Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle) Read online

  Wonderful.

  Gran hauled Tiffany to her feet none too gently, using her arm that was holding the nose, Tiffany gave a girl yelp. I almost felt sorry for her but this is where her lack of cooperation had taken us. I was ready for a little grave closure myself.

  Dad was rising shakily to his feet, not every day a person gets knocked out by a corpse, and making his cautious way toward us, Mom on his heels.

  Gran looked speculatively at him.

  I gave Dad the stay back look. He stared back at me, you got this, Caleb? I shrugged, I just didn't know but them getting the potatoes beat out of them by Gran wouldn't help.

  Tiffany glared down at my Gran. Yeah, down, Gran was small, not that size mattered. Bry was on his feet too. Holding his crotch that was probably throbbing like hell.

  Gran waited. Tiffany waited, eying each other warily.

  I did what I thought would work. I released what I had left. It wasn't much, little more than a drop of water in a glass. It found its mark and hit Tiffany running.

  Like knew like.

  Naked goosebumps began at her wrists, making their way up her arms, hoodie long-gone in the midst of the scuffle with Gran.

  Tiffany threw her head back, her mouth open, like catching snowflakes on our tongues when we were little.

  She said, “it feels good... it feels good, why didn't you tell me it would feel good?”

  “Because I didn't know,” I replied softly.

  Her head righted itself and she stepped away from Gran who kept a wary eye on Bry and my parents as they walked toward me. Tiffany's eyes were a deep, hazel green I noticed as she got closer. Not the brilliant shade that Jade had, but pretty in a mysterious way. Dried blood edged her nostrils delicately.

  She held her hand out, momentarily forgetting Gran was right there, shuffling behind her. I reached out to take it, having never touched another AFTD and two things happened at once; I felt an instant injection of juice and the whispering grew in volume. The voices and their distinct signatures...clearer.

  As if in slow motion, Tiffany turned to me, looking me in the eyes. “Is it always like this?”

  “What?”

  “The voices.”

  “For me... yeah.”

  Her eyes widened. “It's so loud.”

  “It's louder with us touching.”

  “Oh.”

  We turned as one mind, one intent.

  Gran had shambled over to her grave, looking rattier by the moment. Somehow, she had super-zombie strength.

  My juice was okay now. I could feel Tiffany's energy or power, complementing mine.

  I looked into Gran's eyes, and for a moment, there was some spark or something, I didn't know what. Tiffany and I both noticed and reacted. It felt slimy and evil.

  She looked at me, scared.

  I looked back, a little shake to my voice, “Ready?”

  We both knew I wasn't asking.

  I let my power shift to Tiffany at the same time I squeezed her hand and it flowed between us and I thought, rest. A mental muscle flexed, the strength of my will chased the thread that connected me to Gran from when she gave up her place in the ground.

  Tiffany's hand convulsed around mine. “Oh.”

  It was so simple it was criminal. Speaking of which, I could hear sirens in the background. There was no explaining our way out of this mess.

  Gran gave one last heave of her chest, seeming to suck in real air for the last time, the breath rattling hollowly as it left her lungs, then she laid down on the grave. The dirt flowed over her, engulfing her body.

  Tiffany and I watched. When it was done, the grave was undisturbed, like it had never happened. But as Tiffany and I released each other's hand, that spark between us fading, we surveyed the bloodied people around us. We knew it had been real.

  The first police car arrived and Garcia stepped out, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

  Perfect.

  ****

  Garcia sauntered over, that wide smile stretched over his face.

  Tiffany stayed where she was, Bry walking over to stand beside her. I had to assume it had been Tiffany's snitch friend that had blabbed to the police. Sure enough, she exited Garcia's police car.

  With the hood covering her face I hadn't really noticed her that much, kinda busy with Gran-the-corpse and Tiffany's rather problematic older brother.

  She had weird-colored hair and that's how I'd remember her later when I filled the Js in. It was somewhere between dishwater blond and red. Mom would know the color right away. Her face was all tight and pinched. From the guilt I was betting, morbidly pleased.

