Darper Danver: The Complete First Series

by Amy Cross

  "You wish to have her join our army?" Hodges asks.

  "Join us?" the general replies with a laugh. "Of course not. However, she might prove useful in some other manner. I'm sure the men will enjoy her company, if nothing else. Most of them have been away from their wives for so very long, and the frustration must be starting to affect them." As he climbs up onto his horse, he hears another explosion in the distance, and finally he turns back to Hodges. "And burn this place to the ground. I no longer have need of it, and it might prove useful to the enemy should they overrun the land. Make sure any papers are incinerated too." With that, he turns and begins the long ride to Fort Powell, determined to find some way in which he might turn the tide of the war against his enemies.

  Prologue Two

  Five years ago

  "Fisher!" she shouts. "Wait up!"

  Stopping at the end of the street, I turn and see Cassie running toward me. She looks so damn ridiculous when she runs, like a drunk giraffe, and I can't help but smile.

  "What?" she asks as she reaches me. "What's so funny?"

  "Nothing," I reply as we start walking toward my house. "So what's the big deal? Why'd you come running along the street after me?"

  "I just wanted to see what you were doing," she says, nudging my arm.

  "Going home," I say. "There's not much to do out here except watch tumbleweeds blow past, and that's really not my kind of thing."

  "Wanna hang out?"

  "And do what?"

  "Dunno," she replies. "Just hang out. What am I, an activities coordinator? We could just watch T.V. or play video games or something." She waits for me to answer. "Come on, Fisher. I don't care what we do. You can break out the boardgames if that's what you want. I just need to do something. My Mom's driving me crazy, and my brother's being an ass. I need a distraction."

  "I guess," I reply.

  "What's wrong?" she asks. "You don't like hanging out with me anymore? Do I need to go and call Bobby or Nicola, see if they're free? If that's how desperate you're gonna make me, I'll do it. I'll call them! I'm so bored, I'm actually willing to listen to Bobby drone on about music all afternoon."

  "Don't worry," I reply. "It's not that bad. I just..." Stopping on the street corner for a moment, I turn to her. "It's just weird," I say eventually. "Don't you ever think about how your days are spreading out in front of you and you've got fuck all to do?"

  "I guess," she replies.

  "And don't you ever notice people around town and wonder if you're gonna end up the exact same way? I mean, I bet none of them actively chose to rot in this dump. They probably all had plans, but somehow..." I pause for a moment. "I'm just starting to realize that the world isn't gonna wait for us. Everything's racing ahead and I'm worried I'm gonna end up sitting around in Fort Powell for the rest of my life, and then one day I'll be a little old man sitting on one of the benches in the middle of town, and suddenly I'll realize that my life is over and I haven't done anything. I don't wanna just work for the lumber company like my Dad."

  "You sound like you need a plan," she replies. "Maybe we should have one of those pacts."

  "What pacts?" I ask.

  "Like, if we're both not married and totally fucked in five years, we'll just marry each other. Then we'll move away somewhere else. Anywhere. Alaska or California, or maybe even abroad. It doesn't matter where we go, just as long as we get out of here." She stares at me, and for a moment it's almost as if she's starting to blush. "It's just a suggestion," she adds eventually. "Like a kind of last resort idea in case things go totally wrong. It probably won't even come to that."

  "Fine," I mutter.

  "Great," she says. "So we have a long term plan, but what about a plan for this afternoon? We need to find something fun to do."

  "Such as?"

  "We could get that Ouija board out again," she replies.

  "Sure," I reply. "It was so much fun last time."

  "Maybe we didn't do it right," she says. "We can get, like, an instruction book from the internet, and we can do it properly. We'll get Bobby and Nicola and we'll go up to the cabin, and we'll summon some kind of ancient demon, and then he'll give us all these special powers and we can go nuts. We wouldn't have to worry about being boring then, would we? We'd just spend our days trying to take over the world. How does that sound?"

  "Like you've lost your mind," I reply.

  "Are you seriously telling me you didn't feel anything last time?" she asks. "I know we were mostly bullshitting, but there was a hint of something, wasn't there?" She waits for me to reply. "Wasn't there? Like a kind of electric presence in the air, all around us. It was kinda dancing from body to body, almost like it was trying us each out and deciding which one to choose. Please, don't let me be the only one who noticed."

  "Noticed what?" I ask.

  "The thing!" She smiles. "You know. The presence. When we had the board out and we were doing all that stuff, there was totally, like, a presence in the room. Bobby sensed it too. Come on, Fisher, you must have noticed." She stares at me for a moment, with that usual bubbly, infectious grin. "Or is your mind closed to such possibilities?" she continues. "Do you ignore things like that, even if they're right in front of your face? If that's what you're like, then this town really has got to you. There's more than just the stuff you can see, you know. There's hidden stuff."

  "There was no presence," I reply. "Come on, Cassie, you're smarter than that, aren't you? It was just a fancy little board and some fun ideas. You know how the human mind can conjure stuff up out of nowhere."

  "Spoilsport," she mutters with a grin.

  "You wanna come and watch a film or something?" I ask, figuring we might as well do something instead of endlessly discussing our options for hours. "My parents have got stacks of crappy 90's action movies."

