When we pull out of his mind, I also pull out of my daughter’s mind.

  Standing next to me, she hugs me tight, even as a bewildered Meinecroft staggers back to his damn portal and steps through. As he does so, he looks back at us once, blinking slowly, confused as hell.

  A moment later, the portal wavers, then disappears.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  I’m still thinking about Meinecroft and his merry band of vampire wannabees. Except, of course, they were real vampires.

  Real vampires, playing vampires they had seen on TV.

  Or something like that.

  What’s that old saying: “They know just enough to be dangerous.”

  I think it’s true in their case. I mean, many of them have been punished... and some even paid the ultimate price, as their dead bodies will attest... bodies that have already dried up into dust. That doesn’t always happen with vamps. But it has with these. My attacker only lost a hand. It will grow back with time, maybe in a week or so. Then again, I’ve never lost an appendage, so I’m a little in the dark on the details.

  Perhaps I’ll send Rand their way. If they are mostly not killing innocent people, then Meinecroft and his vamps should be fine. If they are killing the local villagers and bathing in their blood (or whatever old school vamps do from Europe), then they can deal with Rand and his crew.

  I spend the next few minutes transporting Terrance’s day crew back to camp. Now that it is evening, and the camp is in shadows, it’s not very hard for me to teleport the fellas back into their respective tents, though I might have gotten Tad and Scott’s wrong. Well, they can sort it out on their own.

  There is still the matter of Terrance’s and the pudgy wizard’s bodies, which Allison and Kingsley quickly dispose of in a nearby ravine, filling it in with rocks and debris. Kingsley wouldn’t let me touch the bodies out of some weird chivalric code to keep me from seeing the ugly side of death. Okay, fine. I really didn’t want to touch them anyway, truth be known. I am far from my own blood thirst days. Weirdly, he does not seem to care if Allison sees the ugly side of death.

  Guess that means he loves me.

  Back at the clearing, Warpath hasn’t moved a muscle. Eloa sits with him, her head on his mighty pectorals, one of her hands inside his upturned palm. Wait, did it just twitch? Hmm. Not sure.

  I move to stand next to Sentinel, who’s now squatting, elbows on his knees. One of his hands rubs his face over and over. His face, his flat nose even flatter. He has a wide forehead and pitch black eyes. I sense he’s too tired to do anything but squat there and listen. Shaggy fur hangs down around him, and the smell that wafts off him is, ah, earthy to say the least.

  Weirdly, I don’t hate the smell.

  And I’m pretty sure I’ve smelled it before, back at my childhood homestead in Northern California. Whoa, had I been around Bigfoot in my youth and hadn’t realized it? I mean, it makes sense. Northern California is home to the most famous sighting of all time. Though Sentinel and his brother, Warpath, are much, much bigger than the creature on film, they do look similar.

  “Can you open a portal into your home world now?” I ask aloud, my voice sounding raspy in the silence.

  He closes his eyes, tilts his head to one side, then nods. Yes, human. The block has been lifted. Thanks to you.

  “My pleasure. You are too weak to carry your brother through.”

  He nods again, but says nothing.

  “I’m pretty strong,” I say, “but not ‘lift a Bigfoot on my back and carry him through a portal’ strong.”

  What do you propose, human?

  “I can turn into something, ah, quite a good deal larger. It can help us.”

  I see the creature in your memory, human. Its help would be much appreciated.

  “Or we can wait for you to recover.” I suggest.

  He shakes his great head, nostrils flaring. Blood still dribbles from the wound at his shoulder. Your wolfman has injured me gravely, I’m afraid. There is poison in his bite, I fear. I, too, will need the attention of our shaman.

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  I initiated the fight. The wolf surprised me. The wolfman, however, surprised me most of all. A considerable foe. He studies me, black eyes flashing. Much of our kind are what you would consider good, perhaps even peaceful. But make no mistake, we will fight when we have to. By the way, the vampire was right. We have always known that our blood is a stimulant for the males of your earth. A weak man becomes strong. An older man becomes young at heart. And, I do believe, we can stimulate the immortals among you to reproduce again, including females, of course.

