I Know What Your Vampire Did Last Summer: The Faerie Holiday Series, #3

By Sandy Lender

Award-winning Author Sandy Lender brings you the standalone, third book in the Faerie Holiday series featuring the dark, dashing, and debonair Nathan Tearnshaw discovering tantalizing secrets in sunny Naples, Florida...

 

Katie prefers her chosen path to be strewn with zero surprises.

 

That's why she and her BFF planned out their summer vacay down to the last detail for calm Florida Gulf Coast relaxation while her cheating boyfriend gets his act together back home. She never dreamed the holiday would involve recovering from all the trauma of all the things--with a side of paranormal love interest!

 

I mean, what are the chances sea turtle rescue and hurricane survival would be mixed up with an honest-to-God vampire trying to evade an ancient evil?

 

And aren't vampires supposed to be horrifying and scary? Not sex-on-a-stick gorgeous and a gentlemanly juxtaposition to all Katie's experienced at the hands of a manipulative jerk for fifteen years.

 

Her best laid plans might need a revamp.

 

Welcome to standalone book three of the Faerie Holiday series, where friends of the Rose Chateau fight the forces of evil...and pursue forces of paranormal romance in I Know What Your Vampire Did Last Summer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dragon Hoard Press
• Release date: Apr 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781737812968

Sandy Lender

Sandy Lender is a magazine editor by day and author of girl-power fantasy novels by night. She lives in Florida where she volunteers in sea turtle conservation and parrot rescue. With a four-year degree in English and 28-year career in publishing, her successes include traditionally and self-published novels, hundreds of magazine articles, multiple short stories in competitive anthologies, a handful of APEX technical writing awards, a 2019 IMADJINN Best Literary Fiction Novel Award for her #MeToo novel She’s Not Broken, a 2020 IMADJINN Best Short Story Award for Woman Off the Grid, and a 2020 Pushcart Prize nomination for her short story Woman off the Grid. Despite the horrors of 2020, she launched a new title every month of that crazy year...

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Infidelity was a strange thought to flash through Katie’s mind before death:  Why did he cheat with a skank like Shara Cirza?

Gravity and inertia wrenched her body violently against the seatbelt of the Uber, tearing muscles against the weight of centrifugal forces, but her thoughts went to a more familiar heaviness inside. The weight of betrayal.

Crunching metal scraping against pavement sent a shudder up her twisting spine as her back turned against the seat cushion. It pained her to think the stink of over-flowery air freshener would be the last thing she smelled this side of Paradise.

Millie’s Coach bag rose tumbling from the floorboard and impacted her head. Shards of glass shredded her already aching shoulder, but the thought in her mind wasn’t for safety or fear or what could I accomplish if God would grant me one more day? No, she had to think of a ridiculous bimbo with a machine-gun laugh, fake nails, and bleach-blonde hair, all because she’d wasted fifteen years on Kurt the Philanderer.

The car spun to a stop on its side and Katie’s head bumped against dark pavement instead of a glass window.

She’s not even that pretty. She’s uncouth and vulgar.

From the space above her, Millie groaned, and Katie realized they must both still be alive. No one could experience such stabbing, throbbing waves of pain if dead.

Music from her earbuds, static-like and coarse, rasped among a tangle of cords playing Reach Up for the Sunrise, and she silently mouthed, Thank you, Simon. I need something light right now.

Aloud, she moaned, her voice seeping into the gasoline-stink as if from another plane of existence, Sake’s alive, Mill, I hurt.

Then, a pair of hands settled on her, seeming to shape into solidity as they fixed on her waist, lifting her effortlessly past Millie and a missing door, out of the wreckage, and into the blinding headlights of the car that had struck them. A man’s arms cradled her—yet she leaned against a cool, solid surface—while the scent of a spicy, yummy cologne drifted over her.

Voices.

People yelling.

Someone’s footsteps pounded toward her.

What are you doing out here? a man’s voice demanded.

Get the other woman out of the cab, the solid chest against her cheek rumbled. The tank’s been compromised.

Nathan Tearnshaw, some wild voice screeched. Oh my God! It’s him! It’s Nathan Tearnshaw!

Give us some space, a woman’s voice commanded. Everyone, get back. This is the scene of an accident. The car could explode.

Katie’s eyes shot open wide. Millie!

