VAMPIRES THREE NOVELS BY J.R. Rain MOON DANCE H.T. Night VAMPIRE LOVE STORY Aiden James THE VAMPIRES’ LAST LOVER VAMPIRES: Three Novels Published by J.R. Rain Copyright © 2010 by J.R. Rain, H.T. Night and Aiden James eBook Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your favorite ebookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors. MOON DANCE by J.R. RAIN Vampire for Hire #1 Acclaim for J.R. Rain: “Be prepared to lose sleep!” —James Rollins, international bestselling author of The Doomsday Key on J.R. Rain’s The Lost Ark “I love this!” —Piers Anthony, bestselling author of Xanth on J.R. Rain’s Moon Dance “Dark Horse is the best book I’ve read in a long time!” —Gemma Halliday, Rita and Golden Spur award-winning author of Scandal Sheet “Moon Dance is absolutely brilliant!” —Lisa Tenzin-Dolma, author of Understanding the Planetary Myths “Powerful stuff!” —Aiden James, author of Cades Cove on J.R. Rain’s An Uncommon Quest “Moon Dance is a must read. If you like Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter, be prepared to love J. R. Rain’s Samantha Moon, vampire private investigator.” —Eve Paludan, author of Letters from David “Impossible to put down. J.R. Rain’s Moon Dance is a fabulous urban fantasy replete with multifarious and unusual characters, a perfectly synchronized plot, vibrant dialogue and sterling witticism all wrapped in a voice that is as beautiful as it is rich and vividly intense as it is relaxed.” —April Vine, author of The Midnight Rose OTHER BOOKS BY J.R. RAIN VAMPIRE FOR HIRE Moon Dance Vampire Moon American Vampire (coming soon) THE JIM KNIGHTHORSE SERIES Dark Horse The Mummy Case Hail Mary (coming soon) The Lost Ark The Body Departed Elvis Has Not Left the Building WITH SCOTT NICHOLSON Cursed! SHORT STORIES The Bleeder and Other Stories Teeth and Other Stories Vampire Nights and Other Stories SCREENPLAYS Judas Silver Lost Eden THE SPINOZA NOVELLAS The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo COLLECTIONS Rain Dance: Three Novels Rainy Nights: Three Novels Black Rain: Dark Tales Knighthorse: Two Novels Vampire for Hire: Two Novels Dark Quests: Two Screenplays Vampires: Three Novels (with H.T. Night and Aiden James) ANTHOLOGIES Vampires, Zombies and Ghosts, Oh My! (edited by Eve Paludan) MOON DANCE Published by J.R. Rain at Amazon Kindle Copyright © 2009 by J.R. Rain Dedication This book is dedicated to mothers everywhere: Our amazing, selfless, unsung heroes. Love you, ma. Acknowledgments I would like to thank Eve Paludan, Liisa Lee and Sandy Johnston for their generous assistance with this book. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Moon Dance 1. I was folding laundry in the dark and watching Judge Judy rip this guy a new asshole when the doorbell rang. I flipped down a pair of Oakley wrap-around sunglasses and, still holding a pair of little Anthony’s cotton briefs in one hand, opened the front door. The light, still painfully bright, poured in from outside. I squinted behind my shades and could just made out the image of a UPS deliveryman. And, oh, what an image it was. As my eyes adjusted to the light, a hunky guy with tan legs and beefy arms materialized through the screen door before me. He grinned at me easily, showing off a perfect row of white teeth. Spiky yellow hair protruded from under his brown cap. The guy should have been a model, or at least my new best friend. “Mrs. Moon?” he asked. His eyes seemed particularly searching and hungry, and I wondered if I had stepped onto the set of a porno movie. Interestingly, a sort of warning bell sounded in my head. Warning bells are tricky to discern, and I automatically assumed this one was telling me to stay away from Mr. Beefy, or risk damaging my already rocky marriage. “You got her,” I said easily, ignoring the warning bells. “I’ve got a package here for you.” “You don’t say.” “I’ll need for you to sign the delivery log.” He held up an electronic gizmo- thingy that must have been the aforementioned delivery log. “I’m sure you do,” I said, and opened the screen door and stuck a hand out. He looked at my very pale hand, paused, and then placed the electronic thing-a- majig in it. As I signed it, using a plastic-tipped pen, my signature appeared in the display box as an arthritic mess. The deliveryman watched me intently through the screen door. I don’t like to be watched intently. In fact, I prefer to be ignored and forgotten. “Do you always wear sunglasses indoors?” he asked casually, but I sensed his hidden question: And what sort of freak are you? “Only during the day. I find them redundant at night.” I opened the screen door again and exchanged the log doohickey for a small square package. “Thank you,” I said. “Have a good day.” He nodded and left, and