Available Darkness Box Set | Books 1-3

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Available Darkness Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 1

by Platt, Sean




  Available Darkness: The Complete Series

  Sean Platt

  David W. Wright

  Copyright © 2020 by Sterling & Stone

  All rights reserved.

  No part 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.

  The authors greatly appreciate you taking the time to read our work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help us spread the word.

  Thank you for supporting our work.

  Contents

  Available Darkness: Book One

  I. Awakenings

  Prologue — A Boy Long Ago

  1. Caleb

  2. The Amnesiac

  3. A Boy Long Ago

  4. The Amnesiac

  5. The Amnesiac

  6. Caleb

  7. John

  8. Abigail

  9. John

  10. Abigail

  11. John

  12. Abigail

  13. Caleb

  14. John

  15. Abigail And John

  16. Jacob

  17. John

  18. Caleb

  19. John

  20. Caleb

  21. John

  22. Abigail

  23. Caleb

  24. Abigail

  25. A Boy Long Ago

  26. Caleb

  27. John

  28. Larry

  29. Brock

  30. John

  31. Larry, John, Abigail, And Brock

  32. John

  33. Abigail And Larry

  34. John

  35. Caleb

  36. Larry And John

  37. Caleb

  38. Larry And John

  39. Caleb

  40. Abigail And John

  II. Into The Forgotten Past

  41. John

  42. Jacob

  43. Hope

  44. John

  45. Hope

  46. John And Hope

  47. Hope And John

  48. Jacob

  49. Caleb

  50. Jacob

  51. John

  52. Caleb, John, And Hope

  53. Hope And John

  54. Caleb

  55. Hope And John

  56. Caleb

  57. John And Caleb

  III. Into The Present

  58. John

  59. John

  60. Larry And John

  61. Caleb Baldwin

  62. Abigail

  63. John

  64. Jacob And Caleb

  65. John

  66. John And Caleb

  67. Abigail

  68. John, Caleb, And Larry

  69. Caleb

  70. John And Caleb

  71. Larry And John

  72. John

  Epilogue

  Available Darkness: Book Two

  Prologue

  1. John

  2. Abigail

  3. Larry

  4. Abigail

  5. John

  6. Hannah (Hope)

  7. John

  8. Duncan

  9. John

  10. Abigail

  11. Hannah

  12. Larry

  13. John

  14. Greg

  15. John

  16. Abigail

  17. Hannah

  18. Duncan

  19. Abigail

  20. John

  21. Hannah

  22. Duncan

  23. Duncan

  24. Larry

  25. John

  26. Hannah

  27. John

  28. Jacob

  29. Hannah

  30. Duncan

  31. Hannah

  32. John

  33. Abigail

  34. Hannah

  35. John And Larry

  36. Abigail

  37. Larry

  38. Jacob

  39. John

  40. Hannah

  41. Abigail

  42. Hannah

  43. John

  44. Larry

  45. Hope

  46. John

  Epilogue

  Available Darkness: Book Three

  Prologue

  1. Jacob

  2. John

  3. Abigail

  4. John

  5. Abigail

  6. Abigail

  7. John

  8. Caleb

  9. Hope

  10. John

  11. Larry

  12. Hope

  13. John

  14. Abigail

  15. Caleb

  16. Abigail

  17. Jacob

  18. John

  19. Jacob

  20. King Zol

  21. John

  22. Hope

  23. Abigail

  24. Abigail

  25. Jacob

  26. John

  27. Caleb

  28. John

  29. Abigail

  30. John

  31. Hope

  32. Caleb

  33. Abigail

  Interlude - Jacob Aage 13

  34. Jacob

  35. Caleb

  36. Abigail

  37. Hope

  38. Abigail

  39. Caleb

  40. Raina

  41. Abigail

  42. John

  43. Caleb

  44. Abigail

  45. John

  46. Judith

  47. Abigail

  48. Talani

  49. John

  50. Raina

  51. Judith

  52. Jacob

  53. Abigail

  54. Talani

  55. John

  56. Caleb

  57. Hope

  58. Abigail

  59. John

  60. Hope

  61. John

  62. Raina

  63. John

  64. Hope

  65. John

  66. Abigail

  67. Hope

  68. Larry

  69. Hope

  70. John

  71. Hope

  72. Abigail

  73. John

  74. Abigail

  75. Abigail

  76. John

  77. Hope

  78. John

  Author’s Note

  What to read next

  A Quick Favor…

  Want more?

