Poison and Potions: a Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Erin Hayes

  Her decision made, she stood and pushed her chair beneath her desk. She’d burn in hell for taking the money one day, sooner rather than later if she didn’t make it out of Dearborn alive.

  Chapter Five

  Kyra inhaled slowly and exhaled. Her heart had bolted like a greyhound from the starting gate when she’d seen the serpentine letters gleaming up at her from the clasp of her purse. Soul Stalkers. Her eyes must have tricked her. After all, she was beyond exhausted, still reeling from shock.

  She ran her index finger slowly over the intricate “L” superimposed on a “V.” It wasn’t just the concussion—she was losing it. This viral fear of the Soul Stalkers was feeding on her mind like a flesh-eating piranha. And fear made you imagine things.

  Kyra studied the perfect squares of the ceiling tiles. She’d rewound every scene a dozen times, but she kept going back to the mystifying stranger who had carried her far away from the burning wreckage until the firefighters arrived. Snatched her from the Soul Stalkers. Had she encountered an angel? After all, the stranger had tampered with the material world, right before her eyes. But angels flying in and rescuing people wasn’t the kind of stuff that happened in real life. At least not the perfectly calibrated life she led that ordinarily excluded stalking spirits from the unseen world.

  If she had been rescued by an angel, it stood to reason the Soul Stalkers he’d warned her about were out there too. Good always had an evil counterpart. Someone had tried to run her off the road this morning, but she had a feeling there was more to it than that. Kyra squeezed her eyes shut. If there was a supernatural element to the accident, prosecuting the guilty party was going to prove a whole lot more difficult than nailing a trucker who’d fallen asleep at the wheel.

  The trill of her phone jarred her back to the moment. She fished it out of her purse and took the call.

  “I’m fine, Brian. It was just a minor fender-bender. Dad’s here now to spring me out of this place. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Her dad threw her a disapproving look.

  “He’s meeting a potential client today,” she explained, when she ended the call. “A big player in the European market. Could be a substantial bonus if he bags the account.”

  “Wouldn’t do him any harm to sacrifice his career for you for once.”

  “Sabotage it, you mean. Bailing out on a meeting for a prestigious international account is only excusable if life or death is involved.”

  “I think this qualifies,” her dad said quietly.

  He was closer to the truth than he realized. Kyra closed her eyes and massaged her brow, thankful when the nurse walked in with her discharge papers. Once she was home and could shut the door on the past twenty-four hours, hopefully then, everything would go back to normal.

  She stared up at the sky through the car window as they drove away from the hospital. Scattered clouds, like torn pieces of bruised cotton, mirrored her pummeled mind. Whatever was out there beyond the material world had converged on her reality with a deadly agenda. Fear of the unknown had settled in her bones, leaving her feeling oddly disconnected from everything familiar.

  “Hungry?” asked her dad, eying the breakfast menus along the block while they stopped at a traffic light.

  “Absolutely.” Bacon and eggs sounded like the perfect antidote to the antiseptic odors lingering in her nostrils. A few minutes later, they pulled off at Paula’s Pancake Place, parked near the front door, and settled into a corner booth.

  “It all sounds good,” Kyra said, tossing her menu on the table. She picked up her coffee mug and laced her fingers through the handle.

  “What’s on your mind, honey?”

  She shrugged. “Just thinking about what happened.”

  “I know you’re holding something back. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She hesitated for a moment before launching into an abbreviated account of the accident. As much as she wanted to unload her strange encounter onto someone she trusted, she didn’t expect her dad to swallow all the improbable twists to her tale. And if she tried to convince him there were spirits involved, he might guilt her into going for more tests.

  After an awkward silence, he cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say, Kyra. Stands to reason you could have imagined almost anything after the trauma you went through.”

  “It wasn’t some trauma-induced hallucination. What if it really was an out-of-body experience? I’m not the first person it’s ever happened to.”

