Evening Storm (Midnight Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  About the Author

  Books by Andrea Pearson

  Evening Storm

  Midnight Chronicles Book Two

  Andrea Pearson

  Copyright © 2019 Andrea Pearson

  Book design and layout copyright © 2019 Andrea Pearson

  Cover copyright © 2019 Covers by Christian

  Series by Andrea Pearson:

  Kilenya Chronicles

  Mosaic Chronicles

  Koven Chronicles

  Silver Assassin

  Midnight Chronicles

  Ranch City Academy Series

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  If clicking the button above doesn’t work, go here: http://andreapearsonbooks.com/myfreebooks.html

  Dedication

  To Ridley’s

  For their fantastic lounge, where a large portion of this book (and others) have been edited.

  Also to my in-laws

  Because I married into the best family ever.

  1

  I didn’t allow myself to sleep, to stop, to rest my entire drive from Kansas to Lehi.

  I still couldn’t believe what had happened. My failure to stop the Shadow Prophet. Porter banished to who knew where. My mother tortured.

  And the Shadow Prophet not destroying either of us.

  Most of all, I couldn’t believe how firm my resolve was to complete my contract with him.

  I needed to murder Lizzie, and I had to do it while my emotions were numb.

  First, though, I wanted to take care of something. Because as soon as I was done with my sixth and seventh targets, I would turn myself over to the authorities. I didn’t want to leave any loose ends behind. Especially since I’d definitely end up with life in prison for what I’d done.

  That loose end was Porter.

  I had to make sure he was okay. He’d done me a favor, and I hoped nothing truly bad had happened to him as a result.

  And so, I headed toward the well in Eagle Mountain, running over my to-do list as I drove.

  Check on Porter.

  Kill Lizzie.

  Kill seventh target.

  Turn myself in.

  I was so exhausted. My nightshade tattoo had to be close to forcing me to sleep soon. But I wouldn’t give in. Not yet.

  Once I reached the well, I parked the car and scaled the fence that surrounded it, then waited for the well to open up before climbing down. My footsteps were sure as I strode toward the raucous laughter in the room at the end of the tunnel.

  Porter wasn’t there.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  One of the men—a guy with a square face and small eyes—glanced at me and smiled amiably. He was wearing a bowler hat and had a little mustache on his upper lip. “Why, hello there. Porter ain’t here.”

  I could see that. “So? Tell me where he is.”

  The man grinned, jumping up from his seat. “How ’bout I take you to where he might be? You’re not gonna be able to talk to him anyway.”

  My heart rate increased at that. “Why?”

  “He hasn’t become physical or even visible since whatever that demon did to him happened.”

  Not good. “Fine. Thanks.”

  “Follow me.”

  The only woman in the group glanced at him, setting down her cards. “Robert, you want us to hold off on the game for you?”

  His smile dimmed. “Stop calling me that. And no, don’t wait. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  Robert—who didn’t want to be called Robert—and I headed down the tunnel. He ended up being even more chatty and friendly than Porter.

  “She calls me that to annoy me. It’s the name my parents gave me.”

  Seemed as good a reason to call him that as any.

  “I still don’t know why she likes spending time and gamblin’ with us, especially considering our history. I can’t remember all the details, but apparently, we attacked her caravan, and she came after us, wantin’ revenge. Maybe she got it, maybe she didn’t—details slip my mind after all these years—but soon as she died, she started hangin’ around us. First woman to stick around after death.”

  He glanced at me and grinned. “I s’pose I’m okay with it.”

  By that point, we’d reached the bottom of the well. And like what Porter had done before, Robert disappeared, then poked his head over the top of the well moments later.

  “I’ll be up here.”

  I was too tired to feel the injustice this time.

  I really struggled climbing. I couldn’t check at that moment, but my nightshade tattoo had to be almost completely empty. There was no way I’d make it to the top without a little help. I shifted my weight to my right arm completely, hanging precariously halfway up, and pressed on my golden tattoo.

  The rush of adrenaline powered my limbs, giving me a burst of energy I hadn’t felt in days, and I scaled the side of the well quickly.

  Robert pulled me up when I reached the top, and we walked side by side to my car. He stared at me for a moment before turning a frown on the vehicle.

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you want to ride with me or run in front of the car while I follow?”

  He adjusted his hat before rubbing his mustache. “If I go in the car, am I gonna die again?”

  “What are you talking about?” Was he that worried?

