Eternal Bloodlines

By J.C. Brennan

A series of unexplained murders and a near-fatal accident propel a desperate woman down a dark and sinister road.

Twenty-four year-old Amanda Holston dreams of getting a little excitement in her life. In the sleepy town of Skidway Lake that may be asking too much. One snowy morning, while walki

• Language: English
• Publisher: TopShelf Indie
• Release date: Oct 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781946865120

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This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and political figures are intended to give the story a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual private persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Eternal Bloodlines

Copyright © 2017 by JC Brennan

www.jcbrennanbooks.com

All rights reserved.

Published by

TOPSHELF INDIE

www.TopShelfIndie.com

Designed, developed, edited, proofread

by TopShelf Author Services.

www.TopShelfMagazine.net

ISBN: 978-1-946865-11-3  (eBook)

Print copies may be purchased through:

Baker & Taylor

INGRAM CONTENT GROUP

Eternal_Bloodline_Cover_Text-1.jpg

A thought from the author

Many dark fairy tales exist. We've grown up with stories, which strike fear at our core. You've worried endlessly over the bogeyman hiding in your closet or the creepy monsters lying in wait under your bed. You may have had bad dreams of a half-crazed man, scraping his razor-sharp blade at your window in the night. Believing he was waiting for you, the second the curtains are drawn and lights extinguished.

For me, the scariest was Dracula. He scared me, but also fascinated me. The idea of a man who lived forever, preying on young, vibrant women, transforming them into immortal––well, that scared the hell out of me. However, it also fed my imagination, molded it, and opened me up to a world of exceptional possibilities. I had dreams of a dark stranger coming into my room at night to take me away and make me an immortal. Oh, to be immortal––the things I could do, learn and see.

We've all grown up with fears of things that go bump in the night. They can seem very real when you're a child. As real as your parents, your dog, your toys––but then you grow up. However, even after you've grown, those fears can still live in the back of your mind. They lurk, waiting for the frightened child living inside us all, to come out and play. They wait patiently in the hollows of our minds.

Could there be truth to the terrifying tales we're told as children? Is there some inner demon waiting for you on some alternate playing field? You may unknowingly call to those fears. If you're brave enough, perhaps, you'll be willing to play the dark game. But, if not, pull your blanket over your head tight. Remain there until morning comes calling, or you may have to face your darkest fears.

Eternal

Bloodlines

The darkness holds the secret to an unmarked path,

One most won't walk, avoiding the aftermath.

Legends come to life in dusk of night,

Whisk away as myths and monsters take flight.

Blood and lust bring the beast near,

Though, in the darkness his visage was unclear.

Blood, the essence of life, precious as gold;

Drawn to her, he stalks the night remorseless and bold.

On an old dirt road lies an innocence soul,

Taken for sustenance for the immortal the night holds.

No one believes, they mock her dismay,

But she has found the forbidden truth haunting her this day.

The dead compile; she feels the change,

Baptized in blood, no humanity remains.

A pawn in a demented game, she loses control,

Blood stole from the living to feed her immortal soul.

Nightfall approaches once more; the smell of death lingers near,

With crimson eyes' glow, mortals freeze in fear.

Fangs puncture soft flesh; blood spilled upon an immortal stage.

Innocent blood feeds Eternal Bloodlines in a bloodthirsty rage.

1

The constant thrashing of the alarm clock rattled Amanda’s skull as she rolled out of bed. 6 AM already, she groaned. Another night without a wink. She longed for a solid night’s sleep––just one. My God, she thought as she silenced the alarm with a clenched fist. Is that too much to ask? She grabbed the mug from her nightstand and downed the leftover coffee from the night before, then stumbled to the kitchen to brew another pot.

Amanda was painfully accustomed to the humdrum of daily existence. Little sleep, bitter coffee, scalding showers, all while pondering the question: What the hell am I doing? She dreamed of something exciting happening––anything. She lost count of all the times she’d been startled back to reality while serving tables at Lil' Debbie’s Pizza. My God, she thought as she flipped on the coffee brewer. Almost anything would be more appealing than this bullshit life.

