

### Contents

Preface

by Christina Hoag

Truth

by Caroline Andrus

Kiss Me Goodbye

by Nancy Pennick

A Night in Paris

B. D. Messick

A Dance in the Shadows

by Alice J. Black

Chasing Shadows

by Caroline Akervik & Ruth Rankin

The Pirate Promenade
Truth ~ Copyright © 2018 by Christina Hoag

Kiss Me Goodbye ~ Copyright © 2018 by Caroline Andrus

A Night in Paris ~ Copyright © 2018 by Nancy Pennick

A Dance in the Shadows ~ Copyright © 2018 by B. D. Messick

Chasing Shadows ~ Copyright © 2018 by Alice J. Black

The Pirate Promenade ~ Copyright © 2018 by Caroline Akervik & Ruth Rankin

* * *

Fire & Ice Young Adult Books

An Imprint of Melange Books, LLC

White Bear Lake, MN 55110

www.fireandiceya.com

* * *

Smashwords Edition, 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 person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

* * *

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

* * *

Published in the United States of America.

* * *

Cover Design by Caroline Andrus
No matter the day, the age, the realm... even a kick ass girl loves an excuse to get dressed up and dance her heart out.

# Truth

### A Girl on the Brink Story

### by Christina Hoag

When Jade tells the truth about a crime she witnessed, her actions come under the judgmental scrutiny of her friends. Then she befriends Justin, who knows what it's like to be judged for being different.

# Truth

"Wait. Did you just say you don't want to go to prom with me? You're taking _back_ your invitation?" A hole opens in my stomach, a giant, gaping abyss.

Malcolm's eyes cannot meet my shocked stare. All I see are the hoods of his lids as he searches the ground, as if the excuse is lying there, waiting to be picked up and hurled like a stone. He finds it.

"It's really my mom," he mumbles. "She says it's for the best, you know, with everything happening and..." His voice trails off into the air, leaving the sword of the unsaid hanging over me.

"The prom is in two weeks. I've already bought my dress, my shoes. How could you do this to me?" My voice quavers.

"I'm sorry, Jade." He turns and flees as if he can't wait to get away from me. Which, of course, he can't.

The backs of my eyes smart. I don't want to cry but I'm going to. I look around to see who has witnessed this small scene of my great humiliation. A couple girls nearby toss their hair and wheel their backs to me in a clucking circle of shields.

The co-captain of the hockey team refusing to go to prom with me will be all over the senior class by lunchtime. Malcolm and me aren't going together or anything, but when he asked me to go to prom with him, it was a big deal. Plus, I figured it might even lead to the proverbial "summer romance" that everybody seems to have—except me.

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes to erase the evidence of escaping tears. I press them so hard colored spots swirl in the blackness. When I open them, people are gawping at me. Their stares are Arctic ice. It can't be about Malcolm—yet. I know what it has to be about. There's only one difference between two days ago and today. It's that I told the truth.

My truth. My ugly truth.

The bell rings. The students mingling in the courtyard roll like a tide into the building. My feet are immovable concrete slabs. Kids shove past me, knocking my backpack, chattering over me, around me. I can't do it. I can't face the day now. I'm about to turn and run away when I hear my name bellowed.

"Jade Morano! I'm ready with the tardies." Mr. Rittenhouse, my hardass chemistry teacher from junior year, stands on the steps in front of the double-door entrance. He wags his pad at me.

I join the stoners, who have emerged from the fringe of woods surrounding the school and straggle in, already reeking of pot and cigarettes. Justin Chiu zooms by in his motorized wheelchair, cutting me off as he hangs a right up the disabled ramp. "Sorry!" he yells over his shoulder.

I don't have time to make a pitstop at my locker. I shuffle straight to homeroom where fifty-six eyes laser me as I enter. Fifty-eight, counting Ms. Alvarez. I hand her Mom's letter stating that I was absent the previous two days because "Jade had to give testimony at a criminal trial." I feel heat ballooning inside me as Ms. Alvarez scans it. _Criminal._ Couldn't Mom have just written "at a trial"? Ms. Alvarez scribbles her initials on it, records it on the roll and hands it back without a word.

My seat is in the second to last row. I walk down the aisle, keeping my gaze directed at the red dot of Berlin on the map of Europe that covers the back wall bulletin board, ignoring the creaking chairs and murmurs behind me. We stand for the pledge of allegiance, sit and the PA squawks with the daily string of announcements.

Bethany Frankel twists in her seat to face me. "How could you have left that girl? That was so cruel," she whispers.

Her words feel like slaps on my face. My cheeks actually burn. Brian Stavros leans over and delivers the gut punch. "You left her to be _raped_. What kind of person are you?"

I say nothing. I have no answers to these questions. I realize they're just voicing everyone's thoughts about me. Including my own. Anything I say will sound like a lame excuse, which it is. All I know is that I just went through the worse two days of my life on a witness stand in a courtroom, and everyone—the assistant prosecutor, my mom and dad, the therapist they sent me to—promised it would now be all behind me, but they were obviously and completely wrong.

It's just starting.

The bell rings for first period. I have U.S. History. I hang back until everyone files out ahead of me then beeline it to my locker for my textbook. I slow when I turn into the bank of lockers. Something is on my door. Big, red, spray-painted capital letters. F O R. What? But there's more. I inch closer, wary of what I'm about to read. In smaller letters under capitals, it spells out what they stand for: Friend of Rapist.

All air is sucked out of me. I gulp, trying to breathe but the air has solidified in my throat. I can't seem to get it down.

"Ignore it, Jade." It's Chloe, one of my best friends. "It's just stupid stuff."

As I look at her, it hits me that the newspaper Chloe works for after school, the Indian Valley Weekly News, is actually responsible for this. The editor of the paper, who Chloe had introduced me to one time when I went by the office, was sitting in the courtroom writing down everything I said, and writing down everything the defense attorney said. How I walked off and left Caitlin in the woods, that if I was so convinced Caitlin was being raped by the cries I "allegedly" heard, why didn't I go back to help her, why didn't I call nine-one-one when I got to the road, why did it take me almost a week to report the incident to police? And why did I desert my friends at the carnival opening night to go off drinking with two older guys and a girl, who I never met before, to the Rock? Of all places, the Rock, Indian Valley's known party spot, a massive boulder that slopes down to a lake on a mountainside reserve, which is closed, and dark and deserted, at night.

Everyone knows what I did because it was on the Weekly News website.

"What do you want, Chloe? An exclusive interview or something?" I fling open my locker and rummage for the book.

She recoils. "No, of course not. I just wanted to help."

I find "History of the Americans" and slam the door. "Yeah, you've already been such a help." I launch into a sprint down the emptying hall to beat the bell.

I can't concentrate on Mr. Belsky's lecture on taxation in the colonies. Several kids throw me sidelong glances as if they're seeing me for the first time. One of the frou-frou cheerleaders whispers to another, who turns and looks at me. I slump in my chair and throw my hoodie over my head.

The Weekly News website. Of course. Like a brick crashing upside my skull, I realize that's why Mom was absorbed in her phone two nights ago instead of playing along with _Wheel of Fortune_ , why Dad slammed his laptop shut when I came into the kitchen to raid the Mint Milanos late last night. Everybody read the stories except me, and I was the freaking story. Mom and Dad probably didn't tell me because they wanted to protect me. Instead, they left me wide open to be rammed with a tractor-trailer of rage and blame.

I sneak my phone into my lap and call up the website, so I can see what was written about me, but the page won't load. The circle just goes round and round in a maddening wheel.

As Mr. Belsky drones on, my anger bubbles to a boil, at my parents, at the prosecutor who said I was doing the right thing. The right thing for who? I should never have listened to them. I should never have said anything. I should've kept my mouth shut. I could have gotten away with it. I'd been a fool. Now, for some inane, unfathomable reason, I'm being blamed for the sexual assault, instead of the guy on trial. What about him? The actual person who did it. Shouldn't everyone be mad at him?

Why oh why did I not go home with Morgan that night at the carnival? That was when I met Caitlin, and the door to the rest of my life opened—to a staircase straight to the basement. The "incident," which is how Mom and Dad call it, happened last June, after school let out. When I went to the police and reported what I saw and heard that night, the detectives told me not to talk about it, so I didn't. People, including my friends, didn't really know my exact role in the whole thing. By the time school started, the sexual assault at the reserve was basically forgotten in the competition for "best summer ever!" stories.

It had all gone away, then the trial popped up, like the sun reappearing from behind a cloud to cast a spotlight on My Great Mistake, My Lapse in Judgment. They couldn't have waited until school let out. No, they had to do the trial not only while school was still in session but right before prom.

I check the phone. The article has finally loaded.

"Jade, are you with us?" Mr. Belsky calls. I startle. People swivel in their chairs to look at me.

"Yes," I croak, dropping the phone between my thighs and propping myself up.

"Top of page two seventy-nine, first paragraph."

I scramble through the textbook to the page and stare blankly at it, not sure what I'm supposed to do. "Read it, please, out loud." I hear a smattering of snickers. I suddenly hate everyone with such an intensity it scares me, but somehow, I manage to read the words although I don't comprehend a single one of them. I luck out. Belsky picks on someone else to explain what the paragraph means.

After history, I run into the girls' room and lock myself into a stall to read the article. All the stuff I did, and didn't do, is there, stark in black and white. My knees quake so badly I lean on the wall. The bell rings. I'm now tardy for Econ.

I make it through the rest of my classes with the help of my hoodie. I can't wait to get to lunch and see Morgan and Clarissa. I rush in and sit at our usual table to wait for them to return from the cafeteria line. I spot Morgan emerging from the cashier and wave.

"You're not eating?" She slides her tray holding a chicken wrap and fruit cup onto the table and sits.

I shake my head. I have a big lump in my stomach. "Not really hungry."

Clarissa's right behind her, with the exact same meal. On a normal day, I'd be behind Clarissa, also with the exact same meal. Chloe is missing. Because of the locker thing? Then I remember. It's Wednesday. She's busy with the weekly issue of the school newspaper Drumbeats, which comes out every Thursday. She's the editor-in-chief.

