Ashes & Dust (Bloodlust Book 1)

by J. M. Adele

  Bloodlust Book One

  by

  J.M. Adele

  Ashes and Dust

  J.M. Adele © 2018

  All rights reserved

  This work is protected under copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner, without permission or sponsorship, and with acknowledgement of their trademarked status, and trademark owners.

  Edited by Lauren Clarke

  Cover Design by Book Flare Publishers

  Cover photo from Deposit Photo © Olena Kucher

  Separators from Vecteezy.com

  Proofed by Fiona Dreaming Proof Reading and Formatting

  Formatted by Book Flare Publishers

  Kindle Edition

  This one’s dedicated to my parents.

  I know you squirm in your seats when you read my words,

  but you support me anyway and that means the world.

  And I wish you wouldn’t read them.

  Seriously.

  Stop.

  Chapter One - Alone

  Chapter Two - Memorial

  Chapter Three - Amnesia

  Chapter Four - Darkness Himself

  Chapter Five - On the Hunt

  Chapter Six - Bland

  Chapter Seven - Him Again

  Chapter Eight - Homework

  Chapter Nine - Burial

  Chapter Ten - Birth

  Titles by J.M. Adele

  Ember and Flame

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Alone

  “Hey. Wake up.” Leaning on her elbow, Shiloh reached over to jostle Seth’s shoulder. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, squinting as the first rays of dawn crept through the crack in the curtains. Her boyfriend needed to get his sweet butt out of the window and down the drainpipe before her parents discovered their little secret. Sneaking around in the dead of night added a bit of thrill to the relationship, but she didn’t want to get caught. Ever. She wouldn’t be able to deal with the disappointment on her parents’ faces as her dad spun her broken halo on his finger.

  “Seth,” she hissed, trying again. “You’ve gotta go. I’m leaving soon.”

  “Hunmpth.” The pillow muffled his reply as his hand trailed over her flimsy camisole to land on her boob, giving it a squeeze. She didn’t have much, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  Grinning, she stretched down to tap him on the ass before rolling out of his reach and out of bed.

  “Where’re you going?” Hugging the pillow, he lifted a sleepy eyelid and pumped his hips into the mattress a couple of times.

  Insatiable. She almost licked her lips, not minding the idea of going another round at all, but she had to get to training. If she wanted a gold medal, she had to make sacrifices. She felt guilty enough about indulging in his company a few nights a week, but hell, she deserved it. And he was irresistible.

  “You seriously need to go. If my dad catches you, he’ll get his gun.”

  “Your dad loves me.”

  “My dad thinks we’re both still innocent.”

  Seth snorted and reached up to scratch his head. “He’s not that gullible, Shi. I’m pretty sure your sister knows what’s going on, and there’s no holding her tongue.”

  Lanie knew, but she was cool. They had a deal. She wasn’t going to say anything as long as Shiloh drove her to whatever party she wanted. Lanie was set on getting the full high school experience. Lord knows why. Besides, Shiloh had cleaned her sister’s vomit one too many times. Lanie wouldn’t dare say anything about Seth’s visits.

  “Well, if he’s willing to pretend, then I am, too. I don’t want to have that discussion with him.”

  Seth blinked a couple of times before his gaze trailed down her body, pausing at her chest and lingering at the juncture of her thighs.

  She rested one hand on her hip. “If you don’t leave now, I’m locking you out for a week.”

  His eyes shot up to hers as his mouth flattened out. “Okay. I’m gone.” He hauled ass out of bed, into his clothes, and had one foot out the window before leaning in to peck her on the lips. “I was never here. Have a good swim.”

  Within a minute, he was across the street and out of sight, back in his own house.

  She leaned on the sill, a pleased smile tugging on freshly kissed lips, and her heart thumping for the boy across the street.

