When Darkness Falls - Six Paranormal Novels in One Boxed Set

by Shalini Boland

  “Sure.” Ivory’s eyes didn’t break from the road.

  “Ivory—”

  “I said I will. Okay?” She pulled in front of my house. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead.

  With Ivory not bothering to look at me, I felt as though she’d already driven away. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

  “What’s the point?”

  “Ivory, it’s not like you weren’t keeping something from me, too.”

  Her eyes watered, and her jaw tensed. “I knew someone who heard voices.” Her face swung toward me, her expression full of a hate and anger I couldn’t place and couldn’t bring myself to ask her about. The raw emotion made me flinch.

  “I—I’m sorry.” I swallowed, but my mouth and throat only became drier. “Are they okay now?”

  “They’re dead. So what do you think?”

  I didn’t know what else to say. “I guess I’d . . . better get going. See you soon?”

  “Yeah, see you.”

  As soon as I stepped out of her car, she tore off down the road. I was an idiot. No matter how close I was to anyone, no matter what secrets they shared with me, I’d be foolish to think they’d accept my problems.

  My breath formed clouds in the air. It’d gotten cold so fast. Too cold for mid-September. This would be one of Colorado’s early winters. And, with the way things were going, one of the loneliest.

  Pushing my emotions away, I faced my house. Another flash of Adrian’s life played before my eyes: a dual grave arrangement. The image cut off before revealing the names on the headstones. Something in my head popped, and a pressure on my mind released.

  Please let that be the end of that.

  As I opened the front door and hung my coat in the closet, Red chirped, bringing a smile to my face but somehow making me sadder at the same time. I headed to the kitchen, where my yellow, pink, and purple lupines wilted in their vase on the windowsill from too much sun and not enough water. It felt like weeks had passed since I’d been home, but it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

  “I haven’t forgotten you,” I said to my little cardinal. “You need fresh water.”

  After refilling Red’s tray, I headed to my bedroom. All the thoughts and feelings I’d been avoiding charged at me. How many people knew about the Cruor? How many people had died at their hands?

  I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Dust piled like dark clouds on the blades of the motionless fan above, but instead of grabbing some cleaner and a rag, I just stared, wondering at the intensity of the stale odor the dust created in my room.

  Being Wiccan, I believed in the energy of the earth, of the gods and goddesses . . . but vampire-like creatures? It wasn’t as though being Wiccan was synonymous with believing in things such as UFOs or thinking Elvis was still alive. Having faith in one thing didn’t mean I had to have faith in everything.

  Yet, what choice did I have? Today I’d learned vampires were real. There was no erasing that—no ignoring what Adrian had proven to me only hours earlier.

  With a sudden burst of energy, I darted across my room to grab my Book of Shadows. I gripped it tightly, staring at the brown leather and the black, scripted letters and the pentacle’s imprint on the front cover. I flipped through to a blank page, took my black ink pen, and, trying to stop my hands from shaking, transcribed all I’d learned onto the parchment.

  Cruor: Also known as ‘Earth elementals’. Vampire-like creatures sent by the ‘Universe’ to protect humans. Something went wrong. They live by feeding on human blood and have mind-control powers. Their blood heals injury and disease. Can be killed by staking, decapitation, or exposure to sunlight.

  Influence: What Cruor call their mind-control powers.

  The Maltorim: The elemental council.

  I shut my book, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Great. I knew more about their world than most people, but still had no answers about my ancestor.

  Though the noise was gone from my mind, the empty space where it’d once been thrummed against my skull. I couldn’t give up on my ancestor. I would have to look into the book’s previous owners of the book Paloma gifted me. I’d run a search on the address after sleeping away the sickness roiling in my stomach over everything I’d learned.

  When I finally drifted to sleep, the nightmares returned: Elizabeth’s court document tumbling in a cold breeze through the dirt roads of a Puritan settlement. A noose cutting into her neck. My ancestor kicking her legs and digging her nails against the rope, looking around for someone—anyone—but the town was quiet. Then people started gathering, shuffling with empty eyes and sluggish steps.

