Blood Moon's Servant: A Paranormal Thriller

by Leah Kingsley

  Zack and Amy had been abducted by Alex’s gang in their junior year of high school, and Charles had used his supernatural abilities to help set them free. His interference had landed Assassin’s Honor in prison and cemented his life-long friendship with Amy and Zack. It had even improved his reputation. He had enjoyed a brief burst of fame after Amy and Zack told reporters how he, Charles, had come to their rescue.

  Their tight-knit trio had expanded to include Zack’s two best friends. Charles had been thrilled to hang out with Jessie Davis, the beautiful redhead he had had a crush on for half his life. He couldn’t say the same about Jessie’s jock boyfriend, Ken Richards. Jessie had welcomed Amy and Charles into her inner circle with open arms, and she and Amy had become inseparable. Ken looked at Charles as if he were a charity project of Zack’s that would eventually run its course. Charles had to smirk at that. He was the one in college with them, not Ken.

  His new friends had saved him from acting like a loser and also from looking like one. Jessie had given him a makeover at the end of junior year. She had forced him to toss his collection of sweater vests and every pair of glasses he had ever owned. According to her, he now wore contacts so the world could see his heart-stopping forget-me-not blue eyes. Jessie had spent half that summer snapping his picture until her Instagram had morphed into an endless collage of his smiling face. Charles had to admit he enjoyed the attention.

  He shuffled his papers, and a sheet slipped onto the floor. Charles bent to retrieve it and looked up to see Damien at a table nearby. He, too, sat with a steaming mug of coffee. But instead of juggling papers, he was staring intently at his Mac. Charles swallowed the bitter taste of jealousy. It had taken decades of saving to pay for his freshman year of college. A computer was way out of budget.

  He sifted through his folder in search of his residence hall information. His new roommate’s name was Chris Jackson. His stomach clenched with nerves. He prayed they got along. Zack had been riddled with guilt when Ken’s application to UBC had been denied. Being roommates with Charles would have poured salt in the wound. They had each filled out a first-year residence application and left roommate matching up to fate. Charles stretched and gazed up to the high, hotel ceiling. Ken was still screwing with his life from three thousand kilometers away.

  Charles finished his coffee and ambled back upstairs. Waking Zack and Amy was next on his to-do list. He swung open the door and recoiled in shock. His two best friends lay naked in bed, doing things he had never, ever wanted to see.

  Amy shrieked and dove under the covers. Zack gaped at him in paralytic horror.

  “Oh my God!” Charles slapped his hands to his eyes. His papers spilled from his folder in a fluttering mess. His backpack hit the carpet with a muffled thud. He stood rooted to the spot with his face on fire.

  “Close the door!” Zack bellowed.

  Charles slammed it so hard the entire wall shook. He inhaled a shaky breath and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.

  “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.” Damien was standing behind him, room key in hand.

  “How are you everywhere?” Of course he had an audience for the most embarrassing moment of his life.

  Damien shrugged and disappeared into the room across the hall. Charles pressed his lips together in a deeply suspicious frown. Had Zack called it last night? Were Peter and Damien following them? His thoughts recoiled. Zack. Amy. He had seen his two best friends stark naked. He dropped his head into his hands.

  Charles collected his scattered papers and set off for school alone. His friends would welcome more time to themselves. He clamped down on the thought and wrenched it aside. He had to stop thinking about it!

  He spent a relaxing morning wandering around campus, enjoying the sunny weather and locating his classes. Vancouver was much greener than Toronto, and the sea-air was fresher. Even the girls seemed hotter here, or maybe they were just hotter than high school chicks. He smiled at one sitting by a fountain, and she actually smiled back. Charles nearly tripped on his elation as he ambled away. Happiness bubbled in his chest and made him smile at nothing as he wandered. He was finally free of Toronto and all he had endured there. Peter lurking in the shadows was the only downside he could see.

  He checked out his room just before lunch. His friends had left his duffle outside the door in a haphazard, but no less apologetic gesture. Charles picked it up and strolled into his new home with a relieved smirk.

