The Vampires Grave

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  THE VAMPIRE’S GRAVE

  A Haven Hollow Novella #15

  (Remarkable Remedies)

  by

  H.P. MALLORY

  &

  J.R. RAIN

  The Vampire’s Grave

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2022 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The Vampire’s Grave

  Narrated by Roy

  Chapter One

  “Just go and talk to her, you brute.”

  The familiar, almost lilting Irish brogue made the muscles at the back of my neck clench, purely on reflex. Nine times out of ten, whatever came out of Lorcan Rowe’s mouth was going to annoy me. It was almost a defense mechanism at this point.

  When I turned to face him, I found him leaning against one of the tall oak trees that fringed the edge of the no-man’s-land between Wanda and Poppy’s properties, beyond Hollow Cemetery. My blood pressure seemed to pick up a notch.

  Lorcan had attempted to dress for the current occasion, and opted for a more outdoorsy look (usually he was dressed like he was on his way to a formal event), wearing a plain black work shirt, dark jeans, and a leather jacket. Even though the rest of us were in the equivalent of sweats and sweatshirts, Lorcan didn’t seem to understand the word ‘casual’. I had to imagine his choice of clothing, like most things, was probably done in an attempt to impress Wanda. There really was no low that man wouldn’t stoop to in order to impress his prickly paramour.

  As if Wanda still needed impressing.

  I wasn’t a matchmaker, but I did have a good nose. Far, far better than a vampire’s, which was really only built for scenting blood. Anyway, Wanda’s scent had been shifting subtly over the months they’d been seeing each other. Actually, I wasn’t even sure if they really were seeing each other. Everyone knew they had a blood bond to break, but whether their association would have existed without the blood bond? Who knew? Wanda certainly carried on as if it wouldn’t have, but I would have argued otherwise.

  Her scent, when she was near the vampire, had gone from a bitter, unpleasant animosity tinged with slight physical interest to the inverse—now there was only mild irritation at times but more animal magnetism than I could stomach. She wanted Lorcan sexually, at the very least, but I got the sense it was more than that. Wanda was in love with the leech, even if she wouldn’t ever admit it, even to herself.

  Not that I blamed her—I wouldn’t wish being in love with Lorcan Rowe on my worst enemy.

  I frowned and returned to my work: Poppy and Wanda had volunteered to help Fifi with her newest project—remodeling an old mausoleum in Hollow Cemetery. I’d overheard them discussing it the other night, during a dinner at the Half-Moon Bar and Grill. That meant I couldn’t drive by (on my way home from the bar) without looking like an ass. And, of course, stopping in for a visit also put me closer to Fifi, something I’d been trying to accomplish for weeks now.

  Fifi had gotten a little… squirrelly since we’d slept together weeks ago. Yes, she’d still stop by, kiss me senseless once or twice a day, but then she was gone, leaving me aching for more. Aching and thoroughly confused.

  Every time I tried to talk to her seriously, she wasn’t willing to discuss what this... thing was between us. Maybe that was what I got for sleeping with a succubus? But, no, I couldn’t accept that—Fifi was the furthest thing from a sex-manipulative, scheming demon. Everything that characterized succubae didn’t characterize Fifi—and she’d been bucking the trend for years now, searching for true love and an idealistic life with marriage and children (something decidedly unsuccubuslike.)

  But who was to say she was thinking about choosing that picket fence life with me? It was true that her prospects for feeding without damaging the guy involved were almost nil. But maybe she’d decided to find willing food where she could, because she didn’t want to have anything more serious with me?

  I just didn’t know what she was thinking, and that was what was eating at me—and had been for the better part of two weeks. But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk to Lorcan about it. Because, quite frankly, I didn’t want to.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, tying the last of the rebar.

  If all went well, the foundation for Fifi’s newest project would be done by morning. This economy-sized mausoleum was Fifi’s solution to the increased undead tourism to Haven Hollow. A sort of bed and breakfast for vampires, mummies, ghouls, and the like. She’d taken inspiration from the capsule hotels her brother had encountered while traveling to Japan for an erotic weekend with his recent ex-girlfriend.

