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FREE CHAPTERS:
Chapter One
Monsters in the Closet
HE WANTED to kill her.
At some point during the night a stranger crawled into Bay-Lee’s bed while she snored softly, unaware of impending danger. The mattress springs squeaked in complaint beneath the additional weight as he reclined on his side and stared down at her face. It bothered him that she continued to sleep. After all the stories he’d heard about this girl, exploited rumors verging on myth, he’d expected more from her. Shouldn’t she be able to sense trouble by now?
This was Van Helsing’s daughter?
She looked insignificant, vulnerable beneath the bright orange sheet. He could snap her neck so easily—and maybe he should. The world would continue on, undisturbed, but the dark cloud hanging over his head would finally dissipate.
A fraction of moonlight filtered through partially opened curtains, not enough to see clearly, but it didn’t matter because he’d seen pictures of this girl on Van Helsing’s desk. Her features were burned into his retinas. Every time he went into the office, he tried not to look at the photographs, purposely pointing his gaze elsewhere. Eventually, his gaze drifted back to her.
There was something about her, something unsettling that pulled him back to stare at her reproduced image. She looked like an average girl at first glance. A pretty face framed by long dark hair parted in the middle and layered stared back at him. Of Brazilian descent, her eyes were the darkest of browns, nearly black. They hid a mountain of secrets. She had attitude to spare and the camera caught it, recording it for future historians—if rumors were correct, they would want to study her.
She possessed a ‘bite me’ expression that must drive vampires crazy.
Fortunately, he was not a vampire.
Her mouth bothered him the most. Full lips haunted his dreams with a secretive smile curving the ends and a bottom lip that begged to be nibbled on. Sometimes, when he wasn’t carefully controlling his thoughts, he wondered what she would taste like. In his dreams when he wasn’t fully in control of his mind, he kissed her without ceasing. Now he wondered what would happen if he kissed her in real life. Would it stir something deep in his soul? Would the prophecy come true?
Something hard lodged in his throat, and he swallowed. It was a near miss so he swallowed again. Kissing her shouldn’t even be a blip on the radar. This girl was the reason he didn’t have a home or a family. It was her fault he’d grown up on the outside looking in, her fault people whispered behind his back, and her fault he was destined to die young.
Bay-Lee stirred in her sleep. Mumbling, she pushed against his chest with two fingers. “Go ‘way.”
Cute like a box of kittens, for a second he forgot to hate her. His heart momentarily softened, but only for a moment. The unfamiliar sensation was enough to wipe the half-smile from his face. Delivering a mental kick to his brain, he reminded himself this girl was the last person in the world he could let his guard down around. She was worse than trouble. If he wasn’t careful, this seemingly harmless meeting would lead to his total destruction.
Ready to wake her, he leaned in close and whispered her (fake) name. Like him, she was forced to live under an alias. Michelle.
THE KNOWLEDGE she was no longer alone in bed should have scared the crap out of Bay-Lee and normally it would have, but she was still floating on the fragments of a blissful dream. The soft whisper of a lover’s hands surfaced with her consciousness. She’d been dreaming about being in love, the kind that inspired people to die for each other, the Romeo and Juliet sort of love that she’d only read about in books. Beyond that nothing seemed real to her.
An odd smell pierced the veil of sleep, and she wrinkled her nose. Jack Daniels?
The next thing to grab her attention was the feel of a hard body crowding her on the narrow mattress.
Warm breath lightly blew a trail down her face from forehead to mouth like the soft wings of a butterfly brushing against her skin. Fingers slid up one arm to curve around her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered, and she smiled up at the gorgeous stranger. Fantasy wove a complicated tapestry with reality, and she decided she was still dreaming.
The dark-haired boy’s gaze settled on her lips. She could practically read his mind. He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Still living on the leftover residue of an imagined love, she was going to allow it. A tingling sense of anticipation had her nearly breathless already.
She closed her eyes again, mentally preparing for the kiss.
She waited.
The bed creaked as he leaned in to give her what she desired most. His hot breath teased her lips, and the smell of whiskey intoxicated her. She clenched her hands into tight fists, grabbing and holding bunched up bedding, silently willing him to hurry before she came to her senses. Outside of this moment nothing existed, not school, not her boyfriend, not the troubling circumstances that forced her to constantly move from state to state, nothing.
When her lips remained cool and untouched, she opened her eyes to find the boy staring down at her with pure contempt. A menacing light emanated from his eyes. He parted his lips on a soft growl, reminding her of a werewolf, and her blood turned to ice.
“You ruined my life,” he whispered in a semi-harsh tone, accusing.
Wide awake now, facts hit her like rapid fire. A stranger was in her bed, her gun was in the dresser, and he was big enough to overpower her if she made a move for the knife beneath her pillow. Feeling vulnerable made her sick to her stomach. It also filled her with unquenchable anger. How dare this stupid boy invade her bedroom, her bed, and threaten her!
Speaking in a firm tone without the slightest quiver, she asked, “How did you get in here?” He rolled off the mattress, no hurry, while she pulled the sheet higher to hide the bunny pajamas. They were ridiculous, sky blue with fluffy scampering white rabbits. Knowing her hair was a mess, she automatically reached up to smooth it down. At the last second, she stayed her hand. Why should she care if he thought she was pretty? “Did Connor let you in?”
Her uncle wasn’t known for having the greatest judgment in the world.
The intruder grinned and took two steps back until beams of moonlight exposed the left side of his body. Tall and muscular, the guy was built better than any of the boys at school. If she had to guess, she would say he was between eighteen and twenty-two. Utterly masculine, he also had a lot of features girls would be envious of, long lashes, thick hair, and beautiful eyes. They were the most amazing shade of green, like a place deep in the forest after a violent thunderstorm.
He grinned as if hearing her thoughts. “I thought it was every teen girl’s fantasy to have me in their bedroom. Was I wrong?”
It was then she recognized him, Tyler Beck, lead singer for the notorious band called Bad-Rock. There was a celebrity in her bedroom. Gulp!
For a moment she forgot to breathe. How was it even possible? Why would a rock star come to her home in the middle of the night? She had to be dreaming.
He picked up the CD collection off the white wicker dresser and carelessly leafed through them, lips twisted in disgust. A few of the CDs wound up on the floor.
She blinked. “Am I... dreaming?”
“No.” The grin changed to a smirk. “I break into the homes of random girls all the time... just to talk. Being a rock star doesn’t keep me busy enough.” He raised an eyebrow and held up the next CD in the shortening stack. “Seriously? I wouldn’t listen to this if someone had a gun to my head.” He flicked it to the floor. “Your taste in music sucks.”
Although the CDs in his hands were a mixture of Country and Jazz, she loved Classic Rock like her dad. The discs didn’t belong to her. Nothing in the ridiculous girlie neon orange and pink room did with the exception of a few sentimental items she dragged from place to place, but she wasn’t going to explain her way of life to this intruder. If she wanted to bare her soul, she’d see a psychiatrist. Knowing it was a dream didn’t make her feel any better about him going through what he thought were her personal belongings.
“Why did you kill those people?” she asked out of curiosity. An image of dead bodies on a night club floor surfaced in her mind. It took effort not to shudder. “What did they ever do to you?”
He laughed, throaty and deep, sexy. The sound dried the inside of her mouth and she clenched her teeth, feeling betrayed by her own body. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t felt this way about a guy before. Why now? Why this murderer?
“What did they do to me?” he repeated her question. “Nothing.” Then he pointed a finger at her. “You, on the other hand, ruined my life.”
“Stop saying that. I don’t know you. Before you killed those people, I wasn’t even aware we were on the same planet.”
“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart as if she’d wounded him. “So, you aren’t one of my many adoring fans, huh?”
He put what was left of her CD collection on the dresser and reached for the tiny television, flipping it on without seeking permission. An old sit-com with a noisy family brought the square screen to life.
“No, I am not a fan. I don’t follow you on social media or turn the volume up when one of your dumb songs comes on the radio. I never think about you. Why are you in my head now?”
“You tell me. It’s your—”
“Dream. I know. You don’t have to keep saying it. I get it already.”
“Until this dream ends, what do you want to do?” His hungry gaze locked on her face, and he bit his lower lip as if he was once again thinking about kissing her.
Close to panicking now, she froze. The kisses she shared with her fake-boyfriend Gavin were brief and passionless and always for the benefit of those watching. What would it feel like to kiss someone she actually wanted? Her skin burned from just looking at the guy. The chemistry between them had the potential to blow the roof off the house. If he touched her, she’d probably spontaneously combust.