  His dorm was larger than he had imagined. Each side of the room sported its own private entrance, an extra-long twin bed, a simple nightstand, and a maple computer desk complete with chair, lamp, and a miraculous desktop computer! Caffeinated excitement raced through his veins. School was everything he had dreamed. He took a delighted breath and choked.

  A guy in his late teens lay sprawled on the bed opposite. He held an iPhone in one hand and a joint in the other. His hair was white blond and shaggy, his eyes a bloodshot blue. He was tall, ripped, and wore a leather jacket and jeans. He looked more like a biker than a student.

  “Hi,” Charles choked out through the stifling pot fumes. He shoved a window open and sucked a breath of fresh air. “You must be Chris.”

  “Jackson.” The biker dude brushed blond wisps out of his eyes and fixed him with a penetrating scowl.

  Charles lifted his duffle onto the bed to unpack. Jackson took a drag and eyeballed him as if he was Netflix. Charles squirmed beneath his unblinking gaze. Unpacking could wait until later. He retreated before his roommate crossed the line from creepy to an actual threat. Thanks a lot, Ken. He headed for Amy’s room to vent.

  A great wailing assaulted his ears from halfway down the hall. His steps faltered. Bad time for a visit? Curiosity got the better of him. The door flew open the second he knocked. Amy dragged him into a dorm room identical to his own. Jessie was lying face-down on her bed, sobbing, at volume, into her pillows. She looked terrible, a word Charles had never before associated with Jessie. Her luxurious auburn hair was tangled beyond recognition, and she was sloppily clad in a fraying T-shirt and sweats. Charles widened his eyes in alarm. Jessie never wore sweats.

  “Charles!” Amy’s nails dug painfully into his arm. “Tell Jessie how great she is and how stupid Ken is.”

  “Uh, you’re great. Ken’s stupid. What happened?”

  “Chelsea texted Jessie.” Amy growled the three words with enough rage to spark a thunderstorm.

  Chelsea Brookes, Jessie and Amy’s arch nemesis from high school, was a vindictive witch bent on destroying anyone unfortunate enough to get in her way. She must have told Jessie that Ken had cheated before Amy got the chance.

  “Jessie, I’m so sorry.” He perched on the edge of her bed and awkwardly patted her shoulder. Ken had lost his mind if he thought there was anyone out there better than this girl. She was beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and brilliant. Charles compartmentalized his crush and focused on consoling his friend.

  Jessie’s tears slowly ebbed. Amy sank onto her bed with a relieved slump of her shoulders. “You knew a long-distance relationship was going to suck. Now you get to meet college guys.”

  “But I don’t want college guys,” Jessie said, her tears flowing free again. “I want Ken!”

  Charles shot Amy a look. Relationship counseling was not her forte. “Why don’t you go get her ice cream or something?”

  “Kit-Kat blizzard is on its way.” She hugged Jessie tight. “I love you, girl. I promise you deserve better than this.” She swept from the room, a woman ready for battle. He shuttered to think what would happen if Dairy Queen messed up her order.

  Charles turned back to Jessie. He needed to take her mind off Ken. “Wanna hear about my latest misfortune?” She sniffed. He took that as a yes. “I have the worst roommate ever. He’s only been in our room an hour, and our dorm already reeks of pot. He’s like a hybrid of Johnson and Ash.” Nathan Johnson, another jacked member of Assassin’s Honor, had received an even longer prison sentence than Peter. Ashton Jo
nes, the gang’s resident druggy, had died in the car crash that had nearly killed Amy.

  “Seriously? That sucks.” Jessie sat up and blew her nose. Her emerald green eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

  “Tell me about it. And he wants me to call him by his last name. At least Zack never made us do that.”

  “’Cause his last name sucks.”

  “True that. You wanna know something else horrible that happened to me this morning?”

  “Does anything good ever happen to you?” She dabbed at her face with a washcloth. Her long, pale lashes were moist with tears, and her ivory skin was streaked with mascara. Charles seethed. He hoped Ken died a brutal, painful death when his time came.