  _____

  Water slid like silk over her skin as her body glided through the pool. The burn in her muscles had long since faded—she’d reached the sweet spot. A point where her body was a machine in control, and her brain surrendered to wayward thoughts, the chemical blend of endorphins and adrenaline injecting that invincible feeling. She could do another hundred laps, easy, but she had an exam to study for. Only two more weeks until school finished, and she’d be free to concentrate on her training over the summer before her senior year.

  Her teammates had abandoned the pool an hour before, after their coach was a no-show. So what if they didn’t do their normal training routine? She had the pool all to herself. Her hands cut through the cool crystal liquid with ease, the rhythmic lapping of each stroke and her timed breaths the only sounds she had to contend with. No shrill whistle. No yelled instructions. No splashing from the lanes beside her. Blissful solitude.

  Shiloh smiled all the way through another five laps. She’d smoked their butts in the sectionals and was the only one to qualify for the Summer Nationals. She was faster, stronger, and more disciplined and determined than any of those flakes. She had her eye firmly set on World Championship selection. And in 2020, Olympic selection. She was going to Tokyo, baby.

  Tumbling forward for the final turn, she kicked her legs and punched her arms out in long, sure strokes, pushing her speed to the limit before reaching for the wall. Lifting her head, she gasped for a breath, her eyes automatically seeking the timer on the wall. The triumph of beating her personal best was a heady drug rushing through her veins and hitching her cheeks.

  Her satisfied smile was short-lived, her brow tightening as the eerie fingers of a strange presence danced along her skin. She strained to see through the beads of water running over her goggles, her labored breaths coming in short bursts of fear rather than from exertion. Light reflected off the rippling water, throwing moving shapes across the ceiling and walls. Shadows sought new hiding spaces on the periphery of her vision. Shiloh tried to track each one. To map each shape. Define the source. But they were too fast, eluding her encumbered eyes.

  For a split second she thought she saw the shadows merge into a dark figure lurking just beyond the blocks. Those eerie fingers gouged a little deeper, massaging her heart into a seizure. What the hell? A bolt of terror tore down her back and she threw her hands up to rip off her head gear, gripping it in a tight fist. Blinking as she scrubbed her face with her other hand, she searched the pool area.

  Nothing.

  I’m being stupid. There’s nothing there.

  She swallowed, unconvinced, because her gut was screaming, ‘Run!’

  It wasn’t the first time she’d felt stalked. Three nights before she’d woken alone with a jolt to find her curtains flapping as they were sucked out of the window by the hot breeze. She always kept her window shut at night. The only reason she’d open the window after dark was to let Seth in, and those visits were always prearranged.

&n
bsp; Maybe she’d forgotten to lock her bedroom door and her mom had opened the window to let in some air? She’d hoped her mom had opened it. Now she feared it hadn’t been an act of parental concern, but a warning shot.

  Three girls had gone missing last week on their way home from a party in Granada Hills. The TV churned out a new horror story every day. Yet another reason for Shiloh to stick to her strict routine. Her little bubble of safety.

  She feared it was about to pop.

  Somebody was watching her.

  Shiloh knew it as sure as if they had a grip on her face, breathing down her neck.

  She spun around, the water forming a whirlpool around her. Her heart thundered as she darted her eyes back and forth. Her movements were jerky, spraying water in all directions. For some stupid reason the theme to Jaws started playing in her head.

  “Hello?” Her shaky question echoed off the cold tile and concrete surfaces making it sound like she’d cried out a hundred times, desperate for a response when there was only a lurking threat.

  Her head dipped under the water for a second, fatigue wearing her down. She fought her way up, spitting out water.

  I need to get out of the water.

  Tossing her goggles and cap onto the concrete, she slapped her hands flat on the side of the pool before heaving her weight up. She didn’t make it out. A vise-like grip around her ankle dragged her back into the pool. Fuck! This is it. I’m going to end up like those girls. The latest horror story to grace TV screens. Bubbles spewed from her mouth as she searched underwater, but there was nothing to see. Kicking off the bottom, she rocketed herself up, a scream breaking free as she breached the surface. Wracked with tremors, she grappled for the side of the pool. Whipping her head about, she found nothing. Tears began streaming down her face as she sobbed, fearing the worst.

