Raven Hills: Unraveling Evil
The Otherworld Chronicles Book 1
Tamara Rokicki
Celeste Thrower
Copyright © 2019 by Two Girls & A Mystery (Tamara Rokicki and Celeste Thrower)
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Every place, character, and event in this book are fictional and purely the imagination of the authors. Any resemblance to real life events are coincidental.
TWO GIRLS & A MYSTERY
Two Girls & a Mystery is the official pen name for authors Tamara Rokicki and Celeste Thrower. Please find us at theotherworldcommunity.com
“For Martin, the best partner in crime a girl could ask for.”
-Tamara Rokicki
“To Corey, who’s supported my every dream and believed I could make each one real.”
-Celeste Thrower
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
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Chapter One
"Raven Hills?"
When Lacey Shaw was first hired at Crestwater Press, she had imagined a cushy job where her fancy college degree could really be put to use, and finally pay her student loans, something Lacey dreaded thinking about.
Dreaming of working as a journalist for a top media company, she expected to be assigned to the viral trends, to cover monumental news, and to spend her days typing on a shiny laptop.
Little did she know that her job really entailed getting caramel macchiatos for the project managers, fixing the ever-breaking shredder machine, and covering stories about the annual bingo events at the local retirement home.
No, this wasn't what her dream job was supposed to be at all.
So when Mister Pert, the editor in chief for Crestwater Press, called her into his office to put her on a special assignment, Lacey expected more random coverage on the local hot dog festival, where she'd be counting how many wieners participants could stuff in their mouths without gagging. It had seemed hilarious initially, until the first contestant had reached his limit and vomited in a bucket.
But when Mister Pert mentioned Ravel Hills, a small town twenty miles south of Crestville, Lacey wondered what sloppy story he wanted her to cover.
"Yes, Raven Hills," Mister Pert repeated back to her. "Charming little town."
Lacey eyed him suspiciously. He had a way of hyping up a story even when it'd turn out to be a complete waste of time. She knew his tricks well enough.
"Oh yeah? And what's so charming about it that I need to go all the way down there?" she asked, taking another sip of her now cold coffee.
"It's a historical town, you see," he explained as he tried to smooth the wrinkles in his white button-up shirt. Lacey wondered if he'd ever seen an iron in his life. "News is they are trying to tear down the place."
"And this makes it newsworthy because..." Lacey's frustrated voice trailed off, already cringing at the lame excuse he would come up with.
"Raven Hills is at least three hundred years old. They'd be tearing down a piece of history," he explained, making an exaggerated appalled face that failed to win Lacey over.
"Why are they tearing it down?" she asked.
"Ah, you know," he countered, his speech now getting mumbled. "Always something...rumors, accidents, unsafe protocols."
Lacey's attention was piqued. "Rumors? What kind of rumors?"
Mister Pert's eyes grew wide as they scanned the room, as if trying to find the answer somewhere on his dusty shelves.
"Developers are always looking for new land to build. Urbanization is tomorrow's pasture, they say," he laughed, even if his own laughter seemed void of believable humor. "So they make up stories to convince people to let them tear down the old and uproot the new."
"What kind of stories?" she pressed on. He waved a hand in the air, brushing off the question. Lacey crossed her arms in front of her, more resolute than ever. She had wasted enough of her time on wiener-gagging stories and old ladies fist-fighting in the bingo hall. If she were to travel to another town and cover a story, it had better be worth her while.
Noticing her stubbornness, Mister Pert sighed. "Apparently some contractor disappeared there, or maybe died, I don't remember. It wasn't a significant event."
"Well, disappeared or died?" she argued.
"Disappeared," he said, getting frustrated. "So the builders made it a big deal, claiming there is something wrong with Raven Hills, and that it needs to be purged away."
"I'm sorry?" Lacey's brows pinched together.
Mister Pert stammered before clarifying. "Oh you know, they're so dramatic. They want to build the next Mall of America there, or a fancy five star lodge resort. There's nothing wrong with the place."
Lacey released a puff of air, and her shoulders sagged. "So we are just covering an old town, trying to convince them to keep it alive?"
"Yeah, sort of," he conceded. "It's also a retrieval mission." He attempted a funny laugh and failed miserably once again. "Lacey Shaw, Crestwater journalist and undercover investigator." The pitch of his laugh grew higher, but Lacey thought it masked an underlying fear.
