by Jane Hinchey
Table of Contents
Untitled
Introduction
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Notes from the Author
More books by Jane Hinchey
About the Author
Secret Fates
Book Two Hearts on Fire
Jane Hinchey
Contents
Untitled
Introduction
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Notes from the Author
More books by Jane Hinchey
About the Author
Secret Fates © 2018 Jane Hinchey
This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Introduction
My name is Del Devereux and I see dead people.
I’ve always believed in ghosts. I’ve been able to see and talk to them since I was a child, so when the spirit of Father Jack Sullivan told me someone was trying to open the gates of Hell, I listened.
Turns out the chewed on piece of stone I’d rescued from my dog Dukes jaws was, in fact, a shard from an ancient relic – a medallion. Broken into three pieces, they had to be reunited to form the key. And I had the last piece.
With a demon hot on my tail and willing to kill anyone or anything that got in his way, I was on the run, with Duke and my best friend Jase by my side. I thought we were in with a fighting chance when I discovered the shard was giving me special powers. And then it all went horribly wrong.
Acknowledgments
This book was a blast to write. I adore Del and Jase tremendously. However, writing the story is only part of the journey to getting a book published. There are many people to thank and I’m a lucky girl to have such talented people supporting me.
Firstly, Alicia from iProofread and More – you save me from myself constantly with your editing. Thank you.
To my reader's group, Jane’s Little Devils, you rock so hard. Thank you.
And my family…thank you for believing in me. I love you more than words could ever express.
And for my readers…I do this for you.
1
The dead man at my feet was a testament to the fact that today had been a shit day. Of epic proportions. I stood in the pouring rain, panting, raindrops dripping from my hair, soaked to the bone. Thunder boomed, shaking the trees around me. I glanced up at the darkened sky with its angry clouds and felt bad for enjoying the weather. I loved storms. Loved running in them. Which was what I’d been doing when I stumbled upon the poor unfortunate soul spread on the ground before me. Running to erase the angst the latest phone call with my mother had brought.
The woods beyond my house weren’t heavily used. Heck, Fury Island had a population of twenty thousand. There was plenty of island for everyone. We each practically had a woods of our own.
“Duke! Here, boy!” I called my black Labrador back to my side from where he’d been poking his nose against the neck of the deceased man. At least I thought he was deceased. Squatting by his side, I pressed my fingers against his neck. Cold to the touch and no pulse. His skin was white, and I don’t mean pale; he was as white as a sheet, and by the way the water pebbled and rolled off of his exposed flesh, it was as if he were coated in wax. He was dressed all in black, but when I pressed my fingers to his neck I noticed the white collar. A priest. Or minister. Double shit.
Duke whined and sat by my side, leaning heavily against my leg.
“I know, boy. I was enjoying our run too, but now we’ve got to deal with this. I hope we get reception up here.” Pulling out my phone I swiped the screen. One bar. I moved away from the body and pressed up against the trunk of a tree, trying to keep the rain off my phone.
“Fury Police Department,” a female voice answered.
“This is Del Devereux. There’s a body in the woods directly opposite Fishers Drive.”
“A body? As in a deceased person?” Her voice changed from bored to immensely interested.
“Correct.”
“Are you with the person now? Are you sure they’re dead?”
“Yes, I’m with them and I’ve checked for a pulse. There isn’t one. Pretty sure he’s dead.”
“Who is the deceased?” Good question. I had no idea.
“I don’t know, never seen him before, but he looks like a priest. Or should I say he’s dressed like one.”
“Where did you say you were?” I could hear the sound of her typing, knew she was logging in the details of my call and trying to get a lock on my location.
“In the woods opposite Fisher Drive. I can have someone meet you at the edge of the woods. I doubt you’d find the place on your own.” My best friend Jase knew my jogging trail. Provided I could get hold of him, he’d be able to lead the police to our location. It didn’t feel right leaving the priest lying in the mud, alone, now that I’d found him.
“I’m sending a patrol out now.”
Immediately after hanging up I called Jase.
“Hey.” His deep voice boomed through the phone, so clear he could have been standing next to me.
“I need a favor. Can you come to the edge of the woods, at the beginning of my jogging trail, and meet the cops?”
“What? Why?”
“I was out jogging and I’ve found a body. I’ve called the cops, but there’s no way they’ll find me on their own. The path isn’t exactly well trodden. You’re the only one I could think of who knows. So could you meet them and lead them to me? I’m about two miles in.”
“You’ve found a body? Who?” I could hear him moving around, could picture him in my mind’s eye scooping up his car keys and a waterproof jacket as he headed toward the door.
“Don’t know, but he looks like a priest.” Another loud crack of thunder and the line crackled static before going dead. Great. The cell tower was down, probably hit by lightning.