Tyler Beck, the hottest rock singer on the planet, the boy every girl fantasized about stared at her with desire in his eyes. He planted a knee on the bed near her foot. His hand landed next to her upper thigh. The other knee and hand joined them on the mattress. Slowly, he crawled up her body, careful not to touch her until he was once again hovering over her mouth. In a husky whisper he repeated, “What do you want to do? Talk? Fight? Make out?”
The challenging tone sent a chill through her, a bad sort of chill. Doubts surfaced. What if this wasn’t a dream? Maybe a monster had crossed over from the Spirit Realm in a Tyler Beck disguise to kill her. She needed to do something quick. If she died, it would be her own fault for being so stupid.
Her hand slid under the pink pillow behind her head to grab the ancient dagger she slept on. Gripping it hard, she prepared to attack. Something in her eyes tipped him off. Before she could bury the blade deep in his chest, he leaped off the bed without warning, flying backwards. He stumbled and hit the wall near the dresser. A picture of a girl sitting in a garden rocked sideways before falling off the nail.
“Another time then,” he mumbled before disappearing.
Bay-Lee blinked at the empty space where his body had been. A shaky laugh escaped her open mouth. She was dreaming. There wasn’t a monster out there that could vanish into thin air. Relaxed now, she collapsed on the mattress, breathing through her mouth. Something was seriously wrong with her, having a hot dream about a psycho rock star.
Maybe she should seek therapy.
“ROCK STAR Tyler Beck is dead at the age of twenty,” the news anchor said, unable to keep a drop of excitement from her voice. “A nationwide manhunt for Bad-Rock’s frontman ended in tragedy earlier this evening when Beck lost control of his vehicle during a high-speed police chase. Band members could not be reached for comment. Their publicist has issued the following statement.”
Bay-Lee frowned in her sleep. Horrible images infiltrated her mind, twisted metal and a body burned beyond recognition. The frown deepened. She had fallen asleep with the television on again. It was the only logical reason for the intrusion of a loud female voice. Her hand slapped around the mattress, blindly searching for the remote in the fervent hope she wouldn’t have to open her eyes.
The news anchor read the statement as if she’d rehearsed it a dozen times.
“Tyler’s family and close friends request privacy and understanding in this difficult time as they grieve for a talented life cut too short. Although Tyler was accused of a horrendous crime earlier this week, we are confident his name will be cleared. In the meantime, we ask that...”
Giving into the inevitable, Bay-Lee parted her eyelids in a painful squint. Light from the television nearly blinded her. Her head snapped around so she was facing the darkened side of her room. The remote was on the nightstand next to the alarm clock. Grabbing it, she switched the set off.
Cool darkness settled over her bedroom, bringing instant relief. She closed her eyes again and breathed easier. Silence gave her a much-needed break. Her uncle must have gone to bed early tonight.
The news anchor’s words took a second trip through her mind.
They had been talking about Tyler Beck on the late-night news. That’s why she’d been dreaming about him. Mystery solved. There wasn’t anything wrong with her that couldn’t be fixed by turning off the television before going to bed.
For an entire week his face had haunted her. A person couldn’t turn on a television or pick up a magazine without seeing his image. Following a Sold Out concert last Friday night he had gone to a party thrown in his honor, and he’d massacred sixteen of his biggest fans.
What sort of person murdered their own fans?
According to police, there was enough evidence to convict. There was a video on the Internet that had gone viral—five million hits in one day. It was shot by a teen outside the club and clearly showed Tyler exiting the party before police surrounded him.
The rock star had been running from the law ever since.
She sighed, a hundred percent awake now. Frustrated, she kicked at the sheet tangled around her legs and struggled to get comfortable after repeatedly punching her pillow. Stupid Tyler Beck.
She was sick of hearing his name, and now the jerk was apparently going to ruin a good night’s sleep with his sudden demise. Ridiculous. Before this week she hadn’t even noticed he was alive, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
In fact, Bay-Lee went back to sleep with Tyler Beck’s face firmly planted in her mind. He starred in her dreams, a bad boy with movie star looks and a terrible reputation.
THE TEMPERATURE in her bedroom plummeted thirty degrees. She shivered and flipped onto her stomach. Dark hair caught beneath one shoulder, pulling painfully at her scalp, and she winced. The sheet proved a poor barrier between her skin and the Arctic air. What was going on? Had the heater stopped working?
Knowledge returned, and experience helped her tired brain connect the dots. The cold was due to a supernatural occurrence. It had been a warm evening when she’d gone to bed. What could change the temperature so drastically? She bolted upright, the answer coming to her with the speed of a freight train, chilling her further.
At the same time she reached behind her, sliding her fingers beneath the pillow and grasping the hilt of the ancient dagger, a rumbling sound emanated from the closet. The dagger’s raised design pinched the tender flesh of her palm, but she barely felt it. Her fingers tightened. Simply having it in her hand had the power to calm her.
The urge to call for her uncle parted her lips, and she gathered a breath.
White light seeped through the cracks around her closet door, outlining the tall rectangular plank, proving it was too late to yell for Connor. The monster from the Spirit Realm would hear her.
Bay-Lee swallowed as she tried to remember every lesson Van had taught her about self-defense over the years. She purposely slowed her breathing. It would be better if she had the advantage. With that in mind she went down on the mattress and closed her eyes. Let the thing think it had caught her asleep and defenseless. She held the dagger against her chest beneath the orange sheet and waited patiently for it to make the first move. Nothing was going to kill her. Not in her own bedroom. Not tonight.
The light died, her closet door opened, and a shadowy figure swept into the room. A floorboard creaked beneath the unexpected weight. Her entire body stiffened, knowing the thing was there to kill her. For years monsters from the Spirit Realm had searched the world for her. It was inevitable one would eventually find her.
With eyes closed she couldn’t see the monster coming towards her, so she strained her ears to pick up on the slightest noise. Instead of footsteps, a disturbing dragging sound rested on the air. Her fingers gripped the dagger tight. The monster swished closer. It was almost to the head of the bed now. She held her breath, waiting. A plan of attack played like a silent movie in the back of her mind, letting her know exactly what she should do.
The monster bent over her. Its breath stank of smoking ash and decaying flesh. She watched it from beneath lowered lashes. Bony fingers reached for her.
Now! She rolled in the opposite direction, leaped off the bed, and pointed the dagger at the intruder. Draped in a black cloak with tattered edges and a hood pulled down to conceal its face, the thing was obviously a reaper. Although she’d read about reapers in one of Van’s books, she’d never seen one in person. No one saw them, not until they came to collect.
Reapers could see better in the dark than a cat, so she felt extra vulnerable in the silly bunny pajamas. A fuzzy robe hung on the inside of her closet door. If she could have a single wish granted, she would want to be in that robe, but there was no point in asking the reaper to allow it. The thing wouldn’t give her time to put it on. They weren’t known for their patience.
She swallowed hard before forcing words from her mouth. “Are you here to reap me? Am I dying?”
It spoke to her in a voice that sounded like gravel in a blender, the volume a mere whisper in an otherwise silent night. “I have not come to harm you.”
“Then why?” Everything she knew about reapers flitted through her mind, nothing useful. They collected souls and crossed them safely over the dark plains of the Spirit Realm. It was their only job, priority one. If the thing wasn’t in her room to collect her, then... “What do you want?”
The monster’s eyes burned bright, yellow at first and then red, staring at her in the smothering darkness. It spoke slowly, enunciating every word with excruciating detail, and it hissed on the letter S, reminding her of a cartoon snake. “I can sssee into your sssoul. Do not fear. Your sssecrets are sssafe with me.”
What the hell? Her own voice quivered. “You have thirty seconds to tell me why you’re here before I cut your tongue out.”
“We both know that isn’t possible.” To prove its point the creature remained silent for an uncomfortable length of time. By the time it spoke again, she was ready to scream for backup. “Your sssoul is a mess of contradictions. Sssometimes you ssstand in front of the mirror and ssstare into your own eyes as you sssearch for your true ssself.”
The dagger in her hand trembled. Quickly she took control of her body and stopped the involuntary movement, using every ounce of determination she possessed. How could this thing possibly know what she did or how she felt? Had it been spying on her?
“For the last time, tell me why you’re here. Then get out of my house or I will find a way to tear your face off.”
Did reapers have faces?
“Sssoon you will know who you are, who you truly are. All of your questions will be answered. You will find your other half, your destiny.” It paused before adding, “They are keeping sssecrets from you?”
