He pulled an iPad from his jacket and touched it a few times, then offered the screen. The facade of a magnificent Victorian theater leapt onto the display; wide, sweeping marble steps led to an outer patio, stained-glass windows led into the foyer. Adam ran a finger over the screen; she could see the audience, the mezzanine, the orchestra pit and the balconies. He touched the iPad again—she saw the size and majesty of the stage.
“It’s a beautiful theater, fantastic really! Where is it?”
“Alexandria, Virginia. Easy access from DC and Northern Virginia. People even come up from Richmond for performances,” Adam told her.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, waiting. Had Thor finagled her a position at the theater? “Is it public, or private, or…”
“I’ve just purchased it,” Adam said.
“Oh!”
“But it needs management—an artistic director. Frankly, I just wanted to buy it. It was up for sale, and it could have gone the way of many a beautiful old historic property.”
“Well, I know something about running the books, but—”
“I believe we can hire a bookkeeper. But! We need someone who knows plays, who knows actors and actresses, a casting process…and, of course, someone who performs, themselves, someone who can make children love theater.”
Clara looked at Thor, amazed, worried. “You are joining the Krewe, right?”
“I am,” Thor said.
“Did you…did you ask Mr. Harrison to buy a theater because…”
“Oh, no, no—I bought the theater a few months ago,” Adam said. “And now these strange cases, and a call from Jackson…and here Josh and I are, aboard the Fate!” He had such a great smile and he shrugged with one of those grins. “I mean, hey, seems like fate to me, right?”
“Oh, thank you! But, I… I’m afraid! That’s major—”
“I haven’t seen you afraid enough not to fight, ever,” Thor said lightly.
“Are you kidding me? Say yes!”
She hadn’t realized she hadn’t closed her door. Ralph, Simon, Larry and Connie were just outside, listening to every word.
Ralph walked in and introduced himself boldly, saying he’d be delighted to help with such an enterprise and that they were an ensemble, ready to really give every bit of energy and talent they had to make a go of such a place.
Then Larry and Simon were in the room, and everyone was talking and somewhere in it all, she said, “Yes, yes! As soon as we finish out our contracts here, of course.”
Everyone was kissing her—even Josh, with a cool brush on her cheek.
There was champagne; people talked and talked. She finally changed, and they met on the Promenade Deck and talked some more.
And finally, very late, she wound up out on the deck with Thor. They could see the crystal glaciers rising by the ship’s light, because even in Alaskan waters, it was nearly dark by then.
They kissed.
“We’ll both be away from home,” she murmured. “Hm, maybe home is where the huskies are?”
It seemed impossible. They’d both start life anew. Even Jackson, in his way.
“You are home to me,” Thor told her, his lips close, his whisper sweet, and it all ended with a fantastic kiss in the gentle chill of the night air and the strange display of light and shadow that was an Alaskan late summer night.
Clara was seeking just the right thing to say as their lips parted, but she never had the chance.
They were interrupted.
“Sweet! Oh, yeah, how almost flippingly nauseatingly sweet!”
Of course, it was Amelia, looking faint and pale.
Clara laughed and said, “Oh, Amelia. Join us!”
Amelia came to them. She’d been wearing one of her cocky expressions, but that wavered and her eyes were wide when she said, “I’m scared.”
Clara noted then that Thor was looking outward—toward the glacier. He shook his head. “Strange,” he said. “There’s a ray of light. It doesn’t seem to be from the ship. It’s not moonlight, and I don’t see what else…”
He broke off. Clara knew why. The light was different from anything she’d ever seen. It seemed to pour in a glittering and golden line toward them.
She heard Thor inhale and say softly, “Mandy.”
She saw the woman, too. She was part of the light. She was beautiful with dark hair and large eyes and a face that was serene and perfect. And she smiled and reached out a hand.
She wasn’t looking at Clara—or even Thor.
“A friend,” Clara said softly. “Amelia, you don’t need to be afraid. You have a friend—you won’t be alone.”
“Oh!” Amelia said.
“Just go forward. Take her hand.”
Amelia turned to look at Clara. “You would have been such a great friend. But I’d have been too stupid to know it…to care.”
“You never know,” Clara said. “I feel I’m saying goodbye to a friend.”
“A good friend,” Thor said.
Amelia hesitated a minute longer and then shrugged. “Maybe they have a form of television up there. Oh! You do think I’m going up?” she asked nervously.
“Mandy is definitely going up,” Thor said. “And she’s waiting for you.”
Amelia nodded. And she moved forward and took the hand offered to her—the hand of Mandy Brandt.
Thor slipped his arm around Clara. It was an Alaskan sky, yes…
But the light show that they saw then seemed to rival anything, anywhere in the world.
And then it ended, just as magically as it had begun.
Thor’s arms tightened around her. She leaned against him for a moment, and she smiled. And she had to wonder if meeting him here might have really been…
Fate.
* * * * *
Read on for a sneak peek of Darkest Journey, the latest Krewe of Hunters tale from New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham, available September 27!
