Nocturne (Nightmusic Trilogy Book 2)

by Heather McKenzie

  Nocturne

  Book Two of the Nightmusic Trilogy

  Heather McKenzie

  Clean Teen Publishing

  Contents

  Summary

  Content Disclosure

  Also by Heather McKenzie

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  ***

  Also by Heather McKenzie

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  CTP Email List

  The Second Window

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Nocturne

  Copyright ©2018 Heather McKenzie

  All rights reserved.

  Summary: I am hunted. A pawn in a vicious game. The only way I can protect the ones I love…is to disappear.

  Kaya's perfect world is shattered when a deadly invasion brings an old ally to her rescue. Devastated to learn the identity of her attacker, she must do something truly heartbreaking in order to save the ones she loves.

  ISBN: 978-1-63422-306-5 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-63422-307-2 (e-book)

  Cover Design by: Marya Heidel

  Typography by: Courtney Knight

  Editing by: Cynthia Shepp

  Cover Art

  © orhideia / Fotolia

  © Extezy / Fotolia

  © Betelgejze / Fotolia

  © yod77 / Fotolia

  For Haley, Emily, and Joshua

  For more information about our content disclosure, please utilize the QR code above with your smart phone or visit us at www.CleanTeenPublishing.com.

  Also by Heather McKenzie

  The Nightmusic Trilogy

  Serenade

  Nocturne

  A fall heat wave blanketing the resort town of Radium made the normally cool, mountain air thick and heavy. Flowers had already bowed their heads and the foliage had long lost its color, but the air conditioners still roared through the rows of motels on the steep streets. Tourist season had come and gone, those seeking the hot springs and hiking trails now fewer than the vacancy signs that lit the night. The streets were quiet. The shops empty. And Luke and I found our little piece of paradise here, tucked away in a corner of the Lemon Tree Motel.

  Our one-night stay had turned into a week before Luke finally started to relax. The blue of his eyes appeared lighter, and the dark shadows underneath them were gone. His forehead wasn’t creased with concern, and an easy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was beautiful. When he smiled, he was achingly so. I contributed these glimpses of his pearly whites and lazy shoulder shrugs to my fading bruises—which he inspected daily—and seven solid days in the company of new friends. They were a distraction from things we were avoiding, like the looming threat of my father, the email I’d been putting off reading from Stephan—and each other.

  We had gotten to know the musicians staying on the second floor during a few late-night swims. Dustin, the singer for the band The Rain, loved to talk, and his personality was as big and bold as his bright green mohawk. Tonight, after his band played a show to what he’d called a ‘festival crowd’ at the local bar, he had Luke cornered in his room and was passionately recounting the musical highlights of his performance. While I sat next to his pretty blonde girlfriend, Dustin’s raspy voice filled the room.

  “The club felt like it was on fire, like… literally. All my fans were sweating buckets, every single one of them. I couldn’t even wear my leather tonight. How can anyone not believe in global warming when it’s like the freaking desert here in Canada? Geez. It’s the middle of October, and I’m frying.” Dustin fanned his face with silver-ringed fingers, and his girlfriend rolled her eyes. “I mean, look at me. I’m barefoot and shirtless… in the fall. I know the ladies dig it, but I hate to be ogled all the time. You know how it is. Right, Luke?”

  Luke was half listening, as if lost in a daydream, when his eyes lifted to meet mine. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he said with a grin and a wink. “I know all about that.”

  My heart did a little jump. It always did when he looked at me that way. Even in a plain white shirt and jeans, golden hair pulled back into a messy pony, he outshone the flamboyant singer. Dustin—decorated with tattoos and studded clothes—was bland next to Luke. Nothing could compare to the mesmerizing way Luke talked, the way he moved, and the way he took a sip of his drink.

  Dustin’s hair shook as he spoke, and he eyed Luke’s glass. “Uh-oh, seems we have both run dry, my friend.”

  Luke shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, yes. For the third or fourth time.”

  “Fifth,” I corrected, embarrassed I’d been keeping track. “I’ll make the beverage run this time. More soda and ice on the way.”

  “That would be great, love,” Dustin said. “The pop machine up here is empty, though. You’ll have to hit up the one on the first floor by the pool.”

  Luke tensed and straightened his back. “I’ll come with you.”

  Dustin pointed a black-painted fingernail at Luke’s chest. “Whoa! Dude, you follow your girl around like any second, she’s going to spontaneously combust. Let me tell ya, that’s the fastest way to lose a chick. Stalkin’ em ain’t cool. I’m pretty sure your girl here can find the pop machine. Just sayin’.”