“Who?”
“Your uncle and your father. They want to keep you from your destiny, child. Open your eyes. Ssseek the truth.”
“If they’re keeping secrets from me and you know what they are, tell me.”
“I am bound by rules, child. I can only give you a hint.”
She waited, saying nothing.
“Follow your heart,” it said. “Love what you love. Be who you want to be.”
“Seriously? I could find that in a fortune cookie.” Clenching her teeth, she said, “Get out.”
The thing remained statue still.
Then it said, “There is more.”
Her frustration grew. If it was possible to kill a reaper, the thing would be dead on her floor, bathing in its own blood.
Did reapers have blood?
Giving in, she asked, “What?”
“Why must I tell you everything? You must sssense it. Sssomething is coming. Sssomething bad.”
“Something worse than you?”
It chuckled. “Beware. It kills—”
“Newsflash,” she snapped. “Everything from your side kills. That’s what hunters are for, to stop them.”
“I wasn’t finished.” The reaper sounded irritated, impatient. “It kills you on your birthday.”
“That’s depressing.” She wondered if monsters understood sarcasm. “Why bother to warn me? I know the Order wants me dead.”
“Sssoon, yes. But not yet.”
“Are you serious?” They’d been on her trail for years. Why would they suddenly send her a warning?
It didn’t bother to answer her question. Moving scary fast, the monster disappeared into the closet before she could swallow and a light flashed around the edges of the door, signaling its departure. Darkness once again stole over her bedroom. The reaper was gone.
Her flesh itched to chase the monster down and torture answers out of it. Problem was she couldn’t remember if reapers felt pain. Following it would be stupid. Getting caught on the other side without an arsenal would be doubly stupid. She started in the direction of her bed, but her gaze swung back to the closet door, and she hesitated. She didn’t want another visitor. The next one might kill her instead of handing her a useless warning.
Bay-Lee got on the other side of the dresser. Gritting her teeth, she pushed, scooting it across the bare floor until it blocked the closed closet door. Let something try to enter her room now. On her way back to bed her gaze found the garden picture on the floor, and her breath caught in her throat. If she’d been dreaming before, why was the picture on the floor?
She’d had two visitors tonight.
What was going on over there in the Spirit Realm? Had someone opened a doorway between there and her bedroom and put a sign out front saying: This way to Van Helsing’s daughter?
Adrenaline pumped through her veins. The encounter with the two monsters had her body burning extra hot. Too bad she hadn’t been able to fight with at least one of them. A good fight might have helped her calm down. Now she was too wound up to sleep, so she decided to listen to music for a while.
It took hours for her body to relax enough to fall asleep.
Chapter Two
Normal Life (normal for Bay-Lee)
BAY-LEE WALKED to school rather than take a bus, not wanting to be packed in a metal box like sardines with a dozen other kids. She felt claustrophobic just thinking about it. Chattering voices grew louder as she neared the campus. Eight long narrow buildings lined up side by side with a wrap-around chain link fence surrounding the property, reminding her of a prison. She raced across the busy street. The second her foot touched the sidewalk, an out-of-control skateboarder zoomed into her path, but quick reflexes saved her.
The jerk didn’t even bother to shout an apology over his shoulder. She imagined chasing him down and knocking him off his board. A slight smile stretched her lips at the thought.
She passed a group of students talking about Tyler Beck and the smile instantly died. An unwanted vision of the boy infiltrated her brain. She clenched her hands tight and dug fingernails into the fleshy parts of her palms. If she had to listen to people talk about the deceased rock singer all day, she was going to lose it. Maybe she should have stayed home.
Her gaze drifted back in the direction she’d just traveled. If she went home, Connor would hit the sky. Another of his rules not to get noticed, don’t stay home unless you are spitting up blood. He wouldn’t think her annoyance at hearing the rocker’s name bandied about was a good reason to ditch.
Her uncle’s voice echoed across her mind. Don’t bring attention to yourself.
According to Connor her grades needed to be average. She wasn’t allowed to excel, but he didn’t want her to flunk either. Middle of the road was where he wanted her to live. Be a good girl, but don’t do anything special. Teachers were to like her, not love her, and she could have a friend or two, no more. Popularity was definitely out. Her clothes were average, jeans and plain tops, nothing too spectacular. Gatherings were good as long as they included the entire school like the Halloween party tonight.
She caught sight of her friend Chloe and forgot about going home. The usually cheerful girl was sitting on a concrete bench, eyes downcast. Something was wrong. Chloe was a Connor-approved friend, average in everything from looks to grades so Bay-Lee couldn’t afford to lose her. She needed to help the girl with whatever drama she had going on this week.
Bay-Lee sat next to her on the bench and said, “You look like your dog just died.”
Chloe lifted a tear-stained face, and her lower lip quivered. “Tyler Beck was killed last night.”
Are you kidding me? Bay-Lee held tight to her temper. She should have known Chloe would be upset. Although the girl didn’t gush over boys, she did have a poster of Bad-Rock on her bedroom wall. Plus, she had every album the band ever made.
Bay-Lee took a deep breath and tried not to let her true feelings show. “So I heard.”
“He was so... cool.” Chloe sniffled. “And his voice... I could listen to it forever.”
“Okay.” Bay-Lee prayed the girl couldn’t talk about him forever.
“He has the most amazing eyes. Trisha thinks he wears colored contacts, but I don’t. There isn’t anything fake about him. I’m sure his eyes are real. What do you think? Do you think he wears contacts?”
He doesn’t wear anything anymore because he’s dead, so who cares?
Bay-Lee shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“My mom bought me tickets to the Bad-Rock concert in March. It’s in Dallas… it was supposed to be in Dallas, but now there won’t be a concert. I can’t believe he’s gone. I’ll never hear him sing another new song. Why? Why did he have to die?”
“I don’t know.” Maybe because he was a psychotic killer and karma caught up with him. “Life is a mystery.”
A small group of girls walked by and their loud voices drowned out Bay-Lee’s last word. Names eluded her for the most part, although the sobbing girl in the center was Chloe’s former best friend Lisa Wilkes. According to Chloe they’d gotten into a huge fight days before Bay-Lee’s arrival and now they hated each other. The two girls with Lisa were just annoying bookends as far as Bay-Lee was concerned.
Lisa sobbed, loud enough to draw attention from everyone in the near vicinity. “I was going to marry him. It isn’t fair! A guy that gorgeous should not be allowed to die until he’s way too old for anyone to care.”
“You weren’t going to marry him,” the brunette to her left said. “His bodyguard wouldn’t let you get close enough to even ask for an autograph. I heard he’s an ex-Navy Seal, so no way were you getting by him.”
“My dad’s friend knows his aunt, for your information. We were totally going to meet, fall in love, and get married. You’re just jealous because you don’t know anyone who knows him.”
Bay-Lee rolled her eyes.
Lisa sobbed louder as they moved on.
Chloe jumped to her feet and her notebook slid free of the short stack in her arms. Bay-Lee picked it up before Chloe could snatch it away. The top was covered with little ink hearts and Tyler Beck’s name written over and over. A few of the scribbles added Chloe’s name to the mix. Chloe Beck. Why hadn’t Bay-Lee noticed it before? The sight of it stripped away her good intentions.
“Tyler Beck was a cold-blooded, psycho killer who got what he deserved, and no one should be crying for him.”
Chloe paled. “Tyler never hurt anyone. Those were lies.”
“They have video of him leaving the building with the sword in his hands.”
“So?” Chloe’s hands went to her non-existent hips. “Do they have video of him decapitating people? I don’t think so. He was set up. He probably had the sword because he was trying to save those people.”
“Oh yeah, that makes sense. He walks around with a sword because it’s the cool new accessory to match any outfit.” Bay-Lee licked her dry lips before asking, “How can you defend him?”
A dreamy expression transformed Chloe’s face. “Have you ever listened to his music? I mean, really listened? A murderer could not have written those beautiful lyrics.”
“Talented people can go crazy too. They live in a fantasy world. For all you know the guy thought he was King Arthur defending Camelot.”
“Stop bad mouthing him. I love him!”
“You don’t love him, Chloe! You didn’t even know him.”
Chloe yanked her notebook from Bay-Lee’s hands. “I can’t believe you’re being so mean! I thought you were my best friend, but you’re obviously not. You’re just like Lisa. Don’t ever talk to me again.”
“Are you serious?”
“Goodbye, Michelle.”
