carried on missions of mercy. “I thought you might want something to read.” She pulled out The Myths and Facts of Bayton Isle.

Samantha’s heart jumped with joy. It would have been boring here with nothing to read. Carmen also pulled out what looked like a pair of jeans and her favorite white linen shirt. Laying them gently on the bed.

“I thought you might need a change of clothes too.”

“Oh thank you so much, Carmen. How could you know?” She shot a knowing, sly smile at Carmen and grabbed the book. “You know I started reading this book last night.” She started flipping the pages quickly. She needed to get to Lara Karnov. As the page unfolded before her, it suddenly hit her. The note.

“Carmen, remember when I asked you about that Karnov Mansion? Where exactly is it? I couldn’t find it on the map. I think I’ve decided to try and ride by it.”

“It’s up Piper’s Road. It used to be called Karnov Road, but Bayton changed the name awhile back. Why? You never did tell me your fascination with it.”

Okay, what was she to do now? Could she trust Carmen and be open about everything including the voice, the dream, the woman, her nightmare?

“Well, this Lara Karnov is an impressive figure. I thought I might paint a current portrait of her.” She opted for the lie.

Carmen didn’t even make an effort to get up to look at the woman’s picture in the book.

“Oh no, Sam,” she shook her head, “You have enough projects in your basket already. Come on, Sam, that commissioned painting is hanging over your head. You can’t even go out without getting stressed about it and you told me the publishers are pressing you for deadline work.” Carmen cocked her head and smiled. “By the way, exactly how many studs and buxom lasses do you have to paint?”

Samantha knew that Carmen always had her best interest at heart, but she just didn’t understand. Carmen didn’t know about Lara Karnov. How could anyone else understand? Tamara Weissman perhaps? The piece of paper was still burning her with curiosity.

“Please, Carmen, I know. I just wanted to get into something to clear my mind. Something that’s not expected of me. Something for me.”

“Okay, if you want to do something to get away from all the responsibilities, you can start by getting better so you can come to my party next weekend. Remember?” Samantha remembered and felt an unexplainable withdrawal. She suddenly didn’t feel much like going.

“I guess I should be okay by then. But speaking of getting better, when are they going to let me go home?”

“Well, that was the good news I had for you.” Carmen smiled warmly as she looked at Samantha. “They ran all the tests last night. Seems you went out like a light. They want to keep you here another night and then you can go home tomorrow.” Carmen got up and sat on the bed next to Samantha.

“Tell me the truth, Sam. How in the world did you take that fall? Do you really sleepwalk? I’ve never met anyone that did that.” Carmen’s eyes were so pleading, so honest. Samantha had to tell her the truth or at least everything she could remember.

“Promise you’re not going to laugh at me?”

Carmen took her hand and held it. “I promise honey, I’m not going to laugh.” She let go of Samantha’s hand. Samantha could see the amusement in Carmen’s eyes.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I was awake when I heard this voice calling my name. I was so scared. It was almost like a whisper. I had to get up. That’s when I fell down the stairs. I was following the whispers.”

Carmen reached out again for her hand. “Oh my poor sweet baby,” she teased.

“Don’t blow it off like that. I’m serious. I’m not just some clumsy clod. I tell you, I heard whispers. Someone was there.” She stopped, looked away, then back at Carmen.

“It was a woman, Carmen.” She put one frustrated hand in the air. “I don’t know. I thought I heard words. Real words. They just...I don’t know.” She let it drop. How could she persist in this? How could she tell Carmen that she thought she heard the words Love. Mine. Save Me. How could she? Carmen just looked at her dumbfounded.

Samantha knew she had made her uncomfortable somehow. She managed a weak, crooked smile. She felt exhausted.

“Carmen, I’m such a fool. I don’t expect you to stay here with me all day. Thanks again for the flowers. They’re so beautiful. And thank you especially for bringing the book too. I’m so glad you came. You truly have made me smile.” The piece of paper under the pillow was calling.

“Sure baby. You know I’m here when you need me.” Carmen got up, patted Samantha’s covered leg, leaned over to kiss her softly on the head and reached for her bag on the chair. She started walking to the door but stopped and pointed a finger at Samantha.

“Listen, you rest. Get a good night’s sleep and I can be here to pick you up tomorrow. Give me a call when they release you.”

Carmen was barely out the door before Samantha had the piece of paper unfolded. She read it again. Karnov Estate. Karnov Mansion. She picked up the book. The portrait of Lara Karnov was a powerful draw to the page. How were the two connected? Who was Tamara Weissman?

These were all things Samantha had to know. And she had made up her mind. She would paint a portrait of Lara Karnov. But how could she find out more about the Karnovs? Would Tamara Weissman be able to help her? If not, then perhaps Edmund Furrows.

Samantha burrowed herself in the book and in the lore of the Karnovs on Bayton Isle. She read and reread most of the day and well into the night, until the drugs in the pills she was forced to take pulled her away. Away into a land where even dreams feared to tread.

***

The next morning, Dr. Stephen Kendall lingered over the chart of his patient in room 232. Mild head trauma. Bruises on the legs, arms and buttocks. Tests had all been normal for such a fall. He’d kept Samantha Barnes in the hospital for two days. He had no choice but to dismiss her today. He had put off checking in on her all morning. It was eleven a.m., and she was last on his rounds. The longer he delayed meeting with her, the longer he would be able to keep her here. He had his ulterior motives.

Maybe it was her frail, slender build, or the faint touch of sadness in her gray eyes, but he found himself powerfully attracted to her. He thought she looked like Rebecca DeMornay with black hair. He would have to invite her for coffee or dinner some evening. After all, she would no longer be his patient.

They had removed the bandages from her head earlier and the bruises did not appear to be so serious and healing well. He remembered that she had looked pretty banged up when she’d arrived two nights ago. she had looked when they wheeled her in the night before.

Samantha had just finished packing her personal items when he walked in. She had been ready to go hours ago and was wondering why Dr. Kendall was spending so much time with her chart. Carmen should have been here already. She laughed nervously at him.

“Dr. Kendall, I hope you’re not going to tell me I have to stay another night?” She motioned to the chart in his hand.

“No, you’re free to go. I understand you have someone coming for you?”

“Yes, I do actually. She should be here any minute.”

“Good. Listen, you took a nasty fall and you’ll need to apply the lotion to the wound on your head. You’re going to hurt for a couple of days, but you’re a young woman, you shouldn’t feel it too bad.” He put one hand inside his white coat and smiled awkwardly. “I’m really not in the habit of doing this, Samantha, but I was wondering if you’d let me invite you to coffee in a couple of days?” he laughed, “You know, kind of an outpatient follow up?”

Oh no, not this, was all Samantha could think and was mercifully saved by Carmen’s light knock and welcomed face at the door.

“Hey, Carmen, come in.” She was thankful for Carmen’s arrival. “This is Doctor Kendall. He says I can go and I am so ready.” She ignored the doctor’s question.

“Good to meet you, Doctor Kendall.” Carmen shook his hand.

“Make sure Samantha comes in for her follow-up appointment. She can call me anytime.” His smile was directed at Samantha.

Samantha finished packing her belongings and reached for the vase of flowers that Carmen had brought her.

Doctor Kendall inched away towards the door. “Well, remember what I said, Samantha. Take it easy for a bit and don’t go prowling the house without turning some lights on again, ok?”

He stayed just a tad longer than he should have, and Samantha noticed how Carmen eyed him. Kendall left the room and Samantha stood, flowers and bags in hand, giving Carmen one of her “come on let’s blow this joint” smiles.

The ride to her place had been quiet and Samantha was having trouble reading the look on Carmen’s face. What could be bothering her friend? Her relationship with Carmen wasn’t easy anymore. Carmen’s feelings for her were very real and she hoped she hadn’t hurt her feelings the other night on the beach.

As they pulled up to her house, Samantha reached over, hugged Carmen, and gathered up her bag and flowers.

“Carmen, thanks again. You know I would love to invite you in, but I really have to get back to work on my paintings.” There was a smile in her voice and she hoped Carmen understood.

“Sure. No problem, baby. I’ll give you a call later tonight and see how you’re doing.” She shot a quick look at Samantha and smiled, but it was a smile that lacked the usual warmth.

As Samantha stood outside and watched Carmen pull away, she silently hoped that everything was okay with her friend.

Chapter 5

Their lovemaking had been intense, hot and definitely a passionate surprise. Gillian never expected Carmen at her doorstep so early in the morning. Gillian Haskell was a breathtakingly beautiful blue-eyed blonde. As Carmen fingered the wedding band on the slim hand of the woman lying beside her, she couldn’t help but allow that small, but biting bit of jealousy to grab at her thoughts.

“Does John ever surprise you like this?” She knew she was taking the chance of upsetting everything they had just done, ruining all the magic they had just created. They had been through this before, when she and Gillian first found they were dangerously attracted to one another. Carmen was lonely for the love Samantha would not give, and Gillian desperate for the kind of love her husband couldn’t give.

“Carmen, not now, honey.” Gillian put a long, slender finger to Carmen’s lips. Her hands always smelled so good. Carmen inhaled. It was just one of the things that had driven her to Gillian’s arms. Gillian seemed to float in a world of wonderful and fresh scents. From the top of her head to her painted toes, Gillian was true femininity. Just reaching forty-two, Gillian looked and felt much younger.

Gillian turned abruptly and worked her way atop Carmen, their breasts pressed against each other. Playfully, she began to lick Carmen’s chin, then her eyelids.

“Don’t say a word,” She whispered. Her mouth met Carmen’s passionately, her tongue hungry for more. “I have to be at work in one hour.” Her breathing was harder. “Let’s not waste this moment.”

Leaving Carmen gasping for air, Gillian began to work her tongue down Carmen’s nude body. Lifting herself just lightly, she brought her mouth full on Carmen’s breast, filling her mouth with it. Carmen closed her eyes, the pleasure spilling forth between her legs.

Gillian cupped both of Carmen’s breasts ever so gently and began to lick at each one, bringing her lips, hot with her own saliva, to nibble and softly bite each erect nipple. Carmen felt like she was on fire and each passionate moment sent her body arching and aching for the feel of Gillian’s hands, her tongue, inside her.

Gillian’s knee pressed against her place of desire and Carmen could no longer control her want.

“Oh my God, Gillian, I need you now.” It was a hoarse whisper. She felt Gillian slide down between her open legs and the touch of Gillian’s fingers, prying, dipping into her wet place was only the tip of the ache mingled with desire as Gillian’s tongue finally found her. Carmen arched up, hard against Gillian’s face, then back down, only to reach up again, hot for Gillian’s love. Gillian had learned well the pleasure points that made Carmen scream and when she finally did, the intensity of the release was overwhelming.

Gillian curled up beside her, brushing some of the stray hairs from Carmen’s eyes. “Carmen, everything ok?”

Although the “love” word had been said in the heat of passion, Carmen didn’t fool herself into thinking her affair with Gillian was anything more than an indulgence in the physical attraction they felt for each other. Gillian belonged to John. Despite her cheating ways, she would never give up the security he provided. And Carmen’s heart belonged completely to Samantha.

“No, it’s okay, Gillian. Just happy, that’s all.” She smiled and reached over to kiss Gillian again. Gillian allowed her, but quickly pulled away and got up from the bed.

“I’ve got to get to work. Come on, why don’t you have a cup of coffee with me before I have to leave.” She smiled coyly at Carmen as she put on a plaid bathrobe. Carmen only grinned, the thought of Gillian’s perfect body still burning in her mind.

“Sure, baby. Why don’t you go downstairs and start it up. I’ll be right there.” With Gillian out of the room, Carmen lay just a few seconds longer savoring the scent of their lovemaking. That was when her eyes caught the little packet of white powder on the nightstand.

All of a sudden, everything they had just done went sour. Gillian had promised her she would quit doing cocaine. She had pleaded with Carmen not to hate her, not to abandon her. This was what had driven John from their life, their bed. It had almost driven Carmen away as well.

Carmen found herself struggling to keep from losing her composure. She rolled over and took the bag, uncomfortable even handling it. Had Gillian used any of it? She couldn’t tell. She wasn’t very good at these things. She had never felt a need to seek out drugs. It was a world populated by death, destruction and loss of control. Carmen could never not be in control. It was the only thing she knew. The only thing that saved her.

She put the bag back on the table, dressed herself and went downstairs to the dining room where Gillian sat sipping a mug of coffee. There was one for Carmen as well sitting on the table. As Carmen took the chair next to her, Gillian smiled and caressed Carmen’s hand.

“Mmmm Carmen, this morning was so wonderful.”

“More wonderful than the coke on your table?” Carmen had to hit her hard, even if the sting of it might hurt.

Gillian had the cup of coffee to her lips and stopped in midmotion. Her eyes looked away as she put the coffee on the table. She wouldn’t look at Carmen, only blankly out the window. But Carmen could tell by the firmness on Gillian’s jaw that she had struck a raw nerve.

“Gillian, I saw the bag on your table. Please tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

Gillian finally looked at her and the pain in her eyes sent a chill inside Carmen.

“You obviously don’t trust me. Of course I don’t blame you. It’s kind of hard to stick by a liar and a cocaine freak.” Her eyes were moist with the beginnings of tears. “I guess I can’t blame John either.” She wiped her eyes and reached out to hold Carmen’s hand again.

“Carmen, I don’t care about John, but I do care about you and I need you to believe me. I haven’t touched the stuff. I came across it when I was cleaning out the drawer. I just laid it there on the table.”

Her voice was pleading. In her soft blue eyes, Carmen was willing to believe anything. Carmen squeezed her hand softly.

“Gillian, you know I care about you too. It’s just that seeing that stuff really brought back painful memories.” She got up and went to Gillian, hugging her tightly. “Why don’t you go up and get dressed? You’ll be late for work. I’ll get rid of the bag.”

Gillian got up, still in Carmen’s arms. Her smile was back and she began to play with Carmen’s hair. “I’m so glad you don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend for that matter.” She held on to Carmen’s waist. Carmen grabbed her chin and brought her mouth to hers for a light, gentle kiss.

“Enough of that. Go on. I can clean this up.”

As Gillian ran upstairs, Carmen began picking up the cups and saucers and rinsing them at the sink. As the water ran over the shiny, slick ceramic, Carmen wondered silently if the sins and the heartaches of the sinners could be so completely washed away from their souls and even deeper down in her thoughts, she wished John Haskell would stay away just one more night.

***

“Yes, Dave, I can have the castle and hunk to you by then. Yes. I can ship it to you Express. Yeah, I’ll do that.” Samantha hung up the phone. David Stone was feeling somewhat frantic about her getting the cover to him on time.

Samantha ran her hand through her hair and looked down at the acrylic of a pirate with long, shoulder-length hair, brandishing a cutlass on one hand and clutching a beautiful princess in the other. Samantha could never understand why so many writers insisted on blonde heroines. David wanted a castle looming in the background.

She sighed and her eyes wandered to the window that faced out over the trees and the Atlantic Ocean. It never ceased to amaze her how she was able to do any work with a view like that tempting her soul. In the warmer months after moving in, when she opened the windows, the sound of the crashing surf was like music to her mind. Sighing again, she glanced back down at the finished cover.

The painting was good. She silently appreciated herself more often than not, but never expressed it to others. Let the world sing your praises. Of course, her talent was recognized and it made her life rich in comfort and a few luxuries. Doing the romance book covers was like painting with numbers. It never stressed her out or gave her anxiety attacks. She really did enjoy them and in all honesty, felt blessed to have been given such an easy living, although at times she wished she could do more heaving chests clutching other heaving chests rather than hairy manly torsos.

Tomorrow she would have to pack up the painting and ship it to Barnum Books. Samantha got up, put her arms straight up in the air and stretched, enjoying the feeling in her body. When she painted, she always liked to wear her leggings and a large, oversized shirt. It was as close to freedom as possible. She walked to the window and watched the gray clouds, swollen with rain, building in the sky.

It had been three days since her release from the hospital. Her scars were healing well but she had to really fight to keep herself from scratching a nagging little itch around them. She had been very productive those three days, developing an almost hermit-like existence. She hadn’t left her house but she had gotten one other cover for Barnum Books done and out the door.

Carmen had called only once just to check up on her. She seemed to be back to her old self. Carmen’s party was still on for this Saturday. That was just a couple of days away.

As Samantha’s concentration floated back to the darkening sky, she thought of the bank commissioned painting. She turned to look at the barely begun canvass on her easel. Why was it such a mental problem for her? She had wanted the diversion. She admitted that to herself. Her heart just didn’t feel content. Maybe it was because another project had distracted her. Painting the long dead and mysterious Lara Karnov had consumed all creative yearnings. The tragic story of Lara Karnov and the Karnov family had occupied her thoughts for days. The book had indeed been a wise buy.

She’d almost memorized the entire two pages devoted to the history and infamous lives of the Karnov Family. They were the best-kept secret on Bayton Isle. The Karnov were the first to arrive. No one else wanted to settle it. Bayton Isle was a craggy, God-Forsaken place before actual settlement. The Karnovs built up their marvelous estate using slaves brought for that purpose. They became ruthless overlords when the first settlers arrived, demanding servants and other services from all families who decided to make a go of it on Bayton Isle. Then, mysteriously and without warning, they disappeared, leaving only caretakers to look after the estate.

According to Edmund Furrows, they were rumored to be black magicians and even worse, vampires and werewolves. They were hardly seen during the daylight hours, adding to their dark mystique. While the book intrigued and captivated Samantha, the entire part on the Karnovs was written very much tongue in cheek and the briefness of the history left much to be desired. Surely, there had to be more. Perhaps Furrows merely included it to add a little spice and sensationalism to increase sales of the book.

Samantha couldn’t keep Lara Karnov out of her mind. And the mysterious note with the cryptic writing did nothing to douse the fires of her imagination. Should she take it seriously? She could check with the hospital to find out if there was anyone else in the emergency room with her that night. She had spent all these days debating whether to follow up on this or just chalk it up to a bad out of body experience. The note could have been anything. Something someone dropped and presumed to be hers by the nurses on duty. A game.

She ignored the cold stare of the white canvas and dropped, suddenly exhausted, on her couch. Could she muster up the courage and drive down in search of the Karnov Estate? No, she had lots of work to do. The sound of rolling thunder outside interrupted her thoughts. It looked like it could be a bad storm. She would heat up something simple tonight and try to work on the commission painting. It was going to be another one of those nights.

***

With each intake of breath, the darkness in her brain and the pain gripping her heart lingered longer. Tamara Weissman was lying on her bed, curtains drawn, barely able to move. She had never fully recovered her strength upon her return from the hospital. Samantha Barnes had to come soon. She was the chosen one. Tamara was sure of it. Tamara could no longer do the bloodletting without landing herself in the emergency room, drained and near death.

What was she to do? She demanded blood. Needed blood. There had never been a choice. Tamara Weissman was there only to keep her alive until the chosen one appeared. Until the chosen one ended it all.

Tamara closed her eyes, feeling the caked eyelashes barely meet. She had wanted so desperately for it not to come to this. The very thought of initiating the monstrous act sickened her. But she had no choice now. She reached very slowly for the little bronze bell next to her on the table and weakly swayed it back and forth. She hoped Tommy had heard her.

The old clock on her dresser told her it was near dinnertime. Earlier she had heard the strong clap of thunder echo through the house. She wanted to get up, just for a moment, to look out at the sky. The turmoil of Mother Nature at her fiercest always fascinated her. Perhaps Tommy could help her up.

The door to her bedroom opened and the sandy-haired young man stood there.

“Is there something you need?”

“Yes, Tommy, there is. Please, come closer. I’m very weak.”

As much as she tried, Tamara could not sit up in her bed without a sting of pain in her body. She winced as Tommy came to stand beside her. She needed to speak slowly to him. What she was about to ask him to do was heinous and unspeakable, a murderous act that would damn his soul along with hers. It had to be done. Losing your soul was better than facing the wrath and punishment at the hands of the Karnov monsters. He had to listen carefully to her every word and understand fully.

“Tommy, my dearest companion, you’re going to be called upon to do something more important than breathing.” She stopped, eying him intently. He was listening and alert.

“Your true mistress, the ultimate heiress of Karnov Estate, has been kind to you in giving you shelter, food and freedom here.” She felt herself getting weak already. She silently prayed she could finish. She had to make it quick. There had to be bloodletting tonight and she could not do it.

“Both she and I need your help tonight. Only if you succeed will she be able to continue to provide for you and for me. Do you understand?” He nodded, eyes not leaving hers.

“Tonight, Tommy, you must go to where there are children. Anywhere, Tommy, a playground or a park. Break into a home if you have to. You must not fail me.” Tamara Weissman’s voice came in low rasps. Tommy inched even closer to hear her. His eyes never left her. His face showed little or no emotion. But he heard every word she whispered.

As Tamara finished her last word, she felt an overwhelming darkness settle in her heart. Her hand dropped to her side, the bell toppling on the bed beside her. She needed rest. She could speak no more. If she thought her prayers were still heard, she considered putting in a good word for Tommy. But no, what she would be asking for was salvation. Forgiveness for a soul already lost.

Chapter 6

Samantha Barnes woke up with a stifled scream in her throat. Sitting straight up in her bed, she pushed back the hair from her face and swallowed hard. Her heart still pounded as she tried to take deep breaths. A quick glance at the clock on her night table told her she’d slept till nine. She shook her head in disbelief. That was way past her usual. The sun was already streaming through the mini blinds.

The dream. It had come back, a little different this time. The voice was more persistent. She had to get out for a breath of fresh air. It would do her a world of good. Dressing in gray leggings and white cable knit sweater, she headed to the shore. The thunderstorm last night had left everything green and fresh along the narrow path that led down from her home to the beach below.

The sound of the crashing waves and the raw beauty of the shore was one of the reasons Samantha had chosen to come back to Bayton Isle. Whether she’d make this her permanent home still remained to be seen, but this was one of the most unspoiled areas of the Atlantic islands off the coast of Maine. She cast a look at the summer rental cottages dotting the cliff side. Only the wealthy could afford to lease those. Even they appreciated the splendor of Bayton Isle.

The sun coming up over the cliffs always cast a soothing glow over her mind. This morning was no different except that the thunderstorm last night had left its tainted treasures on the seashore. Seaweed, shells and litter lay strewn about like unwanted trash the ocean threw out. It always pained Samantha to see all the human debris that found itself into the ocean. Old milk cartons, a mangled sock, countless beer and soda cans, anything and everything we found disposable lay out here. It was the like ocean had spit out its undigested waste.

Still, the peacefulness worked on her soul. She inhaled the salt and embraced the feeling of isolation. Crossing both her arms against her chest, she walked quietly on. The dream had really shaken her up. The nightmare was bad enough but now this voice had intruded there as well. What the hell was it? Her subconscious? Had her feelings of inadequacies and loneliness led her to this? Was she truly losing her mind? The mysterious voice was soft, gentle. Seductive. She promised love, devotion, freedom. Everything Samantha longed for in her life.

She struggled against looking up toward the house on the cliff. She’d made a silent decision to fight against her obsession with the Karnovs. With Lara Karnov.

Looking down, she noticed the wet footprints she was leaving on the tan sand. How could she tell Carmen or anyone else about her feelings? A playful wave crashed wildly against the rocks, spraying the air with salty ocean drops. Samantha watched as the foam raced back towards the Atlantic. She licked her cheek and tasted the salt.

She suddenly caught a voice calling her name and turned, surprised to see Carmen walking towards her, hand waving. Carmen jogged half the distance to meet up with Samantha. They continued walking slowly, side by side, Carmen with her hands in pockets.

“Couldn’t find you at the house, so I knew you had to be here.” Carmen looked at her then back out at the ocean. “Did you get much done on the painting?”

“What painting?” Samantha stopped and stared at Carmen. Did she know about the Lara Karnov painting?

“I worry about you sometimes. The bank painting, silly.” Carmen was looking at her, a perplexed look on her face.

Samantha breathed a sigh of release inside. No, of course Carmen didn’t know. She was getting paranoid.

“No, Carmen, I haven’t done a damned thing.” Samantha looked sideways at Carmen, trying hard to repress a smile that formed nonetheless.

Carmen put a hand up in the air in protest. “Okay, okay. I get ya. I’m just asking because the big party’s coming up and I’ve invited Bob Holder.” She paused. “I don’t want it to be a sticky situation for you, you know.”

Samantha laughed. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle my clients.” She stopped in mid walk and looked at Carmen.

“Hey, what are you doing here at this time? Closing the shop today?” To Samantha, it seemed that for just a fleeting second, Carmen avoided her eyes.

“Gillian opened the shop for me today. I told her I had to come and see you for a minute.”

“Well, c’mon,” Samantha said grabbing hold of Carmen’s arm. “Let me not keep you so long then. Let’s go back. I’ll get us some coffee before you leave.”

The sunlight was just starting to settle in as they walked back to the house. Samantha started to get the coffee going when she spotted the newspaper on the kitchen counter that Carmen had obviously brought in. The front page headlines stopped her cold. Her eyes fixed on the print, she began to read.

Billy Phillips had been found brutally murdered. Worst yet, mutilated. A morbid curiosity kept her reading, not realizing that she had stopped everything she was doing and was standing mesmerized at the counter. Billy was only 10 years old and was last seen on his bicycle around 6 p.m., leaving Hadley’s, the corner market on Chapel and Monserat.

“Isn’t that awful? I read it this morning.” Carmen’s voice startled her. She had come up behind her. “You want to finish reading that while I fix the coffee? I’ve got to get back to the shop, dearest.”

“Oh no, no. Of course not, silly. How rude of me. Sit down. I can read this later.” She put the paper aside and began filling the coffeepot with water and ground espresso. Carmen began taking down a couple of mugs from the cabinet.

“You know, they couldn’t understand the killer’s intent.” Carmen spoke as she headed to the table with the mugs. “At first they thought it might have been a wild animal of some sort life a wolf, except I don’t think there are any on the island and besides, the kid’s body was neatly placed up against a tree as if he was sitting. His heart had been cut out with something sharp, like a knife.”

Sitting at the table and pouring the coffee, Samantha couldn’t resist the interest in the terrible tragedy. “Do they have anybody in custody or suspects.”

Carmen shook her head as she sipped. “Mmmm, this is great Sam. Nope, they don’t have a clue. Gillian told me this morning that the rumors are already flying on the island. Apparently, they want to blame one of the tourist types or renters on the beach properties.” She laughed out loud. “God forbid a Bayton Isle resident be capable of something so horrendous. Kind of creepy though, huh?” Carmen took a couple of more sips of the coffee and got up. “Hate to run Sam, but I really have to get back to the store. Gillian can’t stay there all morning.”

Samantha was up and halfway to the door behind Carmen when Carmen turned back, nearly running smack into her.

“Oh, by the way, before I forget, Edmund Furrows is going to be at the party tomorrow night. I just thought you might be interested because you were so curious about that Karnov family.”

“I thought he was touring the mainland for a couple of weeks?”

Carmen opened the door and stepped outside. “Well, he was supposed to, but some personal business brought him back a little sooner. Lucky for us, huh?”

Samantha took a moment to allow the thought to settle and felt hungry again for any Karnov lore Furrows might have.

“See you tomorrow night.” Carmen hugged her. “Try not to be too late.”

Samantha watched as Carmen made her way down the path and to her car. The sunlight, bright and fresh, broke Samantha’s preoccupation. She closed the door, went slowly to the drawing table and removed several pieces of drawing paper scattered there. Below them was her drawing pad. This was where she made quick, random sketches. Future works. She sat down on the chair and lovingly opened the cover. Turning several pages of landscape drawings, she came to a stop.

She hesitated before slowly peeling back the page to the drawing underneath. The light, unsure lines of a new portrait filled the paper. If anyone were to see it, they couldn’t even begin to guess who it might be, unless of course, you were a Bayton Isle history freak or a member of the Karnov family.

The penciled face of Lara Karnov stood out boldly. Samantha closed the sketchbook quickly. Already this woman, this historical ghost, had become an obsession. Samantha knew that she must paint her. It was useless to resist. The bank painting was the furthest thing from her mind. She would indeed have to come up with an interesting excuse to appease Bob Holder.

***

Karnov Mansion was dark this evening. And cold. Some of the windows had not been shut, letting the chilling breeze of a late November night drift in and cling to the air and the walls.

Tamara Weissman lay as she had now for days, in a deep, almost deathlike state. Tommy was doing his best to keep her fed, clothed and comfortable. Alive. Her eyes had become painful to open so caked over with the tears of futility. She could hardly bear any sort of bright light. Her room remained like that of a tomb. In the evenings only the warm, quiet dancing of candlelight kept the room lit. She had given up almost all hope for Samantha Barnes to come to her salvation. She had been wrong. Perhaps Samantha had not been the one after all. But then who? It was now all too late. No more speculation. No more searching. No more torture. Soon, it would all be over. Perhaps Tommy could continue. Soon, he would have to go out again. The blood would not last much longer. Another would have to be drained.