  “I might be half dead inside from everything I did while alive, and I might be all dead outside, but you’re dead on your feet. You need to sleep, boy, or we’re not going to get anywhere with you still alive.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t afford to.”

  “Why not? Afraid you’ll lose your resolve?”

  My frown deepened. How did he know anything about my decision to kill Lizzie? I hadn’t reached that point until after Porter left.

  My expression must have told him enough because he said, “Then
it’s not much of a resolve, is it? There’s no sense rushing into anything. Besides, I get the feeling what you need to do will require sleep and energy.”

  I folded my arms and glared at him. “What do you propose?”

  “Just that you sleep. At least for a few hours. I’ll go and see if I can find Porter ahead of time.”

  Before I could even respond, the ghost disappeared. So I drove to Ridley’s, a grocery store I’d passed on my way to the well. I parked, hoping I was in an unobtrusive place, as waves of exhaustion rolled over me.

  Robert had been correct. I’d barely made it.

  Before I had the chance to ask my nightshade tattoo to let me sleep, I fell unconscious.

  2

  Crisp hospital walls and décor greeted me when I awakened. A nurse stood over me, checking my vitals. I stirred, and she jumped away from the bed, screaming.

  “My heavens!” she said, hand at her throat. “You freaked me out!”

  “Why am I in the hospital?”

  She stared at me like I was crazy. “Because there’s obviously something neurological going on. We’ve been running tests, trying to figure it out. It’s something most of us have never seen before—you weren’t in a coma, but no one could wake you up. You were sleeping. Completely dead to the world.”

  I really had reached the end of my seven days. Normally, people could wake me if they tried hard enough. But when I reached the maximum amount of awake time, the nightshade tattoo forced me to sleep for two and half days. Nothing would rouse me during that time.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Just over two days.”

  Crap. I hadn’t lasted long in my car. It must’ve really freaked people out to see me sleeping there.

  Regardless, it was time to go. It wouldn’t be long before I’d need to rest again, and I had a lot to do in the meantime.

  I pulled the IV out, then started ripping the monitors off my chest, neck, and back.

  “No, Abel! Stop. You have to stay until we get the results back.”

  “You can’t keep me here.”

  Without waiting to see how she’d respond, I grabbed a hospital bag on the floor near the bed, surprised to see my clothes and wallet in it. If they’d wanted me to stick around, they should have hidden my things.

  Not wanting to stiff the hospital, I removed my driver’s license and insurance card, tossing them on the bed.

  “Make copies of that so you can bill me. I’m going to change.”

  I stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and dropped the hospital gown before donning my own clothes.

  By the time I got out, the nurse was scurrying back in with my cards. I must’ve intimidated her because I’d expected her to stall until a doctor came to lecture me. She wasn’t happy, but now that I was awake, it was obvious I was going to be fine, and they had no reason to make me stay.

  “At least let the doctor talk to you,” she said.

  “No, thanks. Where’s my car?”

  “I don’t know. Probably at the police station.”

  “Great,” I said under my breath.

  Without a backward glance, I strode from the room and left the hospital. Once outside, I powered on my phone, glad I’d been keeping it turned off since making my resolution where Lizzie was concerned. It had saved my battery. I gave Detective Evans a call.

  He and I had worked together a couple of weeks earlier, trying to find the hound that had murdered a man. I’d saved his number, knowing I’d probably need it in the future. I hadn’t expected to need it for this reason, however.

  When he answered, I told him who I was and asked him to find my car. No sense beating around the bush. Besides, it wasn’t his business why my car had been impounded. It mostly wasn’t his business.

  He didn’t ask, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t supposed to tell people about my tattoos, or I risked the tattoos not functioning as well.

  I heard him clicking on a keyboard for a few minutes.

  “It’s here, at the Lehi police station. You need a ride?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I promised I would, then ended the call.

  I was in the process of exiting from the contacts section of my phone when a text from Lizzie came through. I caught something about hounds hiding out in a storage unit in Lehi before I quickly shut off the device, my heart pounding against my rib cage. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—put any thought or time into reading her text in full. I couldn’t afford to.

  The police department was only a couple of miles away, but because of construction and traffic, it took me an hour to get there. After I paid a small fee, they handed over my car and keys. Detective Evans didn’t come down to greet me—I hadn’t expected him to, and I was grateful he’d chosen not to.

  Glad to be in familiar territory again, I breathed a sigh of relief that nothing more had happened while I’d been sleeping. Things could have gone so much worse. I wasn’t normally that reckless, but I figured it was understandable, given the circumstances.

