Moon Island (A Vampire for Hire Novel) Read online

  MOON ISLAND

  A Vampire for Hire Novel

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  Acclaim for the novels of J.R. Rain:

  “Be prepared to lose sleep!”

  —James Rollins, author of Bloodline and The Blood Gospel

  “I love this!”

  —Piers Anthony, author of On A Pale Horse and Luck of the Draw

  “J.R. Rain delivers a blend of action and wit that always entertains. Quick with the one-liners, but his characters are fully fleshed out (even the undead ones) and you’ll come back again and again.”

  —Scott Nicholson, author of Chronic Fear and After: The Shock

  “Dark Horse is the best book I’ve read in a long time!”

  —Gemma Halliday, author of Spying in High Heels and Unbreakable Bond

  “Powerful stuff!”

  —Aiden James, author of Destiny of Coins and Cades Cove

  “Moon Dance is a must read. If you like Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter, be prepared to love J.R. Rain’s Samantha Moon, vampire private investigator.”

  —Eve Paludan, author of Taking Back Tara and New York Minute

  “Impossible to put down. J.R. Rain’s Moon Dance is a fabulous urban fantasy replete with multifarious and unusual characters, a perfectly synchronized plot, vibrant dialogue and sterling witticism all wrapped in a voice that is as beautiful as it is rich and vividly intense as it is relaxed.”

  —April Vine, author of Unbound and Intrigue in India

  “Is it possible to redefine two genres in one book? I don’t know, but J.R. Rain has left a lasting impression for the vampire and mystery genres.”

  —P.J. Day, author of King’s Blood and The Sunset Prophecy

  Other Books By J.R. Rain

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  The Lost Ark

  The Body Departed

  Elvis Has Not Left the Building

  Silent Echo

  All the Way Back Home (coming soon)

  A Small Sea Rises (coming soon)

  Heaven (coming soon)

  COLLABORATIONS

  Cursed! (with Scott Nicholson)

  The Vampire Club (with Scott Nicholson)

  Dragon Assassin (with Piers Anthony)

  Hear No Evil (with Michele Scott)

  Daughters of Eve (with P.J. Day)

  VAMPIRE FOR HIRE SERIES

  Moon Dance

  Vampire Moon

  American Vampire

  Moon Child

  Christmas Moon

  Vampire Dawn

  Vampire Games

  Moon Island

  Moon River (coming soon)

  SAMANTHA MOON SHORT STORIES

  Teeth

  Vampire Nights

  Vampires Blues

  Vampire Dreams

  Halloween Moon

  Vampire Gold (coming soon)

  JIM KNIGHTHORSE TRILOGY

  Dark Horse

  The Mummy Case

  Hail Mary

  SPINOZA TRILOGY

  The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo

  The Vampire Who Played Dead

  The Vampire in the Iron Mask

  GRAIL QUEST TRILOGY

  Arthur

  Merlin (coming soon)

  Lancelot (coming soon)

  ALADDIN TRILOGY

  with Piers Anthony

  Aladdin Relighted

  Aladdin Sins Bad

  Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman

  WOLF PACK TRILOGY

  with H.T. Night

  Hungry Like the Werewolf (coming soon)

  Running With the Werewolf (coming soon)

  The Big Bad Werewolf (coming soon)

  BROTHERHOOD OF THE BLADE TRILOGY

  with Eve Paludan

  Burning (coming soon)

  Afterglow (coming soon)

  Radiance (coming soon)

  WALKING PLAGUE TRILOGY

  with Elizabeth Basque

  Zombie Patrol

  Zombie Rage (coming soon)

  Zombie Mountain (coming soon)

  SPIDER SERIES

  with Scott Nicholson and H.T. Night

  Bad Blood

  Spider Web

  NICK CAINE SERIES

  with Aiden James

  Temple of the Jaguar

  Treasure of the Deep

  GHOST FILES SERIES

  edited with Scott Nicholson

  Ghost College

  Ghost Soldier

  Ghost Fire

  Ghost Hall

  Ghost Tattoo (coming soon)

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  The Bleeder and Other Stories

  Vampires Rain and Other Stories

  The Santa Call: A Christmas Story

  SCREENPLAYS

  Judas Silver

  Lost Eden

  NON-FICTION

  The Rain Interviews (coming soon)

  MOON ISLAND

  Published by J.R. Rain

  Copyright © 2012 by J.R. Rain

  Cover design by [email protected]

  Ebook Kindle 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. All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  Dedicated to all the loving parents.

  Acknowledgments

  A special thank you to Sandy Johnston, Eve Paludan and Elaine Babich. My first readers and editors who do such a bang-up job.

  Moon Island

  “There, on our favorite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white...something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell.”