  His eyes clouded over, begging her not to go there, to step away from the edge of the black hole she was teetering over. She didn’t blame him for being afraid. This was bigger than he even imagined.

  “Honey, I know it seemed real to you, flying around and all that stuff, but think about it. You plummeted over two hundred feet. You were unconscious, breathing toxic fumes—probably hallucinating a mile a minute.”

  Kyra chased a clump of scrambled egg around her plate with her fork. “I don’t know what I was doing. I was in a dimension I didn’t know existed. Suspended between worlds. But I didn’t imagine it. It was as real as you and I are sitting here right now.”

  “We should go,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “We could both use some rest.”

  Kyra pressed her lips tightly together. She shouldn’t have mentioned the Soul Stalkers. She’d pushed it too far, frightened him. It wasn’t fair to ask him to relive the nightmare of trying to reason with someone he loved who saw things that weren’t there—like her crazy mother.

  He got up and came around the side of the table, resting his hands on her shoulders. “There’s nothing I won’t do to help you through this, you do know that don’t you? The best doctors money can buy, counseling, however long it takes.”

  Kyra averted her gaze. She knew that look of desperation in his eyes. He’d been powerless to stop her mother walking away, or make her better. He needed to be able to fix this. But he was locking in on the wrong target. She wasn’t crazy. She would find out who, or what, these Soul Stalkers were—even if she had to do it alone.

  “You’re right, I’m exhausted. Maybe things will make more sense tomorrow.” She hugged him tight before they headed out to the car. On a whim, she went around to the driver’s side.

  “I need to do this,” she said, tightening her grip on the door handle when her dad elevated his brows.

  He threw her the keys and climbed in on the passenger side, his face tense as he stared out the side window, avoiding the grateful look she threw him.

  She locked her seatbelt in place and turned the key in the ignition. As the engine roared to life, it came to her—the seemingly innocuous detail that had been eluding her, the one thing about the truck that was simply wrong.

  There was no one behind the wheel!

  Chapter Six

  Martina checked the transfer one last time, then struggled to her feet and slipped into the office bathroom, leaning her back against the door to catch her breath. After a few minutes, she turned on the faucet and studied her face in the mirror. She couldn’t decide if she looked any different. The mottled pouches under her eyes seemed bigger, giving her a startled look. A guilty look.

  She would have to avoid Eddie for a couple of hours, at least until she got her emotions under control. He could read her like a book. He’d never said a word any time she’d shown up late for work over the years; he could tell when Hal had been laying into her.

  She splashed cold water on her face and heaved in a few deep breaths. After pulling several damp strands of thick, dark hair out of her face, she straightened up and took another look at her reflection. This is it. There was no going back now. She’d lit the fuse, the bomb was ticking, and the fallout would follow. She only hoped she would be long gone by the time the cops came for her.

  She would have to skip town before month’s end. Eddie wouldn’t have any choice but to let her go when his wife closed the books. He wouldn’t look her in the eye when he pink-slipped her, but he’d do it just t
he same. His missus would be all over him if he didn’t. Mrs. Garcia wasn’t wired like Eddie; she hadn’t a merciful bone in her body.

  Martina gripped the sides of the chipped, enamel sink, trying to think through her next steps in logical order. It took all of her concentration to breathe between the waves of guilt battering her brain. Maybe when Hal went out drinking later on she could get on the computer and make the cell phone payment before they cut her off. She’d trolled the Internet at the library enough to know she would need her phone in order to find a job and a place to live.

  Maybe she could even make rent if Hal had anything to show by the end of the week. That would keep—

  “Martina, customer up front.” She jumped at Eddie’s voice. Grabbing a paper towel, she hurriedly dried off her face before heading back out to the front office.

  Eddie clutched his phone in one hand, his chair eased out to the edge of his cubicle partition, unabashedly eying the striking female at the reception desk.

  “Can I help you?” Martina asked. Her office voice rang strained in her head.

