Table of Contents
Title Page
Blood in the Shadows
Other Books by Kristy Centeno | The Secrets of the Moon Saga:
Keeper Witches series:
Love Gamble series:
Standalone novels:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Prologue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Other Books by Stephanie Keyes | The Star Child Series:
Book Bundles
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Blood in the Shadows
Kristy Centeno and Stephanie Keyes
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Shadows
Copyright © 2015 Kristy Centeno
The Boy in the Trees
Copyright © 2015 Stephanie Keyes
All rights reserved.
ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-939590-58-9
Inkspell Publishing
5764 Woodbine Ave.
Pinckney, MI 48169
Edited By Melissa Keir
Cover art By Najla Qamber
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Shadows
Kristy Centeno
Other Books by Kristy Centeno
The Secrets of the Moon Saga:
Secrets of the Moon
Bound to the Moon
Full Moon
The Dark Side of the Moon
Blood Moon (coming soon)
Keeper Witches series:
Keeper of the Lost Souls
Keeper of the Innocents
Love Gamble series:
Payback is Sweet
Payback is Sexy
Standalone novels:
Fierce Awakenings
Love Resurrected
Enchanter
Shadows
Copyright © 2015 Kristy Centeno
All rights reserved.
Dedication
To Abe for your continuous support and love.
Without you I couldn’t have gotten this far.
Chapter One
As he has for the past week, the blue-eyed stranger sprawls comfortably on a chair in the deserted corner of the coffee house. Reading in complete solitude. On the table sits an untouched latte and a flatbread, his usual order. Every night, he throws everything away exactly as I offered it to him. He does nothing but read his book and ignores the rest of the world. The cafe is packed with students from the nearby university, especially during the late night hours, but he never interacts with anyone. He arrives at the same time every night and leaves exactly at 11:00pm—my quitting time.
When he first came in a week ago, I thought nothing of it. He was just another customer. He walked in with a purpose in mind, strolled to the back of the coffee house, pulled the cherry oak chair out and sat. From within his handy dandy blue messenger bag, he removed a large, brown book, placed it on the table, and began turning the pages. I think he’s reading. Sometimes it looks like he’s only scanning the book, not really paying attention to what’s written there.
Maybe he’s just wasting time. I’ve begun to suspect he is.
Every night I saunter over to him, take his order, and listen as he asks for a small Iced Caffé latte and a flatbread. He follows the same pattern every time. Some days, I wonder why I bother asking. He doesn’t look up at me when he speaks, and keeps his answers short. When it's time for him to take off, he leaves a crappy tip on the table before discarding the contents of his tray. Then, he strolls to the cash register where he pays for food he never eats. At exactly 11:00, not 11:05 or 10:50, he exits the building and heads west.
A week ago, my life was set in a comfortable routine. But after the stranger ambled into the cafe for the third night in the row, I realized something was eerily wrong with the way things were playing out. Most customers come in for the food. Or the ambiance. Or to catch up with friends or school work. He does none of these things.
He’s not an ordinary customer.
Who does the same exact thing every night? Unless he’s got OCD. A brief observation of him, however, puts seeds of doubt in my head. He doesn’t have any behavior patterns that are obvious or stick out in any way. With the exception of his nightly visits, he looks basically normal.
It’s the word normal that causes my conflict. He’s not what he appears to be. My training has enabled me to pick people like him out from the regulars. I’m a hunter, schooled to spot creatures humans often overlook. I can detect the vibes these supernaturals give out and I keep a sharp eye out for them daily.
“Jesus, Daya.” The sound of my coworker’s voice startles me and I jump, effectively smacking my head against the cookie tray on the counter above me. The tray slides across the stainless steel surface and clatters to the floor near my right hand, catching the attention of the patrons still in the café. I feel the sting of embarrassment as they turn to look at me and giggle like a bunch of amused teenagers. I can’t imagine the image of me, on my knees, trying to hide under the counter, would give them a better impression.
“Girl, are you daydreaming again? What are you doing down there anyway?”
“Dammit, Deedee.” I reach up and rub the top of my head that connected with the tray. “I hate it when you sneak up on me.” I look up at her and frown. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologizes as she saunters in my direction and bends to pick up the tray. “Good thing we didn’t have a fresh batch of almond cookies on here.”
I pick myself off the floor and stand, gazing out at the seating area. I’m almost shocked when I realize the blue-eyed stranger has actually bothered to look up from his book to see what all the commotion is about. No matter what goes on in the coffee house, he never looks up from his book. He always seems completely oblivious of the world around him. Until right this second.
