Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  Keller shakes his head and I sigh in relief. A lock of hair falls over his eye. I reach forward and push it back. He takes my hand in his before I can draw away and kisses my palm. Tingles shoot up my arm. Heat blooms deep in my belly when his lips move to the pulse point of my wrist.

  “No. Nothing. Still…” He bites softly, not enough to break the skin, but enough to have me break a feverish sweat.

  This is one of those nights where it’s going to be hella hard to concentrate. I gently pull my arm away and take a steadying breath to bring my scattered thoughts into focus. What we were talking about? One more breath for good measure. Cross. Right. Got it. “Well, until we know for certain, I say we go find Esmeralda. We’ll make her talk. I know where their coven headquarters are. We can start there.”

  I finish my cone, shove my chair back, and braid my hair into one long plait, warrior style.

  Keller rises. “The pixies’ headquarters are in Nashville?”

  “Uh huh,” I answer. “Don’t sound so shocked. As Jason Aldean says, it ain’t all just porches and plows.” I wink. “Wait until you see it.”

  * * *

  The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum is located on Fifth Avenue in Downtown Nashville. Pixie Headquarters is located underneath. Lower than basement level. Might as well say they’re neighbors to Hell. Personally, if I had wings, I’d feel claustrophobic living that far underground. Apparently, the pixies don’t return the sentiment.

  This place gets a lot of traffic during the day. For good reason. Anyone who makes a pit stop in Nashville would be remiss if they didn’t take the time to visit the museum and get to know the folks inside a little better. At night the building takes on the appearance of a haunted castle of sorts, with a javelin pointing toward the sky and a wall of windows reminiscent of piano keys. A quiet hush surrounds the building as if even the singers and songwriters long celebrated inside these walls have all gone to bed for the night. I almost feel like singing a lullaby. Almost. Cold fingers walk up my spine and grip the base of my neck. I shiver. If I were one to hide from spooky specters, I’d be running for cover right about now. I’m definitely not one of those people. Shrugging off the creeps, I keep moving.

  Some say Elvis haunts this place every bit as much as Memphis. Elvis haunts the entire world when you really think about it, so I’m guessing he’s spread a little thin to be much of a bother. Besides, I fight demons and murks for a living. How hard could it be to take down a dude with dyed hair and out of control sideburns? He’d probably fight back with a Bedazzler gun. I love me some Elvis, but more than a few of his fashion choices were a little on the cheesy side. His 1968 Comeback Special being the exception, of course. Gotta love a man who looks like that in leather.

  “Ouch!” I whip around and look up, rubbing my scalp. Bad call. Something wet and hard hits me right in the eye. Keller hisses next to me. We flatten our bodies against the wall. All is quiet for about two and a half seconds before we’re attacked with gusto. Several small objects, highlighted by the moon and streetlights, are falling out of the sky at a quick clip. I throw my arms in front of my face to block the air attack. That leaves the rest of me exposed. I’m hit several times in my arms, legs and torso.

  I crouch, getting as low as I can without lying flat on the ground. Small pebbles and something else litter the ground around me. Using my index finger and thumb, I pick up one of the unidentified objects for inspection. It’s white and hard, yet has some squish factor to it.

  Oh, hell no.

  Spit wads.

  Gotta be the pixies.

  Keller uses his body to shield me. “This is feckin’ ridiculous.” He looks at my hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yup,” I answer. “Nasty bitches.”

  “How are we supposed to fight them when they’re up there and we’re down here?”

  “Can you see them?” I rub my stinging arms and feel tiny welts bubbling across my skin. Dozens of tinkling bells chime above us. No. Not bells, I realize. That’s the sound of giggling gnats. They’re totally laughing at us. Adolescent ass pixies.

  “They’re at about roof level. Little bogeys have bows and arrows.”

  “Ugh. That’s why this hurts so bad. They’re nailing us! Leave me,” I tell him while gathering my own arsenal. I collect all the pebbles along with any other rocks I can find. “Get up there and knock them off or something.”

