The Forbidden Read online

  Praise for the Krewe of Hunters novels by New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham

  “An enthralling read with a totally unexpected twist at the end.”

  —Fresh Fiction on Deadly Touch

  “Tightly woven... Delivers a cunning mystery.”

  —Caffeinated Book Reviewer on Seeing Darkness

  “Deftly keeps us guessing with masterful sleight of hand... Masterfully told and deliciously engaging, Seeing Darkness will keep you turning pages late into the night.”

  —J.R. Wallace, JathanandHeather.com

  “Graham strikes a fine balance between romantic suspense and a gothic ghost story in her latest Krewe of Hunters tale.”

  —Booklist on The Summoning

  “Graham proves that she is still at the top of the genre with the latest Krewe of Hunters book.... Evil lurks in the background and readers will be trying to figure out the motives of the killer while flipping the pages to see what can possibly happen next. Another great book to add to this long-running series.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Fade to Black

  “Graham takes us on a thrilling ride... A bone-chilling read.”

  —Fresh Fiction on Pale as Death

  “Graham is a master at world building and her latest is a thrilling, dark, and deadly tale of romantic suspense.”

  —Booklist on Haunted Destiny

  Heather Graham

  The Forbidden

  With love and tremendous admiration for my cousin Dina Watkins, for her husband, Jeff, and sons, Michael and Jeff Jr.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Sunday night

  Men watched women.

  Women watched men.

  He watched her.

  Well, it was Bourbon Street. Most people were out for a good time. They were ready to flirt—perhaps take that flirting a step further. Everyone in a good mood. And if they weren’t in a good mood, there was plenty of alcohol available for them to be able to fake it.

  He only had eyes for her.

  He watched—the way she moved, the way she walked.

  There was something dazzling about her eyes when she smiled; her lips were generous in a face created as if sculpted by the most artistic hand.

  Her every breath was poetry, creating such thoughts in his head. Eyes like the deepest blue of the sky at the first fall of night, hair as ebony as the wings of a raven, skin as sweet and clear as the finest porcelain made...

  He imagined her in his arms. Holding her, touching her. Seeing those amazing electric eyes as they stared into his.

  Running his fingers down the exquisite length of her arms.

  He thought of her, looking at him, when he was all she could see.

  Then a smile touched his face.

  She was with friends now, enjoying a beer in a place on Bourbon Street. The band was loud, performing a cover of a Journey song. They were all speaking in shouts, trying to be heard by one another over the music.

  She was so animated. Artistry in motion. Of course, there were many like her, and he could wait, bide his time, enjoy others. But she was... Perfection.

  Anticipation was everything. Waiting. Hoping. Fearing. Dreading. Praying.

  Anticipation... How he loved it!

  He watched her eyes now, so sparkling, so alive. In her, the eyes were the key to the soul, the essence, the vibrancy and incredible life within the woman.

  And then he imagined those eyes again when she looked at him.

  Anticipation. He had time. He would savor it.

  He could see the beauty of those eyes...

  When the light within them brightened. Not with excitement...

  But with growing fear.

  Then terror.

  Knowledge.

  He would watch as the light went out of them.

  Then, she would be his. Entirely his.

  One

  Monday morning

  “Beautiful!”

  Lying on the tomb, Avalon Morgan could hear Boris Koslov’s comment, but she kept herself from smiling. Makeup artist Lauren Carlson—her friend from her days at college in Central Florida—had just finished touch-ups on Avalon as she lay on the tomb. Lauren was extraordinarily talented.

  “Wow! Creepy.”

  “Beautiful.”

  “Wonderful!”

  Those words came from a distance.

  They were filming on Christy Island, and the heirs to the island—none of them with the surname Christy—had rented the island, the mansion and the cemetery to Boris for his movie. They had spoken almost in unison, though she thought it was Cara Holstein, probably standing with her husband, Gary, who had said, “Creepy.” Cara’s distant cousins—Julian Bennett and Kenneth Richard—had echoed one another’s “Beautiful” and “Wonderful!”

  While Cara Holstein, Julian Bennett and Kenneth Richard were heirs to the estate, they barely knew each other. Their parents had been cousins and, as happened, busy lives had kept that generation from being close. Now, however, they were equal heirs to the estate of Nolan Christy, the grand old patriarch who had passed away two months ago at the age of eighty-nine.

  Avalon smiled, happy the group was enjoying the making of the movie...and her appearance on the tomb.

  Avalon knew her skin was pale to start with, but with Lauren’s artistic touch, she was beyond white, the perfect bride-to-be of the vampire king, Lucian LaCroix.

  She also had long, naturally waving dark hair, and Lauren had lightly adjusted the waves to curls that fell around her face and down to the dusty tomb. Marks at her neck—discernible beneath the fall of her dark hair—were perfectly created puncture wounds, and a slender trail of blood extended just lightly beneath the marks.

