A Glimpse of the Dark Side: Adult Paranormal Erotic Romance Collection

by Eden Laroux

  As she got the milk from the fridge, she considered waking Tony and Bruce. They had slept enough for the day as well.

  "Good morning."

  Meg shrieked and nearly dropped the milk in the process. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to keep a tight enough grip on the handle. She was also thankful she realized it was Bruce who had greeted her. The man was apparently a silent walker.

  "Don't do that!" Meg shouted.

  Bruce put his hands up in a mock surrender pose. "Sorry. That wasn't on purpose. Please don't throw anything at me again."

  "I'm not living that down for a while, am I?" Meg asked.

  "Not for at least a week," Bruce said.

  Pulling out one of the kitchen table chairs, Bruce sat and leaned back. He considered putting his feet up on the table but he thought better of it. Tony had never cared about where he put his feet up, but something told him Meg wouldn't be the same way.

  "Did you sleep well?" Meg asked.

  "Yeah. Slept pretty good. Very comfortable couch, by the way," Bruce commented. "By the by, how long have you been foster parenting?" he asked.

  The question seemed a little out of the blue but it was an easy one to answer.

  "A little more than ten years," Meg answered.

  "Any complaints?" Bruce continued to question.

  Meg placed the cereal box down on the table before looking up at Bruce. "Is this an interrogation?" Meg asked.

  Bruce gave a small shrug. "Yes. I guess so. All I want to do is ease my mind a bit more."

  "I don't think I'd be in the foster care system if I wasn't proven a good caretaker."

  "Well, systems make mistakes. Things slip their notice. Small things like bruises under shirt sleeves, dark circles under a kids eyes because the kid can't sleep well on some nights in fear of what can happen..."

  The humor was gone from Bruce's face and was replaced with a quiet rage. It was a look that unsettled Meg.

  She hoped that she would not have to see that look again. Or at the very least, be the one to cause him to have that expression.

  Chapter Six

  "I NEVER THOUGHT about it. But you witnessed all of it, didn't you?"

  Bruce gave a curt nod. "One of the worst feelings in the world is to be helpless when someone you care about is being hurt. Goodness knows I tried to hurt the creep more than once. So many punches I swung that just weren't felt... I knew it was useless each time. But I kept trying. What else could I do?"

  Meg let Bruce sit there in the silence that followed his frank admission.

  "Sorry," he said, after a few moments. "I just want to make sure that he'll be okay. It's nothing personal."

  "No offense taken. Ask me anything you want. If anything, maybe it'll help ease your mind."

  "That helps. It really does," Bruce said. He paused a moment before picking up the cereal box and reading the label. "Got any cereal with marshmallows in it? I love that stuff."

  Meg almost questioned the idea of Bruce being able to even eat the cereal he requested. But then she recalled last night's intake of aspirin and tea. She would have to ask Bruce or Tony more about that subject.

  "I might have something of that kind. Let me look."

  It turned out Meg did not have anything with marshmallows in the house. Grocery shopping was a chore on the list for the day, though. So cereals of the sweet variety were added to the shopping list. Also on the to-do list was to go clothes shopping for Tony.

  THE TRIP TO the shopping district of the town was teeming with activity when they arrived. That was normal for the weekend. Meg was experienced enough in this event that she found a parking place without too much difficultly.

  Now that they were out and about on the street, Bruce was a little overwhelmed. Every new sight and sound attracted his attention. It was probably his protective streak over Tony that prevented him from running off to take a closer look at everything. This resulted in the surreal sight of people walking through Bruce as if he were a ghost.

  Tony wasn't bothered by the sight as he was used to seeing it. But it didn't escape Meg's notice.

  "Hasn't Bruce ever been outside before?" Meg asked Tony.

  "Of course he has. But the town we're from was never this busy. And we never went very far from the house. So this is new for the both of us," Tony explained.

