by J. N. Colon
Stalked
A Secret Salem Novel
Written by J.N. COLON
Kindle Edition March 2014
Copyright © J.N. Colon 2014
All rights reserved
www.jncolonbooks.com
This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or reproduced in any manner.
This eBook is a work of fiction. The names, places, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events or locations are entirely coincidental.
Other books by this author
Secret Salem series
Hunted
Haunted
Tormented
Divine Darkness series
Dark Souls
Dark Sins
Dark Prophecy
Dark Goddess
The Iron Series
Blood In Iron
Badly In Blood
Begin the paranormal romance series with murder, paranoia, mystery, and a treacherous web of deadly secrets.
Rubi McHale had a safe, boring life until a spot opened up for her at Highland Academy in Salem, Massachusetts. The teachers are callous, the students are cruel, and the entire campus is steeped in a dark, spine-chilling atmosphere.
McCollum Davenport is the clear leader of the unnaturally beautiful elite who are hiding something Rubi can’t quite figure out. He’s also utterly drool worthy with wild midnight hair, piercing jade eyes, and a devil-may-care smile.
While trying to fit in, discover their secret, and sustain from attacking McCollum with her lips, Rubi finds herself in the middle of murder, obsession, and the supernatural. The closer she gets to revealing what’s really going on at Highland Academy the closer she gets to certain death—but at the hands of who or what?
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
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
Get the next book in the series!
Stalked’s Playlist
Chapter 1
Icy wind stung my cheeks and burned my lungs, releasing hot steam against the cold night. Low hanging branches scraped my face and tore at my hair like angry hands. I frantically stumbled through the grove of twisting trees, fog and darkness blanketing my path.
A vicious monster was chasing me, its form obscured by the shroud of night as were its motives. I silently questioned why is was after me, a harmless girl. What had I done to provoke such a violent reaction from a beast?
The shrill cry it released followed by a skin-crawling laugh told me I wasn’t going to get my answers. I may never know why my life ended so early and brutally—because there was only one ending to this nightmare and it wasn’t good.
I peeked over my shoulder, squinting through the creeping fog to see shining teeth and sharp talons. My mind imagined those claws tearing into my flesh, spilling my young blood until not one single drop was left.
Was that how I was doomed to die?
Panic raged through my system, forcing my heart to battle against my ribcage while fatigue and overexertion had my leg muscles trembling.
In my deteriorating state my bare feet slipped on the dry forest bracken, tangling in a briar patch. I hit the ground, pain radiating through my entire body, but I didn’t have time to dwell on any new injuries. The quaking of the earth beneath me meant the monster was dangerously near, closing in on its prey.
I wrenched my legs free of the briars and grabbed a gnarled tree trunk with my free hand to help me up. That was when I noticed the object in my other hand, my fingers clutched so tightly around the ivory hilt my knuckles were pure white. The silvery moonlight ominously glinted on the twisted, wicked looking blade smeared with crimson.
Blood.
Sickness rose in my throat as I wondered where I had gotten such a knife, where I had gotten a knife at all and why it was covered in someone’s blood. My lips trembled at my terrifying predicament and I longed to lie down and cover my head with a blanket, but the presence of hot, fetid breath slithered down my nape, reminding me of the beast.
I pivoted and sprinted away, the fear pumping adrenaline through my limbs was the only thing keeping me upright. A light winked into existence up ahead, a cry relief leaving my lips at the welcomed reprieve in the thicket of dark forest I was trapped in. My arms stretched out, trying with every ounce of energy I possessed to draw the safety of it closer. Cold sweat trailed down my temple and my teeth gritted with strain.
Almost there. Almost there.
A boney claw suddenly snagged my hair, painfully yanking me back and farther from the shelter of light. My mouth opened to release a scream, but it froze in my throat as the monster whirled me around and I met a pair of impenetrable, soulless eyes that sucked the hope straight from my heart. They swallowed me whole, tossing me into a pit of unyielding despair.
My world went black…
I was falling… falling… falling…
Smack!
My head thudded against the hardwood floor of my bedroom, making me wish I hadn’t tossed the fuzzy rug that used to surround my bed. “Ouch,” I grumbled, brushing long strands of dark hair out of my eyes to see my aqua blue satin sheets demurely hanging off my bed as if they hadn’t just thrown me out.
Stupid, slippery, betraying monsters.
Monster.
The image of that soulless eyed creature from my nightmare rose up, prickling my flesh and making me shiver. “Where the hell had that come from?”
I bit my lip, recalling the thick grove of trees, swirling fog, and bloody knife. The deep panic that had assaulted my body was completely unfamiliar and foreign as was the heavily wooded scenery and frigid air. I lived in southern Florida all sixteen years of my life where the climate was warm and most of the trees were of the tropical variety. Of course I had ventured past the beaches, palms, and alligators infested lakes, but I’d never been to a dark, eerie forest with towering oaks, slender birches, and twisting maples. I’d also never been chased by a monster through clouds of dense, churning fog.
