Dead as a Doornail (The Journals of Octavia Hollows #6)

by Stacey Rourke

  Dead as a Doornail

  The Journals of Octavia Hollows

  Book 6

  Written by

  Stacey Rourke

  Copyright 2019. All rights reserved. Published by Anchor Group Publishing. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  Special Thanks To:

  Hell Yes Designs

  Cheree Castellanos

  Bam Shepherd

  &

  Stacy Sanford

  Find the full catalog of Stacey Rourke books at: https://bit.ly/2SIbPLz

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  Chapter One

  Leaning into the turn, a spray of gravel flared up behind the back tire of my Scrambler. Feeling the bike beginning to skid, I should have eased off the throttle. But I was well beyond a cautious frame of mind. Instead, I gritted my teeth and gunned it, daring death to come for me.

  Reid’s hands tightened around my waist. “Octavia, could you slow down? If not for me, for Bacon. I don’t want him to have to go wee-wee-wee all the way to animal urgent care.”

  Would I have honored that request if we weren’t pulling up in front of our barnyard destination? Probably not. As it was, I applied the brakes and eased us to a stop in front of a long since abandoned barn. It wasn’t an old structure by any means, barely two years, in fact, but had been left to rot before construction on it was ever completed. The giant, gable-roofed facility was meant to be a riding stable for a wealthy family, who were environmentally conscious enough to include a cement cistern alongside the main structure to collect and reclaim water. But no horses would ever trot through the cavernous arena. No foals would ever munch on grass in the sprawling pastures. When Elba died here, the project died with him. The family who funded the project couldn’t bring themselves to turn a young man’s gravesite into a place meant for recreational fun.

  Pushing down the kickstand with the heel of my boot, I unclipped my helmet and slung it over one of the handlebars. I waited for Reid to dismount, then kicked my leg over my seat and tugged the legs of my jeans down to straighten them.

  Brows in a deep V of confusion, Reid’s stare scanned the overgrown grass and hauntingly empty barn. “I thought we were heading to a hotel. You went for a far different approach. I mean, I’ve stayed in some shady places before, but the fear of being attacked by a raccoon while I’m sleeping will be an exciting new experience.”

  After taking off Bacon’s swine-sized helmet and protective eyewear, I helped him out of his infant carrier. A less civilized animal would have taken off to explore. Not my little ham roll-up. He stayed right by my side, as if sensing my trepidation. Not that I blamed him. The place looked like something straight out of a horror movie, where monsters roiled in the shadows.

  “Octavia?” Reid pressed a second time, when I didn’t make so much as a snarky comment in response.

  “This is where Elba died. And, now, it’s where this whole, creepy-ass stalker shit ends.” Dry grass crunched under my boots in my determined stride towards the sliding barn doors hanging open like hungry jaws.

  Reid easily kept pace. Bacon, on the other hand, had to leap over the tall grass to keep up.

  “You think you’re ready for this?” Reid’s voice was low and calm, a soothing ointment meant to take the sting out of the question.

  “I want this to be over,” I stated in place of an answer.

  Stepping into the barn, I blinked once and then again to refocus in the dim light. What little of it there was filtered in from slits in the wood siding. Boots sinking into the soft, sandy floor, my nose ran from the smell of mildewed hay hanging pungently in the air.

  Reid kept further protests to himself, yet didn’t venture more than an arm’s distance away from me.

  I wanted my coven to be waiting for me there.

  Prayed this would be where I came face to face with the sycophant that had been following me.

  In a perfect world, that’s exactly how it would have happened.

  To my great regret, all that met us there was a stifling stillness.

  Fiery rage coursing through my veins, I spun in a circle, my shouts echoing off the walls. “I’m here! Isn’t this what you wanted? Come out, you coward! Kidnap me! Cut my fingers off! Do your worst, you son of a bitch! Just leave my people the hell alone!”

  Nothing.

