Taking The Night (Nightshade series Book 1)

by J F Posthumus

  Taking the Night

  Book One of the Nightshade Series

  By J. F. Posthumus

  Three Ravens Publishing

  Chickamauga, GA USA

  Copyright © 2021 by J. F. Posthumus

  Published by Three Ravens Publishing

  threeravenspublishing@gmail.com

  160 Park St. Chickamauga, Ga 30707

  https://www.threeravenspublishing.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, contact the publisher listed above, addressed “Attention: Permissions” to the address above.

  Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Credits:

  Taking The Night was written by J. F. Posthumus

  Cover art by J. F. Posthumus

  Taking The Night by: J. F. Posthumus, 1st edition, New Mythology Press 2021

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-951768-35-5

  Chapter One

  A s the sun slipped below the horizon, flames of orange and yellow filled the sky, shading into pink then purple. The skyscrapers of New Campania were silhouettes against the fading light. Not as well-known as New York, or Chicago, at least to the rest of the world, but Selia never tired of the view, despite the years she’d lived in the city. Every day the sunrises and sunsets were different in some way, and every day, she enjoyed seeing them.

  The walk to the office building where she was to pick up a package for Soren Lascari, though short, allowed her to watch the sun as it fell from view and admire the vibrant colors of sunset. Most people would have preferred driving, but she enjoyed the exercise.

  Having spent her first sixteen years of life on a tropical island where modern technology didn’t exist, walking three blocks from where she worked as Soren’s assistant was nothing. Though she had spent the last decade in New Campania, she had not lived a slovenly life.

  She took a last look at the sunset and smiled. Though she didn’t ‘celebrate’ her arrival in the city, or the day she became Soren’s daughter, she did mark it on her calendar. It would be eleven years to the day in two weeks. Eleven years since she had been forced to flee her homeland and became Soren’s daughter. Being banished hadn’t been easy, but it was better than being dead.

  Shaking her thoughts away, she opened the door to the office building and found the stairs. The email she’d received stated the package would be in the mail room on the third floor. There had even been detailed directions on how to find said mailroom, since she hadn’t been to this particular building before.

  Not seeing anyone, though she heard muted voices, she guessed most people had left for the day. If it hadn’t been for the fact she frequently did quick errands for Soren, she would have already been on her way home herself.

  Years of living in the city hadn’t diminished the instincts she’d developed during her youth and teen years. Survival of the fittest wasn’t just a saying in her homeland, and Selia had learned her lessons early. She took notice of the fire escape outside the windows of the offices, as well as the empty offices and their open doors. None of those doors, however, held name plaques.

  The mailroom was the standard kind found in most businesses. Large, multifunctional printers were against one wall, a long counter over cabinets filled the opposite wall. Above the counters were pigeonholes. It took only a couple minutes for her to find the correct hole with S Lascari on the tag. As stated in the email, a simple manila envelope awaited her.

  It wasn’t difficult to figure out the envelope contained a flash drive. The shape, size, and weight of the contents gave it away.

  Shrugging, Selia folded the envelope until it fit into her jacket pocket. There was no reason for her to open it, and she respected Soren’s privacy. She may have been his personal assistant, but that didn’t mean she needed to know everything. If he had wanted her to know what was on the flash drive, he would have told her.

  Her task complete, she headed back to the stairs, and pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. She tapped the icon on her screen to open her email. As she descended the stairs, she began scrolling through her inbox, deleting the junk mail. She paused in composing a message to her father as she exited the stairwell. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked up.

  Two men in the foyer moved towards her. She doubted they were there to escort her to Soren’s office. They reminded her of enforcers for one of the Families. Both were around six feet and resembled professional guards. Each of them wore dark blazers over black dress shirts and moved with military precision. They even had the usual short, military-style haircuts. The only difference between them was that one wore matching pants, while the other wore khakis.

  Her suspicions were confirmed when the taller one spoke.

  “We’ll take the package.”

  Selia drew a breath and stared at them. They stared back. No one moved. It allowed her a few moments to get her thoughts together.

  “No, I don’t believe so,” she replied, keeping her tone polite. “Soren requested the package be delivered to him. I plan on doing just that, gentlemen.” She paused, reached for her side, and sighed. “Drats. I must have left my purse in the ladies’ room upstairs. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get it.”

  “We’ll escort you,” the taller goon said. He unbuttoned his blazer as he spoke. The grip of the automatic pistol, kept in his waistband, was intentionally visible.

  “If you wish,” Selia replied.

  Turning, she opened the door and began ascending the staircase. The pair followed behind her. Chewing her lower lip, Selia knew she had to do something. She could either attempt to run up the stairs and find another way out or do something a little more dangerous and daring. Considering how close the pair were to her, she doubted there would be enough time, or space, for her to escape by running up the stairs.