CHAPTER 2

Katie’s next conscious thought involved something about disinfectant and brightness. The room she awoke in smelled of beta dine and was incredibly bright. In fact, her own voice, weak and scratchy, was complaining about it as she blinked against sunshine.

Ask them to turn down the lights, she mumbled.

For a long second, she wondered who them might be. Katie was unsure who she was talking about, who she was talking to. Her confusion lent a dream-like quality to the other voices in the room.

Hey, sounds like someone else is comin’ ’round, a man said. A familiar man. One who had only recently entered her life.

The bed beneath her moved, the section beneath her torso angling slowly. She wasn’t sure if it was the motion or the overpowering scent of peroxide and beta dine, but her stomach lurched slightly, as if she might become ill.

It took effort, but she focused on a woman in matching light blue cotton pants and shirt. That should be a nurse, right?

How are you feeling, Miss Laorey? the pear-shaped woman asked. The nurse’s voice had a nasal, impatient twang to it. She didn’t look at anyone when she spoke. She looked at the miniature tablet device that beeped in her hand.

For a moment, the tiny tablet looked futuristic—as if it didn’t belong to this reality. If they were filming a Star Trek episode, it would be a tri-corder.

Of course, if they were filming anything, Katie would want the make-up department to get busy. Her shoulder-length hair felt as if it had matted overnight with the heaviness of a rubber tire fire. Unsavory. She wondered if her face looked as puffy as it felt. A woman with a normally round face and cute apple cheeks didn’t need puffiness accentuating her features.

The nurse’s disinterested instruction about something vaguely important interrupted Katie’s worries.

What? Katie asked.

Is she going to be okay? The man stepped into her field of vision, effectively blocking the light streaming through the window. Is she all right?

She’s going to be fine, Nurse Personality answered drolly, not repeating her instructions.

If she were to judge by the woman’s apathy, Katie could assume she’d been brought in for her hundredth episode of hypochondria, not her first near-death experience. Maybe everything was a-okay.

Millie joined in from somewhere beyond the nurse. She’s hooked up to enough monitors and machines to make sure they know every last movement of every last muscle. And I bet she’s starting to feel all those pokes and bits of tape, just like I am.

Katie couldn’t be sure she nodded in agreement. Wooziness tilted the room.

The last thing she remembered as reality was a man pulling her from the back of a wrecked car. It had been much darker then. What had he said? She’s losing too much blood. I don’t know how to stop all this blood.

He’d asked someone for advice. Paramedics, maybe? How had paramedics gotten to their wreck that quickly? Then the stranger had turned his attention to her, cradling her close to his chest. He had stroked her hair lovingly, as if he knew her.

Daniel’s got Millie, he’d said. Just hold onto me. An ambulance is on its way.

How had the stranger known Millie’s name? I must not have it right. The trauma must be screwing up my memory.

Katie blinked to focus on the man at the end of her hospital bed and forced her mind to the present. Thank you, she said. Thank you for rescuing me.

Nurse Charisma crinkled up the bits of paper and cellophane she’d used changing the solution dripping into Katie’s arm and took her leave of the situation without another word.

The man made his move to correct things. "Oh, you don’t have me to thank. I’m Daniel Tearnshaw. I’m co-owner of the Hideaway and Marina, but it was my brother who pulled you from certain doom."

"Yeah, Daniel’s my hero, so hands off, Princess."

Katie rolled her head to bring Millie into focus in the adjacent bed. Oh, great. You lived.

Millie grinned widely. As soon as I can get these tubes untangled, I’ll be strangling you in your sleep for that one, Miss Get-me-out-first-while-my-friend-fries-in-the-back-seat.

That’s nice. I do recall worrying about you, Katie slurred.

Hmm. Was that before or after you glided right past me and my twisted ankle?

The fellow named Daniel seemed transfixed by their cruel words, or by the silly grin Millie wore while she sparred with a highly medicated friend.

Twisted ankle? Katie mocked. She forced air to effect being offended. Is that all? I think I was bleeding to death, and you’re complaining about being left behind with a hurt ankle?

In a burning vehicle, Millie clarified.

Hmpf. I don’t think it was burning when Mr. Tearnshaw’s brother pulled me out. Katie turned her head to bring the well-built shape of Daniel into focus again. It sure was taking effort to keep everything straight in the tilting room. At least shapes and sounds were less confusing now. He’s your brother, you say?

