Fate’s Reaping

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Fate’s Reaping Page 16

by Becca Fanning


  Angie felt her mouth drop open. “The third was West? Who killed him? Marcus, was it you?”

  “No,” he said, grabbing the bars until his knuckles turned white. “Do you remember the serial killer that’s been making his way across the country?”

  “Yes, but… what does that have to do with Charming? Or the Shifters?” she asked, more dread settling in her stomach. It couldn’t be possible…

  “He’s here. In Charming. He killed West,” Marcus said, pausing for a moment, as if wondering if he should continue on. “Angie – he skinned them. Drained their blood. There’s something seriously wrong with this man.”

  “What’s he doing here, Marcus? Why them?” And then added, “Marcus, are you in danger? Are we in danger?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s only targeting Shifters. Maybe it was just luck of the draw. I don’t know. But I need to get out of here before things get worse.”

  “How could they have arrested you, Marcus? They have to know that you didn’t kill all of those people. It’s not possible. You were here in Charming with me during some of those murders. Other people must have seen you around, too.”

  “I know. I need you to get me a lawyer that can get me out of here,” he told her. “I can’t be rotting in here while the police drag their feet and a serial killer makes his way through our town, cutting up whoever he wants, whenever he wants. I have to do something.”

  “Okay, Marcus. I’ll call a lawyer immediately,” she promised him. “I’m sure they can be here in a few hours. We’ll get you out of here, Marcus. I promise.”

  “Thanks,” he said, pulling back and pacing through his cell. “In the meantime, I don’t want you in Charming alone. It’s more dangerous than ever.”

  Angie shuddered. She could hardly believe that Charming was more dangerous now than it had ever been – after all, she’d been the target of the Mayor, who had wanted to murder her, plus been kidnapped by ravenous wolf Shifters more than once. But now…

  A serial killer? He has to be more dangerous than the others combined. And he could be after us.

  “Get a hotel in Haven for the night,” he ordered. “Pay in cash. Don’t use your real name. Keep your head down until I’m out.”

  “Okay,” she told him, nervous. She didn’t want to be alone – now, more than ever. “Okay, I’ll get a lawyer here as soon as I can. I’ll be back with him. We’re going to get you out of this, Marcus.”

  He took her hands through the cell, squeezing tightly.

  “Angie…”

  “What?” she asked. Something in his voice made her feel uneasy.

  “I almost left you,” he said, casting his eyes downward. “I tried to. I went to the Sheriff’s Department to turn myself in and sign everything over to you.”

  Angie felt herself pulling away from Marcus. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “I wanted to keep you and our child safe.”

  “That’s not your decision to make!” she yelled.

  “I know…”

  “After everything we’ve been through together, and you were just going to up and leave me? How could you do that?”

  “I made a mistake,” he said, still averting his eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to see you get hurt. I didn’t want to see you get in trouble for something I created. Angie, I’m sorry.

  “You’re all I have left in this world. The thought of seeing you get hurt, or losing you somehow – I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, grabbing his hands and holding them tight. She’d only seen Marcus like this once before – when he was talking about his wife.

  “I was scared, Angie.”

  “Shh,” she whispered, holding him the best she could. “We’ll make it through this. We always do, don’t we?”

  She kissed him on the lips – not an easy feat through the bars of his cell. At that exact moment, the door flung open and she looked to the side, seeing the police officer waiting for her.

  “I love you, Marcus,” she told him. “And I’m getting you out of here. That’s a promise.”

  “I love you, too,” he told her, still looking ashamed.

  She followed the police officer out of the room, made her way down the hallway, and left the police department without another word. Outside, she took a deep breath, the warm air flooding her lungs.

  Nothing is easy, anymore. But we’ll get through this. Not just for our sakes, either. For our child’s.

  The first thing she did was call a cab to take her to a hotel. While waiting for the cab to arrive, she found the number to one of the best – and most expensive – criminal lawyers in Los Angeles. She didn’t care what time it was. She dialed the number anyway, explaining her situation and that she had the money to pay.