  He shoved his anger aside. Comforting Jessie was more important. “Not usually. But at least dreadful happenings make for some damn good stories. I walked in on Amy and Zack doing it in the hotel.”

  “No,” she groaned. “That’s the worst! Those two need a lesson on how locks work.”

  “To be fair, I unlocked the door this morning, but they knew I had a room key.”

  Charles kept the conversation light, expertly steering it clear of anything that might trigger the now taboo subject of Ken. Not that Charles minded never speaking of Ken again. They waited for Amy for over an hour and gave up on her ice cream in favor of giant cookies from the cafeteria.

  Zack waved at them from a table near the center of the crowded room. He was sitting with another tall, redheaded freshman. Charles led Jessie over.

  “Hey guys.” Zack pulled out a chair for her. “This is my roommate, Max.”

  Charles did a double-take. Max was Zack’s doppelganger. He was within an inch of his height with the same dark red hair and crystal blue eyes. He was thinner, though, and by the look of him, a lot poorer. He wore a faded army green T-shirt, baggy denim shorts, and sneakers with the soles peeling off.

  Charles left the group to exchange pleasantries and went to fetch Jessie an enormous tray of comfort food. He snagged another cup of coffee for himself while he was at it.

  “You seen Amy?” Zack asked as Charles sat next to him.

  “Not for about an hour.” Charles met Zack’s eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t.

  Zack swiveled back to Max, his cheeks turning crimson at the flashback to that morning. “So, any idea what you’re majoring in?”

  “Pharmaceuticals.” Max had a deep, resonant voice that made you stop and pay attention.

  “Cool! I love science.” Charles never missed an opportunity to nerd out. He jutted his lower lip in a resentful pout. Why had Zack gotten the cool roommate?

  They chatted about their families and friends and their hometown high schools. Jessie acted more and more like her old, bubbly self, even busting out a story or two of Amy at homecoming and Jessie’s own struggles with cheerleading freshmen year. Charles listened with a love-struck smile. It warmed his heart to see her happy. The girl was untouchably perfect. She deserved far better than Ken Cheating Richards.

  Charles spotted Amy entering the cafeteria. He caught her eye and waved. She changed course with a triumphant smile and a giant DQ to-go cup in her hands. Her gaze fell upon Max and her body seemed to stiffen. Her smile faded and her steps faltered. “Max?” She glared at Zack’s roommate like she wanted to kill him dead.

  “Amy Evans.” Max’s face split in an elated grin. “What a surprise this is.”

  Amy handed Jessie her ice cream and leveled Max with a look so cold it could have frozen a volcano. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t ever⸻” She turned on her heel and stalked away with tears in her misty eyes.

  “What was that?” Zack gaped from Max to Amy’s retreating figure and back again.

  “Beats me.” Max lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “You guys coming?” He had invited them all to his room for video games and snacks.

  Zack shook his head. “I’d better make sure she’s okay.

  Seven

  AMY STORMED FROM the cafeteria and broke into a run. Decking, pavement, and grass flashed beneath her feet too fast for them to register. Students on their way to lunch stared as she barreled by. Amy fixed her gaze straight ahead and fought to maintain her composure. After all she had done to forget her past! After everything she had been through to erase Max from her memory. Her breath caught on a sob. She felt herself unraveling and, for the first time in more than a year, she wished she had her knife. College was where people were supposed to escape their high school stereotypes and start fresh. Thanks to Max, she would never get that chance. Thanks to him, she’d probably start cutting. Zack would get upset, and they’d get into a fight, and Charles would side with him, and Max would ruin her life, again.

  She raced down several flights of stairs and skidded to a pebble-crunching halt with the ocean in front of her. Dazzling sunlight shown down on a manicured beach worthy of a postcard photo. Amy clutched a stitch in her side and plunked her butt onto a thick, gnarled log. She glared out at the calm, blue water. Nature’s beauty was a personal affront to her bad mood.

  She sank her nails into the log. Max was busy sharing every mistake she had ever made with her closest, favorite people. Zack would understand. No one else would even try. She had kept her secret for far too long. Angry tears burned her eyes. How was she supposed to have told them she had caused her baby sister’s death? When would have been a good time to mention that? Dark secrets paired badly with slumber parties and homework.

