The Darkness of Sable
By
Faith Bicknell
The Darkness of Sable - Text copyright © Faith Bicknell 2018
Art by Emmy Ellis @ studioenp.com © 2018
All Rights Reserved
The Darkness of Sable is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
The author respectfully recognizes the use of any and all trademarks.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s written permission.
For Jade and Ivory
Thank you for always believing in me.
Chapter One
Whispers
S able Hendricks-Tade stared at the dark urban landscape. The fancy townhouses of Naples, Florida, zipped by the limo. She squinted against the illumination cast by the neon business signs and overhead streetlights, the low hum of pain in her head escalating.
Oh, Cheyenne…I wish you could hear me…
“SABLE…”
“Hmm?” She turned toward the large African- American man next to her.
Thomas Valimar shifted on the seat and crossed one long, muscled leg over the other. “I didn’t say anything.” The deep baritone of his voice rumbled softly in the limo.
“I thought you said my… Oh, never mind.” She sighed and stared out the window again.
“What’s wrong, Sable?” Concern filled Thomas’s words. “Aren’t you even excited about sculpting a new series?”
She reached for a bottle of brandy in the limo’s mini bar, but paused to gather her ankle-length locks and place them in a mahogany pool across her lap. “I’d be more enthusiastic if I actually had an idea for the new series.” She looked at Thomas.
A business sign whizzed by, illuminating him for a few seconds. As always, she admired his intricate cornrows, the web design of his beard, and his dark, sparkling eyes. Thomas Valimar was such a striking, powerful man. She offered him a wan smile. “Can’t we talk about my artwork some other time?”
He drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and quietly exhaled. “If you don’t mind, pour me a glass, too.”
“I’m sorry. I know I make you crazy,” Sable said. “I wish I could get rid of these foul moods as much as you do.”
Somewhere in the limo a high-pitched titter reached her. She paused, her hand poised to pass Thomas his glass. She swept her gaze over the seats, but seeing nothing amiss, she dismissed the sound.
“You’ll think of something to sculpt,” Thomas said. He accepted the drink from her. “Really, all you need to announce, when it’s time, is that you’re creating another Darkness Series and would prefer not to give out too many details before the actual unveiling.”
“I suppose,” she said, unconvinced.
She took an unladylike gulp from her glass. A drop of liquor escaped the corner of her mouth. She flicked her tongue out and caught it, but heat flashed into her cheeks as Thomas’s attention moved from her tiny tongue action to her eyes. Their gazes locked, and brightness settled in his ebony eyes.
Flustered, she glanced away.
“The Golden’s show is tomorrow evening,” he said. “I think it would be good for you to see another artist’s work.”
“The Golden?” Sable faced Thomas.
He watched her over the rim of his glass.
“We were invited?” she asked.
He shrugged. “The Golden only invites the most prestigious people to her showings.” He held out his tumbler for another shot. “Just wait until the press hears you’re invited.” Thomas placed his hand on her knee, the warmth of it seeping into her muscles and spreading out along her nerve endings. “Oh, by the way,” he added, “an anonymous art collector purchased the last sculpture in your Darkness Series.” He removed his hand and sat back again.
“Anonymous?”
The squeaky, giggle-like sound kissed Sable’s ears again.
What the hell? She glanced at the floor then at the ceiling. Her gaze brushed Thomas’s, but he didn’t appear to have heard the noise.
He nodded, and a passing neon sign added an odd green hue to one side of his cornrows. “Yes, someone purchased the sculpture for an anonymous collector.”
“I wonder who it is.”
He chuckled. “What difference does it make? You made six figures on the deal.”
She gaped at him.
“The money has already been wired to my account,” he added. “I’ll take my fifteen percent and transfer the rest to your bank first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I’m still curious about who purchased it.”
“That’s the point of being anonymous.” He sipped from his glass. “Probably someone filthy rich who wants to stay out of the limelight.” Re-crossing his legs, he said, “Besides, you need to concentrate on your new line of sculptures and not worry about anything else.”
Nestling against the cushiony leather, Sable groaned. She didn’t want to think about The Golden’s art show, or, for that matter, anything else. Her hopes of developing a new series of sculptures had fled her heart a long time ago. Inspiration had ceased to visit Sable. Her muse had died, and no one had bothered to invite her to the funeral.
The hotel loomed ahead, and Sable sighed in relief. I wonder if Cheyenne could be here somewhere in Naples?
The limo rolled to a stop on the hotel carport. The chauffeur opened the door and offered Sable his hand. She got out of the car. Surrounded with palm trees, the security lights washing it in brilliance, the hotel exuded wealth and comfort.
Together, Sable and Thomas hurried through the hotel lobby brimming with potted palms and exotic flowers. She gathered her long hair and wrapped it twice around her pale forearm. The pressure on her skull eased.
Her attention wandered over the neoclassic furniture and the huge burgundy-and-gold rugs strewn across the lobby floor. Somehow the array of tropical plants worked well with the décor.
