Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  I wanted to scream at him that I was breathing when another wave of nausea hit me. I continued to retch between unladylike obscenities until I felt all the energy drain from me, along with everything I’d eaten that day.

  When everything settled I tried to stand, but the sudden change in position threw me off balance, and I had to clutch the dresser for support. I felt empty and disoriented.

  “Is she all right?” I heard King say from the doorway. “What the hell was she thinking?”

  “I think there’s something wrong,” I said, panic welling up in my chest. I didn’t dare move. This strange, empty feeling was incredibly alien. Breathing deeply, I tried to center myself, but when I reached for power, I found nothing. It was as though all my magic had left my body. I tried again, stretching my reach to the natural energy in the woods. Immediately, I realized my mistake. It was like opening a floodgate. A sudden rush of power surged in, and the void inside me filled to overflowing.

  A warm, heady feeling spread across my middle as my synapses overloaded. The room took on a funhouse feel. The floor was unsteady, and my vision blurred. Before I could get my bearings, my knees buckled, and I headed down.

  Rick snatched me before I face-planted into the floor. “Steady now.”

  Pinpricks of energy flowed up my arm from his touch. The feeling was intoxicating, and I tried to lean into him and bathe in his aura.

  “Hey there, Olivia.” He snapped his fingers in my face.

  “Olive?” Charlie’s voice called to me. She sounded so far away. “Can you carry her to the living room?”

  “No, no, no. I’ve got this,” I said, my voice louder than I’d intended. “I don’t need your help. I’m fine.” I let go of Rick’s arm and pushed away, but ended up falling into his chest instead.

  Without missing a beat, he swept me up into his arms. “I think you’ve done quite enough tonight, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me that. You’re a jerk, you know that?” I nestled my head against his shoulder, and took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. The aroma of rosemary-mint soap mixed with the powerful scent of his skin filled my senses. “Hmm. But you do smell nice.” I inhaled deeply. “Like the outdoors and leather things.”

  A hand touched my cheek. “She’ll be fine. Just a minor backlash, but I've never seen it have this effect. Don’t hold on to her too long. I’m worried she’ll siphon your energy.”

  Rick’s chest rumbled, and I gathered he asked Charlie something, but I couldn’t make it out.

  “Just go lay her on the sofa while I get things arranged. She should be fine by morning,” Charlie said.

  Charlie always took care of me. “You’re such a great friend, Charlie,” I mumbled. “You’re the sister I never had.” I reached a hand out and tried to pat her head, but she’d already moved.

  She pointed at King. “You, Muscle, follow me. I need some things moved.” And with that Charlie stalked out of the room on a mission.

  Rick started toward the living room. As he walked, I stroked a finger along his exposed neck, feeling the energy flowing from him. “Your energy is nice,” I said. “You’re a good guy.” I looked deeper, probing. “Oh, but you do have a dark spot. It’s cold and hard. You keep it hidden. Your deep, dark secret. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” I put a finger to my lips.

  He stopped walking and frowned down at me. “And what do you know about my secret?”

  “You won’t get me to tell.” I mimed zipping my lips but ruined the effect by laughing. “It’s safe with me, but I’ll tell you my secret.” I leaned close to his ear and despite my best efforts, my voice came out at a near shout. “Everyone’s afraid of me. Even Charlie. She tries to hide it, but I still feel it. But you know, they should be afraid. I can make them do whatever I want. I’ve done it before, and I might do it again. I can’t help myself. I’m no better than that evil bastard who made those charms.” I buried my head against his chest in a desperate attempt to hide from the truth.

  “Don’t think that,” he said, smoothing the hair back from my cheek. “You’re nothing like that. You shouldn’t be afraid of who you are. I’m not.”

  His tenderness touched me, but the melancholy of the moment quickly faded, replaced by an intense hunger. “I’m starving. I need some nachos! Or a pizza. Is there any Chinese left?”

  “Why don’t we try the sofa first,” he said and started down the hall again.

  I giggled. “Okey, dokey…Hokey, pokey.”

