by Nadirah Foxx
“I don’t know, but I don’t plan on sticking around to find out.” Reluctantly, I told her what Death told me.
“If you’re supposed to marry an entity—”
“I won’t do it. There are other things I want to do.”
The man I had been dreaming of for years came to mind. He was tall, mysterious, and rode a motorcycle. If I was about to be shackled for all eternity to Death, maybe it was time to see if the man was real.
Chapter 2
Monte
I placed a few bills on the counter and waved goodnight to Liam and the brothers. Most likely, they’d hang out at the Dirty Knuckle for another hour or so, tossing back drinks and catching up. The MC had been busy all week making runs for Cerberus Delivery. I was worn out and ready for a little relaxation.
Hunter looked up from his bottle of beer. “Heading out so soon?”
“Yeah. I’m beat.”
My best friend’s jaw dropped. “You okay? Not going up into the mountains and stretching your legs?”
That was me—the guy with habits so predictable that everybody knew my patterns. “Not tonight. Join me in the morning?”
Hunter’s lips curled up on one side. “Naw. It’ll take more than a chance to run free to get me away from Izzie’s side that early.”
I chuckled. We didn’t hang out much since he got hitched. Honestly, it didn’t bother me. Just a hiccup in my usual routine.
One of the new prospects—a young vampire who could easily pose for Vampires Quarterly—had the nerve to joke about my cutting out early. I ignored the kid. The last time I hung out with the MC at a bar, I left with an attractive babe only to wake up the next day with a handcuff on one wrist. I had to endure a few hours of ribbing from the fellas as I waited for someone to arrive with a key. Someone could have cut it off, but they had more fun watching me squirm.
As I stepped outside, the faint scent of burning hickory carried on the breeze, and I inhaled deeply. It was a crisp, clear autumn night in Havenwood Falls. The perfect weather for that run Hunter mentioned. My beast stirred under my skin, dying to break forth and enjoy the mountain air. He’d have to take a back seat, though. Hoping for a decent night’s sleep, I cranked up my bike and headed for home.
Stretching out on my black leather sofa, I picked up the remote, thinking I’d watch a little TV before calling it a night. It was wishful thinking. Of late, sleep was unattainable, leaving me staring up at the ceiling for hours. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I’d get up and do some much-needed work on the small Victorian house I purchased a year ago. It was taking me a while to get the overhaul done since I’d been dragging my feet, not wanting to face the major task.
It was a boring existence, but one that I chose. After living on the wild side as a kid, it was better to live on the dull side. Before my family relocated me to Havenwood Falls, I’d landed myself in trouble with the authorities. After moving, I promised my grandparents that I’d behave—I owed them that much. After all, I could be serving time in a penitentiary if it weren’t for them.
The insomnia had become a serious problem, but it made no sense. I had no real issues other than a sense that something was missing in my life. Like I should have something more, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
The problem wasn’t my job. I enjoyed tinkering with engines, and Joshua Breen—the human who owned Havenwood Falls Garage & Tow Service—was a decent person. He’d get no complaints from me as long as I could do what I love.
And if I wasn’t at the shop with my head under a hood, I was at the clubhouse repairing bikes or searching the darknet. The issue sure as hell wasn’t with SIN or its members. There wasn’t a damned thing I wouldn’t do for my brothers. But hanging out with a bunch of men only went so far. I longed for something—no, someone—who could do for me what they couldn’t. Which brought me back to my recent struggle with catching some z’s. It started a month ago with a recurring dream.
I’m on my bike riding home. For Samhain, the winding road is unusually quiet, but I’m completely content without a care on my mind. Suddenly, I hit a slick spot, and I’m spinning out of control. The world blurs as I come to a stop, but something’s not right. I’m upside down, and everything is hazy. A sound—like bullets punching the asphalt—comes closer. Blinking a few times, I see a pair of black high heels. My gaze travels up a shapely, leather-clad leg.
A voice like that of an angel speaks directly to my mind. “It’s not your time.”