  He promised to be there within three hours. Angie hung up the phone, satisfied, right as the cab pulled up. She asked the man for a hotel and then they were off. He didn’t say a word to Angie as he drove her through Haven; her mood must have been enough to keep him silent.

  She paid and tipped him well, checked into the hotel using cash – just like Marcus had said – and she went up to the room and immediately went to work.

  She didn’t have a laptop or even a computer with her, so she had to make due with her phone, a pad of paper, and a half empty pen.

  The serial killer’s first victim – at least the first one tied to him, anyway – had been a man named Jensen Greene. He’d been murdered in Atlanta, Georgia, a little over a year ago.

  She typed in his name, finding out as much information as she could about the man. He had been 34 years old, a social outcast, and a man on the fringe of society. He worked in an old factory that shut down shortly after his death.

  Angie scanned the article about the man and how he had been murdered. They’d found his body, rope wrapped around his neck, patches of skin removed from his body hastily.

  He hadn’t perfected his technique, yet.

  Angie kept scrolling through the article, and right at the bottom was a picture of poor Jensen Greene. Angie looked at his photo, seeing a worn face used to years of hard work, offset by bright, golden eyes.

  Jensen Greene had been a Shifter.

  The next victims were murdered at the same time only a month later: Luke and Tyler Scott, two brothers who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. They, too, were Shifters.

  The next few victims had no pictures – but judging by their occupations and their lifestyle choices, Angie suspected they were Shifters as well.

  He’s only targeting Shifters. But why?

  And that question wasn’t even the part that terrified her. Shifters were much stronger than normal humans – what kind of person could consistently kill them, over and over, without being hurt, or caught, or anything?

  Is he a Shifter as well?

  And he’s here for Marcus.

  Angie searched through the rest of the murders. They started coming closer together: first four weeks apart, then three, and finally, the last murders had been only days apart. By Angie’s calculation, his kill count was nearing two dozen – and his technique was getting better.

  I have to warn Marcus. I have to tell him that there’s a psychopath out there, someone that’s more dangerous than anyone else we’ve had to deal with – and he’s after Marcus next.

  The thought chilled her to the bone.

  She realized that suddenly, her hotel room seemed very quiet and very alone. She tried to remind herself that no one could have followed her there. She was drawn to the window, pulling the blinds slightly to the side, and looked out.

  There was no one there, of course. She looked out for a few minutes, straining her eyes to see something – anything, anyone – but there was nothing there. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

  The sound of her phone ringing brought her out of her watch. It was the lawyer. She answered quickly, and to her surprise, Marcus said, “You sure picked th
e right man for the job. I’m out. Where are you?”

  Angie gave him the address, relief flooding through her body. He’s clear. I knew they couldn’t hold him on those kind of charges. He obviously didn’t kill anyone. How could they even book him?

  But she knew that some of those men didn’t like Marcus. His golden eyes made them uneasy, and they would do anything they could do to pin something like that on him.

  A quarter of an hour later, Angie was still at the window, looking out into the street below. She saw a car pull up, its lights sliding over the trees lining the road – and her heart jumped in her chest.

  On the opposite side of the street, hidden beneath a tree, was a man – and as the lights moved over him, he disappeared into the darkness.

  The car stopped and Angie’s heart now plummeted. Marcus was getting out of the car, shaking the man’s hand.

  No! He’s down there! The serial killer is down there, watching him!

  Angie found herself running out of her room, flinging the door wide open, sprinting down the hallway and skipping the elevator entirely for the staircase. She took them two at a time, afraid of tripping but managing not to, and then she was out in the lobby, running through the double doors and into the hot, Arizona night.

  The car was just driving away, leaving Marcus standing there on the dark sidewalk. He turned towards Angie, his smile dying when he saw her face.

  “Angie? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s here, Marcus! He was outside, watching the room!”

  “Who was here?”

