Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1)

by Teresa Reasor

  He caught a quick look of longing before she could suppress it. But she chose not to acknowledge what he’d said about love and jumped ahead. “Then what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about when Brian Underwood tried to kick my ass in high school and everyone else turned a blind eye. But you came out swinging.” She could do that again if she needed to.

  “Actually I just held on to his hair for dear life and screamed bloody murder.”

  Caleb laughed. “You were a sight, going all ninja on him.”

  “Ninja?” She laughed.

  “You snuck up on him. No one thought shy little Miranda Templeton would leap on his back and attack.”

  “Well, I was tired of his bullying. He’d knocked Donald Lester down earlier that day and hurt his arm. Brian claimed it was an accident, but he shoved Donald into the lockers on purpose. I saw him. Because he was some big football jock, they gave him a free pass on everything.”

  “He didn’t get a pass after that. All the guys started banding together in packs to protect each other. You shamed them into action. When he pushed, we pushed back.”

  Caleb grew solemn. “What I’m getting at, is you need to get your ninja on now, sweetheart. You need to be calm and focused. Because we don’t know what we’re facing.”

  * * *

  Did she even have any ninja left? Miranda balled her fist and held it against the sick pain in her midriff. She’d used it up in one fell swoop. What happened to her sister was her fault. Had her actions set Juliet on the path she’d chosen? Had their giving up the Craft had anything to do with it? Or was it because of what had taken place before?

  She glanced up at him. “I’m calm now, but why are you bringing all this up now?”

  “I want to go outside and see if it comes back,” Caleb said. “We can’t stay here all night. We need to know if it’s just a shared hallucination, or if this thing is real.” His sky blue eyes settled on her face, calm, steady.

  What would she do if something happened to him? When he went to boot camp after high school, they lost touch for a while. His absence had left a void in her life. Through his grandmother she’d sent cards at birthdays and Christmas. But when he deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, they’d begun to email, and email had slowly morphed into calling, and calling into Skyping. The closer they got, the more difficult the worry for his safety had become. To lose him now, to never see him again, hear his voice—

  How could she feel this way about him and continue to push him away? But if he got close, she’d be tempted to tell him. Not only about Clay but everything. She was tempted already. It would change everything for him, for her.

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “We have to see if it’s gone. If it comes after me again, I can run back inside.”

  “It tried to bite me. Would have, if you hadn’t slammed the trunk.”

  “But it followed us both, honey.”

  These endearments had to stop. Every time he called her honey, nerves fluttered in her stomach and her heart leapt. He made her want things.

  “I’ll jog over to the garage and get my Harley and take you home.”

  He started to slide free of the booth, Miranda grabbed his arm. “Caleb—”

  His lips covered hers, soft, gentle, warm, the strawberry flavor of the pie he’d barely touched on his lips. She wanted to hold him close. Keep him safe. Don’t go!

  When he raised his head, she drew a shaky breath. “Please be careful.”

  “Roger that.” He slipped away from her, paid for their pie and drinks, then strode to the door. When he reached it, he paused to look back at her and smiled.

  What if something appeared when he was halfway there? Where would he go? How would he get away? She rose to stop him, but he had already opened the door and was on his way out. Her heart leapt into her throat, making it impossible for her to call to him. The group of students who’d entered a few minutes after them broke into laughter, filling the room with sound.

  Caleb walked through the door into the night and jogged down the ramp and across the parking lot. Nothing appeared.

  “Hey, Ms. Templeton.” One of the girls at the table spoke.

  Miranda dragged her gaze from Caleb’s athletic figure, now disappearing around the corner in the direction of his shop, and forced a smile. She focused on the dark-haired girl, a student she recognized. The girl was popular, friendly, and always polite. “Hello, Sylvia.”

  “Is something wrong?” Sylvia asked. The other five students quieted.

  “No. Not at all.” She shook her head.