  They’d come to watch her die.

  They smiled, and moonlight glinted off their fangs.

  Elizabeth’s thoughts whispered on the breeze: Don’t tell a soul, Sophia. Don’t tell anyone of our curse.

  But the warning had come too late.

  {nine}

  I AWOKE to dawn’s russet sky—a shepherd’s warning, some said.

  I shook away the eerie fog of sleep by refreshing myself with a dose of reality: people’s hands were bound during hanging. My nightmare wasn’t real, or even reasonable for that matter.

  Yesterday, though, was not just a bad dream.

  Green electric numbers glared at me from the alarm clock on my dresser: 6:17 am. I glared back. I’d slept straight through the day and night.

  Once out of bed, I stared into my open closet. Dress pants or jeans? Jack wouldn’t care if I wore jeans to work. Some of the girls never wore uniform pants.

  Since when did I care?

  I settled for a boho casual look: an earthy brown, cream, and green-toned mandala print top with small touches of peacock-blue and a gathered keyhole neckline. I’d never worn it before. Not wanting to hunt down the scissors, I took the tags off with my teeth. I paired the shirt with medium-wash blue jeans tucked into my Eskimo boots.

  The full-length mirror mounted to the back of my bedroom door revealed no visible traces of the attack. I grabbed a hair tie off the doorknob. With the elastic in my mouth and my hands pulling my hair back, I changed my mind. Maybe I should leave my hair down. For me. Not at all because I was hoping to run into anyone. Especially not Charles.

  I bustled into the kitchen and made myself a quick breakfast of toast and orange marmalade with a glass of milk.

  Red chirped from the corner of the kitchen. After I changed his food and water, I slung my workbag over my shoulder and started out the door for Jack’s, but when I spotted the note taped to the inside of my front door, I froze, hand hesitating on the doorknob.

  My gaze dropped to the signature first. The note was signed, Yours Truly, Marcus.

  Heart slamming against my chest, my eyes shot up to the words above.

  So lovely to meet you, Sophia. Such a shame about your parents, your father especially. Do not let curiosity blind you as it did him. I do hope our paths cross again one day soon.

  I yanked the note from the door, shredded it with my hands, and threw it in the trash. My heart pounded in my ears as I ran, shaking, to my Jeep. What the hell was that creep doing in my house? How did he know where I lived? How did he know about my dad, or perhaps more importantly what did he know about him?

  What if he’d done something to me while I’d been sleeping? I swallowed, then pressed my hands against my neck and slid them over my arms. I’d feel different. I’d know, somehow. I would have to know.

  I needed a way to protect myself. Ivory’s suggestions were useless if the Cruor could break into my home without my knowing. I sped to the diner, flipping open my cell as I drove.

  Come on, Ivory . . . pick up. Come on, come on.

  After two rings, the call shot over to voice mail. Great. She wasn’t taking my calls. I hung up, my hands still shaking. I considered calling out of work, but I had nowhere else to go—not with these problems, not if Ivory was avoiding me. At the very least, I would surround myself with people until I could get in touch w
ith someone who might help.

  

  MAIN STREET was one of the few streets in my town with parking slots in front of the shops. I usually sat in my Jeep for a few minutes before going into work, staring at the bold lettering of Jack’s light-up sign. At night, the sign read, ‘Jak’s Dine’, thanks to the dead bulbs Jack never replaced. Today I would tell Jack I couldn’t work night shift for a while. He wouldn’t mind. He almost never put me on the night shift anyway.

  When I arrived, Charles was parked nearby, leaning against a blue Toyota Prius. Earth-friendly, at least. I’d give him that. His eyes seemed more alert today, his dark tousled hair slightly less erratic. The sun and shadows on his face sharpened the lines of his jaw and nose, and his heather-grey, short-sleeve shirt revealed the contours of the muscles in his arms.

