Moon dragon, p.1
Moon Dragon, page 1
MOON DRAGON
by
J.R. RAIN
Vampire for Hire #10
Acclaim for the novels of J.R. Rain:
“Be prepared to lose sleep!”
—James Rollins, bestselling author of Subterranean and The Sixth Extinction
“I love this!”
—Piers Anthony, bestselling author of A Spell for Chameleon and Five Portraits
“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, bestselling author of The Red Church and After:Whiteout
“Dark Horse is the best book I’ve read in a long time!”
—Gemma Halliday, bestselling author of Spying in High Heels and Lethal Bond
“Moon Dance is absolutely brilliant!”
—Lisa Tenzin-Dolma, bestselling author of Understanding the Planetary Myths and The Heartbeat at Your Feet
“Powerful stuff!”
—Aiden James, bestselling author of Plague of Coins and Welcome to Denmark
“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, bestselling author of Witchy Business and Bigfoot Island
Other Books by J.R. Rain
STANDALONE NOVELS
The Lost Ark
Elvis Has Not Left the Building
The Grail Quest
The Body Departed
Silent Echo
The Healer
Winter Wind
VAMPIRE FOR HIRE
Moon Dance
Vampire Moon
American Vampire
Moon Child
Christmas Moon
Vampire Dawn
Vampire Games
Moon Island
Moon River
Vampire Sun
Moon Dragon
Moon Shadow
JIM KNIGHTHORSE
Dark Horse
The Mummy Case
Hail Mary
Clean Slate
Night Run
THE WITCHES SERIES
The Witch and the Gentleman
The Witch and the Englishman
The Witch and the Huntsman
The Witch and the Wolfman
THE SPINOZA TRILOGY
The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo
The Vampire Who Played Dead
The Vampire in the Iron Mask
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES
Bound By Blood
SAMANTHA MOON SHORT STORIES
Teeth
Vampire Nights
Vampires Blues
Vampire Dreams
Halloween Moon
Vampire Gold
Blue Moon
Dark Side of the Moon
JIM KNIGHTHORSE SHORT STORIES
Easy Rider
SHORT STORY SINGLES
The Bleeder
SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
The Bleeder and Other Stories
Vampire Rain and Other Stories
The Santa Call and Other Stories
Co-Authored Books
COLLABORATIONS
Cursed (with Scott Nicholson)
Ghost College (with Scott Nicholson)
The Vampire Club (with Scott Nicholson)
Dragon Assassin (with Piers Anthony)
Dolfin Tayle (with Piers Anthony)
Jack and the Giants (with Piers Anthony)
Judas Silver (with Elizabeth Basque)
Lost Eden (with Elizabeth Basque)
Glimmer (with Eve Paludan)
The Black Fang Betrayal (with Multiple Authors)
The Indestructibles (with Rod Kierkegaard)
THE OPEN HEART SERIES
with Rod Kierkegaard
The Dead Detective
NICK CAINE ADVENTURES
with Aiden James
Temple of the Jaguar
Treasure of the Deep
Pyramid of the Gods
THE ALADDIN TRILOGY
with Piers Anthony
Aladdin Relighted
Aladdin Sins Bad
Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman
THE WALKING PLAGUE TRILOGY
with Elizabeth Basque
Zombie Patrol
Zombie Rage
Zombie Mountain
THE SPIDER TRILOGY
with Scott Nicholson and H.T. Night
Bad Blood
Spider Web
Spider Bite
THE PSI TRILOGY
with A.K. Alexander
Hear No Evil
See No Evil
Speak No Evil
THE WOLF PACK TRILOGY
with H.T. Night
Hungry Like the Werewolf
Running With the Werewolf
The Big, Bad Werewolf
Moon Dragon
Published by J.R. Rain
Copyright © 2014 by J.R. Rain
All rights reserved.
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.
Dedication
To Abraham.
Acknowledgment
A special thank you to the beautiful and talented,
Diane Arkenstone.
Moon Dragon
“Here be dragons.”
The Lenox Globe, circa 1510
“It is a rare vampire who can transform himself into something greater. It is an even rarer vampire who can control the demon within.”
Diary of the Undead
Chapter One
Last night, Sixty Minutes ran a segment on Judge Judy, which I made a point to record.
Now, with a pile of clean laundry in front of me and a pair of Anthony’s briefs momentarily forgotten over one shoulder—a pair I had dubbed “The Forever Stain”—I sat, transfixed, for the entire segment.
I watched Judge Judy’s rise from a small New Jersey Family Appellate Court judge to one of the highest-paid TV personalities today. The highest-paid part surprised me. Then again, I think she deserves every penny. After all, she is a role model for many, and the voice of reason to all. Anyway, the segment showed a softer side of the judge, and I appreciated seeing that. I like her softer side. She is a mother and grandmother. Someday, I hope to be a grandmother, too.
