Into the Darkness (Darkness #1)(17)

Suddenly, in full action, I started my car and stepped on the gas. Some guy dove out of the way, groceries flying.

“Sorry!” I yelled out the window, berating myself for not looking first.

Speeding to my general destination, I couldn’t help but feel a hard pang of guilt. In the back of my head I knew, just knew, this had to do with my secret box. I’d finally found the things I’d been catching glimpses of my entire life (they were real!), and while a huge part of me was relieved I wasn’t crazy, Jared was somewhere right now probably thinking he was. My life had officially started to corrode him.

It was only a matter of time.

Slowing as I neared the old crash site from a couple of nights ago, I noticed the fresh scar on the tree. I kept driving, letting out the other contents of my secret box and grasping a really helpful little tool. I’d always thought of it as women’s intuition, just a lot more potent than other people’s. I could find a diamond earring on a soccer field after everyone else had looked all day and given up. I had feelings about pop quizzes. I could guess someone’s intentions a second before they acted on them. It wasn’t failsafe, and it didn’t always work, but when it did, miracles happened.

I needed a miracle right now.

In a weird kind of daze, I let my inner voice guide me, my arms dropping to the right on the steering wheel, then the left, taking turns until I slowed in the nicer part of town. Low and behold, looming up on the left, huge and brooding, was a freaking mansion! A fortress, more like, dominating the neighborhood with size and well… weirdness. It had gothic-looking spires and busts, three visible stories, and took up half a block. Oh yeah, and gargoyles huddled along the sweeping roof, snarling out at the street.

How had people not petitioned? How had I not heard of a relic from Ghostbusters? Where was the key master? All good questions for yet another time; I had found the right place.

“Homey,” I muttered, taking in the dark brown paint with black trim.

A woman, moving as if made from silk, made her way down the sidewalk and turned onto the path to the front door. She was tall and lithe, beauty showcased in a shimmery, see-through gown.

“Yeah, this is the right place, all right.”

When had I taken up talking to myself?

I slipped out of my car silently and bush hopped until I was crouching next to the porch, watching the quiet street in the darkness. I had to assume that the other houses were owned by normal people, and normal people didn’t gallivant outside at midnight. That just left me with the non-normal people who were definitely living, or at least residing, in this house.

I glanced at the door, shifting within my bush. I really didn’t want to go in and face the crazy. I hadn’t forgotten how large those guys had been, or Goddamn strong Charles was. I poked the guy in the eyeball and he just reached out to palm my breast, completely unconcerned! Who was I fooling? What help would I be trying to break Jared out of here?

I should call the cops. That’s what I should do. Report a kidnapping.

Except, these non-humans could apparently bend people to their will sexually. I had to imagine that crossed over into just influencing people, period. These people could also somehow hide gothic castles within the city limits. Something told me cops would be ineffective. Plus, I’d been hiding my secrets for so long, I knew better than to stick my neck out.

So, hero it is. Ugh.

Steeling my courage, I tiptoed out of the bush and scurried up the steps, pausing at the door. All was quiet. Fingers tingling, I turned the ornate handle and opened the door a crack, braced with flight in mind.

Silence.

The breath slowly exited my lungs. Here we go.

I peeped my head in, eyes scanning furiously for occupants.

My noisy inhale was not in the plans.

It was like I had just stepped into a rich person’s house in the early nineteen hundreds. The colors were lush wood and browns with pinky-purple velvet chairs and a marble fireplace. Large rugs adorned the floor and sweeping drapes styled the windows. It was an outer room, made for company and pleasant chatting, and completely clean—no mess, no dishes, and no clutter. If it wasn’t for the muted glow from electric lamps, I would’ve thought I jumped back in time.

Keeping to the sides, I edged my way deep into the room toward the back where there was a nondescript door almost blending into the wall. This was where my inner sense directed me, whispering that Jared lay deep in the heart of this place. He would be in a room with a lot of people, mindlessly held prisoner, entertaining a great many people as they, in turn, entertained him.

My stomach twisted, strengthening my resolve.

I scampered across the spacious room and paused again, turning the handle slowly. Well-oiled hinges, thank God. Another old-timey room waited beyond, but this one was decorated like a study of some kind. A huge rack of books—the term bookcase was too small for this masterpiece—dominated the back wall. A couch and a few chairs were positioned near the middle of the room with a large, mahogany desk sitting against the other wall.

Empty. Still lucky.

I once again scurried through, trying to make absolutely no noise. At the other door, I paused to listen, my palm on the handle. It was here I heard murmuring through the heavy wood door. Crap!

I bounced around like a spider, trying to figure out where to go. The voices got louder—they’re coming this way!

My eyes dusted the sizable space, lingering on the desk. A few quick steps had me swiping a vicious-looking letter opener. It wasn’t a gun, but it was much more effective than a whistle.