Dear Reader,
Nocturne Falls has become a magical place for so many people, myself included. Over and over I’ve heard from you that it’s a town you’d love to visit and even live in! I can tell you that writing the books is just as much fun for me.
With your enthusiasm for the series in mind – and your many requests for more books – the Nocturne Falls Universe was born. It’s a project near and dear to my heart, and one I am very excited about.
I hope these new, guest-authored books will entertain and delight you. And best of all, I hope they allow you to discover some great new authors! (And if you like this book, be sure to check out the rest of the Nocturne Falls Universe offerings.)
For more information about the Nocturne Falls Universe, visit http://kristenpainter.com/sugar-skull-books/
In the meantime, happy reading!
Kristen Painter
Welcome to Nocturne Falls, the town where Halloween is celebrated 365 days a year. The tourists all think it’s a show: the vampires, the werewolves, the witches, the occasional gargoyles flying through the sky. But the supernaturals populating the town know better.
Living in Nocturne Falls means being yourself. Fangs, fur, and all.
New York code enforcement officer Griffin Dunlap inherits two neighboring properties in Nocturne Falls, and just in time since the down payment is due soon on his own dream house in Brooklyn. So he heads south in hopes of a quick sale.
Witch and cat rescuer Stevie Mercer can’t bear the thought of losing her cozy cottage. After all the improvements she’s made to the place, it’s the perfect Zen atmosphere for the meditation classes she teaches there. Plus, all the neighborhood stray cats might starve without her.
Despite their vast differences, the more Griffin gets to know the beguiling temptress next door, the more he wants her. But business is business, and when an investor makes him a good offer, he’s ready to cash out. Suddenly, strange occurrences threaten to frighten off the superstitious investor. Griffin wonders if Stevie could be behind what are surely tricks and illusions. As the pranks escalate into the danger zone, Stevie is forced to put her trust in the man who could either save or destroy her world.
THE YIN TO HIS YANG
A Nocturne Falls Universe Story
Copyright © 2018 by Wynter Daniels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction and was made possible by a special agreement with Sugar Skull Books, but hasn’t been reviewed or edited by Kristen Painter. All characters, events, scenes, plots and associated elements appearing in the original Nocturne Falls series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kristen Painter, Sugar Skull Books and their affiliates or licensors.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or Sugar Skull Books.
Published in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
About Wynter Daniels
Also by Wynter Daniels
Dedication
Dedicated to the two women who work tirelessly on my behalf. Tammy Payne and Betty Olsen -- I dearly love you both!
Chapter One
“You can’t save them all, child.”
Stevie Mercer’s heart sank as the white feral kitten she’d been attempting to entice with cat treats disappeared into the woods behind her house. “That’ll never stop me from trying.” She strode past the screened porch that served as a makeshift cat sanctuary and climbed the three steps to her back deck. Planting a kiss on the top of her grandma’s head, she breathed in the familiar scent of Avon’s Sweet Honesty perfume. “Want some lunch?”
“Not just yet.” A cool breeze pushed a lock of her white hair aside as she shifted in the old wooden rocking chair that Stevie had found at a yard sale a few days before her grandmother’s visit. “Unless you’ve got something that isn’t vegan. I could go for a nice juicy hamburger.”
“I’m vegetarian, not vegan. If you want, I’ll take you to one of the restaurants downtown. I’ve heard that Howlers has the best burgers in Nocturne Falls.” Their vegetarian burgers were also delicious, although her grandma might not feel comfortable at a bar, or a saloon, as Stevie’s grandpa used to call such places. But Stevie refused to bring meat into her home, let alone cook the stuff.
“I don’t know which one of your hippie friends would know anything about hamburgers. All those girls who come here for your meditation and yoga classes probably eat that same weird imitation food that you do.” Her grandmother pinched Stevie’s waist. “You need some real food to put some meat on your skinny bones, the stuff you were raised on, like Brunswick stew or shrimp and grits.”
Stevie had to laugh as she thought about the friends her grandma spoke of, who were all either psychics or witches. “They’re not hippies. And it is real food, Grandma. I promise. You liked the vegetarian eggrolls I made for dinner last night, didn’t you?”
“That’s what I told you, yes. Since I’m eating so healthy while I’m staying with you, you should bake me some of your maple-walnut blondies as a treat. Or that lavender tea bread.”
“One bite of either and you’ll graduate from pre-diabetic to diabetic.”
Her grandma scoffed. “I never should have told you what my overly cautious doctor said. According to her, the sky is perpetually falling. Besides, pre means I’m not in that category. My Stevie, always trying to save me from myself. How much do you want to bet that on my next doctor’s visit, my fasting blood sugar will be under a hundred?”
It would be, if the good health spells Stevie had been doing for her worked. “I don’t like to bet, not like you.”
“Your grandfather was always up for a wager.” She stopped rocking and crinkled her brow. Gripping the arms of the chair, she sniffed. “You smell that?”
Stevie inhaled deeply. “Smoke?”