  "Is it me, or is there like an overabundance of sidewalk trash cans in this district?" Bruce asked aloud.

  "Nervous?" Meg asked Tony.

  Tony shrugged slightly. "A little," Tony admitted.

  Meg put an arm around Tony and gave him a short side hug. "You'll be okay. Anyone messes with you and I'll be the first to punch them in the gut," Meg said.

  "I believe that," Tony chuckled. "But thanks. It's nice to know there's someone out there that will punch people on my behalf."

  "Hey! I would punch people, too, if I could," Bruce said.

  Neither Meg nor Tony doubted that, but they let that go without comment. Clothes shopping didn't take too long. Tony wasn't fussy over clothing styles and his size was fairly abundant in this store. He picked out what he wanted quickly and, within the hour, they had left the store.

  Somewhere between one of the many clothes store and a toy store was something that finally interested Tony.

  The town library stood out between the other buildings due to the fact that it was rather plain compared to them. Where the stores had large windows with colorful displays, the library was a simple, white painted building with nothing to display. It had caught Tony's eye immediately.

  "Hey, Meg," Tony said, "can I go hang out in the library while you do the grocery shopping? I won't go anywhere else."

  "Well... I guess that can't hurt. But if there are any problems, you use the front desk's phone and call my cell, okay?"

  "I will. I promise."

  "Okay, then. We'll be back to pick you up in about an hour."

  With that Tony scampered off into the library, leaving Bruce and Meg alone. Meg smiled at Bruce before adjusting the strap on her purse.

  "What say we get to the grocery store?"

  "Sounds good to me."

  THE GROCERY STORE trip took a bit longer than the clothes shopping because Bruce had an opinion on everything on the shopping list. Mainly on the healthier of the foods Meg picked up.

  "Okra? I thought people were making that word up when it was mentioned."

  Ignoring the commentary, Meg put the okra into the shopping cart. "It's really good in soup," she said.

  "It also looks like it's more for feeding a pet rabbit than humans," Bruce said.

  "And what do you feel is human food?"

  A young couple glanced over in Meg's direction with a frown. Meg reminded herself she was going to have to be more careful when she was talking to Bruce in public.

  She waited for the couple to move away before continuing the conversation. They did so at a quick pace so she didn't need to wait long.

  "If you must ask, I say things like burgers, fries, and the occasional pie sounds good," Bruce answered.

  Meg hardly was able to keep from rolling her eyes at the short and unhealthy list. She checked over a bag of baby carrots as she replied to Bruce. "I've noticed your taste leans to sugar and grease," Meg said.

  "Top of the food pyramid," Bruce said.

  "That's not true and you know it," Meg said.

  "Okay. More like the top of my personal food pyramid."

  "Time to add some new layers to your pyramid," Meg said, as she picked the bag of carrots she wanted and moved on to the celery.

  Bruce made a face in reply to that, which Meg ignored as well.

  "Tell me. Do you have commentary with your boyfriend's diet habits as well?"

  "Don't have one," Meg replied.

  Leaning against the pickles display stand, Bruce looked Meg up and down curiously. A short silence followed afterwards before he spoke in a surprised voice.

  "You're kidding me? You don't have a boyfriend or any significant other? I fi
nd that hard to believe," Bruce said.

  Meg gave a small rueful smile. "Not everyone wants to date a woman who already has a child. It's even harder for someone with foster children. So it's harder to find a date than you might think. Besides, dating isn't my main goal in life at this moment," Meg explained.

  "Oh," Bruce said. "Well, their loss then. And if they can't handle what's important to you, they're not worth your time."

  "Exactly. And I know that, of course. But it's nice to hear someone else say it."

  "I only say what I think to be true."

  It was a little thing for Bruce to say. But Meg had to admit to herself that Bruce's words actually made her day.

  There was a smile on her face as she made her way to the cereal aisle.

  Chapter Seven

  "WARDEN, THERE'S ANOTHER dead prisoner."