  She looked warily from Tiffany to Bry then me. She took in all of us standing together and the lack of a zombie running around and flushed a fine, true red.

  Good, let her feel embarrassed. The evidence was gone and just some blood hanging around. My parents were at my back (literally). I was absolutely sure Dad had figured out what to say unless Gran had knocked something important loose on his trip to the tombstone.

  Garcia stood facing us, legs wide, considerable arms folded across his chest. He looked at the Weller kids then my parents.

  Then... me.

  “Well, Caleb, what do we have here?”

  Just a tiny bit of corpse-raising.

  Dad interjected, I knew he would, “Sergeant Garcia, good to see you again.”

  “Hello, Mr. Hart. No offense, but I was talking to Caleb.” his eyes got back to boring into mine.

  I felt steady. I hated to admit it, but I felt more solid with Dad here.

  “And he's a minor,” Dad added.

  Garcia's head swiveled back to Dad, his eyes narrowing. “I don't have to be reminded of that Mr. Hart.”

  Their gazes held.

  “We were here, conducting some experiments, and these kids,” Dad gestured to the Weller kids and then gave a nod in the direction of girl unknown, “happened upon us.”

  Dad put his hands out to each side then shrugged like, no big deal, just a family hanging around the graveyard on a Saturday... riiiggghht. That was gonna fly.

  Garcia put his hand on his chin, rubbing it.

  Mom hiccuped behind me. Oh great, she always got those when she was nervous. Loud ones, too, from her gut.

  I rolled my eyes and Tiffany gave Mom a look like, what now? Mom went ahead and did another one. Garcia's eyebrows shot up but he said nothing. Dad squeezed Mom's shoulder. Geez.

  The other cop joined Garcia. He was all business, with a short, military haircut. It was so blond that he looked bald. He was short, barely taller than me, with deep set eyes, never stopping their back and forth restless movement. Shifty bastard, he made me nervous.

  Garcia glanced casually at him and said, “This is my partner, Officer McGraw.”

  This guy was big time Aryan nation, white bread in his pants, all blond and light compared to Garcia's tall darkness.

  But he was scarier.

  I could feel this guy's potential and it didn't feel good. What I wouldn't have done for a dose of Jade's Empath skills about now.

  Garcia smiled during his introduction then got down to the meat of the matter. “The department is pairing mundane officers with a paranormal to better handle paranormal crime. After all, we need the paranormal presence to handle that element.” Garcia finished.

  He said paranormal like a curse. That, I-want-to-be-your-friend thing had been an act. Boy, was I glad I hadn't said too much during the dog incident.

  McGraw let a cruel smile flash, then it was gone. I was guessing he was about Parker's age, one of the first group of kids that got the inoculation.

  They weren't giving these guys good enough psych screenings.

  What was he anyway? That would prove pretty useful to know in say, the next ten minutes.

  I didn't have long to wait, this jerk was just dying to show off, who knew why? Because he could, like Carson.

  “McGraw's an elemental.” Garcia let the comment drop like a stone in a lake.

&nb
sp; We-were-so-screwed.

  The Elementals could manipulate the four elements and it was NOT weather dependent. Fire, water, earth and air. God help us if he was like, on my level, controlling all four in the way that I had all five “hit-points” of the AFTD.

  He obviously did not have all his dogs barking so I was not interested in show and tell.

  I looked at Dad, he was frowning. I did a mental face-palm: there were three more kids from school that knew and the cops were involved... swell.

  “If anything gets out of hand here, I have perfect confidence that McGraw can handle it to the letter of the law.”

  Great, I bet.

  Dad spoke up, “I don't think any of us will be unreasonable. There is no need for posturing.” Oh boy.

  Garcia flipped open his notebook (pulse it, moron) and got a pen out. Who wrote anymore?

  He turned to the girl, who's name floated just out of reach. “Miss Cote,” (that was it!), “... why don't you reiterate what you told me at the police station.”

  Miss Cote came forward awkwardly, eyes downcast. “It's cot-A, ya know, a long 'A',” she corrected sullenly.

