Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  Oz intuitively discerned her hesitancy. “Even if you showed them all who you were, they'd never understand,” he said one day, as they studied beneath a tree in his parents' backyard. Ana still remembered the way the sun shone crudely through the fall storm, and how the leaves from the banana tree provided complete shelter from the incessant rain.

  “But you do,” she'd replied, nose down in a book.

  He had responded by smiling from behind his own book, resting his hand on her leg before resuming reading.

  But while he offered Ana acceptance, he reflected his own personal challenges through a heavy resignation, moving from one vapid debutante to another, while Ana chose a full retreat from dating to protect her heart.

  It was strangely fitting they finally came together on the night of their junior prom, an event which signified to her all the terrors of her teenage life, culminated in one evening.

  They’d both come with inappropriate dates: Oz with his latest experiment in normalcy; Ana with a boy she had no interest in, but accepted his invitation anyway at the urging of her stepmother.

  When her date inevitably abandoned her, it was Oz who offered her a lifeline to safety.

  It started with a dance.

  Ana had never been in the arms of a boy before; not like that. The warmth she felt when Oz put his arms around her waist made her realize how real he was, and the weight of that realization overwhelmed her. His breath was hot near her ear; she detected his heartbeat through their joined hands. She would never forget that feeling: the subtle pulsing transferring warmth through to her in soft vibrations. She wondered if everyone noticed things like this. Or if Oz had always felt like this, and she'd simply missed it.

  Nothing had ever felt so wonderful, or so terrifying.

  The dance led to an escape to a party upstairs, where Ana finally let go of the fears binding her. All the while, Oz was there, holding her up, physically and emotionally, until she could no longer remember why she’d fought so hard against this comfort.

  In her intoxication, she’d made a move on him. Not like this, he’d said, and then gently held her as she got sick, paying the price for her earlier over-indulgence. She later fell asleep beside him, as he watched over her, and woke up the next morning still wrapped in the security of his arms.

  Not like this, he’d said the night before, but things were different in the morning light.

  Colin, I’ve never done this before.

  Woken up next to a hot man in a strange hotel room?

  She laughed. You know what I mean.

  Me either, Ana. But I want to. With you. I’ve always wanted to.

  He protected her once again, by showing her the full extent of his care for her, and how safe she was in returning it. Nothing had ever been more real to her than the sensation of her dear friend bringing her over the precipice of girlhood. She completely surrendered to him, without fear. Understanding then, for the first time, intimacy could be so much more than a burden or something to fear. That her desire to be with Oz could be beautiful, not terrible.

  Like everything else in her life, Ana ruined that relationship by slowly forgetting the comfort he had given her and building the wall of solitude back up. She had annihilated it completely by sleeping with him years later, potentially destroying his marriage and family.

  And now, with Finn, she was repeating the same mistake. She knew she would not be able to forget about what happened with Jon. It had meant something to her in the same way the first time she was with Oz had meant something. That didn’t simply go away.

  But I have to try. I don’t want to be a person who can’t connect with anyone. Someone who callously uses sex like it doesn’t matter. I can’t do this to myself anymore. I can’t do this to the people I care about anymore. I need to make a choice, live with it, and never look back.

  And if I’m not capable of choosing? If this is who I am destined to be for all time? Then it really is hopeless...

  * * *

  42- FINNEGAN

  Finn was still trying to get his bearings. In the movies, when someone had a gun held to their head, he would think, Well that sucks, but I bet there are 100 ways they can get out of this situation. In real life, all he could focus on was the sensation of the cold metal against his skin and how badly Alex’s hand was trembling.

  “Alex, come on,” Finn coaxed, carefully. He was afraid to even move his head. He knew how a shotgun worked, and didn’t want one unloaded in his skull. It was alarming how Alex’s hands would not stop shaking, and Finn couldn’t see how close his finger was to the trigger.

