Prologue

 

A dense fog rolled into the Port of Houston shortly before midnight on December 23, 2015. A few minutes later, the bow of the eight hundred foot, trans-Atlantic, cargo vessel Constanţa Catarg emerged from the fog like a ghost ship and docked at the Woodhouse Terminal in the Houston Ship Channel at twelve-thirteen a.m. It was Christmas Eve, but the mood aboard the vessel was anything but festive. Of the thirty-six crewmen who left Constanţa, Romania, only twenty-nine survived the crossing.

 

~ * ~

 

The twenty-one-day voyage began with every sailor’s dream conditions—clear skies and calm seas. But this wasn’t to last. One day into the voyage, a persistent fog enveloped the vessel like a cocoon. With the technology aboard the Constanţa Catarg, the fog was less a hindrance to navigation than it was to morale aboard the vessel.

The first crewmember who went missing, Marku Bălan, the ship’s boatswain, disappeared before the vessel exited the Black Sea through the Bosphorus Strait. His body was found two days later in a forward cargo hold. The ship’s doctor, Anton Zaharia, performed the postmortem examination. Cause of death was easy to diagnose. Marku’s head faced backwards as if twisted violently. What wasn’t easy to explain was the complete lack of blood in Marku’s body. It had been drained. Although rats feasted on his remains for two days, a wound on Marku’s upper, inner, right thigh was especially grievous and large. Whether it resulted from one massive bite or a particularly enticing area that many rats had nibbled at since Marku’s death, Dr. Zaharia could not tell. Dr. Zaharia, conditionally, ruled Marku’s death accidental and his body was placed in the ship’s freezer.

As the vessel sailed the Aegean Sea, south of Greece, a second crewmember died under mysterious circumstances. Nicolæ Şerban, the ship’s chief engineer, left the mess hall after enjoying a meal of slănina afumată, sarmale, cartofi copți, and mămăligă cu brânză și smântnă—smoked bacon, cabbage rolls, baked potatoes, and corn meal with salty cheese topped with sour cream. Six hours later, his body was discovered behind one of the ship’s boilers. Like Marku’s body, Nicolæ’s head faced backwards, his body was drained of blood, and there was a grievous wound on his upper, inner, right thigh. Because Nicolæ’s body was discovered shortly after he went missing, rats hadn’t had time to nibble at his remains. This gave Anton an opportunity to examine the undisturbed thigh wound. Aside from being larger than expected, the wound resembled a human bite. Nicolæ’s death was ruled non-accidental, Dr. Zaharia lacked the forensic training necessary to rule it a homicide, and his body was placed in the ship’s freezer with Marku’s body.

News, and the circumstances, of the second crewman’s death traveled throughout the ship’s remaining crew quickly. Rumors circulated that the vessel and voyage were cursed. Whispers of ‘vampir’ were exchanged in secret and crosses hung from chains around crewmen’s necks migrated from beneath their shirts to be displayed on top of their shirts.

Like clockwork, every three days, another crewmember went missing. The third crewmember to succumb to the phantom menace was Dr. Anton Zaharia. As it turned out, they would not need his services for future deaths. They found no more bodies. They simply disappeared. As if they never existed.

The remaining crewmen took it upon themselves to search the ship in groups of three or more for the unseen evil, but to no avail. The bowels of the ship were bathed in perpetual darkness with only artificial light to chase away the shadows. The lack of sunlight created perfect hunting conditions for the unseen presence. All the crew members ever saw of their hunter was a shadow blacker than the ever-present surrounding darkness. All the crew members ever heard of their hunter was the faint flutter of leathery wings.

They heard the screams, though. Suddenly, and without warning, one of the roving group members would vanish in the blink of an eye. Within seconds of the disappearance, a startled scream would emanate from what seemed an impossibly long distance from where they were taken. The screams always ended abruptly; as if they were swallowed by whatever unseen evil haunted them.

Toward the end of the twenty-one-day voyage, the remaining crewmen remained huddled in their sleeping quarters. Regular maintenance on the Constanţa Catarg went undone, and the ship fell into disrepair. Except for the captain, Costel Alexandrescu, who remained steadfast at the ship’s helm and seemed immune to the surrounding horrors. This led more than a few crewmen to speculate Captain Alexandrescu had purposefully cursed the ship, but mutiny wasn’t an option. The unseen evil had systematically eliminated the chief, second, and third mates. Captain Alexandrescu was the only person alive who could navigate the Constanţa Catarg.

 

~ * ~

 

The unseen evil that feasted on crewmen every three days since the voyage began wasn’t, as many suspected, a stowaway. Its passage was paid in full, and in cash, in Constanţa a day before the vessel departed for America.

The man who secured the passage, a tall, slender man in his early fifties with thinning blond hair and piercing blue eyes, introduced himself to Captain Alexandrescu as Dănuţ Roșca. He had very specific instructions about how the crates being shipped were to be handled. The four-foot wide by eight foot long by three-foot-deep wooden crate was to be secured, along with three smaller crates, in a large shipping container. Dănuţ paid extra for the unused portion of the shipping container without complaint. He insisted the shipping container be placed at the bottom of a stack in the middle of the cargo hold. Captain Alexandrescu agreed to Dănuţ’s shipping terms and oversaw the loading of the shipping container, number 5261897, himself.

After securing passage for the precious cargo, Dănuţ Roșca boarded a plane at Constanţa Mihail Kogălniceanu International Airport bound for Houston George Bush Intercontinental Airport. After landing in Houston, Dănuţ got into his 2015 black Cadillac Escalade and made the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Pine View, Texas. Dănuţ had three weeks to prepare for the Master’s arrival and much work still needed to be done.