Michelle? Still not used to the name, Bay-Lee denied the urge to glance over her shoulder to see who Chloe was talking to. Usually by the time she got used to an alias Connor was ready to relocate to another state.
Chloe disappeared into the nearest building, and Bay-Lee stared after her in shock, sinking down to the concrete bench. How could a reasonable person get that upset over the death of someone she didn’t even know? Chloe had no idea what it was like to lose someone close to her, but Bay-Lee did. The horror of it ate at a person every day of their life until they either lost their mind or learned to deal.
So far Bay-Lee hadn’t done either.
WHEN GAVIN approached, she was contemplating her mess of a life from that same concrete bench. She still couldn’t believe the way Chloe had stomped off in a fit. This was one of those mornings she should have stayed in bed. For the second time she considered going home. Before she could make a definite decision on the matter Gavin plopped down next to her and intruded on her thoughts. “What are you going as?”
She blinked. “Huh?”
Her pretend-boyfriend smiled at her. His eyes were a warm brown that enveloped her without warning. Dark hair spilled over his forehead. At least Van had supplied her with a ‘cute’ guy to hang out with. He was pre-approved so Connor didn’t have anything to say about it. Gavin was a hunter, and his job was to keep an eye on her. Not an easy task when you considered the way his wayward bangs obscured his view.
He shoved them aside and said, “To the party, duh. What are you going to wear? You did buy a costume, right?”
Her mood flat-lined. “I don’t think I’m going.”
Gavin looked horrified. “You have to go.” He grasped her hand and held it tight. “If you don’t, I’ll be alone with immature boys who still think armpit farts are funny. Pretty girls will be hitting on me all night, and I won’t be able to do anything about it because I’m under orders to be your boyfriend. Van told us to blend in with the other students, and this is our first party since moving to this podunk town. We don’t have a choice.”
His puppy-dog eyes were hard to resist. She dug her heels in, determined to stay home tonight. “I’m sorry, but Connor is on the warpath. He might not let me go.”
Blaming an adult for making you miss out on fun when you weren’t interested in said fun was a good way to get out of things. Besides, if he could throw in Van’s name to make her fold, she could use Connor to get out of it. Gavin couldn’t be mad at her for missing the party if her uncle made her stay home. The only problem was Connor shared Van’s point of view. He thought it might look weird if she ditched the stupid party since the school was hosting it and practically everyone would be there.
“Sneak out then,” Gavin said. His smile widened, drawing her in against her will. “I’ll bring a ladder to your window and help you climb down.”
“Hey, why don’t we watch Star Trek at your house tonight instead?”
Gavin was a major fan of the franchise, collecting DVDs of every episode of the series including the spin-offs, action figures, games, and so on. He even had a dog named Spock. His idea of a great evening was a marathon of shows, as many as he could get in before falling asleep, and he’d tried to get her to watch with him, but she hated science fiction almost as much as she hated lame parties.
He gaped at her. “You really don’t want to go to this thing, do you?”
She shrugged. “What do you think of the whole Tyler Beck mess?”
Gavin’s mouth tightened and his eyes darkened. “If you ask me, he got off easy. The guy should have gotten the chair for what he did. I’m certainly not going to cry over him.”
Bay-Lee impulsively hugged his neck. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“If you like me so much, don’t make me go by myself tonight.”
She laughed. “Okay. I give up. I’ll be your date.”
BY THE time the bell rang she was sitting in her first class of the day and already regretting her decision to go with Gavin. She flipped the textbook open to the page written on the whiteboard. Math was her least favorite subject, but a bit of boring work with numbers might just be the thing she needed to get her mind off Chloe, off Tyler Beck, and off her late-night visitors. The reaper’s warning continued to buzz in her ears. She’d tried to figure out what it meant on the way to school with no luck.
Mrs. Abernathy took center stage in a faded floral print dress. Standing in front of the class with folded arms and a brooding look on her weathered face, she said, “As I am sure you are aware, we lost an iconic musician last night. I realize it is hard to concentrate on work when you’re upset. So…I am prepared to give you the first ten minutes of class to talk things out.”
Bay-Lee’s jaw dropped. Was she kidding? On her way to class Bay-Lee had passed through at least a dozen conversations about the dead musician. You would think he’d invented summer vacation the way they were acting. Now she had to hear about it in class? Part of her wanted to stand up and march straight out of the room, but that would draw attention. Her uncle’s rules jostled around in her head, demanding obedience.
Mrs. Abernathy continued. “Because Tyler Beck was in the public eye you might feel as if you personally knew him. If that’s the case, then you must feel sad and maybe even a little angry. Who wants to start the discussion?”
Lisa was the first to raise her hand. After the teacher nodded at her, the girl stood up to address the class. While chewing gum and posing as if someone was about to snap her picture, she said, “Tyler and I were born on the same day. I always thought it was cool we had the same birthday, like fate or something. On our birthday every year he put on a special show for charity. It sold out fast and my parents wouldn’t let me go, but it was almost like he threw the concert just for me.”
A girl named Sara added, “I heard he was really nice in person. He signed autographs and posed for pictures with fans all the time. Last year a little girl almost got crushed by the crowd, and he saved her. He said he had the best fans in the world.”
“Then why did he kill them?” a slacker named Bobby asked, the unexpected voice of reason. “If he thought they were so special, why did he kill sixteen of them?”
“He didn’t kill anyone!” Lisa shouted.
Mrs. Abernathy waved her hands. “Inside voices.”
“The police say he did it,” Bobby said. “They don’t have any reason to lie.”
“Someone set him up! Tyler never killed anybody.”
“Who would set him up? A rival band? Do you think Aerosmith did it?”
A few boys in the rear of the room chuckled.
“SHUT UP!” Lisa’s face bloated with rage, a deep crimson now.
“Maybe it was Maroon 5.”
Lisa and Bobby leaned across a row of desks to yell in each other’s faces as the teacher tried to regain control. She whistled and clapped her hands, but neither worked. Bay-Lee revisited her mother’s death in her head, so much blood. The nightmare vision threatened to carry her into the past.
Bay-Lee spoke in a calm, clear voice. The other students were so surprised to hear her speak up, they all fell silent, even the screaming duo. Bay-Lee didn’t notice. She spoke mostly to herself, her internal organs hardening into rocks. None of the people in the room understood what it was like to lose someone. They didn’t understand what it was like to have a loved one murdered.
“There’s no excuse for killing another human being,” Bay-Lee said.
Every eye turned in her direction, even Mrs. Abernathy’s.
Bay-Lee finally noticed she had their attention. Unwilling to back down and keep her mouth shut at this point, she ignored Connor’s warnings and spoke without thinking. “Only monsters kill people. It makes me sick to hear people defend this guy when he ruined so many lives. Think about the families. The people he killed had Moms and Dads, brothers and sisters, people who loved them. No one talks about them, about what they’ve lost. You only care about the psycho singer because he was cute and could sing on key. If Tyler Beck was just some guy in his forties with a bald head and a big belly, would anyone be defending him now?”
Mrs. Abernathy agreed. “That is a valid point, Michelle.”
Bay-Lee inwardly cringed at the sound of the fake name. She couldn’t afford to drift. If she forgot for a single second who she was pretending to be, she could wreck everything. A reaper had already found her. Another monster could cross over and kill her if she wasn’t careful.
“Celebrities get away with things others can’t,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “It isn’t fair, no, but it happens.”
“It’s stupid,” Bay-Lee muttered.
Mrs. Abernathy steered the conversation to a safer subject: math. She ordered the students to open their books to page twenty-seven. Bay-Lee’s gaze traveled over the others. At least they didn’t look shocked anymore by her verbal contribution. Hopefully, it would be forgotten by lunchtime. Connor would have a fit if he found out she’d purposely drawn attention to herself.
Her gaze continued past the students to the row of windows overlooking the grassy quad where a big tree rose to the sky with leaves of orange and burning red, a testimony to the fact October was ending. It took a few quiet seconds for her to realize there was a person standing near the trunk, half his body hidden by the tree. He was tall with dark hair and a familiar face.
Bay-Lee almost choked on her own saliva.
Was it Tyler Beck’s ghost?
Looking for confirmation, she turned to see if anyone else saw him, but all eyes were on the teacher. Mrs. Abernathy had her back to the students. She put a math problem on the board while they watched. Afraid to look again yet terrified not to, Bay-Lee turned to the windows. There wasn’t anyone there. She stared at the empty space near the tree. Had she imagined it?
Or was Tyler Beck haunting her?
