Dracula Hearts of Fire Book two of Dracula Hearts

IT WAS A LITTLE AFTER TEN O’CLOCK in the evening when Jerome exited the forest and made his way to the Mill Road in Moncton. He was comfortable dragging his victims into the nearby woods and feasting on them, surrounded by the trees and animals that concealed themselves in the night. The waxing crescent moon peeked through an opening in the clouds, and crickets chirped to give the night ambiance. A few cars went by, but not many. He knew there weren’t many sheriffs in Moncton, if any.

Jerome was a bearded fellow who had watched the three women who resided in the century-old white house with the peeling paint for the last two nights. He had set his attention on them like a trucker on a stake, and he wasn’t about to let go. Jerome blurred across the road, then paced at the back of the house and became excited every time one of them passed by the windows, lit up by the inner glow against the darkness outside. He was motivated by the night’s hug and by its freshness. The women were all in their sixties and shared the cost of living, making life more comfortable. They had become good friends and were like family. When one was sick, they all felt ill.

“You are bags of blood with legs. That’s what you are, ladies.” He looked like a mountain man who had just come out of the mountains and into civilization, with wild and crazy eyes. The more days that went by, the hungrier Jerome had been getting for their blood, but he liked to be patient. He took pride in the fact that he was so patient. He was hungry enough to eat their faces and drink their blood. They would taste as good as a cold draft from a large mug. They would be such a thirst-quencher. Jerome considered that his hunger just might be making him a little emotional. Instead of low blood sugar, did he have low blood blood? That thought made him smile. It was satisfying when he cracked himself up.

Mary-Lynn Baker was reading the Times and Transcript newspaper at the kitchen table as Betty-Ann Cormier and Margery Tailor were doing the supper dishes at the sink. Margery always hummed when she did the dishes, and she was so good at it that the other two appreciated it. Her humming could raise anyone’s mood, as Margery had a talent for it. All three were unattached and had little family. Although Margery did have two sisters in Abbotsford, British Columbia, and a brother in Detroit, she hadn’t heard from them in years. They were all well-off, and she wasn’t. She had been ostracized and pushed out of the family loop without a single word uttered.

“That poor President Obama,” said Mary-Lynn. “Every time he tries to do something, they stop him. They say it’s a terrible idea when it’s an exquisite idea. A president should have more power than that, don’t you think? Otherwise, what’s the point of being president? I mean, if they fight you on every little thing, what is the point of being the President? Of course, having too much power could be dangerous.”

Betty-Anne was scrubbing spaghetti sauce off a white plate that had sat for too long. “It’s all about getting re-elected. They don’t care if the country goes right down the toilet. They have lots of money, and that’s all that matters, but boy do they like to pretend. They get in their limousines and go home to their mansions after telling poor folks to tighten their belts. I’d like to tighten a belt around their necks. ”

“I think we watch too much CNN.” Mary-Lynn considered how they seldom watched the Canadian news because it hit too close to home. They were all hooked on CNN.

The plate dropped and smashed on the floor, sending white pieces flying everywhere as Betty-Anne screamed the most horrible scream. Jerome was staring into the window over the kitchen sink with wild eyes; he liked to play with his food. They would have jumped out of their skin if they could have managed it. The vampire maneuvered himself to be upside down, appearing to be some crazed maniac, but of course, they knew he was a vampire. The biter repeatedly showed them his fangs and then retracted them. He made his way around the window twice as if defying gravity, peering at them from different angles to terrorize. The sound of him doing so was awful. If anyone showed up to challenge him, he would run off and return tomorrow night.

Margery ran and grabbed the phone off the wall, but someone cut the line. She grabbed her cell phone out of her purse but unfortunately discovered that the battery was dead. She felt like she was going to vomit. “My cell phone is dead! What in God’s name are we going to do?”

Mary-Lynn closed the curtains and tried to remain calm, but her shaking hands told a different story. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but it wasn’t working. “He can’t get in if we don’t invite him in. He’s trying to make us run for help. Nobody can outrun a blood-sucking vampire.” She screamed toward the window. “Get out of here, you bloodsucker!”

Jerome went up the side of the house and onto the roof; it was the most horrible sound they had ever heard. Thump, thump, thump, scrape, clunk. What was he up there? They knew he couldn’t come in, so what the hell was he doing? Once on the roof, the thumps got louder, but he was careful not to cause the roof to cave in as he didn’t have the invitation to enter. The vampire paced back and forth up there, considering his options. Tomorrow night they could have a red sheriff waiting for him. What to do? He walked from one end of the roof to the other, transformed into a bat, and flew into the living room window where they had assembled. He stuck to the window and flapped his bat wings to terrorize them further. It was a peculiar thing seeing the bat laugh.

