The Chronicles of Kerrigan Prequel Series Books #1-3: Paranormal Fantasy Romance

by W. J. May

  Of course it was Jason.

  Only he was twisted enough to think that something like this made a suitable door hanging. But if it was truly Jason who had put it there, paired along with the note, it could only mean that…

  “He got him.”

  A wave of emotion crashed through Simon. A wave so strong that it sent him stumbling back against the opposite wall, where he promptly slid down to the floor. Like some kind of effigy, or a dark sign from above, he stared up at the target with a silver nail hammered right through.

  It’s over, he chanted again and again under his breath. It’s over. Jason got him. It’s done. I’m safe. It’s all over.

  His eyes closed as he muttered the words in a sort of loop. Like a mantra that he could believe just as long as he said it a certain number of times. As unlikely as it was, it started working.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, the bitter taste of adrenaline left his mouth. His muscles, which had been coiled to spring, relaxed with trembling fatigue. And the sharp burning on his arm, radiating out from the center of the warlock, faded to a dull throb.

  I should see him, he thought suddenly. I should go see him right now.

  He pushed up to his feet, but even as he did so he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Like so many in the long line of days before, this one had simply been too much.

  He wanted desperately to sleep now. He needed to rest—to recharge and get his bearings. He could go see Jason in the morning. After all, there was no longer any rush. There was no longer any man waiting in the darkness to get him.

  An exhausted but radiant smile lightened the dark shadows under his eyes as he rolled his sleeve over his hand used the cloth to yank the grisly message off the door. He tried not to think about the slick, pliable texture as he tossed it quickly into the upper drawer in his desk. Yes, he was going to keep it for now. Although he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was just to reaffirm that it was there. That this whole nightmare was finally over. He made a similar attempt to distract himself as he grabbed a towel out of his laundry pile and used it to mop up the smear of blood that had pooled on the floor. Didn’t want to have to explain that in the morning.

  It’s lucky Brick is such a heavy sleeper, he thought with a grin as he tossed the bloody rag into the trash. Or this might really affirm all his fears about me being some kind of sociopathic serial killer.

  When the evidence had been safely disposed of, he washed his hands carefully to remove any traces of red before falling hard into bed. His body sank into the mattress like he hadn’t slept in a thousand years, and one by one, all his systems started shutting down. It was a powerful sedative, that level of both shock and relief. But before he succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue, a peculiar smile fixed itself to his face.

  It wasn’t that today had been a particularly good one. In no universe could you call the loss of a best friend, the suicide of a teenager, and the discovery of a piece of bloody flesh nailed to one’s door as part of a ‘good day.’ And yet…it was, somehow.

  Tristan would come back. Simon would think of a way to win him over. Jacob was officially on board with the H.O.C. There was no longer a murderer out looking for him. And with the investigation of his attacker brought to an official close, there was no longer anything standing between him and Jason in terms of a reconciliation. All of this, just in time for his appointment with the PC recruitment officer the next day.

  Yep—strange as it might seem—it had been a good day after all.

  Simon drifted off with that same smile curving up his face. His body was so overwrought and his mind was so peacefully set at ease, that he didn’t even hear the explosion.

  * * *

  Perhaps Simon should have gone and seen Jason that night after all. Perhaps if he had, he wouldn’t have had the dream…

  It started out like just a normal day at Guilder. Simon woke, put on his clothes, and headed out to the cafeteria for breakfast. Argyle met him along the way, and Tristan was saving him a seat at their table. The conversation flitted cheerfully from topic to topic as the rest of the boys began to slowly pour in, helping themselves to pancakes and coffee as they settled down at the table. Nothing was at all unusual. Simon didn’t have a care on his mind.

  But just as he stood up to go, the window beside him shattered into a million pieces.

  He jumped back with a gasp, shaking bits of broken glass off his clothing, but no one else around the table seemed to have heard it. They continued talking and laughing as though nothing was at all the matter.

