When Darkness Falls - Six Paranormal Novels in One Boxed Set

by Shalini Boland

  He swiped his bloodied hand across his chin. Droplets of blood marked the front of his white ruffled shirt. He tilted his head back and let a guttural howl burst forth from his lips. Far below, in the darkness outside, he heard others respond in like.

  It was time, he decided, as he let the limp heart fall away from his yellowy, taloned fingers. The animal’s blood drenched woolly chest was still now. Only the flickering flames from the crackling fireplace was mirrored in the black bead of the eye, relaxed now by death. A pink tongue dripping with crimson, bloodied foam hung flaccidly from its open mouth.

  Abaddon heaved himself at the massive timber doors and pushed them open wide, startling the two guards standing rigidly at the doorway, outside. He saw no reason to delay any longer. It had been centuries since he had left the Realm.

  Pandora sashayed up the arched hall toward him, she was eager to resume their earlier encounter, before Theria’s unexpected interruption.

  “Abaddon I-” she began, eyeing the bloodied fabric sticking to his chest.

  “Not now,” he said, cutting her off and walking past her without concern, his actions solely driven by his unyielding desire for human blood, and of course, the incredible high attained from the mortal soul. The blood of the beast had only quickened his craving for more.

  “Then I will,” Pandora continued.

  “Go find someone else to entertain you,” Abaddon replied, irritated by the conversation. “I am sure there is somebody else floating around here somewhere that will pander to your incessant needs. Your husband perhaps? That would be a change now, wouldn’t it,” he smiled, amused by his words. Then he began chanting as he strode away. “My dear beloved Father, which art now in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Yes, on earth indeed,” he chuckled. “For ever and ever…” Then Abaddon descended the curving staircase, five stairs at a time, until he reached the bottom, only seconds later.

  Pandora turned away and snorted, “Idiot...” She walked swiftly toward the two men standing on either side of the massive doors and stood for a moment to appraise them. To the larger, taller man, she said, “Come, I have something for you to do.” She ran his twisted beard across the palm of her hand, rolling the beads between her fingers, then she tightened her grip on the man’s long black braid and led him away.

  Paradox—Progeny Of Innocence. Book Two in the Paradox Series.

  Chapters from Book One that were inspired by and based on actual events in history:

  Chapter 3 Hallelujah—7.6 magnitude earthquake hits El Salvador in 2001

  Death Toll –944 Souls

  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2001_El_Salvador_earthquakes

  Chapter 8 Kali & Bonga—Bengal Famine 1769

  Death Toll –10 million Souls

  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bengal_famine_of_1770

  Chapter 16 Boxing Day—Boxing Day Tsunami 2004

  Death toll—230,210+ Souls

  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2004_Indian_Ocean_earthquake_and_tsunami

  Chapter 17 Hells Bells Toll For Thee—Great Lisbon Earthquake of 1755

  Death toll—Between 10,000 and 100,000 Souls

  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1755_Lisbon_earthquake

  R.I.P

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Rory Tacchi—for breaking my heart and shoving me back on the right track. Because of you, I wrote this book and I thank you—now—from the bottom of my heart! Every cloud has a silver lining.

  I see ye visibly, and now believe

  That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill

  Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,

  Would send a glistering guardian, if need were

  To keep my life and honor unassailed.

  Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud

  Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

  John Milton's Comus (1634)

  Special Friends

  Unwavering gratitude to all my fabulous friends who have spent hours upon hours listening to me (whether they wanted to or not) tell endless stories about my fantasy family. Juliette, Grace and a world packed with an assortment of magical and mystical creatures. You all know who you all are, and I thank you: Trisha Dowling, Trish Thomson, Debstar Bassett, Alex Thomson, and John Oxton.

  I would like to say a very special thanks to Tracey (Sister of the heart) and Michael (Mcgoo) who sat with me around the patio table discussing words, storylines, pizza, tequila shots and the dwindling number of bees on planet earth.

  Angela for purchasing my very first eBook. I would love to meet you one day and personally say thank you.

  My sister, Sue McGuinness (I owe you big-time) for all your re-reads. Your ongoing encouragement and for loving the story—and me!

  My sister, Fay Maddison. Thank you for your words of support from across the vast ocean that separates.

  To all my online Goodreads friends. Especially fellow YA Author Jayde Scott. I am grateful for your lovely words and support. Thank You.

  Natalie Hillier—for loving the book.

  Ella Medler for your wisdom and advice on the written word.