 

~ * ~

 

Captain Alexandrescu remained unmolested by the unseen evil for the same reason the remaining crew refrained from mutiny. It needed him to navigate the Constanţa Catarg safely to its destination. Once the Constanţa Catarg docked at the Woodhouse Terminal in the Houston Ship Channel, the captain and remaining crew disembarked the vessel quickly. A final headcount revealed a seventh crewman taken since the previous headcount twenty-four hours earlier.

Flaviu Grigorescu was last seen entering the forward head earlier that evening. Captain Alexandrescu and two brave crewmen boarded the Constanţa Catarg to search for Flaviu. The head was locked from the inside. Captain Alexandrescu used his key to unlock the head door. It was empty, except for a single drop of blood in the sink basin. The captain and two crewmen disembarked from the Constanţa Catarg for the last time. None of the crew would ever board the cursed vessel again.

 

~ * ~

 

Captain and crew secured plane tickets and landed safely at Constanţa Mihail Kogălniceanu International Airport on Christmas day. Black Sea Crown Shipping, owner of the Constanţa Catarg, sent a replacement crew to navigate the vessel back to its home port in Constanţa. The return voyage was uneventful.

Shortly after the successful return of the Constanţa Catarg, Captain Alexandrescu was charged under maritime law with a lack of basic seamanship and dereliction of duty. All but three of the remaining crew were eager to point an accusatory finger at their former captain. When the guilty verdict was announced, Captain Alexandrescu didn’t protest, nor did he appeal.

He accepted the verdict because he knew he was guilty of the charges. He negotiated the shipping arrangements with Dănuţ Roșca and he pocketed the substantial fee. Although tempted to reveal the off the books deal with Dănuţ Roșca to his prosecutors, Costel Alexandrescu withheld the information. He didn’t withhold the dealing out of judicial self-preservation. Costel accepted his culpability in the murdered and missing crewmen. He did it out of fear. There was something about Dănuţ Roșca’s strong, cold handshake and piercing blue eyes that unnerved him. The man scared him.

In his twenty-six years as a captain, he had never accepted an off the books shipping arrangement, but he did so willingly when Dănuţ Roșca requested it. It was as if Dănuţ Roșca entered his mind and overpowered it. If it hadn’t been Dănuţ Roșca overpowering his mind, it had been whatever was in the secretive crate, and that thought unnerved Costel Alexandrescu even more.

To further Costel’s internal guilt, he knew in his heart that whatever was in the crate had been responsible for the murdered and missing crew. He had also been secure knowing, as long as the Constanţa Catarg was at sea, he was safe. Whatever was in the crate needed him to deliver it to America. Re-boarding the Constanţa Catarg after docking to search for the missing crewman took all his courage. He knew he was no longer needed and now expendable. But he owed it to the missing crewman to investigate.

When the guilty verdict was rendered, and the magistrate sentenced him to eight years in Aiud Prison, former Captain Costel Alexandrescu nodded at the magistrate. He nodded once more at his wife of thirty-one years, Oana, as they led him away in chains.

 

~ * ~

 

The longshoremen who unloaded the Constanţa Catarg witnessed none of the horrors the ship’s crew relayed in broken English as they scattered from the ship. By eight a.m. on Christmas Eve morning, the Constanţa Catarg’s cargo hold was empty.

Trucking company, freight train company, and destination of cargo determined shipping containers’ positions throughout the Woodhouse Terminal docks. Per the stevedore’s instruction, one blue shipping container, number 5261897, was set apart from the other containers. Also, per the stevedore’s instruction, the container was oriented with the doors facing north, so the back end faced the southern sunlight.

This container had not been on the Constanţa Catarg manifest. Chuck Kowalski, the stevedore, pocketed a substantial sum of money from Dănuţ Roșca to navigate the rogue shipping container through customs without raising alarm. Like Captain Costel Alexandrescu, Stevedore Chuck Kowalski had never accepted a bribe to facilitate illegal activities. He was a dedicated longshoreman who began as a casual worker and, once he was added to the union books, worked his way up the union ladder from dock worker to foreperson. After several years as a foreperson, he was promoted to stevedore. Every step earned with hard work and honesty, but something about Dănuţ Roșca had him nodding and holding out his hand for the stack of bills before he knew he’d agreed to help him.

Before leaving the docks, after a long night of work, Chuck approached shipping container 5261897. The morning was cool and clear as the rising sun chased the night chill away. The shipping container seemed colder than the surrounding air, though. And it looked like the container was vibrating, too. It had a blur to its edges. Chuck put his ear against the cold metal and heard a slight humming sound from within. He listened closer, blocking out the surrounding sounds by plugging a finger in his other ear. The humming was rhythmic and soothing. He closed his eyes and let the hum lull him. He could feel the hum. It was around him and in him.

Then a whispered thought, in a foreign tongue, entered his mind, Intrați înăuntru.

Somehow, Chuck knew what the words meant, “Come inside.”

Chuck moved, as if in a trance, to the shipping container doors. A padlock he didn’t have a key to secured the doors. As he looked at the lock, dumbfounded by its presence, it clicked open and fell to the ground. Chuck opened the doors. It was dark inside the container, but Chuck saw a large wooden crate and three smaller crates. He moved inside and closed the doors behind him. As soon as the doors closed, he heard nails screeching as they extracted from wood. Then he heard a hiss. He wasn’t alone.

A whispered thought, more powerful than the previous one, echoed in his brain as if it were echoing off the container’s metal walls, Întoarce-te și vezi-mă.

Again, Chuck knew what the words meant, “Turn around and see me.”

Not wanting to, but unable to resist the command, Chuck turned around. The interior of the shipping container was ink black. He strained his eyes, trying desperately to see the source of the command. Narrow, silver eyes flashed in the darkness.

 

~ * ~

 

On any other Thursday morning, Luke Matthews would have been behind the wheel of his delivery truck and well on route to his first destination by nine a.m. It was Christmas Eve and his boss, AJ Davenport, graciously closed Port City Trucking to allow his employees an extended Christmas weekend. Although not driving his truck, a truck was involved with his current activities. A Tonka truck.

