Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) (6 page)

Juliet swallowed a sharp retort. “I dress this way because it’s required by my manager. I suppose if I’d been raped that night, it would have been my fault as well. I’m damned no matter what I say, so I don’t see any point in saying anything.” She hitched her bag more firmly over her shoulder, and pivoting on one foot, strode away.

He fell into step with her. “They’ve caught the men. Or at least one of them. The other one was killed,” He said.

“Good.”

“That means you’ll be testifying about what happened that night. A jury is going to look at your job, your background, how you look, and they’re not going to believe one word that comes out of your mouth.”

Rage rushed up to burn her cheeks and nearly choked her. Juliet reached in her bag for her phone. “You have exactly two seconds to get out of my face or I’m calling the police.”

“Did you try to call them that night?”

“Go call your snitch at the police department and find out. Or better yet, use the Internet to look it up. 911 calls are public record. You can listen to every word I said to the police, while I did CPR to try to keep Tanner alive. Now,
leave me alone!”

Tears ran down her cheeks as she marched away from him, which just made her madder. Where was the hard-edged woman she’d been for so long? Tanner’s death had ripped away something inside her and left her vulnerable to all of this in ways she hadn’t been in years.

She’d tried harder with him than any other man. Tried to feel something, tried to love him. And the more she tried, the more she became convinced she was never going to be normal.

But she’d truly cared about him, cared for him. And now her feelings were going to be perverted in court because of the way she looked, the way she made a living. Her past. She brushed aside the tears.
Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.

The man rushed up behind her, and she jerked to one side, defensive, expecting a blow that didn’t come.

“I want to give you a job. I want to help you clean up your act so you’ll project a more sympathetic image.”

“You narrow-minded prick. Because I work tending bar I’m automatically a whore to you. Because I dress like this,” she ran a hand down her midriff, “I’m a slut. I don’t need your handouts. I don’t want your handouts. Leave me alone.”

He clenched his fists and his eyes glittered in the reflective brightness of the nearby streetlight. For a moment she thought he might punch her. “Don’t you want justice for my brother? He saved your life. You owe him.”

Exhaustion weighted her limbs. “There is no justice. Tanner is dead. No matter what they do to the man who killed him, it will never bring him back. It will never end this.” She turned away and staggered a little on her spike heels. The bag slipped off her shoulder and she caught the strap and shoved it back up.

“You really cared about him, didn’t you?”

She paused just outside the yellow pool projected from the overhead lamp and looked up into the light. “He was the sweetest, most decent man I’ve ever known.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he focused on something ahead of her. She pivoted and couldn’t inhale as a gray mist filled her mouth and throat, her vision. Cotton rammed down her throat, and she gagged. She shook free of the purse and clawed at her neck, her mouth. Her feet left the ground, and she hung, suspended, the weight of her boots dragging at her legs.

A yell, masculine, like a growl came from behind her. Something bulky, hard, struck her from behind and tore her free of the suffocating grip. Asphalt ripped at her cheek, her hands when she hit the ground hard, unable to catch herself. Blessed blackness rolled over her.

T
he diner’s door
closed behind Mrs. Farley. Caleb stared at the gray apparition pacing outside. Why hadn’t it rushed inside the brightly lit diner when the door opened?

“It didn’t hurt her. Why did it let her pass?” Miranda asked.

Caleb shook his head and knotted his fists on the top of the Formica table. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s waiting for us to come out.”

A group of rowdy college students came up the ramp, their loud voices carrying through the thick glass of the restaurant windows. The students passed through the creature as if it were no more than a patch of mist, and the figure dissipated.

He tensed. What just happened? Why had it disappeared at that particular moment?

Miranda looked up at him, her face pasty white. “It’s gone. Should we leave?”

He didn’t like the idea of either of them going outside just yet. He needed more info about the creature first. Did these things have to have light to appear? Did they live in the shadows? And were they after him or her? Or both?

The only way to find out was for him to take a step outside the restaurant and see what happened. But if he suggested doing it now, she’d panic. He had to calm her first. Help some of her fear leach away so she’d be ready to focus on things ahead.

“Since we seem to be the only two people who are seeing something, what is it you’re seeing, Mandy?”

“It’s grayish-black, like a shadow. It has no eyes but does have a mouth. It screamed, Caleb.”

“I heard it too. Why don’t we both just eat our pie and relax for a moment?” He forced himself to take a bite of his strawberry rhubarb. Though the ice cream had melted, the combination of sweet and tangy cut through the metallic taste of adrenaline that lined his mouth.

Miranda picked at her pie and he offered her a smile of encouragement.

“While you’re in combat, you have to take advantage of calm where you can find it.” He held up a small bite of his pie. “Want a bite of mine?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “Thank you.”

Any other man would be put off by that prim, proper little schoolmarm thing she did. He smiled and caught her studying him.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked.

“You. You still have your Miss Goody Two-Shoes thing down.”

Her cheeks flushed berry red, chasing away the pallor from her earlier fright. “I’m not a Goody Two-Shoes. I can’t believe you even said that. It sounds so juvenile.”

Caleb chuckled, though it sounded a little forced even to him.

She poked him with her elbow. “Stop trying to rile me.”

“But I like getting you worked up, Mandy. When you get riled, I sometimes feel the real you is finally breaking out.”

Her lips pursed tight and her eyes darkened. “This
is
the real me, Caleb. If you’re interested in someone who’s a risk taker, you’ll have to hunt up my sister.”

“I’ve loved you since kindergarten. I know who you are. I wouldn’t change one hair on your head.”

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

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

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

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

“Ninja?” She laughed.

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

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

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

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

*     *     *

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want you to.”

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

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

“But it followed us both, honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Not at all.” She shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*     *     *

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

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