by K. F. Breene
Scarlet, too, had been integral to my survival. As was evidenced by her ability to stay unscathed after we’d separated. She’d known enough about the layout from theory and her minimal amount of research to keep moving, always staying ahead of the areas of the house that came alive. She’d had some narrow misses, and she hadn’t wanted to talk about anything ghost-related since, but she’d made it out alive.
Of the original crew, except for Braiden, only Dirk was able to walk out of there. He didn’t have the layout of the house down—he had plain old athletic ability and stamina. His strategy, according to him, had been to run and hide, run and hide, always just ahead of anything that came at him. Several times he’d thought the jig was up, but he’d managed to get help and save the day.
All of that could’ve been a lie, of course. Knowing him, he’d probably shadowed someone else at all times, staying just ahead of them when the ghosts came. I’d seen him duck out of the way when the Grinning Man went for Emily’s neck, after all. Dirk hadn’t been interested in helping—he’d been interested in saving himself.
Emily hadn’t made it out. Neither had her friends, except for Buffy, who was in the hospital in a coma with head trauma. Of the guys, DJ had been found alive…barely. He was in ICU for five days, but he was slowly recovering. With a broken back, he might never be able to walk again. Odis hadn’t made it, either. He’d already been slowed down because of his arm, and hadn’t been able to stay ahead of the danger.
I heaved a hard exhale as tears rose. It would be a long time before I could think on all that happened without my emotions getting the better of me. The experience had been horrific, and the horrible loss of life soul crushing.
Probably because there’d been survivors this time…not to mention the collection of bodies in the basement, the incident had garnered interest from the media and over a dozen paranormal groups. No one could believe that that sort of damage could be inflicted by the non-living. And because of that, no one did believe it. National news was calling for an investigation. Miss Potters, who hadn’t survived the shootout, was being painted as a mastermind. Her accomplices were being sought out. A full-scale investigation would be launched.
But they wouldn’t find the true mastermind behind the years of deaths in the town. Just like Florence had said, he’d lost his home. He’d been evacuated from the town. I couldn’t be sure, of course, because there was no way I was going into that house again, but the feel of our neighborhood was different. The deep-rooted malice emanating from the house was gone. It still didn’t feel right, and I had every reason to believe there were still spirits living among us—just as there were everywhere—but the man who’d spent so many years summoning those spirits, capturing them, had finally been evicted, and with him, the supernatural power that had kept them strongly rooted to our world.
I also believed I’d never see Florence again. The Old Woman would no longer plague the streets of Larkin. She’d finally found her peace and could move on. I was happy for that. If the town would freaking believe me for once, they would be, too.
Bones were still being pulled out and put together so they could have proper burials for all the bodies in the basement. It would be a while before the area was completely excavated, but at least the families that were still alive would get some closure. They would finally have a proper burial for Janine and Alex, but more importantly, people would finally know the truth.
I pulled the door open to find Braiden. His backpack hung off one shoulder, his sport coat was buttoned over a V-neck, and his face was as hot as any Hollywood star. His blue eyes glittered as he beheld me.
“Hey,” he said with a lopsided smile. “You ready?”
I turned back to the house. “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.”
“Come home right after school,” my mother called down.
“Alone,” my dad shouted after her.
I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the door.
“How am I ever going to win that guy over?” Braiden asked, his gaze lingering on the newly closed door.
“Stop breaking and entering, for one.”
“That was, like…one week ago.” He slipped his hand into mine. “Listen, I’ve done some thinking, and…I feel like I should be completely honest with you. I need to make a confession.”
“You did eat the last of the M&M’s last night, didn’t you?” I softly slugged him with my free hand. “I knew it.”
“No, I wasn’t talking about that.” He laughed as we turned onto the sidewalk. “I mean, that did happen, but that isn’t what I wanted to say.”
I bumped into him with my shoulder. “That was low. I was saving those.”
“My parents did move here because of me, but not solely because of me.”
My humor drained away as I listened.
He scratched his nose. “The rumors are true. I did get into a lot of trouble. I’m guilty of most of the things people have said. But…Miss Potters wasn’t totally wrong about me. My mom has severe anxiety and depression. It started after she had me, but the doctors thought they had a handle on it through medication. But then my grandmother died, and we realized Grandma was the one who’d had a handle on it. She had been helping my mother, supporting her, more than anyone had realized. My dad isn’t much of a…family man. He prides himself on his job and achievements, not in being a father and husband, and I was too young to know what to do. Everything snowballed. When I was fourteen, I came home after football practice and found her…” He swallowed as we neared Dirk’s house, on the other side of the street. Dirk was just coming out, his red hair catching the light and making his head look like it spurted flames. “She’d taken a bunch of pills. She was lying in a puddle of her own vomit, unconscious. I was the one that had to get her to the hospital and sit with her. That had to hold her hand, terrified she would die. I didn’t have any help. Anyone to turn to. I felt helpless and terrified.” He squeezed my hand a little tighter. “That’s embarrassing to say.”
“It shouldn’t be. I don’t know if I could’ve done it.”
