Under Sunless Skies (Starlight Saga Book 2)

by Sherry Soule

  My gaze sweeps over the empty chair across from my mom’s at the dining room table. A pang strikes my gut. My dad’s on Sector Thirteen’s Most Wanted List, and facing the GB must’ve taken a lot of courage in order to protect his family. I might be angry at my parents for all the lies, but I’m still worried about my dad. At least he’s safe at the GB headquarters and Sector Thirteen can’t find him now, which means the rest of us are safe, too.

  That is, once this smelly residue fades. Otherwise, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for my numerous enemies. And I doubt they’ll like my mom’s cooking, either.

  “You’ve never liked vegetables, but you’ve always loved eating dessert.” My mom glances at the antique clock and presses her lips together. “How are your college apps going?”

  My right leg bounces up and down, my knee hitting the table. “I applied to a few universities in Los Angeles.”

  “Still want to study screenwriting?” My mom is stirring the vegetables around on her plate. “Or just planning to move to Hollywood and wait tables like most starving artists?”

  “I don’t mind waitressing,” I say. “It’s an honest living.”

  Jonah drops his napkin on his lap. “How about you practice by cleaning up tonight?”

  “Nice try, bonehead. It’s your turn, and I wouldn’t want to deny you the experience.”

  A car drives down our street and my mom’s gaze darts to the front window. It takes about five seconds for us to recognize the car driving past is not David’s Mercedes.

  “When is Dad coming home?” Jonah stabs a green bean with a fork.

  “I’m not sure,” my mom replies. “These things take time.”

  I take a bite of the overcooked chicken and try to focus on chewing. Another car turns onto our street. The clock tick, tick, ticks. Jonah’s foot thumps one of the table legs. My mom lifts her napkin, wipes her mouth, and drops it on the plate.

  “Sloane, did you know the sound of E.T. walking was made by someone squishing their hands in jelly?” Jonah glances over at me. “Special effects have come a long way.”

  Jonah and I glance at each other, and I’m grateful for the change of subject.

  “Well, did you know that Michael Myers’s disguise in Halloween is just a Captain Kirk mask altered slightly and painted white?” I say to my brother.

  “Interesting. Here’s a fun fact for you, Sis, cats can hear ultrasound.” Jonah glances at Jinx in the kitchen eating from his bowl. “And a lion’s roar can be heard from five miles away.”

  My mom takes a sip of her wine and the lines around her mouth soften. Our attempt at getting her mind off worrying about my dad must be working. On occasion, Jonah and I make a good team.

  “You’re clever like your father, Jonah,” my mom says, staring absently at the family photos lining the inside of the china cabinet. “When we were first dating, he had all these cheesy facts he’d tell me…”

  “Jonah’s so freakishly smart,” I say, “I’m thinking we should have him studied at M.I.T.”

  My mom wears a slight smile. “Sloane!”

  “Too bad public pillory is illegal,” Jonah says, in his most obnoxious voice.

  “Oh, you never know, it might make a comeback,” I say.

  “Why’d you bleach your hair, anyway?” He points at my head with his fork. “Are you planning on dieting and getting a spray tan next?”

  I toss a green bean at him and it smacks him in the forehead. “Shut up!”

  “Stop it, you two,” my mom warns, but not very sternly.

  “What’s for dessert?” Jonah wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I’m still hungry.”

  My mom scoots back her chair and stands. “I’ve got fresh strawberries.”

  “I’d rather have fudge brownies,” I say. “I saw a box on the pantry shelf—”

  “Those are just empty calories and all that refined sugar gives you a high, followed by a major crash,” my mom states in her I’m-a-member-of-the-Food-Police tone. “Do you realize how many preservatives are in those baked goods? It’s like eating poison.”

  Whateves, Mom.

  My skin prickles with heat, but I force a smile. “We could put the strawberries over our fresh baked brownies.”

  My mom shakes her head and sighs. “I give up. You’re impossible.”

  Guess making brownies will only cause her more stress, so I drop the subject.

