by Holley Trent
Everything happened for a reason. These dogs, coming from that house, now being in her office, had business opportunity written all over it. Maybe the old, rich guy who owned the place would be so thankful to see his dogs returned safely, he’d admit he couldn’t keep up with the house anymore, and he’d agree to let Nel be the listing agent. She smiled as she slid behind the wheel of her car with the dogs safely in the backseat.
One of these days, Nel Parker was going to look back on this moment and remember it as the moment when everything changed.
• • •
Elevator music on the other end of the cell phone threatened to drive Grey insane. If his teeth weren’t being ground to bits out of frustration, they’d be chattering, shaking along with the rest of his chilled body. How hard was it to get a boiler fixed in the dead of winter?
“We can have the technician there tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
Apparently pretty damn hard.
“That’s the best you can do?” Grey growled.
“I’m afraid so, sir. Looking at past maintenance records I can tell you … that particular boiler is a special case.”
Of course it was, because Grey’s father never did anything reasonable.
With a grunt of concession he ended the call, sliding the cell phone across the marble counter, careful not to touch the ice-cold stone and add to his misery. He knew returning this house to some semblance of glory was going to be backbreaking work, but he never expected to freeze to death before he drove a single nail.
Scrubbing his palms together, Grey tried to generate some heat; thankful for the beard he left growing long after the Argonauts were eliminated from the postseason. Anonymity was the initial reason for the thick black facial hair, but now there was a practical purpose for not packing a razor or shaving cream. He needed warmth, but he needed more than the beard and the six-burner gas stove were supplying.
A limestone fireplace loomed over the great room, offering an easy solution now that the boiler wasn’t going to be fixed until tomorrow. Grey didn’t like the idea of using a fireplace that hadn’t been serviced in God-only-knew how long, but he’d have to take his chances.
First things first. He grabbed a yellowed, brittle newspaper off the pile he had collected from the front stoop. With a twist, the paper turned into a makeshift torch, and he lit it with the blue gas flame. After turning off the stove, he carried the burning paper into the great room, where he ducked his head beneath the massive limestone blocks and reached an arm into the flue. He hoped the draft would carry the smoke from the paper up the chimney, and out of the house. That was the sign he was waiting for as he hunched over, holding his breath.
For once, since he arrived at this empty, sorry house, something miraculously went his way. The smoke curled in ribbons up the chimney and Grey dropped the newspaper to the firebox floor. Now, all he needed was some wood; and from the looks of the overgrown grounds surrounding the house, he wouldn’t have a problem finding it.
Making his way through the cavernous, sparsely decorated icebox, he made another trip to the basement; this time ignoring the mammoth boiler and heading for the dingy workroom, where he noticed an axe propped against the cement block wall. Trudging back up the stairs and through the house with axe in tow, his anger grew until the combination of movement and emotion had him breaking into a sweat. Fuck you, Dad, he thought for about the millionth time since the bastard ran off to Bermuda — taking Grey’s longtime girlfriend along for the ride.
He gripped the axe so hard his knuckles screamed with pain, and for a moment he thought about taking a swing at the ornate trim lining the backdoor. Fortunately for his already-lengthy to-do list, the axe stayed at his side, and his anger peaked. It didn’t pass so much as it returned to whatever dark hole Grey stashed it in; leaving him with labored breath and a clenched jaw.
At least he wasn’t cold anymore.
Outside in the wind, he made his way through a crunching layer of frozen grass and leaves, to the back of the property where an empty dog run formed a visible boundary between this property and the sloping hillside beyond. He didn’t know what happened to the dogs. The lawyer for the estate made no mention of them, so Grey figured his dad had given them away. Then again, maybe he took them to Bermuda. Maybe they were on the plane when it went down — just like Dad and Lindsay.
Grey flinched. He cared more about losing those dogs than he did about losing his father and the woman he had expected to someday marry. With both hands wrapped around the grip of the axe, Grey swung hard at one of the brittle tree trunks littering the frozen ground, feeling the burn in his shoulder and the vibration clear up to his elbows. He stood there, axe lodged in wood, wondering how he got from centerfield in Nashville’s brand-new ballpark, to the backyard of a house he didn’t want to own. And once again, he was reminded of how his father fucked up everyone’s lives.
Yeah? Well, this was where the chain stopped.
Swinging the axe again, noticing less of a protest from his body, Grey reminded himself the house was key to repairing some of the damage his father had caused. All he had to do was fix it up and sell it off, for as close to a million dollars as possible. He swung the axe again, praying to God he could manage the miracle before he needed to report for spring training in a little more than two months. Two months. He squeezed his eyes shut as he swung the axe again.
He was crazy. Anyone who discovered what he was doing would agree. This wasn’t a job for one man, and yet Grey couldn’t figure out how to let anyone else in; how to trust them enough to relinquish the tiniest bit of control. There was too much at stake. He needed to limit the amount of money spent on the renovations, maximize the return on his investment, and sweat out the anger he felt toward his father — and the guilt he felt for not being man enough to stand up to him.
