When Darkness Falls - Six Paranormal Novels in One Boxed Set

by Shalini Boland

  My ritual? My ritual hadn’t willed this to happen. I’d never want the Liettes sacrificed because of me.

  “That ritual was months and months ago,” I said. “Couldn’t you have come to me sooner?”

  Aspen shook his head. “The ritual was only the first step. The herbs you used welcomed not only your purpose but your gifts as well. But you still had to learn, on your own, who you were. To accept yourself for who you were—who you are—and prove your strength and loyalty as you did tonight.”

  Autumn leaned back in her chair, resting her hands in her lap. “By not caving in to the Maltorim’s request, you triggered our powers and allowed us to progress on our path. Just as in your first life, you did not cave—you remained true to yourself until the end. That was the moment the Universe was waiting for.”

  The tension did not leave Charles’ neck or shoulders, but some of the anger dissipated from his expression. “What business are we of yours, then?”

  “We are your messengers,” Autumn said.

  “Messengers?” I said, disbelieving. “You’re children.”

  “We are, in that we carry a child’s appearance. However, we have greater knowledge—one bestowed upon us by the Universe that we are to share with you. We are your guides. The Maltorim remains strong and their plans for the future nefarious. You will need our help.”

  Guides? Messengers?

  Nefarious?

  The concept muddied my thoughts, and Charles was still skeptical. I stared blankly at the children.

  “At one time, the Universe thrived alone,” Aspen elaborated, “but in time it became weak. It spawned humans to recycle the energy. The Universe fed from the positive energy of people at night, pulling them into sleep. The energy allows the Universe to create and put new life into the earth. If the humans die, the Universe dies . . . and vice versa.”

  “Negative energy poisons the Universe,” Autumn continued in place of her brother. “The original immortals were here to clean up the mortal world, but some veered from the path the Universe had set for them. Though the source of the original evil is unknown, we imagine that sometimes the Universe accidentally feeds from the energy of corrupt human life and, in creating elementals, some of that dark energy is unintentionally imprinted.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “This will never be a perfect world,” Aspen said, “but it could be better. You will play a role in making that happen. The evil will continue to propagate.”

  “You could have ended it today,” Charles said sharply.

  Autumn lowered her lashes, her gaze dipping to her hands. “You cannot comprehend the extent of the Maltorim’s progress. Callista has sanctioned others. Damascus is no longer the only home of the Maltorim. Tonight’s events were bad enough, but had a dual-breed been responsible for the death of the Queen, the retaliation would’ve been far worse than what we expect now.”

  I sighed, defeat sinking further into my core. Did I want to help the Universe? Its track record was shoddy, at best. “What do you need me for?”

  “To gather others like you, one for each remaining element.” Autumn breathed in deeply, fixing her gaze heavily on my own. “Then, you will fight in the Great War. If you do not, the Maltorim will spiral out of control. First, only the dual-breeds will be killed, but soon the humans will be freely hunted as well. The Maltorim claims to want to save the humans, but when the New World begins, the Maltorim will shift to darker means. Their actions could lead to the ultimate demise of our planet. Of our entire Universe.”

  I shook my head. What did they expect me to do about that? “I—I’m sorry. There’s no way. I couldn’t stop them.”

  Autumn’s soothing voice was a relief from Aspen’s chilling echo. “You will be ready when the time comes, and you will not be alone.”

  In an awkward moment, she unfolded her hands from her lap and reached to place one over my own. The gesture was something Valeria would do, a movement Autumn was merely parroting from her host mother—staged but unrehearsed.

  Charles didn’t say a word. His once fiery gaze had extinguished, the irises now dull and clouded. This was the oldest I’d ever seen him look.

  “I still don’t understand the purpose of you being sent as children,” I said. “Won’t that make it harder for you to help us?”

  “Quite the contrary,” Autumn said with a small smile. “To your world, children are the property of their guardians. We are lesser beings, seen as weak, less intelligent, and less deserving of respect. Who would treat us as equals but those who are pure of heart? Through us,” she said, “you will make the right allies.”

  {thirty}

  EVEN MONTHS LATER, the misery of that night still haunted me. We mourned . . . Charles, the kids, and I. Even the Liettes’ cabin seemed to mourn—the windows sad, rain sliding down the glass like tears some nights, the scarred wooden floor icy as death in winter. The cherry blossoms had at least brought hope in the spring, unfurling their flowers along the peaks of Mount Rishiri.

  Plums, so purple they were almost black, sat in the dish between us. Valeria’s dish. Months had passed, summer now returned, but the ache of losing loved ones doesn’t go away or numb quickly. All the family Charles had ever known were gone now, leaving two orphaned children in their place.

  I plucked one of the plums from the bowl and sank my teeth past the tart peel, eyes fixed on Charles. He looked tired, but not as sad. I walked around the table to sit in his lap. He kissed my jaw, my wrist, my fingertips.

