When Darkness Falls - Six Paranormal Novels in One Boxed Set

by Shalini Boland

  And that’s when I know telling Neil was the right thing to do. Lacey’s features soften, become peaceful. We’ve no way of knowing if Neil is right, but it’s what Lacey needed to hear right now, and what I couldn’t put into words. He’s done my job for me, and he’s done it better than I ever could have.

  “So, what’s next?” I say. “We’ve got a bat-shit crazy ghost coming after me. We need to make a plan, figure out what we’re going to do.”

  Neil opens then closes his mouth. Eventually, he lifts a finger in the air. “I have an idea. Let’s go get some hot chocolate.”

  *

  Logic is fun. Logic helps you learn. But in this case, logic tells me Seth could be a murderer, and that we don’t know how to deal with Amy.

  The facts: Amy was killed five years ago and her murderer was never found. A dog walker discovered her body on the moors. The killer hadn’t even tried to cover her up. She was the only young girl killed; there were no more murders after Amy’s death. Since her death, mysterious accidents have claimed the lives of men, varying in age from ten years old to those in their sixties. Amy is able to lift, push, hurl, squeeze, write, slither, and float. Lacey can hurt her. She can hurt Lacey. Lightning seems to at least startle her. Also, Seth and Amy have history.

  “Maybe that’s the key,” Neil suggests. “Maybe we need another jolt of electricity to get rid of her for good.”

  “But how are we going to hit her with electricity stronger than lightning?” I say. “Ooh! What are those power packs called in Ghostbusters? We need one of those.”

  Neil almost snorts out his hot chocolate.

  “No,” Lacey says. I relay everything she says to Neil. He can’t see her in the café, because then everyone would be able to see her. “Electricity makes me feel more alive. I don’t think that’s it. There has to be an alternative, an incantation, a spell or whatever, that will send her away.”

  “What we need, is a ghost expert,” Neil says.

  “Like Igor, the guy from the ghost tours,” I suggest.

  Neil’s eyes widen in excitement. “Exactly!” He waggles his eyebrows mysteriously. Then he checks his phone. “Shit, I’m meant to be meeting Lemarr for lunch. Can we meet up after? Like two-ish?”

  “All right. Ask around your crew, see if anyone knows more about Igor,” I say.

  “It could be worth a shot,” Neil replies.

  I turn to Lacey. “Yeah, why not.”

  A weight lifts from my shoulders. Maybe Mum was right. I do need friends. Having Neil around feels like my problems are halved. His knowing about Lacey makes everything so much easier.

  We take a leisurely stroll back to Five Moors. Someone has kindly removed the bloody graffiti from the sign, but my eyes linger there anyway. The sun never made it out of the mist and turned into an overcast day instead—one that feels like another thunderstorm lurks in the bellies of the clouds overhead. There’s a grey tinge to the world, an oppressive heat, and a pressure that builds up in your sinuses.

  “No way,” Lacey says. She sees him first, sat on the same picnic bench as before, not reading this time, but staring at the moors instead. “I’ll deck him.”

  “Is that Seth?” Neil asks. “Do not talk to him without me here. I’m staying with you.” He straightens up, stretching himself to full height. He swallows. “He looks kinda… muscular. Reckon I could take him? You know… if I have to do a citizen’s arrest?”

  “You could take him,” Lacey says, even though he can’t hear her.

  I ignore the both of them and walk straight up to him.

  His eyes widen when he sees my expression. He raises his hands as though in submission. “I have some explaining to do.”

  “Damn right you do.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So, you can see ghosts?” he says.

  “Did you kill her?” I blurt out.

  “Who?” He stares at me like I’m mad.

  “Who do you think? Amy—the twelve year old ghost who almost strangled me to death.”

  Neil stands behind me with his arms folded, his watchful eyes at my back.

  “What the… No! What? How could you?” he shakes his head in disbelief. Then he lowers his voice to a rasping whisper. “I was fifteen years old when Amy Willis went missing. She went to my school. She played with my little cousins. I did not kill her.” He swallows.