He took a deep breath. “My dad hired a caregiver, and things improved for my mother, but I couldn’t get the image of her lying there out of my head. I couldn’t stop worrying it would happen again. And maybe this time…I wouldn’t be able to save her.”
I wrapped my other hand around his arm and pushed in close. “That must’ve been awful for you.”
“I went off the rails. Got into trouble, let my grades slip, ran away a few times—I couldn’t cope. My dad tried to discipline me, but it didn’t work. My teachers tried to punish me, but I didn’t care. Finally, my mother sat me down. We had a long talk about things—about where she was right then, where I was, and where both of our futures were headed. That was when I realized how off-track I had gotten. How crazy. I didn’t want that life, and neither did she. What we needed was a fresh start. A quieter place, a small-town vibe, but close to a city to ensure she could still get the help she needed. And, of course, an office nearby for my father, who did not love the idea. Larkin was on the list of prospectives. I chose it. I don’t know why, other than—”
“Lunacy?” I asked.
He smiled as we stopped on the corner before crossing the street to the bus stop. “Fate.” He tilted my head up with his fingertips and kissed me softly. “Destiny.”
He draped his arm around me and turned to cross the street, where Dirk was waiting. Apparently he’d be taking the bus with us. Lovely.
“Why did you tell me all that?” I asked as we passed Dirk. Dirk filed in after us, heading to the front of the waiting crowd, all staring at Braiden and I with solemn expressions. Apparently, a lot more people would be taking the bus now.
“Because…” Braiden turned to face me, holding my hands in his. His eyes delved into mine, his expression suddenly nervous. “I wanted to know if you’d be my girlfriend?”
Carla gasped and shushed the people talking next to her. “This is epic!”
I glanced at all the people riveted t
o our discussion, and at Dirk with a sullen glower. “Kind of putting me on the spot, here…”
A sly grin curled his lips. “I know. There is a purpose for it. Trust me.”
I was transported to a darkened hallway above a descending set of stairs. Danger lurked all around us. Trust me.
I always would.
“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” I said breathlessly.
He kissed me again, in front of all those people. A couple cheered (Carla being one of them), but most weren’t interested in relationship issues. I could tell by their haunted eyes and rapt attention that they were interested in the story. In our experiences in McKinley Mansion.
It would be a long time before I would relive it.
When the bus arrived, Braiden blocked everyone so I was the first on, and then he sat beside me, in the front row.
“I liked it better when everyone sat at the back,” said Maggie, the grumpy bus driver.
Flowers and reporters adorned the school. Many students had their heads down, feeling the loss of so many people. Probably afraid that they’d been living next to that danger for so long without realizing it.
I met Scarlet in the usual place, trailed by what was left of the popular group.
“Odis would’ve loved this,” Scarlet said sadly as we made our way up the steps. “All the cool kids and the fanfare.” She shook her head and sniffed. “I didn’t like him much, but I miss him a little.”
My stomach clenched and fresh tears sprang to my eyes. I nodded mutely, and Braiden squeezed my hand.
Mr. Morris stood in the entryway of the school, watching everyone with hard eyes. The scowl he gave us told me we were back to business as usual, but he didn’t holler at us to get moving today. Instead, he hollered at all the students stopping in their tracks and staring at us with wide eyes.
“Fella!” Nate shoved two pale-faced students out of the way to reach me, then bumped Braiden out of the way. He wrapped me in a tight hug. “I still don’t forgive you, but it is good to see you.” He threw up a hand for Braiden. “Dumb hero.” Braiden grinned and high-fived him. “Cowardly hero.” Dirk did not grin or high-five. “Smart coward.” Bobby’s sullen face didn’t change, but he did meet the high five.
Bobby had been called a coward for running away by a few people, and intelligent by many others. The fact that he hadn’t told anyone what we were doing got him in trouble with the police. Something that didn’t stick for any sort of incarceration. His popular status was untarnished.
Nate had shown up at my house two days after the fact and given me a stern talking-to about my decision to go into the mansion. In his words, he’d thought I was smarter than that. If anyone should have known not to go in, it was me. But after he’d insisted we hug it out, he lightened up, and ate his way through our house.
My father didn’t like him, either.
Years later, it turned out I had been right. The Old Woman never did walk the streets again. But while she might’ve been gone to her eternal resting place, it didn’t seem as if John intended to settle down, even if he could.
Within the paranormal community, reports of a disturbing presence popped up often, always with the same characteristics: serial killers speaking about a man coming to them in dreams or in reality, always sharing John’s dapper description, promising them vast rewards, or telling them they had been chosen for some special destiny. Houses taken over and turned into violent places. Mysterious deaths. Women speaking in hushed tones about nightly visitors.
Every time, my advice was asked on the subject. And though I’d turned into a sort of paranormal investigator, my reputation always preceding me, I never could get wind of John. When I showed up to investigate the ghostly charmer, the presence would vanish, only to pop up later in a different part of the world.
John seemed to be avoiding me, and while I had no idea why, I was thankful for it. Ghost hunting aside, after my entire family and Braiden’s moved away from Larkin, I was happy to not see that mansion, or that determined poltergeist, ever again.
