Claiming the Evil Dead Read online

"Damn." She sighed, lowering her eyes.

  "Are we leaving or staying?" Lester asked, swinging his hand in the air with the cigarette tucked between his fingers.

  Kyle eyed me as if I were the one giving direction. He consistently looked at me, although Dani was the one in charge of our team. Shrugging, I turned to Dani.

  "I'm thirsty," she said, grinning.

  "Drinks are on me." Kyle jogged out the door.

  Dani and I stared at each other. As if we could read each other's minds, we nodded. Free drinks? Hell yeah! We made a mad dash through the pouring rain to the car.

  ****

  We arrived an hour later at our favorite bar in downtown Indy. I pushed open the glass door, and the strong scent of beer crept into my nose. One patron sat at the far end of the bar, hunched over the counter, and a trio sat together near the window. World news flashed across the muted television in a corner. In the adjoining room, cue balls clanged on the pool table. My three friends snatched a round table in the middle of the spacious room. Out of habit, I headed for a flat stool at the center of the bar.

  "Hey, Jessie. What can I get ya?" Bruce, the owner, asked with his hairy arms extended along the counter. A fair gut protruded from his untucked green polo shirt. Graying hair hung over his eyes and covered the back of his neck.

  "The usual," I replied. "And keep them coming."

  Nick—Bruce's assistant and a Mark Wahlberg lookalike—stood a few feet away from Bruce, cleaning behind the counter. He paused, glanced at me, and smiled. Dani had dibs on him, so I resisted his lure. But I had to give him some kind of response. It was the polite thing to do. I had manners. With a small grin, I gave a slight wave of my hand. He winked, set his towel down, then headed for the back room.

  Placing my elbows on the newly cleaned bar, I perched my chin over my hands as I watched Bruce prepare my drink. I liked Bruce and Nick as much as I liked drinking. Maybe I liked Nick a little more, if only to drool over. Bruce had an open mind and envied our wild tales of hauntings and ghost encounters, whereas Nick acted as if he didn't believe a word. "Better than any television show," Bruce always commented. Nick shook his head and made no comments. That's how it was with most people—either they believed in the paranormal or they didn't.

  I lifted the shot glass in front of me and gulped the clear liquid. Wincing as the alcohol burned my esophagus, I set my glass down and waved my hand for another. Bruce wasted no time and filled my glass. Staring at the clear liquor, I twirled the little glass between my fingers, careful not to spill a drop of it. Then in one fast move, I gulped the fiery liquid.

  After the forth shot, I held up the palm of my hand for a momentary break. My mind floated blissfully while my body felt numb. Could life be any better?

  Hearing my friend's laughter, I glanced over my shoulder. The color of Dani's face matched a ripe tomato and she held her hand over her mouth. Her joyous expression was priceless. Kyle was leaning back in his chair, grinning and shaking his head at Lester. I missed the joke, but I didn't miss seeing my friends so happy.

  "Ready for another?" Bruce asked, capturing my attention.

  I met his eyes and shook my head. A second later, the drunk at the end of the counter mumbled incoherently. Bruce grunted and left me for the inebriated man.

  Sighing, I looked in the mirror on the wall. A demon stared back at me. Technically, I was a half-demon, not that it made much difference. My blood still connected me to the devil.

  The main door opened and a cool chill crawled down my spine, alerting me to a presence. I stiffened my back and craned my neck. Tiny hairs on my body jumped to life as if static electricity floated in the air. I narrowed my gaze in the mirror. A tall man with a well-built physique strolled toward me. His shoulder-length brown hair and aura of confidence captivated my attention. He stopped one seat over from my right and sat.

  "Bartender," Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious beckoned in a voice as smooth as silk.

  Bruce returned and answered my neighbor's call. "What'll be?"

  "One of those." He pointed to my shot glass. "And a scotch."

  Bruce prepared the drinks while I watched the intriguing stranger in the mirror who avoided my gaze. With closed lips and slightly pinched brows, he held a firm, guarded look. He didn't have a single wrinkle on his face, not that he appeared old. If I had to guess, he was mid to late twenties when he'd died. The brown leather jacket he wore practically matched the color of his hair. His pallid skin and light pink lips defined many of his kind. Sure, he had an appealing lure to him, but all bloodsuckers were murderers in my book, and I avoided them like the plague.