Maybe the daunting task was some sort of self-imposed punishment. After what Grey had done, turning his back on his brother’s professional advice and personal support in order to maintain a half-assed relationship with the world’s worst dad? This wasn’t nearly as harsh of a punishment as he deserved.
Two shrill barks ripped through the frosty silence, and before Grey could turn around he was hit from behind.
“Holy shit.” He dropped the axe to rough the dogs behind the ears. “Where’d you come from?”
“They were in my garbage.”
She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, standing at the top of the cement walk that led from the front of the house to the back patio. She was dwarfed by the iron gazebo trellises to her left, but there was something formidable about her. Maybe it was the fact that she stood strong despite being sorely underdressed for the current weather conditions. Dressed in nothing but a navy blue pantsuit with her blonde curls whipping around her wind-reddened, heart-shaped face, she was the last sort of thing he expected to see in his father’s backyard.
Grey opened his mouth to speak or breathe, but the cold air tightened his throat and chest.
The dogs ran back to her.
“I’m sorry. They belong here, don’t they? The county gave me the address based on their license numbers.” She bent forward, wrapping each hand around a dog’s neck. She looked even smaller in their presence.
Grey blinked, swallowed, and nodded his head; hoping to generate some meaningful thoughts and words to counteract the surprise of seeing the dogs and her … whoever she was. “They belong here.”
“Good.” She smiled. “I’m sure they’re happy to be home. It looks like they’ve been lost for a while.” She patted their thin sides, and anger pinched in his chest. Once again his father’s propensity for living a disposable life had hurt more than him.
“Yeah, I … ” Grey walked toward her, not knowing what to say exactly, but not wanting to seem rude after she brought the dogs home. He stopped, wondering how close was too
close; close enough to be recognized. “I don’t know how long they’ve been gone. I just got here myself.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. Her forehead crinkled and her eyebrows bunched. But when she wound her arms around her body, he figured the cold had finally caught up with her. “You don’t live here?”
“No.” He was uncomfortable with questions, so he clapped his hands and gestured for the dogs, hoping without them, she’d feel inclined to leave.
“I’m sorry to bother you. Is the homeowner inside? I can knock and let him know I’ve returned the dogs.”
“I’ll take it from here.” Maybe she was sincere, but it felt like she was digging. Then again, Grey suspected everyone of having an ulterior motive. He’d never been proven wrong. Dressed in a suit like that, she was either an overly nosey neighbor on her lunch break or someone with a business interest in the estate.
Grey didn’t want to deal with either.
She hesitated, tightening her arms around her chest, looking over her shoulder at the house, and then back at him. “Are they renovating?”
Clear blue eyes widened and the corner of her lips hitched, like his answer was something she highly anticipated. If he weren’t such a miserable bastard, he would’ve smiled at her enthusiasm — if only because she was so damn pretty.
“I parked behind the dumpster,” she continued. “Dumpsters usually signify a reno.” She pushed a clump of golden curls off her face and treated him to a blinding smile. “My name’s Nel Parker. You may have heard of me or my agency, Parker Properties. I’m a real estate agent, and houses are my passion. I’d love to see what’s going on inside … I’ve admired this property for years.”
Yeah, she was pretty, but she was pushy, too.
Grey watched the dogs tear up the hill to the dog run. “Maybe another time. I need to get them taken care of.”
“Oh. Of course, I’ll just leave you with my card, and you can have the owner get in touch with me at his convenience.”
Don’t hold your breath, Grey thought as he extended an arm and accepted her card in his hand. Her fingernails brushed the skin he could’ve sworn was frozen and beyond capable of feeling anything but the pain of frostbite. Instead, the light touch thawed him, and he wrapped warm fingers around the card, squeezing until the card creased; feeling unnerved by his reaction to a perfect stranger.
“Have a good day.” She looked around him up the hill to the romping dogs. “Be good boys; stay put.” She laughed at herself, and a gust of icy wind lifted her hair, tossing it forward, framing her face like a golden headdress.
Damn. Grey watched her turn and walk away. With her shoulders back, hips swinging and hair whipping out of control, she was like nothing he’d ever seen. Too pretty and too tiny to be taken seriously, and yet he had the feeling she wasn’t someone to mess with.
So why was the idea of messing with her so appealing?
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SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT FROM Redeeming the Night by Kristine Overbrook
Smoke rose from torches around the chamber and snaked up the stone walls. The dark cloud pooled against the ceiling before it slipped through the vents. In the flickering light Ashley could easily make out the robed features of the sisterhood, somber in preparation for the coming ritual. The women had welcomed her, supported her, and had given her purpose during the worst part of her life. She owed them everything.
That was forty years ago. So long? Decades passed easily in the sisterhood. Those who wore the black onyx band of membership didn’t age. As the Mother had slipped the band on Ashley’s finger all those years ago she’d said she only welcomed the worthy. Even now, Ashley thanked the gods she had been chosen.
Ashley and the other women began to sway. The ritual had begun. Gold embroidery around the hems of their maroon, satin robes glinted in the torchlight. The Mother stood at the center of the chamber, flanked by two women. Thirteen others, including Ashley, formed a circle around them. Their murmuring chant echoed off the stone, the reverberation adding a deep, harmonious counterpoint, as if the chamber chanted with them.