  A particular thank you goes to those of you who have bought the book. I hope you enjoyed reading Paradox—The Angels Are Here as much as I have writing it.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PATTI ROBERTS was born in Brisbane, Australia but soon moved to Darwin in the Northern Territory. Her son, Luke, was born in 1980. She currently lives in Cairns, Queensland where she is writing the Paradox Series of books. Paradox—The Angels Are Here is the first in the series and was first published as an indie eBook on Smashwords in 2010 and Amazon in 2011.

  Contact Patti Roberts

  Email—http://paradox-theangelsarehere.blogspot.com/p/contact-me.html

  Blog: http://theangelsarehere.wordpress.com/

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/PattiRoberts7

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/profile.php?id=535092981

  To the reader.

  Find your silver lining. I did!

  RAVEN

  SUZY TURNER

  Published by Suzy Turner

  Copyright 2011 Suzy Turner

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For more information about the author and her upcoming books, please visit her website

  www.suzyturner.com

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A huge thank you to Cristina Alcock, Gill Ibrahim, Elizabeth Martens, Emma Naylor & Eloise Walton. I don't know where I would be without your excellent suggestions, editing and proofreading skills. You're all absolute angels!

  Michael, thank you for believing in me, even when I doubted myself (which was more often than I care to admit). You're my rock.

  And lastly, thank you to all my lovely followers, fellow bloggers, writers, twitterers and facebook friends for just being there when I needed advice or a little pick me up. It's wonderful to have friends like you behind me.

  Mum... you may have been gone from our lives for many years, but you will never be forgotten. This book is for you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The summer months were coming to an end when my parents disappeared. Although the day had begun like any other, it became one that I would never forget.

  That morning, as usual, I sat at the kitchen table listening to the noises drifting up from outside - traffic, police sirens, people laughing and shouting - while I struggled to swallow the piece of dry bread that was shoved in front of me. “Eat,” commanded my mother.

  A small glass of milk just about helped it go down before she snatched the plastic tumbler from my hands, pulled me to my feet and shoved me out of the front door of our London flat without another word. Turning around to search her eyes, I attempted a smile in the hope that she might return it. But the door was shut in my face. A deep ache filled my stomach. I needed something that I had neve
r experienced. I needed to know that she loved me.

  Leaning against the door, I heard the familiar sound of her footsteps walking into the other room. She closed the door and locked it behind her. My mother and father had locked themselves in the spare room once again, just like they had done every day for as long as I could remember. I had always assumed they worked from home. I've no idea what they did, they never told me. I never asked. I wasn't allowed to ask questions.

  Running down the four flights of stairs, I pushed open the large heavy door that led outside. The noises multiplied and hit me, as did the dull smog and the intense London humidity that seemed to accompany every hot summer. As my feet touched the edge of the pavement, I stopped for a moment to allow a few cars to pass by before rushing across the road to school. I had to be quick. She was watching, she was always watching. My mother would peer down, staring blankly at me from the fourth floor window of the room she and my father spent their days. It was as if she was making sure I was actually going to school. Like I would dare do anything else. She never smiled. She never waved. She just stared. Sometimes it was almost as if she was looking right through me.

  Returning home at lunchtime, as I was forced to do every day, she was there at that window staring at me again, as if her stare would physically guarantee that I came home. She had done it every day since I'd started school so it was normal to me.

  I unlocked the front door with my key and gingerly tiptoed into the kitchen where I found her waiting for me.

  “Eat and get back to school,” she said with a glare as I perched myself onto the old metal stool and began spooning the cold soup into my mouth. It was the same cold soup I'd eaten every day. It would have been nice to have something else, a different flavour, perhaps, but I would never have asked. Oh no. I'd experienced my mother's anger one too many times before. It's not that she had ever hit me, but I knew. I just knew that she wanted to, so I avoided making her mad at all costs.

  It was my belief that my mother's actions were the same as all other mothers. I imagined that she did what most mothers did. I didn't know any different. At least not until I met the newest girl at school, December Moon. When she had first arrived at the school, the other kids had sniggered and laughed when she had been introduced. Even I had thought it was a silly name to start with, but as soon as she spoke to me, I knew it was perfect.

  After her introduction to the class, the only spare seat available was next to mine. As my fellow students were in the habit of ignoring me, I was a little startled to have this pale but pretty flame-haired girl smile at me as she approached and sat down. I shyly returned the smile as she quietly took out her books and a pencil case from the orange rucksack she had carried on her back. Her clothes were multi-coloured and flowing – a long heavy purple flowery skirt was paired with an orange and pink striped top, and brown boots. A brown headband held back her straight shoulder length hair and when she turned I noticed it had a pink flower sewn onto it. Ordinarily, the colours wouldn't work together but on December, they just seemed to fit... perfectly.