  Bruce set the shot glass and scotch on the counter. The man handed Bruce a twenty-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. I snorted.

  "Bruce," I said before he stepped away. "Can you hear the dead?"

  Brows drawn together, he gazed at me. "Haven't yet, that I know of. You doin' okay?"

  I grinned widely. "I'm good. Real good."

  Sure, I was a wee bit tipsy, and joking is always fun with liquor in the system. I'd known Bruce would look at me funny after I'd asked the question. I'd done it to capture Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious's attention. Did my idea work? I watched him from the corner of my eye. He hadn't twitched at all.

  The drunk at the end of the bar heaved on the floor. Bruce ran for him, mumbling curses and then yelling for Nick. Two seconds later, Nick appeared from behind the door in the back and sprinted toward Bruce.

  Disgusted and needing a distraction, I returned my attention to the mirror. Behind hooded eyes, my neighbor slid the shot glass over to me. I veered my gaze to the counter. Why would he offer me a drink?

  He picked up his glass of scotch. I watched him and waited to see if he'd swallow the brown liquid. From what I knew about his kind, they didn't ingest anything other than blood. He swirled the fluid around in the glass, studying the flow of movement as if it hypnotized him. I chuckled at his little performance.

  Seeing I had a free drink, I wasn't about to let it go to waste. I picked up the shot and downed it fast. As my throat burned, I slammed the glass down on the counter, creating a loud clank. Clenching my molars, I glowered into the mirror.

  He set his glass of scotch on the counter. With slow movements, he reached inside his jacket. My heart gained beats and I stiffened. For a brief moment, I wondered if he was withdrawing a weapon. But then I reasoned that his movements were too calm. He didn't act angry or violent. He withdrew something nearly as big as his hand, then placed it on the counter. The object was too thick and rectangular to be a weapon. He slid it toward me, then stopped midway. He removed his hand and I stared at what was a paperback book.

  Why on earth would a vampire give me a book? How crazy was he? How crazy was I because I couldn't remove my gaze from the book? I half expected it to jump out at me. After all, I had five shots of strong vodka in me. What did he think I would do? Read the book?

  The mysterious creature I loathed stood up. He didn't say a word or look my way. He sauntered out of the bar as quietly as he had entered.

  "Fuck," slipped out of me.

  "You okay, Jessie?" Kyle called out.

  Apparently, I'd cursed a little too loudly. I really needed to keep my mouth shut more.

  I glanced over my shoulder and nodded. "Yeah." My mind screamed no. An undead creature had entered the bar, bought me a drink, and left a book on the counter. Why?

  Curiosity brought my attention back to the paperback. It hadn't sprouted legs and crawled away. Damn. So my options were clear. I could take it and see what he wanted, or refuse it and pretend I hadn't seen him. Decisions, decisions…

  I reached over and picked up his untouched scotch. After I downed the liquor, I slid the glass away from me and picked up the book. Without looking at it, I swiveled around to face my friends. They were engrossed in conversation. Good. I quickly lifted the back of my shirt and tucked the paperback under the waistband of my jeans. They didn't notice my action. I doubted they'd even noticed the vampire tha
t had been in the bar. Humans were so easily fooled.

  Chapter Two

  Rain poured on the window as I gripped the steering wheel. The windshield wipers swooshed by quickly, providing mere seconds of visibility. Wide-awake and head clear, I stared at the road in front of me. My metabolism had stabilized the alcohol content in my system within fifteen minutes of consumption. The ability to out-drink any human, courtesy of my demon blood, was a perk I enjoyed immensely. It also made me a reliable designated driver.

  A heavy sigh from my right stole my attention. Kyle reclined in the passenger seat with his legs stretched out in front of him. His eyelids fluttered as he fought off sleep. I glanced in the rearview mirror at Lester and Dani in the back. Lester's head rested on the window while Dani's body leaned sideways against his arm.

  Fidgeting in my seat, I tried to scratch my lower back. The book lodged in my jeans dug into my skin and irritated the heck out of me. The more I itched, the more I wondered about the damn book. How was it important, and why did the vampire leave it specifically for me? I stayed away from other supernatural creatures. The fact that he knew where to find me troubled me.

