Hunted
Dark Secrets Series
Book One
By Allie Juliette Mousseau
Copyright 2014 by Allie Juliette Mousseau
All Rights Reserved
Published by Allie Juliette Mousseau
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited by: Nicole Hewitt
Cover Design by Dragon Tattoo Cover Design
Formatted by – Mike Mousso
www.alliejuliettemousseau.com
This book is dedicate to my family who helped shape me into who I am today:
Michael, who taught me absolute love
Dev Courage
Marla Sacrifice
Koda Healing
Daniel Dedication
Ben Strength
Ruby Vision
And to a much younger "Freya"
who lived through the impossible and transformed
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Takers
Chapter 2 First Aid
Chapter 3 Personal
Chapter 4 Battle Craft
Chapter 5 Off the Grid
Chapter 6 Survivalist
Chapter 7 Shelter
Chapter 8 Music
Chapter 9 Intimate
Chapter 10 Waiting It Out
Chapter 11 Special
Chapter 12 Guardians
Chapter 13 Choices
Chapter 14 Surprise
Chapter 15 Safe House
Chapter 16 Heat
Chapter 17 Voyage
Chapter 18 Rings and Vows
Chapter 19 Formal
Chapter 20 Wild Stories
Chapter 21 Exotic Matter
Chapter 22 Djurgårdsbron Bridge
Chapter 23 Hell
Chapter 24 Alien
Chapter 25 Novia
Chapter 26 Love and Hate
Chapter 27 Strategy
Chapter 28 Maze
Chapter 29 Reckoning
Chapter 30 Revenge
About The Author
Other Books By Author
Chapter 1 Takers
I woke up early Saturday morning to my foster parents fighting about whether or not to turn me in to Social Services. They weren't my real foster parents. Before I met them I had been sleeping in the shelter of a dry ravine inside of Jacobson Park in Lexington, Kentucky. Bill was just a friend of a friend's brother. On recommendation, he and his wife Tiff had me cleaning their home. Soon, my presence in their house evolved into me being hired as a live-in housekeeper and babysitter for their nine-year-old daughter, Piper. They didn't have a lot of money and I didn't have a home, so the arrangement worked out well for both of us. It had been a great gig for as long as it had lasted. In fact, it had been a record four months. I had never been in one place so long before in my life.
From the argument, it sounded like Tiff didn't want to be responsible for me and, worse, was suggesting they might even get a cash reward for turning me in. I knew this day would come. Leaving Day. It always did. But I would have to pretend harder than ever that it didn't matter to me. The truth was I was becoming very fond of being Piper's big sister. She—and this whole situation I suppose—was the closest thing I'd had to a real family since my mom bolted five years ago. It was all just as well, any longer and I would have completely fooled myself into believing I belonged here.
The depressing reality was that I didn't belong anywhere… or to anyone.
Let it go… I reminded myself.
I didn't need to pack. My backpack had been ready in the back of the closet since I had gotten here. When you live your life on the run your bag is always packed and within arms' reach. The hardest part would be that Piper would soon be tapping on my door, her sweet doe eyes moist with tears and goodbyes.
Deep breath… She would be sad, but she would understand.
"Freya?" Piper's voice whispered against the door.
I swallowed hard and opened it wide for her to come through. She took one look at my green camo pack sitting on the bed and the coat I was wearing and threw her arm’s around my waist. I had no walls for this, and I knew right away it was going to hurt. I knelt down and hugged her firmly, savoring the smell of her freshly-washed hair and the last bit of human contact I would have for a long, long time to come.
"Who will bake brownies with me after school if you leave?" Piper cried.
"I'm sorry, rosebud. I wish I could stay," I answered truthfully.
"Take me with you," she said.
I took her face in my hands and looked at her earnestly. "Piper, you know that isn't possible."
"I know," she said. "But I'll miss you so much." Piper wiped her nose with her pink shirt sleeve. "Will you promise to send me emails and call me whenever you can?"
I nodded. "Promise." My voice was unsteady.
Tiff's yelling intensified.
"That's my cue." I kissed her on the cheek, stood up, slung my pack over my shoulder and desperately fought to numb my emotions.
"I love you, Freya." Piper tried bravely to hold back a sob.
"I love you too, rosebud. Never forget it, okay?" I said, blinking back my own tears.
"Okay."
I walked downstairs and heard Tiff on the telephone cursing out some secretary because it was a Saturday and no one was available to assist her.
I stepped onto the front porch, where Bill was pacing back and forth, and closed the door behind me. He stopped when he saw me.
"I'm really… " he began.
"Don't worry about it. Is it all right if I stay in touch with Piper?" I asked.
"Of course. You've been wonderful with her." Bill pulled some cash out of his jacket pocket and pressed it into my palm.
"It's all I can give you, but it should help you on your way. You want to get out of here quick—I'll try to distract her from calling the cops. I'll let it slip you were headed to the mall." He smiled at his slyness. He knew I never went to the mall.
"Thanks." I put the cash into my coat pocket. He patted me on the shoulder in an awkward display of emotion. I threw a small smile back at him as I took off at a jog down the street and rounded the corner, out of sight.
