“I had your baby.” Monica shakes her head in disbelief. “I had a beautiful baby girl, my Angel—our Angel. She had your eyes, your mouth, that beautiful, beautiful nose.” Her fingers trace over my features. Monica is fraying around the edges, her twisted wires have crossed as her eyes set over me, dazed and catatonic.
“No, Mon.” I gently pull her hand away from me. “You had my father’s child. You had an affair with the corpse in that casket, and then you aided him in kidnapping my daughter. You brought my mother pain, and then you brought my wife and me both irreparable agony. And you can shovel all the crazy you want out in court. Hell, I don’t care. I just need you locked up and far away from my family and me. You had no right.”
Her eyes widen, red pools of blood, of murder, and for the first time in a week, I see my father’s reflection in them, old and haggard, out for revenge. And just like that, I soften.
“Get a good attorney. Plead insanity. I’m sure they’ll go easy on you.”
I head over to where Rich stands with my wife, my daughter, and I take my place among the small circle of family I have left on the planet. But it’s more than enough. It always will be.
* * *
In the months that follow, life slows to a beautiful crawl. Allison takes it upon herself to track down both of Heather Evan’s daughters, and we register as foster parents so that we can take them in. Allison felt as if they were innocent victims in all of this. She wanted to repay them. She felt as if they deserved better—she was right. And just like that, we become a house full of Allisons. At one point in life that would have been a very dark scenario, but today it’s a blessing. Neither of the girls’ fathers is truly known. They are orphans essentially and have even begun calling Allison—senior—Mom, and I have become Dad. The GoFundMe money was carefully subdivided amongst the Terrific Three as we’ve begun to collectively call the girls. When the time comes for college they will be more than ready. In that respect, Heather performed a miracle.
Allison and I settle the girls in bed, Ally, A, and Reagan. The two sisters down the hall, and Reagan, their sister at heart, in the room closest to ours. We always make sure to tuck Reagan in last, spending just a few extra moments in her bedroom. It’s still surreal to have her back—to have had her gone to begin with. We read a quick bedtime story, turn out the lights, and say a heartfelt prayer before we leave.
Allison and I lean against the door smiling at one another, already drunk off our own affections. We set the sheets on fire on a regular basis now. We are husband and wife in every single way. What those dark forces meant to destroy has fortified us, written our love story over our hearts like fire over stone. We are united. So achingly close, another human being could never come between us again.
“You ready to hit the sack, Mrs. Price?” I wince into my own name, our shared dark moniker.
A mischievous smile curves up the side of her face. “You, Mr. Price, are a very naughty, naughty boy.”
“I can only hope you’ll treat me accordingly.” Somehow, someway we’ve managed to sidestep the pile of shit my father landed us in and we’ve come away clean, unscathed, dare I say, better.
A laugh gets caught in my throat, and I stop cold as the sound of murmuring breaks out from behind Reagan’s door.
Allison brings her finger to her lips as her eyes grow wide. The sound of voices grows louder, the sound of giggling, the rumbled of something far more intense.
I don’t hesitate bursting my way inside to find Reagan tucked in bed, the quilt pulled tight around her sleeping frame, the nightstand light off.
Allison flies to the bed and pulls Reagan onto her lap. “Are you okay? Oh God—were you having a bad dream?” She wipes Reagan’s hair back from her forehead.
Reagan laughs a disconcertingly long chortle and my blood turns to ice. “Ota always comes by to say goodnight to me. She came by every single night during my great adventure. She says I won’t ever really be alone. Isn’t that nice?”
Both Allison and I pant through the silence as Reagan’s words slice through the nexus of our beings.
Reagan’s features darken right along with ours. “You’re still angry with her, aren’t you?” Her voice grows sharp. “She said you would be. She said you were angry with Grandpa too. But you shouldn’t be. Ota says Grandpa saved me. The night he took me away on our great adventure would have been my last.” Her tiny frame curls under the covers. “Ota says they can’t hurt me when I’m in trouble. Why was I in trouble?”
