Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “Can I help you with something?”

  The figure shifted its weight from one foot to the other, clarifying that it was, in fact, a person and not just an oddly-shaped tree that’d grown there overnight. But he didn’t answer.

  With a bit of hesitation, I took a step in his direction.

  “Ara?” The front door swung open and the warm yellow light from inside licked the path.

  “Hey, Mike.” I smiled, taking a quick glance back at the stranger after. He was gone.

  “What’re you doing standing out here in the dark?”

  “I uh—I was just doing my bit for neighborhood watch.”

  “Why?” He stepped completely outside then and stood taller as he scanned the street. “Is someone out there?”

  “Um, no.” I shook off the eerie feeling. “Not anymore.”

  Mike, keeping his eyes on the park across the road, ushered me inside by the arm, then took my bag and placed it on the hall-stand. “How was work?”

  “Same.”

  “Well, first thing tomorrow, I want you to ring and tell them to stick their job up their—”

  “Uh, Mike?” I danced from foot to foot, trying to get into my kitchen. “Why are you stopping me from passing?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes.” I tried to get past again. “You are.”

  “Em?” Mike jerked his chin up, seeming to send his voice behind him, and the soft lemon light of the kitchen responded, spilling warmth into the darkness beyond my roadblock best friend. He smiled down at me and rolled his arm in a wide circle as he said, “Surprise.”

  For some reason, my eyes automatically followed his hand and stayed there on his index finger, confused for a second, until I noticed Emily by the wall in my soon-to-be-music room. Her wide, enthusiastic smile held anticipation.

  “What?” I said, a little confused.

  “Em. You need to move,” Mike said, as if he were talking to a flat note.

  “Oh. Sorry.” She jiggled about, not sure which way to go, then finally moved to her right, revealing a splash of white in front of the window behind her.

  There, lit by the bluish glow of the moon and a line of tea-light candles across its glossy top, was a baby grand piano: a mini version of the ones my heroes use in their soloist performances.

  I nearly fell to my knees, covering my mouth with two hands instead. “Where did this come from?”

  “I bought it for you,” Mike said simply, as if he was talking about a thirty-dollar shirt.

  “Mike. Why?” I folded over a little, unable to take another step toward the piano. The piano! Oh my God.

  He laughed lightly, placing a supportive palm to my lower back. “Come on. Come sit.”

  I’d never seen a piano in a space I owned before. Of course, I’d always dreamed of it, envisioned it, but… but never believed it possible. I walked with the pace of a person in shock, eyes wide, legs rigid, and sat on the felt-covered stool, running my fingers along the pearly gloss.

  “Now, I know you don’t like people spending money on you”—Mike squatted beside me; I dragged my teary eyes away from my present to look at him—“so I figured I’d buy this for you, and you can repay me by letting me stay in your house until I buy my own.”

  “You know I’d do that anyway.”

  “I know.” He nodded and smiled.

  Emily sat beside me, waking me from whatever world I’d slipped into to cope with bewilderment.

  “I can’t believe this. I—”

  “You like it?” Mike said, standing up.

  “Like? I love.” I laughed a little.

  “Well, test it out.” Emily grabbed my hand and placed it on the keys.

  “I can’t.” I dropped my hand back into my lap. “I… I feel numb, like I want to cry and laugh and play every song I know all at the same time.”

  Mike and Emily looked at each other, glittering joy lighting their eyes.

  “God,” I said, touching the keys again. “You even knew exactly which one I wanted.”

  Mike practically snorted out the hilarity. “Anyone who’s ever listened to you talk for an hour does, baby.”

  Against the white keys, my long, pale fingers looked welcome and belonging. I pressed down lightly so the keys wouldn’t make any sound, but I could feel the solid, responding weight of them under my touch. It felt like coming home, like the hug you get off your dad at the end of a really bad day, or like the theme song to the sitcom your mom watches every weeknight.

  Despite teaching piano, it had been a very long time since I’d actually played—for myself—for anyone. I wanted nothing more than to shed the proverbial chains of my music-less world and run the tracks, play the most powerful piece I could think of; one that used all my fingers and possibly my toes, but I had to do one thing first.

  I launched off the stool, wrapping myself around Mike at full speed, sending him stumbling back a few steps until his hips smacked into the piano. His musky scent and the warmth of his chin against my brow, his gristly stubble pricking into my hairline, became my world for a tight squeeze.

  “I love you, Mike. Thank you so much.”

  He cupped a heavy hand to the back of my head and nodded, clearing his throat.

  “Okay.” I stepped back, swiping my tears. “Now I’ll play for you.”

  * * *

  I couldn’t remember having slept in three days. My fingers had gone through several stages of protest; stiff, sore, stiff and sore, calloused, weak, shaky, numb, cold and, finally, energized and flexed.

  Sitting here by the piano, my world could suddenly touch David’s again in a way it hadn’t been able to before. I could close my eyes, play any sweet song to emote the scene, and imagine him stepping up behind me, scooping my hair back and linking the chain of my silver locket around my neck. I stopped playing for a moment and rested my fingers to my collarbones as if it was really there. And an idea came bright in my heart, then—a fresh, almost alive sequence of notes—like dipping your face in a cool pond of water on a hot day. I played more thoughtfully, slowing the song down, making a ballad of it, then stopped to jot the changes down.