  About the Authors

  For Todd.

  April 1970 – April 1996

  Awakenings

  “Remembering is only a new form of suffering.”

  ― Charles Baudelaire

  Prologue — A Boy Long Ago

  He was a child when he first learned of monsters.

  Lying in bed, pillow clutched over his head, trying to drown out the muffled sounds of his parents fighting downstairs. Father was drunk. Again. Violence electric in the air. The current’s ripple caused his hairs to stand on end.

  Soon the sounds of screaming would die, replaced by horrible cries and the sickening sound of flesh bruising flesh. Perhaps his father’s bloodlust would be sated. Maybe the boy’s door would burst open and the battle would continue on the second floor, again.

  He prayed in vain to a God he long ago stopped believing in.

  Please, stop him.

  The house fell silent. That meant one of two things: either his prayer had been answered or, more likely, the monster was coming.

  The boy pulled the pillow from his head, straining to hear the sounds of footfalls on stairs. He clos
ed his eyes tightly and braced for what was coming. He would pretend to sleep. Sometimes it worked; sometimes monsters could be fooled.

  The door creaked open behind him. He tried to camouflage his rapid breathing so the monster wouldn’t know he was awake. Light bathed the wall, and in that light, like a dark stain promising violence, the monster’s shadow.

  The boy buried his face deeper into his pillow and focused on his breath.

  In, out, in, out. Nice and slow.

  The door closed with a whisper and cast the room into darkness.

  He waited to hear retreating footsteps, but heard nothing. He was certain the monster was in the room — waiting.

  He could feel his father’s hateful eyes.

  In, out, in, out — just pretend, and maybe he’ll go away.

  He wasn’t sure how long he feigned sleep, but it felt like forever. Suddenly, he heard his father’s voice again downstairs, followed by his mother’s crying out.

  Surprised, the boy figured he must have fallen asleep and missed his father’s departure. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone — that the stare was still on him. He slowly turned over, eyes still closed, pretending to still be asleep. He drew one more breath, then risked opening his eyes.

  The shadow in the corner wasn’t a shadow or a man. It slid across the wall and hung in the air like a cruel mockery of both.

  The boy screamed.

  The memory, like a bubble, rose and broke as it crashed to the surface …

  One

  Caleb

  October 20, 2011

  Morning

  FBI Special Agent Caleb Baldwin narrowed his tired eyes at the charred bodies. His team processed the crime scene: two bodies burned through, wearing clothes barely touched by flames, in a house also unscathed by fire or smoke.

  Oakview Police Chief Arnie Williams walked up shaking his head. “You ever seen anything like this?”

  It was too early for dumb questions. Why would he be here, if not to investigate murders with victims in this exact condition?

  “You’re the one who responded to our memo, right?” Caleb asked, his attention still on the charred corpses.

  The chief looked down at his shoes.

  Caleb was maybe twenty years younger than the chief, who was on the far side of sixty. Yet Caleb carried the jaded look of a man who’d seen five lifetimes of action. He also wore the look of a man who was used to calling the shots and waiting for Yes, sirs! Which is exactly what he got when he and his seven-member team arrived, brushed the locals aside, and locked down the crime scene.

  “So, do you guys have a profile of the unsub?” A nervous half smile toyed with the chief’s lips.

  For the first time, Caleb turned to meet his eyes.