  “Guys!” Simon cried, gesturing to the open window. A stray piece of glass caught on his jacket sliced open his finger. “Hey! Did you see that?!”

  But no one even looked up. It was like he wasn’t even there.

  Simon’s hands started shaking as he made his way slowly to the wall of windows, his heavy boots crunching on the shards of broken glass. With the utmost caution, he leaned outside and looked around to see what had happened.

  At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Nothing appeared to have caused the break, and the rest of the campus was walking around as if they, too, didn’t notice anything had happened. But then he saw it.

  It was a bird. A large black bird lying in the grass beneath the window. Quite obviously dead.

  Simon pulled back with a sympathetic grimace, chafing against the sounds of laughter pressing in on him from every side. “The poor thing must have flown straight into it—”

  “Simon!”

  Simon sat bolt upright in bed, shaken and panting. The image of the mangled bird lay fresh behind his mind, and it took him a moment to realize Brick was the one who’d woken him. It took him another moment to put two and two together that he’d been dreaming in the first place.

  It had felt so visceral, so real.

  “What is it?” he asked, still trying to catch his breath.

  The oversized teenager shot him a strange look before picking up his bag of workout clothes from beside the closet, and slinging it over his muscular arm.

  “Your alarm is still broken. You’re going to be late for class.”

  Simon blinked. That was true. But he hadn’t asked Brick to wake him. Which meant…

  “Did you…” He couldn’t believe he was saying it. “Did you just wake me up as a favor?”

  A nasty scowl clouded Brick’s face as he yanked on his tennis shoes, one by one. “So? Geez, Simon, you act like I’m some kind of monster or something.”

  A huge, smug smile turned up the corners of Simon’s lips, exasperating Brick even more. His influence in this school must truly be on the rise if Brick Eccles had taken it upon himself to do something nice, just out of the goodness of his shriveled heart.

  “Not at all, I just…” He shook his head with mock thoughtfulness. “I never thought you had it in you, Brick.”

  “Why don’t you shut the hell up before I pound that grin right off your face?”

  Simon cocked his head sweetly. “And a wonderful morning to you, too.”

  “Yeah, whatever man,” Brick grunted. But he paused by the door frame on the way out, his face tilted up in the air as he turned back around. “Hey, do you smell that?”

  “Smell what?”

  Brick’s eyes glazed over as he tried to nail it down. He turned this way and that, angling himself, without realizing it, towards Simon’s desk.

  “I don’t know. Smells like something died.”

  A wave of memories from the previous night hit Simon hard, and he stiffened suddenly. The patch of skin from the killer’s arm. It was still right there in his top desk drawer.

  Why the hell did I put it there?! A desk drawer is no place to put rotted flesh!

  …I should have put it in Brick’s desk.

  “I don’t smell anything,” he lied, praying Brick didn’t take it upon himself to investigate.

  Brick’s face screwed up in disgust. “How can you not? It’s—”

  “Hey, Eccles!” a voice called from farther down the hall. �
��Let’s go! We’re gonna be late!”

  The inexplicable smell vanished from Brick’s mind as he lifted his hand in a thoughtless goodbye. “Later, Kerrigan.”

  “Bye.” Simon stayed on the bed, keeping very still, but the second the door was closed he bolted up to his feet and locked it. For good measure, he pushed a chair out in front. Then, with the utmost hesitation, he stretched out an unwilling hand and pulled open his desk drawer.

  The smell washed out like a tidal wave, saturating every part of the little room.

  “Oh—crap!” Simon pulled his shirt up over his nose as he looked around for something to smother the smell. An old take-out container caught his eye, and in one swift movement, he tipped the mangled little tatù inside. It wasn’t much in terms of disguises, but it would at least mask the thing long enough that he could get it to Jason and figure out what the hell was supposed to be done. Surely at this point, the thing had become a public health hazard…

  After splashing some water on his face and throwing on some clothes, he tucked the take-out case deep inside his backpack and headed down the hall. A regular student, just like everybody else. He didn’t have a piece of someone’s arm in his book bag. No, sir. That would be crazy.

