Deadly Darlings (October Darlings Book 2)

by Wendolyn Baird

  “So, what do you think of this place?” I whisper to Frank. The hall remains deserted, but I don’t want to deal with the consequences of being found talking to a macabre bracelet if that changes.

  A quick curl of his tail tightening is Frank's only response. Sometimes I’d swear he tries to talk to me. Other times, I know I’m just imagining things. I wish I could summon Marlowe to walk alongside me.

  Pulling at the metal latch, the tips of my fingers ache as the cool surface burns against my skin, like the door is actively made to keep me out. Ignoring the pain, I push the door until the hinges creak open and the dark staircase comes into view. A chilly draft floats through the air, and I brace myself for the rush of adrenaline in my veins like oxygen after being submerged for too long. I'm drowning in questions but being around the dead is something I have a little control on. Sometimes chaos is more reliable than anything else.

  Feeling my way down the steps, I make my way to the space the party was held in. The lights and speakers have been removed, but a large portion of trash remains. Small, slatted windows line the room near the ceiling, and the faint sunlight that streams through the dirtied glass is amber in hue and not strong enough to warm the room. Glass and plastic crunch under my soles, and with my fingers spread wide, I hold my palms flat out at my sides. The air shifts as I move forward, and tiny currents shift beneath my hands.

  As I reach the epicenter of the cold waves emanating around the room, a voice cracks through the silence.

  “What are you doing down here?” With eyes narrowed into slits and his lips pursed so tightly they nearly disappear, Tomas steps out from the shadows.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I snap.

  Circling each other, I look him up and down while he keeps his stare set unflinchingly on my face. He's wearing the same leather jacket as on Saturday and keeps tapping the front of his pocket, presumably where he keeps the cigarettes he’d had this weekend. The shirt beneath his jacket might be different, but his clothes are so nondescript, he could dress in the same outfit every day and I doubt anyone would notice.

  “I thought I dropped something here the other night. I figured I could find it, but I didn’t think about how trashed it was going to be.” He shrugs, lifting his jaw in a carefree manner that highlights the rough stubble on his face and I have to blink several times to refocus on his eyes.

  “Uhm, I’m here for the same thing?”

  “You are, bar none, the worst liar I’ve ever met,” he snorts. “And that’s me being nice.”

  Raising my eyebrows at him, I step sideways into the light. Anything to keep him from focusing too closely on me, otherwise he might notice the way Frank’s tail is twitching. “I thought you showing us to the party was you being nice.”

  Cocking his head to the side, where the shadows do their best to define the sharp angles of his face and darken the glint in his eyes, he frowns at me. “That was me... trying to make up for my sister.”

  And there it is, the perfect opening.

  “Why? What’s so messed up about your sister?” I’m not sure why Ramona would be so adamant about Tomas not knowing I’ve met her, but if she really knocked me over on purpose and has some sort of secret over me? There’s no way in hell I’m not digging up dirt on her.

  Surprise flits across his face as he considers my wording. “Who said she was messed up?”

  “You did. You said you had to protect her, and others from her destruction. Remember? You literally compared her to a goddess of chaos? I call that a little worrying.”

  That and the fact that she claims to know all about me.

  Tomas narrows his eyes, and they flash so harshly, the grey appears silver— nearly as pale as his sister’s irises. His nostrils flare, and as he moves closer, I catch sight of a dark tattoo peeking out over the collar of his tee shirt.

  Holding my head high, I meet his gaze unflinchingly. There’s a tension to the vast room, and the sensation of being on a precipice pulls my spine straight. We’re like puppets on strings, haltingly making our way into a mess that I’m sure has something to do with the spirit in the courtyard. My stomach is flipping with anticipation, and the prickle at the back of my head is shouting that I’ve stumbled into something big.

  “Ramona is like a loose cannon,” he admits with defeat.

  Funny, that’s not the impression I got when she was talking to me earlier. If anything, I would call her calculating.

  “She’s great at pretending to be put together—”

  Ding, ding, ding! That makes more sense.

