Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) (10 page)

Tanner had never treated her with anything but respect. He’d looked beyond the heavy makeup, the leather pants, boots, and bustier she wore at work, and had seen the normal woman beneath. With his boyish charm and wit, he’d whittled away at her shield and wormed his way into her affections.

She’d cared for him, had tried to love him. It had been her own fault she couldn’t. No matter how much he tried to convince her, she’d never felt worthy.

“What did you say to Newton?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Why?”

“Just because I tend bar doesn’t mean I’m a slut. I don’t need him looking down his nose at me or treating me like I’m something he needs to scrape off the bottom of his shoe. He doesn’t know anything about me.”

“But you’ve been in trouble before.”

“Not since high school.”

“You were present when a man was beaten to death, and now his brother is injured.”

There was the look she’d been waiting for. The look that said you’re a fuckup, and everything is your fault. She’d seen it at home from her mother and stepfather. Even while the bastard was slipping into her room at night to touch her, fuck her, when she was thirteen.

She’d seen it at school every time she’d visited the principal’s and counselor’s offices. She’d even seen it while she lay beaten and bloody on the bathroom floor at Superstition High.

She’d read it in Principal Underwood’s face while EMS loaded her on a gurney. Maybe she’d learn a lesson from having her nose broken, her ribs cracked, a concussion. Having shoe prints mark her hip, her back, where Brian had kicked her.

But Principal Underwood had learned a lesson, too, when she identified her attacker, and Brian’s bruised, busted knuckles and bloody football cleats had verified her story.

Her parents had seen an opportunity and threatened a civil suit for damages.

In return for the charges being dropped, Principal Underwood had been more than happy to pay to keep his son out of jail and clear the way for him to become what he was today. A bully with a badge.

In those few minutes Brian had been in her hospital room, she’d seen he hadn’t changed. People rarely did.

But she had. Gradually. Tanner had taught her to be more open, and thus more vulnerable. And now he was dead.

Tanner’s death was her fault. And she’d been looking over her shoulder, waiting for the men who killed him to catch up to her.

Now, instead of men, something else had taken their place.

The silence stretched. Robinson continued to eye her, waiting for her reply. Despite the pain, Juliet dragged the hard shell she’d spent so many years perfecting around her and kept her features even, expressionless. She could wait all day if need be.

“We have Abbott in custody, and Willy Porter is dead.”

Though Samuel Newton had said so, Juliet had been skeptical. Robinson’s confirmation lifted a weight from her, but the small feeling only lasted a moment. “How was Porter killed?”

“We’re not certain yet. He was found in an alley a few blocks from where Abbott was staying.”

“I’ve been waiting for them to come after me.”

“Then why did you continue to walk home at night?”

Because she’d hoped they would come back and she could exact just a little revenge for what they’d done. Though she was completely capable of dealing with them through other means, she’d bought the gun. Shooting someone was permissible. Burning them to a crisp wasn’t.

If the police decided she was guilty of something, they’d search her bag and find the gun.

“This is my life. If I gave up, they won,” she finally said when it looked as though they were heading for another standoff.

“Abbott said you set Willy Porter’s clothes on fire.”

She’d expected, if they took Abbott alive, that he might say something about the fire. She felt no remorse at all about lying. “I doused his pants with perfume and set them alight. It was the only weapon I had. It got them off of Tanner.”

Robinson finally asked, “Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt you and your sister?”

“Only the men who killed Tanner. And Mr. and Mrs. Newton.”

“In the weeks before Tanner Newton’s death, did you notice anyone following you, or taking a deeper interest in you than before?”

“No. Tanner was there most nights. We often walked to my apartment after work. I never noticed anyone following us until that night.”

“Did he mention anyone he might have had a run-in with or had any kind of argument with?”

“No, but his brother might be able to tell you more once he wakes up.”

“Did you notice anyone following you tonight?”

“No.”

“Describe the attack for me one more time.”

Her voice had hoarsened to a whisper. “We were walking east on Stoker, and paused on the corner of Stoker and Seventeenth. I was walking backwards, getting ready to leave Samuel Newton. He looked past me and I knew someone was behind me.

“Something in his face made me turn to look behind me, and suddenly something gray was over my face, in my mouth. Someone gripped my throat and squeezed. He had to be strong, because he lifted me up off my feet. I dropped my bag on the sidewalk. I was scared he was going to choke me to death, and I started trying to kick him. Then I felt like he might snap my neck, but he kept on squeezing until I started to lose consciousness.

“Something hit me from behind. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but it had to have been Samuel. I fell to the sidewalk and hit my cheek.” She touched the scrape, still swollen and sore on her cheekbone.

“When I came to, I thought for a moment I’d been having a nightmare.” Once again she was flooded with the panicked fear she felt facing the creature inside the circle of light. She’d never forget the rage and hatred in its scream.

“Samuel was unconscious on the sidewalk a few feet away. I went to him.” She swallowed as emotion and tears threatened to overwhelm her. “He was still alive, but unconscious. I took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed nine-one-one.”

He closed his small notepad and rose to stand over her for a moment. He surprised her when he placed his large hand on her shoulder, the pressure of his fingers light. “Rest your throat. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”

The tension eased and she relaxed against her pillow.

He’d made it to the door, then turned back. “You never saw your attacker clearly?”

The image was burned into her brain. “No. Just something gray.”

*     *     *

Miranda was lying
there, still, awake, her mind too plagued by all she’d experienced to sleep. The nurse’s footsteps sounded muffled as she passed, but the squeak of wheels needing to be oiled carried through the door. Why didn’t the nurse just spray them with a little W-D 40 so she could sleep?

Now Caleb was asleep in the chair next to her bed, she could allow herself to look at him. Really look at him.

