Forever Fifteen follows our heroine, Lucy Albert, who is a vampire who is eternally stuck at fifteen years old. We meet Lucy in 1980's high school as she languishes in detention hall.
Flashbacks of Lucy's background takes us back to1340's Renaissance Italy. Lucy is a normal girl who is thrown into an arranged marriage with a Florentine diplomat twice her age. She is fifteen, married, and pregnant when the bubonic plague (known historically as the Black Death) sweeps Europe, killing her family. Shortly after being struck by tragedy, Lucy is abducted by her doctor Sebastianus, who makes her his wife, traps her in his castle, and turns her into a vampire against her will. Eventually she escapes Sebastianus as she discovers how diabolical he truly is, however, life on her own is seldom easy ...
The sequel, Forever Fifteen II: Burial, is now available in Kindle format and Print.
"Lucy and John! I'll see you both in detention this afternoon in two-oh-four," snapped Sara Darnell, Lincoln High School's only female Physical Science teacher. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. Ms. Sara Darnell was a sprightly, svelte twenty-five year old who was known for serving detentions at meter maid frequency, if only to be taken marginally more seriously by the predominantly male Lincoln High Science Department.
Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill.
At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger.
Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. Both had lived rather quietly until a scandal had opened up a can of worms for the son, allegations of child abduction, reported sightings of a white van around nearby elementary schools.
Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, even under the frozen ground. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother.
Detention was merry for the other detainees.
The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers.
It was hard to gain weight when you hated to eat. During detention she orchestrated Ray Plote's murder.
If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. If he decided to watch television upstairs with his mother, she would probably retire before he did, but she was a light sleeper. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. So if they decided to watch television, there would be problems getting him out of the house, she would have to strangle him with piano wire, there was possibly of a struggle. If Ray left the house, it would be easy. She would lure him, as he was an easily tempted child predator who could even more easily be turned into prey.
The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she suffered monthly. Lucy slept in the same room as Shari, only ten feet away. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V.C. Andrews novels, her collection of old teddy bears, Paddington
minus his yellow hat, a yellowing white bear won in a carnival with one eye missing. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college.
The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century.
Lost in thought, Lucy barely heard Mrs. Darnell's voice dismiss the group of ten miscreants when detention finally concluded at 4:35. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her.
"Lucy, wait up."
She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. John. Had he been trying to get her attention before that day, or did he simply want his silly pencil returned?