  “The serial killer!”

  “Are you sure?” he growled, grabbing her and holding her tight, his golden eyes scanning the dark street around them. She saw his nostrils flare, trying to find any scent of the man. “I don’t smell him.”

  “I’m sure he was here, Marcus! There was someone outside. I could feel my skin crawling. And when you were dropped off, the lights panned over there,” she said, pointing towards the tree. “And I watched him slip away, Marcus!”

  “Stay here,” he ordered, but she did nothing of the sort. They crossed the street and found an alleyway leading off between buildings. Marcus sniffed again and he said, “There was someone here. And he wasn’t friendly. Come on, let’s get inside.”

  Marcus grabbed her and together they walked into the hotel and made their way up to Angie’s room, the door still wide open.

  “It’s okay, Angie,” he assured her, holding her close. Angie’s heart was still beating hard.

  After a few minutes, Angie nodded and pulled herself away from Marcus. She turned back towards her notes, ready to show Marcus what she had been working on –

  And laying there, right next to her notepad, was Marcus’s revolver.

  He saw it, instantly going defensive. He ran to the bathroom, pulling the curtain to the side. Then he was ripping the closet doors completely off their hinges, making sure it was empty. He checked underneath the beds, ripped the blankets off, making sure they were alone in the room.

  “Marcus…” she asked. “What’s going on?”

  “He was here,” Marcus answered, grabbing the revolver and holding it up. “Angie, I buried this on my property this afternoon. I didn’t want it anymore – and here it is.”

  Angie sat down on the bed, shaking uncontrollably. Finally, she laid down, mind numb. She heard Marcus lock the door, then she felt him lay down next to her, one hand stroking her hair.

  “Marcus? What are we going to do?”

  “We’ll get through it, Angie – I promise. Just like we always do.”

  But somehow, right then – it didn’t seem to be enough. Would it ever be enough?

  “I love you, Angie. I promise I’ll keep you and our child safe,” he told her. She didn’t answer. “Angie?”

  For once, since she met Marcus – she didn’t know if she could believe him. But she had to try. She had to believe that he could see them through this, because if he couldn’t, then no one could.

  “Okay, Marcus. Okay,” she whispered, turning to him. She kissed him lightly on the lips. “You do whatever you have to in order to keep us safe.”

  He nodded, and together, they somehow found sleep.

  SNEAK PEAK Mate’s Harvest Chapter 1

  For once, Angie Campbell was happy. There was nothing to bother her anymore. Instead, Marcus was right next to her, one of his large hands on her stomach, rubbing gently. Angie giggled as he sat up in bed, just enough to place his soft lips upon her belly. She could feel their child kicking inside. Just the thought of it was enough to melt her heart.

  He said something, then, but she was so focused on her belly, their child, that she didn’t catch what he said.

  What? she asked. He repeated his words. She couldn’t understand what he said, so she glanced over at him, but the kind face of Marcus was no longer there.

  It was replaced by a man she didn’t recognize. The golden eyes were the same, if a little dulled, but the face underneath it was lined and gaunt, almost like whoever was lying next to her in their bed was wearing a mask of Marcus.

  She thought she screamed then but it was all drifting away and he was back besides her, smiling happily, and somehow, Angie felt herself relax.

  Everything is okay.

  Birds were chirping and she felt warmth on her face.

  I love you, he said, though it was distant, echoing, almost as if he wasn’t there at all. And she suddenly knew that he wasn’t.

  The chirps were more insistent, no longer cute and carefree, but rather annoying, and the sunlight wasn’t warm, but hot on her face.

  She willed those thoughts of Marcus to come back, willed herself into his arms, but he was slipping away, away…

  Angie Campbell awoke slowly in her bed, and she was completely and utterly alone. She rubbed her eyes with a groan of frustration. Rolling over onto her belly – which was just beginning to show her pregnancy – she reached up and pulled down the window, shutting out the birds chirping from outside. The sun still beat through the window so she closed the blinds and collapsed back into bed with a sigh.