  “Good to see you writing songs again,” Mike noted as he sat beside me on the piano stool.

  “How’d you know I was writing?”

  “Uh, I’m pretty sure the constant note-tapping then stopping was the giveaway.” He raised his brows a few times, the lines on his forehead forming three rippled indents.

  “Oh, sorry. Am I bugging you?” I popped my pen behind my ear and shuffled the sheets of paper into a neat pile on the stand.

  “Not one bit, baby. I actually just came to tell you I’m off to the station; gotta drop those papers in before I start next week.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re swapping the beat for a desk.”

  Mike grinned. “It’s not a desk, Ar, and it gives me a better chance at making Detective.”

  “But you make a good beat cop. You always did.”

  Mike nodded thoughtfully. “I know.”

  “So, then why are you settling for this?”

  “It’s better pay.”

  “That’s crap, and you know it.”

  “It’s the way it is, Ar.”

  Irritation swam in my jaw as he walked away, tapping a pile of papers against his open palm. I knew the real reason he took a desk job, and it made my stomach twist. The ‘cop’ in Mike must’ve been screaming out for some action, but he’d deny himself that under the guise of a better career just to stick around for me.

  The front door closed as the notes in my song reached it, and it was only once the subtle chimes of a lullaby music box made me smile that I realized what I was playing again. I drew my hands quickly from the keys and spun around to the sound of soft clapping.

  “Ara, that was beautiful.”

  I reached for my imaginary locket. “Emily? You scared me.”

  “Why are you so jumpy all the time?

  “I don't know,” I said, but I was pretty sur
e it had something to do with being kidnapped and brutalized last year.

  “So, did you write that song?” she asked.

  “No. David did.”

  “Didn’t know he went so deep.”

  “There’s a lot you didn’t know about him, Emily.” I tried to steal back the hostility in my voice, but it slipped out, landing across Emily’s smile.

  She stood beside the piano, tracing her fingertip over the top. “Mike’s teaching me to play, did you know?”

  “No, he never mentioned it.” My attempt to sound softer was successful this time. “That’s really awesome, though. Can you play anything yet?”

  “Um, Somewhere Over the Rainbow? But only the notes on this side.” She held up her right hand.

  “Well, go on then.” I moved aside for her to sit down.

  “Okay. Don’t laugh.”

  “Em, I’d never do that.”

  Her brow suggested otherwise, but she sat and started playing anyway, a gentle apple smell drifting around her soft blonde hair as it hung loosely between us. Typical for Miss Perfect, she hit each note with a kind of delicacy that made me giggle inside, envious, until she hit the sharp instead of the flat, then took out two notes with the one finger in a spin of nerves, over-thinking her mistake.

  My envious giggle became a humored one; she glared at me, dropping her hand into her lap.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

  But even Emily couldn’t hold back a little chuckle.

  “I’m just happy, Em. I can’t believe you’re learning to play. And you have perfect fingers for it, too.” I took her hand and ran my thumb over her nail. “See, they’re so long and pretty. You’ll make a great pianist.”

  “Nah, I’m just humoring Mike. He’s kind of lonely with you avoiding him all the time.”

  “I’m not avoiding him,” I promised. “I’m just not investing in the relationship, in case the wrong message comes across.”

  “Like that you obviously still love him.”

  “We all know I do, Em. And I know that’s hard for you to understand—why I won’t just be with him. Why I wait for David when there’s, like, next-to-no hope of seeing him again, but—”

  “Is it possible, Ara”—she leaned forward a little, taking both my hands as if what she had to say held great significance—“that maybe I do get it? Maybe I know what it’s like to love someone I can never have.”

  Guilt enveloped me. Of course she would. She was a dreamer, a romantic; her shelves were stacked with Nicholas Sparks and Colleen Hoover, and her heart was torn by the Knight brothers before I even knew they existed.

  But she never had with Jason what I have—had—with David.

  “I ’spose we should go out and adopt a few hundred cats,” I suggested.

  “Why? We’ve got a big faithful Labrador instead.”

  “Huh?” I frowned, and then it clicked. “Oh, you mean Mike.”

  “Duh.”

  I leaned my cheek on her shoulder and let out a breath. “He’s hard not love, isn’t he?”

  “You have no idea,” she said, and she stared out the window, resting her head on mine.

  * * *

  Headed across the street to my car, I held the keys out as though I was already by the door, but stopped when I realized I actually was. The road was busy for a Saturday, with cars barely taking time to stop for those on the crosswalk, and I couldn’t remember how I actually got across. I remembered the reason I was going to the car, but not anything after that.

  An eerie chill crept over me. I could’ve been hit.

  “Hello, beautiful.” Eric popped up next to me.

  “I’m not talking to you.” I jammed the key in the lock.

  “Hey, hey? Don’t do that.” He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him, taking my keys out of the door. “Look, I’m sorry I forced you to drink my blood.”

  Now, there’s something you don’t hear every day. “You caused a lot of trouble in my house the other day.”

