Sweet Vengeance (Jessica Sweet Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  Sweet

  Vengeance

  Aliya DalRae

  Sweet Vengeance Copyright © 2016 by Aliya DalRae

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition, 2016

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organizations, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, locations, events or establishments is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Tempting Illustrations

  Image Contributor conrado/Bigstock.com

  Cover Formatting by Pink Ink Designs

  ISBN: 1523691425

  ISBN-13: 978-1523691425

  For Jessica

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

  To Angelica Rose Mariano of Tempting Illustrations for your amazing imagery.

  To Cassandra Roop at Pink Ink Designs Co. for taking Gel’s image, pulling the cover together, and giving it its final glorious touches.

  To my posse of friends and family—you know who you are!— For your never-ending support and insight; for your beta reads and your participation in my relentless polls. Your enthusiasm and encouragement were instrumental in getting this story out of my computer and into print.

  And To Kirk, my immortal beloved—

  Thanks for believing in me.

  There are no words…

  Prologue

  Helmut Fuhrmann watched the small pack of wolves running through the trees, leaping at each other, playfully dodging claws and teeth as they gamboled in the light of the full moon. The three young ran incautiously, unmindful of their surroundings or any dangers that might be lurking in the shadows. They trusted the adult with them to provide that protection, as young of any breed tend to do, and to her credit, she took her job seriously. The older female had a silver pelt with a white star on her forehead, and her nose was working overtime, her head swinging back and forth, scenting the air for potential threats.

  Of course she could not sense Fuhrmann or any of his Clan. The spells they had cast upon themselves prevented others from detecting them in any manner—sight, sound, or even smell. It didn’t just make them invisible. It made them nonexistent.

  As Fuhrmann followed the small group, slipping from tree to tree, his tall, thin form blending with the shadows of the forest, he smiled to himself. This would be so easy. How the lycanthropes had ever defeated his own race in the past, he could not fathom. They were ignorant and weak, and though they had certain magic that was unavailable to his kind, theirs was a limited magic, where the Clan’s magic was much more…comprehensive.

  A lock of his long, white hair escaped from the leather thong he’d bound it with, and it floated in front of his eyes, blocking his view momentarily. Fuhrmann carefully tucked it back into place, securing it to keep his sight free. The amount of magic a Sorcerer carried was evidenced by the way his hair moved of its own accord. The more magic in the man, the more life in his mane. It could be distracting in situations like this, but it was a source of pride for his kind, and though he tried to keep it tamed when he walked in the human world, he relished the moments when he could let it fly free.

  As the wolves continued their play, Fuhrmann watched the adult female. She was not large, which probably played into her being chosen for this task. Oh, she was large enough to provide the young protection from the usual creatures of the night. However, the larger wolves would tend to be more aggressive with the young, whereas with her there was less chance of an accident occurring. Fuhrmann also assumed she was a wolf of low standing. An Alpha wouldn’t be caught dead babysitting.

  The Clan had been watching this pack for many months, and so was aware that the majority of the wolves would be in their primary forest north of town, hunting larger game and probably getting into scuffles that would be too dangerous for the smaller pups. This nature preserve was like the kiddie section of an amusement park, the place they took the young ones to play during the full moon, while the older wolves partook of the wilder, more exciting attractions.

  Still, decades of modern living had made these creatures lax in their securities. They always brought the young to the same nature preserve, and they always parked in the same place, their vehicle hidden along a rarely used path. So easy to follow. So easy to take.

  The three young ran on, nipping and yipping, leaping over fallen trees, and hiding behind boulders to jump out at their pack mates as they scampered by. The larger of the three, a nearly black male with silver streaks around his muzzle, broke off from the group, leading the way, with a reddish male leaping on his flanks, and rolling him nearly every other stride.

  The white wolf was female, tiny in comparison to the other two (though by no means small) and hesitant to jump into the middle of the fray. She took cautious nips at the older males, but seemed content to remain on the edge of their rough and tumble game. She was beautiful, really, her coat luminescent in the moonlight. And she was ideal for his purpose.

  The adult would have to die, of course, and he would take the two males as spares, but the white female was his target. She was very young, and as a child in human form she had a sweet innocence about her, which he had witnessed during surveillance. The contrast between the harmless girl and the ferocious wolf she became would be awe inspiring. And these were just children. They were already larger than the largest of dogs. Any human witnessing such a metamorphosis would be stricken with terror, and their imaginations would bring them to the natural question—how big will they get? And how lethal?

  When the demonstration reached the blood-letting portion of the show, the humans would be mortified by the sacrifice, but the need for the elimination of all lycanthropes and the danger they presented would be driven home. And the first step in bringing the humans into their war would be complete.

  All over the globe, in small towns like Fallen Cross, Ohio, Clans were awaiting the outcome of this experiment. If Fuhrmann were to be successful in his task, then small human governments everywhere would be striking out against the Weres. Small governments would expand to include larger governments, and with luck, the animals could be eradicated within a matter of months—a year at the most. The thought made him smile.

