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PROLOGUE
To the editor of theSupernatural Inquirer:
My name is Masie Kicklighter, and in the interest of transparency, you should know a few things about me before jumping into my story, a story that justmightsave your readers’ lives.
First, I use obscene language when I’m nervous. Lately, that’s every waking second. You’d be swearing, too, if you were in my shoes.
Second, despite my use of nasty words, I’m a good girl. Don’t smoke, do drugs, drink, or believe in premarital sex. My body is a temple worth saving for the right man. Mamma raised me that way, and I feel no shame for being old-fashioned. After all, what has new-fashioned done for my sorry, poor ass besides get me into trouble?
Which leads to point number three: I’m now a convicted murderer, writing to you from prison, where I’ll be spending the rest of my life for a crime I didnotcommit.
Fact! You can’t murder someone who’s already dead! Though, Iamguilty of a crime worse than murder. I betrayed someone important.
In closing, just know that I don’t deserve to leave this cell, but I hope you will publish my enclosed story. It is not for vindication. This is for you, your readers, and humankind, even if no one will believe a word I’m about to say.
Because he’s still out there.
Yours truly,
Masie Kicklighter
P.S. Please excuse the fact that it is written on toilet paper.
CHAPTER ONE
“Kiss my doughnut hole, cowboy. I wanna speak to a lawyer.” I stared defiantly at Thomas Rowlan—aka Sheriff Idiot—who had a fresh coffee stain down the front of his beige uniform. His dirt-brown hair stuck up on one side like he’d just rolled out of bed. Probably because he had.
It was just past four in the morning—an ungodly hour—but that wasn’t going to stop me from screaming at the top of my lungs to anyone who’d listen. I was being framed!
You’re not getting away with this! You hear that, you evil vampire?I wasn’t Montgomery Stark’s first victim, but I’d be damned if I let some other poor sucker be his last. That honor would be mine, since I was the world’s only hope for stopping him. Over the last few weeks, I’d learned all of Stark’s tricks.
Well, except for the one that landed me here at the Leiper’s Fork Police Station, located in the heart of Tennessee, just forty-five minutes from Nashville.
Mamma, my older sister Maybell, and I moved here from Paducah, Kentucky, about ten years ago, when I was fifteen. Daddy had already been in Leiper’s Fork for almost a year, working hard at the whiskey distillery for his brother, the owner, Uncle Jimmie.
Needless to say, Daddy couldn’t afford much in the way of houses, so he bought a run-down shack and did what men in our family had always done: used their own two hands to build something better.
Sadly, after the house was complete and we all moved in, Daddy died of a heart attack. At least he got to see the smile on Mamma’s face when she saw the place for the first time. She especially loved the wraparound porch he’d built her, just perfect for sipping iced tea on a hot summer day.
She never did get to enjoy that tea with him, but at least the property was paid for, so we weren’t going to be homeless—the only comforting thought during the worst year of my life. I’d had to start a new school in a new town with just the three of us as sad as we could be.
Little did I know how hard it was going to get after that. Don’t get me wrong, there were good times, too, and those were the memories I clung to when things got crazy. Lately, that was all I had. Crazy with a side of dang-crazy.
It all started a few years ago when rich folks began moving to town, building luxurious country estates. Overnight, home prices went through the roof, and most of the locals couldn’t resist cashing in. Mamma was one of them. Sold our two-bedroom “Southern charmer” and one acre for a million bucks. Now she lived in Florida in some old people’s community. Not my thing, but good for her. God knew something positive needed to come out of all this, because I recently learned that those rich folks weren’t folks at all.
Most of ’em were vampires.
Yep, you heard me right. The cursed, the children of the night, bloodsucking devils, the immortal. On the outside, Leiper’s Fork was a quaint Southern town with its local mom-and-pop café and quilting store, but beneath the historical charm, something dark and sinister was brewing: Montgomery Stark. And he was one sneaky SOB.
“Masie, you can drop the tough-girl act. I know you,” said Sheriff Idiot. “Tell me why you stabbed that man. Let me help you.”
Did I mention that Sheriff Idiot was my ex-boyfriend from high school? He cheated and then blamed me. Said I drove him to it because I wouldn’t put out.“Your big titties drive me crazy, Masie. I got calluses as thick as baseball gloves on my hands,”he’d said.
Funny how I’d always thought Thomas was the worst boyfriend ever. That was because I hadn’t gotten involved with a vampire yet, one who now hated me with every undead fiber of his being.
“Masie, please.” Thomas took the seat across the table from me in the tiny interrogation room. “Tell me why you sliced him up. There must be a reason.”
My hands fidgeted under the table while I focused on the dark bags under Thomas’s eyes. He was way too young to look so worn, but he’d married Lizzy, my best friend in high school. Yes, the one he cheated on me with.