I shook off the unease the nightmare had caused and staggered up, careful not to trip on the evil satin sheets that had tossed me out of my comfortable bed in the first place. “Must have been that hotdog, hamburger, and pasta pizza experiment I conducted last night.” My fingers tried and failed miserably to detangle the knots from my unruly hair. “Note to self—favorite foods don’t always become extra favorite when blended.”
A laugh tumbled out of my mouth, but even to my own ears it sounded hollow. Something about that dream had me rattled and as much as I hated to admit, a little scared too. But the worst thing that ever happened in Shelby, Florida was Mama Jacks Diner running out of my favorite spicy beef tips for lunch.
I shouldn’t be worried. Nothing was going to break the comfortable, predictable routine of my safe little life.
“I’m s
orry. You want me to what?” I glared at my parents, my light honey eyes bulging from their sockets in disbelief.
Their elated expressions were stark contrasts to my look of horror at the words they just hurled all over me. “We want you to attend Highland Academy while we’re in Antarctica,” my mother repeated, oblivious to my impending nervous breakdown.
“I thought we decided I was going to stay with Jill while you were gone.” Actually I decided I was going to stay home alone. I’d been planning this for months, daydreaming about kitchen counters overflowing with every cut of steak known to man, lobster tails stuffed with crab, crab stuffed with more crab, shrimp wrapped in bacon, chicken dipped in teriyaki, hamburgers, hotdogs, bratwursts, maybe even a hole pig on a silver platter with an apple stuffed in its mouth.
Can you sense the theme here?
Meat.
My parents were vegetarians while I considered myself a meat-eterian. The cabinets and refrigerator were stocked full of vegetables, soy products, and other weird non-meat items that tasted even worse than they smelled—believe me.
They didn’t mind my love for animals, but the last time I tried to have a little meat-athon feast my father nearly past out and my mother couldn’t enter the kitchen for three days.
I was going to be in meat lovers heaven and now I was going to be in private school hell.
A long, exaggerated groan rolled out of my mouth as I kissed my platters of little weenies goodbye.
“Everything will work out Rubi. You’ll see.” My father gently patted the top of my head in an effort to sooth me before looking over at my mother, a lovesick smile curling his thin lips.
Ugh.
If anyone ever needed proof opposites attract look no further than my parents. My mother was a granola crunching, tree hugging, barefoot loving, free spirited hippie while my dad was a straitlaced, glasses wearing, pocket protector collector, geeky mathematician.
Marshall McHale was tall and lanky like a beanpole with close to the scalp black hair surrounding his symmetrical face. His dark, almond shaped eyes were serious yet comical when he squinted at his paperwork through glasses sliding down his nose. Sally McHale was petite and curvy with long golden hair feathering around her mischievous honey eyes.
The only thing they had in common—besides me—was their commitment to preserving the environment and planet Earth. I had to admit they made an unstoppable team with my mother’s charisma and my father’s number crunching and formula driven brain. They’d been planning a trip to Antarctica to help stop global warming or save the whales—something along those lines. Their environmental consciousness didn’t spread to me as much as they wished. I had no idea what my carbon footprint was.
“I know you want to stay with your friends, but you can’t pass up the opportunity to attend one of the most prestigious boarding schools in New England,” my father said, pushing up his wire-rimmed glasses, excitement glittering in his eyes. “We put an application in four months ago and a spot unexpectedly opened.”
I paced in front of the round kitchen table where my parents sat, the sunlight reflecting brightly on the translucent glass top. My fingers trembled with frustrations as they twisted through my long dark hair, tangling it more. “But it’s September, the middle of the semester.”
My mother tsked and waved a dismissive hand in the air, her collection of bangle bracelets clanking together. “You’re so smart. You’ll be able to catch up in no time.”
I clenched my jaw to keep the irritated snarl working up my throat from breaking free. I was only semi-successful and it came out sounding like the premature growl of a playful puppy. How could they expect me to be okay with this? My friends were here—all two of them—and I had no idea how to make new friends because I’d only ever lived here. I’d basically known the same people all sixteen years of my life.
My father’s smile suddenly tightened, his long index finger reaching up to push the glasses back up his nose. The nervous habit of his instantly had my stomach twisting in knots. “You’ll just love Salem in the fall.”
I nearly choked on my own tongue. “Salem? Salem, Massachusetts?”
“Yes.” My parents spoke in unison, never a good sign.
As their words tried to sink into my unwilling brain my eyes glanced out our giant bay window overlooking the sparkling Florida ocean and powder sandy beach. The weather was a delicious 85 degrees and I saw the hint of a fragrant breeze swaying the palm trees in a rhythmic dance. Coconut oil perfumed the air and an array of tasty sea food was readily available. Swimming, fishing, and boating were everyday events.
What in holy hammocks did people do in Salem for fun? Rake the leaves? Cut some firewood? Make apple cider? Or, I know, turn people into toads!
