Right to Silence

by Lily Luchesi

  Right To Silence

  (Paranormal Detectives Book Four)

  By

  Lily Luchesi

  The right of Lily Luchesi to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, items, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by:

  Rue Volley

  Edited by:

  Elizabeth A. Lance

  EAL Editing Services

  Copyright © 2017 Lily Luchesi

  All rights reserved.

  V A M P T A S Y P U B L I S H I N G

  WWW.VAMPTASY.COM

  Praise for the Paranormal Detectives Series

  Stake-Out

  "The story kept you guessing and was full of action and angst!" —Nerd Girl (starred review)

  "A quick, satisfying paranormal read...! ...Luchesi has won two fans today, and we eagerly anticipate the sequel!" —Knightingale Reviews (starred review)

  "Stake-Out is more than just another vampire story." —bestselling author Mary Fan (starred review)

  “The next Stephen King.” —author Jessica Wren (starred review)

  “I really think STAKE-OUT is an auspicious start to a promising career.” —bestselling author Stephen Kozeniewski (starred review)

  “I grew bored of wine goblet swilling vamps in gorgeous, dark mansions. It seemed each vampire story had been done a thousand times. This one feels much different. It's not just a vampire story.”—bestselling author Katie Keller-Neiman (starred review)

  “The engrossing storyline has plenty of twists and turns that will keep you guessing.” —bestselling author Dr. John Benedict (starred review)

  "Fast paced, action packed, entertaining and emotional."—Adventures of Sacakat (starred review)

  Miranda’s Rights

  “There were numerous times in this book that I was going "No way, did that just happen." That is why this is a great paranormal book. … As I read [each] chapter I kept holding my breath to see who would come out alive.”—Nerd Girl (starred review)

  “Luchesi proudly presents a character devoid of the common female tropes found too often in literature today. Angelica is everything we could ask for in a character . . . and more!”—Knightingale Reviews (starred review)

  “Once again the author’s descriptive writing and attention to detail draws you into the story.” — Books All Things Paranormal And Romance (starred review)

  “Be prepared to lose a chunk of your life, because once you start reading this book, there is no way you’ll be able to put it down. … Lily Luchesi is staking her claim to this genre and I predict she will soon be dominating it.” —bestselling author Dr. John Benedict

  “Just like the 1st installment, Stake-Out, Miranda’s Rights is a quick and entertaining read.” —Adventures Of Sacakat (starred review)

  Life Sentence

  “You don't know what is waiting around the corner and you will be turning each page with baited breath.”--Nerd Girl (starred review)

  “This is an author who knows how to hone and cultivate her skills! The book community better watch out for this one!!!”--Knightingale Reviews (starred review)

  “...for the first time since Harry Potter a third book in a series is my favorite.”--Adventures of Sacakat (starred review)

  “I think this one is the best so far it really should have 6 [stars]!!”—Rainne Atkins (starred review)

  “I really wish I could give this book more than 5 stars!”--Escape Reality Book Blog (starred review)

  “Terrific!” On My Kindle Reviews (starred review)

  Playlist

  “Bound And Gagged” by Creature Feature

  “Of Wolf And Man” by Metallica

  “Undercover” by The Limousines

  “Wolfs Blood” by The Misfits

  “Fresh Blood” by Alice Cooper

  “Like You” by Evanescence

  “Absolute Zero” by Stone Sour

  “White Wedding” by Billy Idol

  “Broken” by Seether

  “Snuff” by Slipknot

  “Early Sunsets Over Monroeville” by My Chemical Romance

  “Save Our Last Goodbye” by Disturbed

  “Until It Sleeps” by Metallica

  “I Hate Everything About You” by Three Days Grace

  “Stricken” by Disturbed

  “Penance” by Device

  “Closer To The Edge” by Thirty Seconds To Mars

  “Three Nil” by Slipknot

  “Thoughtless” by KoRn

  “Dirty Little Secret” by The All-American Rejects

  “The Animal” by Disturbed

  “The Collapse” by Kill Hannah

  “Run To The Hills” by Iron Maiden

  “The Crystal Ship” by The Doors

  Dedication

  To all the survivors like me: keep going, keep living, and know that you’re not alone.

  Foreword

  Hello, my faithful readers. And hello to new readers as well. I wanted to take a moment of your time to talk about the book you’re going to read.

  Right To Silence was originally supposed to be split into two shorter novellas, but after talking it over with my beta and my publisher, I decided to publish it all together as one book. As such, part one is written a bit differently. Part one deals with the relationship and reincarnation of Brighton Sands and Mark Evans (you met them in Life Sentence; if you haven’t read LS yet, please be aware this contains spoilers).

  Because of that, the first forty thousand words or so are deliberately written in British English. American readers might be confused or think there are typos, but let me assure you here that there are absolutely none. The first half is mostly prequel from Brighton’s POV, leading up to where we left off in Life Sentence.

