When Darkness Falls - Six Paranormal Novels in One Boxed Set

by Shalini Boland

  On the weekends, Kate cooked pancakes and drenched them in maple syrup and whipped cream, just the way Grace liked them. Just the way her father had liked them.

  “Maple syrup from Canada,” Grace informed Angela. “Dad said the Canadian maple syrup was the best in the world. Didn’t he, Mum?”

  “He most certainly did,” Kate said, flipping a pancake in the sizzling hot fry pan. She pressed it down with an egg flip and waited for the edges to turn a perfect golden brown before she slid it from the pan and added another scoop of batter.

  Grace frowned. She was thinking about her father. “Pancakes were dad’s favorite. We used to have them every weekend, when he was home…” She chewed her bottom lip as she thought about the last time she had eaten breakfast with her father. It felt like such a long time ago, now.

  “Okay, here we go,” Kate said, bringing a loaded plate of pancakes to the table. “Dig in while they’re hot, folks.”

  She passed the bottle of maple syrup across the table to Angela. “I see your fringe has eventually grown back, Angela.”

  “Yes, no more, um, bad hair days,” Angela responded, combing her fingers through her perfectly satiny straight fringe.

  “Yes, no more bad hair days,” Kate repeated, sitting down at the table.

  Grace knew that they both thought about Brian while they ate their pancakes, and she knew that was never going to change, no matter how much time passed.

  She spooned a heaped spoonful of cream in the middle of her pancake and spread it out carefully to the edges with the back of her spoon. Then she drew a smiley face on it with the maple syrup—just like the way her father had.

  She could still feel her father’s presence at the kitchen table, watching over her. Occasionally, she sensed her father’s soft breath on the back of her neck, whispering softly to her.

  “Good morning, Grace, I hope you saved some of those for me?” he would say, teasing her. He’d have ruffled her hair with his hand as he passed.

  Then she would feel a fresh spasm of despair engulf her when she spun around to discover that no one was there.

  Daddy, where are you? she wondered, barely able to restrain the onslaught of fresh grief that tore through her heart like a razor sharp sword.

  She held her breath. She had not seen him, but she knew he was still there somewhere; his scent was unmistakable, the scent of Bvlgari, her father’s favorite aftershave hung in the air all around her. She drew in another long breath, savoring it.

  Her mother walked past her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Eat up Grace. Before they go cold.” Then she realized, with acute sadness, that it was her mother who was wearing the cologne. She imagined that her mother wore it now to remind her of her father.

  So the magical bubble of new hope - that he was still there for just that moment - popped, and was gone again.

  Chapter 11—Freakishly Normal

  Life was good, well, a lot better than it had been for Grace, all things considered.

  She had made not just one friend, but two. And these two friends were definitely not figments of her vivid imagination, like Hope had been. An imagination born from her desperate need to fit in and be normal.

  Other children her own age had shunned Grace for most of her young life, leaving her alone and withdrawn.

  She had sat with her father. Anguish contorting her pretty, upturned face.

  “I just want to be normal, Dad,” she pleaded with her father, as though he could make it so. “Have friends like everyone else. That isn’t too much to ask for, is it?”

  Brian tried to comfort her. “Grace, being normal isn’t always what you think it is. It isn’t always a virtue. Sometimes being special is more important.”

  “I don’t want to be special or important, Dad. I just want to be normal. I want to have friends, go to the movies, and have sleepovers, like the other kids do at school.”

  “We can go to the movies anytime you want, Grace. We’ll all go this weekend. What do you want to go and see?” Brian asked as he flipped through the newspaper searching for the movie times.

  “No, Dad, it’s not the same, but thanks,” Grace replied, dragging herself off the kitchen chair and into her bedroom.

  Hope sat on the end of the bed with her eyes closed, waiting for her. Her hair fell long and golden to her waist. Her cherub lips mimicked the color of freshly dried blood. Grace sat down next to her and folded her hands in her lap. “Why can’t you be real?” she asked wistfully.

  Hope opened her crystal blue eyes and wrapped an arm around Grace’s drooped shoulders. “I wish I could do that for you, Grace, really I do.”