Tamara had much time to think during her last days. Mostly, they were thoughts of regret. This was not what her grandfather had promised her. This was not the vision of the American dream the Karnovs had so eloquently spoken of. What unholy pacts had been made to bind her family to the Karnov family? She had never met them. Her grandfather had made all the arrangements for her. What he had done was basically sold her into slavery. His own grand daughter. They were evil. She finally admitted it. Her family had been Karnov caretakers for centuries. She had come to terms with feelings buried deeper than any Karnov secret. With death sure to come marching through that door any moment, her fears grew worse. How would her soul suffer? Was there something she could do other than prayer to save herself?

It all mattered little now. She had always heard that death was nearby when you started reliving your past. The days of lopsided snowmen, laughter and the sweet whiff of Grandpa Victor’s pipe in Germany were increasingly bright and frequent visitors in her memories.

She moved her head to one side, straining to hear any sound within her room or out in the mansion. It was all so deathly quiet. What could Tommy be doing?

***

Down below Karnov Mansion, in the most secret of rooms, buried even deeper than the dank cellars filled with racks upon racks of wine cobwebbed by time, two solitary candles burned in their floor stands. The dense shadows that crowded the room engulfed everything in a thick suffocating blackness.

The ebony coffin remained the centerpiece of the candlelight. The quiet in this room seemed to scream with a malevolent voice. This was the only place Tamara Weissman could not find him. Or hear him. Especially if he remained very, very still.

Tommy sat hidden in the corner, arms hugging his knees, rolled up into a ball so tight he could hardly breathe. He didn’t want to do the things Tamara asked him to do anymore. It just wasn’t right. He felt sickened.

His eyes darted to the small, brass box sitting just on the other side of the coffin on the floor. It was still in there, probably still swimming in a pool of blood. As much as he tried to close his eyes, he couldn’t control the feelings in his hands. The pulpy feel of the heart and the blood all around it nauseated him. Tamara had said she would take care of it for him. She would make sure he would remember nothing. Well, he was remembering something!

He jerked his head suddenly to the stairs that led down to this sacred of all rooms in the Karnov Mansion. He thought he caught a noise. Rats probably. Tamara couldn’t even move an arm, let alone get up and walk to look for him here.

Nope, he had made up his mind. Tommy shook his head involuntarily. He would feed her and tend to her but he just wouldn’t listen to her anymore. Tears welled up in his eyes and a moist track of wetness traced down his cheeks. Tommy sobbed silently, his huddled form rolling up even tighter against the wall.

Chapter 7

It wasn’t late when Samantha arrived Friday night at Carmen’s ocean-side home, but there were already so many cars that she had to park further behind the house. Carmen was certainly throwing a blockbuster. A combination winter Business Guild meeting and party, this get-together was the basket Carmen put all her eggs in. She couldn’t resist mixing business with pleasure. This party was a virtual Who’s Who of Bayton Isle. More vows were broken, acquaintances ignited and networking done here than in a year on the Isle.

As Samantha headed up the steps, she breathed in deep of the salty air and reminded herself of the one single most important thing on her agenda tonight. Edmund Furrows. She would be devastated if he wasn’t here. She had committed herself to painting a portrait of Lara Karnov in acrylics. In order to do this, she had to know more. More about the Karnov Estate. The real story behind the death and times of Lara Karnov and her family.

There were already groups of people scattered about. There was low music playing. It sounded like that cocktail type music Carmen liked. Carmen’s house was rather unique in its wide open spaces architecture. The metal, glass and unique shapes of ultra modern retro furniture gave one a sense of funky times. Scattered about were lots of reds, purples, animal prints and colorful lamps. And the breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean and the cliffs of Bayton Isle greeted you from the huge, sliding glass doors that made up an entire wall. Samantha was held hypnotized by the palette of colors the setting skies were painting before her eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The spell was broken. It was Carmen. She immediately put her arms around Samantha. She was wearing black pants and a black turtleneck.

“It’s so good to see you.” She let Samantha go.

“It looks like you’ve got quite a crowd already.” Samantha looked around the room again. A bartender was set up on Carmen’s breakfast window, a small group of mostly men were huddled outside and some others she didn’t know were sitting about in the living room. Her eyes fell on Mrs. Peabody and her husband and quickly turned elsewhere. Great, how was she supposed to avoid her here? Mr. Peabody was minister of Bayton Methodist Church.

“Come on. You want a drink or something to eat?” Carmen was leading her towards the huge kitchen area. She always knew how to get to her heart. Good food, wine or coffee always did the trick. Carmen’s kitchen had been transformed into a culinary paradise. There were three tables of exotic dishes. Nowhere could you find pizza slices or fried chicken drumettes. Bless Carmen. Samantha had given up food like that years ago after a serious bout with heartburn posed a rather unpleasant threat to her life.

“Damn, Carmen, you really know how to lay it on.” Samantha’s eyes were still trying to take in all the food on the tables. Tofu, vegetables floating in white and red sauces, shrimp cooked every way you could think of, cheeses, sushi, and for the meat lovers, stuffed peppers with ground beef and other strange things she couldn’t and didn’t want to figure out.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Carmen was looking at her with a very unmistakable twinkle in her eyes. Samantha knew she was up to something.

“I have something just for you, Sam.” Carmen took her hand and led her to the back of one of the tables. “Voila! Your favorites from China Moon I had them brought in just for you.” Carmen uncovered a small black tray. Samantha smiled. They were shrimp marinated and sautéed in Maine red sauce and garnished with greens and glazed carrots, the specialty at China Moon restaurant, her favorite Chinese restaurant in Portland. Samantha squealed with joy and shook her head in delight.

“I can’t believe you. You’re too sweet. Are these all mine or do I have to share?” Samantha winked at Carmen and took her arm. “Well, of course I’d share with you—and only you.” They both laughed and Carmen covered up the dish.

“Okay, Sam, what can I get you to drink so you can mingle with crowd?” Samantha didn’t have to think too hard on that one. “You twisted my arm. How about a margarita?”

“Wow, you really do plan on having a good time tonight. I’m really glad you came, Sam.” Carmen looked at her intensely. Her eyes twinkled with the fire of desire. Samantha didn’t know what to do or how to feel. Carmen made it easy and didn’t linger.

“Okay, margarita coming right up.”

“Oh wait, Carmen, do you know if Edmund Furrows is here?” “Yeah, he’s here. Last time I saw him he was outside with some of the others. Be right back.”

As Carmen walked off toward the bar area, Samantha was left to ponder her next move. She really wasn’t much of a socialite and was seriously contemplating staying here hovering over the food and gaining a few pounds in the long run. She knew that wouldn’t work though, not if Carmen had anything to do with it and not if she wanted the scoop on the Karnovs from Furrows.

Okay, so it was time to meander. She would have to try hard to avoid some people like Edna Peabody. Samantha secretly hoped that she hadn’t nabbed Furrows somewhere along the line. Moving from the kitchen, she made her way through the dining room and into the living room. As Samantha cast a look at the small crowds scattered about, she realized that she knew precious few of them.

And still no sight of Bob Holder. Not that it mattered if she ran into him. He would ask about the painting and she would merely assure him that he would have it within a reasonable amount of time. After all, no money had been exchanged and no dates set.

Finding Edmund Furrows had to be her top priority. She couldn’t spot him inside so Samantha headed for the sliding glass doors and the veranda outside. There was a group of men with women huddled on their arms on one side and on the opposite side, Edmund Furrows, alone and leaning against the railing, a drink in his hand. She slid the door open.

“Mr. Furrows, how good to see you again.” She held out her hand. He turned, smiled and changed the glass he was holding to his other hand to shake hers warmly.

“Ah, yes, Carmen’s friend. Samantha Barnes, I believe. I do hope you’re taking care of that autographed book. It may be worth something some day.”

“I’m enjoying it immensely, actually.” Samantha chuckled. If only he knew.

Furrows nodded, pleased with the compliment, and shifted his eyes back to the ocean vista sprawled below them.

“A more beautiful place can’t be found.” He inhaled a deep breath of air. It was getting darker and colder. Samantha agreed with him. Bayton Isle was magical--blending hues of dark and light, secret and open.

“It took me five years to research, write, and publish that book you took home with you the other night.” He stopped, took a drink and laughed, pointing to his glass. “Ginger ale. A surprise to many people. Everyone seems to think you have to be an Edgar Allan Poe or something if you write. At my age, you just want to take care of yourself so you can keep on writing.”

Samantha smiled, conscious of the Margarita that would be coming her way soon. As a matter of fact, Carmen was probably trying to locate her somewhere inside.

“Well, I’m not a writer, but I am an artist. Many people like to lump all artists and writers in one disreputable little bundle.”

They both laughed and then turned as the sliding glass doors opened and out came Carmen, holding two glasses. Her smile widened as she came up to Samantha and Edmund.

“Aha. The brush and the pen. What a stimulating combination.” She handed Samantha the drink. “Here, honey, mixed the way you like it.”

Samantha took a sip, and of course, it was just the way she liked it. Strong.

“So, Edmund,” Carmen continued, “What exactly happened on the mainland to cut your tour short?”

“Well my dear, it’s not a pretty story.” He put an elbow on the railing. “It appears the publishers didn’t ship enough copies to the chains and I had to cancel all of the pre-booked appearances until they could get another shipment in. Of course the publishers are fronting all this. It appears my book is a bigger hit than they anticipated.” “Maybe they’re all interested in the evil, monstrous Karnov story.” Samantha blurted out. Both Furrows and Carmen laughed simultaneously. But Carmen was the one that gave her the knowing look. “Oh, no, Samantha, it’s because there’s so much here to love. Everyone wants to learn about our little piece of heaven on Earth.” She cast a quick look his way. “Don’t you agree, Edmund?”

Samantha marveled at her skills. She could never be like Carmen. That was a gift. Edmund Furrows was still smiling as he turned the collar up on his polo shirt. It was getting colder now that the sun had disappeared completely.

“Well, my writer’s ego surely wants to believe that.”

The sliding glass door opened again and a casually dressed man peeked out.

“Carmen, I’ve got that report you wanted. Wanna go over it now? We got the Chief cornered and willing to talk business.”

Carmen touched both Samantha’s and Furrows’s arms and smiled.

“It appears business calls even in the face of pleasure. I’ve been trying to get the Fire Department and the Police Department fund raising organizations to try and combine their efforts for optimum efficiency.”

Leaving them alone, Carmen disappeared inside the busy party. The light from inside brightened the veranda porch. It was now or never for Samantha. It was going to be too cold soon to remain outside and if she lost Furrows to the party goers inside, all hope would be lost for privacy. She shifted her weight and looked straight at him.

“Edmund, I truly enjoyed your book and, to be honest, I was very interested in meeting you again to discuss it.”

She didn’t think Edmund Furrows was any different from most artists. A creative human being is much like a parent. They wish to constantly show off their baby pictures and talk about their children. Furrows sighed, moved closer to Samantha and looked straight into her eyes.

“Now dearest Samantha, tell me you don’t want to talk about the Karnovs?”

How could he guess? Samantha was somewhat taken aback. She smiled sheepishly, lowering her eyes, but looking back at him.

“I can’t help it. They’re very fascinating yet you hardly mention them. Is there just not enough information or history available? I don’t mean to pry, but I find it interesting as to how and why an author chooses what goes in or out of a book?” She stopped to take a quick sip of her drink.

“Seriously, Edmund,” she continued, “I’ve always been interested in things that go bump in the night. That’s why I was so surprised to find boogey men right here on our own island paradise.” She hoped she wasn’t being too pushy. “Don’t you find them fascinating? I mean, you must have done quite a bit of study on them?” If this didn’t get her what she needed, she didn’t know what would.

Edmund Furrows burrowed his eyebrows, twisted the corners of his mouth and exhaled. “I found them an enigma, actually. The Karnov family was definitely fascinating, if you care for that type of thing. For some reason they sought this unpopulated island, then they just disappeared.” He stopped, looking intently at Samantha. “Do you want more?” He had a slightly amused look in his eyes.

“Of course I want more.” She laughed a tight laugh.

“Okay, seriously, Samantha, from my viewpoint as a writer, I didn’t think it was a storyline I wanted to drag out. I mean, let’s face it, it isn’t the sort of thing you want attracting you to Bayton Isle. So I just made the decision to merely bring it up and let it go as a point of morbid curiosity. Tainted history best left in the past.”

Furrows buttoned up his jacket and pulled away from Samantha. “It’s getting quite chilly out here, don’t you think? Why don’t we work our way in?” Samantha had no choice but to follow. The others who had been outside had already gone in.

As he slid the door closed behind them, Samantha turned quickly back to him. “By the way, what’s the real story on Lara Karnov, the one killed on the hunting trip? You led me to believe in your book that perhaps it wasn’t the true story.”

Samantha suddenly noticed that the music had switched to Enigma and that conversation was at a height. Edmund was leaning over closer to her ear.

“You must realize that I tried to add just a bit of sensationalism to that chapter on the Karnovs. I only had the city records and newspaper accounts to go by.” He was looking at her apologetically. “So let’s just keep this a trade secret between you and I. It was strictly my opinion, going by what I had on hand.”

They both moved toward the wall, away from the din of the guests. Her heart was racing, partly because this was all bringing her closer to Lara Karnov and partly the effects of the tequila. Somewhere, someone had burst into a song and dance number.

Samantha tried to tune it out. She had pretty much understood all that Furrows had told her. The Karnovs made an appearance in his book only as spice. A little oregano here, a little Karnov there. Write anything to make it more exciting and sell it. Well, he had done his job on her. Samantha looked down at her drink and realized that she had made quick work of it.

Excusing herself from Furrows, she made an attempt to head for the food. A dull hunger had been tugging at her insides.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get very far. From behind, she heard the least desirable voice imaginable to her. Edna Peabody was practically screaming her name.

Samantha wanted so badly to just keep on walking and avoid the nightmare. If she had had a few more margaritas, it would have been a breeze. Instead, she turned around, a half smile frozen on her face. Edna Peabody wasn’t alone.

“My goodness gracious,” Peabody’s mouth was moving at the speed of light, her fat cheeks jiggling. “It’s impossible to hear anybody with all this commotion.” She waved a thick hand in the air. The man standing beside her was familiar to Samantha. His eyes were intent on her, an amused look peeking through.

“Samantha, honey I want you to meet Doctor Kendall. Stephen.”

Of course, how could she forget. Samantha smiled and pointed to her perfectly healing forehead. “Doctor Kendall had the misfortune of seeing me at my worst.”

“Oh, you know each other?” Peabody’s eyes lit up and if ears could stand on end, Edna Peabody’s would have looked much like a couple of hound dogs’ tails. Stephen Kendall put out his hand for Samantha.

“I’m happy to see that you’re back to your lovely self again.”

Okay, so it was a compliment, she told herself. “How very kind, Dr. Kendall,” she said as she took his hand and let go quickly, “but flattery won’t get me back into your hospital.”

“Oh, it’s Stephen to you dear,” Mrs. Peabody interjected. “This is the new young man in town that I wanted to speak to you about. He just joined the church so I invited him tonight to get a chance to meet everyone.” Peabody’s smile was permanently plastered on her round face like a bloated Joker from Batman. She turned to Kendall. “You know, Stephen, single, eligible young people are at a premium here on the Isle. Mostly we old folks like to marry people off. Of course, there’s some like Carmen…”

Peabody leaned closer to Samantha, almost whispering, but loud enough for Stephen to overhear.

“You really should pick your friends more carefully, dear.”

Samantha wasn’t the least amused by this conversation and wanted out. She didn’t want the gay issue to explode here. Where was Carmen?

“Excuse me, Stephen, Mrs. Peabody, but my stomach has been dying to try out some of that delicious food.” She moved quickly away, not looking back at Peabody or Stephen. Yes, it was rude, but so was Edna Peabody. If she’d gone on anymore about Carmen, Samantha would have belted her one.

Finding her way to the kitchen was no problem and she was delighted to find that no one had found Carmen’s special shrimp. As she dipped them in the extra marinade, she thanked Carmen silently for this delicious dinner. Now what she really needed to make this just perfect was another margarita. Taking four more of the tangy shrimp in a small dish, she made her way to the bartender.

The evening was going well. She felt good. No guilty feelings about anything. No remorse or anxiety to cloud her euphoria. Was it the alcohol? She didn’t care what it was. She found herself missing Carmen. She realized she hadn’t seen her since that guy had called her inside.

Samantha was standing at the bar, new margarita in hand, when she heard the loud, agitated voice across the room. She could see Gillian Haskell with Carmen in the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms. Carmen had Gillian by the shoulders. No one seemed to want to interfere. They either weren’t paying attention or didn’t want to notice.

Samantha walked over to both of them, catching a surprised Bob Holder in the process of trying to get her attention. Samantha walked quickly by, ignoring him.

Gillian looked terrible. She had dark stains from her mascara down her cheeks. There was the stench of alcohol surrounding her.

“Carmen, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Sam. Gillian went a little hard on the vodka tonight, that’s all.” Her tone was tense.

“You can kiss my ass, darling Carmen. You know damn well what that fucker did!” Gillian blurted loudly. She was bitter, angry. She wanted out of Carmen’s hold. She flung her head back hard. “That bastard wants it all, dammit. The bookstore!” She was almost yelling.

Samantha felt helpless. She had found herself in the middle of something she didn’t understand. Carmen held on to Gillian even tighter. She brought her face close to Gillian’s.

“Gillian, this is not the time or the place.” Her voice was an urgent whisper. “Go to my room and lie down. Relax. I’ll get you something to eat and some coffee.”

“No, I won’t lie down.” She broke away from Carmen. “What I need is another drink.” Gillian brushed past Samantha.

Samantha inched even further into the shadows of the wall. Where was John Haskell? She could see some of the guests looking and then turning away, whispering to each other. Some however, were blatantly nosy. Mrs. Peabody was ear to ear with her husband and Bob Holder had a rather befuddled look, taking sip after sip of whatever he was drinking. Carmen pulled Samantha close by the elbow and whispered.

“This is between you and me, Sam. Not another soul needs to know.” She hesitated and sighed, shaking her head slightly. “John left Gillian. He wants a divorce. He’s somewhere in California and from what I’ve been able to get from Gillian, he wants the bookstore in the deal.” She stopped, her eyes looking deeply into Samantha’s.

For the first time since she had met her friend, Samantha didn’t know what to say. There was something in Carmen’s eyes she couldn’t put a finger on. All she knew was that Carmen was severely affected by this. She hadn’t realized that she and Gillian were so close.

“Is she going to be all right, Carmen? She looks pretty smashed.”

“I think she’s been drinking since last night.” Carmen whispered, looking back into the party crowd, spotting Gillian at the bar. “She’s going to stay here with you tonight, right? You can’t let her drive home like that.”

“Oh she’s not going anywhere.” Carmen was leading Samantha back out to the party. “Don’t let this spoil your evening, Sam. This is something personal that Gillian shouldn’t have brought here.” There was a faraway, disturbed sound to Carmen’s voice.

Samantha suddenly realized that the glass in her hand was almost empty and that she was starting to feel the effects.

Bob Holder came up to them, a hesitant smile plastered on his face. “Samantha. Carmen. I’ve finally got the both of you cornered.” He was still holding his drink. “I was looking forward to seeing you again, Samantha.”

First name basis already, thought Samantha. Amazing what a few drinks can do to the human defenses. Samantha couldn’t muster a word. All of a sudden, none of this mattered. Holder didn’t matter. Gillian didn’t matter. Being here didn’t matter. Well, Carmen did. She always did. Carmen smiled.

“Listen, Bob, I have to tell you, Samantha’s work on the bank painting is marvelous. I’ve seen some of her initial canvas work.”

Why was it so important for Carmen and people like Carmen to always be on top of things? They never wanted to drop their public persona or appear less than human. Bob Holder nodded.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be more than suitable for the bank and the commissioners. Samantha is highly regarded and came with excellent recommendations.”

He was smiling blandly, nodding with half closed eyes. He reminded Samantha of those plastic bobbing head dolls people place in their car rear windows.

Samantha could have told him she was painting a pig with a red pepper stuffed in its mouth to hang in his precious bank and he would have continued nodding and smiling, agreeing to it without question. He was that drunk.

“Good to see you, Mr. Holder.” She turned back to Carmen. “I need a change of scenery. It’s getting very stuffy in here.”

Samantha smiled politely and disengaged herself. She left and headed toward the veranda. The cold was better than this. She wanted to leave but she didn’t want to disappoint Carmen. Her decision was made for her, however.

As she worked her way through the living room where most of the guests were, someone grabbed her arm firmly.

“Hey, Samantha, hold on a second.” It was Stephen Kendall.

“Dr. Kendall.”

“Nope. Stephen, remember?” He had a big grin on his face. Blond and blue-eyed, he wouldn’t have been considered a bad-looking guy for most women with an eye for such things. Unfortunately for him, Samantha wasn’t one of them.

“Okay, Stephen. Look, I was just going out for some fresh air.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A bit cold, don’t you think?”

All she wanted was to get away from contact of any kind. What she really wanted was to get back home. Back to Lara Karnov. Not only that, but Samantha had a feeling this guy was entertaining a definite interest in her. That was something she didn’t want.

“Actually, I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink and need to clear my head,” she said and attempted to move away. He held on to her arm.

“Hmm, I feel a bit woozy myself. Not used to doing this.” He held up his half empty glass. “I haven’t had this much to drink since my intern days at Yale.” His eyes were a shade on the red side.

“No, what I meant was I want to be alone at the moment, if you don’t mind?” She was trying not to be too rude. She needed to get away from him, except he wouldn’t let go of her arm.

“Hey, Sam.” Carmen’s voice from behind was a welcome intrusion. “I was looking for you.”

God bless her. As always, her savior. Carmen eyed Stephen Kendall intently as she walked up.

“Carmen, I think I probably should be going.” Samantha almost whispered as she inched closer to her friend. Kendall let his hand drop.

Carmen put an arm around her. “You okay to drive home?” She looked at Samantha, then back at Kendall.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. It’s Gillian you need to worry about.”

“She’ll be all right.” A shadow crossed Carmen’s face.

“Listen, Carmen,” Stephen Kendall said, “Thank you so much for having me here tonight. I look forward to being of any help in the future.” Kendall put out a hand.

He and Carmen shook hands, and then he turned back to Samantha. “And Samantha, I enjoyed seeing you again. I hope you won’t be too shy to drop in for a visit at the hospital.” He gave Samantha a friendly smile and walked away.

Carmen was still holding on to Samantha.

“Sam, this guy isn’t hitting on you, is he?” Her eyes were still on Kendall as he rejoined Pastor Peabody.

“He’s a typical, horny guy, Carmen. You know, new in town, wants to hit on all the eligible females in sight.”

“Sam, why don’t you just tell the guy he’s got the wrong plumbing? You know, big dykes don’t go for blonde boys.”

Samantha wasn’t prepared to jump out of the closet and into the prying eyes of Bayton Isle just yet. She didn’t want her life to be the topic of gossip as Carmen was. Her life had been a semi-closeted affair.

“C’mon, Carmen, I want to be in control of all my senses when I hit him with that one.” She smiled and gently nudged Carmen. Carmen smiled back and kissed her gently on the forehead.

“Go on home, honey. Drive carefully and get some rest. And thanks for coming.” She hugged her one last time and went off to mingle with what was left of her party guests.

As Samantha drove home, the thoughts of the evening all seemed to fade away in the warm comfort of her car’s interior. Only one thought remained persistent. Lara Karnov. In order to get to Lara she had to find Karnov Mansion and Tamara Weissman.

She yawned, finally starting to feel the effects of the night. She turned off her radio, the sound of the wind whistling through the convertible windows the only thing sharing space with Lara Karnov in her thoughts.

Chapter 8

Nothing could have stopped her from heading out in search of Karnov Mansion. Not the bank commission and their painting, not her book covers, not even the approaching harsh Maine weather. It was cold outside Saturday morning. Cold and windy. The sky was a dark shade of pewter.

The estate was so well hidden that it was hard to imagine anything living beyond the overgrown road. Piper’s Road wasn’t much of a road and unless you were looking for it, you’d easily drive right past the narrow, dirt path that wind up the cliff like a winding snake. No wonder she’d never spotted it before and why it wasn’t even on some of the maps.

The grounds surrounding Karnov Mansion were bleak with tall, looming trees hiding most of it from sight. The house sat atop one of the highest points on the Isle. Pulling onto the narrow, rock-strewn driveway, Samantha noticed that the whole place lacked greenery or flowers of any type. The image left a lifeless impression of gray, much like the stones of Karnov House.

The ground was littered with decaying leaves and what remained of hedges adorning the front of the house were more like clawing, empty limbs. To anyone but Samantha, the place would have been desolate and bleak, but to her, it held an unnamable allure. The house was an overpowering presence on the surrounding land.

The wind was picking up and Samantha felt the growing chill deepen, even through her trench coat. She wrapped it tighter around her waist turning up the collar. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocky waters below was so loud that she could almost feel the icy touch of the spray on her face.

Walking up towards the mansion, she couldn’t suppress a shiver, for the autumn leaves that lay like a harvest carpet at her feet, seemed to stir and run ahead of her, leading her to the door of Karnov Mansion.

As she reached the house, she caught a noticeable odor. It smelled sour but she couldn’t figure out what it could be. The door was large and weathered. It had been beautiful at one time, she thought. In fact, the entire estate must have been an elegant sight in its heyday.

Suddenly, standing there in front of that door, Samantha was struck with a vision. Pictures raced through her brain, pictures that had never been part of her memories before. She clearly saw the Karnovs sitting at a large wooden table, somber tapestries hanging against the high walls, the table filled with food. And in the center of them all, holding court like a queen, was Lara Karnov. In her vision, Samantha was truly there, like an invited guest looking on. Had she been here before?

She saw Lara turn, a crooked, knowing smile on her gaunt face and look directly at her. Her eyes were on fire! They burned through Samantha, the shock so real and so intense that Samantha had to look away, but not before she saw that every piece of food on their table had been covered in blood and some of the Karnovs sneered, like ghouls at a feast, blood dripping down their chins.

Samantha shook herself free of the disturbing image, only to find the door in front of her open. Had she knocked? She couldn’t remember. A young man in faded work clothes and hair down his forehead stood looking hesitantly at her, eyes searching nervously around.

“I’m looking for a Tamara Weissman. Does she live here?” “Yes. Come in please.” He was soft spoken, polite.

He moved aside and ushered her in. It was dark inside, so dark that

when he closed the door behind her, Karnov House seemed to literally swallow the sun. It smelled musty, like a house closed up too tight and not allowed to breathe. She was in a foyer, carpeted in dark, faded patterns of browns, greens and black. There was a dimly lit staircase to her right, barely showing off the gold-framed portraits staring down at visitors.

Dark Shadows , thought Samantha, not able to suppress a slight smile. She loved that show. She remembered rushing home after school, refusing to speak to her family or friends, planting herself firmly in front of the TV and losing herself in the world of Barnabas Collins and Angelique, the witch who loved him. Angelique had given much for Barnabas. She had given her soul.

Breaking free from her thoughts, she realized that the young man in front of her was just standing there, an expectant look on his unkempt face.

“I’m here to see Tamara Weissman. Is she available?” “I don’t know. I would have to check.”

“I came at her request.” Samantha handed him the rumpled note

she’d been keeping from the hospital.

He took it quickly from her hand and looked at it, not understanding at all what it should mean.

“Um, Miss Weissman is very sick. Can you wait in the sitting room while I go up and check with her?”

Samantha nodded, waiting for him to escort her to wherever the sitting room might be. She hadn’t come this far to be put off. If Tamara Weissman was too ill to see her, then she would go to see Tamara Weissman.

He walked towards two closed, decoratively carved mahogany doors facing the staircase and opened them, revealing a magnificent Victorian era sitting room. The room was darkly paneled with wainscoting in stripes of garnet and green. The floor-to-ceiling windows were adorned with delicate sheer drapes.

A fireplace took center stage with a sofa and two chairs covered in rich burgundy and reds, which added a rather dark mood. Portraits hung in every large space on the walls.

“If you’ll wait, I’ll be right back.” The young man motioned swiftly to one of the chairs.

“Oh, sure,” she acknowledged, distracted.

As he left, he closed the two doors behind him. All of this, Samantha thought, hidden away in some God forsaken part of Bayton Isle, and no one even bothered discovering who lived here and why. And why hadn’t Tamara Weissman and her young live-in seen fit to associate with the rest of Bayton Isle?

Samantha walked towards one of the huge paintings. It hung over the fireplace. The man was decked out in rich, lavish clothing. Samantha couldn’t be sure, but the painting could have been seventeenth century. The long hair, curled and puffed up, was black as coal. He had a neatly trimmed beard and moustache to match.

