Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1)

by K. M. Carroll

  Malevolent

  by K.M. Carroll

  Libby missed most of her last year of high school when she contracted valley fever, but she is determined to see the bees delivered to her father's almond orchard. Thus she meets Mal, a beekeeper who looks like a vampire, acts like a vampire, yet subsists entirely on honey. He offers her honey that cures her illness ... and Libby is pulled into a darkening spiral of monsters, secrets, and bees that harvest magic.

  Chapter 1

  Libby

  I met Mal the day he tried to kill my boyfriend.

  It happened in February, because that's when they delivered the bees for our almond orchard. The semi woke me up at four in the morning--a descending roar of diesel engine, a yelp of air brakes, then the constant beeping as it backed up.

  A little thrill raced through me. I sat up in bed and peered out my window, but the fog created a solid wall of nothing outside.

  My breath rattled in my lungs, and I inhaled slowly. I had to struggle to slide off my bed and stand up. Stupid Valley Fever. It'd been six months, for crying out loud. It was like having tuberculosis.

  Dishes clattered downstairs, and Mom and Dad talked in low voices. A whiff of coffee floated up the stairs. My stomach did this uneasy slithering thing that meant I was hungry.

  I dressed in a fresh pair of sweats, and brushed my hair a few times. It fell to my waist, and since I spent so much time in bed, it kept trying to convert to dreadlocks. Someday I'm going to cut it all off. I pulled it back in a loose ponytail to keep it out of my face. Then I scooped my lockblade and smartphone off my dresser and into my pocket, and dragged myself downstairs. Maybe my body would cooperate and let me eat food for once. Between the meds and the sickness, I didn't eat much these days. Most girls would love to lose the amount of weight I'd lost. Me--well, I wasn't exactly fat to begin with.

  Dad disappeared out the back door with a breakfast burrito as I entered the kitchen. Mom swirled around the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher, then froze with a handful of plates. "Libby! What're you doing up?"

  I flopped into my chair at the kitchen table. "Can I have some toast?" My legs trembled from the trek downstairs.

  Mom dropped a slice of homemade bread in the toaster. The overhead light caught the silver in her hair. My parents are older--they had already sent my four brothers through college when I came along. Mom's nice looking--light hair, dark eyes, and a comfortable round face without being fat. I take after my dad--chocolate-colored hair and skinny as a rake handle.

  "I'm glad to see you up, baby. Are you feeling any better?"

  I shook my head. "Nope. The bee truck woke me up."

  Mom smiled. "Yes, we're lucky to have them. Honeybees are dying out and the orchards fight over them."

  "I'm going to go see them." I watched the beekeepers set up every year, and a crummy sickness wouldn't change my tradition.

  Mom shook a spoon at me. "Oh, no! Remember what the doctor said about your lungs in the fog?"

  "I'll wear a scarf over my face."

  "It's a long way from the house."

  "I'll drive a golf cart. I've got it figured out, Mom." I could barely handle the stairs--I wasn't dumb enough to walk three acres in the freezing fog. When Mom looked dubious, I added, "And I'll wear my fleece jacket. If I get into trouble, I'll text you." I produced my smartphone and held it up. "And I've got my knife."

  "All right." Mom buttered my toast, mollified.

  The toast tasted great, but I could only manage half of it. My mouth tired of chewing, and it became hard to swallow. I drank some water and hoped everything stayed down.

  Mom checked my medication schedule, which was stuck to the fridge with a chicken-shaped magnet. "You'll need your first dose in two hours."

  I nodded. "I'll be back by then. Thanks, Mom."

  I put on my shoes, coat and scarf, which crowded coat rack beside the front door. I made sure to grab Suki's leash, and hobbled out of the warm, safe house.

  It had rained earlier in the week, and the Tule fog was out in full force. The fog is peculiar to California's San Joaquin Valley. In colder weather, the valley becomes like a bowl with a big wet cloud sloshing around the bottom, and the fog can last for months. I could see ten feet to the nearest tree in the front yard, but that was all. It smelled like the inside of a freezer, and chilled me straight through my fleece coat and scarf. My lungs ached. My knife banged against my leg with every step.