  “—but underneath it all, she has a habit of getting carried away and dragging others with her. In your case,” he clears his throat, “that physically happened when she pushed you into a bush. I’m sorry about that.”

  Crossing my arms, I allow him to move closer, resisting the urge to flinch at the breaking plastic crunching beneath his feet. The draft that led me down here is quickening around my ankles, and as goosebumps appear on my skin, my hands fidget towards the jacket in my bag. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed the chill in the air.

  Behind Tomas, the shadows waver ominously, reminding me of the demon that almost cost me my life a year ago. It’s hard to swallow, and my heart is beating erratically.

  “What, uhm, what about the hallway after the party?” I stutter. “Or the noise near the courtyard?”

  Tomas stiffens, arching his back in a way I know only too well. Whether he can see spirits or not, he sure as hell can feel them.

  “You’re a clairvoyant, aren’t you?” I demand.

  “What?” He frowns, scrunching his face in incredulity. His eyes roam the shadows distractedly, and my teeth are chattering while I play it cool. “No, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  And he called me a bad liar!

  Before I can respond, echoing voices bounce through the hallways, and light vestiges of violet gather in the corners of the room. The chill drops as the noise of approaching footsteps clatter our way, and there’s more than a ghost to worry about now.

  Facing me head on, Tomas throws out his hand, beckoning me to take it. “We need to get out of here,” he hisses, his face taut with stress. I’m not sure what the penalty is for sneaking into the basements... but it’s bound to be no good.

  Frank has wriggled his way off my wrist and up the inside of my jacket sleeve, and as we dash through the darkened halls, the tiny scorpion hangs onto my shoulder haphazardly. What good is Frank as a protector if the most he could think to do is be distracting?

  “I’m still not convinced we hired enough security.” A man is complaining nasally. “You promised your colleagues could not only get the renovations done in four months, but that it would also be impenetrable.”

  “Sir don’t worry. They’ll get the job done; it just takes a little time.”

  Tomas pulls me into one of the emptied classrooms, and hiding behind the door, we both peer through the crack to watch where the newcomers are headed. It’s difficult to concentrate with Tomas’ body heat flush against my back, and the remnants of the cold air biting at my cheeks.

  I’m ready to dart as soon as the men make their way past, but Tomas holds tight to my arm and points. The younger of the two looks to be in his twenties and has striking long hair, a handsome face, and a lazy disposition that is unmistakable. It’s the same man who strode by us this weekend when we were hiding behind the rosemary. What on earth is he doing down here?

  This is two times now, spirits have preceded his presence. And what’s with the strange tattoos winding up his arms? They’re glowing purple! That shouldn’t be possible.

  Purple means something otherworldly. Secrets, regrets, ghosts. Not something as ordinary as a bit of ink injected into someone’s skin.

  I stare after them until they fade into the dark, and then together, Tomas and I struggle back to the ground floor once more. A sense of deja vü overwhelms me as he helps me out of the miniature door, but it’s brushed away by the bright s
un that hits my eyes.

  “Why do weird things happen when I’m around you?” I mutter, knowing full well, the weirdness is probably because of me. Everything always is.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, rolling his eyes.

  Blood rushes to my cheeks, and angrily, I push the hair out of my face and move to drag my jacket from my bag. “Just so we’re clear,” I say through carefully clenched teeth, “I’m onto you. So, whatever weird thing you’ve got going on, I’m going to figure it out.”

  His eyes soften as I glare at him, but the steely resolve behind his gaze does little to reassure me of his lies. He knows too much and says too little. He’s got to be a clairvoyant, he’s just got to be!

  Stomping away, I wish that Ellis hadn’t cancelled lunch. I could be happily sitting down to a burger right now instead of dealing with this headache. If only Tomas would just fess up, maybe I could too.

  “Addie!” Tomas calls after me just as I reach the outside door. “Please don’t hate me.”

  Because that’s not a weird request at all. My hand’s frozen on the handle, and as much as I want to keep walking, my soles seem stuck to the tile.