But it was the eyes that frightened Samantha. They were blacker than his hair. Cold, deep and penetrating, there was more than a tinge of malevolence in his stare. His crooked smile was smug, as if possessing a secret that neither the painter nor any onlooker could ever share. Samantha walked to the other wall to stand before a slightly smaller portrait of a stunning woman. Placing her at around two centuries earlier, this woman also bore the strong, intense black eyes. Were they all Karnovs? Samantha could only guess.

Already this house had captured her imagination. Hardly able to control herself, she wondered where Lara Karnov fit into all this. Where was her portrait? Samantha moved to take a look at some of the other portraits in the room, but as she did so, the double doors opened behind her.

The young man who had greeted her walked in slowly, holding a very thin, wasted woman, gray hair pulled back behind her shoulders. She was hardly able to stand without his help, but even so, Samantha recognized her. It was the woman she had run into with her bike at the grocery store! The same, unmistakable blue eyes looked back at her. “You must pardon my appearance, Samantha, but I am not healthy. Thank you for coming.”

Her withered hand was pointing Samantha to sit, just as she was being escorted to the couch. She could barely walk and she needed his help in sitting. Samantha sat down across her in an antique chair that must have been a family heirloom. Was she a Karnov, wondered Samantha?

“You can go now, Tommy. I’ll call you when I’m ready.” She waved Tommy away and he obeyed, closing the double doors once again behind him. She set her weak gaze on Samantha.

“Tommy is my only help here. Needless to say, he has been a life saver.” Her words were slow, raspy. She had difficulty in forming them. But her eyes held Samantha’s in a steady stare.

“I didn’t think you would ever come, Samantha Barnes. You have made it just in time.”

It was then that Samantha realized she had not given this woman her name and she hadn’t told Tommy either. Come to think of it, why had they welcomed a total stranger into their home?

“Forgive me, but how do you know my name?”

“Oh, my dear Samantha, I have known your name for a very long time now. Remember, I gave you this.” She held the crumpled note in her withered hand.

“You know you have been chosen. Surely, you must feel it?”

Samantha knew she had to answer, but all of a sudden, she was afraid.

“I’m really not sure why I’m here,” she let her sentence trail off, knowing right away that it was a lie. There was an oppressive feel to the room, as if the air were getting difficult to breathe. “I’m sorry. That isn’t exactly true.”

“She has called you. You have heard her in your dreams. In your waking hours she is always with you. Lara Karnov. That is why you are here. That is why I too came here.” Tamara looked wistfully around the room, then back at Samantha.

“Yes,” Samantha blurted, “She’s come to me. I can think of nothing else. That’s why I came to see you.” She inched up onto the edge of her chair. “Please tell me why. Lara Karnov has been dead for centuries. What’s happening?”

The old woman before her said nothing, only smiled. She got up slowly from the couch. Samantha wondered why she didn’t have a cane or walker to help her. As she finally struggled to her feet, she motioned for Samantha to follow.

“Come, let me show something I am sure you have been wondering about and are most anxious to see.” She seemed animated despite her frail condition. Samantha didn’t think she could make it without Tommy.

“Do you think we should call Tommy for you?”

“No. It must be only you and I.” She seemed adamant, so Samantha inched behind her as they moved toward a door on the opposite end of the room.

Samantha noticed an unusually large table covered in a heavylooking velvet spread. The legs were ornately carved with figures she couldn’t quite make out. Sitting on top of this odd table were various statues and figurines of Eastern deities. It looked like an altar to her.

Her attention was diverted when Tamara Weissman took out a large collection of keys on a round key holder and picked one out. She turned it slowly in the lock and opened the large door. She didn’t go in; instead, she turned around and smiled cryptically at Samantha.

“Go on in. You will find her there.”

For the first time since coming through the doors of Karnov House, Samantha felt afraid. But it was a fear tempered with a certain sense of exhilaration. She almost felt sexually charged. Alive. Whatever was going to happen in life beyond this door, she wanted to embrace it.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” Tamara urged her on. She motioned her forward with her eyes.

Samantha walked into the most exquisite room she had ever seen. Everywhere her eyes traveled, bursts of flowers stood atop tables. Paintings and tapestries adorned the walls. Her eyes finally fell on a large piano and the two fireplaces. But it was above the magnificent, large, marbled fireplace directly across from her that the object she truly sought rested.

The portrait was so large that she knew who it was from this distance. Lara Karnov waited, framed in gold and wearing blue. Samantha began to walk as in a daze, not caring whether Tamara Weissman could keep up with her or not. The smell of the fresh flowers was like an aphrodisiac to her senses. She wondered if Tamara was the one supplying these beautiful flowers.

As she came to a stop before the extravagant fireplace, she let her gaze travel slowly, drinking in every detail of the surroundings, until they came to a stop on the portrait before her.

Lara Karnov had been painted in a palette of rich, dark, vibrant colors. The image seemed to come alive with color, the intensity of the likeness flirting with the eyes and the senses. It was the portrait in the book, except that here, it seemed to envelope you till there was nothing in the room except you and portrait.

It was the eyes that held Samantha. They looked out at curious onlookers with a certain smug amusement, black as coal. Like the impressive man in the sitting room, thought Samantha. It must have been a Karnov genetic trait. But the malice was missing from Lara Karnov’s eyes. There was a certain sadness in the intensely deep set eyes. Her face was almost too gaunt but beautiful in its haunting, otherworldly look. Well-defined high cheekbones met rather thin lips and finished in a decidedly pointed chin. The skin was so pale that it seemed to glow with incandescent color off the canvas.

“She’s beautiful.” Samantha was spellbound, noticing the relatively frail body beneath the hypnotic face. The blue brocade dress fit snugly on her thin frame.

“She was a Karnov like no other.” Tamara’s voice startled Samantha. She had crept up behind her and was standing so close that she could feel her breath.

Tamara was staring trance like at the portrait. Slivers of sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, dancing across the room like tiny beams.

“There are many secrets to be revealed to you. Do you wish to proceed?”

Did she? The secrets of Lara Karnov lay before her, ready to break open. There was nothing on earth that could stop her.

“I want to know everything about her.”

Tamara smiled. A slow, deliberate smile. Samantha could almost swear that there was great relief in Tamara’s face, as if a great weight had been lifted.

Tamara unexpectedly curled her arm through Samantha’s and urged her away from the portrait. Samantha didn’t want to move. The portrait of Lara Karnov held her prisoner. This was as close as she had ever been to her. But Tamara tugged harder.

“Come, Samantha. This is only an illusion. The real thing will be yours to have.” Tamara closed the door behind her.

“That was Lara’s favorite room. She played beautifully.” She suddenly clutched at her chest and swayed back, leaning softly on the door. Samantha grabbed her by the arm.

“It’s all right, Samantha. I’m getting weaker. I need to tell you everything quickly.”

Samantha wondered what she meant. Tamara Weissman really didn’t look all that old. Perhaps she suffered from some chronic disease. After all, she had been in the hospital that night.

“There, by the drapes. Pull on the rope. That will call Tommy. There is something from the library he must get for me.”

Samantha helped her to one of the chairs then went to the window and pulled a worn, frayed thick cord hanging next to the heavy drapes.

“Come and sit here next to me, Samantha. I must pass all that is Karnov to you.”

Samantha pulled up one of the heavy chairs next to Tamara. They were sitting beneath the cold glare of that man’s portrait. Perhaps Tamara could tell her who he was? Tommy came in momentarily and left again in search of a book Tamara had requested from the family library. She looked again at Samantha.

“I was so afraid you would not come in time. I was worried that the note at the hospital wouldn’t make sense to you.”

Should Samantha tell her that it wasn’t just her note that brought her here? That Lara Karnov had somehow shown her the way long before the hospital stay? Lara Karnov had spoken to her heart, saying all the things Samantha Barnes desperately wanted to hear.

“At first I thought you were a dream,” Samantha offered. “You were actually part of a very bizarre dream I had while I was unconscious.”

“Maybe not so bizarre, Samantha. Dreams sometimes are messages sent from beyond for us to understand. We should always listen to our dreams.” Tamara was looking at Samantha through heavy-lidded eyes.

Samantha wondered if her strength would allow her to stay up. Tommy interrupted her thoughts.

He shuffled shyly up to Tamara and handed her a large, worn old book, the pages brown with age. It looked heavy. Tamara took it gently as if cradling a baby. She placed it neatly on her lap and motioned for Tommy to leave. As he closed the double doors behind him, Tamara took one deep breath and looked at Samantha.

Her blue eyes were crystal clear. “Now, Samantha Barnes, are you ready to get what you came here for? What your destiny has delivered to you?”

Samantha could only nod. Tamara opened the book somewhere near the center. There was a marker there of some sort, a faded ribbon. There appeared to be scratchy handwritten notes on the pages. The book was almost too big for Tamara to handle.

“The Karnovs are a very ancient family. A family long hunted, feared and persecuted in Europe.”

Tamara stopped only long enough to lick a fleck of spittle that had dropped onto her lip.

“And please, don’t be frightened when I reveal to you why this was so.” She turned the fragile page. There was more writing, but this time, there was also a large, colorful emblem on the page. It looked to Samantha like a big black bird holding something in its beak, wings spread out across the page. The colors black, red and yellow jumped out at her.

When Tamara looked back up at Samantha, there was a strange, hungry look on her face, like a ghoul waiting to feed off Samantha’s reaction. It startled her.

“Do you believe in vampires, Samantha?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever thought about vampires much.”

“No matter, because the world you once knew you must now leave behind.”

“What does all this have to do with me?”

Tamara merely smiled smugly. “Everything, my dear, everything. You see, the Karnov are vampires.”

She let it sink in, then continued, “…and werewolves. Yes, those things exist. Those things are Karnov. For centuries they bore the brunt of this lifestyle. Some Karnov were brazen and lived recklessly. They suffered the most. Many of them met terrible fates. There really were vampire hunters long ago, although they were never historically identified as such. But then again, the story would be different if you had been the victim. To them, the Karnovs were unnatural monsters to be hunted and destroyed.”

She stopped and the air was thick with silence. Samantha was frozen. Sure, she had read Furrows’s book and listened to his easy dismissal of the Karnov myths, but for the reality to be hitting her here, full in the face, was spell bounding. Unbelievable. Was this woman sane, she wondered? Should she stay and listen to more or leave? No. She could never leave Lara Karnov behind. Not now.

Tamara had turned another page. “Wilmon Karnov,” Tamara pointed feebly to the portrait above them, “was the Karnov patriarch. It was his plan to scatter the Karnovs to the far reaches of the known world. His idea was to create a world dominated by Karnovs. Entire villages and cities under Karnov rule. They would allow the population to retain land, farm it and reap its benefits. In exchange, the villagers would supply the blood. The young virgins. The innocent children.”

She stopped long enough to wipe her hands on her dress. “Most of the Karnov were without conscience, lacking mercy or consideration. Until Lara Karnov came into being.”

Samantha felt her body tense up. The mere mention of her name was like a powerful magnet. The drug for her addiction. A ripple through her heart. Tamara closed her eyes for a few moments, as if recollecting some far away memory.

“I must have you understand that the Karnov family was vampire by nature. They are a race apart from us, yet walking the Earth side by side with humans since the beginning of time. That is not a fact the world ever knew or cared to know. When Lara was born, she already bore the mark of the vampire.”

Here she stopped as if to take a breath. She turned the page again. At the top of the page, Samantha could see the name Countess Lara Karnov written in lovely handwriting.

Her hands were moist with anxiety and she was finding it hard to breathe in the dark room.

“Please go on, Tamara.”

“Lara Karnov believed in things other than greed, darkness, power and revenge.” Tamara’s voice was low, personal. “Above all else, Lara Karnov was convinced that love, not everlasting life and darkness, would be the only thing that would save her. Her mother believed this also, for they say it was written here, in the ancient book of the Karnov family, that a female Karnov child would be born who could change the Karnov vampire curse forever. This was Lara Karnov.”

Samantha’s stomach growled and she smiled in apology. The absurdity of it all, she thought. How hunger could be such an allconsuming need in the face of life’s revelations.

“It is I who must apologize,” Tamara was saying, “but I seldom eat more than once a day, usually an early supper. I am too weak. I did not realize it was so late.”

“Oh no, please, continue. I usually skip lunch myself when I get busy.” Samantha looked at her watch. Time had flown. How could she even think of food when her life was changing before her eyes? What she was hungry for was not food.

“Tamara, why was Lara different? How could she change her people from being vampires? Did she really die in that accident? And why me?”

Tamara put both her hands on the pages of the book and nodded slowly.

“I know you are very curious about these things. All will be revealed to you. Lara was never allowed to fulfill her destiny. And now she can only be awakened only by the true love of the chosen one. Only you could bring her life back to her.”

Samantha’s mouth was open in a question. Tamara put one hand up in the air and shook her head. “It will make sense to you when I am done.”

Her hand now pointed at Samantha. “You were called by Lara. You are the chosen one.” She stopped and eyed Samantha intently with squinted eyes.

“I am barely half a century and look at me. She has kept me alive for too long you see. It wasn’t me that was meant to give her life, only sustain what she already has. You are the One, Samantha. Your love will bring her life and she will belong to you.”

Samantha was shaking her head well before Tamara could finish. This was too much. She couldn’t understand. She felt like she was awake in some crazy nightmare. But she had come here wanting to know this. Wanting Lara.

“Do not be frightened,” Tamara continued, “The voice you have heard in your dreams is not an illusion. It is Lara. You will know that is your destiny. You want Lara as much as she needs you.”

She was telling the truth. Samantha knew it. That was the scariest part of this damned thing. She was consumed by Lara Karnov.

“There is more.” Tamara reached out, her eyes pleading. Samantha gave her a half nod.

“Driven by dark and ruthless motivation, they made the decision to test Lara’s beliefs and the Karnov prophecy.” Tamara fidgeted in her chair as she turned another page.

“The Karnovs bound Lara and had her entombed here. Special servants and attendants were brought in to keep Lara…” she paused briefly, “…sustained, until and if her predictions came true. They have waited all these centuries for Lara’s mythical lover to release her from the fingers of eternal darkness. I am the last of a long line of those who have served the Karnov in this task. You see that table there?”

She pointed to the long, draped table Samantha had noticed earlier. “There is a tube attached to it where the blood I draw from my own body each night is fed to Lara.”

Samantha felt a chill go through her heart. And a great sadness too. How could your own family, regardless of how ruthless they might have been, have their own daughter buried alive?

“They didn’t talk much about it to the townsfolk of Bayton Isle,” Tamara continued, “The villagers were below them in rank and in worth. They were told Lara was mistakenly shot in a hunting accident. Only we knew. It’s all here.” Tamara patted the book on her lap.

Samantha was still in shock. How could all this be real? This was a new millennium. Technology was god. There was no room for superstition and vampires. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs threatening to strangle her sanity. What would Carmen think? The very name of her friend brought a reassuring feeling, an anchor to the real world.

“I want to get this straight,” Samantha said, “You’re telling me that the Karnov are an ancient family who happen to be vampires and that Lara Karnov was the only one that might be saved or changed in some way?”

Samantha barely finished her rushed question, when she noticed the strange, faraway look on Tamara’s face. Her features were so serene and still, that Samantha thought she might be dead. Her eyes were closed.

The feel of the air was stagnant, and the pungent smell of mildew reached her nostrils. She shuddered involuntarily. She became aware of the smallest part of her wanting to leave, run into the open arms of Carmen. The thought of Lara Karnov quickly smothered it. She couldn’t leave until she got everything she came for.

Tamara slowly opened her eyes and looked straight into Samantha’s face. A smile that Samantha could only describe as blissful cracked her face. It was unnerving.

“The prophecy speaks of only one Karnov who would become different. Because of that, she was mistrusted and even feared by the others.” She spoke in a dreamlike voice. “The Karnovs were without love, Samantha. They would never feel the euphoria, the consuming flames of love in their entire lives. They lived on blood, yes. They had immortality, but at what a price. Oh, she was a Karnov. She craved blood and would die without it, but she believed that this would only allow her limited life. That the chosen one was the only one that would bring her a new kind of life.”

Samantha’s throat tightened with emotion. She closed her hand over it and coughed.

“Tamara, I can’t believe any of this. As much as I want to sit here and take all of this for the truth, I just can’t. I don’t understand some of the things that have been happening to me and I certainly don’t pretend to understand my obsession with Lara Karnov, but to really believe in vampires, curses, blood and murder…” She stopped abruptly. She didn’t know what to say.

She felt like she wanted to break out in tears. She wanted so desperately to believe. If she couldn’t, then Lara Karnov would cease to be a part of her. The silence seemed to close in on her and for the first time, she felt uneasy. Here she was in this forsaken house, at the mercy of a possibly disturbed woman.

When Tamara didn’t speak, Samantha inched forward in her chair, sorry she had spoken in such an insensitive manner.

“I don’t have time for this, Samantha!” Tamara almost jumped at her. “Surely you have felt something? You have heard her call.” Her breathing was raspy and irregular. She clutched Samantha’s wrist, bony, withered fingers digging into her flesh.

Samantha suddenly wanted to turn and run as far and as fast as she could. But then she remembered her dream. Hadn’t Lara Karnov promised eternal love? Wouldn’t anyone give anything to have that?

“Samantha.” Tamara had let go of her and was eying her expectantly.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” Samantha’s brain was reacting. Her mouth was speaking, her hands were reaching for her handbag, but her heart was frozen.

“You must not leave yet, Samantha. Please wait and listen!”

Samantha tried desperately to drown out Tamara’s pleas and the sound of Lara’s whispers in her mind. As she got up, determined to leave, she heard the Karnov book drop on the floor behind her.

“The police will destroy this place, Samantha, and Tommy too.”

Samantha stopped before she got to the parlor doors. The police? What did they have to do with Karnov Estate? She felt her resolve melting with each stumbling step Tamara took towards her.

Tamara finally came and stood in front of her, trying hard to keep her balance.

“Yes, that’s right, Samantha. They have been here more than once questioning Tommy. They wanted to speak to me but Tommy convinced them I was too ill. Told them they should come back later.”

At that, she made a strange, gurgling sound that Samantha thought might have been laughter. She pressed her hand to her mouth and wiped it, never losing sight of Samantha.

“Forgive me for my strange sense of humor. You see, I will be quite dead by the time they return.”

Escape was no longer possible. Samantha couldn’t even remember why she had wanted to run in the first place.

“Tamara, I’m sorry. Please, come back with me and we’ll finish talking.” Samantha led her back to the couch and they both sat back down. Tamara made no motion to pick up the book on the floor, so Samantha picked it up carefully, feeling the weight of it on her lap where she placed it.

“The FBI were here too.” Tamara said.

“The FBI? Why Tamara? Why would the FBI or the police question you or Tommy?”

“She needs blood, Samantha!” Tamara yelled so loud, Samantha jumped in her chair.

“How do you think we can get her the blood she needs when I can no longer give it?” Tamara’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

But it still wasn’t fitting together for Samantha. It was beyond her comprehension. Tamara could see the confusion in her eyes. She shook her head slowly and sighed.

“Do not think us monsters when I tell you what I must tell you, Samantha. You will come to understand. Do you remember that boy who was found dead right beyond our property just days ago?” Her voice trailed off. “Tommy did it. I ordered him. Lara has to feed. And it will happen again and again if you cannot accept your destiny with Lara.” Tamara was hardly able to get the words out.

Samantha sat numb and unable to fight the images that she was reliving in her mind. The memory of the morning where she was so spellbound by the newspaper article describing the horribly mutilated body of Billy Phillips was still fresh. It was true. He was found in the woods near Karnov Estate. Everything that Tamara was telling her was true. She couldn’t speak, only look helplessly at Tamara.

“I suppose it was too much to ask of you to not feel horrified and repulsed by what we have done,” Tamara spoke in a hushed voice, “But if you’ve felt the presence of Lara, then you know that this was something that had to be done in order to keep her alive. She is vampire, Samantha. She needs blood in order to live.”

“But a child….” Samantha struggled with the emotions inside her. Deep down inside, she knew she would have done the same for Lara.

“They are so innocent, Samantha. So trusting. It is the easiest alternative.”

Tamara held one long, bony arm out to Samantha. “Those hospital visits are a common occurrence for me. You see,” she brought her arm closer. “I can no longer give Lara the life substance she requires. If I continue to cut myself for the blood, I will die. And if I had died without having found the chosen one, I could not have been responsible for the repercussions to my family or to Bayton Isle.”

Samantha stared at all the scars and scabs that dotted Tamara’s arms.

“And those are not all of them. My legs, my stomach, my entire body bears these scars.”

And this is what Lara expects of me, thought Samantha to herself. This is what having her love means?

“No. This is not your fate.” Tamara intruded into her thoughts. “You are the one that will free Lara from this curse and in turn, gain eternal life and love.”

Samantha let the words sink into her heart. Eternal love. But her head started to hurt with all the confusion and questions.

“But what can I do for Lara?” She heard the question escape from her lips. “How will I be that important in her life and how do you know I’m the one?”

“You must go to Lara. She is here. She will explain everything to you. You will make your home here with her. Your friends will not understand. You must give them up. It is such a small price.” Tamara’s voice was getting weaker and harder to hear. She was taking quick gulps of air.

“Please…call for Tommy.” She was motioning feebly to Samantha. “The rope.”

Tommy came shuffling in, quick to come to Tamara’s side.

“Prepare supper for two.”

Samantha was surprised. “Oh, no. Please. I can’t stay.” “You must.”

Samantha could almost feel the pain in Tamara’s lungs. She looked at Tommy, but he just stood there, stone faced and ready for whatever Tamara wanted.

“Samantha, please stay for early dinner.” She took Samantha’s arm gently with her hand.

What was she supposed to do? Right now, she was so confused and torn that she couldn’t think straight, let alone make any kind of rational decision. She smiled. Lara was here. But where?

“I’ll stay for dinner, Tamara.”

Tamara seemed to be breathing easier and it appeared she had regained some of her strength. She motioned for Tommy to leave and he did so, closing the double doors behind him.

“I eat very little, Samantha, but I have taught Tommy to cook some very basic foods. He prepares a very good pasta and beef dish.” She paused long enough to smile a crooked smile at Samantha.

“Beef is an important part of my diet, and liver too. It builds the blood, even though that matters little now. As you see, my lungs are failing, my entire system is failing.”

Samantha wasn’t exactly listening. Her thoughts were far away with Lara Karnov. She imagined what her life would be like living here in Karnov Estate with Lara. No Carmen. No Bayton Isle. She liked it. Except for Carmen. She wasn’t sure she would be able to give her up. And she wasn’t ready yet. It just wasn’t right for her. Not now.

They had dinner in the most beautiful dining room Samantha had ever been in. Even though it needed airing out, the antiques, the furniture, everything was breathtaking.

Tamara’s strength held out until Tommy had taken the cups and saucers with the coffee away. It was well past six and the sun had disappeared long ago.

There was a strong tug from the real world that seemed to be insistent on pulling Samantha away. Away from Lara and away from her future. Yet, instinctively she knew that Lara Karnov and she were inexplicably intertwined. She stood up from the dining table.

“I think you know that I can’t do this right now. I can’t stay. I don’t know how to take all this in. I have to go home. I have commitments there…I have friends…” She paused and thought of Carmen. “I just don’t know.”

She turned to leave, for if she stayed longer, she wasn’t sure what she might feel. If she should hear Lara’s voice again, she might not be able to leave.

Tamara didn’t even try to stand. Her face was frozen in a sad and haunting look.

“I am not the one to convince you. If you cannot hear Lara, then all has been for naught.” Her eyes seemed to be looking past Samantha, at something hidden in the past. “I may not see you again, but this is your home as it is Lara’s. She waits for you. Come when you wish. But remember, Samantha—there must be blood.”

Her last words were almost a whisper.

Samantha had to leave now. She put her handbag on her shoulder and inched closer to the door.

“Tommy will show you out,” Tamara’s voice sounded behind her. She had barely spoken them when the door to the dining room opened and Tommy stood there. Samantha couldn’t look back, regardless of how rude it appeared. This house would not break its spell if she didn’t go now. She walked briskly away.

Chapter 9

Samantha closed the door behind her and leaned back on it, head resting on the firm wood. She was finally home. She closed her eyes and saw only Karnov Estate. Tamara Weissman. Lara Karnov. What was going to happen now? Her life had changed in one afternoon from the borderline mundane to dark madness. Was it all real?

As she made her way to the kitchen for that coffee fix her system desperately needed, she made sure every light downstairs was on. She flipped the master light switch. Instantly, the soft, comforting glow of the recessed lights embraced the darkness.

She tried to remain focused on the coffeepot. The coffee filter. The water. Anything but the last seven hours of her life. The smell of Pumpkin Spice coffee wafted through the kitchen, relaxing her instantly.

The coffee was ready and as she added the creamer, a very strong and intrusive thought struck her brain and wouldn’t let go. Billy Phillips. He wouldn’t be the last one. Not unless she accepted the Karnov destiny. Not unless she gave herself to Lara. And what then, Samantha questioned herself silently as she made her way to the couch and sat down slowly.

She took a sip of the coffee and only then realized how cold it was in the house. It had already begun to freeze outside and she knew she had left the heater on. She had never gotten around to calling a repairman.

The coffee was smooth and it helped to clear her head. The entire episode with Tamara Weissman began to fade. She wished all of it could just go away. But Lara Karnov remained seared in her very being. Samantha could never leave her behind. Since seeing her portrait in Edmund Furrows’s book, their destinies had become inexplicably intertwined.

She had worked so hard to build a barrier around Samantha Barnes, a barrier that would withstand all the pain and hurt the world could dish out. And here came Lara. She was offering eternal love. Forever together. The only thing Samantha had to give back was her life. Her blood. Was she ready to accept this? Was she ready to give her life for love? Was it sane? Did vampires really exist? Or was this all some crazy plot devised by a madwoman?

No , answered Lara in her heart. Samantha knew. “But why me?” she asked herself out loud, laughing lightly at the sound of her own hollow voice. Tamara had said Lara would explain it all.

Samantha shook her head slowly, as if to shake it all off with the swing of her hair. She just couldn’t think straight tonight. Perhaps in the morning, when all of it would appear different, she could make more sense of it. She took one last sip of the coffee and decided to call it a night.

It was then that it happened. She became aware of low, heavy breathing in the room with her. Underneath her feet, the house seemed to be vibrating. And yet, Samantha wasn’t afraid. Instinctively, she knew who it was. She felt a warm and loving hand caress her being as she arose from the couch. Whispered words escaped her lips and from far away an answer seemed to reach her ears. The soft voice enveloped the mounting excitement in her heart.

“I am here,” it seemed to echo, “I can love you. You shall keep me alive.”

Samantha couldn’t answer. The words would not form. She couldn’t move. She could only motion weakly as she stood numb in the room. The steady thumping of her heart thundered through her whole body so loud that she thought she was having a heart attack. Then she realized it wasn’t her heart at all that echoed through the house.

Lara Karnov stood before the door. Not the Lara Karnov that she had seen painted at Karnov Estate, but a figure bathed in blood. Lara Karnov was a living, pulsing image of blood. Samantha almost fell back as she fought the nausea bubbling up. Then, before her shocked eyes, the bloody figure collapsed in one violent splash on the floor and as the blood seeped and spread, it began to form into tiny red snakes that squirmed and slithered toward her.

And she could do nothing. Samantha stood frozen, unable to move. The snakes traveled swiftly across the room and when they reached Samantha, blended into one giant red snake of blood that began to slide up her body, slipping into and under her clothing. She broke out into a cold chill as she felt the wet, hot blood caress her legs and work its way into her crotch and up to circle and caress her breasts. Samantha wanted to scream, but when the thing that was Lara Karnov entered her, she moaned out loud in ecstasy as she felt the wetness slip and slide into her places of pleasure.

Samantha fell back onto the couch, conscious of the orgasm she reached as the blood streaked down her legs away from her and began to take the solid form of Lara Karnov again. The figure in blood smiled and held out a hand to Samantha. Samantha looked at her and closed her eyes as she let one final moan of pleasure escape her lips. When she opened her eyes, Lara Karnov was gone. As quickly as it had come, the enchantment was gone. Samantha shook her head hard trying to clear the mushy feeling in her brain. What the hell had just happened? She couldn’t have imagined it, the throbbing between her legs told her that much. She was still out of breath.

Her mind was feverish with confusion. She didn’t know what to do or what was expected of her. Was it all really happening or was she finally going over the edge? Then she thought of what Carmen would say. She had no real friends except Carmen. Would she understand? Samantha laughed out loud. She didn’t think anyone would believe her if she tried to explain what had happened tonight.