  Ten years. Ten years she’d been good. She’d kept her secrets close to heart, letting no one else aside from Soren know everything. Now, look at her. Being followed by two goons in a building she didn’t work at and having to break a promise to never use magic in front of anyone.

  Admittedly, it wasn’t the first time she’d used magic since her banishment from her homeland. It was simply the first time she’d be using it where someone might realize exactly what she’d done.

  Too late to worry about that, though. Not if she wanted to escape.

  Feigning tripping on a step, she flung her hands backward, sending the goons down the stairs without revealing she used conjured energy to push them. Her fingers brushed against the legs of one of her pursuers, so hopefully they would believe she managed to shove them. Maybe they wouldn’t understand that she had used magic.

  Racing up the steps, she darted through a doorway and ran for one of the offices with the fire escape outside the window. Locking the door behind her, she opened the window just far enough for her to slip through.

  The door to the office rattled with a sudden impact. The goons had caught up and were no doubt slamming their shoulders against the door. The door buckled beneath their combined weight.

&
nbsp; No time to waste, she thought, slipping out the window and racing down the fire escape.

  Five steps from the first landing, she heard the gunmen reach the metal landing outside the window. She ducked her head as she heard a popping noise, followed by a bullet hitting the bricks. Chips of stone flew as the bullet imbedded itself into the stone

  She glanced up at the darkened shadows of her pursuers on the fire escape but saw only their feet and well-dressed legs. They were one measly set of stairs above her, and she was thankful they hadn’t attempted to shoot down through the grated stairs.

  Too much chance of a ricochet or of someone hearing them, she decided as her feet hit the next landing. One more set of stairs, then she’d have to either climb down the last metal ladder or jump the last four or so feet to the ground. Once there, she would be a sitting duck.

  Caught in the middle of her thoughts, it took Selia a few moments to realize the single streetlight had gone out. Two heavy thuds followed, and it took her a few heartbeats to realize no more steps reverberated down the fire escape behind her. She paused, pressing up against the inside of the fire escape’s ladder, holding her breath in an attempt to hear the sounds around her.

  She heard… nothing. No steps on the fire escape’s metal stairs, no soft pops from the silenced guns, no soft scrape of a window being raised or lowered. Her hand shook as she debated between a fireball and the flashlight app on her phone. Making a decision, she unlocked her phone and held it up.

  Looking up, she saw only a pair of shadowy forms lying flat against the grated stairwell. At least she knew why they were silent. Turning, she peeked around the corner of the stairwell. Caution screamed at her and the same nagging feeling that had saved her life many times already, including just now, told her something wasn’t quite right.

  A scream caught in her throat as a male figure strode down the stairs with an eerie cat-like grace and silent steps. His long black trench coat billowed out around him, reminding her vaguely of a certain caped crusader named after bats. The image was shattered, though, by the black fedora pulled down low over his brow. That would have effectively hidden his eyes, but the high-grade sunglasses he wore completed the task quite well. She could barely make out the fabric of an expensive ski-mask, or possibly a military-grade balaclava, ruining any chance she had of figuring out her savior’s identity.

  “Neat trick. Wish I could do that,” the masked man said.

  He stopped a few steps above Selia, causing her heart to jump higher in her throat. She followed his black-gloved finger to her left hand to find a baseball-sized orb of orange flames. Oops. She hadn’t even realized she’d conjured up a fireball. Some instincts never faded.

  “What do you want?” Selia asked, keeping her voice low. She desperately wanted to glance over the railing, to see if more thugs waited below, but she didn’t dare turn her eyes away from the stranger.

  “To know what you were doing here so late and why those two-” he nodded towards the unconscious forms above him, “-were chasing you.” She opened her mouth to reply, only to have him add, “And don’t lie to me. I don’t like people who lie.”

  Selia swallowed hard. “Who are you?”

  A sudden stretching of the balaclava near the mouth made her think of a concealed smile, and she could imagine his eyes narrowing behind the odd sunglasses. It would fit with the tone and occasion.

  It did nothing to slow her racing pulse as he said, “The Sandman.”

  Her hand twitched, but she didn’t throw the fireball. Everyone in New Campania knew of the Sandman. He stalked the night, helping citizens. Although they disliked admitting it, the police benefited from his actions. He prevented attacks, muggings, and burglaries, and wasn’t against taking out a few of the syndicates’ more notorious rackets. In a city founded by the Italian mafia, crime did pay, and the two ruling families were typically in the midst of it all.

  “Oh, gods,” Selia breathed. “I was sent to retrieve an envelope from here. I don’t know anything other than that.” The Sandman just stared at her. Selia guessed he was trying to figure out if she was telling the truth or not. She sighed and clenched her fingers into a fist, dispelling the fireball. “I practically sold myself to Soren to keep from being killed in my homeland. I owe him.”