  “Do you need a ride somewhere?” Sylvia asked. “The Dish is getting ready to close.”

  “No. My friend just went to get his motorcycle so he can take me home.”

  All six of the students’ identical expressions of surprise made her smile. Staid Ms. Templeton riding on a motorcycle was pretty much a stretch.

  “He’ll be right back.” Please let him be right back. Please let him be okay. She returned to her seat to cover the fact that she was trembling. Maybe this was just a shared delusion. But how could two sane, responsible people share a hallucination? And why could they see the creatures when no one else seemed to?

  What made them different from the other people in the restaurant?

  She looked at her reflection in the napkin dispenser. She and Caleb had something important in common. Had it triggered this creature? Was it here to punish them? Or had someone sent it after one of them?

  All of this smelled of magic. And she’d left hers behind. Could she reach for it again? And would it do any good at all against such a creature?

  And how the hell was she supposed to use it with Caleb watching?

  * * *

  Caleb jogged around the corner. He scanned the street ahead, his eyes moving warily from one cluster of shadows to the next. So far so good. When he reached the block where his garage was located, he broke from a jog into a run. The night-lights cast a golden glow over the interior of the office and the three mechanic’s bays. Nothing moved.

  He scrambled for the key, shoved it into the lock, and entered the shop. He raised the garage doors and muscled the bike outside, then lowered the door. In seconds, he’d secured the garage, gathered his helmet and a spare, and straddled the Harley. He shoved the spare helmet down on the back seat support, and then fired up the engine.

  Chapter 6

  Juliet woke to an odor that burned her nose and stole her breath. It smelled like someone had lit a match, but concentrated to the point of suffocation. What was that smell? Had she instinctively triggered a fire while being choked? She coughed and fought her way clear of the darkness. What had happened? Her thoughts seemed muddled and slow, and breathing through her damaged throat was an agony of effort.

  Gray. Her heart gave one hard thump. Someone…something had been choking her. And Samuel had helped her. It had to be him. No one else had been there. She forced her eyes open. She yelped in fear as a gray creature came into focus. It lunged against the circle of light only six inches from her face. She jerked further back into the shadow cast by the nearby storefront.

  She rolled away onto her knees. The world spun, and she closed her eyes to stop the sickening rotation. She opened them and forced herself to look at the thing. It was like a shadow, but it had bulk, and it had no eyes. Fear hit her like a slap, and tears streaked down her face. This couldn’t be happening. She was dreaming.

  Samuel. Where was he? She looked across the uneven disk projected onto the ground by the streetlight. He was lying on his back, his head turned away. Was he still alive?

  Juliet staggered to her feet, almost too dizzy to stand. Every inch of her body hurt, her throat and chest the most. Every breath was an agony. The creature inside the circle of light lunged and snapped. She stumbled away from it. It bounced back, as if the darkness formed an invisible, impenetrable wall between them.

  Samuel lay on his back, his arms outstretched. As she got closer to him, she cou
ld see his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but his skin looked gray. He was fading fast.

  Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she fell to her knees beside him and braced her hands on the concrete, her scraped palms sending sparks of pain up her arms. She gripped Samuel’s arm and shook him. “Samuel Newton, wake up.” Her voice was less than a whisper, not enough to drag him from unconsciousness. His arm stayed limp, and he remained unresponsive.

  Juliet looked around for her purse and flinched as soon as she moved her head. She was hurt, really hurt, and so was Samuel. She needed to call for help. Her bag was just out of reach behind the creature. The thing paced back and forth, its focus riveted on her every move. Without any eyes, how did it know where she was? What was that thing? And why was it after her?

  She glanced back at Samuel. He’d helped her, just as Tanner had. What if he died, too, because of her? She couldn’t be responsible for another man’s death. “Please don’t die,” she mouthed.

  If she called EMS now, she’d never be able to speak loudly enough to give them her location. They’d lose precious time trying to locate them or think it was a prank call.