Samantha wanted to know Lara Karnov. She alone wanted to be special in her eyes. She wanted Lara to love only her. Samantha’s thoughts stopped short as she realized what she had admitted to herself. She had been trying to hide it since the very moment she set eyes on Lara Karnov. And now, things had come too far to turn back.

With one single purpose and intent, she went to her large file cabinet where she kept all of her works in progress, drawings and art supplies. Pulling out the sketchpad, she flipped through the pages quickly, finally coming to the sketch of Lara Karnov.

She fingered the paper slowly and reached for her pencil case in the same drawer. There was no doubt now what she had to do. But first she had to paint her. Nothing else mattered. No one else existed.

***

“This is Samantha Barnes. I can’t take your call right now because I’m busy painting. If you wish to leave a message, I’ll get back to you whenever it becomes convenient for me.”

Her recorded message was meant to let all who called not to expect much in return from her anytime soon. However, she hadn’t counted on so many people wanting her attention.

This time it was Carrie Nathers from Taylor Publishing. She wanted to discuss a contract for a new romance series premiering the following year. Before her had been Carmen, an unwanted Stephen Kendall with an invitation for lunch, and finally Bob Holder. He attempted some kind of humor and thanked her for working so hard on the bank painting. He was sure it was going to be something that all of Bayton Isle would be proud of.

As the answering machine rewound itself, Samantha Barnes ran both her hands through her hair, tossing her head back. She hadn’t slept, eaten, or bathed in two days and spent the week lovingly brushing acrylic upon the canvas standing before her.

The image of Lara Karnov looked out and held her gaze. It was unlike anything she had done before. Using her memory of the painting at Karnov Mansion and the photo reproduction from the book, Samantha had created something uniquely her own. It was different because it had been created from the heart.

Littered about the floor around her, newspapers had piled up unopened. She hadn’t even turned on the television. When she slept, she dreamed of her. When she was awake, she daydreamed of her. Everything had become Lara. Samantha was also having trouble forgetting Karnov Mansion, Tamara and Tommy. She was almost convinced that that was where she belonged. But then why was she still here? Her mind felt like a jigsaw puzzle all jumbled up in neat packaging.

A heavy knocking on the door made her jump back to reality.

Who the hell could that be? She looked disreputable in her old white terry cloth robe. There was the knock on the door again.

“Hey, Samantha. It’s Carmen.”

Something inside of her lit up. Carmen’s voice broke the trance. Samantha ran to the door and opened it, the sunshine temporarily blinding her. She put a hand over her eyes.

“Carmen.” She jumped into Carmen’s arms, a very surprised Carmen hugging her tightly.

“Sam, you have been one difficult woman to get a hold of.”

She loosened her hold on Samantha and looked down at her. Samantha actually felt ashamed at her appearance. She probably smelled too. They both walked inside after Samantha closed the door.

“I tell you, Sam, it never amazes me how real artists work.”

She looked around at the mess in Samantha’s living quarters. “You need to hire yourself a housekeeper if you continue to work like this.” She walked to the stack of newspapers still neatly folded in their plastic.

“I’m surprised you haven’t been keeping track of the murders around here. You were so interested in Billy Phillips.” Carmen opened one of them and held it up for Samantha to see.

Samantha went up to Carmen in a daze and took the paper from her hand.

“They found another kid earlier this week,” continued Carmen. “Same way. She was really carved up. Her heart was missing.” She stopped and eyed Samantha, who was spellbound by the front page.

“Hey, are you okay Sam?”

Samantha didn’t answer. She was still staring at the headlines on the spread out paper in front of her.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s okay.”

“Somehow I’m not convinced.” Carmen looked closer at Samantha and took the paper from her hands. “You look like shit, Sam.”

That was when Carmen spotted the painting on the easel. As she walked towards it, Samantha literally ran past her and stood in front of the painting, blocking Carmen’s view.

“Stop it, Carmen. I appreciate you coming here and your concern, but I know you’re just going to give me grief over this and it isn’t any of your business.”

The words had stung. Samantha saw the look of disbelief flash in Carmen’s eyes. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Now I know something is wrong.” Carmen said, shaking her head. “Sam, we’ve been friends too long and I care too much about you to push this in your face right now.” Her eyes were sad as she tried to figure it all out on Samantha’s face. “If you need to talk to me, you know where to find me.” She stood just a few moments longer in front of Samantha, then quickly turned back towards the door, stopping to look back at her.

“Something is going on with you, and I just want you to know that you mean a lot more to me than just a friend.” She walked out.

Samantha inched her way back to the couch and sat quietly. She felt a depression creeping up on her. She had hurt Carmen. Carmen loved her. Carmen would jump if she told her how high. She looked back at the painting of Lara Karnov and in that moment, all thoughts of Carmen vanished. As if to clear her head, Samantha walked back to the paper strewn on the floor and picked it up.

The headlines were clear, loud and frightening. As she stood there reading, the cold hand of fear squeezed ever so persistent on her heart. Once again the FBI had been called in. This time, a little girl by the name of Angie Morrison had been found in much the same state as Billy Phillips and in the same general area - The woods off Piper’s Drive, not far from Karnov Mansion.

Samantha flung the paper back down to the floor. What was wrong with Tommy? She guessed that he was partly mentally handicapped, but surely Tamara had told him to be more careful. She caught herself thinking and stopped. What was wrong here? She was feeling no sympathy for Angie Morrison, a child who had had her whole life ahead of her. A child surely loved and missed by a mother and a father. Yet all Samantha could think of was the danger to Lara. With the FBI on the case, it was bound to get dangerous for Tamara and Tommy. If they were arrested, who would take care of Lara?

Instinctively, she began to pick at the pile of papers on the floor until she found yesterday’s paper. Funny, she couldn’t even remember going outside and picking any of these papers up.

The issue she had been reading was three days old. In yesterday’s edition, there were no headlines staring back at her about the Angie Morrison murder but there was a column further down on the front page. As Samantha read, her world and her surroundings began to fade and dull. Only the sound of her beating heart seemed to exist. She read on. After questioning everyone from the tourists on the cliff sides to life long Islanders, the FBI were concentrating on leads that pointed to Tommy Mills, a caretaker at Karnov Estates. He was missing and considered dangerous.

Although Samantha didn’t know Tommy’s last name, it couldn’t be anyone else. How could she have let this happen? Why had she walked out on them? Shaking the guilt feelings from her mind, she continued reading. The next paragraph talked about the history of the Karnov Mansion and its mysterious presence on the Island.

Then there it was, in black and white, the name Tamara Weissman. Tamara had been found dead. Samantha’s heart caught in her throat. Her hands holding the newspaper went numb and she felt the room start to spin around her. She put her head back and closed her eyes to shake off the dizziness. She looked again at the paper in front of her.

Tamara Weissman had been found in her own bed, the article continued. A heart attack or stroke was the preliminary finding as the cause of death. The FBI was not considering Tommy Mills a suspect in Tamara Weissman’s death. With Tommy Mills still at large, an islandwide search was in effect.

Samantha let the paper drop to the floor. She got up from the couch and kicked furiously at the pile of papers in front of her, scattering them across the room. Disbelief mingled with anger roared in her head.

“Lara.” She cried her name in a futile effort, for there was no answer. What would happen to Lara? Samantha almost ran to the painting and standing in front of it, removed her robe, letting it drop to the floor. She stood naked before Lara Karnov’s eyes of black acrylic.

“I give myself to you.”

She picked up several of the tubes of water-based acrylics scattered on her work table and began to squeeze them onto her body, smearing the paint on her arms, her abdomen, her legs, her face. Alizarin Crimson, Prussian Blue, Yellow Ocher, Ivory Black. In a daze she continued until she was literally covered in paint.

And in the deathly quiet of Karnov Mansion, Lara Karnov heard her, saw her, and smiled.

***

The Islander Café and Grille was the place to go if you wanted fresh seafood for dinner and an even better atmosphere for lunch. It was a home away from home with the extras that made it special. Howard and Betty Cushing owned and operated the Café, and they insisted on only the best. There was always the smell of the wood burning stove clinging to the place.

Samantha had literally forced herself to come into town. She’d had a difficult time scrubbing the acrylics off her body even though they were water-based. Thank God for the technology that allowed for easy rinsing of acrylics.

After the week spent barricaded in her house, the smell of the clean, brisk Bayton Isle air made her remember why she had moved here in the first place. The move had instilled a certain sense of freedom in her. She had finally realized that it was Bayton Isle itself.

She hadn’t intended to stay long in town, just grab something quick to eat. Of course, on Bayton Isle, something quick to eat didn’t mean McDonald’s or Burger King. The big burger monsters would never find it profitable here; the number of kiddies on Bayton Isle could hardly account for one percent of the population. Getting something quick meant either Chilly’s Deli Shack or a hot dog at Kim’s Corner convenience store. And Samantha ended up wanting neither.

Taking advantage of the added energy being out and about had given her, she made up her mind to treat herself to a nice sit-down lunch at the Islander Cafe and Grille. After all, this might all be a distant memory when Lara entered her life.

When she walked in, the place was still hopping. She’d hit the lagging part of lunch hour. It was already two o’clock. There were tables available and the waitress in the pink gingham dress led her to a small table for two toward the side of the main dining area.

Samantha thanked her and seated herself, eying the framed print on the wall next to her. It was an attractively framed recipe for making fish soup. Someone had added original artwork of delicate fish around the borders. This was something Betty had started—collecting obscure and tasty recipes from around the world and exotic ways to cook and enjoy fish. These she framed and hung all around the Cafe. Samantha had actually had the fish soup and found it very good. She wondered silently how her tastes would change in her new life.

The same waitress came back, introduced herself as Mary and took Samantha’s order of a baked haddock sandwich with the special marinade, cole slaw on the side and a coffee. She had barely put the menu down when Samantha noticed Stephen Kendall walking her way. He was wearing his hospital scrubs under the white coat.

“What a coincidence meeting you here, Samantha.” He had a wide smile and his eyes waited for an invitation to sit. Samantha didn’t offer one.

“Hi, Stephen.” She remembered his phone message. “I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you but I have so many projects going…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to offer any more explanations. It wasn’t her fault Stephen Kendall didn’t know when he wasn’t wanted. He pulled up the other chair across from her and sat down.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He was already eying her steadily. “I do understand about being busy.”

From that moment Samantha detested him and resented him for intruding in her precious space. This was a moment she wanted to share with no one. She was here only to enjoy the things she might miss. Stephen Kendall wasn’t one of them. When she didn’t answer, he reached out and put his hand over hers on the table.

“Hey, Samantha, everything okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she heard her disembodied voice say, “I’m just thinking about all my deadlines at home.”

“Hey, I understand.” He moved his hand away. “I just fade out sometimes too. That’s why we need to take a break every once in awhile.”

He looked away towards Mary who was serving another table, then back at her. “Have you ordered yet? I have to make it a quick one.” He smiled again at her. “You know how it is at the hospital.”

He reached down for the menu and peered over the top of it at Samantha. “So what’s good here? A couple of my nurses just told me about this place. I’ve been eating at home a lot and at the hospital.” He stopped, smiled. “What are you having?”

He was trying to make conversation. Samantha was well aware of it. She was also quite sure that he would like nothing more than to get her into his bed. Well, maybe she was being unfair, but not likely. He wasn’t any different than the rest of them. Men usually couldn’t think beyond that and food. And here he was with both his desires. When she looked at him, his head was slightly cocked and there was an amusing look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry...” She fumbled the words out.

“Hey, I’m the moron for intruding. I was just wondering if you could recommend something good.” He seemed a bit perturbed. Perhaps he would get the hint and leave her alone.

“It depends on what you like. The haddock is good here.” She didn’t want to prolong this and wished silently that Mary or whatever her name was would bring her the food. Maybe she would ask for takeout. That would give Stephen Kendall the message.

He sat back in the chair and looked away. “That sounds good.” He pushed the chair back and got up. “Actually, I think it might be a good idea for me to get it to go.”

He looked around the restaurant. “Looks like it’s busy.” He stood there, just looking at her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. And there was that lost look in his eyes, the same look she’d seen in Carmen’s face many times.

His impending departure perked Samantha’s spirits immediately. She looked at him and actually smiled. “Yes, they do get busy at lunch. And you won’t be sorry with the haddock sandwich. It’s my favorite.”

Stephen smiled and nodded his head. “Sorry we met in such a rush today, though. Can we still have lunch sometime or better yet, dinner?”

His persistence was wearing her patience thin. Maybe now was a good time to tell him that she preferred the company of women. Why go into that now? Did it really matter anymore? Perhaps if she told him she was in love with a dead woman he’d turn and run with his tail tucked behind his ass.

“I don’t think so, Stephen. Now isn’t a good time.”

He shrugged his shoulders just ever so slightly and still smiled. “Hey, okay. Maybe some other time.” He reached in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a card. “My number is on it. When you want to get together, call me.” He handed it to her.

Samantha took the card and stuffed it into her wallet. Not likely that she would be calling him for anything. The waitress showed up and started placing the food on Samantha’s table. Distracted, Samantha looked back up and found that Stephen had walked away and was standing in the take out line across the dining room.

She thanked the waitress and took a sip of the coffee. She was thankful it wasn’t tongue-burning hot. By the time she had eaten half of her sandwich, Stephen Kendall had gone and all she was left with was the difficult thought of how to break into Karnov Mansion after dark.

Chapter 10

The calls were beginning to rub on Carmen’s nerves. This was the second time in a week that Charlie’s Cove Pub had called. Each time, Carmen had to run and salvage what was left of Gillian Haskell from a booth in back of the bar.

Carmen had done everything but virtually move into Gillian’s house, at Gillian’s request. It hadn’t taken long for it to all fall apart. When Gillian wasn’t drinking out at Charlie’s Pub, she was near passed out and slurring her words at home. Their personal life had deteriorated into nursing care for Gillian. And lately, Gillian had started making lame excuses when it came to sex and showings of affection. All of this was wearing Carmen down.

Samantha’s odd behavior wasn’t making things any easier for her either. On top of that, she was expected to host the annual Police and Fireman’s Fund Drive, a much-anticipated dinner at the Island Auditorium, usually done on a grand scale. All the important business leaders were expected to be there.

When she arrived at Charlie’s, Charlie Smith, owner and allaround neighborhood nice guy, greeted her with the usual. His round, pink face was embarrassed. Not for himself, of course, but for Gillian and for whatever reasons had led her here.

Carmen supposed it was hard for people like Charlie to understand how a once respected businesswoman like Gillian Haskell could come to this end. Everyone knew about the divorce, of course. Everyone knew everything on Bayton Isle. Gillian’s neighbors were already giving her the evil eye. And with Carmen always coming to her rescue like some knight in shining armor, tongues were beginning to wag.

Gillian was sitting, head on the table, in her favorite booth. Charlie must have removed all the martini glasses she usually collected around her.

“Come on, Gillian.” Carmen grabbed Gillian’s shoulders and looked at Charlie. “Do me a favor, Charlie; next time she comes looking for vodka or anything alcoholic, call me.”

Charlie followed Carmen as she struggled to get Gillian up to her feet. “Well, there’s been a fellow who’s met her here on a couple of occasions.” Charlie scratched his head as Carmen stopped to look at him. “I think he’s the doctor over at Bayton Isle Medical. Steve, I think his name is.”

Carmen tensed up and her grip on Gillian’s arm tightened. She didn’t know what to say. Gillian had never spoken of him. It seemed Kendall made the rounds. She remembered the way he’d looked at Samantha.

“She doesn’t drink at lunch or anything like that does she?”

She didn’t want to appear to be too curious or heaven forbid, jealous of Gillian’s rendezvous with the good doctor Kendall. Charlie was shaking his head.

“No. No. They mostly come in after six.” He grinned. “I guess Gillian has figured out when our happy hours are. Six to eight. Been that way for over twenty years.” He opened the door for the both of them, Gillian’s head resting, oblivious to all, on Carmen’s shoulder.

“So you want me to call you, huh?”

“Yeah, Charlie. Call me.”

***

Samantha gave one final tug on the shoelaces. She knew there had been a reason to buy herself the heavily fortified hiking shoes. They had been good to go walking out in the Bayton woods, but other than that, they had gotten little use.

The weather had definitely changed and there was the beginning of the icy bitter Bayton Isle winter storms in the air. She wore a thick cable knit sweater and heavy jacket, jeans and wool socks. Getting to Karnov Mansion on foot was going to be roughing it for her. But it was the only way she would be able to get there and into the Estate without attracting the notice of the FBI or Bayton Police. A car left out in the open would draw too much attention.

She still hadn’t figured out a way of getting into the Mansion itself without having to break in. She really didn’t want to disturb anything or cause attention. All she wanted was to get to Lara. That alone might prove to be more difficult than getting into the Mansion. Tamara had never told her where Lara was. Samantha wouldn’t even know where to begin. She was betting and hoping that it would be a deep and secret place, like a basement or a hidden room. The question was, how was she to find it?

Undaunted by these small obstacles, Samantha had prepared. She had broken off pending contracts with several of the book companies and begged time off the more lucrative ones. She didn’t want to burn all her bridges. Bob Holder would have to wait or find someone else to do his bank commission. There was no crystal ball to predict her future.

The dangers involved only heightened the excitement for Samantha. She never questioned the unnaturalness of it all. She only knew that she was ready to give herself to Lara Karnov. Whatever that took.

She’d figured that Karnov Mansion was maybe one or two miles from her home. She knew it would be a long, uphill hike in the cold. Samantha had packed several light items in a backpack and was finally ready to go.

It was close to one in the morning. She could hear the faint rustling of the wind outside. It was beginning to pick up. Hopefully, this would be the best time to go about unnoticed. A fleeting thought of Tommy crossed her mind.

Where could he be and how was he faring in the increasing cold? She couldn’t afford to think of Tommy or anyone else other than Lara now. She couldn’t let anything distract her attention.

Something made Samantha notice the pile of mail that had accumulated on her coffee table. She put the backpack down and decided to at least give a quick look at what might be there. As she flipped each predictable envelope onto the couch, she held one up which seemed to contain something inside. It was handwritten in a very scratchy manner with no return address.

Immediately she tore it open. There was a key sitting in the envelope! She picked out the key and pulled out the piece of paper that was with it. Scribbled in the same near illegible handwriting were only four words. “When you are ready.” There was a big “T” at the bottom of the page. Tamara. She must have written it just before she died. Samantha put the key into her jacket pocket and went out the door, this time, never looking back once.

***

Two miles may not sound like much to some, but for Samantha it had turned into more of an ordeal than she ever imagined. Never an avid hiker and certainly not in the best of shape, she wasn’t quite prepared for braving the wilds of Bayton Isle. The full moon shining in the dark sky cast an icy blue glare to the trees, giving them an unnatural, surreal look. Deep shadows dotted the landscape like black holes leading into other worlds.

Samantha had only taken several strolls in these woods and never this far. But nothing nature set in front of her would stop her from getting to Karnov Mansion.

As she walked further and further away from the safety of her own home and civilization in general, she became distinctly aware the sound her feet made with each step she took. The leaves littering the forest floor crunched loudly under her weight. She feared someone or something might hear her. She suspected more than just FBI agents lurked in the woods.

She dropped her pace a bit and stepped decidedly lighter as she walked. Even though she wore gloves, the biting cold seemed to go right through and numb her hands. Her nose would go next. She could barely feel the drip trickling down her upper lip. She wiped at it with a gloved hand. Her breath formed billowy puffs of white in front of her face.

She couldn’t tell how far she had come. She had only her compass and a mental picture of how she had gotten there in her first trip by car. For all she knew, she could very well be lost. She didn’t want to let those thoughts tie up her mind. She looked at her watch and knew that she had been walking at least one hour. How much further?

Samantha suddenly heard a twig snap to her right. Or was it something dropping from a tree? Were there bears here? Worse yet, she didn’t even know if there were wolves in the Bayton Isle woods. Pictures started to form in her head and fueled by fear, she began to walk faster, looking back and sideways.

Was it her imagination or was whatever had made the noise following her every step of the way? As she ran even faster, she began to question the sanity of what she was doing. Then a voice stopped her dead in her tracks. It was Lara. She was screaming, so loudly that Samantha had to put her hands to her ears. Something was wrong. Samantha felt a trickle of panic go through her. All she could do now was race towards where she thought Karnov Mansion might be and find Lara. Quickly. She had to shut out everything else. Whatever was out here and following her didn’t matter now.

***

Karnov Mansion loomed like a dark, somber fortress. Samantha stood barely fifty yards away from it, just behind the thinning edge of the woods. She was looking at the left side of Karnov Mansion. Everything was dark. From her viewpoint, she could see up the driveway and slightly beyond the road leading up to the grounds. There were no cars and no one in sight. She gave a silent thanks to the full moon for the brightness it provided her. There was no way she was about to use a flashlight out here.

She couldn’t afford to wait long while deciding what to do. Not with Lara possibly in danger inside. She brushed past some clutching brush limbs and proceeded around behind Karnov Mansion. She wondered if the key Tamara had sent her was for the front or rear door. She preferred to enter as inconspicuously as possible. This meant she had to try the rear entrance first.

Her legs were weak and her whole body was moving at borrowed speed. She had come a long way without resting. She was so close now. Not a thing stirred, even the wind had refused to disturb the silence around Karnov Estate.

The back door had been white once, but it now stood with paint peeling and a screen door hanging loosely on its hinges. She mentally crossed her fingers that the dilapidated door wouldn’t creak too loudly.

Samantha took the key from the pocket of her coat, slowly peeled open the screen door and inserted the key in the lock. The key turned smoothly and she stepped in.

Samantha found herself in what looked like a kitchen area. Even though all she had was the light of the moon, she could see that it had been abandoned long ago. This was not where Tommy had prepared Tamara’s dinners.

Remembering the small Maglite she had packed in her backpack, Samantha dug it out and pointed into the darkness. She adjusted it to a narrow beam-The less light to draw unwanted attention, the better.

The house was quiet—so quiet she could hear the crickets making their music behind her. She remembered the door was still open. She walked quietly to the door and closed it. The blackness of the house immediately engulfed her. The flashlight only illuminated a sliver of space in front of her. Pockets of darkness surrounded everything else.

A light saber, she thought amusingly, indulging in the image of Obi Wan and Darth Vader with light sabers at the ready. Establishing humor no matter the situation had been drilled into her in therapy. Maybe they had a point. She smiled.

She stood for a moment debating whether to expand the beam of the flashlight into a wide arc and risk exposure or continue plodding along at a slower pace. It didn’t take her long to decide. There wasn’t a moment to waste in locating Lara, and besides, the blackness around her was like a suffocating wall.

She turned the ring on the flashlight and the room was bathed in muted light. Making her way through the neglected kitchen area, she caught a whiff of a very strong, foul odor. She lifted her nose up and around trying to identify it. It was a sickening, heavy smell. Perhaps there was still some food here that had spoiled.

Samantha moved carefully away from the kitchen, sidestepping large cans left sitting on the floor, and came to stand under a higharched doorway. It seemed to be even darker out beyond. She pointed the flashlight into a small hallway on the right. Following it slowly, it led her up against a closed door. The smell back in the deserted kitchen faded.

Cautiously, she opened the door. It gave easily. The room that beckoned beyond was large. Samantha focused the Maglite into the darkness. It was the foyer. As she walked forward, she suddenly tripped slightly on the edge of the carpet. She had forgotten. A wave of recognition swept over her. It had not been that long ago.

Moving past the stairs on her left, she found her way to the main entrance. She turned the flashlight towards the front of the stairs and the main door to her left. On the right, the double doors to the sitting rooms loomed. Instantly, her thoughts raced back to her last visit. She recalled Tommy escorting her through those doors, Tamara and the Karnov book—and beyond that, Lara’s room.

A slight shiver went through her, not just because it was freezing here, but because she felt violated. Karnov Mansion had been tainted by police, FBI and other prying hands. They had touched without permission. They had raped.

Shaking the very strong emotions away, she reached for the knob on the door. The most obvious place to start looking would be in Lara’s room or even the main sitting room.

Just as her hand touched the brass knob, she was grabbed from behind and pulled back. One hand covered her mouth, the other pinned her shoulder tightly. The flashlight fell to the floor, its steady beam focused away toward the opposite wall.

Samantha tried to pull away, kicking and struggling, all to no avail. The arms holding on to her were strong. She suddenly tasted panic and wanted to scream Lara’s name but couldn’t. Without warning, her attacker drew her close and whispered urgently in her ear.

“Samantha, be still. I won’t hurt you!”

Tommy! He whirled her around slowly to face him and cautiously removed his hand from her mouth. Samantha could barely make him out. He picked up the flashlight at her feet and offered it to her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were.” His voice was shaken. He was almost sobbing.

Samantha pointed the light at him.

“Tommy, what are you doing here?!” She was still trying to catch her breath. “The police…the FBI…they’re all looking for you.”

He was filthy. His flannel shirt was stained and torn in places. His hair was matted with dust, dirt or God knew what else.

“Tommy, you have to get away from here.”

He shook his head furiously. “No, no. I have to stay. Tamara’s gone. I have to stay here.”

“That’s right Tommy, Tamara is gone.” Samantha touched his arm. “But you’re in danger if you stay here.”

She was afraid for Tommy, but she was more afraid for Lara. Then it hit her. Tommy might know where to find Lara.

“Tommy, do you know where Lara Karnov is?”

Tommy stopped shaking for a moment and stared blankly at her, mouth open. He didn’t say a word.

“Tommy, do you know where I can find Lara?” She grabbed him by both arms and shook him gently. His eyes seemed to focus back on her and a strange smile crossed his face.

“Yes. Come with me.” He bounced away from her and went back toward the stairwell, moving like a cat in the dark.

He was standing in front of the paneled stairwell, looking like the Cheshire Cat. Samantha noticed that there was actually a door of some sort cut into the stairwell. Tommy pulled a recessed handle in the door and the panel slid away.

A hidden closet! Inside, were assorted boxes of various sizes, some that looked like hatboxes? Magazines lay scattered about in the center of the space. Samantha looked at Tommy.

“Tommy, did the police go through all of this? Did they find this closet?”

Tommy nodded and proceeded to remove the pile of boxes and magazines out into the foyer. Even though he didn’t seem to need it, Samantha kept the flashlight beam on him as he worked. It was an eerie feeling; the darkness pressing in around her while they huddled in a closet.

He came back and pointed at the bare floor underneath.

“They didn’t find this.” He looked like a child sharing his innermost secret.

Samantha was afraid he might be playing some kind of game. She didn’t have time for it.

“Tommy, no. I need you to take me to Lara. Lara. Do you understand, Tommy? Lara.”

“This is where,” he insisted, pointing into the closet floor. “This is the way.”

He proceeded to lift up the metal door guard strip and peeled up the entire closet floor. A fake floor! Samantha had heard of fake compartments in suitcases and briefcases and seen them in movies, but this was an entire floor.

Tommy didn’t stop there. He propped up the sheet of floor against the wall and there, underneath them, was another floor made of brown stones. How old were those stones, wondered Samantha. Then she noticed the secret door cut into the center of the stones. Tommy reached for a large, weathered latch and yanked up.

There was a creaking noise and up came the door of stone. It was heavy, because Tommy seemed to be having some difficulty holding it up as he motioned her down.

“Hurry. I’ll close the closet door behind us.”

Fighting just the faintest hint of apprehension, she thought of Lara down there waiting for her. Swallowing hard, Samantha aimed the flashlight down the hole. She could see narrow stairs, the smooth stone steps snaking down into the darkness.

Samantha placed one foot in and disappeared down the trap door. She put one hand to touch the wall beside her on the left and felt the rough surface of stone brick. It was damp. As she made her way cautiously down, she heard Tommy shut the trap door behind her.

“Tommy, can you make your way down in the dark?” There was just a second of silence, enough to make her stomach tighten. Then his voice answered back.

“I know these stairs like the back of my hand. I’m right behind you.”

Proceeding, she noticed that the stairs began to take a spiral turn. She pictured in her mind those winding stairs in movies where prisoners were led to the castle dungeons below.

It was even colder down here. They must have been deep in the bowels of Karnov Mansion. Samantha’s anticipation grew. What would she do when she faced Lara? Would she be able to embrace her future?

Tommy kept pace behind her. It was reassuring to have him there. As they made their way further down, Samantha was sure there was a faint light glowing below. It looked like candlelight.

They had reached the end of the stairs. Stepping onto more solid ground felt good to Samantha. And it was candlelight that flickered ahead. Samantha could see clearly now and what she saw was surprising. Red brick lined the walls of a long corridor, the end of which was swallowed in the dark beyond. Elegant arched doorways beckoned into rooms to either side of them, each with large, ornate sconces holding large candles. These underground rooms ran the entire length of Karnov Mansion.

Samantha had come to a complete stop. Tommy brushed by her quickly, looking back and motioning her forward.