"Hey Jade, want to go up to the Rock for a beer Friday night?" Clark Washington, the varsity football team quarterback, grins. He's sitting with a bunch of jocks, including Malcolm, at a nearby table with three milk cartons apiece on their trays. They make a big deal out of drinking milk every day, like it makes them superior healthy beings. The jocks laugh at Clark's ever-so hilarious joke. Malcolm, the traitor, laughs along. I want to walk over, scream at them, sink my nails into their faces, pour their precious milk into their laps, something.

But I do nothing. Because that's obviously what I always do—nothing.

"Take no notice of them." Clarissa unwraps her wrap. "So I guess the trial went bad yesterday, that's why you sent me a sad face emoji?"

"You can read about it in the Weekly News. Everybody else has," I say. She and Morgan exchange a glance, which tells me they have. "Malcolm did. He uninvited me to prom this morning."

They exchange another uncomfortable glance. I'm feeling more and more on the outside. "We heard," Morgan says.

"But we didn't know if it was true," Clarissa rushes to add. "The trial is all everybody's been talking about these past couple days."

"You never told us the details of what happened that night," Morgan says. Is she accusing me? "Like that you heard her scream and the sound of her being slapped."

"I couldn't. The cops told me not to." I'm wondering where this is leading, but I have an inkling it's not going to be good.

"Can we ask you a question?" Morgan says. My stomach seizes. "What if it'd been me or Clarissa or Chloe? Would you have gone back to help if it had been one of us?"

"Or at least called nine-one-one when you got a signal back on the road?" Clarissa adds.

They study me as if I'm a painting in a museum. I go for the easy answer, the one they want to hear. "Of course."

Clarissa scrunches up her face. "So you didn't help that girl because you weren't really friends with her?" She's trying to make sense of what I did, which I can't even make sense of. I've fallen into a trap.

"It's not that simple. When I left, they were making out. The other guy was passed out, so I left. I didn't know the dude was going to beat her up and...and do that to her. I just wanted to go home. I was drunk. I was cold. I was tired. I regretted even going with them."

"But you said you heard her yell 'get off me' and the sound of slaps," Morgan says.

"Yeah, but I was halfway down the mountain already. It was total darkness. I only had the light on my phone to see. I really wasn't sure what was going on. I was wasted, falling all over the place."

"But if you'd gone back or called for help, even just yelled to let the guy know someone else was there," Clarissa says.

"Or reported it right away to the police," Morgan says.

The vise of their judgment is squeezing me. "Can we talk about something else?"

"It just seems kind of crappy, you know?" Clarissa says in a small voice

I feel a swell of anger. "You weren't there. I don't know why I did what I did, I just did it, okay? Nobody's perfect. I did go to the cops, I did make a statement, I did testify at the trial. Nobody seems to recognize how hard all that was. Instead, for some reason, I'm getting blamed. What about the guy who did it?"

Silence lands with a clumsy thud.

Clarissa breaks it. "You can return the prom dress, at least."

Her lame comment annoys me. Shouldn't she be saying something like 'you'll find someone else to go with,' or 'I'll help you find someone to go with,' or maybe even 'you can go with Claudio and me' "? Then I get it. She thinks I deserved to be dumped.

"I took the tags off already," I say.

"They might take it back anyway," Morgan says. "My mom has returned things without tags before."

I grab Clarissa's plastic wrap off her tray and pull it to shreds. I study my fingers. They seem to be detached digits, working on their own like a machine. I sense my friends raising their eyebrows at each other, wondering how to handle their suddenly very flawed and unpopular friend. I make it easy on them and myself. I scrape back my chair.

"I have to go see Lenny about cleaning my locker door. Someone spray-painted 'Friend of Rapist' on it. So I'll leave you free to talk about me since I know that's what you want to do."

They show no surprise about the graffiti, which means they've already seen it, nor do they try to make me stay. Instead, they offer lukewarm "laters."

I walk out of the noisy cafeteria. I don't go find the janitor. I stroll by the library and decide to go in. It's calm and quiet, occupied only by the kids who nobody wants to hang with at lunch, the exile territory of high school.

I flop into a chair at an empty table and lay my forehead on my folded arms. I don't ever want to come back to Indian Valley High School after today. I could go to Florida and stay with grandma for the summer, find a job there. In the fall, I'll be off to college in Washington D.C. But I still have to make it to the end of school. Maybe I could do independent study to finish the year, make up some excuse that my mom has cancer and I have to be at home to take care of her. My parents would probably have to sign off on it, though.

I hear a whirr beside me. "Sorry about Malcolm." I look up. Justin Chiu has pulled up beside me in his wheelchair.

" _You_ know?" The gossip really has made the rounds.

"Yeah, even me. Everybody ignores me, so I hear a lot. It's like I'm invisible. Comes in handy from time to time. And sometimes not." He jerks his head to swing the shock of bleached blond hair out of his eyes. The rest of his shaggy hair is black, matching the black denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and fingerless gloves. He tries too hard to be cool.

"For the record, Malcolm Crespo's an idiot," he continues. "He does whatever Clark Washington tells him to do. I bet Clark put him up to the prom-dump."

_Prom-dump._ "What? There's a word for it, now?" My voice comes out louder than I intended it.

People's heads perk. "Keep it down," Mrs. Whittaker, the librarian, warns.

Justin is more irritating than a rash. I just want him to go away. "For the record, you have a zit ready to explode on your forehead," I blurt.

My nastiness takes him aback for a moment, then he recovers. "Just thought you'd like to know. Well, I better go take care of my zit," he says in a voice washed with sarcasm. He pivots his wheelchair and buzzes back to his table.

I need to get out of there. I get to my feet and sling my backpack over a shoulder, but I stand there like an idiot as I realize I have no place to go. The bell rings, relieving me of my dilemma. I slink off to pre-calculus.

I put myself on auto-pilot, ignore everybody and make it through the afternoon. I'm so looking forward to going home, but when I get there, I see my princess prom gown, pale pink, strapless with a full skirt of blousy chiffon, hanging on the outside of my closet door. Once a trophy, it's now a mocking symbol of my failed life. I rip it down, march to the garbage cans outside the back door, and shove it among the stinking bags of rubbish.

I check my phone. Usually by now, I have a couple group texts from Morgan, Clarissa or Chloe, exchanging the gossip of the day but today there's nothing. That's because _I_ am the gossip of the day. I crack open "Romeo and Juliet" and try to make sense of Shakespeare.

* * *

The next day, I drag myself into school and find the graffiti on my locker has been scrubbed off. There's a telltale patch of raw metal, but it's better than the words. I feel a faint ray of hope. Maybe today will be better.

During homeroom announcements, we're informed that we have an assembly first period. That puts everyone in a good mood, myself included.

We file into the auditorium. The hum dies down when the principal, Ms. Berteau, takes the stage. "Good morning, everyone. I decided to hold this assembly today to discuss 'Doing the Right Thing'." I freeze. "We have a special guest who's going to talk to us about how important it is to speak up when we witness wrongdoing and how to avoid situations where we may get into trouble."

A police officer emerges from the curtains at the side of the stage. I recognize her. She was the one I gave my statement to when I went into the police station. This is all about _me_. It is not blowing over. I am suddenly burning with heat. I'm going to suffocate if I stay a second longer in this auditorium. I stand and shove past everyone's knees along the row. I don't care about the toes I'm treading on, the "ow's" and "watch it's." I have to get out.

"Don't you think you should stay for this?" The familiar voice stops me. It's Morgan, sitting in the row behind mine. Clarissa, sitting next to her, jabs her with her elbow. I break free of the last pair of knees and run out of the auditorium and into the first girls' room I see. My stomach is churning. The whole school is turning against me now. Why? I did the right thing, I did.

I stay in the bathroom until I hear the bell for second period and the crescendo of chatter and footsteps. I wait for it to get loud then sidle out and merge into the crowd flow.

At lunch, there's no way I'm going to show my face in the cafeteria. I go to the library. Justin's there. A physics textbook is lying open on the table, but he's absorbed in a game on his phone. I feel a pang of remorse at my crappy treatment of him. He was trying to be nice in his own weird way. I go over.

"Hey."

He looks up and does that shaggy-dog shake with his hair. "Hey."

"I just want to apologize for yesterday. It wasn't exactly the best day of my life. I was kind of all over the place. I'm sorry for the way I acted."

" 's all right. I saw you leave the assembly. You okay?"

"Basically, but not really."

"I know the feeling." There's a pause. "I did take care of the zit though, so thanks." He smiles, and I smile back.

"You want to get out of here, take a walk or something?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize my mistake. "Sorry, I mean..."

He shuts his book with a thud. "I'm used to it. I'll take you for a ride."

"A ride?"

"Yeah, you'll see."

We head out of the library, down the hall and out the side exit where a long asphalt path slopes down to the football field. He halts.

"Hop on."

"On what?"

He pats his lap. I look at him uncertainly. "Don't worry. My legs don't feel anything. And I won't do anything creepy, promise."

"Okay." I perch myself on his thighs.

"Hang on." I grab the back of the chair as he pushes the little joystick on the chair arm. The wheelchair accelerates, and we rumble down the path. We hit the hill, gather speed. Then we're flying.

Justin yells. He's leaning forward and squinting into the wind. It blows his hair straight back. I laugh like crazy and yell along with him.

It's over too soon. The bleachers are coming up fast. "Justiiiinnnnn!" I shriek.

"Hold on." He snaps the chair to the right and we stop dead at the back of the bleachers.

I look at him in newfound admiration. "That was awesome! Better than any rollercoaster."

"Come on. Let's do a lap around the track. We have time."

"Sure." I settle back on his lap and he scoots us forward.

"You could be a wheelchair stuntman, if there's such a thing," I say as we buzz around the empty lanes.

"I'd probably starve. There aren't many people in wheelchairs in movies. I'll stick with engineering and save the stunts to impress girls," he says.

"So you give a lot of girls rides?"

