Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Audrey Godwin

  Slowly the lights dimmed, the music swelled, and the film began unfurling, scene by scene. Chyna and Kirk sat there looking at the re-creation of the mist-shrouded little country road leading to the mansion at Cat's Paw. Kirk squeezed Chyna's hand as he watched his life being flashed over a screen. He flinched when he saw the automobile accident that killed his parents. The studio's makeup man did an excellent job of creating the scars that marred Kirk’s handsome face, and it was all too real when Kirk saw the scarred face of the young actor looking up into a shimmering moonlight praying a prayer that he didn't think he was good enough to pray. He felt the tears the actor shed falling down through the scars, and Kirk's eyes became misty. He could feel the agony once again as he struggled through the suicide scene in the dark dungeon. The wind whistled and moaned as the hurricane hit once again, and he watched while the young actress was being buried beneath the debris. He saw the cruel manipulations of the actor who played Quinn, and again heard his painful insults.

  Monster! Beast! Frankenstein!

  And then when the scene in front of the fireplace was re-enacted, a gasp caught in Kirk’s throat. He tried to watch, but finally jerked his head away from the screen. Chyna saw the tears swimming in his eyes, and grabbed his hand and held it throughout the rest of the film. She knew he was having a hard time painfully reliving those dark times once again.

  Since Chyna had finished the book while Kirk was having his surgery done, she’d written an update, filling the studio in on what had happened during the last few weeks of his stay in the hospital which included the seduction, the thrashing of the High Coast Café, and the disappearance of Quinn.

  The studio inserted the scenes in, being sure to give the last scene the drama it deserved. It was the scene in which Kirk finally realized he was a new man. The bandages had come off, the sutures and bruising were minimal, and the young actor sat silently with his head bowed, as if in fear. Since there was no dialogue in this scene, the music told what the young man was feeling inside. It was intense at first, showing fear, but as the young actor slowly lifted his face toward the camera, the music slowly became excited, inflamed. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, the music swelled, and the audience was held spellbound as the young actor’s eyes widened, revealing surprise at his perfect face. Every eye in the house was riveted on the world of deep emotions, one after the other, that surged among the tiny blue and green flecks of his expressive eyes as he gazed at himself, not believing the miracle he saw. As if his movements were being orchestrated by the music, the young man gradually lifted his hands, and with tears swimming in his unbelieving eyes, he felt the smoothness of his perfect face. The music turned triumphant when he smiled, and those pent-up tears began to course down his cheeks. Slowly the credits began rolling and the audience was propelled to their feet, cheering through their muffled sobs. Ironically, the worst years of Kirk Grayson's life—had brought the house down.

  All at once several studio people came rushing into the booth and escorted Kirk and Chyna toward the stage. As they stood in the wings, Kirk nervously hung onto Chyna's hand.

  The announcer turned to Chyna and Kirk as his jacket was being changed, and explained the procedure. "Ms. Marsh, I'll announce you first. You know, as the author. You'll come out and say a few words, then we'll present the long-awaited, Mystery Man."

  He looked at each of them to make sure they understood. Everything seemed to be in order, so he turned and walked into the light that glittered on the shining black stage. Lifting up his arms he tried to quiet the audience while his voice echoed throughout the theater. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?" He paused, waiting for the applause to die down, then said again, "Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. We have a surprise for you tonight, and as part of that surprise we have with us the woman that is known to many of you only through her superb novels. She is also the author of the excellent film you have seen here tonight, so without further ado—" He lifted his hands out toward the wings, brought the microphone up a little closer to his mouth, and with his best announcer's voice, called out, "—here she is, Hollywood, say hello to Ms. Chyna Marsh!" With his arm still lifted, he began backing up, giving the stage over to Chyna while she walked out, her heels clicking on the wide stage.

  Chyna waved at the audience as she walked, giving the appearance of being full of confidence. The crowd cheered wildly as she took the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for your wonderful reception. And I want to thank the studio for its wonderful presentation of the film. The authentic look and feel of the film was incredible. In looking at it I actually got the feeling of being back there and living it all over again. I want to thank Tim Chase for doing such a fantastic job of portraying Kirk Grayson. And of course I want to thank all the other actors who worked very hard on this film. They all did an outstanding job, as did the lovely young actress who portrayed that outrageous novelist, Chyna Marsh.”

  The audience laughed.

  “When I began writing this book, I never expected anything like this, and I'm absolutely overwhelmed at your response. Again, let me say thank you, and assure you it's from the very depth of my heart.” With a wave and a smile, Chyna gave up the microphone to the announcer and the crowd cheered. She stepped back as the announcer began speaking again.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I spoke earlier of a surprise." He paused, letting the expectations build. There was a hush all over the theater, waiting for his next words. Then at last the smooth, booming voice roared into the microphone.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the face that Chyna Marsh brought out of the shadows, the authentic mystery man himself…Mr. Kirk Grayson!"