That I would be the world’s youngest-looking grandmother was another story. That my granddaughters or grandsons would, within a few decades, look older than me, was...well, the same story. That I might never meet them was too heartbreaking to consider. Perhaps I would be introduced as a long-lost aunt or something.
I sighed when the segment was over. The judge has a beautiful life, a challenging job, and grandkids everywhere. She has aged gracefully, seemingly stronger now than ever.
Myself, I have been a vampire now for nine years. I had been turned in my late twenties. Twenty-eight, in fact. I still looked twenty-eight, perhaps even younger. Perhaps closer to twenty-five or twenty-six. I should be on the cusp of looking like I was forty. Instead, I look like I am a few years out of grad school.
I might look young. I might have the strength of ten women. I might even occasionally turn into a giant vampire bat. But raising two kids—one of whom was a teenager and the other was damn close—seriously took a superhuman effort. How mortals did it, I would never know.
I sighed heavily when I turned off the TV, briefly jealous of the life Judge Judy had created, and wondering how the hell my life was going to turn out, knowing I would have to cross that bridge when I got there.
My doorbell rang.
I looked at the time on my cell. My potential client was early.
I glanced at the laundry piles scattered over the couch and recliner and shrugged. That’s what my potential client got for being early. Still, I quickly shoved the briefs under the biggest pile. No one deserved to see The Forever Stain. Even early clients. Hell, even my worst enemies. Truly cruel and unusual punishment.
I had long since ditched my annoying habit of reaching up for my sunglasses every time I opened the front door, or checking my exposed skin for sunblock. Indeed, those habits had been eradicated in this past year. A year I had spent “living in the light,” as Allison liked to put it. Allison is annoying too, but I love her.
Now, I confidently opened the front door and ushered in a woman I knew. A woman I loathed. A woman I nearly slammed the front door on, or tripped as she came in. Or blindsided and tackled her to the floor where I wanted to give her the world’s biggest noogie and wedgie and then drag her over to my bathroom toilet for a “swirlie,” as the kids used to call it back when I was in high school.
But I didn’t.
I had been preparing myself all day to see Nancy Pearson. Or, as she liked to be called in a former life, Sugar Pearson.
She was, of course, the woman my murdered ex-husband had cheated on me with while we were married. She had called earlier today and requested to see me. I had nearly told her to go to hell. In fact, I was fairly certain I had thought it loud enough for her to hear it, because she had said, “Excuse me” at one point.
Anyway, she needed help and thought I was the right woman for the job.
Oh, joy.
So, being the sucker that I am—or, as Kingsley puts it, the bleeding heart that I am—I allowed the woman into my home, the woman
I settled behind my desk, and she did the same in front of my desk, in one of the three client chairs.
“So,” I said, noticing my heartbeat had picked up its pace, which, for me, was saying something. I also noted that my inner alarm system was ringing slightly just inside my ear. “Talk.”
She nodded, took in some air and tried to look me in the eye, gave up, and finally looked away. “I’m fairly certain—no, scratch that—I’m most definitely certain, that my ex-boyfriend is a serial killer.”
Chapter Two
Her aura glowed a light blue.
She was telling the truth, and yet my warning system was still chiming slightly. I’ve learned to listen to this warning system. The problem was, well, it wasn’t precise. I didn’t know exactly why it was ringing, only that something about this woman presented a threat to me.
I thought about that when I said, “Why not go to the police?”
“I can’t prove anything.”
“Then how do you know?”
The girl with the stage name of “Sugar,” but whose real name was Nancy Pearson, was having a hard time sitting still. She crossed and recrossed her legs in, let’s admit it, a fabulous display of dexterity. I could see how someone as feeble-minded as Danny would get seduced by such athleticism. She had probably worked the stripper stage impressively. None of which made me like her any better. Now, her high-heeled foot jiggled and bounced hyperactively. She looked like a woman with a secret, or someone who had to pee, or...
“Do you mind if I smoke?”
“I do.”
“Seriously?” she said.
“Seriously,” I said.
“Please?”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
“Okay.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“You’re mean.”
“You have no idea. Now talk.”
She took out her packet of cigarettes anyway, opened it, removed a slightly bent one, stuck it between her teeth, and said, “Then let me at least pretend.”
“Pretend all you want.”
She did just that, sucking on the end of it like a real pro. She even exhaled. She did this again and I tried not to laugh.
“It’s not funny,” she said.
“I tried not to laugh.”
“Well, you didn’t do a very good job of it.”