  Pushing back my chair, I lift my plate, and scrape the food off over the garbage can in the kitchen. Next, I clear away my brother’s, then my mom’s dishes. Jonah scurries upstairs to his room while I load the dishwasher.

  “Are you still angry with me?” My mom gets up, walks into the kitchen, and slightly smiles. “Oh, I know! I noticed you need another bottle of hair color.” Seizing the Coach handbag off a stool, she pulls out a wad of crisp bills from her wallet. “This should be enough.”

  “Bribery? Seriously? You can’t throw money at me and expect me to forget all the deception, Karen. Or do you really think I’m that shallow?”

  “Please take it,” she says, holding out the money.

  We both know it’s a bribe, but hey, who am I to turn down money to shop with?

  “Fine.” I put a plate into the dishwasher, then pocket the cash without checking the amount. “Thanks,” I mumble.

  She leans her elbows on the kitchen island. “Could we possibly call a truce?”

  I shrug, loading more dishes. “I guess...and I was thinking about dying my hair again.”

  When I glance over my shoulder, she’s standing in the living room now, staring out the window. My heart goes out to her, but I still take the stairs two at a time and escape to my room.

  Shutting the door, I sit my desk and power on my laptop. I check the last funny article I wrote on horror tropes that posted in my column yesterday. Only two comments. Meh. I respond to the remarks, then close the tab to do some online research on Saxton Ridge. I type his name into Google and scan the results.

  Unfortunately, I don’t find much except a lone Facebook account, but I do make one startling discovery. A short obituary.

  A lone woman, Cosima Ridge, unexpectedly died shortly after giving birth on Tuesday, while at Eden Hospital in Modesto, California. She is survived by her infant son, Saxton, but it is unknown at this time who the father is or how to contact him. Authorities are doing everything they can to locate next of kin…

  Grabbing my notebook from my backpack, I create a page on “Saxton Ridge, blackmail suspect.” Then I write down my findings: Saxton lied about his mom. Check.

  And lied about why he moved here. Check.

  Do not trust him. Double-check.

  Putting the notebook away, I focus on my laptop again. Chewing on a strand of hair, I stare at the screen. I wish I had a way to do a search on my devious attacker, Xavier. Except I don’t even know his last name or where he lives. But there is someone else I can look up…

  Time for investigating Delta Lancaster, and digging my journalist chops into something real.

  I skim three nondescript articles until I find one from Grimm Haven’s local newspaper: Fifteen-year-old Delta Lancaster was reported missing by the victim’s family, Moya and Garvin Lancaster, on August thirteenth.

  Delta disappeared between the hours of 3:00 and 6:00 p.m.. She is described as a female with long black hair and albino skin, with extremely large eyes. She is approximately five-foot three inches. Delta was last seen wearing a light blue T-shirt, denim shorts, and black Converse sneakers. The teenager does not appear to have any scars, tattoos, or noticeable birthmarks. If anyone has any information, please contact the local authorities.

  I shudder and stare at the screen. Could what happened to me and her disappearance be somehow related? I can’t imagine losing my little brother like Hayden lost his only sister.

  My mood takes a nosedive into Depresso Land and I dig into my emergency stash—a shoebox crammed with tasty snacks—hidden under the bed. I pry off the lid and select a package of Oreos, then
rip open the wrapping. I twist the cookie in half and lick the crème-filled middle.

  With one hand, I click open the next article: The mystery surrounding the disappearance of Delta Lancaster that rocked the Grimm Haven community is still an ongoing investigation. The search continues for the missing girl, who seems to have literally vanished, leaving police baffled. Members of the Lancaster family are still hopeful she will be found....

  I’m not sure why, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about Delta. The more I think about it, the more curious I become. Hayden should’ve told me about her, just like my parents should have been honest about my heritage. And never once mentioning he had a missing sister meant Hayden never entirely trusted me, whether or not, he thought I already knew.

  Shoving the cookie into my mouth, I dig through the bottom of my purse until my fingers touch my phone, and I text Hayden.

  Me: U busy? We need 2 talk.

  I munch on a third cookie. The phone buzzes two minutes later.

