Twelve Shades of Midnight:

by Liliana Hart

  How could she fight that?

  You’ve fought it before.

  The voice was tiny, more of a whisper. The voice of a frightened little girl in the toilet stall, pleading to not have her head dunked again.

  The hoard of hands dragged her to the bathroom. The door swung open in front of her. The light flicked on.

  You did it when Nate’s life was at stake. You did it for him. Now do it for yourself.

  The girl’s voice was louder this time, stronger, and Rachel grabbed hold of it.

  She had done it before. When she was trapped in the locker, she’d remembered the janitor, his kindness, his compassion. She’d drawn energy from it, taken control.

  But that hadn’t been enough. As soon as she was attacked again, she’d failed. She was failing now.

  Then choose to see things through different eyes.

  She might not have many positive memories to draw on, not from her school days, but she’d had other experiences since.

  Josh loved school. From the first day of kindergarten, he’d been excited to go every day. His teachers nurtured him, challenged him, gave him reasons to be proud of himself and his achievements.

  Whenever Rachel had entered the school, bad memories had roiled her stomach. But above that, closer to her heart, she’d been able to feel the joy radiating from Josh.

  A joy she cherished. A joy she nurtured.

  The last stall door swung open and the toilet loomed before her. But this time, she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t even here.

  She was with Josh, appreciating his joy over a perfect math score.

  She was with Nate, feeling the hot pressure of their hurried kiss among the cattails.

  She couldn’t do anything about her bad memories and the losses in her life. They were in the past. But they didn’t have to be her future. Her future could be filled with love again. With hope. With happiness. She just had to have the courage to reach out and take it.

  Rachel stared down at the toilet in front of her and realized the hands were no longer grabbing her, no longer pushing her toward the bowl. Her hair was no longer caked with food. The voices were gone, too. Silence hung in the air as if the building itself was waiting to see what happened next.

  Josh.

  Nate.

  Rachel spun and pushed out of the bathroom. She ran down the hall, past the lunchroom, past the library, and pulled open the gymnasium door.

  “Mom!” Josh yelled. He raced forward and flung himself into her arms. “I told you it would be okay. I told you!”

  For a long while, all she could do was hold him, feel his warmth, smell his little boy scent, drink him in. Then she looked up at Nate smiling at her, and at the other man shaking his hand.

  No, not simply another man.

  Her husband.

  “Steven?” It couldn’t be Steven, she knew. “I thought the hallucinations were over, but…”

  “You’re not seeing your memory, Rachel,” Nate said.

  Confused, she pulled her attention from Steven and focused on Nate.

  “It’s the trident. Whoever is holding it, we see what he sees.”

  She scanned Nate’s hands, but they were empty. Then she turned to Josh.

  Her little boy held the trident for her to see. “It’s really cool, isn’t it Mom?”

  She nodded, not sure her voice would work.

  “See? I told you. I needed him, and he came.”

  Rachel looked back to Steven, and whether he was real or a memory, her eyes welled with tears. “He sure did, honey.”

  “And now you need him, too.”

  “No,” Steven said. “Your mom doesn’t need me. Do you, Rachel?”

  Rachel swallowed into a tight throat. She’d met Steven a week after she’d graduated high school, and since that day, her life hadn’t been the same. He’d made her feel important, made her feel worthwhile, made her feel whole. His death had dealt her a horrible blow, one she would never fully recover from.

  From that day, she’d lived her life for Josh, and it was his need that saved her, but there were days when she felt so fragile, when she’d needed Steven so much, she could barely get out of bed.

  She doubted those days were behind her, not all of them anyway. And she would never stop loving him. But she couldn’t hold on to only memories forever. The bad ones or the good ones. The time had come for her to let go.

  “Your dad was right, Josh,” she said. “He’ll always be there when we need him, and everything’s going to be okay.”

  Steven gave Nate’s hand one last shake, then stepped beside her. Taking her hands in his, he raised them to his lips, kissing them, chipped nails and all. “Be happy,” he said.

  Rachel nodded then glanced at Nate. “I promise.”

  Steven knelt down next to Josh. “Got things under control, buddy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember what we talked about?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good deal,” he said, and when Rachel blinked, Steven was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The fire engine’s flashing red lights pulsed off the school’s exterior, making the bud of a headache Val had been nursing threaten to bloom into a full-sized migraine.

  “You feeling okay?” David Lund said, the reflective strips on his turnout gear making the throbbing lights worse.

  “Mind turning off the lights?” she asked.

  “For you? Anything.”

  Val watched him signal his fellow firefighter to kill the lights. She and Lund had known each other for less than a handful of years, but over that short time, their relationship had gone through many twists and turns. First her suspect, then her lover, now something neither one of them knew how to define, there was one thing Val never questioned. If she or her niece needed someone for any reason whatever, Lund would be there. And she would do the same for him.

  “I can cut through the lock,” he said, motioning to the school door.

  “I think you’re going to have to.” Val’s cell phone rang. She nodded to Lund to continue and stepped off to the side to take the call. It was the station. “Ryker.”

