Broken Heart Tails (2 page)

“You made a wish while holding this,” he said.

I glanced at him, an unwrapped truffle in my hand. “Do you think it has more wishes?”

“I think if it does, it’s a very dangerous object.”

“Well, ol’ Doc Stan will figure it out. We can lock up it the Consortium vault, but right now…” I patted the bed. “We have chocolate. All we need is nakedness.”

Patrick locked our bedroom door, put the weird orange gem on the nightstand, and then climbed into bed, pushing aside the truffles. From that look in his eyes, I had a feeling we were about to get messy.

In a screamingly good way.

Chapter Two

“What’re you doing?” asked Linda as she entered the basement lab. Her husband, Dr. Stan Michaels, removed the orange gem he’d been studying under some fancified scientific doo-dad.

“Oooh. That’s pretty.”

“Jessica found it in her attic in a box of Halloween decorations,” he said. “Patrick sensed magic. He said it granted Jessica’s wish.”

“Chocolate?” asked Linda.

“Apparently it rained pecan pie truffles in their bedroom.”

Linda leaned against the counter. “I bet she ate every one of those truffles, too.”

“Jessica does love her chocolate.”

“And I love you.”

That got his attention. He turned toward her and grasped her hand. He wasn’t the romance-novel type of vampire. Even the change hadn’t rid him completely of his basketball belly, and it certainly hadn’t given him more hair. He’d already been pale and doughy; so the Turning hadn’t much changed him there, either. She missed his glasses; she’d always thought he looked real sexy in those square black frames. He was smart. A lot smarter than her, but he never made her feel dumb.

She’d been the one to Turn him, and through the whole terrible process, she could only think about how much time she’d wasted fending off his advances ’cause of her own insecurities. He’d loved her, and she’d almost lost him. But now, they had eternity together.

“I’m surprised Jessica gave up something that made it rain chocolate.” She picked up the sparkling jewel and studied it. She didn’t know a whole lot about diamonds or other expensive gems. But she knew more than she wanted to about fakes. Her ex-husband was too cheap to buy her a real diamond and too stupid to stop bragging about her “gen-u-wine zirconium” engagement ring. “Looks like some old auntie’s costume jewelry. Is it real?”

“I don’t know. It’s not synthetic, and it’s not a diamond, either. I can’t figure out much about the structure, much less the color abnormality,” said Stan. “Maybe some magical creature brought it into existence. Who knows? Apparently, it only granted the one wish.”

“Too bad,” said Linda as she rubbed the faceted edges. “If it still worked, I’d wish for an in-ground pool with a waterfall and rock landscaping. Oh! And the water would replenish itself, we’d never have clean it, and it would smell like lavender.”

Stan blinked up at her. “If you wanted a pool, why didn’t you say so?”

“You’ve been busy.” The gem felt warmer than it had a second ago. She returned the gem to her husband. “We haven’t spent much time together lately.”

“Oh, honey.” Stan put down the pretty stone and gathered his wife into his arms. “You’re more important to me than anything. If you want a pool, then by God, you’re getting a pool.”

Linda grinned, and kissed him very slowly. “C’mon.” She held out her hand. “We can go upstairs and discuss the pool.”

Like reckless teenagers, they giggled as they hurried up the stairs. Just as they started down the hallway, the ground started to shake. They heard a boom, and then the roar of water.

“What the hell?” she shouted.

The earthquake stopped suddenly. It took a full minute for Linda to get her breath back, so to speak, since she didn’t really breathe anymore. Then the two of them examined the upstairs. A few pillows had been tossed onto the floor and a couple of hanging lights swayed, but that was all the visible damage.

“I hope the foundation isn’t cracked,” said Stan, worried.

“If that’s the case, we’re moving.”

Downstairs, they found a few items had bounced to the floor and a foyer table had fallen over. Nothing else seemed awry.

“I need a drink,” said Linda. “Maybe two.”

“You want your vodka with a blood mixer?” asked Stan.

She laughed. Being a vampire was still very strange to her, although she’d gotten over the whole “I have to drink human blood to survive” angst fairly quickly.

In the kitchen, Linda went to the cabinet to grab the Three Olives vodka and Stan crossed to the other side to procure two tumblers.

“Honey,” he said in a choked voice.

Linda turned, and saw her husband staring out the window that was above the kitchen sink. She joined him, a little concerned about the way he clutched the edge of the countertop.

“What’s so…” She gasped as her gaze caught sight of what had so enthralled her husband. Her dream pool, with an elaborate waterfall, landscaped with rock all the way around, was
there
,
right there
, in the place where her recently mown backyard had once been.

“Holy shit!” She grabbed Stan’s hand and dragged him outside. They examined the rocks, sniffed the lavender-scented air, and put their hands in the warmed water. “It’s perfect,” she said. She tossed off her shoes and wiggled out of her jeans. “C’mon, baby. Let’s take a dip.”

“No, not yet,” said Stan. “We have to test the water, and do some readings. And the gem…”

He lost his train of thought as his wife undressed, all the way down to her birthday suit.

“Or we could jump in,” said Linda, grinning. “Cannonball!” She ran and jumped into the deep end, then broke the water and waved at him. “Are you gonna stand there or are you gonna skinny-dip with me?”

There was only one response. Stan hurriedly divested himself of his clothes and jumped into the water.

When he came up for air, Linda was waiting. She wrapped her luscious body around him and kissed him until he nearly forgot his own name.

“Wishes really do come true,” he said. “Hmmm,” said Linda, her lips trailing his neck. “I have another wish … and I think you might be able to help.”