  Warden Eli Griffin looked up from his paper work immediately. It was a concerned look tinged with annoyance. He had perfected this look since he became warden of this little prison on Maine. It worked not just on prisoners but on guards and bureaucrats alike. More often, on the bureaucrats as he was forever asking for funds to improve the prison. He got mixed results on that.

  People died in prison. Certainly it happened more than people thought it did. Old age or prison violence was the cause for the most part.

  But the deaths in cell block twelve were bizarre-five men dead within two weeks. Each of them was found with the same agonized look on his face.

  Whatever had killed them had obviously caused great pain.

  Then there was the odd hue of color to their skin. It certainly was not a normal coloring at all. Each of the dead men's faces had a hue of toxic green. It was as if they were looking into a puddle of toxic waste.

  Of course, toxicity checks were done all around the area. But the results of these tests did not suggest that there was anything that could cause death on this level.

  Even with no proof of any toxic leaks, Eli made sure to grab a breathing mask before following the guard to the cell block.

  He did not want to take any chances.

  STEPPING INTO THE cell block in question was like stepping into a new world.

  Where the rest of the prison had some buzz of activity, the cell block where the men had died was silent-silent to the point where people would think they were hearing voices in the void. Eli would think them insane if he had not heard whispers himself.

  The voices had whispered of darker thoughts and experiences-memories of childhood laughter overshadowed by the sound of gunfire, a mental image of the funeral that followed and the mournful expression on a broken mother's face.

  The voices dredged them up somehow.

  But as horrible as the memories could be, Eli was not going to let them keep him from doing his job.

  He steeled himself as he approached the cell and the whispers started. Ignoring them the best he could, he looked down at the body.

  "Same as the others," Eli said with a stony expression on his face.

  It was indeed like the others. James Harrifed, serving ten-to-twenty for insurance fraud lay dead, his skin the toxic green pallor and his arm outstretched in rigor mortis. He hadn't even gotten to serve a year of his sentence.

  "We need to figure out what is going on here," Eli said finally. "What is doing this and how we can we stop this."

  "There could be a snake loose in the prison," a guard suggested.

  "If it is a snake, it's one that hasn't been discovered yet. The lab called this morning. They're still trying to figure it all out. They do know it's a form of neurotoxin, possibly something from the mamba family."

  "Would that be normal?" the guard asked.

  "No. Mambas are native to Africa, not North America, and certainly not in Maine," Eli said. "So you see where the problem with that theory lies. Either way, we better start moving people out of the cell block. We can't put it off any longer."

  Chapter Eight

  IT DID NOT take long to gather up most of the prisoners in the block. They wanted out of that block just as much as the guards wanted them out. After all, they had complained of whispers as well.

  "Warden? Warden, I want to talk to you."

  Eli looked to the prisoner that spoke-a rail-thin example of a man. That, and his jittery nature, seemed to scream drug dealer. Though with all the weirdness around lately, the jitters could just be anxiety.

  "Whatever you have to say, make it quick."

  "Have you checked on that Buffliro guy? My cell is... was, right next to his. And let me tell you, I've heard some weird shit coming out of there."

  "Like what?"

  "At first, nothing too weird. He seemed normal enough for a guy who hit his kid. But around three weeks ago, he started saying weird shit. Talking to himself at the beginning. Blaming his kid for him ending up in here, stuff he would like to do to the cops. Dark stuff but nothing completely out of the ordinary. But then the whispers started up."

  The mention of the whispers caught Eli's interest. His attention was fully on the prisoner's words now.

  "Whispers?" Eli asked.

  The man nodded. "Yeah, whispers. I know it sounds insane. But after that, we all started to hear whispering. Horrible stuff. More than once I thought of doing anything, and I mean anything, to stop it. Then Buffliro, he started repeating the stuff the whispers were saying. He spoke to that embezzler that used to be in the cell on the other side of him. The next morning he was dead."