  “Sorry. But you’re glad I did it.”

  “Was that a question or a statement?”

  “I think we both know the answer to that.”

  I tried not to smile, also tried not to look at his thumb—the one I so lavishly sucked.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “So, as an offer of peace, I have info for you.”

  “What info?” I softened, just a little.

  “Promise you’ll come to my gig, and I’ll tell you.”

  “I thought you said it was a peace offer, not coercion.”

  “Call it both.”

  He knew damn well I couldn’t resist that cheeky grin, nor could I pass up any possible info about David. “Fine.” I dropped my arms. “I’ll come.”

  “Great. Now, sit.” He parked himself on the bench outside the post office, appearing there faster than humanly possible. I, on the other hand, was forced to walk the fifteen-step gap like a dorky, slow human.

  “Okay.” I folded my bag into my lap as I sat in the niche of Eric’s arm. “Spill.”

  “So, I talked to David’s uncle.”

  “Arthur?”

  “Yes. He said David had been to the World Council—”

  “For an eighty-years leave of absence?”

  “Yes.” Eric looked puzzled.

  “Turns out Mike knows more than he let on.”

  Eric sat back a little, the static energy of confusion all around him. “Really? How?”

  “Apparently he and David were mates while I was dying.”

  “Hm.”

  “What’s hm?”

  “I just… that sounds a bit out of character for Councilman David. Are you sure your friend didn't blackmail the information out of him?”

  I shrugged. “Us humans knew him better than you vampires.”

  Eric seemed satisfied with that. “Whatever. Anyway. Turns out he waltzed in there after you were attacked as well, without an approved meeting.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. And, do you wanna know what they said?”

  “Get out!”

  The vampire laughed. “Nope. Better. They gave him approval to seek help from the Lilithian Order.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Coffee?” Eric grinned, raising his eyebrows.

  “They’re coffee?” I asked sarcastically.

  “You know, you’re terrible at being funny. Come on.” He stood up, laughing anyway. “Let’s go for coffee.”

  “Coffee? Or are you going to force me to drink your blood again?”

  “Coffee, and I don’t have to force you. I can see your mouth watering.” He wet his lip, studying mine.

  “Fine. My house. Ten minutes.”

  “For coffee, or…?”

  I stood up, deciding then and there that I really needed to get some new friends as I said, “Or.”

  I felt his elation bearing down on me with his stare. The addiction was rearing up in me like smoke from a flame, and I couldn’t douse it. Couldn’t even want to douse it. It was as if I could smell it in him, pulsing through his veins like liquid drugs.

  He stood with his hands in his pockets, laughing, while I hopped in my car and started the engine.

  “See you soon, Amara.”

  Trying not to laugh at him laughing at me, I shook my head, pulled out of the parking space without checking for traffic and sped home—above the speed limit.

  * * *

  “Mike?” I called, but stopped in my haste to get to the privacy of my bedroom, and slowly, wishing I’d not made my presence known, wandered into the dining area and watched the two by the window. Emily sat beside Mike with a sheepish grin as he played a song we used to play together, slamming the notes with a kind of raw passion that wasn’t taught in a music class. The very feel in the whole room made me miss him, miss being the way we used to be. I smiled, leaning on the wall.

  “And…” he said, slowing the song down, leaning forward with each high note he struck. “That’s how we
play the outro.”

  Emily clapped softly, angling her body to face him.

  “Did you have fun, baby?” Mike said to me before turning around, closing the piano cover as he did.

  “Yeah, but I’ve got a few things to take care of for my students next week, so I’ll just be in my room making some calls. Okay?”

  “Kay.” He shrugged then lifted the cover again. “Hey, Em, wanna learn Heart and Soul?”

  My own soul raced backward on a time machine, taking me to the first day I met David, when he challenged me to a duet in the music room at school so, so long ago. It felt like a decade ago, even though it’d barely been a year and a half.

  I left Emily and Mike to their piano lessons and practically snuck into my room, feeling clever because I’d used the diversion of a phone call as the reason they might hear voices in there.

  Before my door even closed, a vampire appeared stretched out across the end of my bed. “Eric! You scared me. And stop looking so sexy.” I slapped his feet off my quilt.

  “Sorry.” He moved to the edge of the bed. “Force of habit.”

  “What? To look sexy or to pop up unexpectedly?”

  His eyes wandered slowly up from the ground between his feet, settling with mischievous flare on my face. “Both.”

  “So?” I cleared my throat, plonking down right beside him. “Anyway. What is a Lilithian Order?”

  “It’s a group of vampires. Well, sort of.”

  “Okay. That makes no sense.”

  He smiled down at my leg against his and placed a gentle hand to my knee. “Why don’t I tell you about it after?”

  “After what?”

  The corner of his lip quirked suggestively.

  Be strong, Ara-Rose. Be strong. “Info first. Then blood.”

  “Are you sure?” He lifted his wrist to my mouth, and slowly skimmed the underside of his thumb across my bottom lip.

  No, I’m not. “Yes. I’m sure. Now spill.” I rethought that. “Er, I mean spill info, not blood.”