Tales of the Golden Judge: 3-Book Bundle (Books 1-3)
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Melissa F. Hart. All rights reserved worldwide.
No part of this book may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written consent of the author/publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
http://www.melissafhart.com/
Books in the series
In Darker Shadows- Volume 1
A Place in the Dark - Volume 2
To See the Dawn - Volume 3
By Moonlight Bound - Volume 4
Only Your Touch - Volume 5
Broken Bird - Volume 6
Flying High – Volume 7
Deep Waters – Volume 8
An Eternal Love – Volume 9
Innocent Days – Volume 10
Dangerous Quests – Volume 11
Judges Ascendant – Volume 12
Woman of the Storm – Volume 13
Wandering the Wilds – Volume 14
Across a Thousand Years – Volume 15
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Table of Contents
In Darker Shadows
A Place in the Dark
To See the Dawn
***
In Darker Shadows
***
Synopsis
Violet LeFay is a tough private detective with a troubled past, and she has almost given up on solving her parents’ murder when she receives some stunning news. Hot on the trail of a deadly murderer, she crosses paths with the cool-as-ice Carson Keynes. Carson is more than he seems, and Violet must battle both fear and desire as she finds out more about him and her own past.
***
The clock on the wall told her that it was almost four in the morning, and Violet LeFay blinked hard, staring at it without understanding the numbers for a long moment. Four in the morning... that meant that she had been working at her desk for almost twelve hours. It was no wonder that her dry eyes stung and her spine popped and cracked when she straightened up.
Christ, I sound like a grandma. She glanced at the bright screen of her laptop, but she firmly put away the thought that she was so close to a breakthrough, so, so close.
I'm not. And even if I were, it can wait until I get some coffee.
She flipped the light switch, flooding her tiny one-bedroom apartment with light. It wasn't much, but it was located in downtown Harrispont, right in the heart of the action. She paid for the rent, put up with the noisy bars and irritating neighbors and endured the shaky heating in winter just so she could be close to the life of the large city.
It served as her living space, but it also functioned as the headquarters of LeFay Investigations, the detective agency of which she was the owner, operator, investigator and accountant.
And intern. Violet measured some ground coffee into the coffeemaker. Mustn't forget that.
Soon the smell of brewing coffee filled the apartment and woke her up a little bit, and against her better judgment, she drifted back toward her desk. Her inbox was filled with requests, investigations and prospective clients, and she knew that given the shambles of her accounts, she would need to do a lot of billing that day.
Despite the chores in front of her, she flipped back to the page that she had been staring at so ferociously before she noticed the time.
It was a scratchy black and white scan of a newspaper, dated 1924. The headline screeched in hysterically large font Two Found Dead! Harrispont Stalked By Killer! Violent didn't need to read the text again. She knew that it described the deaths of two young men from the local college. The newspaper hinted at things the autopsy report made clear. They were found with their throats slashed and all of the blood drained out of them, not a drop to be found anywhere at the scene. It was a strange case, so frightening and off-putting that there had been nothing else written about it after, but Violet knew that that wasn't the last that Harrispont had heard of the killer.
She pressed her lips firmly together and added that clipping to the folder where she kept all of the relevant articles, one that was full of more than three dozen such killings. They were all alike. All of them featured people from the area. Their throats were cut with something terribly sharp, and though the later forensics teams could tell that the bodies had not been moved, there would never be a single drop of blood at the site, or indeed, ever to be found anywhere afterward.
Violet shivered, and for a long moment, she had to look away. Her slender pale hand came up to rest on the smooth skin of her throat. She could feel her pulse there, the powerful beat of life and breath, and for a moment, she felt herself grow dizzy with the amount of death and destruction that she was looking at.
“Mama, Daddy,” she whispered, and even then, her voice felt soft and scared, as if she were a child again.
The moment passed, and she was herself again. She hated herself when she was like that, and she stared at the screen again, taking in all of the details over and over again.
Finally, when her eyes were swimming with weariness and fatigue, she rose from the laptop, turning it off with a final click. Her body ached from her long stint sitting still, and she made herself bend down to touch her toes.
She was twenty-five, but she could easily pass for younger. She was slender, with small pert breasts that were currently barely covered with a camisole, and the soft yoga pants that she wore clung to her narrow hips, showing off legs that were slender. Violet wore her dark hair cropped close, but now it was getting long, the curls getting in her eyes and making her push them back with irritation.
“I've been at this too long,” she said out loud. “I need food, and I need sleep.”
She stumbled toward bed. Despite the coffee in her system, she knew that she could sleep for twelve hours after having been up so long.