Cheyenne’s face, surrounded by her long, pale hair, rose in Sable’s mind. She grimaced and shut her eyes for a moment.
Thomas touched her. She opened her eyes, and he handed over the keycard to her suite. Behind him, a bellboy stood waiting patiently with their luggage cart.
She palmed the plastic in one hand and frowned, rubbing the back of her neck.
A deep groove marred Thomas’s smooth brow. “Headache getting worse?” he asked. He cupped her elbow and escorted her to the elevator.
She eyed the glowing numbers over the lift’s doors. “Sometimes I wish my hair wasn’t so long.”
“Don’t even think about cutting it.” Thomas put one arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side. “Your ankle-length hair is your signature, and the color of it is neither red nor brown. The highlights are like strands of fire and add to your exotic appearance.”
“It’s too bad looks help sell a person’s product or work,” she said, “or I would definitely cut it.”
The trouble was that her hair grew as fast as a weed, and, despite its length, her tresses were four times heavier than normal. She flexed her shoulders, but her muscles protested. A long, hot bubble bath sounded like seven kinds of Heaven, but first, she needed a few minutes of solitude to clear her mind.
“I saw a pool and garden when we approached the hotel,” she said. “I think I’m going to go for a stroll. Ma
ybe I just need to stretch my legs and have a little quiet time.”
“You want me to go with you?” asked Thomas.
She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. The evening is lovely, and I just need some alone time.”
He smiled. “I’ll meet you upstairs, then.”
He stepped into the elevator with their luggage and the bellboy. The doors slid shut, and she turned toward the exit that led out to the pool and garden areas.
The only other guests, two young women who sat at an umbrella table, sipped on slushy, bright-blue drinks. To Sable’s left, emptiness claimed the garden. The nighttime hum of insects punctuated the evening air and mingled with the occasional giggles of the women. Somewhere the squeal of tires sliced the night.
Sable shoved her purse strap higher on her shoulder. She made her way along the tiled pool area and passed through the hotel’s garden gate. Rose bushes boasted pink, peach, and white blooms. Sawgrass surrounded a stature of Neptune, and night-blooming vines trailed along the graveled paths and shallow fountain. The aroma of flowers and chlorine weighed heavily in the humid summer air.
More laughter drew her attention as the women carried their drinks into the hotel. Finally, she was totally alone. The pool shimmered in the underwater lights, and the soft lap of water soothed Sable’s frayed nerves. Security cameras kept an eye on the pool area, but there didn’t seem to be any in the garden. A moment of solitude provided balm for her soul. There were no fans or paparazzi with camera phones or digital gadgets snapping pictures. No one asked her if she wanted or needed something. And Thomas wasn’t constantly hovering over her.
She just couldn’t find the right frame of mind for this trip. And it seemed like the farther south they’d flown, the more Cheyenne was on her mind. Maybe she should put her career on hold for a year or so and just concentrate on finding her daughter, exhaust all the resources she possibly could in locating her, whether dead or alive.
A concrete bench beckoned her to take a load off. She sat and raised her eyes to the heavens. Lights surrounded the hotel, but beyond that, sparkles blanketed the deepening sky.
Where are you?
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She listened to the chirring crickets, the water sloshing in the pool and trickling in the fountain, the hum of the water filters, the odd car horn on a neighboring street.
Letting out the lungful of air, Sable opened her eyes.
Arms encircled her, jerking her to her feet. Fear sluiced through Sable, and she opened her mouth to scream, but a huge, rough hand slapped over her mouth and nostrils, silencing her cries. The aroma of cloves permeated her nose. Her feet left the ground as the attacker hefted her and stepped over the rose bushes with ease. The perpetrator shifted her body. Her feet touched the earth again, and the attacker planted her back to the stucco of the hotel. Shadows enveloped them, and nearby, the whoosh of the building’s air conditioning unit would cover any sounds from her or her assailant.
A masculine voice that sounded as if it leaked from the depths of Hell wafted over her. “Not one sound. Do you understand?”
Sable nodded once, twice. Even with her feet back on the ground, all she saw was his massive chest. She stood at six foot one, so that meant this guy was… Gulping, she quivered with dread and remained still.
“Forget your daughter,” the man whispered into her ear, his breath hot. “Let her go. You don’t know what you’re dealing with if you continue to pursue her.”
“I—”
“Keep silent!” His hand slammed across her mouth and nose again.
She struggled to breathe.
As if he realized he was suffocating her, he relaxed his hold and added, “I’m not going to hurt you, but you have to listen to me when I say you must forget about your daughter.”
She nodded. Anything to get him to leave her alone.
“Good.” He stepped back slightly but kept his hand over her face. “I’m going to leave. Don’t bother calling the authorities. They’ll never find me…and I haven’t hurt you.”
He backed up but kept to the darkest regions of the building’s shadows. Sable hugged the stucco and edged away one small step at a time. The attacker’s outline flabbergasted her. He stood a good two feet taller than she did, the distinct outline of his head and shoulders etched in the gloom.