  “Then explain to me why Amy turned to you. Explain how you knew her, why you said she was coming for you. Explain that, if you didn’t kill her,” I say.

  “You tell him, Mares.” Lacey rubs my shoulder with hers, sending an electric charge through my body.

  He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s difficult. It’s… It’s not a memory I want to relive.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, pulling on the ends. He’s trembling, I realise.

  “You have to,” I say. “Or I’ll arrest you myself.”

  When he speaks, it’s like a dying breath, a croak. “I saw it. I saw him do it and I didn’t stop him…”

  I’m half aware of Neil behind me. The air seems to thicken and darken, as though trying to clot. Seth’s eyes are almost closed, his hands are clamped around the edge of the picnic bench. Every part of his body is rigid with fear or frustration. He’s paler than usual, and his breath sounds laboured.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “I was there,” he says again. His eyes open half-way and meet mine. “But I didn’t kill her.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “Because… ” His nails grip into the wood of the picnic bench. He rocks forward and then back while staring at his shoes. Then he takes a deep breath and looks up to me, those brazil-nut eyes finding mine. “I look a lot like my father.”

  “Eh?” Lacey says. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “He’s crazy,” Neil adds. “We should keep away from him.”

  “No,” I say. “No… You mean… It was your father?”

  A mist of tears cloud over Seth’s eyes. He blinks them away. “I saw him. He cut her.” His jaw clenches and he turns away. “I look like him. Amy is coming for me.”

  “Why hasn’t she already killed you? She’s killed so many before,” I ask.

  “I… I think she’s waiting.”

  “What for?”

  “Look, this is going to sound a bit crazy,” he says.

  “Everything sounds pretty crazy right now,” I reply.

  “A couple of years ago, when I was right out of school, I started working on a carnival over in Thirsk. A couple of us had this dare going on. It was stupid fun, you know, we were having a laugh. We had to go visit this psychic. She was total bullshit. She had the whole shebang going on, the tent, the crystal ball, the gypsy outfit… everything. When my mates went in, it was all the usual crap, you know, like ‘I see romance in your future’, ‘you are hiding a secret’, ‘there’s a career out there for you’, that kind of thing. Then I go in. At first it’s the same. She said I’d meet a nice girl, that I would experience heartbreak, and that I had some great task to complete, or some bull like that. Then she touched her crystal ball, her head snapped back, and her voice changed. It was like some demon was talking through her. Her eyes went black as night. I still see it all in my nightmares, I hear the voice, see the eyes. She said that I would die on my twenty-first birthday, that I would pay for the crime I ignored, that I have the eyes of a murderer.” He sighs. “My father’s eyes.”

  “Whoa,” Neil breathes. I’d forgotten he was there.

  “Yeah, man. Whoa indeed. Who the hell are you, anyway?” Seth asks.

  “Neil,” he replies. “Mary’s friend, and the guy who will take you out if you hurt her.”

  I turn back and raise my eyebrows. Neil shrugs his shoulders and grins. Who knew he had it in him? Probably not even Neil.

  Then Neil says, “But, honey, I really have to go meet my boyfriend. Are you okay with Lacey?” and the moment passes.

  I face Seth. “Just a second
.” Then pull Neil away. “Do you believe him?”

  “I didn’t think I would,” Neil admits. “But it’s so crazy it has to be true.”

  Lacey shrugs. “I’m not convinced.”

  “Holler if you need me,” Neil says. “I’m staying close, okay?”

  I nod. Then I move back to the picnic bench and sit opposite Seth. There’s an electric crackle as Lacey takes her place next to me.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll throw a stone at his head if he tries anything.”

  “Who’s Lacey?” Seth asks.

  “She’s my dead best friend.”

  “The one who attacked Amy?” he says.

  I nod.

  “Wow, your life is as messed up as mine.” His eyes pull me in. His smile puts me at ease. I want to believe him so badly. I want to believe he’s good.

  “I know,” I say coolly. “Carry on with your story. Tell me everything.”