Violet could almost feel the softness of the pillowcase against her face when her phone rang. For a moment, she simply wanted to fling it against the wall and go to bed, but with a muffled curse, she picked it up instead. You never knew when a client was going to call, you never knew when a case was going to break, and she had made more money than anyone would have thought by simply answering the phone when it rang, no matter how little sleep she had had.
“Hello, LeFay Investigations,” she said, doing her best to sound as if she was wide awake.
“Heya, Vi, it's Vicky.”
“I don't care, I'm going to bed,” Violet growled. Where on earth did her cousin get off on calling her at four? Her cousin was in Colossal City, which was two hours ahead of Harrispont, but that was no excuse.
“Wait, wait, don't hang up, I've got something good for you!”
“It better be great, Vicky, it's not even dawn yet,” Vi said, propping herself against the wall. Even if Vicky could be reckless and impatient, she had a true reporter's instincts. If Vicky said she had something good, she had something good, and Violet stopped to listen.
“Yeah, well, you're not going back to sleep when you hear this. You know that gap in the murder cases that you were working on?”
“Yeah.” Violet frowned. The murders had continued in spates, lasting for several years, long enough to put the town into a frenzy before disappearing entirely for several years more. The time frame and the length of the murders made her think that there were several copycat killers at work, or perhaps even some kind of sick me
ntoring program, though that verged into conspiracy theories.
“I looked them up,” Vicky continued. “I went down into the police archives, and I started looking for cases just like that. Violet, are you sitting down?”
“Get on with it,” Violet said. Her free hand had found its way to her hair, and it was tugging hard. Her teeth would have been chattering if she hadn't clenched them tight, and her skin suddenly felt clammy. Somehow, deep in her bones, she knew exactly what her cousin was going to say, knew it before she said it.
“There have been killings like that in Colossal City, too,” Vicky stated baldy. “The periods match the gaps in yours precisely. Same interval, no overlap. We just had one finish up here two years ago. If the pattern holds...”
The words rang in Violet's mind. Same interval, no overlap...
“If the pattern holds,” she forced herself to say. “That means it's going to start here soon.”
“And that it's the same person or group of people,” Vicky finished grimly.
For a long moment, the women held the line, as if by doing so they could keep each other safe.
“Violet?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you thinking?”
“I'm thinking that I'm tired,” Violet temporized. “I've been up for more than twenty-four hours, and I need some sleep.”
“What were you doing in those twenty-four hours?” Vicky demanded.
Violet sighed, cursing her cousin's journalist instincts. “Working,” she said, “and before you get even more self-righteous at me, it was in fact on this case.”
Vicky sighed softly. “I can't bring you here for a vacation for a little while, can I? Bryan would love to see you, you know.”
“Your husband's a sweetie, and the fact that he employs some of the best chefs in the world is tempting, Vick, but no, you can't.”
“Can you tell me you'll be careful?” Vicky asked, a note of sadness in her voice. “Please, Vi, this is nothing to laugh at.”
“I'm not laughing at this,” Violet said. “Far from it.”
Vicky sighed, and Violet could imagine her cousin holding her hands up as if in surrender.
“You give the call, kiddo, and I'll come running. You know that, right?”
Violet smiled and nodded before remembering that her cousin couldn't see her through the phone. “Don't call me kiddo, and yes, I'll call if I need help.”
Vicky started to say something else, but Violet cut her off. The caffeine in her system jangled her nerves, made her feel as if her eyes were enormous heavy stones in her head, and she excused herself from the conversation as smoothly and as easily as she could.
Vicky hung up after extracting one more promise for her safety from her, and when the call finally ended, the silence of her apartment was immense.
Violet didn't go to bed, and she didn't return to her computer.
Instead, she crossed over to the tall window of her apartment. Her apartment building might have been ancient, but her specific unit had an enormous window that made the exorbitant rent she paid for it worth every penny. The window looked out over the city, revealing low buildings and the odd tall building here and there. The founders of Harrispont had preferred to build out rather than up, and even from a vantage point of almost five miles, Violet could see straight to the dark forest that hemmed Harrispont in one side. It stretched out toward the horizon, which Violet could now make out.
There was already a purple softness to the sky that said that dawn was fast approaching. The light gave the city an almost pearly look, made it look far more beautiful than it deserved.
Violet had lived in the city most of her life, except for the years between sixteen and nineteen, when she had lived with Vicky's parents in Colossal City. She loved her aunt, uncle and cousin completely and with all of her heart. They had loved her at a time when she couldn't have been easy to tolerate or to love, and she would always be grateful.
Colossal City, for all of its beauty and bustle, wasn't Harrispont. Her aunt and uncle, for all of their care and their concern, weren't her parents.
The thought of her parents sent a deep pang through Violet's chest. Even after all this time, there was a wound there that simply wouldn't close, for all that the pain was dimmer now, and less sharp.