Every night it was the same damned dream. On occasion, the woman didn’t arrive, and the landscape faded to black. I had no idea what it meant, but each time it jarred me awake and kept me from sleeping.
At one point, it got so bad that I went to see Teeny Weeny Tahini, the clairvoyant. She told me that it might not be a simple dream, but more like one of those vision quests Hunter’s grandfather went on. Her suggestion? Try a special blend of tea before bed. If the sleeplessness got worse, she wanted me to talk to Mayor Barbie Stuart. The woman was human but had an uncanny ability to interpret dreams. I told Teeny I’d consider the tea.
Yeah, right.
Instead, I made a beeline to the Circle J dispensary and let Adrian Roca fix me up with a little herbal sleep aid. Combined with some hard work around the house and a hot shower, a joint smoothed out my thoughts and allowed a few hours of bliss.
But it didn’t erase the loneliness.
Nothing did that.
Up until a week ago, I was floating by with my routine, and the dreams weren’t as bad. Then they escalated and knocked me sideways. Honestly, I hadn’t slept in a few nights. One joint threatened to become two. I had to do something fast before I ended up like Bent Brent.
As I watched the sun rise from my vantage point on top of Mount Alexa, I decided to call the mayor. It was either that or pay a visit to Rose Howe and see if the witch could hook me up with a potion or something.
An hour later, my doorbell rang. On the other side of the door was a tall, intimidating woman with one of those 1950s hairdos—all poufy and stiff. She smiled and said, “Good morning, Monte. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
I was slightly puzzled. After all, I called her. Then I remembered I had on my jacket. “No, no. Come on in.”
“Were you on your way out? I can come back.”
“Force of habit, I’m afraid.” I shut the door before removing the outer garment. “I’m usually on my way to work by now.”
She nodded and sat on the sofa, wrinkling her nose. “Madame Tahini told me about your difficulty. Could you tell me the dream?”
I took a seat on the recliner and relayed the details of my lingering nightmare. When I finished, Mayor Stuart blinked her azure-blue eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“And?”
She exhaled and said, “Of course, the um . . . obvious interpretation is an accident. Maybe it’s just a run-of-the-mill mishap on your bike. I wouldn’t call it a brush with death.”
A brush with death?
Her words reminded me of what my grandfather said when I first started riding. That was ten years ago, and I’d never had an accident. Maybe my luck was coming to an end.
Mayor Stuart cleared her throat and pushed to her feet. “Was there a date or maybe a specific time in the dream?”
“There were Halloween decorations.”
“Well, maybe you saw it in one of those Halloween movies. What we watch on television can influence our dreams. Honestly, it might not be anything but a suggestion that your life might be changing. Either way, if it is more serious, maybe don’t ride on Halloween night? Too many people on the road, anyway.” She started for the door, stopped, and faced me. “Oh, and Monte?”
“Yeah?”
“You might find valerian a better choice as a sleep aid.” When I gave her a blank stare, she added, “It’s not as risky.”
Awareness hit me. She smelled the weed. I chuckled nervously and thanked her as I walked her out.
Needless to say, without enough sleep I wasn’
t up to going into the shop. Thankfully, Joshua understood and gave me a few days off. I spent the morning putting down new sod in the front yard—autumn was the perfect time for the chore. By afternoon, I was ready for more coffee and a meal.
Halloween had to be the favorite holiday for the entire town. Every shop was decked out in all sorts of spooky decor, from thick cobwebs and skeletons in windows to orange and black lights strung up like Christmas bulbs. I made a mental note to pick up candy for the trick-or-treaters and then I saw Rose outside of Howe’s Herbal Shoppe.
The ginger-haired beauty smiled as I approached. “Afternoon, Monte. Back for more tea?”
“Not sure. Mayor Stuart suggested I try some valerian to help me sleep.”
Rose’s brow wrinkled. “You sound skeptical.”
“Nothing I’ve tried so far has helped.”