  Cops growing out of the ground and she's correcting their pronunciation.

  “Okay... Miss Cot-A,” he emphasized. “Please repeat what you told us at the police station for these folks.”

  Cote looked at Tiffany, who shook her head, no.

  So, Tiffany wasn't feeling like being outed either.

  Cote rolled her lower lip, biting it with her teeth and staying silent. Garcia turned his whole body to face her, towering over her with his height, intimidating. She looked up at him, a shadow of doubt crossing her face.

  “I thought I saw something over there by his parents.” She pointed in the general direction of Gran's tombstone. “But it isn't here now.”

  “Now come on, you said a lot more than that,” McGraw prompted.

  Dad gave him an unfriendly look and Garcia gave it right back.

  Cote glanced over his way and sighed.

  Tiffany said, “Mia, no.”

  That was it! Mia. I hated forgetting peoples' names.

  Mia went on, “We were just going to come out here and hang. And then we saw these guys,” she gestured to my parents and I like a loose unit, “and saw something else too. It smelled,” she said with distaste.

  “What smelled?” McGraw asked.

  “The dead woman,” she said finally.

  Garcia smiled with triumph. Well, good luck with finding any evidence, I thought with a stab of satisfaction.

  “But where is the dead woman now?” Dad's arms spread out on either side of him, no corpses here, guys.

  Garcia and McGraw left Mia where she stood. They began a tight search of the area, moving in between tombstones where tall Douglas fir trees grew in great clumps.

  The cops separated, stepping on top of Gran's grave without a downward glance. When I said undisturbed, I meant it. Not a blade of grass was out of place. It looked perfect.

  McGraw turned back to Mia. “Where did you see this dead woman?”

  “Right there,” she said.

  He looked to where she was pointing, his eyes roving up to read the tombstone:

  Here Lies Charles Doyle, beloved husband of Margaret “Maggie” Doyle. Born 1934, died 2000.

  He read Gran's headstone next.

  Don't ask Garcia, don't ask.

  He asked, “One of your relatives, maybe? Doing a little visiting.”

  “No. Actually, we were conducting experiments, as I mentioned earlier,” Dad repeated.

  “Well, I did some looking.” He tapped his pen to the side of his head, indicating some thinking too. “I have the last five generations of both your families in my little notebook, right here.” He looked down then back up again. His eyes met Dad's in a direct challenge. “And here you all are, right at the family plot.”

  He snapped the notebook closed with a tight grinding sound that made me give a little involuntary jump. Dad put his other hand on my shoulder. “But from what Miss Cote tells us, you were doing more than experimenting.”

  I looked at Mia but she wouldn't look back.

  The Weller kids had been quiet this whole time then Bry spoke up, “Caleb and I got into a fight, that's all. His dad tried to break it up when it got out of control.”

  McGraw looked openly skeptical but took in Dad's appearance; the disheveled hair, the grass stains on the seat of his pants. He looked at Mom next, who shrank behind Dad. That clinched it for me, she didn't like him any better than I did.

  Garcia focused all his attention on Bry. Taking in the blood all over the front of his shirt, then looking at Tiffany, the dried blood from the ruckus with Gran, still congealing underneath her nose.

  He looked back at me.

  “But not a scratch on you.” His eyes steady on my face.

  “I guess I got lucky,” I said with only a small tremor in my voice.

  “But the,” he opened his notebook, scanning with his index finger until he came up with the name, then tapped it once, “Weller boy, has what looks like a piece of his tongue missing. And the sister,” he looked down again, “Tiffany, has sustained trauma to her nose.” His eyes narrowed at me, barely more than slits.

  “It's not Caleb's fault,” Tiffany rushed into the space in the conversation. “I just got in the middle.”

  Silly me. I kept the surprise off my face, she was sure busy keeping things from the cops.

  McGraw was openly scowling and Garcia looked thoughtful. They couldn't do anything. They'd have to chalk the whole thing up to a hysterical girl in a graveyard, thinking she saw things she didn't. Two boys getting in a fight, maybe over Tiffany. Duh, like that would happen but they didn't know that and a fight ensuing after Mia took off to rat on us.

