Darkest Hours

by S. K. Yule

  Darkest Hours

  Copyright © June 2009, S. K. Yule

  Cover art by Anastasia Rabiyah © June 2009

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  ISBN: 978-1-935348-45-0

  Amira Press, LLC

  Baltimore, MD 21216

  www.amirapress.com

  Dedication

  Thank you Jack for believing in me, and Tawanna for your support and motivation.

  Chapter One

  Fall sighed a gentle breeze, felling numerous leaves of gold and red from gnarled branches of the huge Oak tree that stood in the center of Plainview, surrounded by the old red brick roads of the town square. Many of the homeless leaves drifted down onto the roofs of the small businesses dotted throughout the square while others silently glided to the sidewalks where some landed under Ebony White’s feet, crunching as she walked over them. The peaceful wind caressed her skin and tossed strands of golden hair out from her head then allowed them to fall haphazardly back down around her face.

  The townspeople were out in full swing. Some clapped old friends on the back and chatted about the wonderful weather while others window shopped and sampled bread from old Mrs. Chatterfield’s bakery. Ebony didn’t notice any of these things as she walked along, not even the aroma of her favorite coffee could entice her from the black thoughts immersing her mind.

  Today started as any normal day. Ebony had gotten up that morning at her usual time of seven, ate her ordinary breakfast of soggy cornflakes drenched in skim milk, and then walked ten blocks to the library where she reported to work promptly at eight-thirty. She had unlocked the old, creaky doors of the one story brick building and followed her routine of turning on lights and putting away books checked in late the day before. Yes, everything started normal and right.

  It only took two minutes for Dr. Brown to pull the proverbial rug of life out from under her, sending her in a shocking sprawl landing her flat on her behind. She never expected anything to come of the simple tests taken the week before for the headaches she had been suffering. The unusual chill of her body for such a mild day attested to the stealthy fingers of shock snaking through every pore. She shivered and drew her favorite blue jacket tighter around her.

  She still remembered the day her Aunt Jackie had given her the jacket, remembered it as vividly as if it happened yesterday. She and her Aunt had been out shopping four years earlier when Ebony had spotted the jacket hanging in the window of Ms. Payton’s small clothes store, Fashions 4 U. It was the most unusual shade of blue suede, teetering between baby and ice and lined in soft, white wool. The thing that had caught her eye most though was the seven silver fasteners up the front in the shape of roses.

  She had vowed to get the jacket with her paycheck the following week, only to be disappointed when she found out it had been sold. She wasn’t a shopaholic by any means and usually waited for sales to buy most of her plain but serviceable clothing, and even though the jacket was quite pricey, she was willing to splurge this one time. It was just one of those things in life. Kind of like when there is one piece of chocolate left in the box. No matter how full you are, you know you’re going to eat it then feel guilty about it later, after the sinful taste was gone and good sense sets back in.

  Later that night, she was talking to her Aunt and told her about the jacket. Her Aunt just smiled a smile that made Ebony feel as if she were the only one not in on the joke. Aunt Jackie had left the room, came back a few moments later with a box adorned with a huge pink bow and handed it to Ebony. She was delighted when she saw the blue jacket amid the conglomeration of white tissue paper. It was an early birthday present, and Ebony would never forget her Aunt’s kindness.

  Unwanted reality invaded her happy memory as another chill ran the length of her spine, causing goose bumps to cover her skin’s surface. How had the simple headache turned into terminal cancer? Her life had been dotted with tragic events, but she had always made it through, usually by embracing the advice her mother had given her many times, starting when she was very young. She would say, “My dearest little girl, live every moment to the fullest, make the best decisions you can, love with all your heart, and have no regrets.”

  The words that usually calmed Ebony, embracing her in the arms of comfort in the absence of her mother, could not soothe her this time. This was not like when she cheated on her math test in first grade or when she stole a dollar from her mother’s purse to buy an ice cream. Yes, it had felt good to get that A in math, and the creamy, chocolate ice cream had been heaven in her mouth, but the satisfaction had worn off quickly only to be replaced by regret and guilt. She had cried for at least an hour after the confessions to her mother and knew her mother’s saying was correct. Regret hurt, especially when it was due to an irrational or impulsive decision, and she didn’t want to live her life filled with it.

  No, this was not like those times at all. Her life was being stolen by the icy hands of death, little by little, and there was nothing she could do about it. No decision would change that, and when she thought about it, she did have regrets—or at least one big one.

  Her emotions were stretched, and the thoughts of her mother brought tears to her eyes. Her mother had been beautiful with kind eyes and a smile that could light up a room. Ebony missed her mother dearly and desperately wished she could talk to her now. She wished for the gentle and magical touch only her mother had possessed, the one that could take all bad things away, no matter how horrible, even if only for a few moments. She shook her head furiously, blonde hair fanning in all directions. No, she would not wish for her mother to go through her only daughter’s death.

