What Goes Bump In The Night

by C. R. Jane

  Balin stilled. "Where did you get that?"

  I stilled and gestured at the talisman. "This thing? Ricci knows a guy. After she tattooed me, she sent me to his place to help me figure out something to shield me from bad juju. He gave me this." The shields gleamed in the light. I hadn't even had a chance to clean them yet. "Wanna help me take it off?" The chain and leather knots looked intricate.

  Balin looked startled. "Why? That is fine craftsmanship. I can see it bathed in magicks and power."

  Really? I looked at it more closely to inspect it and shrugged. "Well, it wasn't much help last night." I indicated my body.

  "Was it crafted for physical deterrent?"

  I bit my lip. "Oh." All those questions from yesterday. Was it for physical? No, I think I asked for spiritual protection. I mentioned that.

  "And that is how it saved your life. Whatever magick was tied to that emotion, the talisman reacted to it, jumped through your bonds, and pulled people in your life that you needed. Last night? It was Vesper, who told Deimos and the rest of us."

  I nodded, taking in what he said. "So you're saying that it was able to protect me by asking for help. Like I was something helpless."

  A ghost of a smile traced his lips. "Everyone needs backup every now and again."

  There was something there that I had to address. "Well, this flashy piece might have done the pulling, but you answered and kept me alive. I won't forget that. So I guess I'm saying, thanks."

  He quirked his eyebrow at me. "You're welcome, Lieutenant."

  Something still niggled at me. Like that itch I couldn't quite scratch behind my ear. "So…you mentioned bonds. Do we have a bond?" It was a gambit, but one I thought I could win.

  Balin lifted his gaze to meet mine. At least this time, he didn't look pissed off or evasive. "Yes, we do."

  I settled against my pillows, the thrill of my minor victory warming my heart. "And you'll tell me when exactly that bond occurred, I'm sure."

  "Of course not, Lieutenant."

  Figured. I snorted, my eyes heavy with sleep. I'd get the answer out of him even if I had to wrestle him for it.

  For now, though, I let myself rest.

  I woke in bed, the lamp on my night stand barely able to penetrate the darkness in my room. It was night, the last bits of sunset yielding to the blackening skies. The Hunter's Moon the only adornment in the stretch of night.

  It was supposed to peak in a few hours, which would be good for the kiddos out trick-or-treating tonight.

  I wondered if Vesper was still here. Or Balin. I pushed them from my mind. They had lives to live and so did I. I needed to follow up on the loose ends of the case, see what evidence Carter left behind.

  Something flickered against the reflective surface of the phone on my pillow. I froze, scanning the room from beneath my lashes. When nothing else happened, I carefully reached for it, swiping it awake.

  Nothing happened.

  I scrambled out of bed, searching for any of my weapons. The hiding spot behind my headboard was empty and so was the nightstand drawer.

  "There is no need for weapons, Lieutenant Corbin Troy."

  The voice wasn't something I heard but it was like something whispered inside of my head. I swallowed hard, rising slowly to my feet. I peered into the darkness of my room, and then looked out to the night sky.

  The Hunter moved across the face of the moon.

  Gods above and below, was he watching me even now?

  "Yes I see you, Lieutenant. But I am not on the moon."

  A dark figure flickered in front of me, and I yelped back from it, landing on my bed sprawled out on my back.

  Well, fuck.

  The figure thrummed with power, phasing in and out in front of my eyes. His movements were choppy like a flipbook. "Was that an invitation, Lieutenant?"

  Ice washed over my skin. "Fuck no," I said through gritted teeth. "Who are you? And what do you want?"

  He laughed, and it sounded like the scree of hawks. "Let's not play coy. You have invoked my name, and have drawn my attention. Even now, you think my name."

  The Hunter.

  "You see, Lieutenant. You already know. And I am here to ask you a question."

  A question? I racked my brain, trying desperately to figure out what question he could possibly ask, and if anyone had told me how I should answer them. I finally found my gun, and it felt perfect in my hand. Like I was whole again. "Well ask it, then get the fuck out."

  The flickering stopped and it was as if drops of ink slowly seeped into the air, forming the outline of a massive figure with the body of a man and head of a wolf. He was silhouetted black against the moon, obscuring any details. "Well, since you're so eager, Lieutenant, I shall." His voice was silky ribbons of night that teased around the edges of my skin. "Trick or treat?"

  To be continued…

  Tricked

  A Haven Realm Tale

  Mila Young

  Copyright © 2018 by Mila Young

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review, and except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Long lost secrets. A deadly legacy. Let the hunt begin.

  What better way to celebrate Rain Crispin’s eighteenth birthday than her first ever invite to a Harvest celebration? Decked out as an elf princess since fantasy characters are a must, she sets out to have the time of her life. But when midnight strikes… something strange happens to her body. She doesn’t feel like herself anymore. To make matters worse, a horde of bloodthirsty orcs want her and the night takes a deadly twist.

  Evading her pursuers, she races home, only to find three strange men waiting in her house. Sure, they’re handsome, muscular men… But what do they want?