  “Of course, you know what I’m talking about,” Lorcan continued, taking a step closer, despite my very obvious irritation. “You’ve been looking at her every five minutes or so, my unrefined friend.”

  “We are hardly friends,” I growled at him, to which he simply chuckled.

  “Regardless, it’s quite dastardly clear you’ve got an eye for our resident succubus.” I glared at him then, and he simply grinned even more widely. “Good for you,” he continued as he clapped me on the back with his large, undead hand. “Truth be told, I was getting a bit tired of the pissing and moaning you did regarding your short-lived romance with Poppy.” Then he shook his head and sighed long and hard. “Poppy is such a lovely woman, but surely you knew your relationship with her wasn’t going anywhere? I mean, how could it? You are a beast and she is a refined lady of culture and civilization. It would be quite akin to Quasimodo pining for the queen.”

  “I’m hardly Quasimodo,” I answered, standing to my full height, and looming over him. In my humanoid form, I’m shy of seven feet tall. If I shifted, I’d be closer to ten. Most men would stand in my shadow and feel cowed. But not Lorcan Rowe—the dandy was more concerned with picking dirt off his clothing. Prissy vampire, always concerned with appearances. Clothing was meant to get dirty—that’s what it was made for.

  “I’m over Poppy,” I announced. “Whatever pain I felt over her and the relationship is over.”

  “Yes, you slow-witted ape, I referred to it in the past tense.”

  I cast a furtive glance over at Poppy and Finn, who were working together with Wanda, trying to figure out how to mix cement. I’d actually had some experience in that area, but Finn appeared to be having fun, so I let them have their moment. Even if Poppy and I weren’t together any longer, I still cared about her and Finn and I knew I always would. Hopefully someday soon we could truly be friends again.

  “You had to have known,” Lorcan continued, ignoring my expression of irritation completely, as he was wont to do. “Surely you must have realized Poppy would age and die faster than you?” the pain in my ass continued.

  “Are we still talking about this?”

  He ignored me. “The best you can hope for with a human, my hairy acquaintance, is a little fun.” He nodded as he beamed up at me. “Thus, it’s for the best Poppy let you go, so you could return to chasing woodland creatures in the forest.”

  It took everything within me not to seize him by the collar and chuck him further into the woods. But even if I did manage to turn him into a fangy projectile, it didn’t change the fact that he was right, and I knew it. I’d always known it.

  I couldn’t give Poppy the life she deserved. It had been selfish to date her and waste her time. I’d known that too. But losing her had stung. A lot. I’d only just started to get over it, and that was mostly because Fifi was now occupying the real estate in my head, mostly confusing the hell out of me. Hard to mourn your last relationship when you’re confused about the one you may or may not be in at the moment.

  “Point taken,” I grumbled.

  “Very good.” Lorcan shrugged. “I knew it would take a few seconds for my words to pass through all that hair in your ears.” He grinned even more broadly. “Now… let’s talk about Fifi.”

  “Let’s not.”

  “Have you asked her out yet?”

  I wanted to tell him to go stick a stake in it, but for some reason, my mind had other ideas. “We’ve gone out a few times… as friends.”

  “As friends only? Why is that?”

  I shrugged. “That’s what she asked for.”

  Lorcan arched a skeptical brow. “Uh-huh. A gorgeous succubus just wants to be friends with a…” he looked at me then in a condescending sort of way. “A brutish and overly large sasquatch who smells of athlete’s foot.” He shook his head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t she want to climb you like the tree, er mountain, you are?”