Keep dreaming, Amanda, she said, her voice still full of morning jitters as she blindly crept toward the bathroom, her hands running along the walls, nearly knocking dusty picture frames to the floor, many displaying those same smiling families who filled them the day she bought them from the local Family Dollar. That’s why she bought them; she liked the smiling faces. She dreamt that one day she’d replace those photos with her own. Your knight in shining armor is coming, she tried convincing herself, the gravelly tone in her voice smoothing out slightly as she spoke. Just you wait and see. Some handsome stranger will ride into town and sweep you off your feet, carrying you off into some incredible, exciting, faraway world.

Amanda flipped the light switch and stared at her twisted brown nest of hair in the barely lit bathroom mirror. Yeah, right. I should probably sink my life savings into the lottery this morning, while I’m at it. A snarky grin filled her stress-warn face. Amanda? She questioned. You realize you’re talking to yourself again? She paused, gazing into her sad, lonely chocolate eyes. They almost looked like someone else’s. She was knocking on the door of her twenty-fourth birthday. But she looked much older. Stop dreaming! Her voice almost startled her. She thought about it, those fines lines and heavy baggage growing deeper, weighing heavier than ever beneath her eyes. What the hell else do I have to hold on to anymore? Dreaming’s all I have!

Amanda cranked the shower knob to its hottest setting, pulled her nightie over her head, and kicked her black lace panties into the corner. She wondered why she spent so much money on a small amount of cloth and lace. So what if they were Lou L'envolee. She didn't have anyone to wear them for. Amanda let out a long, drawn-out sigh, the weight of discouragement pressing on her.

She always knew she would end up alone.

Without testing the water, Amanda stepped through the open glass door, into the icy torrents. Defeated, shivering, hands pressed against the glass, she let the frigid water cascade down her goose-pimpled back. Suddenly, the water became blistering hot. Amanda used her foot to adjust the temperature. The steam formed a thin film of fog on the surface of the glass, blurring the view of her itty-bitty bathroom beyond.

Why do I do this to myself? she thought. I should get it over with and pull the plug now.

Amanda stared at the rubber ducky sitting on the edge of the tub. Her mother bought Ducky for her fourth birthday. Ducky is a bit more special now since her parent's death. He listened, staring at her with those big oval eyes, orange beak, and a stupid grin.

Everyone would know. That's why! Ducky said. The poor little virgin girl killed herself. That's what they'll say. Ducky, as usual, had a good point.

They wouldn't understand. Amanda’s death would be a mercy killing. Transporting her out of this shit life into something a whole lot better, she was sure.

If you would pay attention to Ghost Hunters and Paranormal Witness when I watch them, Amanda said to Ducky. You would understand there's a place after this. Heaven. Hell. I don't know, but there's something.

Amanda became lost in thought as she gazed at the water droplets forge their own crooked, uninteresting paths down the steamy glass. The only excitement to ever come to this town was in the summer when people escaped the city to their wooded cabins. The Ogemaw County Fair is always fun. Now there's excitement––a bunch of rednecks, hanging 'round, eating cotton candy and elephant ears. You do realize you are one of those rednecks, right? She thought. Well, there were worse things she could be. Shit, Amanda, you need to get a life. Leave this crap-ass town.

But how? There inlaid the real question.

First off, Miss Amanda, you'll never be able to save the money needed to move with a waitress salary––no one tips for shit around here. Face it. You're doomed. Even more disappointed with her life than when she first got in the shower, she grabbed the shampoo and lathered her hair. Come on Amanda, think of something different. Something exciting. She let her mind wonder off to the exciting far away worlds that she saw in her dreams.

Born Amanda Rain Holston, at Tolfree Memorial Hospital in West Branch, Michigan, she is the only daughter of Aton and Jan Holston. She has lived most of her life in Skidway––an unknown small town to most. Amanda grew up and still resided, on Rabbit Track Drive––no lie. Possum Track Drive preceded it, followed by Michael Drive, which, at least, is a regular name. The other roads within the subdivision bore such names as Deerbrook Road, Northwood Drive, and Teddy Bear Lane. Man, did she want out of this place!