Allison and I look at one another, good and long. My mind tries its best to put the fractured pieces together. Could it be that Ota was going to kill Reagan that night I let them wander out the door—and my father, of all people, inadvertently put a hedge of protection over her with the disaster he brought into our lives? The article Allison and I read together comes to mind. Something about the tribe sealing their honor, each death was to come purely from vengeance—unadulterated by worldly disorder. If my father could do anything right it was bring worldly disorder upon his family.
“Why can’t you love her like I do?” Reagan whines. “She’s my very best friend in the whole wide world.”
Allison shudders.
“She can come over.” I hear myself say in one of those surreal out-of-body moments. “But she’ll have to use the front door like any other friend, and it will have to be after school.”
“Just the way we used to?” Reagan’s little face lights up as if Ota were the equivalent of Santa Claus—an ax-wielding jolly old Saint Fucking Nick.
“Yes.” I force a smile to come and go. “Just the way we used to.”
And I’m going to kill her, over and over, and over again until I get it right.
I have to.
Allison looks to me with those sorrowful sad eyes and gives a slight nod. We are on the same murderous page.
* * *
In the spring, one sweet honeysuckle-scented day, there’s a light knock on the door, so small, so very fragile that it stops both Allison and me in our dancing in the kitchen, making dinner together tracks.
Allison’s chest palpitates visibly from beneath the flimsy fabric of her sundress, one she hasn’t put on since our move from California. “Who do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.” Those are, in fact, the worst words you can say to your wife. Where is our child? Allison shouted to me so long ago, all night like a chorus, and I had to tell her that very phrase. I don’t know. The very worst words right after our child is missing.
We head over to the door, our steps in tune to one another as if this were a choreographed move, and I swing it open, brave, as if a new frontier awaited us. We are so hopeful. We have waited, planned for this, prayed for it, and sure enough, there stands a pint-sized brunette with her dark soulless eyes laughing at us with the sound of a thousand deceased spirits roaming inside her. It’s about damn time.
Ota looks up at us with that mocking grin, all of her murderous intent. “Can I play with Reagan today?”
Allison and I share a quiet glance. We have done our homework, our due diligence. Originally, we had surmised that the best way to contain the enemy is to keep her within arm’s length, but something far better had come our way and we would not only keep her at an arm’s length, we would have the upper hand.
“Come in, Ota.” I glare at the menace as she strides on by. Yes, my father had it right. The wages of sin is death, but the sinners who killed the Chachnoaw tribe died off long ago. Enough blood has been spilt, enough to cover their ancestors up to their eyeballs. But with fire, a cleansing can happen. Just like Dolla Chetney was full of bullshit, we have discovered through veracious research that the underpinnings of this curse were just the same. It turns out there is very much an off button, a fiery, flame-filled goodbye to this hell forever.
Only fire could one day save Reagan from the menace amongst us, the seemingly innocent being hell-bent on taking her life. Once set to flames, the spirits cannot escape.
“Where is Reagan
?” Her tiny nose lifts to the air.
“Out back, honey.” Allison manufactures a smile as we play along with this very dangerous game.
Ota skips off, her ponytail whips back and forth, so free, such a mockery of innocence. But the kindling is ready. Allison and I had purchased an enormous outdoor fireplace and had it installed out back. The salesman said you could roast a deer in it. Ota is a bit smaller than your average deer. I’ve rigged it with iron bars, ten different pad locks ready to go. All hell is about to break loose, and I’m glad the girls aren’t home to see it. Ally—our oldest, is supervising the girls while they’re at gymnastics. Allison and I won’t need to be there until six to pick them up. I think once the fire is stoked there might be time for a glass of wine. Allison and I have rehearsed every move, trained for this as if it were the Super Bowl.
Ota reaches the kitchen door and takes a wary look out the window while I snatch the rope off the counter. She turns to look at us with those black soulless pools she sees the world through.
Allison sheds a satisfied smile. “Now.”