"Only girls I like."

I snorted. "Even ones who don't stop rapes?"

"I don't judge because I know what it's like. People judge me all the time because I'm in a wheelchair. Even you."

His words take me aback because I know they're true. "Yeah, I did judge you. Sorry."

We come full circle to the bleachers. "If you don't mind walking," he says. "It'll be too much weight for the chair to handle uphill."

I hop off and we trundle back. "I'm really not supposed to give rides, you know," he says.

"Well, thanks for breaking the rules. It's the best thing that's happened to me all week."

"Me, too," he says.

An awkward moment follows. I break it by asking a feeble question about what classes he has in the afternoon. "AP Physics and AP Economics," he says.

"How many AP classes are you taking?"

"Five."

"You must be super, super smart."

"I'd trade some of my 'smart' for other things I don't have," he says quietly.

"You have a lot of things," I say automatically.

"Like...?"

My brain stumbles to think of something, then it just comes out. "A great personality, sense of humor, daredevil attitude. You're like a punk rocker on wheels. And you're kinda cute."

"Just kinda?"

"Don't push it." I laugh.

"Okay, I'll take kinda. And the 'punk rocker on wheels.' I like that."

The bell rings. We hurry inside and peel off in opposite directions to our classes. I feel a whole lot lighter.

* * *

I'm putting books in my locker after last period. Justin pulls up beside me. I close my locker. "Hey."

"Hey. So I don't know if this is a good time, but I was thinking...I wasn't planning on going to prom, but since you're free now, maybe we could go together."

I really didn't expect this. I mean, I like Justin, but I'm not sure I want to go to prom with him. I'd be going from the popular jock to the outcast. Everyone would stare and titter. Like I need more of that.

He keeps talking. "I know this isn't much of a promposal but since it's coming up soon and..."

My mouth twists. "Justin, I don't..."

He cuts me off. "Forget it. Forget I even asked." He zips off.

"Wait, Justin!"

But he's barreling down the hall, weaving through the crowd. Just as well. What was I going to say anyway? Make up some excuse? I mope along to the student parking lot. I can't seem to do anything right. Ever.

I'm getting into my car when my phone rings. The caller's not in my contact list, but I answer.

"Jade, it's Caitlin." My heart booms. The girl from the trial. The _victim_. "I just wanted to thank you for testifying. It really helped the case. Without you, it was his word against mine."

"Oh." I have no idea what to say. I haven't even been thinking about the trial, that it was still going on, that it has a consequence beyond my life. I fold myself into the driver's seat and close the door.

"No one called you, did they? The jury found him guilty. So, thanks."

She's thanking me? I helped her case? I swallow. "But I'm the one who left you there. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." Tears choke my words. "I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am."

"Tell the truth, I was mad at you for a while. But you came through, and then my mom told me how you held up against that asshole defense attorney. So I couldn't hold anything against you, like I couldn't blame myself either. It wasn't either of our faults. This has been a nightmare for months, but it's almost over. We just have the sentencing now. I gotta go. Maybe we can get together when this is done."

"Yeah, sure."

I click off and sit there in the parking lot trying to process what she said. She didn't hold anything against me. She said it wasn't my fault.

I caught a glimpse of her when I walked out of the courtroom and she was waiting in the hallway to go in to testify. I hadn't seen her since that night when our lives unknowingly intertwined forever on the Rock. She looked different, thinner and meeker, than when I met her, when she was full of confidence at the carnival ring toss. Now, sadness brimmed in her eyes. I know we won't see each other again. Neither of us wants to be reminded of that night.

Something inside me softens, unfurls and then just dissolves. I suddenly don't care anymore about what people say. I know it just doesn't matter.

I spot a hunched figure hurtling across the far end of the parking lot like a thrown ball. I know what I have to do, and even more so, what I want to do. I bound out of the car.

"Justin!" I wave my arms. "Justin, stop!"

He slows, then speeds on when he sees me. I run to catch up with him and grab hold of the back of his wheelchair. It's still moving and my legs give out under me. I tip forward and bang my chin on the chair. He halts and turns, looking a little shocked. "What are you doing?"

Gasping, I pull myself up, feeling slightly idiotic. "Yes, my answer is yes."

He pauses. I can see he's trying to figure me out. "Who says the offer is still open?" he says at last.

"You never gave me the chance to answer you. If you asked me a question, I at least deserve a chance to answer."

He narrows his eyes at me. "So is 'yes' a basically-not-really answer or an answer-answer?"

"It's an answer-answer. I want to go to prom with you. It'll be fun."

A smile creases his lips and he nods. "Hey, want a ride back to your car?"

I climb onto his lap.

We talk for a little while through the car window, me in the driver's seat and him outside. Like that, we're the same height. Then he has to get to his piano lesson, and we say goodbye.

When I get home, I grab a granola bar from the pantry. Then I remember. My mouth stops mid chew. I fling the granola bar onto the counter and run outside. I lift up the lid on the garbage can that I stuffed the prom dress into. It's empty. My gut plummets. I check the second. Empty. I'm too late.

I drag myself back into the kitchen and collapse into a chair at the table. What am I going to tell Justin? He'll never believe that I threw away my dress. He'll think it's an excuse for not wanting to go with him. I can't tell Mom what happened, either. It was an expensive gown. She'll be furious. Do I have enough money to buy a new dress? I could tell her I exchanged it.

The garage door buzzes. Mom's home. A minute later, the back door opens. She enters with a rustle.

"If you don't want this, we'll give it to charity. No need to throw it away." She holds up my prom dress encased in dry cleaning plastic. "I got a rush job on the dry clean with a coupon."

I hug her.

* * *

Justin picks me up for prom in a limo and hands me a corsage of white roses that he pins to my dress. It matches the boutonniere on his tux. Mom and Dad take so many pictures that I have to cut them off or we'll be late.

We enter the banquet room holding hands. Everybody stares, but I don't care. We pass the jock's table where Malcolm and Clark Washington are sitting, the table where Morgan, Clarissa and Chloe are clustered. I wave at them and head to our table way at the back.

When the music starts, Justin and I hit the dance floor. I sit on his lap and make a necklace around him with my arms, leaning my head on his as he rocks the wheelchair from side to side. And I know everything's going to be all right.

# About the Author

**Christina Hoag** is the author of "Girl on the Brink," which tells the story of how Chloe's summer romance before senior year goes badly awry. For the first part of Jade's story about the night on the Rock, download Kick Ass Girls' first anthology of short stories.

For more information

www.christinahoag.com

  Facebook

  Twitter

# Also By Christina Hoag

Girl on the Brink

* * *

Because I Was There _in The Kick Ass Girls of Fire & Ice anthology_

# Kiss Me Goodbye

### A Sol del Mar High Story

### by Caroline Andrus

Rachel Yang wants nothing more than to attend her high school's junior/senior prom. The problem? She's only a sophomore.

When her best friend falls ill and asks her to attend the prom with her boyfriend, will prom night be as magical as Rachel hopes?

# 1

I'm not sure which is louder, a rock concert or my classmates streaming through the halls around me. Tuning out the noise, which after nearly two full years at Sol del Mar High has become a familiar sound, I lean against the bank of lockers while my best friend, Summer Swanson, digs around in her locker. She coughs into the crook of her arm, then trades her Econ textbook for Biology.

"I still can't believe you're going to prom." I try to sound excited and keep my true emotions—a mixture of jealousy and envy—out of my voice.

"I'm a little nervous, Rachel," Summer admits, closing her locker door shut with a bang. "As far as I know, I'm the only sophomore who was asked. I really wish you were coming too."

"Maybe Bradley has a friend who can ask me?" I say, casually tossing my long black hair over one shoulder. I'm only half joking. I'm dying to attend the prom, especially as a sophomore. Prom is a sacred rite of passage. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for Summer, but I'm also more than a little jealous that my best friend will be experiencing prom before me...without me. For years Summer and I have done everything together. It sucks being left out for this.

"I'll ask," Summer replies. She lifts a hand and brushes her long blonde hair away from her face before touching her cheek. "I just hope this rash goes away before the dance."

I scrunch my nose and scrutinize Summer's face. "I don't see anything."

"Makeup," is Summer's reply. "Lots and lots of makeup."

I study her face closer but still see no trace of a rash. I shouldn't be surprised though; Summer is a complete makeup fanatic, even having her own YouTube channel and beauty blog. But she's not a liar, if she says there's a rash, I'm sure she has one. Frowning, I say, "Maybe you should see a doctor."

Summer shrugs, pauses to cough into her arm again, then says, "We'll see."

# 2

A week has passed, and the dance is drawing closer. I don't want to be a pest, but time is running out. When after school volleyball practice ends, I can't stop myself from asking Summer, "So, did you ask Bradley about a friend for prom?" I try to keep my voice casual, but I have a feeling you'd have to be deaf to miss the undertone of desperation in my voice. I pull my hair out of my ponytail, letting it fall loose around my shoulders, just to give my hands something to do.

"Hmmm?" Summer asks, looking up from her phone. She's probably checking for new comments on her blog or latest video.

"You said you'd ask Bradley if he had a friend in need of a prom date and put in a good word for me? Remember?" I can't believe Summer is being such a space cadet.

Summer blinks, a blank look on her face as she stares at me. She coughs into her arm and says, "I did?" Her eyes grow wide and her eyebrows shoot up. "Omigosh! I did, didn't I?"

I nod, frowning. Summer knows how much I want to go to the dance, how could she just forget about me?

"I'm so, so sorry, Rach," Summer says. She breathes a heavy sigh and plops down in the sand. "I just haven't felt like myself lately. I'm exhausted all the time and I swear, my brain is completely frazzled. I'll ask him today. I promise. Don't let me forget."

"Sure," I agree. My annoyance shifts to worry for her. "Hey, how's that rash?"

"The same. I swear, I look like a freakin' leper or something." She pulls out a compact mirror and frowns at her reflection. "Ugh. I think I'm sweating through my makeup. You can totally see my rash now."