Luke sat on the living room floor, beside a decked-out Christmas tree, with his three-year-old son, Aiden. Aiden pushed a Tonka truck, while Luke made all the necessary rumbling sounds. Aiden giggled at his dad’s truck sounds while he pushed the Tonka truck around and tried, unsuccessfully, to imitate the rumbling sounds his dad made. Luke’s wife, Rachel, sat on the couch watching the two men in her life play and laughed along with Aiden.

“Come play with us, Mommy,” Aiden squealed.

“Yeah. Come play with us,” Luke said playfully. “It’s twenty-fifteen. Girls can play with boy toys now.”

“It’s more fun watchin’ you two goofballs,” Rachel giggled.

“I’m not a gooball.” Aiden giggled. “Daddy’s a gooball,” he added and fell into a fit of laughter.

Luke began to respond when his cellphone rang on the nearby coffee table. After picking it up, he saw the source of the call.

“It’s AJ,” Luke told Rachel.

Rachel shook her head. “No. Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

Luke answered the call. “No. Whatever it is, the answer is no. This comes from my boss.”

“I’m your boss,” AJ replied.

“Not when I’m home and not on my day off. Rachel’s my home boss.”

AJ chuckled. “Just hear me out.”

“I’m listenin’.”

“I have a delivery that needs to be made today. Pickup is at the Woodhouse Terminal and delivery is Pine View, Texas. Four crates. Six hour round trip.”

“C’mon, AJ,” Luke said. “Ya gave us the day off. I’m enjoyin’ my morning playin’ with Aiden.”

“You can continue enjoyin’ your mornin’ playing with Aiden,” AJ said. “The client specified delivery for after six o’clock this evenin’. Head north by three and you’ll be home by nine, ten at the latest.”

“Ya got seven other drivers. Why me?”

“You’re my best driver, Luke.”

“In other words, everyone else turned ya down,” Luke said.

“No. I’m bein’ serious, Luke,” AJ said. “The best part is that you get paid five thousand bucks.”

“Five thousand for six hours’ work?” Luke said intrigued. “What’s the catch?”

Upon hearing this, Rachel, who sat on the couch shaking her head disapprovingly since the conversation began, stopped shaking her head.

“No catch,” AJ said. “I just need someone I can trust to make the delivery after six o’clock.”

“Hold on a sec,” Luke said as he tapped the mute icon.

“What do you think?” Luke asked Rachel.

“I think five thousand dollars is a lot of money and that we can use it.”

“So, I should deliver the crate?”

Rachel nodded.

Luke tapped the mute icon again. “I’ll do it.”

Clearly relieved, AJ said, “Great. You’ll need a small box truck, and I have the Woodhouse Terminal contact for you. You’ll be dealin’ with Chuck Kowalski.”

“I know Chuck,” Luke said. “I’ll let him know to expect me about three.”

Luke ended the call and put in a few more hours of quality time with Aiden and Rachel before leaving to make the delivery.

 

~ * ~

 

A little after three o’clock, Luke drove into the Woodhouse Terminal and parked beside the small building that served as the stevedore’s office. Before he could get out of the truck, the passenger door opened, and Chuck Kowalski climbed into the cab.

Chuck was an imposing man. He’d spent his entire adult life as a longshoreman on the Houston Ship Channel docks, and it showed. He wasn’t tall, but he was thick. Not fat, thick. He had massive shoulders, arms, and hands. Luke thought Chuck would make a good dwarf in one of those Hollywood movies that kept coming out, but Chuck didn’t look himself that afternoon. To Luke, Chuck looked drained. His tan skin appeared ashen, and he had dark bags under his eyes. Luke chalked it up to overwork and followed Chuck’s directions to the lone shipping container.

After arriving at the container, Luke let Chuck open it. They stepped inside and the smell of decay overwhelmed Luke. As quickly as the putrid smell hit him, it was gone. And Luke didn’t find that the least bit strange.

With the use of two pallet jacks, Luke and Chuck maneuvered the large crate to the back of the box truck and onto the hydraulic lift. After the short ride up the lift, they used the pallet jacks to position the crate over the rear axles, where Luke secured it with two ratchet straps. Then they moved the three smaller crates inside the truck and secured one on each side of the large crate and one in front of it. The pallet jacks belonged to PCT and Luke secured these as well. With the cargo loaded, he and Chuck climbed out of the truck into fresh air Luke hadn’t been aware he had missed.

Once the back of the box truck was closed, Luke and Chuck stepped away and into the afternoon sunlight. It felt good to Luke, but he noticed Chuck wince and squint his eyes. He also noticed a few drops of blood on Chuck’s shirt collar, but he chalked this up to a messy shave.

After several seconds of awkward silence, and nothing forthcoming from Chuck, Luke said, “Don’t I have to sign somethin’ sayin’ I’m takin’ this outta here?”

Chuck shook his head slowly. “Not on this one. This one’s a special delivery.”

He smiled and Luke saw blood on his teeth.

“You okay, Chuck?” Luke said. “Ya look…tired. And there’s blood on your teeth.”

“I am tired, and I got bad gums,” Chuck said angrily. “Any other shit ya wanna point out?”

“Whoa there, Chuck,” Luke said and took a step back. “Just a little concerned. Point taken. Strictly business now. Ya got the delivery slip?”

Chuck winced again, as if his own words assaulted him.

His features softened. “Sorry, Luke. I don’t know where that came from. I must be tired. I lost about three hours earlier today. I woke up in that damn shippin’ container with no memory or clue why I was in it. Here’s the delivery slip.”

