“I know,” he said. “I’m just saying that this could change us.”
“Good,” she said. “The way I see it, whatever bargain we struck, we got the better end of the deal. We have each other, and when the time is right, we will be unstoppable. Power doesn’t automatically corrupt, you know. We will know how to use our powers in the right way.”
Quinn was silent after that. Maybe she was right.
“I did do one thing I didn’t tell you about earlier,” Kate said.
“Which was?”
“I left them a note,” she said.
“Who?”
“Sheriff Brown and the rest of the police.”
“What did it say?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, and she smiled.
“I hate that you can keep secrets,” he replied, but he was smiling too.
“That’s just it, Quinn. I can’t keep them for long.”
“Seriously, what did it say?”
“Ask me later,” she said. “You’ll find out.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Well,” Kate said finally. “Where do you want to go once we see my Dad?”
“I did have one idea,” he said and grinned.
“Which is?” she asked.
“I put the brochure in the glove compartment,” he replied.
She opened up the compartment and found a single brochure with the picture of a small town in autumn on it. Kate laughed out loud.
“You have to be kidding me,” she said.
“I figured we should visit our roots.”
She opened the brochure up.
“Welcome to Sleepy Hollow, New York,” it said. “Where legends and magic await.”
“Sounds perfect,” Kate said.
PS File: Letter #1
Date: Nov. 1, 2006
Investigation Status: Open
Contents: Classified
Dear Sheriff Brown,
Some of what we tell you will be lies. This is necessary to protect us both. We were the ones who killed Lord Halloween—that part is no lie, we assure you. Where you failed, we succeeded. Let me be clear up front: we will tolerate no further incompetence from you or your staff. You have let dozens of people die at the hands of a madman. You can claim victory over Lord Halloween—we bear you no ill will if you want to hog credit—as long as you understand that you had nothing to do with it. Without us, he would still be out there. Without us, he would still be killing.
Why are we writing to you? Because you are going to hear stories, lots of them. Stories that do not make sense; stories about monsters and ghosts. Some know these stories already—just ask your own son. These stories will be true. In the absence of divine intervention from above, Loudoun County will receive assistance from down below. The monsters are out in force. Continuing the ban on Halloween will not stop us.
But let us be clear: the innocent have no reason to fear us and we will give them none. Only those that lurk in shadows to strike at others have a reason to panic. To those that murder without cause, we are their worst nightmare. To those that desire retribution, we are their greatest ally.
There are times in life when one must make a stand. We intend to do so. Our medium is the one best understood by every being on this planet, from the lowly maggot to us—fear.
We will be the thing people fear. Our name already sends a shiver down the spine of the guilty, and soon it will be synonymous with the creeping darkness.
We are night. We are October. We are flesh rendered and torn. We are the rider that was promised long ago, the harbinger of fall: We are death, riding on a black horse.
You can call us the Prince of Sanheim.
The End
Kate and Quinn’s story has only just begun. Find out what happens next in Band of Demons, an amazing sequel “with plot twists that will leave you gasping for air,” available now on Audible and Kindle.
Want a free novella? Go to Rob’s website at www.robblackwellbooks.com to sign up for his email newsletter and download a free supernatural suspense novella today!
About the Author
Rob Blackwell is an award-winning journalist who is currently editor-in-chief of the American Banker, an independent newspaper that covers the financial services industry.
He is the author of seven novels, including the Kindle-bestselling Soren Chase series and The Sanheim Chronicles, which deftly combine urban fantasy, mystery and suspense. His latest novel, the Western-themed urban fantasy Riders on the Storm, will be published in May 2019. His first novel, A Soul to Steal, was featured on USA Today.
In 2017, Rob was honored with the Timothy White Award for Editorial Integrity, which is given to an “editor whose work displays courage, integrity and passion.” In addition, he has won several other business journalism awards as a writer and editor during the past two decades.
He lives in Virginia with his wife and two children. You can learn more about Rob at www.robblackwellbooks.com.
Steve Vincent: Eyes on You
Eyes on You
By Steve P. Vincent
Author’s Rating:
Language: *** Sexuality: ** Violence: **
For your convenience each book in this collection has been rated by the author for language, sexuality and violence, so that you as a reader can make an informed choice.
Our collection includes books that span the intensity range.
Language Intensity:
* - No or mild profanity, if any
** - Stronger profanity, with up to 5 uses of the f-word
*** - Strong language
Sexuality Intensity:
* - Sexual reference or no sexuality
** - Sexual reference which might include some details.
*** - Intense, descriptive sexual scenes
Violence Intensity
* - Violence, but no gory details.