I wasn't going to take any chances with Tiff's generosity. I needed to get out of this area fast. I couldn't let Social Services catch me. I didn't know what would really happen if they did. They would probably give me a real home! I thought, trying to bite back the resentment.
My mother had said that if they found me they would hurt me. She had drilled that fear into my head from the time I was a little girl. And even though I knew she was crazy, I couldn't take the chance. Guess she had taught me well.
I pulled my long blond hair back into a ponytail, tossed on my green ball cap, yanked out my iPod and secured the earbuds into my ears. I darted down random streets, feeling the sting of the cold early morning air on my cheeks. I crossed streets and whipped between houses and through back alleys until I felt safe enough to bring my pace to a steady jog. I comforted myself by thinking that I had been in Lexington, Kentucky long enough and it was time to move on anyway. Besides, if I stayed around any longer I would be putting Piper in danger.
I jogged all the way to The Tree Frog Bookstore and Cafe where my friend Jodi would be working this morning. I'd met her at the bookstore when I first came into Lexington. She was cool. When she figured out I was homeless and keeping under Social Services' radar, she set me up with the housekeeping-nanny job.
The Tree Frog was always supporting community activities to bulk up on customers. They often sponsored teen and adult trips to
surrounding cities as part of a literary experience. A couple of months back they went to Louisville for a tour of the Louisville Slugger Company, an outdoor lunch and readings from popular baseball novels. These outings usually took place on Saturdays, which made today my lucky day; I was getting a free ride to somewhere out of here.
The crisp March air was nipping at my fingers and I was glad to push my way in through the bookstore entrance. The place was packed wall-to-wall with people browsing books, chatting in small groups, curled up in the plush chairs, reading or using laptops. I got a glimpse of the front desk. Jodi was shouting directions over the heads of a huge crowd to another associate. She was slammed.
I started to squeeze my way through the human herd to a small clearing in the room when someone bumped into me hard—so hard I got knocked off my feet. Fast arms caught me in midair.
"Are you okay?" I heard a deep voice ask as I was quickly righted.
"I'm fine," I assured him while I got my feet underneath me. I straightened my coat and looked up at him.
"Some people are in too much of a hurry." He looked toward whoever I had been bumped by. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" His eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty.
I don't normally get weirded-out around good-looking guys, but this guy… was unearthly gorgeous. He had soft black hair that was tied back against the nape of his neck and melted chocolate- and caramel-swirled brown eyes. He was dressed in a dark blue fitted T-shirt and jeans, and he was about six feet tall and athletic with broad, muscular shoulders. He was watching me.
"I've seen you here before," he said.
"Yeah, my friend works here," I managed.
"I'm new to the area—just moved here a few weeks ago."
"Oh… well, people around here are pretty nice." That sounded lame. "I'm sorry, I'm… heading out of town, and… my friend is waiting for me. Good luck," I finished and turned back to my quest for Jodi, while I wondered what shade of red my face was. Finally, I got to her.
"Oh. My. Lord!" she exclaimed. "Who was that?" Jodi peered around me to catch a look at my catcher.
"I don't know. Says he's new to the area," I answered honestly.
"Well, he seemed interested in you," she chimed. "Why don't you go chat it up with him?"
"Yeah, like I get to have that kind of life." My voice held too much bitter sarcasm.
"Hey, Chicky, what's the matter?"
"I need a ride out of town."
"Did Bill and Tiff fall through?" Jodi asked.
"Yeah and she's probably on the telephone with the missing persons division of the FBI as we speak," I chided, taking a cautious look around us.
"I'm sorry, Freya," she said sincerely. She turned to look through the store's schedule book. "Okay, a van is going out for an indie-rock concert in Bowling Green. As usual we have a few no shows. It takes off in ten." She scribbled something on the back of a register receipt then slipped me the paper. "My address. Keep in touch, right?"
"Right." I forced a smile, trying to numb how I felt. Every time I got comfortable, every time I made friends, every time I started caring about the people around me—a meteorite would strike my world!
"Go get a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll on me. The van is already out front, but I'll
announce when the driver's ready." Jodi came around the busy desk and pulled me into a hug. "I will be expecting a call. Be careful."
"Thanks, Jo. I'll miss ya," I said.
"Yeah you will!" she laughed. "Along with the free book downloads for your Kindle and the endless hot chocolates." That got us both laughing.
I wiggled my way to the cafe counter and scooted around the back. "Hey, Pete!" I called out to the attendant, completely butting ahead in line. "Could I get a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll on Jodi… to go?"
"You bet," he said with a friendly voice. He showed me that he held a coffee cup in each hand. "Just let me finish this order up."
While I was waiting, Jodi announced over the intercom that the trip to Bowling Green was ready. Pete was still working on my order, so I found myself scanning the crowd for the guy who caught me.
"Here you go." Pete handed me a bag and cup.
"Thanks."
I stuffed the bag in my pack for later and wrapped my fingers around the cup of steaming cocoa. I excused myself to about seventy people in order to get to the big glass door and escaped into the bright sunlight.