“This way.”

What a marvelous hiding place, thought Samantha, as she moved behind Tommy. She didn’t need her flashlight anymore; the warm glow of the candles was far more reassuring.

They walked past several doorways, each one empty except for scattered boxes, papers and looming statues and figurines in states of decay. Tommy stopped at a smaller doorway.

Samantha came to stand next to him and noticed that there were more stairs leading even further down and at the foot of those stairs, deep, red curtains veiled what lay beyond. This was it. She could feel her whole body begin to tremble.

“Tommy, is this where Lara is?” Her voice was like a whisper.

He nodded and indicated with his eyes. “Down there.”

She couldn’t have Tommy with her; didn’t want him there. This moment belonged only to Lara and her. Samantha turned to him, removed her backpack and handed it to him.

“I’ve got to go down there alone. You have to leave here Tommy. It’s dangerous to stay. If they find the secret door, they’ll take you away or worse.” She hoped he understood the severity of his situation. She had no doubt the FBI would find any and all secret passages that Karnov Mansion might have tucked away.

“No. No,” he began to sob, fear gathering in his eyes, “I have to stay with her.” He pressed closer to Samantha.

“Tommy, no!” Her voice echoed.

He cried harder and began to scream. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me!”

Samantha took him by the shoulders and talked gently to him. Brutal reality didn’t seem to work. Either way, she had to get him under control. Time was wasting.

“Tommy, listen to me. I’m going down to Lara, alone. You have to stay up here. Wait if you want to. I don’t know how long I’ll be or what will happen.”

“Samantha!” The voice in her head was so piercing, she jerked back, startled. It was Lara and she was screaming again. Samantha quickly pushed Tommy back and literally ran down the stairs, leaving a befuddled Tommy still sobbing.

She stopped in front of the curtains, running her hand over the rich velvety fabric. What lay beyond? Samantha flung the curtain aside and found herself in a small room, facing a dark wooden door not twelve feet from her.

A shiver went through her body. Lara lay beyond that door. She knew it because Lara was talking to her now, begging her to give her life. Samantha’s will snapped, and any apprehensions she might have had splintered.

She ran wildly to the door, turning the knob and practically fell into the crypt room, eyes glazed in desperation. The coffin sat undisturbed, the long feeding tube still attached. Samantha tore madly at the tube, pulling until it dislodged itself from the coffin. Pulling even harder, Samantha yanked it free from the ceiling where it had been connected. She heard Tommy begin to scream upstairs.

She was breathing hard and she could feel the blood pumping at a mad pace through her heart. Stepping back from the coffin and the candles, she pulled a small package from her jacket pocket. This was one item she had made sure to remember to bring with her. Two razors.

She unwrapped a tiny razor and held it tightly in one hand. She shook her head furiously to get Tommy’s screams from distracting her. She suddenly felt afraid that he might come barging down the stairs and into the crypt room. She would have to somehow knock him out or silence him.

Confusion was started to nag at her. What should she do now? Open the coffin? Of course. Would Lara be there waiting for her? She ran her hands over the dark, polished wood. Her stomach twitched, fear and anticipation pounding inside her.

She pushed hard and the sound of the lid moving away sent echoes through Karnov Mansion. Upstairs, Tommy began to howl like a wolf. Samantha peered down into the coffin, sweat running down her forehead.

Lara Karnov rested as if in sleep, her mass of auburn hair draped around her shoulders and chest like a fiery mantle. Samantha caught her breath, feeling the hard heartbeats in her ears. She hadn’t believed Tamara, not completely. Not in her brain anyway. Her heart, however, had embraced the truth a long time ago. The existence of Lara Karnov was nothing science could explain. It was beyond comprehension in today’s society. It was nothing Heaven nor its Lord had any part in.

Lara Karnov looked like a beautiful, vibrant woman—a living woman. This body that lay before Samantha was not a woman that had died two centuries ago! Samantha wanted to reach into the coffin and embrace her. Lara’s eyes were closed. Her hands lay bound in front of her by a blackened rope. What was she supposed to do now?

Blood! Of course. Samantha felt no remorse, no fear, and very little pain as she placed the razor over her left wrist and cut lightly. The rich, red juices rushed up, flowing quickly down her hand, stray drops splashing her jacket. The blood was beginning to drip onto Lara Karnovs face.

“She needs to feed off the blood.” Samantha said outloud. She knew that much. Flinging the blood-stained razor to the ground, she pried Lara’s mouth open. The lips were as cold as ice cubes. “C’mon, drink. Drink my blood. Isn’t this what I’m supposed to do?” She held the mouth open and let the now rapidly flowing blood from her other hand drip into Lara’s mouth.

Her vision began to blur slightly as the blood flowed freely and the smell of it was metallic. Feeling weak but determined, Samantha pulled out a fresh razor and cut the ropes binding Lara Karnov’s wrists and feet.

“Please, please. Wake up. I’m here!” The desperation in Samantha’s voice was like a command. Then she heard the commotion behind her.

“No! Don’t touch her. No!”

Tommy ran wildly at her but stopped when he saw she had opened the coffin. When he screamed, it was bloodcurdling. He put both his hands to his mouth and then began to pound his head violently.

The world suddenly reeled for Samantha. She couldn’t hold on to the coffin anymore. Her feet almost buckled as she tried to move away. Dark spots filled her vision. What was happening? Why wasn’t Lara alive? What if she had been wrong? Did Lara need more blood? Should she cut her other wrist?

In the corner, Tommy had started to hit his head against the wall. Blood had formed on a large gash on the side of his head.

Then she heard something from the coffin. But before she could look, Tommy grabbed her from behind and flung her to the floor.

There was a rustling of fabric and then Lara was there. Samantha couldn’t hear her heart beating anymore and she couldn’t focus. She was going to lose consciousness. But she could hear Tommy. He was gasping for air and crying.

“Kill me now. I don’t want to live!”

There was no one to answer him. “Kill me now, please. I have been your servant. Grant me this last wish!” He was hysterical.

Was he talking to Lara? That was all Samantha heard from him. She tried to move from the floor, putting out her arms for balance, but was too weak. As she fell back down, she distinctly heard something that sounded like choking or gagging sounds and a slight scuffle, then silence.

Her own world was fading fast. She could only see gray and the sounds around her were muffled. Suddenly, she felt strong, icy cold arms grab her and pull her up in one swift motion. Lara held her close.

“If you have loved me this long and this passionately, how can I let you leave me now?” she whispered in Samantha’s ear. Her breath was stale and cold, a sweetly intoxicating sensation.

Lara lifted her and cradled her gently in her arms. But the room began to spin, and Samantha Barnes’s world went black.

Chapter 11

Carmen propped the slender slice of orange snugly between the over medium eggs and piece of wheat toast. The last touch to a light but elegant breakfast in bed she finished preparing for Gillian.

It was just six-thirty in the morning. It was Sunday, the only day Gillian didn’t work the bookstore. Gillian had been out since early last night and Carmen figured now was as good a time as any to get her started on a new schedule. Getting Gillian back into a sober and healthy state was going to be hard but she had to start somewhere. Besides, Carmen wanted to break the news to her in a pleasant way.

She would have to move back to her own place. There was no avoiding it. Their relationship was going nowhere. Gillian had grown more and more distant and with the surprising news that she’d been seeing Stephen Kendall, the painful realization had hit Carmen hard.

Never one to let failed dreams linger and tie her down, Carmen let it slide off her back. It hurt, sure, but so did losing her parents. Life was full of pain. But where it threw disappointment at you, it also opened opportunity.

She nudged the door to their bedroom open gently and went in. Gillian still lay sleeping, one arm tucked under the pillow. She hadn’t even budged since Carmen left the bed. Carmen put the tray down on the night table and leaned over Gillian to kiss her softly on the cheek, sitting down next to her. Gillian still didn’t respond.

“Come on Gill, time to rise and shine.”

She opened up the drapes just enough to let a sliver of sunshine

touch Gillian. Gillian mumbled something incoherent, turned over and put the pillow over her head. Carmen took the breakfast tray and set it on the bed next to her.

“I thought you might like a light breakfast. You need to flush that alcohol out of your system.”

At this, Gillian flung the pillow from her face.

“The hell I will!”

“Please don’t start this early in the morning.”

“What I need is a drink.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I need a drink.” Gillian emphasized her words.

Carmen shook her head. It was getting harder every day. “We need to talk.”

Gillian had discovered the breakfast tray beside her and running a

hand through her hair and the other over her eyes, she sat up, eager for the eggs and toast.

“You talk, Carmen. I’m hungry.” She settled the tray over her lap and took a bite out of the toast. “You’re such a sweetheart.”

“You need to get help, Gillian. I can get you to Portland. They have AA groups there.”

Gillian threw the toast back down on the plate. She was shaking her head.

“That’s rather presumptuous of you.” Her eyes flashed. “You have no right. You don’t own me.”

“I care about you.” Carmen’s voice was low, controlled.

“Well, you have a strange way of showing it.”

“I had to get you at Charlie’s again.” Carmen looked away, the pain starting to gather up inside.

“I just can’t keep anything from you, huh?”

“Believe me, Gillian, it wasn’t something I wanted to do. He called. You were so smashed I had to help you out.”

Gillian was silent, her eyes downcast. She picked up the fork and started piling the eggs into a little heap. Carmen felt so helpless. She had never seen Gillian look so lost, so out of control since the coke days.

She wanted desperately to hold Gillian, tell her all could be okay if she faced up to her drinking problem. Instead, she tried to talk to her softly.

“Gill, I’m thinking I should move back to my place.”

Gillian stopped playing with the eggs. Seconds passed before either one of them spoke.

“That might be best.” Gillian finally said, looking straight at Carmen. It was a defensive statement.

“It’s only because I need to get myself back into my business affairs,” Carmen paused, feeling the emotions intensify in the air, “Besides, you haven’t really…”

“No, you’re right, Carmen. I haven’t exactly been the woman you dreamed of being with, have I?”

“Listen, Gill, there are responsibilities, obligations I have to get done. I can’t just forget those and stay her watching over you while you destroy yourself.”

Without warning, Gillian flung the tray aside, jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

“Go on. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She was waving her hands behind her, not looking back at Carmen. She slammed the bathroom door shut.

Carmen shook her head, knowing Gillian wouldn’t be all right, not unless she got help. There was nothing she could do except be there for Gillian. Loving someone didn’t mean forsaking her just because she didn’t turn out to be who you expected her to be. She couldn’t live with Gillian but she would be there for her if Gillian decided she wanted to clean herself up and give the relationship another try.

Carmen was done packing her belongings in the suitcase and Gillian still hadn’t come out of the bathroom. Not wanting to leave like this, Carmen decided to go downstairs and wait.

She cleaned up the kitchen and decided to catch the morning news on television. She picked her favorite chair, adjusted the volume and was shocked at the picture fading in.

It was the local segment news that directly concerned only Bayton Isle. They didn’t have a television station on the Isle, but an auxiliary television outfit that operated out of a spare area in the WXZT 98.7 radio station building, with cast-off, ancient video equipment. During network broadcast from the mainland, they would cut in with local activity. The same anchor had been greeting residents of Bayton Isle for over twenty years.

The picture on the screen riveted Carmen’s attention. Mike Cotterman was well into his story. It was Karnov Mansion. The camera was panning over its burned out foundations. It had been an intense fire, Cotterman continued. Investigators confirmed that the body of Tommy Mills was found in the charred remains of the mansion, apparently the victim of his own suicide. He had slit his throat.

Fire Department authorities were still unsure how the fire started that gutted the old Karnov Mansion. Cotterman mentioned Tamara Weissman’s death weeks ago. Immediately, Carmen thought of Samantha and her fascination with the Karnovs.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Gillian watching her. Her hair was still damp, the white chenille robe wrapped tight around her slim waist.

“I thought you’d be gone by now.” Gillian turned and proceeded into the kitchen.

Carmen heard cabinet doors open and shut.

“Tell me you’re not looking for alcohol?”

Carmen came to stand just on the other side of the kitchen island. Gillian was looking into each cabinet. She ignored Carmen. “I got rid of all the vodka if that’s what you’re looking for.” “Fuck you, Carmen! You had no right to do that!” Gillian almost spat it out.

There was no way Carmen was going to win this one. She needed to exit smoothly. These nasty scenes made her nauseated as if giant worm was turning in her stomach.

“Okay, maybe I was wrong. Only you can make the decision to quit the alcohol. I was just trying to help.”

“Get out, Carmen. It’s over.” There was an ugly look on Gillian’s face. “You were an indulgence that went too far. It could never work out with us.” Her voice was cold, cruel.

Carmen took her bag and walked quietly towards the door. Damn it. Why was this never easy? She knew if Gillian called her just once, she would be back. But Gillian would probably be calling Stephen Kendall now. It hurt more than she thought it would.

Without looking back, she reached for the door. In her heart, she wanted to tell Gillian “If you need me, call.” Her cynical half was echoing “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Carmen opened the door and walked out.

***

Samantha never realized how noisy the earth was. She woke first to sound. The waves crashing below on the seashore sounded like a faint lullaby. The birds chirping, the leaves floating to the ground, all served up a symphony for her ears. An insistent woodpecker was the lone drummer for the band, pounding away at a different beat.

Her eyes were not so quick to respond. When she finally opened them, blinking once, twice, she was startled to find herself in her own room and bed, blinds drawn, with just hints of sunshine braving the dark.

Samantha tried to get up but fell back, too weak to try again. Propping herself up on one elbow, she noticed the bandage on her wrist. And then the pain reminded her. All the images came flooding in. Karnov Mansion. Tommy. Lara. Pain. And the blood. She didn’t know which was worse, the throbbing in her head or her wrist.

She was alone in her room. Where was Lara? Had Lara really been there? Her heart was beating faster and she leaned back down flat on the bed. Could she even trust her memory? Struggling with her thoughts, she knew that the memories intruding into her brain were all real; very real. But then how did she get back home and why wasn’t Lara here? Fear made itself known to her. She had to get up.

It was difficult, but she made her way out of the bed. Surprised, she realized her clothes had been changed. She wore her green oversized shirt, and her mysterious caretaker had given her fresh underwear.

Samantha walked carefully out into the hall. There was not a sound in the house. Could Lara be downstairs? She checked the two bedrooms upstairs. Empty. She decided to take each step with care, hugging the wall all the way down.

The entire house was dark. Were all the shades drawn? How long had she been out? She felt dazed, and bile was pushing up in her throat. Reaching the foot of the stairs, she stopped for a moment, waiting for the room to stop spinning and her stomach to settle.

Then there was movement, in the living room to her left. She swallowed quickly and pushed herself off the wall. Her eyes focused on the figure standing before the bay windows, back to her.

It was Lara! Samantha was sure her heart stopped. There was a rush in her ears and the heat made her cheeks burn. Was Lara staring at the portrait of herself on the easel or the view outside?

Through the bay windows, beyond Lara, the scene was breathtaking. Samantha could see why it was so dark in the house. Dusk was painting the sky into a watercolor; dry sweeping brushstrokes of gray, blue and orange. But it looked cold.

“Lara?” Samantha could barely get the word out.

Lara Karnov turned swiftly to meet Samantha’s voice. Her dress was a deep blue brocade, almost indigo. It hung so very elegantly from slender, narrow but proud shoulders, outlining perfectly shaped breasts.

Lara Karnov was beautiful in a haunting way. She stood before Samantha like a Pre-Raphaelite dream come to life. Her skin was pale, her hair like fire, and her large, deep-set eyes black as coal. They sparkled in amused expectation as they set on Samantha, her mouth fixed in an inviting smile.

Samantha didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She felt numb. Lara held out her arms and Samantha walked awkwardly toward her like a moth to the flame. She came to stand before Lara, mouth open, unable to speak.

Samantha’s thoughts were confused, all jumbled up. She wanted to fling herself into Lara’s arms. There was a strange smell in the room. She couldn’t recognize what it might be. Dampness. The smell of old things.

And then Lara took Samantha’s left arm and ran her slender hand down to Samantha’s bandaged wrist. Samantha shivered.

“You must undress me and then find suitable clothes for me. Come,” her hand reached out to Samantha, “Show me your ways.”

She had a smooth, sexy European accent. Her touch was like fire and ice, cold but yet so hot. It sent fiery shivers through Samantha’s body.

Lara’s hands guided Samantha gently, yet Samantha quivered like a wounded bird. Weak and intoxicated with desire, she began to undo the buttons on Lara’s dress. As she slipped the dress from Lara’s shoulders, Lara gripped her bandaged wrist and began kissing it, ever so softly. Samantha felt a tightening between her legs.

“I wrapped your wrist with the strange fabric you had in your medicinal room. I hope I did well. I am not acquainted with the things and ways of your world.” Her black eyes bore into Samantha.

“Am I pleasing to you, my darling?”

Lara’s words were a whisper. Exciting and inviting. “Touch me, Samantha, if you wish. I am yours and you are mine now. We belong forever to each other.”

Samantha wanted very much to touch every part of her body. She couldn’t control the shiver of desire that trembled through her, but suddenly, dark spots gathered before her eyes and she thought her knees would buckle. She stumbled backwards. She was weak, but was it the loss of blood or the heady realization that she had succeeded in bringing back the woman she’d fallen in love with. The woman she wanted more than anything. More than life. A dead woman.

Lara reached for her before she could fall. Samantha landed in surprisingly strong arms as Lara held her tight.

“You are still weak, my love, from the loss of blood. Your blood that you gave so freely to me. You must rest.” Lara stroked her hair and face. Her hands were so cold, they sent shivers through Samantha even through her shirt.

Samantha shook her head in protest. “No, Lara. I have so many questions.” Her final words were almost a whisper. She lacked the energy to form them. She felt like a balloon that was slowly losing all the helium.

Lara said nothing, but suddenly whirled her up in her arms. “You must rest to regain your life forces. I have given you my blood, my love. You will be well soon, I promise. We are bound forever.” Samantha’s vision was fading, fuzzy. Her heart was slowing down. She remembered only Lara’s black eyes as she finally lost consciousness

***

Samantha woke up again and even before she opened her eyes, she knew it was dark outside. And quiet. Slivers of moonlight cut through the blackness like laser beams across the walls and the open door frame. And Lara Karnov stood naked in the dark.

Samantha sat up startled in the bed. She couldn’t see Lara. She was nothing but a silhouette against the door.

“Lara.”

“You are better now, my darling. I can sense it. Come to me.”

Samantha did feel more invigorated. The pain in her wrist was just a dull reminder of the sharp razor slicing through. There was a tingle of power running through her. Was it Lara’s blood inside her causing the euphoria of energy?

Samantha got up swiftly and reached for Lara. She was thin, painfully thin and her skin was smooth and cold like the finest porcelain. Samantha quivered like a wounded bird. Weak and intoxicated with desire, she eyed Lara’s bare breasts in the moonlit room. Pale, almost luminous, they were in perfect proportion to her slender build.

Lara Karnov, the object of Samantha Barnes’s innermost desires, stood face to face, body to body, bare and lovely here before her. Her lips were inches from her own. Samantha could feel Lara’s eyes on her, feel the want piercing her heart.

“I am glad I please you.” Lara’s voice was almost a whisper. “Make love to me, Samantha. It is what we both want.”

Samantha could no longer control the wetness within her thighs and the throbbing there was more of an ache. She cupped Lara’s breasts in her hands and brought her mouth to them. Her tongue worked each one hungrily, savoring the smooth coolness. Lara’s head went back slowly in ecstasy, her flaming auburn hair falling behind her. Samantha felt Lara’s hand stroking her hair and for a fleeting, uncomfortable moment, that musty smell of old things hit Samantha again. Then suddenly and without warning, Samantha was paralyzed. She couldn’t move. Was it the powerful passion that had frozen her in shocked delight?

Lara’s hands were once again gently touching Samantha’s hair and her soft, mesmerizing words raced through Samantha’s head.

“I must feed tonight and you will come with me. The full moon and its glory will pale the land again. I still hunger, and tonight you shall feed with me, for tonight, you shall become my mate.”

Samantha was lost in her voice. Lara’s dark, haunting eyes bore deep into hers and tore at her soul with a dark command.

“Tonight, my darling, you will become my companion forever. You will feel the thrill of a new life everlasting.” She kissed Samantha fiercely on the mouth, then kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids. “Your love has enabled me to return, but I still need blood to survive.” She took Samantha’s face in her slim hands and brought it up to meet hers. “Do you love me, my Samantha?”

Samantha heard the words in her heart and the answer came without thought, without reason. This was the moment she had waited for. She’d prepared to give body and soul to Lara Karnov and the frenzy that gripped her now only added to the intensity of her answer.

“Yes!”

Lara pulled her closer, nearly crushing Samantha against her. Samantha craved Lara’s mouth, but screamed as Lara tore the shirt from her body and flung it across the floor. Samantha still couldn’t move. She screamed again as Lara sank her sharp teeth brutally deep into her now exposed breast. Samantha sensed her life melting away in Lara Karnov’s embrace.

Feeling chaotic fear grip her, she fully realized what it meant to become one with Lara. What she had to become to love her. Would death have been the easier way? Samantha uttered a low, guttural sound and her senses became alive with the fever of expectation.

Lara released her, the blood from her breast flowing in a warm, irregular dance down her stomach and into her underwear. She watched it, trance like. Her eyes then fixed themselves on Lara Karnov and saw the blood trailing down her lips. Her own blood. Lara laughed, eyes full of passion and Samantha laughed with her.

“Come, I will teach you the art of transformation. Open your mind to my commands, Samantha. Allow me to fill you with the freedom and joys of the night.”

Samantha nodded, her thoughts no longer her own. What was going to happen to her? She brushed any doubts aside as easily as she dusted off the crumbs of a good blueberry muffin. She would follow Lara Karnov to the ends of the world. This was what she’d wanted. What she’d craved. And Lara promised that it would last forever. Forever.

***

The full moon shed a strange discoloration upon the Island. Samantha sat in the middle of the clearing, for the first time aware of the many annoying sounds of the night; the incessant shrieking of the crickets, the eerie call of the owls. She blinked, hunger and lust pulling deep inside her.

She couldn’t feel the cold. It was cold, of course, but she didn’t mind it. The soft, black fur warmed her and shimmered under the blue rays of the moon. Many emotions were racing through her and the freedom was overwhelming. Her life had changed so drastically inside the embrace of Lara Karnov. There was no going back now.

She was wasting too much time. Lara waited and the smells and call of the forest and the blood lust were like a magnet. She jumped from the rock she’d been sitting on, feeling her paws hit the leaf littered ground. Catching the scent of a mate nearby, her nostrils flared with anticipation.

Suddenly, a growl formed in her throat and Samantha released a howl that echoed unanswered and lonely through the brooding trees. Ahead, just on the edge of the deep forest, she caught sight of a looming form silhouetted against the moon. Samantha could see, even from this distance, the violence in the dark eyes glaring at her, hungry and impatient.

Samantha ran quickly to crouch beside Lara. Mentally, they communicated, Samantha giving her the directions. The hate grew within her and she growled again, anticipating the taste of blood in her mouth. Mrs. Peabody would indeed be surprised.

***

The dreams came again, but they were different. Strange, contorted animal shapes morphed into figures obscured by giant, swaying trees. Laughter and unbridled lust for blood racked her body. Suddenly, Edna Peabody’s bloated face bounced in front of her, terror in her protruding eyes. She felt herself take flight, lunging at the running Peabody.

Hunger hammered in her stomach as she sank her teeth into soft flesh. The thick liquid, hot and metallic, went smoothly down her throat. The hammering didn’t stop though. She dug her teeth deeper again and again. Peabody’s body jerked beneath her. Samantha woke up screaming.

Next to her, Lara wrapped her arms around Samantha’s shaking body.

“There, there, my darling. It was a bad dream, no?” She ran her hand over Samantha’s hair. “Do you wish to tell me about it?” “It was a horrible nightmare. Not like the others.” Samantha shook her head and described to Lara the horrifying images that haunted her. It seemed so real. The last thing she remembered was being outside in the cold, on all fours while Lara spoke to her in her mind. She felt disoriented. Was she still dreaming? Lara Karnov was in her bed as if it were a normal routine. “What happened?”

Propping herself up on one elbow, Lara turned to look intently at Samantha. Even though the alarm clock blinked 4:15 AM and it was still dark outside, Samantha could see the dark eyes of Lara Karnov. The power within them made Samantha forget everything except being here with her. Lara’s long hair draped the bare breasts beneath.

“We are bound, my dear Samantha, by our love and by destiny, therefore, I will not keep secrets from you.”

Her voice was low and serious. The scent of Lara was overwhelming to Samantha, and the arousal of lust was not something she wanted to fight off.

“It wasn’t just a nightmare, Samantha. Let me explain.”

But Samantha didn’t want to hear anymore of bad dreams. All she needed was Lara. Why spoil the moment she’d waited for by discussing dreams. She’d had enough of explanations and theories and speculations. Samantha wanted to finally silence the voices of all the psychotherapists she’d ever seen. She wasn’t about to add Lara to her list of personal psychologists.

So she put her fingertips to Lara’s lips and reached out for her. The soft, auburn hair spilled over Samantha’s naked body. She kissed Lara hungrily, fighting hard the temptation not to bite the thin, delicate lips of Lara Karnov.

They made love until the weak rays of light peeped in through the drawn blinds, bathing them both in the muted colors of sunrise. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they slept while the rest of the world woke to the safety of daybreak.

Chapter 12

The first winter snowstorm hit Bayton Isle with a total disregard to mercy. The local news broadcasts became more frequent as they cut into regular programming to issue blizzard warnings, encouraging all to remain indoors.

It was December and by all the news accounts, they had been blessed with unseasonably mild weather, an Indian summer, with just a teasing of Old Man Winter’s coming. But he’d blown into the Isle full force, unannounced, with no messenger to kill for the bad news. This was the time when Bayton Isle put away the bicycles and fired up the snowmobiles and SUVs.

Samantha had weathered many a mean blizzard in New York City, but this would be her first winter in Bayton Isle. Everything lay under a blanket of white, the snow making little white sculptures of anything it touched. And the silence was uneasy. In New York, the city never quit, come blizzard or heat wave, it was always alive with the sounds of millions of people and cars and planes.

But none of that mattered. Lara was here, in her life, in her bed. Never would she anguish over unrequited love or unfaithful partners. Lara would never leave her, never disappoint her, never not love her.

And as Samantha lay deep in the folds of the leather couch, the crackle of the fire from the fireplace filling her with warmth, she smiled, stretched and thought of her paintings. They lay all about her house, not easily ignored. The painting of Lara still stood on the easel. Carmen had called several days ago but Samantha hadn’t answered. She smiled as she remembered the look of wonder and awe in Lara’s eyes as she stared at the ringing phone. It had been fun explaining to her what a phone did.

She thought of Carmen. If she didn’t return her phone call, she’d come looking for her. She couldn’t have Carmen meeting up with Lara. Not yet. Maybe never. With those intruding thoughts came others, like unbidden ghosts from somewhere else. Bob Holder and the bank painting. Carmen. Romance books. Stephen Kendall. Carmen. Then the unpleasant thoughts came as well. Tamara. Karnov Mansion. For the first time, the thought of Karnov Mansion filtered through. She suddenly felt as if she’d been in some haze. Had she existed in a different universe entirely for the past days?

She sat up and turned to Lara, who stood before the bay window, gazing at the snow falling outside.

“Lara, why aren’t we at Karnov Mansion? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable there?” Samantha had been willing to make the move. She would change her life and live a sequestered life at Karnov Mansion if that was Lara’s wish. Lara didn’t answer.

“Lara?”

Samantha pushed herself off the couch and walked over to stand behind her. Lara was wearing gray, tight wool pants and a black sweater. She had pulled her mass of hair back and tied it into a tight twist that hung down her back. Samantha loved the semi-exposed, slim back of her neck. She kissed it, letting her tongue slide across the smooth skin.

Lara turned, a smile on her face, and took both of Samantha’s hands. It was then Samantha realized, with surprise, that the scars on her wrist were almost gone. She stood dumbfounded as Lara held on to her.

“My hair this way, it makes you happy dear? Perhaps I should cut it all off for you?” Lara had a playful look in her dark eyes, completely ignoring Samantha’s shock. “Yes, of course, you have so many questions, I know.” She guided Samantha back toward the couch, never letting go of her hands.

The glow of the fire cast shiny, orange highlights on Lara’s auburn hair. When Lara sat down, Samantha snuggled between her legs, resting her head on Lara’s legs. Lara began to stroke her hair, something Samantha had grown to love. She trusted that Lara would tell her everything. Lara would take care of her.

“You are healing well, my darling.” Lara said softly. “You see, this is merely part of being who and what we are. All wounds will heal faster than normal. You will never suffer scarring.”