She didn’t watch him nod, but turned back toward Millie’s bed, letting the room bring the woman’s image to her. And how was I to know someone was coming to my rescue? I could have perished right alongside you and been none the wiser of who was or wasn’t standing around outside.

Millie grinned a full toothy smile at the stunned Daniel then. I’m very fortunate that someone so brave and attentive happened to be on hand.

Katie grumbled under her breath, Hitting on the owner of the resort already. I can’t believe it.

She didn’t notice—or care—that neither of them could hear her. She had turned away from them, looking for the button that would lower her back to a prone position.

She couldn’t blame Millie for making a move on the guy. From what she could tell, he was movie-star material. And, hey, if he’d just risked his life pulling you out of a burning vehicle, he couldn’t be bad, now, could he?

The brother was obviously hero material as well. Probably handsome, too. But scoping out her rescuer hadn’t been high on the list of priorities as she’d lost consciousness the night before.

What’s wrong? Millie asked.

I’m looking for the button.

What button?

The laying down button, Katie mumbled, almost distracted, disinterested. I’m going back to sleep.

It’s the middle of the day, Millie whined.

I was in a car accident last night. I’m allowed to sleep now and think about all this later.

But I’m awake now and need someone to talk to, Millie said.

Katie waved her unencumbered arm in Daniel’s direction. Isn’t that what this knight in shining armor is here for? Did you call home? Kurt or Mara will talk to you.

Yeah. I told them not to come rushing down here to cluck around us like mother hens. Mara’s sending clothes.

Katie nodded, still running her hand along the rail of the bed randomly. She didn’t bother to suggest neither Kurt nor Mara would put themselves to the trouble of traveling halfway across a continent to help them. While Mara could be paid to do it, Kurt would likely consider himself a candidate for martyrdom if so fully inconvenienced. Her mind already shifted to the idea that Mara was sending clothes from the these aren’t worthy of taking on a two-month-vacation side of her closet. I wonder if the jeans she finds will fit me. She sighed inwardly. Do I care right now?

Do you need help? Daniel asked.

Yeah, I’m not finding anything.

You know we lost everything in the explosion, Millie said, as if indicating Katie wasn’t listening to her.

Katie jerked her head around to look at Millie. The violent movement not only sent a pang through her injured neck muscles, but it also made it difficult to pinpoint her friend on the other side of the room. A piece of bad art smeared vibrant colors across pale tan walls; someone’s rendition of a flamingo in swamp grasses.

What? Katie asked.

Daniel picked a remote off the floor and held it toward her, but she half ignored him at this point.

"Yeah, car went up like something out of Transformers or Mad Max or Aliens or—"

Mill. You’re telling me our luggage blew up?

Yep. All gone.

Katie stared at Millie a moment, thinking her materialistic friend handled the situation better than could be expected. You’re not flipping out over it?

Millie grinned. Not yet. The Uber driver called the company and they’re supposed to replace some stuff through his insurance policy.

Katie looked at Daniel then, accepting the control from him. Do you know what sort of tranquilizer they have her on, because I want some.

I’m sure they’ve got you pretty doped up, too, he said.

That’s sweet, Katie muttered. Wait a minute. Why are you here?

Why wouldn’t I be? he asked.

You’re the owner of the resort where we’re booked for the summer, Katie said.

Co-owner, but, yes.

So...

Be nice, Katemeister. He’s the guy who saved my life.

Yeah, but...

I wanted to be sure our guests with the dramatic entrance are going to be all right. And I wanted to check up to see how soon they’d let you two out of here. I’ll have the car sent around to pick you up when you’re discharged. And, as I think Millie is about to tell you, you’re going to need new belongings, so I’m going to arrange for our activities director to pick up some items at your request.

Katie stared at him in wonder. Wait. I’m still confused.

Millie and Daniel waited a patient moment for her to continue before Millie prompted: And?

What’s he doing here?

CHAPTER 3

That night, the Tearnshaw mother lifted a lacy handkerchief to her nose, sniffing it in a quick, sound snort and jolting her head back with a start. Oh, it’s a wonder you weren’t both killed, she crooned. Her delicate, wrinkled hand full of diamonds and emeralds reached up to pat her hair as if some strand could have fallen out of place. The crinkling shush of her taffeta sleeve wafted a heavy floral mix on the air.

Well, thank you, Mrs. Bennett, but we couldn’t just stand by, you know, Daniel scoffed.