  It seems Rain’s eighteenth birthday has unleashed a deadly legacy with her name all over it. Time is running out and she must work out who she can trust. Except she can’t help but feel she’s somehow being tricked.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I should have known tonight would go to hell.

  The right thing to do would have been to turn down the party invitation. Stay home, as I had been doing for the past few months. But how could I have said no when the request came from my more affluent client, Linet, whose purchases kept my shoe shop, Crispin’s Cordwainer, afloat?

  The smell of burning wood and barbecued meat floated on the breeze in the field behind Linet’s house. A crowd of at least fifty guests mingled and danced on the lawn. Farther in the distance stood Linet’s enormous three-story house with an eloquent curved stairway cascading downward from the rear of the home to the yard in which we partied. A manicured flower garden surrounded us, and beyond that lay the woodland. Torches dotted the property, bringing the place to life with light, while the band exploded with fast, toe-tapping tunes.

  Linet was in her husband’s arms, their bodies pressed together, swaying like hypnotized snakes in front of the band, their hips moving from side to side. She wore the bluest ankle boots, laced with a silver ribbon running up the back of her heels. She’d bought them from me earlier this week. Even with her black witch’s dress and pointy hat, she looked magnificent. It was a costume party, so everything matched.

  Voices and laughter from the crowd echoed through the night. People danced, caught up with frien
ds, ate, and drank. The hum of the bands’ music permeated the air. This was merriment as it should be, and I pictured myself throwing such a party one day for me. I recognized Jai the baker, the local councilman—even the trade merchant who traveled to different lands and brought back all kinds of foods from other territories. But most of these people were in their forties or fifties. I had to be the youngest here, at half their age at least, but that didn’t bother me. I’d come here to mingle, but that meant not sitting around. So I got to my feet to go, ready to make friends.

  It was my eighteenth birthday once midnight hit, and I was sick of sitting around on my own.

  An enormous bonfire crackled at the rear of the yard, flames licking the starry sky like starved wolves. The trees surrounding us shone in their silver light. It was gorgeous tonight, but many in Darkwoods believed that during a Harvest night, the boundaries between our world and the afterlife were less secure, so spirts could come and go freely. Dad had once told me that fires were a means to ward off the evil spirits.

  I scratched the fake elf ears I wore as part of my elf princess costume and shifted them so they didn’t fall off. Like everyone here, I wore a costume. Our disguises were meant to stop the dead coming into our world and identifying individuals they didn’t like during their own lifetimes. But we lived in Haven Realm. A world with seven territories, each inhabited by different races, including humans like me, animal shifters, mermaids, and even witches. So anything was possible, and magic was bountiful.

  An array of foods and drinks covered the table, and I eyed the wine. And the delicious pumpkin pie. I walked over, patting down my short green dress that had bunched up my thighs, matched with a pair of open-toed sandals Dad had made for me, insisting they were practical. They were worn but comfortable and reminded me of him.

  “Pretty elf! Will you dance with me?” a gruff male’s voice asked from somewhere behind me. I didn’t remember seeing anyone else in the same costume as me tonight so he had to be talking to me, right?

  I turned toward a young man dressed in what I could only describe as an orc or troll. He tugged down on the bottom of his tanned leather vest over his flat stomach, and the sleeves of his camel-colored button-up shirt puffed like a pirate’s outfit. They matched his breeches and knee-length boots. Not sure what look he was going for, but with the troll-like mask covering his face and cropped dark hair, all I could focus on were the deepest cocoa eyes.

  He breathed heavily as if he had run to the function. “I normally wouldn’t ask an elf to dance. We orcs have been enemies with the elves for centuries.” He grunted a laugh.

  I raised an eyebrow because someone was playing the part of his costume, and I glanced around, noting everyone did the same, from the girl dressed as a butterfly fluttering her wings in front of two men dressed as wolves, to the ghost person zipping through the party as a real spirit might if they existed. So I’d play along with the game since I’d come here to have fun.

  “Well then.” I lowered my voice, staring into eyes that seemed to smile behind the mask. “I shall have to make an exception this one time.”

  He extended an arm to me, his palm facing upward, calloused and strong. Did he work at one of the nearby farms? Maybe I’d seen him at the local fair before.

  I accepted his hand, and he lifted it to his mouth, pushing the mask up halfway off his face, revealing plump lips and stubble on a pointy chin. A long, healed scar ran across his jawline. He was an attractive man, not much older than me.

  He kissed my knuckles, then replaced the mask back over his face.

  “They call me ‘Luronk.’” He drew me into a walk toward the dance floor, holding my hand tightly in his.

  “I’m Rain,” I added, unsure if he forgot to ask or maybe orcs didn’t request female names. “So why an orc?”

  He didn’t respond until we reached the edge of the group of dancers and he drew me against him with such force, my hands snapped up against his chest. My breaths seesawed in my chest. Solid like iron, his arms wrapped tightly around my back.