Chapter One
Monsters in the Closet
HE WANTED to kill her.
At some point during the night a stranger crawled into Bay-Lee’s bed while she snored softly, unaware of impending danger. The mattress springs squeaked in complaint beneath the additional weight as he reclined on his side and stared down at her face. It bothered him that she continued to sleep. After all the stories he’d heard about this girl, exploited rumors verging on myth, he’d expected more from her. Shouldn’t she be able to sense trouble by now?
This was Van Helsing’s daughter?
She looked insignificant, vulnerable beneath the bright orange sheet. He could snap her neck so easily—and maybe he should. The world would continue on, undisturbed, but the dark cloud hanging over his head would finally dissipate.
A fraction of moonlight filtered through partially opened curtains, not enough to see clearly, but it didn’t matter because he’d seen pictures of this girl on Van Helsing’s desk. Her features were burned into his retinas. Every time he went into the office, he tried not to look at the photographs, purposely pointing his gaze elsewhere. Eventually, his gaze drifted back to her.
There was something about her, something unsettling that pulled him back to stare at her reproduced image. She looked like an average girl at first glance. A pretty face framed by long dark hair parted in the middle and layered stared back at him. Of Brazilian descent, her eyes were the darkest of browns, nearly black. They hid a mountain of secrets. She had attitude to spare and the camera caught it, recording it for future historians—if rumors were correct, they would want to study her.
She possessed a ‘bite me’ expression that must drive vampires crazy.
Fortunately, he was not a vampire.
Her mouth bothered him the most. Full lips haunted his dreams with a secretive smile curving the ends and a bottom lip that begged to be nibbled on. Sometimes, when he wasn’t carefully controlling his thoughts, he wondered what she would taste like. In his dreams when he wasn’t fully in control of his mind, he kissed her without ceasing. Now he wondered what would happen if he kissed her in real life. Would it stir something deep in his soul? Would the prophecy come true?
Something hard lodged in his throat, and he swallowed. It was a near miss so he swallowed again. Kissing her shouldn’t even be a blip on the radar. This girl was the reason he didn’t have a home or a family. It was her fault he’d grown up on the outside looking in, her fault people whispered behind his back, and her fault he was destined to die young.
Bay-Lee stirred in her sleep. Mumbling, she pushed against his chest with two fingers. “Go ‘way.”
Cute like a box of kittens, for a second he forgot to hate her. His heart momentarily softened, but only for a moment. The unfamiliar sensation was enough to wipe the half-smile from his face. Delivering a mental kick to his brain, he reminded himself this girl was the last person in the world he could let his guard down around. She was worse than trouble. If he wasn’t careful, this seemingly harmless meeting would lead to his total destruction.
Ready to wake her, he leaned in close and whispered her (fake) name. Like him, she was forced to live under an alias. Michelle.
THE KNOWLEDGE she was no longer alone in bed should have scared the crap out of Bay-Lee and normally it would have, but she was still floating on the fragments of a blissful dream. The soft whisper of a lover’s hands surfaced with her consciousness. She’d been dreaming about being in love, the kind that inspired people to die for each other, the Romeo and Juliet sort of love that she’d only read about in books. Beyond that nothing seemed real to her.
An odd smell pierced the veil of sleep, and she wrinkled her nose. Jack Daniels?
The next thing to grab her attention was the feel of a hard body crowding her on the narrow mattress.
Warm breath lightly blew a trail down her face from forehead to mouth like the soft wings of a butterfly brushing against her skin. Fingers slid up one arm to curve around her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered, and she smiled up at the gorgeous stranger. Fantasy wove a complicated tapestry with reality, and she decided she was still dreaming.
The dark-haired boy’s gaze settled on her lips. She could practically read his mind. He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Still living on the leftover residue of an imagined love, she was going to allow it. A tingling sense of anticipation had her nearly breathless already.
She closed her eyes again, mentally preparing for the kiss.
She waited.
The bed creaked as he leaned in to give her what she desired most. His hot breath teased her lips, and the smell of whiskey intoxicated her. She clenched her hands into tight fists, grabbing and holding bunched up bedding, silently willing him to hurry before she came to her senses. Outside of this moment nothing existed, not school, not her boyfriend, not the troubling circumstances that forced her to constantly move from state to state, nothing.
When her lips remained cool and untouched, she opened her eyes to find the boy staring down at her with pure contempt. A menacing light emanated from his eyes. He parted his lips on a soft growl, reminding her of a werewolf, and her blood turned to ice.
“You ruined my life,” he whispered in a semi-harsh tone, accusing.
Wide awake now, facts hit her like rapid fire. A stranger was in her bed, her gun was in the dresser, and he was big enough to overpower her if she made a move for the knife beneath her pillow. Feeling vulnerable made her sick to her stomach. It also filled her with unquenchable anger. How dare this stupid boy invade her bedroom, her bed, and threaten her!
Speaking in a firm tone without the slightest quiver, she asked, “How did you get in here?” He rolled off the mattress, no hurry, while she pulled the sheet higher to hide the bunny pajamas. They were ridiculous, sky blue with fluffy scampering white rabbits. Knowing her hair was a mess, she automatically reached up to smooth it down. At the last second, she stayed her hand. Why should she care if he thought she was pretty? “Did Connor let you in?”
Her uncle wasn’t known for having the greatest judgment in the world.
The intruder grinned and took two steps back until beams of moonlight exposed the left side of his body. Tall and muscular, the guy was built better than any of the boys at school. If she had to guess, she would say he was between eighteen and twenty-two. Utterly masculine, he also had a lot of features girls would be envious of, long lashes, thick hair, and beautiful eyes. They were the most amazing shade of green, like a place deep in the forest after a violent thunderstorm.
He grinned as if hearing her thoughts. “I thought it was every teen girl’s fantasy to have me in their bedroom. Was I wrong?”
It was then she recognized him, Tyler Beck, lead singer for the notorious band called Bad-Rock. There was a celebrity in her bedroom. Gulp!
For a moment she forgot to breathe. How was it even possible? Why would a rock star come to her home in the middle of the night? She had to be dreaming.
He picked up the CD collection off the white wicker dresser and carelessly leafed through them, lips twisted in disgust. A few of the CDs wound up on the floor.
She blinked. “Am I... dreaming?”
“No.” The grin changed to a smirk. “I break into the homes of random girls all the time... just to talk. Being a rock star doesn’t keep me busy enough.” He raised an eyebrow and held up the next CD in the shortening stack. “Seriously? I wouldn’t listen to this if someone had a gun to my head.” He flicked it to the floor. “Your taste in music sucks.”
Although the CDs in his hands were a mixture of Country and Jazz, she loved Classic Rock like her dad. The discs didn’t belong to her. Nothing in the ridiculous girlie neon orange and pink room did with the exception of a few sentimental items she dragged from place to place, but she wasn’t going to explain her way of life to this intruder. If she wanted to bare her soul, she’d see a psychiatrist. Knowing it was a dream didn’t make her feel any better about him going through what he thought were her personal belongings.
“Why did you kill those people?” she asked out of curiosity. An image of dead bodies on a night club floor surfaced in her mind. It took effort not to shudder. “What did they ever do to you?”
He laughed, throaty and deep, sexy. The sound dried the inside of her mouth and she clenched her teeth, feeling betrayed by her own body. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t felt this way about a guy before. Why now? Why this murderer?
“What did they do to me?” he repeated her question. “Nothing.” Then he pointed a finger at her. “You, on the other hand, ruined my life.”
“Stop saying that. I don’t know you. Before you killed those people, I wasn’t even aware we were on the same planet.”
“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart as if she’d wounded him. “So, you aren’t one of my many adoring fans, huh?”
He put what was left of her CD collection on the dresser and reached for the tiny television, flipping it on without seeking permission. An old sit-com with a noisy family brought the square screen to life.
“No, I am not a fan. I don’t follow you on social media or turn the volume up when one of your dumb songs comes on the radio. I never think about you. Why are you in my head now?”
“You tell me. It’s your—”
“Dream. I know. You don’t have to keep saying it. I get it already.”
“Until this dream ends, what do you want to do?” His hungry gaze locked on her face, and he bit his lower lip as if he was once again thinking about kissing her.
Close to panicking now, she froze. The kisses she shared with her fake-boyfriend Gavin were brief and passionless and always for the benefit of those watching. What would it feel like to kiss someone she actually wanted? Her skin burned from just looking at the guy. The chemistry between them had the potential to blow the roof off the house. If he touched her, she’d probably spontaneously combust.
