Eve of Samhain (9 page)

My heart pounded so forcefully in my chest it rang in my ears like a surround sound stereo blaring at full volume. The room took on a violent spin, and it was then that I realized I’d been holding my breath. With a loud gasp, I took several shallow breaths, tears flooding my eyes as I stumbled backward, falling onto my bed.

Someone had been in my room. Panic spiked and I shot off my bed. Whoever left the message on my mirror could still be in the apartment!

Near hysterical, I scanned my room in search of something—anything—that might serve as a makeshift weapon, coming up empty handed. I suddenly remembered the large Maglite I kept in the top drawer of my dresser for emergencies. Crossing the room in three large strides, I yanked open the drawer, rifling through its contents until my hands found what they were looking for.

The sick feeling that took up residence in my stomach grew as I turned my head, looking over my shoulder toward my closet. A shudder ran through me, and I white-knuckled the flashlight. Whoever had broken in could be hiding in my closet. I swallowed hard and turned, trembling and shaking, tears falling rapid pace down my cheeks as I slowly approached my storage space. Realizing it was now or never, I raised the Maglite high, ready to strike, and yanked open the door with a scream.

The closet was empty. Relief, though fleeting, washed through me at the sight of my empty storage space, and I dropped my arm, the heavy weight of the flashlight tugging on my shoulder.

“Oh my God, Ryann. What happened?”

I whirled around with a scream, swinging the large flashlight back, ready to maim the sick freak who’d broken in.

“Whoa,” Jessica shouted, holding her arms up in front of her to ward me off. “Geez, Ryann. Careful with that thing.”

The floodgates opened the moment I recognized it was Jessica standing in my room and not some crazed lunatic, and I dropped my makeshift weapon as a steady stream of hot tears ran down my cheeks. Unable to look at the threatening message scrawled across my mirror, I lifted my arm and pointed to the source of my panic and unease.

There was a loud gasp and the next thing I knew Jessica’s arms were wrapped around me.

“Oh my God, Ryann. No wonder you’re so freaked out. It’ll be okay.” She rubbed my back, trying to soothe me. “I’m calling the cops. Two break-ins in two weeks is ridiculous. The police need to get off their heinies and do something. ”

I managed a slight nod as I stepped back, wiping away the tears from my puffy and swollen face. There would be no argument from me. I was beyond freaked out at the thought of someone watching me, of someone invading my personal space and using my home, my place of sanctuary, as a means to frighten me with.

What I wanted to do was call Quinn. He’d specifically told me to call him if anything hinky went down. Ominous lettering scrawled across my mirror certainly qualified. Still…how would I explain my relationship with him to Jessica? I heaved a deep sigh. Calling Quinn was definitely out for the time being. But bringing in the cops? Yeah, that was a damn good idea in my book.

***

“And you say nothing’s missing? What about last week?” The portly officer scanned the living room before scribbling away at his clipboard.

“No. Nothing was taken. Not this time. Not the last. Things were just—” I paused, grimacing at the memory of my ransacked room.

“Her room was torn apart,” Jess said, answering for me. “Her drawers were emptied, her room pretty much turned inside out. Mine as well. There was an officer here last week. He took notes, pictures. Don’t you guys have a record of it?”

The officer chewed on the inside of his lip and wheezed. “Things have been pretty busy down at the station. Whoever took the report last week most likely hasn’t gotten around to finishing it up.” He stared down the hallway toward Martha’s room. “And what about your roommate’s room?”

“Her room was empty last week. She just moved in a few days ago,” Jessica said, casting a sideways glance toward Martha’s door, a look of concern etched across her face. “Look. Nothing was taken or moved this time. Whoever broke in didn’t touch anything but Ryann’s mirror.”

The officer scribbled some more at his notebook and ignored Jessica completely. “And where is your new roommate? Do you know?”

“Haven’t got a clue,” Jessica said while I just shrugged. I never knew where Martha was or how she spent her time. She was somewhat of a mystery.