  He studies me in such a way that makes me step back. “Wait, are you implying...?”

  I am, Samantha Moon. You have helped my brother and me, and for that you have my eternal gratitude. Should you desire more offspring, you need only to return to my home world and find me or my kin, and we will address your needs.

  “I... I don’t know what to say.”

  His deep chuckle rattles my back molars. It is a lifelong offer, Ms. Moon. Claim it when and if you are ready for more little Moons.

  “I... thank you,” I say, truly at a loss for words.

  Another, wavering oval-shaped doorway suddenly appears before us, hovering a foot or two over the forest floor. Through it and beyond are what looks like more woods, but the trees inside are twisted and the sky above pinkish. It’s a small snapshot into another world, and I find myself enchanted by the opening. Of course, I had seen other worlds... even been to them... but it never gets old. I can appreciate the Sasquatches’ fascination for such interworld travels.

  When you and your dragon are ready, Samantha. My brother requires immediate care.

  With that, I summon the single flame and see Talos waiting within. A moment later, I’m moving toward him even as he rushes towards me. A moment of unsteadiness later and I’m suddenly fifteen feet off the ground.

  I lean over and, with some effort, heft the Bigfoot known as Sentinel into my arms, my clawed hands wrapping gently around him, and, along with Eloa, Allison, Kingsley and Tammy follow the slow-moving, wounded Warpath through the portal... and into another world. Yes, the air is breathable here, though I don’t have much use for it. Still, I taste it anyway.

  This is a colder world.

  A wetter world.

  A world full of more of the massive Sasquatch, each bigger than the next, a world of wooden structures, dirt paths, and thatched homes covering hillsides as far as the eye can see...

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Wait,” says Anthony. “You mean, you could get...?”

  He can’t bring himself to say anything that involves his mother’s reproductive process or lack thereof. “Yes, Anthony. I could get pregnant again.”

  He shudders a little, no doubt thinking about how I could get pregnant. I think about it too. Kingsley and I would both have to partake of the Sasquatch blood; that is, if we want a little one. And I kinda do. And no, I haven’t brought this up to him yet. It’s kind of a big deal. Been waiting for the right moment... if the moment ever comes. Still not 100% sure.

  I have no doubt the kid would be a superkid, and would fit right in with our little pack of wunderkinds.

  Would he or she be part vampire and part werewolf? I don’t know.

  Then again, I already had my superkid, complete with the Fire Warrior and future angel. But how super the kid would be isn’t the question, right? The real question is... do I want to do this all over again... and possibly have a child who could be with me through this long, long dark tea-time of the soul, as Douglas Adams calls it.

  That would be nice. Anthony might be that kid, anyway. But he also might live life as an angel someday (no joke), and I may never see him again. Or rarely see him. Or maybe he would be a clingy angel, though I doubt it. Anthony is destined for great things—good things. I know my time with him here is short.

  “Why are you crying, mama?” he asks, reaching out and taking my hand.

  “No reason, just love you.”

  “I love you, too. So, are you gonna have more kids someday?”

  “I don’t honestly know.”

  He smiles at me, and there’s a brightness to his eyes... a brightness I might not have ever seen before. Supernatural, surely. “I think you will,” he says in a voice that seems an octave deeper than it had been a few seconds ago when he called me ‘mama.’

  With that, he blinks, releases my hand and says, “Tell me more about their world... the Sasquatches.”

  I smile, get myself comfortable, and do my best to remember every detail of the world of the giants... the ape men... or, as some call them...

  Our hairy brothers.

  The End

  Samantha Moon returns in:

  Wild Moon

  Vampire for Hire #27

  by J.R. Rain and Matthew S. Cox

  Pre-order today!