  Amy fought her tears and hurled a rock into the surf. That was better. The ripples made the ocean look angry, too. She channeled her pain into rage and chucked rock after rock at the gently lapping waves.

  “Would you please watch where you’re throwing those?” His words were polite enough, but his voice dripped sarcasm. Damien, Peter’s friend from the plane, was standing feet away, almost directly in her line of fire.

  “Sorry.” She tossed another rock past his shoulder.

  “You haven’t changed one bit, have you?” Damien’s eyes bored angrily into hers. Her stomach lurched along with her heart. He was gazing straight into her soul.

  She struggled to look away from his unnatural green gaze. “What is your problem? I have been nothing but nice to you. Who do you think you are, showing up out of nowhere acting like a jerk?”

  “Oh, now I’m the jerk? Says the bitch who made my life hell.”

  Amy pursed her lips and returned his narrow-eyed stare. He must have known her when they were little. No wonder he hated her guts. She put her elbows on her knees and rested her forehead in her hands. Perfect. More unwelcome reminders of her painful past. “I don’t remember you,” she told the sand.

  “I went to Pleasant Bay Elementary. You threw rocks at me on our first day of kindergarten.”

  Amy’s gut clenched, trepidation flooding her. If Damien had attended her elementary school, he had also gone to her middle school. That meant he knew about Katie. She tightened her grip on the pebble in her hand. She had been an official UBC student for three short hours. That was all the time it had taken to stumble across two people who hated her guts. Why had she let Zack and Charles talk her into moving back to Vancouver? “It’s a good school,” they said. “You’ll love being by the ocean again,” they said. Amy ground her jaw. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

  She lifted her chin and studied his face for an ounce of recognition. Average height, pitch-black hair, pretty emerald green eyes. Nothing about him was the slightest bit familiar. “What’s your last name?” She barked the request like an army drill sergeant.

  His eyes sparked with triumph. “Green. Ring any bells?”

  “Would you stop being an ass? I’m sorry for whatever I supposedly did to you in kindergarten but get the hell over it! I don’t even remember you.” She put a hand to her aching forehead. Damien was making her miss Toronto, a city she had sworn to hate.

  “Not many people remember me,” Damien said, his words laced with bitterness. “I was pretty much a loner.”

  “Me too, in high
school.” Maybe he’d chill out if he knew they had something in common.

  “Really? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I know, right? But after we moved, I focused on my grades, my part-time job, and looking after my sister. I ditched the popularity crap.”

  He pressed his lips into a thin line and released a slow, angry breath. “You’ve gotten nicer.” He sounded furious about it.

  Amy looked away. She wasn’t a nice person. He ought to know that. “We didn’t go to middle school together, did we? I thought I knew everyone, but I don’t recognize you.” Her gut clenched with anxiety. She braced herself for the worst.

  “We did.” He perched on the log beside her. Amy squeezed her eyes shut and battled a tidal wave of shame. “You used to give me swirlies.”

  Her eyes flew open. She used to shove his head into toilets, and he was sitting here reminiscing about it? “I’m sorry.” She gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth.

  “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I guess I’m over it. You seem nicer now.” His voice had an edge of reluctance, but his words were genuine.

  Amy gaped at him, struggling to keep up. Did Damien have dual personalities? One minute he hated her guts, and the next he was offering her a blanket statement of forgiveness. Emotion flickered in his eyes. Compassion? Anger? She leaned forward with interest. His eyes seemed to glow. She blinked several times, thinking the bright sunshine had messed with her vision. His eyes were still glowing. Her heartbeat accelerated. She tried to look away and could not move. She gazed into eyes that had once been a vibrant emerald green and now glowed a distinctive red. Her emotions whirled. She craved Damien’s approval, longed for it, even. She yearned to be close to him with an ache so powerful it resonated within her soul. The pull toward him curled around her like a mist, increasing the beat of her heart and the intake of her breaths. She let the invisible, soothing tether guide her and shifted closer to his side. He slowly reached for her hand, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.