It wasn't the neighbors or the townsfolk; she loved them. They are some of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet. Amanda never locked the door to her house or car. Nor did she worry about walking around her neighborhood––even in the middle of the night. No, the reason is simple. Amanda had enough of the boring, dull routine, and those same old faces day after day. She longed for something to happen––anything––to shake things up and bring excitement to her life. Since those cards were not in her future, she resolved to continue her mundane existence, drifting through life like a video game character controlled by someone else.

Amanda shaved her legs, rinsed the conditioner from her hair, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping an Egyptian cotton towel around her body, tucking the corner in under her arm. Amanda stood in front of the mirror and wiped the thick film of dew clouding her image. She grabbed the hair dryer––always plugged in on the right side of the sink––and turned it toward her reflection. Well, my friend, what should we do today? Amanda asked the all-too-familiar face that slowly reappeared in the foggy glass.

As her shoulder-length hair whipped around in the dryer's hot current, she wondered why the hell she wasted her time getting ready. Amanda had nothing to do––no one to see.

Amanda had a three-day weekend, which was rare working at a pizza place. Weekends were the busiest, which meant they were spent working. However, the owner of Lil' Deb’s Pizza told her she deserved a break since the week before had been so busy. Her name was Mary Anderson, and Amanda genuinely liked her. She wasn’t the kind of boss who would hover over you like some vulture waiting for its next meal.

She pulled on her favorite straight-legged jeans, the ones that made her butt look hot, and donned a pink cashmere sweater. She haphazardly applied some makeup and turned her bottom to the mirror one final time.

It's the little things, she thought. Hell, who am I kidding?

Amanda slunk out from the bathroom, through the dining room, the kitchen, and into the breezeway where her shoes lay on a rack by the front door. She loved going out for early morning walks. It's invigorating and helps her avoid sitting for endless hours in front of the television.

She slipped into her thick black boots, adorned with ivory faux fur and two pompoms suspended from the tops, then grabbed her down coat with the fur collar off the hook and glanced out the window. It snowed quite a bit last night. A foot of fresh powder covered everything. She could see a tiny strip exposing the headlights of her car. The dim porch light, stretching bleakly across the lawn, is the only reason she could make out the car at all.

God, that sucks, Amanda said, realizing the amount of work it's going to take to remove the snow.

Snatching the flashlight from the coat closet behind her, Amanda opened the door and let the cold, crisp air bite at her nose. She yanked the fur-lined hood over her head and pulled the zipper up as far as it would go, then walked out, closing the door tightly behind her.

It is eerily silent. No plows to be seen yet––not surprising since the blood in this half-dead town didn't start pumping until sunrise. Moving toward the narrow path, which led to the Furman's backyard, she questioned why the hell she had to walk this morning. It is cold. The snow had already started leaking into her boots. There won't be as much snow in the woods, she reasoned. Come on Amanda. You need this.

The Furman's lived on Michael Drive, a short road that led around a bend and into the woods. She loved the serenity of the woods. Once inside, Amanda could dream with no one around to judge her. It is always quiet among the trees, and the fresh snow made everything glisten in the moonlight. It is as close to heaven as she thought she would get. The Furman house, the last of the occupied houses on Michael Drive, rested ahead. Around the bend hid an empty summer home, owned by the Greyson’s.

As she entered the Furman's yard from the woods behind their residence and crept by, Amanda stole a quick peek inside. The house is dark. Everyone is asleep. The Furman's never complained about her using their yard as a shortcut to Michael Drive. They mostly waved and said good morning or afternoon, depending on the time. At the foot of their driveway, she cut left, following Michael Drive toward the woods. Glancing over her shoulder, Amanda smiled as she watched her feet leave the first impressions in the fresh snow.

