Mercy's Debt

EPILOGUE



Robert was no longer weeping.

Now he was worried.

He gripped his phone and punched in Mercy’s number once again. It went straight to voicemail, netting the same result as the dozens of other calls that he’d made.

He made another circle around the room, muttering obscenities under his breath.

His only hope was that he could locate Mercy before her stalker did. It was just a matter of waiting out the clock until the sun went down. If there was one consolation, it was the fact that the killer was also immobile, another slave to the darkness.

His phone rang.

Damn it, it wasn’t her.

“Carl! Has she shown yet?” he sputtered breathlessly.

“I’m sorry, Robert, she hasn’t. I haven’t taken my eyes off her apartment since I’ve been here… But I’m afraid that she may have left town.”

“Why do you believe this to be the case?”

“I just spoke with a neighbor of hers who said that he saw her dragging a large suitcase to a taxi only a few minutes before I arrived. He said that he was going to offer to help, but then he noticed that she was crying. I also looked through the front window of the apartment, and the front closet door was hanging wide open. There was an empty space on the top shelf, a space about the size of a suitcase.”

“Did you ask the neighbor if he knew where she was going?”

“I did, and he didn’t. All he said was that she looked scared and upset, and that she kept looking over her shoulder as she rushed to the taxi.”

“Okay. I will head over as soon as the sun sets. It should only be a few more minutes.”

“You want me to come and pick you up?”

“No!”

“Alright.”

“Please, Carl, just stay put,” Robert said in a quieter tone. “I want you to be there in case she comes back. I will take the Bentley.”

“I won’t move an inch.”

“Thank you, Carl.”

“Robert?”

“Yes.”

“The sun has just gone down…”

Click.

“Hello? Robert? Are you still there?”



Less than forty-five seconds later, a silver Bentley GT zoomed onto the highway and reached a velocity that was more than double the posted fifty mile an hour speed limit. Robert tightened his grip on the wheel and accelerated, sickened by the thought of his beloved being in the path of danger.

He did not slow until he entered the inoffensive residential neighborhood, biting on his lip petulantly as the speedometer dipped just below sixty. At the last minute, he rocketed into the driveway of the apartment complex, nearly missing its entrance.

He found Carl, who was on the porch and in front of the door, craftily picking the lock.

Carl looked down at his watch as Robert approached. “A new record,” he said, noting the speedy arrival.

The latch clicked and the door popped open. Robert regarded his watch, then, too. “A new record,” he commented in return.

They walked into the apartment.

“What? What is it, Robert?” Carl asked, the disturbed expression on his companion’s face concerning him.

“A vampire has been here. I can smell it,” he said flatly. “Not recently, but definitely within the past twenty four hours. It must be how the killer got to Liz. He waited for her inside.”

Carl scowled. “Bastard.”

The two men walked into Mercy’s bedroom, peering into her closet. They noted her missing clothes. They went into her bathroom next; her toiletries were gone, too.

Yes, they decided, she’d definitely skipped town.

They ambled through the living room and made their way into the kitchen. They immediately noticed the notepad on the counter with high hopes. However, their faces fell once they realized that it was blank. Robert ran his fingers over the empty page, feeling the indents from Mercy’s pen. He held the notepad up to the light, trying to make out the words. The marks were indecipherable.

It was Carl who saw the small black object first. He picked it up from the dining table and silently handed it to Robert.

Mercy’s cell phone.

“Goddammit!” the vampire roared. “This explains why she is not answering.”

“We’ll find her,” Carl pacified. “We’ll find her.”

Robert set the phone down and touched his comrade on the shoulder. “Would you mind leaving me for a moment?”

“Of course not. I’ll just wait outside.”

“Thank you, Carl. You have always been a good friend to me.”

Carl left the kitchen, and Robert busied himself by looking through every cabinet and drawer. He found nothing of use, not a single clue as to where Mercy might have gone.

Frustrated, he started towards Mercy’s bedroom; perhaps there was some clue he had overlooked. Remembering her cell phone, he turned and headed back into the kitchen.

He froze, seeing for the first time the crumpled paper ball in the corner of the room. He snatched it up from the floor and smoothed it out on the counter.

He let out a gasp and ran to the front door. “Carl! Come quick!” he called out, and then returned to the note in the kitchen.

He positioned the paper next to the notepad, holding both up to the light. The indentations matched. This was the last note Mercy had written.

“What is it?” Carl asked breathlessly, sprinting into the room.

“I need you to go home and prepare my travel casket,” Robert commanded. “We are traveling to Florida to find Mercy.”


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sloan Archer resides in California. She has been penning fiction since childhood; her first books were horror mysteries inspired by the howling coyotes on her family's farm.

Sloan is a seasoned world traveler whose journeys have taken her from Madagascar to Indonesia, and many countries in-between. In 2007, she founded a jewelry label, VIVI+VIVI, and received international recognition for her creations, her most coveted designs worn by celebrities and carried in Fred Segal. In 2012, she closed her business to focus on her true love, writing.

When Sloan isn't composing novels, she enjoys traveling, running marathons, painting, reading, and spending time at the beach. She is currently working on three books: Mercy's Doubt, the second installation of the Montgomery's Vampires Series, Lilac Coma, and The Frightened.