Once Bitten, No Longer Shy - Julie Steimle (dark books to read .txt) 📗

amazed as Troy had not told him this.

Troy nodded. “Yeah. It’s herbal, and surprisingly effective. But, uh, it also causes a slight rash. I’m working on it, but—”

“How can we get some,” Leslie asked, desperately.

The others nodded.

Cringing, Troy explained, “It’s comfrey. A leaf. You break the leaf and rub it into the wound. For some reason it cancels out what’s preventing the wound from healing. The problem is that it irritates the skin and itches, leaving a rash. And it is not a permanent cure. If a vampire comes around, your wound will open up again. I was working on some sort of oil balm, but I have found that the fresher the leaf the more effective it is.”

“Have you tried to infuse it into an oil?” Nicole asked, her eyes brightening with interest.

Troy shook his head, thinking of Randon and his wife who was not there. Silvia did things with oils. Was this witchcraft? And would Art object?

“I’m asking, because I am into infused oils for cooking and also for health,” she explained with hope. He could see in her eyes she would be willing for anything.

“That’s an idea,” Troy said, taking in Nicole with a smile. “What kind of oil would you infuse it in?”

“Olive oil, cold pressed, usually,” she said, getting more rosy cheeked in excitement. Her heart was pounding deliciously.

Troy nodded to himself. He gazed at Nicole and extended a hand, “It would be a pleasure to work with you on this possibility.”

She gripped his hand and smiled, her slim fingers wrapping around his cold hand. He could feel her pulse underneath her skin. It was unsettling… and tempting. She was quite beautiful. He could see why a vampire, or anybody, would be attracted to her.

The meeting dismissed soon after that. As soon as they agreed upon the time and place for their next meetings (which would be separate), only a few lingered to exchange social media addresses. The four women gathered close, exchanging notes and experiences within gossip—bonded by their shared tragedies. The men, not so much. Marcus and Dalton left immediately, paying their respects to the McAllisters before going. The trio of men left together, but not before chatting with Cameron, asking him a handful of questions about his post survival as a partial vampire. Cameron lingered, though, talking most particularly with Mr. Lenox—trying to encourage the man to perhaps step out in daylight. Clearly Dr. McAllister had asked him to. The vampire, Steve, stayed, talking with Andrew as well as this pale guy Troy did not recognize but who had to be the famous Semour.

Semour gave Troy the impression of a ghost of hardened medieval warrior. He had that same pale countenance as Tom Brown—except for his crystal blue eyes—and he was wearing glasses. He also had a pale, almost white, goatee. Semour eyed Troy sideways, then gestured over to him for a talk aside the group.

“So you’re Semour, the Holy Seven’s Q,” Troy said, staring back at the man’s unnerving gaze, refusing to be intimidated.

The guy snorted, nodding. “Is that what they say?”

Tilting his head in a half-shrug, Troy nodded. “Basically.”

“You are the first incomplete vampire I have ever met,” Semour said, not wasting conversation on small talk. “And I have seen a lot in my life.”

Troy did not have an answer to that. This man, who was definitely younger than him, felt old. Nearly ancient. But not like a vampire. It was a different sort of oldness. Experience. And time seemed to weigh on him.

“My duty is to protect the innocent,” the man said. “And I was told you were forced into this. So, ok. I’ll buy that—for now. But if you ever turn, know this. I will be on you and I will end you.”

“A ray of sunshine like always.” Tom dropped in between them, throwing an arm around the both of them. “Let’s all get along, please?”

Huffing, Semour pushed off Tom’s arm. “I don’t need a half-devil telling me how to navigate life, kiddo.”

Kiddo? Troy mouthed, looking to Tom. He watched Semour walk to Daniel, whispering into his ear. Side by side, those two gave the impression of war weary knights. Both had the same facial hair, similar trims in goatees, almost like they were trying to return to something they had lost—or they both wanted to play Henry the V at the same time. Except, listening to Semour, the side of Daniel’s mouth crooked up. He hissed something back which caused Semour to roll his eyes.

“Those are Rick’s friends from home?” Troy murmured.

“If it is any consolation,” Tom said, still leaning on Troy, “He freaks Rick out too.”

Troy laughed. And it was a consolation.

Troy noticed on the other side of the room where refreshments were being cleared up, that Jane was talking to Art, showing him a photograph. Deidre had drifted into their conversation along with Jessica. He could hear their words a tiny bit at that distance.

“…That’s my brother!” Art was laughing. He grinned at Jane like she was a treasure. He had been so quiet during the meeting Troy had forgotten that he was even there.

“Your brother? My missionary? What a small world!” Jane grinned wider. “I knew you looked familiar.”

Her missionary? Troy meandered nearer, pretending to be listening to the conversation between JJ and Matthew who were discussing the report they would have to submit on the two vampires Semour and Andrew had vanquished in the other room. Art and Jane were saying something Deidre seemed to understand, which made no sense to him.

“I met him,” Deidre said. “I was thinking the same thing as Jane. The moment I saw you, you seemed familiar to me. I just could not place you.”

Art half-laughed. “Did you take the discussions from him too?”