His sudden interest in me is most definitely a first, and I find myself pinned in place by his stare, which is deep and reeks of curiosity. Those cerulean orbs seem to pierce right through me and that unnerves me. Does he know? I almost slap myself on the forehead. How would he know? He’s not a mind reader. Or is he?
“He’s here again,” I whisper to Deedee.
“Who?” She settles the tray back on the counter and takes two steps toward me.
“Him. You know, the creepy guy that always comes here at the same time every night.”
Deedee loo
ks around and locates him near the back where he’s still staring at me. “Oh, him. God, he is good looking. Isn’t he?”
I try to tear my gaze away from him, but I can’t. “How can you say that?”
“One would have to be blind not to notice, Daya.”
He stares at me a moment longer before turning on his seat and back to his book. Finally I can breathe again.
“You should go over there and ask him for his number.” Deedee elbows my ribcage. “He seems to like you.”
“Not in a million years,” I reply with an indignant huff. “Besides, how in the world would you know if the likes me or not? He barely shares a few words with me every night. And that’s because I’m asking for his order.”
“Call it woman’s intuition.”
“What a cliché, Deedee.”
“Fine. Whatever, but if he comes in tomorrow night too...” Deedee leans her face closer to mine, “...I’m asking him for his number.”
I shrug. “He’s all yours.” Though the last thing I want is for Deedee to have any type of interest in someone so shady. He inspires nothing but distrust.
“Hey,” Deedee gestures to the digital clock hanging above the cappuccino maker to my right, “go on home. I can finish cleaning up in here.”
The clock finally reads 11:00 pm—time to go home.
“Fair enough.” I untie my apron as I hurry to the employee lounge at the back of the building, next door to the owner’s office, and continue to where I left my backpack and sweatshirt earlier. After hanging up my apron on a hook near the door, I slip on my sweatshirt and grab my pack from where it has been laying on top of cardboard box. I saunter out of the room and peek inside my boss’ office for a moment to say, “Hey, Doreen. I’m headed out.”
She takes her eyes off the computer screen in front of her long enough to acknowledge me standing there. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
I wave at her before marching off in the direction of the coffee house where I spot the stranger at the cash register, paying for his order. This throws me off because he usually pays before I go to the back to retrieve my belongings. But tonight’s different. I stand there, a bit shaken, as he hands Deedee the exact change for his order and takes a step back. He never says please or thank you, which is another indicator that he’s either an arrogant bastard or just rude. Either way I don’t like him and I’m sure my reservations about him are well-founded.
When he takes out a pair of gloves and slips one of them on, my doubts flee. He’s definitely up to something. I’m sure now. This break in his routine raises red flags. People like him do not mistakenly tear away from their predictable actions unless something is amiss. I sincerely doubt he’s one to screw things up on purpose.
Something is going to happen. I’ve been observing him and not once has he broken from his pattern, which means he’s up to no good.
Whether he knows it or not, I’ve caught on. Something about this night is different, and though he has yet to say more than a few words to me, I’m fully aware of the fact that as soon as I exit the coffee house he’ll be hot on my trail.
What he doesn’t know is that I’m counting on it.
Chapter Two
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Deedee,” I wave my fingers in her direction.
“Sure thing. Be safe. You know there’s a crazed killer lose out there.”
I nod, having heard the reports in the news every day this week. “Don’t worry. I know how to take care of myself.”
The blue-eyed stranger slips on the second leather glove without acknowledging either of us. He’s ready.
“Bye,” I shout over my left shoulder as I continue to the front of the building. Tonight he’s going to follow me out. Normally he leaves before I do. I never bump into him. Never even seen him outside of the coffee house, but his plans have changed so I have to stay on my toes.
As I open the door, I pat my sweatshirt’s pocket to make sure I’m packing heat. I’m relieved to find the dagger safely tucked inside its sheath. I never leave home without it. I walk through the door and turn to my left. I continue down the dark, lonely sidewalk fully aware that he could be behind me. I keep my hand inside my sweatshirt where I work to remove the dagger from its protective cover as discreetly as possible.
If he comes for me, he’ll be in for a nasty surprise.
I walk to the end of the block and cross the street. At the other side, a man with a huge German shepherd walks by. I trudge ahead, not really paying attention to the duo until the dog begins to bark. The commotion forces me to glance behind my right shoulder. The owner is pulling on the dog’s leash, but I don’t see the blue-eyed stranger anywhere. I expected him to be right on my heels, but that’s not the case at all.
