The Arrival (Children of the Morning Star Book 1)

by Kastie Pavlik

  Satisfied with the selections, Jonathan began to bow and take his leave. Lady Ambrosia interrupted his departure.

  “You will ensure the weapons are retrieved and the humans are dealt with?”

  “I’ll organize my pack as a VaSH cleaning squad. It will not be a problem. They are not of the flock.” Jonathan met Lucien’s vacant eyes, made his final bow, and left the room.

  Chapter Ten: Winds of Change

  I

  P aresh awoke with a start. Moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting odd shapes on the furniture and floor, and shadows that crept along the ceiling and walls. She eased her feet from beneath the sheet in slow motion and approached the window. She slid the glass pane up. A shimmering full moon sat high above a wispy fog that hid the earth beneath a great white veil.

  Fleeting motion in the distance caught her eye: fog swirling in the wake of a man dashing toward the forest. Recognizing his squared shoulders and black hair, she cried out to him, but the mist swallowed her voice. She threw on her robe and ran outside.

  The air was thick with humidity. It clung to her, absorbed her, and rose above her head, its whiteness limiting her visibility to mere inches. Swatting the air did nothing as she ran in blind pursuit of Eric. She passed what she knew was the rear of the cottage and headed toward the tall, dark gray beast that loomed over the wall of white.

  The damp, claustrophobic haze stuck stubbornly to her all the way to the southern tree line. It cleared suddenly at the threshold as though afraid of entering the darkness.

  The trail she knew to be there was buried beneath a barrier of brush, seemingly erected by the forest to keep her out. She was so focused on finding a way in that she didn’t feel the burning sensation tiptoeing up her spine until it reached the base of her neck. It clamped down and dug into her skin with invisible, fiery talons, and forced her to turn to face the man behind her. Crimson fabric draped his form and swirled like droplets of water as though he had materialized from the mist itself.

  Fear and instinct didn’t afford her time to search the shadows of his hood. She ripped free of his mental grasp and vaulted into the gloomy thicket, her legs moving on their own, her breath sticking in her throat, her fear tightening its chokehold.

  The forest was spinning around her. She was afraid she’d fall if she didn’t watch her footing, but she had to glance over her shoulder. The man who looked like a red ghost was gaining on her as though she wasn’t moving at all. His outstretched fingers were nearly touching her shoulder.

  His hand was too close, adorned by the same black, glowing ring from her vision. It didn’t take much thought to know what his other hand held or what would happen if he caught her. Pushing her legs harder, she broke through her fear and darted ahead of him.

  The forest fought her every move. Low hanging branches tore at her robe, clawed her face, and tangled in her hair. Thorny shrubs, vines, and weeds raked her legs and ankles, ripping jagged scrapes into her flesh. Trying to block the assault with her arms, she grimaced on, and increased the gap between herself and her pursuer.

  Relief trickled over her body like ice water after she tossed another glance over her shoulder. The man was gone. She slowed to a trot. As she gasped for air, she realized that she didn’t know where he was. Had he stopped chasing her? Or was he hiding in the shadows?

  She only knew the forest was unnaturally silent. Goose pimples prickled her arms.

  She peered through the unknown darkness ahead and resumed running, pressing herself even harder through the punishing thicket. No matter what lay behind her, safety lay ahead in Eric’s arms.

  Soon Grandfather Wisdom’s towering form came into view. A moment later, she was at the tree line, leaping into the clearing, desperately searching for Eric, but not seeing him anywhere. She dashed over to the immense tree and hid behind it to catch her breath, well aware that she was on her own.

  All around her, shadows danced in the darkness. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and mentally prepared to check the clearing once more for Eric or the man in the crimson cloak. Feeling very much like a lost child, she grabbed hold of the tree so tightly her knuckles turned white. She peered around its massive base. Neither man was anywhere to be seen. Blowing a burst of air over her lip, she leaned back against the aged bark and slid to the ground.