  Fuhrmann’s attention returned to the present as the mood of the wolf-play changed. A large cottontail got up in front of the older males, running a zigzag pattern in an attempt to elude the predators. The hunt was on, and Fuhrmann followed, creeping in the shadows, his form invisible and undetectable, not wanting to miss the show.

  He was not disappointed.

  An unfortunate detour by the rabbit set it right in the path of the white wolf, who had lagged behind, and she did not hesitate. She leapt on the smaller creature, her lips curled and her fangs bared, her eyes flashing amber in the moonlight. And in less than a second, the furry creature was between her powerful jaws, blood spattering the leaves at her feet, the sounds of crunching bones echoing through the forest.

  Fuhrmann nearly laughed out loud as the young she-wolf snarled at her brethren, warning them off her meal. Her white muzzle was coated in the rabbit’s blood, and her fangs were impressive for a wolf her size. She looked absolutely savage. Yes she would do nicely.

  It was unfortunate they would have to wait another month before staging their demonstration, but the full moon was the best time to collect their subjects, and the only time to execute their plan. The time would not be wasted, though. The cubs would need some—conditioning.

  Tonight, they would wait until the wolves changed back to their human form and take them while they were vulnerable. The adults were able
to change at will, although the full moon did make it more difficult for the weaker ones to return to their human form on nights such as this. The young, however, were prisoner to the moon’s pull, their change initiated by the touch of the lunar light, and ending with the setting moon, at which time they simply curled up and awaited the return to human shape. Leaving them vulnerable.

  The adult would stand guard, of course, but she would be easily disposed of. He would see to that personally, while his Clan gathered up the young. Special tranquilizers had been prepared, powerful sedatives mixed with a healthy dose of magic, designed especially for supernatural use. It was a complex potion—the small quantity he now possessed had taken months to prepare—but he was certain it would prove to be useful. Yes, the young beasts would be easily taken. And the cages were prepared.

  But not now. The moon would be up for hours, and though he was loathe to let the pups out of his sight, he knew it was unnecessary for him to expend his energy, magical or otherwise, in pursuit of these animals. They would come to him soon enough.

  With reluctance, he left the surveillance to a Clansman, and returned to the point of capture to await their return. Yet he was restless, each minute seeming to last an hour, and Fuhrmann began to pace.

  He wandered along the path, or what was almost recognizable as a path, if only for the recent tracks left by the Were’s SUV. Fuhrmann walked on, deep in thought, and was surprised when the path opened up into the clearing leading to the parking lot near the low slung buildings of the Nature Center, which housed specimens of plants and animals, living and dead, that prospered in the surrounding protected area.

  This was where the Clan had entered, where Henry had dropped them off with orders to return near dawn with the transport they required. The lot had been empty when they arrived; however, a black Corvette was now parked in a space near the back of the car park, and Fuhrmann was instantly on guard. He contacted the Clan, letting them know through the mental thread that connected his kind that they had company and to be on alert.

  Moments later, he felt Fritz’s mind touch and knew that they were dealing with more than a couple of horny teenagers, thrill-seeking in the woods in the wee hours of the night. Several long moments more, and he was called to the edge of the field opposite his current location. The intruder was down.

  He could have dematerialized, a magic not common among his kind except among the Elders, but a talent he had spent many years perfecting. However, their captive was going nowhere, so there was no need to rush. Besides, the night was pleasant for a change, not nearly as hot as it had been, and the air felt good on his face as he made his way through the tall grass, charcoal duster flaring in his wake.

  What he found when he arrived was more than he could have ever hoped for. Lying unconscious in the grass near the edge of the wood was a man. No—not a man. A Vampire. And one he had spent many long years hunting. One who had eluded him for centuries. One he had long thought dead. He had resigned himself to that thought, to the idea that he would never get the revenge he so rightly deserved.

  Yet miracle of miracles, he was here, before him, and...helpless. Several darts protruded from his back, one in his neck. It appeared the special formula worked on a variety of supernatural beings. The gods were truly smiling on him tonight. This male would die at his hand, but not quickly. Fuhrmann had dreamed of this death for most of his extensive life. If he could stretch the misery into eternity, he would, if for no other reason than to compensate himself for the interminable time he had waited.

  This Vampire would suffer. And Helmut Fuhrmann would enjoy every scream that passed his cursed lips.

  Regrettably, this was off project for Fuhrmann. He had to make sure his fun didn’t interfere with his assignment. But a man was entitled to a little recreation now and again.

  A quick message to Henry had him coming to collect their new cargo, with orders to take him to the south cabin and contain him. No need to frighten the children they would house at the main Compound with a scary Vampire. They’d have other fears to contend with.

  Chapter One

  I was having trouble concentrating. My best friend, Piper, was on a roll, and when she gets going, it’s really hard to get a word in edgewise. The florescent lights in the Polar King glared off of Piper’s fair skin, giving it an iridescent quality. She shoveled in bites of her banana split without missing a beat. Eating while talking was like a skill set to her, one you would think would be disgusting, but she managed it with a certain flair.