  The second half picks up right after the first ends, where we left Danny Mancini in Life Sentence, and that switches the writing style back to American English.

  Another thing I wanted to address was why I wrote certain scenes in part one. Until just last year, the LGBT+ community was not allowed to marry in the United States. In some places, they’re STILL trying to fight that ruling. It wasn’t so long ago people were being executed or chemically castrated for being gay. Many were imprisoned, and in many areas all of this still happens to people who just want the freedom of love. Mark is a representation of all the people past and present who have had to hide in the closet for fear of persecution, be it legally or at home.

  Finally, I want to mention some trigger warnings. People say I shouldn’t, that it might spoil the story, or that “people don’t get trigger warnings in real life”. I call bullshit. I know I hate coming across a trigger in fiction. In this book there is torture, severe anxiety/panic attacks, flashbacks to abuse, PTSD from torture, and an allusion to sexual assault (nothing at all described, just hinted at).

  Okay, I am going to step off my soapbox and let you enjoy your book!

  xoxo LL

  Prologue

  Hollywood, CA

  Halloween, 2016

  The club's lights were flashing: red, purple, blue, a quick white strobe, and repeat. They changed to the beat of the song the DJ was spinning, Disturbed’s “Stu
pify”.

  The club was packed, despite the news that, every Saturday night for the past three weeks, a new body had been discovered decapitated in the alley behind the venue. All were female attendees of said club, in their mid-twenties with tattoos and black hair. That described about half of their female clientele! The rest of their clients usually had hair colour not found in nature.

  The owner of the club was happy about the attendance keeping up, but worried nonetheless about the safety of the clients. While she usually stayed and monitored the club, especially when she enjoyed the music, she suddenly didn't want to be indoors anymore; the thought of death lingering over the place made her feel stifled, as if she couldn't breathe. Usually, she’d stay, dance, and walk around, making sure her place was secure.

  Like many club owners in Hollywood, she was young as well, and fit the profile of the previous victims perfectly. She stepped outside, observing the line still stretching down to Hollywood Boulevard with a pleased eye. Not often did a bestselling author have such a successful second venture, but most people forgot she had opened the club years before she ever published a book.

  She didn't want to head toward the main street with all its noise and drunks. She walked down the side street, Cherokee, and went toward her car, which was in the private lot only for her club and the club next door. She took out her phone and started to type in a text message when she felt a tingle down her spine. Someone was behind her.

  She whirled around, but saw no one. "These murders are making me all jumpy," she text, smiling to herself. Horror authors were supposed to be case hardened! She turned back and that was when she saw them— all six of them. They were wearing black suits and red ties like a uniform...or My Chemical Romance cosplayers, and all of them had ink black eyes.

  How had they all appeared without her seeing them? She dropped her phone, reaching into her purse for a weapon, glad that she had a concealed-carry license, because she knew that a pocket knife wouldn't do much damage against six men. She'd be damned if she'd go down without a fight!

  And fight she did, but it was also a fight she lost. Not because of physical prowess or a lack of skill with a gun, but because these men had come very prepared: they held a cloth in front of her nose, the scent soaked in it getting up her nose and into her lungs, rendering her almost immediately unconscious.

  Part One:

  Bittersweet Revenge

  Chapter One

  London, England

  March, 1802

  Doctor Michael Finnigan was thirty-four years old when he moved from the country to London to begin his private practice. The bustling city life was much busier than he was used to, but he found himself quickly acclimating to the lifestyle.

  He liked his patients, his new flat, and the way he had restarted a life that was quite close to being ruined just a fortnight ago. He knew things were going far too well for him, but he kept on as he was, hoping against hope that things would continue on this easy path. His hope was misplaced.

  One spring eve, he was preparing to close the office when there was a commotion in the reception area. He heard his nurse shriek and a man moan before there was a crash. He dashed from his office to find the nurse trying to take the pulse while simultaneously trying to stop the bleeding of a man with a deep wound in his abdomen.

  “What the Devil...are those bite marks?” Dr. Finnigan cried. He bent down, trying to get something to stop the bleeding. “My God...he’s running quite the fever. This is not good. Nurse, please go and fetch the constable. I think there is a rabid dog or wolf out there somewhere and I fear that this man is not long for this world.”

  The nurse dashed off into the cold night while Finnigan kept trying to treat the patient. He did not have the strength to carry the man into the operating room, so he ran for a clean sheet, and the proper tools for stitches. He needed to clean and sew those wounds as soon as possible if the man were to survive.

  He was working diligently, and he did not hear the door open until he felt a presence standing behind him. “Nurse?” He looked behind him to see that the petite woman was dwarfed by the tall, slim man in a black overcoat she had brought with her. Finnigan knew the constable, and this was not him. “Who are you?”