  In this movie, the vampires wasted very little blood.

  “Yes! Beautiful,” Boris Koslov repeated. He was silent a minute and added softly, “Perfect.”

  Avalon was certain Lauren was smiling. She kept her eyes closed, but she knew Lauren stood in the old graveyard next to the director of The Two Faces of the Vampire, and she was glad—low budget as this might be—that at least she was working on a film with a director who appreciated the work of his crew. Now, especially Lauren’s work.

  Lauren wasn’t even supposed to be on set today. Cindy West, lead on the makeup crew, had been scheduled that morning. But she hadn’t shown up for her call time, and no one had been able to reach her. Lauren, always professional, as well as helpful to her friends, had rushed in when Boris had called her, despite it being her day off.

  Lauren was accustomed to working bigger budget projects. She’d done many movies with big-name actors and established directors, even heading up the makeup department for several. She was moving swiftly up the ranks in the field, and possibly had more experience than Cindy, who had been hired first.

  Working on a cheesy B-movie vampire flick was not something Lauren would have agreed to if it hadn’t been for her friendship with Avalon...and for Kevin Dunlevy, too.

  Many in the cast and crew were friends before this
filming had begun. Boris had been a visiting lecturer when they’d all been in college. Alumni often helped alumni, and other connections were made through the school. Kevin Dunlevy was the lead actor. He considered this to be his big chance; with the way the world of film was moving, it just might prove to be a cult hit. There were now so many venues for film, even if a movie didn’t hit the major theaters.

  Avalon had been offered a pretty juicy role, too. While the king of the vampires had many wives, she was his most beloved.

  “The camera is loving this, Boris!” the director of photography, Brad Fallon, called out.

  Brad wasn’t a friend from college but had become tight with them all when they’d been hired for an internet show. A gangly blond man with a perpetual smile, he acted when needed for various projects, but his true love was working with the camera. Catching the light, composing the shot—everything working in unison was his dream.

  Terry Jenson, production designer, was also a friend from school, and had done a fantastic job with the little area of the cemetery in which they were working, without doing harm to historic markers and funerary art.

  Leo Gonzales, actor—tall and stalwart, portraying the detective—had taught a class in mime, which was not so important for this film, but a great learning experience that might well be useful at a different time.

  Filming was proving to be a fun ensemble experience. It was an interesting script. Kevin was playing Lucian, king of the vampires, and he’d learned over hundreds of years to produce a blood strain that endured light, even the sun, and thus they could only be destroyed by one of two methods—a stake through the heart or complete decapitation. But rather than be bested by the cop who became his friend, by the end of the script Lucian came to rue his bloodlust. He would hide his past and become a scientist, working to cure all manner of blood-related diseases, at the end of the movie. Naturally, this meant there could be sequels with Lucian remaining good and fighting for justice and the American way...or reverting to his old ways.

  All was set; Avalon waited for Boris to call out the rest of the cast who were in the scene and start filming.

  But she knew he lingered, surveying the scene. Boris was still enjoying seeing his vision brought to life—he’d also written the script. “You’re truly gifted,” Boris said, and Avalon knew his words were for Lauren. “I knew you were good, but...well done,” he said lightly, and Avalon could imagine him grinning. “Now I’m not going to have to throttle Cindy—I don’t think she’d have done half so well.”

  Not showing up was not going to be good for Cindy’s career. Boris could choose to let her go. He wasn’t just the director and the writer—he’d used his own funds and a personal loan to fund the film.

  “Thank you,” Lauren replied. “But Cindy is very good, too, and I’m sure she had an emergency or something. She’s very professional. This isn’t like her.”

  Avalon cracked her eyes open. Lauren looked concerned. Of course, she did. Cindy was her friend—and she hadn’t even bothered to call in sick. She had, however, been seen doing karaoke late the night before on Bourbon Street after she’d joined the rest of them for an evening drink. Still, failing to show up for work was not something she was known to do. Then again, she’d never been to New Orleans before.

  “Cindy will have an explanation,” Lauren said.

  Avalon added, “Cindy is a good kid. She might have had her schedule marked wrong or something. She’ll have an explanation.”

  “Well, thanks for coming in, Lauren,” Boris said. “You are the best.”

  “The best!” Avalon told Lauren quietly, offering her friend a smile and a slight nod. Things happened; they didn’t want Cindy’s reputation marred, nor did they want her fired. But they were grateful for Lauren’s skill.

  Boris looked at Avalon again.

  “Ah! She opens her eyes—crystal-blue eyes, framed so beautifully with bloodred rims,” he said with a laugh. Then he turned to Lauren. “We’re lucky to have you!” Boris said, “And, don’t forget, I know you can do your own makeup. We have room for more brides. You’d make a beautiful bride, too. I know you don’t wish to speak—I can make you a silent bride!”

  “Thanks. I love creating on others,” Lauren said lightly.