  He wanted to make a bee-line straight for the Oratory, but he knew that Jason didn’t have a morning training session that day, and would deeply resent it if Simon were to wake him up early.

  Choosing to preserve whatever bit of friendship the two of them had left, Simon turned left instead and headed over to the cafeteria.

  He kept his head down, and completely ignored the whispers and buzz of conversation going on around him. The points and stares were soon to follow. He was well used to them by now. You sat at a certain table in the cafeteria, and they pretty much went with the territory.

  He slid into said table without anyone else being the wiser—every thought still latched upon the dreadful take-out case wedged tightly between Hitler and Stalin and A Brave New World.

  Look on the bright side. At least I’m using my textbooks for something—

  “Morning.”

  “What?!” Simon jerked away before glancing up guiltily to see Eli staring back at him with a frown. “Oh, I mean…good morning.”

  Eli chuckled and returned to his coffee. “Someone’s jumpy today. Not that I blame you.”

  Simon nodded automatically, foot tapping nervously beneath the table, before he looked up with a sudden frown. “Wait. What’s that supposed to mean? Not that you blame me?”

  “After the storm last night.”

  Simon blanked.

  “The storm? What about it?”

  Eli looked up at him in surprise, like he was sure he must be joking. “Are you kidding? You walked over this morning from Joist; how’s it possible you didn’t see?”

  “See what?” Simon was getting impatient now. Impatient and hyper-aware of the fact that a strange kind of smell was drifting from his bag. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Dude!” Eli laughed aloud, drawing the attention of the rest of the table. “The freaking astronomy tower was hit by lightning last night. Crumbled to the ground. The whole thing!”

  Simon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The…the whole tower went down?”

  “Yeah! In this massive freaking explosion. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. People have been talking about it all morning. They’re cancelling all the day’s classes, trying to recruit people to the clean-up crew. There’s talk they’re even thinking about postponing the dance.”

  Simon leaned back in shock. The tower had been built over a hundred years ago. He couldn’t even picture the Guilder landscape without it.

  “Damn…that sucks.” But as his eyes swept over the empty chair to his right, he was suddenly plagued with much bigger problems. “Hey, man, have you seen Tristan this morning?”

  “Tris—no. I think he was headed into the city to meet that girl of his. They were going to go this weekend, but with classes cancelled…”

  “Right.” Simon nodded quickly and pushed to his feet. The breakfast was his favorite, espresso and hot stacks of pancakes, but what with the tower collapse, he figured everybody was already up and about and he really had to see Jason. Not to mention the fact that the shifters were already starting to cast strange glances at his bag. “See you guys later.”

  Sure enough, when Simon walked outside, the wreckage was hard to miss. The entire astronomy tower was collapsed in a heap on the southern lawn. A huge crowd of people had already gathered around it, but he didn’t see Jason anywhere in the mix. Hoping that his good luck might hold, he pushed his way in the opposite direction and headed for the Oratory instead.

  The building was empty when he arrived and smelled strongly of antiseptic. It wasn’t often that there wasn’t at least somebody training in there, and the janitors took advantage of the fact when they could. Simon crossed the mats quickly and headed down the hall, relieved to see that the lights were on in Jason’s office.

  Sure enough, his mentor was sitting inside staring at the mountain of paperwork in front of him as if he was considering setting the whole building on fire.

  “Hey,” Simon knocked lightly on the open door, “can I come in?”

  Jason glanced up, his expression becoming indecipherable when he saw Simon. With a wordless gesture, he set aside the papers he’d been filling out and motioned Simon inside. “I thought you’d have been recruited to the clean-up crew like everybody else,” he said, casting a disinterested glance at the commotion outside the window.

  Simon shook his head with a wry smile. “See they didn’t get you either.”