  She tried to ignore the demented screams of the creature and focused on pushing away the pain and dizziness that threatened to swamp her. With an effort she centered herself and lowered her shields. A surge of energy flowed into her, embracing her like a long-lost friend. She gathered it to her, and immediately the pain in her chest and throat eased a small bit. While she waited for her head to clear, she spiraled the energy down into her hands.

  Earth to center and support him, water to cradle him in a womb of protection, air to blow each healing breath into his lungs, and fire to heat and ease his pain and suffering. Her efforts drained some of the energy from the creature, and it became almost transparent. She stretched her hands over Samuel. After five minutes he began to groan, and his eyes fluttered open. She broke off the healing, afraid he would feel what she was doing.

  As could happen when using energy to heal someone else, it had somewhat relieved the agony in her throat and chest, and her dizziness had ceased. She ran her hands over his pockets until she found a flat shape large enough to be a cell phone and jerked it free of his jacket pocket. What was she going to tell them? A gray creature trapped in a circle of light had attacked them? They’d have to see it for themselves. Otherwise they’d cart her off to the psych ward.

  She dialed 911. When she spoke, she sounded as if she were speaking through broken glass…and felt like it, too. “A man is unconscious at the corner of Seventeenth Street and Stoker. I—we’ve been attacked. I need an ambulance.”

  She gave the dispatcher all the information she had and then stayed on the phone. Five minutes seemed an eternity as she waited and watched the creature’s attempts to escape. Would it stay there until morning? Would daylight set it free? If it escaped, would it be able to find her again?

  She glanced at her purse, lying just out of reach. Though she no longer had a car, she still had her license and other identification in it. The creature had shown no interest in the bag, just her. As she looked into its horrible, blank gray face, she shuddered. Its face split into a dark, empty maw. It shrieked again, the sound wild with rage. Her fear wound tighter, and she covered her ears.

  Dear God, what was it?

  What would it have done to her if Samuel hadn’t intervened?

  An ambulance came around the corner, siren blaring, lights flashing. They’d see it, too, and maybe call the police. With a sense of relief, she turned to glare at the creature. The glow of the streetlight reflected off the empty sidewalk. It was gone.

  * * *

  Miranda stood at the door and kept watch for Caleb. The students had departed fifteen minutes before, and with no distractions, every minute stretched to at least five.

  She’d spent the time drawing some power to her, which had felt so unbelievably good she almost cried. It had been so long. But she wasn’t sure she’d be able control it—maybe it was like riding a bicycle, and once you learned you never really lost the ability.

  But her magic might not work against the entity they’d seen outside. And what then?

  She’d left all this behind as a kind of atonement, determined to live as normal a life as possible. But normal wasn’t what she’d gotten. She’d been alone so long. Closed off from everyone. When she contacted Caleb after his grandmother had died eighteen months ago, she hadn’t had any thought of starting up a long distance relationship with him. And when he continued to email and skype, she hadn’t had the heart to shut him down.

  He’d been alone, too. His only living relative gone. He’d needed her.

  And now she’d put him in danger.

  Ted, the busboy, ran a steam cleaner over the linoleum floors, making them shine like glass. Sherry sat on one of the stools refilling ketchup bottles and saltshakers. The clatter of dishes being stacked came from the kitchen.

  The purr of an engine vibrated through the thick plate glass windows before Caleb came into sight, and Miranda allowed herself a sigh of relief.

  “Looks like your ride is here.” Sherry rose to unlock the door for her. “I might take your picture on that Harley and post it on Facebook,” she threatened with a tired smile.

  Miranda laughed. “The students were stunned when I told them I was going to ride on it.”

  “I’m glad to see you kicking back with Caleb. You couldn’t ask for a nicer guy.”

  “Yes, he is. Thanks for letting me stay until he got here. There was an issue with my car, and he had to walk to the station to get his motorcycle.”