** - Mild violence, fairly detailed with some blood
*** - Detailed violence
Eyes on You © 2019 Steve P. Vincent
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. 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 permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Blurb
If you want something badly, you’ll tear apart anyone who stands in your way.
Ashley Wheeler is hiding from her past. The only thing keeping her going is the love of her daughter, Lucy, who Ashley will risk everything to win back from her husband.
While she chases after her daughter, Ashley becomes the plaything of a killer she doesn’t know exists and a cop who’s happy to use her to get what he wants.
As their fates intertwine, Ashley will find out that indulging your obsession can put you on a collision course with others.
Eyes on You is a psychological thriller with twists that will leave you breathless.
Act 1
1
Ashley
Ashley Wheeler walked slowly down the aisle, staring at the products on the shelves until she finally picked one at random. Staring at the soup, she read that it contained 260 calories per serving and now had 25 percent more real tomatoes. As she stared at the label with feigned interest, her ears strained, listening for that sweet voice again, but hearing nothing.
Teeth clenche
d and body tense, Ashley gripped the can tightly. She had to take her chance, even though she wasn’t sure she had the courage to. There’d be trouble if she was caught, and she already had enough of that. After a moment’s hesitation and one deep breath – a sharp, quick inhale and a long, slow exhale – she made up her mind.
The soup was still in her hand as she walked to the end of the aisle and turned the corner. Before she could make it to the next aisle, she noticed a pimply-faced boy watching her, his back to the milk he’d been stacking on the shelves. The boy glanced at the can in her hand and then his gaze returned to her face. This was the third time she’d noticed him sizing her up.
Ashley took a step towards the boy, jerking her thumb in the direction of the next aisle. “Is the pasta down here?”
The teenager gave a slow, exaggerated nod and Ashley started to move again. She’d hoped he might leave her alone if she spoke to him, but he still looked suspicious. Ashley knew she needed to move quickly. With each passing second her resolve lessened and the chances of the boy alerting security or Tom seeing her increased. A few steps down the aisle, she froze.
“Daddy, can I have some candy?” The child’s voice was full of joy. “I’m going to get chocolate and licorice!”
It was Lucy. The voice was unmistakable. Ashley’s heart swelled with happiness. Her daughter was right around the corner. She was instantly deluged with flashbacks: the smell of shampoo in her auburn hair; the way she used to tangle her fingers through Ashley’s hair; the dimples on her cheeks when she got excited; her first crawl, walk and words.
Ashley shook her head. There’d be time for nostalgia later, when they were together again. A voice in the back of her brain shouted at her to turn back, but she buried the thought and pressed on. This was her chance to right the largest of so many wrongs that had occurred in her life. Ashley set aside the can of soup, balled her fists, walked around the corner and nearly cried out with joy.
Lucy was standing halfway down the aisle, her wild red hair curling down her back and a dimpled smile illuminating her face. Lucy picked up some chocolate, her face bright with excitement. The sight brought a smile to Ashley’s face. Seeing Lucy up close made everything that was wrong with her life right now seem a little bit better.
Tom was searching the shelves further along the aisle, several yards from Lucy. Ashley rushed towards her daughter. Her plan was risky, but it had been a month since she’d seen Lucy, thanks to a legal system unable to look after the victims of crime, and she couldn’t wait any longer. She needed her daughter back.
Lucy turned her head when Ashley was a few yards away. In an instant, that beautiful smile was replaced with a confused frown.
“Lucy.” Ashley felt her voice crack as she reached for the little girl’s hand. It was like reaching for some amazing treasure. “Come with me.”
“Mommy?” Lucy spoke softly as her mind struggled to process seeing Ashley again. “Are you here to see Daddy and me?”
“No, baby. Just you.”
Ashley gripped Lucy’s hand, leading Lucy away from Tom as fast as she could. She only had a few seconds’ break on her ex-husband, but she’d almost reached the end of the aisle by the time he noticed and started shouting. His negligence was further proof that Lucy needed her mother.
With the exit of the store in sight, Ashley redoubled her pace. “We’re nearly there, Lucy.”
Lucy finally found her voice. “Why can’t Daddy come?”
Ashley had no time to argue her case or explain that Tom couldn’t come with them. She reached down, scooped Lucy up and started to run. She heard Tom shout after her again, but Ashley ignored him. Her eyes were on the exit.
Then a hand clenched her shoulder.
Ashley turned to face the security guard. “We’re in a hurry.”
“Please don’t make a scene.” The guard spoke firmly. “Don’t make this worse.”
“She’s my daughter!” Her voice was laced with months of built-up pain and grief.