  “Did ya get all the food ya need?” Alex stuttered. He kept shifting from one foot to the other, and Finn felt the barrel of the shotgun correspondingly move left and right. His head ached from where Alex had smashed his skull.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go. I’m going back to yer house with ya.”

  Finn started to ask questions but Alex interrupted him with a rough nudge of the gun. Finn imagined the round exploding and decided as little movement as possible would be best. He had yet to actually analyze what the hell was going on. Having known Alex all of his life, nothing about this situation made any sense. Jon thought Alex was a bit twisted, but Finn knew the man was harmless. He would have thought he was dreaming if not for how real the steel of the old shotgun barrel felt pressed against his bloody, achy skull. I bet the crazy ass put rock salt in it so he has an excuse to shoot me. But that would still hurt like the devil.

  Finn was not confident about driving back in the dark. The streetlights on Androscoggin were on, but they lit up very little of the actual road. Compounding the darkness, all the shop lights that would have helped illuminate the street were off. He hardly knew how to drive the temperamental beast. And as if that weren’t enough, while he had been making a path to the food storage, the new storm had started, with a vengeance.

  Once they were settled into the cab, Finn said, without turning his head, “Alex. Can you please take the gun off me? I’m not going anywhere.” Where would I go anyway? I couldn’t outrun a shotgun in this snow.

  “Nah, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust ya, I can’t.” Alex was stammering again. What in the hell has happened to him?

  “Alex,” he tried using his father’s calm, rational voice. “I could not outrun you in this if I tried. If you don’t take this damn gun from my head, you may as well shoot me, and then yourself, because I am not driving this gigantic goddamn snow beast with a steel bomb about to go off. We can sit here and freeze to death.”

  Alex thought about it a moment and then lowered the gun, slowly. He was shivering so badly that the barrel was making a clickity-clack noise as it bumped up against the buttons on his coat. “I’ll take it away from yer head, but I ain’t putting it down,” he said, sounding more like a stubborn child than a middle-aged man.

  “Fine, just don’t point it at me,” Finn compromised, starting up the snowcat. Alex jumped next to him as it roared to life. Finn pictured the news after they found the two of them in pieces all over the cab from a rogue shotgun pellet. “Relax, outlaw!”

  “There’s only one outlaw in this rig, and it ain’t me.” Alex’s eyes burned holes in him as he maneuvered in reverse and then forward toward home.

  Finn thought again of Ana. I’ve kept Jon safe from the world, and I can do the same for her.

  He glanced to his right and wondered what he might need to do to keep Ana safe from this trembling madman.

  * * *

  43- NICOLAS

  Nicolas never had any doubts that Jennifer would come through, but the longer they waited, the more he worried. The money had already exchanged hands, but he had felt good about trusting her—hoping his sense wasn’t wrong this time—and had been waiting with Oz on the pier for over an hour, in the pitch black.

  At first she told them they would leave at first light in the morning. She called back later and said the fishing boat captain was too nervous about the prospect of being caught and
thought night would be better.

  “Isn’t that less safe, even, than the already unsafe daytime trip we were planning?” Nicolas asked.

  She sighed. “Those are his terms. I even offered him more of your money, and he wouldn’t budge.”

  So be it.

  Nicolas asked Oz if he was sure he wanted to come. You can stay here in the hotel Ozzy. I won’t think less of you, he said, and meant it. If captains who were raised in this weather wouldn’t run, then the risks were real. He felt bad enough dragging Oz to Maine with him, and away from Adrienne and the kids.

  Oz snickered at that. Our hotel doesn’t even have cable.

  Nicolas and Oz exchanged no words standing on the pier, but they both had enough thoughts to keep themselves occupied. Nicolas watched his friend and thought, Well now we really have been through everything.

  On the flight over, a specific memory continued dancing around the tip of his thoughts, until he finally allowed himself to explore it. It was Ana’s senior year of undergraduate studies at Tulane. Nicolas had discovered a letter, peeking out from under her textbooks. We are pleased to extend an invitation to the English program at Oxford University.