"Retrieve what, exactly?" Lacey drew to the edge of her chair and placed her elbows on Pert's desk. She secretly wished Raven Hills hid a timeless trinket, or some priceless historical artifacts. That would be an amazing story to cover.
"Brian Ovelli," Mister Pert answered, his smile turning into a frown. "You'd be retrieving Brian."
"I see." Lacey held his gaze for a long moment, then rose to her feet and stormed to the door. What did Mister Pert take her for?
"Oh, Lacey, come on," Pert begged behind her. "No one else wants to go."
She turned on her heels briefly, her hand on the doorknob. "One more reason why I shouldn't go, then."
"What do you mean?"
"What kind of joke is this? Brian Ovelli? Isn't he on an extended vacation to Hawaii or something?" Lacey fumed. How could he undervalue her so much to waste her time with such stupid things?
"No, he was assigned to cover a story at Raven Hills weeks ago," Mister Pert said, rising from his chair. "He never came back. No one has heard from him since."
Lacey bit her lower lip and chewed the new information over. Brian was missing. She never had a full conversation with the guy, but still, if one of
their own was missing, it wasn't good news. She prayed he was alright.
"Shouldn't the police work on this case? He's a missing person after all."
"Raven Hills' police followed up with me, but they have been vague about the entire thing. They just keep telling me he's probably run off somewhere and left everything behind." He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow.
"And you want me to find him when they can't or don't want to?" None of this made sense to her. If the police couldn't figure out Brian's disappearance, why would she?
"Brian has written something about the town. Something important. He had sent me an email the night before he went missing, telling me the information he'd found was too sensitive to send electronically." He gazed up at her, a begging look in his dull gray eyes.
"I want that story, Lacey. It could single handedly catapult our press into the high ranks." He paused for a long moment. "I don't know what to make of Brian's disappearance, but I just worry he's taken off with the story and now someone else will get their hands on it."
"So it's more about retrieving this story than writing one of my own," she spat, once again reassured that her editor in chief had no interest in developing her writing skills or furthering her career.
She turned back around and opened the door wide. "Sorry, not worth my time."
"Two thousand dollars," Mister Pert's voice boomed behind her.
She stopped in her tracks.
"And per diem, of course. I will pay for your lodging and food, too."
She closed her eyes, already frustrated at the decision she was about to make. Two thousand dollars was an entire month's salary for Lacey. To receive that on a single story coverage, well, that would help pay off some student debts for sure.
She turned around and locked gaze with her editor in chief.
She sighed, going against the warning ringing in her head.
"When do I leave?”
Chapter Two
Being the only passenger on the bus to Raven Hills should have been a warning sign, yet Lacey was too exhausted and famished to raise a brow about it.
It was past midnight when the bus finally stopped at its destination, and somehow the darkness enveloping Raven Hills seemed darker and heavier than the nights in Crestville. The bus door opened and she walked down the long row of empty seats.
"Good night," she said to the driver, an older gentleman wearing an oversized hat.
"Miss, you sure you didn't get your destinations crossed?" He peered outside the open bus doors, the stabbing darkness just waiting on the other side of them.
"This is Raven Hills, correct?" she asked, following his gaze and catching his drift. This place did seem pretty desolate and out of the way. Maybe that's why she had never heard of it before. Small towns were not a popular destination for young, urban folk like herself.
"It is, miss," the man assured.
"Well, this is my stop then." Lacey gave him a weary smile and walked off the bus, a small suitcase in one hand and a laptop bag in the other. She had really just preferred to bring one bag, but decided to include the essential changes of clothes. Mister Pert had assured her he wouldn't keep her there for more than a week, and for that she was thankful.
She watched the bus's brake lights disappear in the distance, their red glow nearly shattering the night.
Maybe it was the exhaustion or her growling stomach turning sour, but she realized she hadn't asked the driver one important question.
Where the hell was the lodge Mister Pert had booked for her?
She pivoted, her eyes scanning her surroundings. She stood in the middle of a dark road, tall, forested walls at her sides. Releasing a sigh, she began walking. She now scolded herself for not checking a map before coming here. She had figured that a small town had few streets and lots of friendly faces pointing her in the right direction, but did not account coming here in the dead of night and finding herself alone in a remote area.
She took her cell phone out of the pocket of her black slacks. She'd try to look up the lodge online, even though she failed to remember the name, or if worse came to worse, would call Pert. She wanted to avoid calling him at such a late hour, but he deserved it after sending her to this godforsaken place at the very last minute.