Books by Addison Moore
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WEBSITE http://addisonmoore.com
Romance
3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)
Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)
Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)
Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)
Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)
Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6)
Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7)
Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses 8)
Forbidden Kisses (3:AM Kisses 9)
Dirty Kisses (3:AM Kisses 10)
Stolen Kisses (3:AM Kisses 11)
Lucky Kisses (3:AM Kisses 12)
Tender Kisses (3:AM Kisses 13)
Revenge Kisses (3:AM Kisses 14)
Red Hot Kisses (3:AM Kisses 15)
Reckless Kisses (3:AM Kisses 16)
Hot Honey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 17)
Shameless Kisses (3:AM Kisses 18)
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Value 3:AM Kisses Boxed Sets
3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 1-3
3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 4-6
3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 7-9
3:AM Kisses Boxed Set 10-12
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Low Down & Dirty (3:AM Kisses, Hollow Brook 1)
Dirty Disaster (3:AM Kisses, Hollow Brook 2)
Dirty Deeds (3:AM Kisses, Hollow Brook 3)
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The Social Experiment (The Social Experiment 1)
Bitter Exes (The Social Experiment 2)
Chemical Attraction (The Social Experiment 3)
* * *
Burning Through Gravity (Burning Through Gravity 1)
A Thousand Starry Nights (Burning Through Gravity 2)
Fire in an Amber Sky (Burning Through Gravity 3)
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Beautiful Oblivion (Beautiful Oblivion 1)
Beautiful Illusions (Beautiful Oblivion 2)
Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3)
The Solitude of Passion
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Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)
Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)
Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)
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Young Adult Romance
Melt With You (A Totally ’80s Romance 1)
Tainted Love (A Totally ’80s Romance 2)
Hold Me Now (A Totally ’80s Romance 3)
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Paranormal Romance
(Celestra Book World in Order)
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Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)
Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)
Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)
Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)
Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)
Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)
Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)
Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 8)
Elysian (Celestra Series Book 9)
Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)
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Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)
Season of the Witch (A Celestra Companion)
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Ephemeral (The Countenance Trilogy 1)
Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2)
Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3)
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The Countenance Trilogy Books 1-3
Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)
The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After 2)
The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3)
Crown of Ashes (Celestra Forever After 4)
Throne of Fire (Celestra Forever After 5) Soon!
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for reading Little Girl Lost. I hope you enjoyed James and Allison’s story as much as I did. My mind has been swimming in the deep end of Concordia for the better part of three years and it’s a relief and pleasure to finally get to share this adventure with you. There were many, many nights that I lost sleep because of this story. I poured my heart and soul into its many rewrites and spit-shines. I hope it gleamed just the way you needed it to.
A very special thank you to my early readers, Jodie Tarleton and Tabby Coots. Your unbridled enthusiasm gave me the courage I needed to see this through and I am forever grateful for that. You are both so special to me. And to Lisa Markson whose relentless support is always there when I need it. You are made of steel. I’m so glad you are in my life.
To Kaila Eileen Turingan-Ramos, my first reader who was kind enough to help me straighten the words and put them back where they belong. You are so very awesome. Thank you so much for that.
Thank you to Kathryn Jacoby for being superwoman at all times. Is there anything you can’t do? You’re a rock and an excellent pillar of support. Thank you for being mine.
And a huge thank you to Paige Maroney Smith, the woman who walks softly and carries a big editing stick. I love you like a sister. You are so wonderful and kind—and wildly patient with all of my schemes. Thank you for that!
And last, but never least, thank you to Him who sits on the throne. Worthy is the Lamb! Glory and honor and power are yours. I owe you everything.
About the Author
Addison Moore is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who writes contemporary and paranormal romance. Her work has been featured in Cosmopolitan Magazine. Previously she worked as a therapist on a locked psychiatric unit for nearly a decade. She resides on the West Coast with her husband, four wonderful children, and two dogs where she eats too much chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing, she's reading. Addison’s Celestra Series has been optioned for film by 20th Century Fox.
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Contents
Prologue
1. Allison
2. James
3. Allison
4. James
5. Allison
6. James
7. Allison
8. James
9. Allison
10. James
11. Allison
12. James
13. Allison
14. James
15. Allison
16. James
Books by Addison Moore
About the Author
Little Girl Lost Page 24