“I was at the library,” a soft voice replied smoothly.

I turned to see Martha closing the front door behind her as she stepped into view. She might be a phantom roommate, but her timing was impeccable.

Her voice, though soft, carried across the room. “What happened here?”

“Break-in,” Jessica said coolly, leveling a harsh glare at our macabre roommate. Girlfriend’s dander was up for sure. “But don’t worry. None of your,” she busted out the finger quotes, “shit was touched. You won’t have to hex anyone today.”

My eyes widened in surprise. Jess had actually used the “s” word.

Martha glared at Jessica, chin held high, a look of pure hatred swathed across her pale face. Though partially obstructed by a long sweep of mahogany bangs, her hazel eyes held a staggering amount of contempt.

Thank God the officer decided to pipe in. I really didn’t want to find out what Martha did to people she was angry with.

“Did anyone see you at the library, Ms…?” The officer stared at Martha expectantly, waiting for her answer.

“Stewart. Martha Stewart.” She looked completely un-phased by the break-in. Either nothing scared her, or she didn’t care. “Yes. Plenty of people saw me. I’m not exactly hard to miss,” she said, sweeping her arm out in front of her, drawing attention to her somewhat unorthodox wardrobe choice.

She’d hit the nail on the head for sure. No one would forget the sight of her dressed in a black corset top, plaid skirt and knee high Doc Martens.

“Here,” she said, pulling a small stack of books from her bag. “I checked these out this afternoon. I’m sure if you speak with the librarian, she can verify my presence in the campus library.”

The overweight officer scratched his head before scribbling a few more notes onto his clipboard. “I’ll do just that, Ms. Stewart. Thank you for your cooperation. Now if you’d all excuse me, I need to have a few words with Ms. Pierce.”

Jessica nodded and gave me a hug before heading off toward her bedroom. The icy look she sent toward Martha did not go unnoticed, and my stomach tightened. The last thing I needed to deal with was warring roommates.

Martha stood for a moment, staring at me with her brows knit together and her jaw clenched. With a scowl, she shoved her books back into her bag, spun on her heels, and walked out the front door.

I swallowed hard and stared at the portly officer. Why me? What had I done to deserve the boatload of crap currently being dealt to me? And why, oh why, did I get stuck with Elmer Fudd for an officer?

He scratched at the side of his nose for a minute and cast me a contemplative look. “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, somewhat surprised by his question. If I had any idea who the douchebag was, I would have said something. This guy had eaten one too many donuts and had gone soft in the head.

“I’m not going to mince words, Ms. Pierce. I believe you’ve got yourself a stalker. Nothing was taken from the home during either break-in, and your room seems to be the main focus of the intruder’s attention. Is there someone at school or your workplace that’s been giving you trouble?”

I racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d dealt with any disgruntled patrons from the bar recently. Aside from the asshat who’d grabbed my butt the other night, there was no one.

About two seconds later, I had a lightbulb moment. You know what I’m talking about, right? Your mind is blank one moment and the next—BINGO! Realization hits you like a Mack truck square between the eyes. Quinn. His friendship was the only recent change in my life. But he couldn’t possibly be the intruder, could he? No. I’d only just met him a few days ago, and the first break-in occurred well over a week ago. I’d have sensed his presence if he’d been in my room, or anywhere in the apartment, for that matter. I had some sort of sixth sense where Quinn was concerned, a built-in radar of sorts. My body tingled and my kitty flamed up anytime he was near. My nether regions were stone cold right now. Quinn hadn’t been here.

Besides, Quinn himself said he sensed an evil presence near the bar, and had been watching over me like a hawk the past few days. He had ample opportunity to hurt me if he wanted to, but had never been anything but protective toward me. Not to mention annoying, crass, and full of himself at times, but fiercely protective and hot as hell.

No. I was certain Quinn wasn’t responsible for the ominous message left on my mirror. “No. There’s no one,” I replied quietly and shook my head.