I collapse into the sand beside her and inspect her face. I see a little bit of pink on her cheeks, but it's not as bad as she's making it out to be. We've been playing volleyball for the past hour, I would expect her cheeks to be flushed. I grin and say, "See a doctor. What if it's a flesh-eating bacteria or something."

"Eww!"

We break into a fit of giggles, and she pushes me over. I topple onto my back in the sand.

"What's the big joke?" I hear a male voice from above me ask. I shift my gaze and come face to face with Summer's boyfriend, Bradley. He's standing above us, grinning. The sun is behind him like a halo, emphasizing his blonde hair, which is blowing in the wind coming off the Pacific.

"Oh, just Summer's—" I'm cut off by Summer's elbow in my ribs. "Ow."

"Nothing," Summer quickly interjects, a broad grin plastered across her face. Apparently, she doesn't want anyone else to know about her rash, not even her boyfriend. They've been dating a few months, but maybe they're not as close as I thought?

"O-kaay," Bradley says, drawing the word out and looking between us.

Summer sits up in the sand and I follow suit.

"Actually, we were just wondering if you had a friend who might want to take Rachel to prom."

Bradley's face falls and I know his answer before he even opens his mouth. "I'm sorry, Rach. Everyone already has a date."

I force a smile. "Okay. Whatever. No big deal. I'll get to go next year anyway." I look away from Bradley, digging my hands into the sand and then letting it trickle through my fingers. I can feel a prickling behind my eyes but refuse to cry over something as trivial as a dance. My gaze lands on Summer, who looks nearly as disappointed as I feel. I'm struck with a pang of guilt for my earlier thoughts about her.

"Rachel Yang, I promise—" Bradley falls to his knees in the sand before me and rests his hands on my shoulders. I hold my breath, feeling his skin on my bare shoulders, and remind myself that he's my best friend's boyfriend. "If any of the guys suddenly find themselves without a date, you will be the first to hear, and I will try to work some magic."

Some of my disappointment dissipates and I smile. This is so Bradley. He's the sweetest guy I've ever met, and super smart. He's going to Stanford for college in the fall. I've always had a little crush on him, ever since the first day of Freshman year when I was hopelessly lost trying to find my math class. Bradley, being a Junior, knew exactly where I needed to be and had been more than happy to walk me to my classroom.

Unfortunately for me, he fell for Summer early this year when she joined him on the debate team. Summer knew I'd had a thing for him last year and I was crushed when she asked if I was okay with her dating him. I wanted her to be happy though, and clearly, he liked her and not me, so I lied and told her I was over him. I told her I was happy for them.

And I was. Truly. Well, mostly.

# 3

_SOS_ is written across my my phone in a text from Summer.

My fingers fly across the screen, demanding to know what's wrong.

My fingers still over the screen as I wait for her reply. Finally, it arrives, and I read, _Mom took me to the doctor. They're running a bunch of tests to find out what's wrong with me._

I stare at the phone for a moment, then type: _I thought it was just a rash?_

Moments later, Summer's reply pops up. _Me too. But apparently, they think it's something more. I'm kind of scared._

_What can I do?_ I type the question, feeling utterly helpless. What if Summer really _does_ have a flesh-eating bacteria on her face? Or worse.

My phone vibrates in my hand and I read her message, _Nothing. I'll talk to you later._

I stare at the phone for a few beats before replying with a simple _okay_. After a moment I add, _Call or text if you need me._ What else am I supposed to say? I want to do something to help, but Summer is right, there's nothing I _can_ do.

The next day at school I meet up with Summer by her locker before homeroom. The rash is hidden under a layer of concealer, but otherwise her makeup is minimal. Her eyes are red, like she's been crying, and she looks younger than sixteen.

I don't say anything and wrap my arms around her.

"Are you okay?" I ask, pulling back and looking into her bloodshot eyes again. She blinks and I sigh. "Sorry, dumb question. Do you have any answers yet?"

Summer shakes her head and after a moment she takes a shaky breath and says, "They were throwing around a lot of medical jargon, I don't know what's going on, but I'm scared. I wish I'd never told my parents about the rash."

My jaw drops. "Summer! Not knowing won't make whatever this is go away. At least this way you can get treated."

She avoids eye contact and nods, saying nothing.

"Let's have a girl's weekend. We'll practice your prom makeup and do facials and watch chick flicks."

"I don't know if I'm up for that. I'll think about it." Summer closes her locker and I sigh.

"Okay, let me know. Now come on, let's get to homeroom." I wrap my arm around her again and gently steer her through the crowd of kids and into our classroom.

I part ways with Summer after homeroom, and when lunch time comes I look for her at our usual table but she's nowhere to be seen. After paying for my lunch, she's still MIA so I go to eat with the rest of our friends from the Volleyball team. I pull out my phone and shoot her a text, asking where she is and if she's okay, then try to concentrate on the conversation surrounding me, but I'm distracted, scanning the cafeteria for any sign of her.

I send her another text before my next class begins, but when school ends I still haven't heard back from her. Maybe she got her test results back and her parents pulled her from class? I don't know why she isn't texting me back though. I would text her if our places were swapped.

After dinner my phone vibrates in my pocket and I grab my phone, expecting to find a message from Summer. Instead, I find one from Bradley asking if I'd heard from her. A few months ago, it would have been weird to receive a message from him, but since he and Summer began dating, talking to him has become normal. The more we talk, the less weird it is.

> _ME: I haven't heard from her since homeroom._
> 
> * * *
> 
> _BRADLEY: I saw her in the hall between first and second period. She isn't texting back._
> 
> * * *
> 
> _ME: Me neither._
> 
> * * *
> 
> _BRADLEY: I hoped you'd know what was going on._

I debate telling him about the medical stuff but decide it isn't my place and keep my mouth shut—or rather, my fingers still.

# 4

Summer isn't in school the next day, and I'm still in the dark. Still no calls or messages from Summer. Bradley and I meet up at lunch to touch base before parting ways.

"No word?" he asks.

I shake my head, my long black hair swishing with the motion. "Nothing. This isn't like her."

Bradley sighs, his forehead pinched. "Same. I don't know what to do. I even tried going to her house, but her parents wouldn't let me see her or tell me what's wrong."

I'm speechless. Why wouldn't they let him see her?

Bradley purses his lips and looks around. "Has she said anything to you?"

My body stiffens. Should I tell him about Summer's medical fears? I don't want to break her trust, but at the same time I don't want to lie to Bradley.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I don't know. She's been acting different lately. She used to always be happy and fun, but now... I don't know." He looks around, then leans forward conspiratorially and says, "She's acting different."

I bite my lower lip and shift my gaze to my usual lunch table. I know exactly what he's talking about. Until a few days ago, Summer had kept me in the dark too. I noticed she wasn't her usual bubbly self, but she wouldn't say why. I didn't want to be pushy, so I just tried to be as good a friend as I could, giving her space but letting her know I was here for her.

"You know something," Bradley accuses. When I turn back to him, his green eyes are opened wide, staring at me intently.

"It's not my place to tell."

"Come on, Rachel." His eyes are imploring me. They're so wide and innocent it's impossible to tell him no.

"Look, I don't think she wants you to know..." I trail off, hoping he'll let it go.

"Know what?"

I close my eyes and sigh. I try and convince myself that I'm not a bad friend if I tell Bradley what's going on with Summer. He's concerned for her, that's all. He should know what's going on. They're _together_ after all.

"Summer went to the doctor yesterday. They think something serious is wrong, but she didn't say what. They're running tests."

"Oh, shit," Bradley says, his voice low. He runs a hand through his hair and my eyes track the movement. He has the most beautiful hair.

"Listen, you can't let her know that you know, okay? You have to let her tell you herself when she's ready. Promise me."

"Yeah, sure, I promise." Bradley's voice is still quiet. He looks shell shocked. As stunned by the news as I had been when Summer sent me that text.

We stand in silence for a moment, neither of us looking at the other. Finally, I say, "Um, I'm going to go sit down for lunch, okay?"

He nods his head slowly. "Yeah, sure." I turned to leave, but pause when he says, "Hey, will you let me know if you hear any more from her? And maybe ask her to call me?"

I hesitate, then nod. I've already said too much.

# 5

Summer's silence is deafening. She's out of school the rest of the week and it's nearly impossible to get in touch with her. When I can get a hold of her, she's vague. We used to tell each other everything and I hate that she's keeping this to herself. I don't understand why she won't let me be there for her.

Bradley finds me in the halls every day and asks for updates. It's easier to fill him in after that first confession. If I didn't have Bradley to talk to about this, I'd have no one. We've become surprisingly close, bonding over our mutual worry for Summer.

Three days before prom Bradley catches me after volleyball practice, pulling me aside from my teammates.

"Hey," I say. "What's up?"

I pull my sweaty hair from where it's sticking to the back of my neck. I probably look disgusting.

"So, remember when I said I'd let you know if a prom date becomes available?"

I instantly perk up. I'd given up any hope of going to prom.

"Did someone bail on their date?" I try not to sound too optimistic.

Bradley sighs. "Well..." He rubs the back of his neck and stares out at the ocean crashing along the sandy shore. "Here's the thing..."

"Yes?" I wonder why he won't just spit it out already.

Finally, he fixes his gaze on me. He closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them. "Summer bailed on me."

My eyes grow wide. "What?"

He nods. "After ghosting me all week she finally texted."

"What did she say?" I demand. Summer had been looking forward to prom, why would she bail? Unless she has a diagnosis and it's bad. Really bad.

Bradley shakes his head. He pulls his phone out of his cargo shorts, taps the screen a few times, and hands it to me. I read the text. _I can't go to prom. I'm so sorry. Please just go with Rachel._

I stare at the phone, reading the message four times before handing it back silently. Summer wants me to go to prom with her boyfriend?

"Well..." I say, because I'm too stunned to formulate anything more coherent. My best friend wants her boyfriend to take me to prom?

"So, I guess, do you want to go to prom with me?" he asks. It's not at all the promposal I'd imagined. Still, I feel a little surge of hope at the idea of not only going to prom, but going with Bradley.