I waited as she inhaled again on her unlit cigarette, exhaled some nonexistent smoke. Her foot bounced at the end of her ankle like a fish dangling from a line. Then, she actually asked for an ashtray.
“There are no ashes,” I pointed out reasonably.
“Please,” she said. “It helps.”
I sighed and rooted around a bottom drawer and found something Anthony had made back in arts and crafts when he was in first grade. I use the words “arts and crafts” liberally. Whatever it was—a hand or a butt cheek—I set it in front of her. She shrugged and proceeded to tap off some invisible ashes.
Our last encounter was a memorable one. Sugar had tried to stop me as I approached my then-husband’s office. Tried being the operative word. I might have hit her hard enough to break her nose. And I might have enjoyed it way too much.
“I said sorry about that,” said Sugar. She had picked up on my thoughts and assumed, like most people did, that I had spoken. I had not. And, yes, earlier on the phone, she had apologized again about sleeping with Danny.
“So you said.”
“I mean, you aren’t still mad about that, are you? That was, like, years ago.”
“Two and a half years ago. And, yes, I’m still mad.”
“Well, I’m sorry. If it wasn’t me, it would have been any of the other girls. Your husband was, like, into all of us.”
“Good to know.”
“Besides, I haven’t seen him in, like, over a year. Have you?”
“On and off,” I said, referring to his ghost who appeared occasionally in my home. I usually found him in the kid’s rooms, standing over them as they slept. Sugar didn’t need to know that Danny had been murdered by a vampire who had been out to get me, too. Or that Danny had aligned with the wrong team...and had gotten himself killed. Which is why I blocked those thoughts.
She said, “Okay, well, tell him I miss him.”
And I saw it there, on her face, and heard it in her voice. She truly had feelings for him. Sadly, I didn’t miss him so much. Rarely, in fact. Perhaps only once or twice, tops. Not like the kids, who still mourn for their daddy. At least someone had loved Danny before he died, because it sure as hell wasn’t me.
“I’ll tell him,” I said, and my voice might have softened a bit, dammit. Yeah, I have a bleeding heart for sure. “Now, why do you think your ex-boyfriend is a serial killer?”
She picked up the unlit cigarette and held it loosely between her fingers. “Because he told me.”
Chapter Three
“And why would he do that?” I asked.
Yes, she looked ridiculous with the unlit cigarette hanging from her lips. Admittedly, I admired her commitment to her habit, unhealthy as it was. I decided not to let her know that, I, too, smoked from time to time, but never in the house. Usually in the car or on long stakeouts. Even if cancerous cells did develop in my lungs, the vampire in me eradicated them instantly.
There were benefits to being what I was. And these days, now that I could go into the sun and eat and drink and be merry, the benefits far outweighed the risks.
“He talks in his sleep,” said Nancy.
“And this was recently?”
“Yes.”
The word slut might have slipped through my mind, although I wasn’t one to judge. I’d had two relationships since my divorce from Danny, and three, if you counted my mental relationship with Fang, which I kinda did.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” asked Nancy. Oops, the “slut” part might have slipped out. Might have.
“No,” I said. “Not really.”
“You’re probably wondering why I came to you and not, say, another detective.”
“The thought occurred to me.”
Yes, I could probe her mind for the answers I wanted. The thing was, I didn’t want to probe her mind. I didn’t want to dip down into her thoughts and see what made this woman tick. I also didn’t want to stumble across any memories of her and Danny. At present, such memories were probably brewing on the surface...all of their lies and deception and sneaking around and not-very-good-sneaking around.
“Danny talked, too,” she said, looking away.
“Not in his sleep,” I said.
“No, never in his sleep. I guess we both know that.” She laughed at that and kicked her leg a little; we were just two girls sharing memories of the same man in bed. A man she had taken from me, although he went willingly enough. Actually, I imagined him running from me. Turned out his instincts were partly true. Had Danny and I continued to sleep together, he would have been bonded to me as a sort of sex slave, as had been the case with Russell. I shuddered at the thought.
“Danny would tell me things,” she said, sucking ridiculously at the end of the unlit cigarette and blowing out her pretend smoke. I wondered if she was even aware that the fag wasn’t lit. Yes, I’m channeling my inner Brit.
“What things?” I asked. My eyes might have narrowed suspiciously.
She took the cigarette out of her mouth and looked at it, wrinkling her nose. Then looked me directly in the eye. “He said you’re a vampire.”
“Did he now?”
She nodded vigorously. “And he was scared of you. Like, irrationally scared of you.”
“Because I was a vampire?”
“That’s what he said.”
“And did you believe him?”
“I really, really want to light this cigarette,” she said.
Suddenly, I wanted one, too. I stood and said, “Follow me.”
Chapter Four
We were in my back yard, smoking.
