Reading Dracula at the age of twelve ignited Margaret L. Carter’s interest in a wide range of horror, fantasy, and science fiction. Vampires, however, have always remained close to her heart, beginning with her first book, CURSE OF THE UNDEAD, an anthology of vampire stories. Her vampire novel, DARK CHANGELING, won an Eppie Award in 2000 in the horror category and its sequel, CHILD OF TWILIGHT, was an Eppie finalist in horror in 2004. Margaret doesn’t limit herself to writing fiction either – her monograph DIFFERENT BLOOD: THE VAMPIRE AS ALIEN was a 2005 Eppie finalist in nonfiction. Her first mass market novel, a vampire romance entitled EMBRACING DARKNESS, was published in 2005 by Silhouette Intimate Moments and her latest dark romance is a Lovecraft-inspired novel, WINDWALKER’S MATE.
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Prince of the Hollow Hills
by
Margaret Carter
When Fern’s sister, a single mother whose lover has disappeared, is murdered, Fern has to care for her orphaned baby nephew. Until the supernatural invades her life, she has no idea her sister’s lover was an exiled elven noble. Now two princes from the Hollow Hills pursue Fern, one to protect the baby and the other to destroy him. But both want to take him away from her.
Excerpt
Bev emerged from the bookstore’s back room and stepped up to the counter beside Fern. “What on earth was all that about?”
Fern shook her head. “Says he’s looking for Ivy. Strange detective, come to think of it. If he’s that anxious to get in touch with her, why didn’t he give me a card with his number in case I reconsider, as he put it?”
“I heard him mention warning her.”
“Yeah, well, I can do that, and for all I know, he’s what she needs warning about.” After that cryptic conversation, Ivy’s premonition sounded a little more plausible.
Fern pushed the thought aside. Getting sucked into that kind of nonsense would turn her into a nervous wreck like Ivy, not to mention distracting her from her concrete goals. An aspiring businesswoman couldn’t waste time on New Age woo-woo. She dialed Ivy’s cell phone and got no answer. After leaving a message on the voice mail, she tried her sister’s apartment phone, with the same result. With a sigh, she left another message and hung up.
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Bev said. “She’s probably on her way home.”
“Who says I’m worrying?”
“Don’t try to kid me, hon. You’ve made a second career out of worrying about her.”
To Fern’s relief, they had to drop the conversation when a flock of teenagers wandered in to buy mocha lattes. After a pause to pet the cat, they headed down the street toward a nearby music shop, leaving the bookstore, it seemed, even quieter than before they’d come. Fern dialed both of Ivy’s numbers again. Still no answer. “Why doesn’t she turn her cell on?” she grumbled.
A few minutes later, while restocking a rack of brochures about Naval Academy tours, she glanced up at a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. She caught sight of a man on the sidewalk peering in through the display window in front. Her chest constricted at the sight of his platinum hair, rippling almost to his shoulders. She dropped the pamphlets she was holding and rushed to fling open the door. “Adair!”
The man whirled around to stare back at her. Anger welled up like bile in her throat. She charged at him with clenched fists. “How dare you vanish off the face of the earth like that? You’ve got a newborn baby who needs you, not to mention the woman you claimed you loved!”
He grabbed her forearms to fend her off. From her modest five-foot-five height, she tilted her head to gaze up at him. Eyes of a deep moss-green snared hers.
Recognition hit her like a punch to the head. She pressed her hand to her chest, where her heart thudded frantically against her breastbone. “No. I’m sorry. You’re not him. But you look so much like him.” This man had the same greyhound-slim, graceful build as Adair and the same chill beauty like a marble sculpture, but the bleak lines of his face suggested a harsher outlook on the world. He wore a long-sleeved, loose shirt that looked too warm for midsummer, with sleekly fitting trousers of the same smoky gray material.
When he let go of her arms, she stumbled. He clutched her elbow to steady her, and a shock like static electricity sparked on her bare skin. “My name is Kieran,” he said. “We have met before.”
Freeing her arm from his clasp, she said, “Oh, right, that one time at Ivy and Adair’s place.”
He nodded. “You’re Ivy’s sister, yes?”
“Fern MacGregor. Yeah, I know, Fern and Ivy. What can I say? Our mother was a late-blooming flower child.” He arched his eyebrows in apparent bewilderment. She let the implied question pass, not in a mood to discuss twentieth-century social movements. “And you’re Adair’s cousin.”
That fact triggered a more detailed memory of their brief meeting. No wonder Kieran’s hawklike profile looked familiar, not only because of his resemblance to Adair. “We all had lunch together, and then you dragged him out back for a shouting match.”