Luke took the pink paper that had a yellow sheet behind it and looked it over quickly. He knew how to get to Pine View, but not where in Pine View to deliver the crates. He spotted the address and the establishment’s name. Eternal Rest Funeral Home, care of Dănuţ Roșca. Suddenly, the size of the crate made perfect sense.

“It’s goin’ to a funeral home,” Luke said. “Ya figure there’s a coffin in that crate?”

“If it is a coffin, it ain’t empty,” Chuck said. “That’s a heavy crate.”

“Better not be a fuckin’ body in there,” Luke said. “That shit gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

Chuck chuckled. “Whatever it is, it’s your problem now. Safe travels, Luke.”

Luke checked his watch and saw it was almost three-thirty. “Yeah, I better get goin’. I wanna be back in time to put my son’s Santa gift together. I got him one of those drivable, battery powered Tonka dump trucks. I doubt the furniture will survive, but he’ll have fun wreckin’ the place.”

The two men shook hands. Chuck’s large hand felt cold in Luke’s. They parted company and Luke headed north to Pine View.

Before Luke left in the truck, Chuck received a last whispered thought, Ucide-te.

Chuck went home and, following the foreign tongue command he understood perfectly, put the barrel of his single-shot shotgun in his mouth.

Chuck translated the whisper thought aloud, “Kill yourself.”

He pulled the trigger, and his world went dark. No narrow, silver eyes flashed in the dead dark.

 

~ * ~

 

It was almost seven o’clock when Luke pulled into the Eternal Rest Funeral Home parking lot. Houston traffic, even on Christmas Eve, had been a bitch on Highway Fifty-Nine North. Once north of Cleveland and clear of the traffic, he pushed it on the speed limit. Not because he was running late with the delivery. It was to be delivered after six o’clock, not at six o’clock. He was in a hurry because he wanted to get home and put Aiden’s Christmas present together.

There was a late model, black Cadillac Escalade in the parking lot and a black hearse, also a Cadillac, parked beside the building under a covered area. As Luke brought the truck to a stop, a tall, slender man emerged from a door behind the hearse and motioned for Luke to drive around back. When he got to the back of the funeral home, he saw two large garage doors. He backed the truck in front of the one on the right, secured the parking brake, and killed the engine.

As Luke stepped out of the truck, the tall, thin man appeared, as if out of nowhere, and startled him so badly his boot slipped off the truck step. Luke thought he was headed for an embarrassing tumble to the asphalt, but the tall, thin man grabbed him by the arm, strongly but not roughly, and easily righted him.

“Thanks,” Like said appreciatively. “I thought I was gonna end up on my ass.”

“You are most welcome,” Dănuţ said with a skeletal smile in an accent Luke couldn’t place. “I am just pleased that you are here.”

“I’ll be pleased when I’m headed south again. Are you…Dannut Rosca?”

The tall, thin man chuckled. “I am he. You can address me as Dan. I think that would be…easier. Yes?”

“Dan it is, then,” Luke said. “Ya got anyone here to help me unload the crates?”

“I will help you unload the crates.”

Luke eyeballed the tall, thin man and had reservations. Then he remembered how easily Dan had righted his fall and how strong his grip was. The reservations evaporated.

“Okay, then. I’ll get the crates unstrapped and we’ll kick this pig.”

“Kick this pig?” Dănuţ asked with a grin.

“It’s an expression,” Luke said. “Means we’ll get it done.”

Dănuţ smiled, which made his face look skeletal. “By all means, then. Let us kick this pig.”

While Luke opened the box truck, removed the ratchet straps, retrieved the pallet jacks, and unfolded the lift gate, Dănuţ opened the large garage door.

“I can lower the lift and give you a ride up,” Luke offered.

“No need,” Dănuţ said as he effortlessly and gracefully leapt into the back of the box truck.

Luke began to explain how to use the pallet jack, but Dănuţ took one, rammed it under the large crate, and pumped the handle to lift it. Impressed, and realizing first impressions are often deceiving, Luke did the same at the other end of the crate. A few minutes later, the large crate and three smaller crates were inside the building.

The room was large and full of equipment Luke recognized from movies as tools used in the embalming process. But the embalming jugs were empty, and Luke didn’t smell chemicals he associated with the embalming process. Not that he’d know what they smelled like, but the lack of any smells struck him as odd.

Luke inadvertently shuddered. Dănuţ saw this and chuckled.

“You are uncomfortable here?” Dănuţ asked.

“Yeah,” Luke said nervously. “This crap gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Heebie-jeebies?”

“It means…uncomfortable.”

“I have so much to learn about your language,” Dănuţ said. “You have educated me with the kicking of pigs and the heebie-jeebies, though. For this, I thank you.

“Young man, you have nothing to fear from the dead,” Dănuţ continued. “They are no more and no longer a concern for this world.”

Luke shuddered again. “I know you’re right, but I’d like to get your signature and payment so I can get back on the road.”

Dănuţ smiled his skeletal smile again. “Of course. You have fulfilled your obligations splendidly. I will sign your paper and pay you for a job well done.”

Dănuţ produced a bundle of cash from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Luke. When Luke handed Dan the paperwork, he placed it on top of the crate, quickly scribbled an unreadable signature, and handed it back to Luke. Luke separated the pink copy from the yellow copy and handed the pink copy to Dănuţ.

“Come,” Dănuţ said as he extended his long arm toward the large garage door. “I will show you out and help you load the pallet jacks,”

Luke hesitated briefly. “None of my business, unless there’s somethin’ illegal in those crates, but…is there a coffin in the large crate?”

Dănuţ smiled wider than he previously had, which made him look even more skeletal. “Yes. An ancient, ornate, and very special coffin. It was constructed in the year twelve hundred and fifteen. It is eight hundred years old and priceless. Would you like to see it?”

Part of Luke wanted to see the ancient coffin, but a bigger part of him wanted to get out of the death house and home to his family. He politely declined the offer. Fifteen minutes later, Luke merged onto Highway Sixty-Nine South, headed for Highway Fifty-Nine South and home.

