Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  Oz was too consumed by his own feelings to think of hers. His mind was reeling with the events of the previous night—That amazing night, that horrible night—and he was rambling to Ana now. “Oh god, what did we do? Oh god, oh god…” Ana was trying to help him find his clothes but she was too slow for him, so he was snatching them out of her hands. “This... I can’t... no, no, we did not, what is…” She tried to reach for him but he pushed her away, accidentally pushing her to the floor. “I... I’m sorry,” he mumbled but was looking for his wallet, his keys, his phone.

  He had twelve missed calls, all from Adrienne. Of course she had called. Oz had never stayed out all night; never not come home.

  “Colin!” Ana screamed, using Oz’s given name, bringing him temporarily to his senses. “No one has to know,” she asserted, when she knew she had his attention. “It never has to happen again.”

  “No one has to... are you mad? Look at me?” He lifted up his shirt to display the marks from her lips, hands, fingernails. “It’s all over me! It’s all over my face! It’s all over your—well no, nothing is on your face because, as usual, you’re a frigid bitch!”

  She slapped him and the sharp sound reverberated through the quiet room. “I didn’t hear you complain last night,” Ana said with an eerie calm, as if he hadn’t yelled at her, as if she hadn’t slapped him so hard his face was stinging hotly. “I’m sorry it happened, Oz, but your life doesn’t have to end because of a mistake.”

  Oz was trembling with fear, rage, and confusion as she slowly dressed in front of him, her face only slightly betraying her own inner turmoil. “Tell her you got beat up,” she suggested as if it made perfect sense. “Robbed, left for dead in an alley. She will believe you. She would never suspect you, of all people, of doing something like this.”

  He could not believe how calm Ana was, and it only made him angrier. “She’s your cousin, Ana! How are you going to face her? How are you going to face Nicolas? How can we possibly keep this a secret? ARE YOU INSANE?”

  She laughed, and he felt his hands ball into frustrated fists. “You’ve called me worse than that, Oz. Hell, you called me worse than that a few seconds ago. You know how I will keep it from Adrienne? And Nicolas? Same way you will... because I love them, and I would rather see them happy than unburden my guilty conscience, causing them pain and possibly destroying their lives.”

  “You don’t sound very guilty,” he accused.

  When Ana looked at him then, he saw the tears in her eyes. He saw the dark circles; the lines. He saw her toes curling around each other, something he had seen her do years before when she was sad, or frustrated. “We can’t take it back, Oz,” she said softly. “I wish we could, but we can’t. So what option do we have, other than to do our best to keep it a secret?”

  Oz softened. He knew Ana was not a bad person. Cold and difficult to connect with, but not bad. She had been his friend for many years, his first love, and in thinking back on her actions after their breakup years ago, she had actually done him a favor pretending nothing had happened. It saved his friendship with Nicolas, and meant his life could go back to normal. With what happened last night, it could have been so much worse. She could have been sick with remorse and, insisting they tell Adrienne. She could have been crying in a corner, asking why he did this to her. She could have responded a lot of damaging ways, but instead she was removing her emotions and seeing it logically, as he should. They made a terrible error in judgment, but she asserted they didn’t have to ruin everyone’s happiness over it. Could she be right?

  The tears were flowing down her face now, and she looked away in shame. She never liked anyone seeing her cry. He walked over, feeling remorseful at his earlier behavior, and laid his hand on her shoulder. She still carried the perfumed scents from the night before, but there was also that light, fresh smell he knew as hers. Of clean laundry and a windy day at the beach.

  She slipped into his arms, and as he held her he was overcome with the extent of his feelings for her. She had been in his life as long as Nicolas, and was his friend. His good friend. The first girl he had ever loved. She was the woman he might have ended up with had she been able to let him in, past her defenses.