  A voice came from beyond her sight. “Marco . . .?” The deep rumble of death, announcing the hunt.

  Oh, Jesus. Shiloh’s eyelids cranked wide enough to rival a canyon. She paddled her arms like she’d forgotten how to swim. The distance to safety seemed interminable. A viscous waterfall ran over her lips as her sobs intensified. She couldn’t bring herself to reply, or even question who was there. Warmth spread between her thighs as her bladder let go of control.

  Finally, she grasped the tiled edge. Again, she tried to get out of the pool, throwing her elbows along the side and kicking her knee up to haul her weight free. Gasping for breath, she rolled away from the edge before scrambling to her feet. The hairs on her body stood on end, her skin crawling.

  A great gust of air rushed at her, tipping her off balance, and she stumbled back. Pain crashed her system as the stab of something sharp bit into her neck, and a breath-stealing grip seized her body. Her eyes rolled up, unable to see. Sound escaped her reach, her ears refusing to work.

  Deprived of those senses, her others amplified. The smell and taste of copper and salt filled the back of her throat. She gargled. Blood choked her airway. She was going to drown. Not in the pool. In her own blood.

  A raging wildfire spread from her neck, rushing along her veins, intent on possessing every part of her. Her mind couldn’t conjure up the will to fight as it struggled to connect any thought through the haze. Unable to move or suck in air, consumed by nothing but excruciating agony, Shiloh’s body went limp as the last dregs of energy drained away.

  The only thing she could do was surrender.

  She vaguely registered the vise on her body loosening, and a tearing at her neck as the sharp object was removed. For what seemed like several minutes, she remained suspended in the dark, weightless vacuum of her mind before the sickening crack of her body hitting concrete signaled her end.

  Her soul was severed from its tether to this world.

  Memorial

  Lanie Howard ran a finger down the framed photo of her older sister, collecting some dust before rubbing her fingers together, sending it to dwell on the carpet. “She’s not coming back. Face it, Mom. If they find her, she’s going to need a body bag.”

  She focused on the streak she’d left on the glass rather than the smiling face of her sister staring back at her. She hadn’t been able to evict the image from her mind for four weeks—dark hair in a high ponytail, dark eyes crinkled at the corners. The perfect, Californian high school girl. The photo could’ve been Lanie. Except for the fact that Lanie had braces and was a year younger. And Lanie’s name didn’t belong in the same sentence as the word perfect. Seeing her sister’s likeness in the mirror made her want to shatter the glass.

  Or put a paper bag over her head.

  Plastic would be better.

  Lanie’s school photo had once sat beside Shiloh’s photo. Now, it had been demoted. Moved out of sight and replaced by one of Shiloh’s swimming trophies, surrounded by flowers. They must’ve taken it from the school where it had been on display.

  From the corner of her eye, Lanie witnessed her mom choke on a reply, clutching at her chest like it had been splayed open with a sternal saw.

  “Why don’t you shut up, Lanie? It’s only been a month.” Disapproval sheared off Seth’s tongue in frosty drifts, sending a chill up her back.

  Shiloh’s boyfriend was a regular fixture on the Howards’ sofa under normal circumstances, but from the time Shiloh had vanished he’d barely moved, apparently waiting for her to walk in the door and end the nightmare. Or maybe he was unable to tear himself away from worshipping at the altar her parents had erected above the fireplace.

  Shiloh was the star everybody loved.

  Lanie was white noise.

  Turning her back on the mantelpiece, Lanie locked on to Seth’s bloodshot stare. “They found all her stuff still in her locker and enough blood to fill a keg. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand she was badly hurt. You’re all kidding yourselves if you think she’d survive that.”

