Summers' Shadow (Hunters Trilogy Book 2)
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Summers’ Shadow
The Hunters Trilogy: Book 2
Sara J. Bernhardt
Lavish Publishing, LLC ~ Midland
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SUMMERS’ SHADOW - Copyright 2018 ©
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Lavish Publishing, LLC.
First Edition
The Hunters Trilogy - Book 2
All Rights Reserved
Published in the United States by Lavish Publishing, LLC, Midland, TX
Ebook edition
ISBN-13: 978-1-944985-52-3
ISBN-10: 1-944985-52-2
Cover Design by: WYCKED INK
Cover Images: ADOBE STOCK
www.LavishPublishing.com
For my Adam
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Prologue
It started the night my parents were murdered. Before that, everything was normal, and even more than normal, it was good. My mother was the kindest, warmest woman anyone was sure to meet. Unfortunately, she suffered some minor lunacy. Not to say she was completely mad, but she often had completely irrational ideas seeded in her head. Nobody was sure where they came from. For example, she was convinced I was photosensitive, so much so that the sunlight would destroy me, burn me up like a fledging vampire.
My father, on the other hand, was a businessman—a banker. He was intelligent and hardworking. Even through my mother’s “episodes,” as he called them, he loved her completely. He stood by her through everything. Her ravings sometimes drove him to such annoyance it would border rage, but he never struck her, never shouted at her, never even so much as spoke to her harshly.
As for me, I often wondered if I was really their son. After all, I clearly didn’t inherit my looks from either my mother or my father nor was I crazy or have any aspirations of being a businessman of any kind. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be, but I did know it involved something beautiful, something artistic. My father always told me I was too smart for my own good and that business was where I belonged. Perhaps he was right. “Genius” I wouldn’t say was the right word to describe me, but when he used it, it sounded right. For years I dealt with my mother’s beliefs of my photosensitivity and even began to believe her. She never let me outside during the daylight, and when my father argued over it, she simply started sobbing uncontrollably, saying that he was trying to kill her baby. It would usually take him hours to soothe her when she got like that.
Caring for my mother was my job growing up, as my father worked all the time. Outside of school, it was all I ever did. Of course, I was homeschooled during the day—private tutors so I could stay indoors to appease my mother. I never complained about his work nor did my mother. He made a lot of money to take care of us and provide for us. I guess in a way, I was proud of him. I hoped someday to make him proud of me, no matter what I chose to do or to be.
His providing for us lasted only so long. His business partner, Matthias Castlebar, turned out to be a crook. He destroyed my father almost effortlessly by simply accusing him of embezzlement. I was young, so at the time, I didn’t understand exactly what was happening, but I did know my father was an honest man and that Castlebar’s accusations were completely false. My father lost everything, and the money would only last us so long. It was then that I took up my father’s place as provider. We needed money, so I went out one evening to find a job. Is it possible that one event can forever change the course of destiny? Or is it all preordained in some elaborate design of the world? Whatever the answer, I would soon find myself at the crossroads of such an event. This one small change in my daily routine would shape everything I was…and everything I was to become.
Chapter One
It wasn’t quite dark yet, just dim enough for my mother to let me out. I walked into the café, early for my shift. My manager, Richard, seemed to be in a good mood. He was wiping down the counters and whistling.
“You’re early,” he said.
I nodded. “What do you need?”
“Ah, just refill the coffee. That’s usually all folks come in for during the night.”
I did as he instructed with my mind set elsewhere—set at home with my crazy, beautiful mother and my now unemployed father. Richard was right; only about three people had come in, and all of them ordered coffee.
Time passed quickly, and by the time I was finished wiping down the counters again, it was already midnight. There was still a man there, sipping his coffee. He was older, white hair and white stubble of a forming beard. There was something about him that seemed very sad. He was all by himself, staring into his coffee before he’d take another sip. I was about to tell him we were closing, but he beat me to it.
“I see you’re getting ready to close up,” he said. “I’m sorry to keep you. I needed a place to seclude myself for the night. I’ve found my caffeine limit.” He broke into a dry, sputtered laugh. “Redline,” he continued. “Walter Redline. You are?”
I didn’t respond. I tried to think of something—anything but my own name. “Clem.”
“Clem?”
I nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Clem.”