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK

  ~~~~~

  Return to the Table of Contents

  Also available:

  Gypsy Magic

  Haven Hollow #1

  by J.R. Rain and H.P. Mallory

  (read on for a sample)

  Chapter One

  “That’s it?” Finn asked, turning to me in shock and doubt as we crunched to a stop in the driveway. “That’s our new house?”

  I was quiet as I collected myself, both of us staring straight ahead, at the dilapidated monstrosity in front of us. “That’s our really, really, really old new house,” I sighed.

  “Um…”

  My sentiments exactly.

  The gravel drive that led to the sprawling brick farmhouse had probably washed out sometime in the early bronze age, leaving it pitted and bumpy. A line of Aspen trees threw long slats of shade onto our path, with lurid stripes of scarlet showing between them. The sun was just beginning to set over the shady outskirts of Haven Hollow, and shadows were starting to pool in the meadow just beyond the trees.

  It might have been scenic... if not for the house.

  The thing was rundown as all hell and looked older than Keith Richards. The screen door was hanging off the hinges; some of the ginger breading that had once decorated the ornate porch was now lying in a miserable heap beside the house, looking like it felt sorry for itself. Yep, the porch hadn’t seen a paint job since… maybe ever; and I was fairly sure the entire thing was hosting a community of termites and had been for the better part of a century.

  “Oh my God,” I muttered under my breath, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. This was what I got for buying the damn thing at auction. Then I did my best to force my usual megawatt smile and flashed it at my eleven-year-old son in the passenger seat. “This place will be just… great.”

  Finn’s steely blue eyes stared back at me, flat and unimpressed. He’d bothered to look up from his Gameboy, which meant he was taking this whole thing very seriously. He hadn’t outright said it, but I could see the furious doubt stirring behind his eyes. I’d promised no more haunted houses.

  “Mom…”

  “We are going to love it here, Finn,” I responded, trying to convince myself, as well.

  He looked at the house again. “It looks haunted.”

  It really did.

  “And what, exactly, does a haunted house look like?” I asked, going for casual skeptic, but failing.

  Finn craned his neck at the three-story farmhouse with the wraparound white porch and pointed at it. “That.”

  “What do we know about negative thoughts and comments?” I asked, not meaning to sound so much like my mother, but there it was.

  “That thoughts are things and negativity only breeds more negativity,” Finn quoted, rolling his eyes.

  “Right!” I pulled the keys from the ignition and opened my door. Finn shook his head, sighed, and opening his door, jumped down from the Wrangler. I exited as well, wrapping my arms around myself reflexively as the wind picked up, slicing through my parka like it wasn’t there, tossing my light blonde hair into my face. Oregon weather was going to take some… getting used to. But at least we were out of Los Angeles.

  And ready to start over.

  Finn watched me struggle to keep a smile with all the stern judgment he could muster, though I could see his mask cracking at the edges. His sweet, round little face rejected anger like oil on water. Even though he was nearly as tall as me, he still managed to look closer to ten than the almost twelve he was. And his braces didn’t help. Between the baby-fine blonde hair and the round cheeks that wouldn’t melt away until puberty, he looked more like a cherub than a preteen.

  “Bought at auction, sight unseen,” I whispered and took a deep breath as I shook my head and wondered what I’d just gotten us into.

  This was exactly what I’d been worrying about for the better part of two weeks—that the house would be in this level of disrepair. But that’s what I got when I bought a house at auction. Sight unseen.

  I followed Finn up the circular driveway to the front entry. The house stood in the center of the ‘U’ section of the driveway and greeted onlookers with what was once an impressive porch and a wide set of stairs that led to the front door and an immense bay window. To the left of the house was a large barn and to the right, a storage shed that was leaning so badly on one side, I was fairly sure the roof had caved in.

  Great.

