Hearts of Darkness: A Valentine's Day Bully Romance Collection

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  She led the way down the hallway, past the bedrooms and the bathroom. She could still see the house as it once was.

  “There’s blood on the floor. Bloody footprints, like someone walked through a puddle of blood and kept walking, and they left a trail all the way down the hall toward the stairs.”

  Sean asked, “Where does the trail start?”

  “In the big bedroom, the last one down here.” Emma walked to the master, the source of the blood stains that she could see, and she stopped in the doorway. Energy was in this room, dark and coiled, vibrating with malice.

  “Ooh,” she breathed. “I don’t like it in here.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s...”

  The coiled energy rushed her, and like a maelstrom, it enveloped her. Emma gasped and threw herself backward, trying to get out of the spinning darkness, but she could only go as far as the door jamb. The entity swirled around her, and she felt a horrible chill lance through her.

  “Emma!”

  Sean’s voice came to her from a distance, as if he was calling to her from a hundred miles away. Icy energy was all around her, piercing her like the pins in a voodoo doll. Emma opened her mouth to scream, and the cold dove down her throat, pouring into her body. She slid down the door jamb and landed in a heap on the floor, shuddering and coughing.

  Strong hands grabbed her and hauled her up, and she leaned heavily on Sean as he dragged her down the stairs and out of the house. He put her on her back on the ground next to the car, and Talia, her eyes as big as saucers, knelt beside her.

  “What the hell happened?” she demanded.

  Emma looked up at her two panic-stricken companions and feebly held up a hand. “I...” She tried to speak, but she felt like her throat and lungs were full of water. Talia dialed someone and started talking excitedly into the phone, and Sean grabbed her hand.

  “It’s okay, Emma,” he said. “We’re going to get you some help.”

  “I...”

  The old man’s voice returned.

  -I told you not to go up there.-

  Chapter Eight

  Quinn led the rest of the Ghost U team through the hall at the hospital where Emma had been taken. Because of her past history, and because her heart was behaving erratically, the doctors had chosen to admit her for overnight observation in the cardiac ward. Talia had called them in near hysterics, and Quinn wasn’t sure if this was an elaborate hoax, or if there was really something wrong with this so-called psychic.

  He expected to see her sitting up in the bed, looking mildly inconvenienced by the monitors and IV liens. Instead, when he walked into her room, he found her a white as the pillowcase beneath her head and barely conscious.

  “Oh my God,” Brent exclaimed, echoing what Quinn was feeling.

  Talia looked up from the armchair where she was dozing. “Oh! You guys are here.” She stood up and pushed them back out into the hallway. Professor Montcalm and Tyler stopped in their tracks at their teammates’ precipitous reappearance. Talia brought them a few paces away from Emma’s door.

  “What happened?” the professor asked, concerned.

  “Sean said she just stopped talking and threw herself on the floor.” She gestured helplessly. “We got her here just as fast as we could - called 911, ambulance ride, the whole shot - and the EMTs were saying that she was showing signs of cardiac shock.”

  “Did she have another heart attack?” Quinn asked, concerned.

  “No, and that’s the weird part. Apart from an irregular heartbeat when she was first brought in, the doctors can’t find anything wrong.” She shook her head. “We probably should have vetted her for health instead of just for ability and looks.”

  Quinn looked through the open door at the bed where Emma was lying. “Does the camera guy have the whole thing on tape?”

  Talia nodded. “Yes.”

  “Excellent.”

  Brent frowned. “That’s pretty heartless.”

  “That’s why she’s here, isn’t it? Ratings?”

  Quinn walked into the hospital room and stood beside the bed. After a long moment, Emma looked up at him, her dark eyes shadowed. If she was an actress, she was Oscar-worthy.

  “Hi,” she breathed.

  “Hi,” he responded. “Sounds like you had a little scare.”

  Professor Montcalm drifted into the room as well, his eyes on Quinn. The younger man knew that the professor was expecting him to be harsh to Emma.

  “I guess,” she shrugged. “Sort of... part of the gig.”

  “How so?”

  Emma looked up at Quinn. “You’re so hard,” she whispered. “Your Aunt Lily is so sad about that.”

  His chest tightened. “My Aunt Lily?”

  “She wants you to let go of the anger. It’s poisoning you.”

  Quinn wanted to laugh in her face. Apparently, some of her Google-fu had gone awry, because his aunt was alive and well back in Boston. “You can drop the act, because I’m not buying it,” he told her quietly. “Just concentrate on feeling better. I don’t think the college wants a lawsuit on its hands.”

  Emma looked insulted. “I wouldn’t sue anybody over this. It’s a calculated risk.”

  “Right.” He looked at Professor Montcalm, then back at the girl in the bed. She looked so frail. “Well, rest up. Once the investigation is done, we’ll let you watch the dailies.”

  Emma sat up. “No, no. I came this far. You’re not shutting me out now.”

  The professor spoke up. “Nobody is shutting anybody out of anything. You’ll still be part of the investigation on Monday night, if you’re up to it.”

