"A Toyota, huh? I would have pegged you as more of a Cadillac type or a Mercedes. Something flashy. Or would you prefer a broom?"
"Excuse me?"
Mr. Aran stepped forward, holding the vacuum cleaner in his hand.
"Mom?" Jazmine said.
But she didn't answer. Her hands were shaking as they held onto her daughter's shoulders.
"Will you come with us willingly?" Mr. Aran asked. "I don't really want to do it in front of your family."
Jazmine's dad lifted his hands in the air, then said the word Jazmine would never forget for the rest of her life:
"Never."
He then mumbled a series of words, lifted both his hands as he had done when elevating Jazmine from the ground, and Jazmine saw a ball fire come out of them, directly toward the three men.
But the ball of fire was stopped by the vacuum cleaner when Mr. Aran turned it on and directed it at Jazmine's dad. It simply sucked up the fire and then continued, sucking onto her dad's skin.
Jazmine couldn't breathe as she watched the very soul being pulled out of her dad's body and the empty shell fall to the pavement in their driveway. Jazmine's mom held her in a tight grip and pulled her away, while Jazmine screamed.
"DAAAAD!"
Chapter Fifty-Three
I couldn't believe my own eyes. I was standing in my kitchen, rhubarb smoothie in my hand, my mom next to me, looking out at what was going on in front of Jazmine's house.
With my heart in my throat, I watched as Mr. Aran approached her dad and then—it all went so fast, I hardly believed any of it—her dad threw a ball of fire at them, but the ball of fire was sucked into that handheld vacuum cleaner thing that Mr. Aran was holding and then…then Jazmine's dad was too, or parts of him. I didn't really understand what was going on; I had never seen anything like it, but what was left seemed to be an empty body that fell to the ground with a loud thud.
"JAZMINE!" I screamed, fighting to breathe. I dropped the glass from my hand, and it scattered all over the floor, the red rhubarb smoothie seeping onto the tiles.
My mom grabbed me and pulled me away from the window, forcefully. She held my arms while I panicked.
"Pull yourself together, Robyn. You can't freak out," she said. "You can't freak out now. Breathe, child. Breathe."
I did as she told me and took a couple of deep breaths. It helped, but not much. A gazillion thoughts rushed through my mind and I didn't know where to begin.
"Oh, my God, Mom, what happened to Jazmine's dad? What happened to him?" my voice was high pitched and scratchy.
My mom looked straight into my eyes. Never in my life had I seen such a terrified look on her face. It scared me like crazy. There was so much she wasn't telling me and that I couldn't ask.
"Jazmine's dad is gone," she said. "He's gone, Robyn. You hear me? He's gone."
"But…but...how? Mom?"
"I can't explain it, Robyn, just trust me on this."
Trust you? Trust you? After all this you want me to trust you?
"I…I can't…"
I couldn't get the words across my lips properly and stopped.
"Just promise me you'll stay away from that man, Mr. Aran," my mom said. "He's dangerous. Never speak to him. Never go anywhere close to him, you hear me?"
"I do. I do…but…can't we…can't we call the police or something? He can't just kill Jazmine's dad just like that. Can he?"
My mom exhaled. "He is the police. Sort of."
I swallowed, hard. What did that even mean? Sort of? Either you're police, or you aren't. And the police I know don't go around sucking the souls out of people's bodies and leaving them to die.
"You say that I have to be careful. Does that mean…W-will he do that to any of us?"
My mother looked pensive for a few seconds, biting her long nails before she answered:
"Not if I have anything to say about it. And I will have. Trust me; I will."
Chapter Fifty-Four
It was evening but not yet midnight when the back of the van was opened. Melanie had been asleep when it started to move. She was happy it did because days of being locked up in this armored van had made her almost lose her mind. Outside the door stood Robyn's mom. In her hands, she was holding a gun. It had a silver bullet inside of it. She had told Melanie that before. A silver bullet could kill her if it entered her bloodstream. Robyn's mom had made sure she knew that.
On the day Melanie decided to leave Amy's house, she had packed a few things that she knew Amy wouldn't mind. Mostly a few of her old T-shirts and some underwear that she had already given to her, and then some food and a toothbrush. She had written the note for Amy and left it on the bed with a deep sigh, feeling very sad that she had to leave, especially since she wouldn't even get to say goodbye. She had grown to care for Amy and was going to miss her and her beautiful house.
Melanie had then walked to the front door and stepped outside, when Robyn's mom had been out for a stroll, or maybe she was snooping around anyway, Melanie never knew. But there she was and, suddenly, they were standing face to face.
"Mrs. Jones?" Melanie had said, feeling how the blood left her face.
Robyn's mom had smiled; no, it was more than that, it was a very satisfied grin, maybe there was even a little relief in it too.
"Melanie. Boy, have we been looking for you."
Melanie had looked at the skinny woman, then tried to turn around and walk in the other direction, but Mrs. Jones was a vampire, and if Melanie had learned anything since becoming a werewolf it was that vampires are fast, faster than she could blink.
"Where are you going?" Mrs. Jones said, suddenly standing in front of her.
Melanie was terrified of Robyn's mother, but she had also recently realized that she was able to kill vampires and that most of them were terrified of her, so she tried her best not to act like she was intimidated by this woman standing in front of her, looking at her over her sunglasses.
"I’m leaving. Please, get out of my way," Melanie had said.
But the skinny woman hadn't budged. "You think I’m afraid of you, don't you? You think that just because you're a wolf, you can do anything you like, don't you? So typical of you wolves. Just go around killing people like it was nothing."
Melanie felt a pinch of guilt. She wasn't happy that she had killed the pastor, but what was done was done, and in her book, he was, after all, a bad guy, preying on innocent humans. Just as Mrs. Jones was.