  Suddenly, a figure draped in crimson appeared beside her. She scampered up, her brain screaming for her to run, but fear holding her fast against the tree. Her fingers dug into the bark. Tremors shook her entire body. The man stepped closer. He blocked any hope of escape.

  She tried to cry out, but her voice was frozen. Mesmerized, she slumped against the tree. All she could do was stare up at the man towering over her. A voice in her head yelled that she knew him, despite the blackness concealing his face. Tears welled in her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she could not see him.

  Foreign words, chanted by an entrancing voice, burrowed into her skull. Déjà vu nipped at her as his cloak billowed out on a gust of wind and her eyes fell to the golden glow emanating from the oversized black ring on his finger.

  The bejeweled hand withdrew a sharp silver dagger from within the cloak. As he held the weapon over her heart and brought it down, she felt Death crawl into her body to claim her soul for its very own.

  She sat up screaming and soaked in sweat, trying to fend off the attack. When she realized she was only fighting her sheet, she stopped. Her heart thudded as she caught her breath and held it. Only when her lungs burned did she exhale and fall back against the pillow, allowing her terror to drain away.

  The vision was burned into her mind. She focused on the ceiling, trying to clear it away, and noticed the room felt abnormally empty. A quick glance revealed that Eric was gone.

  He had clasped the cross around her neck before he left. Her hand rested against it for a moment before she slid her fingertips to the throbbing spot in her throat where he had bitten her. She took another deep breath and sighed.

  The sun’s earliest rays were poking through the windows. Birds fluttered outside and a squirrel called somewhere nearby. The interior was still—disturbed only by the ticking of the hall clock.

  Suddenly the front door slammed. The expectation of seeing Eric made her heart flutter, but as the bedroom door flew open, her momentary elation fell flat. An alarmed Molly burst through holding pruning shears in one hand.

  “Are you okay?” Molly rushed to the bedside.

  Heat rose to Paresh’s face as she scrambled to cover her nude body with the sheet. “I-I’m fine!” she stuttered out in a hurry. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was outside pruning the roses when I heard screaming.” Molly huffed a few times to catch her breath as her brow crinkled. She peered closer at Paresh’s face. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  “I just... it was... a nightmare. That’s all. Where’s Eric?” Paresh clutched the sheet tightly to her body, slowly pulling her fist up to her chin.

  Molly slapped a hand against her chest and exhaled dramatically as she took several steps back to lean against the highboy. “Gracious! I thought someone was killing you in here the way you were screaming!” Pushing her glasses up, she held her breath for a few seconds before letting it trickle out as she ran a gloved hand through her hair. “Eric called me over about an hour ago. He needed to talk to Walter and didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

  “Oh.” Paresh sighed and leaned back against the headboard wondering what had prompted such an urgent meeting.

  “He hoped to be back before you woke up,” Molly quickly added. “But said if he wasn’t, you should go ahead and get ready. He’s taking you to the cemetery to... day...”

  As Molly’s voice broke up and trailed off, a peculiar expression scrunched her features. The bloodstains on the pillow beside Paresh had caught her eye. She shifted her focus back to Paresh’s face and offered a small smile.

  The younger woman had not missed the subtle way Molly’s eyes skimmed over her throat
on the way up. The questions those crimson droplets had prompted never crossed Molly’s lips.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Molly said. She turned away and stepped into the hall. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll head back outside so you’ll have some privacy. That Simon does not know how to properly prune roses!”

  Paresh absently covered her throat with her hand and nodded as Molly left. She pulled her knees to her chest and stared at the footboard for a long time.

  Eric should have been there. She wished she was nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the birds outside sang their summer morning song. She had wanted so badly to wake up beside him—and not just because she had fallen asleep so quickly. His reassurances would have chased away the fear that haunted her.

  The nightmare’s vivid detail made her feel as though she had actually lived it. The man with the dagger seemed familiar despite elusive clues to his identity. She could not stop thinking about him, and yet, as much as he filled her thoughts, she wanted to forget about him.