  “I really did just want to help. But do me a favor,” he pleads. “Don’t go searching around the basements on your own. I know you feel it too. There’s something down there.” He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck and sighing as if debating something.

  I purse my lips and try to lift my foot once more. But I still can’t budge. Perfect. Just perfect.

  A year ago, this would have terrified me, maybe even convinced me I was going mad. Now, though? I’ve seen enough of the other side to know things happen in this realm for a reason. I just need to unravel why.

  “You asked me if I was a clairvoyant,” he says. “I’m not. But I know that means you believe the dead are among us. That’s good. It means you’ll stay on guard.” Staring at me wistfully, Tomas drops his hand and sighs again. “Whenever you’re done hating me, I’d love to talk. Just tell me when. Sabrina’s got my number.”

  Chapter Four

  WEDNESDAY COMES FAR too soon. Ellis, for all his talk about sticking together and not running around after dark, has taken to late night shifts in the bookstore and missed lunch on Tuesday as well. Actions Sabrina won’t let me forget.

  “Girl, come on,” she complains as I gather my hair into a low knot. “Y’all have been going out for almost a year now and you still haven’t told him whether or not you love him. Can you blame a guy for backing off?”

  “Ellis knows how I feel about him.” I duck under my desk to grab my hat I’d dropped the other night and use the action to hide just how badly my cheeks are burning. “If he was feeling insecure, I bet he’d be knocking on our door ten times a day. He’s just busy keeping up with classes and stuff. We’re fine.”

  Pursing her lips at me, she slides a few extra papers into her bag and rolls her eyes. “Okay, whatever you say. But he’s going to have to come around eventually. I still haven’t run into Tomas and I bet Ellis hears all sorts of gossip at the shop. Maybe he’s heard about a ghost story.”

  My fingers slip as I zip up my jacket. I still haven’t told her, or Ellis, about Tomas and his creepy sister. It’s just another little thing that I’m keeping from them, like the fact I regularly summon spirits into the dorm room with the use of candles. Ellis would flip out, and Sabrina... sometimes Sabrina forgets that this is actual, real life I’m dealing with. To her, it’s just another cool story.

  “Uhm, no. If he’d heard anything, he would have said something.” Ellis is good about things like that. Honest. Dependable. He doesn’t understand why sometimes it’s safer to hold things closer to your chest.

  “Hey!” A cheery voice interrupts any arguments Sabrina might be harboring, and I turn around to find Sabrina’s lab partner poking her head in through the door. Tall and athletic, Marisol is decked head to toe in rain gear. “Ready to go?”

  Glancing at the window, I squint through the ivy-covered glass. Did I miss something? My Docs might fare well in a rainstorm, but my dress definitely won’t.

  “Yeah,” Sabrina answers. Tossing her dark curls over her shoulder, she hikes her backpack up and strides after her friend, leaving me with only a backwards wave.

  Debating at the window for another minute, I weigh the grey sky against my closely approaching class period. I’m already running late. Frank pokes his head out of my jacket sleeve, blinking his tiny, iron eyes at me expectantly. Already weatherproofed, he doesn’t care what the weather’s like.

  “Okay. We’re taking a risk today,” I decide. Tucking my makeup bag back behind my pencil case, I grab my keys and head out.

  Two easy classes and one text message from Ellis later, I’m actually humming by the time I stroll into my English class. Fiddling with the large opal pendant swinging from a silver chain around my neck, I can almost hear my dad’s voice, encouraging me on.

  He’s one spirit I can’t see. Not yet at least. According to my Aunt Delia, the closer we are to a person before they pass, the longer it is before we can connect with them in the in-between. It’s a failsafe Sabrina had guessed at last year when I was just coming into my sight; my brain just won’t allow me to access the people whose deaths I can’t handle.

  “Nice jewelry,” Ramona quips as I’m scanning the room for an open seat. Of course, the only one available is directly next to her. “Family heirloom?” She guesses, staring at the heavy, opal pendant around my neck.