  “What is this?”Nicolas had asked. It was the first time she had hidden anything from him.

  “It’s nothing.”Dropped gaze, lowered voice.

  “Um, the fuck it’s nothing, Ana! You were accepted to motherfucking Oxford, and you say that it’s nothing?”

  “It’s nothing because I’m making it nothing.” Her eyes were distant; he hardly recognized her in that moment. He detected a sadness. But more so, a resolve. She’s forced herself to come to this decision. She wants to go, but she’s not going to. “I’ve already declined the offer. I’m staying at Tulane.”

  Nicolas stared at her then in frustrated amazement. “But… why?”

  Ana sighed. She was still unwilling to meet his eyes, and Nicolas wanted to take her face in both hands and force her to look at him. “I don’t… want to leave you,” is what she said. But what Nicolas heard beneath her words was: I don’t want to leave you alone.

  “That is the most ridiculous fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say, Anasofiya Aleksandrovna. And you’ve said a lot of ridiculous shit.” Perhaps if he belittled her feelings, she would reconsider. She’s doing this shit for me, and not because she can’t bear to lose me. It’s because she knows I can’t bear to lose her.

  “Seriously, Ana. All fuckery aside. You need to do this.” You need to do this, but a part of me is overflowing with gladness and relief that you aren’t. And I hate myself for it.

  But she had simply shrugged. “I’ve made my decision. Can we talk about something else?”

  Nicolas had dropped the issue, and it never came up again. But that didn’t mean he forgot about it. Nor did he forget why she had done it, or the knowledge that his indignant persuasion was weak at best. I could have made her go. I had the power to make her go, and I chose to pretend she couldn’t be swayed.

  He rarely allowed his conclusions to travel down a philosophical path, but part of him wondered now if somehow all of these decisions had brought them to where they were now. How every decision they made affected every subsequent one. How one choice could start a spiral of events that determine the course of your entire life.

  Please be okay, Ana. I know I’m a selfish fuck, but goddamnit I need you. You are the only one who has ever loved me. Protecting and loving you has been the only thing that has given my sorry ass a purpose.

  Nicolas forced himself to keep his mind away from thoughts of what they might find when they reached Summer Island. Since the moment he decided to come, he had only allowed his thoughts of Ana to play on the surface, where it was safer. Whatever they faced, there would be no formal preparation for Nicolas. He would simply face it, with Oz by his side.

  We’re coming, Muffins.

  “Peacock,” They heard a low voice say from behind. Oz sniggered.

  “Brown booby,” Nicolas replied with a sigh, and this time Oz outright laughed. “Yes, we’re both twelve, now where do we go?”

  The captain led them to a small cabin cruiser at the end of one of the dock arms. The boat was smaller than Nicolas expected, and his stomach dropped. Based on Oz’s expression, he felt the same. He wondered if this guy really knew what he was doing. Perhaps there’s a reason he was so willing to accept cash for suicide.

  “He might not be all here,” Oz said quietly, so only the two of them could hear. Nicolas pursed his lips, wanting to disagree but not sure he had grounds to defend his opinion.

  The ship’s lights were turned off. The closest lighting was about fifty feet away, and penetrated little more than twenty feet effectively. Between the insufficient lighting, and the increasing snowfall, they could see only a vague outline of their transportation.

  Oz grabbed onto the rope and pulled himself up first, Nicolas hoisting himself after. The captain said they should both go down into the cabin and relax, because the ride would be rough. Nicolas asked how long the crossing would take, but apparently his generous payment didn’t include the answering of questions. There was a low rumble, followed by harsh vibrations that rattled the entire cabin. Then, a sudden jerk, which hilariously caused Oz to nearly lose his footing, and they were off. Nicolas peered hopefully out the tiny, murky window into the darkness, but was unable to see anything at all.