  —Bram Stoker’s Dracula

  Chapter One

  “Someone killed my grandfather,” said the young lady sitting in my office, “and Detective Sherbet thinks you can help me.”

  “I pay Detective Sherbet to say that. In donuts, of course. But not the pink ones. He has something against the pink ones.”

  The young girl, who was maybe twenty-five, grinned and almost clapped. “He was eating a donut when I met with him!”

  “No surprise there. He’s a good man.”

  She nodded, still grinning. A very big grin. “I got that impression, except he said there was nothing he could do for me, since my grandfather’s death was ruled an accident.”

  “Nothing he could do,” I said, “except recommend me.”

  “Yes. He said I could trust you and that you would probably help, depending on your caseload.”

  I looked down at my desktop calendar. There was an appointment in three days to meet with Tammy’s teacher...and that was it. The 15th was circled, which indicated that I was due a child support payment from Danny. I wasn’t holding my breath—and if I had, well, I could hold it for a very long time. So far, in seven months, Danny had given me precisely one payment, and that was because I had physically hauled his ass to the bank.

  “I think I can fit you in,” I said. “Tell me why you think someone would want to kill your grandfather?”

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “But you think his death is suspicious.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “When did he die?”

  “A year ago.”

  “His death was ruled an accident?” I asked, making notes on a notepad in front of me.

  “Yes.”

  “How did your grandfather pass away, if I may ask?”

  “He was found dead in his pool.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  The young lady nodded. She reminded me of myself
. Short, petite, curvy, dark hair. And unless she drank blood and hung out with other creatures of the night, that’s where the resemblance ended. Her name was Tara Thurman. I seemed to have heard her name from somewhere, although I couldn’t place it now.

  “Where did your grandfather live?” I asked.

  “On an island.”

  “An island?”

  “Yes.”

  “Catalina?” I asked, which was really the only habitable island off the coast of southern California.

  “No. It’s in Washington State.”

  “I didn’t know there were islands in Washington.”

  “There are dozens of them.”

  I nodded, and wondered if I had ever actually looked at a map of Washington. I didn’t think so. Then again, geography was never my strong suit. Catching bad guys, now, that was a different story entirely.

  “Lots of people live on the islands,” she went on. “Except for my grandfather’s island.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a private island. His is the only house, along with a few guest bungalows.”

  I thought it was time for that map. I asked her to step around my desk and show me on Google Earth where he lived. She did, leaning in next to me, smelling of perfume that I didn’t recognize. She had me scroll above Seattle and—son of a bitch—there were various chains of islands scattered up there. No doubt the last Ice Age had had something to do with that, but I knew as much about ice ages as I did about maps of Washington State.

  Next, she took over control of the mouse and positioned it over a speck of land above an island called Whidbey, and near another island called Lopez Island.

  “I don’t see it,” I said.

  “Hang on.” She magnified the page and soon, the very small speck of land became much bigger than a speck. As it took shape, the name of the island appeared on the screen.

  I looked at Tara. “You’re kidding.”

  “About the name? No, that’s what it’s called.”

  “Skull Island?”

  “Yes. I kinda like it. I used to love going there as a kid, especially telling my friends that my grandfather lived on an island called ‘Skull Island.’”

  “Why is it called Skull Island?”

  “There was a shipwreck there a hundred or so years ago. One person died, I think. Not to mention we’ve unearthed a Native American burial ground. The island, I think, must have been the scene of a horrendous battle. My family has found dozens of graves.”

  “Sounds...creepy.”

  “I guess so,” said Tara. “But my grandfather’s home is on the other side of the island.”

  “Not on an Indian burial ground, I hope.”

  “No,” she said, smiling oddly. She seemed to smile at me oddly, and often. A big smile that seemed to painfully stretch her lips. “But we do have the family mausoleum nearby.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “The family mausoleum. The island has been in my family for nearly a century, and, well, we’re all buried in the mausoleum.”

  “I see,” I said, although I wasn’t certain I did. Private islands and family mausoleums reeked of a lot of money. If I wasn’t so scrupulous, my daily rates might have just increased.

  Damn morals.

  Tara slipped back to her seat across from my desk. As she did so, I studied her aura. It had bright yellows and greens, mixed with a pulsating thread of darkness that could have been anything. I suspected that it indicated grief.

  I said, “You loved your grandfather.”

  She nodded and looked away. She tried to speak but instead tears suddenly burst from her eyes. I snapped out a tissue from the box on my desk, and handed it to her. She dabbed her eyes and looked away. Finally, when she’d gotten control of herself, she said, “Yes. He was so much more than a grandfather, you know? My best friend. Always there for me.”

  As she spoke, the dark threads of vapor that wound through her aura bulged slightly, expanding, engorging. Her grief, I suspected, ran deep.