Then she whispered into his ear. He smiled, and started doing his best to make his beautiful wife’s next wish come true.

Chapter Three

“It’s haunted,” said Bryan Matthews.

“Hel-
lo
, welcome to Broken Heart,” said Wilson Donovan. “Everything’s haunted. Just ask my mom.”

Wilson’s mother, Patsy,
would
know. Both of their moms were vampires, but Patsy could see and talk to ghosts. She saw them everywhere; worse, they saw her. Plus, she’d once raised a zombie army, which Bryan thought was
so
beast.

“Well, this house was haunted before the town got freak-a-fied,” he said.

They left the cracked sidewalk and walked through the yard, which was filled with itchy, knee-high grass. Bryan aimed his flashlight across the front of the tiny house. The beam revealed peeling gray paint, broken windows, and a sagging porch. This section of the neighborhood had long been abandoned. The streetlights didn’t work, the sidewalks were crumbling, and all the houses in the
cul de sac
looked like movie sets for horror movies.

“You know the story, right?” asked Bryan. He approached the porch, stopping at the broken steps and peering at the front door. It was half-opened, offering a diagonal glimpse into the darkened room beyond it.

“Lemme guess,” said Wilson, sounding bored. “Some dude killed his wife. With an ax. Then he buried her in the basement.”

Bryan rolled his eyes. “What is this? The Goosebumps hour?” He laughed, mostly to cover how nervous he felt. For all the weird crap he’d seen since vampires and werewolves had moved into town, Bryan was still creeped out by this place.

Earlier, they’d been hanging out at Wilson’s house, talking about Halloween and trying to top each other’s scary stories. Then Bryan had mentioned the haunted house, and now they were on a ghost field trip.

“What are you waiting for, dude?” Wilson punched his shoulder. “C’mon.” He jumped over the steps and crossed the porch, which didn’t look too steady.

No way would he let think Wilson he was a coward. He followed him into the house. They stood in the small living room, and Bryan flashed the light around.

“It smells like ass in here,” said Wilson. The beam revealed a ratty couch and a broken coffee table.

Obviously, they weren’t the first trespassers to venture here. Graffiti covered the walls and trash littered the nasty, hole-ridden carpet.

“So what’s the story?” asked Wilson. He turned on his own flashlight and flicked it over the wall to examine the graffiti.

“It was 1954. A widower and his two little girls move from Tulsa to Broken Heart. One day, the girls disappeared—somewhere between the bus stop and this house. Nobody ever knew what happened to them.” Bryan paused for dramatic effect.

Wilson snorted and rolled his eyes. “Wow. Exciting.”

“I’m not done,” said Bryan. “The father went crazy with grief and shot himself. Some people think he killed his daughters.”

Now Wilson’s expression suggested minor interest.

“And buried them in the basement?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Lame.” Wilson panned the light into the hallway. “Where do you think the basement door is?”

“Probably in the kitchen,” said Bryan.

“Let’s go.”

Bryan reluctantly followed his friend into the kitchen, and there was the door that led to the basement. He had to admit he was feeling uneasy. The place smelled bad, like rotting meat. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Goosebumps pimpled his skin and the hair on the back of his neck felt electrified. But he couldn’t wimp out. Wilson would never let him live it down if he refused to check out the basement.

“That’s weird,” said Wilson. “This whole place is falling apart, but this door is nailed shut.” He ran his fingers along the doorjamb. “We can’t get in this way.”

Relief flooded Bryan. Any excuse not to go down to the basement was okay by him. “I’m bored,” he said. “Let’s roll.”

“Don’t be a chickenshit. We’ll go outside. Maybe there’s a window or a ground entry.”

BANG! Both boys nearly jumped out of their skins.

“What the hell was that?” asked Bryan. He spun around the dilapidated kitchen. The light bounced from ceiling to floor.

“Ooooooooooooooo.” Bryan’s heart kicked into overdrive and sweat iced his palms. He looked at Wilson. His friend was as white as a sheet, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“It’s nothing,” said Wilson, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“Ooooooooooooooo!”
Knock, bang, knock, bang!

“I’m out!” cried Wilson. They bolted from the house, sprinting over the steps, and kept on running all the way down the street.

A minute later, Tamara LeRoy and Jenny Matthews popped out from their hiding places in the cabinets.

“Boys are stupid,” said Jenny.

Tamara smiled. “Eh. They have other uses.”

“Yuck.” Jenny turned on her flashlight and moved it around the kitchen.

“You really think that guy killed his kids?”

“No,” said Tamara. “I think it’s a dumb story. There’s nothing in the newspaper archives about a dad killing his kids.”

Tamara’s mother ran the town library and was the unofficial historian of Broken Heart. If she hadn’t any archival proof of the story, then it wasn’t true.

“Hey look.” Jenny picked up a battered business card. “Larry Stotten.” Her eyes went wide. “That’s my zombie!”

“Do not tell me that dead creeper hanging out in your tree house is named Larry.”

“Well, that
is
his name.”

“Jenny, you can’t keep a pet zombie. Your mom doesn’t even like cats.”

“Don’t tell her.”

Tamara sighed. “I won’t have to tell her. No matter how many bottles of body spray you use on him, you won’t be able to cover up his stench. Believe me, your mom will notice.”

Jenny shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe he’s looking for his daughters. And that’s why he keeps digging himself up from the grave. We should help him.”

“It’s been more than fifty years,” said Tamara. “I don’t think that’s a mystery we can solve.”

“Patrick says you can figure out anything if you’re clever and patient.”Jenny crossed the kitchen and examined the basement door. “That was smart of you to nail the door shut. It freaked out the boys.”