  I poked along to the garage and located the extra golf cart. Driving was a lot easier than walking, but I'd have to be careful in the fog.

  Our house was a ghost of itself--a friendly two story. In summer, lawn chairs sprinkled the front and back porches, but in winter, all the furniture was sent to the shed to hibernate.

  I drove to the backyard gate, opened it and whistled. Suki, my border collie, ran up, all smiles. She jumped in the cart beside me, and I ruffled her ears. "Come on, girl, lets go bug the beekeepers."

  Poor thing hadn't known what to do with herself since I'd gotten sick. Her black and white coat was sleek enough, only because Mom had taken over her grooming. Still, I couldn't help feeling guilty. This sickness had taken me prisoner.

  But it wouldn't take away my first visit to the bees.

  I kept the cart at a gentle pace as we drove out into the orchard. It was a weird, dim world of gray skeleton trees. I could only see two rows deep into the orchard, and there were fifty rows. But voices carried as if they were standing beside me.

  The delivery truck appeared with a glare of headlights, and rumbled past with a crunch of gravel under immense tires. I kept my cart close to the trees to give him plenty of space. He vanished into the mist, but I heard his engine all the way out to the highway.

  I rounded a corner of the orchard, and drove to the bee station.

  The station was a slab of concrete in the middle of the orchard. Several men were arranging dozens of white boxes in rows, unwrapping their plastic covers. Later on they'd space the hives around the orchard in groups of twelve to ensure even pollination. Dad worked among them, swathed in a heavy coat, hood and scarf.

  The bees wouldn't leave their hives until the temperature rose above fifty degrees, so there was no danger of being stung. I leaned on the steering wheel and sighed, despite the heaviness in my chest. Being outdoors refreshed my mind. My room wouldn't feel so oppressive after this.

  A camper stood nearby, a tacky brown-striped box on the back of a truck. Its door was open, and a guy carefully stepped out, carrying a beehive. While the other hive boxes were utilitarian white, these were painted with flowers and animals. The guy set his hive carefully on the concrete, a little apart from the rest, and returned to his camper for another hive.

  I kept a hand on Suki's collar, and watched. How odd. Usually beekeepers traveled around to various farms with a bajillion hives in tow. But this guy looked as if his bees were his pets. He'd kept them under shelter, too, instead of out in the wind on the back of a semi.

  He produced ten or fifteen hives from that little camper--it must have been packed wall to wall. Then he helped the other men unload hives from the pallets nearby. He seemed younger than the rest of them—something about the way he stood.

  That's when he started moving really fast. I mean, lizard-on-a-hot-day kind of fast. He zipped back and forth with those heavy hive boxes and never stopped to rest. The other men were too busy to notice.

  Goosebumps shivered down my shoulders. Since I'd been sick, I'd gone on a vampire binge--books, movies, you name it. And he moved exactly like a vampire, with that supernatural swiftness. Perfect weather for a vampire, too--no sunlight.

  I kept watching. Deep down I knew I was being si
lly--I mean, vampires. Yeah, right. While I was at it, I might as well wish for a dragon to walk out of the fog, too.

  Besides, whoever heard of a vampire who raised bees? They drank blood, not honey. The speed was probably a trick of the light--the sun was finally coming up and the world was turning a lighter gray.

  When in doubt, use science. I pulled out my smartphone and opened a timer app.

  It took my dad forty-five seconds to lift a hive, lug it across the slab, set it down, and slide it into position.

  It took vampire-dude ten seconds to do the same thing.

  Maybe it wasn't my imagination.

  The hives at last were unloaded and arranged in rows. Most of the men scattered to their cars on the service road behind the orchard, mentioning breakfast and hot coffee. The thought of a hot drink almost sent me back to the house, too. But I waited to see what the strange guy did.

  Dad walked up to my golf cart and pulled down his scarf. "Hey, Libby. Come to see the bees?"

  "Yup!" I kept my scarf on. "Hey, who's the guy with the camper?"

  "He's a private apiarist I hired. With bees so scarce, I've had to approach the private sector. He also brought orchard bees."

  "The little blue ones?"