"Get out of my way," Melanie had said, growling. "I don't want to have to hurt you."
That had made Robyn's mother laugh. "As if you were ever a match for me." And that was when she had shown her the gun and explained to Melanie that if she shot her with this, Melanie would die immediately. She had also told her she wouldn't hesitate to do so since, in her eyes, Melanie was nothing but a vicious killer.
"You don't even deserve my mercy."
Now that the gun was pointed at her again, Melanie knew it was time to face the music. Mrs. Jones wanted something from her, and she was about to find out what.
"Get out," Mrs. Jones said. "I have someone you need to meet."
"Oh, great, is it another of your vampire friends? I can't wait to meet more of them," she said.
Mrs. Jones ignored her remark. Melanie realized they were in the park. A man with very skinny arms and legs and a round body and bald head approached them.
Mrs. Jones placed a chain around Melanie's neck and pulled her toward him.
"Here's your wolf," she said.
The man had a tarantula crawling on his shoulder and a smile to match Mrs. Jones' as he looked at Melanie.
"Now, remember. We have a deal," Robyn's mother said and handed him the chain. "You leave my family and me alone. I don't care what you do to anyone else but leave my family alone. Deal?"
The man with the round head nodded and grabbed the chain.
"You have yourself a deal, Mrs. Jones."
Chapter Fifty-Five
Amy was crying. She looked at Melanie's empty bed
and the note in her hand one last time, then threw the note out and closed the door to the shelter. Melanie had chosen to leave, and she was on her own now. Amy was already missing her like crazy.
But that wasn't why she was crying. She was crying because of Jazmine. She had seen what happened to her dad from her window, while making pumpkin pie, then stormed out in the street and ran to Jazmine. She had hugged her and held her tight while her friend had cried desperately, screaming for her dad, and her mom had knelt next to his empty body, putting her cheek to his chest, screaming her pain out.
Amy had helped Jazmine get inside and poured her some water. Jazmine drank between sobs. Then she called for an ambulance and, soon after, the entire house was crawling with paramedics and police. Many of the neighbors stood in their driveways and looked out, some stayed behind their curtains, while a few—like Jayden's parents—came out to help and take care of Jazmine's mother.
Amy had helped all she could, then left them to go home. Now, for the first time, she was crying, letting it all out because she felt so sad for Jazmine. It was tough always to have to be the strong one for everyone when you yourself were ripped apart inside, devastated with loneliness.
Like so many times before, she wished her mother was there so that she could cry on her shoulder. But like so many times before, she wasn't.
Amy walked up the stairs to the kitchen where all the food she had cooked lately was piled up. She had no idea what to do with it all. She had thought about inviting all her friends over for a feast, but there really wasn't much to celebrate. Instead, she had decided to donate it to a shelter. She was going to carry it all to the truck and take it down there.
Amy grabbed a lasagna and put another one on top of it, then another one till she had four of them stacked on top of one another. She lifted them up when suddenly a sharp pain shot through both of her shoulders at once.
The pain was so deep, it made her drop the lasagnas onto the floor, the contents scattering all over, smearing the tiles in tomato sauce and pasta.
Amy cried out in pain and was forced to her knees. The pain didn't go away, and she dragged herself to a chair then pulled herself up. She reached to the back side of her shoulders, and on the top part of her back, she felt two large bumps. Surprised at this, she pulled one side of her shirt down and revealed a large red bump where her shoulder blades usually were.
She walked to a mirror and looked at it. Two large bumps on each side of her back. She put a finger on one of them and touched it, but the pain that shot through her made her squirm. She grabbed her computer and googled it.
"That's it," she said to herself and sat on her couch bathed in pain, feeling lonelier than ever. "The Internet agrees. I have cancer. I am going to die without even having gotten my first kiss."
There were still seven months to the Halloween Block Party.
Afterword
Dear Reader,
Thanks for purchasing Fire and Beauty (The Vampires of Shadow Hills #3). I can't even say how much I am enjoying writing this series. I have fallen so much in love with the characters and can't wait to tell you the rest of the story. Thank you for keeping reading. Don't forget to leave a review if you can.
Take care,
Willow
Books by the Author
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About the Author
The Queen of Scream aka Willow Rose is a #1 Amazon Best-selling Author and an Amazon ALL-star Author of more than 50 novels. She writes Mystery, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense, Horror, Supernatural thrillers, and Fantasy.
Willow's books are fast-paced, nail-biting page-turners with twists you won't see coming.
r /> Several of her books have reached the Kindle top 20 of ALL books in the US, UK, and Canada.
She has sold more than two million books.
*LATEST RELEASES*:
☞ - Flesh and Blood (Vampires of Shadow Hills #1)
☞ - Blood and Fire (Vampires of Shadow Hills #2)
☞ - Fire and Beauty (Vampires of Shadow Hills #3)
Willow lives on Florida's Space Coast with her husband and two daughters. When she is not writing or reading, you will find her surfing and watch the dolphins play in the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
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[email protected] Part One
Savage, Excerpt
Daughters of the Jaguar Book 1
For a special sneak peak of Willow Rose's Bestselling Paranormal Romance Savage turn to the next page.
Chapter One
SO HOW MUCH DO you know about St. Augustine, Chris?”
The woman driving gently touched her elegant yellow hair, careful not to mess it up with her colored nails. She spoke with a strong southern accent and was incredibly beautiful for her age, which I guessed was more than twice my age of twenty-two. Her name was Mrs. Kirk. I had just met her at Orlando Airport for the first time a few minutes before. She was waiting for me holding a sign with my name, Christian Langaa, printed on it.