My gaze flicked back to my parents, my face twisted in what probably resembled the expression of a slasher film victim right as the ax wielding murder lunged for her. “Salem, Massachusetts?” I repeated, my voice gaining a shrill edge. “As in cold and dreary? Dark and creepy? Oh and not to mention witches?”
Their laughter was not only forced, it was riddled with anxiety they were trying and failing to mask.
“There aren’t any witches in Salem Rubi.” My mom’s calm voice contrasted with her fidgeting fingers twisting in her wavy blonde hair.
My father reached up and grabbed my mother’s fumbling hand, lacing their fingers together to demonstrate their unity and the finality of their decision. “It’ll be great.” The stern look he was giving me meant there would be no more discussion on the matter. I was going to Highland Academy.
I crossed my arms against my chest, convinced it would be the opposite of great. A boarding school in Salem, Massachusetts made me picture gloomy weather, treacherous shadows, and unfamiliar snobby kids.
The school probably looked like an old castle outfitted with turrets, cobwebs, and ghosts. It probably even had gargoyles.
Chapter 2
After passing through the ominous iron gates and hearing them close with a grinding metallic clank of finally, I began gnawing relentlessly on my nails in the back of the taxi. Highland Academy was nestled in the middle of Salem Woods, aka Highland Park.
Time seemed stagnant as we crawled up the driveway lined with giant oaks, their branches leaning in on the yellow sedan and creating a choking, claustrophobic atmosphere. Shadows danced across the road, surrounding the car as if threatening to consume every bit of light until darkness was all that remained. And then the school came into view and fear was not just a four letter word.
The foreboding stone and brick façade of the main building stood against the gray morning sky, blotting out any hint of the sun. Sharp, pointed angles sprouted everywhere and tall turrets and spires stabbed the heavens. Carpet-like moss encrusted the lower walls and ivy snaked higher, creeping toward the windows. Chills ran the length of my spine at the sight of my new home and I sank lower in my seat, wishing the cab driver would forget I was still there and drive away ASAP.
Eventually after several scows from the old man I slowly and reluctantly climbed out, my gaze flickering to the roof of the main building. “Gargoyles. I knew it,” I grumbled, glaring suspiciously at the grubby stone monsters emerging from the roof, waiting on them to leap off and attack me.
My eyes wondered to the grove of oaks and maples flanking the school, their leaves turning burnt orange, sienna, deep gold, and brilliant crimson—something that never occurred in southern Florida. The foliage would have been beautiful except for the swirling fog twisting between the dark trunks, morphing the scene into something sinister to match the giant castle of a school.
“Highland Academy,” I sighed, my breath fogging in front of me. It was only the first day of autumn yet I felt as if winter had descended upon me, leaving me colder than ever.
The main office looked more like the waiting area of a ritzy hotel and the school employees were just as highbrowed and stuffy. Wood so glossy I could see my reflection, Persian rugs, chandeliers, velvet drapes, intricately carve
d marble fireplaces, and expensive art spotted every room and hallway it made me dizzy. But amidst the luster an edge of eeriness lingered. Dark shadows coalesced in the corners and inexplicably played across the slick wood. Pockets of frigid air tickled my nape like ghostly fingertips and eyes followed my every move.
It was an unpleasant feeling, standing alone in the hall and yet never really feeling alone.
Two hours later I was staring at my reflection in a full length gilded mirror stationed outside the bathroom in my room. Thankfully my parents used their giant fortune for evil this time—did I not mention they were filthy rich?—to ensure I had a private bathroom while most students shared communal facilities in each dorm hall.
My good fortune didn’t extend to my roommate. I should have known when I read the name on the registration sheet, Aspen Vanderguild. That moniker screamed snooty society girl with a perpetually pinched face and upturned nose. She made her stance on our relationship clear before storming out, swaying her perfectly straight auburn hair behind her. We weren’t going to be friends.
Our room was sickeningly opulent. Glossy dark wood flowed across the floor, meeting dark wainscoting on the walls. A large window sat in the corner, shaded by ivory silk curtains. Two identical sleigh beds made of dark cherry wood gleamed in the light of the crystal fixture hanging from the ceiling. Two dressers mirrored each other, one glossy table stood between the beds, and one large, hand carved desk sat near the window. Every piece of furniture and adornment—even the antique gold and cream phone—oozed wealth. The atmosphere was uptight old money and nothing like colorful, warm Florida.
I fussed over my appearance, attempting to calm my racing heart and dry my sweaty palms. No such luck.
There wasn’t much variety with the school uniform, which was fine with me. I wasn’t a fashionista or anything, but I was suddenly wondering if my mother ordered the right size. I tugged on the black cashmere sweater trying to loosen it to no avail. The crimson and gray Highland crest was stationed on the left side over my heart, practically screaming look at my chest! Most schools had a lion or an eagle or something honorable. Not Highland. A dragon breathing fire onto a shield was plastered on this crest. What did that say about Highland Academy? Nothing good. It was probably the Slytherin of private schools.