  Tightening my fists, my fingernails sliced halfmoons in my palms. “What are you waiting for? What the fuck do you want from me?”

  More taunting silence.

  “Is this what you need?” The deep timbre of Reid’s voice rumbled from his throat in a barely audible whisper.

  “What?” Hearing the harsh slice of my tone, which seemed determined to cut to the bone, I swallowed hard and tried to dial down my bitch-o-meter.

  Face a mask of neutrality, Reid maintained that steady calm. “I said, is this what you need?”

  Blinking hard, I tried to follow. “What? What do I need?”

  “To rage. To take your vengeance out on the place that stole so much from you. Because, if this is what it takes…” Trailing off, his teeth lengthened into deadly incisors. Silvery hair sprouting from his knuckles, his face stretched into a snarling snout. “If it’s what you need, I’ll rage alongside you. Side by side, we’ll tear this place down to the studs, if there’s even a sliver of a chance it will make you feel better.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  A shake of his head and his wolf-ish traits vanished as quickly as they appeared. “If it doesn’t, we find something that will. And if that happens to be sans pants, that’s okay, too.”

  His oddly timed suggestive remark earned a huff of laughter that surprised even me, by morphing into a choked sob. “I needed them to be here. For this to be… over.”

  Looping his thumbs in his back pockets, Reid’s chin fell to his chest. “I know. And I’m so sorry.”

  Noticing a sudden chill in the barn, I ran my hands up and down my arms to fight off the rash of goosebumps suddenly decorating them. “Whoever this creepy-ass stalker is, he’s coming for me. And if he’s not here, I have no clue where or how to find him. The advantage is one hundred percent his.”

  Edging closer, Reid bumped the toe of my boot with his. “C.A.S., huh? We’ll call him Cas.” My face a question mark, he lifted one shoulder in a sheepish shrug as he explained, “Twice now, you’ve called him Creepy-Ass Stalker, a.k.a. C.A.S. Now that we’ve given him an identity, we’ll be ready for him. You and I together. I’ll go all fur and fangs, you pull those magnificent swords—”

  “And Bacon will go full warrior pig. Which is a fantastic spectacle of flapping ears and frantic snorting.”

  “I suddenly want nothing more than to see that for myself.”

  “Just not today,” I grumbled, mostly to myself.

  “Not today,” he parroted.

  Glancing towards the door, I couldn’t bring myself to meander in that direction. Not yet. “How do I walk out of here and go on living when I came in prepared to die?”

  Reid’s shoulders sank, compassion softening his features. “I used to ask myself that every time I came to after yet another horrible death.”

  “How did you make yourself move on? How did you find the strength to stand up and walk out?” Tears burned my eyes, slipping from my lashes unchecked.

  Chest expanding with a deep inhale, he offered me his hand. “One step at a ti
me.”

  My fingers closed around his, skin tingling at the warmth of his touch. “And how do I pretend everything is okay? How do I check into a hotel and lay my head on a pillow knowing this isn’t over? That the worst is yet to come?”

  Giving my hand a comforting squeeze, Reid offered me a smile. “You rest. You recover. And you come back stronger than ever. Because you’re a fighter, Octavia. And this will not beat you.”

  Bacon flopped down on my foot. Staring up at me, he pawed at the air between us with one hoof.

  “He hasn’t had dinner,” I sighed. “I need to feed him.”

  “Or, you know, if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for your pig.”

  Making kissy noises, I patted my leg to encourage Bacon to follow as we started for the door. Only when I was sure his tiny steps were trailing mine did I cast my stare in Reid’s direction. “There’s a monster coming for me. If at any point you decide to bail, I won’t hold it against you. This is my fight, not yours.”

  Hooking one arm around my shoulders, Reid offered me the loving support of a noogie. “No way, pink-haired one. I’m in this until the end. You didn’t walk out on me, and I won’t do that to you.”

  Out of arguments to keep us there, I leaned against him and let him steer me out of the building where all my nightmares began.

