Michele Bardsley - Cross Your Heart: A Broken Heart Novel (Broken Heart Vampires)

and to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Benny

and to all my Arkansas family

For him I sing,
I raise the present into the past,
(As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on the past,)
With time and space I him dilate and fuse immortal laws
To make himself by them the law unto himself.

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

Whats the point of saving the world if you cant get a little nookie once in a while, huh?

Dean Winchester, Supernatural, Hunted

At the start of Cross Your Heart, the seventh book in the Broken Heart series, five years have passed since the Consortium vampires rolled into town. The parakind community has been attacked by Wraiths (rogue vampires with bad tempers), Ancient vampires whove gone all droch fola (soulless), a dark mage were-dragon, a secret military paraterrorist group, and a bitch demon named Lilith and her Pit-dwelling posse.

So, you know, it hasnt been easy. Our heroes and heroines have prevailed, and, with Queen Patricia Marchand ruling both vampires and lycanthropes and the Council running the town (along with the Consortiums input, of course), Broken Heart has managed to finally become a haven for parakind. Werewolves, vampires, fairies, witches, wizards, pixies, and, hell, even zombies are welcome in Broken Heart.

Youd think with all the trials and tribulations our citizens have been through, all the obstacles to love that theyve conqueredand, hey, some of those vampire parents even managed to raise their mortal children to adulthoodthat they would finally get some freaking peace and quiet.

Yeah. Not so much.

Evil isnt always an outside force trying to steal or smash its way in. It isnt always a pissed-off demon, a sociopathic mage, or a soulless Ancient. Sometimes evil is hidden within. This kind of malevolence has patience. And purpose.

Its just waiting, quietly, insidiously, to be unleashed.

The Curse of Broken Heart

I t is said that beautiful and feisty Mary McCree drowned herself in the creek near her farm. She had loved her husband so much that his infidelity drove her mad with grief, and she could not live with his betrayal.

Before she waded into the water and met her death, she cursed this place and all who lived in it, swearing that anyone who dared to love would eventually know the depth of her own heartbreak.

Whether or not Mary McCree uttered such a curse is unknown, but she did commit suicide by drowning and her husband was accused of infidelity. No one really knows if, as town lore indicts, Marys daughter shamed the founding fathers into naming the town Broken Heart, so that everyone would remember the suffering of Mary McCree.

Statistics have shown that Broken Heart had the highest divorce and unwed-mother rates in Oklahoma. At least until the vampires arrived and took over the town, remaking it into a parakind community.

And if harmony was fickle, at least romantic love prevailed.

The curse of Broken Heart was no more.

Or so it seemed.

Chapter 1

Y ou wanna make out? asked the man standing on my welcome mat. He cocked a pierced eyebrow at me, leaned on the doorjamb, and tucked his hands into his pockets. The gesture flexed his muscled, tattooed arms, drawing attention to the six-pack abs defined by his tight T-shirt.

He was gorgeous and youthful and impetuous.

Rand, you make me feel old. I caved in to the smile flirting with my lips. And Im immortal.

His grin widened. Aw, Lizzie. Youre tops in my book.

Dont call me Lizzie. Its puerile. I opened the door and gestured for him to enter. Cmon. Its ready.

Now twenty-two, Rand moved to Broken Heart when he was seventeen. As a human, he was a rarity in a town filled with paranormal residents. He was also the expert on the care and feeding of dragons.

I was forty-three when Lorcan OHalloran, or rather the beast hed become, attacked and killed me and ten other residents of Broken Heart, Oklahoma. He suffered from the Taint, a disease that reduced the infected vampire to a crazed and rabid state. A cure had recently been discovered, thanks in large part to the revelation of its origins: demon poison. Our resident scientist, Dr. Stan Michaels, himself a Turn-blood, had figured out a real and lasting cure. The Taint was no more.

Every vampire got strength, speed, glamour, andunless our heads were chopped off or sunlight got usimmortality. There were eight vampire Families, each with their own particular power. I was from the Family Zela, and our ability was to manipulate and control any metallic substance.

As a human, I hadnt been able to conquer my vanity about getting older. Going under the knife, taking the injection, getting the acid peel I had done them all. However, becoming undead rid me of crows-feet, stretch marks, and cellulite, and forestalled other atrocities of the aging process.

Ill make tea, I said as he stepped inside and shut the door.

Earl Grey? he asked.

Of course.

Though I enjoyed my solitary lifestyle, I couldnt resist having a cuppa with whoever crossed my threshold. Thanks to an accidental fairy wish, vampires within the borders of Broken Heart could eat again and drink liquids other than blood. I had missed taking tea and had been pleased to reestablish the routine.

My old Victorian opened into a wide foyer. Straight ahead was the staircase to the upper floor. On the left side was entrance to the formal living room. On the right side was a smaller room, the parlor, where I typically entertained visitors.

Rand paused by the antique hall tree. He studied it, then glanced at me. New?

Yes. Its French. Hand-carved oak. Circa 1870. See the hooks? Theyre cherubs. The darkened wood had been polished with beeswax. Id fallen in love with the piece merely from its picture. eBay was a glorious boon for vampires. The bench seat opens. I flipped it up and we looked down into the emptiness.

Rand shook his head. Youve got a thing for old stuff.

So do you. I tweaked his earlobe, and he laughed.

The kitchen was accessed through a narrow door at the back of the parlor. While Rand took a seat at the small table I used for tea service, I went to the kitchen and put on the kettle.

Hey, I forgot! Rand called from the parlor. Patsy gave me something for you. Said they found it in the attic and it belongs to you.

I poked my head into the parlor. Ive told her a hundred times that whatever she finds, she can have or toss out.

He shrugged. Ill go get it.

While Rand went to get whatever it was, I returned to the kitchen and cleaned up a mess Id made earlier during a botched attempt at making scones. I heard the front door open and shut, and then Rands steps in the foyer.

Elizabeth.

A mans voice seemed to come from right behind me. It vibrated with fury. I swore I felt big male hands creep around my neck.

Startled, I whirled around, my hand pressed against my chest. My palm flattened over the spot where my heart no longer beat.

Nobody was there.

The kitchen was small. Id kept it simple during the renovation, thinking it pointless for me to even have one. The cabinets were whitewashed, the countertops and walls a cheery yellow, and the floor, like the rest of the house, was polished oak. About the only place for someone to hide was the pantry. I opened the door but saw only the fully stocked shelves and, in the back, cleaning equipment neatly aligned on wall hooks.