Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  The one thing I did have going for me was years of watching action flicks. I traveled room to room doing the same thing: Flip on lights, threaten death, and doing a quick search; emulating every action hero I’d seen. Charlie would have been proud.

  By the time I finished searching the entire house was ablaze with light, but it was also empty. Room after room turned up nothing. No sign of Charlie—or anyone else, for that matter. Confusion slowly replaced fear and worry, and I made one more circuit just to be sure. I searched every inch until I was convinced no one was hiding in a closet or under a bed.

  Feeling more secure, I went outside to retrieve my phone. While I was out there, I searched Charlie’s car. I’m not sure if I expected to find her in there, but what I found was a whole lot of nothing. No signs of her at all. No purse, no keys, nothing.

  I went back inside and locked the back door behind me. I checked all the doors and set the perimeter wards, even though they still hadn’t been upgraded. It was better than nothing.

  I dialed Charlie’s number. After a few rings, it went to voice mail. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or concerned not to hear her phone ringing somewhere in the house. I tried to hold on to the idea that the void in her visions didn’t mean she was dead, but I couldn’t keep images of her body showing up in the lake out of my head. More than ever I was convinced she was in some kind of trouble. Out of nervous habit, I called her phone again. And again it went to voice mail.

  I almost called the station then, but after the talk with Brad, I wasn’t sure I could trust him, Jenny, or the sheriff. Hell, it seemed like everyone in this town was plotting against me.

  Now I was suspicious about everything. Brad was too eager to have me leave the house. Had he known I wouldn’t find her here? Maybe Brad had something to do with the break-in. There were dozens of reasons to suspect him, but would he have gotten involved? Sure, he could be a real asshole, but he wasn’t violent. And after all these years, why go after Charlie?

  My head was pounding, and it took a few seconds to center my focus. Stress and lack of sleep were making me paranoid. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I needed someone else to help me sort things out.

  I pulled out the phone and called Rick again.

  “I’m glad you called. I was starting to get worried. I just left and should be there in a few hours. Did you make it home? Was Charlie there?”

  “Charlie’s car was at my house, but she’s not here.”

  “What do you mean, she’s not there?”

  “Exactly that,” I said. “Her car is parked, but there’s no sign of her anywhere. I’ve checked the whole house.” I walked over to the counter and flipped on the coffee maker. The adrenaline had completely fled my body, and I felt ready to collapse any minute. I only hoped the caffeine could keep me going until Rick arrived. I put the phone on speaker, set it down, and started making a pot.

  “Do you think she met someone else, like her friend Zoe, and they left together?” he asked, the speaker phone made his voice sound tinny and far away, but I still caught the note of doubt in his words. He wasn’t buying it either, and I could tell he was just trying to put my mind at ease.

  “It’s possible, but not likely,” I said. The coffeemaker bubbled to life, and I pressed my forehead against the cabinet door, letting cool wood soothe my pounding head. The next words were hard to say. “The door was wide open. She wouldn’t leave the house unlocked, let alone leave the back door open.”

  “Olivia, you should get back in your car,” he said without hesitation. His words took on an authoritative edge I wasn’t used to. “I mean it. Go to the car, drive some place with people, and wait for me to get there. You’re not safe out there by yourself.”

  Despite everything I’d been through this morning, I still bristled at his orders. Instinctively I retorted, “It’s my house, Rick. Of course I’m safe.” But even as the words left my mouth, I knew it was a lie.

  “No, you’re not. You’re alone. Your house is isolated. I haven’t been able to get ahold of Samuel. I’m the only one coming, and I won’t be there for at least two and a half hours. Think of your own safety for a minute.”

  The pleading in his voice was palpable. Each word chipped away at my carefully constructed armor. I knew I was letting my pride override my own common sense, but I couldn’t seem to rein in that stubborn streak. “I’ve checked the house. It’s empty, and I have my gun handy. Besides, I’m not sure I’d be much safer in town.” And I wasn’t. I wanted to tell Rick about my call with Brad. About how he talked Dan out of calling me, and how strange he’d acted over the phone. But Rick was already worried, and I didn’t need to add to that. There was more than enough trouble to go around.

  Instead, I opted for simplicity. “I don’t think I have many friends in town right now. It seems like everyone is buying into the gossip. The sheriff’s department thinks I’m a criminal. They didn’t even bother to call me about the break-in.” Saying it all out loud just depressed me. I grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, really wanting a drink.

  “This isn’t just about a break-in or your trouble with the sheriff. I’m convinced you and Charlie are in danger. With these deaths, you could be the next target.”

  “But neither of us fits the M.O. We aren’t teenagers.”

  “You both have natural abilities. Every one of the kids reported missing or found dead in Missouri scored high on the Hecate scale. Natural-ability high.”

  “Even so, that doesn’t mean he’d come after me or Charlie. If this killer has been preying on young witches for years, he wouldn’t suddenly start targeting adults.” I wasn’t an expert in forensic psychology, but I was almost certain about this. Killers had patterns, preferences. They didn’t just change overnight.