That's when she realized how cold her feet were getting. But she quickly shoved that aside. Anytime she stepped on fresh snow––undisturbed by any living soul––she imagined she was a pioneer, about to discover something special, someplace unknown––uncharted territory. Maybe you'll find some ancient artifact, lost for centuries. Of course, Amanda! You're going to find the Ark of the Covenant back in those woods, she laughed.

The last house on the road laid empty, dark. She expected such since the Greysons wouldn't arrive in Skidway Lake until after the first thaw. Their home was covered in the sheets of black fiberboard contractors hung before putting up siding. Gave her the creeps, seeing the house abandoned. Made her wonder if someone lay murdered within its unfinished walls. You watch too many horror movies, Amanda! she said, picking up her pace.

Her mind drifted to the day ahead. What the hell am I going to do with myself? Amanda considered. Perhaps she could catch up on some cleaning? Vacuum the front room, the bedroom, sweep and mop the kitchen, don't forget those goddamn dishes in the sink. And the car! She was already starting to hate all that fresh snow. After that, a horror movie marathon! She thought, finally getting excited. Yeah, I'll kick it off with a couple of Stephen King movies. Cujo, maybe Carrie. She hasn’t watched those in a while. She could brew up a pot of coffee, break out the unopened caramel Bailey's, and enjoy a relaxing movie day.

A hundred yards or so from the Greyson house, a few yards before the entrance to the woods, she stopped mid-stride. Silently, she watched, as a young doe crossed the road ahead. It ran out of the woods. With all the snow it's hard to tell exactly where the road ends and the path into the woods starts. Some of her favorite moments in the forest came when she would happen upon a young deer like this, still ripe with spots, going about its business. Not wanting to startle the feeble creature, she held her breath, as it moved across the road. She stopped, lifted her head and stared straight at her. My God, you're beautiful, Amanda whispered as the animal lowered her head and headed back into the woods. It's moments like these that she felt fortunate to live so far away from the city.

The reality is, she wouldn't mind living in Skidway Lake if something would just happen––a new McDonald's even––anything, for crying out loud. In all actuality, if she could find someone to share her life with, it wouldn't be so bad. But she is fussy when it comes to men. And it was becoming more and more apparent that no one around these parts would ever do. So, for now, she chose to be alone.

Dawn began creeping to life. Amanda loved these walks––the reason she suffered the pain of frozen feet and numb hands. There is little she adores as much as the youthful light of morning. That first touch of sunlight felt like angels caressing her soul. It isn't quite bright enough to extinguish her flashlight, so she left it on. The storm had scattered branches across the roads, and she didn't want trip face first in the snow.

Suddenly, she spots something in the snow––small dots sunken just out of reach of the flashlight's beam. At first, the spots are spread out over several feet, so she paid little attention to them. But as she continued along, they appeared with greater frequency, and her curiosity got the better of her.

Kneeling down, she lifted a patch of snow with both hands, one of the peculiar spots occupying its center. Blood! Ananda said in shock. She dropped the snow and returned to her feet. Goddamn hunters! Scanning the ground, she looked for deer tracks. She saw nothing––no tracks from either animals or humans––just small drops of blood trailing off toward…

What the hell? Amanda said aloud, shining the intense, solitary beam of LED light into the distance. Is that a–– Up ahead, about thirty feet, something is laying in the road. My God. It's a deer! Almost in tears, she ran as fast as she could through the thick snow. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end the closer she got.Oh, Amanda said, pausing mid-stride. A massive lump formed in her throat which quickly fell into her stomach. Where are her eyes playing tricks on her? God, please tell me my eyes are play tricks! 

They weren't––

2

Why is it that a person who never wants to experience something like this, does? She thought. Then, once it shows up in front of your face, you can't stop looking? Holy shit! Spilled from her lips as she plowed through the snow faster. The lump in the road ahead of her revealed her worst fears. Oh God! Amanda gasped aloud. She turned away, covering her face with her hands, not wanting to see the grisly sight anymore. But Amanda couldn't help herself. She slowly turned and looked at the body through the corner of her eye––mangled, gray, and lifeless.