  Seth’s hand clenched into a fist, and she watched his perfect features morph through the spectrum from pain to hate. Good. If he hated her as much as she despised him, maybe they’d finally be even.

  “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” Tossing an arm at the front door, she delivered the final blow. “Your house is that way. Go home. You don’t belong here.”

  Seth glared. “Shiloh hates you—”

  “Lanie! Go to your room. Seth, I think it’s time you went home. Emotions are high. People are saying things they don’t mean. Let’s all just calm down.” Her dad quelled their argument, putting a comforting arm around his wife as she wailed uncontrollably.

  “Gladly.” Lanie stomped off up the stairs, shame firmly wrapping its filthy fingers around her ankles, dragging her down.

  She was a bitch. She was angry.

  Furious at her envy of Shiloh.

  Angry at her sister for abandoning her.

  Disappointed in her family for sitting on their asses and doing nothing.

  Why were they all in denial? They should be out there hunting for Shiloh’s killer, not sitting around boosting Kleenex’s profits.

  Slamming the bedroom door behind her, Lanie launched herself onto the bed, stuffing her face into the pillow as deep as she could get. Maybe if she deprived her senses she’d stop the realization from solidifying; her sister was never coming back.

  Shiloh was the only one who cared. She was the caution to Lanie’s impulse. The sane to Lanie’s crazy. The earth to Lanie’s fire. Her sister was as much a part of her as one of her limbs.

  Or, she had been. Until Seth.

  He’d climbed through Shiloh’s bedroom window and apparently into her heart. Shiloh had started walking around with a dreamy look in her eye and Seth’s name constantly on the tip of her tongue. Her open-door policy was abandoned in favor of privacy behind a solid barrier. Lanie had stopped knocking after interrupting their lip-lock sessions one too many times. The view of her sister’s swollen lips and mussed hair as she peeked through the door had formed a hollow pit in the younger sister’s stomach. She could’ve traveled the length of
the hallway a thousand times and she wouldn’t have bridged the distance between them.

  It had hurt more than it should. Being replaced. Truth was, Lanie had been mourning the loss of her sister for over a year. She’d lost a limb, the phantom pain constantly reminding her of the amputation. It would never fade.

  Hauling her head back, she tried to drag in a deep breath, jealousy and guilt suffocating her more effectively than the pillow ever could. She loved her sister. She’d never wanted anything bad to happen to her. She always thought they could heal their rift if Seth got out of the way.

  Shiloh’s never coming home.

  Ugh. Snap out of it.

  She’d criticized her family for impotently sitting by and here she was—drama queen—making it all about her.

  She drew in a long, stuttered breath as an alternative occurred. She could catch the bastards who did this. And if she died in the process, at least she’d done something instead of sitting around pissing tears.

  Staring at the window, she remembered all the times she’d watched Seth shimmy down the drainpipe. Lanie was a gymnast. And she did track. There was no reason she couldn’t do the same.

  Grabbing a backpack, she threw in her wallet and phone before sneaking down the hallway to her mom and dad’s room. She found the spare keys to the Mercedes and two hundred and twenty-three dollars to add to her stash of just over five hundred.

  Bingo. She had wheels and she had cash.

  Moving to Shiloh’s room, she locked the door behind her. Not that they’d come looking for her in there; the room had been left untouched since the police had searched through it after her sister’s disappearance. Sliding the window open, she poked her head out. The distance between the drain pipe and window ledge stretched on like she was looking into one of those crazy mirrors at the fair.

  Jeez, Seth must have extendable arms.

  Straddling the ledge, Lanie shimmied her bottom as close to the side of the window as she could, stretching an arm towards the pipe. Sweat coated her curled lip, her stomach dipping a little in fear as she slipped, her efforts falling short by more than a foot. Damn. She pulled back, shoving her hair out of her eyes, and moved to stand on the ledge. This wasn’t going to beat her.