  My palm still has a slight scratch across it from where she purposely knocked me into a bush, and her stark refusal to talk to me without riddles doesn’t lend me much trust her way. How much does she really know about my family, and why wouldn’t Delia have told me there are others like us? Letting my bag hit the floor with a thud, I pull the chair out from beside Ramona and fall into the seat.

  “Whatever stalker information you’ve got on me, I want to know why. If you wanted me to meet Tomas, you could have just introduced me, like a normal person.” At least he’s willing to talk to me. I just... feel weird about calling him.

  “That’s the thing though, isn’t it?” Her silvered irises dance dangerously, beckoning me closer to hear her low words. “We aren’t normal people.” Today, her dark hair is wild, cascading around her face in vivid emeralds and blacks.

  “Can you just tell me how or what you know about me? Because I’m honestly not a big fan of guessing games,” I snap at her.

  “Of course.” Ramona twists her hair away from her face and raises an eyebrow at me inquisitively. “But not here. And if I’m going to be frank, I need you to promise not to rat me out to my brother.”

  Loose cannon? Or... or is she something else?

  I’m strange. Cryptic, sometimes. Even with Sabrina and Ellis, the fact of the matter is... I hide things. The reason I do it is to protect them, though I doubt that’s Ramona’s motivation. But no matter what her motive really is, there’s no denying that one of the reasons Ramona puts me on edge is that in some slight, twisted way, she reminds me of myself.

  Patting Frank on the head, I mull over her offer quickly, pretending to watch our classmates fumble through the assignment we’re supposed to be peer reviewing. The visible portion of my sentinel remains perfectly still, but beneath my sleeve, Frank curls and relaxes his tail. The movement is controlled and lazy, so I can assume he thinks it’s a deal worth taking.

  “Fine.” I agree with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, but already, I can feel the tension in my shoulders relinquishing.

  “Great.” She pulls out a sheet of paper and a pen with cobalt ink, scrawling large, bubbly letters across it diagonally. What am I getting myself mixed up in?

  I flit my gaze around the room, shuffling my ignored essay around my side of the table to make it look like we’re working. Outside, the sky is flashing with electricity, warning of the approaching storm. Watching the lightning dance through the atmosphere, a shift of dark feathers pulls my attention to the cor
ner of the window. A large crow seems to be gawking through the glass, its befuddled appearance is only magnified by the ruffled feathers puffed up around his neck.

  “Okay. I’ve written down my number and address. Use them any time this week, except Saturday night. I’ll be busy then.” Ramona slides her paper my way, staring past me at the funny looking bird. “Did you know ravens are thought to be messengers of the gods and the dead?” She asks suddenly.

  “The gods? As in more than one?” My dad took me to church semi-regularly when I was a kid, and Delia insisted we at least go once a month, lest we upset the more normal folks. My belief has been left to the idea that there is a god, and that as humans, we probably just get different lenses of the same thing. Different cultures, different perspectives, same deity. After all, if there wasn’t a god, I don’t know how the in-between or the realm beyond that could even exist.

  Ramona shrugs, clicks her pen shut, and moves her attention to our actual assignment. “It all depends on what you believe. As far as being messengers... and where the dead are concerned, I think something is there. The birds are special. Whether it’s a raven, or even their cousins like crows and grackles, they’re astounding creatures.”

  She changes the subject towards our essays, and by the time I glance back towards the window, the bird has gone. The feeling of being watched, however, remains.

  There’s a violent spirit haunting this campus, and if I can’t figure out why, it’s going to be hell to get it to leave.

  “OKAY, NO MORE PUTTING it off. You’re eating lunch with me today.” Standing in the doorway of Blackwood Books, it takes everything I’ve got to hold my ground. The floors are slick and dirty from all the students trekking in and out of the rain all morning, and besides the shop’s normal smell, nearly everyone who enters carries with them the aroma of wet dog. I absolutely loathe humidity. Crossing my arms, I take another step closer to the counter. “You owe me,” I remind Ellis.