  Everyone stood up and cheered while looking toward the wings. Slowly from within the shadowy darkness a husky, handsome man appeared. He walked slowly toward the microphone while the crowd screamed and shouted. Camcorders rolled, cameras flashed, whistles rang out, and yells bombarded the stage. People ran out into the aisles and got up as close to the stage as they could. In a very humble and unassuming way, Kirk began speaking into the microphone with lazy, husky accents.

  "I'd just like to thank everyone for their generous applause. I'm just a little surprised though. I mean, the studio did such a good job with the film, I, along with everyone else in the theater, was just sittin' up there wonderin' how that poor guy was gonna get out of that basement." Everyone laughed, and watched, fascinated by Kirk’s good looks, and shy demeanor. “Now, just so none of you out there go off thinkin' I'm some kind of stupe that don't have a clue as to what's goin' on, let me assure you. Not for one minute did I not know that that poor guy up there was me. I lived every tortured second in that re-created darkness, only for me it was the real thing. And to be truthful, I didn't think I’d ever get out.” All at once he became serious and looked out on the audience with a solemn look on his face. "I don't know how many of you believe in God. I'm not even sure I do, or ever did, but if there is Someone up there, I do know one thing about Him." Hearing the hush of the audience hanging onto to his every word, he looked down into Chyna's tearful, but beautiful eyes and said with a deep, husky passion, "He sure as hell knows how to answer a prayer."

  Behind Chyna’s smile, she was remembering the doubts she’d had in writing Kirk’s story. In every one of her books was a handsome hero that strutted across the searing pages of her novels making wild passionate love to her heroines. But this time she’d broken the rules. She’d given her fans a scarred up monster—a hulking Frankenstein that stayed buried in the recesses of an old mansion—an ugly deformed brute that lurked mysteriously in midnight shadows—a growling, hulking beast that no woman would have chosen over Quinn. For a romance novelist like her, it was taking quite a chance, but somehow she’d done it.

  Now, as she continued gazing into the eyes that had once stared out at her from within the draping shadows of a dark basement, she parted her lips to receive his kiss.

  Okay, she thought as the applause thundered aroun
d them, maybe it’s true. Maybe I am guilty of becoming infatuated with my paper heroes just like the media says.

  But not this time.

  When she saw the way the torment in his eyes had turned to tenderness and the way his face had been miraculously transformed from a mass of puckering scars into movie idol perfection, she knew the truth—infatuation hell.

  This time—it was love.

  Epilogue

  A dark figure lay quietly recalling a fire that was rapidly enveloping a bedroom, gaining on him as he fought it. He remembered a burst of flames surging toward him, charring his face, disfiguring him forever. The pain was unbearable, and when the black smoke got into his lungs, he couldn’t breathe.

  After that—darkness.

  Later he woke up in the scorched bedroom looking around, wondering why he hadn't been burned alive by the wild fire that had raced through only minutes before. He looked around, but Chyna was gone. He ran through the mansion calling out wildly.

  "Chyna! Chyna!" His head whirled as he looked around. "Is anyone here?"

  Just then he happened to run by a mirror, glimpsed his face, and stopped abruptly. His hands flew up and touched its deformed ugliness. "My God, my face. It's been burned to a crisp! I'm a monster, a freak!" Suddenly he let out a tormented cry, ran from the mansion, and disappeared into the darkness—into hell.

  The reflection that had looked back at him was that of a perfect face, an incredibly handsome face, because there had been no fire, only the results of a small vial filled with a potion that resembled water. The old widow, in her wisdom, had given him the ability to see what was in his heart, so when he looked at himself in the mirror he didn’t see what was on the outside, he saw what was on the inside—a monster.

  * * * *

  Today, if anyone visiting the little town of Mystic Islands wanted to find an unusual tourist attraction, they would have to look no further than the sign at the beginning of a little country road that in the past year has had something added to it—

  Entrance to Cat's Paw where

  Moon Amber still stands, the

  one time home of the famous

  Mystery Man.

  The old Frankenstein mansion sits empty now, and some say it’s haunted.

  But they’re wrong.

  Down in the basement you might see dusty linens, cobwebs, and the neglected remnants of someone that used to live there—

  but no ghosts.

  You might see evidence of kids crawling in and out the basement window looking at the place where the Mystery Man used to live—

  but no ghosts.

  You might see a slice of moonlight that once framed a pair of tormented eyes—

  but no ghosts.

  The ghost is the darkly handsome Quinn Grayson who roams the streets of Mystic Islands under the cover of darkness. He forages for food, nightly. His clothes are ragged, his eyes have a lost look in them, yet beneath the bearded shadow that covers half his face, he appears extremely handsome. Once he has what he needs, he winds through the dark streets and alleyways, hurriedly retreating into his lighthouse where the mirrors are covered because of what he thinks a fire has done to his face.