_No. He's still Summer's boyfriend!_

I bite my lip. "You know I do..."

He frowns. "But...?"

"But I really need to talk to Summer first, okay? I promise I'll let you know by tomorrow." Even though Summer told him to ask me, that doesn't mean I can just say yes. I need to hear it from the horse's mouth.

He nods. "I kind of figured."

Instead of heading home from volleyball, I make a detour to Summer's house. Her little sister opens the door.

"Hey Mandy, is Summer around?" I peek over her ten-year-old head into the house, but there's nobody else around.

"She's sick," Mandy says with a shrug. "She's not supposed to have friends over."

"I know, Mandy, but I just need to talk to her for two minutes. Pretty please?"

Mandy hesitates, then lets me into the house. I figured she would. I've known her since she was born. "She's in her room."

I kick off my sneakers at the door and quickly make my way to the stairs as Mandy calls after me, "Don't let her breathe on you."

# 6

I hesitate outside of Summer's room. Her white bedroom door is closed. Finally, I knock gently.

"Go away," I hear her yell from the other side.

I close my eyes and steel myself. "Summer?" I call out. "It's me. Rachel."

I'm met with silence, and for a moment I think she's ignoring me. Then I hear movement inside the room, and moments later I hear the lock turn and the door opens a crack. I wait a few seconds, then realize that's all I'm getting. Slowly, I push open the door and peek into the room.

Summer is laying on her side in bed, facing away from me, her pink and yellow quilt pulled up to her neck.

"Hey," I say cautiously. "I've been worried about you."

I hear sniffling, but she says nothing.

I slowly pad across the room; the only sound is my socks rubbing against her yellow rug and her sniffling. When I reach the other side of her bed, I finally see her face. For the first time since elementary school, her face is free of makeup. I'm startled when I see her. The rash looks worse than I imagined, red splotches spread across her cheeks and nose. There are bags under her eyes and she looks as though she hasn't slept in a week.

"What can I do?" I whisper. I sit on the familiar cushioned window seat and watch her. Finally, her eyes open and they're as red as her cheeks, bloodshot.

"You can't do anything," she said. Her voice is flat, emotionless. She closes her eyes again.

I bite my lip, I don't know what to say to her. So, I sit there in silence until she eventually opens her eyes again.

"Please, Rachel. I just need to sleep."

"What's wrong with you?" The words fly out of my mouth and I instantly regret them. They sound insensitive, and I feel like a jerk. I try to backpedal. "Sorry. That came out wrong. I'm just so worried about you."

Her eyes open and instead of looking mad, she looks sad. Pathetic, actually. She looks so young and helpless. "I have mono, okay?"

"Mono?" I'm taken aback. She made it sound like they were screening her for cancer or something.

"Yes. Mono. So please, just go so I can sleep."

"Okay... but Summer..."

She stares at me, waiting.

I bite my lip again, then, because I'm selfish, I bring up prom. "Bradley talked to me today..."

She closes her eyes again and lets out a breath.

"You really want him to take me to prom?"

Her eyes open again and when she speaks it's in the same flat voice. "Yes. You really want to go, and he doesn't have a date anymore."

"I wanted to go because _you_ were going," I say.

"Liar."

She's right. I am a liar. I want to go even without her, though it would have been more fun with her there with me.

"Are you _absolutely_ sure? Because you mean more to me than a dance."

"Go, Rachel. Go to prom with him."

I hesitate again. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?"

She shakes her head. "Just go to prom and have fun." She smiles, but I can tell it's forced. "Take lots of pictures to show me, okay?"

"You'll call or text me if you need me, right? For anything at all?"

She nods.

I extend my hand toward her, to give her arm a squeeze, but she says, "No," and I freeze.

"I don't want you to catch this."

My hand lingers, inches from her arm, as I hesitate. Then I pull it back, letting it fall limply at my side.

# 7

Prom is everything I imagined. Bradley looks amazing in his tux, and I feel like a princess in my pink strapless gown.

My oldest sister, Rianna, went dress shopping with me the day after Summer told me to go to the dance in her place. This morning she came over and styled my hair into an elaborate twist of curls and braids on top of my head. It's going to be a pain to take out, but it looks amazing.

I try not to think about Summer. I want her to feel better and this isn't the way I wanted to come to prom, with her boyfriend, but I'm so happy to be here it's actually not that difficult to push her out of my mind.

When we first walk in the doors we stop for photos, then met up with some of Bradley's friends. I only know these people in passing, all of them being two years older than me, except for Michelle Carver, she's a junior and on the volleyball team with me. I smile at her and wave. Bradley puts his arm around my shoulder and I have to remind myself that we're just friends, that he's my best friend's boyfriend.

A slow song starts playing and Michelle drags her boyfriend, Tyler, onto the dance floor. He protests, but Michelle will hear none of it. I watch as they are swept away in the sea of black tuxedos and multicolored satin and tulle. The lights from the DJ station reflect off the mirrored ceiling of the ballroom, sending scattered lights around the room to reflect off the sequins and glitter on the dresses.

"Might as well join them." I'm pulled from my thoughts when Bradley speaks. I look up into his handsome face to see him smiling at me.

I nod stupidly and allow him to lead me onto the dance floor. His hands rest at my waist and he holds me close. I wrap my arms around his neck and remind myself once more that he is my best friend's boyfriend.

We turn in a slow circle, neither of us possessing above average dancing skills.

"I'm glad you could come with me." Bradley's breath tickles my neck as he speaks, sending a pleasant sensation rippling through my body.

I nod, then angle my head toward his ear and say, "Me too."

The night is absolutely magical. During the fast tracks we dance with his friends, and during the slow ones he holds me close. He brings me punch and we talk and laugh. We don't talk about Summer. I don't know about him, but I don't want to think about her at home sick while I'm out having fun in her place.

As the night draws to an end, we watch couples and groups of friends exit the building. The DJ announces the last song. It's a slow one and Bradley holds me close on the dance floor, spinning me in a slow circle beneath the gold and white balloons suspended from the ceiling. This night is everything I hoped it would be, except he's not mine.

But then I realize he's staring at me.

"What is going on in your mind right now, Rachel Yang?" he asks.

I bite my lip, wondering how much truth to tell. Finally, I say, "Tonight has been amazing."

He smiles at me and I feel my insides turn into a puddle of goo. Then I realize we're no longer moving. Bradley's hands tighten on my waist, and his face angles toward mine.

I hold my breath, wondering where this is going, what he's doing. And then his lips are on mine, soft and warm. My heart is drumming in my chest. My mind is screaming, telling me this isn't right, but it's like my lips have a mind of their own and I press them harder to his.

When we part, only moments later, my eyes are wide. Reality crashes down on me, drowning me in guilt as I realize what I've done—what _we've_ done.

I'm frozen in place, but my gaze scans the nearly empty dance floor, searching for witnesses to my transgression. Dancing a dozen feet away are Michelle and Tyler. Her arms are locked around his neck, but her gaze over his shoulder is locked on me, a look of shock on her face.

And in that moment, I know I'm busted.

# 8

The guilt is eating me alive. In the twelve hours since the forbidden kiss I shared with Bradley I've gone over every possible conversation with Summer in my head.

I'm angry at Bradley—and myself—but mostly Bradley for putting me in this position. He took me home after he kissed me. We didn't say anything except a mumbled goodbye when he dropped me off at my house. He didn't walk me to my door, and I was grateful for that. Why make things more awkward than they already were?

I've just texted Summer, asking how she is, and I'm staring at my phone when my sister walks in the front door, an eager grin on her face. "How was prom?"

My stomach turns. I force a smile on my face and tell her it was good. I hope she lets it go with that, but Rianna pushes for more details.

I shrug. "It was a dance. We danced and drank punch."

Rianna finally gives up and heads to the kitchen for a snack. She's in college but forever stopping home to raid our parents' refrigerator.

Finally, my phone buzzes with Summer's reply. I wonder if Michelle has already ratted me out and I take a deep breath before reading the screen. _I'm okay. How was the dance?_

I let out a relieved breath. Michelle hasn't gotten to her yet. I take a moment to plan my reply, then type, _It would have been better with you._

Summer's reply comes more quickly this time. _Next year._

I smile. Yes, next year we'll both be juniors and it will be our own prom. _No bailing._ I press send, then add, _Are you feeling any better?_

_A little. I might be back at school next week._

I wonder if Michelle will call or message her before Summer returns to school. I hope not. I still haven't figured out how and when to tell her. I know I have to tell her or Michelle will. It'll be worse if she hears it from Michelle. It has to be me.

_I'm glad. School sucks without you._

# 9

Monday morning rolls around and I immediately scan the halls for Bradley. I haven't spoken to him since he dropped me off after the dance. I find him in the senior hall, talking with a group of his friends, many of whom were part of our group at the dance.

"Oh, hey, Rachel," he says when he sees me. He looks as guilty as I feel.

"Hey, um, can I talk to you for a sec?" My gaze flits across his group of friends before landing on him again. "Alone?"

His eyebrows furrow for just a second before he grins at his friends and tells them he'll catch them later. He lets me lead him down the hall and into a little alcove, the most private place we can find in this school.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Why?" The word spills out of my mouth before I can stop it. I had planned a big speech for him, but in the moment, it's gone.

"Why what?" I can sense the hesitancy in his voice.

I lower my voice, scanning the area for any eavesdroppers and hiss, "Why would you kiss me? How could you do that to Summer?"

All pretenses of normalcy are gone from him now. "I don't know, Rachel. I guess I just got caught up in the moment. And I've always kind of liked you."

My jaw drops. "You what?"

He shrugs, as if this is a good enough excuse for what he did, and my anger boils over. Before I know what I'm doing, my arm is pulled back and then thrust forward, landing in his stomach. I've got a mean volleyball spike, I know that must have hurt.

"What the hell, Rachel?" He doubles over, clutching his stomach.