The visit had occurred in September, early in Ivy’s pregnancy. They’d shared a simple meal of homemade vegetable soup, fruit salad, and whole-grain bread. Before lunch, with Ivy and Adair busy in the kitchen, leaving Fern and Kieran together on the tiny, fenced patio, she’d tried to start a conversation with him. He hadn’t volunteered any information about himself, but the two of them did agree on how frustrating their younger relatives’ carefree lifestyle could be. “Adair does not seem to grasp the seriousness of his family responsibilities,” Kieran had complained.
Fern had sympathized, with the comment that Ivy and Adair made a perfect match that way. “She’s always been a little out there.”
“Out where?” His voice held a faint an accent, nothing she could identify, only a hint that English wasn’t his first language.
“Wherever it is,” she’d said with a wry laugh, “I’ve never visited, but I guess it’s wherever Adair comes from.”
Only after lunch had the pleasant atmosphere deteriorated into a fight between the cousins. Fern and Ivy had sipped iced tea at the kitchen table in silence, while the argument raged outside on the patio in a foreign tongue Fern hadn’t recognized.
At the time, she’d appreciated Kieran’s exotic good looks, in a purely aesthetic way, of course. She’d enjoyed watching his long, graceful fingers peel and chop the apples, pears, and peaches Ivy had assigned the two of them to cut up for the salad. When he’d licked peach juice off his fingers, she had let her thoughts stray into fantasies of how those hands and lips would feel on her skin. She wouldn’t have considered replacing fantasy with action. She had goals that left no time for pursuing any male, especially one she hardly knew, no matter how gorgeous. In fact, she’d thought Kieran’s maturity made him even more attractive than Adair, who she couldn’t deny was the most beautiful man she’d ever met, even if he had seduced her sister off the straight and narrow path. She had actually started to like Kieran, until she’d overheard that fight on the patio and Ivy had later translated the gist of it for her.
She still appreciated Kieran’s physical attributes, but this was no time to goggle at a luscious man. She wanted to know what he’d come here for and why his cousin hadn’t shown up. “You do know Adair disappeared before Ivy had the baby?”
In a cool, cautious tone, he said, “Yes, and that is part of why I need to speak to Ivy as soon as possible.”
“If you know where he is and why he left, she deserves to be told.”
His expression turned still more remote. “Where can we discuss this?”
“What’s to discuss? Right here is fine with me.” She waved toward a bench on the sidewalk in front of the shop in the shade of a crepe myrtle tree. She took a seat, and as soon as Kieran joined her, she said, “Okay, what’s the story?”
“I need to speak to your sister as soon as possible. I thought I might find her here.”
“What made you think that?” Fern wondered how he even knew where she worked. “As you can see, Ivy isn’t here. She’s probably home by now.”
“Then I had better look for her there.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about or not? Where the heck is Adair?”
His mouth tightened to a grim line. “I’m sorry, I believe Ivy has the right to hear that news first. As for the other reason I’ve come, it is on account of her child. He is in danger.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Counting Ivy’s premonition, this warning made three in one day. “From who?” she asked.
“That is connected to what happened to Adair.” He stood up. “I’m going to your sister’s home. If you see her before I do, please give her my message.”
*What message? I’ve met more informative clams.* Instead of voicing that protest aloud, Fern limited herself to a cautious nod. The detective, if he really was one, had warned her against one of Adair’s relatives trying to snatch the baby, and here a relative had shown up a few minutes later. Until she found out which if those men, if either, she could trust, she’d better volunteer as little as possible. She wouldn’t mention the first visitor to Kieran, much less bring up Ivy’s dire predictions. Why let him know she had a crazy sister? He might pigeonhole Fern as nuts, too. Even though she didn’t expect to have much future contact with him, she didn’t want to leave a negative impression with the first man who’d made her pulse flutter in months, if not years. *It’s just a matter of pride, not like I have any reason to care what he thinks of me.*
He said a curt goodbye and walked up the street toward downtown. No car, then. Maybe he’d come here in a cab. When she reentered the store, Bev said, “Who’s the hunk? Have you been holding out on me, girlfriend?”
An annoying blush warmed Fern’s cheeks. “He’s Adair’s cousin. This is only the second time we’ve met.” She phoned both of Ivy’s numbers again and still got no answer. Hanging up, she said to Bev, “Ivy needs to know those guys are looking for her. Why isn’t she answering? She’s had more than enough time to drop off Baird and get home.”
“Listen, you should go to her place and make sure she’s okay.” Bev held up a hand to ward off the protest Fern started to make. “We’re not exactly overrun with business here. Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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