  Right then, though, the only woman who mattered was Adrienne, and getting home to her as quickly as possible. He couldn’t tell his wife what had happened. Ana was right, that would be selfish. He could make it up to her by trying to understand her better, and being more empathetic of her situation; less resentful.

  Oz walked away from Ana’s apartment that day feeling an unexpected hopefulness he knew was strange given the circumstances. On the way home, his mind filled with memories of Adrienne. Remembering moments when he had loved her deeply, and his worries were nonexistent. Oz would do anything to recapture that magic, and he knew it was in his power now. His complete betrayal of Adrienne had opened his eyes, bringing him out of his numb existence to the realization of how much he still loved her. Of what he would do to see her beautiful smile again.

  Adrienne bought his story, as Ana said she would, but that only brought Oz’s guilt back to the forefront, dwarfing his newfound happiness and energy. The more time went on, the more the guilt crept forward, pushing his hopefulness further back. He didn’t know how to recover that feeling of empowered euphoria he had after leaving Ana’s apartment.

  He hadn’t wanted to, but he found himself, on several occasions, calling Ana and talking to her. Each time they spoke, he could sense she was growing progressively worried for him. “I can’t do this,” he would tell her. “It’s eating away at me, like a cancer.” He kept remembering that night with Ana, but lately the memories filled him with longing, not shame. He wanted to see her again. Wanted to remember her again, as the love of his youth. When he suggested it once—”Just to talk, you’re the only one I can talk to about this,”—she gently refused.

  Oz should have known Ana would leave. He was ashamed of all the cruel things he’d said to her. For all her aloofness, her heart was a mile wide. She had given him an out. With her gone, he might be able to move on and get past that night. Ana had given him a way to save his marriage.

  Now there was only guilt, guilt, and more guilt. Oz would not let her suffer any longer for a mistake they had shared together.

  * * *

  34- ANA

  Ana was speechless. She may as well have been physically frozen for all her body’s unwillingness to move. Her head throbbed with such intensity that her vision pulsed, making the room flow in and out of focus. She stared at Jon in very real terror, a prisoner in her own body. She wanted to scream, talk, anything, and in the end the only word that croaked out was, “You.”

  At the same time, both of them realized his hand was over hers. Why on earth… what the hell was going on? She tried to sit up, but her vision throbbed into blackness and her head quickly found the pillow again. Jon rushed to tend to her and, her mouth still uncooperative, she spoke with her eyes. Back off.

  “You… you’re awake.” He seemed nearly as flustered as she was. She needed to know what was going on, whose bed she was in, how she had gotten there. Questions... she had so many questions, so many that her head could not wrap around all of them so they spun there, unasked, making her head pulse and ache all the more.

  Ana looked at the IV in her arm, and her hand grasped at the tube in her throat. She pawed at it like a wounded animal and Jon rushed to her side again. He asked her to calm down so he could remove it. She nearly threw up as the tube brushed the back of her throat.

  “I’m sorry if that hurt...”

  Ana opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out, only dry, heaving gasps. Her throat felt full of cotton. Jon seemed to realize that at least, and he made a clumsy move to grab what looked to be his water, bringing it to her. She wanted to snatch it from him and help herself, but her body was stiff, the tingling telling her it was still trying to wake up. Warily, she let him put his hand behind her head, and tilt the glass toward her dry lips.


  “Thank you,” she said, surprising herself at the sound of her voice. Sound, feeling, sensation. How long had she been here? So many questions…

  Nicolas. She needed to talk to Nicolas.

  When he put the water down, she closed her eyes to get control of herself. She did this when the world would spin out of control around her, but it wasn’t helping this time. Her toes tried to curl, but her muscles rebelled. What was the last thing she remembered… dinner with Finn? No, it was after that, but her head hurt so bad…

  “Easy,” Jon encouraged tentatively, as if he was a visible witness to her internal struggle. “You’ve been asleep for over a week, you need to take it slowly.”

