Midnight Falls (Sky Brooks Series Book 3)

by McKenzie Hunter

  I heard her whispering to someone. “Why are you just now contacting us?” she asked, her voice strained with suspicion.

  “I just found out the name of my birth mother.” Keeping from her the fact that that information was acquired from a spirit shade that inhabited my body.

  Silence again, but this time there was a sharp back and forth with whoever she was talking to. Part of it was in English, but most of it was in Portuguese. She spoke so quickly I couldn’t make out the words. All these years I thought I knew it well, but now hearing it with an authentic accent, I could only translate half of it.

  “This is an Illinois number, is that where you live?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Her voice softened, but not by much. “I would like to meet you,” she admitted.

  I tried not to seem overenthusiastic, but it was hard. “I would like that.” Then there was another awkward silence. We were definitely related: maladroit and socially stunted people that often stumbled over the intricacies of social normalcy. “I can come there if you would like,” I offered.

  After another exchange with whoever she was speaking with, she finally returned and agreed. When she hung up, I thought of all the questions I should have asked. Why did they want to meet me now? How did they find me? Why were they able to avoid being found by my investigator? I knew something had strongly urged him to give up the search, but he didn’t return my phone calls and his assistant was a great gatekeeper that would never let me pass and simply took down my message on her tacky blue Post-it in fluorescent pink ink.

  How did they find me? I decided I would make sure I asked them. But it really didn’t matter. I was happy to really meet them.

  I guess if the shoe were on the other foot, I would not have been happy with an investigator snooping around trying to find out about me without knowing the reason.

  They were in Virginia, just an hour outside of D.C. It was a good thing they agreed to let me come. The pack seemed to know everything that went on within the confines of the Midwest. I liked the idea of meeting a family that they knew nothing of. If things went well, then I would have a place of refuge and people to confide in that weren’t part of the pack and didn’t dwell in the otherworld. The thought of it was a welcome relief and I felt the soothing joy that came with options. I knew I was getting ahead of myself, but the notion of having family, real blood family, was exciting. It didn’t make what my adoptive mother and I shared less special. But I never knew what it was like to actually have a family, similar genetics—a common lineage.

  I was excited.

  As soon as I hung up with my cousin, I booked a flight. Within hours I had unpacked my “running away bag” and repacked it for my two-day visit when Quell knocked on the door. I watched him from the peephole like always. His eyes, once a fluorescent green, were midnight. And his face always had the typical vacuous appearance absent of any emotion.

  He was another complication in my life. When I had first met him, he fed from Hidacus, a plant that, for vampires, was nutritionally the same as human blood. Even its chlorophyll reminded me of blood, but Michaela had destroyed his plants in a fit of rage and forbade him to ever use them again. Now he alternated between feeding from animals and me. Animals didn’t seem to slake his lust, and in the end if he sought human blood, he killed the donor. By some sick twist of fate and vampire politics, he was unable to kill me because I was as much his creator as his vampire sire, Michaela, the Northern Seethe’s Mistress. I never tried to understand the odd relationship vampires had with their creators. They revered them without reason, treasured them blindly, and protected them. To me, it was a tragically misdirected and undeserved reverence.

  For now, I continued to feed him to keep him from killing. After his first taste of human blood, he had become an uncontrollable monster. In three days, he had killed five people. I couldn’t have that on my conscience, so I had agreed to be his primary donor.

  Now, as I watched him, I wondered if he knew I often just stood on the other side of the door watching him. From his appearance, you wouldn’t think he was such a lost soul. His ash brown hair was neatly trimmed, not a hair out of place. The defined features of his face found an odd place between masculine and delicate.

  When I opened the door, his lips twitched a little, making an effort to smile. He sat on the sofa and waited for me to grab my usual—an orange, sliced pomelo, and a few crackers. It seemed to do a better job helping me recover after he fed than just drinking juice. Most times we would talk for a few minutes because it seemed downright churlish for him to feed from me without so much as a “How was your day?” Today I didn’t feel like talking.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. Of course, on this of all days he decided wanted to be social.

  “Nothing,” I said. I wasn’t ready to talk about what happened between Ethan and me.

  I took a seat next to him and extended my arm to him, but instead he ignored it. “You seem sad and angry; which one is it?”

  “I had a rough day,” I admitted as I dropped my head back against the sofa and washed my hands over my face.

  Aware of his gaze that lingered on me, I lifted my head, and was met with his concerned eyes as he waited patiently for me to continue. When I didn’t, he asked, “How so?”

  “Do you ever wish you could go back to the way you were, before becoming a vampire and being pulled into this world?”

  In a sweeping graceful move, he came to his feet and began to wander throughout the room. He finally stopped and studied me in his peculiar way, and I started to repeat the question when he answered, “No, I feel better off. Michaela saved me from a world far worse than this one.”

  How bad was his life that this was nirvana to him? “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you as well as I should. How did you meet Michaela?”

  “You are always so curious and endearing. It is a trait that I feel is wasted on me,” he said.

  “Is that your way of saying you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “It is my way of telling you that my past isn’t worth discussing.”