The vibration of her voice went through Samantha like a drug injected into the bloodstream. She remained mesmerized.

Then suddenly, all the things she had read and seen in films about vampires came flooding into her memory. Would Lara disintegrate under the sun? How could she function if this was true? Would Lara only be able to go out at night? And then there was the coffin thing. Lara had not returned for it at Karnov Mansion. She was sleeping, like any lover would, in her bed. Would she run in fear from anyone wearing a cross around his neck? And what about herself? Would she become like Lara even though she was not a Karnov?

All these questions overwhelmed Samantha. It was all rather exciting and exhilarating. She wanted to laugh out loud at the irony of it all. No one would believe the reality of Lara Karnov. They would have to be careful now, their secret guarded at all costs. The last thing they needed was the FBI or the police getting suspicious again.

“Let me explain to you my darling,” Lara continued, her arms still holding Samantha tight, “You don’t think we have survived as a race this long if we were the creatures your fiction believes us to be, do you? A stake driven through my heart will not kill me, Samantha. We are not of this world.”

“Not of this world? What do you mean? Are you from Eastern Europe? You know, where all vampires come from?”

Lara’s eyes fluttered and she looked quietly away, shaking her head. “Yes and no, my Samantha. The Karnov are from The Dark, a very different universe than yours. It is dark and it is dying. We came into this universe because we needed more blood-” She paused, a strange, faraway look in her dark eyes. “Wilmon had sucked the land dry and his power was fading. We found your world and...” She paused, hesitant. “We came here, to your universe.” She turned back to look at Samantha, a tiny smile curling her lips.

Samantha didn’t understand. “Lara, where are you from? I don’t understand.

“Samantha, The Dark is an alternate universe that exists parallel to your own but it is so very different. The Karnov ruled The Dark but our world is dying. We needed sustenance. Blood. Wilmon found your world. And we are here. There are actually many parallel universes all crisscrossing.”

“Yes, of course,” Samantha said excitedly, “I remember staying up late after a bad nightmare and listening to Art Bell and George Noory on the Coast to Coast AM radio show. They did several shows on parallel universes and how sometimes they can overlap. And that would explain why you can actually go out during the day and not sleep in a coffin. You’re not really earthly at all.” Samantha felt a chill course through her body. What Lara was telling her was hard to believe. A race of vampires from another dimension had invaded Earth ages ago? It all sounded so crazy.

Lara’s gaze was intense as she stared at Samantha. “So you see, we are virtually indestructible in your world. Any violence to our bodies would be painful, as anything you do to a human body can be, a stab wound, broken bones, gunshot wound. But we will not die of these things. A recuperation period is all that will be required. And those silly silver and gold crosses, no, no,” she laughed, her voice low, soft. “These Christian writers have the audacity to presume their God and their religion the only thing to save them from we evil creatures. Very amazing that they took such liberties with who we really are.” She shook her head of auburn tresses. “Yes, we do need blood and of course, we have the ability to take the blood and actually help to heal the wounds, but these punctures heal quickly and the host never knows. They will never concern themselves with such a tiny discomfort. A spider bite would pose a more troublesome thing.”

She stopped, but Samantha was so enraptured by Lara’s story, that the silence was abrupt.

Lara gently nudged her up. Samantha looked at her and felt flushed. The way those dark eyes constantly, intently surveyed her was at times exciting, at other times, disturbing. Lara smiled.

“Samantha, Karnov Mansion is no longer standing. I had to destroy it.”

The how and why had barely formed on Samantha’s lips before Lara continued. “Surely, you did not think we could continue living there and be safe?”

She didn’t take her eyes off Samantha. Samantha had only shaped the thought of Tommy in her mind, when Lara reached out and touched her cheek softly.

“Poor Tommy. Samantha, my darling, you were there. I gave Tommy what he wanted most. He will remember my mercy in whatever place he is now.”

Like a jolt of electricity, that night struck Samantha. She still heard the begging in Tommy’s voice. Lara had killed him. That was what Tommy wanted. Then she thought of the blood that night. The blood that was everywhere, it seemed.

“Did you drink his blood?”

Lara didn’t answer. She merely sat there, lips slightly curled, tempting Samantha to seek her own answers.

But Tamara said you would change if I freed you, Samantha wanted to say. Tamara had said that this was the very reason why Lara’s own family had destroyed her. But what had Tamara really meant? Did it matter?

Lara reached over and took Samantha’s face, bringing it to meet her own. “You will know of these things, my sweet. You will learn the ways of the Karnovs and we will live forever, together. This is what you wanted. We have been together for centuries.” She ran a finger over Samantha’s lips, cheeks and eyebrows.

“What about Tamara, Lara? Did you...” She paused, not wanting to give form to her thoughts. “Did she die like Tommy?”

“Tamara was ill. Her body had been given so that I could live until you came. Her heart finally gave out on her. I said goodbye and thanked her.”

Samantha was filled with so much conflicting emotions, she couldn’t handle all of it. Tears swelled in her eyes. “Tamara said my love was all you needed. My love would make you live and break the curse.”

When Lara looked at her, she wasn’t smiling, and there was a certain sadness in her eyes.

“My innocent Samantha, your love did free me from my rest.” She wiped Samantha’s tear stained cheeks.

“Now listen to me. Tamara knew only what we chose to pass down to her and the others before her. The Karnov are vampires. We will always need blood. Human blood. It is true that the Book of Karnov speaks of a savior among the Karnov Clan that will free us of the curse of darkness and death, but the verses are vague and there is little to understand. We had faith that that someone was me, but I have not experienced such an epiphany or received powers of enlightenment yet.”

She stopped and hesitantly ran her hands down Samantha’s arms. Samantha collapsed on her. Lara took her and held her tightly, her voice blowing wisps of Samantha’s hair.

“Dearest Samantha, what you have brought me is the one thing the Karnovs never had and never hoped to have. To be able to experience love, the freedom of living. That is more precious than blood itself.” Lara pulled Samantha away so that they faced each other, eyes locked.

“You have no idea what it was like to merely exist for the hunt. For the feeding. Like an animal. Day after day, only death and blood. We could never feel life. We wanted that back. And I wanted to love and be with you. You see, darling, you were always flesh and blood. A mortal.”

There was passion in her voice and the fire in those dark eyes held Samantha frozen. “The power of the prophecy promised the Karnovs extraordinary opportunities. Wilmon wished to use it to subjugate the human race, destroy the very emotions I sought to recapture. I couldn’t let him do that. I sought to escape my clan.”

“But Lara, why did your family lock you up in that coffin?”

“Wilmon and most of the family didn’t know what to make of the prophecy in the ancient book. So they entombed me and waited for the chosen one, you, to come back to me. Samantha, I can feel the day now. I feel sad, happy, thirsty, cold, hot, hungry for you. I don’t fully understand the prophecy and what this new-found life means, but we will find it together. I will search the family book once we have grown comfortable with each other and I’ve found my ways in this new life. Tamara made sure to send the book to a safe place. It will be waiting for us when we are ready. Now that I have you and been freed, we can face our destinies and the future of the Karnov family as one, without fear.” she stopped and smiled.

Confusion and doubts hit Samantha like a hard wind. “Why do you say that I’m the “chosen one” and that we’ve always been together?” Samantha felt the fingers of fear clawing inside her. She held on to Lara tightly. “Please, Lara, I’m afraid. Tell me who I am. I’m so full of questions.”

Lara caressed her and wiped the tears that had formed on Samantha’s eyes. “This might be hard for you my darling, but listen to me.” She brought Samantha’s face to look at her. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Samantha looked at her, perplexed. Behind them, a log sparked and fell into the fireplace, the fire blazing anew. She had never thought much about religion or beliefs of life after death.

“I’ve never had any beliefs. I don’t know what there is after death.”

Lara smiled, her eyes reflecting the orange specks of the fire behind them. “Your essence, Samantha, your soul has been reincarnated many times in eternity. And always, you have been mine. But you were mortal, not Karnov, not of our world. I struggled much to keep you safe from Wilmon and his followers. I have always loved you. So you see, when Wilmon and some of the Karnov read the verses in the Book of Karnov, they interpreted the coming of the chosen one to set me free as someone who would be my eternal love. Once I was free, I was a potential threat to Wilmon’s dominance within the Clan.”

“My dreams!” Could they have been past lives?

Lara nodded. “You were experiencing flashbacks of past lives, Samantha. I was there. You will remember everything eventually.”

While Samantha didn’t believe in reincarnation, Lara believed it and that made Samantha feel safe. At least maybe now, her nightmares would end. All her fears suddenly fell away like layers of old wallpaper from Samantha’s mind. Lara reached out and gently put her fingers on Samantha’s lips, pressing one finger into her mouth and across her teeth. She smiled like the proud parent of a new baby.

“See darling, you are ready to become my love in body and soul. Here, feel for yourself.”

She took Samantha’s hand and placed it into her mouth. Samantha ran a thumb over suddenly sharper canine teeth. She pulled her hand away quickly, shocked. Her teeth did feel longer, sharper.

“Why would this be happening to me, Lara? I’m not a Karnov. You said it yourself. How can I become a vampire like yourself?”

“We have exchanged blood, dearest. My blood runs in your veins. Your teeth will help you feed. They are like what you call a fork or spoon.”

Lara suddenly inched closer to Samantha and began to kiss her neck, working her tongue under the ear then further down. Samantha closed her eyes, the feel of the wet saliva both cool and hot.

Then Samantha felt Lara’s teeth pinching the skin, playfully teasing. “It is snowing outside, perhaps for days. We will feed off each other and I will show you all,” Lara whispered, her voice deep with passion.

Samantha flung her head back, opening herself up to her. For whatever Lara wanted. The phone rang. The shrill sound of the ringer echoing unheeded through the house. And when Carmen left a message, her words went unheard.

Outside, the snow continued to fall. It fell for two days.

Chapter 13

Samantha thought it a crime to cut anything from that beautiful mane that was Lara’s hair, but she had to face the fact that it just wasn’t practical. While it might have been the preferred look in the eighteenth century, it would draw way too much attention today. Here in Bayton Isle, it would be a magnet for the gossip mill. This, they didn’t need.

So Wednesday morning, once the snows stopped and melted away, the trip to Claire’s Beauty on the Isle had been a necessity. The mass of auburn hair on the floor surrounding the chair was like some growing mountain. Claire had to keep moving it aside with her foot and even joked about gathering it all up and selling it in bulk to Nettie Albright, who made the most beautiful dolls on the island.

When she was done, Claire handed a mirror to Lara and swung the chair around for Lara to approve the back of her hair as well. It was short. It looked like something Sharon Stone had once done to her hair and a hairstyle that Samantha had admired in the popular magazines. A pixie, she thought they called it. And it worked wonders on Lara Karnov.

Lara oozed elegance. From the way she walked to the fluid motion of her eyes, the allure she commanded was unmistakable. Samantha couldn’t keep her eyes off her. Lara, only too aware of her impact, manipulated the moment by casting sexy looks at Samantha.

“They wear the hair this short?” Lara was mesmerized by her new image in the mirror.

“Not everyone can wear it this way, honey, but you’ve got the looks for it,” Claire said, proud of her work.

She took the mirror Lara handed back at her and smiled across the room at Samantha, seeking her approval as well. “I have to say, I’ve never seen hair as long as yours around the Isle.”

Lara got up from the chair and with Claire close behind her, walked to Samantha.

“Mostly older folks around here, you know,” Claire continued. She was being honest, of course. Bayton Isle was mostly older, hard working Islanders who had never left or well to do singles and couples looking for something different.

Lara did look stunning. For the first time, Samantha saw the long, slender neck exposed. So delicate. She wanted to kiss it, run her teeth over the smooth skin.

“Samantha dear, where shall we go to next?” Lara broke her concentration.

Samantha was conscious of Claire eying them curiously.

“Is your friend from away?” Claire asked bluntly.

Samantha knew the questions would come eventually. She didn’t want Lara to answer any of them.

“Yes, New York,” she added quickly, paying Claire with a twenty and a ten and walking briskly to the door, tugging Lara with her. “Keep the change, Claire. The hair looks great.”

“Now you two be careful. With the murders and the crazy talk around the island, it’s enough to frighten the best of us.” Claire turned around and stuffed the bills in her smock pocket.

Samantha stopped short, leaving Lara mesmerized by the display of the colorful plastic bottles of shampoo, hairsprays and gels.

“Have they got any leads?” Samantha had to hold back the curiosity in her voice.

“Nothing new. Haven’t you seen all the FBI in town? The hotel is booked solid. And the churches are trying their hardest to discourage all the talk of the Karnov curse.”

Samantha’s head began to throb. She looked back at Lara, who was now playing with a hair dryer. It was important she find out if she and Lara were in danger.

“I haven’t even heard of a Karnov curse. What are they saying?”

Claire looked at her kind of funny and smiled. “How long have you been here? Can’t believe you haven’t heard of the Karnovs. Legend has it they were vampires and werewolves who cursed this island.” She laughed out loud and put a hand in the air. “Some folks just have nothing better to engage their imaginations in. Don’t worry, with all these extra FBI agents on the Isle, they’ll catch the maniac responsible.”

Samantha walked slowly to Lara, grabbed her arm, smiled back at Claire and waved goodbye. Back outside, she let go of the breath she’d been holding. Was it her imagination, or did the normally quiet main drag of Bayton Isle appear busier? Scattered in the corners were groups of people. And there were more cars, big, non-descript sedans. FBIissue transportation. She felt a panic rising in her chest. Should she tell Lara? Was Lara even aware of the dangers? If she was, it didn’t seem to concern her at all.

The snow had brought a briskness to the air. Things always seemed to gain a particular kind of clarity after a heavy snow. She decided to try and put her worries aside for the moment. No one had come knocking on her door yet, and there were more pressing concerns. Samantha had to do something about Lara’s wardrobe, since she had none. She was wearing Samantha’s clothes for the moment, but that wouldn’t serve as a long-term solution.

This posed a minor inconvenience. Bayton Isle was not mainland Maine. The only clothing shops on the island were of the general store type, whose special emphasis was on heavy clothing and casual wear.

The only obvious option was to take the ferry to Portland and do the shops there. No one knew Samantha in Portland, so her anonymity was assured. Lara agreed and as they proceeded to the parked VW, a voice calling Samantha’s name stopped them in their tracks. Samantha froze. It was Carmen.

She came bouncing toward them wearing gray pants, Nikes, a green windbreaker, and a big smile on her face. She hugged Samantha, casting a quick look at Lara standing behind her. She turned her eyes to look more closely at Samantha.

“Hey, babe. I’ve been trying like crazy to get a hold of you all week. Didn’t you get my messages? I was ready to come knocking on your door hoping I wouldn’t find you at the bottom of the stairs again. Is everything okay?”

Samantha smiled and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, Carmen. I have company staying with me.”

Carmen kept looking at her, eyes amused. “Sam, babe, you could have returned at least one call.”

While Samantha knew Carmen was being easy on her, she had dreaded this moment. She had lain awake at night wishing she could just make it all go away. Knowing that it would come, she worked out all the lies she would end up telling Carmen. Instinctively, she inched back toward Lara, reaching out and bringing her to stand beside her.

“Carmen, this is Sara...Sara Martine. She’s, uh, a rep from Barnum Books. We had some problems with the contract and she offered to work it out with me.” She wanted to grab Lara’s hand and squeeze hard. “She’ll be staying for awhile.”

Samantha noticed Lara’s gaze linger over Carmen, noticing all. Smiling, Lara held out her hand.

“How very pleased to meet you, Carmen.”

“Likewise. I hope you enjoy your stay.” Carmen gave Lara her hand and one of her diplomatic smiles. She focused her attention back on Samantha.

“Hey Sam, you look a little pale. You doing okay?”

“Yes, of course. As a matter of fact, Sara and I were thinking of taking the ferry to Portland and do some shopping, maybe even head down to Freeport to the Anne Klein Outlet.” She laughed nervously. “It seems like so long that I bought something new for my closet.” Another big lie.

Carmen cast another look at Lara. Would she know it was Samantha’s black knit top, khaki pants and camel jacket that Lara was wearing? Samantha wanted to run.

“Well that’s great,” Carmen said with enthusiasm, “Do you mind if I take that ferry ride with you? I just closed up the shop. I needed to take this order in to the mainland.” Smiling, she tapped the manila envelope she was holding. “It’s a banner design I’ve got to get printed for the annual Fire and Police Fund Drive.”

It was not the ideal situation. Samantha’s stomach jumped with panic, but there was no way she could say no and be civil with her friend. Carmen would be suspicious.

“Let me just get my wallet back at the store.” Carmen said.

Watching Carmen walk back to her shop, Samantha let her eyes rest on the newspaper stand that had been hiding behind Carmen. The headlines on the Bayton Chronicle froze in her mind. Minister’s Wife Found Dead. Samantha must have tipped backwards, because Lara suddenly reached out and took hold of her arm. A momentary blackout? How long had it been since she’d picked up a newspaper?

“Lara…” Her gaze guided Lara to the newspaper holder.

Lara didn’t react. Her nonchalant manner perplexed Samantha. She really had killed Mrs. Peabody! Samantha was having trouble breathing.

“Sam?” It was Carmen. She’d come back and was standing in front of her, concern on her face. She followed Samantha’s frightened look to the Bayton Chronicle.

“Sam, you didn’t know?”

Samantha, knowing her friend well, knew Carmen could tell everything by looking in her eyes.

“Your soul truly does shine through your eyes,” she had always said to Samantha. This had now become a dangerous thing. Carmen kept eying her.

“Pastor Peabody spent close to half a day with Police Chief Murphy. He kept insisting two wolves that walked like men attacked his wife and fled into the woods through the back yard.”

Samantha was getting paler.

“It appears she doesn’t want to hear of these things,” Lara interrupted.

“No. I mean, yes, I do,” Samantha blurted. She had to regain her composure.

“Sam?”

“Carmen, I just can’t believe I didn’t hear a thing about this.”

She became aware that she hadn’t seen newspapers around her house for over a week. Had they discontinued her subscription? Had she paid them?

“Well, you were probably busy with your business associate.” Carmen looked again at Lara, then continued. “I spent some time with the Chief yesterday morning. He was exhausted with all the crazy things going on around here. By the way, you do know Karnov Mansion burned?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Well, the Chief figured he and the FBI could wrap things up with Tommy Mills dead. They officially closed the case. And then this happened.”

“I hate to interrupt, but don’t you think we should be on our way to...Portland, Samantha?” Lara planned her interruption well, except Samantha wasn’t ready. She wanted to know all the details.

“Sara’s right, we probably should be getting on.”

She turned around, grabbed both Carmen and Lara by the arm, and proceeded down the wooden walk to her car.

“Carmen, finish telling me about Peabody on the way to the ferry landing.”

***

The trip to Portland proved to be more of an invigorating experience than Samantha expected. She felt energized, more alive than she had been in weeks. Carmen had been chatty the entire ferry ride, talking at length about Peabody’s case.

Old Pastor Peabody had evidently been coming in from a late night prayer meeting when he heard a commotion in his back yard. Said he found his wife dead in a pool of blood, throat torn open. Insisted up and down he saw two large wolves or wild dogs walking away into the woods. Walking away. On two feet.

Chief Murphy calmed him down enough into accepting he might have suffered some kind of hallucination due to shock, that he probably did see two wild animals running away. But not like human beings.

“There aren’t any wolves on the island, are there?” Samantha asked, afraid of the answer.

“Chief doesn’t think so, but he’s going to check with the Forest and Park Headquarters on the mainland and on Mt. Desert. It’s possible someone might be doing placement programs with wolves. They’ve been doing that in some parts of the upper Northern Great Lakes areas. Certain wolves are on the endangered list and some groups are trying to relocate them to more friendly areas, away from hunters’ sights.”

Samantha remained silent. She didn’t know what to say. She felt a greasy, sick feeling curling in her stomach. Lara was just as silent.

When they arrived at Portland, Carmen left them, heading out to drop off her banner order. She wouldn’t be spending the day with them, much to Samantha’s relief.

Samantha and Lara spent the day shopping downtown Portland. Lara was like a child in a Candy Land world of the 21st century. The shopped at Bertini’s, Carla’s, Chantal and Carla Bella for chic clothes and Samantha picked up a couple of more casual and sensible sweaters and pants at L.L. Bean. It was fun to watch Lara pick and choose a wardrobe. She looked fantastic in anything she wore, of course, but in the end, she gravitated towards neutrals in color—beige, brown, white, blues and black—although a splash of green and orange intruded here and there. A woman like Lara Karnov commanded such presence that whatever the choices, all eyes would have to marvel at her grace.

Lara couldn’t keep away from some of the more obscure shops like Strange Maine and Nostalgia Lightning. The colorful window display of candy at Old Port Candy Company lured Lara inside. Not letting go of Samantha’s arm, she scooped large handfuls of candy from the barrels. Lara was enraptured by the marvels of the 21st century.

She couldn’t stop admiring the cars, the concrete buildings piercing the sky, the lights and the masses of people. Samantha lost herself in Lara’s wonder, feeling much like a parent to a child discovering life for the first time.

As the afternoon wound down and completely exhausted with bags weighing down their arms, Samantha realized she wasn’t done with Lara’s initiation into the new age. She couldn’t go back to the limitations of Bayton Isle without fully exposing Lara Karnov to the marvels of the modern world. And what better marvel of modern invention than an airplane?

As they stood on the sidewalk waiting for the cab Samantha had flagged down, she grabbed Lara by the arm and swung her into the open door of the cab. “We’re not done yet.” She tapped the driver, a dark haired, bearded young man with a baseball cap who waited patiently for directions. “Portland International Airport.”

***

The first 737 jet that roared over the cab, Lara Karnov grabbed Samantha’s arm so hard that her nails nearly ripped through her sweater. Lara squirmed in the seat to try and catch the jet as it came in and landed. Samantha figured the trip to the airport would be the highlight of the trip.

“Samantha, it is metal? In the air? How?”

Samantha glanced at the cab driver as she dug out the fare money. He’d tried small talk during the entire ride, but quit after Lara blurted that her horse and carriage was more comfortable than his enclosed metal car. The seats of the cab were worn and hard. Samantha had just giggled, neither encouraging Lara or stopping her.

They spent the better part of an hour on the second floor of Portland International watching planes land and take off, Samantha trying her best to describe the theory, practice and history of flight. Lara stood, arms outstretched, only inches from the windows, each time one of the powerful jets roared past.

As she finished watching a jet disappear into the clouds, she turned to Samantha, her black eyes bright with the fires of excitement. “It is amazing your people have learned to fly in their tin cans with engines and fire, but soon, I will teach you to really fly, my darling Samantha, without restraint and truly free in the sky.”

***

With the new wardrobe neatly arranged and hanging in the second bedroom closet, Samantha started a fire downstairs, feeling the cold suddenly penetrate deep.

She was sitting on the edge of the couch in front of the fire, rubbing her hands together, when Lara came down to join her. Samantha had thought of nothing but Mrs. Peabody all the way to Portland, but now it all seemed like nothing more than a faraway memory.

“My darling, there was nothing to be done about it.” Lara leaned down from behind the couch and wrapped her arms around her. “About your Mrs. Peabody, that is,” she continued softly in Samantha’s ear.

It brought the nightmare back again. Samantha didn’t turn to look at Lara, but kept her gaze on the fire. “Did I do it, Lara? Tell me, because if I did, I can’t remember any of it except for that horrible dream.”

Lara nuzzled ever deeper into Samantha’s neck, inhaling the scent of her hair.

“I tried to tell you about it, but you stopped me. It was my fault, Samantha. You were not ready and I rushed you. Transformation is a difficult feat to accomplish. I should not have set you free on your own. Do not feel guilty, my love.”

“Why can’t I remember?”

“Because I made you forget.”

Samantha stiffened. This time, she did turn to meet Lara’s beautiful face. “You made me forget? Lara, how? I don’t understand.”

Lara’s smile was so full of love that Samantha almost kicked herself for being this way.

“It is a useful power you too will develop in time. It is merely an extension of telepathy. And we have that already. Once you gave me control of your mind, we were connected.” She continued to smile until Samantha reached up and gave her an unexpected kiss.

“It doesn’t matter. I love you. That’s all that matters to me.”

Samantha brushed away all her doubts, all her fears, like she brushed watercolor on a piece of paper, and stretched with a loud sigh escaping her mouth. Lara still stood behind the couch, admiring her.

“I’m hungry, Lara.”

She couldn’t understand what was happening to her appetite. Earlier today, she’d been ravenous. In a rare craving for steak, she begged Lara to eat at Sebago Brewing Company earlier today in downtown Portland yet couldn’t take a bite of the steak sandwich she’d ordered. Lara had ordered nothing, just sat and observed Samantha pick apart and ultimately dump the sandwich.

The fire crackled as logs shifted and fell. Working her way around to stand before Samantha, Lara looked down at her, smile gone from her face.

“What’s wrong with me?” Samantha asked looking up at her.

“It is the blood, Samantha. What you hunger for is blood. You will never be able to eat food like you did.”

A certain shadow of regret passed Lara’s features and she grew even more serious. “Samantha, we will need to feed again. Soon.” She knelt down and rested her hands on Samantha’s knees. “We must find willing hosts.”

Samantha was shaking her head even before Lara finished.

“No. I won’t kill again. No.”

“Listen to me Samantha.” Lara moved closer. “You killed because you could not control the form you took. I told you, learning transformation could sometimes take years to perfect. We won’t attempt it again.”

“What do we do then?”

“Be ourselves, Samantha. You must realize that they will not be harmed. They will provide us with what we need and suffer little. I want to walk as one with your kind, not murder them.”

Suffer little? How little? thought Samantha.

“Lara, I love you and I’ve given myself to you, but I need to know everything.”

“My darling, biology never changes. The human body needs a certain amount of blood flowing through the body in order to function.” Lara stopped, hesitation in her eyes. “There are certain Karnov who care nothing for our human hosts, drain them till they wither and die. But I am not like them.”

That wasn’t the answer Samantha wanted and she wasn’t about to give in until she was satisfied they would not hurt someone else. She raised an eyebrow at Lara, who smiled a crooked little smile of understanding.

“What I am trying to tell you is that we will have to do this Samantha. There are no choices. Our hosts will be left intact, a bit weakened and drained, but otherwise unharmed. When we have taken all we can without killing them, we must then simply move on. They will remember nothing.”

She dropped the sentence coldly, one hand in the air. Samantha knew this meant the conversation was closed. Explanation over. Lara got up from the floor and sat next to Samantha, leaning close to her ear.

“What about your friend Carmen?”

“No.” It was out before Samantha even thought it.

Lara stiffened back away from her, surprised. “She is in love with you, you know.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“You are in love with her.”

No, I’m not, Samantha wanted to scream. How could Lara even think that? Lara turned her gaze away.

“Then what shall we do, my darling?”

Samantha raised herself smoothly from the couch and walked to her handbag sitting on the phone table. Rummaging deeply, she pulled out her wallet, opened it and pulled out a business card.

She held it out for Lara to see, pleased with herself.

“I know exactly what we’re going to do.”

She noted the address on the card Stephen Kendall had given her and tossed it on the table.

“I’m not doing this though without you teaching me precisely how I can control myself and not harm anyone again.” She pressed her lips and pouted at Lara. “Please?”

Lara shook her head and couldn’t resist the smile. “Very well, my darling, I will teach you how easy it is to jump into a human being’s mind. It merely takes complete concentration and visualizing.” She grabbed Samantha by the shoulders and faced her. “Now, look at me. Imagine your own mind inside mine pushing hard, like a hurricane wind sweeping through a city and smashing everything in its way.” Lara laughed as Samantha squinted her eyes, pretending to be in deep concentration. “Here, I will show you.”

Suddenly, without warning, Samantha’s felt a jolt in her brain she stumbled back, almost blinded by the hit. She rubbed her temples and looked at Lara incredulously.

“Wow, I can do that?”

Lara laughed again. “If you follow all my instructions, you will, but you won’t need the intensity I just displayed.”

Chapter 14

Since meeting up with Samantha and her New York associate, Carmen’s gut instincts were working overtime. Samantha looked ill. She’d lost weight and her skin color was too pale. On top of that, her visitor was just as pale and frail. Did everyone from New York look like that? And her face. It stuck on Carmen’s mind like fresh flypaper.

Things had never been busier for Carmen. She had to put aside her personal worries for Samantha in order to focus her attention on the fundraiser. Bayton Isle had need of only a minimal law enforcement force. Since moving here, it had always been only Sheriff Murphy and Deputy Stewart.

The Fire Department was comprised of one fire truck and a handful of certified, full time firemen with volunteers rounding out the rest. But these units received very little operating capital. The fundraiser helped to supplement the paltry sum they were forced to work with. It was how the Fire Dept. had been able to get that state-of-the-art fire truck. If they were going to have only one, it should be adequate to meet the community’s growing needs. New police cars were next on the agenda.