 

~ * ~

 

Once the large garage doors were securely closed, and Luke on his way home, Dănuţ removed the crate lid. No tools were needed. The nail holes had widened by many removals during the voyage. The large crate contained a large, ornate coffin and the three smaller crates contained Romanian soil. Dănuţ reached into the crate and easily lifted the large, ornate coffin. He placed it delicately on the concrete floor and stepped back.

The coffin was a work of art. It had been constructed of solid black walnut and engraved with intricate scenes and images. The scenes were dark and disturbing. They displayed plagues, pestilence, beheadings, hangings, war, slaughter, death, and destruction. They included many winged monstrosities, snarling wolves, demons, ghouls, and undead creatures. The hardware that adorned the coffin, handles, hinges, and corner caps, were made of solid gold that shone under the harsh, florescent light.

“Sunteți acasă, Maestre. Rise, Dragoş Văduva.” Dănuţ shouted, which translated to “You are home, Master. Rise, Dragoş Văduva.”

The ornate coffin lid slowly opened and Dragoş Văduva stepped from the Romanian, home soil lining the bottom of the coffin onto American ground for the first time in his more than eight hundred years of existence.

 

 

Chapter One

 

A shadow, blacker than the surrounding darkness, drifted soundlessly through the dense East Texas forest south of Pine View. The sound of a woman laughing penetrated the otherwise silent night. The shadow shifted and turned in the direction from which the laughter came. Narrow, silver eyes flashed in the blacker darkness. With the faint flutter of leathery wings, the shadow dissolved into the mist and disappeared.

 

~ * ~

 

Melanie Zane started to get in her car after Midnight Mass when Paige Lambert came running up to her. Like Paige, Melanie was one of the MRB Massacre, as it was referred to afterwards, survivors. Because of their shared experience, faith, and singing, Melanie and Paige had become close friends in the recent months. As it did with anyone who shared that horrible night with her, interacting with survivors, Paige included, always triggered memories. Terrible memories.

Melanie’s therapist said she suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome. Her therapist also said she needed to power through these memories and find the joy of having survived what so many of her classmates had not. Her therapist also said there were no such things as werewolves and Melanie’s brain was playing tricks on her to cover up what really happened at the Mill Road Barn. So, what the hell did her therapist know?

In the seconds it took Paige to close the distance between them, Melanie’s mind transported her back to that horrible night. The sights, the sounds, and the smells came back to her in crystal clarity. She was just outside the MRB’s only working door when the nightmare creatures attacked.

 

~ * ~

 

Two of them came out of the surrounding woods, and the screams followed. Melanie watched in horror as one werewolf dragged Maggie Crawford from a car parked close to the bonfire and tossed her into the flames. She saw Maggie’s long, blonde hair burst into flames and swallow her head in an orange ball of fire. Maggie’s screams of pain and horror were like nothing Melanie had ever heard. She watched as Maggie, clothes on fire too, crawled out of the fire. Her bald head looked like a black canvas with rivers of blood-red lava bubbling up between the cracks. Then the werewolf picked Maggie up by the head with one large hand. The blackened skin on her head cracked and peeled away as the beast’s clawed fingers dug into her skull. Blood gushed over her face. The beast rammed its left hand into Maggie’s chest, extracted her heart, and woofed it down in a single bite. Maggie finally stopped screaming. When the werewolf tossed Maggie’s lifeless body into the fire, it moved toward Melanie. With nowhere to go, Melanie backed into the MRB.

Once inside, Melanie realized she was trapped. The werewolf that murdered Maggie entered the building and a second one joined the first seconds later. Melanie huddled with the other frightened students as the two werewolves paced back and forth, almost nervously, in front of the only exit, as if they waited for something to happen.

Several minutes into the ordeal, a crashing sound came from inside the upstairs Wood Room—the room where horny teens went to release sexual energy. One werewolf leapt up the stairs with incredible speed and agility. It crashed through the door.

Melanie heard a girl scream in horror and then a boy screamed, “Don’t fuckin’ touch her.”

She recognized the boy’s voice. It belonged to Freddy Colburn. Seconds later, Freddy’s body crashed through one of the Wood Room’s windows in a shower of glass. He hit the concrete floor with a thud and blood immediately begin spreading around the back of his head like a halo. Then the werewolf leapt from the Wood Room with a battered and bruised girl under one of its arms. The girl was Ella Patterson, who was the late Freddy Colburn’s girlfriend.

Melanie and the other trapped classmates remained huddled around Freddy’s body for what seemed like hours, but had only been minutes, while the two werewolves continued to pace in front of the exit. Then a yelp came from outside the barn and everyone, including the two werewolves, turned that way. A spilt second later, a piece of lumber sliced through the metal siding and skittered across the concrete floor. Murmurs and surprised shouts erupted from the students. The two werewolves growled loudly and advanced toward the piece of lumber that unexpectedly arrived. This was when Ella took off toward the opened door at a dead run, or as quickly as her battered body would carry her.

It was an ill-advised escape attempt and Melanie knew it wouldn’t work. Within a few steps of her run for freedom, Ella doubled over at the waist and Melanie and the remaining students got an eyeful of her exposed lady parts. Unluckily for Ella, the view was brief. One werewolf pounced on her, lifted her into the air by her head, and flung her across the building where the second werewolf waited. Ella let out a tortured scream when she hit the concrete floor, but the scream was cut off when the waiting werewolf plunged its clawed hand through her chest, ripped out her still beating heart, and woofed it down in one bite. Then the werewolf gave Ella’s body a tremendous kick that sent it flying. Her body landed face up on top of Freddy’s body with a sickening thud and blood sprayed up out of the ragged chest wound into Quincy Wiseman’s face. Quincy vomited beer and bile all over Freddy and Ella’s bodies.