  "Yep. Well, I've got to go feed the goats. Don't stay out too long."

  "Okay!"

  He jumped on another golf cart that had been hidden in the trees, and whirred away.

  It was just me and vampire-man. He must not be dangerous, or Dad wouldn't have left me alone with him. Not that I was worried--I had Suki and my lockblade.

  I climbed out of the golf cart, and snapped on Suki's leash so she wouldn't be a pest. She tugged and panted and sniffed and generally tired out my arm. We made our way to vampire-man, who was busy pouring honey from a jug into troughs in front of each flowery hive. The cold made it ooze in slow motion.

  "Hi," I said. "Dad said you have orchard bees, too."

  He set the honey jug down and looked at me. I'd been half-expecting a dazzling movie star, since vampires were perfect and all. Instead I saw a guy with five o'clock shadow and bloodshot eyes, who had probably been driving all night. His nose and chin were narrow and pointy, giving him a scarecrow look, and his voice was soft, as if he never raised it.

  "Hello. Yes, my orchard bees remain in the camper. I shall have a difficult time coaxing them out of dormancy in these temperatures."

  I almost laughed at his big words. Really, who talks like that?

  Vampires, my imagination whispered.

  But instead I said, "The fog usually burns off by the afternoon. Maybe it'll warm up then."

  "Perhaps." He motioned to Suki. "Beautiful animal. You may let her loose now--she will do no harm."

  I released Suki's ruff. She bounded to vampire-man and sniffed his shoes and pant legs. Then she moved on to the various hives. I relaxed. Dogs sense things about people. She's always trying to drive off my boyfriend, Robert. I can hardly wait for the day she bites him.

  Vampire-man stripped off a leather glove and offered me a hand. "I am Malevolent Seren."

  I shook his hand, and I did laugh then. "I'm Libby Stockton. Is that really your name?"

  His mouth didn't move, but his eyes sparkled. "Malachi. But Malevolent is more ... interesting."

  "Do you go by Mal? Like in Firefly?"

  "Yes. But my coat is blue, not brown."

  I laughed again. He was rapidly changing from a spooky monster to someone I'd enjoy having as a friend.

  His hand was cold, but so was mine. His eyes were that hazel that seems to change color, and right now they were emerald green. He studied me for a long moment, and I studied him. His hair was dark brown, and tumbled all over his head as if he had been wearing a hat. While the cold had whipped red into the cheeks and noses of the other men, Mal's face was dead white. Like a vampire, and not one of the sexy ones.

  Abruptly he turned away and pulled his glove back on, as if he was uncomfortable with our little staring match. A little shy, maybe?

  "You are ill."

  Oh. He didn't want to catch my germs. I nodded and buried my hands in my coat pockets. "Yeah, Valley Fever. It's not contagious."

  He gave me a glance that puzzled me--as if he knew more about my sickness than I did. I tried to lighten the mood. "I don't know which is worse--having my lungs full of spores, or the gruesome meds." I wasn't willing to let the vampire thing go so easily. "How did you know? Can you smell my blood?"

  He looked at me again, one eyebrow raised, as if he couldn't tell if I was kidding or not. "I heard your father's admonition to look after yourself. You are also extremely thin, with shadows beneath your eyes."

  I laughed. "I thought you were a beekeeper, Sherlock."

  His eyes crinkled again in another not-quite-smile. "Sherlock Holmes also kept bees." Then he stared at me again, and his eyes seemed to change colors. Blue this time. Probably because the light was getting brighter. "Honey has healing properties. I will give you some once my bees have produced enough."

  "Oh. Thanks." This generosity threw me off balance. Vampires were takers, not givers. More and more I wanted to hang out with this dude. "Do you mind if I watch you set up?"

  "Not at all."

  I had to test my last piece of evidence. "You're really fast."

  He jerked his head in a half shrug, and shot me a sideways look. "I am strong, dear Watson." He hoisted the honey jug onto his shoulder and resumed waiting for it to dribble into the troughs.

  He'd avoided my question with a joke. Maybe he wasn't a vampire, but there was something weird about him … besides his sense of humor.