  "But we can go to the cabin soon, right?" she replies. "We'll do the Ouija board one last time. It'll be fun!"

  "Sure," I say sarcastically, turning and heading toward my parents' house, with Cassie following. "Another night of shadows. It'll be the best thing ever."

  Today

  Cassie Briggs

  "It's so nice to meet you," my mother says as she opens the front door. "I hope you didn't have any trouble finding our modest little town."

  Sitting at the kitchen table, I brace myself for the inevitable introduction. I'm still feeling a little queasy after my fever last night, but most of the symptoms have died down and I'm mostly just feeling tired. There's also the matter of the name carved on my back, which no-one else knows about and which can only mean one thing: Darper Danver is still in Fort Powell. I don't know whether she went away and came back, or whether she's been here ever since Bobby's death, but she's definitely here, and I don't think she's too pleased about the book. It's too late to change anything, though. We've already kicked the hornet's nest.

  "I don't know how you want to handle things," my mother continues as she talks to the new arrival in the hallway, "but Cassie and I are absolutely at your disposal for as long as you need us."

  "That's sounds great," says a soft, feminine voice that instantly makes me bristle.

  I turn and look over at the empty doorway. This is the last thing I need right now, but I'm too weak to resist. I know I'm going to hate this woman. She thinks she can just come sauntering in to my life and write a book that explains everything. It's tempting to just tell her the whole truth and enjoy the look of horror in her eyes, but I know I can't do that. No-one else can know about Darper. That's how it's always been.

  "There's just the small matter of the money," my mother continues, lowering her voice a little, almost as if she's in church. "I spoke to Noah on the phone yesterday, and he said you'd fill us in on the payment schedule for Cassie's participation. I understand there's a schedule, and the fee will be released in a series of installments."

  "Noah said that?" the woman replies. "Huh. I don't know, he didn't tell me anything. I think that's something the company lawyers sort out. I can get them to
give you a ring later, if you like?"

  "Could you? That'd be wonderful. Just, you know, so we can get an idea of the timescale. I don't mind admitting, things are a little tight around here at the moment. The economy was already pretty bad, and both our children live at home, which really puts a strain on the household budget."

  "Is she through here?" the woman asks.

  I take a deep breath. God, I hate this so much. I just want to curl up and disappear.

  "Cassie," my mother says brightly, hurrying into the kitchen. "I'd like you to meet Lenora Mackleberry from New York. She's going to be your ghost writer!"

  Sighing, I stand and turn to see a smartly-dressed, strikingly beautiful woman walking through from the hallway. She has the hungry, focused look of a woman who's worked hard to get where she is, and even though there's a big grin on her face, I'm quite certain that her every move is carefully designed and calculated. I don't like her.

  "Hi," she says, reaching out and shaking my hand. "You must be Cassie. I've heard so much about you, and I'm really looking forward to the chance to help you get your story out there. It must feel good to finally have a voice."

  I glance over at my mother, and I can see from the strained look on her face that she's desperate for me to be polite. This means so much to her, or rather, the money means so much to her. I have to at least try to cooperate for the book, for my family's sake.

  "Honey," my mother says nervously, "did you hear what Ms. Mackleberry said?"

  "Yeah," I say, forcing a smile. "A voice would be nice."

  "Do you mind if I take a seat?" Lenora asks.

  "Of course!" my mother says, pulling a chair out for her. "Excuse my manners! Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

  "I don't drink coffee, thank you," Lenora says, sitting opposite me and placing a small leather folder on the table. "I try to avoid toxins wherever possible. I'd love a glass, though. Just an empty one." She takes a bottle of mineral water from her bag and places it on the table, and then she stares at me for a moment. "I should probably be honest with you," she says eventually, "because you're probably thinking it anyway... This is my big break. I've never written a book about such a high-profile case before, and I'm hoping that we can both get something out of it. I know I probably shouldn't be so honest, but I think honesty should be at the heart of our relationship. I hope that if I'm honest with you, you'll be honest with me."

  "That sounds so fair!" my mother says as she sets an empty glass on the table. "Doesn't that sound fair, Cassie? It's so refreshing to hear someone being honest."

  I smile politely.

  "There's no such thing as the truth," Lenora continues, her gray eyes fixed on me. "There's no book in the world that can tell the absolute truth, because the truth is entirely subjective. Having said that, there's your truth, Cassie, and that's what we need to get down on paper, in a compelling and sympathetic manner. I don't know how much of the press coverage you've read, but your case has been covered extensively. A lot of that coverage has been unsympathetic, because the media tends to turn people into stereotypes. Our job, with this book, is not to get rid of the stereotypes. It's to change them so that they present you in a better -"

  "This isn't your big break," I say, interrupting her.

  She pauses. "I'm sorry?"

  "I checked out your other books," I continue. "You've written loads. You're thirty-one years old and you've got a dozen books out, ranging from celebrity biographies to essay collections. You're pretty well-established, so it's not really true that you're some struggling writer looking to make it big by ghost-writing my book, is it?"