  The grim black sign with gold calligraphy that spelled Hallowed Realty rattled on its chains as we approached. The only thing that didn’t look like it needed to be immediately torn down was the immense apple tree right beside the front porch. The thing was almost as tall as the house and covered in bright red and orange leaves and huge, round green and red apples. If we were lucky, they’d be Honeycrisp apples.

  “Look, Finn, an apple tree! That means plenty of pies!”

  He just looked at me and frowned, as if to let me know he was still unimpressed. So, I took a deep breath and faced the house again.

  Ah, yes, the house.

  Le Sigh.

  Face it with a smile, that’s what my mother would say. I’d always taken that mantra to heart. Of course, my father always said smiling at a turd didn’t make it magically transform into a triple fudge brownie.

  This house definitely wasn’t a triple fudge brownie.

  “Let’s unlock the front door and look inside,” I said brightly.

  “Let’s hope we don’t fall through the stairs on our way up,” Finn grumbled.

  I walked just in front of him, not only to unlock the door, but to be the unlucky canary in case the coal mine collapsed. The door opened with a creaking sound, not unlike the cackling of a witch. A rancid odor wafted out, surrounding us in its putrid embrace. I made some sort of inarticulate sound just before gagging.

  Finn waltzed into the wide foyer ahead of me, unperturbed by the smell. As a boy prone to an array of them himself, he’d probably been inoculated to the worst nature could throw at him. He craned his neck as he took in the massively high ceiling.

  “What the hell died in here?” he then asked as he turned to face me and hid his nose and mouth inside his shirt.

  “Language,” I coughed, eyebrows drawn together in disapproval. I couldn’t manage to wrestle the smell from the back of my throat.

  I could taste it. God, what was that?

  “Hell isn’t a bad word, Mom.”

  “It’s not a nice word either.”

  “Ah, whatever,” he said and then did a three-sixty as he started laughing. “Wow, you really did it this time.”

  “What?” I asked, taking in the expanse of ancient brick walls, and even older planked wood flooring that appeared to be rotting in some places and sagging in others. “It’s… charming.”

  “That’s not the word I’d use for it. Maybe ‘old’, ‘crappy’ or… seriously, Mom, what’s that smell?”

  “That’s the smell of my soon to be empty bank account.”

  All joking aside, the smell was probably an animal or several that had died during the many years this place sat empty. Lord knew how hard it was going to be to remove it.

  “This place is totally haunted,” Finn said, shaking his head as he took a deep breath and then released it.

  “Oh, come on. Not every old house is haunted!” Although, I wasn’t convinced he was wrong. Finn had the same Gypsy Traveller blood I did, but he didn’t possess the same affinity towards magic. No one knew why, but Y chromosomes just seemed to dampen magic. Witches, gypsy women, mediums, fae… all of us were almost always female.

  There was something here though... I could feel it. Cold brushed across the fine bones of my face, sank into every joint and made them throb painfully. Or maybe that was just the reality of being in your early forties in an Oregon autumn. Yeah, I’d go with that for now. I really didn’t have the patience to deal with more ghosts.

  Besides, there was no going back now. So, we might as well make the best of it.

  “Do you want to check out the rest of the house and pick out your bedroom?” I asked, trying to maintain some level of enthusiasm.

  Finn looked up the staircase and swallowed hard. “Will you come with me?”

  “Sure.”

  As we ascended, I could spy water damage on the walls. At the far end of the hall, the bare bones of the house showed pale in the fading light. The drywall was gone and whatever pipes had once resided within had been gutted.

  Great...

  My only consolation was that between the sale of the house in Los Angeles and the passing of Great Aunt Margaret, I had enough money to remodel this place and open my shop, if I approached both carefully.

  Luckily, I’d bought this house for next to nothing, owing to the fact that the bank wanted it off their books. And I’d walked away with a hefty amount of cash from my inheritance. I could break even if I did this right. Heck, if my new ‘holistic medicine’ shop took off, I might actually be ahead.

  I was busy trying to break my teeth on a smile as I noted cracks, uneven floors, missing fixtures and more. Finn trailed his fingers through cobwebs and dust, wiping both away on his blue and black Spock t-shirt that said ‘Trek yourself before you wreck yourself’.