“Mm-hmm. Coming in from the south. It’s bringing a change, for you.” Thunder rumbled in the distance. She extended her weathered palm a second before the first raindrops landed on it. “And water. Interesting.”
A lifelong witch, her grandma had taught Stevie everything she knew about connecting with the elements. Fire brought purification and change, while water ushered in emotion—particularly love. Stevie wanted nothing to do with that sort of energy. “Why can’t it simply be a winter rain?”
Spreading the droplets over her skin, she shook her head. “I know the difference. You should, too.”
Stevie brushed off her grandma’s prediction, but just in case, she went to her outside altar and reached into the wooden box for a small bundle of white sage. As she lit it, she closed her eyes and envisioned a protective shield forming around her house and yard. Then she walked clockwise around the deck. “I cleanse this space of all impurities and negative energies that do not support and protect all those within. So mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” her grandma echoed. “I didn’t say it was a bad change. No need to constantly burn sage around your space. Don’t you want to find love?”
That was the last subject she cared to discuss with her grandmother. “I have all the love I need. Between you and my cats, I
’m good.”
“Honey, you’ve got to let go of all that bad stuff. It was a long time ago. Grandpa and I had a wonderful marriage. Cedrick was the love of my life.” Her eyes misted. “No reason you can’t find something just as beautiful.”
Stevie missed her grandpa, and she was sure her grandma missed him a hundred times more. But a relationship like theirs was one in a million. Besides, she was perfectly content in her comfy cottage. Who could ask for more?
Her grandma pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her cane, and started toward the back door, shaking her head. “Your mother was a bad apple, and as much as it pains me to admit, so is your dad. And Simon, well, we all did the best we could with your brother. Maybe someday…”
Why did she have to bring up those bad memories? Every day Stevie meditated and did yoga once or even twice. She prided herself on her ability to stay grounded and centered, but her grandmother had a way of poking through the calm and stirring up all sorts of emotions, all the memories of her early life, and the carnage that drug addicts like her mother left in their wake. Her throat closed. She needed to be with her cats, the reminders that she was capable of saving something. “I’ve got chores to do.” She snuffed out the sage.
“Yes, you always do.” Her grandmother squeezed Stevie’s arm. “It’s wonderful that you’re so committed to stray cats. You make their lives so much better. Just don’t forget that you’ve got needs, too. Everyone has their wounds, child. You had a rough start in life. And I know that Thomas hurt you real bad. But you can’t close yourself off to love.”
Stevie wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m not doing that. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Her relationship with Tommy had ended badly—so badly that she’d left Charleston to get away from him. But she wasn’t closed off. What did her grandma know? She came to visit a few times a year for a couple of weeks, yet she professed to be an expert on Stevie’s love life.
“Now you’re getting all defensive.” Grandma banged her cane on the wooden floor. “From now on I’ll just keep my observations to myself. It isn’t as if I’m not used to being silent. Since your grandpa passed on, I spend almost all of my time alone.”
Stevie’s gut twisted. Now she’d offended the one person in the world who’d always loved her, and who’d been there for her every time. She swallowed hard. “Sorry, Grandma. I don’t want you to have to edit what you say here.” Taking a wrinkled, arthritic hand in hers, Stevie smiled at her. “I have a full life.” That was true. Between her classes, her friends, and her cats, she stayed busy all the time.
Besides, it wasn’t as if single, fantastic guys were beating down her door. She’d gone on a few dates since she’d left Charleston, maybe four or five. Which, now that she thought about the fact that she’d lived in Nocturne Falls for three years, was a little pathetic. But in all honesty, she had little interest in a romantic relationship. The only serious one she’d ever had hadn’t exactly been fulfilling. More like terrifying.
“Full life, hmm? Maybe full of the little white lies you tell yourself.”
Stevie resisted the urge to dispute the claim. What was the point? She’d lived with her grandparents from the time she was thirteen until she’d turned twenty. In all those years, she hadn’t won a single argument with her grandma.
Dharma rubbed against her shins as if the grey cat was trying to comfort her.
“I just pray to the goddess that you’ll open your heart before it’s too late.” Her grandmother opened the glass sliding door and stepped through. “I’ll be ready to go out to eat in half an hour.”
Stevie closed her eyes as she drew a calming breath. “Om mani padme hum,” she quietly chanted. Then she headed to the screen room to check on the cats, knowing that despite what she’d said, her grandmother wouldn’t be ready to leave for at least an hour.
Half a dozen felines gathered around her as she entered. Mala, a striped tabby, meowed up at her. “I already fed you,” she told him. Wending her way around the animals, she made her way past the small shrine to the Egyptian goddess, Bast to the feeding area then used a plastic jug to top off the water bowls. As she set the bottle down, a chill skittered up her spine.
She glanced toward the vacant house next door. It had been two months since Miss Percival had crossed to the other side, but Stevie could have sworn she’d just seen someone pass by a window inside. As far as she knew, the kindly old woman hadn’t had any relatives, at least none who’d ever visited her. Stevie’s chest tightened. She should have spent more time with her. Miss. Percival had been a great landlord and a knowledgeable witch.