  Luke shook his head. “It’s just that… there are people…” His voice caught and trailed off. When he stared at me wordlessly, I knew what he was going to say—there are people who want to kill my girlfriend.

  I hated being the source of such worry.

  “There are what?” Marie said, quiet until now.

  Luke cleared his throat. “People around. You know… strange people around that…”

  Dustin laughed while Luke was at a loss for words, and his stretched earlobes wiggled. “Stranger than me?”

  Luke had no reply to that.

  “Dustin’s right. I don’t need a stalker,” I said.

  Luke’s eyes held mine from across the room, and butterflies danced in my stomach. Although I cherished every second alone with him, exercising my independence had become intoxicating. I felt bad about the turmoil he went through every time I left his side, but being free was a new thing for me. A few days ago, I went to the front desk, by myself, and paid the nice grey-haired man for another two nights. Then yesterday, I ventured to the little gift shop at the bottom of the
hill and bought every kind of chocolate bar they had—just because I could. I talked to a stranger. I navigated the world on my own. It was a small accomplishment but one that almost made me cry with joy. I craved freedom, almost as much as I did Luke. And by some miracle, I had both.

  I squared my shoulders. “Just stay here and relax, Luke. I’m only going down one flight of stairs. I might stop at our room to change into a cooler shirt on the way, but I can handle that on my own.”

  Luke was about to protest, but something made him change his mind. He leaned back on the bed and gave me a nod.

  “Great! Don’t forget the root beer,” Dustin said triumphantly. “And, hey, there are snacks on the first floor too. How about some chips? There’s some change on the dresser by my shorts if ya need it.”

  Marie stood, and I thought for a moment she might hit her head on the ceiling fan. She was tall and sturdy, body like a pro-wrestler and face all sharp angles surrounded by a halo of blonde curls. Her voice was deep and husky when she spoke, but when she sang…oh, the sweetest soprano voice poured effortlessly from her throat.

  “Good Lord, Dustin. She’s not a servant, and she can barely use one of her arms.” Putting down a beat-to-crap acoustic guitar, she folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t be a jerk.”

  “It’s all right, I can manage,” I said.

  “No, I’ll go with ya, Kaya. I need some air. It smells like ass in here.”

  “You mean it smells like successful rock star, yeah?” Dustin joked.

  Marie grabbed the ice bucket from my hand. “If this is what success smells like, I’d prefer dating someone who reeked of failure.”

  The smile left Dustin’s face. “Who says we’re dating, Marie?”

  His words stung. Marie seemed about to throw the ice bucket at his head until the door swung open. In the doorway was the spitting image of Dustin, grinning from ear to ear. Breezing into the room on a cloud of beer fumes with a girl under each arm, Rusty the drummer was ready to party. Marie took one look at him and then at the giggling girls before promptly handing me back the ice bucket—she wasn’t about to leave her man alone with groupies.

  I turned to Luke before heading out. “Like I said, I’ll make the beverage run.”

  He was still staring, gaze so intense it made me feel like I was the only person in the room. “Don’t be too long,” he said.

  Right. Ice and pop.

  Music from the small room flowed furiously out into the starry night. It hugged the stifling heat as I made my way through it to our room. My shirt was sticking to me, and my heavy hair was turning my back into a furnace. I twisted it up, heading down the stairs barefoot, and decided I would cut it all off tomorrow. I could do that now—Stephan wasn’t around to freak out.

  Stephan.

  I’d been putting off reading his email. It was ridiculous, but I was holding on to one tiny ray of hope that my father wasn’t all that bad, and I knew that whatever was in Stephan’s message would permanently snuff it out. For one more day, I would remain ignorant of whatever reality I would be hit with. I would read it tomorrow.

  I slipped my key into the lock and pushed open the door. The room flooded with light, shimmering and dancing off the pool in the middle of the complex. It lit up the green shag rug, pine furniture, and clothes strewn over chairs. It was so cozy. So perfect. Except for the small table between the two beds where Luke and I slept. It made the distance between us at night as vast as the ocean.

  For weeks, we’d wandered the world together in bliss. He’d held me in his arms all night long. During the day, there’d barely been a moment without his hand in mine. Every motel we stayed at was a fuzzy blur as our sights were only set on each other. While my body healed, his gaze smoldered with longing and I basked in his attention. Until suddenly, the second day here, things changed. He became withdrawn, kept his hands to himself, slept in his own bed, and only quickly kissed me goodnight. A tension built between us that didn’t make sense, and I didn’t know how to ask what was wrong. If it wasn’t for the look in his eyes—the one thing that hadn’t changed—I might have lost my mind.