  The rocking motion of his gait was soothing. Sighing, I closed my eyes and soaked in the warmth of his body. I thought I heard Rick swear before I drifted off, but I was relaxed and safe. I could deal with any issues tomorrow.

  ELEVEN

  January seventeenth.

  The hazy light of dawn broke through the curtains, disturbing my sleep. Groaning, I wished the sun would burn out so I could pretend it wasn’t morning. My head pounded and I pulled the covers over my face, sinking back into their warmth. But the vexing smells of coffee tugged at the edge of my awareness, and I finally relented.

  I shoved the covers down, squinting against the light, and looked around. The last thing I remembered was losing my dinner after I released the charm. I dimly remembered Rick picking me up and Charlie giving instructions, but after that it was all hazy. I did know she was pissed at what I’d done.

  Screw it. I pulled the covers back over my head, determined to ignore the world. I was just starting to doze off again when it dawned on me that I was in my own bed. Molly had been here last night. Furthermore, I still had no idea if she was okay.

  I yanked the covers off, and the pain hit me. My sides throbbed, and my head started to spin the minute I sat up. Slower this time, I inched to the edge of the bed and waited, hoping the world would stop turning so fast.

  Soft noises floated from the interior of the house, and that smell of coffee taunted me again. I needed a cup. My mouth tasted as if something had died in there.

  “Charlie?” I said in a rough croak. My throat was raw and damaged on top of being dry. I swallowed and tried again. “Charlie, is that you?” I waited and listened. The light conversation stopped and I heard footsteps coming up the hall. Thank the gods. I knew she’d come with coffee.

  The door cracked open. Of all the people I expected to walk in, Rick Bishop was last on that list. At least he was smart enough to bring a large mug of joe.

  “Good morning, sunshine!” His voice was annoyingly chipper, and he grinned devilishly. Wonderful; he was a morning person.

  His hair was damp and unkempt. Instead of the sweater he’d had on last night, he was wearing jeans and an Anderson High School Bulldogs t-shirt that I was pretty sure belonged to Brad. Charlie must have found it in a drawer somewhere. Despite the sunny greeting, there were dark smudges under his eyes, and I wondered if he’d slept at all last night.

  Gods, I hoped it had just been last night. “How long have I been out?”

  He glanced at his watch. “About thirteen hours or so.” He came closer and set the coffee beside me on the nightstand. “I thought you might need this.”

  I pulled the covers up, suddenly aware I was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. I looked down at myself and back at him, really hoping he hadn’t been the one to change my clothes.

  Rick must have noticed my discomfort and shook his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry. Your honor is still intact. I carried you to bed, but Charlie was the one who tucked you in.”

  “Is Charlie still here? No, wait. I want to know about Molly first. Is she okay? Where is she?”

  I was trying to piece together last night, but so much was still fuzzy. Molly had been here, but every sign of her was gone. Even the bedding had been changed since yesterday.

  “She’s all right. Charlie’s looking after her,” he said.

  “But what happened?”

  “Before or after you passed out?” He gave me a lopsided smile and sat at the foot of the bed, a little too close for comfort. “After you stormed of
f, Samuel and I had no idea where you had gone. He was ready to leave, but I talked him into staying until you cooled down. Then you went straight for Molly without saying a word to either of us. I had to grab Charlie to find out what was going on. I thought Samuel was going to have a stroke when she told us what you were going to try.” He chuckled a bit, apparently remembering the look on King’s face. “He was determined to stop you, but I’ve got to give Charlie credit, she managed to talk him out of it. That girl is like a miniature pit bull, only not as nice. Remind me never to get on her bad side.”

  I started to chuckle as well, but it turned into a croak. I took a quick swig of coffee to soothe the rawness of my throat. Amusing as his description of Charlie staring down King was, Rick still hadn’t answered my question. “But where is Molly?”

  “Oh, Charlie had Samuel to move her to a room in the back of the house.” Rick rested back on one hand, causing the covers to shift under his weight. I yanked them back up, starting to feel a bit awkward with him sitting on my bed when I was barely dressed. “She said it was a clinic. I didn’t think you were a healer.”