  “Teenagers are easy targets. Teens naturally engage in high risk behaviors, making it easy to grab them. And these kids lacked any formal training. They had no control over their powers. Think about what Molly said. She and Sarah were out and accepted a ride home. Easy targets for a predator.”

  “You’re just proving my point. There’s no reason the killer would want to come after us. We just don’t fit.”

  “But you may be getting too close for comfort. You’ve been working with the Order and the FPD. You linked Malone to the bodies found in the lake. You’ve become a problem.”

  “Fine. I’ll pack a bag and go into Armstrong’s.”

  “No. Not after the break-in.”

  “It will be daytime. It’s in town. I’ll be surrounded by people.”

  “I don’t know who’s behind this yet. It could be anyone from town. Why don’t you go to your assistant’s house?”

  “He might live a little closer than me, but Dan’s house is just as isolated. This isn’t Indy. Over half of the people here live on acreage. I’ll go in to Armstrong’s. It’s the best option I have.”

  I could hear him swear under his breath. “Promise me you’ll keep the doors locked, and don’t let anyone in, even if you’ve known them for years. I’ll keep trying to get Samuel. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Stay safe.”

  I tucked the phone back into my pocket, and let out a deep breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. He was right. I needed to be someplace less isolated. I packed a few things into my overnight bag. Running back to the library, I opened the safe to retrieve my holster—and saw the slave charm book sitting on top of a stack of papers.

  This whole thing started with the discovery of that charm, but I realized now this was more complicated than any of us imagined. I ran a finger over the cover and wondered if the book held any clues to the current killings. Why would someone need to use a slave charm if the intent was to kill? Why keep them at all if you were just going to murder them? My examination of the bodies hadn’t revealed any torture or sexual assault. I was still missing a piece of the puzzle, and it was driving me crazy.

  I slipped on the holster and seated my gun securely in the pocket. For good measure, I grabbed the book and shoved it into
my overnight bag. There might still be some secrets left within the pages, and it would give me something to focus on while I waited for the cavalry.

  I did one more round, this time turning off lights and checking the doors again. I was just starting to relax when I heard a crash from outside. I held my breath and listened. There was something, some kind of noise, coming from the back of the house.

  After drawing my gun again, I made my way to the patio door just off the kitchen. It afforded me the best view of the backyard. With my side flattened to the wall I peered out the glass door. I didn’t see anything, but I heard another sound. This time leaves rustled, and then a branch snapped. Someone was out there.

  The moon hung low in the predawn sky, casting long menacing shadows into the small clearing that hugged the edge of the woods. The full moon lit the area in odd sepia hues, and it looked more like the set of a slasher flick than my back yard. I heard the noise again, a little further away. I scanned the horizon looking for anything. The woods were filled with distorted shapes, each one like some nightmare creature, but there was no sign of movement. Just as I was about to give up, sure it was my imagination running overtime, a sharp crack shattered the silence.

  I tossed open the door, tired of waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows, and pointed the gun toward the sound.

  “The cops are on the way. They’ll be here any second.” Now I really wished I’d called the station. If I had, someone would be here by now.

  The rustling grew louder.

  “And I have a gun.”

  Stillness. I studied the trees and thought I could make out the silhouette of a person.

  “Don’t come any closer!” I shouted, with all the bravado I could muster.

  The moon was low in the sky, creating an army of human-shaped shadows to taunt me. I focused my attention and my gun on one figure until I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Turning to the left, I aimed high and fired a warning.

  The echoing shot hung in the still air, and I held my breath, listening. Not even the branches creaked in the wind. But then a loud snap shattered the thick silence, and a shadow broke through the trees.

  I turned to the noise and fired three shots at chest level. The harsh sound was still reverberating through the trees when a lone coyote burst through the underbrush and ran across the lawn.

  “Shit.” I jerked the gun away, just before I shot another round. Without looking my direction, the coyote disappeared back into the woods.

  I held my breath and listened. Every shadow was inspected; every noise scrutinized. My fingers were numb from gripping the gun by the time I finally decided to close and lock the door. I collapsed against the wall and tried to slow my racing heart. My mouth was dry and sticky, the taste of my own fear coating my tongue.

  I was jumping at my own shadow now. I had to get out of here. For the first time in my life, I felt alone and isolated in my own home. And not knowing if Charlie was alive, or if I was being stalked by a killer, was driving me insane.

  This wasn’t a movie, and I wasn’t the spunky heroine that could save the day through sheer will. I was a funeral director, for fuck’s sake. I needed help. Looking at the time, I counted the minutes until Rick would show up.

  Holstering the gun, I picked up my bag and made my way to the clinic. On the way out, I looked down the hall one more time. A cold chill ran down my spine. This didn’t feel like a safe harbor anymore. I turned to leave, and caught the open door to the supply closet out of the corner of my eye. I was sure I’d closed the door after I’d checked it.

