Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  “Got him,” yelled Drew, jubilantly.

  Remy rolled her eyes. “Thank god for headphones,” she griped. Wrapping the bandage around her finger, she crumbled up the wrapper and tossed it at a nearby metal waste bin, missing. Remy shook her head in disgust, roughly grabbing the broom and violently sweeping the paper into the pile of broken glass.

  An annoying buzz vibrated in her jeans.

  “Hey, Cassie,” Remy answered the phone, faking a bright, chipper voice.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Remy hedged, forcing a smile into her voice.

  “Big sis always knows, Remy,” Cassie chided, with a playful tsk.

  “Did the cards tell you?” asked Remy, grumpily.

  “They may have,” she hedged.

  “I hate it when you read me, Cassie.”

  “I know,” she replied cheerfully. “Is it Drew again?”

  Remy sighed. “When isn’t it?”

  “Do you need my help? Is there a body?”

  “No, not yet,” Remy laughed hollowly, “but thank you for the offer.”

  “Anytime, sweetie. Now, seriously, tell me what is going on?”

  “I think it’s over,” Remy choked out, her chest heaving as she struggled to stave off the stream of tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “We don’t talk, I can’t remember the last time we had sex, and,” she whispered as if Drew could hear her, “he moved all his stuff out of the bedroom.”

  “Do you think he is cheating?” Cassie queried softly, “because I have a gun.”

  “No,” Remy replied, taking a deep breath to battle the impending crying jag. “I just don’t think he loves me anymore. I don’t know what went wrong.” One tear escaped and then a second; then the flood. She blubbered on the phone for five minutes without breathing, mumbling incomprehensible words in between hiccups and swear words. Cassie listened quietly, interjecting a word or two of comfort when she found a moment.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked as Remy’s sobbing subsided.

  “I don’t know,” Remy moaned pathetically, kicking her bare foot at the waste bin; her toes connected. “Ow.”

  “What?”

  Flopping down on the edge of the mattress, Remy rubbed her throbbing toes. “I just kicked the trash can.”

  “Without shoes?” Cassie struggled to keep the chuckle from her voice.

  “Yes,” Remy answered begrudgingly, flopping backward on the bed.

  “I have an idea,” Cassie’s excited tone jumped a pitch. “Come here.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m staying on the island,” she answered nonchalantly.

  “At the old house,” asked Remy in the same casual tone.

  “No,” scoffed Cassie. “You know the house caught fire last year.”

  “I did not know that,” retorted Remy.

  A long pause followed. Cassie’s angelic voice huffed, “Oh, well, I thought I told you.”

  “No matter, I never want to see it again,” declared Remy, scornfully. “When did you move back to the island? Last month you were in New York.”

  “The job did not work out.”

  Remy snorted. “You mean Max did not work out.”

  “Tom-a-to, tom-ah-to,” Cassie replied with a laugh. “Listen, I am renting an upstairs apartment in town from this crazy, little French lady, Madame Tobain. Her bakery is downstairs and, for an extremely reasonable price, I live in the apartment above.”

  “What constitutes an ‘extremely reasonable price’?” Remy asked curiously.

  Cassie paused as if debating a way to answer without lying. “Not quite full price, but more than free.”

  “How did you meet her?” Remy pushed suspiciously.

  “She is a friend of a friend,” replied Cassie, casually. “Pack now; come stay for a couple of weeks and clear your head.”

  “What about my job?”

  Cassie grunted. “Seriously, Remy? You are on vacation. I know, because you complained to me for a week straight last month that you had to take this time off. Put down the book and come visit me.”

  Remy rolled her eyes.

  “I saw that.”

  “What?” Remy answered innocently.

  “You just rolled your eyes.”

  “How could you see that?”

  Laughter echoed through the phone. “Because I know you and right now you are curled up in the middle of your bed trying to come up with an excuse to blow me off.”

  “I am not,” Remy growled, stretching out her limbs in annoyance.

  “Not what, curled in a ball or thinking of backing out?”

  “Either.”

  “Bullshit,” Cassie’s voice hardened for a moment.

  “I hate that you developed all of Grandfather’s gifts,” grumbled Remy.

  “I know,” replied Cassie, airily. Several keyboard clicks echoed in the background.