  “Dad says I’m special, but I don’t feel special. I feel like a freak, freak, freak! Everyone at school just stares at me as if I’ve got the black plague or something. That’s what being special feels like! I hate it!” she said, with tears spilling from her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Grace, but all I can tell you is that you won’t always feel that way.”

  “It’s okay, Hope,” she said, wiping her tears away. It's not your fault. At least I have you, and Mum and Dad.”

  But the two new friends Grace had now, Angela and Joshua, were normal and real enough for Grace—made up of real flesh and blood. For once, Grace didn’t feel like a loner, a freak. For once in her life people had stopped staring, and she felt freakishly normal.

  She was floating on a blissful cloud of normality. Being normal, Grace decided, really was the most exquisite feeling in the whole wide world. To hell with being special. She wished so much that her father could see how happy she was, being normal.

  And to top it off, her mother was back to doing the usual motherly things. Well, Kate’s version of motherly things, that is. So, yes, life was looking up for our Grace.

  That was, up until the day Grace found ‘Officer’ Wade standing statue-like at the kitchen table after school one Friday.

  Grace was overjoyed with the utter delight of seeing him again. Her whole body was buzzing from head to toe with ecstatic energy. The last time she had seen him, in uniform…

  The smile on her face disintegrated as panic and fear ripped through her. Fear grabbed her by the neck. Oh God, not again, Grace thought, trying to ignore the bile burning the back of her throat. She swallowed, forcing the foul tasting vomit back down.

  She was incapacitated by the thought that it was her mother who had been taken from her this time. She looked around the room frantically, searching for her mother.

  Where are you, where are you, where are you? She wanted to call out but no words escaped from her mouth, only a screeching, rasping sound. The twisted blackened fingers of fear squeezed her throat harder, gagging her.

  Grace sucked in a breath between her teeth and held onto it until she started to feel dizzy. Her heart pounded hard against her chest. White, hazy dots began to blur her vision. No, no, no, she begged silently. Yes, yes, yes, her demons spewed back at her as they squeezed her throat tighter. You are damned. Your soul belongs to us; the voices shrieked as they closed in around her.

  Chapter 12—The Ability of Coercion

  Angela touched Grace lightly on the shoulder, then gave her a little shake with both hands. “It’s okay Grace. Calm down, take a breath, and breathe.”

  Kate stepped out from behind the open fridge door with a carton of milk. She was smiling as she went about her task of making coffee in the kitchen.

  Grace momentarily closed her eyes and exhaled. Thank God, she prayed quietly to herself. She heard her demons howl in defeat as they released their stronghold grip from around her throat and vaporized into thin air.

  “Hi girls,” Kate said in a singsong voice as she beckoned them into the kitchen. Then she frowned. “Grace, are you okay, you look pale?”

  Grace nodded mutely, forcing a smile for her mothers benefit. “I’m fine,” she said, after a moment, when she realized that Wade was there as a friend, and not an Officer of the Law.

  “You remember Officer Wade, don’t you?”


  Grace smiled, then ran and jumped up into his outstretched arms.

  “Of course. Where have you been?” she squealed in delight. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you too, kiddo,” Wade said, hugging her back, and spinning her around before setting her feet back down on the floor. “What’s been happening, anything I should know about?” he said, tussling her hair.

  “Tons of stuff,” Grace said with excitement, beaming up at him, elated he was back. He was back, wasn’t he?

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to disappear again, are you?”

  “Nope. Not for a while.”

  “A while?”

  “Not for a very long while.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Wade nodded. “I’m pretty sure about that.” He looked across at Angela. “I notice you’ve made a friend.”

  “Yes, I have,” Grace announced proudly. “This is my friend Angela.”

  Angela approached Wade confidently, her small frame overshadowed by his tall one. She dropped her bag on the floor by his feet, and, with absolutely no apprehension put her hand out. “It is very nice to meet you, Officer Wade. My name is Angela Oaks. I am eleven-years-old, nearly twelve, and I reside in the house next door.”