  That was my last thought before a sharp pain bloomed across the back of my head. I stumbled forward, hands grasping for something to steady myself. Before I could react, the second blow caught me above my left temple, and I fell. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was a shiny black boot, arching back for a kick.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  January twenty-first

  Noises began filtering through the thick fog that clouded my mind. Everything sounded far away and muffled as if I were underwater, but I could hear heavy footsteps, cursing, and something crashing to the ground just a few feet away from me. I kept my eyes closed. I needed time to think, to form some kind of plan. When the footsteps drew close, I slowed my breathing and hoped he didn’t notice I’d regained consciousness.

  “I’ll deal with you later,” a familiar male voice said. Just off to my left came a soft thud. I wanted to believe the voice was someone here to help, and that perhaps the “you” he spoke to was my attacker. But something in his tone dashed my hopes. This was not my savior. So I held still and silently prayed, afraid to even pull power through my lotus to calm my nerves.

  After a few moments, the footsteps moved farther away until there was only silence. I waited, listening for any sounds. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally dared to open my eyes.

  The harsh light needled into my brain, and I winced. Turning my head did nothing but intensify the throbbing, and the taste of bitter bile bubbled up in the back of my throat. When I tried to sit up I realized my hands were tied behind my back. That jolted me out of my stupor, and hyperawareness kicked in.

  I couldn’t tell how long I’d been unconscious, but bright sunlight filled the room. With a lot of effort, I managed to wiggle my way into a sitting position from which I surveyed my surroundings. I was in a different house. The air smelled musty and damp from disuse. Sheets covered the furniture, and the adjacent kitchen looked bare save for a utensil holder and a knife block on the counter. The room was nondescript, but the next sight caused my heart to stop.

  The floor was covered in dirty, stained carpeting with an ugly rose pattern. While I’d never been to this house, I knew immediately it was the room from my readings. Now that I could examine the entire room, I recognized it as one of the rental cottages that dotted the lakefront. Which meant I knew exactly where I’d been taken. I ran the shore often enough, I knew if I could get loose, I’d be able to follow the trail back to my house.

  The house was empty, but I knew that wouldn’t last forever. I started pulling at my bindings, testing their limits. With a little effort, I figured might be able to loosen the knot enough to get free, but the sound of footsteps made me realize time was not on my side.

  “Good, you’re awake,” a voice sounded from the dark hallway. “I was worried that last blow might have caused permanent damage, and then I’d have to come up with a whole new plan. Again.” A large man stepped through the door and I was finally able to put a name to the voice.

  “Sheriff Black?” My brain was trying to process this turn of events. Mike Black was here at this cabin. I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  Black walked through the living room carrying a large bag, ignoring my question, and started sorting through the contents.

  “Mike. Answer me. What the fuck is going on here?”

  A cruel sneer crossed his face when he looked over his shoulder, finally acknowledging me. “What? You didn’t think a backwoods hick like me could take down someone like you?”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘take down?’ You still don’t think I was responsible for those murders? If that’s what this is about, I have proof,” I said, as he pulled a coil of rope from his bag. “Rick Bishop, the Order inspector, will be here any minute. He’s found some evidence linking the killings here to some cases in Missouri.”

  “I’m fully aware Inspector Bishop has been sticking his nose in places he shouldn’t.” He set the rope on the table and turned to face me. “But I do appreciate the warning. I hate being rushed, but I’ll be sure to have everything wrapped up before he gets here.”

  “And exactly what is it you need to wrap up?” I watched him as he pulled some clothing and then some duct tape out of the bag. Whatever he had in mind, I was sure it had nothing to do with taking me down to the station.

  “Don’t worry your pretty little head. You’ll find out soon eno
ugh. Right now there’s some prep work I have to do. Don’t move, I’ll be right back. Oh, just for my own curiosity. The first door off the back entrance of your house--was that where your gran had her clinic?” he asked as he walked by. When I didn’t answer, he shrugged and held up the rope and tape. “I hope so. I thought it would be fitting to set up your torture room in the same place your grandmother used to heal people. But I guess in the end it really doesn’t matter. We’ll find the evidence and the body I left in your house, and with you gone without a trace, the town will have its answers. Another case closed.”

  I leaned against the sofa to hide my hands and slid my ring off. There was more than one way to get free. I gathered every bit of will I could focus and sent it in his direction. “Black, you want to let me go. Come over here and untie me now.”

  He let out a cruel laugh and shook his head. “Nice try. Do you really think I’m an idiot? The second I found out you were an empath, I started watching the database for someone with a high Nero score on the Hecate test. It wasn’t easy to find what I needed. I ended up with two precogs and a weak telekinetic before I finally ran across an empath. She wasn’t nearly as strong as you, but it was enough to make a dozen charms before she died.” He slipped a silver chain from around his neck, producing a small charm similar to the one Brad was wearing. “That’s the main reason it took me so long to put my plan into action. I wouldn’t have stayed in this shithole of a town if I could have finished this up sooner.” When I tried to get up, he pushed me back down. “Now, let’s not have any trouble. You need to accept when you’ve been beaten. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Wow, look at the time. I don’t have time to chat right now. Not with that Order asshole on his way here.” He smiled and winked. “I have a ritual to set up.”