The German shepherd’s incessant barking draws my attention back to the pair. The dog’s large dark eyes are focused on the rooftops of the commercial buildings to my left. He’s restless and won’t stop growling. His gaze fixated on the top of the building. I look up myself, wondering what has his fur all riled up, but I don’t see anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. A shiver spreads down my spine. I grip the dagger tighter in my palm.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes he just barks at nothing in particular,” the man says, but the dog seems very distracted, glancing up and pulling at his leash. “Did he scare you?”
“No. I’m fine,” I respond, but my gaze doesn’t stray from his furry companion. What does he see that I can’t?
“Come on, Buster. Calm down, boy.” The man attempts to calm the dog by patting its head. It seems to work as the dog settles down on his two hind legs and quiets down. “There’s nothing up there.”
For a moment, I imagined Buster barking at the stranger, but he’s nowhere in sight. I survey my surroundings, hoping to see in which direction he ran off to, but all I see are a few parked cars, a young couple arguing two blocks away, and the man and his four-legged sidekick.
Nothing unusual.
I turn and continue moving along the sidewalk again. It’s a cold autumn night. A light breeze forces loose strands of my long, curly hair to tickle my nose. I struggle to keep them locked behind my ears as I move forward. Concentration is of the utmost importance, but the hair blowing in front of my face keeps distracting me. Normally, my locks are tied at the back of my neck, but after pulling an all-nighter werewolf hunting, I overslept this afternoon and was half an hour late for work. Forced to brush it off, I took off running to catch the next available bus.
Thankfully, my boss was in a particularly good mood and let it pass with only a warning.
Fed up with my uncooperative hair, releasing my dagger, I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and tuck my hair behind my ears again. This time my tresses stay put. My distraction, however, costs me.
The second I pass in front of an open door, a hand snakes out and grabs me, pulling me inside a dark, damp hallway. My first instinct is to reach for the dagger inside my pocket, but before I can go in search for it, both my hands are brusquely pinned to the hard, cold wall behind me on either side of my head.
“I wouldn’t try that, sweetheart,” a hoarse voice whispers in my right ear. “Let’s be civil about this, shall we?”
“Sorry, but I don’t play nice with the likes of you.” I slam my knee up into his groin and am rewarded with the satisfying sound of his grunt. He releases his hold long enough for me to maneuver my elbow into his Adam’s apple. My would-be attacker loses his balance and stumbles a few paces back.
Almost automatically, my hand reaches inside my pocket and retrieves the dagger. I wield it in front of me, fingers curled tightly around the handle. Not to be outdone or outmatched, the stranger takes a step forward and then...disappears. Or he becomes barely visible as he moves first to the right and then to the left. All I see is a hazy blur, but I can make out his form just enough to know he’s there.
Another flash and I realize he’s just trying to confuse me by charging from side to side. So when he zooms ri
ght by me again, my arm swings forward and up—the dagger makes a brief, but efficient contact with the attacker’s body. Though this is by no means a victory, I can’t hold back the smirk crossing my lips. I’ve known all along he would follow me out and try to get the upper hand, but I’ve come prepared.
With my gloating, I forget the basic rules of survival by losing sight of my opponent. One second he’s a flash of black, white, and gray rapidly moving from one side of the small hall to the other, and the next he’s completely gone. I take a step back, and keep my eyes focused. I know he’s in here somewhere, but I can’t see him. I’m not sure what he is yet, but I know he’s as determined to get to me as I am to be rid of him.
“What’s the matter?” The husky voice practically oozes mirth. He’s having the time of his life no doubt. “Sloppy work, I must say. Can’t you do better than that, hunter?”
It shouldn’t surprise me that he knows what I am, but it really does catch me off guard. If he knows that, what else is he aware of?
“Someone is a little too self-involved in other people’s lives,” I retort with a vote of confidence. My eyes scan the hallway carefully, looking for any trace of him, but nothing stands out. He’s close to me, I can feel it, but I can’t tell where he is.
“It’s my job to know every little detail of my would-be victim’s lives.” The scorn in his voice definitely succeeds in pissing me off.
“You’re a lot of talk and no show.” A noise to my left forces me to turn at the ready, with my dagger poised in front of me. “How disappointing.”
In a blink of an eye, I’m shoved against the opposite wall, face first. An invisible hand twists my arm holding the dagger and pins it behind me. I end up dropping my only weapon, which leaves me open and too vulnerable.
“Shit.” A thousand different scenarios play out inside my head in a matter of seconds. I can’t let things go down like this. I’m dead if I don’t act fast.
Trying to apply what I’ve been taught thus far, I kick out with my right foot. I don’t connect with anything and in response to my lashing out he applies more pressure to my arm. He’s stronger than I anticipated and far more cunning.
Blood in the Shadows Page 1