  “Val? Why didn’t you call me?” Oneida’s voice soared. “I’d have come in if I knew something weird was going on.”

  “You have to sleep sometimes.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “No hovering.”

  “Hey, that’s your rule. Not mine.”

  Val checked her watch. “So why are you calling? You’re not scheduled to start your shift for another three hours.”

  “Remember the Buchner kid who disappeared at that damn school last week?”

  The boy who hadn’t spoken a word since. “Of course, I remember.”

  “I’ve been checking on him since, poor kid. But his mom just called me.”

  “In the middle of the night? Is he okay?”

  “More than okay. He woke up telling her about this dream he had. Something about faeries. But it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he was talking a blue streak.”

  “That’s terrific, Oneida.”

  “Yeah. What a relief, huh?”

  It sure was, and despite the somewhat coincidental faery reference, the news put Val’s mind a little bit more at ease. Maybe tonight’s fiasco would work out all right in the end, too.

  “Any news on the Meier boy?” Oneida asked.

  “Not yet.” Val watched Lund hauling his tools to the door. “But we should have something soon.”

  “Let me know, okay?”

  “You’ll be the first I call.”

  Just as Val ended the call and turned to watch Lund do his thing, she spotted something inside the school. “Wait,” she called to Lund.

  Nate, Rachel, and Rachel’s son approached the door, then easy as strawberry rhubarb pie, they pushed out into the night.

  “Hold that door,” Val called, running to meet them before the damn thing changed its mind and decided to be locked again.

  Nate held the door
.

  “I need a word with you. All three of you,” Val said.

  “Better talk to Bradley, too.”

  “And where is Mr. IPPO?”

  “Tied up in the gym at the moment.” Nate said.

  Val excused herself to give Jimmy and fellow officer Christopher Edgar instructions, and they, along with two deputies, entered the school.

  When she returned, Nate spoke first. “I suggest you call in the IPPO. Bradley has some explaining to do, and I think they’re going to want to hear.”

  Fine with Val. She didn’t fully understand what was going on in this case, but with all the balls she currently had in the air dealing with the upcoming trial of Dixon Hess and settling into the police station’s new digs, she wasn’t sure she was equipped to even try. As long as Nate’s federal paranormal agency friends wanted it, she’d gladly limit herself to figuring out a way to secure the school doors so no more kids ventured inside.

  She knelt down to talk to Josh. “You okay?”

  “Yup.” He smiled.

  “Do you remember what happened in there?”

  “Yup.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “Yup.”

  “Can you say anything other than yup?”

  He laughed, then his smiled faded. “I can talk and stuff, not like Ian.”

  It took Val a second to realize who he was referring to. “I got a call tonight. Turns out Ian woke up talking just a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Really?”

  “He was telling stories about faeries.”

  Josh glanced at his mom and Nate. “I can tell faery stories, too.”

  “I’ll bet you can.” She made a mental note to return the faery book to him once she had a chance to question Rachel and Nate about it. “You know, a lot of people were awfully worried about you. Tonight alone, your friend Gerty called the police station five times before her mother made her quit and go to bed.”

  “Think I should call her now?” he asked.

  Val glanced to the east, the sun still hours from peeking over the horizon. “Maybe you should text.”

  Josh glanced up to his mom, the two exchanging knowing smiles. “Yeah, she’d like that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The rest of the night seemed to drag on in a tsunami of endless questions. But finally, well into the morning, Josh was tucked into bed. Instead of tumbling into bed herself, Rachel stepped out on her front porch.

  Nate was ten feet from her townhouse, heading up the sidewalk.

  She had to laugh. “Checking on us?”

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Of course.” Over Nate’s shoulder, she could see his cat Oberon watching through the window.

  “Josh asleep?” Nate asked.

  “Finally. He wanted to go to school, tell everyone his adventure.”

  “It was quite an adventure. He’s an amazing kid, Rachel.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Rachel had always been in awe of her son, since the day he was born, but last night was proof of how extraordinary he was. He’d taken the faery in stride. And though she was sure he missed his dad even more than he wanted to let on, he seemed to have drawn strength from seeing him in the school instead of succumbing to sadness.

  She felt stronger, too.

  She peered through the space in their buildings, through the backyard fence at the school. Trucks surrounded the structure, and although they resembled those belonging to a construction company, she knew they were really the IPPO. “What are they going to do with the faery?”

  Nate followed her gaze, a slight smile curving his lips. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “The faery isn’t there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have a meter that measures ethereal energy. For the past two weeks it was registering a specific pattern, one I recognized as belonging to the faery.”

  “And this morning, it’s not?”

  “The faery moved on.” A slight breeze ruffled Nate’s hair. “So maybe it’s finally all over. Maybe I’ve finally paid what I owe.”

  “I think you still have an outstanding debt.” Rachel stopped inches from Nate, reached up, and looped her arms around his neck. The move was brash and risky and made her heart beat faster. She liked the feeling. “I think you owe me.”