  “I’m not. My grandmother was the healer. She never opened a formal clinic in town. She’d always see patients here at the house,” I said.

  I remembered how proud Gran had been when the addition was finished. There was an examination room, a laboratory, and two private sleeping quarters for patients. Now I just used it for storage.

  “Charlie had you move Molly back there? That place is a wreck. It hasn’t been used for years.” I wasn’t proud of that fact. After four generations of healers, I’d taken a different path. Sure, I could diagnose, but without the healing skills the best I could offer was my condolences. I was far better at being a keeper of the dead than of the living.

  “After she was sure you’d be fine, Charlie had Samuel and me moving furniture and hauling boxes. She thinks Molly will need at least a few days to recover before she can be moved.” He tilted his head and examined me closely before saying, “You had us scared back there. How are you feeling?”

  “I think I’ll live, but I feel like someone drove an ice pick through my eye.” I smiled weakly at him.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. I was worried.” His concern was touching, but then he went and ruined it. “I’ve never had someone working a case with me die. I’m sure there’d be loads of forms I’d have to fill out.” He looked up at the ceiling, as though imagining the extra work. “Yep, I’d be on desk duty for a week.”

  I yanked the pillow from behind my head and smacked him. “Get out!” I couldn’t keep a straight face. “Just get out and let me get ready. And since you seem to be making yourself at home”—I waved at his clothing—“why don’t you toss some bread into the toaster. I’m starved.”

  “Yes, sir.” He gave a mocking salute. “Any other orders, General?”

  I tossed the pillow at him. “Just go!”

  Ducking as the pillow whizzed past his head, he exited the room before I could find something harder to throw at him. When I heard the door click shut, I eased out of bed and stood up slowly. My vision blurred around the edges, and I had to hold on to the bedpost to keep from falling. I waited for a few minutes for the world to come back into focus, taking slow, deliberate breaths. Once I was sure I wouldn’t fall, I headed for the bathroom.

  I needed to brush my teeth, and more important I needed to shower. I felt contaminated. It could have been from last night’s trek through the woods, or I might just have been feeling the residual effect of the magic from the charm, but either way, I had the overwhelming desire to scrub myself raw. I stripped out of my clothes and stood under the spray, letting it wash the tension and worry away. I used every drop of hot water before I started to feel human again.

  By the time I was dressed, the aroma of frying bacon filled the room. To my surprise there was a full breakfast waiting for me, even though it was pushing noon. Charlie sat at the counter chatting with Rick while he tended the bacon on the stove.

  “About time you got up,” Charlie said. “I was worried you’d develop bed sores.” She turned around to examine me, and I could tell by the dark circles under her eyes she’d been up all night.

  “Lay off. I needed my beauty rest. How else am I suppose to keep my girlish good looks?” I smiled widely and batted my eyelashes. “But seriously, if I don’t get something to eat I might pass out, so hand over the bacon and no one will have to die.”

  Rick slid the full plate across the counter. “We wouldn’t want that,” he said.

  “Where did all this come from?” I asked.

  “I ran to the store a few hours ago. We need to have a talk about your eating habits since I moved out,” Charlie said.

  I shrugged and collapsed onto the stool next to her. I picked up a still-warm slice of bacon and devoured it in a most undignified way. I had died, and this was heaven. I snatched another piece. “I could get used to this. Are you for hire? Charlie’s right, I could use a personal chef.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not sure you’d be willing to pay my rate.” Rick winked and returned his attention to the stove.

  I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. This was new. I wasn’t used to anyone besides Charlie teasing me. I couldn’t think of a witty comeback so instead I ate some more bacon.

  “How do you like your eggs?” Rick asked.

  “I was kidding. You don’t have to make me breakfast. I’m happy with bacon and coffee,” I said.