  She smiles awkwardly. "I never said I was a struggling writer," she says eventually, before pouring herself a glass of water. "I'm quite successful already, but the point is, I think this book could be a real step up. For everyone involved. It's not just going to be a hit in the American market. The case has attracted interest around the world, and Noah already has deals lined up in Europe, Australia and several Asian countries, for both print and electronic editions." She turns to my mother. "If we can get this book out quickly, we can really take advantage of the huge media interest in Cassie's case. Everyone in America has an opinion on what happened, and I'm afraid that most people think..." She pauses, before turning back to me. "Most people think you killed Bobby Madison," she continues. "Did you?"

  I shake my head.

  "Cassie had a bit of a fever last night," my mother says, hurrying around behind me and placing a hand on my forehead. "She's mostly recovered, but you might find that she takes a while to get started. She was very keen to ensure that she could meet you this morning, even though she didn't sleep too well."

  "I slept okay," I mutter darkly.

  "That's fine," Lenora replies. "The first day is always a little difficult. We need to establish a rapport. Right now, I'm a stranger, but I hope that by the end of the week we can be friends. I want to make it clear, Cassie, that this is your book. It's your story. I'm here to help and guide you, to mold your words so that they come across as clearly as possible, but they're still your words." She pauses. "Let's be honest," she adds with a smile, "no-one wants to hear what I have to say. You're the one whose name is going to sell millions of copies of this book. People want to hear your voice, Cassie. Some of them think you're the wronged victim of a terrible set of circumstances, and some of them think you're a killer who got away with a horrific crime. Either way, they're willing to pay twenty dollars hardback and ten for a digital copy to get inside your mind."

  "Isn't that exciting?" my mother asks, placing her hands on my shoulders. "A chance to tell the truth, Cassie. A chance to put things straight."

  "It might be better if Cassie and I can get a little privacy," Lenora continues. "It's best if this is a one-on-one process, Mrs. Briggs. We need to establish a direct connection, and that can be much more difficult if there are distractions in the room. Please don't be offended, but I'm worried that Cassie might censor herself if she thinks you're listening to our conversation."

  "Oh," my mother says, sounding disappointed. "Okay, yes, I suppose..."

  "But I'll be needing to speak to you later," Lenora adds. "It's important to get your side of events as well. I was thinking we could have a few little box-outs in the book, presenting your version of events. Perhaps I could get a word with your husband and Cassie's brother at some point too?" She turns to me. "Do you think any of your friends would like to be interviewed? Do you have any friends around here who knew you five years ago?"

  I shrug.

  "We'll work something out," Lenora says, smiling without missing a beat. "The most important thing is you, Cassie. I need your story. America is waiting to hear what you've got to say."

  "Well..." My mother pauses, and it's clear that she'd been hoping to play a more active and integral role in the process. "Of course," she says eventually, "I'd hate to interrupt. You're the expert, so I guess I'll leave the two of you to work together. I'll be in the next room."

  "Actually," Lenora replies, "I think Cassie still might worry about being overheard. It'd probably be better if we're completely alone in the house."

  "Right," my mother says cautiously, "well, I suppose need to go into town for a few hours anyway."

  "Is there anyone else in the house?" Lenora asks.

  "My husband's at work, and Cassie's brother is asleep in his room. He won't trouble you, I promise."

  "That's great," Lenora says with a fuck-off smile. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Briggs. Enjoy your trip into town."

  My mother smiles politely, but it's clear that she'd rather stay.

  "I just need you both to sign the contract first," Lenora adds, pulling a sheet of paper from her folder and placing it on the table. "You each need to sign, I'm afraid. It's just the standard stuff about the fee, which is a quarter of a million as promised plus residuals down the road, plus additional rights, global rights and that kind of thing. It's a very standard contract."

  "It's only one page," I say.
>
  "It's a very simple contract," she replies brightly. "We like to keep things simple. It avoids misunderstandings. It's just a standard contract based on the terms that were arranged over the phone."

  "And the money will be coming soon?" my mother asks.

  "Of course. You just need to sign, and then we can get on with things. It's best to ensure that the business side is settled, so that we can focus on the most important part of this project, which is the discovery of Cassie's voice."

  Grabbing a pen, I quickly sign the contract, before pushing it over to my mother. I figure there's no point wasting time on the technicalities. I just want to get the whole damn thing over with.

  Staring at the contract, my mother seems to be hesitating.

  "You're the one who wanted to do this," I point out.

  "Of course," she mutters, before taking the pen and signing her name.

  "Excellent," Lenora says, placing the contract back in her folder.

  "Don't we get a copy?" I ask.

  "I'll get the office to send one down," she replies with a smile that makes me wonder if we just made a huge mistake.

  Once my mother has headed out the door, I'm left sitting in silence with Lenora Mackleberry. I know I should pretend to be more enthusiastic, but after the events of last night, it's a miracle I can even speak. My back hurts, and I can't stop thinking about the image of Darper Danver carving her name into my flesh while I was lost in a feverish dream. God knows what she wants, but she obviously decided to send me some kind of message. I'm scared that this is happening the way it happened before. I'm scared that Darper wants something.

  I wait for her to say something.