  He arched a brow. “Is that right?”

  “And I owe you someth—”

  But she couldn’t finish her sentence because his lips were on hers, teasing, caressing, claiming, as sweet and loving as she could imagine.

  And as much as they’d been through in the past hours, Rachel didn’t feel tired at all. She felt like beginning again, seeing what kind of life she and Nate might invent.

  And writing her very own fairytale ending.

  Ann Voss Peterson

  Ann Voss Peterson is the author of over thirty novels and has millions of books in print all over the globe. Winner of the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award, Ann is known for her adrenaline-fueled thrillers and romantic suspense novels, including the Codename: Chandler spy thrillers she writes with J.A. Konrath and her own thriller series featuring small town Wisconsin police chief Val Ryker.

  Visit her at annvosspeterson.com, Facebook, or Twitter.

  Books by Ann Voss Peterson

  Thrillers:

  Val Ryker/David Lund Thrillers

  Pushed Too Far

  Burned Too Hot

  Dead Too Soon (coming in 2015)

  The School (novella, 12 Shades of Midnight Collection)

  The Codename: Chandler Thrillers (written with J.A. Konrath)

  Hit

  Exposed

  Naughty

  Flee

  Spree

  Three

  Romantic Suspense Novels:

  His Witness, Her Child

  Accessory To Marriage (Wedding Mission series)

  Gypsy Magic (with Rebecca York and Patricia Rosemoor)

  Claiming His Family

  Incriminating Passion

  Boys in Blue (with Rebecca York and Patricia Rosemoor)

  Legally Binding

  Desert Sons (with Rebecca York and Patricia Rosemoor)

  Marital Privilege

  Serial Bride (Wedding Mission series)

  Evidence of Marriage (Wedding Mission series)

  Vow to Protect (Wedding Mission series)

  Critical Exposure

  Special Assignment

  Wyoming Manhunt

  Christmas Awakening

  Priceless Newborn Prince

  Covert Cootchie-Cootchie-Coo

  Rocky Mountain Fugitive

  A Rancher’s Brand of Justice

  A Cop in Her Stocking

  Seized by the Sheik

  Secret Protector

  Short Stories:

  Babe on Board (with J.A. Konrath)

  Wild Night is Calling (with J.A. Konrath)

  GETTING WILDE

  Jenn Stark

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  The Devil was in the details. Again.

  I leaned against the sticky countertop at Le Stube and glared down at the faded Tarot cards, the best Henri could scrounge up on short notice. The Devil trump looked particularly foul in this deck: all leering grin, fat belly, and clawed feet. Worse, it was the third time in as many days he’d shown up in my reading…and this time, he’d brought along some friends. I’d turned up the Tower, Death, and the Magician card in quick succession, heavy hitters of the Tarot who had no business being in my business, at least not tonight.

  Tonight’s transaction, while unpleasant, wasn’t supposed to be complicated. It wouldn’t be complicated, I’d decided. I’d had enough of complicated for one evening.

  Le Stube’s front door opened. I sensed Henri looking past me with his sorrowful bartender eyes—just as I caught a whiff of the guy coming in. I sat up a little, blinking rapidly. Dude was pungent. Even by Parisian standards.

  I tapped the Prince of Coins c
ard lying in the middle of all the Major Arcana cards. It was covered by the Five of Wands. So I was pretty sure this newcomer was my contact: some low-level knuckle dragger muling cash for his king, the buyer who’d commissioned this deal, here to relieve me of the artifact I had snugged up against my right kidney. Unfortunately, I was also now pretty sure said contact was spoiling for a fight. Which might become an issue, since neither prince nor king was going to get his trinket, if the payoff wasn’t right.

  Not my problem, though. I wasn’t the one who’d lied.

  “Un autre?” Henri sighed. Henri was a master of the resigned sigh.

  I swept the cards into a stack and nodded to him, then pocketed the cards. It wasn’t the prettiest deck, but it was trying, at least. I owed it a one-way ticket out of Paris. Henri plucked my glass from the counter, making a big production of concocting something that looked entirely too involved to be my drink. He set the mess down in front of me and scowled, gloomy concern evident in every line of his thin, hunched body. Which is more than I could say for the guy now shuffling up to the bar, stinking of sour cheese and bad karma, and maybe one too many glasses of cheap merlot.

  I barely avoided a wince as he sat down. “You have it?” he asked.

  “You didn’t tell me about the competition,” I said, picking up my glass. “The price has gone up.”

  “You do have it.” He leaned toward me, his gun nudging into my side. Henri had shifted away for the moment, giving us the ol’ cold-shoulder routine. As if nothing that happened here would bother him, as long as I kept it tidy.

  I could do tidy, I decided. The cards and their crazy were not the boss of me.

  “If you have the money, then we still have a deal,” I said, Miss Congeniality all the way. “Just at double our original price. What’s more, I suspect you do have the money, honey, because you knew what I was walking into. Unlike me, for the record. Which, frankly, wasn’t very neighborly of you.”