  “Why not?” he said, his chin raised. “Orcs are powerful and get what they want.”

  In all honesty, his assertiveness wasn’t doing it for me. Strength could be shown without brute force.

  “Rain!” Linet said, suddenly at my side, patting my shoulder. “Oh, girl, you’re finally up and dancing. So wonderful. And these shoes”—she glanced down to her blue boots and back at me—“make me feel like I’m floating on clouds. Your craftsmanship is magnificent, and you’ve really come into your own ever since you took over the store from your father.” Her husband swooped her into his arms, twirling her away as she giggled.

  A familiar ache settled under my breastbone at the memory of Dad. Since he’d passed months ago, I’d taken over his shop because I couldn’t bear to walk away from what he’d worked so hard to build. But each time someone mentioned him, the loss gutted me. It hurt like hell, reminding me he wouldn’t be home waiting for me, that I had spent months not leaving the store because the tears wouldn’t stop. I swallowed my thickening throat, not wanting to face those emotions now. Not at a party or on my birthday.

  Though with the way Linet had stared at me with amazement left me feeling like a sham.

  I hadn’t made the glorious shoes she wore, or any of the ones her friends also pranced around in at her party. But I never had the heart to tell anyone it wasn’t me. I couldn’t because I needed the money, and the sting of guilt burrowed through my chest.

  Soon after my father had passed, something strange had started happening in my store. A week after his burial, I’d found three pairs of perfect shoes sitting on the front windowsill of my store. Each was more magnificent than the next. Shinier. Had more straps. Higher heels. Tanned leather. One was made of suede and covered in silver buckles.

  But the following week, three more had popped up on my window. That time, Linet had walked past my store and had insisted on buying them at once.

  The following week, another three had appeared, and word had soon spread. Now every Monday, customers lined up outside my store, waiting to purchase my next three creations. The highest offer got a pair of shoes, so I couldn’t say no, especially since Dad and I had barely made enough money to put food on the table when he’d been alive.

  Dad had once said he would always look out for me. So I believed these offerings were his way of somehow taking care of me from beyond death. I refused to ask anyone for advice, as people might find out I’d lied, that they’d bought enchanted shoes. Magic scared a lot of the locals. But magic they clearly were. The person who bought them were the first to try them on and the footwear always had the shoe fit them perfectly, and I haven’t had one person return them away after they’d put them on.

  Ever since, I’d saved enough money to keep me going if sales ever slumped.

  Now, I blinked the tears away and smiled at Luronk the orc, hoping he’d dance with me into the early hours of the morning so I could feel normal for a change.

  A slower song played, and Luronk’s arms held my waist tightly, so I curled mine around his neck and let myself enjoy the night. What was the harm?

  “Do you live in Rivertorn?” I asked. Our small town was barely a blip on the map of Darkwoods, but the location had a small community of different races and everyone lived in harmony.

  “I’m from up in the mountains,” he explained, walking me backward and spinning me around in a strange dance move. “Between us,” he said, “I snuck out to attend this party. A friend from my hunting party invited me. But I’m not sure he’s coming now.”

  “The event is meant to go till dawn. I might fall asleep by then.” I laughed, but he drew me closer, his breath fluttering against his face mask.

  “Not if I have anything to do with it. We’ll dance non-stop.” His eyes crinkled in a deep smile, and I leaned into him in our slow side-to-side movement.

  “Your shoes are remarkable,” a woman with dark hair silvering at temples said, staring down at her own boot
s. Studded with silver dots, I remembered how much I’d adored the pair when I’d first laid eyes on them. “I will be first in line next week outside your store, even if I have to sleep outside all night to beat Linet from getting first pick.” She laughed and swished away into the partying horde.

  “Seems you have fans,” Luronk said. “I know the feeling. I do a lot of game hunting for my family, bring home food for everyone, as I have five sisters and two younger brothers. Plus, we live with my cousins, aunts and uncles, and their families.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t imagine what having so many relatives would feel like when I’d ever had only my father and had never known my mother. Luronk wouldn’t know what feeling alone felt like. He probably always had someone to rely on. Someone to talk to. I imagined it would be wonderful to have so many people to keep you company.

  “They are sticking their nose in my business.” He droned on about each family member, their names, what they did, down to what they looked like. And even who fought with whom for strange reasons like borrowing someone’s clothes without asking. I would give everything to have such a family.

  The rest of the night seemed to fly past and Luronk hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d dance with me without pause.

  “Midnight is almost upon us,” a male’s voice called out from near the band. “So let’s jump into a fast song. Everyone, come on in.”

  A cheer exploded around us as every single person pushed closer together, and we were pushed toward the edge of the dance crowd where the shadows seemed to leak toward from the woodland.

  Tingles swirled in my gut… Was that excitement at being part of the jovial group, or at being in a man’s arms instead of home alone?

  A new song belted out from the band, loud and fast as promised, and I broke from Luronk’s strong hold, both of us dancing, hips shaking, arms swinging. I couldn’t stop smiling, as I didn’t remember the last time I’d felt so free.