  Chapter Two

  I stepped out of the hotel bathroom in a waft of steam, twisting my wet hair up into a loose bun.

  Sprawled on the twin bed farthest from the door, Reid’s long legs were crossed at the ankle. Arms folded under his head, the bottom of his t-shirt crept up enough to offer a teasing glimpse of the six-pack abs beneath. “Fun story: I tried to put your satchel on the bed for you. The second I dropped it there, it jumped off the bed. Didn’t fall. Didn’t slide. Lifted off the mattress and flopped to the floor all on its own. Which begs the question, are you toting around haunted luggage?”

  Glancing to the bag in question, I lifted one brow in mild interest. “That sounds like the work of Bacon’s favorite toy. It’s a battery-operated ball with little nubs on it that hops all over the place when you turn it on. He loves it. I once beat the hell out of my bag with a lamp because it turned on by itself and I thought I had a stow-away critter.”

  Reid clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You went with a lamp over a sword. What a true humanitarian.”

  Padding across the room, I slid open the sliding door that led onto a quaint balcony. Peering over the courtyard to the highway, I watched the cars whiz by and felt a stab of guilt that I was standing still. “I should be out there, finding this C.A.S. person. Every second that passes gives him more of an advantage.”

  Rolling onto his side, Reid propped himself up on one elbow. “The guy mailed you a finger, Octavia. He won’t show mercy of any kind. Which means you need to be at your best when you face him. Call yourself whatever you want —siren, necromancer, badass warrior princess—it doesn’t matter. A good night’s sleep will get you back to fighting form. Trust me, I’m an expert on the subject. Besides, look at Bacon. How could you even consider disturbing him when he looks that comfortable?”

  Chewing on the inside of my cheek, my head lolled in the direction of my swinekick. Flat on his back on my pillow, his hooves twitched in time with his rhythmic snores. “That doesn’t count. He looks like that about twenty hours of the day. Besides, there’s a higher likelihood of monkeys flying out of my ass than there is of me actually being able to sleep.”

  “Oh, you’ll sleep… because I have a plan.” Sparks of mischief brightening his eyes, Reid playfully wiggled his eyebrows.

  Despite my somber mood, I bit my lower lip to suppress a grin. “I should have clarified earlier; this evening will not be sans pants.”

  Feigning shock, Reid’s hand fluttered to his chest. “I’m sorry, madam, but I didn’t mean that at all. What kind of guy do you take me for?”

  Folding my arms over my chest, one corner of my mouth tugged back in an almost-grin. “The kind that suggested that very thing about an hour ago.”

  Our banter was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

  “That was then. This is now.” Bounding off the bed with lupine grace, Reid opened the door for room service.

  In wheeled two cheeseburgers, a large order of fries, a two-liter of Coke, and a bottle of Captain Morgan dark spiced rum. Slapping a ten into the bellhop’s palm, Reid closed and locked the door behind him.

  With a deep inhale, I breathed in that delicious burger scent. Yet, even as my stomach rumbled, I felt the need to point out the irony of his plan. “You want me in fighting form, and think rum is the best way to do that?”

  “Do not speak ill of the rum, for it makes boring people more interesting, and me an infinitely better dancer.” Grabbing the plastic cups room service provided from the tray, Reid cracked open the bottle and poured us both a drink. “Besides, I’m fairly certain there is a zero percent chance of you sleeping tonight without a little assistance. So, drink up.”

  Begrudgingly, I accepted the cup. “Don’t get me wrong, when this is all said and done, I fully intend to drink myself sloppy. But right now, C.A.S. is somewhere close by, and he has my entire coven. Why would I take the risk of dulling my senses? Now that burger, on the other hand, is whispering sweet nothings to me and I fully intend to devour it.”

  Reid’s elbow bumped mine, causing a bit of the russet-colored liquor to slosh over the rim. “I’m sorry. There are rules in place, and I’m going to have to insist they be followed. Elsewise, we may offend the rum gods and be cast away forever in Davy Jones’s locker.”