  There was a hint of music, and then stomping. Marie was strumming her guitar. Deep male voices were singing along, keeping time with their feet. The paper-thin walls rattled in the otherwise vacant building, and I wondered if Luke was joining in too… could he sing? Or was he politely smiling, tracking the time and wondering how long before setting out to check on me?

  After tugging on a dry shirt, I scooped a handful of change off the dresser along with the room key and set back out on my beverage mission. The pop machine was on the opposite side of the pool, next to a massive ‘keep out’ sign. I circled the inviting water, sparkling and without a ripple in the moonlight, and cursed the red tape flanking the edges—it just didn’t seem like a broken diving board was a reason to stay out. I believed in following rules, but it was hot, and how hard would it be to avoid that one area? Were all the warning signs and lounge chairs blocking the steps leading into the water necessary? A quick swim was all I needed to cool down. It wasn’t dangerous.

  Without second thought, I slipped off my jean shorts and top, then stepped over the red tape. A dip of my toes confirmed the water temperature was perfect. Soon, I was waist deep in the shallow end, inhaling the chlorine lingering heavily in the air. The heat in my cheeks started to subside. I moved farther, the gradual slope of the bottom of the pool bringing the tips of my shoulders beneath the water. I had only intended to wet my legs, but couldn’t stop myself from pushing off. Relaxed, happy, and feeling a bit wicked for it, I floated to the deep end.

  The music from upstairs had quieted for a moment, but then started again with roaring laughter and even louder singing. Another guitar had been added into the mix along with an unrecognizable, high-pitched female voice. Every window was dark except for the room Luke was in with our new friends. Shadows moved past the flimsy curtains, and I wondered if they were dancing.

  I kicked my legs, propelling my body through the water while still favoring my arm. The skin around the burn on my bicep had at least lessened to a green-blue splotch, but the bone and torn muscle ached. Keeping it at my side as I went under, and coming up for air only when necessary, I savored the water’s familiar comfort. At the bottom, ears popping and my body feeling weightless and heavenly, I crouched into an armchair position while the heavy suction of the drain tugged at my toes. There was nothing but silence here. Deep, thick in my ears, blocking out everything but my heartbeat. For a moment, the whole world went away.

  With a quick straightening of my knees, I shot up to the surface to gulp in air and tilted my face to the sky and the stars twinkling like diamonds. There was still no breeze, and now, no music either. It was beautiful and quiet. Eerily so. I was about to dive under again when a shifting of light from the room Luke and I shared caught my eye. Damn it. He was looking for me. I swam to the edge and tucked up close, putting my head up enough to see the room go dark. Any moment now, he’d be calling my name. I had to get out of the pool and dry off without getting caught; I didn’t want Luke to know I was swimming alone. It might add to the already strange tension between us.

  I waited for his voice, straining to hear his footsteps. But there was only a weird silence minutes later. There was no one calling for me. Still no music. No shadows moved past the upstairs window —I could have heard a pin drop.

  Something was wrong.

  The chill of premonition rolled up my spine. I was about to launch out of the pool when a man’s voice coming from overhead caught my breath. Throaty and gruff, it wasn’t Luke, Dustin, or Rusty’s voice, or the nice old man who sat at the front desk…

  “There’s no sign of her up here,” he said.

  My blood froze in my veins; the man was talking about me.

  I swam slowly along the edge of the pool—grateful for the dim lighting and many shadows—and got underneath the broken diving board. The tip of it was skimming the surface, and it made a space dark enough f
or me to hide beneath. After pulling my knees to my chest, I slipped my fingers into the cracks in the plastic board above my head and held on. I watched two men take the stairs down toward the pool. One was tall and lean, scanning the complex, and the other—short and wide as an oven—kept looking at his watch. They kicked in the door of our room, and the wide man went in while the tall one stood by. Luke… Oh my God… Was he still in there? Had he turned off the light and gone to bed?

  I held back a yelp of panic.

  “Clear,” the wide man said, exiting the room with the laptop we’d just bought.

  The tall man fumed. “The front desk clerk confirmed she was here. She couldn’t have gotten far. Search every square inch of this dump. If we go back empty-handed, Rayna will have our heads.”

  Rayna?

  My heart stopped. Were they talking about the woman whose picture I’d found in the estate lobby? The woman who was related to me somehow? Our eyes were the same color, our smile and bone structure eerily identical. She was so familiar I was certain she was my real mother. Could she be searching for me just as I was for her?

  I wanted to call out. The child in me was about to throw her arms in the air and holler. But the person who had grown considerably wary of others over the last few years thought better of it. When the motel clerk came shuffling out of his office in his slippers and housecoat, and was shot in the chest and tossed into the shallow end of the pool, I figured I’d made the right decision.