It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear and crystal blue—there wasn't a cloud in it. I walked to the van and took a look through the opened side door. It was an extended length commercial van and sat about eighteen people. The passengers were already packed in like sardines without me. I bit my lip and searched for one open slot.
"There isn't enough room," a young woman about nineteen or twenty said in a snobbish voice from the back of the bus.
"I just made space," I heard a semi-familiar voice say. It was the guy who had caught me in the bookstore. Figures, he was going to the concert. He slid the three people next to him in tighter toward the window.
"Thanks." I climbed in. "I'll sit on the edge," I assured the others as I put my backpack on the floor next to me.
Suddenly, screams rang out from the bookstore. A throng of horrified people ran out of the building in droves, some of them even trampling others underfoot in their panic.
"What the—?" I breathed as I leaned my head out of the opened door to get a better look. That's when I saw them.
"TAKERS!" I heard the shouts as people scattered from the building like frightened quail from a bush.
A group of men, at least thirty of them, dressed in custom navy blue suits and gray toned paratrooper boots just appeared out of the sky. They were rappelling down the sides of the building from thick, gleaming silver cords. Each time a man hit the ground, he snatched up the nearest person to him and wrapped them with his cord. Once he did, the two vanished into thin air. Gone—with no trace left behind.
At the same time, from inside of the building, I heard multiple rounds of gunshots and then a loud explosion. A fire burst through the side of the bookstore and spread sickeningly quickly. Instinctively, I jumped up and started to get out of the van when the bookstore guy grabbed the back of my coat.
"There isn't anything you can do," he said to me. Then, to the driver, he shouted, "Drive!"
The driver—a twenty-something-year-old in a designer-looking coat and sunglasses—was frozen in fear, staring at the scene unfolding before us. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
Just then, a girl about fourteen stepped toward the van.
"They're dead," she stated, glossy eyed as if in a trance.
"Get in the van," I told her.
She shook her head. "But they're all dead." Her voice rose with panic.
"I heard you. Now get in the van," I said soothingly, as if to a frightened animal.
Behind her, I saw a Taker running at full speed toward us. I was amazed that I could see his frightening tell-tale violet eyes even from such a distance. He raised a pistol and shot at the van.
"Get in NOW!" I shouted as I grabbed a fistful of the girl's coat and pulled her across the floor of the bus.
As I did, the driver started screaming and wouldn't stop. The bookstore guy climbed over the van's passengers, hoisted the driver out of his seat and dropped him into the empty passenger-side seat. He took hold of the wheel and shouted to us in the back, "Shut the door!"
He didn't have to say it twice. I pulled the door closed with all of my strength as the van tore away from the curb. Out of the side window I saw the Taker pick up speed, impossibly gaining on the van. He was still attached to the silver cord, and I couldn't fathom how long it would have to be to give him so much leeway. Soon I saw five more Takers coming after us. With pistols lifted, they aimed and opened fire.
Everyone in the van screamed as the bullets ripped through the metal siding and smashed out the rear window. After the artillery stopped raining down on us, I crawled to the back window. T
he six Takers had stopped in the street and watched the van screech away. One of the Takers stood poised in the center of the road over the double-yellow lines. I couldn't shake the chilling feeling that he was smiling. He turned and brandished his pistol at an oncoming car, and the driver of the car slowed and stopped.
I cursed and yelled to the guy driving the van, "Drive faster! A Taker just got a car!" A shiver ran through me. How many more had acquired a vehicle?
The bookstore guy was an incredible driver. The van wasn't exactly streamlined but he knew how to handle it, which was a good thing because, when I looked out the back window again, the Taker with the car was closing the distance between us.
I saw no trace of the silver cord. Avoiding a red light and oncoming traffic, the van swerved to the left down a side street, but the Taker fishtailed in behind us. We came to the end of the side street and banked right. The Taker flew out after us, and a car pulling out from a Kroger store parking lot slammed into the Taker's side front panel. It didn't slow the Taker down any though. In fact, he somehow gained on us and pulled up to the left side of the van. Cars in the oncoming lane swerved onto the side of the road, crashing into each other. I worked my way back to the front of the van while all of the other passengers stayed huddled on the floor in front of their seats, screaming intermittently. I didn't blame them; I felt like screaming too, but I figured our driver would probably be able to think better without all the noise.
The Taker's car was too fast—we couldn't lose him. Again, he lifted his pistol and peppered the van with bullets. The bookstore guy cranked the steering wheel to the left and smashed into the Taker's car. This threw the Taker off momentarily, but he quickly recovered and slammed right back into us, trying to get the upper hand.
It was at that moment that the bookstore guy noticed me behind him. "Hold on to something!" he said urgently.
I hugged the back of the driver's seat with both arms as he pitched the van to the right and into a narrow alley. I wondered what he was thinking as he let the Taker move up on our inside right. I was so afraid my heart was slamming in my chest! Then I saw it up ahead—a huge metal dumpster. He jerked the wheel to the right, slamming forcefully into the Taker, who had no room to go anywhere. We sailed past the dumpster as the Taker and his car were pummeled in the head-on collision.
Hunted (Dark Secrets Book 1) Page 1