I'm too furious to speak. I shake my head and walk away, trying to process what he's said. If he liked me, why the hell did he ask out Summer? Or was he lying and trying to justify his actions? Either way, I'm beyond pissed, and I don't know what to do. I want nothing more than to walk out the door and go home, curl up in bed, and cry. But I can't. So I go to homeroom and try not to look at the empty desk beside me.

Somehow, I make it through the day. At volleyball practice that afternoon, Michelle pulls me aside, and I know what she's going to say before she says it.

"Do I need glasses, or did I see you and Bradley kissing at prom?" she demands. Michelle is already a head taller than me, but she's even more imposing right now. Her hands are balled into fists, pressed into her hips.

I shake my head and try not to cry.

Michelle isn't sympathetic toward me at all. She crosses her arms and says, "You need to tell her, or I will."

I nod. "I know. I'll do it after practice." There's absolutely no way Summer can find out from anyone but me.

"Good." Michelle's face softens, and she gestures to the court. "Come on, let's play."

When practice ends it's time to face the music. I don't rush to Summer's house, instead I drag my feet and delay the inevitable.

I knock on her front door and take a deep breath. I expect Mandy to answer like last time, but when the door swings open, Summer is standing there. She's in yoga pants and a t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, face free of makeup. Her rash looks a little better, but there's a look of fury on her face.

"Hey, Summer," I begin nervously.

Summer crosses her arms over her chest and glares.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," I say. "Can we talk in your room?"

She shakes her head. "We can talk right here." She doesn't open the door to let me in, and my worry increases.

I swallow and say, "About prom..." I trail off, trying to read her face. Her eyes narrow and I realize she already knows. "Um, Bradley... kissed me."

"The way I hear it, you kissed him."

My mouth falls open and I suck in a breath. That lying leech. "What? No! Summer, I swear, that's not how it happened."

"Save it, Rachel. If you weren't over him, you should have told me when I asked if you were okay with me dating him."

"Summer!" I need to get her to hear me out. "I swear, that's not—"

"I don't even care anymore. I thought you were my best friend, but clearly, I was wrong. I ended things with Bradley and this is me ending things with you."

She slams the door in my face and I'm left speechless. I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, and I wonder how I let things get so messed up. Stupid Bradley. I turn away from Summer's front door and begin the short walk to my own home.

All I wanted was to go to prom and now it's become my biggest regret.

_Sol del Mar High_

is a new series from Caroline Andrus

coming late 2018.

* * *

Subscribe to her newsletter to learn more about this series and her other books!

# About the Author

**Caroline Andrus** was born and raised in the St. Paul suburbs where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and Henry McCoy—a wild cougar trapped in the body of a house cat.

She divides her time between writing, Facebook, designing, and managing her household. Since 2011 she has been second in command for indie press Melange Books. She is head of acquisitions for their YA imprint, Fire & Ice Young Adult books, as well as web designer, formatter, and head of their cover art department. In her minimal spare time she enjoys reading, rocking out to the radio, and binging TV shows on Netflix.

She is passionate about both reading and writing teen fiction, and is pretty sure she will forever be eighteen at heart.

**Join Caroline's newsletter and stay up to date with her writing.**

_(She promises not to flood your inbox.)_

**Caroline would love to hear from you!**

**Connect with her online:**

* * *

www.carolineandrus.com

www.carolineandrus.com/blog

  Facebook

  Twitter

  Instagram

  Goodreads

  BookBub

# A Night in Paris

### A Waiting For Dusk Story

### by Nancy Pennick

Kate, from the present, and Drew, from 1927, weren't the ordinary high school couple. No one knew their history, and Kate guarded their secret carefully. She looked forward to prom, hoping they could let their guard down and enjoy a normal teen event. Always lurking in the shadows, Tyson, her neighbor and former boyfriend, stalked her relentlessly. Would he ruin the perfect prom night?

# A Night in Paris

Kate twirled in front of the mirror, giving her black chiffon strapless dress one more inspection. The bodice hugged her in the right places, and she loved how the skirt hung in soft folds from the waist. Her hem brushed the floor ever so lightly. Black rhinestones traveled along one side of the bodice in a random pattern, catching the light. They started at the neckline then circled her body at the waist. Kate spun in place, stopping in front of the mirror to see if they would sparkle in the light. The girl staring back at her looked grown up and a princess rolled into one.

During the shopping trip, her mom had argued the dress was too sexy right in the middle of the small, exclusive boutique. Kate used the prom theme—A Night in Paris: A Masquerade Ball—as her defense. The dress would be ideal for the event. She'd quickly paid and pulled her mom out of the store.

"How embarrassing," Kate said as she recalled the encounter. She appraised the back of the dress then examined the front again, trying to see it as her mom did. All she saw was the perfect dress.

She had won the battle, even though her mom, Joanna, insisted her dad would not approve. Kate bought the dress with her hard-earned money so Joanna couldn't stop her. Her date had not seen the dress, but Kate knew he'd like it. "Well, not entirely true. He can be worse than Dad." She giggled.

Kate stepped closer to the full-length mirror, inspecting her makeup and tucking a loose strand of hair back in place. Her light brown hair, streaked with blonde highlights from the sun, hung in curls down her back.

"Prom night," she said aloud to the empty room. "Who'd think my date was someone I met in 1927?"

Tears burned the back of her eyes as she pictured Andrew Martin walking into her junior AP history class last December. Devastated, thinking she'd never see him again, she never stopped scribbling on her notebook when the new kid arrived. Mr. Dallas told him to take a seat in the back where there was room, right across from Kate.

A noise made her look his way, and her breath hitched. Dark hair stuck out from under his hoodie. As he reached up to push the hood off his head, his emerald green eyes met hers, and he lifted one side of his mouth.

"I thought you were dead," she had whispered, more to herself than him.

Some might call her crazy, but a magical book had taken her to the Grand Canyon in 1927 where she found wonderful friends and a boy she'd love forever. She never dreamt he'd come to her world, her century, and want to stay. Kate blinked. "It did happen, and it's true."

Now six months later they were going to the junior/senior prom like two normal teens. But, they weren't. They'd always have their secrets and need to protect Drew and his past. Kate had learned much over the previous months, becoming stronger and more focused than ever. Family loyalty was now number one in her life.

The summer she turned sixteen, her world changed forever. "And I love my life, except for one thing. Or should I say one person," she said with a smirk. "Tyson Gray."

Her one-time childhood friend and neighbor had become her nemesis. She pictured them as living in the comic book realm of the Marvel Universe as hero and villain. At times they might team up for the common good, but usually ended up on opposite sides.

No one understood the dynamics between them. Growing up together as kids, Kate never imagined Ty would fall for her. He made his intentions clear this past summer. She had to admit she was flattered and decided to date him. Ty saw it differently. He staked his claim, and when she tried to get out of the relationship, he'd pull her back in.

"His character name would have to be Stalker." Kate blinked back tears.

It still got to her. Her best friend had turned into a monster. Sometimes, she'd get a glimpse of the old Ty, the fun-loving, goofy kid she loved hanging out with. Without warning, he could change in a second. A mask seemed to drop over the face she once knew. He'd turn into a manipulative creature, using lies and deceit to get his way.

"Who could I be in the Marvel universe?" Kate tapped her chin. "The Traveler? No, sounds dumb. It's like, you see, I can time travel, so I'm called the Traveler." She used a mocking voice and laughed. When she passed by the full-length mirror, Kate caught a glimpse of her black dress as she went to get her shoes. Suddenly, it came to her. "Shadow! Like I'm on the edge of time."

A knock came at her door. "Kates? You ready?"

"Lindsey!" Kate threw her shoes on the floor and rushed to open the door. Her best friend stood on the other side. "You look awesome."

Lindsey's dark blonde hair had been pulled up to the top of her head with messy curls hanging down from the pile. The dark blue slip dress was a bold statement for the girl who'd rather play soccer than shop for dresses.

"It's a perfect look for you!" Kate pulled her into the room. "I love the smoky eye. Makes the brown in yours more dark and mysterious."

"I wasn't going for a sexy look since my date is a friend," Lindsey said with a smile.

"You could've asked Charlie."

"Charlie lives in Arizona. I live in Ohio. You wanted me to call him, tell him to hop on a plane and take me to prom. I would never do that." Lindsey shook her head. "Besides," she huffed, "we are not dating. I keep telling you he's a friend I made when I visited my aunt this summer."

"Yeah, right." Kate sat on the bed, shoving her foot into one of her heels. She fumbled with the buckle of the strappy shoe. "I'll drop it... for now. I need jewelry, something around my neck. What do you think?"

"A diamond choker," Lindsey said. "If you had one."

"I've got the next best thing." She struggled with the last buckle and stood in the four-inch heels. "Good thing Drew is tall."

Kate opened the top drawer of her dresser, searching for the right piece of jewelry. She held up a white rhinestone necklace, slim like a tennis bracelet. "This will do."

"Let me help you put it on." Lindsey put out her hand. "You should see the guys."

"Drew's here?"

"Yeah, handsome as ever. You did good."

"I know it's an old saying, but tall, dark and handsome works for him."

"In other words, he's killing it." Lindsey laughed. "And so are you! What will Drew say when he sees you? Him and his stuffy 1927 values?"

"Hey, remember it was the Roaring Twenties, Linds. Times were changing."

"But, not in his family." She shivered. "From what he's told us, Nicolas Martin ruled the fam with an iron fist. Do you think Drew's father was part of the Mafia?"

"What?" Kate spun around to look at her friend. "No! I don't know." She paused. "You're right about Drew, he was caught between his dad and what was happening around him."

"Well, he doesn't need to worry about Nicolas anymore. He's long gone."

Kate took in a breath. "Let's not talk about it on prom night. I promised myself a drama-free night."

"Not with Ty going to prom." Lindsey lifted a shoulder. "Sorry."

Kate decided to ignore the Tyson comment. "I'm ready. Let's go down and join the guys. Did Jordyn and Matt get here yet?"

The doorbell rang.

"Yep," Lindsey said as she went down the stairs. "I hear her voice."

The three girls joined in a group hug as soon as Jordyn came through the door. Following right behind were her two moms and Matt.