  “Kyra Williams. I’m here to pick up my belongings and sign the paperwork on my SUV.” She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “It was totaled,” she added, with a catch in her voice.

  Martina took in the woman’s full-lashed blue eyes and blond hair that rippled over her shoulders. Her smile gave her glossed lips a sensual undertone. Stunning. Skin like a model’s. But in shock. Sporting that deer-in-the-headlights crash-victim look. Martina attempted to smile back, hoisting her lower lip high enough to keep her chipped tooth hidden. Hal had done a number on her that time.

  She pulled the file and scanned the insurance paperwork. Star National was stalling on cutting the check. Just what a traumatized car accident victim needed to hear. Kyra didn’t look like the meltdown type but you could never tell.

  Martina placed a small plastic bag of personal effects on the counter. “We bagged up a few belongings from your vehicle. There wasn’t much left.” She shuffled a few papers around, before breaking the news. “Looks like Star National hasn’t issued a check yet. They’re still reviewing the police report.”

  Kyra frowned. “That’s not possible. The police concluded there were no other vehicles involved. The adjuster should have cut a check for a total loss.”

  A knockout and a fighter. This could get ugly. Martina tried to look sympathetic while steeling herself for an argument. “The insurance company’s just verifying the details,” she explained in her most placating tone. “You had an expensive aftermarket stereo system. They don’t want to pay out if someone else is at fault.”

  “Why … why would they think that?” asked Kyra, her eyes widening. “There were no other vehicles found in the ravine.”

  Martina pursed her lips. “You’ll have to talk to Star National about that. We don’t see the police reports, we just fix the cars.”

  Kyra gave a curt nod. “Okay, I’ll call the adjuster right now. He wrote his cell number on the back of his card.” She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket and dialed, flicking an impeccably polished fingernail over the keys.

  Martina pretended to busy herself on her computer. The words on the screen blended to a blur as she listened in on the conversation. The young buck from Star National had no doubt been more than delighted to give his cell number to a hot blonde—a cocky one, by the smooth-talking sound of it.

  “They’re mailing out a check tomorrow,” said Kyra, hanging up after a few minutes. “I’ll sign the paperwork when it arrives.”

  Martina forced a stiff-lipped smile. “I’ll call you as soon as it’s here. Congratulations. Getting a check out of them’s like getting blood from a corpse.”

  For an instant, their eyes engaged. To Martina’s surprise, fear flickered across Kyra’s flawless features. Was it something she said?

  “Thank you,” said Kyra, her eyes firmly fixed on the plastic bag on the counter. She snatched up her belongings, and bolted out the door.

  Martina chewed on her nail and watched her leave. Something she said hit a nerve. She glanced up and watched through the glass as Kyra pulled out of the parking lot. She was scared of something—hiding something. Martina had seen it in her eyes, and she knew all about hiding secrets.

  As the day progressed, Martina’s fear of being caught began to subside. She was sick about what she’d done, but she needed the money. It didn’t make it right, but saving Taggert couldn’t be all wrong either. The voices understood, and they agreed with her.

  She was shutting down her computer for the evening when Eddie’s footsteps clomped down the hall, looming ever more insistent in her head as he approached. Her stomach did a series of sickening flips. A torrent of shame washed over her. She was busted. A few hours from now, she’d be fingerprinted, processed, and behind bars. She pressed her shaking hands together in her lap. They’d make her confess to everything, maybe even to wanting to kill Hal. She held her head rigid, afraid to acknowledge Eddie’s approach, as if any movement might point to her guilt.

  There was nothing she could say to defend herself. The devil made me do it. Sure, she’d been in a dark, scary place with few options, but that didn’t count for anything in the real world. She was one of the bad guys now.

  The second hand on the battery-operated wall clock twitched around the dusty face, counting down to the end of her life as she knew it. Energy drained from her body, her computer monitor humming in time to the beat of her hammering heart.