The no signal icon flashed at the top left of her cell phone screen, and Lacey groaned in frustration. "Just great."
She kept walking, her gaze monitoring the eerie woods trailing the road. She kept hearing footsteps behind her, but every time she glanced over her shoulder, nothing but dark pavement greeted her. She knew it was probably her imagination, but she couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes trailing her.
It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when she finally reached a patch of something that resembled a shred of urbanized life.
But why did she feel like she had just walked into the valley of death?
Chapter Three
The narrow wooden door of Saddle Inn screeched open, shattering the dead silence of the night. Lacey walked in, her bags feeling heavy in her arms from the long walk, and her legs in dire need of rest.
"Hello?" she called out.
She looked around the lobby area, which very much resembled an old house. Two small upholstered chairs waited at the left corner, an oak coffee table between them. To the right, a violet sofa collected dust, two green paisley patterned pillows placed on each side.
She walked to a long table ahead where she noticed the biggest abomination she'd ever seen. A computer that belonged in the early nineties sat on the dusty surface, with its steel gray color fading due to oxidation. She drew closer to it, almost in awe at the relic that belonged in some technological museum. She observed the bulky boxed screen and the hard drive slot where a CD should be inserted. The bloated glass screen was on, a static white line flickering on the blue background. The roaring noise of a motor hummed from the computer's tower sitting on the floor, the large grill spewing out heated air.
"Can I help you?" a voice asked, and Lacey looked up.
A middle-aged woman stood at the doorway leading to the back of the lobby. She was tall and her graying hair was tucked neatly into a high bun.
"Hi," Lacey began, putting her bags down next to her. "I am Lacey Shaw. I am not sure if my boss made reservations for me here or somewhere else."
The woman laughed, a throaty laugh that hinted she smoked at least a pack a day.
"Sweetie, this is the only inn in Raven Hills." She inched closer to the computer screen and placed her wrinkled hand on the mouse. "Boy, you did arrive late, didn't you?" Somehow the question didn’t really seem aimed at Lacey at all.
"Yes, sorry, last-minute trip," Lacey admitted.
The woman moved the mouse around. The rolling ball underneath it snagged on the mouse pad, causing the woman to curse under her breath.
"This damned thing. My grandson wants us to modernize and keep up with the times, so he bought this godforsaken monster. If you ask me, the old ways were better. You'd think being raised here in Raven Hills, he'd understand that."
Lacey offered a simple smile to hide her confusion and growing frustration. She was tired, not to mention the hunger slicing up her insides. She desperately wanted a bite to eat and a warm bed to sleep in. The only thing keeping her temper in check was the two thousand dollar check waiting for her at the end of this trip.
"Must be a small town if there's only one hotel," Lacey pondered.
"This inn was founded by my grandfather, Joseph Saddle. He thought it a hoot to name the lodge Saddle Inn, as in 'settle in'." The woman growled in frustration as the computer screen struggled to pull up whatever she searched for. "Forget it! I will just do this my way."
She grabbed a large notebook sitting on the other side of the table and slid it close to her. "Okay, let's see...Shaw. Here you are. Yes, we've been expecting you."
"Great, I'd love to get to my room. I’m exhausted." Lacey picked up her bags. "And I don't suppose you have a vending machine, right?"
T
he woman appraised Lacey with curious eyes. "A vending machine? What's that? Another modern beast? Oh, no, I won't be bringing in any more power-sucking boxes here. Just last week I had to dish out extra money for this damned computer. My grandson said it needed more goats to speed the thing up."
"Uhm, you mean RAM? Like, more memory."
"Whatever," the woman replied and waved her hand in the air. "I am not spending another dime on this place. Not with the threat of the whole damned town being shut down anyway."
Lacey's attention perked up. "Oh, that's why I'm here, actually. I am covering a story about it."
"Are you now?" the lady countered, her eyes narrowing.
"I'm simply writing the story," Lacey said in a hurry, hoping the woman didn't think she worked for the developer dying to take over the town and establish the next big mall.
"Well, we've survived worse, I suppose. I am sure we can get through this, too." The woman looked out into space, as if recalling the town's history.
A few moments of awkward silence passed before Lacey cleared her throat. "So...my room?"
"Oh, yes!" The woman snapped her attention back to Lacey. "This way."
Lacey followed the woman through the same doorway she had appeared in earlier. A small hallway led them to the back of the inn, which again reminded Lacey of an old home. A few doors waited at each side of the hallway, and large paintings hung on the shadowed walls.
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