  The car hit a chuckhole on the road and rocked slightly. Kyle's eyes flew open. "Are we there yet?" He scooted upright in his seat while he rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand.

  "Ten more minutes."

  He grunted and tilted his head back.

  I checked in the mirror on the two sleepyheads in the backseat. They hadn't moved an inch. Dani was a deep sleeper. Dynamite wouldn't have disturbed her.

  "Mind if I sleep over?" Kyle mumbled in a near whisper.

  Staring into his bloodshot eyes, I knew he was in no condition to drive the twenty-plus minutes to his apartment. "No, I don't mind."

  "Thanks." He closed his eyes.

  I always enjoyed Kyle's company. He was a gentleman, funny, and very smart. I considered him a good, close friend, so it never bothered me when he stayed over. Sometimes we'd talk each other to sleep. We'd had plenty of great conversations that lasted to sunrise. Seeing him struggle to stay awake, I doubted we'd say much tonight.

  Minutes later, we arrived at our apartment. Dani headed to her room, dragging her feet along the carpet as if she were a zombie. Kyle followed behind her. Lester went straight to the sofa and fell face-first onto it. The little two-bedroom, bath-and-a-half apartment Dani and I shared wasn't much to admire with bare walls and divergent furniture, but it was comfy and, more importantly, priced right. It also accommodated extra guests, which happened frequently. Alone and wide-awake, I locked the front door and slipped into the bathroom.

  With the door shut, I turned on the shower and sat on the lid of the commode. I withdrew the paperback book and gaped at the title. Demons and Warriors. So, he knew what I was. What was he—a warrior? Yeah, right. I shook my head in disbelief at the thought.

  Thumbing through pages of the book, I spotted a small piece of paper wedged inside. I withdrew the paper, flipped through the remaining pages, and found nothing else unusual. I set the book in my lap, then unfolded the thin white paper. The message in fine black ink read, Job $50,000. Tomorrow 3 a.m. Union Station.

  "What the…?" I stared at the note and reread it. A vampire asking to meet with me? Now that was a first. I presumed the meeting would be private since he left the book at the bar and didn't bother to introduce himself. Huh…

  A sudden headache chiseled away at my brain as questions flooded my mind. I stared at the dollar figure. It was more than I would make in an entire year. Why would a vampire offer me a job? Sure, he could sense I was a demon, but he didn't know if I was full blooded or not. Or did he? He couldn't know about my gift. Or could he? If he did know, I was damn curious to know who informed him.

  Frustrated, I folded the paper, then returned it inside the book. I slapped the paperback face down on the counter. When I slid my hand away, I glanced at the back cover. The author was a voodoo priestess from Louisiana. "Fuck." Yeah, I knew her.

  A year and a half ago, Dani, Lester, Kyle, and I took a week off and went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. After the festivities, we scoped out some haunted homes and spent leisurely time on our own, or at least they did. Sean—my close friend who'd taken care of me since my mother's death—had contacted me and asked that I visit a voodoo priestess, Aretha Thibodeaux, who was an old acquaintance of his. After I met her, she asked me to claim a couple of evil spirits. She offered to pay me for my service, but I declined. Any friend of Sean McClelland was a friend of mine.

  So how did this vampire connect me to Aretha? She wasn't the type of person who bragged about things beyond this world, at least not to anyone outside her circle of trust. And while I hadn't known she added author to her resume, I knew the book had to be a work of fiction. She would never dare disclose any facts about demons or any other supernatural entity. To do so would put her in harm's way. Once again, I was back to square one. How did this vampire know Aretha? How did he know that I knew her?

  Questions continued to mount. I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the pain in my head fueled from the questions. I needed a break from my confounding thoughts.

  I stripped off my clothes, then stepped into the shower. Warm water soothed my muscles but did little to ease my headache. Frustrated, I wrapped a towel around me and headed to my bedroom.

  After two steps into my room, I did a double-take. Kyle was sleeping on my bed. I had forgotten about him. Fully clothed, minus shoes and his jacket, he lay on his side. He looked so peaceful and content, completely zonked out. A place I'd like to be soon.