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Read Born in Fire
Check out the exciting #1 Amazon worldwide bestseller by USA Today Bestselling author, K.F. Breene!
Supernatural Bounty Hunter isn’t the sort of thing you see on LinkedIn. But with a rare type of magic like mine, I don’t have many options.
So dangerous or not, the job is mine. And it was going fine, until an old as sin vampire stole my mark, and with it, my pay day.
Knowing I’m poor and desperate, he has offered me a job. I’ll have to work by his side to help solve a top secret case.
Everyone knows not to trust vampires. Especially a hot elder vampire. But without any other jobs coming up, I’m stuck. As I uncover a web of lies and treachery, revealing an enemy I didn’t know existed, the truth of my identity is threatened. I might make it out alive, only to end up in a gilded cage.
Read it here!
Try: Chosen
Want more K.F. Breene? Try Chosen - the first book in the epic fantasy Warrior Chronicles series.
Runner up in the SpaSpa Book Awards for Action and Adventure!
It is said that when war threatens the world, one individual will be selected by prophecy to lead the Shadow Warriors out of the Land of Mist and reclaim the freedom which has been stolen.
Shanti has grown up under the constant threat of war. Since she helped her people defeat a raiding party by using a special power, she’s been a hunted woman. Carrying rare abilities and an uncanny fighting aptitude, Shanti is the only hope of salvation for her people. The problem is, she doesn’t believe in her own divinity, and when she flounders, she nearly fails in the duty hanging so heavy on her shoulders.
It seems like any other day when Sanders and his band of misfit boys find a foreign woman clinging to life in the wastelands. Oblivious to the weapon they now have in their possession, they are content to harbor the mysterious woman until she is well enough to continue her journey.
But when the war spreads its arms and lands on her borrowed doorstep, Shanti has no choice but to reveal her secrets, plunging her saviors into danger. If they band with her, they will face certain death. But to trade her to Xandre, the warlord desperate to add her to his war machine, would be to give up their entire way of life.
Chapter 1
“What is it?” Gracas asked. He stared down at an oddly shaped bundle. Despite the rule against it, he stood with his hands in his pockets.
“A girl, I think,” Leilius commented slowly.
Both boys stood frowning down at the twiggy, brown-splotched limbs slumped against the burnt trunk. It almost looked like a skeleton had been held next to the tree on a string, and then released, falling in a cascade of bones to form a pile at the base. The frayed, dirt crusted sheet covering the pile of probably dead human needed to be incinerated to rid it of the obvious bacterial infestation.
“Kick it,” Gracas whispered. A boy just budding into manhood, Gracas was still fascinated by slugs and bugs and, apparently, slightly alien dead things.
“I’m not going to kick it! What if it is a girl? The last time I kicked a girl my dad slapped me across the room then made me do hard labor for a week. And she deserved it!” Leilius was only a year older than Gracas, but he was one step higher in the chain of command. It was a small step, but it was large enough for his chest to puff up with importance.
“It could be a Mugdock girl,” Gracas spat. “They’d be the type to just dump one of their women.”
“The skin’s too light to be Mugdock.”
“It looks brown to me.”
“That’s dirt, I think.”
“Kick it,” Gracas prodded again, leaning over to get a proper glance into the bundle of probable human and possible female.
“What if it smooshes? Commodore Sanders just h
ad me shine my shoes. You kick it.”
***
Sanders stopped in mid-stride as he noticed the two cadets staring at the ground a ways away from camp. Biting back a swear, he changed course. “What’s going on?”
The boys jumped and flinched at the same time.
“N-nothing, sir,” Gracas stuttered, peeling away to the side.
Leilius, losing the arch in his back, hurriedly backed up next to Gracas. Apparently not quite sure where to look, but not wanting to meet Sanders’ glare, he turned his face to the sky. “We’ve found an unidentified object, sir.” He followed his words with a vaguely pointed finger.
Sanders glanced at the base of a dead tree, found a pile of clothes not fit for a beggar, and turned back to the two nitwits. It was then the image of a pale leg filtered through his red hazed thoughts.
His gaze snapped back to the tree as his eyebrows drooped. It was a girl!
In a rush of movement, he threw out a hand to balance against the destroyed tree. With his other hand he flicked away a piece of fabric, revealing a mat of light hair coated in grime. He felt along a fragile neck until he reached the base. There, weakly pushing at his fingers, was a pulse.
“Gracas, tell Marc to meet us at camp! Make sure he gets his doctoring kit. Leilius, fetch water.”
The boys barely waited for the whip crack of commands to end before scurrying away. Commander Sanders scooped up the girl.
There couldn’t have been a worse scouting party to find her. Except for him, currently doing penance for tardiness, all five boys were in training, and showing no progress. They were the five worst cadets in the entire training camp, and if it weren’t for the Captain’s leniency in punishment, the boys would have been apprenticed out a long time ago. They needed to find something they were good at, because soldiering wasn’t in their future. Or doctoring, as in Marc’s case.