“Be careful,” the man said. Two bright red pinpoints of light flashed where his eyes should be.
A strangled cry tumbled from her lips, and she spun on her heels, her sandals slapping across the spiky grass and out onto the graveled garden paths.
Behind her, his Hell-like laughter dogged her heels.
Several yards above Sable and the perpetrator, hanging downward on the wall, Thomas crept steadily toward the ground, the stucco rough beneath his palms. Using spells to perform such feats always left him vulnerable and strangely itchy, but without using magic, it was difficult to monitor and protect her without revealing his identity. She was prone to going off alone, especially during her dark moods. He couldn’t see who had her pinned to the wall, but if the Paranorm turned out to be from the Old World and felt Sable was more than just a threat… Thomas shivered and moved faster down the hotel’s side, risking his neck if he made one misstep.
The Paranorm released Sable and escaped through the shadows. Thomas paused. Sable ran back through the garden and pool area and into the hotel. Relieved she was among people and momentarily safe, he traveled sideways around the building, following the perpetrator. The enormous figure stepped out of the gloom next to a dumpster in the alley. A giant.
Luckily he knew Gerald, and relief settled over Thomas. He scaled the building, skirting a window with open curtains, and when he was within a couple floors of the giant, he jumped and landed on the asphalt a few feet away from him. The impact jarred his bones, and stings pierced the soles of his feet through his shoes. He really hated wearing business suits. They cramped his style and made it difficult to maneuver easily.
The Paranormal whirled and pulled a weapon from his belt.
Thomas smirked. “Really, Gerald. A dagger? It looks more like a sword.”
The giant visibly relaxed and sheathed his knife. “Don’t do that, Valimar! What is it with you marshals and your springing about or suddenly appearing out of thin air? I nearly turned you into a shish kabob!”
Chuckling, Thomas strode over to the massive fellow and stared up at him. “What was that about?” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder, indicating the scene where Gerald had pinned Sable.
“Orders,” Gerald replied, his gaze zipping from one shadowy area to another. He lowered his voice a couple levels. “The Old World wants her to give up looking for her daughter. It’s too dangerous. If she’s to remain off the New Order’s radar, Sable must stay away from Cheyenne.”
Thomas sighed. “I know, I know.” He ran both palms over his cornrows in exasperation. “When I was first assigned to protect Sable, I thought it was just a matter of babysitting yet another human whose magic would prove too insignificant for the New Order. I really believed this case would be over by now and the New Paranorms would move on to the next ‘gifted’ mortal, and then I’d be assigned to someone else. Hell, this has turned into a six-year assignment. Sable is too powerful, and the Old World is scared shitless that the New Order will either woo her or kill her.”
“Don’t you hate the ones that shock the hell out of you?” Gerald quipped. “Especially when the human is clueless they even have such a power.” He smiled, and his thick, bushy mustache parted. “Most of the time they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
Nodding, Thomas groaned. “She’s a handful, that’s for sure.”
“You admire her.”
“I don’t know what to think of the woman.”
Gerald gazed down at him, and Thomas bristled. The glint in the giant’s eyes implied something else entirely.
“Spread the word that I’m protecting her,” Thomas stated, his tone gruff.
“The New Order Pa
ranorms hate you, Valimar. The fact that you possess natural magic doesn’t endear you to them any either. You really shouldn’t draw attention to the fact you’re Sable’s marshal.”
Thomas shrugged. “Being hated is part of the job, and I’m not telling you to announce where we are. Just let it be known that I’m her marshal. That’s all.”
The giant laughed and lumbered toward a mass of vegetation growing between a storage shed and the backside of a tanning salon. “Until next time,” he called and disappeared into the leaves and palms.
Thomas looked up at the building. Sable was probably in her suite by now wondering where he’d gone. He’d enter the hotel by the main entrance and make an excuse about needing to discuss a matter at the front desk.
She’d been so shaken by the encounter with Gerald, she’d accept his lie.
But for some reason, lying to Sable always pricked his heart.
Chapter Two
Regrets
S able entered her suite on shaking legs. Where was Thomas? She scanned the suite, and upon noticing the door joining his room to hers, she hurried to it and peered inside only to discover it empty, too. She stood in the doorway, her mind racing a million miles per hour as she stared at the dark-shrouded furniture. The assailant hadn’t hurt her, and although he had frightened her silly, she now had hope that Cheyenne was in Naples or a neighboring town. Why else would he have warned her to stay away?
However, something about Thomas always provided a sense of security, and she needed his comfort right now.
Thomas’s voice reached her from across her suite. “We’re supposed to have a nice view of the city lights.”
She gasped and spun on her heel. “I didn’t hear you come in! Where were you?”
“I was down at the front desk. There was a slight problem with my credit card.” Thomas pulled aside long drapes to reveal glass doors leading out on to a private balcony. “When I called to reserve my room, the clerk who had taken my card’s info wrote the last two numbers backward.”
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