  Quietly, I moved to the nightstand and hid the book in the drawer. If Dani or anyone found it, they probably wouldn't think anything strange about it. I quickly donned a set of cotton shorts and a T-shirt, then slid under the covers. I laid on my back and closed my eyes. Thoughts about the vampire and the book continued to swim in my head. Sleep seemed impossible, but I still had to try.

  ****

  I stood in the deserted alley next to Union Station dressed in a thin, navy blue blouse and a pair of blue jeans. The cool, spring air felt good to my warm skin. While most would consider a jacket for fifty-degree weather, I never needed one. It could be ten degrees, and I'd still feel warm. Having a consistent body temperature of one-hundred degrees was a part of my demon side I didn't like.

  After a quick surveillance of the area and determining I was alone, I strolled down the alley toward the Omni. The quiet streets seemed too quiet. I stood in downtown Indianapolis. Some homeless person or a car was typically nearby.

  Walking toward the hotel, my pulse accelerated. Why did I want to see this bloodsucker? Had I lost my mind? Curiosity got the better of me and I hoped I wouldn't regret this meeting.

  Considering if I should go, I hit a button on my cell phone and glanced at the time. It was 2:57 a.m. If the vamp didn't show in three minutes, I was leaving.

  I slid the phone into my front pocket. A cool breeze swept by me, brushing the hair off my shoulders. The hairs on my arms and nape sprang up. As if my body had a mind of its own, my legs stopped mid-stride. I spun around.

  "Jesus!" I slapped my hand on my chest and felt the heavy thud of my heartbeat. Mr. Vampire was standing a few feet from me.

  "Drake," he said in his smooth voice.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Drake," he repeated, his lips hinting at a smile. His dark eyes glowed under the streetlight. "My name is Drake."

  My heart continued to race from his speedy appearance. What happened to normal introductions? Oh, that's right, he was a vampire. I stared at him as if he were some crazy fiend. Rethinking that—a fiend? Definitely. Crazy? Probably not. If anyone were crazy, it was probably me.

  "Drake," I said for the sake of confirming I understood him.

  "And you are Jessie." He curled his upper lip slightly.

  He stood taller than me and he had on the same brown leather jacket he'd worn the night before. Dark slacks covered his lower half. He appeared calm and non-threatening. So
why was my heart trying to leap from my chest?

  "Okay, so you know who I am, and you told me your name. Now, what do you want?"

  "I have a proposition for you."

  I crossed my arms. "Go on."

  "I am in need of your assistance. I will pay you fifty thousand for your time," he said so casually I knew there had to be a hitch.

  I held up my hand. "First of all, how do you know I can help you?"

  His lips tugged to the side in a sly grin. "I was in Louisiana some time ago for an acquaintance of mine who ran into some trouble with a voodoo priest. You were in the company of the voodoo priest's family, and I followed you. I saw what you did, deep in the swamps that last night you were in Louisiana."

  I inhaled a deep breath as I remembered that night. "You followed me out into the swamps?" I questioned for clarity, hoping I misunderstood him.

  He looked me dead in the eyes. "I saw you claim the three souls."

  Crap. He'd seen me that night. I bit down on my lip, not knowing what to say next because there was no excuse in the world that I could come up with that would explain what had happened.

  "And you followed me from Louisiana to Indiana?" A rush of blood shot up to my head. Why did I suddenly feel violated? I put my hands on my hips. "How long have you been watching me?"

  "It's not important. I need your help, and I'm willing to pay you. Will you assist me?"

  The wind picked up and blew strands of his long hair across his face. Gazing at him, I couldn't help but notice the deep hollows underneath his high cheekbones. Damn, he was attractive. Blinking, I jumped back into my right mind.

  "You want me to help you after you followed me from Louisiana to here—where I live?" I asked, voice gruff. In my book, stalking was not a good way to win a friend.

  He stared at me, stone-faced. Guess he didn't know what to say.

  "Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?" My anger spoke up before I could stop it. Trying to avoid more trouble, I took a deep breath to calm my temper. "Look, since you know what I am, you know your strength is ten times greater than mine. I don't see how I can assist you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to work in four hours."