  Keller glances at my pile and nods. He’s with me one second and gone the next. The laughter from above dies down. I hear little gasps of surprise that are music to my ears. Keller is doing his job. I squint and see a pixie flying about ten feet above me. I hurl a pebble and knock her out of the sky. She squeals when she hits the ground. She doesn’t stay down, though. Determined little fucker. Her wings pump manically and she’s up and away again. Bruised but not beaten. I can appreciate that. I can also gloat when I knock ten more on their asses. Less than two minutes after it began, the battle is over. I don’t know where they’ve gone, but the pixies have disappeared into the night.

  I look up. Keller hops off the roof and lands like a cat next to me. I wish I had those kinds of skills.

  ‘They always like that?” he asks, picking spit wads out of my hair.

  Gross. “Sadly, they are. Sometimes they’re pretty funny, though.”

  Keller grunts. “Remind me to laugh after I shower off all their spit.”

  “Good point. We still have to go inside. Oh, Keller,” I say, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet and clapping my hands like a giddy child. “I can’t wait to see what they do next.”

  He gives me a deadpan stare. “You’ve lost it.”

  He’s just now figuring that out?

  Keller and I head around back to search for the hidden entrance. We stick close to the wall to avoid detection from the cameras, and to keep from being attacked from behind. Assuredly, we look like two thugs casing the place. Over the years, I’ve learned to become a chameleon. I’m dressed in all black tonight, which includes the black scarf I tied around my head to hide my fiery locks. I’ve considered dying my hair, but can never seem to find the time to get around to it. Keller could wear highlighter yellow if he wanted. He’d simply poof his ass out of here before security hit him with a flashlight beam. After what the pixies just did, I’m not taking any chances. I pull the scarf lower on my head.

  If my memory serves correctly, one stone is a half shade darker than the others. With only the light of the moon to offer assistance, I have a hard time seeing anything, let alone one measly area that is no bigger than a quarter of a loaf of bread. I move closer to the wall, so close my nose touches the cool stone. I scan each area slowly, methodically. I’ll find it.

  “Josie.”

  “Shh. I’m concentrating.”

  He laughs. “Josie.”

  I look right. Keller is staring at me with amused eyes.

  “What?”

  He gestures to a spot in front of him with a nod of his head. “Is this it?”

  I walk over and look. Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. Someone—and I’d bet my favorite pair of boots that someone is Esmeralda—has painted a pair of small fairy-like wings in the center of a stone. I make out the words WELCOME JOSIE in small blue letters. Her artwork is no better than it was on the note. I seriously hope she has a day job. “Yeah. This is it. Do you see any Pixie Dust? I can’t tell in this light.”

  “It appears clean. I’d say you’re expected. What do we do now?”

  I rap on the stone in three succinct rounds of two knocks each. Then I rub the same brick five times. For reasons I’m not privy to, pixies have a thing with the numbers two and five, which is why they chose this address. 222 Fifth Avenue. I’ve only been inside once. A few years ago, I needed some help taking down a couple of lunatic brownies. Arranna had owed me a favor and sent about a hundred of her best fliers out to create a distraction. The pixies swarmed overhead like a mob of synchronized swimmers, while I crept up behind the crazy little men. I have n
o idea why, but the brownies had doused themselves in baby oil and I ended up looking like a hog wrestler on crack. Slippery suckers almost got away. Almost. The pixies laughed their heads off for hours after that, but not one of them could say I didn’t handle my business. I smile at the memory. Some of the things I get myself into. All in the name of the J.O.B.

  The wall in front of us shimmers like water on a mirror. Our reflections distort to where we are about half as tall and three times as wide as our normal selves. If only we were truly entering a funhouse. I grab Keller’s hand and pull him through before the pixies change their mind and bar us from entering. The wall is as thick as cold molasses and holds us in its clutches. Keller nudges me from behind, and we tumble out on the other side with a slurpy pop. More melodic and childlike giggling greets us. A chorus of “Hi, Josie,” follows. I push off the ground and smile.