  She thrust her small hand assertively into his open palm. Wade was prepared for the electric charge that would resonate through their hands as he closed his fingers gently over her tiny ones. He smiled at her neatly trimmed fingernails. Each painted a different color.

  The ceiling lights flickered and, with an urgent sense of danger, Angela’s hand recoiled from his grasp. She stared up at him questioningly with unblinking, violet eyes as large as saucers. Her tiny frame tensed. Was this man friend or foe?

  “How strange,” Wade said, looking up toward the light, drawing Grace’s scrutiny away from Angela’s response to the electrifying handshake.

  A half-smile formed on his lips as he looked back down into Angela’s reproachful eyes. Silently, he said, ‘there is no need to fear me, Angela, I am one of you.’ Then out loud. “It is very nice to meet you, Angela Oaks, eleven-years-old, nearly twelve, residing in the house next door,” Wade replied, mimicking her melodramatic response.

  Angela frowned. She still had so much to learn when it came to what would be considered a normal response for an eleven-year-old child. She continued to examine Wade, and responded with a quick nod and a sniff. Once satisfied with her assessment of this being - Wade - Angela stepped back again and stood protectively by Grace’s side. It was wise to be cautious. The enemy had become the masters of disguise. Trust had to be earned.

  ‘Yes, now I know exactly who you are,’ was her silent reply.’

  Wade smiled. ‘We both want the same thing, I can assure you.’

  “Angela?” Kate said, as she continued to busy herself in the kitchen. “Are you coming down with a cold?”

  “I do not believe so, Mrs. Connors. I am not presently exhibiting any of the pertinent manifestations that suggest I have the cold virus.”

  All heads turned to look at Angela. All except for Grace, who was still completely distracted by the light flickering spasmodically in the ceiling overhead.

  “You say the funniest things at times, Angela,” Kate said, shaking her head and failing in an attempt to stifle a chuckle.

  “Maybe we’re in for a storm?” Grace said, strolling over to the kitchen windows and drawing back the curtains to examine the sky. “There are a few clouds coming over.”

  “Forget the Officer title, just call me Wade, less formal,” Wade said, returning Angela’s concerted gaze.

  He could hear her methodical brain ticking over, recording, learning, as the cogs clicked quickly into place.

  He reached over the kitchen table and extracted a tissue from the box and pressed it into Angela’s hand. A smile played gently on his lips as he watched Angela fidgeting apprehensively with the tissue she scrunched in her hand.

  “Well girls,” Wade said, sitting down at the table, “how was your day at school?”

  Grace babbled enthusiastically. “Really, really good, Fridays are always excellent, no school for two whole days.” The flickering light, and the pending storm, were all but forgotten as she narrated the day's events happily to Wade. Inside her chest, a cluster of butterflies danced with glee.

  “We went on an outing to the abattoir, which was really disgusting. Mum, I’m thinking about being a vegetarian, like Angela, from now on.”

  “Really?” Kate said bemused.

  “Yes, really, mum, and there's this boy in our class, Joshua Deneb, Josh, and he has a huge crush on Angela. I think he wants to be her boyfriend.”

  Grace threw her arm over Angela’s delicate shoulders and pulled her close. “A boyfriend, Angela, how cool would that be, and you’re only eleven.”

  Angela cringed at the boyfriend remark and squirmed out of Grace’s embrace, then scowled at her. She blew her nose with the crinkly tissue, after having come to the conclusion that was how it was meant to be used.

  Grace giggled at the bereft expression on Angela’s face. “What? It’s a huge deal if you have a boyfriend,” Grace informed the utterly unimpressed Angela.

  “I totally disagree,” Angela retorted, staring at the tissue then shoving it in her pocket.

  “Mum, can Angela sleep over tonight? Angela and I really need to talk about this boyfriend stuff.”

  “There is nothing to talk about, so no, I don’t believe we do have to talk about this boyfriend stuff,” Angela said promptly.

  “Oh yes, there is,” Grace said adamantly with her hands on her hips to express the importance of the joyous situation.

