Vampire Eden

By Liz Newman

Transformed by the Vegas queen of vampires, Eden Sayers must choose between her alliance with the vampire women, her love for another unearthly creature, or working for the CIA to destroy the coven. Caught up in a love too irresistible to turn away from, will she come to a grisly end at the hands of her supernatural rival?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liz Newman
• Release date: Jul 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301150960

Liz Newman

Author's Biography About The Author Liz Newman is a doctor of psychology. She also has earned an MA in Clinical Psychology, and a BA in Mass Communications with a concentration in Broadcast Journalism. Liz Newman worked as an intern at KTVU Broadcasting Station in Oakland, California. Liz has also worked as a crisis counselor, a community health counselor, and a staff psychologist at a local elementary school. Liz also contributes anonymously to several texts published to assist children and teens struggling with social and domestic issues. Several articles by Liz Newman have been featured in magazines and journals such as San Francisco Socialite, Spirit Song, Highlights, and The Sacramento News and Review, Chic Mom Magazine, Under A Harvest Moon, and Our USA Magazine. She lives in Los Gatos with four teenagers, her cat Zeus, and her French Bulldog names Lola.

Book preview

Vampire Eden

Book One

by Liz Newman

Cover Design by Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.

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Vampire Eden

by Liz Newman

Copyright 2013 by Liz Newman

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SMASHWORDS EDITION

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All Rights Reserved

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This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

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Dedication

For those who live to the music of the night

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

Chapter One

I ambled down the pasta and sauce aisle as I ran my fingers over the smooth labels of marinara and Alfredo sauce. The shopping cart creaked and hummed with wheels in which the sand of the desert surrounding Las Vegas had embedded their grains. I picked up a package of gluten-free pasta, carefully reading the ingredients to determine whether Kevin's sensitive stomach could digest it.

Hiya, a cheerful voice said. I looked up from the package. A lovely blonde woman stood in front of me, holding out her slim hand. You live at the Montana Rose Apartments, right? I'm Christine Leavensworth. I'm your new neighbor.

Eyeing her suspiciously, I extended my hand. I'm Eden. Nice to meet you. I turned away and pretended to be engrossed in nutritional guidelines. Christine stood there smiling. I glanced back at her. Do you need help finding something?

Uh, no. I just thought that...since you're new to the apartments and all, I'd introduce myself. I'm a sales associate for the Tiki Towers. You know, the timeshares on McClellan Road.

I didn't know about those. She's going to ask me what I do. All nice and friendly like. Maybe I'll just come out and tell her and watch her face crumple up in disgust as if she just ran into a drunk pissing in the sidewalk corner on Fremont Street and glancing around just to see who's watching. I'm not in the mood to see that face again. What will I say I am this time?

I work out of one of the model homes, Christine went on. In the Towers. Practically live there. Someday, if I save up enough, I can buy one and get a huge discount, since I'm an employee and all. What do you do?

I'm...uh...I'm kind of in between jobs. I pressed my lips together and scratched the nape of my neck.

You must work pretty late, she said. "I'm an early riser. Usually head out to Kaffee's Cafe around five for my morning cup. Sometimes I see you come back home. What kind of sales?

I sell alcohol. I tugged on my red lace shirt. Her gaze settled upon the hole at the bottom hem. I tucked my shirt into my jeans and scowled.

Which one?

Different kinds. I'm an independent contractor. No real place of business. I just kind of drift around.

Ah. I know a lot of salespeople who drift. They come and go. They always have some interesting stories to tell. Especially the night shifters. Christine smiled widely. Her teeth were long and white, and her gums huge and a mauve color in contrast to her red lips. We're both salespeople. We should have a bottle of wine and share stories about our customers. Do you like Cabernet? I just picked up this amazing bottle of Cabernet on sale. Great vintage. It'll only be me, you, and my cats. I just moved here after I broke up with my boyfriend. But I'm considering a rebound, if you know anyone. A pleasant peal of laughter rang out from between her lips. Tell you what, I'll make us some spaghetti and you can come over tomorrow night. She pulled a bag of pasta off the shelf and tossed the box into her cart. Do you like mushroom or Bolognese?

I tossed a lock of dark hair over my shoulder and twisted a strand around my finger. "I...uh…

It's okay. I'll buy them both and we can decide tomorrow. I'm so happy you're coming over. I could really use a friend.

You know, Christine, it's a little difficult for me to get out at night. I have this boyfriend who is...well, he's crippled and he had liver failure.

Oh, my gosh. I'm so sorry. You can bring him along.

Thanks, but no thanks. I turned my cart around and squeaked down the aisle, walking away as fast as I could without breaking into a run. I knew all about women like her. Maybe she knew about women like me, too. That didn't entitle her to be a part of my life. If I told her my stories, her face would fall as if I'd sucked her dry like a spider. She was a real woman with a respectable life.

I fished my cell phone out of my purse and placed a call to the Moonlight Club. The general manager answered. Jimmy, I said into the phone as I brought the cart to a halt by a cereal display. It's Eden.

Yeah, he replied.

Any shifts tonight?

Sorry, Eden, we're all booked up. You should try another club. How about Wiley's or The Escapade?

I called them this morning. Same rap. No shifts. How about a daytime?

Booked up, too. Sorry.

Come on, Jimmy. I need to work.

He sighed. Look, Eden, maybe dancing just isn't your thing anymore. The competition's really tough for shifts and frankly, you're not even making enough most nights to cover your stage fee. His voice lowered to a whisper. You want to research other avenues. I still got that contact for the guy who-

I'm not interested in that line of work, Jimmy.

I'm not asking if you want a new career. But you might need one. You call me when you're ready. Take care, okay?

Yeah, whatever. Bye. I hung up and eyed the cashier line nervously. I removed the coffee grounds, cigarettes, and beverages from the cart and placed them on a shelf.

Darn new girls. Always the new girls. The younger girls. The new people in town come to Vegas, in search of a better job, an easy life, or for booze, for drugs, for cheap one-night stands and fumbling around a hotel room in the wee hours of the morning. When I came here, I came in search of a life of eternal youth. I wanted a party that would never end, and friendships where one beautiful person could easily be replaced by another. I saw a ripe, juicy, glittering apple beckoning me to take a bite, to consume it all until there was nothing left. And I did. But when I woke up this morning, I saw the old in my face. Little did I know, I had less than one day left as a human.

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Kevin, I called as I pushed open the door to our apartment. The pharmacy was out of your painkillers so I picked up some Advil. They'll have them in by tomorrow. I know that stuff is crappy on your liver but it's better than being in pain… I stopped short and stared at his overturned wheelchair. The pounding of my heart filled my ears. Kevin. The wish that he was dead popped into my mind and I squelched the thought quickly.

I placed the grocery bags on the counter and walked down the hall to the bathroom. From behind the door came a stifled sob. I pushed the door open. Kevin lay in heap in front of the sink, just inches away from the toilet. His hair hung in his face, matted and greasy. My hand flew to my nose to shield my breathing from the stench. I couldn't make it, he said. Goddamn wheelchair got stuck in the rug. He slapped his hand against the wall. Are you just going to stand there or are you going to get over here and help me?

Of course, I murmured as I ran the hot water in the tub. I turned the cold spigot on and dipped my fingertips under the stream until the water ran in a comfortably hot temperature. Fifteen minutes and a mop and bucket full of filth later, I sponged Kevin's body off with warm washcloths. I hooked my arms under his and eased him into the tub, reeling from the sick smell of human waste clinging to his