She crooked her finger. “Follow me. I have something that might do the trick.”
As I trailed behind her, I asked, “It’s not going to require something magical to wake me back up, will it?”
She laughed. “Nothing that intense. It just has a little more oomph to guarantee a good night’s rest. Is there something going on I should know about?”
I perused a shelf of elixirs and said over my shoulder, “Just my dreams getting the best of me.”
“I can fix that,” she offered.
“I’ll just take that hyped-up tea.” It paid to be mindful with witches. One never knew what actually went into their concoctions.
“Okay. I have to grab it from the back.”
I brewed the smelly tea as directed, and then sat staring at the mug, unsure if I should digest the contents. Rose assured me that I had nothing to worry about. I had my doubts, but tossed back the drink. I turned off the light and lay down.
The last of the trick-or-treaters traipse down my porch steps. I close the door and collapse onto the sofa. Tonight, I’m going to catch up on Supernatural—almost required viewing on Samhain.
Sadly, restlessness won’t leave me alone. I end up turning off the brothers right in the middle of their mission, grab my jacket and keys, and head for the door. I’m on my bike headed up Main Street when I get the idea to check in on Hunter and Izzie.
Instead of continuing straight, I take the turn onto Blackstone Road and then steer into Creekwood Estates. The road curves, and silence surrounds me. Odd for Samhain. I would have thought the streets would be busy with partygoers.
I’m at peace for a change. Totally rested. Not a care on my mind.
Suddenly, the front tire skids. I’m spinning out of control.
Shit.
The tire hits the curb, and I tumble over the handle bars. My back collides with the concrete, and the landscape blurs. I blink to clear my gaze, but my vision remains fuzzy. Then I hear the thud of heels on the asphalt. When they stop, someone in black high heels comes into view. Leather squeaks as she crouches beside me.
The stranger touches my temple. “Not tonight. Don’t worry. It’s not your time yet. Tomorrow . . .”
My eyes popped open. Despite the heavy blankets, I was shivering. Slowly, I sat up. My sheets were damp, and my body was covered in sweat. I reached for my phone. It was only two in the morning. I ran my hand across my face. If the dream was a premonition, then I was about to celebrate my last Samhain.
Chapter 3
Monte
The dream freaked the fuck out of me. I couldn’t go back to sleep and didn’t want to be alone. I refused to call Hunter, though. The man was married and had every right to enjoy some quality time with his wife. As the sun began to rise, I summoned up the courage and got out of bed. If it was going to be my last day on earth, I wasn’t spending it like a damned coward.
After a ridiculously long hot shower, I dressed and headed into the kitchen. There was a lot of work to do. So much had to be replaced—the floor, the cabinets, and the tile. I’d picked out some possible paint choices and had the swatches laid out on the counter. None of it seemed important anymore. Same thing with every room in the house. Nobody should spend their final hours contemplating what should have been done.
I grabbed my keys and stalked out of the room, determined to find some fun—or make some. I didn’t want to die alone and miserable. Opening the front door, I was surprised to see Hunter.
“Hey, man,” I said.
“Hey, yourself.” He pushed past me. “Got a minute?”
“Minutes are precious, Hunter.” I closed the door and leaned against it. “What’s up?”
“Baba had a vision.” A pained expression twisted my friend’s face. “Sit down, Monte.”
Ordinarily, his worried tone would have concerned me, but after last night’s dream, I had a feeling I knew its cause. I strolled over to the sofa and dropped beside Hunter. “He saw me?”
He swallowed hard. “Yeah.” Hunter paused for a beat or two. “Stay the fuck off your bike for a while. At least until we find a way around—”
“Can’t fucking cheat death. You know that.” When your number’s up, there was nothing that could be done. No matter how good you thought you were at escaping it, Death caught up and claimed what was his.
“No, I’m not . . .” Hunter’s voice wavered. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not accepting that. Neither are you.”
I bobbed my head. Arguing with him was a waste of time. I wanted to go out surrounded by my brothers and my best friend, not sniveling like a damned idiot. I slapped his leg. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. Head over to the clubhouse and have some fun.”