  “What is that sound?” Remy asked, peeved by Cassie’s acknowledged talent.

  “My computer,” she answered cheerily. “I am buying you a plane ticket.”

  Remy’s jaw dropped. “What about your bills, your rent? Cassie, airplane tickets are expensive.”

  “I already told you, my rent is a non-issue. I have money saved up and I’d like to spend it on my little sister. Plus, I’m only buying a one-way ticket; find your own way back.” She chortled hysterically.

  A moment later, Remy’s phone beeped. “Cassie,” Remy whined, opening the email, “this flight is for tonight and it takes off in two hours.”

  “Yes, it does, so get moving. Don’t waste my hard-earned money, Remy.”

  “Fine,” Remy sighed in defeat. “I’ll come.”

  “Yay!”

  Remy grinned, imaging Cassie dancing around the apartment, her long dark, blond hair loose and swinging about her face in time with imaginary music.

  “If I am going to catch this ridiculous flight, I need to pack,” Remy announced, sliding off the bed with determination.

  “Good. I will see you in a couple of hours.”

  “Are you sure it won’t be too late for you? The arrival time is two in the morning.”

  Cassie laughed; the throaty sound lifted Remy’s spirits. “Remy, how quickly you forget. On the island, time is irrelevant.”

  “Do you intend to inform Grandfather of my visit?” Remy’s question hung in the air for a moment.

  Cassie hesitated. “Would you like me to tell him?”

  “No,” Remy answered swiftly.

  “Gossip travels quickly, Remy. I cannot hide you forever.”

  “I know,” admitted Remy, “but one day without his accusatory temperament is better than none.”

  “Remy, Grandfather does not blame you for Father’s death,” Cassie stated flatly. “It’s been ten years. You must forgive yourself.”

  “I have to schedule my Uber driver,” answered Remy in a clipped tone, feebly changing the subject.

  “Why don’t you ask Drew to take you?” asked Cassie, innocently. Remy pictured Cassie’s light, gray eyes sparkling mischievously.

  “Har, har. Just for that, I hope my flight is delayed.”

  More clicks echoed through the phone. “Your Uber will arrive in twenty minutes, little sis. Get moving.” Cassie hung up without another word.

  “Bossy,” muttered Remy. Her phone pinged; a new text message.

  ‘I am not bossy,’ it read. Remy laughed.

  Digging under the bed, Remy unearthed the dingy, forgotten, purple suitcase and inspected it for damage. Lifting the handle, she dragged the luggage behind her; it tipped over immediately - one broken wheel.

  “Swell,” she muttered. “I guess I will just carry you,” Remy announced to the suitcase. Tossing the shabby purple carrier on the bed, she haphazardly ripped clothes from the dresser and threw them into a pile on the comforter. Slipping into the bathroom, Remy collected some essential toiletries; Drew’s game blared loudly from the living room.

  Marching back to the bedro
om, Remy shoved the unfolded mound into her suitcase. Grappling with the lid, Remy leaned her weight on the top, nearly sitting on the valise to securely latch it. It clicked, straining against the lock. Remy eyed it suspiciously, but the clasp held.

  Hefting the suitcase off the bed, Remy lugged it down the hallway. Dropping it by the door, it thudded heavily, toppling over. Finally, Drew turned his head; his dull brown eyes eerily reflected the glowing computer screens. He raised his eyebrows at the valise.

  “That looks familiar; going somewhere?” he asked lightly, covering the microphone near his mouth.

  “Cassie asked me to visit.”

  “Good, that will keep you from hanging out at the house all day,” he replied, already twisting back toward his game. “Have fun,” he called over his shoulder. “No, not you, Frank. I don’t care what you do in the bathroom.”

  Grasping the purple atrocity, Remy manhandled it out the door and to the top of the staircase. Three steps from the top, she lost her grip and the suitcase tumbled end-over-end, bouncing once on each stair. It popped open when it hit the cement at the bottom of the staircase, scattering clothes across the wet grass. Several new scrapes disfigured the lurid purple covering.