  She doubted that would happen. A nagging feeling told her she would see him again, soon, and that their next meeting would not be in a dream.

  II

  “I don’t know about this,” Chief Hodges said, shaking his head. He sat forward on the couch in Eric’s office with his elbows propped on his knees. A steaming cup of coffee and a cherry turnover sat on the table in front of him. Both remained untouched.

  “It’s the only way. If your officers get involved, I cannot guarantee their safety,” Eric replied, leaning against the back of the sofa with his arms crossed. “He is very dangerous and never leaves witnesses. His rules may not allow him to kill them all, but he will leave them incapacitated. They may very well prefer death.”

  Momentarily speechless, the chief eventually demanded, “So I’m just supposed to cast our laws aside for him? If anyone on my force sees a crime being committed, how am I supposed to tell them to ignore it?”

  “Like it or not, your laws do not apply to him. His society is self sufficient in ruling and enforcement. Besides, even if your officers could catch him, he is a dignitary and they would not permit him to remain in your custody. All I’m asking is for you to halt patrols at Sunset Grove for your own safety. If your officers see David lurking around town, have them pick him up,” Eric said. “If you keep them away from the property, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “You can’t tell me anything about your brother other than he has long, reddish-brown hair and that I’d know him if I saw him?”

  The inquiry was futile. Walter sighed loudly and sipped his coffee. “All right then. Will your brother pose a threat if he’s with David around town?”

  “I doubt he’ll appear in the village or be seen publicly with any human. The woods are my only concern.” Eric pulled a mangled photograph from his jacket pocket and handed it to Walter with some reluctance. He had retrieved the entire collection when he walked Molly out the night before. He had never intended to let her turn them over. Jonathan’s picture could not circulate among the human population.

  “Here,” Eric said. “For your eyes only, this is my brother.”

  Walter hesitantly took the picture. “Wow! Except for the hair and eye color, you guys look a lot alike. Wait a sec’!” Bumping his knee on the table with a groan, Walter darted up from his seat. “This young girl is Paresh! When was this taken? If this is evidence—”

  “You never saw it,” Eric replied in a grim tone. He walked around the couch wearing a bleak expression. “As I told you, this situation has gotten a lot more complicated. Keep your focus on David, and if you ever do see this man, don’t let him see you recognize him.”

  Visibly spooked at the warning, Walter handed the picture back to Eric without a word. Both men remained stationary, as if the slightest movement would rip apart the gossamer threads of time and open a hole that would swallow them for all eternity.

  After several long, silent minutes, Walter quietly confessed, “You know, learning about you was hard enough. It never occurred to me that there would be others or an entire society that lives outside our laws. It makes my world feel a lot less safe.”

  Eric gave Walter a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. “They normally don’t concern themselves with your world. There are extenuating circumstances with her and they all started with me. The last thing I want is for any harm to come to you. If you do as I ask, you won’t be in any more danger than you are in the line of duty on a normal day. And besides, this will come to an end soon.”

  Walter nodded at Eric’s words and, although he did not appear comforted in the least, patted the pale hand resting on his shoulder. Thoughtfully clucking his tongue against his teeth, he said, “I don’t want my patrols getting hurt, so I’ll honor your request. When is this supposed to happen?”

  Eric shoved the picture back into his pocket. “I don’t know exactly, but I expect them to make a move any time.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Simon is David’s contact here. I’d ask you to keep an eye on him, but I don’t want to scare him off. He’s our only lead, so leave him be for now. He initially drew my suspicions because he learned of Paresh’s arrival three days before she came home and never breathed a word to anyone. Then yesterday, he stopped by the cottage to see if she had met with me yet, and was curious about a box I was carrying. When I confronted him, he rambled on about being so excited that he ‘just forgot’ to tell anyone, so I gave him a lie of my own. David will appear. Watch.”