  Stealing a french fry, I popped it in my mouth and talked around the bite. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I have no idea, totally rambling. But, I’ll make you a deal. We’ll play Never Have I Ever, and you only drink if the statement is true. Gives you a fifty-fifty chance of not having to drink at all, and we get to know each other better. Deal?”

  Pausing for a brief moment of deliberation, I reluctantly clinked my cup to his. “Deal.”

  Rolling his drink between his palms, a wicked little grin twisted at the corners of his lips. “Never have I ever… morphed into a wolfman.”

  “That’s playing dirty! You know I haven’t.”

  “Ah! Then you have to drink. Those are the rules.”

  “If I do this, will you let me eat my damned burger?” I muttered, taking a small, tentative sip.

  Lips sinking into a downward C, he met the challenge of my extreme indifference. “Never have I ever… come back from the dead.”

  Instead of lowering the glass, I tipped it up for a second, slightly longer, sip. “That one’s ironic, since I’ve done it for others, but—”

  “Never have I ever,” raising his voice, Reid purposely talked over me.

  “Annnnd, we’re going again. So much for the getting-to-know-each-other part.”

  “… won a boxing match.”

  “Oh, have you actually won a few?” Challenge flashing in my eyes, I tilted my head and offered him a sweet smile. “I thought you mostly went there for nap time.”

  “I’ve walked away with the prize, a time or two,” he laughed, pecs straining against the thin fabric of his white V-necked t-shirt. “You got sucker-punched in the face and went down hard and fast.”

  “You wish I’d go down hard and fast,” I mumbled behind my cup, tipping it back once more.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Whoa, simmer down, rum-brain.

  Lucky for me, Bacon picked that moment to blast a fart loud enough to jolt himself awake. Smelling food, Sir Snorts-a-Lot hopped off the bed and wagged his little rump for all he was worth, in the fervent hopes we would share.

  Grabbing two fries, I tossed them to him as a thanks for the diversion.

  Plate and drink in hand, Reid flopped down on his bed and balanced his feast on his lap. “Never have I ever—”

  “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not so fast, Hunky the Dogboy. It’s my
turn.” Double-fisting my burger, I leaned one hip against the hotel’s IKEA-chic desk and treated myself to a bite.

  “By all means.” Reid dipped his head in invitation.

  “Never have I ever… morphed into an actual wolf.”

  Reid stopped chewing, blatantly unamused. “You know you have to drink for that one too, right?”

  “I know. But it’s so worthwhile to get that little dig in.”

  “I say this with love: you’re kind of a bitch.”

  “I say this with love: I know. Bottoms up!” Leading by example, I downed what was left of my drink.

  “Octavia Hollows, you are truly savage.”

  Smacking my lips, I shrugged at the description. “Even so, best not to piss off the rum gods.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he seconded, and downed the entire cup.

  Chapter Three

  “No you did not!” Tears of laughter streamed down Reid’s cheeks.

  “I was living on the streets! I had to make my own fun!” I guffawed.

  Wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands, Reid shook his head. “How was that fun?”

  Rolling onto my side on the bed, I propped my head up on my hand. “You had to be there to fully appreciate it. It was a whole experiment on the boundaries of basic social conduct I did in Central Park. See someone walking by with a basket of french fries? Maintain eye contact and take one without asking. Stuff like that. Basically, I just wanted to see how far I could take it.”

  “The claim was never have I ever made a stranger cry. Was it the french fry person who broke?

  Fighting back fresh peals of laughter, I struggled to get the rest of the story out before exploding into giggles. “It was the carriage ride I tagged along for. A couple was settling in for a romantic, horse-drawn jaunt through the park. I climbed in beside them without saying a word. Best part? The dude was trying to propose.”

  Clutching his stomach at the hilarity of that visual, Reid rolled to the side… and fell off the bed.