He turned back into his regular form and pressed his face hard against the glass. If Jerome could frighten them enough, he thought that it was likely that their instincts would take over, and they would make a run for it, or at least one of them would. His tongue started to lick the window as Margery screamed, his smile disturbingly extensive. She thought he looked like a sick clown. They ran back into the kitchen when he pulled down his pants and stuck his hairy ass against the window.

“I can come in if I want to!” It was a lie, but it certainly did frighten them.

“I’m gonna run for help. If I scream loud enough, someone will come.” Panic had pushed away common sense crying; she desperately wanted to run, but they wouldn’t let her out of the house.

Moon Diamond, the lilac point Siamese, was on the sofa pawing at the remote to turn on Dracula’s sizeable flat-screen television. Zacharia’s soul was trapped inside the Siamese cat, and he was looking to watch the news. After several attempts, Zacharia managed to find the station but soon became uninterested in all the political talk. He stretched long and hard, then threw himself down on the floor and flicked his tail back and forth. The cat inside his head showed Zacharia images of mice he wanted to pursue and eat. The vampire told the cat to discontinue its pestering, but being a cat, it was fixated on rodents, birds, and balls of string for all he knew. Things that were important to the cat were not important to him. It was like living with a polar bear and trying to get along; they were simply too different to mesh. Best he didn’t think about being trapped forever inside the cat, but that was impossible.

It came out of nowhere and made the cat’s ears twitch. A scream from somewhere forced Zacharia to stand and take notice. Someone was in distress, but where? It startled him to attention. Then another shriek found its way to his ears; it sounded female. The living room window was open to the outside, and Moon Diamond jumped onto the window sill and listened. The cat had taught itself how to use the electric can opener because the Master had been away for a few days and was now self-sufficient. And the bags of blood in the fridge were also fast food.

“Meow.”

Another distressful shriek and the feline jumped out of the window and onto the lawn. It waited for another scream so that it could orient on it. Suddenly it took off on the run, crossing Mill Road and turning left. It wasn’t long before he discovered Jerome with his face against the living room window, licking it. It was evident that the vampire was in the process of terrorizing humans. Moon Diamond climbed the creep’s leg to his left shoulder and took a bite out of it. Climbing that vampire was fun for the cat but extremely painful for the biter.

“Aaaahhhhh!” Jerome fell off the window, tearing the cat from his shoulder and some skin, and attempted to smash the cat to the ground. Jerome tried to stomp the life out of the cat four times, creating a loud thud with every stomp, but Zacharia easily avoided him. They stared at one another with contempt. “What the shit are you!”

“Meow, meow, MEOW, meow, meow?” the cat mocked. The Siamese strutted with confidence, lifting its right paw and indicating that Jerome bring it on. The animal did a little dance to add to the insult. Finally, there was something for Zacharia to enjoy. Nothing made a person feel more alive than the risk of death in battle.

The vampire rushed to kick the feline. His foot arrived where the cat had been, the momentum of the blow knocking him onto his behind. The Siamese laughed at his indignity. It stuck its tongue out at the bloodsucker. Jerome was now beyond angry; he was furious. Moon Diamond scratched down into the lawn, digging in the dirt so that it would be much more painful when his claws dug into his opponent. He could smell the chemicals sprayed on the lawn.

Margery gestured for the others to approach the window and watch. “The vampire’s fighting the most beautiful cat, and believe it or not, the cat’s winning! Come and see. Hurry up!” They thought that she had gone over the edge until they saw it.

Moon Diamond launched into his beard, and his claws sunk deep into his neck. Dirt and pesticide sank into Jerome’s skin. The cat’s fangs sunk into his chin, causing him excruciating pain. The vampire screamed and rolled onto the lawn faster than any human could. It burned like iodine on a wound, and when it healed, it continued to cause burning pain. The feline reached the top of his head, dug out several chunks of skin and hair, and began lapping the blood. He tried hard to tear the cat from his head but couldn’t. He ran his head and the cat into the side of the house, knocking the cat off, screaming and dancing, and jumping. He blurred off into the night. Claps of approval originated from inside the house. The Siamese bowed to indicate that he had heard their applause and then ran off into the night, satisfied that he had accomplished a good deed, continuing to hear Jerome’s screams and curses far off into the forest.