  “We have each other,” he said, and he buried his head against my neck, his light chin stubble tickling my shoulder.

  My heart raced as it always did when he was near. A smile softened my lips, and I kissed the top of his head. “We do.”

  For a long time we just sat there, with the hazy, Japanese summer breeze drifting through the open kitchen window. It was all we needed.

  I traced my finger along the scar inside his arm. We both had them—scars the world could see, and also our private scars. Those were the scars we shared.

  

  THE MALTORIM never discovered the Liettes’ cabin, and so the location remained a safe refuge for Charles and me to stay with the kids. Adrian found a place in Kutsugata and visited often, bringing us food and supplies. Living more than a few miles away from the common trails did have its benefits, though. It was quiet here. Even the elemental noise was minimal.

  I leaned back in our porch swing with a cup of iced raspberry tea and a newspaper I couldn’t read. Sometimes the kids would read it to me, try to teach me the language, but today they were sleeping in late. Sometimes they went into hibernation for days at a time, storing energy to channel messages from the Universe.

  Charles emerged from the house. “Adrian stopped by last night while you were sleeping. Said Paloma checked on Ivory, and she is doing well. Doesn’t seem to remember anything more than necessary.”

  My heart sped at the mention of Ivory, and my breath caught in my throat. Her name had been lingering around the edges of my mind for months, but I hadn’t heard it spoken aloud since I learned she was the one who had informed the Maltorim of Charles’ true nature.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  I smiled, setting the paper aside. “I still worry about the future.”

  “Most people do.” He cleared his throat, and when I looked up, his gaze was steady on mine. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  Before I could ask him to confirm what my heart already knew he meant, I picked up the thoughts from his mind. He was ready to become a pure Strigoi.

  Though we had come to trust the children over the months—especially once Charles had found a letter from his mother that explained everything—we hadn’t spoken of our plans to turn him to a pure Strigoi. The kids would be able to guide us through the process, but I’d feared bringing it up would rekindle Charles’ pain. I’d never wanted this choice to be decided for him.

  “When you’re ready,” I said.

  A sm
all grin tugged at his lips. “All those months you pestered me, and now you say when I’m ready?” He extended his hand, and I accepted, allowing him to pull me into his arms. “You really drive me crazy sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?”

  I smiled against his chest, then peeked up into his deep teal eyes. He opened the screen door behind him and backed into the cabin, tugging me after. The closeness of his body sent a warmth into my stomach, and I pressed up on my toes and kissed him, nearly knocking him the rest of the way into the house. The screen door flapped shut and a picture frame on a table near the door tipped over.

  “I need a shower,” I said, feeling a little sticky from the heat. “Want to come with?”

  Charles’ grin broadened. His hands slipped down to my hips as we headed down the hall to the bathroom.

  I peeled off my sweat-soaked jean capris and white eyelet halter-top, and we hopped into the shower together, enjoying these moments where we could simply be ourselves. Simply be together.

  After our shower, I changed into a bikini and some lightweight denim shorts and pulled a wide-tooth comb through my hair. Charles headed out to meet Adrian while I flopped down on our bed to read for a bit. When the front door creaked open, I doggy-eared the page I was on and set the book aside.

  “Hello?”

  No answer.

  “Charles?” I asked aloud.

  I could pick up on Charles’ presence, but not Adrian’s.

  I threw my legs over the side of the bed and headed into the living room. Lauren was standing just inside the threshold of the cabin, suitcase at her feet and birdcage in hand. Rhett must have flown her over if she was able to bring Red. Something told me he much preferred flying humans.

  I rushed the last few steps into the main room. “No one told me you were coming!”

  She grinned. “That’s because it was a surprise.”

  “A surprise?” I looked at Charles. It must have taken a great deal of concentration for him to plan this without me finding out. I’d totally fallen for the whole Adrian thing.

  “You’ve been trapped up here too long,” Lauren said. “You do remember what a surprise is, don’t you?”

  I hugged her tight, probably squeezing the life right out of her, and she held the birdcage away. Charles took it from her to set on the coffee table, and Lauren and I sat down, jumping right into conversation as though we’d never been apart.

  “How about that hike?” I asked.

  “Charles carried my suitcase and the birdcage,” she said with a wink. “You’re lucky you have Superman on hand if you insist on living up here. How do you guys do it?”

  “Eh,” I said. “We manage.”

  Lauren still didn’t know the real reason we were here, and she never would. We’d told her a partial truth several months back: that Charles’ parents had died in a car accident and that we’d adopted their kids to raise as they would have wanted them raised—here, in the Japanese mountains. She didn’t question it.

  “I’m going to visit my family while I’m here,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much this trip means to me. To finally go see them for myself, to let them see me for who I am. And to get to see you. Belle Meadow isn’t the same with you gone.”