  “She likes her eggs over medium and make it two,” Charlie said and focused her mother hen on me. “You need to eat something more than just grease and caffeine.” She leaned a little closer and whispered, “And don’t think we’re not going to talk about last night. If I had known what was involved…”

  I interrupted her with a hand. “I know. I know. We’ll talk about it later. I promise,” I said under my breath. I turned back to Rick and smiled. “So, where’s Agent King?”

  “When he realized you were down for the count, he went back to Indy. I expect he’ll check in this afternoon. He wanted to speak with you about last night,” Rick said as he set a plate in front of me. Two eggs, rye toast, and even a sliced orange.

  I looked up from the plate and asked, “So, what? Were you a chef in another life?”

  “I worked my way through academy as a short-order cook at Uncle Joe’s Waffles, but don’t ask me to make anything more impressive than eggs or pancakes. Last time I tried to cook a dinner I almost burned the place down.”

  Laughing, Charlie stood up and patted me on the back. “Well, I’d better tend to my patient. Be sure and play nice, you two,” she said and winked at me before heading down the hall.

  Once again, Rick and I were alone. I ate my eggs while he did the dishes, neither of us speaking. After I had soaked up the last bit of the yolk from the plate, I asked, “Have you called Molly’s parents?”

  “I thought I should wait until she was conscious. I’d like to be able to tell them she’s fine, but we won’t know that until she wakes.” He picked up his mug and sat on the stool beside me.

  I understood his reluctance. The loss of a child was one of the hardest things for most families to handle. Charlie said Molly would make it, but I knew from experience that even when head trauma was healed, there was no guarantee the damage wouldn’t be permanent; not even magic could fix that.

  I set my plate in the sink, my head pounding again. I had only been up for a while, but already I wanted a nap. Right now, I just needed to sit. I strolled into the living room to curl up in my favorite chair, and asked Rick to join me. The dishes could wait. I wanted to talk with him alone.

  “That clinic addition is huge,” Rick said. “From the driveway the house didn’t look that big.”

  “The original house was a two-story cottage with a full attic, but we just kept adding. It’s deceptive from the front. If you’d followed the driveway round to the side, you would have seen the breezeway that connected the clinic to the
rest of the house,” I said.

  The house was a hybrid. It had been in the family for generations, and each owner seemed to add a little more. Even I had thought about expanding the kitchen. I looked around, taking stock of the rooms.

  “It’s way too much house for just me. I only use the main living area and the library, but still I wouldn’t dream of selling it.”

  We chatted for a while longer about construction and home maintenance until I finally had the courage to ask him what I really wanted to know.

  “What did Agent King mean when he said people would have an issue with the powers you and I have? I’m registered. Everyone in town knows I’m a witch.”

  The look I got from him was one you’d reserve for a child who still believed in fairies: exasperated and placating rolled into one, just like the tone of his voice. “Do you remember the Senate debates in the nineties?”

  “The ones over the WPR Act?” The Witch and Psyonic Rights Act had been passed in the early nineties, and everyone I knew, magical or not, had watched the drama on the Senate floor unfold on the news. “Sure, but what does that have to do with it?”

  “I don’t know if you remember how things were before the Act, but back then magic was relegated to the realm of superstition and provincial mythos. It was easy for people to ignore, and for witches to keep their powers hidden. When the Human Genome Project identified the gene responsible for magical ability, the Order felt like we couldn’t hide any longer.” Rick’s mood shifted suddenly. All hint of levity had vanished.

  Uncomfortable, I smiled and tried to joke. “Personally, I found it ironic that it was science that finally pushed the government to officially recognize witches.” Rick didn’t laugh, and an uneasy feeling settled over me. “I thought that was a good thing. That gave us protections and rights. It’s the reason I can work as a coroner.”

  “But it also caused old fears to creep back into the mainstream,” he countered. “Now that people with magical powers are identified and labeled, it’s easier to tag us as different. That’s why there’s a national registration. It doesn’t matter that only one out of a thousand people carries the marker. Only a fraction of those had the complementary mitochondrial gene that gives them the ability to conjure any significant magic.”