I hunkered down to wait. Now that I wasn’t moving, a chill had settled over me and I rubbed my hands over my bare arms. I ran in a crop top and yoga pants, great for exercising but useless for warmth—they were designed to let your body heat out, not keep it in. Tilting my head, I looked up through the branches of the tree, letting the water drip onto my face.
Duke got bored and wandered into the brush to the side of the trail. I caught a glimpse of his black tail before he disappeared from sight. Fantastic, the last thing I needed was for him to spot a rabbit or something and take off in pursuit. Following him, I took one step, then two, into the underbrush.
“Duke! Here, boy! Come on, I know this i
sn’t the run I promised, but no wandering off now, okay?” He reappeared, muddy and wet, and bounded back to me. “Good boy.” Squatting, I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a hug. I’d adopted him from a shelter before jumping on the ferry to Fury Island two years ago. He’d been a skinny, abused pup who’d trembled and shaken as I’d approached his cage, but he’d gathered his courage and approached to sniff the hand I held out to him. That had sealed it for me. One broken soul helping another. I had literally been on my way to the ferry terminal when the taxi I was in had passed the animal shelter and I’d had some sort of sense that I needed to stop. We’d stopped, I’d seen Duke, and the rest is history. I healed him and he in turn did his best to heal me.
“Del?” Half an hour later I heard Jase calling. It was four in the afternoon yet the storm had brought an early nightfall. It was so dark they needed torches.
“Here!” I watched as the torches bobbed along the trail, making their way toward us. Two police officers followed Jase, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. Duke recognized him and bounded forward to meet them, barking in greeting.
“Hey, boy.” Jase ruffled Duke’s ears, eyes meeting mine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him, “can’t say the same for him though.” I stood aside so they could see the dark figure on the ground. One of the officers pushed past me to check on the victim.
“Dead all right,” he confirmed, pulling on gloves and searching the man’s pockets.
“Walk me through what happened,” the other officer asked, so I did. Standing in the rain, I recounted my afternoon run, how we’d come across the body—exactly as it was now—and called the police. I shivered again, my flesh covered in goose bumps. Usually, the climate on Fury Island was moderate, even crossing to the hot scale on occasion, but standing around in the rain reminded me of cooler climates.
“You’re cold.” Jase shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around me. It retained his body heat and I snuggled into it, grateful. It also carried his scent and I closed my eyes for a second, dragging in the aroma, my senses stirring. We’d been friends since the day I arrived on the island. My first port of call had been a veterinary clinic to get Duke a proper checkup and advice on how to not only build up his wasted body but also his confidence and rid him of his fear of humans.
Jase was the vet who saved us, and since that day we’d been firm friends, our connection instant. Every now and then, something within me stirred when he was near, something I pushed down because I didn’t want to mess with things, didn’t want to upset the status quo of our friendship. Plus he had a girlfriend. Subject closed. There would be no romantic entanglement with Jase Oliver.
“You okay?” His voice intruded into my thoughts and I pulled myself together. Jase didn’t need to know I pined for him like a schoolgirl. He was in love with Wanda, and while I wished him all the wonderful things this life could bring him, I didn’t think Wanda was one of them. She had a darkness about her—her aura was a murky green—and while I was sure she didn’t know the feelings I secretly harbored for Jase, she watched me with distrust and barely veiled hatred each time we met.
“Yeah. Fine.” I couldn’t meet his eyes, too afraid of what he’d see in mine. Instead, I looked at the police officer approaching. “Can we go?”
“We’ll need you to come to the station and give a formal statement, but that can wait until tomorrow. Sorry you had to deal with this, Del.”
“What was he doing up here anyway? It’s really off the beaten track. Pretty much Jase and I are the only ones who come up here.”
“That might be why it was chosen.”
“What do you mean, chosen?”
“He either met someone here and was killed—he’s been stabbed—or he was killed somewhere else and this is a body dump. I’d go with the latter because, as you say, who would know to come here? He’s not local, wouldn’t know the area. I’d say he was killed somewhere else and his body moved here.”
“Well shit,” I muttered, shocked. I hadn’t noticed any stab wounds or blood, but given the amount of rain pelting down on us, that wasn’t surprising. Another shiver wracked my body and Jase put a hand on my lower back, his warmth branding me through his jacket.
“Let’s get you out of this rain. I’ll make sure she drops by the station tomorrow.” He nodded at the officer, then nudged me toward the trail. I stepped away from his touch, and, whistling for Duke, we headed off. The walk back was spent in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. I kept my gaze on Duke as he trotted ahead, calling him to heel when we cleared the woods and stepped into the small unpaved parking lot. A police car sat parked next to Jase’s four-wheel drive.
