Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  He held her close, dimly noticing the activity going on around them: Joe had extricated Wertinger from Cady, and now that her work was done, the lab galloped over to join him and Diana. To his surprise and delight, she opened her arms for the dog, hugging him and burying her face in the soft black fur. And when Cady began to wash the salty tears away from both of their faces, Diana merely laughed and allowed it.

  And then all at once Ethan heard a rustling in the bushes and Helen Galliday erupted into the clearing, her cronies trailing behind. She made a bee-line for Wertinger, who stood handcuffed next to Joe.

  “You! You fiend!” Helen screeched. Before Joe Cap could stop her, she thwacked the prisoner across the calves with her cane as hard as she could, then slumped to one side, leaning on it as though she would collapse at any moment.

  Martha Woden followed her, peering around from behind coke-bottle glasses, flanked by Rose and Pauline and trailed by two paramedics. “And him!” She peered up into Wertinger’s face. “You beast!”

  “Now, ladies, you can back off now,” Joe was saying. “We’re taking him into town. Ethan, what the hell were you doing, going into a burning building?”

  This drew everyone’s attention to him and Diana. He’d helped her to her feet and now stood, holding her against him just to feel the warmth of her body and smell her hair.

  “You went into a burning building? Are you insane?” Diana demanded, pulling away to look up at him.

  “I did, and if it weren’t for Belinda, I’d have been stuck in there,” he said, looking around at the elderly lady’s friends.

  “What?” Diana was looking up at him, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “Aunt Belinda helped you too?”

  He explained about the glowing greenish light, then said, “Too?”

  Diana nodded. “Aunt Bee was there. When Jonathan tried to put me in the bedroom—he was going to make it look like I died in my sleep during the fire—he couldn’t even go into the room. It was frigidly cold, and there was this horrible, blasting rush of wind. That’s what I felt, but I think he sensed something even worse, because he ended up taking me out of the house before he set the fire. I guess he thought he’d find another way to—uh—” Her voice cracked. “Anyway, I guess Aunt Bee wasn’t going to let him commit another murder in that same room. Thank goodness.”

  “Let me look at you,” Pauline Whitten demanded, suddenly pulling them apart. “What’s wrong with your hand, Ethan?”

  Ethan looked down and noticed that he was cradling his hand to his chest, and that his fingers were bent awkwardly. He grinned. “You ought to see the other guy.”

  “All right, all right, save the sappy stuff for later.” Helen pushed her way into the crowd, implementing her cane with less violence than usual. “You’re bleedin’ all over creation, here, and I forgot to go to the powder room before we left the Grille, so let’s get out of these woods and get back to civilization.”

  Despite the fact that Ethan wanted more than anything to gather up Diana and take her away somewhere safe, he stopped right there, realizing what Helen had done for them this day. No one was more surprised than Helen when he pulled the old bat into his arms and bestowed the biggest, wettest kiss on her cheek that he could give. “You old crone, you saved the day with your plan, and that cane of yours!”

  For the first time in her life, Helen Galliday seemed to be at a loss for words: she actually stood there for a moment looking as if she were about to cry. Then, shaking off the surprise, she pulled away from him. “Off with you, now, you old boy! You got yourself a woman there—don’t you be comin’ ’round me and makin’ her all jealous!”

  He smiled and said, “But you and Cady will always be my favorites.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three days later

  Diana brought the Tarot cards with her to the ruins of Aunt Belinda’s house, walking over from Ethan’s cabin on a bright morning. She’d left him sleeping, for he’d inhaled too much smoke, and had had surgery to set his hand. He was recovering well, but she wanted to do this alone.

  She came through the woods along the trail Ethan often walked and into the clearing to see the half-blackened white clapboard still looming in its place. It was no longer smoldering, but smoke was still heavy on the air. The den windows were empty and black, and there were other places where shattered glass glittered sunlight off its shards, but other than that, the home appeared as it always had.

  She was taking her time. She was on-edge, eager, sensitized, ready for this...but she took her time walking across the sunny yard, holding the mahogany box.

  Oh, Aunt Bee

  

  ! She sighed sadly, internally, as she stepped up onto the porch and opened the door. Perhaps now you can rest easy, and, perhaps, I, too can as well.

  Inside, the shell of the house allowed the lake’s breeze to whistle through and caress the corners of each room with a freedom open windows had never allowed. Diana felt like she was standing in the ruin of an old castle, on a high cliff overlooking the sea, ceiling open to the blue sky. Smoke still permeated the rooms, and a dusting of gray ash covered everything.

  If it hadn’t been for Aunt Bee, she would have been nothing more than a bit of gray ash herself. A little pleasant shiver filtered over her shoulders, just like it had the day she’d sensed her aunt’s presence in the kitchen. Thank you for everything, Aunt Bee.

  Diana would never forget that moment of terror as Jonathan used his gun to force her toward the bedroom. He’d already created a massive pile of papers in the den and pulled the curtains down, making the old fabric an easy trail for the flames to follow into other areas of the house. He didn’t use an obvious accelerant, for fear arson would be suspected.