"Sorry," Jordyn said as she rolled her eyes. "My parents have to take pictures. They need to document everything. Our little girl from China to Ohio." She giggled. "They'll leave, I promise."

Kate gave her a warm smile. "Not a problem. Mine will hover until we leave." She did believe Jordyn's moms were helicopter parents, but who could blame them. They adopted Jordyn from China as a baby, and she was special to them. Plus, she looked gorgeous, like a model. She could see why they wanted photos.

"You look..." Kate searched for the right word. "Stunning!"

"Designer." Jordyn ran her hand over the front of the pale pink silk dress. Her dark hair hung straight, almost to her waist, making a stark contrast to the pink lips and pale eye shadow she wore. "I can't complain." She grinned.

Drew's eyes had landed on Kate as soon as she came down the stairs. Kate could feel them on her, warm and loving. She turned her head and caught his eye, and suddenly they became the only two people in the room. One step, then two. She floated toward him.

"Kate," he said as he pulled her into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You are gorgeous. Beautiful. You outshine everyone here," he whispered.

"You say the sweetest things, but my friends look awesome, too." Kate took his hand. "You don't look bad yourself. You clean up well."

Drew lifted his brows. "Do I now?"

"The limo is here," Kate's dad, Jack, announced. "Kids, have a good time, stay safe and don't take anything from a stranger."

The couples groaned in unison.

"We're not twelve, Dad," Kate whispered as she hugged him goodbye.

"I know Drew will protect you, but he can't be by your side every minute," he answered.

"I won't even pee. Does that make you feel better?" Kate teased.

"No! Too much information!" Jack held up his hands. "I surrender." He hugged her one more time. "Have a good time, Pumpkin. You're growing up too fast."

A storm had passed through town earlier in the day, and cool, spring air greeted them as they headed to the limo. Dinner would be at an exclusive French restaurant. Jordyn, the planner of the group, had made the reservation months ago. She said it would be romantic and the perfect way to start off the evening. If her friend had the means, she'd fly them to the real Eiffel Tower for dinner to kick off the night.

Afterward, they drove to the prom venue, known for having the best location and setting for weddings and other occasions. Drew and Kate held hands during the ride, staring at each other every so often, still not believing they were together.

"We will make new memories tonight, Kate. I can't wait."

Drew had embraced everything twenty-first century. He had the latest tech and cell phone, easily catching on to how everything worked. Kate worried about him at times. Did he miss his old life? His parents had died, and his sister and brother were surely dead. Had he grieved over their deaths?

Drew squeezed her hand. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." She lied. "I can't wait either."

After signing in at the door, someone directed the group to the picture area. Couples would stand under an arch, flanked with the Eiffel Tower on each side. 'A Night in Paris—A Masquerade Ball' had been written across the arch in flowing script. Sheer navy-blue curtains enclosed the arch, giving it a nighttime vibe. Twinkling white lights hung behind the drapes, appeared to be stars.

A younger student, stationed at the entrance to the main room, gave everyone an ornate mask on a stick for holding up to the face. Blue, white and silver masks, black and gold, purple and white plus combinations of all those colors also dangled from the ceiling. Sheer sea green, purple and blue curtains covered the back wall. A giant, glowing Eiffel Tower stood majestically in the center. Shadows of trees, a castle, and other buildings could be seen through the curtains. Gothic-looking candelabra had been placed on all the tables. Their flameless candles gave off the only light.

Kate shivered, and Drew pulled her closer. "Almost eerie, don't you think?" she whispered.

"It appears they were channeling eighteenth century France," Drew said. "Not modern day." He pointed to a table. "Let's sit, and I'll get you something to drink."

"Okay." Kate hoped after her eyes adjusted to the low light, the tingling running up and down her spine would subside. _This is supposed to be fun. Why am I waiting for something to happen?_ She rubbed her nose. _Because it always does._

"Everyone, bring your masks to the dancefloor. The music is about to get serious!" the DJ shouted.

Lindsey slid into the seat next to her and gave Kate a poke. "Hey, this is prom, not a funeral. Come on, let's dance." She grasped Kate by the arm as she hopped up, tugging Kate from her chair.

"Drew..." Kate gestured toward the refreshment table.

"Will see us." Lindsey took a hold of Jordyn as they rounded the table. "Girls' dance!"

The music pulsated through the room, the beat inspiring her to move, as they found a spot on the floor. The secret of the book had taken over Kate's life since Drew arrived. It needed to be protected from outsiders and had become her burden to bear. _If it got in the wrong hands, imagine the damage someone could do._

For one night, Kate wanted to put it all aside, even though at times, she loved her 1927 world more than this one. She wanted to have a crazy time with her friends, throw her head back and let go for a moment. To be uninhibited. Primal.

One upbeat song blended into the next, and Kate didn't want it to end. She was Shadow, the hero of the story, celebrating her victory. Drew lived in her world. She had freed herself from Tyson. All the wrongs had been righted. Her body became one with the music.

The song faded and a slower one began, jarring her back to normal. Kate Roberts at the prom.

"May I have this dance," a voice asked. A familiar one, one she'd never tire of hearing.

"Yes," she breathed and slipped into Drew's arms. Kate closed her eyes, placed her head on his shoulder and let herself be swept into the rhythm of the music.

When the song finished, Drew looked down into her eyes. Kate's heart did a little flip, and she squeezed him tightly before letting go.

"I love you, you know." The corners of his mouth lifted just a bit.

"I love you." She placed her lips on his, wanting to stay in the moment forever.

One more slow song played, and Drew pulled her to him. Kate memorized the moment—his breath in her hair, the beat of his heart, the smell of a freshly laundered shirt mingled with his scent. She closed her eyes, letting him guide her across the floor.

When the music ended, the beat of the next song made everyone cheer, and the whole room went crazy. Arms shot into the air, people sang the lyrics while others jumped up and down in place. Kate took Drew's hand and said, "This is great! We needed this!"

"What? I can't..." He pointed at his ear.

She laughed and waved her hand. "Never mind."

The music continued, the rhythm and beat bounced off the walls. No one stopped dancing. Friends twirled past Kate, some would join in for a few steps and move on. Lindsey and Brian appeared, only to disappear into the crowd again.

Drew leaned in and talked directly into her ear. "I'd like to get something to drink after this song."

Kate nodded. "Okay."

The music ended, and the room stopped vibrating. Drew took Kate's hand and guided her to the edge of the dance floor. An R&B song began to play, a slow one Kate loved. She tugged on Drew's hand. "One more?" She lifted her brows and gave him a soulful look.

"Alright." He chuckled.

Kate slipped into his arms, and Drew swung her out on the dance floor, gracefully weaving between couples. He'd never showed off his ballroom dancing skills, a requirement at his 1927 boarding school. To Kate's amazement, he placed his hand at her waist, held the other out at arm's length and began to waltz. After one turn around the floor, he broke into a foxtrot, two long steps, two quick ones. He twirled Kate under his arm and brought her to him, smoothly transitioning back to a waltz.

When the music came to a stop, Kate exhaled. "You took my breath away."

"You always take mine," Drew whispered, placing a light kiss on her lips.

"Come on you two," Lindsey said as she broke into the moment. "We're going to sit out the next one." She had Brian by the hand and led the way back to the table.

"Are these for us?" Kate pointed to the two cups on the table.

"Yes," Drew answered. "Two Cokes. They've been sitting here for over an hour. I can get us fresh ones."

"It's okay, I'm dying of thirst," Kate answered.

Drew took the cup closest to him. "I already drank out of this one."

Kate took the other, slowly sipping her drink. She stood next to Drew, watching their friends and classmates have a good time. "I know you're not on the football team yet, but those guys are waving you over."

"I've gone to spring practice, remember? Do you mind if I talk to them? I won't be long."

"Sure. You know where to find me." Kate said.

"I know they'll want to talk football even though it's May. I thought I could give them a football history lesson. Did you know the first Army-Navy game was played at West Point in 1890? Army won, twenty-four to zero."

Kate bit down on her bottom lip to keep from rolling her eyes. She shook her head. "Not a good idea, Drew."

The Army/Navy game was probably a big deal and still talked about in the hallowed halls of football during the 1920's. Coaches may have referenced it in speeches since it happened only thirty-seven years before. But, Kate was afraid the guys would wonder why Drew was talking about such a random event. He was proud of his knowledge of the game and the fact he knew history in general. "We don't want them thinking you're a nerd." She scrunched up her face. "Sorry."

"No, I'm doing it again, aren't I? Showing how out of touch I am in the twenty-first century."

"You're doing fine." Kate kissed his cheek. "Go. Just don't reference games played in another century."

"I'll try to remember." Drew chuckled. "I'll only be a few minutes."

Kate watched him maneuver through tables and make his way to the other side of the dance floor. She slid into a chair, noticing the table was empty. _That's strange. I thought Lindsey wanted to sit down._

Strong, intense flashes of light began to spread through the room. People came in and out of view as the strobe light followed the beat of the music. Kate studied the crowd, looking for her friends. The dancers had become harder to recognize with the sporadic flashes of light. Blonde curls bounced up and down in the crowd, all looking like the same girl. Lindsey and Brian had to be in there. Jordyn was nowhere to be found.

_Speaking of strange..._ Kate rubbed her forehead and blinked her eyes. The room began to spin, and her vision blurred. Could she suddenly be sick? _Bathroom._ The food at the restaurant had been wonderful and couldn't be the cause. She took a few more sips of Coke to calm her stomach and sat quietly for a few minutes. Nothing seemed to work. Her symptoms hadn't changed. "Crap!"

A pain shot through her head, her face throbbed. _I haven't had a migraine in a year._ She covered her eyes to keep away the flashing light. _I need to get out of here until the DJ turns the damn thing off._

Kate held on to the table, using it to help her stand. She took in a breath and exhaled to focus before trying to walk. _Where is the bathroom?_ She stumbled around the table, wondering why no one noticed she needed help.