Tyler Beck, the hottest rock singer on the planet, the boy every girl fantasized about stared at her with desire in his eyes. He planted a knee on the bed near her foot. His hand landed next to her upper thigh. The other knee and hand joined them on the mattress. Slowly, he crawled up her body, careful not to touch her until he was once again hovering over her mouth. In a husky whisper he repeated, “What do you want to do? Talk? Fight? Make out?”
The challenging tone sent a chill through her, a bad sort of chill. Doubts surfaced. What if this wasn’t a dream? Maybe a monster had crossed over from the Spirit Realm in a Tyler Beck disguise to kill her. She needed to do something quick. If she died, it would be her own fault for being so stupid.
Her hand slid under the pink pillow behind her head to grab the ancient dagger she slept on. Gripping it hard, she prepared to attack. Something in her eyes tipped him off. Before she could bury the blade deep in his chest, he leaped off the bed without warning, flying backwards. He stumbled and hit the wall near the dresser. A picture of a girl sitting in a garden rocked sideways before falling off the nail.
“Another time then,” he mumbled before disappearing.
Bay-Lee blinked at the empty space where his body had been. A shaky laugh escaped her open mouth. She was dreaming. There wasn’t a monster out there that could vanish into thin air. Relaxed now, she collapsed on the mattress, breathing through her mouth. Something was seriously wrong with her, having a hot dream about a psycho rock star.
Maybe she should seek therapy.
“ROCK STAR Tyler Beck is dead at the age of twenty,” the news anchor said, unable to keep a drop of excitement from her voice. “A nationwide manhunt for Bad-Rock’s frontman ended in tragedy earlier this evening when Beck lost control of his vehicle during a high-speed police chase. Band members could not be reached for comment. Their publicist has issued the following statement.”
Bay-Lee frowned in her sleep. Horrible images infiltrated her mind, twisted metal and a body burned beyond recognition. The frown deepened. She had fallen asleep with the television on again. It was the only logical reason for the intrusion of a loud female voice. Her hand slapped around the mattress, blindly searching for the remote in the fervent hope she wouldn’t have to open her eyes.
The news anchor read the statement as if she’d rehearsed it a dozen times.
“Tyler’s family and close friends request privacy and understanding in this difficult time as they grieve for a talented life cut too short. Although Tyler was accused of a horrendous crime earlier this week, we are confident his name will be cleared. In the meantime, we ask that...”
Giving into the inevitable, Bay-Lee parted her eyelids in a painful squint. Light from the television nearly blinded her. Her head snapped around so she was facing the darkened side of her room. The remote was on the nightstand next to the alarm clock. Grabbing it, she switched the set off.
Cool darkness settled over her bedroom, bringing instant relief. She closed her eyes again and breathed easier. Silence gave her a much-needed break. Her uncle must have gone to bed early tonight.
The news anchor’s words took a second trip through her mind.
They had been talking about Tyler Beck on the late-night news. That’s why she’d been dreaming about him. Mystery solved. There wasn’t anything wrong with her that couldn’t be fixed by turning off the television before going to bed.
For an entire week his face had haunted her. A person couldn’t turn on a television or pick up a magazine without seeing his image. Following a Sold Out concert last Friday night he had gone to a party thrown in his honor, and he’d massacred sixteen of his biggest fans.
What sort of person murdered their own fans?
According to police, there was enough evidence to convict. There was a video on the Internet that had gone viral—five million hits in one day. It was shot by a teen outside the club and clearly showed Tyler exiting the party before police surrounded him.
The rock star had been running from the law ever since.
She sighed, a hundred percent awake now. Frustrated, she kicked at the sheet tangled around her legs and struggled to get comfortable after repeatedly punching her pillow. Stupid Tyler Beck.
She was sick of hearing his name, and now the jerk was apparently going to ruin a good night’s sleep with his sudden demise. Ridiculous. Before this week she hadn’t even noticed he was alive, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
In fact, Bay-Lee went back to sleep with Tyler Beck’s face firmly planted in her mind. He starred in her dreams, a bad boy with movie star looks and a terrible reputation.
THE TEMPERATURE in her bedroom plummeted thirty degrees. She shivered and flipped onto her stomach. Dark hair caught beneath one shoulder, pulling painfully at her scalp, and she winced. The sheet proved a poor barrier between her skin and the Arctic air. What was going on? Had the heater stopped working?
Knowledge returned, and experience helped her tired brain connect the dots. The cold was due to a supernatural occurrence. It had been a warm evening when she’d gone to bed. What could change the temperature so drastically? She bolted upright, the answer coming to her with the speed of a freight train, chilling her further.
At the same time she reached behind her, sliding her fingers beneath the pillow and grasping the hilt of the ancient dagger, a rumbling sound emanated from the closet. The dagger’s raised design pinched the tender flesh of her palm, but she barely felt it. Her fingers tightened. Simply having it in her hand had the power to calm her.
The urge to call for her uncle parted her lips, and she gathered a breath.
White light seeped through the cracks around her closet door, outlining the tall rectangular plank, proving it was too late to yell for Connor. The monster from the Spirit Realm would hear her.
Bay-Lee swallowed as she tried to remember every lesson Van had taught her about self-defense over the years. She purposely slowed her breathing. It would be better if she had the advantage. With that in mind she went down on the mattress and closed her eyes. Let the thing think it had caught her asleep and defenseless. She held the dagger against her chest beneath the orange sheet and waited patiently for it to make the first move. Nothing was going to kill her. Not in her own bedroom. Not tonight.
The light died, her closet door opened, and a shadowy figure swept into the room. A floorboard creaked beneath the unexpected weight. Her entire body stiffened, knowing the thing was there to kill her. For years monsters from the Spirit Realm had searched the world for her. It was inevitable one would eventually find her.
With eyes closed she couldn’t see the monster coming towards her, so she strained her ears to pick up on the slightest noise. Instead of footsteps, a disturbing dragging sound rested on the air. Her fingers gripped the dagger tight. The monster swished closer. It was almost to the head of the bed now. She held her breath, waiting. A plan of attack played like a silent movie in the back of her mind, letting her know exactly what she should do.
The monster bent over her. Its breath stank of smoking ash and decaying flesh. She watched it from beneath lowered lashes. Bony fingers reached for her.
Now! She rolled in the opposite direction, leaped off the bed, and pointed the dagger at the intruder. Draped in a black cloak with tattered edges and a hood pulled down to conceal its face, the thing was obviously a reaper. Although she’d read about reapers in one of Van’s books, she’d never seen one in person. No one saw them, not until they came to collect.
Reapers could see better in the dark than a cat, so she felt extra vulnerable in the silly bunny pajamas. A fuzzy robe hung on the inside of her closet door. If she could have a single wish granted, she would want to be in that robe, but there was no point in asking the reaper to allow it. The thing wouldn’t give her time to put it on. They weren’t known for their patience.
She swallowed hard before forcing words from her mouth. “Are you here to reap me? Am I dying?”
It spoke to her in a voice that sounded like gravel in a blender, the volume a mere whisper in an otherwise silent night. “I have not come to harm you.”
“Then why?” Everything she knew about reapers flitted through her mind, nothing useful. They collected souls and crossed them safely over the dark plains of the Spirit Realm. It was their only job, priority one. If the thing wasn’t in her room to collect her, then... “What do you want?”
The monster’s eyes burned bright, yellow at first and then red, staring at her in the smothering darkness. It spoke slowly, enunciating every word with excruciating detail, and it hissed on the letter S, reminding her of a cartoon snake. “I can sssee into your sssoul. Do not fear. Your sssecrets are sssafe with me.”
What the hell? Her own voice quivered. “You have thirty seconds to tell me why you’re here before I cut your tongue out.”
“We both know that isn’t possible.” To prove its point the creature remained silent for an uncomfortable length of time. By the time it spoke again, she was ready to scream for backup. “Your sssoul is a mess of contradictions. Sssometimes you ssstand in front of the mirror and ssstare into your own eyes as you sssearch for your true ssself.”
The dagger in her hand trembled. Quickly she took control of her body and stopped the involuntary movement, using every ounce of determination she possessed. How could this thing possibly know what she did or how she felt? Had it been spying on her?
“For the last time, tell me why you’re here. Then get out of my house or I will find a way to tear your face off.”
Did reapers have faces?
“Sssoon you will know who you are, who you truly are. All of your questions will be answered. You will find your other half, your destiny.” It paused before adding, “They are keeping sssecrets from you?”
“Who?”