Officer Ate-One-Too-Many-Donuts appeared stymied. “What about an ex-boyfriend? A new admirer?”

I shook my head. Somehow I figured telling him about the five-hundred-year-old faerie I’d recently befriended and secretly had a crush on was liable to get me thrown into a padded cell. I decided to keep that little gem to myself for the time being.

The officer gave a small grunt and shoved his pen into his pocket. “Well, then, I suggest you change your locks, make sure they are secure each and every time you leave your home, and seriously consider getting yourself some type of surveillance system.”

Yeah, okay. I could have come to that conclusion on my own. Frustrated, I took a deep breath, blowing it out forcefully, and took the business card the officer handed me.

“Make sure you give me a call if anything else happens. Watch yourself, Ryann,” he said as he strolled to the front door and let himself out.

I wasn’t worried about watching myself. I was worried about the creep watching me. I dropped the officer’s card onto the nearby coffee table and slumped down into the large brown chair that sat next to the sofa in our front room. Resting my elbows on my knees, I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed slow circles at my temples, trying to rid myself of a pounding headache brought on from my recent bout of tears.

“I cleaned the writing off your mirror for you.” Jessica’s worried voice startled me as she entered the room.

“Thanks,” I said weakly. I felt like I’d run a marathon and came in dead last, spent, on my knees and bleeding. In other words, I felt like absolute crap.

I heard her shuffle into the kitchen as I sat, lost in thought, trying to figure out why I was the focus of some nut job’s unwanted attention. It had to be someone from the club. There was no other explanation. Working in a bar put me in close contact with all types of unsavory people, one of which no doubt spawned some sort of sick attachment to me and thought it funny to scare the living piss out of me. I groaned.

Sick bastard. Get a life!

“Here.” Jessica thrust a plate under my nose, complete with sandwich and cut fruit. “You need to eat something. I called the club and told them what happened. You don’t have to go in to work tonight.”

Crap. I’d completely forgotten about work. “Thanks,” I said, grabbing the plate from her hands, not hungry in the least but taking a bite anyway to show gratitude for her nice gesture.

Jessica sat on the couch opposite me and watched quietly while I ate, taking the plate from me when I’d finished and disposing of it in the kitchen.

I grabbed a nearby throw pillow and fiddled with one of the frayed edges as Jessica walked back into the room. “So…you wanted to talk about Martha?”

She shook her head. “It can wait. Trust me. After the day you’ve had, you don’t need anything else to worry about.”

“Worry?” I clutched the pillow to my chest and hung on for dear life. God, what else could there be? Famine? Pestilence? A horde of ravenous vampires lying in wait to bleed me dry? “Just tell me, Jess. What exactly is it about Martha that I should be worried about?”

She raised her eyebrows and sighed deeply. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. C’mon,” she said, motioning for me to follow her.

I chucked the pillow aside, stood up from the chair, and walked down the hallway, stopping in front of Martha’s closed door. We were about to invade her space. Disrespect her privacy. I didn’t care.

Grasping the brass handle, Jessica opened the door, placed one hand on her hip, and pointed into the dark room. “That. That is what we need to be worried about.”

“Holy…crap,” I said as I stepped foot into the
Twilight Zone
.

W
HERE
O
UR
R
OOMS
were light and airy, Martha’s was stygian, dank and devoid of any color. Scary looking posters and drawings of pentagrams adorned the walls surrounding her bed, which was also bathed in black. Stacks of archaic books, both large and small, riddled the floor around her living space, and there was a considerably large trunk situated at the foot of her bed, with a substantial looking lock keeping it safely closed.

I stood for a moment, my mouth slightly agape, taking in my bizarre surroundings.

“See what I mean?” Jessica said, wearing an I-told-you-so look. “I told you she was a weirdo freak.”

I looked back at her over my shoulder, mouthing a giant “wow” before walking over and gingerly swiping a book off of one of the many stacks that lay before me. Turning the small leather bound book so the binding was visible, I read the title out loud. “
Le Grimoire
.”