  His words took me back to the memories I’d been trying very hard to avoid. Namely, Fifi spread out beneath me, naked and writhing. On my table, on my couch, against the wall. Any flat surface we could have rutted on, we had. The feel of her skin under my hands haunted me constantly, when I was asleep and awake. I could scent her on my sheets, even after washing them a few times. Or maybe that part had just been wishful thinking—I mean, who could still smell someone in freshly laundered linens? Maybe I was just an addict jonesing for another hit of her. The memory of being inside her, taking her in every way I could, was enough to make me uncomfortably hard. It was a good thing my jacket was long enough to cover the proof. The last thing I needed was Lorcan needling me for my ‘elongated proboscis’ or some equally abhorrent term he’d come up with.

  Unfortunately, the expression on my face wasn’t as accommodating. Heat crept up my neck and I turned away before he could see the color that burned my cheeks. I was eighty, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t have gotten so riled up at just the thought of a woman.

  Fifi isn’t just any woman, I argued with myself.

  Lorcan let out a short, surprised laugh. “My God, you’ve already visited succubae land, haven’t you!”

  “Shut your mouth,” I growled. “It’s none of your damn business.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Lorcan continued, eyeing me with some amusement. I was more than convinced that one of, if not his favorite pastime was aggravating me. “You will tell me all about it?”

  “I won’t tell you anything,” I spat the words back at him. “Go find a stake to fall on.”

  “Feeling more murderous than usual, beast? I’d have thought working out your aggression on Fifi’s lovely body would have taken your edge off.” Then he chuckled and I could tell something was going to come out of his mouth to further piss me off. “Perhaps you aren’t working out your aggression hard enough?”

  At the words ‘Fifi’s lovely body’ and ‘hard enough’ coming off Lorcan’s tongue, Fury bubbled through me, heating my blood and warping my bones as the beast rose inside me.

  Before Lorcan could so much as blink, I had him by the collar and was stalking into the woods. My control was shaky. I wanted to transform and break his scrawny neck… for starters. But I settled for slamming him against a maple so hard, it shook some of the weaker limbs loose. My hands were on his throat before I could stop myself. If he’d been human, the strength of my grip would have snapped something vital. But Lorcan was a vampire, which meant he was made of stronger stuff than a human. I could still snap him in half, but he’d make me work for it. And then he’d heal, and we’d be back to square one.

  Lorcan looked startled, rather than frightened. At least I’d knocked that insufferable grin off his face. He lifted a hand and tried to pry mine loose. I just tightened my grip. The roaring in my ears was so loud, I could barely hear what he was trying to say. I had to squeeze my eyes shut and focus on my breathing to quell the insistent urge to shift. When I opened them, I found the vampire considering me warily. I hadn’t let go of him, but at least he had enough air to speak.

  “Now… was that really called for, beast?”

  “Don’t ever mention Fifi’s body again,” I said. I wasn’t even sure if he’d understand the words because they came out more like growls.

  Lorcan brushed the wrinkles from his clothes with a sniff. “Is that truly what you’re upset about?” He frowned up at me as he shook his head. “It was an observation, you daft brute. I have no interest in Fifi, other than professional and friendly. I have my own beauty to see to, as you well know.” He took a breath. “And, for as lovely as Fifi might be, she still pales in comparison to Wanda, in my humble opinion.”

  A vicious snarl escaped me, automatic and unthinking. It surprised even me because growls like this one were usually a warning to stay away from another’s territory—it wasn’t out of the scope of possibility for a sasquatch to make such a sound and then fight his opponent to the death. Fifi wasn’t territory, and she certainly wasn’t my territory. Furthermore, I wasn’t about to fight Lorcan to the death for her or anyone else. He was an ass, yes, but I wasn’t interested in fighting him. Not now and not ever.

  So why was I acting like this? My reactions were complete overkill. Of course, he thought Wanda was more beautiful. He was all-but dating her, and the bond created an incredibly strong mutual attraction between them.

  Yet, part of me still wanted to tear his head off for suggesting Fifi was less than any woman. Furthermore, I knew, in some corner of my mind, that Lorcan had touched Fifi before, if only to feed from her. The thought of him necking with her in a backroom made an angry knot form in my stomach and those murderous feelings overtook me again.