“Your uncle and your father. They want to keep you from your destiny, child. Open your eyes. Ssseek the truth.”
“If they’re keeping secrets from me and you know what they are, tell me.”
“I am bound by rules, child. I can only give you a hint.”
She waited, saying nothing.
“Follow your heart,” it said. “Love what you love. Be who you want to be.”
“Seriously? I could find that in a fortune cookie.” Clenching her teeth, she said, “Get out.”
The thing remained statue still.
Then it said, “There is more.”
Her frustration grew. If it was possible to kill a reaper, the thing would be dead on her floor, bathing in its own blood.
Did reapers have blood?
Giving in, she asked, “What?”
“Why must I tell you everything? You must sssense it. Sssomething is coming. Sssomething bad.”
“Something worse than you?”
It chuckled. “Beware. It kills—”
“Newsflash,” she snapped. “Everything from your side kills. That’s what hunters are for, to stop them.”
“I wasn’t finished.” The reaper sounded irritated, impatient. “It kills you on your birthday.”
“That’s depressing.” She wondered if monsters understood sarcasm. “Why bother to warn me? I know the Order wants me dead.”
“Sssoon, yes. But not yet.”
“Are you serious?” They’d been on her trail for years. Why would they suddenly send her a warning?
It didn’t bother to answer her question. Moving scary fast, the monster disappeared into the closet before she could swallow and a light flashed around the edges of the door, signaling its departure. Darkness once again stole over her bedroom. The reaper was gone.
Her flesh itched to chase the monster down and torture answers out of it. Problem was she couldn’t remember if reapers felt pain. Following it would be stupid. Getting caught on the other side without an arsenal would be doubly stupid. She started in the direction of her bed, but her gaze swung back to the closet door, and she hesitated. She didn’t want another visitor. The next one might kill her instead of handing her a useless warning.
Bay-Lee got on the other side of the dresser. Gritting her teeth, she pushed, scooting it across the bare floor until it blocked the closed closet door. Let something try to enter her room now. On her way back to bed her gaze found the garden picture on the floor, and her breath caught in her throat. If she’d been dreaming before, why was the picture on the floor?
She’d had two visitors tonight.
What was going on over there in the Spirit Realm? Had someone opened a doorway between there and her bedroom and put a sign out front saying: This way to Van Helsing’s daughter?
Adrenaline pumped through her veins. The encounter with the two monsters had her body burning extra hot. Too bad she hadn’t been able to fight with at least one of them. A good fight might have helped her calm down. Now she was too wound up to sleep, so she decided to listen to music for a while.
It took hours for her body to relax enough to fall asleep.
Chapter Two
Normal Life (normal for Bay-Lee)
BAY-LEE WALKED to school rather than take a bus, not wanting to be packed in a metal box like sardines with a dozen other kids. She felt claustrophobic just thinking about it. Chattering voices grew louder as she neared the campus. Eight long narrow buildings lined up side by side with a wrap-around chain link fence surrounding the property, reminding her of a prison. She raced across the busy street. The second her foot touched the sidewalk, an out-of-control skateboarder zoomed into her path, but quick reflexes saved her.
The jerk didn’t even bother to shout an apology over his shoulder. She imagined chasing him down and knocking him off his board. A slight smile stretched her lips at the thought.
She passed a group of students talking about Tyler Beck and the smile instantly died. An unwanted vision of the boy infiltrated her brain. She clenched her hands tight and dug fingernails into the fleshy parts of her palms. If she had to listen to people talk about the deceased rock singer all day, she was going to lose it. Maybe she should have stayed home.
Her gaze drifted back in the direction she’d just traveled. If she went home, Connor would hit the sky. Another of his rules not to get noticed, don’t stay home unless you are spitting up blood. He wouldn’t think her annoyance at hearing the rocker’s name bandied about was a good reason to ditch.
Her uncle’s voice echoed across her mind. Don’t bring attention to yourself.
According to Connor her grades needed to be average. She wasn’t allowed to excel, but he didn’t want her to flunk either. Middle of the road was where he wanted her to live. Be a good girl, but don’t do anything special. Teachers were to like her, not love her, and she could have a friend or two, no more. Popularity was definitely out. Her clothes were average, jeans and plain tops, nothing too spectacular. Gatherings were good as long as they included the entire school like the Halloween party tonight.
She caught sight of her friend Chloe and forgot about going home. The usually cheerful girl was sitting on a concrete bench, eyes downcast. Something was wrong. Chloe was a Connor-approved friend, average in everything from looks to grades so Bay-Lee couldn’t afford to lose her. She needed to help the girl with whatever drama she had going on this week.
Bay-Lee sat next to her on the bench and said, “You look like your dog just died.”
Chloe lifted a tear-stained face, and her lower lip quivered. “Tyler Beck was killed last night.”
Are you kidding me? Bay-Lee held tight to her temper. She should have known Chloe would be upset. Although the girl didn’t gush over boys, she did have a poster of Bad-Rock on her bedroom wall. Plus, she had every album the band ever made.
Bay-Lee took a deep breath and tried not to let her true feelings show. “So I heard.”
“He was so... cool.” Chloe sniffled. “And his voice... I could listen to it forever.”
“Okay.” Bay-Lee prayed the girl couldn’t talk about him forever.
“He has the most amazing eyes. Trisha thinks he wears colored contacts, but I don’t. There isn’t anything fake about him. I’m sure his eyes are real. What do you think? Do you think he wears contacts?”
He doesn’t wear anything anymore because he’s dead, so who cares?
Bay-Lee shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“My mom bought me tickets to the Bad-Rock concert in March. It’s in Dallas… it was supposed to be in Dallas, but now there won’t be a concert. I can’t believe he’s gone. I’ll never hear him sing another new song. Why? Why did he have to die?”
“I don’t know.” Maybe because he was a psychotic killer and karma caught up with him. “Life is a mystery.”
A small group of girls walked by and their loud voices drowned out Bay-Lee’s last word. Names eluded her for the most part, although the sobbing girl in the center was Chloe’s former best friend Lisa Wilkes. According to Chloe they’d gotten into a huge fight days before Bay-Lee’s arrival and now they hated each other. The two girls with Lisa were just annoying bookends as far as Bay-Lee was concerned.
Lisa sobbed, loud enough to draw attention from everyone in the near vicinity. “I was going to marry him. It isn’t fair! A guy that gorgeous should not be allowed to die until he’s way too old for anyone to care.”
“You weren’t going to marry him,” the brunette to her left said. “His bodyguard wouldn’t let you get close enough to even ask for an autograph. I heard he’s an ex-Navy Seal, so no way were you getting by him.”
“My dad’s friend knows his aunt, for your information. We were totally going to meet, fall in love, and get married. You’re just jealous because you don’t know anyone who knows him.”
Bay-Lee rolled her eyes.
Lisa sobbed louder as they moved on.
Chloe jumped to her feet and her notebook slid free of the short stack in her arms. Bay-Lee picked it up before Chloe could snatch it away. The top was covered with little ink hearts and Tyler Beck’s name written over and over. A few of the scribbles added Chloe’s name to the mix. Chloe Beck. Why hadn’t Bay-Lee noticed it before? The sight of it stripped away her good intentions.
“Tyler Beck was a cold-blooded, psycho killer who got what he deserved, and no one should be crying for him.”
Chloe paled. “Tyler never hurt anyone. Those were lies.”
“They have video of him leaving the building with the sword in his hands.”
“So?” Chloe’s hands went to her non-existent hips. “Do they have video of him decapitating people? I don’t think so. He was set up. He probably had the sword because he was trying to save those people.”
“Oh yeah, that makes sense. He walks around with a sword because it’s the cool new accessory to match any outfit.” Bay-Lee licked her dry lips before asking, “How can you defend him?”
A dreamy expression transformed Chloe’s face. “Have you ever listened to his music? I mean, really listened? A murderer could not have written those beautiful lyrics.”
“Talented people can go crazy too. They live in a fantasy world. For all you know the guy thought he was King Arthur defending Camelot.”
“Stop bad mouthing him. I love him!”
“You don’t love him, Chloe! You didn’t even know him.”
Chloe yanked her notebook from Bay-Lee’s hands. “I can’t believe you’re being so mean! I thought you were my best friend, but you’re obviously not. You’re just like Lisa. Don’t ever talk to me again.”
“Are you serious?”
“Goodbye, Michelle.”
Michelle? Still not used to the name, Bay-Lee denied the urge to glance over her shoulder to see who Chloe was talking to. Usually by the time she got used to an alias Connor was ready to relocate to another state.