  “I just could NOT believe it! Seriously? I just stood there with my jaw on the floor. I was like, what kind of moron stands me up and then has the nerve to text me and ask me out again?”

  I nodded in what I hoped were all the appropriate places and grimaced when it seemed like I should, but frankly, Piper’s latest love tragedy was not holding my attention today.

  I watched her auburn curls bounce around her shoulders as she became more animated in her story telling. Her emerald eyes flashed with wounded rage as her narrative reached a crescendo, but all I heard was a cartoon version of “mwah, mwah, mwah.”

  Piper was like a sister to me, but even I could take only so much of her self-absorption. It also reminded me that I was twenty-six years old, and hadn’t had a date in so long, I couldn’t remember what decade it was in. Okay, so there were really only two choices, but when you’re my age, ten years is a lifetime, almost literally.

  I gazed at my reflection in the Polar King window and searched for qualities that might be considered attractive. Nice eyes, decent hair, full lips and all my teeth. Running and Tae Kwon Do kept me in decent shape.

  If you asked me, I was quite a catch. Except for maybe that vision thing, but it wasn’t like that was common knowledge.

  The thing is, sometimes I see things, or dream them, usually things that haven’t happened yet, though occasionally the past pops in. It pretty much showed up about the time I learned to talk. Basically, I would have these visions and they would eventually come true. I predicted my birth father’s desertion, my birth mother’s disappearance, and the death of my poodle, Mitzi, not necessarily in that order. So, it’s no fun dating when you always know how it’s going to turn out, e.g. disaster. If I ever meet a guy and get the old, “happily ever after” vision, I swear I’ll move heaven and earth to be with him. Even if I have to drug him, kidnap him, and hypnotize him! None of which, by the way, is in my skill set.

  As Piper’s prattling continued, I glanced around the Polar King at the other patrons.

  A young couple cuddled in a booth in the back of the room sharing a milkshake with two straws, giggling like idiots when their noses touched. Across the way, an older couple sat, eating in complete silence, both staring off into space, their eyes reflecting long ago memories as they gummed their cheeseburgers to death.

  My across-the-road-neighbor, Bill Stuckey, Jr. was at the counter, John Deere hat sitting at an angle on his melon shaped head, tufts of straw colored hair sticking out above the hat’s green plastic sizing strip. As he shifted from one treelike leg to the other, hammy palms flat on the counter, I heard some of his order: a triple Polar Burger with cheese, extra bacon, hold the mayo, large fries, onion rings, a Chocolate-Chocolate Shake and a Diet Pepsi. Hey, a guy’s gotta watch his figure, right?

  Mandy Jenkins was behind the counter. She blew her perfect blonde bangs out of her eyes, her forehead creased in concentration, as her tiny brain tried to keep up. Mandy was tiny in every way, five foot nothing, tiny little figure, former Home Coming Queen and all around cute girl. But seriously, Mandy was kind of a ditz. Working at the Polar King tapped deep into her intellectual reserves. Lucky for her, her daddy owned the place.

  Behind Bill Jr., old Mr. Cotterman was waiting. He had a standing order with the Polar King for a chili dog and fries to be picked up at 12:30 every day. It was 12:33. He had a little newspaper stand set up next to the grocery store about half a block away, where he sold candy, cigarettes, and of course, newspapers. The Cot
ter’s Pen had been there since before I could remember, making him a sort of institution in the small town of Fallen Cross. As he waited, his irritation getting the better of him, his glass eye rolled up in his head making his iris disappear, leaving a big white eyeball staring out of his face. Mandy looked up and gave a little squeak when she saw him, all marble-eyed and scary-looking. Mr. Cotterman wasn’t known for his patience.

  “Mwah, mwah-mwah, mwah, mwah, Jessica! Mwah, mwah, mwah.”

  Huh?

  “Jessica! Are you even listening to me?” Oops. Busted.

  “Sure, Piper. Of course. So how did you leave things with, what’s-his-name?” I said, feigning interest, absently chewing on an onion ring.

  “I’m not talking about him anymore. Jeeze, Jessica! I was talking about the sequined dress I bought for the fundraiser at the Mayor’s house this weekend. I stopped talking about Marvin, like, hours ago. Are you okay?” she asked, softening a bit.

  Actually, I wasn’t. I hadn’t slept much since my mother passed away a couple of months ago. The grief I felt was overwhelming, losing her so soon after Dad. He was killed about a year ago in a freak crop dusting accident, when he crashed into Mr. Bentley’s soy bean field. Mom was never the same. She stopped eating, stopped caring about the things she had once loved, like her restoration business, Almost New Again, her flower gardens and even the people around her. Even me. Watching her slowly disintegrate into a shell of the strong woman who had raised me since I was 6, was torture. Watching her die was all nine circles of Hell wrapped into one agonizing moment.

  I walked through the funeral like a zombie, existing on caffeine during the day and margaritas at night. Piper was there for me, and so was Alexander, my other best friend, but even they didn’t know how to help. Piper kept trying to take me shopping, and Alex kept making margaritas. I really loved Alex for that.