I turned to face Jessica, eyes wide as I spoke. “Shit. You weren’t kidding. I think our girl practices witchcraft.” I returned the aging book to its stack posthaste, rubbing my hands on my pants as if to remove any traces of evil, and secretly hoping Voodoo Martha never found out I had my curious hands on it.

A wave of dizziness washed over me as I absorbed the reality of our roommate situation. “You’re right. I don’t think I’m up for dealing with this right now.” Weak and jittery, I flashed Jessica a look of apology and hurried out of the creepy room and into my own, avoiding eye contact with the mirror over my dresser. I knew the words were no longer there, but just the same, I was still spooked.

Jess followed me into my room, taking a seat at the foot of my bed.

I desperately needed to talk about something to get my mind off the break-in and Martha’s nightmare room. “So…you up for some interesting gossip?” I was dying to tell her what little I could about Quinn. He was just too damn yummy to keep completely to myself. Besides, if you couldn’t share deets about a hot guy with your best friend, then who could you share with?

Jessica perked up, her eyes bright with excitement. “Does it involve you and a certain muscular, sexy, tatted up Casanova?”

“Possibly.” I kept my answer evasive, trying to make her crazy with curiosity.

“Spill,” she squealed, and chucked one of my throw pillows at me.

“All right, all right,” I said, trying to dodge the flying pillow. “So…Quinn might not be as big of a jerk as I originally thought.” I sat quietly for a moment, letting her mind chew on my statement for a bit before continuing.

“Really?” Jessica narrowed her brows at me dubiously. “Wasn’t it just the other day you referred to him as a…a…”

Oh, Good Lord.
“Pompous ass-munch? Yes.” I chucked a pillow at her face. “I meant it when I called him those names. When I first met him, he totally came off as a womanizing jerk. Then I ran into him yesterday at work, and well…I saw a different side of him.”

I spent the next few minutes filling her in on my embarrassing collapse, Quinn’s timely rescue, and his stubborn insistence on walking me to both school and work. Of course, I left out the part about the ominous black dog and the fact that Quinn was indeed a centuries old faerie who couldn’t touch me, though I desperately wanted him to. Basically, I left out all the good stuff. I didn’t know what else I could do, though. If I told her everything that actually happened, she’d probably act reassuring and supportive while secretly calling the men in white to come and carry me away in their paddy wagon. Not wanting to spend the rest of my life in a round room, I edited my story a little.

Jess didn’t look convinced. “So he went from a complete…”

“Fastard,” I interrupted.

She frowned. “What I was going to say was that I find it hard to believe he’d change from a jerk to a good guy in one day. And fastard? What is that?”

I looked at her with a smirk. Jessica knew I lived for slang, adopting new words weekly into my large vocabulary. I shrugged. “Fucking and bastard all rolled into one. I’m lazy, what can I say? I need my profanity to be quick and easy.”

We both broke out into a fit of laughter.

Our amusement was short-lived as Voodoo Martha sidled into the room, an air of gloom traveling in her wake.

She eyeballed me sharply, with her lips pressed tightly together and her arms crossed over her chest. “Someone touched my shit.” She glared at Jessica for a moment before turning her attention to me. “I’m new here so I’ll let it slide this one time. Nobody touches my shit without my permission, which is something neither of you will ever have. Do it again and you’ll be sorry, got it?”

I sat quiet, silently aghast at how deadly serious she appeared to be. Now I understood Jess’s earlier reference to people “touching her stuff.” Hell, I’d only looked at one book. Jessica had told the truth before. This girl was a certifiable freak. What the hell had we gotten ourselves into with her?

“Sorry,” I said, feeling more than a little afraid. “Won’t happen again.”

She continued glaring at me with her face scrunched up like she was concentrating particularly hard, or trying to figure something out. If she was trying to psych me out, she was doing a great job.

“What?” I asked, completely rattled by her unyielding gaze.

“Your aura is shrouded in darkness.”

My aura? Okay, sister thinks she’s Sylvia Browne, I guess.