Chloe disappeared into the nearest building, and Bay-Lee stared after her in shock, sinking down to the concrete bench. How could a reasonable person get that upset over the death of someone she didn’t even know? Chloe had no idea what it was like to lose someone close to her, but Bay-Lee did. The horror of it ate at a person every day of their life until they either lost their mind or learned to deal.
So far Bay-Lee hadn’t done either.
WHEN GAVIN approached, she was contemplating her mess of a life from that same concrete bench. She still couldn’t believe the way Chloe had stomped off in a fit. This was one of those mornings she should have stayed in bed. For the second time she considered going home. Before she could make a definite decision on the matter Gavin plopped down next to her and intruded on her thoughts. “What are you going as?”
She blinked. “Huh?”
Her pretend-boyfriend smiled at her. His eyes were a warm brown that enveloped her without warning. Dark hair spilled over his forehead. At least Van had supplied her with a ‘cute’ guy to hang out with. He was pre-approved so Connor didn’t have anything to say about it. Gavin was a hunter, and his job was to keep an eye on her. Not an easy task when you considered the way his wayward bangs obscured his view.
He shoved them aside and said, “To the party, duh. What are you going to wear? You did buy a costume, right?”
Her mood flat-lined. “I don’t think I’m going.”
Gavin looked horrified. “You have to go.” He grasped her hand and held it tight. “If you don’t, I’ll be alone with immature boys who still think armpit farts are funny. Pretty girls will be hitting on me all night, and I won’t be able to do anything about it because I’m under orders to be your boyfriend. Van told us to blend in with the other students, and this is our first party since moving to this podunk town. We don’t have a choice.”
His puppy-dog eyes were hard to resist. She dug her heels in, determined to stay home tonight. “I’m sorry, but Connor is on the warpath. He might not let me go.”
Blaming an adult for making you miss out on fun when you weren’t interested in said fun was a good way to get out of things. Besides, if he could throw in Van’s name to make her fold, she could use Connor to get out of it. Gavin couldn’t be mad at her for missing the party if her uncle made her stay home. The only problem was Connor shared Van’s point of view. He thought it might look weird if she ditched the stupid party since the school was hosting it and practically everyone would be there.
“Sneak out then,” Gavin said. His smile widened, drawing her in against her will. “I’ll bring a ladder to your window and help you climb down.”
“Hey, why don’t we watch Star Trek at your house tonight instead?”
Gavin was a major fan of the franchise, collecting DVDs of every episode of the series including the spin-offs, action figures, games, and so on. He even had a dog named Spock. His idea of a great evening was a marathon of shows, as many as he could get in before falling asleep, and he’d tried to get her to watch with him, but she hated science fiction almost as much as she hated lame parties.
He gaped at her. “You really don’t want to go to this thing, do you?”
She shrugged. “What do you think of the whole Tyler Beck mess?”
Gavin’s mouth tightened and his eyes darkened. “If you ask me, he got off easy. The guy should have gotten the chair for what he did. I’m certainly not going to cry over him.”
Bay-Lee impulsively hugged his neck. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“If you like me so much, don’t make me go by myself tonight.”
She laughed. “Okay. I give up. I’ll be your date.”
BY THE time the bell rang she was sitting in her first class of the day and already regretting her decision to go with Gavin. She flipped the textbook open to the page written on the whiteboard. Math was her least favorite subject, but a bit of boring work with numbers might just be the thing she needed to get her mind off Chloe, off Tyler Beck, and off her late-night visitors. The reaper’s warning continued to buzz in her ears. She’d tried to figure out what it meant on the way to school with no luck.
Mrs. Abernathy took center stage in a faded floral print dress. Standing in front of the class with folded arms and a brooding look on her weathered face, she said, “As I am sure you are aware, we lost an iconic musician last night. I realize it is hard to concentrate on work when you’re upset. So…I am prepared to give you the first ten minutes of class to talk things out.”
Bay-Lee’s jaw dropped. Was she kidding? On her way to class Bay-Lee had passed through at least a dozen conversations about the dead musician. You would think he’d invented summer vacation the way they were acting. Now she had to hear about it in class? Part of her wanted to stand up and march straight out of the room, but that would draw attention. Her uncle’s rules jostled around in her head, demanding obedience.
Mrs. Abernathy continued. “Because Tyler Beck was in the public eye you might feel as if you personally knew him. If that’s the case, then you must feel sad and maybe even a little angry. Who wants to start the discussion?”
Lisa was the first to raise her hand. After the teacher nodded at her, the girl stood up to address the class. While chewing gum and posing as if someone was about to snap her picture, she said, “Tyler and I were born on the same day. I always thought it was cool we had the same birthday, like fate or something. On our birthday every year he put on a special show for charity. It sold out fast and my parents wouldn’t let me go, but it was almost like he threw the concert just for me.”
A girl named Sara added, “I heard he was really nice in person. He signed autographs and posed for pictures with fans all the time. Last year a little girl almost got crushed by the crowd, and he saved her. He said he had the best fans in the world.”
“Then why did he kill them?” a slacker named Bobby asked, the unexpected voice of reason. “If he thought they were so special, why did he kill sixteen of them?”
“He didn’t kill anyone!” Lisa shouted.
Mrs. Abernathy waved her hands. “Inside voices.”
“The police say he did it,” Bobby said. “They don’t have any reason to lie.”
“Someone set him up! Tyler never killed anybody.”
“Who would set him up? A rival band? Do you think Aerosmith did it?”
A few boys in the rear of the room chuckled.
“SHUT UP!” Lisa’s face bloated with rage, a deep crimson now.
“Maybe it was Maroon 5.”
Lisa and Bobby leaned across a row of desks to yell in each other’s faces as the teacher tried to regain control. She whistled and clapped her hands, but neither worked. Bay-Lee revisited her mother’s death in her head, so much blood. The nightmare vision threatened to carry her into the past.
Bay-Lee spoke in a calm, clear voice. The other students were so surprised to hear her speak up, they all fell silent, even the screaming duo. Bay-Lee didn’t notice. She spoke mostly to herself, her internal organs hardening into rocks. None of the people in the room understood what it was like to lose someone. They didn’t understand what it was like to have a loved one murdered.
“There’s no excuse for killing another human being,” Bay-Lee said.
Every eye turned in her direction, even Mrs. Abernathy’s.
Bay-Lee finally noticed she had their attention. Unwilling to back down and keep her mouth shut at this point, she ignored Connor’s warnings and spoke without thinking. “Only monsters kill people. It makes me sick to hear people defend this guy when he ruined so many lives. Think about the families. The people he killed had Moms and Dads, brothers and sisters, people who loved them. No one talks about them, about what they’ve lost. You only care about the psycho singer because he was cute and could sing on key. If Tyler Beck was just some guy in his forties with a bald head and a big belly, would anyone be defending him now?”
Mrs. Abernathy agreed. “That is a valid point, Michelle.”
Bay-Lee inwardly cringed at the sound of the fake name. She couldn’t afford to drift. If she forgot for a single second who she was pretending to be, she could wreck everything. A reaper had already found her. Another monster could cross over and kill her if she wasn’t careful.
“Celebrities get away with things others can’t,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “It isn’t fair, no, but it happens.”
“It’s stupid,” Bay-Lee muttered.
Mrs. Abernathy steered the conversation to a safer subject: math. She ordered the students to open their books to page twenty-seven. Bay-Lee’s gaze traveled over the others. At least they didn’t look shocked anymore by her verbal contribution. Hopefully, it would be forgotten by lunchtime. Connor would have a fit if he found out she’d purposely drawn attention to herself.
Her gaze continued past the students to the row of windows overlooking the grassy quad where a big tree rose to the sky with leaves of orange and burning red, a testimony to the fact October was ending. It took a few quiet seconds for her to realize there was a person standing near the trunk, half his body hidden by the tree. He was tall with dark hair and a familiar face.
Bay-Lee almost choked on her own saliva.
Was it Tyler Beck’s ghost?
Looking for confirmation, she turned to see if anyone else saw him, but all eyes were on the teacher. Mrs. Abernathy had her back to the students. She put a math problem on the board while they watched. Afraid to look again yet terrified not to, Bay-Lee turned to the windows. There wasn’t anyone there. She stared at the empty space near the tree. Had she imagined it?
Or was Tyler Beck haunting her?
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Finished Series of Four Books. Read in this Order: Bait, Hunter, Warrior, Legend
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