A few weeks ago, Stevie had received a letter from an estate lawyer that merely instructed her to pay the rent to him for the time being, something about waiting for the transfer of title. She wasn’t worried. Things usually worked themselves out. Miss Percival had given her a two-year lease six months before she’d died, so no one would be kicking her out of the cottage, not for the next year and a half at least. Hopefully longer than that. She loved the place, and the mere thought of moving—and leaving the local homeless cats to fend for themselves—was devastating to her.
Shuddering at the notion, she picked up Savasana, cuddled her in her arms, and nuzzled the silky, white fur. She’d found the kitten on the brink of death only a month ago, and now she was thriving, thanks to her friend Aiden’s healing abilities. The feline used her paws to grab one of Stevie’s braids. Stevie smiled as she set her on the ground. Her cozy home and her cats were all she had, all she wanted.
Nothing was going to change anytime soon. Her grandmother had been wrong about that. Still, a heaviness settled in the pit of her stomach. Or maybe it was only hunger. She brushed off the feeling and headed inside the house. She’d protected her home in every way she knew—by smudging it regularly with white sage, with wards around the doors and windows, and chunks of amethyst and black tourmaline placed in every room.
Something niggled at her insides as if she wasn’t as safe there as she’d like. Since her grandma was staying with her, she was a little out of her routine, and she hadn’t done her usual evening gratitude meditation the night before, or the day before that.
Her grandmother’s prediction of impending change was probably meant for someone else. Or maybe it was about her grandma. After all, tomorrow her grandmother was leaving for a week to go stay with her cousin who lived in a retirement community an hour and a half from Nocturne Falls. Nothing was going to change for Stevie.
Just in case, though, she took all the steps to protect herself and her space, everything was going to be all right. She refused to even consider the possibility that anything would disrupt her cozy little world.
Griffin Dunlap squinted against the late afternoon sun as he drove up the hill, searching for house numbers on Crossbones Drive. Too late he saw an overturned trashcan. Despite swerving his Volvo, he sideswiped it. He muttered a curse as he pulled to the curb. If he’d been back home, he’d have cited whoever lived there, since everyone else on the street had apparently already taken their cans in. But his authority as a code enforcement officer didn’t extend beyond New York City’s five Burroughs.
Rechecking the papers on the passenger seat for the addresses he was looking for—304 and 306—he ground his teeth. Yup, the only house he’d passed in the entire neighborhood that still had trashcans out on the curb, was apparently the rental he now owned. Between the overgrowth in the front yard, and all the decorations hanging over the porch, the whole entryway was almost completely obscured, including the house number. Another violation. But the Google Earth photo clearly depicted the light brown shingle roofs of the two homes his great aunt had willed to him. Wonderful. Who wanted to deal with a rule-breaking tenant? He certainly didn’t, but apparently, he’d have to.
He parked in the driveway of number 306, the one in which Dorothea had resided, which was clearly and properly identified. Tension pulled taut between his shoulder blades.
Why would
Aunt Dorothea have allowed her tenant to get away with letting the place fall into disrepair? Unless she’d been too old and frail to even realize. Maybe the renter had taken advantage of Dorothea’s sweet nature. Not that he could be sure of his aunt’s disposition since he’d only met her once when he was four or five years old. All he really knew about her was that she’d been what his father had referred to as an eccentric spinster and that she was over ninety when she’d died two months ago. For some reason, she’d seen fit to leave him—the great-nephew she hadn’t seen in close to thirty years—the two side-by-side cottages. Could be that she had no one else to whom she could bequeath anything. Which was pretty sad.
Would he find himself so alone in his twilight years? His thoughts drifted back to Marci. They’d vowed to spend their lives together, in sickness and in health. How could he have known when he’d married her that she’d have turned out to be the kind of person who had no qualms about cheating the customers at her bank? Now she was a part of his past, and the biggest reason he couldn’t trust any woman. Well, his own mother was another reason, but that had been a long time ago. She was long gone from his life and good riddance.
He forced his mind back to the present and adjusted his glasses as he ventured another glance at the rental. He’d have to have a stern talk with the tenant, let him know that there was a new sheriff in town. Well, not exactly, but if the man wouldn’t agree to clean up his place, he’d give him an ultimatum.
Griffin was used to dealing with that type in his professional life—the sort who didn’t give a hoot about rules, and those who made up their own. They always had some excuse—a licensed contractor was too expensive, or they were planning to bring the item up to code soon.
Excuses didn’t fly with him. He wasn’t always thrilled with the consequences of laws and rules, but nevertheless, he obeyed them, even in his private life. Certainly, he didn’t care for the fact that Marci had gotten most of their savings in the divorce settlement, but since she’d been fired from the bank, and still hadn’t found another job right away, that was the judge’s ruling.
The Yin to His Yang Page 1