  Flutters started in my stomach, and a strange sensation rushed into my lungs. I shouldn’t be happy to see him. I certainly wasn’t surprised. Just nervous, in that breathless, pulse-drumming kind of way. The kind of way that probably indicated something other than a dash of hope he might help me deal with Marcus.

  I raised my chin and straightened my shoulders, as if that alone would make me seem confident. I needed to push this attraction away. Far, far away. The last thing I needed was another person to hide my secrets from, especially someone who had abandoned me when I was in danger. I needed to focus solely on getting some helpful information.

  I hopped out of my Jeep and locked the doors. Turning toward the restaurant, I found Charles standing only a breath away, his scent of vanilla, musk, and sandalwood immediately hitting me at my core. My heart thrummed. I stepped back, hoping to put more distance between us, but my back was met swiftly with my car door. He exhaled, warm air caressing my cheek and sending shivers over my body.

  “Could you . . . give me a minute?” Or at least some space. I stepped around him before turning back to face him again—this time with my back to the diner, so I couldn’t get trapped. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “No.”

  Huh. “So . . . you came to my work . . . .”

  “You said I’d find you here, remember?”

  “Yep. I’m here. This is where I work, so I come here sometimes. For work.” Shut up, Sophia.

  He tossed a half-sneer toward my Jeep. “That thing yours?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “I’m sure the ozone is none-too-thrilled.” He scrutinized me, and his lips softened into a secretive smile. “You’re all dressed up. Special occasion?”

  “None that I know of.” I would never achieve a normal heart rate in his company. Surely he wasn’t implying I’d gotten dressed up for his benefit, even if it were true.

  He lifted his finger to my lips, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

  What the hell was he doing?

  His eyes searched mine, his gaze so unrelenting I had to remind myself to breathe. The heat spread to my ears, my insides trembled, and the fresh pull of oxygen did nothing to cure the lightheaded feeling. I hoped none of this was visible, as I could think of only one thing worse than being attracted to Charles, and that was him knowing it.

  As he grazed my lip with his finger, a minty scent filled the air between us, and his thoughtful expression turned into a chuckle.

  “Toothpaste,” he said.

  Mortifying.

  At least now I wouldn’t walk around all day with toothpaste crusted to my face. Though that might have been better than him mentioning it. Not that I cared what he thought, because I was definitely telling myself I didn’t.

  I started to walk away, but his voice stopped me.

  “I didn’t wish to come here.”

  I spun toward him, hands clenched. “Of course not.”

  “I mean no offense,” he said, in the same way everyone did before saying something offensive. “I’m certain you’re a very nice girl, but I’ve come only to give the explanation I promised. I am a man of my word.”

  A very nice girl. “What makes you think—”

  “Don’t bother,” he said, giving me a cutting look. “I can offer you nothing more than this. If you’re not interested, that is fine. Perhaps even better for us both.”

  “I’m interested,” I said. “But now’s not a good time.”

  He looked to the sky and squinted, the sun highlighting his bright eyes and dark lashes, then his gaze dropped to mine. “You’ve experienced something most people never will.”

  “Lucky me.”

  He grinned. “Did you just roll your eyes?”

  “Did I?” Heat gathered in my cheeks.

  A light breeze lifted the gentle curls that nearly tumbled into his eyes. Damn him for looking good.

  “You appear to have recovered well from last night’s events,” he said.

  As if I needed the reminder. “Look, I have a lot on my mind. Marcus was in my house last night and—”

  Charles stepped forward suddenly, and I leaned away from his advance.

  “Marcus was in your house?” he asked. All his carelessness fell away in that moment, and, in its place, I simply saw a man. A very concerned man. “Did he—did anything happen?”

  “He left a note. Said he hopes we meet again, or something.”

  Charles’ shoulders visibly relaxed. “He wants you on your terms. Perhaps he had nothing to do with Cody coming after you. Do you have to work today?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t really, but I desperately needed to be busy. Needed something to ground me in my own world, however crappy my world might have been. Plus there was that whole bill collectors wanting to get paid thing.