Something about him intrigued me deeply, and for some reason, my curiosity got the better of me. Moments later, I found myself sitting beside him, staring into his eyes as he spoke.
“I recently lost someone who meant everything to me.”
I stared at him for a moment. “How?”
He smiled synthetically. “I’m a researcher. I found something that I feel I need to protect him from. My grandson.”
“Something…bad?”
He nodded. “Something dangerous.”
I pulled my eyebrows together.
“Oh, don’t be worried,” he sputtered in laughter again. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
We talked about a number of different subjects and somehow came to the to
pic of literature; he seemed to absolutely love it.
“Frankenstein,” he said. “One of my favorites. Inspired me, you know.”
“Inspired you how?” I asked.
“Well…I’m a scientist, a professor.”
“Professor.”
“Yes. There is something about that book that brought me to believe in the miracle that was Victor Frankenstein’s discoveries.”
“What you’re saying is that you believe in creating a monster from lifeless matter?”
He chuckled huskily. “Ever read the book, Clem?”
I shook my head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I know the story.”
“Yes, but the creation you speak of was very different than what modern culture assumes.”
“Is it?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Victor was simply a genius. A genius who unlocked the secrets of nature and set into motion a long and tragic chain of events that show that maybe he was the true villain.”
I was instantly mesmerized by Mr. Redline’s passion. “So, he wasn’t mad?”
“Oh no!” he answered. “He was simply brilliant.”
“Mr. Redline—”
“Walter. Please…Walter.”
“Walter. Are you teaching any classes at this time?”
He shook his head. “I am not. I’m retired, but I would never turn down a young person willing to learn.”
We talked for hours, and Walter seemed completely interested in everything I had to say. He listened to me the way I dreamed of being listened to. He understood how I wanted to do amazing things in life and how I wanted to be someone who could change the world.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he started, “I would love nothing more than a young man with your mind to help me with my research.”
“My…mind?”
He smiled. “Someone as brilliant as you are, Clem. If anyone can solve this mystery, it is you.”
“What…mystery, Mr.—Walter?”
“The mystery of immortality. If we can somehow discover how life becomes death, we can discover how to stop it…can’t we?”
Not knowing what to say, I stayed silent. I was so fascinated and engrossed I couldn’t turn away. Immortality! Incredible.
“Perhaps we could cure my mother,” I said.
“If we can, I would trust no one more than you.”
“So you will teach me?”
He shook my hand. “I would love to.”
Walter met me at the café the next night, and we talked. We discussed what he would teach me and how. He handed me a book.
“Read this,” he said.
I looked at the cover and almost laughed. “Are you…serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. Just trust me, and read the book, please.”
I looked at him strangely and glanced at the book—Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
“It’s a story, Walter.”
He laughed. “So is your life. So read the book so you someday can have a story that people want to read about.”
I laughed and nodded. “Okay. I understand.”
I studied for months with Walter. I studied forensics and anatomy. I studied every subject about the human body, about sickness and death. I could feel something in my blood and my bones, telling me I was close, that something miraculous was approaching, just about to kindle that light in my brain. Obsession set in, making it nearly impossible to sleep or eat. At work, I was like a zombie, only waiting to meet Walter again.
“You’re gifted,” he had told me.
An incredible friendship had developed between Walter and me. He believed in me and supported me more than anyone in my life ever had before. I knew he would believe me about that approaching discovery just around the corner. I had all of my notes jotted down in a small red notebook—every thought, every feeling, and every insignificant idea that made a significant difference in the direction my studies were leading me. I was so close. Nobel Prize was on the tip of my tongue.
Chapter Two
The sobs of my mother wouldn’t stop. For hours, my father tried asking her what was wrong, but all she did was hide her face and continue to ignore him.
“What is it?” I asked. “Why are you crying?”
She stood up from the chair and pulled me into an uncomfortably tight hug, weeping in my ear. “I love you, Clem.”
“All right, all right. I love you too, so why are you crying?”
“Because you’re going to leave me!” she yelled. “Because you aren’t a baby anymore.”
I smiled. “I’m not leaving you, Mom. I’m going to stay here for as long as you need me.”
“I need you forever.”
“Then I will stay here forever. Okay?”
She frowned. “Don’t you have to leave tonight?”
“Yes,” I said. “To go to work, Mom, but I’ll be back, okay?”