  Kate smiled and walked over to the kitchen table with a tray loaded with cake, four plates and two coffee mugs. Grace trailed after her, waiting for her reply. “Mum?”she asked again impatiently.

  “Of course, you know you are welcome here any time, Angela. Mum and dad working again tonight?”

  “That is correct, Mrs. Connors,” Angela replied, drawing out a seat and taking the piece of banana cake that Kate offered her.

  “You know I really should go over and introduce myself…”

  “No, you don’t want to do that.” Angela responded quickly. ’I will arrange a time and have my parents come to you.’

  “Why don’t you have your parents come over here sometime?” Kate said absently as she poured boiling water in the two coffee mugs.

  Angela smiled and bit into her cake.

  Wade gave Angela an approving nod of his head. ‘Very impressive, Angela.’

  “Okay, sure,” Angela replied, as though it had been Kate’s idea all along. “I will have them come over here sometime, to meet you. Oh, and Mrs. Connors,” Angela continued. “Would you please inform Grace, that eleven is much too young for a boyfriend?”

  “Of course it is, Angela. You shouldn’t even be thinking about such things at your age, Grace. You will have plenty of time for boyfriends when you are older. Much older,” Kate said emphasizing the last two words.

  Grace frowned, picked up the carton of milk and sniffed it, making sure it hadn’t turned. When she was satisfied it wasn’t off, she poured two glasses of milk, added Milo and sat down beside Angela at the table.

  Angela smiled with satisfaction. “Your mother is correct, Grace. Eleven is much too young to be thinking about having a boyfriend.”

  “Well,” Grace continued, “That is because Mum is… um, well, old.”

  “Hang on there a moment, who are you calling old?”

  “Well, no offence, Mum, but you are. You’re like thirty now, right? You don’t know what it’s like to be young and in love, like us.”

  “I am not in love,” Angela persisted. “And neither are you, by the way.”

  “Oh, but I will be one day, Angela, and so will you,” Grace said, pretending to swoon. “Hmm, I can’t wait to fall in love.”

  “Well I think you have a way to go, Grace,” her mother said. �
��Now eat your cake.” Kate sat down and handed Wade a plate. “I hope you like banana cake?”

  “I do, very much,” he said taking the plate. “One of my favorites, in fact.”

  Angela sat hidden behind her glass of Milo as she watched the comfortable interaction between Wade, Grace and Kate.

  “So, I suppose you think I’m old, as well, Grace?” Wade asked as he took a bite out of his cake.

  Grace scoffed. “Of course, you’re older than Mum.”

  “Oh, but look at that, we’re old enough to drink coffee,” he said, holding the mug up to her.

  “Yeah, whatever. Only three years to go,” Grace said.

  “Three years?” Kate asked.

  “Before Grace is old enough to drink coffee. We made a deal a little while back that she shouldn’t drink coffee until she turns fifteen.”

  “Good plan,” Kate nodded happily in agreement, but feeling guilty, too, for her recent absence in her daughter’s life. “Thank you, Wade.”

  Wade smiled, understanding, then added, “Looks like we’re on our way to the glue factory, Kate.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Kate laughed. “I’ve still got a way to go before anyone’s putting me out to pasture, or turning me into glue.” Then she looked at Grace and said, “And you better remember that, young lady, next time you want a lift somewhere.”

  “Gee, Mum, I didn’t say you were too old to drive and stuff, just too old to have a boyfriend.”

  “Well, I guess I should be pleased that I’m still allowed to drive.”

  Angela studied Wade. He was tall, perfectly proportioned, and as far as human appearances went, quite handsome. He appeared to be a little older than Kate, but not much. His eyes were a beautiful green, like Kate’s. Oh, it was all starting to make perfect sense to her now. The pieces to the puzzle were slowly starting to fall into place; just a few missing pieces now. But they, too, would come to her—eventually.

  Angela was aware of her own strength and abilities. She also knew now, that Wade’s strength and abilities far exceeded hers. The silver-coloured ring that he wore hidden around his neck, one of twelve, was proof of that—but not always the case.