  “Anyway...” Boris paused and glanced at his watch. “Time for the rest of my actors on set!” he said.

  Avalon saw Kevin coming from the makeup tent, where there were also coolers filled with iced drinks and lawn chairs for those who were awaiting their call time. Lauren had finished with Kevin earlier, though there was little that needed to be done to enhance his appearance. He was tall and drop-dead gorgeous with wavy black hair, forest-green eyes and a perfectly honed body. He was, in truth, a stunning example of a human being. Avalon had once teased him that his sexual orientation was a serious loss to the women of the world. He had grinned and said, “But, hey, look what I’m doing for the men!”

  Avalon and Kevin had been best friends since she’d begun studying at film school in Central Florida. Now, they’d all been out of school for several years, and had moved up to New Orleans, where there was more work available in filmmaking.

  Lauren hurried off the set; Boris moved to his position and shouted out to his cameramen. Moments later, Avalon was lying with her eyes closed again, waiting for her cue. Kevin—as vampire king Lucian LaCroix—came to her, assessing her form, then paused to place a kiss on her lips, just like Sleeping Beauty.

  His kiss awakened her, and she rose, confused at first, then tearful and in denial as he reassured her, promising her that now, she could live forever. She was frightened, fascinated, torn and...

  Hungry.

  Then, the other vampires gathered around as she made her first kill, savored her first meal and became one with them.

  Boris yelled, “Cut!”

  They repeated the scene a number of times, then the actors stepped off set while the camera and lighting teams set up for the next angle.

  Then they shot the scene from a few more camera angles.

  The morning turned to afternoon. Avalon was always amazed at how a few minutes of movie could take an entire day to film. Lauren came in and did makeup touch-ups on the victim, then Boris released Lauren and a few other cast and crew members for the day.

  Lauren waved to Avalon, and mouthed, I’m out of here.

  Avalon didn’t blame her. By the time they finished the group scenes and were back in their street clothes—certain Boris wouldn’t want any special takes—it might be a while.

  The cameras began to roll again, taking angle after angle of the vampires dancing among the tombs and statues.

  “Cut!”

  The assistant director called a final, “That’s a wrap!” and reminded them all to check their call sheets for their times the following morning.

  Kevin walked over and threw his arms around Avalon, hugging her and lifting her off the ground. He swung her around, set her down and kissed her cheek, then said, “Thank you!”

  “Me?” she said.

  “Walk with me a bit?”

  “Sure. Then I need to get out of this makeup.”

  They strolled through the old cemetery. It was a fascinating place. The Christy family had once been incredibly wealthy. The mansion had been built circa 1799, and enhanced through the years, while the cemetery had welcomed its first burials when the Spanish had ruled New Orleans. They had built in the “city of the dead” style that had become so popular in New Orleans and much of the area. It was truly a gorgeous architectural gem, with all the atmosphere and decaying elegance they could possibly desire. The family had built several extravagant small mausoleums over the years since they had also allowed extended family and friends to bury their loved ones here. There were sarcophagus-style tombs—such as the one she had been lying on for the shoot—grand tombs, brick tombs and “oven” tombs in the walls surrounding the graveyard. I
t looked much like a smaller version of St. Louis Cemetery #1 just outside the French Quarter and was adorned with artistic angels and all manner of art, including a fine marble sculpture of two Civil War soldiers caring for a wounded dog, perhaps crafted to show that brothers had fought brothers in the horror of the war.

  She’d learned the brothers were interred in the cemetery. One had fought for the North, the other for the South. The dog, so it was said, had been interred in the tomb, as well.

  Boris had read about the death of Nolan Christy and how the property would soon be up for sale—for an exorbitant price that might mean it would take some time to find a buyer. Knowing that, he’d contacted the heirs, and learned they were open to renting while they waited. Thus, they had been able to film here for a very reasonable price. It helped that the heirs were interested in the movie industry. Connections meant everything in the film business—Boris had made sure to make a good one here. The family members—and Cara’s husband, Gary—had all been delighted Boris was happy to have them present for filming, and they were welcome to be extras in the picture, too. They’d been thrilled to get to watch prep, design and filming. Avalon knew Cara and Gary intended to be in some of the final scenes.

  Avalon turned, staring at the creepy old mansion, and wondered how she would feel if she inherited such a place.

  “What are you looking at?” Kevin asked Avalon.

  Avalon hesitated a moment.

  In truth, she’d given a lot of thought over whether she should take this role or not. She had never wanted to come to Christy Island. There had just been too many strange happenings associated with the property. Of course, a friend had once told her every single place in and around New Orleans was haunted.

  But the difference was that her friend didn’t occasionally see the dead, as Avalon did.

  Ghosts.

  Avalon’s connection to the deceased could make her life difficult, so she tried not to put herself in situations where she might be startled by a spirit.

  And this place...well, it was almost certainly haunted.