Ashley was now surrounded by several members of staff. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but there was nowhere to go. Her heart sank when Tom caught up with them and reached out for Lucy. Ashley squeezed Lucy tight, trying to hold on with all her strength, but the guard helped pry open her grip enough for Tom to take Lucy from her again.
Ashley cried out. “No!”
Suddenly, the flashbacks returned. But this time they were of less happy moments: fights with Tom about the trial; her struggles with her mental health; her pleas with him to help her; the sight of Lucy being driven away after the custody decision; the loneliness. With a sob, she was forced to reconcile with Tom taking her daughter from her once again.
“You’re out of your mind, Ashley!” His voice was full of anger. “You need to get help.”
Ashley turned her head away from him as the staff continued to grip her arms tightly. Lucy’s relief at being reunited with her father was too much. Ashley had hoped to take Lucy back to Connecticut and start anew, and her failure cut even deeper than losing Lucy in the first place. She looked back to Tom and Lucy, but they were already leaving.
“Miss, you need to sit.” The guard steered her towards a bench at the front of the store.
Ashley slumped down onto the bench seat with little grace or care. They’d all be judging her, thinking she was some crazy woman who’d tried to abduct a little girl. They didn’t know the depth of her pain, how much she’d suffered, how damaged she was. She kept silent, and they told her not to move.
Ashley stared at the floor, her head in her hands. Her red hair fell in front of her, catching some of her tears. It was all so unfair. She’d done the right thing in the past and lost everything because of it. Nobody recognized that – not Tom, and not the legal system. She could only hope that someday there’d be justice.
Heaving sobs racked her body. Nobody comforted her or told her everything would be okay. It hadn’t been for a very long time, and she’d just made things much worse.
2
Duncan
Duncan Rowe shook the juice box and then raised it to his mouth. With his other hand holding the binoculars to his eyes, he slurped the last of the orange juice, then threw the empty container on the ground, where it joined the other detritus from his hour-long stakeout, including a candy bar wrapper and an apple core.
“How much longer can this take?” Duncan sighed. His leg had a twitch and he was growing impatient.
He’d been watching her the whole time, never looking away in case he missed his chance. She was sitting alone on a bench in the middle of the park, waiting for her husband to arrive. Watching her cry had grown old, even if he was the architect of her sorrow, but he couldn’t act yet. He hadn’t put in all this work to ruin it now.
The meeting he’d engineered between the woman and her husband would be her last stand, the confrontation that would light the spark on the final conflagration of the bitch’s life. She’d lost so much already, but now it was time to watch her lose it all. She deserved nothing less.
She’d come to Duncan’s attention over a dating website. Her red hair had piqued his interest, but once he’d started to study her she’d lured him in even more. His grip tightened on the binoculars as he recalled her profile – the misplaced sense of entitlement, the gall to admit she had a husband at the same time she was trying to find a fuck, and the blunt statement that her career came before anything else.
It had stirred an anger in him.
Duncan had gone to work. He’d studied her, then set about taking away all the things that were important to her. Her career was ruined, her family no longer spoke to her, her husband had stormed out with their daughter. One by one, he’d kicked the struts out from beneath her life.
He’d watched her slip, from being confident and in command to out of control and grasping. Now she knew what it felt like to be powerless, humiliated, and rejected. Now that his hard work was reaching an end point, Duncan’s anticipation was almost overwhelming.
The woman stood, breaking his reverie. She rubbed her eyes and offered a weak smile to someone. Duncan shifted the binoculars and saw a man approaching her. Even from this distance he looked tense. The woman tried to hug him, but he rebuffed her. Duncan couldn’t blame the guy. He’d be repulsed if he were married to a lying whore, too.
Quashing the hope that her relationship could be saved had been Duncan’s endgame, at least as far as her emotions were concerned. He still had more in store for her body. Duncan watched eagerly as they argued, their hand gestures animated. She was probably still saying she loved him, which Duncan knew was a lie.
He’d suffered enough pain of his own because of a woman like her and now his role was to punish those who were similar. But he was also a savior. Though he’d never met the woman’s husband, Duncan knew he’d saved him. The man could begin his life anew, raising his daughter to be nothing like her mother.
The woman tried to grab her husband’s hand, but he pushed her to the ground. She landed hard, clearly in pain, but this did nothing to stop her husband from leaning over and shouting at her. Duncan couldn’t hear what he was saying, but that didn’t matter, because his anger was clear even from this distance.
The husband turned and started to walk away. After a few steps, she said something that made him pause. Duncan wondered what promises she was making. She was on her ass in the dirt, her makeup streaking down her face as she cried, her hand outstretched. But her husband kept walking.
Dead and Gone Page 180
