BLACK-EYED KIDS
THE COMPLETE SERIES
MIRANDA HARDY
JAY NOEL
Black-Eyed Kids, The Complete Series
Copyright © 2018 by Miranda Hardy and Jay Noel
All rights reserved.
Black-Eyed Kids, The Complete Series is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means. The scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Quixotic Publishing LLC
Royal Palm Beach, FL 33411
www.quixoticpublishing.com
Edited by: Todd Barselow
Cover by: Najla Qamber
Black-Eyed Kids, The Complete Series / Miranda Hardy and Jay Noel. —First Edition
M.H. ~
For Faith and Cody
J.N. ~
For Dom, Ally, and A.J.
CONTENTS
DEATH KNOCKS
1. Maverick
2. Maverick
3. Astid
4. Maverick
5. Maverick
6. Astid
7. Maverick
8. Astid
9. Maverick
10. Astid
11. Maverick
12. Astid
13. Maverick
14. Maverick
15. Astid
16. Maverick
17. Astid
18. Maverick
19. Maverick
20. Astid
21. Maverick
22. Maverick
23. Astid
24. Maverick
25. Maverick
26. Astid
27. Maverick
28. Astid
29. Maverick
30. Maverick
31. Astid
32. Maverick
33. Maverick
34. Astid
35. Maverick
36. Astid
37. Maverick
38. Maverick
39. Astid
40. Maverick
41. Maverick
42. Maverick
43. Astid
44. Maverick
45. Maverick
46. Maverick
47. Astid
48. Maverick
The End of Book One
MARCUS
1. Marcus
2. Marcus
3. Marcus
4. Marcus
5. Marcus
6. Marcus
7. Marcus
8. Marcus
The End of Book Two
DEATH RETURNS
Prologue
1. Maverick
2. Maverick
3. Astid
4. Astid
5. Maverick
6. Astid
7. Maverick
8. Astid
9. Maverick
10. Astid
11. Maverick
12. Astid
13. Maverick
14. Astid
15. Maverick
16. Astid
17. Maverick
18. Astid
19. Maverick
20. Astid
21. Maverick
22. Astid
23. Maverick
24. Astid
25. Maverick
26. Astid
Epilogue
Coming Soon another Dark Projects Novel:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Also by Jay Noel
Prologue
Chapter 1
Now Available on Amazon
Also by Miranda Hardy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Now Available on Amazon
About the Authors
Acknowledgments
DEATH KNOCKS
BLACK-EYED KIDS BOOK ONE
“Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the tower of kings.” ~ Horace
1
MAVERICK
DEATH BY BEHEADING…by far the best way to go; it’s final, quick, and undeniably messy.
“Bruh, you’re ‘bout to be slayed.” The springs in the couch creak under the weight of my bouncing butt. The obnoxious noises that escape my lips sound like the heehaws a jackass makes, but my distraction technique works.
“Don’t bet on it.” Tarick’s long thumbs click the buttons faster. He moves to the edge of the couch. “Dang it!” He hurls the game controller at me, and it hits my chest.
I shake an accusing finger at him. “Told you.” I toss the controller back at Tarick, and it hits his bony shoulder. “Spending too much time with your girl; you got no fire left in you.”
“Man, whatever. At least I have a girl.” Tarick pushes up off the couch and heads a few feet towards the kitchen. “Soda?”
“Yeah.” I nod without taking my eyes away from the video game on the screen—my medieval warrior beheads Tarick’s character with one final slash of its sword.
“Okay, but you need to drink it in the kitchen. My mom’s going ballistic lately about the rules.” Tarick pops two soda cans open. “This morning she went bananas because flies were attacking her.”
He snickers as he leaves the kitchen, and he sets my drink on the countertop. “She picked up the kitchen sponge and maggots were crawling all over it. She screamed like Leather Face was coming at her with a chainsaw. Woke the whole dang house. My dad charged out in boxers carrying a baseball bat.” Tarick crouches down with one hand up holding an imaginary baseball bat. His nose scrunches up; it reminds me of a constipated old man.