  Not sure what else to do, I headed back toward the well. I didn’t get far before Robert appeared in the car next to me.

  “I found Porter,” he said. “Took me pretty much the whole time you were unconscious.”

  “Good. Where do I go?”

  Robert gave me directions, and I drove to a monument and a statue of Porter that were near the freeway at the Point of the Mountain. I stared at the statue for several moments, wondering what Porter thought of it. The metal version of him was seated and holding a cowboy hat high in the air with one hand and a rifle with the other.

  “I came here first,” Robert said, “but he wasn’t here. He was back east, visiting the home he’d grown up in before moving out west. He agreed to meet you.”

  He agreed to meet me? The formalness in that didn’t sound so good. I hoped he didn’t harbor a grudge, but I couldn’t blame him if he did.

  “Thank you for going to all the trouble. I appreciate it.”

  The man waved me off. “He’s a good friend. I like to make sure he’s taken care of.”

  We stepped up next to the statue, and Robert said, “There you are, Porter. Abel is here now.”

  “He can’t see me?”

  Robert shook his head. “He’s too much in the spirit world right now.” He paused, head tilted, and said, “Sounds good,” before turning to me. “Well? What do you want to say to him?”

  “First, I want to thank him for his help. Even if it didn’t end up working out—”

  Robert held up his hand. “Say no more. He’s incredibly mad.”

  I was afraid of that. “Tell him I’m sorry. I really am.”

  He waved me off impatiently. “No, no, not at you. At that Shadow Prophet. He’s never been bested by anyone before.”

  Oh, that was a relief. “He shouldn’t worry about it. No one will ever know—he has a very solid reputation.”

  Robert shook his head. “You don’t understand. Nobody bests Porter.”

  “Okay. Well, tell him not to worry about it because I’ve found a work around.” It wasn’t exactly the truth . . . but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. “And thank you, Robert, for your help.”

  He scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  “Butch.”

  “Butch?” I personally would have stuck with Robert.

  “Robert is the name my parents gave me. I hate it. Always have. As soon as I could, I left home and changed my name.”

  “To Butch?”

  “Yes. Butch Cassidy.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. “As in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?” Was he high? He didn’t expect me to believe he really was the famed robber, did he?

  Butch nodded. “The very same. Glad you’ve heard of me. Means the hard work I did to protect my reputation paid off.”

  “Of course I have.” He was one of the mos
t infamous criminals of the Wild West, after all. I just didn’t know that I believed this man was him.

  Butch glanced toward the statue. “Sorry, sorry. No, she’s fine—she’s just fine. Says hi.”

  He continued his conversation with Porter, and taking advantage of his momentary distraction, I pulled out my phone and Googled the outlaw. My eyes about popped out of my head when I recognized him immediately. He was telling the truth.

  Butch Cassidy’s ghost was standing next to me.

  3

  Holy crap. I couldn’t wait to tell Lizzie.

  My heart dropped at the thought of her name. What was I thinking? I wouldn’t be telling her anything about my new “friend.” My emotions couldn’t handle it. Just the thought of sharing that tidbit with her had made my pulse elevate, and it threatened to crack through my deadened heart and break my firm resolve. I wasn’t going there.

  I gritted my teeth when I thought of how my mother had looked when I’d last seen her. I’d tell her about meeting Butch Cassidy. And I’d do it as soon as I freed her by turning in the last two filled vials.

  “Okay, fine,” Butch was saying. “I’ll tell him.” He turned to me again. “He doesn’t want you to give up. He’s going to figure out what happened and why.”

  I shrugged. “He can do whatever he wants, but I have a contract to fulfill.”

  “You’re actually going through with killing her?”

  It seemed Porter didn’t keep secrets very well. “I don’t have much of a choice. Neither you nor Porter saw what happened to my mom after the Shadow Prophet banished Porter. I won’t make her go through that ever again.”

  He didn’t say anything in response. So, after thanking him again, I headed back to my car, deep in thought.

  I had spent my entire trip from Kansas to Lehi planning and thinking about how I’d kill Lizzie. Obviously, it would need to be quick, for both our sakes. Doing it while she was sleeping would be simplest, but that was cowardly. And I was not a coward. Not only that, but I wanted the opportunity to explain everything to her beforehand I . . . had to do the unthinkable. Maybe she’d find a way to forgive me.

  I doubted it.

  Regardless, my to-do list was pretty much done. I was tired of procrastinating.