  Walter stared at Eric for a moment, stunned by his revelation. Quickly enough, however, his cop mind put him back on an old beat and he popped back into investigation mode. Jabbing the pastry into his mouth, he bit off a chunk and asked, “Didn’t Simon work for the family before the crash?”

  “Yes, he did. Do the feds have any leads?” Eric knew where Walter’s mind was taking him. Letting his suspicion return to the “accident” would only reopen closed wounds and cause Paresh, and everyone else, unnecessary pain without changing the outcome. Andrew and Felicia were still dead.

  “It’s piecemeal, nothing substantial about the kidnapping. They’ve added a slew of new charges, though, which has given their investigation a public face. I take it you haven’t been watching the news?” Walter chomped on the turnover.

  “I’ve been a little busy.”

  “Yes, of course. Well, I don’t expect it to stay in the national news for long. Land and real estate fraud isn’t that exciting.

  “You remember how they couldn’t find a long term resident to interview? Well, initially everyone living within those gates was tied to David, but it seems that about six months ago, they began moving out and David lured innocent people into buying the properties. He took real money and issued fraudulent deeds. Those couples don’t own their land or their houses.

  “It goes further than that, though. David wasn’t the one who legally owned the properties, either. When he disappeared two decades ago, he apparently transferred all of his assets to his girlfriend, Nicole O’Reilly. I don’t doubt that he’s the one in control, but last week, Nicole signed off on a deal that sold the entire compound to a developer who has plans for a buffalo ranch and resort. Of course, now she and the money have gone missing along with David and all of the original occupants, so needless to say, the FBI has quite a mess to sort through. Since Paresh is safe, they’ve shifted focus for now.”

  “Humph,” Eric grunted. “It’s a distraction that gave them some change in their pockets. They’re coming here with their eyes set on the Hawthorne estate. David wants what he believes was his to begin with.”

  “It’s such a shame. I can’t believe he shares Andrew’s blood.” The chief finished his breakfast and chugged his coffee.

  “Indeed,” replied Eric. “I’m taking Paresh out to their graves this morning. She’s never seen them.”

  “Does she know what’s going on?” Walter grabbed his hat from the table.

  “Not ye
t.” Eric followed Walter into the lobby.

  The other man looked like he had another question, but knew better than to pry when Eric kept his answers short. He nodded and put on his hat. “If you need anything—”

  “I know. Thank you.” Eric turned away as the chief stepped out of the lobby, but swung back around in alarm. A prickling sensation crept along his cheekbones as a man wearing a tan suit and homburg hat walked into the vestibule.

  Removing his sunglasses on entry, Jonathan sauntered through the door politely held open by Walter. Regarding him with brief apprehension, Walter mumbled a salutation and shot Eric a concerned look before making his exit.

  Eric’s body tensed. He never knew when Jonathan would pop in, but his visits rarely occurred within days, let alone hours, of each other.

  Jonathan seemed unusually perturbed and his aura felt off. Although Eric knew how to rile him, he wondered what else would cause such a dour mood or prompt a daytime visit. Despite his misgivings, Eric invited Jonathan into his office. As he brushed past, Eric stood aside and stared ahead at the now empty entryway, hoping Jonathan had not realized that Walter had recognized him. A few seconds later, Eric sighed, stepped into his office, and pressed the door closed with a firm click.

  Jonathan had already seated himself in Eric’s chair, leaning back with his feet crossed on the desk and his hands folded in his lap. With a roll of his eyes, Eric sat opposite him and waited for him to explain his presence. Jonathan regarded him quietly, staring at him with piercing eyes. After several empty moments of returning his glare, Eric shifted his gaze to his watch.

  “Why are you so concerned with time? You’re too much like them,” Jonathan suddenly said, disgusted as he pointed at the exterior wall to indicate the people on the street. “Why don’t you embrace what you are already?”

  “I have. When are you going to accept that I’m not like you?” Eric replied coldly. “I have plans today. Forgive me for not dropping everything at your whim.”