The women’s onyx rings began to glow. Warmth grew and spread through their bodies. They moved in unison, circling, their steps keeping time with the chant.
Pressure built, rising within them. It flowed through their bodies. Coursed over their skin. Their breasts.
Every nerve ignited. They extended their arms toward the center.
The Mother reached her arms upward and cried out something unintelligible. The awakening began. The sisterhood cried out as waves of release shook them. Their bodies tingled and throbbed. The souls of the dregs of society, harvested for the betterment of womankind, pulsed from them, leaving behind nothing except oneness and satisfaction.
Slowly, Ashley’s mind cleared from the shared orgasmic fog.
“Ah, ladies, the harvest of this month was plentiful and your offering bountiful,” the Mother declared, extending her arms wide as if embracing the entire room.
Ashley nodded along with her sisters. This was the standard statement following the ritual.
The Mother raised a finger and continued, “So much so, it is time for us to move another to the inner circle.”
This brought murmuring. The inner circle currently held two sisters: Lena and Ashley's own mentor, Tarma. Those in the inner circle were the honored teachers. They were the closest to the Mother, and they often took part in private rituals with her. Although the outer circle knew nothing of the rites, they all wished to participate.
The Mother reached a hand toward Ashley. “Sister, you have shown dedication to our course and unity of spirit with your sisters. I will bestow this honor upon you.” Ashley stepped forward and placed her hand in the Mother’s. Her heart sang. She’d done everything she could to garner praise from those in the inner circle. Now her focus had been rewarded. The Mother’s thin fingers belied the strength with which she grasped Ashley’s hand. “There are two tasks you must complete before you can take your place.”
“Anything,” Ashley whispered. The sisterhood had saved her when she’d been used and discarded by the man she’d trusted. With their help, she had spent years making sure other women wouldn’t have the same struggles.
“The first task will begin tonight.” The Mother nodded to Tarma, who promptly exited the room. “You will become an official mentor and train the one who will take your place.”
Ashley nodded. This she could do. She’d helped Tarma educate several of the other sisters. Not everyone stayed; this life wasn’t for everyone. But the three that she’d helped to instruct stood around her and smiled their congratulations.
• • •
Once the meeting had dispersed, Ashley remained in the room, and for the first time she participated in an inner circle ritual. She learned a new chant and drank a new potion and welcomed the spirit of her new raison d'être. It was very similar to the ritual she had gone through when she first joined the sisterhood, the one her protégé would have gone through the night before.
After the ritual, Ashley visited her protégé, Nichole’s, room. She couldn’t wait to meet her student and teach her the ways of the sisterhood. However, after only a few minutes she worried that Nichole would be better suited to a different calling.
Nichole sat on her bed in her white gown that all the apprentices wore. Ashley still wore her maroon one. The difference in color may help her assert her authority.
The feeling of wonder permeated the room, so Ashley decided to keep it light. “How are you doing? Once you accepted the spirit and the ring, your powers emerged. You should be noticing a few subtle differences by now.”
“Oh, great,” Nichole replied. “It’s like I’m becoming a superhero or something. Just when you walked in I could hear what sounded like a snake hissing, but that would be weird, wouldn’t it? I do seem to see a glow about you. A beautiful robin’s egg blue one,
with green and gold flecks.” Nichole cocked her head. “It kind of shimmers around you.”
“Yes, and over time you will be able to recognize your sisters using their auras. Very soon you will be able to accomplish a lot more. You will be able to change your appearance.” To demonstrate, Ashley shifted into a likeness of Diana Ross. “Though you shouldn’t use famous people because they get a lot of attention and the goal is camouflage.” She shifted back into a brunette with a heart-shaped face and blue eyes—the image she used most days. Most sisters didn’t wear themselves very often. For Ashley, her own face and body reminded her too much of her life before the sisterhood. “With practice, you will even be able to change your clothes.”
“Really? How does that work?” Nichole asked, her eyes wide with wonder. “I mean, like the science behind it.”
For some reason, Ashley had never asked that question. All she knew was that it worked. So she answered with her best guess. “It has something to do with being able to control the atomic particles of yourself and everything around you.”
“Ooh.”
“This is all so you can perform the primary function of the sisterhood: removing the evil influence of men on our society.”
“That sounds exciting.”
“You will feel more powerful than you’ve ever felt before.” Ashley nodded. She knew she did. “You start by evoking the prey’s worst fear. When they are overcome with terror it exposes their soul—it’s colored the same as their aura, but brighter. When you see it, use your mind and pull on the emotions that hide their true selves. Their fear, strength, and evil. It will feel like a part of you is reaching for them, like a hand you didn’t know you had. You know you have it when you can taste it; every sister tastes something different. I taste ripe peaches.”
“Doesn’t matter who?”
“Every time.” Ashley nodded. “When you taste it, you’re there, and you suck all of that evil soul right out of their body.” She was getting hungry just thinking about it.
“Ew.”