  When the attention was no longer on her, December turned to me and whispered “hello”. She smiled again and her whole face changed. It lit up.

  It didn't take long for December and I to become best friends. We were both shy and quiet and were mostly ignored by everybody else. It made sense that we should spend school time together. More than anything though, I wanted to be friends out of school hours. My mother, however, had always made it quite clear that friends of any kind were strictly forbidden. Fortunately, she couldn't see past the school gates, so December always waited for me inside, out of mother's view. She was my secret.

  December and I had spent many a break time chatting about each other's lives. She was an avid reader of all kinds of books, even magazines. In fact reading was pretty much all she did when she was at home. I was in awe of her and I knew then that she must know a lot more about other people's lives than I did. That was how I learned than my parent's actions were not entirely normal. Her own parents, however, could not be described as 'normal' either.

  “My father died when I was three,” she had told me soon after we'd met. “He was a very old man and I was very young so I don't remember him.”

  The edges of my mouth turned downwards as the heavy feeling of sadness took effect. “And what about your mother, December? Where is she?”

  “She dumped me with my father's family shortly after he died and moved back to America on her own. She was from Seattle, Washington, apparently.” Her response was so matter-of-fact that I didn't quite know what to say, other than “Oh.”

  “Basically, my Aunt Penelope – that's my father's younger sister who I live with – tells me that my mother married my father for his money but when he died, leaving her with nothing, she dumped me with her and took off.” The lack of emotion on December's face clearly demonstrated a lack of feeling about the whole situation.

  “Aunt Penelope basically makes sure I am fed, schooled and clothed. Other than that, we don't have much time for each other.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But that's fine with me. She doesn't like to be seen with me, especially when her super rich friends are around. Being my mother's daughter lowers the tone of her family... I even heard her say that to Monty once. Oh, Monty's our butler, chauffeur and sometimes gardener,” she shrugged again and that's when I saw a glimmer of something in her eyes. She wasn't quite so emotionless about it all after all.

  Having never known anyone rich before... and with a butler too, I thought it was quite odd for her to be a student in the same school as me. “December?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why doesn't your Aunt Penelope send you to a posh school?”

  “Like I said, she'd rather I didn't exist so she'd rather keep me farther from her friends as possible.”

  “That makes sense, I guess. In which case, I'm glad! I would never have met you otherwise! So do you not know anything about your mother?” I asked, intrigued.

  December shook her head, “Nope. Nothing.”

  The sound of the school bell put an end to our conversation and December didn't mention her mother or her father to me again for a very long time.

  Discreetly waving goodbye to her on that fateful day, I knew there was something wrong the moment I stepped foot out of the school grounds. Looking up to the window expecting to see mother, a vision in white as usual, there was no sign of her. Having never happened before, my heart began to thud faster in my chest as I ran as fast as I could up the stairs two at a time. I grappled with the key and pushed open the front door. She was nowhere to be seen. Neither was my father.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The spare room was locked as it always was, and no matter how hard I banged my fists on that door, there was no reply. I stopped and put my ear carefully against the solid wood to check for any sounds but there was nothing. Just silence. Trying to kick the door down, I didn't even leave a single mark. I was just a slight girl with little strength, after all.

  It was then that our neighbours, Dorothy and June, came rushing in after hearing me banging against the door.

  “Oh my dear, my dear! Whatever is the matter? What is all this banging about?” yelled one of the sisters as they tried to calm me down.

  “It's mother,” I said, “she's... she's disappeared. She's always here. I don't know what's happening. There's no answer at the door. Something's wrong,” I sobbed.

  Just at that moment, the sisters' black cat wandered in behind them. It immediately began purring at my feet and rubbed itself against my legs. It had never set foot in our apartment before and it was strange that it did so then, when my mother and father appeared to be missing.

  It jumped up so that it balanced on its hind legs and leaned against me. I momentarily forgot all about the commotion that I had caused and leaned forward to pick it up, cuddling it while it continued to purr. “That's strange,” said June, “she's usually terrified of people.” The cat was clearly not terrified of me. It was the f
irst time I had ever stroked an animal and I felt a strange affinity with it. It was a wonderful feeling as it rubbed its head against my neck. Looking into her deep, warm eyes, for a moment I felt a strange sensation within me. It felt as though I was being loved. I didn't want to lose the feeling so I sat down on the floor and stroked her soft fur, smiling.

  “I'm going to call the police,” one of the sisters said as the other tried to coax me off the floor. I didn't feel myself, for some reason. An odd trance-like state came over me.

  “Come now, dear. Come and sit on the sofa. You'll catch your death on those cold floor tiles.”