  Talia spoke from the doorway. “She should be out of here tomorrow. They’re just monitoring her tonight.”

  The psychic tried to sit up. “I can leave now. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine,” Quinn told her. “Why don’t you do what the doctors are telling you? I don’t want you dropping dead in the middle of the investigation.”

  Emma frowned. “Why not? Wouldn’t that be good for your ratings?”

  Quinn laughed. “Yeah, it might, but I don’t want to succeed that badly. Although... if you wanted to drop out after this...”

  She glared up at him. “I’m not dropping out. I need to know what’s going on.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’d really like to know that, myself.”

  THEY LEFT EMMA TO RECUPERATE and journeyed to their hotel, where they checked into their rooms. The network sprang for them all to sleep separately, which was both pleasant and strange. The three cast members were accustomed to their apartment living, and while it was nice to have space, it was odd to be alone.

  Quinn checked and double-checked his equipment and set up six different camera batteries to charge. He confirmed that there were plenty of other batteries and that all of the accoutrements were present and accounted for, and when he looked at the clock, it was still barely after midnight.

  He wanted to call home, just to prove that his Aunt Lily was alive and well, but he was hesitating because of more than the late hour. A part of him - a part that had him feeling thoroughly annoyed - was afraid to call. He didn’t want to take the chance that bad news was awaiting him.

  Quinn picked up his phone but tossed it aside with a grumbled instead. As soon as it hit the bedspread, it rang. It was his mother’s ring tone. He stared at the phone, frozen, until it stopped ringing.

  Coward, he scolded himself.

  He picked up his phone, but he still couldn’t bring himself to listen to the voicemail his mother had left. He scooped up the phone and left his room, walking to the room across the hall.

  His knock was answered promptly. Tyler opened the door with a smile. He was fussing with his technological toys, as well, and multiple cameras and monitors were set up for testing. Brent was kneeling on the floor, fiddling with wires.

  “Come in,” Tyler grinned. “We wondered what was keeping you.”

  Brent looked up, and when he saw Quinn’s expre
ssion, he frowned. “What’s up?”

  He held out his phone. “There’s a voicemail on this from my mom. I haven’t listened to it. I can’t.”

  “Why? Phone not working?” Brent asked.

  Tyler took the phone, a look of concern on his face. “What’s going on, Quinn?”

  “She’s calling to tell me my Aunt Lily died.”

  His friends exchanged puzzled glances. Tyler asked, “How would you know that?”

  He took a deep breath. “If I’m right, I’ll explain.”

  “You’re gonna explain either way,” Brent told him.

  Tyler listened opened the voicemail and played it on speaker. Quinn’s mother’s voice, thick with crying, played into the silent room.

  “Quinn, honey, I know you’re busy, but call me when you can. Aunt Lily passed away this morning.”

  His friends looked at him expectantly, and Quinn said, “Emma gave me a message from my Aunt Lily when I was in her hospital room. I thought she was full of shit, more so than usual, because my aunt isn’t dead. Or I thought she wasn’t. I just...”

  Tyler sat down and put the phone on the bed. Quinn picked it up and stared at the little screen.

  “Still think she’s a liar?” Brent asked.

  Quinn hated the entire situation. Shaking his head, he admitted, “I don’t know what I think.”

  “I’m sorry about your aunt,” Tyler said softly.

  “So am I.”

  Brent put his hands on his thighs and looked up from where he was kneeling. “Do you want to call the investigation?”

  “No.” His answer came out as a soft whisper, so he repeated it more firmly. “No. We’ve got clients and a job to do, and we’re going to do it.”

  His friends exchanged glances again, and Tyler said, “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” He gestured with the phone. “Thanks for listening for me... I’m going to just go back to my room... call my mom....”

  “Okay, man,” Brent told him. “If you need us, you know where we are.”

  Quinn nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

  QUINN’S SLEEP WAS FITFUL and broken, and when morning came, he would have given his world for a coffee IV. It was too late for breakfast in the hotel restaurant, so he ordered room service and waited for an early lunch to arrive.

  Today was Sunday, and it was a day dedicated to interviews and research. That sort of thing was Tyler’s gig, and normally Brent would go with him to film his information- gathering. Quinn wasn’t sure if things were different now that they had the network’s cameramen on hand. Maybe those guys would be filming, and Brent would have to learn a new skill.

  A soft knock on his door gave his empty stomach something to hope for, and he went to let room service in. To his surprise, it was Emma, not a hotel employee, who was standing in the hallway outside his room.

  They stared at one another for a moment, then she said, “Can I come in?”

  “Uh... of course. Yeah.” He stepped aside for her, then closed the door once she was inside. “How are you feeling?”

  “Perfectly okay,” she answered. “How about you? I heard about your aunt. I’m sorry.”

  He couldn’t suppress the bitterness in his voice. “Yeah, well... I’ll bet you weren’t surprised at all.”

  “I didn’t realize she was so recently dead. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have said anything. Hearing it from a medium is a shitty way to find out that someone you love is gone.”

  “Yeah, it was shitty,” he agreed. “This whole situation is shitty.”