  “Oh?”

  Lauren frowned, and she cast her gaze toward the room where the children were sleeping. “Are you sure you’re ready for such a huge responsibility?”

  “No,” I said, “but I have to go with it. I have to do what needs to be done, or nothing else matters.”

  All at once, I wished she could know the full weight of that statement while at the same time I wished she’d never have to understand it.

  Lauren pushed herself up from the couch. “I’d better unpack.”

  “And I’d better help Charles finish getting dinner ready, or we’ll never get you fed.”

  I met Charles in the kitchen and sidled up next to him to help wash and dry fruit for a cobbler. He popped a slice of peach into my mouth and gave me a kiss equally as sweet.

  The last traces of the sun disappeared behind the mountains, but tonight there were no shadows across my heart.

  When dinner was ready, Lauren carried some wooden bowls and spoons outside to the small picnic table while I brought the freshly-baked bread. Charles followed behind to set a spicy vegetable stew on the table.

  Aspen and Autumn joined us, carrying Red out in his cage, which they set on a large, flat stone beside the table. The children sent their thoughts to me—the only way I could read their thoughts at all—and told me the bird was safe to be released. They had used their magic to ensure Red’s presence wouldn’t harm the natural wildlife of Japan.

  I opened the cage door, and Red peeked out. I realized then why I’d always been so drawn to him. Grandpa Parsons had once kept a pet cardinal, one who would sit on his armchair when we visited in my childhood years. Grandpa Parsons would tell me all the ancient myths and legends that his family had once shared with him.

  Over dinner, I shared one of his stories—the German legend of the Holy Family.

  “There was a time when the world was left in a natural state. It was Autumn, the time of the harvest. The trees were viewed as living beings, not cast down to clear way for modern buildings as they are in our time. Even in those times, there was a hierarchy of importance in life. So it was with a sense of greater value that the Holy Family traipsed the forest trail. The soil shifted beneath their feet, the flowers swayed as they breezed by, and the trees bowed, but there was one family of trees that did not yield in reverence. The Aspens. The Holy Family cursed the trees, and their leaves began to tremble. And that is how the Aspens became known as ‘the shivering trees’.”

  I probably missed the moral when my grandfather told me the story as a small child. Even now, it held a different meaning to me than to most, though it was only natural that everything would be interpreted differently in the context of my new life.

  Aspen and Autumn—they were with me now.

  As I finished my story, Red strutted out from his cage. After a final chirp, he ruffled his feathers and took flight, soaring aimlessly over the yard before settling on the branch of a nearby cherry blossom tree.

  We were home.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rebecca Hamilton writes Paranormal Fantasy, Horror, and Literary Fiction. She lives in Florida with her husband and three kids, along with multiple writing personalities that range from morbid to literary. Having a child diagnosed with autism has inspired her to illuminate the world through the eyes of characters who see things differently. Rebecca Hamilton is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.

  To learn more about Autism Spectrum Disorder, please visit: http://www.autisticadvocacy.org

  Visit her website at: http://www.beccahamiltonbooks.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  COVER ART PHOTOGRAPHY:

  Mike Thomassen

  COVER ART MODEL:

  Maria Amanda Schuab http://mariaamanda.deviantart.com/

  FONT CREDITS:

  Quicksand Book, Trajan Pro, Wicked Grit by http://ajpaglia.com/ and Chicago House font by ‘theoriginal19’

  FORMATTING:

  R.P. Kraul

  EDITING CREDITS:

  Sol Stein and Toby Stein for their early guidance in honing my style and voice, Leslie Holman-Anderson for her amazing critical eye, Angela Zoltners and Lynnette Labelle for their comprehensive support, and Stewart Kirby for his fantastic copy-editing service. Thank you also to everyone else who contributed, most specifically R.P. Kraul, Jennifer Sosniak, Joan Ford, Christi Goddard, Noelle Pierce, and S.M. Boyce.

  Book One of The Danaan Trilogy

  By

  * * * *

  The Forgotten Ones

  Book one of The Danaan Trilogy

  Copyright © 2013 by Laura Howard

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  All rights reserved.

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  For Mom,

  for never telling me I couldn't.

  I miss you every minute.

  I caught a glimpse of my mother staring out the den window. She held her violin loosely under her chin, and the bow dangled from her fingertips. Her jaw was slack, her eyes locked on something in the trees beyond me. I knew that haunted expression. I froze.

  I swallowed hard as her eyes shifted to me. The violin fell from her chin, and I could see her bottom lip trembling.

  I should have been used to that reaction from her when she saw me during an episode. It happened every time. But I wasn’t.

  I flew into the house as fast as my feet would carry me. The screen door crashed behind me as I came to a halt outside the den. My mother clutched fistfuls of her blonde hair, garbled words spilling from her lips.