  At least a dozen pixies in a rainbow of colors hover in the welcoming chamber. They zip around us in figure eight fashion, laughing and singing hellos. Lively bunch. Iridescent crystals hang like chandeliers from the dark ceiling. Sconces with medieval-looking torches line the walls, producing shadows and flickering light that reflects off the overhead crystals. Lush, bearskin rugs mark the pathway. All heads point to the hallway straight ahead. Each decoration on its own would be stunning and more than a little on the romantic side with a primitive twist. All these elements together… Bow chica wow wow, someone cue the porn music.

  “Hello, pixies. It’s been a while. Thank you so much for sending out the welcoming party. We are truly honored.” I’m the picture of happiness right now and not about to tell them why I’m here. I honestly don’t think Esmeralda is in this alone, and any sign of aggression could land Keller and me in hot water. Literally. The pixies enjoy boiling things. The brownies learned that fact a little too late in the game. And here I thought I was a complex being. “I’ve brought a friend. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “He’s cute,” a pixie with crystal white wings says in my ear. “Can I have him?”

  “No—”

  “Thank you,” Keller says with a slight bow. “So are you.” He opens his hand and the young pixie glides to a stop, folds her legs under her and stares up at Keller with adoring eyes from the comfort of his palm.

  “I’m Ilya. Who are you?”

  Keller tilts his head. “Keller O’Leary at your service, madam.”

  Ilya blushes from her bare toes to the tips of her white wings.

  “Is Esmeralda here?” I smile brightly to cover the impatience in my voice. If Keller opened a kissing booth, dude would be a millionaire.

  Ilya’s eyes go so wide she reminds me of a mutant pug. That’s not quite true, but I don’t have time for schoolgirl crushes. She chitters to her compatriots in a language neither Keller nor I understand.

  “No,” she finally answers in a small voice that is more a question than an actual answer. She turns her head back toward Keller and bats her long, purple eyelashes.

  I step closer. “You sure? This won’t take long. I just need to ask her a super quick question.”

  More nervous chittering. I realize several of the pixies have disappeared.

  They’ve gone to warn her.

  I meet Keller’s gaze. Or to arm themselves. Let’s start walking and see what happens.

  I pretend to stretch and quietly palm my switchblade.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The hallway is set on a steep slope, probably about forty-five degrees, give or take. Considering the average slide on a playground is set at thirty degrees, this sucks. My boots are great for fighting, but I can’t seem to get enough traction, and the ground isn’t smooth enough for me to plant my ass and ride down. Of course, the pixies don’t have to worry about falling because they fly everywhere. Arms and thighs burning, I push my palms against the narrow stone walls and continue on, placing one foot carefully in front of the other. One misstep and I’ll plummet like Alice.

  Once we get to the end of the hallway, the ground evens out and the archaic decor switches to state of the art opulence. I rub circulation back into my jelly thighs and sneak a glance at Keller. He’s fine. Figures.

  The sleek style of this room is quite the change from the last time I was here. Looks like the pixies have come into some new money. I always knew the drug business was lucrative, but this makes the Taj Mahal look like Motel 6. From here on in, it’s chrome, leather, and glass, with a splash of color mixed in throughout to throw in some pixie-like flair. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors are spaced about every twenty feet. Pixies are as vain as male peacocks. Maybe I would be too if I had gossamer wings and colorful skin. Perhaps I should reconsider my no tattoo rule.

  A soft whir comes from above as the overhead fans yawn to life. The air takes on a chill. I sneeze. A heady scent of lavender and spice permeates the room as if it’s being piped through the ventilation system. I sneeze again, this time so hard I look around to see if part of my brain is lying on the floor. I rub my nose with the back of my pointer finger. The aroma is overwhelming, but it beats the damp earth smell one would expect when on level negative two. I feel another sneeze coming on and wonder if I’m allergic to whatever concoction they’re spreading around.