This year, for the first time, the fundraiser would be a combined effort. This had been Carmen’s doing. After the event was over and done with, Carmen made a mental note to invite Samantha over for dinner. Just the two of them. She hoped Sara Martine would have found her way back to New York by then.

Being this busy had its benefits, though. It kept her mind off Gillian. Not a pleasant parting, she tried to avoid the bookstore at any cost. The few times she had occasion to go, it had been a mistake. She’d run into Stephen Kendall and Gillian in conversation over coffee at the back cafe area. She had tried to hurry out and forget. She just needed to go home, lick her wounds and make sense of it all.

She was increasingly thankful for the strength her mother had passed on to her. Tomorrow would always be better, she had always said. And if not today’s tomorrow, then tomorrow’s tomorrow.

***

The Carlton Inn hadn’t seen much change since the 1920’s when it was built and then owned by the once great silent film director and producer Stan Carlton. A three-story frame building with decorative shutters at each window, the Carlton Inn was the place to be back when Bayton Isle was being discovered by the rich and famous as a favorite hide away. Carlton used it as his own personal palace, hosting huge, glamorous parties. The likes of John Gilbert, Greta Garbo and Douglas Fairbanks had once basked in its then glorious grounds.

Now Carlton Inn, renamed after the building was bought by the Tuttle Company out of Freeport, was mostly a room and board, apartments housing. Some even called it a bed and breakfast.

Stephen Kendall liked it there. His room, studio, efficiency, whatever name you wanted to put on it, was comfortably furnished. Nothing excessive. Young doctors just starting out couldn’t afford to carry too much baggage around. One never knew when that golden opportunity might come calling, pulling you away to the furthest reaches of the country. For instance, he never would have figured landing here.

Gillian Haskell liked spending time at Stephen’s place. Their lovemaking was frequent. Gillian was exhausting him. Stephen Kendall had been hesitant at first to become involved with her, but she had been aggressive in her pursuit. At the time, he was having difficulty getting Samantha Barnes out of his mind and besides that, there was the fact that Gillian had just gone through a divorce. A woman on the rebound was something he tried to keep away from.

But every night for the past week they ended up here, naked in his bed. This evening was no different. The light from the dinner candles still danced gently throughout the apartment. He was just ready to close his eyes and take a deep, satisfying breath, when a knock disrupted the quiet.

Gillian stirred and looked up at him, confused and reaching for a blanket. His table clock across the bed showed 9:00 p.m. He quickly reached for his khaki pants and white shirt.

Adjusting his clothes, he tried to imagine who could possibly be knocking on his door at this hour. The hospital? No, he had his beeper. Not in his wildest dreams would he have guessed who stood behind the door when he opened it.

***

Samantha couldn’t help but smile as Stephen stood looking shocked behind the half opened door. He did look rather foolish, shirt awkwardly buttoned, hair out of place. Lara stood quietly behind Samantha. Regaining his senses, he finally found his voice.

“Samantha...I...what can I do for you?”

He looked quickly behind him. He obviously had company. Deep inside, Samantha laughed maliciously. This was definitely not the situation he would have wanted when she finally came knocking at his door.

“Stephen. Glad to see you’re home. I would have called, but my friend and I were out having dinner and I talked her head off about you and my accident and I thought we might visit.”

He stood there, a half-hearted, embarrassed smile plastered on his face, unable to answer her.

“Quit being so rude, Stephen. Let your company in.” Gillian Haskell suddenly appeared behind him, a red satin robe wrapped around her.

Samantha wasn’t sure if Stephen looked relieved or embarrassed, but he smiled and opened the door for her and Lara, motioning them in. Excusing his appearance, he tried to brush back his hair and readjust his clothes. Gillian just watched, eying Samantha with special attention.

“We apologize for the intrusion,” Lara said, as Stephen pointed to a large floral couch, “But this was a rather spur of the moment decision.” She cast a smile at Samantha.

“Stephen, if there’s a better time....” Samantha said.

“Oh no. Just...ah...Gillian and I were relaxing a bit after dinner. Glad you could drop by. Uh, can I get either of you some wine? Or maybe dessert?”

“No thanks, Stephen. But I’d like you to meet Sara Martine. She’s a business associate from New York. She’s staying with me while we work out a contract for a book cover.”

“Oh, another book about Bayton Isle?” Gillian asked, not taking her eyes off Stephen.

“No. I only do work for the romance books. But didn’t Carmen tell you that?”

“How nice.” Gillian ignored Samantha’s question. She was wired.

Stephen didn’t look comfortable and there was a part of Samantha that delighted in his misery. Enjoying Gillian’s cold reception, she crossed her legs and looked directly at Stephen.

“Stephen, I had no idea you and Gillian were friends.”

“We’re not friends. We’re lovers,” Gillian answered for Stephen.

There was silence in the room but not in Samantha’s head.

“Let us make this quick. Stephen is yours. He fancies you. He will be easy.” Lara was speaking to her mind. “Just remember what I have taught you. Control over another’s mind can be simple.”

Samantha got up and walked over to Stephen, faintly touching the buttons of his shirt. “Stephen, I think I’ll have a glass of wine after all. Do you have red?” She shot a glance back at Lara, who was eyeing Gillian.

Jumping into Stephen’s mind wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought. He was so willing. She really had no intention of drinking wine, red or otherwise. If he felt her presence in his head, he didn’t fight it. He stood there quietly.

Samantha leaned close against him. The candles burning in the apartment must have been scented. There was a sweet smell, something like cinnamon. Everything around her faded and only the sound of Stephen Kendall’s heartbeat resounded through her body.

It was so quiet. She let her mind dwell only briefly on Lara and Gillian. What was Lara doing with Gillian? She didn’t think Gillian would be such easy prey. But that was for Lara to cope with. Her lover had many more centuries of experience than she. She could handle Gillian.

It was somewhat frightening having complete control over another human being. Stephen stood, eyes glazed, waiting for whatever she wanted of him. Too bad it wasn’t sex, Samantha thought wickedly.

She leaned over, suddenly overwhelmed by his male scent. She found it too pungent and hoped this would be quick. His body was warm, muscular and the beginning of an erection was pushing against her.

Samantha pushed him back against the kitchen counter and without waiting, without a trace of tender emotions, sunk her teeth into his pulsing neck. Meshed together, she felt his body jerk and stiffen. The blood tasted sweet and she drank, an electric sensation coursing through her veins. Almost orgasmic. She was so thirsty. Stephen had stopped moving, shoulders drooped.

Like a faraway echo, she heard Lara calling her name. Her voice sounded muffled, like she was shouting into a tin can. Then strong hands pulled at her. She turned her head to see Lara watching her intently.

“Enough, Samantha. You will kill him!”

This time, the voice was loud and clear. There was a small smear of what Samantha knew was blood on Lara’s chin. She took the sleeve of her coat and wiped it. Stephen was on his way to the floor. The sound of his body hitting the linoleum shocked Samantha back into focus.

There was something thick all over her face. She wiped at it with her other sleeve. Blood. She had been too reckless. Too messy.

“We must leave, Samantha.” Lara pulled at her, away from the kitchen and towards the front door. It was then Samantha saw Gillian. Her robe was open, revealing her nude body. But Lara had been neat. There was nothing on her.

“Wait, Lara. Are they going to be okay?” She was fumbling with the words. She felt intoxicated. She looked back at Kendall. There was blood everywhere. Samantha moved toward him. Lara yanked hard at her, pulling.

“They will be fine. When they wake up, they will merely think they had one very wild evening. Now we must go, Samantha.” They rushed out, making sure they left nothing behind. But Samantha took something with her. Stephen’s blood had been exhilarating, and the picture of the big wet spot on the front of his trousers as he lay unconscious on the floor would remain a priceless memory.

Chapter 15

When Samantha awoke, she felt sluggish. It took extra effort just to move an arm. Lara wasn’t next to her. She heard harsh, retching sounds coming from beyond the hallway. Alarmed, she made her way to the bathroom, where she found Lara. She had just finished flushing the toilet.

“Lara, what’s wrong. Are you okay?” Lara looked blue. Samantha was scared. Lara waved her off with one look.

“That blood. It was tainted. It has made me sick, Samantha. That woman, her blood has poison in it.”

Samantha didn’t understand at first what Lara could be talking about, then something clicked.

“Poison? You mean like drugs?”

Lara brushed past her, on her way back to the bedroom.

“I do not know. What does this mean, drugs?”

Of course, there was no way Lara could even know what the word meant. Maybe in her time drugs were nothing more than herbal remedies concocted by village medicine women. The ugliness of the twentieth century real word was far more deadly.

Samantha followed close behind, still concerned about Lara.

“Drugs are something that people take now to get ‘high.’ She stopped, realizing Lara wouldn’t understand that either. “Well, maybe I should explain better. They’re chemicals that people put into their bodies to feel like they’re somewhere else.”

She realized how difficult it actually was to describe why people took drugs. Lara waved a hand at her as she crawled back into bed.

“Whatever it was, Samantha, we must not touch her anymore.” She smiled weakly at Samantha. “Do not worry. I will be fine, but I am not so sure she will be.”

Samantha shuddered, pictures of Kendall and Gillian like snapshots going off in her brain.

***

Carmen broke down. The trip to the bookstore was an absolute necessity. The sky looked angry and the clouds threatened to dump rain. She would just run in, do the research and exit without lifting her eyes off the floor. She didn’t want to see Gillian.

Mildred Stoner, a middle aged woman with thin, pursed lips, was behind the counter. She was busily arranging a row of bookmarks that ran the length of the checkout counter. Gillian wasn’t there.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Carmen slowed her pace and let out the breath she’d been holding in. Finding her way to the local interest section, she found the one remaining copy of Edmund Furrows’s book and pulled it off the shelf. Choosing a compact leather chair nearby, she sat down and opened the book to the contents page.

Flipping the pages, she came to the Karnov chapter. She turned one more page and was confronted with the portrait of Lara Karnov. The resemblance was uncanny. A change of clothes, a haircut and Lara Karnov could be Sara Martine’s sister! And then Carmen’s heart skipped. What if Sara Martine was Lara Karnov? The thought was not only ugly, but silly. Preposterous, she told herself. Anne Rice wrote fiction for a living. She wasn’t a biographer. Vampires, werewolves and goblins were the stuff of fantasy. Yet still….

She put the book back after reading a little further on Lara and the Karnovs. The book said she was long dead. But weren’t vampires the dead who rise again to feed on the living by night? There were the murdered children found drained of blood. But Tommy Mills had committed those murders and had paid the price. And besides, Sara Martine had been up and alive at the height of the afternoon.

Trying to shake those ludicrous thoughts, she headed back to the shop, already planning ahead for the fundraiser tonight, glad to be finally getting it out of the way. Maybe she was getting too tired of all this. It just wasn’t the same. What she was really looking forward to was that dinner with Samantha.

***

Carmen had just hung up with Samantha when her phone rang again. All day she had been fielding phone calls congratulating her on the success of the fundraiser. More than enough was raised for the two new sheriff’s cars they had wanted. Gillian had been conspicuously absent.

Chief Murphy was the person she least expected to be on the other end.

“Chief Murphy, didn’t I just see you the other day?”

“Afraid this isn’t a social call, Carmen.”

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed softly. “We got two more dead bodies.”

His pause was too long. Carmen felt her hands go clammy. “Thought I’d call you personally on this one,” he continued. “Gillian Haskell and Stephen Kendall were found dead in his apartment at The Carlton Inn. Evidently, they were a hot couple. I know you and Gillian were friends.”

Carmen heard the words but a buzz had crept into her head.

“How...why?” Her heart pounded as she tightened her grip on the phone. She suddenly couldn’t find words.

There was another pause on the other end.

“From what we’ve got so far, it appears they’d been dead for several days, but we don’t have all the tests in.” His voice was soft, tired. “We don’t have the results of the autopsies back, but the FBI are considering their deaths suspicious. They were drained of a lot of blood and had strange marks on their bodies. FBI doesn’t think it’s any kind of animal.”

Carmen shivered.

“Thanks for calling, Chief. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Has her family been notified?” Carmen was concerned about the details. She needed to keep her mind off the very final thought that Gillian was dead. And Carmen had no reason to be there after death. That would be reserved for husbands or ex-husbands and family. Carmen had been an affair. And a closeted lesbian one at that. She couldn’t suppress the bitter feeling.

“Arrangements have been taken care of,” Chief Murphy said. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” He didn’t wait for Carmen to agree. “Do you know if Gillian did drugs? Coke? I’m not being nosy, Carmen. The FBI found some coke all over the bedroom. They haven’t ruled out a cocaine overdose. We don’t know if she was attacked before or after she died of an overdoes or even if the marks on the bodies were part of some sort of ritual. We’re still putting the pieces of the puzzle together.”

Should she tell him Gillian’s sordid past?

“Gillian and I were friends for awhile. I don’t know about any drugs.”

“Do you know if she’d met anyone new other than Stephen Kendall? Did she talk to you about new friends, enemies?”

Gillian had kept her affair with Kendall from her. If she’d met new friends, she hadn’t told her either. Carmen didn’t know why, but Sara Martine crawled into her thoughts. She was a stranger in town. And her alarms were going off all over the place when she thought of Martine.

“No, Chief, I can’t think of anyone.”

“Well, if there’s anything else you might think of that could be helpful, you call me personally.” He paused. “Carmen, you know the FBI might be questioning you. You had a close relationship with Gillian. You call me so I can be there, okay? And I’m sorry about Gillian.”

“Thank you for calling, Chief.” Carmen couldn’t stay on the phone any longer. Before she even put down the receiver, she had made her decision. She wasn’t going to the funeral. Gillian was gone, perhaps more at rest than ever before.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, fighting the uncomfortable feeling of dread seeping into her soul. Something was out of whack. Samantha was cold, aloof. Gillian was dead. Murder had tainted Bayton Isle. The island was drowning and gasping for air.

And then there was Sara Martine’s arrival and extended visit. Carmen couldn’t shake the sound of Samantha’s voice. She had hesitantly agreed to dinner. Sara Martine was still here. Her stay would be indefinite, Samantha had said. Something was wrong. Her insides were clenching as if some invisible hand were squeezing hard. She didn’t want to listen to the ugly thoughts creeping into her head.

Shaking herself free of the numbness, she decided now was the time to play her hunch. She’d been called overbearing often enough, but in this case, it just didn’t matter how upset Samantha might get at her. Samantha said Sara Martine was from Barnum Books. Finding the number from information should be easy. She’d start with New York first. Weren’t all the major publishers in New York?

Carmen shivered again and allowed herself to cry openly and freely.

***

Saturday had dawned without sunshine. Grey clouds had swallowed the morning, a light wind making the drizzling rain more like a mist.

Samantha stood like a frozen figurine. Before her, the burned out hulk of Karnov Mansion lay quiet and undisturbed. She hadn’t told Lara she was coming here. In fact, Lara was still asleep when she left. Nine o’clock was too early for Lara to do much of anything.

Samantha wasn’t really sure why she stood here. Last respects, maybe. She shivered and shoved her hands inside her wool coat. Even with gloves, her fingers felt numb. The air was cold and wet.

“Why didn’t you wake me, Samantha?”

Samantha whirled around to see Lara standing a few feet behind her, pale, thin face a stark contrast to the black cape and hood she wore. Lara’s boots made no sound as she approached.

“What are you doing here?”

Samantha turned back to the ugly mess that had once been Karnov. “Don’t you feel sad, Lara? Some sense of loss? Look at it. This was your home.” She wanted so much to understand.

“My home is with you.”

Samantha shook her head. Lara came up behind her and put her hands on her shoulders.

“Lara, don’t you have any attachments to your past? What about all the memories? Your family?” She leaned back against Lara and sank into her arms.

“I’ve explained to you about my family. They betrayed me and left me behind. I do not even know if I am the last of my line. I do not know where the others are. I do not want to know. The only things I wish to keep from my past are my memories of you.” Lara whispered in Samantha’s ear.

Samantha turned to face her, looking for the meaning in Lara’s words. But Lara had stiffened, a strained look on her face, her finger up to her mouth.

“Quiet, Samantha. Someone approaches.”

It seemed like a forever before Samantha saw the man on the bicycle approaching. He was peddling fast, probably racing away from the wind and rain. She and Lara were standing yards away from the gravel road, far enough where they were not easily seen.

As the bicyclist approached, Samantha recognized Bob Holder. His colorful biking clothes somehow appeared far too gaudy on him.

“You know this man?” Lara was in her mind. “Come,” she pulled at Samantha’s hand, “We shall have a little snack.”

“No, wait.” Samantha had trouble keeping up with her as they began to run parallel to Bob Holder. He couldn’t see them. She and Lara were just on the outskirts of the woods.

“Run faster, Samantha, faster.”

Samantha ran. And ran. Was Lara crazy? There was no way they were going to catch Bob Holder. Her face glistened with the rain that pricked her skin like tiny little needles. She was keeping up with Lara, but her legs were giving out and her lungs struggled.

Then a cold rush of adrenalin flooded through her and her feet left the ground. It was almost as if someone had lifted her. She was flying! Not only was she keeping up with Holder, but they were now just ahead of him.

“Lara. Oh my God, Lara! I’m in the air!” Samantha looked for Lara but she was nowhere in sight.

“Fly, my darling. Fly with me. We do not need those tin cans with wings to fly.”

Samantha could hear her. But where was she? They were moving so fast. She was afraid to stop to look for Lara. Afraid to lose this exhilarating feeling. Bob Holder was slowing his pace. He was headed toward the edge of the cliff.

“Lara. He’s going to go over the cliff!” Samantha still couldn’t see Lara.

“I will stop him just before he goes over. Do not fret, my darling.”

“No.” Frantic fear punched the air out of Samantha’s lungs. She wouldn’t let Bob Holder die. Lara was controlling him. He was oblivious to Lara’s commands in his mind. He was peddling fast toward cliff’s edge.

“Stop it, Lara!”

“It will be fine. Trust me.”

Somehow, Samantha didn’t think Lara would listen. There was only one way to stop him. Stop Lara. Samantha used every bit of her strength to speed past Bob Holder. The trees had given way to the open expanse of iron sky. Below, the sound of the crashing waves hammered in her head. Breathing was painful. She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.

She put herself directly in his path. Three feet behind her, the edge of the cliff dropped 200 feet. Bob Holder’s eyes were wide in fear, mouth open in shock, his short legs out of control. He ran right into her. The front tire skidded into her thigh, the impact flinging Samantha back. She landed just short of the edge.

Bob Holder hit her with such an impact, that he flew off the bike, landing several feet away. The brand new Peugeot lay directly in front of Samantha, wheels spinning silently in the air.

“Samantha. My Samantha.” Lara was crouching beside her, hands caressing her face, holding her shoulders. “Why did you do this? I was not going to let him go over the cliff.”

Samantha lay stunned, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t feel a thing. That was good, she supposed. She expected to have some kind of pain as reward for her impulsive action. But there was nothing. Just a numbing sensation from the cold air.

Samantha began to cry. Maybe she was dying. Maybe she should. Lara threw herself on her, kissing her face with slow, gentle whispers.

“My darling, foolish girl. So attached to your old ways. Why can you not be with me? Do you not remember how it used to be with us?” “I don’t know what you want.” Samantha couldn’t control the tears streaming down her face. She reached out and clung to Lara. “Who am I? I don’t remember anything you tell me I should.”

“Oh my darling. My darling.” Lara stroked her hair and rocked Samantha gently. “Your memories are not yet complete. They will come.”

Samantha wiped her face, her tears replaced by the misty rain. “Lara, you’re talking in riddles.” Her eyes pleaded with Lara.

“Samantha. You and I were meant to be together. Together forever. You were with me when I was entombed. You have been with me in my dreams and I in yours. I have been trying to reach you for centuries.”

The missing piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. The once broken circle of her life had joined together. It was all so clear. Looking into the fiery, black eyes of Lara Karnov, Samantha understood. She stopped sobbing.

“Samantha?”

“So it is true? All those nightmares I had since I can remember. They weren’t dreams at all, but visions, just like the day I first visited Karnov Mansion before I knocked on the door.”

“Of course, it is just as I explained. Why are you making it so difficult, darling?” Lara’s words were impatient. She looked back at the unconscious form of Bob Holder. “We should go. He will come around soon.”

Samantha barely opened her mouth to object.

“Do not worry, Samantha. He will remember nothing and he does not appear to be seriously injured.”

“Yeah, Lara, but what will he see in his dreams tonight?”

***

Lying there in the faintly-lit bedroom, Lara firmly beside her, Samantha couldn’t feel more content. Or more frightened. The muted shafts of sunlight filtering through the slits on the blind played lovingly on Lara’s pale skin. The confusion in Samantha was, if anything, more complex.

Samantha exhaled, looking at Lara next to her. Lara wasn’t asleep. She lay quiet and still, just staring up at the ceiling as she always did.

“Lara, I want to know so much more about you. About us.” Samantha knew she had only touched the tip of the iceberg when it came to Lara. This woman beside her had been on earth for over four centuries. And so had she. But she couldn’t remember much. There had been only the dreams. This frightened her.

“Lara, why can’t I remember like you?”

“Because you are not like me. You are not Karnov.”

“But my nightmares. Now I realize they weren’t dreams. I was there, but why can’t I remember more? I mean, what was my name? Was I royalty?”

Lara put a finger over Samantha’s lips. Her touch, cold as ice, sent electricity through Samantha’s body.

“You are as curious as a little cat, Samantha. What difference does it make who you were in the past? If you do not remember, what good are these things to you? The past is gone. I am here with you. Tomorrow, this will be our past.” She became quiet again.

Samantha knew she would get nothing else from her. Lara leaned back and this time closed her eyes, although Samantha knew she wasn’t asleep.

“Samantha, darling, tell me how you will explain to your friend Carmen your inability to eat what she will prepare for you?” Her voice was a smooth whisper.

They had gone over this just hours before. Carmen’s dinner invitation was this weekend. Lara had been persistent, questioning Samantha on every detail of her friendship with Carmen. She was suspicious and she was jealous.

And she had her sights on Carmen.

Carmen as a host would never happen. Samantha was adamant. The dinner invitation had triggered an unpleasant side of their relationship.

“You know, we will have to move from this island of ours, Samantha. You constantly deny certain people to us, making it very difficult to find willing and open hosts. We cannot be what we are and remain here. Sooner than later, we will be discovered and hunted. Persecuted. Destroyed, even.”

Her last words lingered. Samantha could say nothing. Lara was right.

“Perhaps a move to a larger township, like the one we visited over the ocean, would prove easier for us. No connections. No emotions to stand in our way.”

Township. Samantha had to smile at that one. Of course, what Lara was saying was obvious. It would be impossible to remain in Bayton Isle and stay inconspicuous. By moving far away, she could save Carmen. Again, she smiled, only this time, the bitterness of irony sent her mouth curving down. Save Carmen. From her. Samantha became conscious of Lara’s deep, penetrating eyes studying her. Even though they were pitch black, they seemed to glow yellow in certain light.

“You’re right, Lara. We should consider a move. But away from Maine completely. California maybe. We would fit right in there.”

Lara smiled and lowered herself back on her pillow. “It matters not where we travel to. My hunger grows, Samantha, and it is a hunger centuries old. I still need blood and so will you.”

Chapter 16

“Hey Sam, come in.” Carmen greeted Samantha at the door. She kissed her on the cheek, just inches from her mouth.

Inside, Carmen had the living room filled with candles and the vertical blinds open, allowing the breathtaking view of the Atlantic coast to take center stage. The sun was taking its bow behind the horizon. It was just 5:30.

Samantha felt at ease, almost at home, yet a nagging anxiety persisted. Dinner could be awkward. She had decided she would let Carmen serve her dinner and then beg off, feigning a stomach virus or some such other lie of the upset stomach variety. Carmen would act all worried and offer her medicinal advice. And that would be it. A great lie. It made her really sick to her stomach.

Carmen appeared distracted, her smile tired. She pointed towards the couch for Samantha and headed into the kitchen. In her burgundy silken shirt and pants, she was elegantly casual.

“Can I get you a margarita? I have the vegetarian lasagna in the oven. Should be twenty minutes or so, thought we’d start with drinks.”

“No. I’m trying to give that up, if you can believe that.” Would Carmen believe it? She might have been able to drink the margarita without getting sick, but she wasn’t willing to take that chance.

Carmen didn’t even kid her about it. She uncorked a bottle of red wine, poured herself a very full glass and worked her way back to Samantha, sitting on the other side of her.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind.” Carmen held the wineglass up slightly. “Cheers.”

She took a long drink and put it down on the glass side table. “I’ve got a couple of green salads already fixed in the fridge. Whenever you get hungry, just say the word.”

“That sounds good, but you know what, I’m not too hungry really. I’ve been fighting a stomach flu or something.”

Carmen seemed far away, her mind deep on something else. Samantha was relieved in a way but disturbed as well. Carmen wasn’t herself. She took another healthy slug of the wine.

“You really should take better care of what you eat, Sam. And you have to watch when you eat also.”

She took another long drink of wine, looking at Samantha over the rim of the glass. “So Sam, what have you been up to these days? The commission painting, I hope. It’s nearly impossible to get a hold of you.” Carmen sank further into the couch.

“I have been busy, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Sara Martine, huh?” The sound of the splashing waves below played like a soft lullaby in the quiet of the room. “I really miss our times together.” Carmen’s voice sounded sad.

“Carmen, I’m sorry we haven’t spent time together. Sara is going to be here...”

“Indefinitely, yeah, I know. You told me.”

She tucked her feet underneath her and took more wine. “That isn’t exactly what I meant, Sam. Something’s changed between us. We’ve grown apart. I can’t explain it. Just a feeling.”

What was Samantha supposed to say? Before Lara, she would have told her the truth. Always the truth. Now she had to lie. Her whole life had become a lie. Would it be okay to lie and tell Carmen that they would spend more time together when Sara Martine left? After all, Carmen would never find them in California or wherever they ended up at. All of a sudden, Samantha was feeling suffocated.

“I’m sorry, Sam, I’m being too presumptuous, I suppose. Too demanding of your time. My turn to apologize.”

Carmen got up abruptly and walked back to the kitchen. It was then Samantha noticed the empty glass in her hand. She refilled it to the top, checked the oven and came back to sit next to her.

“Should be ready soon. Ready for those salads?”

Samantha fidgeted. “You know Carmen, I’ve heard lettuce and leafy greens aren’t good if you have an upset stomach.” She rubbed her stomach gently, trying to smile. Carmen was staring right at her.

“Samantha, what the hell is going on with you?”

Carmen only called her that when it was serious. “You look like you’ve lost ten pounds and for you, that’s borderline anorexic, and your complexion doesn’t look healthy. Have you been sleeping? Those dark circles…” Her hand went up to touch Samantha’s eye.

Samantha jerked back. She probably did look like shit. So what? Carmen had no right, dammit. Samantha was trying to save her life for her!

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, Carmen. I am feeling pretty bad.”

Carmen was shaking her head, a very unpleasant smile on her face. “It’s Sara Martine, isn’t it?”

Why did Carmen always have to be right? “No. I mean...yes. Carmen, don’t...”

“Are you sleeping with her Sam? Are you in love with her?”

Samantha needed to go. “I think maybe I should leave.” Samantha almost made it up off the couch.

“No, please, Sam. I’m sorry.” Carmen put out an arm to stop her, turning around to look at her. Even though the sun had long gone down and the night sky twinkled outside, in the candlelight, Samantha could see tears swelling in Carmen’s eyes.

“No, please don’t go. I need you to keep me company tonight.”

Samantha, bewildered by Carmen’s breakdown, was stunned. She sat back down slowly. She wanted to put her arms around Carmen, tell her everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be as it was. But the reality of it was that Lara waited for her.

And tonight, Samantha suddenly didn’t want to go back home. She wanted to stay right here with Carmen.

She held back from holding Carmen because she was afraid of the blood lust rising. It was too unpredictable. At least she could listen to Carmen, give her the support she needed.

“Carmen, hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Carmen leaned back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling.

“Gillian is dead. They found her and Stephan Kendall murdered in his apartment. Same as the kids they’ve found in the woods.”

Samantha let it sink in. A sense of unreality gripped her. Carmen was trying to get something out of her. Trick her somehow. She wasn’t serious. Gillian and Kendall weren’t dead. No, she hadn’t killed Kendall. Lara told her they’d both be okay. Lara didn’t lie to her.

“Oh my God, do they know who did it?” Samantha heard her voice but couldn’t remember moving her lips.”

“Chief Murphy says the FBI think Gillian died of a heart attack before or during her murder.”

“Stephen. What about Stephen?”

Carmen was looking at her in a strange way. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

Samantha couldn’t move her mouth. She’d killed Kendall. She’d murdered again.