  Two small boys with ruffled brown hair and rosy cheeks ran by Ebony, distracting her for a moment. They continued past her, dodging in and out of others walking, oblivious to everyone and everything but themselves. How wonderful it would be to be that young and carefree once again, to have not a worry in the world. She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle trying to ward off the continuous chill that ran up her spine. It was amazing how twenty-seven could be viewed as so young or so old depending on the circumstances. If she thought about the fact that she was still a virgin, twenty-seven seemed ancient. On the other hand, having terminal cancer, twenty-seven seemed astonishingly young.

  Which brought her to her one biggest regret in life—she had never fallen in love or experienced sex. She longed for that one spectacular moment when she knew she would love the man she was about to share her body with until the day she died. She was fond of some of the men she had dated, but only in the same way she was fond of her favorite fluffy slippers. They were comfortable, and she would miss them for awhile when they were gone, but they didn’t strike any sparks of undeniable lust. The waiting never seemed to be a big deal, and she kept faith that the right man would come along one day, but now, there wasn’t time, and there wouldn’t be one day or a happily ever after.

  Within a few feet, she saw the approaching alleyway, veered off the street and headed straight for it. The nearing darkness usually saw her avoiding this particular shortcut on her daily route home, but she was walking home earlier than usual, and the opportunity to avoid small talk with the locals was too inviting to resist. She loved the small community in which she lived. Everyone knew everybody, and in many ways, most of the people were like an extended family. But, today she simply could not face them.

  After taking only a couple steps into the shaded alley, the familiar fog of claustrophobia began choking her. This was the reason she avoided the alley. Not because she was scared, although if she were truthful, she would have to admit that her imagination ha
d worked overtime trying to convince her that someone or something was stalking her the few times she had ventured down the old passageway, and this time would be no different.

  The constant urge to look over her shoulder in search of her make-believe follower would encourage her heart into a gallop and make a laugh bubble in her throat at her silliness after she reached the other end. She could hear the eerie music of The Omen drifting through her head and giggled. She was such a sucker for a horror flick, and at times like this she wondered if she should give them up. No way am I giving up Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy or any other creature that can scare the heck out of me. She loved the rush from those movies.

  How many more horror movies would she see before she died? She had so many things she wanted to do, and now it seemed she wouldn’t have time to do them. What am I going to do? She was scared and carried the weight of the world on her slender shoulders at this very moment.

  The sound of her cell phone ringing startled her, and she rummaged through her bag to find it. Pulling it out, she hit the connect button automatically before realizing she probably didn’t want to talk to whoever it was. “Hello.”

  “Hey, girlfriend! What’s up?” Avril’s voice carried its usual cheeriness.

  Her best friend, Avril Taylor, whom she had met at the library on a bitter, snow-covered day, still gave her a hard time over her “old-fashionedness.” Although Ebony didn’t consider wanting to wait for her wedding night to give up her virginity old-fashioned.

  Five years ago Ebony had been at work in the town’s small library watching the fluffy snowflakes fall from the overcast sky when Avril had come in for a short reprieve from the cold. A conversation between the two about life in general started them on their journey to friendship.

  They were complete opposites, Avril being outgoing, bold and up-front, usually saying whatever popped into her mind at any given time, and Ebony with her reserved, shy manner. Avril was tall and slender and had a weird affinity for black clothes especially those that favored anything goth. Ebony was short, curvy and preferred casual clothing in a variety of colors. Avril’s eyes were brown and her short black hair cupped her face in a flattering matter, showing off her smooth dark skin to perfection where Ebony’s eyes were green and her long hair fell in blonde waves around her pixie-like face.

  No matter, Avril proved to be a true, loyal and honest friend. While they would never agree on everything, their distinct views allowed them to see things in a different light. She loved Avril like a sister and knew she could count on her with the same certainty that Avril could count on her. Even though Ebony had many friends, until she met Avril, she hadn’t acknowledged the void in her life. Until they had become close, she hadn’t realized she had been holding everyone else at arm’s length, not quite letting them nestle as close to her heart as true friends should be. She had effectively slammed that part of her heart closed after her family was taken from her. She didn’t want to ever be that close to anyone again because it hurt too badly when they were gone.

  Avril, somehow had managed to wake that part of her which she thought to be dead. Avril helped her heal in ways she would have never healed on her own. Avril had become the sister she never had, and the little black stain of insecurity and caution was wiped from her soul.

  “Oh, hi Avril.” Ebony stifled the weariness and worry before it crept into her voice because she wasn’t sure at this point she wanted to tell Avril, or anyone for that matter, about the results of her doctor’s appointment. She didn’t want to lie to her best friend, and her mind kicked into overtime trying to figure out what to say if she asked . . . and she would. It was an odd situation as she usually talked to Avril about anything and everything from a run in her hose to what color nail polish she should wear to the loneliness and utter failure she felt from yet another uneventful date. This was different.