  She hadn’t cared as he explained all of this to her—she was trying to find a way to get free. Losing hope, she’d tried to think of some way to distract him so she could dodge past him and run out of the house. The cats had disappeared after lurking about and protecting her for so long—perhaps it was self-preservation because they sensed the impending fire—and now it was just Diana and Jonathan.

  But as they came to the bedroom where Jonathan had killed Aunt Belinda, his steps became slower and he hesitated. When he tried to force her through the entrance into the room, a cold gust of wind blasted from inside, ruffling her hair. She smelled the old comfortable scent of her aunt, and closed her eyes, silently pleading for help.

  Jonathan’s face had turned stark with terror, and he seemed hypnotized by some vision in the room beyond. Diana couldn’t see anything except for a foggy mist in there, but she didn’t care. It was her chance to escape. She turned, shoving past Jonathan and tore down the hall, racing for the front door on wobbly legs.

  But no sooner had she reached it, fumbling with the knob to yank it open to freedom, than Jonathan slammed his full body into her. She hit her head against the wall, then her temple hit the knob as she fell to the floor. After that, he changed his plans and kept her with him under gunpoint. He even made her drop the lighted match onto the pile of papers in the den, then made her stand and watch at the edge of the clearing as the house went up in flames.

  It was only when the beam of headlights cut the darkness that Jonathan jammed the gun more harshly into her side and forced her into the deep woods where his car was hidden. She’d become a hostage instead of a sacrifice.

  But when Cady appeared in the night like a feral black streak, Diana had never been so glad to see the ferocious animal. Jonathan had clocked her on the side of the head with the gun as he swung wildly at the dog, knocking Diana to the ground where Ethan found her.

  She would never forget how her life had been saved by two cats, a black lab, and a ghost.

  Now, she sat on the floor in the middle of the ruined den. Most of the hardwood strips had been pulled up, and little of the rubble had been cleared away. Diana wore denim shorts and a t-shirt, with bare legs and sandals, but the ruined room called to her to sit there.

  As she settled on the
floor, she smiled wryly, thinking that only two months ago she’d scoffed at the thought of psychics and Tarot cards. And now, here she was, opening her mind as the High Priestess had insisted she do.

  With a calm breath and trembling fingers, she removed the lid of the mahogany box and pulled away the black silk.

  * * *

  That was how Ethan found her: sitting in the midst of a fire-blackened room, under the late August sun, Tarot cards clutched in her hands. Her thick hair tousled around her face like it did after he made love to her, sleek and curvy like the rest of her body.

  Jesus.

  The sight of her hit him like the figurative lightning bolt, freezing him there for a moment just so he could look at her upturned face, eyes lidded against the sun, long slim fingers holding the cards. He couldn’t breathe. The sight of such beauty and serenity made his throat hurt and his heart bang insistently against his ribcage, as though it was trying to tell him something.

  She hadn’t heard him, for she was engrossed in her thoughts, and he waited, unwilling to bring her back too abruptly from wherever she was. He could look at her forever.

  Just then, Diana opened her eyes and looked directly at him.

  He felt like he would drown in that blue gaze, felt the heat as it radiated from her shiny dark hair. “Diana...how are you feeling?”

  “I feel wonderful, Ethan. Absolutely wonderful. At peace with myself.” Her words were cloaked with peace and he felt his heart swell. “I didn’t want to wake you,” she said with a smile. “You were finally sleeping without that awful ragged breathing. But I’m glad you’re here.”

  How could he ever have thought he loved Jenny? Nothing was as strong as the love he felt for Diana right now—and yesterday, and even weeks ago when he’d first kissed her...and the way he would feel tomorrow, next year, and at the end of his life.

  “You look so beautiful sitting here. I was almost afraid to interrupt.”

  She smiled and reached up touch his hand, his love for her echoing back in the touch of her fingertips. “Ethan. I am so lucky to have found you.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “I used to think I was lucky to have found Jonathan. What a fool I was.”

  Then the sharpness was gone again as though she couldn’t bear to ruin the moment, and her fingers stroked his jaw. “I would be a fool to walk away from this. From you. Can I stay in your place while Aunt Bee’s house is rebuilt?” she asked with an impish grin.

  “Diana, love, you can stay forever.” His voice dropped. “Will you stay forever?”

  She nodded, looking up at him with dancing eyes, and he pulled her to her feet for the softest, tenderest, most important kiss of his life. When they moved away to look at each other again, he saw that she was clutching a Tarot card.

  “What’s this?” he asked, teasing in his voice. “Are you reading cards now?”

  She offered it to him, and he looked down to see the figure of a man sitting on an ornate throne, holding a wand as a staff.

  “It’s my future,” she said. “It was the third card I drew for myself in a past, present, future spread—a few weeks ago. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s you.”

  King of Wands.

  He looked at her, his heart swelling, and reached for the cards. “Draw one for me.”

  Holding his gaze, she cut the deck, once, twice, thrice. Then, without looking, she chose a card and pulled it up so he could see it.

  Ace of Cups.

  His cup runneth over.