It was too much for Melanie. After seeing her second heart extraction and consumption of the night, hearing Quincy retch was all it took to trigger her vomit reflux. Melanie doubled over. Seconds later she vomited supper and alcohol, three beers from Freddy’s keg, onto the concrete floor. Of all the horrific sounds the night had presented, the splat of her vomit hitting the concrete was the one that most haunted Melanie. It was her sound.

Seconds after killing Ella, the two werewolves jerked their heads toward the direction the yelp and piece of lumber came from. They looked at each other briefly and took off through the opened door at breakneck speed. Melanie, Quincy, and the others remained silent for several seconds, unsure as to their fate. Then, in unison, and as if unable to stop themselves, they moved toward the opened MRB door. Once outside, they headed left, toward the direction the werewolves had exited.

That was when Melanie saw Paige standing alone just inside the tree line of the surrounding woods. She was naked and covered in blood. Melanie saw Paige and Justine walk towards the woods earlier that night. That Justine was no longer with Paige led Melanie to believe he had met a similar fate to those of Maggie, Freddy, Ella, and several others whose disfigured bodies were strewn around the MRB grounds. And to Paige’s benefit, Melanie assumed, since Paige was alive, the blood covering her belonged to Justine.

 

~ * ~

 

These thoughts raced through Melanie’s mind in the short time it took Paige to close the distance between them. For all the horrors that night had created, Melanie was glad Paige survived. Although they had become good friends in the aftermath, Melanie never asked Paige why she was naked when she first saw her that night. She had a pretty good idea why, though. Adolescent love had run its course.

“Your singin’ was beautiful tonight, Paige,” Melanie said when the two were close enough to talk without shouting.

“Thanks. I was so nervous.”

“It didn’t show at all,” Melanie said and smiled. “Well…maybe at first, but ya powered through. Where’s Lindsey? I thought she might be here tonight.”

Lindsey had been Paige’s best friend since kindergarten and sister of Paige’s boyfriend, Justin, who was killed by the alpha werewolf the night of the MRB Massacre. Since Lindsey had usually been at Paige’s side, she didn’t find the question odd.

“Her folks prefer Christmas Mornin’ Mass,” Paige explained. “She was gonna come with me tonight, but…after everything that happened, her folks wanted her with ‘em Christmas Mornin’.”

Melanie nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“As for my nerves,” Paige continued. “My grandpa has a sayin’ that fits. I was puckered so tight ya couldn’t drive a needle up my butt with a sledgehammer.”

At hearing this saying, Melanie laughed loudly, and the laugh seemed amplified in the otherwise silent night.

Just as Melanie laughed, Paige’s dad, and county sheriff, Garrett Lambert, pulled up in his personal truck.

When Paige opened the door to get in, Melanie said, “Merry Christmas, Mister Garrett. You too, Miss Mandy.”

Garrett waved and together, he and Mandy said, “Merry Christmas to you too, Melanie.”

A big smile spread across Melanie’s pretty face. “I think it will be. Now that…ya know.”

Garrett knew.

Garrett gave Melanie a reassuring smile. “I think you’re right. Want me to wait until you get in and get started?”

Melanie shook her head. “No, sir. Thank you, though. I like to sit in my car and reflect a little after Mass.”

“Ya sure?” Garrett asked.

Melanie nodded. “I’m sure. Thank you, though.”

Paige chimed in with, “She’ll be okay, Daddy.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Garrett nodded and gave Melanie a wave.

“I’ll call ya tomorrow,” Paige said and shut the truck door.

As Garrett idled away at a snail’s pace, Melanie got into her car and started the engine. She turned on and up the heater and waited for the engine to warm up enough to warm the air blowing on her feet. She looked in her review mirror and saw Mr. Garrett slowly driving on the gravel road that led to County Road Five Eighty-Eight, which was the only exit from St. Joseph’s Catholic Church.

Melanie knew Mr. Garrett hadn’t liked leaving her alone after midnight in the deserted church parking lot. She wasn’t worried. The “you know,” werewolves, were behind them. The church parking lot was so peaceful late at night, and the heater had finally warmed up.

She looked out the windshield at the church graveyard. A mist was forming on the ground, but she could still clearly see the granite markers for her paternal family plot. At the center of plot stood an eight-foot-tall obelisk with ‘ZANE’ written vertically on all four sides. Smaller markers designated the resting place of several Zanes going back four generations. Her mom and dad would be buried there in the future, too.

 

~ * ~

 

A shadow stood just inside the tree line that surrounded the cursed, hallowed ground of the small church and watched as the people in the parking lot dispersed and left. Except for a young woman who remained alone sitting in her car. The vampire had fed well on the hardy stevedore, Chuck Kowalski, earlier that day, so hunger wasn’t what drew him to the woman’s laughter. He had much more elaborate plans for the young woman. She would become the first of his American nor. His American cloud.

Before seeping out of the woods for the, hopefully, unconsecrated ground of the parking lot, Dragoş sent Dănuţ a telepathic command to come to him. Then he placed a barefoot, with gnarled, long, yellowed toenails, onto the gravel that covered the church parking lot. No burning discomfort came. Dragoş smiled and revealed needle-sharp upper fangs.

Had the parking lot been consecrated ground, Dragoş would have had to wait for Dănuţ to arrive and bring the young woman to him. Because the church parking lot had not been consecrated ground, Dragoş could enjoy giving the gift of eternal undead life to the young woman without an audience. He found the one-on-one method much more intimate. Dragoş eased out of the woods and melted into the mist covering the parking lot.

 

~ * ~

 

Lost in thought, and mesmerized by the beautiful, full moon in the cloudless sky that turned the graveyard mist into a moving silver blanket, Melanie was unaware another nightmare closed in on her. A scratching sound that seemed to come from under the car pulled Melanie from her thoughts. The sound reminded her of when she ran over a metal band that had fallen off a big-rig’s load of lumber. It scrapped and screeched the length of her car’s undercarriage while she passed over it. She wasn’t moving, though.