  The little chat bubble pops up with Hayden’s reply: What now?

  Me: Don’t be rude.

  Hayden: Sorry. Long day.

  Me: My house. Fifteen mins.

  Hayden: So bossy. On my way.

  As I come downstairs to get something to drink, I pass the TV that Jonah must’ve left on. A dark-haired newscaster sitting behind a desk in a newsroom faces the camera with a somber expression. “…Tuesday evening, police began receiving strange reports of a bear roaming in an alley behind Albert’s Grocery Market. A Grimm Haven police officer responded to the scene near the store, but did not see anything unusual.” The brunette newswoman shuffles reports on the desk and solemnly faces the camera again. “In a statement issued by Police Captain McMahon, after residents of Grimm Haven reported numerous bear sightings throughout the island, he claims the beast is only an escaped zoo animal. Anyone who spots a bear is urged to call police right away. Now onto the weather…”

  My mouth dries. Not bears. Only bloodthirsty mutant beasts still trying to sniff me out.

  And they’ll be coming for me. Soon.

  FRIGHT NIGHT BABBLE

  Hey there, Grinning Gremlins!

  If there’s a bigger cliché in science fiction than the scientist that has to “play God” or invent crazyass things for the sake of science, I have yet to come across it.

  Experiments, testing scientific phenomenon, or even epic catastrophes that are a direct consequence of some experimentation seems to be a major trope in books and films. The lethal mutations and life-threatening viruses are a dire result of this trope, all because of experiments gone very wrong.

  Like Bruce Banner becoming the Hulk because of an experiment he tested on himself. Then those kids that got hit by a shrink ray and turned ant-size by that wacky inventor dad, or to make science history, these geneticists decide to go against nature and create a scary, genetic engineered baby in that cool movie, Splice.

  Yup, if you’re a mad genius, you’re probably going to endanger everyone you care about (if not the entire planet) for the love of science. Now we have intelligent apes, flesh-eating zombies, and Jurassic Park.

  Peace, love, and horror flicks,

  Sloane

  EIGHTEEN

  The doorbell chimes, but when I go to answer the door, I hesitate. Thinking it might be better to be cautious, I peek through the peephole. No reapers, or Xavier, or other nasty threats.

  It’s only Hayden, so I open the door.

  “I’m here at your request.” He steps into the foyer, then sticks his head inside the living room and glances around. “Everything okay?”

  “Not really. Have a seat.” I gesture to the sofa.

  Hayden sits on one end of the brown leather couch and I ease onto the other side to face him. He turns his head as if taking in the living room, a large space, containing a sofa and an armchair that faces the flat screen TV mounted on the wall, along with an oval rug covering the dark hardwood floor, and my dad’s ugly recliner hulking in one corner.

  “Did you hear? Arcane’s going to substitute at our school,” he says. “It might be only to keep an eye on us, or possibly a way to keep tabs on you until the ectoplasm wears off.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Posing as a teacher is his idea of undercover work?”

  “He’s an ally, but I don’t entirely trust him.”

  “Yeah, well, I hardly trust anyone nowadays.”

  Hayden sighs. “I need to tell you something…Zach caught sight of Xavier earlier today, and the longer the residue is on your skin, the more danger you are in with him hanging around.”

  “You’d think such an advanced species would’ve figured out how to use the Internet to track down a person. I mean, it’s not that hard to figure out where I live if someone’s determined enough to find me. What’s he waiting for? A personal invite?”

  “Xavier isn’t stupid. Even if he knows where you live, he wouldn’t come here and attack you. That would only send a big red flag to ST and he’d get arrested or worse. No, he’s much shrewder than that.” He clears his throat. “Unless, he gets desperate. Then he’ll start making mistakes, like showing up at your house.”

  “So…you’re saying that if he can’t catch me off-guard and outside, then eventually, Xavier will take more drastic measures? Is that supposed to comfort me? Because it’s not!”