She knew that if she were smart, she would simply fall into bed. Everything that would happen would happen regardless of whether she had sleep, and she hadn't been exaggerating when she told her cousin how tired she was.
Violet shook her head. She was never going to get back to sleep. She was never going to be able to even think about sleeping, not when she knew what she knew.
Instead, she threw on a pair of jeans and a fresh tank top, this one in a lilac gray that matched her gray-green eyes. She stomped into her boots and grabbed her knapsack.
The bus took her straight to the gates of a cemetery twenty minutes away. She didn't hesitate as she walked along the silent paths. Dawn had turned the sky a pale shade of blue, and the meekest golden ray of summer sun was just streaking through the trees when she stopped.
The two gravestones were small and simple, but there was a quiet dignity to them that could not be matched by the grander stones nearby. These were two small marble tablets, glossy and white in the morning dew. The softness of the marble was already wearing away at the names, but there was never that much there to begin with.
Patrick LeFay. Beloved Husband and Father.
Natalie Bryant LeFay. Beloved Wife and Mother.
Violet pulled an old towel out of her knapsack and spread it down on the wet grass before sitting down between the stones. There was a feeling of peace here that she never found anywhere else, but now, this morning, after Vicky's momentous news, she could feel an edge of panic and fear as well.
“Hello, Mama. Hello, Daddy. I've missed you.”
Sometimes, she would talk for hours, pouring her heart out at her parents' resting place. She didn't know if they heard her more clearly here, or if they could hear her at all, but it comforted her.
Today, though, she held back. She spoke about Vicky, about her new cases, about her life, but she didn't mention the killer.
She didn't tell her parents that she was going to catch the thing that had killed them both.
She didn't tell them that she would do it even if it cost her life.
***
The sun was just sliding over the horizon, but even in the fringes of the great forest that circled Harrispont like a crescent moon, the air was still dark and cool. The white wolf padded softly through the undergrowth, and despite its white coat, its stealth and its soft tread could have easily allowed it to bring down its prey.
However, the wolf was not hunting this morning. Instead, when it approached the cave, one of the many that dotted the woodland, it changed. Between one moment and the next, the wolf stretched and in its place stood a tall naked man with hair so fair it was nearly white and arresting blue eyes.
Carson Keynes shook his head. He always felt a little blind and a little deaf after spending hours with his wolf body, and today was no different. He paid no attention to the chill that was in the air. It didn't make him shudder or shiver, and he spent a moment enjoying the breeze against his fair skin before reaching for the clothes that were tucked away in a pack in the cave.
He was mostly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt when his senses detected another presence nearby. He couldn't tell who it was, but it was powerful, and he turned around slowly. His eyes as a human were a fierce green, but they yellowed and narrowed as he scanned the tree line. He could feel the presence's strength, and it brought out the fighting beast in him. There was a thin sheen of ice on his fingers, clear and sharp, and he growled low in his throat.
“Come out, whoever you are,” he called into the woods. “If you want to fight, declare yourself, and see if you can best me.”
There was a soft chuckle and suddenly a grizzled man emerged from the forest. He was almost a foot taller than Carson, and
Carson was not a short man. His black hair was streaked with silver, and his beard was almost entirely gray.
“Easy, easy there, Icefang,” the man said, holding enormous hands up to show that he was unarmed. “I'm no lawbreaker for you to come lunging at.”
Carson grinned, and he stepped forward to take the other man's hand warmly.
“Never at you, old bear,” he said. “I've not seen you walk as a man in months, Dolan. What's the occasion?”
“You are,” the older man replied. “You and my family.”
“Shawna and the girls?” Carson frowned. “Are they all right?”
Dolan nodded. “For now they are. But Carson, can't you feel it?”
Carson raised an eyebrow. He was gifted in many ways, but there were some talents found among the shifting breeds that he simply lacked. Dolan was bear blooded, slow and deliberate where werewolves like Carson and his kin were quick and vibrant.
“I feel that the sun is warming the earth. I feel hungry. I feel worried now that you are speaking this way,” he said cautiously. “What are you feeling, old bear?”
“There's been a death tonight,” Dolan rumbled. “He is back, the one who walks in blood.”
If Carson had been a wolf, he would have hackled and his lips would have skimmed back from his long ivory fangs. As it was, his fists clenched at his sides, and the breath hissed through his gritted teeth.
He took two strides toward the bear, and though he did not grip the other man's arm, it was a near thing.
“Are you certain?” he demanded. “This isn't just some joke?”
Dolan pulled back, shaking his head.
“Not about this, Icefang. Not to you. This isn't a joke, it's deadly serious. That's why I'm walking on two legs today. I need to go back to town. I need to be with my woman and my young ones.”
Tales of the Golden Judge: 3-Book Bundle - Books 1-3 Page 1