  “Ana once told me it’s about an hour from the island to the mainland, and since this is the Super Secret Spy Ferry, I’d guess we can expect it to be longer than that,” Nicolas speculated. Oz was gripping the small rusted pole near the bench he was sitting on, with his face touching his knees.

  “Goody,” Oz grimaced.

  Nicolas rolled onto the bench across from Oz. The hard metal was poking his back in cruel synchrony with the strong vibrations of the ship. All internal power was off, so not only were there no lights, but also no heat, and Oz was curled up in a ball, shivering dramatically. Nicolas rolled his eyes with a stifled laugh, then rummaged through a nearby drawer looking for matches, or anything that might give them some light. Finding nothing, he gave up after a few moments. He heard Oz mutter something like: Not so prepared after all.

  What they were doing was reckless, but Nicolas wasn’t bothered. In the grand scheme of things, paying for a small fishing boat to cross the stormy Casco Bay was pretty low on the scale of scandalous things he’d been involved in over the years. Had the reason not been serious, he would have been up on the deck enjoying the thrill!

  But the reason was serious, and as Nicolas was no good at dealing with serious things, he decided to lighten the mood.

  “Ozzy?” he asked, as they both lay on the flat, uncomfortable benches.

  “Yes?” The annoyance in his friend’s voice was amusing.

  “Hypothetically speaking, if Captain Jack up there came down and said to brace ourselves for imminent death, would your first instinct be to have sex with me, just once, before we died? Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

  The pillow whistled across the room and smacked him in the face. Nicolas smiled, satisfied. If he was going to die, this was the man he wanted to die beside.

  * * *

  44- ALEX

  They were officially headed to the St. Andrews house, and Alex still had no plan.

  It had been easy enough to decide to pull out the gun. Granted, one he barely knew how to use, but that was beside the point. And it was obvious he needed to go to the house with Finn and get to the bottom of what was going on. But what would he do once he got there?

  Are you really going to shoot someone? What if you get there and everything is fine? Or, what if you get there and everything is not fine, and you have to take action? Are you going to take them both down? What precisely are you going to do now that you’ve gone rogue? You put these plans in motion, and now there is no going back. As soon as you put the gun to the head of Finn St. Andrews, a man you’ve known twenty-seven years, there was no pretending this didn’t happen.
The wheels are moving forward, whether you’re ready or not.

  His internal dialogue was obnoxious—on a positive note, at least it was not in his father’s voice—and it seemed to continue no matter what he did to stop it. He tried responding, ignoring, and thinking about something else. Nothing helped. His mind continued to throw questions at him… challenging him, making him doubt his decision to get involved. Too late now. Time to man-up. But what did that mean?

  Finn wasn’t talking, but he wasn’t trying to run or get in the way either. At first Alex was afraid he might, but when he saw Finn’s face as the young man started to wake up—first the shock, the anger, shock again and finally, worst of all, the betrayal—he knew Finn would not be a danger to him, for now. It would be a different story once they arrived at the St. Andrews house. Given the intensity of the storm outside, Alex wondered if they would even make it.

  When they did, they would catch Jon by surprise. Even if Finn managed to signal him, by the time he did it would be too late. There was no cell service and the land-lines were all down. Alex vaguely recalled Finn mentioning their house radio stopped working last year, and knowing how flaky the boy could be, he doubted if Finn had bothered to get it fixed. You better hope he hasn’t.

  The silence in the cab was almost worse than the debates raging untamed in his head. He had killed any chance of conversation in putting a gun to his neighbor’s head. Oh well, he wasn’t ready to ask Finn questions or start talking about what he thought might be going down back at his house. Even if he came out and asked Finn if they were keeping Ana Deschanel as a sex slave, torturing her and making her bend to their every whim, would he admit it? Alex chuckled at the thought of how that conversation might go.

  “Nothing funny about this shit, Alex,” Finn observed beside him.