  She crossed her arms. “For all of us. I didn’t ask to be forced on you, Quinn, and I’m really getting sick of your attitude. I have done nothing wrong, and I’ve done nothing to hurt you.”

  “No, but other psychics have.”

  “Well, I’m not them.”

  “You might as well be. Same schtick.”

  They stared at one another, and she turned away. “Look, I came here to be nice, to offer my condolences, but if you’re...”

  She started to walk toward the door, her face red with anger. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want her to leave that way, and he knew he was being a jerk.

  “Emma,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  She stared at him as if she hadn’t heard him, but finally she said, “I’m really sorry about your aunt, honestly, but at least now you know I’m not a fake. Can you please drop this hatred?”

  He ran a hand over his head, then cupped the back of his neck. He could feel a tension headache starting to take hold. “I can only promise to try.”

  Quinn sat on the bed, and after a moment’s hesitation, Emma sat beside him. “I know that there are people out there who prey on the weak and the grieving,” she told him carefully. “I don’t know who in your family was lost, or who was preyed upon, but I can sense that it’s very close to you and very personal. I’m going to guess a parent is involved, or maybe two.”

  “Are you reading me, now?”

  She turned and hitched her knee up onto the bed so she was facing him. “I’m not trying to be intrusive. I’m just trying to reach you.”

  In this close proximity, he could smell the delicate floral perfume she was wearing and the hint of musk beneath it. Her eyes searched his, and he was struck by just how beautiful she was.

  “Don’t,” he whispered.

  She frowned, confused. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t be nice to me. Don’t reach out to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to. I don’t want...”

  “Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” she asked, her own voice soft. “Because I’m not.”

  He couldn’t look away. There was something about her that was drawing him in, and he wondered if this was some kind of psychic power he didn’t know about. He asked, “And what if I hurt you?”

  Emma smiled. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  Moved by the moment, knowing that he shouldn’t, Quinn leaned forward and kissed her. She froze beneath the touch for a heartbeat, then put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him back. Their lips lingered, and heat raced through his body, settling in the pit of his stomach. He turned on the bed and took her face in his hands so he could kiss her more deeply.

  A sharp rap on the door broke the spell, and they pulled away from each other in a rush. Emma put a hand to her mouth and turned away from him, and he got up to answer the door. Room service had finally arrived with the worst timing ever. He signed the paperwork and accepted the tray, and when Quinn turned around, Emma was on her feet.

  “I have to go,” she told him.

  He put the tray aside. “Stay.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Emma shook her head. “Because this is exactly what Rogerson wants, and I will be damned if I play into his hands.”

  Quinn clicked his tongue, annoyed. “He’s not here. He never needs to know.”

  “He’ll find out. You’ll tell him.”

  “Why would I do that?” he demanded. “The last thing I want is to let that bastard manipulate me more than he already is. I won’t breathe a word about the kiss, or about...”

  He trailed off, stopping himself. She hadn’t moved toward the door, but she hadn’t sat down, either. She could still run, and if she tried, he didn’t know if he would let her. He searched her face.

  “About what?” she asked.

  He sighed. “About anything else that might happen.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Nothing else is going to happen,” she told him firmly, looking up at him again. “At least not yet.”

  Quinn didn’t know what to say, and she walked to the door. She opened it and hesitated with the knob in her hand. “I really am sorry about your Aunt Lily. She seemed like a very nice person.”

  She left the room, and he found that he really didn’t care about food any longer. Quinn hurried out after her. “Emma, wait.”

  T
he look on her face was as tense and conflicted as he felt. “What?”

  “I didn’t ask you... what happened?”

  Emma frowned, confused. “When happened, when?”

  “To send you to the hospital.” He stopped and gestured helplessly. “I mean, I should have asked before, but...”

  “Yeah, you should have,” she said, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth that made him think she was trying not to smile. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Sean said he got it on tape.”

  Quinn mused, “Hmm. I think I’d like to see that.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Well, then...” He offered her his elbow. “Shall we?”

  Emma looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you all of a sudden a great gentleman?”

  He laughed. “I have no idea. I kind of think I might be going crazy, honestly.”

  “Why?”

  “You.”

  She blinked up at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “Believe me, neither do I...”

  Chapter Nine

  STEVE MORRIS SAT WITH his camera trained on Tyler, filming the studious ghost hunter as he scrolled through newspapers on microfilm. Brent hovered beside his friend, peering at the screen as well, uncomfortable with the change in his role.

  Brent glanced at Steve and stifled a glower. He should have been the one behind the camera. That was his job: he filmed Tyler being smart and Quinn being brave, and then the three of them presented their findings together. Sometimes Brent would set up a camera to record a montage of the team going through the evidence, just to get their reactions if something showed up that they didn’t expect. It was their formula and their routine, and it had always worked for them. Now everything was different, and he didn’t approve.

  He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling pouty. It was like he had friends over after school and his parents had come home early to ruin the fun. He watched the pages of the old newspaper flash by on the microfilm projector and rubbed his eyes.

  “Can you really see anything on there?”