“My aura is dark? What exactly does that mean?” Why I was continuing to converse with her was beyond me, but given everything that took place in the last couple of days, I was strangely curious. The weird stuff was becoming alarmingly less shocking, much to my dismay.

Martha gave an aggravated sigh, letting me know in no uncertain terms she really didn’t want to be talking to me but would answer my question anyway. “It means you’re evil, or you’ve recently been near an evil presence.”

I stared at her like a mute idiot.

Well, hell…

Jessica stood up from the bed and cast Martha a look of pure hatred. “She’s not evil. You, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.”

Martha ignored Jess altogether and shrugged. “Well, then she’s been around an evil presence recently.”

Jessica turned to face me. “Ignore her, Ryann. She’s just trying to scare you. I don’t believe in that aura garbage anyways. It’s just a bunch of bunk.”

I only half heard Jessica as she tried to dissuade me from listening to Martha’s disturbing observation. Her voice sounded muffled and distant, like she was talking to me through a thick door. Her words barely registered. My mind was focused on one thing, or should I say, one person. Someone I’d been spending the bulk of my time with the past forty-eight hours: Quinn.

He couldn’t be evil, could he? I felt so safe when I was with him. Not only that, but he was so overly concerned with my safety, confessing that he himself felt a dark presence near me in the alley behind the coffee shop. No, Quinn was not the evil presence Voodoo Martha referred to. He just couldn’t be. Who, or what, was it then that was stalking me?

“Ryann? Ryann? Did you hear me?” Jessica waved her hands in front of my face. “She’s just trying to scare you. Ignore her. I plan to.”

Martha delivered a particularly menacing scowl in Jessica’s direction before heading for the door. She looked over her shoulder once more at me, uttering a quick warning. “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. Something dark is seeking you out. What you do with that knowledge is your business.” And with that, she was gone.

Jessica let out a loud sigh. “Oh…my God. She is such a freak. Contract or no contract, we need to find a way to make her move out.”

Nodding, I stood up from the edge of the bed. The staggering urge to flee, run, get the hell away from everyone and everything was more than I could handle. Anxiety reared its ugly head and I knew if I didn’t get out of the apartment I’d lose my shit altogether, go postal. “I need to get out of here.” My head spun from the crapload of garbage I’d been dealt over the past few days. Escape was all I could think about.

“Yeah, okay. Where do you want to go?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Just out.” Anywhere but there was all that mattered to me at the moment.

“Okay. Let me just freshen up.” Jessica strode out of the room toward her own.

On edge and full of anxiety, I dug through my closet with shaky hands, changing into a pair of low-rise jeans and a grey, sleeveless top. My rationale was that if I looked good on the outside, maybe, just maybe I’d feel better on the inside. I know. My reasoning sounded stupid. Probably was too, considering my inability to breathe in the tight pants. Still, I was willing to do just about anything to make myself feel better at that point. I slipped on a pair of silver flip-flops and pulled out my cell phone, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

My skull pounded and felt like it might splinter from all the overtime my brain took on trying to figure out what Martha meant when she said something dark was after me. Nervous, despite the fact I wasn’t alone, I gripped my cell phone, turning it over in my hands anxiously. I let out a loud sigh of relief as Jess entered my room, fresh and ready to go.

She pressed her lips together tightly and frowned. “Sheesh…Martha really did a number on you. Relax, Ryann. She’s crazy. Don’t let her get to you.”

I knew Jessica was right. I may have a creepy stalker, but there was no ominous evil presence lurking around the corner ready to jump out at me. Simply put, Martha was off her rocker.

I chewed away at the inside of my lip and shook my head. What the hell happened to me? Ridiculous had somehow become my new middle name. Hi there. Name’s Ryann Ridiculous Pierce. I talk to faeries and have an ominous, evil stalker tailing me. Nice to meet ya! I needed to have my head checked and possibly a bit of shock therapy on the side.