  Remy sighed, dropping to her knees; she hastily stuffed clothing back into the case and forced the lid closed again. Wrestled it into a semi-standing position, Remy glanced up to see a dark sedan pull up to the curb. The tinted passenger window rolled down halfway, revealing an enormous man of indistinguishable age. The interior light highlighted his dark, gray hair, which was slicked back into a low pony tail and fastened at the base of his neck with a leather tie. A long beard – slightly grayer in color than his hair - grazed his chest.

  “Miss Remina Vasile?” a deep voice repeated after glancing at the screen of his phone. Illuminated in light, his macabre face shone hideously.

  Remy shuddered inwardly and gave a quick bob. “Mr. Allister Jackson?” she inquired hesitantly, debating collecting her suitcase and dashing back to the apartment.

  “The one and only.” His curt answer cut off as the window rolled closed; the back door unlocked.

  “So much for chivalry,” Remy grumbled, dragging the suitcase across the sidewalk. A few more scratches would hardly make a difference at this point. Wrenching open the door, she thrust the suitcase into the back of the sedan with a grunt. It bounced across the leather seat, tipped over, and tumbled into the space behind the driver’s seat. Remy followed with a sheepish grin, yanking the suitcase back onto the seat beside her.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled to the black eyes glaring at her in the rear-view mirror.

  Allister grumbled, pressed his lips together as if swallowing a comment, and drove out of the parking lot without another word. Remy stared out the window unseeingly, her forehead pressed against the cool glass, not caring what the grizzled autocrat in the driver’s seat thought. She felt his eyes, judging her greasy face on his pristine window. Two tears dripped onto the leather window binding.

  “Are you alright, Miss?” Allister’s gravelly voice flowed amicably from the front seat.

  Hastily, Remy wiped the tears on the back of her hand. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Humph,” he grunted, a kindly tinge in his gruff tone. “You don’t look fine.”

  Remy donned a smile, baring her teeth. “Better?”

  He snorted. “Nope. Scary, though.”

  Flopping against the seat, Remy folded her arms in annoyance. “Thanks,” she muttered and churlishly kicked the back of the passenger seat.

  Allister’s dark eyes flicked to the mirror again. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” murmured Remy, petulantly.

  “He will regret his indifference.”

  “Who will?”

  “Your fellow; the guy who refused to escort you to the car.”

  “Will he?”

  The grayish head nodded once. “The question is, will you forgive him by the time he realizes what he lost?”

  “No,” Remy growled, swiping her palm at another betraying tear.

  “Even if he chases after you?” Allister pressed, a peculiar light in his eyes.

  Remy snorted. “I doubt he would make the effort.”

  “But, do you want him to follow you?” The dark eyes locked onto Remy’s, catching them in the rearview mirror.

  “Not really,” she admitted honestly.

  “Then stop sniveling; your decision is made.”

  “I am not sniveling,” Remy huffed in irritation.

  “Whatever you say, Miss.” He drove the final ten minutes to the airport in silence.

  Crawling from the back seat, Remy dragged the flimsy purple suitcase onto the curb and leaned it carefully on its side. “Thank you,” she murmured begrudgingly, spinning around, but Allister already disappeared into a sea of cabs.

  Chapter Two

  “REMY!” A VOICE screeched. It reverberated off the ceiling of the cavernous baggage claim. A nearby couple turned and chuckled at her exuberance. Cassie barreled through the throng of arrivals, shoving them aside impatiently. Throwing herself at Remy, Cassie knocked her over a cart of luggage carefully stacked behind Remy. The worn purple suitcase exploded open in a colorful shower of clothes, coating them both. Legs and arms tangled in straps, they struggled on the floor for several minutes – a giggling mess.

  Laughing hysterically, Cassie wriggling into a sitting position. She turned to Remy, tears streaming down her cheeks and plucked a pink thong from Remy’s hair. “Good to see you little sis.”

  “That is not mine,” Remy declared, her eyes narrowed on the pink underwear dangling from Cassie’s fingers.

  “Actually, it is,” Cassie countered with an evil grin. “It’s just a little welcome home gift from me.”

  “It’s pink,” stated Remy, pointblank.

  “I know,” sang Cassie. She winked.

  “May I help you, ladies?” a cool voice interrupted. Staring down, full lips pursed, an irate pair of blue eyes traveled over the chaos.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Ayres,” replied Cassie in the same cold tone, addressing the suited stranger glaring at them. She waved her hand dismissively; the pink panties flapped like a tiny, indecent flag.