  “So you had any hot dates lately? Never mind. I already know the answer to that Miss he-didn’t-make-my-toes-curl when he kissed me. Honestly Ebony, you’re twenty-seven years old. Isn’t it time to lower your standards a little and find a decent guy? I mean you don’t want to die a virgin do you?”

  Ebony sighed. If there was one thing her friend loved it was to torment her over her men, or rather lack of. Avril insisted one day “Mr. Right” would come along and sweep Ebony off her feet. While she knew Avril wanted her to find true love, the wish didn’t come without an ulterior motive. Her friend had a curse and seemed to only attract egomaniacal, chauvinistic pigs and figured Ebony would have to be the one to marry and have kids. And, since her and Avril were as close as true sisters could be even without the blood bond, Avril would consider Ebony’s children her nieces and nephews. Avril told her time and again that she deserved happiness in her life, and while Ebony believed she honestly wanted her to be happy, there was no denying Avril’s ambition of wanting to be an aunt.

  Avril chatted on and on in her usual don’t-let-anyone-else-get-a-word-in way. Only half listening to her rambling on now about some guy she had a date with the night before and how he had ultimately become the epitome of male chauvinistic pig, Ebony decided right then and there she would not tell Avril about her illness. Life was already littered with too much uncertainty and sorrow. She wanted to enjoy what time she had left without sympathy shadowing her every step. She couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing her best friend, the one person she loved most in the world, looking at her with those big brown eyes full of hurt or worst of all, pity. No, she wanted her last memories to be happy not of worry over her best friend’s pain.

  How was she going to get through this? If there was absolutely no other choice but fibbing, so be it. Yeah, right, because I’m so good at lying. She was horrible at lying. She chewed her bottom lip, weighing the odds of actually being able to pull off a fib to a stranger, much less her best friend. Every time in her life she had tried to tell a little fabrication, she had ended up a stuttering mess and had given up even trying altogether. Not that she approved of such deceit, but sometimes in life—such as when a woman asks if her butt looks big in these pants, and it does but you say no—it was just easier and less painful.

  Avril’s rambling slowed a little. “Oh yeah, girl, how did your doctor’s appointment go? I almost forgot to ask.” Then for the first time since the phone conversation started, Avril was quiet.

  The silence was unnerving, and once again swirling, thick fog enveloped her brain, wrapping its tendrils around every thought trying to fight its way out, making it impossible for her to think of something to tell Avril. She sighed and begrudgingly resigned herself to tell Avril the truth, seeing no other way, but before she could say a word she collided with something solid that knocked the phone from her hand. At first, she thought one of the building’s crumbling brick walls must be her obstacle until she reached out to steady herself and caught a handful of soft, supple leather at the same time the exotic smell of spicy sandalwood tickled her nose, tempting her lungs to take a deep pull of the intoxicating scent.

  She looked up, way up, until she was staring into the face of what had to be the sexiest man on the planet. He stole her breath, and she sucked in a small gasp as she continued her perusal. Glistening, clear eyes the color of the ocean close to the shore with just the right mixture of turquoise and blue, framed by thick lashes and black eyebrows, stared down at her. She snapped her gaping mouth shut, righted herself and eyed the stranger some more while retaining her hold on his coat. How could anyone be so hard, so solid, so big, so . . . sexy?

  His black as night hair floated in the breeze and hung in a silky curtain around a masculine face with a straight nose and a square jaw covered in thick stubble. Full lips, kissable lips, lips that looked as if they were made for fulfilling any woman’s most secret desires, framed his mouth. Heat flooded deep in her belly, and she had a strange urge to run her fingers through all that glorious hair. This was so not like her to feel this way and discerning when she admitted she liked it. What is wrong with me? Chasing away all
sanity she couldn’t resist taking a peek at the rest of him.

  His huge frame loomed well over six feet, and a form-fitting, black shirt encased broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered down to a lean waist, showing off his ripped, sculpted body to perfection. Black leather pants were filled out nicely by muscular thighs, and on his feet were black biker boots. The grip she had on his black trench coat pulled it open to allow her this fortunate view of superb male physique. He reminded her somewhat of Hugh Jackman in Van Helsing. Hating to admit it as Hugh was a God, even he paled in comparison. Holy cow! He has got to be the sexiest thing I have ever laid eyes upon.

  She had seen pictures in the magazines of male models with their oiled up bodies, perfectly manicured within an inch of their lives, and knew instantly that all of them had gotten it so wrong. They tried to portray the male body in all its glorious beauty, but none she had seen even came close to the virility emanating off the man standing in front of her now. He was an exemplary blend of exactly the right amounts of everything male.

  She was glad she couldn’t see his behind because if it was even half as nice as the front, which she had a feeling it was, she might actually start drooling all over his boots.

  Mentally scolding herself for gawking at a complete stranger, she began an awkward apology. “Well, um . . . I-I’m, uh . . . . S-sorry for running into you. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was, uh . . . going.” Duh, that was obvious now wasn’t it? She felt like smacking her forehead with her open palm for her stupidity.