  * * *

  Now available…

  featuring Ethan’s sister Fiona Murphy

  THE SHOP OF SHADES AND SECRETS

  When Fiona Murphy inherits a small antiques shop from an old man she met only once, she’s filled with surprise, confusion and delight—and a little bit of terror at having a new responsibility in a life she prefers to be free and easy.

  As she takes over ownership of the quaint shop, odd things begin to happen. Lights come on and off by themselves, even when they are unplugged…and there is a chilly breeze accompanied by the scent of roses even when the windows are closed.

  H. Gideon Nath, III, is the stiff and oh-so-proper attorney who helps settle Fiona’s inheritance, and despite her flightiness and fascination with all things New Age, he finds himself attracted to her against his better judgment.

  After she finds an unpleasant surprise in one of the shop’s closets, scares off an intruder in the store, and uses her skill at palmistry to read Gideon’s future--of which she seems to be a part--Fiona begins to realize that her free and easy life is about to change…whether she wants it to or not.

  * * *

  Buy now!

  * * *

  More romantic suspense

  with a ghostly twist in…

  THE GEMS OF VICE AND GREED

  “Like Nancy Drew for grown-ups!”

  — New York Times bestselling author Mara Jacobs

  * * *

  Leslie van Dorn needs to make a major life change—getting away from the dog-eat-dog corporate world, as well as a personal loss, so she buys a large turn-of-the-century home in order to turn it into an inn. She doesn’t care about the rumors that it’s haunted—she just wants a new life. And she sure wouldn’t mind finding the missing gems that belonged to Red Eye Sal, a bootlegger who used to live in the house.

  Blacksmith Declan Zyler, who has more work than he can handle doing historical restorations, has suddenly acquired a fifteen-year-old daughter he never knew he had. This turns his life upside down when he decides to take on the role of single father.

  When Leslie hires Declan to restore the iron staircase in her inn, neither of them realize they are disturbing a spirit from days gone by…and until they determine how to put that ghost to rest, neither Leslie nor Declan will be able to move on with their lives.

  Set in a small, touristy town filled with quirky characters, The Gems of Vice and Greed is a fun, fast-paced, sweet, sexy and spooky story for readers who love Nancy Drew, Barbara Michaels, or any intriguing mystery.

  BUY NOW!

  Colleen Gleason is an award-winning, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author with more than twenty novels in print. Her international bestselling series, the Gardella Vampire Hunters, is a historical urban fantasy about a female vampire hunter who lives during the time of Jane Austen. Her first novel, The Rest Falls Away, was released to wide acclaim in 2007.

  Since then, she has published more than twenty novels with New American Library, MIRA Books, Chronicle Books, and HarperCollins (writing as Joss Ware). Her books have been translated into more than seven languages and are available worldwide.

  Visit Colleen at:

  colleengleason.com

  facebook.com/colleen.gleason.author

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  FALLEN

  by Erin McCarthy

  * * *

  Prologue

  New Orleans, 1849

  Anne Donovan would do anything for John Thiroux.

  She would die for him.

  Sitting in front of the cracked mirror Madame had provided for her in the tiny, shabby room that was hers based on the fact that John paid to keep her available, Anne brushed her auburn hair. Embracing the familiar tingle in her body, the heaviness in her breasts, the ache between her thighs that always arose when she thought of her lover, she sighed with contentment, anticipation. John was everything to her, an absolute angel of a man, and she was completely and utterly in love with him. He had saved her from the steady stream of obnoxious men she’d previously had to endure in various bawdy houses to stay off the streets, and his favor allowed her to send money to her cousin for her daughter’s upkeep. It was true she’d had a private benefactor prior to John, but that one had been an oddity, and Anne had been grateful to exchange him for the beauty and passion of her current lover.

  The knock on her
door cut through her lazy daydreaming and had her pushing her chair back and hastily dropping the tarnished hairbrush down on the vanity table next to her rouge. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t have John’s tray set with his drink poured, pipe out, his favorite spoon lying next to the bottle. Panicked at the thought of doing anything less than pleasing him entirely, Anne was yanking at the bodice of her gown to adjust it and rushing across the room when Madame popped her head in. Relief flooded her for a brief, glorious minute, until she heard the woman’s words.

  “I’m sending a gentleman in to see you.”

  Fear slid over top of her relief, as Anne stared at Madame’s round, fleshy, dissolute face. The phrase felt foreign, unheard for months, familiar in the sick pit it created in the depths of her stomach. “What? You can’t mean…” Her heart pounded at the thought of pleasuring another man besides John. Touching a stranger, taking him into her mouth and body, enduring the strain of humiliation, revulsion. She had thought that behind her. “John…”

  “Mr. Thiroux requested this,” Madame said with a wink. “He’s in a strange mood tonight, honey, drunk already, and asked to watch you in play with his gentleman friend.”

  That gave her pause. John had never made such a request before, but then again, she did recall him mentioning that he enjoyed the fact that she’d known so many men, that she had her choice of protectors, and yet preferred his body to others. He often talked at length about how she would one day tire of him and seek another, which she knew beyond a doubt she never would. Her heart, her soul, belonged to him, and she craved him, ached for his approval, burned for his body, longed for his love.