His thick, dark hair needed a trim. It curled along the back of his neck and around his ears in a show of abandon that sharply contrasted with the rest of him. A five o’clock shadow darkened his chin and jaw and lent his features a dangerous masculinity she found hard to resist.

Her attention rested on his well-shaped mouth, and for a moment she relived their brief kiss. He’d kissed her before. Quick brushes against her cheek, forehead, and even her mouth, but nothing like the kiss they’d shared tonight. The instant sensual buzz she’d gotten from the brief contact amped up while she ran her eyes down his long, rangy body slumped, muscular and strong, in the reclining chair. His thigh muscles seemed to test the strength of his jeans’ seams, and his forearms and biceps, toned and conditioned in the Marines and from a mechanic’s hard, manual labor, bulged. His hands were rough from that same labor, but that didn’t bother her.

She’d tried to convince him to go home and get some sleep, but he refused to leave her—leave them. She’d always known he had a stubborn streak a mile wide. He was laid back and content to go along as long as it suited him, but once he’d reached his limit—she might as well have been singing to a wall for all the notice he’d given her suggestions. The air of quiet command when he refused had stopped her in her tracks.

They were such total opposites, and had only childhood memories and his overseas correspondence in common, but she still loved him. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t. But now her love was intensified by needs she tried hard to suppress.

Since he returned home from Afghanistan, she had been careful to keep their relationship casual, though Caleb had been chipping away relentlessly at the distance she tried to maintain between them. She told herself often what a bad idea it was for them to get involved, but her resistance was slipping.

Giving in to him could only cause them heartache. Sooner or later the past would catch up with her, and he would find out the sweet, innocent young girl he still saw in her no longer existed. Hadn’t existed since she was sixteen.

They’d all been in survival mode back then. Caleb’s mother had lain around drunk all the time, and his dad out of the picture.

Miranda’s stepfather had dominated their every move, and their weak mother had turned a blind eye to his behavior.

Or had she?

Had she sacrificed her daughters as a way to keep him?

She and Juliet would never know for certain. Their mother would never own up to it if she had. But her needs had always been more important than her daughters. Even after he…disappeared…it had been all about how their mother was going to survive, not them.

Miranda turned onto her back and glanced over to check on Juliet. Her sister’s gaze met hers across the dimly lit five-foot separation between them. Miranda shoved aside the covers and slipped out of bed, and Juliet folded back the covers so Miranda could slip in beside her.

For a beat or two they remained silent, heads resting on a single pillow. Miranda remembered how they’d lain like this as children and shared everything. Until Clay Maddox, their stepfather, had decided Juliet needed her own room. Had they insisted on staying together, would things have been different? They’d never know.

“I’m not crazy,” Juliet said, her voice barely a whisper. Her fingers closed around Miranda’s good arm.

Miranda covered the hand with hers with difficulty. Her arm had stiffened and was sore as hell. It hurt to even move it.

“What I saw wasn’t a human,” Julia continued. “It was gray, with no eyes, only a wide, empty black mouth. It screamed at me as if it hated me, was hungry for me.”

Juliet had always been the braver twin. She had to be. But she was shaking now.

“There’s more than one of them. There has to be,” Miranda said. “I thought they were only after me.”

Some of the tension went out of them both.

“I won’t ask, why us? There are too many reasons to count. But why now?”

Miranda shook her head. “I don’t know.”

They remained silent. “It’s because of Tanner’s death,” Juliet said with a sigh. “It’s the only logical reason. But why would they come after you?”

She wouldn’t have forgotten. “Clay was evil. I wouldn’t be too quick to discount him.”

“He’s been gone too long, Miranda.”

Her fingers tightened over Juliet’s. “An eternity wouldn’t be long enough.”

“Amen to that.” Juliet said with feeling.

“They didn’t just suddenly appear. Someone has to have sicced them on us. We have to figure out who.”

“It wasn’t Tanner’s brother. He was with me when it attacked. He saved my life.”

“His parents?”

“I can’t see them sending him to vet me to testify against Abbott and at the same time unleashing these things on me.”

“Who else is there?”

Juliet shook her head, then flinched. “I don’t know. We’ll have to talk to Samuel tomorrow when he’s awake. He may know something. I need to thank him for saving me, too.”

Miranda hesitated. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “What if it has something to do with what we did in high school?”

It most likely had something to do with the Craft. Not the Wiccan customs they’d always followed, but something darker. After Clay disappeared, they’d backed away from Wicca entirely.

“It’s been too long, Miranda. That was nine years ago. If we were meant to reap anything from it, wouldn’t it have boomeranged back to us before now? Besides, it wasn’t magic that solved the problem.”

No, she has solved it the hard way. And caused both of their lives to spiral downhill in a constant loop of fear.

Was there a time limit for bad karma? Surely they’d paid for everything long ago.

“What did you think of Detective Robinson?” Miranda asked.

Juliet’s features stilled. “I don’t trust him. If he can find a way to blame us for this, he will.”

Miranda wasn’t surprised Juliet hadn’t taken to him. He was all business and a little abrasive. And those eerie eyes, so pale a blue they looked almost colorless.

Juliet sighed “If we told him, he wouldn’t believe us. No one will believe us.”

“Caleb saw them too. So there are three of us who know they’re real.’

“Samuel saw them, too, but he’s in no shape to help. If he starts talking about what he really saw they’ll think it’s just the trauma.”

They fell silent for a moment. Juliet rolled over onto her back and rubbed her forehead. “Do you think because we’re twins the creatures can’t tell which of us they’re supposed to come after?”

If she agreed with that, it would only heap more guilt on Juliet’s shoulders. She already had enough of a burden. “Does it really matter? We have to figure out how we’re going to get rid of them.”