  “All right,” he says. “I first saw Amy’s ghost a few months ago, at the fair. I was working the waltzers. I looked up at the woods by the fairground and there she was, standing at the entrance, staring at me. I thought I was seeing things. I thought I was going crazy. Then, on my walks home, sometimes I heard these noises, these footsteps behind me. But whenever I turned, she was gone. It carried on for weeks. I thought I was going insane.”

  “Why hasn’t she acted?” I ponder.

  “She did the night of the fair, when she saw us together.” He pauses and swallows again. “I… I’ve never been on… dates. I mean, I’ve been… I’ve met girls in bars before, but I’ve never taken them anywhere public like that. Not until you came along.” His grin warms me from toes to fingertips. I mentally keep myself in check. I don’t know if I can trust him yet. “I guess seeing me with a girl tipped her over the edge, made her want to attack. Then Damo got in the way…”

  “So much death,” I whisper. “She’s so angry.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Seth says. “What I saw that night… I’ll take it with me to my grave. It’s with me every day. Every day. She is with me every day. We’re connected—like rope on an anchor—and we will be forever.” He shrugs.

  “What happened to your father?” The wind whips my hair. I pull it back over my neck, covering the scars from the fire. He’s probably already seen them, but I do it anyway.

  “He’s dead. I didn’t lie about that. He died when I was sixteen.”

  “How did he die?” Lacey says.

  I repeat her question to Seth.

  “A car accident,” he says.

  “Only a year after Amy died,” Lacey says. “She might not have been strong enough to kill him. It’s taken me months to lift a stone.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I say.

  “Right about what?” Seth asks.

  I explain. Then I say, “How did you live with him, knowing what you did?”

  Seth rubs the stubble on his chin. “It was my birthday, the night she died. My parents threw a party for me in the village hall. Amy was there with my cousins, messing around and playing games. It’s different here, in the countryside. We do things as a community. We invite everyone who lives around us. But I was being a dick that night. I hated that Mum and Dad had invited the whole village. I hated all the kids running around at my party. In my head I was old enough to be chugging back beers and smoking spliffs. So a group of us went out walking with a bottle of vodka and a couple of joints. It got late. The others went home. I was wasted. We all were. I don’t know how, but I ended up wandering towards the campsite. It was on my way that I saw him. I saw him with her. They were walking hand in hand, like… I dunno. It was weird. I don’t know why I didn’t speak up. I guess I wasn’t in my right mind. I wasn’t even sure if what I was seeing was real and I didn’t want to get into trouble for being high. But still, I couldn’t figure out why Dad was with Amy, you know? I guess he could’ve been taking her home, but then… why?

  “So I followed them. I followed them all the way down to the moors. I stood there, frozen, as he killed her. He was like a wild animal; a beast form of my dad… some hideous werewolf version of him. I dunno...”

  His voice softens to almost a whisper. “I wish he had turned into a werewolf. It would have made it easier to stomach.” A pause. A beat. Then he continues. “I ran. I went home, I slammed the door to my bedroom. I lay down. I passed out.” His voice quietens even further. “And I forgot.”

  “What?” Lacey and I say it at the same time.

  “My mind, it… changed. As I slept, my brain worked everything out for me. It tried to fix me, and by trying to fix me, it messed everything up even worse. Whenever I think back to the morning after, it’s like a cereal advert of family happiness. Mum made us a fry up. Dad winked at me across the table, knowing I had a hangover, and confessed that he had one as well. Mum said something about how Dad went out drinking with his old pals. And as it all went on, I never remembered, not once. Not even after they found the body, not even when I was questioned by the police.”

  “Were you a suspect?” I ask. “You were alone at the time of the murder.”

  He nods. “They took my fingerprints and DNA, but it was too confusing because of the party. She’d been interacting with too many people to draw any conclusions. They took Dad’s, as well. I guess he was careful. Smart. A real psychopath.”

  “How did he get away with it?” I whisper.

  “Ask him when he remembered,” Lacey says.

  I relay the question.