“I’m sorry about Gillian. I know she was your friend.”

Carmen turned to look at Samantha, the pain in her face real.

“We were more than friends. Gillian and I had an affair, Samantha.”

Samantha wasn’t exactly surprised. Did she think Carmen a saint, forever to pine away for her unrequited love? But Gillian? What about John? And wasn’t she having an affair with Kendall?

Deep down, Samantha felt a loss. A hurt. And it wasn’t a case of not wanting anyone else to have Carmen. It went deeper. Too confused to dissect those emotions, Samantha tucked them away. She had murder on her mind.

“Don’t be so surprised, Sam. It just happened.” Carmen turned her whole body towards Samantha and looked deeply into her eyes.

“You know nothing’s changed, Sam. I mean, my feelings for you.”

Carmen wanted so much more from her than Samantha was able to give at the moment. Even though Lara wasn’t here physically with her, she was in every fiber of her being, every waking thought. It left little room for anyone else.

“You still haven’t answered my questions about Sara Martine.”

“Sara won’t be leaving. We’re living together.”

Samantha lowered her head, away from Carmen’s wounded eyes. She couldn’t say anything more. It would be dangerous. Suicidal.

Carmen reached for the glass of wine and drank, never taking her eyes off Samantha.

“So, is she your substitute for Lara Karnov? I mean, let me be honest, she bears a remarkable resemblance to that picture in Edmund’s book, don’t you think? And all of a sudden, Sara Martine conveniently enters your life?”

Carmen was intense and very persistent. She was also full of wine. Nevertheless, she was coming too close for comfort.

“Hey, you know, I thought about that too when I first met her and I’m not going to deny that that’s a big part of my attraction to her.” Samantha played it off.

“No, it’s more than that, Sam.” Carmen was shaking her head. “You grow the hair and change the clothes and your Sara Martine is the spitting image of Lara Karnov. And if you really want to talk spooky, the murders coincide with her arrival here.”

“So what are you saying? That I’ve brought this Lara Karnov back to life and have her living with me? Get real, Carmen! What do you think she is? A vampire?”

“In a way, she is like a vampire. Your own personal vampire, sucking the life out of you.”

Then Carmen kissed her, the warmth from her lips almost painful, yet Samantha didn’t want her to stop. She felt herself responding in ways she never imagined until suddenly, that frightening lust gathered in her stomach like a malignant hunger. The call for blood. Was it always going to be like this?

She pulled away with a fierce push.

“No, get away from me.”

Carmen looked confused, searching Samantha’s face. “What’s going on with you? I don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand! I love Lara.”

The quiet in the room was charged. Samantha suddenly realized what she had said.

“I meant, Sara. I’m in love with Sara.”

Samantha got up. She had to get away now, quickly. But Carmen wouldn’t let her. She took hold of Samantha and stood up to face her.

“You’re not even the same Samantha I used to know.” She searched every inch of Samantha’s face. “Sam, you were a caring woman. A little heavy on the mood swings, but always there.”

Each word out of Carmen’s mouth hit like an arrow. The temptation to fling herself into Carmen’s arms and release herself from what she had become was something she had to fight hard against. For the first time, she allowed feelings for Carmen that she had kept hidden even from herself, to surface. But this couldn’t be happening now. Not now.

“I’ve got to go, Carmen.” She broke free.

Carmen followed her.

“No. Don’t try to stop me because you don’t know what you’re doing.” She didn’t even want to look at Carmen.

“So why don’t you tell me, Sam?” Carmen took hold of Samantha’s shoulders again and spun her around to face her.

“Sam, I love you. I haven’t loved anyone else. Why is it so hard for you to share yourself with me?”

Samantha wanted to laugh, cry and run at the same time. She opted to run. Right out Carmen’s door.

“Who is Sara Martine, Sam?” Carmen demanded behind her. “I called Barnum Books. There is no Sara Martine. Samantha! Tell me who she is!”

Samantha reached her car, got in and turned the ignition. She looked back only briefly as she pulled out, to see the outline of Carmen standing in the doorway. She fully convinced herself that by sparing Carmen the answer to that question, she was saving her soul.

***

When Samantha walked in her house, she noticed the darkness first, then tiny flickering of the tea lights that were everywhere. Lara must have found her emergency supply of candles.

“Lara?” Samantha made her way quickly into the living room and noticed the fire going. But Lara was nowhere.

Sensing movement behind her, she turned to find Lara standing at the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing an ankle-length black velvet dress. The lust in her eyes focused on Samantha.

“Samantha, I have missed you so.” Her voice was silky, excited, as she walked towards her.

“Lara, my God, something went wrong the other night with Stephen and Gillian. They’re both dead. I’ve killed again. You promised, Lara. You said they would be okay.” Samantha was shaking.”

“I promised nothing. I did not drain enough blood from that woman to kill her.”

Lara was telling the truth. The FBI was convinced she died of a heart attack. But Stephen didn’t have a heart attack.

“I killed Stephen. I murdered him in cold blood.”

Lara reached out and ran a hand down Samantha’s arm. “My darling, I pulled you away as soon as I could. It wasn’t your fault. In time, you will learn to take your sustenance and not kill.”

Samantha shook her head, not looking at Lara, the picture of Kendall swimming in blood the only thing she could focus on. Lara took hold of Samantha, lifting her face to meet her eyes.

“Listen to me, my Samantha. The man was not your fault. You have yet to learn how to feed. Have you seen an infant eat? They must learn the process, as you must.”

“No, this is not something I will get used to. I don’t ever want to get used to it. This isn’t right, Lara. It’s crazy.”

Samantha was having trouble controlling the flood of emotions pounding at her. “I can’t do this anymore.” She moved away from Lara, towards the bay windows.

“You are distraught, Samantha. I understand. This can be difficult to accept, our new life together, but you will.” Lara paused, moving toward Samantha. “You must.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” The hysteria was mounting in Samantha’s voice. “You promised me no more death. That no one would get hurt.”

What had Samantha done? In her desperate obsession with Lara Karnov, in her relentless pursuit of eternal love, she had unleashed something she had no control over.

Suddenly, all her past relationships paraded before her, a nightmarish merry-go-round of faces, passions, disappointments. And waiting at the end of the parade route was Lara Karnov, arms open wide. The words “be careful what you wish for” kept tumbling around in her brain.

“Samantha, you cannot leave me. I cannot live without you or you without me.” Lara had crept closer beside her. She reached out to touch Samantha.

“No.” Samantha moved away.

“We are bound forever, Samantha. I gave you my blood so you could live. It flows within you now.”

Samantha wanted desperately not to look at her, fearful of direct eye contact. It mattered little, because Lara began to probe her thoughts.

“Don’t do this to us, Samantha.” She spoke gently in her mind, the pain in her plea something Samantha had never heard before.

Samantha shook her head, this time looking into Lara’s eyes.

“Lara, with the deaths of Stephen and Gillian, the police will intensify their search. Sooner or later, they’ll come looking for us.”

To her surprise, Lara smiled. “As I said before, we must leave this island sooner or later.” She waved her hand around the room, pointing to the candles. “I made special preparations for when you returned. So come, let us not worry about the police or what is to come. Let us enjoy tonight.”

She pulled Samantha toward the couch.

“You were home earlier than I thought. Did things not go well with your friend? Was dinner not to your liking?”

The mocking in her voice angered Samantha.

“We’re not going to discuss that right now. It’s all rather irrelevant, isn’t it?”

She took another step further away from Lara, closer to the window. She could feel the chill coming off the glass panes.

“We’ll be gone from Bayton Isle and Carmen will be left behind us.”

Actually, she had no intention of going anywhere just yet. In fact, maybe she would just let the police find her. Lock her up and throw away the key. Isolate her in a place where she couldn’t harm another human being. Maybe they would call in an exorcist. That would get her coverage in the Enquirer, or better yet, Inside Edition.

But there would still be Lara. Death had reached out across the grave and presented Samantha with all she dreamed of. And now she had to let it all go. She’d always had trouble letting go. Her therapists insisted she learn how. It would be the only way for her to get healthy again.

Samantha wanted to scream. She felt betrayed. Tamara had lied or more likely, been misled herself by the Karnov lies. Vampires were exactly what the myths and legends portrayed them to be. If love was what Lara had been seeking, then Samantha was not her “chosen one.” She was not willing to commit murder for endless love. This had to end and she was the one to have to pull the plug. She just had to figure out how.

Lara continued to stare at her, a blank look on her face. She was looking at Samantha, but her eyes weren’t seeing her.

“Lara?”

Lara remained frozen.

“Lara? What’s wrong?” Samantha shook her. Her eyes remained focused ahead on nothing. She couldn’t hear Samantha. “Lara, please, what’s wrong?” Samantha grabbed her face and slapped her cheeks lightly. “Look at me, Lara. My god, Lara, tell me what’s wrong.”

Lara blinked once and Samantha saw recognition replace the fog she’d seen there before. Her body relaxed in Samantha’s arms.

“What happened, Lara? You were somewhere else.”

Lara pulled away from Samantha. “It is Wilmon. He invaded my mind. He knows my thoughts and he knows I am free.” She turned her back slowly to Samantha.

“What does that mean? Are you in danger?”

Lara leaned her head back and sighed. “No, my darling. I have nothing to fear from Wilmon.” She turned back to Samantha and caressed her cheek. “It is you he will want. As long as you and I are together, you remain a threat.”

Samantha couldn’t stop her insides from doing flip-flops. Things had gone from bad to worse.

“Samantha. I must protect you. We must leave this land immediately.”

The knocking on the door nearly scared Samantha out of her shoes.

“Samantha, open the door! I know you’re in there.” Carmen banged on the door again.

Chapter 17

The look on Lara’s face changed from loving concern to an ugly grin. “Did you invite her here?”

“No.” Samantha didn’t know what to say, what to do.

“She followed you, then? What happened tonight, Samantha?” Lara was inching toward the door.

“Nothing happened. I mean, maybe she did follow me.”

“Well then, let her in, Samantha. It is rude to leave your guests waiting.”

Lara opened the door. Carmen nearly fell into the room. She wore a long overcoat and scarf.

“Come in, Carmen. We weren’t expecting you.” Lara closed the door slowly behind her.

Carmen brushed past Lara toward Samantha. “Sam, I need to talk to you privately.” She cast a sideway glance at Lara, who had crept up behind her.

Samantha had to fumble for words. “Carmen, um, this is unexpected.”

Carmen took notice of the room around her. “Sam, I’m sorry about tonight.” She looked behind her at Lara. “Can we talk, please? Privately.”

Lara’s laughter echoed in the candlelit room. “Samantha is not herself, it appears. She hasn’t told you about us? Perhaps later she will explain. But please don’t let me interrupt you. What you say to Samantha is of importance to me as well.” She stood with her arms crossed, the unmistakable blood lust making her eyes blaze yellow in the darkness.

Samantha lunged at Carmen, grabbing her by the shoulders, and shoving her out the door. She saw Carmen tumble face first into the snow outside. Samantha slammed the door shut and latched it. She turned to face Lara.

Lara ran furiously to Samantha and took hold of both her arms, her face so close that Samantha could smell the blood on her breath. “What have you done? You seek to protect her? From me? I see what is your mind and in your heart. Why have you betrayed me?!” Underneath the fury was pain.

Samantha looked at her, directly and without fear. Lara’s dark eyes were demanding, her thin lips open in shock. Samantha’s heart was being torn to shreds. She still loved this woman. This vampire. She was never a religious woman, but she began to pray silently for answers, for the right thing to do. Only Lara answered her.

“Don’t you see what you’ve done, Samantha?”

Abruptly, the violence in Lara subsided. She let go of Samantha’s shoulders and turned away from her, crossing her arms.

“Help me understand, my Samantha.” Her voice sounded so weak, so defeated.

Samantha couldn’t hold back the hysteria. She fell at Lara’s feet, face buried in hands, not bearing to look at her.

“Leave now, Lara. Disappear into the night. I can’t live through this. I can’t live like this. My dear God, I love you but I just can’t...” The cold, gentle hands of Lara Karnov picked her up off the floor and took her chin so that they were eye to eye. Samantha was frightened like she had never been frightened in her life.

Through her tears, she focused on the blackness of Lara’s eyes. She didn’t see murder. She didn’t see madness. She most certainly didn’t see cruelty. What she saw was something more ancient and more powerful than any human mind could imagine or hope to comprehend. Eternity looked out at her, veiled in grief and sadness.

“I cannot live without your love. Have you not understood this? Samantha, what good is this new life if I don’t have you? What good is immortality if you are forever lonely?”

It could have been so easy to give in, to take Lara in her arms, make love to her like she foolishly wanted to right this minute, and run away. Keep running to whatever ends of the earth they needed to go to be safe. Maybe she could have learned to murder without thought, without guilt. Without conscience.

But every fiber that made Samantha Barnes who she was knew it could never be. The desire for the real life she had here, for the new, unexplored feelings for Carmen, all this was a stronger pull.

“You have brought me to my doom, Samantha. You chose her over me. Nothing I do now matters.” There was a glimmer of disbelief in those dark eyes.

“No!” Samantha screamed and jumped to stand between Lara and the door. “Don’t, Lara. Let’s just leave now. I’ll go wherever you want me to go.”

Samantha was ready to forget all her moral objections. Push aside the fears that had been tearing her apart and just run with Lara.

But Lara wasn’t listening. Lara’s face was a mask of cold rage. She kept moving toward the door, forcing Samantha to inch back.

“Samantha, let me in!” Carmen banged again on the door.

“Yes, let her in Samantha.” Lara was taunting her. “Make a choice, Samantha. Come away with me. Let me show you what an eternity of love can be.”

“This is insane!”

“There can be no one else but me Samantha. She will not have you.”

“Lara, please…” Samantha pressed back against the door.

“Samantha, you can be forever with me.”

Carmen’s fists made booming sounds.

“No!” Samantha suddenly turned away from Lara, right out the door and straight into Carmen’s arms. They nearly fell over each other.

“Sam!”

“Oh my God, Carmen, you have to get away from here!”

Carmen held on to her. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Please, Carmen. Go home now.” Samantha’s eyes darted back to the open door. Lara was standing framed in the doorway.

Carmen looked briefly at Lara, then back anxiously at Samantha. “Has she hurt you? I came because I suspected her of having something to do with the murders. Now I’m sure she killed Gillian.” The anger mounted in Carmen’s voice. “We’ve got to get away and call the police.” Carmen tried to pull Samantha away.

“No, Carmen, no. She didn’t kill Gillian.” Samantha pleaded.

“I won’t let her harm you, Sam.”

In spite of all the madness, Samantha wanted to laugh. Of course Lara would never hurt her. Not physically. They were bound by love. Eternal love. Except Lara’s love was squeezing the life out of her. This love killed for her. And Carmen would be next.

“Carmen!” The word struck Samantha like a piercing stab in the brain. Lara was using telepathy to summon Carmen to her. If she got to Carmen, there would be no saving her.

Carmen suddenly jerked her head toward Lara and tried to disengage herself from Samantha. Samantha tugged at her.

“No. Carmen don’t! Listen to me! Don’t look at her!”

She grabbed Carmen tighter with both her hands and held on to her. Samantha felt like a football player attempting a tackle.

Carmen stood dazed, gazing helplessly at Lara.

“Let her go!” Lara commanded inside Samantha’s head. “She can be for the both of us. I will not harm her.” she continued in a softer, more tender tone.

Samantha tried to block Lara out of her thoughts. It was hard. Lara’s own blood ran through her veins. Death had married them and now the Devil would have to take them both.

When Samantha looked at Lara, her eyes were bright red in the darkness. This was it. There could be no turning back now. No second guessing. No remorse. The decision she made now would either give her life or deliver her into darkness.

The irony of it all stung Samantha through the heart sure as if a stake had been driven into her. She had come to Lara Karnov in search of salvation and found damnation. But within the maelstrom she had found Carmen.

“Samantha, why do you resist? Why have you turned against me?” There was anguish in Lara’s voice.

Samantha had to shut it out. Never in her life had she been presented with such choices. She had to give up a lifetime with Lara to save a life. Carmen’s life.

Carmen was still struggling to get away from her grasp, but Samantha held on tighter, finally taking a firm hold of Carmen’s waist. There was only one way to end this. She turned Carmen swiftly to face her and laid a hard punch to the side of Carmen’s head.

Carmen slumped sideways, pulling Samantha down with her.

Tossing Carmen’s dead weight aside as gently as she could, Samantha struggled to her feet, looking back to the door for Lara.

She was gone. Samantha ran towards the house, through the door and found Lara standing next to the portrait of herself on the easel. Her eyes met Samantha.

“You have destroyed everything, Samantha.” She shook her head. “The love you gave me you have now ripped from me.”

Samantha hesitated, not sure she wanted to move any closer. Lara smiled a weak smile at her.

“You are even afraid of coming to me. I could never harm you.”

A lump formed on Samantha’s throat. She couldn’t understand all the emotions that were wracking her mind. She wanted very much to hold Lara close.

She walked swiftly to the thin, pale woman in black and wrapped her arms around her, feeling the cold seep through every pore in her body. Confused and bewildered, she had a foolish thought.

She wished she could turn the clock back and forget everything about Lara Karnov. Move the hands all the way back to before she had ever set eyes on Lara.

“Lara, I do love you, but I can’t be what you are. I can’t do this.”

Lara pulled back to look at her. “You are the chosen one.”

“No, I’m not. And if I am, maybe you don’t need me anymore.”

As her voice died in the room, she thought of the many times those words had been drilled into her. Goodbyes seemed to be scripted generic to all. Same words. Different cast.

Lara didn’t say a word. Instead, she walked away from Samantha, to stand before the fire.

“Samantha, I never told you everything about our-” she paused and turned her head sideways to look at Samantha. “I never explained everything about my way of life About the Karnovs. We can be hurt, you know. We can be destroyed.” Lara reverted her attention to the fire still burning hot in the fireplace.

Samantha wondered silently about Carmen outside. She might be coming to any moment. Sam eyed the open door nervously.

“Fire, Samantha. The only thing that will consume us and send us to that eternal place of rest is fire. Just like humans. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Lara turned slowly to face Samantha and her face suddenly looked too thin, lips pale and drawn down in a sad contemplation.

“You were the chosen one, my dear Samantha. You have given me what I wanted most. In finding it, I have also found my salvation.” She shook her head gently. “The pain of giving up love for love’s sake is far worse than I imagined. Without me, Wilmon cannot find you. Perhaps this is all part of the prophecy. Perhaps this was all destined to occur. Goodbye, Samantha, my love.”

Something in her eyes and voice scared Samantha. She heard the sound of shuffling feet just outside the door. Carmen. Samantha ran to the open doorway to see Carmen stumbling her way towards her. She had to get Carmen safely away from here, make up another lie quickly.

When Carmen saw her, she put a hand to her head. “What the hell hit me? I just blacked out.”

Samantha pushed her back, away from the door.

“Go home, Carmen. I’m okay. I’m not in any kind of danger. We’ll talk later. I promise.”

Carmen didn’t look convinced. She kept looking inside the house. “Sam, this is all nuts. I’m not leaving until I get some answers. She’s a dangerous woman. I just don’t get it. You could be in danger if you stay here, besides, you distinctly said the name Lara instead of Sara. Sam, either you need help or your Sara is really...”

Samantha didn’t let her finish because suddenly, like a bomb in her head, the whole world burst into flames. The pain in her brain was like a chorus of shrieking voices—and Lara’s was the loudest. She ran away from Carmen and through the door, almost tripping, Carmen right behind her.

“Lara!”

She heard the crackling of the flames first and then the smell of smoldering flesh grabbed at her throat and made her nose burn. Lara had set herself on fire!

Her face, enveloped within the flames, looked out at Samantha, black eyes staring like coals within the fire.

“No!” The scream that had been building in Samantha’s throat roared out in a bloodcurdling shriek.

She ran frantically and picked up the throw on the couch. She had to do something to save Lara. She wanted to embrace the figure in flames. She wanted release in the searing fire, cleansing her of all that had tainted her. And she could be one with Lara.

But Carmen grabbed her from behind, holding her tight.

Samantha struggled as both she and Carmen watched, horrified, as the figure of walking fire rushed past them out into the cold of night.

“Let me go!” Samantha punched wildly at Carmen.

“Sam, stop! You can’t save her. She’s gone. It’s over.”

Samantha still insisted on release until finally, she jumped full force on Carmen’s toes. Carmen let go immediately, stepping back and cursing under her breath. Moving quickly, Samantha was gone out the door, running madly after Lara.

The sight of the burning figure ahead of her was something she would never forget. A living, breathing figure of fire dancing madly through the dark woods, sparks of fire flying behind it like doomed fireflies. Lara was heading down the path toward the beach. Toward the ocean.

“Stop, Lara!” Samantha was yelling so hard her throat felt like it would rip apart. There was no answer. Not even in her brain. The only sound that she heard was the surf splashing over rocks. They were getting closer to the beach.

Lara was slowing down as the path dipped down and the beach became visible. In the distance to their right, the rocky cliffs loomed blacker than the evening sky.

Pieces starting falling from Lara’s blazing body. Samantha pushed those horrifying images from her mind. She couldn’t afford to stop and think about what they could be. She just knew she had to catch Lara. Save her somehow. Behind her, she thought she heard footsteps. Carmen.

Samantha ran right past something that was still burning on the ground. Whatever it had been, the smell choked her. She coughed as she continued running downward. Lara was already on the beach. As Samantha cleared the final part of the path, she jumped onto the sand below.

It was colder here and the wind sent tiny little particles of sand into her face. She rubbed hard at her eyes, making it worse. Lara had stopped ahead of her. The wind was whipping the flames into a flickering frenzy. Samantha kept running until she was within feet of her, the intense heat radiating outward even at that distance.

Then suddenly the wind calmed. The crashing of the waves around them sounded like a roar. Samantha noticed that the flames were beginning to extinguish themselves, the blackened remains within still standing. Just as Samantha lurched awkwardly forward, still holding the throw in her hands, the figure of Lara collapsed.

Samantha stopped abruptly, hesitating just long enough to be tackled from behind. Carmen put both her arms around her, pinning Samantha’s arms to her side.

“Let her go, Sam! You can’t help her. She’s already dead.” Samantha didn’t fight her. She had no strength left. No reason. Instead, she sank back against Carmen, feeling the warmth of Carmen’s body seep through her, and watched as the blackened, stick-like figure lying in the sand crawled its way toward the incoming surf. The flames that had burned so fiercely away at the life of Lara Karnov had been all but completely smothered. Only small, candle-like flickers still persisted, and those too were washed over as the rushing tide splashed over the black shape. What remained of Lara’s body was carried away, rolling over and over, out into the Atlantic.

Samantha fell slowly to her knees, feeling the cold, wet sand creep into her pants. There was silence. An almost unbearable silence. The quiet in her mind was deep. So used to Lara’s persistent presence, the emptiness was disturbing. Lara was gone. Dead. Inside her mind, Samantha fought hysteria.

Lara was a vampire. They didn’t do things like this. None of it made any sense. Vampires killed people. They took their blood and moved on. They didn’t take their own lives because they were rejected. It was all so crazy. So senseless.

Samantha could no longer control the emotions flooding through her. She sobbed, throwing her head back and crying out loudly into the wind. Carmen stood back, respectful of the emotional outpouring. Samantha looked out at the tide, coming and then slinking back into the mother ocean, taking everything it touched. Keep looking, she told herself. Lara could come back. She could be flung back out onto the beach like Venus on the half shell. She might still be alive. But reality intruded. A soft touch on her shoulder reminded her.

“Come on baby. It’s cold out here,” Carmen whispered softly into her ear.

Samantha was still swimming in confusion. Carmen was right. Lara wasn’t coming back. She knew it. Every part of her body, her mind, knew it. It was only her heart that insisted on holding on.

But the air had turned to ice and Carmen’s warm body behind her was inviting, pulling her away. Finally away from Lara. Samantha wiped her eyes and her face as she got up shakily, wrapping one arm across Carmen’s waist. Carmen put her arm around her and pulled her close as they began to walk back toward the path.

Working their way back to the house, Samantha couldn’t shake the feeling of unreality around her. Moments ago, Lara had been here, and now she was gone. She fought back the tears swelling in her eyes. The only comfort she knew was Carmen walking strong and sturdy next to her. Carmen who had always been there.

As they approached the house, Samantha felt the muscles in her stomach tighten and her nerves twisted inside. Everything would lead to Lara inside that house. The painting still stood right where she had created it. The image of Lara standing in her favorite place in front of the bay window…

She stopped abruptly, right before going in the door. Carmen looked down at her.

“Carmen…I don’t think I can go inside…I…can’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I understand. We’ll go to my place. You can stay as long as you like. As long as it takes.”

And then Samantha changed her mind. She couldn’t be this weak. She couldn’t let these emotions control her life anymore. This was her house. It had been her house before Lara Karnov. And before that, it had been her parents’ home. Family memories dwelled there too.

“No, Carmen. I mean, thank you, for offering. But I have to face this now.” She actually offered a weak smile to Carmen. “Will you come with me, though?”

“I’m glued to you honey, don’t you worry.”

And, of course, the painting of Lara still stood on the easel in front of the bay window. Taking her eyes quickly away from it, Samantha looked toward the fireplace.

The fire had died out; even the carpet was only mildly singed. Her nose could no longer detect the smell of Lara burning. She shook her head to clear the disturbing images and reached out for Carmen’s hand behind her.

“Maybe I should work on the bank commission painting. You know, it’s been so long.”

She went to her table where she kept all her drawings and works in progress and dazedly began to fumble through them, all the time avoiding looking at the oil painting on the easel.

“I don’t remember where I put it.”

Carmen took her hands and stopped her. She pulled Samantha back towards her.

“We’re not staying here. We’re going to my place and I can get you whatever you need from here. Your paints, your canvases, whatever. Create your art at my place. At least until you’re ready to come back home.” Hers was the voice of reason. Always.

Samantha looked deep into Carmen’s eyes, studied her beautiful face. How could she have been so wrong? Why had she closed herself to Carmen?

“Take me away from here, Carmen.”

EPILOGUE

The months that passed seemed like seasons, and the spring came stealing in like a welcomed thief. Winter melted away, leaving her soul struggling to plant new life, to grow and heal.

Samantha had been able to move back into her home. Pick up almost where she left off. The painting for the bank was a thing of beauty, a stunning testimony to her talent. To her strength. And to the love she found for Carmen. The blood lust, the hunger for human blood, disappeared from her system. Yet she lived in constant fear that it might return. She didn’t know what she would do if she remained so close to Carmen and that sick need reared its ugly head again.

The Karnov name and legacy had disappeared from Bayton Isle. Nothing remained to cast shadows or unbidden memories.

Carmen put her shop up for sale. After discussing it, they both decided to leave the Isle. Carmen would set up a new bike shop in Key West, expand into mopeds even. Samantha couldn’t make the decision to sell her home so easily. The property was valuable and holding on to it would only increase its worth for the future. It would just have to wait for her to decide. Wait for her to forget.

Carmen tried very hard never to bring any of it up. But she didn’t need to try so hard. There were secrets in Samantha’s heart that belonged only to her. And to Lara. Her memories were not something she could selectively choose to dismantle and store away in some attic or basement.

And there were things passed on to her. Lara’s blood still ran inside her and gave her life. And even though she felt complete and satisfied with Carmen, she couldn’t help feeling that a piece of her still belonged to Lara.

In the quiet of their nights, as they lay wrapped in each other’s bodies, Samantha’s ears were still aware. Open to the sounds that Carmen could never hear, would never hear. The laughter of the moon. The smile of the raccoon. The clapping of the owl. And sometimes, when she walked alone down the beach, she thought she could see a dark, shrunken form rising from the swirling waves. But there was nothing there.

Today, on the last day they would spend on Bayton Isle, Samantha sat on the sandy beach, arms hugging her legs close to her chest. She should have been helping Carmen finish packing, but something called her here. The rushing waves splashed toward her, sending a foamy line of water up to her toes.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Carmen came up from behind and wrapped her arms around Samantha, snuggling her face into her hair.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have been helping. I just…” Samantha leaned back into Carmen and brushed her hand over Carmen’s cheek.

“Is it too soon, Sam? Are you ready to leave?”

“I want to be where you are.”

Carmen kissed her on the cheek. “And I want you to be where you’ll be happy. Safe.” She looked out into the waves smashing into the rocky shore.

“Do you feel safe? Do you want to be with me?”

“You’ve never been a safe woman, baby.” Carmen smiled down at her.

“There is so much I didn’t know about her.”

“She isn’t in our life anymore.” Carmen’s smile faded. “Is she?”

Samantha turned around and kissed her full on the mouth. “I hear you can work up a sweat even in winter in Key West. So what are we waiting for?”

the end