  She neglected to mention she owed Soren many times over. Not that she would dare say she owed him her life, even if it was true. He could figure that out for himself.

  That didn’t mean she didn’t like Soren. Quite the contrary. He had saved her, and she had grown to love her adopted father over the years. Even now, she wondered if Soren had been who sent the message to carry out this deed. He had tried to keep her out of the ‘family’ business since she stepped foot on his ship. For the most part, he had succeeded.

  The fact she knew several of the enforcers, who the head accountants were, and had figured out pretty much which businesses belonged to the Lascari Family was due to her undying curiosity. Albeit it was the same curiosity that had compelled her to open that damned tome and learn the spells that had become her downfall in her homeland. This was different, though.

  Knowing names, faces, and places had kept her out of many dealings. Until now, that is. Until tonight, her job had been more subtle and low-key. She’d managed to convince everyone, including her adopted uncle – the don of the Lascari Family – she was a meek and mild-mannered assistant to her father.

  “You don’t owe them your life,” the Sandman said, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. The move made Selia nervous. Unseen hands could do gods knew what out of a person’s sight. He continued, as though they were discussing the weather. “The way I see it, you have a choice.”

  Selia narrowed her eyes as she glanced up at the pair above her, still lying silently on the cold metal. She asked, “What choice might that be?”

  “You can hand over the drive and I make it seem like I strong-armed you, complete with bruises. That way you can tell your boss I took it from you by force, leaving you free and clear. Or you go on your way and hand that drive over to your boss.”

  “Just like that, you’d let me go?” Selia asked. His offer sounded too good to be true, which meant it was probably a trick.

  The mask twitched and then he gave a single, slight nod in the darkness. “You’ll owe me, but yeah. I’ll let you go.”

  Selia glanced up at the pair above her, still unconscious. She gave a rueful smile to the man standing above her. “They aren’t going to stay unconscious forever.” He gave a slight shrug, obviously not concerned. “I think I’ll keep the drive. Whatever Soren is doing, it’s the least of the evils.”

  That got her a chuckle. Deep, with a dark edge to it, Selia realized this man had taken lives and the deaths didn’t prey on his conscience. He would do it again, in a heartbeat, if he had to, but she doubted he would take pleasure in it.

  He shook his head a little and Selia lifted a brow. The Sandman shrugged again as he said, “It’s your choice. I’ll see you around.”

  “I look forward to it,” Selia replied, surprising herself with the words. “Thanks for the help.”

  The Sandman didn’t reply. Instead, he nodded, turned, and vanished back up the fire escape. She watched as he disappeared into the darkness of the night. Shaking her head, she ran down the last few stairs before leaping down to the alley below, landing in a crouch. She might not have trained her entire life as a warrior, like most in her homeland, but she wasn’t a novice, either.

  Ignoring the office above her, she ran the three blocks to her car, slid into the driver’s seat. Reaching into the glove box, she fished out a spare flash drive. She had stashed it there a few weeks ago when she’d bought a pack to back up her laptop. Taking the envelope from her pocket, she removed the flash drive. That one went into her right pocket and her spare went into her left.

  She didn’t know what was going on, but she wasn’t going in unprepared.

  Chapter Two

  S elia locked her car and headed into Soren’s o
ffice building. It was a two-story building, smaller than most and dwarfed by the skyscrapers that towered above everyone. Considering she’d been in only a couple of those cloud-reaching buildings a few times in the ten years she’d lived here, she was happy with her workplace. Her fear of no alternative escape routes kept her from thoroughly enjoying the views of the skyscraper owned by Angelo “Al” Lascari, the godfather to the Lascari syndicate, or any of the others the Family used and owned. She knew the proper incantation and energy manipulation to levitate, but it had costs. Nor, with as little practice as she’d had at that point in her life, did she want to rely on such a spell.

  She slid her hands into her pockets, toying with the flash drives. Questions ate at her, but they would have to wait. Drawing a deep breath, she counted to ten as she let it out before unlocking the door and entering the building.

  The security pad was on, making her feel a little better. Soren never left the security off for the main floor after hours, even if he was staying late in his office on the second floor.

  The reception area was the same as every other office building. The floors were carpeted; dark curtains covered the windows, magazines covered the tables, and chairs were strategically placed about in small groups. A sofa sat against one wall, end tables to either side. In the center of the room was the receptionist’s desk with doors on each side. The door to the right led into more offices, the door to the left to a flight of stairs. A small, narrow hallway hid the restrooms and an elevator. A few well-tended non-flowering plants sat in the windows and on the tables.

  The office’s waiting area normally had a homey feeling, but in the dead of night, it was creepy. Selia fully expected someone to jump from behind the doors at any minute, but no one did. She waited patiently for the elevator, her nerves on edge. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside and punched the button for the second floor. There was a soft ding before the doors closed, and the elevator began its rise.