“Can I give you a lift?” Jase asked, stopping by the front of his car.
“Jase, it’s like two minutes that way.” I pointed to where you could see my house nestled into the hillside. “I don’t need a lift. Besides, I’m soaked.”
“I have towels,” he pointed out. Of course he did. He was a vet. His car was a mini clinic on wheels. “Plus you’ve had a shock. It’s not good for you to be on your own.”
I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it again when I spotted a familiar navy blue hatchback pull into the parking lot, headlights blazing.
“Jase?” Wanda called, rolling down the window. “Sweetheart, we have dinner reservations. What are you doing out here?” Wanda’s eyes landed on me and narrowed.
“I’m fine, Jase. Go.” I shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it at him, not waiting for his response. I spun on my heel and jogged away, whistling for Duke who trotted along beside me.
2
It wasn’t until after I was home, showered, and dressed in a comfy sweater and jeans, barefoot and braless that I discovered Duke had brought a little souvenir home with him. He’d been bathed too and was sulking in front of the fire I’d lit because I wouldn’t let him go back outside and roll in the mud. Munching on a cheese toasty, I stood leaning against the kitchen counter when I realized he too was nibbling at something gripped between his two front paws.
“Watcha got, boy?” I tossed my cheese toasty onto the counter and crouched in front of him, prying the object from between his jaws, praying to all that is holy that it wasn’t something gross like some poor animal, or a limb from some poor animal. I hadn’t noticed him bringing anything inside, so it must’ve been small to avoid my detection.
Duke clamped down on it and tugged, thinking we were playing a game.
“Come on, boy.” I tugged harder, but he wasn’t going to let go. Nothing for it, I’d have to bring out the big guns. A cheese toasty for whatever grossness he had in his mouth. When I returned with the half-eaten cheese toasty, he promptly dropped the object on the floor, sat up on his haunches and begged.
“You are such a cutie, who can refuse, eh?” I tossed the toasty and he caught it, gulping it down in two seconds flat. Snatching up the object from the floor, I kept it in my closed fist and crossed to the kitchen sink, ready to toss it should it be something too awful. I had a pretty strong constitution, but some of the trophies Duke brought home would turn even the strongest of stomachs.
Sucking in my breath, I uncurled my fingers and peered at my palm. Okay. It didn’t look to be anything organic. Blowing out my held breath, I lifted the object to the light and studied it. It was dirty and covered in dog drool, but it appeared to be part of a medallion or talisman of some sort. It was about the size of my thumb, and it had markings on it, but I couldn’t make them out.
Rinsing the piece under the tap, I rubbed away the ground-in dirt. I’d initially thought it was made of wood, but now it was clean I could see it was some sort of stone or ceramic. The outer edge was curved, indicating the full piece was most likely a circle. The two edges were jagged as if they’d broken away when the piece was dropped or smashed somehow.
“Where did you find this?” I asked Duke, glancing over at him, laughing at him spread out in front of the fireplace, asleep. “You didn’t sneak this from
the dead guy, did you? This could be police evidence, buddy.” My words were punctuated by the lights flickering as a loud rumble of thunder crashed overhead.
My house was small, old, full of creaks and groans and shabby chic furniture that wasn’t intentional, just well loved. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the kitchen ceiling, along with copper pots that were more for decoration than anything else. The lower floor was open plan, kitchen, dining and living room, a small bathroom tucked beneath the staircase. Two bedrooms and another bath upstairs. Small and cozy and it suited Duke and me perfectly.
Shoving Dukes find into my jeans pocket, I washed my hands and proceeded to make another cheese toasty, pondering where Duke had found his little treasure and if I should mention it to the cops or not. My mind drifted, back to earlier events of the day which had driven me to go running in the rain in the first place.
The call from my mom hadn’t been entirely unexpected. Just unwelcome. We didn’t talk often. Not anymore. I know Dad would have been upset at the distance that had developed between us, but I couldn’t help it. Mom kept trying to mold me into someone I was never meant to be. A socialite. She wanted me in designer clothes and attending soirees in the city, meeting eligible bachelors. I’d rather be barefoot and braless on Fury Island. And of course, there was the incident where she’d tried to have me institutionalized after Dad died. It hadn’t worked since I’m not crazy. But the rift between us had widened and I didn’t know if we could ever get back to any sort of semblance of normalcy.
I’d discovered Fury Island after going through some of Dad’s old journals when he’d been researching his family history. My great-great-great…something, Marguerite Devereux had moved to Fury Island in 1806 and started a tea and spice shop. It was also suggested that Marguerite had some exceptional talents, of the witchcraft variety, and my interest had been piqued, for in my teenage years I’d discovered my own talent for Tarot reading, among other things. Mother hated it.