My father sat beside her and continued to soothe her while I left for work. Dealing with my mother’s episode had made me late again. I decided I should cut through the alleyway, save me about ten minutes. On my way, I was aware of every movement in the darkness of the alley. It was strange that I felt nervous. I knew something wasn’t right. I had never been afraid of the dark. I grew up in the dark, lived in the nighttime, but this time…something was not in order; something was misplaced. I could feel so much more since my studies with Walter. I had become in tune with everything around me. Unlocking the secrets of nature had put something in my mind that was able to tell me when danger was near. I was frightened. For the first time in my life, I was truly frightened. That’s when I saw him—a man about six feet tall with an unkempt, shaggy beard, his hair messy and tousled. The dark stranger stared at me solidly, unmoving. His face was rock hard, and he walked toward me, staring at me. My instincts told me to run, to take off in the other direction, but my legs wouldn’t move. My mind was screaming at me to unhinge my limbs and get away, but I still stayed completely still—paralyzed. I tried continuously to unfreeze until I was able to take a few steps back, but at that point, the stranger was already only inches from my face. He shoved me against the wall and held a knife to my throat. My teeth were chattering, and the sweat broke out in beads down my face. I offered him anything I could think of.
“Take my wallet,” I said. “I don’t have much money, but I swear that’s all I have.”
He didn’t answer; in fact, he only pressed the blade harder against my skin and smiled at me. He turned me over harshly, and the last thing I saw was a brick wall against my face.
When I awoke, I felt this sense of heat. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was as if the sun had engulfed the Earth and I was being suffocated by it. It was so intense that it was painful. I couldn’t open my eyes; it was like they were glued shut. I kept trying for minutes at a time with no luck. Sweat dripped down my face. That’s when I felt that I wasn’t alone. I could feel the presence of another. I tried to open my eyes again but still couldn’t.
“Are you all right?” I heard. It was the voice of a woman.
Finally, my eyes opened, and I was instantly horror stricken by the sight—of the sun. I covered my head with my arms and started screaming, “The sun! Good Lord, get me out of the sun!” I continued to cry out and wail “the sun, the sun” over and over again.
“My God,” I heard the voice say. “You’re ill.”
I began sobbing into my hands, and again, I lost consciousness.
When I came to, the first thing my eyes met was a beautiful face, the face of a woman. She had very small features and clear, fair skin. Her eyes were large and round and shone amber in the light. Her hair was dark and rested in waves past her shoulders. She was stunning.
“Where am I?” I asked. “And why am I here?”
“You were screaming,” she said. “You were screaming at me to get you out of the sun.”
I was terrified then of how I must look. I knew from what my mothe
r had told me that my skin was black and shriveled, and I must have been covered in blisters. Why, then, didn’t I feel pain?
“My God,” she said. “What happened to you?”
She would surely turn away in fear, now wouldn’t she? She would run from me in disgust. She touched my neck, and I felt a sting in my skin.
“What?”
“You’re cut. You’re cut badly. What happened?”
I looked down at my hands and body, realizing I wasn’t burned at all. What luck.
“I…don’t know what happened,” I said. “I was mugged last night. I don’t even remember how I got away.”
“I’m surprised you’re alive. You’re lucky your throat isn’t slit.”
I felt the cut where the mugger’s knife had begun to rush through me before I lost consciousness. That’s when I remembered Professor Redline and how I had to get home to him. My discovery was mere months away, and I had to get home to finish working.
“I have to go!” I yelled out.
“You’re sick,” she said.
“No,” I tried to shout. My voice was throttled. “You don’t understand. That doesn’t matter. Sickness will mean nothing. That is why I have to get home.”
“Listen to me, please,” she pleaded. “You have a fever, an intense fever. You need to get to a doctor.”
“No!” I insisted. “I have to get to Professor Redline. I have to discover it!”
“Discover what?”
“The secret to immortality. I’m so close.”
I tried again to lift myself but kept falling back down. That light I was waiting for was finally kindled, and now along with that light were other lights—other remarkable thoughts and ideas I was finally understanding. I was sick, and the things I was saying must have sounded like the ravings of a madman.
“Please stay here,” she begged. “If you won’t let me take you to a doctor, at least let me take care of you.”
I couldn’t answer her.