Somethin’s under my car, Melanie thought.

With that thought, Melanie decided it was time to head for home. Just as she put her hand on the gearshift to put her car in reverse, a thunk issued from somewhere under the hood and her car died.

“Not now.” Melanie shouted as she tried, unsuccessfully, to restart her car.

At first, she heard the starter grinding under the hood. Then there was another thunk and it died, too. After that, all she got were helpless clicks when she turned the key.

Frightened, Melanie reached for her handbag on the seat that had her cellphone tucked safely inside. She relaxed a bit when she felt the familiar object in her trembling hand. She relaxed even more when she pulled the cellphone free of the handbag and had it in front of her. Then she couldn’t remember why she’d been frightened or why she wanted to call her parents to come help her. She looked out at the beautiful, silvery blanketed cemetery and exhaled a deep, calm breath that fogged the windshield in front of her. She wasn’t the least bit startled when a large, black shadow rose in front of her car.

 

~ * ~

 

Dragoş looked down at the beautiful young woman who sat calmly in the car. Although not as powerful a link as Dragoş had with Dănuţ, who had been his familiar for decades, Dragoş reached out telepathically to calm the young woman. That she was lost in deep thought seconds before he reached out made it all the easier for him to invade the calm part of her mind. Now that he had direct eye contact with her, she was mesmerized to his every will.

Come to me, Dragoş willed her.

 

~ * ~

 

Melanie saw two silver slits that looked like eyes materialize in the large, black shadow in front of the car and they replaced the calm feeling she experienced with a need to serve the shadow. When the command to come to it echoed in her mind, she didn’t question or resist it. She stepped out of her car and into a night that was no longer cold, although she could still see her warm breath plume in front of her face. As she neared the large, black shadow, it extended impossibly long arms to each side and blacked out the cemetery behind it. Melanie stepped into the shadowy blackness. It closed its arms and engulfed her.

A raspy voice whispered, “You will be the first of my cloud in this new land. It is a great honor.”

“Yes, Master,” Melanie whispered. “I am yours.”

Melanie looked up into the penetrating, silver eyes that seemed to illuminate the darkness within the shadows. A beautiful face looked down at her. He had a firm chin and high cheekbones. His skin was almost the color of ivory and appeared translucent. His lips were a deep shade of red, made deeper by the contrast with his flawless ivory skin. The hair falling from under the cowl was long, light brown, and curly. It framed his handsome face perfectly. The silver in his eyes was replaced with a deep, crystal blue that Melanie felt she could dive into and never hit bottom.

He looked like a prince, and she was eager to serve him. Melanie tilted her head to the right and exposed her slender neck. When she felt his soft, cold lips close on her neck, she shuddered as she experienced her first orgasm. Her knees buckled, but the powerful prince held her tight. When his needle, sharp fangs penetrated the soft flesh of her neck, Melanie moaned and held the prince tighter as he consumed her life blood.

Even as Melanie faded, and she realized the prince would consume her completely, she didn’t struggle. If her life was the cost of serving him, she would gladly give it. She felt weaker, and the cold came back to her. It wasn’t an external cold, though. The cold emanated from within her weakened body. The cold and the prince consumed her together, like an erotic dance between two new lovers.

Her vision closed in, and a blinding whiteness that threatened to consume her as well replaced the blackness. She fell into the comforting whiteness and drew her last breath.

 

~ * ~

 

Dragoş had eight hundred years’ experience of creating undead for his many clouds over the centuries. Although he didn’t have to show the young woman his younger visage, the way he looked when he was turned at twenty-two seasons eight hundred years ago, he still enjoyed the way women melted when they looked upon his youthful, princely beauty. Masquerading his true appearance took concentration, though. As he eagerly drank the young woman’s virgin blood, he removed the masked deception. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d never put the princely mask on. He had her mesmerized. She would worship his true appearance after the transformation.

 

~ * ~

 

Dragoş was the oldest vampire in existence. There were others that had been older, but they had all been hunted down and killed. In life, Dragoş was a young prince of a fiefdom in Transylvania. Had he lived, he would have become king on his father’s passing. In death, Dragoş was the king of vampires, but he was more than that. He was godly. A God of the undead realm. His realm spread much farther than a fiefdom in Transylvania. The world was his realm, and America his new playground.

 

~ * ~

 

As Dragoş fed on the virgin blood, he remained vigilant of her heartbeat. What began strong and rapid slowed to a few beats per minute. Dragoş stopped feeding seconds before he felt her strong, young heart stop. She exhaled a chilly breath and expired. It was time to bring her back. It was time to make her one of his undead cloud.

Dragoş extended his right arm and easily cradled the young woman’s dead body in the crook of his elbow. With his left hand he pealed back the black cloak and ran a long, gnarled thumbnail across his right nipple. Thick black blood oozed from the wound. He pressed the young woman’s face against his bleeding nipple and forced his blood into her slack mouth. Within a few seconds, he felt her tongue move. A few seconds later and the young woman greedily suckled his nipple, like a newborn baby.

In a way, she was just that. Creating members of a cloud required a lot of patience and teaching. Dragoş was ready for this challenge. Young cloud members, never children, were so much more eager and willing to learn. Never children because they were impatient and became sexually frustrated as they aged in prepubescent bodies. Dragoş learned this lesson when he turned a nine-year-old girl. At the time, he was a young vampire. Only two-hundred and twenty-three years old. He dispatched the young vampire fifteen years into her undead existence, and never made that mistake again. Dragoş looked down at the beautiful, young, undead creature suckling at his nipple and smiled, which revealed his needle fangs. Although he wore his real, ancient face, the young beauty with translucent skin smiled back. Black blood leaked from the corner of her mouth and two perfect fangs protruded from beneath her upper lip. Dragoş would have fun with this one.