“Dark, dangerous and deadly!
Graham has the uncanny ability to bring her books to life.”
—RT Book Reviews
Looking for more great reads from New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham? Don’t miss the first entry in a brand-new series packed with deadly intrigue, exhilarating romance and heart-pounding suspense:
Flawless
Find out what happens when a criminal psychologist and FBI agent are thrown together by circumstance, drawn together by attraction and threatened by criminal intent…
Order your copy today!
Connect with us on www.Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/Newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
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If you loved Deadly Fate, don’t miss a single story in the spine-tingling Krewe of Hunters series, featuring the FBI’s elite team of paranormal investigators, the Krewe of Hunters:
Phantom Evil
Heart of Evil
Sacred Evil
The Evil Inside
The Unseen
The Unholy
The Unspoken
The Uninvited
The Night is Watching
The Night Is Alive
The Night Is Forever
The Cursed
The Hexed
The Betrayed
The Silenced
The Forgotten
The Hidden
Haunted Destiny
Darkest Journey
And discover the electrifying Cafferty & Quinn series, where an antiques collector and a private investigator are drawn together in New Orleans as they investigate the city’s most unusual crimes:
Let the Dead Sle
ep
Waking the Dead
The Dead Play On
“Dark, dangerous and deadly! Graham has the uncanny ability to bring her books to life.”
—RT Book Reviews on WAKING THE DEAD
Order your copies today!
Connect with us on www.Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/Newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
PROLOGUE
West Feliciana Parish, Louisiana High School
“What are we doing?” Charlene—Charlie—Moreau demanded, surprised that both her escorts—senior girls high up in the hierarchy of one of their high school service clubs, the Cherubs—had suddenly taken hold of her arms. “Where are we going?”
She’d started out blindfolded in a car with five of her friends—all of them giggling girls ready to claim the prestige of being a Cherub. They’d been accepted into the club. They’d gone through ridiculous weeks of pledging—running, fetching, even doing homework for the “older sisters” in the club, and now it was their final night. Their great hazing. But the five of them had been split up about twenty minutes earlier; she’d been put in a car with Nancy Deauville and Sherry Compton, who’d gently led her out a little while later.
Now both girls were gripping her arms, nothing gentle about it.
Nancy Deauville laughed softly. “They say your mama’s family has the ‘sight.’ We’re just leaving you where you’ll have to ask some of your ghostly friends for help.”
“Come on! What are you going to do? Tie me up in the Grace Church graveyard?” Charlie asked, feeling her temper flare.
“Oh, Charlie, no!” Nancy said.
Sherry giggled. “We’re tying you up outside the graveyard—in the unhallowed section.”
“That’s ridiculous. And dangerous,” Charlie said angrily, a spark of fear entering her. “Three girls have been killed close to here, just north of Baton Rouge!” Her mom had been emphatic about her being careful, about her staying in the company of friends. A serial killer was at work in and around Baton Rouge.
“Don’t be alone, Charlie,” her mom had warned sternly. “He’s preying on young women who are on their own. Make sure you stay with your friends.”
Charlie had thought these people were her friends. Now she wasn’t so sure.
She tried to wrench free, but someone stronger had her arms now, and she heard multiple footsteps nearby.
Nancy and Sherry weren’t alone. They’d met up with others.
The two were superrich brats whose dads held great positions with one of the local oil companies—while her dad was a hardworking historian!
She didn’t know why she was pledging anyway, except that Cathy Corcoran, her best friend, had insisted that they at least try. The Cherubs were respected at school, plus they had the best parties.
Charlie had managed to handle the weeks of doing what the older girls asked. She’d even shocked Nancy, dropping a pack of cigarettes on her lap after the other girl had demanded that she get them, even if she had to beg, borrow or steal them. Charlie hadn’t had to do any of those things; someone on one of her dad’s tours had left a pack behind on the dock.
But this…
She didn’t tend to be scared of much. Tonight, she was.
She wasn’t afraid of the graveyard. She never had been. But girls had been murdered—and not at all far away.
She was angry now, and that anger mixed uneasily with a fear that had nothing to do with the dead.
“You know what? Don’t bother. I don’t want to be in your club,” she said. “This is ridiculous. Where are Cathy and the others?”
“Cathy is taking a little swim,” Nancy said, and laughed.
Charlie felt her temper flare another few degrees. Cathy couldn’t swim—and she was terrified of water.
“That’s it. Let me go,” Charlie said. “I’m done with you and your stupid club.”
They didn’t let her go. She heard a male voice whispering—probably Todd Camp, Nancy’s football-star boyfriend. Or maybe it wasn’t Todd. At least three other people had joined Nancy and Sherry; she could tell where they were all standing by listening to where their voices came from. All told, there were at least five people there, probably including some of Todd’s football goon friends.
“We should just let her go. Come on, Nance.”