Nathan smiled wanly at his brother across a polished wooden table—a table burdened with pointless silver trays, candlesticks, pitchers, and goblets. Mrs. Bennett, he chuckled. Good one. He then turned to his sniffling mother, who cast her own glance at her younger son—not a fond one.

She appeared very put out in her ostentatious nightgown and robe sitting amid a dozen vases of pale orange roses at her end of the gleaming dining room table. The Baroque roses emitted a softer scent than her perfume, their sweet-sweetness almost lost beneath the swirl of too many summer and spring pollens mixing.

The roses stood no chance in this room, next to this woman. They were overwhelmed by Victorian wallpaper and bauble-laden garland draping every shelf that minimized natural beauty. The only thing this room of gouache décor missed was an oversized mirror or two. Instead, a thirty by forty portrait of Mrs. Lillian Tearnshaw—complete with tiara—watched over Daniel’s side of the table while a similarly sized portrait of a standard poodle watched over Nathan’s. On more than one occasion over the years, the brothers had discussed whether they could replace the dog’s giant painting with something artistic. Maybe a floral scene to at least attempt matching the walls.

Or the gaudy frame.

Tell Daniel you’re proud of him for rescuing a pair of damsels in distress, and go on up to your room to get some rest. Your nerves deserve it before your trip.

The matriarch melted into her age before them, her weary smile stretching her wrinkles around her mouth, eyes, and temple. She reached out and patted Nathan’s hand. Of course. I just... She gestured with her free hand toward the far end of the table, toward the floor-length window where palm fronds dancing in the night breeze offered glimpses of the late-May night sky. I just looked out the window at all those flashing lights in the dark. She paused for a dramatic inhale. And all I could see was the night the police came to tell me and Harold about you boys.

Mother, Nathan began. He recognized the pitch of hysteria entering her voice.

And I had to relive that moment all over again, she wailed.

Daniel drooped his head toward the table; thus, he didn’t see the woman lift the lacy kerchief to her nose again. There were no tears as part of her theatrics. Her face didn’t take on a reddening of emotion. But neither of the brothers needed to see her flawlessly caked makeup shifting with her wrinkles stretching over flexing muscles; the men were used to such behavior that fit perfectly in the audaciously decorated room around her.

Ever the dutiful eldest son, Nathan answered, Now, now, you’ll work yourself into a frenzy. Go on up to bed and rest, knowing we’re all safe.

She offered him her wrinkly smile again and rose stiffly, like a queen, still sniffling a bit. They stood like gentlemen, as expected.

She looked down her nose at Nathan, her handsome boy, a proud shine in her dark eyes. Both of Lillian Tearnshaw’s sons had turned out to be good-looking men, she knew, but there was something about Nathaniel that made her hold her head higher when he was around. Maybe it was those darker-than-dark brown eyes that shone at her like he loved and respected her; they spoke of the heroism and security that he alluded to in his younger brother. They spoke of honesty and wisdom that she didn’t believe Daniel would ever possess.

And she would say so.

I know we’re all safe now, she announced, as if the moonlit table was lined with guests awaiting her decree. Daniel has learned how to be a hero for strangers, when he would leave his only brother to bleed to death in a—

Good night, Mother, Nathan interrupted. I trust this conversation hasn’t distressed you enough to disturb your dreams tonight.

Daniel had blanched.

The woman accepted the admonishment and sashayed from the formal dining room with an elegance beneath her years.

NATHAN TURNED BACK to his brother. Is a lack of a beating heart ever gonna be the end of that old woman?

Daniel choked on a surprised laugh as he resumed his seat. By God. She’s barely out of hearing.

Nathan walked around the end of the table so he could lower his voice. "She can barely hear when she’s in the room, much less when she’s out of it. I’m the one with the supersonics, you know. He tapped his earlobe as he leaned against the solid, unmoving table. But cheer up! Maybe she’ll meet an untimely end in Paris, and you’ll be rid of her at last."

I’m not longing for her death, Daniel moaned.

You should be.

And what’s with the smelling salts? Daniel asked, as if it finally occurred to him that his mother had been snorting her handkerchief as if she were a drug addict. When did she take up that affectation? I hear that’s not good for a person to do too often.

Nathan smiled wickedly then, his eyes gleaming in the room’s low light. It’s not smelling salts she’s got.

Really?