  But he was wrong. The more he evaded it, the more I needed to know what had occurred in his life that had changed Andrew Fletcher to Quella Perduta, the lost one.

  I attempted to read his blank expression. “Why?”

  It was a simple and kind smile, but it aptly told me that discussion of his life had ended. What event or series of events occurred that were so tragic that he didn’t want to be part of humanity? So disenchanted by humans that vampirism was a welcomed escape. His obsidian eyes went to a place that seemed to provide solace but provided me with absolutely no answers.

  Instead questioning him any further, I placed my arm on the sofa. It wasn’t long before he was next to me and sharp enamel pierced my flesh. Most times I diverted my attention elsewhere, either by reading a book or watching television, but for today it hurt a lot and the only thing I could tolerate was waiting until he finished. He seemed more ravenous than usual. After nearly ten minutes, I had to pull my arm away.

  “You don’t taste the way you used to,” he said as his hands wiped across his lips, removing the small trails of spilled blood. The hungry look on his face confirmed my thoughts; he wasn’t amenable to stopping.

  “I was different?”

  “Before, it tasted,” he stopped searching for the right words “—off. Like food that was left out unsealed.”

  I chuckled. “I tasted stale?”

  It took him a long time before he answered. “Yes. Odd. Not like you used to.”

  Not only could you feel the difference in dark magic, but apparently there was an undesirable taste too.

  He started for the door but stopped. “When will you be back?” he asked, his back to me as he opened the door.

  I often forgot that vampires could read your thoughts while they fed from you. Most of the time I didn’t care. The thoughts that went through my mind were probably too dull to be of any interest to him. “I leave Thurs
day. I only plan to stay two days.”

  “Why such a short time?”

  “I have things here I need to attend to.” I shouldn’t have worried about Quell the way I did, but it was a selfish interest. Each murder committed in an effort to feed was my burden to bear. I still harbored the guilt that Quell would have been perfectly content dead if it weren’t for me. It was my desire to save his life, and now he was my responsibility.

  “Stay as long as you need. I will be okay.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Perhaps we should try using someone else again,” I suggested.

  He nodded, but a look of apprehension crept over his face. The last time we tried it ended with me pulling him off the poor girl and me calling Dr. Jeremy, the pack’s physician, to tend to her. I spent the next hour taking numerous questions from Sebastian, which ended with him reminding me that I needed to end whatever was going on with Quell and me soon. Which I quickly pointed out that I was, and that is why Dr. Jeremy was at my house trying to save the life of a woman he almost killed.

  “I know you can do it,” I smiled. I sounded more confident than I felt. There was something innately dark about Quell. Now I questioned how far he had descended from his humanity. He was a misanthropic vampire that hated most humans for their vile ways and slow moral descent from what he considered true humanity.

  He smiled gently in agreement, but he didn’t seem very enthusiastic about doing it.

  “Have a safe trip,” he said, then he vanished before my eyes.

  I tried to put my curiosity to rest, but it was left restless and unsatisfied. I wanted to know about Quell. How bad had his human life been that vampirism was a welcome escape? What atrocities did he see or endure that caused him to turn his back on humanity?

  CHAPTER 4

  The small historic district made getting around in a car difficult. The cab driver dropped me off a couple blocks from the restaurant. I arrived a couple hours early. I needed the extra time to calm my excitement. I was an only child, raised by an only child. There weren’t any cousins, aunts, or siblings to bond with. Twenty-six years later, I was finally going to have a familiar connection. I wanted that connection. Even when they were fighting like they were ready to rip each other apart, Ethan and Josh had an undeniable link that I envied. Something that only a common bloodline could provide. I wanted that.

  I browsed through the small historic district in Virginia. The cobblestone sidewalks slowed me down enough that I could peruse the cute boutiques, specialty stores, and bakeries before heading to the French bistro where Senna had chosen to meet. The red velvet cupcake would ruin my appetite for lunch, but since I doubted I would be able to eat, I wasted a half hour sitting at a table outside a small bakery admiring the mature charming gardens and neatly manicured landscape while I ate it. The area held a certain old world charm, probably the reason why it was so crowded.

  My hand gently pressed into my stomach. I wasn’t sure if it was the cupcake or my anxiety that was making me queasy. The moment I walked into the restaurant, the host greeted me with a wide, practiced smile. Just as I was about to ask to be directed to my party, I saw them. To the left of the hostess was a brunette, maybe twenty. Her stern appearance matched her brusque attitude over the phone. It was like looking in a mirror five years ago. Her hair was an untamed voluminous mound of curls that cascaded over her shoulders, her eyes a deeper green, nearly jasper in color, cheeks not as defined as mine, giving her a rounder and more youthful appearance. The family resemblance was there. She was with an older gentleman, his eyes a deep brown that complemented his olive tone and graying brunet hair that formed short loose waves against his scalp. Broad cheekbones made his rather unremarkable appearance distinguished. When he smiled, you could tell his personality was a contrast to his frosty, curt companion’s.

  “Sky Brooks?” asked the young woman, coming to her feet at my approach.