  "So you're saying Buffliro had something to do with the deaths going on?"

  Another nod from the man. "I believe that with every ounce of my being. Maybe he's the cause or the puppet or something. I don't know and I don't care. My suggestion is put a bullet in his brain and be done with it."

  Eli had no comment on the man's suggested action plan. Instead he waved the guards on before looking towards the cell where Buffliro was being held.

  It had been oddly silent all this time... eerily so.

  Turning back to the guards, Eli motioned at two of them.

  "Erickson and Rhodes, with me. And keep your weapons drawn. We're moving Buffliro personally." Even with as much as I wish I could legally leave the man in there to rot. Anyone who goes around hitting kids deserves any ill he gets. Especially if the kid is his own. But they had to follow the law.

  There was another reasoning as well.

  If the tragedy that had happened in the cell block was to follow after Buffliro after placing him elsewhere away from his old cell block mates, then there would be more proof to Eli and to others that Buffliro had something to do with this. It was not evidence admissible in court, but it would be a start.

  With the guards' weapons drawn, the cell door was unlocked. Funny... Eli didn't remember the cells being this dark and dingy... or cold. It was as if winter itself was breathing down his neck.

  In the corner of this cold and dark area was Davis Buffliro-a pale, lump of a man, even before he had arrived at the prison. Now he was almost pale enough to glow in the dark.

  His hair was greasy and limp, as if he had not bathed in weeks. As far as Eli knew, that was not the truth as, even though they were scum, he didn't take well with prisoner abuse. Whatever this was, Eli was sure it wasn't at his hand.

  "Davis Buffliro, you're being moved," Eli called out.

  The whispers started up again, louder and more insistent. Buffliro himself didn't even look up. Instead, he stared down to the ground, his mouth making movements but no words coming out.

  "Buffliro! Did you hear me?"

  "I heard you," Buffliro said, his voice a little more than a whisper. "Not that it matters to you. You're all just searching for any excuse to shoot me now. Well, let me give you that reason. Those men who died? They're dead because of me-me and the whispering thing."

  For just a moment, Eli thought he could see a dark mass behind Buffliro. Something of all smoke and green slits for eyes.

  But then, in a blink, the darkness was just darkness.

  The man
, however, was still a mad man-a frightening thing but still just a man.

  Chapter Nine

  "YOU KNOW THAT admitting to murder, no matter how fantastical the situation, will give you more time," Eli asked.

  "Not that you mind," Buffliro answered. "But yes. I am more than aware of that fact. And, at one time, I might have cared about it. But nothing scares me anymore. Not you and not the law."

  "Mind telling me why that is?" Eli asked.

  Buffliro grinned. Or at least Eli thought it was a grin. There was an air of twistedness to the action that should have been only for positive emotions. But there was nothing positive in this room.

  "Because of my imaginary friend, of course. Don't tell me you never had one? No companion for those moments when you were bored or none of your friends was around? I'm sure you had a lot of those moments after that horrible incident when you were seven."

  Eli froze for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "What incident are you talking about?"

  "I think you know which one I'm talking about. But if you really want to draw this out, I'll play your game. How hard it must have been for you. For everyone involved really. Losing a friend, and so young, to one violent act. It's why you do what you do today. To make sure scum like me don't hurt anyone like that boy you called friend before he was gunned down."

  Keeping his temper in check, Eli didn't speak for a time. In the moment of silence, the dark mass flickered for a moment and hissed. Only the lightest of echoes of its hiss was heard. The malice behind it was thick in the air, almost palpable to choke on.

  "I don't like this," Erickson said, leveling his gun at Buffliro.

  Eli almost wanted to go ahead and let Erickson shoot, save the world from a poison that it did not need. But morals won again. With his back ramrod-straight and his fists clenched, he managed to get the words out in a calmer manner than he felt.

  "How do you know about that?" Eli asked.