I leave the comfort of the couch and grab my soda on the counter. “Your mom’s crazy,” I say before I take a giant gulp of soda.
“My mom?” Tarick’s eyes widen. “At least she’s not obsessed with Top Gun, Maverick. Your mom keeps calling me Goose, and I’m not even white.”
“Low blow, T. That’s not funny.”
Mom must had been high at the hospital when she named me after that stupid guy. There should be a law against allowing moms hopped up on pain medication to name their babies. To this day, it’s unbelievable my dad let her name me Maverick.
I take one final swig of my soda and hurry back to the couch.
“Sorry, I can’t help myself.” Tarick plops down next to me and moves the controller to the coffee table. “It is funny, by the way. Just be thankful she’s not a Star Wars fan. Your name could be Obi Wan Kenobi.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I point to the controller. “Givin’ up already?”
“How many times do you want to beat me?” He rolls his eyes. “Seriously, bruh…thanks.” Tarick stretches his long arms across the back of the couch.
“Thanks? For what?” I lean back and fold my hands behind my head. “For beating your ass over and over again?”
Tarick’s smile fades, and I can tell that he’s going to say something serious.
“It’s good to see you being yourself again, man,” he says.
I know what he’s getting at, but he’s wrong. “What are you talking about?”
“The last few months, you’ve been acting a little weird
. Not yourself.” Tarick takes a deep breath. “I’m just saying I’m glad you’re laughing and being your normal dumbass self, that’s all.”
I’m about to tell him that I’ve stopped taking my depression medication, but I decide to keep my mouth shut. This time, I’ll control the darkness. Sure, the pills stopped me from falling deeper into that black hole, but it also made me feel so...blah. Nothing. Like nothing mattered. I wasn’t as sad with the pills, but I also wasn’t as happy. I don’t need any pills.
Tarick shakes his head. “And I know you could have gone to that party tonight. You didn’t have to join my jail sentence.” His serious side takes me by surprise. “I’m sure you’d rather be partying it up one last time before school starts instead of being stuck here with me on babysitting duty.”
“Who wants to party with hot babes in bikinis anyway? I mean…this is so much better.” I’m trying to keep a straight face, but I start to crack up. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get charged with child abuse. I may have taken that child development class last year so I could hang out with a bunch of girls, but I did learn a thing or two.”
He grins sideways at me that lets me know he appreciates me not bailing on him to go to the big end of summer bash.
As if on cue, Tarick’s baby sister wails from the other room.
“Now you gone and done it.” Tarick darts toward the bedroom and comes back with Cally, or Little T, as I call her. He holds her with outstretched arms and wrinkles his nose. “She stinks worse than your feet.”
“Why’d you bring her out here?”
Tarrick places her next to me on the couch. “Cause she wouldn’t stop crying till I picked her up. Can you get me a diaper?”
“Seriously?” A powdery smell wafts up my nostrils when I retrieve a diaper and wipes from Little T’s room.
Tarick takes the wipes and smears the orangish, brown poop all over the baby’s bottom with it. He’s struggling, and her butt’s not getting any cleaner. If anything, he’s making it worse.
“Geez, Tarick, you should have taken that class with me. Pathetic.”
Tarick holds Little T’s legs up and twists her toward me. “Go for it, man. You’re the expert.”
I snatch the wipes from him. “Well, it sure isn’t like the dolls we used in class.” If the girls could see me now, maybe I’d nab a date or two.
Little T hardly struggles as I work to clean her up. I’m probably using way too many wipes, and stick them in a plastic bag one at a time after use. Tarick watches me carefully, as if he’s trying to remember how I’m doing this. After I finish wiping away her poop, Tarick puts the new diaper under her and tapes one side while I tape the other side. I tie the plastic bag shut, and we stare at the stinky diaper on the coffee table. Little T opens her little mouth and starts to whine.