  “Do you live in Southern California?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you spoken to the police in Washington State?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Why not use a private eye in Washington State?”

  “Because Detective Sherbet recommended you.”

  “How do you know Sherbet?”

  “He’s a friend of a friend. I was told he was someone who could help.”

  I nodded. Something about her story wasn’t jiving. And perhaps more interesting, my inner alarm began to gently ring just inside my ear. I said, “Why do you think someone killed your grandfather?”

  “Because he was very rich.”

  “That’s a reason,” I said. “But that’s not enough for me to take this case and to take your money. Who was there when he died?”

  “We were all there.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “The entire family. We use his house and island for our annual reunion.”

  “You said he died a year ago.”

  “Right,” she said, nodding. “It’s coming up again. The family reunion. This weekend, in fact. And I want you to come with me.”

  Chapter Two

  My sister and I were jogging along the boardwalk at Huntington Beach. It was midday, Saturday. My kids and her kids were with her husband at Disneyland. I wondered what her husband did to deserve such cruel and unusual punishment. I said as much to Mary Lou.

  “Oh, he loves it. He’s a big kid himself, you know.”

  “Does your husband know about me?” I asked suddenly.

  Mary Lou shot me a quick look. We were both dressed in workout pants and tank tops. We both swished as we ran. Mary Lou’s expansive upper half bounced furiously, despite her tight sports bra. Her crazily bouncing chest reminded me of two cats trying to escape a paper bag.

  “Of course not,” she said. “I haven’t told anyone.”

  I nodded and frowned. I had gotten a sudden hit of her husband isolating my kids to ask them questions about me. Then again, you try living with a secret that could ruin you and see how suspicious you might become. A husband taking not only his own kids—but mine as well—raised some questions.

  “Does he suspect anything?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Has he ever mentioned me?”

  “Mentioned you how?”

  “In a way that might make it seem like he was digging for information.”

  “Nothing that I can remember. C’mon, Sam. He’s just doing something nice for us so that we can spend the day together. It’s been so long since we could just be sisters and nothing more. And now we can spend days together. Glorious days. Not just nights. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  But there was something here. Unfortunately, I couldn’t read family members, although I could read their auras. I felt guilty as hell searching my own sister’s aura to see if she was telling me the truth, but that’s exactly what I did as we spoke. The verdict: I thought she was telling me the truth. Something suspicious had passed through her aura as she answered my questions. A ripple of sorts. What that ripple meant, I didn’t know. Reading auras was still new to me. Having psychic abilities was still new to me. Being a blood-sucking fiend...not so new to me.

  I let it go. For now.

  Mary Lou and I continued along the boardwalk at a steady clip. She was huffing and puffing. I don’t huff or puff, although Kingsley might blow your house down. The big bad wolf that he was. Granted, I was much weaker during the day, but not so weak that I would need to stop jogging.

  It was early spring and the days were growing warmer, but not so much by the beach. Mary Lou and I didn’t live by the beach. We lived about ten miles inland. So a trip to the beach took planning and driving. Therefore, we planned and we drove. I probably would have preferred to sleep—okay, I most definitely would have preferred to sleep—but I could tell my sister needed some Sam time.

  Hey, I was nothing if not
an awesome sister.

  Now Mary Lou’s boobs seemed to be the main attraction on the beach. One guy stared at them for so long that he just missed running into a trash can. Mary Lou and I giggled.

  These days, I could continue jogging into infinity. I was pretty sure my body didn’t need to jog, that I didn’t need exercise. I was pretty sure my body was a self-sustaining machine. But jogging felt...normal. It reminded me that I wasn’t very far removed from the human species. I mean, I still looked human. I mostly acted human.

  Mostly.

  I am human, I thought. Just...different.

  Yeah, different.

  As we jogged, I told Mary Lou about my business trip this weekend, and that I would need her to watch the kids for a few days.

  “They have islands in Washington?” she asked.

  “That’s the rumor.”

  “Sounds far,” she said. “And cold.”

  “I think you and I need to buy an atlas. Or get out more.”

  She waved her hand at the sunny beaches. “And leave this? No thanks. Tell me about your case.”

  I did, easily and smoothly—and never sounded winded. Speaking as if I were sitting across from my sister at a Starbucks. Sipping water, of course. Always water.

  When I finished, Mary Lou said, “Sounds dangerous. I mean, there might be a killer among them.”

  “Or not,” I said. “My client could be delusional. The police already ruled it an accident.”

  “The island is isolated, right?”

  I thought about that, nodding. “I think so, yeah. There’s a ferry service to the island, I think.”

  “So, if it was isolated, perhaps the evidence had been well tampered with far before the police could come out.”

  “Good point,” I said.

  “And how long would it have taken the police to get there?”

  “Another good point.”