  “No, but at least you won’t drive yourself crazy worrying about him barging into your house.” Hayden stuffs his hands into his pockets and hangs his head. “Actually, I asked Arcane to intervene and talk to him, but he said it didn’t go so well. Xavier wouldn’t even let him inside his house, he just slammed the door in Arcane’s face.”

  “Should we tell the GB what he’s up to?” I ask. “Maybe they can restrain him.”

  “I already did, but they haven’t responded yet. And I just hope I didn’t make things even worse.”

  “What could be worse?”

  He throws up his hands. “I don’t know, okay? We don’t have a lot of options here. Unless, you want to get on a plane and go off the grid for a few months. Hide out in Mexico or something—”

  “I’m not letting that maniac ruin my life!” I grit my teeth. “I think we should contact Sector Thirteen.”

  He sighs. “We could do that…but what if he decides to tell them about us. Then things are gonna get a whole lot uglier.” Hayden shakes his head. “No, they should be a last resort. Just stay inside as much as you can until all the reapers have been caught.”

  “I’m so tempted to call Sixty Minutes, or Dateline, or The Tonight Show—whatever nightly news is on and tell them all about the Zetas and ST.”

  “That might be a death sentence…”

  I blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, I know. But it’s still tempting.”

  “Just lay low until I figure this out. And no going on any talk shows.”

  “Um, Dr. Phil would have to extend his show to air twenty-four hours a day just to cover all this crazy.”

  “No doubt.” He wears a small smile. “So what’s up? Why’d you invite me over?”

  “I need to ask you something. We’re friends, right?”

  “Of course.” He frowns. “Why do you ask?”

  I lift my chin. “Because you never mentioned your sister Delta.”

  Hayden draws in a deep breath. His fingers worry the hem of his shirt. He glances at the door as if he wants to make an escape. Then he presses his lips together and exhales. “Who told you? Zach or Arcane?”

  “Neither. Tanisha mentioned it at school today. She assumed I knew.”

  His expression becomes stony and distant, his fists clenching in his lap. The silence stretches until it fills the quiet room. I wait for him to speak, glancing at the colorful bubbles floating across the screen of my dad’s laptop humming on a small table in the far corner. The antique clock in the dining room chimes the hour, the sound echoing eerily in the stillness.

  “It’s not something I like to talk about,” he says quietly.

 
; “Someone took your sister, and I’m guessing it might have something to do with Xavier and my attack.”

  “It doesn’t,” he says, staring out the window.

  “How can you be sure?” I chew on the inside of my cheek and my voice grows quiet. “How do you even deal with something like that? I could’ve helped you…if you’d trusted me. I mean, you can dump out all your drama, and I won’t judge.”

  “I know, and thank you.”

  “I’m trying to say that you can open up to me, Hayden,” I say softly, coaxingly. “I get that you’re, like, Mysterious Guy, and I like that. But with mystery comes secrets, and those I don’t like.”

  Hayden clears his throat. “I suppose, I’d be curious, too.” He wipes a hand over his face. “I try not to think about Delta too much anymore, because it still hurts. And there’s this overwhelming guilt I still feel because it’s my fault that she’s missing.”

  “How could it be your fault that she disappeared?”

  He rubs a hand over his chin, as if contemplating the question. Several minutes pass in awkward silence again.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s the reporter in me, she’s too dang nosey.” My shoulders square even as my eyes narrow. “But after everything we’ve shared, I thought you trusted me. Except you really don’t, do you?”

  “That’s not it…”

  “Then what is it?” I throw my hands up. “Hey, I’m not the enemy here.”

  “No, you’re right.” Hayden’s defeated tone makes me want to wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. “I figured you already knew, and I liked that you never asked me about it.”

  “I heard a girl went missing, but not that she was related to your family.” I tuck my legs beneath me on the couch and lean into the corner. “How did your parents adopt her? What happened to her Meleah family?”

  Hayden lowers his chin, gazing at me thoughtfully. “Delta never had any parents.”

  “Are you kidding?” I blink. “Everyone has parents, don’t they?”

  He examines one of my mom’s abstract paintings hanging on the wall. “Not Delta, she was born in a Sector Thirteen lab.”