With keys in hand, we exited the apartment. “Remind me to call a locksmith,” I said as I bolted the front door closed. Come this time tomorrow, there’d be an extra deadbolt, slide latch, and security screen on the door, keeping unwanted visitors out of my home. Unless the asshole who broke in had the ability to both control and manipulate matter, as well as poof himself in and out of places, my apartment would be safe.

“Oh, hey.” Surprise coated Jessica’s voice as she bent down to pick something up off the ground. She handed me a small brown box. “You got a package.”

I felt my brows knit together. “Huh. I wonder what it is.” I jiggled my keys in my palm and flipped the box over. There was no return address marked, which I found a little odd. I used my keys to score through the packing tape and open the box, all the while hoping the nut job who broke in hadn’t planted a bomb in front of my apartment. Hell, with my bad luck, anything was possible.

I looked up at Jess with a wry smile. “I bet whatever it is, it’s from your mother.” Her mom, Karen, was addicted to shopping online, and packages were always coming to her house for someone.

Whoever sent the package had a love affair with packing tape. I wrangled with the damn box for several minutes and actually managed to work up a sweat trying to open the thing. Finally, the tape gave way and the cardboard sprang open. Inside, a rectangular shaped gift box lay wrapped to perfection in shiny red paper, and was finished off with a pretty white organza bow. A small note was attached.

Time to toss that banjaxed ball of shite you call a phone,
and move into the twentieth century. Q

“No way,” I shrieked. My hands shook with excited anticipation as I ripped the shiny paper to shreds and tore open the lid of the box, revealing a sleek, new iPhone and all of the accompanying accessories.

Jessica’s eyes reminded me of a cartoon character as they all but shot out of her head. I half expected to hear sirens and an obnoxious “Ow-ooga” sound. “Holy…wow, girl. If my mother sent you that, she’d better be getting me one. Pronto.”

I shook my head, handing her the note, which she eagerly read while I played with my shiny new toy. After playing with the expensive gadget for just two minutes, I completely understood Quinn’s unholy appreciation for the contraption. The iPhone did everything but wipe your ass for you, and I bet if I looked I could find an app for that as well. The phone was wicked cool.

Jessica’s loud gasp filled the air as she discovered who sent me the phone. “O.M.G.! Somebody’s smitten with our Ryann.”

I rolled my eyes at her while inwardly hoping she was right. “Smitten? Really? Are we in the middle of a
Leave It To Beaver
episode? Nice word, Beave.”

She stuck her tongue out at me and grinned. “Whatever, potty mouth. It’s better than anything you might have come up with.”

“Potty mouth?” Yeah, I couldn’t argue. She had me with that one. I shook my head and went back to my new phone as we shuffled out of the courtyard.

So taken with my shiny new toy, I stubbed my toe on the edge of a brick planter, tumbled into the foliage, lost a shoe, and smashed a defenseless daisy plant in the process. Apparently I was a hazard to everything around me as well as myself. Grumbling, I hopped on one foot while slipping on my wayward shoe, and stepped out of the planter, thankful I hadn’t dropped my new phone.

“Walk much?” Jessica teased.

I lifted my arm, extended my third digit, and flipped her the bird, never once looking up from my new phone.

Jessica’s lighthearted laughter rang through the courtyard. “Nice, Ryann. Very ladylike. Hey, let’s take the Mint Mobile,” she suggested. “If there’s a stalker tailing you, we shouldn’t be walking around.”

I nodded in agreement and walked around to the side of the apartment building where my mint green convertible VW Bug was parked. My baby. The culmination of several years of hard work wrapped up in one adorable, mint green package. “Let’s hit it,” I said as we piled into the car.

If it was a short walk to Main Street from our apartment, it was an even shorter drive. The small time in the car was spent “oohing and ahing” over my new iPhone, which Quinn had loaded with what seemed like every song ever written.

Jess scrolled through the massive list of artists and shook her head in appreciation. “Good Lord, Ryann. Your boy has great taste in music. He could be a keeper, this one.”