  “They no longer try. Word’s apparently spread that ‘clean-up’ isn’t really my thing.”

  Yeah, I can’t really picture you in a navy jumpsuit, raking up debris.

  A brief silence fell between them as Simon shifted from foot to foot, wondering where to even begin. In the end, he decided to just ease into it.

  “The thing is, I would love to have helped. But when I got home last night, there was a piece of human flesh nailed to my door—”

  “Simon?”

  He looked up to see Jason staring at him with a rather pained expression.

  “Shut the door.”

  “Oh, right.” The janitors still coming and going cast him a strange look, and he locked himself quickly on the other side. “Sorry.”

  Jason’s lips pursed, and if Simon didn’t know better he could have sworn he was holding back a smile. “You are going to be…the worst spy in the history of the world. You know that?”

  Rather than taking the slightest bit of offense, Simon beamed back at him. Thrilled that the cold war had thawed to the point of teasing. “Yeah, well, history will blame it on my Botcher.”

  “Is that right?”

  “He’s kind of a nut-job. People will say there’s no way I could have turned out right.”

  Jason chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair. “That’s probably true.”

  They fell silent once more as their grins slowly faded away. Finally, when the quiet could go on no longer, Simon looked up with sudden feeling. “You found him.”

  Jason froze for a second, before meeting his gaze. “I told you I would.”

  Such a simple exchange. But things like this were never simple.

  Simon shook his head incredulously as he sank down into a chair. “I don’t understand. Did you do it all on your own? Does the PC even know? Did you tell Masters? And what about the guy himself?! Who the hell is he? The ink you left was the same as the guy who attacked me; do you think it’s possible they were—”

  “Simon, please.” Jason held up a hand as the other pinched the bridge of his nose. “Slow down for a second, okay? I just got in and I’m…I’m very tired.”

  Simon stopped cold as he realized for the first time that Jason did look tired. Extremely so.

  His skin was pale and his fingers trembled from lack of sleep. The circles under his eyes were so dark it l
ooked like he’d been punched repeatedly in the face. His clothes were disheveled, and if Simon wasn’t mistaken he could have sworn he saw a dark stain running up the inside of one of his sleeves.

  “You…” His eyes widened as he started putting it together. Even Jason couldn’t have gone up against that kind of ink without sustaining some kind of injury. “You just got in—Wait. Bullseye was dead. I saw you kill him the night in the Oratory. Who? Who was—”

  “The man who attacked you and the man who sent him were twin brothers. They ran a gang of street thugs and cons, hoping to move up in the world. One of the ways they did this, was by taking out high-value targets. Tatùs more advanced than their own. First the boy in Rockford, then you, and eventually… I’m sure they were going to kill Jacob as well. Probably wanted to keep him around for a while first, try to use his visions to seek out other prospective targets.”

  There was a painful tightening around his eyes, and Simon noticed he reached for his coffee with his less-dominant hand. It trembled slightly, but did not spill.

  “The PC had nothing to do with it. This was my investigation. My kill. They know nothing about it.” His eyes focused with sudden intensity onto Simon’s. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Simon’s eyes grew wide and he nodded slowly, head spinning as he raced to put everything together. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Jason had the talent and capability to pull off something like this. To take down such an organization. But it still begged the question.

  “Why me?” His voice was a lot shakier than he thought it would be, and he cleared his throat to make it strong. “I mean, how did Jacob and I even get on their radar—”

  “I don’t know, Simon. But the two men I took out were the ones in charge. When they died, the rest of them scattered to the wind. They won’t be a problem anymore.”

  “But how can you be—”

  “I’m sure.” Jason’s mouth twitched up in an exhausted half-smile. “Trust me.”

  And Simon did. Without limit. Without hesitation.

  Just like that, his questions were settled. The answers were filed away. The darkness that had been weighing heavy on his mind lifted temporarily away, and he felt, for the first time in a very long while, like he might just make it to graduation after all.