  I have a moment of pause and literally stop moving. My feet are frozen to the floor and every muscle is compressed tight. To breathe or not to breathe? That is the million-dollar question. What if I’m walking straight into a Pixie Dust trap? What if they are waiting around the corner with their little hands full of blue death? Just ready to blast me and giggle their little pin heads off while I stroll down Hell Lane with the morphing monkeys and killer rainbows? I don’t know if I could survive another trip session. I’m definitely not built for hallucinations. Especially in the form of ashes and tears.

  Irish?

  He touches my arm with sure fingers. I’ve got you. I’ll teleport you out of here faster than you can even think to breathe.

  I’m holding you to that.

  One of these days, you’re going to tell me what happened.

  Yeah. I will. Eventually. I briefly throw up my mental walls. How can I tell Keller that I witnessed his death and that it tore me to shreds, leaving me irrevocably broken?

  I feel the length of his body press against my backside. He rubs the base of my neck and I lean into him, reveling in his strength and power. I’m no wimp by any stretch of the word. I do, however, get a little girly when I think about all the things Keller can do that I can’t. I like knowing he’s capable of frightening things, capable of taking control of the situation. The only time I’ve ever seen him show any uncertainty is where our relationship is concerned. That’s my fault. He’s been all in from Day One. I’m the only flapjacking, ping-pong player in this equation.

  Ilya breaks up the intimate moment by buzzing around our ears like an incessant mosquito. Like a cat, I swear she can turn her motor on and off at will. Whereas a cat’s purr is soothing, a pixie’s buzzing is as annoying as cold rain at a picnic.

  I swat her away with the back of my hand.

  She sails through the air, her body tumbling end over end like one of those shiny plastic pinwheels.

  “Hey!” she yells. She pumps her wings furiously and comes right back. “Are you sure Arranna is expecting you?”

  I don’t remember ever telling Ilya anyone was expecting me. I flash her a cheesy smile. “I’ve got an open invitation. Can’t you read? It said so right on the door.”

  Ilya narrows her pretty little eyes, but doesn’t say another word.

  I can fight some big bad uglies like nobody’s business. Chemicals are a phenomenon all their own. Confident that Keller’s got my back, I finally convince my feet to start moving again.

  It’s almost as if a big blinking neon arrow is pointing me toward the pixie queen. Even though I’ve only been here once, I remember exactly how to get to the main room. We turn left at the next corner. The hallway widens until it spills into the gathering chamber. Guests are supposed to wait here until the qu
een summons them. I don’t have time for all that.

  An oversized brown leather couch curves in a semi-circle on the right side of the room, easily seating twenty or more full size people. I spot tiny flecks of blue glitter and make sure to keep my distance. You’d think with all this new money they obviously have, they’d hire a maid to clean up this mess. Cigarette-filled ashtrays and red plastic cups litter the floor and the two end tables, giving this room a total frat house vibe. I don’t even need to mull this over to figure out what’s going on. The pixies have been throwing parties. I’d like to know who exactly is attending these festivities.

  Time to have a conversation with myself and break this down. I know Keller was immune to the effects of the drug during Esmeralda’s first attack because vampires don’t breathe. Would it be a different story if he swallowed or injected it into his system? The shifter was selling it, but didn’t give any indication he was a user, unless I count malnourishment as a side effect. If he did indulge, would he have suffered the same effects I did? For a variety of reasons, I sincerely hope some beings of the occult are using this drug. If these pixies are partying with humans—bringing them into their domain—they’ve got more than my wrath to worry about.

  The ramifications are staggering. I’ve already noticed an increase in paranormal happenings since just before the Spring Equinox. Something is brewing, and I guaran-damn-tee it ain’t coffee. Good or evil, the beings of the occult are supposed to be of like mind where the humans are concerned.

  We are myth.

  We are the things that dreams and nightmares are made of.

  We do not exist.

  Now more than ever, I need to figure out what’s going on here. I have to stop it, and like it or not, I need an audience with the Assembly. Dread gnaws at my gut like a pack of rabid wolves. What if it doesn’t stop with the pixies? What if the reason for all the paranormal activity is because some of us are allowing the humans a glimpse into our dark world? This does not bode well for either side.