 

~ * ~

 

Melanie forgot about her beautiful prince and the cold that consumed her. The comforting whiteness was everywhere. It was around her and in her. She heard the familiar voices of her long-dead grandparents on her mother’s side and dead friends from the MRB Massacre, calling her name. She tried to go to the voices, but something held her back. A cold, coppery awareness filled her senses, and the whiteness dimmed. Melanie wanted the whiteness and the voices, but the copper sensation was so sweet. She had to have more of the copper nectar. She let the copper take her and the whiteness disappeared.

She opened her eyes and looked up at her Master while she hungrily suckled the wonderful, copper nectar from his stiff bleeding nipple. He looked ancient and weathered. Wrinkled and leathery skin, which was no longer ivory but still translucent, obscured his firm chin and high cheekbones. His lips were still a deep shade of red, but they sagged on either end, which gave him a perpetual frown. Unless he smiled. His long, light brown, and curly hair was replaced with wisps of long, stringy white hair that looked like spun cotton candy. He still had his deep, crystal blue eyes, which were locked on her now deep, crystal blue eyes. Melanie found her aged Master more beautiful than the young prince. The young woman who had been Melanie Zane in life had never felt more content than she felt while feeding from her Master.

 

~ * ~

 

Dragoş let his young fledgling feed for several minutes. He had plenty of blood to offer and she would need her strength. When he sensed Dănuţ was near, long before he heard the approaching hearse, he pulled the fledgling’s face away from his bleeding nipple. She hissed, but a stern look from Dragoş quieted her quickly. She stood there beside him, licking the blood from her lips and chin with an impossibly long tongue, and waited for further instructions.

When Dănuţ pulled into the church parking lot, he, instinctively, because he’d served the Master for several decades, backed the Cadillac hearse alongside of the car his master, and new cloud member, stood in front of. As he got out of the car, he was prepared for what came next. The fledgling hissed and lunged toward him, intent on drinking him dry. Without a spoken word, the fledgling immediately fell to the ground at the Master’s feet. Dănuţ knew he was off-limits to feed on and the new cloud would learn this quickly enough.

“What took you so long?” Dragoş hissed.

Dragoş didn’t think Dănuţ took any longer than it should have, but it was in the ancient vampire’s nature to inflict fear in people. Even his trusted familiar.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Master,” Dănuţ stammered. “I have not yet learned about the rural roads. It will not happen again.”

“See that it does not,” Dragoş said harshly. “You have work to do while I teach my new fledgling. Do you find her attractive?”

Dănuţ knew this was a trick question. If he said she was attractive, which she was, Dragoş would threaten him with loss of life for looking at her. If he said she wasn’t attractive, he would insult the Master’s taste, which could cause loss of life as well.

He answered as he always did. “She is of no interest to your human servant, Master. Dănuţ will do as he is ordered. No more. No less.”

Dragoş smiled, revealing his long, needle fangs. “There is a reason I have kept you around for such a long time, Dănuţ. Do you know what that reason is?”

The tall, slender man with thinning blond hair averted the Master’s stare and shook his head.

Dragoş looked down at the cowering man and laughed loudly. He wasn’t concerned anyone in the rural area would hear him. He’d used his substantial powers as an ancient vampire to blanket them from view and sound.

“I have kept you around because you are a loyal servant, Dănuţ. Do not fear me.”

Dănuţ looked up at his master and smiled a weak smile.

Dragoş ignored the human servant’s smile. “You have work to do. You must secure my new fledgling with proper accommodations and soil. I would help you, and make quick work of it, but I fear the cemetery is consecrated soil. I leave you to your work now.”

With that, Dragoş touched the fledgling on her face. With the faint flutter of leathery wings, they dissolved into black mist and disappeared.

Dănuţ knew his job. He had done it hundreds of times before. Consecrated ground or not, the Master never helped him. Dănuţ retrieved a shovel from the back of the hearse and headed into the cemetery. He hoped there were a recent burial. They were easier to dig. Within a few minutes, he found a few recent graves. He picked one, stabbed the shovel into the consecrated ground, and began digging.

 

~ * ~

 

Dănuţ returned to the Eternal Rest Funeral Home shortly before dawn and found the Master and fledgling waiting for him. The fledgling’s face and dress were covered in blood. Dănuţ knew what that meant. She’d had her first kill and feeding. Still, the stuffed fledgling eyed him like a tasty snack.

Dănuţ easily removed the fledgling’s new accommodations. A nice wood-grain coffin with plush, silk cushioning on the inside. The young man inside the coffin hadn’t decomposed to where his exposed flesh adhered to the silk, which made Dănuţ’s job easier. He placed it next to the master’s ancient, ornate coffin. Then he brought out several large bags of cool, wet soil he collected from outside the cemetery. He couldn’t risk killing the Master’s new fledgling by putting consecrated soil in her coffin. Dănuţ covered the plush, silk cushioning completely.

Satisfied with his work, Dănuţ stepped back and let the Master inspect it. Without saying a word, the Master held his long-fingered hand out to the fledgling. She took his hand, and he guided her into the soil-packed coffin. After she laid down, the Master stepped away and then into his coffin. Dănuţ closed both lids and readied himself for a busy day.

The last item on the Master’s list had almost been completed. Dănuţ walked to the side of the large, embalming room and moved a heavy metal table and cabinet from the wall. On the concrete floor behind the cabinet was a large, ragged hole. Dănuţ moved to the top of the hole and stepped into it. He landed in an enormous cavern he’d been excavating since he arrived in Pine View. The cavern would be the ultimate resting place for the Master’s coffin, and the coffins of his cloud. It would be his throne room. Dănuţ began digging again.