  “Aren’t you polite?” the man commented in a very posh accent. “Nurse, please go home. There is nothing more you can do here and you’ve had quite a shock.”

  She nodded. “Doctor, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”

  “Right, I won’t. Now, again sir, who are you?” he asked, finishing up a twisting stitch. If this man survived, he would always look like a monster when he was disrobed.

  “I’m Benjamin Quinn, the coroner. I believe I can help you. How long ago did this man come in? What were his symptoms?” he asked.

  “Um, I’d say about three quarters of an hour ago. He was bleeding, as you can see quite well. The gashes in his abdominal area appear to be bite marks from a rabid dog, or possibly a wolf. He’s quite feverish, and has been moaning in such a way that I am quite unsettled,” Finnigan explained. “I’ve just stitched him up, and was about to administer an injection.”

  “Just as I suspected. Doctor, I am afraid that this man is beyond saving. It would be the best course of action for everyone in London if we put him down now,” the coroner said, shocking the physician.

  Finnigan leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing. “Are you mad? ‘Put him down’? He’s not a bloody dog who got trampled by a horse: he’s a human being!”

  Cold aquamarine eyes bore into his as the coroner said, “Correction, he was a human. Now, he’s something you can’t imagine in your worst nightmares.”

  “What?” Finnigan was shocked. “What on Earth are you talking about? He is quite human. Just look at him!”

  “I am looking at him. You’ve had your back turned on him for, oh, about eighty seconds now. Turn back and perhaps you’ll see what I mean.” The coroner gestured for the doctor to turn around and when he did he had the shock of his life.

  “Is that… Are those… What the…” Finnigan was beginning to feel faint, but he felt strong hands on his shoulders keeping him upright. In some distant area of his mind, he found he missed the touch when the hands were removed.

  The patient’s wounds were healing. In fact, some of the stitches had already come out. His hair had thickened on his stomach and chest, as well as on his face. His mouth was open in an anaesthetic-induced unconsciousness, and Finnigan could see wolf-like fangs protruding from the gums. He took an involuntary step back and bumped into Quinn’s solid body.

  “Do you see, Doctor?” the coroner asked. “Now, will you please right yourself and step aside so that I can take care of this matter before we get ripped to ribbons?”

  Finnigan was frightened, gazing down at the patient. “What happened? How did that happen?”

  The coroner did not respond, just simply reached into the inside pocket of his black overcoat and produced a handgun. Finnigan could do nothing but watch as the gun was positioned over the heart of his rapidly transforming patient and fired once. The patient began to howl like an animal, its features contorting even more.

  Quinn frowned, and then shot it three more times in the heart, killing it. Finnigan watched as the fangs and fur began to disappear as the man ceased to breathe. Finnigan felt as if he could not breathe. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the odd transformation of his patient, or the fact that the coroner had just murdered him without flinching.

  “My stars….” He leaned against the desk. “Mr. Quinn, I think you had better explain yourself to me this instant, or I am going to the constable to tell him what just occurred here!”

  Mr. Quinn smirked. “Aren’t you a feisty one? Actually, I am calling on the constable myself, to let him know what happened, and to search for the shifter that bit this man. Will you come with me?”

  “Shifter? What is a shifter?” Finnigan asked.

  Mr. Quinn gestured to the door. “Please, come with me and
I think I can make you understand. I do apologize for having to bring you into this whole thing, but I could not send you away like I did your nurse.”

  Finnigan put on his coat and hat and followed Mr. Quinn out into the night. He was confused, and a bit indignant at being treated like a schoolboy once again. He was a respected doctor! This coroner looked much younger than he, so who did he think himself to be to act so superior?

  It was not a far walk to the constable’s office, and sure enough he was still there. He was a handsome man of middle height, whose prematurely grey hair made him look older than he was.

  “Dr. Finnigan, what brings you here with Ben?” Constable George Linwood asked, using the coroner’s Christian name with ease.

  “That’s what I am wondering myself!” Finnigan said.

  Mr. Quinn gestured to a chair and Finnigan sat. “Linwood, there is a body in need of disposal in the doctor’s office. A patient came in suffering from a werewolf bite, and thankfully his nurse found me on her way to get you, so I took care of it. We need a team to go and hunt down the wolf who bit this man before anyone else is injured or turned.”

  “Werewolf?” Finnigan said, turning to look at the coroner. “As in, the legend that a man can turn into a wolf at the sight of the full moon?”

  “Precisely, Doctor Finnigan.” Quinn sat down in the chair next to him, crossing his long legs gracefully and lighting a pipe which he had taken out of his coat pocket. “Except, werewolves don’t turn just at the full moon. They can shift at will: it is only during the full moon that they have no choice but to shift. It’s a small, but very significant difference.”