  “Skylar,” I interjected, shaking the extended hand she offered. The older gentleman stood as well, greeting me with a quick nod before shaking my hand.

  My mother had three siblings, and I had expected more people. I took a seat. The man in front of me, I assumed, was Uncle William.

  Our food sat in front of us as we sipped on tea. William’s smile was earnest, shattering any apprehension I had. His conversation was warm, inquiring, but nothing more than light banter to break the icy barrier that Senna’s question had erected. He asked me more personal questions: what did I do for a living, if I had children, where did I live, what college I attended, whether I liked sports. The conversation even steered towards how the city’s football team was doing. Senna spent most of her time interjecting more probing questions of: Why did I just start looking for them? Where was my adopted mother? Did I have other siblings? And finally, what did I want with them?

  For such a young woman, she was full of skepticism and was about as warm and cuddly as a cactus. She made Winter seem downright hospitable and nurturing. I felt like it was in an interrogation rather than a meeting. She took on the role of gatekeeper to determine if I would meet the others.

  “Please excuse Senna, she can be the a little abrupt at times. We knew we had a cynic on our hands when she was three and grilled her babysitter before agreeing to stay with her. Fortunately, she wasn’t very threatening then, trying to interrogate a sixteen-year-old with her thumb shoved in her mouth.” He directed his attention to her. “Now Senna, why don’t you just put a thumb in it,” he joked.

  The scorn didn’t falter for one moment. She was all business with little room for congeniality.

  “Don’t apologize. I understand her apprehension,” I said politely. Since joining the pack I had a higher tolerance for terse behavior. Being polite for most were-animals seemed like an unnecessary hassle.

  “I want to know where I came from,” I finally stated, once she had asked her questions several different ways. Her eyes narrowed as she chewed on her lips. I suspected she anticipated another answer. The questioning continued and I answered them, giving as much information as necessary. I guess I wasn’t so different than the pack members.

  When we finished brunch and neither of them initiated plans to meet again, I guessed I hadn’t passed the gatekeeper’s criteria.

  It was surprising the next morning when I awakened to my cell phone ringing at seven thirty. It was a Virginia number. I cleared my throat, wiped the sleep away before running my hand over my face as I answered it. It was Uncle William, and I could hear his inviting smile through his words and his voice was just as mild and warm as it was in person. He invited me over for dinner. He put me at ease and with high hopes that the rest were as kind as he was.

  A little after six, I walked through the large white cottage home, whose style stayed true to its motif. Pastel walls were decorated with vintage art, and brass lamps were placed randomly throughout the cluttered space. There were several books similar to the ones in the pack’s library, on the small bookshelf in the living room. The small talismans placed throughout the room caught my attention. I recognized the statues from visiting London, one of Josh’s friends that I had met a few months ago.

  Senna was there as well, with the same distrustful look from yesterday. My aunts Caitlyn, Beth, and Madalena were there, along with cousin Suri, Senna’s mother. Her mousy auburn hair and rounded features made her seem dowdy and plain. Aunt Madalena’s amber eyes were hard to pull your gaze from, and the broad smile that covered her face at all times made it difficult to not give her my full attention.

  My family didn’t give me much space or time to wander throughout the house, but quickly directed me to the kitchen. For a few minutes I sat in awe, staring into the faces of the very people I had been trying to locate for over two years. When I wasn’t staring into the faces of people that resembled me at various stages of my life, I was peering down at my untouched tea. They didn’t seem to care whether or not I drank it, but were hospitable enough to offer to warm it up when they noticed I hadn’t. After my incident wi
th Ethan, I just didn’t want to drink anything someone gave me. I was paranoid. Instead, I took sips out of the bottle of water I had brought, despising Ethan for making me like this. I directed a little of the anger in my direction for allowing him to.

  Aunt Caitlyn seemed very curious about me being a were-animal, asking questions about the pack that I tried to evade, but I hadn’t mastered the art of redirection and lies of omission. It made me cautious that they knew I was a werewolf since I had never mentioned it. They knew my father, and had been at the wedding. I remembered seeing them when Maya had given me a brief view of my mother’s life. “Are you aware of the Midwest Pack there? Have they approached you?”

  I nodded, but didn’t elaborate. She continued probing, unable to drop the subject. “Which is it? Did they approach you or not? Are you part of them or not?” she inquired anxiously.

  “A couple of years ago I had a situation, they helped me out,” I admitted.

  Aunt Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “What type of situation?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have time.” Her lips strained to make a smile. “Did it have anything to do with Maya?” she asked.

  Crap! They knew. I nodded and gave them a very abbreviated version of the actual events along with a beautiful editing job. I didn’t want to seem so dangerous and weird. Based on the books, talismans, and their information about me being a werewolf, I didn’t feel the need to edit out the weird things that inhabited this world. In the end, I told them that because I hosted Maya, the vampires assumed that I would be able to survive the ritual that would remove their restrictions. I didn’t mention that I was linked to the vampire because of the ill-fated attempt of a vampire to change me and my mother. Nor did I tell them now I was a freak with strange magical ability. I wanted them to like me, but despite the smile plastered on their faces, they gazed at me with rueful apprehension