  You’re acting like a jealous asshole, I told myself, still completely floored by the feelings going through me.

  Fifi wasn’t my property, I had to remind myself again. She wasn’t my anything! Maybe that was the problem.

  I turned my back on Lorcan, walking back to the graveyard while I tried to ground myself, tried to get control over my wayward emotions. Lorcan was an asshole and always had been. His provoking me was nothing new—it was actually pretty predictable at this stage, but this time my reaction was stronger than it should have been. Usually, I just let him bounce right off me, but for some reason, I was having trouble doing that now.

  No matter, I’d calm down on my walk back, and I was fairly sure I’d have to answer some questions as to why I’d just trudged off into the woods with the vampire to begin with. Unfortunately, I had no idea what to say that wouldn’t embarrass Fifi—I mean, I couldn’t rightly tell them I’d gone off to murder him because he was talking about her and sex in the same sentence.

  Lorcan caught up to me after a moment, jogging to keep up with my longer stride.

  “Talk to Fifi, you beastly man,” he said and then struggled to keep up with me. “Clearly, you need to expend this insanity that has struck you.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Do better than try,” Lorcan insisted. “The structural integrity of my spine depends on it.”

  I growled again, but there wasn’t much heart in it now. “That’s a danger you’ll always face unless someone sews your mouth shut, namely Wanda. And hopefully the day comes when she does. God knows we’d all appreciate the silence.”

  He smirked. “Tut tut, Wanda appreciates the other things I do with my mouth far too much to sacrifice them for silence.”

  And now my mind was back where I didn’t want it—to sexual fantasies, only with Fifi in the starring role. I was screwed. Or not, as the case may be.

  Regardless, Lorcan was right: I had to talk to her.

  Damned if I’d admit it, though.

  Chapter Two

  Poppy had to excuse herself from the tomb project a few hours in because it was a school night, and Finn had to be in bed by eight pm. He’d been helping Astrid with her part of the project, namely, picking out tile for the floor.

  Poppy had gently nudged her son to help Astrid, probably more trying to keep him from getting himself stuck in the newly poured concrete. I wondered if she was aware of the massive crush Finn had on the young witch. Finn was on the verge of turning thirteen and his hormones were already on the attack. I could only imagine the mischievous redhead would be like trying to ignore a siren’s call. I wasn’t surprised when he argued with his mom about having to get to bed early for school.

  Apparently, Wanda didn’t have the same concerns Poppy did about Astrid’s current (mundane) education because she allowed Astrid to eat a midnight dinner with the rest of us, courtesy of Libby, Wanda’s zombie tagalong and Fifi’s new secretary. Libby had cooked up a very 1950s style dinner of baked ham with pineapple slices alongside a strawberry salad. The appetizer was deviled eggs. Luckily for all involved, Libby was an excellent cook.

  After we were finished with dinner, we headed back out to the graveyard to put the finishing touches on the mausoleum before we’d all depart for the night.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Wanda warned as she turned to face the vampire leech who was standing above a grave, one foot poised in the air. Lorcan held a small flask of blood in one hand.

  “What? Step on a grave?” Lorcan asked with a smile that said he didn’t believe superstitious nonsense. He really should have known better because it was only a few months ago that he’d been in a similar situation and the superstition had bitten him right in his idiotic ass.

  “You know it’s bad luck,” Wanda answered, shaking her head. “The dead don’t like it when you disrespect their sleeping quarters.”

  Lorcan laughed. “Unless you intend to raise the poor, dead bastard from his grave,” he started, and then leaned down to glean the name of the person he was currently desecrating. “The poor, dead bastard in question being one: ‘Franklin Goose’… I don’t think there’s much danger, sweetling. He’s been dead for...” Lorcan squinted at the inscription for dramatic effect. We both knew he could see the writing perfectly fine. “Three years now? Poor man is still moldering, I’d wager.”

  “It’s a superstition, Lorcan,” Astrid chimed in. “And you should probably listen to what Wanda just said, given what happened the last time you ignored her advice.”