  Williams was no different from the other cops Caleb usually met in small towns like this. Eager police looking to flaunt their scant knowledge of serial crimes in front of the FBI agent. Caleb wasn’t sure which he liked least: the small-town lapdogs who showed off or the asshole city cops who wouldn’t cooperate until Caleb put the fear of God into them. Lapdogs were easier to control, so the edge probably went to them, but only barely.

  Besides, this case was still fresh, and he might need the chief’s cooperation if another body popped up soon. So he swallowed his annoyance and responded.

  “We’re still working the profile, but we’ll keep you in the loop,” Caleb lied, holding the chief’s stare for a long moment until the old man retreated and found something else to occupy his time.

  According to the chief, the two bodies were Randy Webster, a club bouncer with a penchant for hard drugs and even harder violence. The woman was his live-in girlfriend, Stacy Harrison, who’d spent years with Randy on the receiving end of both. Their next-door neighbor had heard screaming, though saw nothing, and called 911. Three hours later, just before dawn, Caleb’s Special Investigative Team was on the case.

  Caleb leaned in and looked closer at the ashen bodies being examined by Agent Leslie Chang.

  “Are the burns the same?” Caleb asked the pathologist.

  “They seem to be.”

  It had been three months since Caleb’s unit had been called to one of these familiar scenes, two states away.

  His team was one of two working under Washington State’s Escalated Threat Division, which handled unexplained phenomena posing a threat to society. The team served the dual function of solving crimes and removing threats, a job they performed exceedingly well.

  But this particular case was proving difficult.

  Seventy-three murders in twenty years, every victim in the same condition: not just burned completely through, but ignited without accelerant. No gas, no chemicals, nothing. And the point of origin for each fire was inside the body, not outside. A body usually stops burning when the fuel used to ignite the fire is finally depleted. But that wasn’t the case with these victims. They kept burning at an elevated temperature, the body using fat for fuel, until there was nothing but cinders.

  And unlike normal fires, the burning in these cases was limited to the victims alone and never spread to surrounding areas. Clothing was only marginally burned. The deaths were most similar to cases of spontaneous human combustion, though these cases were anything but spontaneous.

  The murders had been occurring mostly on the West Coast during the past two years. Tonight found Caleb’s team in Oakview, Washington, a small suburban town west of the Cascades.

  Caleb stared down at the corpses and examined the living room, searching for anything which the others had missed — some clue that might lead to his killer. Scanning the scene, he absentmindedly turned his wedding band, unable to look at the corpses without thinking of his dead wife, Julia — victim number forty-three.

  An excited voice erupted from the basement.

  “Jackpot!”

  Caleb shouldered his way past the locals, down to the basement where Agent Harris was standing beside Agent Roberts in front of a closed circuit TV monitor. The screen was frozen on the image of a shirtless young man with dark hair caught swinging a chair at a giant bald man, one of the two victims upstairs.

  “This is our guy.” Harris almost whistled, pointing at the screen. “We’ve got him.”

  Caleb stared at the man he’d been tracking forever.

  His mind’s eye had worked up hundreds of images of what the man would look like, but none resembled the picture on-screen. This man was much younger than the profile the agents had been working from. The killer seemed mid- to late twenties. His hair was long, hanging in his face. Shirtless, and bloody, he looked more like a college kid on the losing end of a bar brawl than the fortysomething-year-old they’d profiled.

  Maybe he wasn’t tracking one killer.

  Caleb wasn’t sure why the dead man had his house wired with security cameras in nearly every room, including outside — paranoia or suspicions his girlfriend was fucking around?

  “Play it,” Caleb instructed his agents.

  “There’s nothing after this,” Roberts said. “The cameras all went to shit at once.”

  It happened just as the killer and the bald man began to wrestle. The screen flickered with quick images and then went to snow.

  “Signal jammer?” Roberts asked.

  “Doubtful,” Caleb said. “You check connections on the cameras?”

  Roberts nodded and clicked a button to show every working screen.

 

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