  “No problem. We wouldn’t have let you stand out on the sidewalk and wait for him in the dark. You hold onto that man real tight.” Shelly opened the door for her.

  Miranda smiled. “I will.” She scanned the restaurant parking lot. Nothing moved. She stepped outside.

  Caleb rolled to a stop at the base of the ramp. Clutching her purse, Miranda hustled down the incline. A gray outline flickered out of the corner of her eye, and she broke into a run.

  “Run, Mandy,” Caleb barked, his attention directed just over her shoulder, his features rigid with anxiety. She had barely swung her leg over the side of the motorcycle and gripped his waist when he spun the motorcycle around.

  She turned to look behind her, and for a second Miranda was face-to-face with the entity. It struck out at her, and she raised a partial energy shield to try to block it. It wasn’t enough. An icy spear of pain lanced through her shoulder and arm, and she cried out. Caleb gunned the motorcycle and shot out of the parking lot.

  Miranda’s right arm hung useless at her side, but she clung to Caleb’s waist with the other and pressed close against his back. The faster Caleb drove, the more rapidly the overhead streetlights flickered past like out-of-control strobe lights. Nausea struck her, and she swallowed and closed her eyes against it.

  Chapter 7

  Juliet jerked when she heard the soft pad and squeak of footsteps out in the hall. Every nerve in her body seemed to be stuck on high alert. She clung to the blanket a nurse had given her and clenched her teeth against their need to chatter. The hospital bed’s metal headboard pressed against the back of her head, and she yanked at the pillow behind her. As the adrenaline started to drain from her system, exhaustion took its place, and every bump and scrape she’d sustained during the attack grated along her nerve endings. She hated to think how bad the injuries must have been before she channeled the energy to help heal Samuel during those five minutes before the EMTs arrived.

  Never again would she walk home alone after work. She’d almost cost Samuel Newton his life. He’d sustained major bruising to one whole side of his body, and it would take weeks for him to recover. Just imagining it turned her stomach, and knowing she had once again been the cause of someone’s pain, this time because of sheer stubbornness, made it worse.

  She was such a fuckup! Always causing trouble. Always responsible for people getting hurt. She and Mi
randa had never been the same since…She flinched away from the memory. They had lost each other that night.

  She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall behind her. A vision of the creature’s gaping maw snapping at her face popped into her head and her eyes flew open again. As she scanned the room, sweat gathered under her arms and along her hairline, and the tremor in her hands worsened. The noises in the hall got louder. Could it follow her here? Could it get inside the hospital?

  She covered her face with her hands, and even the delicate pressure of her own touch hurt, and her cheek burned where she’d skinned it on the concrete. She touched the sticky salve they’d put on the abrasion. Her palms had stung, too, at first, but they no longer burned.

  A dull throb lurked at the base of her skull. Jesus, she’d been suspended in the air like a marionette. Her throat, still raw from whatever had been forced into her mouth, made swallowing difficult. Adrenaline had kept the pain of her own injuries at bay, but not any longer.

  “Juliet?” The nurse who’d brought the blanket stood at the door.

  “Yes,” her voice was just shy of a whisper.

  “A police officer is here to speak with you about what happened.”

  If she told him the truth he’d have her thrown into a padded room.

  Her thoughts froze as Brian Underwood sauntered into the room. He was bigger than he’d been in high school, and a ring of fat around his middle perched atop his belt like an inner tube. But his features hadn’t changed. He still had the same shaggy brown hair. The same big hands. Her fingers knotted the rough binding at the hem of the cotton blanket and she stared at him.

  “Hello, Juliet.” He paused to pull a straight-backed chair from the corner toward the bed.

  The closer he came, the harder she had to fight to keep up her facade and not cower beneath the blanket the way she wanted to. As he paused next to the bed, a flash of memory made her stomach lurch. He’d stood over her, his fists bloody, his features contorted with hate. He’d called her Miranda. Bile rose into the back of her throat. She covered her mouth with the edge of the blanket.