  Ana watched him, unable to do anything else. He looked terrified. What does he have to be so worked up about? she wondered. It couldn’t be that he was frightened of her, could it? She was a helpless girl who couldn’t even prop herself up in a civilized manner.

  The familiar ache in her chest started, spreading throughout her body. Her dead limbs came to life at this new sensation, but the ache was overwhelming. Nicolas, where is Nicolas, she wanted to say. He had always been there when she needed him. Where was he?

  New Orleans. And I am in Maine. And I have been asleep for—what did he say?—over a week? Shit.

  Ana wanted her own bed, her own surroundings. She needed to feel in control even to breathe, and had not gained her beloved sense of control since awakening.

  She remembered that accident from her youth, that horrible accident. I don’t understand how your daughter can sleep for a week and wake up perfectly fine, the doctor kept saying.

  Do you remember sleeping for a week, Ana? her father had asked, when they were home again.

  No, Daddy. The doctor’s questions had terrified her.

  Don’t be scared, darling. It’s how your body protects itself against bad things. You go to sleep, and when you wake up, you’re all better. That’s not so scary, is it?

  No, I guess not...

  Jon was still staring at her, but when she started to take heavy breaths, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began examining her. He had his hand on her forehead, then pulled a stethoscope out of the nightstand. His close proximity was worsening her physical reaction. Go away, go away, go away. “Go away!”

  He sat back, blinking. He is so strange. “I have medical training,” he explained, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I’ve been taking care of you while you were asleep.”

  “You’re a vet,” Ana panted through her panic attack. Her toes were curling harder and her tongue was fixed to the roof of her mouth. Breathe.

  “I know people medicine too,” Jon insisted. “I trained for years with my father. It’s a long story.” He sat back further, allowing her space. “We didn’t know when you were going to wake up. He would have been here, but he went to get food. I’m sure if he had known you were going to wake up he would have waited—”

  She cut off his rambling. Jon was as terrible at small talk as she was, but that didn’t make it easier for her. “He?”

  “Finn. My brother.” He looked concerned, as if he might need to ask if she knew her name and who was currently president.

  “Oh.” Of course. Finn. Things were still fuzzy, but the connections were coming back. “I had been coming here to return his keys…”

  “When you fell?”

  Ana looked at the bed. “I guess that’s what I did.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “It’s not that I don’t remember, but it happened so fast.” The rocks were slippery and the snow was whipping around her so furiously she couldn’t see her hands in front of her anymore. Her breathing was rapid again, and this time he didn’t ask for permission. He propped her head back up, offering her some more water, and then coaxed her, “You have to breathe.”

  No shit.

  Ana curled her toes tighter and slowed her breathing, forcing herself to calm down. She didn’t want to pass out again in this house.

  “I should go,” she said, pushing herself up.

  Jon laughed. It sounded unnatural coming from him. He was looking down, trying to hide it.

  “Is that funny?” she asked, offended.

  “No, it’s… here, let me show you something.” He came to help her out of bed. She wanted to refuse, but was still shaky and didn’t want to humiliate herself by falling on her face in front of him. He walked her to the window and her breath caught in her throat as she looked outside.

  “Holy… mother of…” She started to fall, and Jon’s arms quickly righted her again.

  “Yeah,” Jon said. “Over two feet deep. Roads are closed, the ferries are shut down, and we ran out of food because the storage tanks spilled.” He helped her back to the bed. She hated feeling weak, but appreciated the strong arm. “That’s why Finn went to get food.”

  “How is he out getting food if the roads are closed?” Ana asked, as he helped lower her back onto the bed. For as much as she had wanted out of the bed, she felt exhausted and relieved to be back in it now. Then Cocoa jumped on to the blanket, startling her. She gasped as she saw, with relief, how nimble and healthy she looked. The cat rubbed up against her and purred loudly. Ana ran her hands over her soft fur, feeling a lump rise in her throat. He did this, and he’s been caring for her ever since.