Deidre shook her head. “No. Uh… back then I thought your church was some kind of cult. Eve totally chewed me out about it, said I was being way too judgmental. I was given a Book of Mormon, but my father burned it. I got a smaller one later and covered it with one of those, uh, mini Spanish dictionary book covers so I could keep it. I still have it somewhere. The thing is, your brother was one of the two missionaries who were there when… well, that evil spirit was banished. A guardian angel was following them and—”

“I heard this story,” Art said, gasping. His cheeks flushed.

Jane and Deidre exchanged a looks.

Troy listened intently, his mind going back to what Hanz had said earlier. This world was small because the same sort of people frequented the same places. This was why some people never saw supernatural things while other saw them everywhere. Apparently Art was already connected and Hanz didn’t know it.

“Yeah. He told me about this one time on his mission in California, in a small town near some mountains they were told to never go into….” His eyes glanced back to Troy, clearly thinking about the vampires in the mountains of Eve’s town. “He said the town was rumored to have a haunted house, but a family had moved into it.”

Deidre raised her hand. “That was me. My family. My dad and me.”

“Yeah, so… anyway, he said he and his companion were tracting, you know, going door to door,” he said. “And they felt impressed by the spirit to go down that street and knock on that door—which creeped them out. But when they knocked, this… oh gosh. That must have been Eve.” Art looked to Jane, then over to William McAllister. “He told me about her. He described one girl in town as being peculiar, but told us how one should never judge a book by its cover as she may have looked like a vampire at first glance, but later to him was a princess, like Snow White. He even married a girl who looked like that because of her. But I had not realized Eve and his Snow White angel was same person. Oh my gosh!”

“What did he say about Eve?” Jane asked, amazed.

Shrugging, Art said, “He said there was girl whom he called his Snow White angel.”

“Snow White angel?” Deidre’s brow crinkled.

Jane laughed nodding. “Because she kind of looks like Snow White. She’s got really dark hair and really fair skin, and I think she had planned to dress up as Snow White for that Halloween. And she kind of did that guardian angel thing around that time. She always has, really—especially after being able to hear all the bad things people are tempted with.”

Troy felt shivers down his arms.

“Yeah, he said she had prevented a girl from committing suicide.” Art looked winded, recalling it. “Well, anyway, continuing that last story, my brother said he could feel an evil spirit in that house you were in. And when Eve invited them in, the evil spirit just left. It fled.”

“That it did,” Deidre said, laughing “Eve asked them in and to bless the house. I never thought such a thing would work, and I’ve been dealing with ghosts for a long time.”

Jane nodded in approval, though Art was stunned and asked if Deidre if she truly could see ghosts. Deidre affirmed it, adding she could also see various angels—anything that was a step into that spiritual life-and-death realm that was invisible to the mortal eye. But this was a bit much for Troy to overhear. Why were these people blessing houses? It was an inanimate object, for pity’s sake.

But then Deidre said, “Did you know there was guardian angel with them when they came in?”

Art shook his head. “No. But I know there is a promise to missionaries that they will be protected by angels. It’s in the D&C, and my brother said that he sometimes felt that protective presence.”

Her eyes widened on him. But Jane was smiling, nodding.

“Can anyone feel that?” Troy came up to them, no longer pretending to not be listening.

Meeting his gaze, Art nodded then shook his head. “Everyone has the capacity to, but not everyone exercises it. Feeling the Spirit is open to all, but not everyone is tuned in.”

“Tuned in?” Troy frowned. Was there judgment in Art’s remark?

Nodding, Art replied, “It’s like the radio. It’s always broadcasting, but you have to be tuned in to the station to hear the message. It takes effort.”

“And no interference,” Jane added with a look.

“What causes interference?” Troy asked, knowing she was leading to a response she wanted him to hear. He could see it in her eyes.

“Truthfully?” she asked. “Are you asking to know or just to be combative?”

Troy blanched, was that how he was coming across? Combative? “I… Ok, I don’t quite believe you, but I want to keep an open mind. What, according to you, causes so something interferes with me being able to feel this spirit you are talking about?”

She read his hostility well, but smiled with frank cordiality. Jane said, “First, attitude. God will not be mocked. Sincerity matters.”

His face felt hot. He had seen plenty of supernatural things, but the only ‘spiritual’ things he ever saw were those inimical angels and Eve. He knew ghosts were real because of JJ, but that was a different kind of spiritual. And yet he knew he was hostile to the idea of religion itself. He did not think it fair that a god had put him into this kind of life. No good god would do that. He was angry. And he really wasn’t so sure this so-called god she believed in was real. There were elves who played ‘god’, after all. He had overheard Daniel talking about something like that—that the ancient gods were nothing more than elves messing around with mortals. 

“Secondly, desire,” Jane said, knocking Troy out of his thoughts. “God will force no man to Heaven.”

Troy heaved a peevish sigh.

“God works by faith, and by faith we grow,” Jane explained.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Troy said, “Is that all?”

“No,” Jane replied. “But you are not ready for more.”

Art coughed on a laugh, quickly coughing more to hide it.