  My legs were starting to ache from cold and fatigue, so I retreated to the cart. Sitting down felt wonderful.

  Mal finished setting up the hives, but he didn't move at lightning speed anymore. My question had tipped him off. He murmured to each hive as he fed them, and a few bees crawled out of the entrances to taste the honey. Suki followed him around, head and tail down, as she did when her herding instinct kicked in. She watched Mal closely. He murmured to her, too, and her tail swished back and forth apologetically. He must really like animals.

  I sighed and waved a mental goodbye to the vampire theory. Aside from some super-speed, Mal was ordinary enough. A bit of a loner, but far less annoying than Robert. Besides, the idea of making a new friend excited me. My heart beat a little faster, and warmth spread to my fingertips. When you've been bedridden for six months, and you've missed as much school as I have, you have to take what socialization you can get. While Suki's a great companion, she doesn't make Firefly jokes.

  The wet and cold of the fog crept through my coat, and I couldn't stop my teeth from chattering. My lungs really hurt now, and it started to feel like the air was bouncing off the inside of them, instead of recharging my blood like it was supposed to. Inhaler, here I come.

  I whistled for Suki. She trotted up and jumped into the cart. Mal followed her, dusting off his gloves. "Departing, I see."

  I nodded, tried to answer, and coughed my painful dry cough.

  His eyebrows lowered in a frown, almost a scowl. "You should not have remained in these temperatures for so long. I recommend hot cider." He slapped the cart's roof. "Get thee hence."

  My laugh turned into more coughing. I turned the cart around and drove back to the house. Come to think of it, a mug of hot cider sounded heavenly. And he'd used King James English on me. This guy was hilarious. Despite my lungs closing up, my spirits were higher than they'd been in months.

  That lasted the five minutes it took to reach the house. The fog had lifted a tiny bit--visibility was about thirty feet. It let me see Robert's tricked-out yellow Hummer in our driveway. My good humor fell straight down the toilet. Nothing like a cold, hard, brick of reality to the face.

  I parked the cart in a wave of resentment, and walked toward the house, trying to breathe, and fingering the cold, heavy knife in my pocket. Suki ran ahead of me and back, as if asking why I was so slow. Then she made the little gr
owling whine she only makes when Robert's around.

  "I know, girl," I coughed. I opened the front door and let us inside.

  ***

  Robert met me in the living room. He's the handsome, blond, muscular, football player type, but he's too lazy for football. I'd really been into him back in September.

  "Hey Libby, how's it going?" He walked up and gave me one of his hugs that seemed to last forever. He was warm, like a smothering blanket.

  Finally, I pushed away. "Get lost. I need my meds."

  He followed me into the kitchen. "Libby, don't be like that. I just came to see you, honest."

  I snatched my inhaler out of the fridge and breathed a burst of it. It hit my lungs with a burst of cold, like peppermint. I exhaled slowly, and the synthetic adrenaline raced into my bloodstream. Air trickled into my lungs again.

  Mom was sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee and a cookbook. She watched my inhaler antics, and her eyebrows grew pointed. She jerked her head at Robert. I nodded and concentrated on breathing.

  Mom covered for me. "You're here awfully early, Robert."

  "Yes ma'am," said Robert, pulling off his coat and draping it over a chair. "I'm interviewing for a job in an hour, and I need some moral support."

  I filled the kettle and put it on the stove, then I had to sit at the bar and catch my breath. "If you get this job, you can't quit after a month, like last time."

  "I told you, they laid me off. It was only seasonal." Robert laughed, flashing even white teeth. He picked up one of Mom's cooking magazines and flipped through it. "Mrs. Stockton, when can you make more of these chocolate cookies?"

  Mom shrugged.

  I gritted my teeth and avoided looking at either of them. Back when school started, having a popular boyfriend was a matter of prestige. But then I got sick, and his charisma and energy sapped my tiny amount of strength. He was like an expensive pair of jeans that had shrunk in the wash--useless, but hard to give up.

  Suki padded around the kitchen, growling.

  "Why doesn't your dog like me?"

  I glanced at her. "Sure she likes you. Why don't you pet her and see how she demonstrates her affection?"