I watched his cute little buns for a moment longer, and then shut the solid oak door completely. Sweet darkness returned to my home. I pulled up the sunglasses and sat down in a particularly worn dining room chair. Someday I was going to get these things re-upholstered. The package was heavily taped, but a few deft strokes of my painted red nail took care of all that. I opened the lid and peered inside. Shining inside was an ancient golden medallion. An intricate Celtic cross was engraved across the face of it, and embedded within the cross, formed by precisely cut rubies, were three red roses. In the living room, Judge Judy was calmly explaining to the defendant what an idiot he was. Although I agreed, I turned the TV off, deciding that this medallion needed my full concentration. After all, it was the same medallion worn by my attacker six years earlier. 2. There was no return address and no note. Other than the medallion, the box was empty. I left the gleaming artifact in the box and shut the lid. Seeing it again brought back some horrible memories. Memories I have been doing my best to forget. I put the box in a cabinet beneath the china hutch, and then went back to Judge Judy and putting away the laundry. At 3:30 p.m., I lathered my skin with heaping amounts of sun block, donned a wide gardening hat and carefully stepped outside. The pain, as always, was intense and searing. Hell, I could have been cooking over an open fire pit. Truly, I had no business being out in the sun, but I had my kids to pick up, dammit. So I hurried from the front steps and crossed the driveway and into the open garage. My dream was to have a home with an attached garage. But, for now, I had to make the daily sprint. Once in the garage and out of the direct glare of the spring sun, I could breathe again. I could also smell my burning flesh. Blech! Luckily, the Ford Windstar minivan was heavily tinted, and so when I backed up and put the thing into drive, I was doing okay again. Granted, not great, but okay. I picked up my son and daughter from school, got some cheeseburgers from Burger King and headed home. Yes, I know, bad mom, but after doing chores all day, I definitely was not going to cook. Once at home, the kids went straight to their room and I went straight to the bathroom where I removed my hat and sunglasses, and used a washcloth to remove the extra sunscreen. Hell, I ought to buy stock in Coppertone. Soon the kids were hard at work saving our world from Haloes and had lapsed into a rare and unsettling silence. Perhaps it was the quiet before the storm. My only appointment for the day was right on time, and since I work from home, I showed him to my office in the back. His name was Kingsley Fulcrum and he sat across from me in a client chair, filling it to capacity. He was tall and broad shouldered and wore his tailored suit well. His thick black hair, speckled with gray, was jauntily disheveled and worn long over his collar. Kingsley was a striking man and would have been the poster boy for dashing rogues if not for the two scars on his face. Then again, maybe poster boys for rogue did have scars on their faces. Anyway, one was on his left cheek and the other was on his forehead, just above his left eye. Both were round and puffy. And both were recent. He caught me staring at the scars. I looked away, embarrassed. “How can I help you, Mr. Fulcrum?” “How long have you been a private investigator, Mrs. Moon?” he asked. “Six years,” I said. “What did you do before that?” “I was a federal agent.” He didn’t say anything, and I could feel his eyes on me. God, I hate when I can feel eyes on me. The silence hung for longer than I was comfortable with and I answered his unspoken question. “I had an accident and was forced to work at home.” “May I ask what kind of accident?” “No.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded. He might have turned a pale shade of red. “Do you have a list of references?” “Of course.” I turned to my computer, brought up the reference file and printed him out the list. He took it and scanned the names briefly. “Mayor Hartley?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “He hired you?” “He did. I believe that’s the direct line to his personal assistant.” “Can I ask what sort of help you gave the mayor?” “No.” “I understand. Of course you can’t divulge that kind of information.” “How exactly can I help you, Mr. Fulcrum?” I asked again. “I need you to find someone.” “Who?” “The man who shot me,” he said. “Five times.” 3. The furious sounds of my kids erupting into an argument suddenly came through my closed office door. In particular, Anthony’s high-pitched shriek. Sigh. The storm broke. I gave Kingsley an embarrassed smile. “Could you please hold on?”