  “Miss Vasile,” the penetrating blue focused solely on Cassie, “if you wanted to me to see your panties, there are easier ways of getting me to notice them.”

  Daintily untangling a black leather luggage strap from her neck, Cassie sniffed haughtily and flung the garment bag aside. “First, these are not mine,” she crushed the pink thong into a ball in her palm. “Second, you shouldn’t leave your luggage laying about where any old person can just trip over them.”

  The irate cobalt eyes raked over Cassie and then flicked to Remy. Pasting a brilliant smile across his lips, the man extended an elegant hand, encased in leather. “Since Cassandra has absolutely no manners, please allow me to introduce myself,” his deep voice asserted. “Sebastian Ayres, and I highly doubt either of you could be classified as old, clumsy perhaps, but not old.” He flashed another dazzling smile.

  “Remy,” she replied breathlessly, accepting his hand. Sebastian’s grip tightened; he easily lifted her from the floor. “Thank you,” she gushed, her face broke into a wide smile, mirroring Sebastian’s playful grin.

  “The pleasure was all mine, Remy.” Her name rolled off his tongue, seductively. Remy’s stomach tightened, unconsciously she licked her lips.

  “Remy,” chastised Cassie, still trapped under a mountain of suitcases. Cassie twisted in the pile of luggage and clothing; she glowered up at Remy, who beamed down at her. “Traitor,” Cassie mouthed.

  “Please allow me to assist you, Cassandra. You look terribly uncomfortable in that position, not to mention a little exposed.” He grinned and lifted an eyebrow.

  Cassie quickly yanked her skirt down, covering long, tanned legs and scampered from the pile. Swiftly, she gathered all the clothes from the floor, shoving the lacy thong and the rest of the clothing back into Remy’
s damaged suitcase. Slamming it closed, Cassie hefted the bag from the carpeted floor. She stepped to Sebastian and nodded formally; her head barely reached his strong chin.

  “As I stated not a moment earlier, Sebastian, no assistance is needed. Thank you again for your kind offer, but we are both more than capable of taking care of ourselves,” replied Cassie, coolly.

  He smiled again - a flash of amusement - as his eyes absorbed Cassie’s hard stance. “Yes, I can definitely see that. Ladies, I hope you have a pleasant evening,” he rumbled agreeably.

  He nodded to Cassie and turned toward Remy. Lifting her hand, Sebastian brushed his full lips lightly across the back of her hand. Electricity danced up Remy’s arm, vibrated through her spine, and burst into her veins. Remy gasped in astonishment, unable to retract her hand; blue fire danced in Sebastian’s eyes.

  “I will see you again,” he whispered; his intimate gaze locked on Remy. The viselike grip clutching her fingers tightened.

  “No,” Cassie snapped, ripping Remy’s hand from his. She glared at Sebastian, stretching as high as she could, until the top of her head brushed against his nose. “She is my sister, Bastian, and you are engaged,” she hissed scandalously.

  “Whatever rumors you may have heard regarding Malina and myself are false; we are not engaged, nor are we dating,” Sebastian growled in a dangerously soft voice; his beautiful face hardened to steel. Deliberately, he took one step backward, allowing a small crackling space of rage to fester between them.

  Cassie tilted her head, an unreadable expression on her face. “Remy is undeveloped.”

  Sebastian’s forehead crumbled in irritation. “That does not bother me.”

  “It does disturb your family though, doesn’t it, Sebastian?” needled Cassie. “When was the last time you spoke with your sister?”

  Snarling, Sebastian leaned close to Cassie, his face inches from hers. “Kerian is happy with her choice.”

  “What are you talking about Cassie?” Remy asked in confusion, her head whipped between the angry stances of Cassie and Sebastian. Each planted their feet as though they planned to brawl in the middle of baggage claim.

  “Nothing,” Cassie turned and patted Remy’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s nothing at all, just some old wounds.” She repositioned the purple suitcase in her arms and placed a strong hand on Remy’s back, roughly shoving her toward the exit. As Cassie passed Sebastian, she offered a final, respectful, farewell; her voice strained. “Mr. Ayres, it is always lovely to see you. Please say hello to your parents for me.”