  He hurriedly gulps the food down while he huddles in a corner, living his life as a Frankenstein—a beast—a monster.

  An insect that lives under the stairs.

  Then one night while Quinn was walking along the beach, he thought he heard a strange noise coming from the mansion. Like an animal he clawed his way up the incline to Cat’s Paw, then down the slope, and into the mansion.

  “Who’s here?” he called out into the eerie blackness.

  The only answer he got was the scuttle of a rat, the moan of the wind, and the creaking boards of time. Being surrounded by the familiar old mansion, ghosts from the past began to haunt him. Curious, he crept from room to room, seeing faces, hearing voices, and seeing remnants of the past that claw and twist at his insides.

  Finally finding himself in Chyna’s bedroom, he smelled the haunting fragrance of her perfume, and buried his face in her pillow. When he finally rose he caught a glimpse of his face in a mirror, and lost control. With a bellow he attacked the mirror, and pounded at his reflection. Then after feeling the pain of his cuts, he held his bleeding fists to his chest, and began sobbing like a baby. Being reminded of what he had lost, he turned abruptly, reeled, stumbled, and fell, but finally found his way out of the mansion.

  Away from the ghosts, away from the memories.

  With tears blinding his eyes, he suddenly found himself upon Cat’s Paw, the raw wind and spray of the surf buffeting him about. He stood all alone looking down at the choppy ocean, the rocks, and the pounding surf, and felt his torment tearing at his insides. All at once he began to howl out his pain, and with fists red with blood raised against the sky, he cursed the God he never believed in. The pain he felt inside slashed at him unmercifully. It ripped, and tore to such an extent that he could no longer stand it. He felt that living one more minute—even one more second—with this face was more than he could bear, so like a mad man seeking relief from his pain, he let out one last howl of anger, hurt, and torment, and hurled himself off of Cat’s Paw.

  To a suicide’s grave.

  The incident was big news around town for a while. And even though the men continue to gather daily in front of Cheney’s Market, each expressing his own opinion, they can only guess at what drove Quinn, a strong, handsome, rich young man, to leap to his death. No one knew, and after a while, no one cared.

  As time passes, the empty mansion sits molding in the moist ocean air, it’s once unspoiled white boards turning dark. The only sign of life is a lonely, howling wind that whips across the ridge and down the rise, and a cold, salty spray lending its icy fingers to forge the ridge into the eerie shape of a Cat’s Paw. But as soon as night settles, a strange light circles the restless ocean exposing the vaporous ghosts that curl playfully over the surface of the water in an ominous dance of death.

  Has the gnarled, bent up old widow returned, once again selling her spells, potions, and dreams, or has Quinn returned to keep the tower light revolving, and a single candle glowing in the window of—the lighthouse.

  THE END

  WWW.AUDREYGODWIN.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Audrey Godwin is a name that is becoming well known in the ranks of adult literature. Her writing slowly evolved from the boy meets girl scenario, to the sexy bad boys who leave a trail of erotic fire wherever they go. Her passion is the big, swarthy type of male animal. These alpha males might be vampires, werewolves or even spirit beings, but they are as sexy as hell. For the most part she writes Gothic stories richly bathed in erotica and paranormal activity. You will find the tortured hero, and a beautiful heroine going through a challenging situation filled with dark characters of all kinds. Witches, ghosts, spell-beings and shape shifters may show up at any time—or they may be the main character!

  It all started when she began reading. She read good books, bad books, so-so books, and those that had no business being published. So, deciding she could do at least as well, she put down her latest novel, and decided to write. Even though she tried to focus on her heroines, she somehow couldn’t keep from wrapping her whole story around the gorgeous guys. Finally, she gave in to it and prowled the streets of her imagination in search of her next super idea and gorgeous hunk. Somewhere along the way she was discovered on the internet by a publisher that fully embraced her style of writing with open arms, and introduced her to erotic epublishing. What came from it was a series of books that slowly became published, giving her the feeling of at last achieving her goal.

  Audrey’s had her days in the sun, when she was the life of the party, a laugh a minute kind of gal, and outrageously cool, but sadly, that’s all over now. Today she’s one of those boring x-civil service workers that has a penchant for bookstores and sappy love songs. She prefers quiet dinners with friends over maddening crowds. She loves to spend her time over a good book w
ith a bag of potato chips and a coke. However, writing a truly exciting suspense or horror novel with strong, stand-alone characters, and an exciting, anything-can-happen plotline is the biggest thrill of all. Her novels are full, rich and engaging giving you chill bumps one minute and a hot flash the next.

  Audrey Godwin’s Website

  www.myeroticplayground.com

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com