  “He took the snowcat.” Jon frowned, and Ana could see this disconcerted him. “If he doesn’t make it back tonight, we can expect him tomorrow.”

  She didn’t say anything. These guys knew their snow. Certainly more than she had when she foolishly risked her neck to deliver some keys, of all things.

  Jon pulled out a leather doctor bag and she resisted the urge to chuckle. I didn’t know those existed outside the movies.

  She tried to sit still while Jon checked her pulse, her eyesight, her reflexes, and what seemed like a hundred other things. He asked her a series of questions to test her memory. Growing in confidence that Jon was trying to help, she was patient with the, perhaps overly thorough, exam.

  “You seem to be okay,” he said, perplexed, as if he was expecting her to have no heartbeat, or be speaking in monosyllables. “I’ll have to monitor you, of course, but...” He was still touching the side of her head again, checking her neck, the base of her scalp. She wondered if maybe he wanted something to be wrong.

  She noticed the large medical books lying open on the desk across the room. Or maybe he’s realized that I’m doing a heck of a lot better than I should be. Whether he had or not, Ana knew she needn’t explain it. He would never believe the truth even if she told him.

  “I appreciate what you guys did,” she said.

  Jon shrugged, and put his instruments back in the bag. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really,” she said. “And I thought I had to pee, but apparently I already did,” she indicated the catheter bag dangling off to the side, attached to her waist by a belt. She cringed to think of him inserting it. I know people medicine too.

  His face flushed crimson. “It was either that or let you soil yourself. Sorry.” They shared another awkward moment as he leaned in and lifted the sheet to remove it. Turning his head to the side, he reached his hand toward the connected tube and pulled quickly. She gasped in surprise as she felt a stinging pain.

  “Sorry again,” he said, but was already placing the catheter into a sand-colored plastic bowl.

  “I owe you. I probably would have died out there.” Cocoa purred in agreement.

  Jon shrugged. He didn’t take compliments any better than Ana did, which didn’t surprise her. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said awkwardly, and was off before she could say anything else.

  She hoped he meant it. Ana didn’t want to be alone, even if it meant the company of someone as sour as Jon St. Andrews.

  * * *

  35- AUGUSTUS

  Augustus still remembered the day that Ekatherina Vasilyeva showed up at the Deschanel Media Group. Back then, they were preparing to sign a deal expanding the magazine
beyond New Orleans. It was 1972, and everything had been much simpler.

  Colin Sullivan, of Sullivan and Associates, had sent her over. An attorney friend, Joseph Connelly, came to Colin asking for help in placing her. Colin arranged the meeting between Joseph and Augustus.

  “She came to us as an au pair, but she’s awful with children,” Joseph had said. “With people in general, actually. I think she signed up for this because it’s what all her friends were doing, but it’s really not her thing.”

  “Why should I take her?” Augustus had laughed. How did he get talked into relieving another man’s burden?

  “Because she is good at something. Math. Accounting, specifically. I put her through business school.”

  “You paid for this Soviet immigrant to go to business school?” Augustus was incredulous.

  “Well, yes,” Joseph had said, nonplussed. “It seemed like the right thing to do for a girl with such talent. Colin says you’re hiring for a junior accountant. I realize you have your reservations, but I can’t recommend her enough, Augustus. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

  Augustus did not simply take Connelly’s word for it. He called the business school and asked for her records. Back then, things like that were commonplace. Our very best student, they had said. Very quiet girl. Never any trouble. We hope she can find a company to sponsor her. Would be such a shame if she was sent back to the USSR.

  Augustus was twenty-two at the time and it was this youth that Joseph’s words appealed to. He knew what it was like to have obstacles to overcome on the way to the realization of a dream.

  She was hired without an interview. When she showed up for her first day, he mistook her for a lost child. She was a tiny thing, with pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. Nearing her twenty-second birthday, according to the new hire paperwork, she didn’t look a day over fifteen.