Hunter fixed me with an incredulous stare. “What the fuck? Are you—”
“Dead—” Poor choice of words. “I’m serious. Did you drive over?”
“Yeah. Truck’s out front,” he said absently.
“Good. Call Izzie. Tell her we need food, and a few of those dancers from Silk. I’m ready for a damned party.”
My friend struggled to smile. Instead he shook his head, pushed to his feet, and pulled out his phone. “I’m on it. Meet you outside.”
“Give me a few minutes.”
I watched Hunter leave and then closed my eyes. It was the day of Samhain. Despite knowing what was coming, I refused to let it shake me. If I didn’t get out and do something, I was going to hole up in this house and wait for the end. I clumped to the door. Time to face the world one last time.
The fellas thought Hunter and I had lost our damned minds. Who had an impromptu party before noon? The SIN clubhouse was full of scantily clad women. A wide variety of food covered the tables—mostly breakfast dishes because hey, who served pizza for breakfast?
I was a little shocked to see Senora Graves, the empusa, in the crowd. The brown-skinned woman gave me a curious gaze before she jerked a thumb toward the hallway. I followed her shapely ass toward the offices. We ducked into the main one—used for meetings.
Senora closed the door behind her. “What’s up with this shindig?”
I shrugged. “Just shaking things up.”
She folded her arms. “Uh-uh. I didn’t buy it when Izzie asked me to help her bring over the food. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was the last hurrah for a dying man.”
I pulled out a chair and straddled it. “What if it was?”
Her dark eyes bulged. “You’re serious? Are you sick? What’s going on?”
“Nothing like that. Been having visions. Supposedly, I’m gonna hop on my bike tonight and have a fatal accident.” Saying it out loud made it more real. Maybe I could convince Rose Howe to spell me so that I just slept my way into the next life.
Senora touched my hand. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s true what humans say.”
“About?”
“The good dying young.”
“Gee, thanks.” Honestly, I didn’t expect sympathy—or anything else—from her.
I swore the empusa’s cheeks darkened. “No, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Senora. I’m good. That’s why the party. No sitting around feel
ing sorry for myself. Everyone doesn’t get a long life.”
No. I didn’t believe that bullshit, but what else was I supposed to do? I was an adult, not a child. As much as I wanted to pitch a fit, scream until heaven and earth—and possibly hell too—all stood still, I wouldn’t. It wasn’t my style. People knew me as being laid-back to a fault. I wasn’t about to disappoint.
I made sure my smile was locked in place as I stood. “Come on, Senora. Look, nobody else is questioning it. Just help me celebrate.”
She looked at me with watery eyes. “I-I can’t.”
“You can. Hey . . .” If that was indeed my last day on earth, maybe I could put aside my concerns about fucking an empusa. “Why don’t we—”
“Pass.” She wiped away an errant tear. “I’m a fighter. If it were me, I’d retaliate. I’d tell Death to kiss my ass. You haven’t done shit yet. No girlfriend. No family. Where’s your legacy, Monte?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I lied.
“The fuck it doesn’t!” She marched over to the door. “If you won’t fight, don’t ask me to stand by and watch. I thought you were stronger than that.”
“Senora.”
“Don’t, Monte.” She drew in a deep breath and in a calmer voice said, “Go talk to Baba about his vision. Maybe there’s a message for you.”
“What do you mean?” I thought it was crystal clear. I’m going to die. End of story—my story.
“What if the dying has to do with the life you’re living? Instead of continuing on the same path, maybe a new one is about to start.”
I tilted my head to one side. “Not a literal death then?”
“Exactly. Maybe you just need to be open to change. Consider it and stop acting like a fucking idiot.” Senora slammed the door behind her.
Maybe there was some validity in Senora’s words. I’d been thinking a lot about changing things in my life. Maybe the dream was a reflection of my thoughts. I left the office and slipped out the rear exit.