  “Well, he won’t come here. We’ll figure something out before nightfall.”

  “So now you want to help me? I thought you just wanted to give me some answers and be done with me.”

  Charles’ jaw tensed. “Is that what you’d prefer?”

  “No, but—”

  “I don’t wish to be ‘done with you’.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Back to Marcus,” I said, my words jolting the tender look from his eyes. “Would he send someone else? Since apparently humans like to help these people out?”

  “If he’d wanted, he would have taken you last night.”

  “Comforting.”

  Charles scowled. “Regardless, most humans don’t help in that way,” he said, slipping back into his know-it-all tone. “He wouldn’t hire a human to do something he could take care of himself.”

  “I’m not something to be ‘taken care of’,” I said sharply.

  With a low chuckle, he stepped closer. “That’s debatable,” he said. “Try to stay in one piece until I return. I’ll meet you for coffee after your shift.”

  Attempting not to sound enthused, I offered a non-committal, “Okay.”

  “What time?” he asked.

  “Shift’s over at four.”

  “Perfect.” He smiled. “It’s a date.”

  “It’s not a date,” I said. “It’s coffee.”

  I turned and headed into the diner. Coffee. And, more importantly, answers.

  Not a date.

  

  THE BREAKFAST CROWD THINNED. This would be the only lull in my day—my one chance to catch a breather and spend some time by myself. My eleven AM ‘lunch’ break.

  As I started for the backroom computer to see if anything came up on the Internet for that Basker Street address, a voice called across the diner.

  “Hey! Sophia!” I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Lauren. Exactly what I needed right now: a human exclamation point.

  I turned around. She was sitting at table six, one of her Japanese street wear magazines open in front of her. She’d started reading those when she began studying Japanese, hoping one day she would know enough to fly across the Pacific and confront the relatives that had shunned her as a child.

  I hadn’t seen her in forever. So long, in fact, that her black hair had grown from a short pixie cut to fall in layers of satin around her shoulders. Hot pink headphones draped over her
neck, flattening her silky strands. California hadn’t changed her olive complexion, and she apparently still had an affinity for mascara and lip-gloss.

  At any other time, seeing her would have lightened my mood, but right now, her timing sucked. Just last night, I’d officially been shoved from one world into the next. A world she was not a part of.

  I headed over to the booth, and she wrapped me in a tight hug, holding a Styrofoam cup behind my back. She pushed back to hold me at arm’s length. “I cannot believe you didn’t call me when I got to town!”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve called four times and left a message last week.” I sat, and Lauren reseated herself across from me.

  “You could’ve stopped by,” she said. “You made time for Ivory, which I expect you to tell me all about.” Her bottom lip, full and creased down the middle, stuck out in a fake pout. “Who was that cute guy you were talking to this morning?”

  Inwardly, I groaned, but for Lauren’s sake, I let out some uneasy laughter. “You saw him?”

  “On my way to pay the water bill.” She sipped her soda directly from the cup, the tip of the straw already chewed shut. “So, is he as gorgeous up close as he is from across the street?”

  “I didn’t see him from across the street, so it’s impossible to compare.”

  “You know, it wouldn’t be the end of the world to say you saw a cute guy.”

  I tried to look super busy with the napkin holder. “I sort of know him.”

  “What? How?” She set down her drink and gave me her best ‘serious’ look. “What kind of sort of knowing are we talking about here?”

  “Not that kind.” I might have rolled my eyes, since I apparently did that sometimes. “We met at the club, through Ivory.”

  “I knew I should have tagged along! Ivory said you were going, but I don’t like to stick my chin where it isn’t welcome.”

  I managed a smile. “Stick your nose.”

  “That’s what they say. So, is that what this is all about?” she asked, reaching out and touching my curls. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down.” Her chocolate brown eyes shifted from one side of my face to the other, and she held up her hand before I could reply. “It is, isn’t it? It’s this mystery guy you’re dying to tell me about. Oh my God! That’s why you’ve been MIA!”