  The cops studied us as we calmly looked back.

  Finally, Garcia turned to Mia. “Are you sure that you saw a dead woman? Or, are you willing to recant your testimony?”

  “Recant?” Mia asked.

  “Take it back. What you said. All of it.”

  “Yeah... yes... I recant. I don't know what I saw,” she responded helplessly. No corpse and her two friends obviously siding with me. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  “I guess we'll have to be satisfied with that.” Garcia said.

  The wind had come up so much it was distracting, whipping my hair and lashing my face.

  “But know this: I thought I smelled a skunk, saw a skunk so there must be one.” Weird, just like Morginstern. Must be a contagious skunk fetish going around.

  “You have my full attention Caleb, and for the record, I don't like being played. If I find out you're a Cadaver-Manipulator, we are lawfully bound to report that to the proper authorities. Don't let me find out you've been holding out on us.”

  His hand came to rest on the baton strapped to his utility belt. Well hell, threatening-much. Mom made a sound behind me, Dad drew her into his body.

  McGraw let a huge smile settle on his face, a look of concentration sitting oddly askew. Raising his palm up he said, “Be still.”

  The wind that had been so annoying suddenly stopped. Yet, just about fifteen feet away it made the huge, low branches on the fir trees dance and move rhythmically. We were in some kind of eye of the storm. McGraw was showing his “juice” was working here; he was an air elemental (AE). Clyde-the-corpse's words, to whom much is given, much is expected, didn't apply to this guy. It was all about him.

  Terrific.

  “We'll see you again, Hart family. There will be a next time, and we'll be ready.” He turned and gave a moment's attention to the Weller kids and Mia, committing them to memory.

  With that charming goodbye, McGraw gave another small, tight smile, closing his open palm into a fist and drew it into his body. There was an audible pop and the wind rushed back, a reverse whirlpool, to lash our faces again.

  Garcia lingered, staring at our group, then turned and joined his partner.

  That didn't go
well.

  We watched the police cruisers drive off, knowing that some vague threat had been issued, a warning. I looked at my parents worried faces and saw identical expressions mirrored on the kids I had met today: we're screwed.

  CHAPTER 14

  Tiffany turned to Mia. “You're such an ass-potato!”

  Mia looked around for support, getting none, she retaliated with, “It looked bad to me. The old, dead woman and all. I didn't know what to do!”

  Mom and Dad were watching this interchange with interest.

  Bry walked up to Tiffany. “Leave it Tiff, we all did the best we could. AFTD has been hard for you too.”

  I looked at their bloodied faces and felt responsible.

  Dad turned to me. “Is this girl another AFTD?” he looked at Tiffany. “Just clarifying here.”

  “Yeah.”

  Tiffany looked at me. “I thought I was the only one.”

  If I'd known sooner, we wouldn't have needed to be alone.

  “No. I just found out that I had it.”

  “How?”

  I gestured to the grave behind me, Gran's grave. “It was an accident the first time. I told Carson and Brett,” I paused here, our school was big enough...maybe she didn't know them? But she gave me a gagging finger down the throat, she knew them, “...that I could hear the dead. Actually, John did.”

  “Why would you guys tell them? They're dickheads.” She caught Mom's look and rephrased to soften the swearing some. “They're jerks to everybody.”

  I nodded, perfect assessment. I'd agreed with the first one too.

  “Because, I knew from Biology and some other stuff.” The roadkill came to mind and all the fun with the insects, also in Biology. “That I had AFTD... the frogs...” I shuddered where I stood, “that I may have enough,” I thought for a second, making airquotes, “ 'power' to prove that I wasn't some kind of coward.”

  “Who the he... heck,” she looked at Mom, “cares what they think?”

  “They were being jerks to me and I was tired of it. Jonesy,” Tiffany rolled her eyes, she really was good at that and Bry chuckled, “thought it'd be a good idea to show them what I had, that I wasn't a poser.”