“Hand me that binky thing.” Tarick points to where it fell out of Cally’s mouth. “Hurry, plug her up.”
“No, you pick up her binky. My hands are dirty.”
“Mine are, too,” Tarick protests.
“Mine are dirtier, since I did all the work cleaning her poop.”
Tarick complies and picks up the yellow binky. He’s about to put it in her mouth, but I shove him away with my shoulder.
“Dude, wash it first. That’s nasty. You want something that’s been on the floor to be stuck in your mouth?”
Tarick sighs and runs to the kitchen, then breaks into a sprint when her cries become bloody murder screams. Little T stops as soon as he puts the pacifier back in her mouth.
“Is she hungry or something?” I ask him.
Her legs kick when I scoop her up and hand her back to Tarick. He takes her in his arms and pats her back over his shoulder.
I say, “She’s so much cuter when she’s not screaming her head off. Lucky for her, she looks nothing like you.”
He gives me a pretend kick to the shin. “Shut up. And no, she shouldn’t be hungry. I fed her an hour ago, right before you got here.”
She starts to whimper again.
Tarick is useless, so I hold out my arms. “Give her to me.” He puts her back into my arms, and her crying stops. “See, she knows a good guy when she sees one.”
Her pacifier squeaks as she sucks, and now she looks exhausted from all that screaming. Tarick wheels the bassinet into the living room with us, and I gently place her inside. She looks content now, and her tiny body wiggles before relaxing.
Tarick goes to the counter, picks up his soda, and takes another drink. “I will admit, that was pretty smooth. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah, sure.” I pick up the controller. “Another game?”
The television screen changes scenes to the different players, and an odd feeling overtakes me…the feeling that someone is watching me.
Silence falls between us as the room begins to darken. The light from the television dims to a soft glow. I’m thinking either the TV is broken or there’s some kind of electrical problem going on. The picture flickers and the video game music stops and starts again, like the sound of a twisted backdrop to a horror movie.
My attention shifts to Tarick. His head turns toward the door, and he moves as if he’s in slow motion. Drops of Tarick’s soda slide down his chin and splatter on the floor just as the knocks begin. Three hollow booms echo through the room, like cannons going off in the distance—only they’re less than five feet away. Tarick inches toward the door. His hand trembles as it moves towards the doorknob.
“Don’t, Tarick.” We both glare at the front door. “I have a bad feeling.” The one single thought in my mind screams at me that opening the door would be a big mistake.
Tarick flashes a fake smile. “It’s probably just a neighbor.”
His words quiver as they exit his mouth. His face morphs into a longer version of his round features. His eyes look closer together, and a deep crease forms between them. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he just aged ten years.
Maybe something’s wrong with me, and I’m seeing things. I’d read about how even young people can die of an aneurysm. I must be having one because the pressure builds up in my head as if I’m in an airplane and my ears need to pop. I feel faint.
Tarick remains still and stares at the door. I can tell he doesn’t want to open it either, but for some weird reason, he can’t help himself.
He takes another step towards the door, and his hand wraps around the doorknob. Any opportunity for me to protest fades. I don’t know why, but I just have to know what’s behind that door. Tarick shuts one eye and presses his right eye up against the peephole.
“Who’s there?” I ask him.
Tarick cracks a nervous grin. “Oh man, it’s just a kid.”
“From the neighborhood?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” he replies. “He’s got a hoodie on.”
With shaking hands, Tarick unlocks the door and turns the doorknob. Its hinges creak as he pulls it open just an inch. A breeze sweeps in; the smell of flowers mixed with a musty, ancient scent fills the room.
I have the strongest urge to run and hide under the covers as if I’m a little kid and there are monsters underneath my bed. Instead, my feet take me closer to Tarick. The crazy thought that these may be the last few steps of my life doesn’t stop me from going up to him.
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