  “Dad’s funeral. It hit me like a truck. One minute I’m tossing dirt on his coffin, the next he’s standing over Amy Willis, his face lit by the moon, a monster of a man. I spent the entire funeral having flashbacks, my mind a complete mess. I couldn’t believe it. I thought there was something wrong with me, that I was ruining the memory of my dad by making this shit up.” He shakes his head. His hands tremble.

  “Did you tell your mum?” I ask.

  “Never,” he says. “I’ve never said it aloud before.”

  “You should have,” I say. “You should have gone to the police.”

  “I didn’t think it would matter, what with him being dead. My mum… she doesn’t deserve to know what he did.” There’s a twitch along his jawline that makes me wonder if he is holding back information.

  “How do you know she never knew?” I say.

  “She doesn’t know,” he says firmly. “I’m sure of it. I’m positive.”

  “You never thought your dad was a murderer, remember?” I say.

  He rakes his fingers through his hair and then rubs the stubble on his chin. His face, his shoulders, they are tense. His eyes are drawn, haunted. “I know.”

  “How did his dad get an alibi?” Lacey asks.

  “His mates covered for him,” Seth answers, after I’ve repeated the question. “A couple of years ago, after I’d pieced together the mess that was my head, I asked one of dad’s old friends about the night Amy died. He told me that Dad had gone to him, told him he’d cheated on Mum and that he couldn’t tell her. My dad’s friend took pity on him and gave him an alibi so that Dad didn’t have to admit anything to the police. I could have punched him. But I really wanted to go back to me on that night, and save Amy.”

  It’s then that his expression breaks through my reserve. I can’t help it, I reach forward and I take his hand in mine. I run my thumb along his knuckle. There’s the smell of rain in the air, lingering in low misty clouds. It takes me back to those moments on the moor, when our lips brushed together. For an instant, the world melts away, and a hot desire builds from my gut.

  “Mary,” Lacey warns. “He could be lying. Don’t get too close to him.”

  At first I think she means physically. But then I realise that she means to protect my heart.

  “One child died,” I say, half to Lacey, half to myself. “If Seth did it, there would be more dead children.”

  “Lacey doesn’t believe me,” Seth says. “I don’t blame her. It’s a crazy story.
But it’s the truth. I swear.”

  “I think if your dad had survived that car accident, there would have been more murders. When someone kills a child, like Amy, they don’t do it for motive, they do it for…” I shudder, “pleasure. It means they’d do it again.”

  Seth nods along with me. “I think you’re right. I’ve thought about it again and again, over the last four years. Dad had two faces. My dad, and a psychotic killer. The problem is, I share his face, I have his eyes, and I’m the only way she can get revenge.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  On a rusty swing in the campsite park, I sit and push myself back and forth. Lacey sits atop the frame, cross-legged, like a yoga trained ninja.

  The air is thick with rain that hasn’t fallen. Each time I swing forward, my eyelids are covered with the mist from the low fog. And when I swing back, the wind sucks my hair forward, blocking my view of the moors and the woods. The same moors where Seth’s father killed Amy.

  “I believe him,” I say.

  “I know,” Lacey replies. “I want to believe him, too.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “Even if his father did it, that doesn’t mean he can’t still be psychotic. What if it runs in the family? What if he learned to be violent from his father?”

  “There are so many what-ifs,” I say, “that I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “You should eat,” Lacey says. “That’s one thing I know.”

  “How are we going to stop Amy killing Seth?” I say. I plant my feet on the ground and stop myself swinging any further.

  Of all the questions buzzing around my head, this is by far the loudest. And it’s messed up, because I should be thinking about how to stop Amy altogether, how to send her to whatever hell dimension or eternal plane of peace she should go to, but all I can think about is how I want Seth to survive.

  I put my hand in my pocket and thumb my phone. When he left Five Moors, he finally gave me his number, and even his home address. Then he smiled and left with his head hung low, kicking the occasional stone from his path. I think of fifteen year old Seth, wandering onto the moors, watching his father commit the worst act in the world. I want that image out of my head. I want it to have never existed, to never have happened.