  Whatever she’d been dreaming, she wanted it back. She remembered happiness, remembered that Marcus had been with her. But it was all slipping away, already lost to wakefulness. She remembered a slight feeling of unease, though that too was fading away.

  Another day.

  She laid in bed for longer than she should have, glancing at the clock every few minutes until she could now longer put off the inevitable. Another groan as her feet touched the floor and she was out of bed, stumbling out of the room she’d shared so briefly with Marcus, down the hallway, and to the bathroom. Using the trick Marcus had taught her, she began a shower, sitting down on the toilet as she waited for the water to warm up just enough so it wasn’t freezing well water.

  Satisfied that the water was at a pleasant coolness, Angie peeled off her sweat-soaked clothes and tossed them on the floor, adding to the pile of clothes that had steadily been building over the last week. She sighed when looking at them but couldn’t bring herself to pick them up, carry them to the washer, and begin a load. It was just too much.

  Angie grabbed her toothbrush, squirted a line of Marcus’s favorite toothpaste onto it, and stepped into the cool blast of water. She’d only been under the spray for half a minute before a wave of exhaustion took over and she found herself sliding down onto the floor of the tub, sitting under the shower, toothbrush dangling from her mouth and trying not to cry.

  It was never supposed to be like this. Why did it have to happen like this? Why?

  A few tears mixed with the water but she pushed them away. Now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to be strong, even if she didn’t think she could be. She leaned back, brushed her teeth slowly, and sat there until even the little warm water had been used up. She remained there until the water arching over her was ice cold, causing goosebumps to prickle all along her naked body.

  She shaved her legs slowly in the cold water, then realizing she co
uld do no more on the floor of the tub, slowly stood up and grabbed the bar of soap. She grabbed a washcloth, rubbed the soap against it, and then slowly began to clean her body. She went through the motions without emotion; legs, arms, chest, and every inch of her cold flesh. Finally, she grabbed some shampoo and lathered her hair, rinsed it out, and grabbed the conditioner next.

  She rinsed herself out without any gusto, once again just doing what she needed to do. She turned off the water when the last of the suds swirled down the drain, pulled the curtain to the side and grabbed a towel. She dried off ever so slowly, almost mechanically, and looked at herself in the mirror.

  I look tired.

  And she was. She was completely and utterly exhausted and there was no end in sight.

  Wrapping the towel tightly around her, Angie opened the bathroom door and walked back through the living room, a wave of heat trying to strike her down. Even with the AC running, the hot and dry Arizona heat seemed to leak into the room, somehow draining her without even trying.

  Back in their room, Angie dropped the towel and pulled on some clothes. She used to carefully consider just what she would wear each day. Now it was whatever her hands grabbed out of the drawers first. An old pair of underwear. A sports bra, color almost completely faded. A pair of pants and a worn and wrinkling t-shirt one size too big. Mismatched socks.

  Then she was making her way down the hallway. She saw the coffee had already been brewed, so she grabbed one of Marcus’s chipped mugs – why hasn’t he thrown this thing away? Oh, that’s right, he can’t. He’s in jail. She grabbed the coffee pot and poured some out, waiting a few moments for it to cool. It was too dark and heavy but she forced a few hot gulps down and then pitched the rest into the sink.

  She looked out the front window, past the pine trees at the driveway and the cars parked in front of them. Down the driveway farther was the barn, a place she’d only been in once while running for her life. Somehow, thinking of that made her smile.

  He was there for me. And now he’s not.

  She sat down – no, more fell down – into one of the kitchen table chairs. Laid out on it were stacks of papers. Half of them were printouts her lawyer had given her. Another half were handwritten notes, phone numbers, little scraps of paper, business cards, anything and everything she’d accumulated over the past few phone calls. She grabbed Marcus’s old rotary phone, pulling the cord across the kitchen, and dialed a number that she knew by heart.

 

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