Anna and the Vampire Prince Read Free

him. True. But I am here and as powerful a vampire as Amélie. You know you can trust me.
    He starts to say something else, I read the hesitation in his mind. But finally, he shakes his head. I will keep that in mind, is all he lets come through.

Chapter Three
    At dinner tonight, Trish is bubbling with good news. She and her best friend won parts in the spring play at school. This is the most animated I’ve seen her since Mom died, and it’s a balm to my soul.
    Dad is equally impressed. “Trish, your grandmother would be so proud!”
    He’s passing a platter of spring lamb and vegetables. Smells delicious but I, of course, beg off with the excuse of a late lunch in town. Dinner is always the hardest meal to fake. Since neither my father nor Trish know my true nature, I’m constantly inventing excuses to explain why I’m skipping dinner. When John-John and Frey are here, they help by surreptitiously taking food from my plate. On my own, it’s a lot harder. Breakfast is the easiest meal because Dad leaves early for the fields and Trish is usually preoccupied with her school day ahead. Lunch, Trish is still at school and Dad drops in to grab a bite and is off again. It’s dinner that’s the problem. I fall back on “eating” a lot of late lunches, but sooner or later, Dad is going to question that.
    All this passes through my mind as I sip my wine and watch Trish and Dad enjoying their meal.
    After a few minutes, I say, “A part in the school play! Your French must be superb, Trish. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve picked up the language.”
    “Well,” she says modestly. “We have been here a few years now. And Grandmother always practiced with me.”
    There’s a wistful tone in her voice. Dad quickly chimes in. “Well, if you need help with your lines, I’m here. Je parle assez bien français, aussi, vous savez.”
    “Oui, vous le faites, pépé. Nous vous remercions de l'offre. Je vais vous prendre au mot.”
    They’re grinning like Cheshire cats at each other. I flash again on the thought that maybe it’s time for me to go back to San Diego. My work here may be done.
    Then, I remember what happened with Vlad this afternoon. I can speak a little French, but not read it. “Dad? Is there anything in the newspaper about something going on in Marseilles?”
    “Marseilles?” He pauses, eyebrows raised. “Nothing out of the ordinary in the last couple of days. But there is a perennial gang problem. Poverty, a large immigrant population, drugs. Just the right ingredients for a troubled community. A year ago, there were twenty drive-by shootings.” He hands Trish a dish, then adds, “They call Marseilles the Gangland of the Riviera. Like Chicago in the 30’s. Why do you ask?”
    I take another sip of wine. “I just heard something in the café today.”
    “About the kidnappings?” Trish asks.
    I look at her. “Kidnappings?”
    Her expression is solemn. “Three in the last six months. Young girls. Taken right from their parents’ homes. One girl was from Lorgues. I didn’t know her, but my friend did. It’s awful.”
    “Yes, that’s right,” Dad adds. “Two of the girls were found dead within three days of their disappearances. The third,” he glances at Trish, “is still missing. She didn’t go to your school, did she?”
    Trish shakes her head. “No. But it’s got everyone rattled anyway, especially since my friend Cecily knew her.”
    “And the Marseilles gangs are somehow involved?”
    Dad shrugs. “No one knows for sure. But the girls were found in the northern part of the city, where gang activity is most prevalent. The motive seems to be ransom, but both parents of the dead girls paid and their daughters were still killed. It’s a grim situation the police can’t seem able to get a handle on.”
    My brain immediately gravitates to wondering if this could be something other than human dirtbags. Could there be a supernatural connection? Of course, asking if any of the girls