She threw her hands over her face again. No, no, no... That person has got to be alive! It was then she realized that she was engaging in full-blown conversation with herself. Yep, it's official. I'm losing my mind. None of this is real, Amanda! She separated her fingers and peered down at the lifeless figure. Umm, that certainly looks like a real dead person to me.

A foul taste attacked the back of her throat. Amanda turned away, swallowing hard. Something inside was compelling her to keep looking. Aside from the few tiny droplets of that led her here, there was no blood anywhere. However, the person's intestines were ripped from the body and now laid several feet away. 

Amanda's head jolted away at the discovery. Oh my God, I have to get out of here! The acid at the back of her throat was horrid. A wave of nausea hit her, and she started to heave. You'd think skipping breakfast would help in this situation. However, it made it worse. It was a violent eruption of steaming hot vomit––coffee, cream, acid, bile––but mostly coffee. She might never be able to look at the stuff again, She thought. Never mind drink it. She tossed fistfuls of snow into her mouth, trying to remove the noxious combination of coffee and bile.

Okay, girl, pull it together. You have to tell someone. Amanda reached into her pocket. It was empty. Shit, of all the times to forget your phone!

She ran back toward the Furman's house, careful not to disturb the scene. Being a huge criminal investigation fan, she studied enough CSI, NCIS, and Castle to know not to mess around with a crime scene and to retrace her steps. She prayed she didn't already compromise anything.

Why is this taking so long? Her head reeled. Even traveling inside her tracks, getting back to the Furman's took forever. Her legs were burning by the time she reached the front door to their house. Luckily, the lights were on. Though, had they not been, she would have pounded on that door all the same.

Mr. Furman, call the police! Amanda was screaming, pounding on the door like there was a monster behind her––for all she knows there could have been. But at this point, she was only concerned with telling them what she found.

The door flew open, Mr. Furman filling its frame. With the lights at his back, he looked ominous––a dark shadow. Amanda, are you alright? What happened?

Out of breath, her legs protesting the support of her weight, she collapsed forward, holding onto her knees. I found a body... Amanda paused, gasping for breath. Out past the Greyson house!

Are you sure? Mr. Furman said, shock filling his voice.

Does she look like she's unsure, Harold? His wife questioned from behind him. She had the telephone in her hands and was already dialing. Placing a hand over the receiver, she said, Come in, dear. Have a seat on the sofa. You’re freezing! You poor, sorry dear. Her attention shifted quickly to the phone. Yes, the neighbor girl found someone lying out by the Greyson house on Michael Drive in Skidway Lake. Mrs. Furman paused. She thinks the person's dead. Mrs. Furman hesitated again as if cut off. When she finally spoke the third time it was in a much different tone, Of course, I'm sure! It was the sound of a woman who was told she's a liar. You think I have time to waste on childish pranks? You best send someone out here! She gave the person her name, number, and address, and hung up the phone. They're on their way, dear. She was very matter-of-fact. Sheriff Hugely is close, but it may take a few, what with all this dreadful snow. She poured some coffee into a large cup and handed it to Amanda. Here, dear, you look half frozen.

Thank you, Mrs. Furman, Amanda said, reeling in disgust at the thought of drinking coffee. I didn't realize how cold I was. But as the steam from the cup reached her nose her love affair with Joe returned.

Mr. Furman sat down in the chair across from the sofa and leaned in close to her. Tell us what you saw, Amanda. Are you certain you saw a dead body?

"Harold! Mrs. Furman snapped, placing her hands on her hips. Look at her face. Do you think she's making this up? Besides, she needs to tell her story to the police. Don't make her relive it any more than she needs to."

No, it's okay, Amanda said, lifting the cup of coffee to her lips. I never saw anything like that before. She took a deep breath and let the events of the morning flow out. When she finished, the disbelief written into the Furman's faces expressed just how hard it was to fathom something like this happening in our