  Taggert was worse off now than ever. She’d pulled the trigger on her dumb plan and it had failed. I’m a worthless mother. Sweat beaded on Martina’s forehead. What would happen to Taggert if they threw her in the slammer?

  Eddie hovered at her shoulder. Her breathing stilled, her face hot with shame. She wouldn’t even try to deny what she had done.

  “The supplement check on this job hasn’t come in.” Eddie slapped a file down on her desk. “We need to get on this right away, or we’ll never get paid.”

  Martina gingerly lifted the file, tightening her grip to hide her trembling fingers. “Uh … I need to get going now, Eddie. Can I tackle this in the morning?”

  “Why don’t you give the adjuster a quick call before you leave? It’s a good time to catch him.”

  The wrath of Hal was always worse than letting Eddie down, but what she’d done to her kindhearted boss swung the pendulum in his favor this time. She scooted her chair in and picked up the phone. Hal would have to wait on his beer.

  Twenty minutes later, Martina locked up the office, slid behind the wheel of her beater Corolla, and headed for the liquor store. She eyed the speedometer. Hal would be livid she had made him wait, but she couldn’t afford a speeding ticket, not now. Every nickel counted in her bid to leave him. Her thoughts gravitated back to the stolen money in her checking account. Who was she anymore? Not the kind of mother Taggert could look up to, but it was too late to turn the clock back now. The only way out was forward. She pulled up to the wheel and stared glumly through the windshield at the rear lights in front of her.

  When she reached the house, she pulled over against the curb, switched off her headlights, and grabbed the beer from the back seat. Hal’s pick up was angled across the driveway, one wheel parked on the dried out lawn. Still waiting on his beer and his wretched pants, no doubt. There could only be one reason he wanted them washed. She pitied the fool he was seeing this time.

  She slammed the car door shut with her elbow and made her way up the driveway. She leaned against the back door, trying to shove it open with one shoulder while hugging her purse and the six-packs. The door had swollen with the last rain and kept jamming. When it finally gave with a loud groan, she reached inside for the light switch, fumbled around, then gasped, as a spate of heavy blows ambushed her in the darkness. She staggered, an all-too-familiar battery of profanity burning her ears. The glass bottles smashed on the concrete beneath her, and the smell of beer filled the air as she slumped into the razored liquid. />
  Chapter Seven

  Ten days after her discharge from the hospital, Kyra swung her briefcase onto her desk at Buffington & Associates and switched on her computer. Her leather inbox overflowed, a good indication Todd hadn’t invaded her territory. Her fear that her only serious rival for Don’s job would muscle in on her projects while she was gone had been unfounded.

  Todd Patterson, Director of Sales, and five years her senior, was a creative genius but too hotheaded to lead and a flake when it came to organization. She held the management team together, and championed every contract. Everyone knew she was the more valuable player in the company’s future. She’d worked tirelessly to make sure of it.

  She surveyed her office with satisfaction. The morning sun streamed through the blinds, reflecting a rich, fluorescent color palette from her Tiffany lampshade onto her gleaming desk and the meticulous, lined spines of her book collection. Her sanctuary remained unblemished by everything that had happened over the past few days and she intended to keep it that way. Her co-workers had no need to know anything other than that she had been in a horrific car accident. No mention of spirits, or phantom trucks, or even a guardian angel. Nothing that hinted of mental instability. She never talked about her mother at work. It wasn’t the kind of pedigree that got you promotions.

  Kyra twirled a pen between her fingers and stared out the window. She felt fine physically. What troubled her was the eerie conviction that an unseen world she’d never believed in wanted something from her. She was still convinced the truck existed. If the driver had some kind of stroke or heart attack, it would explain why she hadn’t seen anyone at the wheel. But nothing explained the truck’s disappearance into thin air. She rammed the tip of her pen repeatedly into her desk and threw it aside. The police had closed the case. She had to let it go and stay focused on the next few critical months before Don stepped down.