Smelling salts is what she asked for. I’ve given her jasmine perfume instead.

Daniel stared blankly at his brother a moment, processing this.

Yep, Nathan bragged. And it’s cheap stuff, so she’d never recognize it.

You’re not really longing for her death, either.

Nathan grumbled, reaching over to straighten an orange bow on one of the vases near him. Only once in a while. Like when she antagonizes you. He paused a moment before continuing. You and I both know you saved me that night the only way you or anyone else could have. She has no clue what she’s talking about.

Daniel shifted in his chair, averting his eyes from Nathan’s. His mother’s bitter allusion to their car accident had stung him. Nathan’s forgiving allusion to it burned him—a slow, constant fire like coals burdening his heart, slowly charring away at him over the past ten years. Last night’s event threw accelerant at the embers.

Nathan turned his eyes on him. You did what you were offered to do to save me, and I thank you once again for your love for me.

Daniel was fully aware of what Nathan didn’t thank him for. He smiled weakly. I just wish...I just wish it could have turned out differently.

You and me both, Nathan thought, but he would never say such a thing out loud. Not to poor Daniel. The man lived with enough guilt.

And now I must apologize to you, Nathan said.

For what?

It never crossed my mind, when I ran out last night, when I inserted myself in that scene, that you would get involved, too. I knew those women were coming to the Hideaway. I knew they were our guests. I felt some measure of responsibility for their safety. And the one named Katie... He closed his eyes as if picturing her was too much to bear. Oh, Katie, he inhaled her name. If you could see the things in her mind. He opened his eyes to lock Daniel in his gaze. The anguish of it reminded me of Caleb helping Jenna, out in Colorado.

Daniel was taken aback for a moment but didn’t interrupt his brother.

I had to do something for the woman with all that emotional turmoil pouring out of her as easily as the blood was pouring out of her wounds. So, I rushed in. I’m sorry I sent you into it as well. I’m sorry that I asked you to rescue that other girl, Millie, from the car.

Daniel cringed at the memory assaulting him.

I’m sorry I didn’t stop to think what it would remind you of. Nathan leaned forward and put his hand to the back of Daniel’s neck, squeezing gently, thinking he offered the man comfort. I didn’t mean to remind you of my first death.

CHAPTER 4

When Katie Laorey awoke in the wee hours of Monday morning, she drifted into consciousness from a cloudy dream. In her vision, a man with Daniel Tearnshaw’s bone structure and height stood over her hospital bed, but this man possessed dark, moody eyes and let dark, less-professional hair tussle in layers of unruliness around his neck. He paused, as if assessing her condition, before speaking lowly to her, imparting whispery messages without moving his lips—as handsome figures in dreams are wont to do.

As Katie shrugged off the sensation of being watched and pulled herself awake, she could swear she caught a whiff of a spicy cologne. It wasn’t entirely musky, but more like a comfort food, like pumpkin pie, reminding her of the rescuer who’d pulled her out of the car Saturday night. It faded into a sweet scent of flowers.

She opened her eyes to the slow dawning of day and to a vase of pale-orange roses on the table next to her.

Where did those come from?

Are you awake over there? Millie asked.

Barely.

I think my pain killers are wearing off, Millie said.

You want me to buzz the nurse? Katie asked. The aches and pains sending twinges through her own body were less pronounced than they’d been the day before; the hint of energy returning vibrated in more of her cells this morning. Getting help for her friend should be manageable.

As if that’ll do any good, Millie groused. But I’m gonna need something.

Katie reached for the remote and fumbled for the nurse’s call button in the half-light of dawn. Mill, if you wanna go back to Kansas City—

No. We’re here for our summer vacation. We’re here to have fun and hang out and do whatever you want to do before your life is ruined by work and a stupid relationship. We’re here to give you one last shot at being alive before—

All right. Settle down. Be calm, Danielsan. I’m just sayin’ that we can go back...what? What’s that cheesy grin for?

"When you said ‘Danielsan,’ it made me think of my hero."

Katie stared at the woman in shock for a moment. "You. Are. In. Sane. Did you just say to me that my Karate Kid reference, which I probably say to you every third day of your crazy life, made you think of, what? Your hero? You referred to the hotel owner as your hero?"

Millie giggled, pulling her covers up over her face. A string of saline-filled tubing slapped against the side of her bed with the motion. "I can’t believe how gorgeous