Todd was there, Charlie was certain. But he wasn’t the one who had just spoken. Todd did anything that Nancy said. Probably—as Charlie had heard whispered in the hallways—Nancy only “gave it up” for Todd when he behaved.
“Listen to whichever of your juvenile delinquent friends was just speaking. This is criminal. You should let me go this instant,” Charlie said.
“No way, so shut up, you whiny pledge. You’ll be glad when we come back for you. Everyone wants to be a Cherub, and tomorrow you’ll be glad you didn’t chicken out,” Nancy said.
Someone approached her and whispered into her ear. She recognized the voice. It was a friend. Jimmy Smith. “Charlie,” Jimmy said urgently, “it won’t be that long. Tomorrow you really will want to be in the club. I’m so sorry, but just go with this, okay?”
“I do not want to be a Cherub,” she yelled—and meant it. “I will never be a Cherub. You are the most immature group of brats I’ve met in my entire life. Let me go!”
“Chicken!” Nancy laughed.
Charlie was strong; she worked out in the dance troupe and was also on the gymnastics team. She could have easily taken Nancy and Sherry.
But the two girls weren’t alone, and whoever was holding her now was stronger than she was. Her captor forced her down to the ground, and someone tied her wrists and ankles around something cold and hard. A tombstone, she thought.
“Assholes!” she hissed, struggling against the ropes that held her.
“Watch your tongue, pledge,” Nancy snapped. “Or you won’t get to be a Cherub.”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be in your damn club!” Charlie shot back.
“Maybe we should just let her go,” she heard Jimmy plead.
“Shut up! You’re ruining my speech,” Nancy said. “Oh, pledge. May all cherubs and angels everywhere look over you this night. For you are not in the sacred graveyard of the church but in the unhallowed ground beyond, where criminals—hanged for their sins—lie, where many a Yankee was hidden in the earth, where the most evil among us rest uneasily for all eternity. But you, should you survive the hours ahead, will rise triumphant, a Cherub for all time,” Nancy said dramatically.
Charlie’s blindfold was slipping; from where she lay she could just see Nancy’s arms upstretched to the night sky. She was wearing her cheerleading uniform, which seemed to be a disservice to the entire school at that moment.
Nancy’s arms dropped, and she turned, presumably to face the others. “Let’s get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Damn you all!” Charlie swore. “Let me up! I don’t want to be one of you stupid people.”
Her words did no good. Laughing, the group hurriedly left, heading back to Nancy’s car and whatever vehicle Todd and the others had come in.
She screamed for a few minutes more—to no avail. Still, it made her feel better, and she realized she was at least ridding herself of the blindfold. It was just a piece of white cotton, probably someone’s ripped-up shirt.
She fell silent and worked harder at the blindfold. Eventually she dislodged it by rubbing her head back and forth against the headstone she was bound to. It finally came unknotted and fell down by her side. She laughed bitterly. Nancy and her crew weren’t even capable of tying a decent knot.
The boys were, though. She couldn’t di
slodge the ropes around her wrists and ankles, which were secured tightly against the tombstone.
She let out a sigh, reminding herself that she wasn’t afraid of a graveyard. Even an unhallowed one. Her father had brought her here many times and told her of the injustices that had been perpetrated over the years. The townspeople had strung up an innocent slave instead of admitting to the guilt of a rich white man who had raped and strangled a young woman in the 1830s. His grave was unmarked. A horse thief—who was admittedly guilty but hadn’t killed anyone—was strung up in 1860. Apparently horse theft had been a major crime back then, since horses were needed for the militia units forming in the lead-up to the Civil War.
Charlie closed her eyes for a minute. She could hear the river—the mighty Mississippi—churning far below the bluff. She could hear tree branches swaying, the leaves rustling. She opened her eyes. Even though this was unhallowed ground, loved ones of those long gone had erected stones and monuments to mark their graves. A broken-winged angel looked mournfully down at her from a pedestal. Tombs and all manner of funerary art graced the area, some of it half-hidden by overgrown grass and shrubbery.
Time passed as she continued to fight with the ropes that bound her. She cursed out loud and then quietly to herself. She prayed that Cathy—who was truly terrified of water—was going to be all right.
Then she heard the sobbing.
“Hey!” she called out.
There was no reply. She inhaled, then let her breath out in a rush.
Yes, her family often saw ghosts or just felt their invisible presence. She’d known that Uncle Jessup had come to his own funeral; she’d seen him stroking her mother’s hair, as if trying to assure her that he was all right.
She wasn’t at all sure she was ready to see a ghost tonight, though, not while she was tied to a tombstone. Especially not here on unhallowed ground. Some of the people buried had been truly evil. There was even rumor that a vicious voodoo queen—a woman who had poisoned a number of people—had been brought out here, hanged and left to rot, then buried with no marker. It might only be a tale meant to scare away couples who liked to come to the cemetery and drink among the old tombstones, maybe do drugs or have sex…whatever.
Krewe of Hunters, Volume 6: Haunted Destiny ; Deadly Fate ; Darkest Journey Page 61