When she reached the dance floor, someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the crowd. She spun and twirled through the dancers, blinking and dodging people. The masks dangling from the ceiling mocked her while the ones people held gave her sinister grins. Faces of gold, purple, black and white appeared larger than life before fading from sight. She burst through the opposite side of the floor, trying to keep from losing her dinner.

Some girls sat at a table a few feet away. Her feet weighed her down as she dragged herself toward them.

"Are you drunk?" one of the girls asked.

_No! I'm having a migraine attack._ "Bathroom."

"I can take her," A tall boy behind a mask approached the table. "I'm heading out there."

"Thanks," Kate mumbled.

"Hey, you okay? Want to sit down for a minute?" he asked.

"Sure."

Kate knew where she was, but at the same time, it seemed like a dream world. Her body moved but she had no idea how. Something brushed against her arm as they turned a corner, and she felt her body guided and placed onto a soft cushion. The noise had lessened, and the flashing lights were gone.

"Where's your mask?" he asked.

"Didn't think I had to take it to the bathroom." Kate blinked, trying to clear the fog. "Water."

"I'll get you a bottle. Stay right here."

Kate leaned back on the cushion and closed her eyes. She wished when she opened them everything was normal, and the headache gone. She knew if she sat quietly, away from noise and light, she'd recover quicker. When she finally did look, she noticed she was in a small alcove with a sofa and two chairs surrounded by artificial potted plants of various sizes. The lighting wasn't much better outside the main hall, and she rubbed her eyes to focus.

"Here you go."

A bottle of cool water was placed in her hand. Kate held it to her forehead then cracked it open. A sip here and there with a few breaths in between helped. She planned to finish the water and go back inside. "You don't have to sit with me," she said as she turned to the boy who helped her. A gasp then a low growl formed in her throat. "Tyson," she said between gritted teeth.

"Guilty as charged." He held up his hands. "Feeling better?"

"You put something in my drink." Kate's mind went wild with accusations.

"Hey! How could you accuse me of drugging you? And where would I get those kinds of drugs? Anyway, Drew-ski held on to those two drinks for the longest time while he was looking for you, so I could have never done it."

Drew hated when Ty called him Drew-ski even though Kate had told him to ignore it. If Ty knew how much it bothered Drew, he'd never stop.

"What. Did. You. Put in my drink." Kate glared at him, still not believing his story.

"Nothing! I swear. But, since I've got you here, let's talk."

"About?" Kate rubbed her forehead, begging for the pain to subside.

"Us." Ty ran his fingers down her arm. "You look beautiful tonight."

Kate cringed and scooted away from him. "Where's your date? You came with Erin. She's your girlfriend, in case you forgot."

"She's in the bathroom and probably won't come out for a half hour. By the time she does her makeup over and talks to every girl in there, it will be a while."

Kate left her clutch, with cellphone inside, back at the table so she had no way to communicate with her friends. She needed more time to get grounded before she tried to make her getaway. No way could she stand on her own yet. _I need a distraction until someone finds me. Drew is probably looking for me._ Kate took a breath. _No. You can do this on your own._

"Ah, Tyson?" She tapped his shoulder and held up the empty water bottle. "I could use another."

"Not yet. As I said, I want to talk, and I know we don't have much time." He glanced over his shoulder.

Kate crossed her arms, letting out a puff of air. "Fine. Make it quick." _If I could control my legs, I'd kick him in..._

"Katie, are you paying attention?" He shook her arm. "Damn, you're drifting off."

His words caught her attention. Kate sat up and hissed. "Why do you care? I have a migraine. It helps if I close my eyes."

"Hmm," Tyson said as he tapped his chin. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked the DJ if he had any strobes. I thought it would liven up the party. Sorry, I forgot about your migraines. You haven't had one in a long time, but if you stay here, you'll be fine."

"Fine?" Kate widened her eyes as she tried to take a swing at him. "Like hell you forgot I get migraines!"

Ty grabbed her wrist. "Hey, your head. Be careful. Did you finish your Coke? It might help settle your stomach. I'm sure you're nauseous."

"No, I only drank about half." She paused. "How did you know I was drinking Coke? Have you been watching us all night? You are one sick bastard, Ty."

"You don't mean it." Ty moved closer and stroked her cheek. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"No, you don't, Ty." Kate pushed him away. "You only think you do. You always get your way and this time you didn't. It's the only reason you are clinging to this sick idea we'll be together one day. I've tried to be nice to you, offered to be friends, but you keep going back on your promises. This," Kate said, as she drew in the air in front of him. "Is not right. You are a stalker, Ty. Get over it... and me."

Something clicked in her head, her vision cleared, and Kate had a grip on reality. Ty was doing it again. He mixed concern with his real agenda to confuse her. Well, no more. She stood, and Tyson jumped in front of her.

"Please hear me out," he pleaded.

Taller than Drew, Ty played on their school's varsity basketball team. All the girls adored him and were jealous when she dated him. He could have his pick of girls in every class from freshman to senior. His girlfriend, Erin, was a senior and head cheerleader. They made a great-looking couple and were the most popular two at the high school. Tyson had everything a guy could want.

"You have one minute." Kate held up her pointer finger. "After you've had your say, you will step aside and let me out of here."

"I want you to know, I'm here for you. My family moved across the street from yours, and I don't think it happened by accident. We were meant to meet and be together, Katie."

"You're getting delusional again, Ty. I haven't heard one thing we can agree on."

"Your mom likes me."

"What!"

"She and my mom have talked about how their kids would marry one day and live on the same street."

Bile rose in her throat. _My mom is still on Ty's side? I thought we dealt with that, and she'd accepted Drew._ It was hard enough standing up to her parents when they wanted to stop her trips to the past, but she'd never give in to this match made by their moms. "Still haven't heard anything I want to discuss."

"I could tell you were getting a migraine. I know how to help you through them. I've done it before. Does your boyfriend even know you get them?" he taunted.

_How long has he been watching me? Did he deliberately ask the DJ to turn on those lights hoping it would set off a migraine?_ Kate had trouble separating Ty's actions from natural occurrences. The pain in her head had dulled, but Kate didn't want to deal with any of Ty's drama. "Did you think you'd save me, and I'd be all grateful? You don't get it. I am with Drew and plan to stay with him."

"All I wanted to say is...I can wait. Date Drew-ski. Get him out of your system. I'll be here to pick up the pieces."

Her blood boiled. Kate made her hands into fists. She had enough. "Never. Do you hear me? I will never come back to you, even if Drew..."

"Did I hear my name?" Drew stepped around the corner. Relief spread over his face when he saw Kate, until he noticed Tyson. "What the...?" He rushed toward them.

Kate held up her hand. "I've got this, Drew." She pulled her arm back, hand still in a fist. Without another thought, her arm shot forward, placing a well-aimed punch in Tyson's gut. "Now, get out of my way." She pushed him aside as he clung to his stomach.

"What was that about?" Drew asked as they headed back to the main room.

"Nothing." Kate shrugged. "Tyson being Tyson."

"You took care of him. You've got a great hook." Drew chuckled. He pointed to the refreshment table. "Want something to drink?"

"No." Kate shook her head. "I think I had my fill for tonight." She took Drew's hand. "Thanks for not interfering."

"From what I saw, you had it under control." Drew kissed the side of her head. "Anyone who has the courage to travel through time, not knowing if they'll ever return home, is one brave person in my book. You've got this, Kate."

Stalker or not, Kate had control of the situation. She might not be able to change Ty's behavior, but she could alter hers. No more coddling Ty, hoping he'd see his mistakes. When she got home, she planned to sit down with her parents and Drew to discuss what could be done. Drew needed to be brought up to speed on her migraines. But for now, she said, "Come on. Let's dance. There's not much left of prom, and I want to enjoy every minute."

# About the Author

After a great career in teaching, **Nancy Pennick** found a second calling as a writer. Ohio is her home but she loves to travel the U.S. Her debut young adult novel, _Waiting for Dusk_ , was a surprise to her as much as it was to her family. Watching a PBS series on National Parks, her mind wandered to another place and that is where the characters of Katie and Andrew were born. _Call of the Canyon_ and _Stealing Time_ continue their story. The Swedish influences found in the books came from her mother whose parents emigrated from Sweden.

Born and raised in Northeast Ohio, Nancy currently resides in Mentor, Ohio with her husband and their college-age son.

* * *

Join Nancy's Mailing List

www.nancypennick.com

  Facebook

  Twitter

# Also by Nancy Pennick

**Fire & Ice Young Adult Books**

* * *

**Waiting for Dusk Series**

_Waiting for Dusk_

_Call of the Canyon_

_Stealing Time_

_Taking Chances (Free!)_

_Broken Dreams_

_Second Chances_

**Satin Romance**

_My Highlander Husband_

_Donnach's Daughter_

* * *

**_Anthologies_**

_Frozen Moments_ in Frozen

_The Perfect Beginning_ in Second Chance for Love

_Chili Warmed Her Heart_ in Food & Romance Go Together, Vol 2

# A Dance in the Shadows

### B. D. Messick

When you spend the day saving the world, sometimes you just want to dance the night away.

# A Dance in the Shadows

"I really don't want to do this," Kateri says from behind the bathroom door.

"Come on. I'm sure you look beautiful," I respond from our bed.

I'm sitting cross-legged on the edge of the mattress, dressed in a robe and slippers. My hair is piled on the top of my head, held together with a few strategically placed pins.

"This isn't me, Eve," she replies, her voice quiet and unsure.

"Come on, just come out and show me."

She mumbles something, but I can't make it out, and she's being very disciplined with her thoughts; not giving anything away. I look up at the door when I hear the lock being opened from the other side. I take in a breath as she walks out, wobbling slightly on the red and black high heels.

"Oh my God," I whisper.

She doesn't look at me, but I can't take my eyes off her. I always thought she was sexy and beautiful, but she's never looked like this before; except maybe in my dirty little secret dreams. I stand up, my eyes locked on her. The short, red dress is so form fitting that it looks like she was dipped in paint. Her hair is pulled back into a loose bun, two carved, wooden sticks help keeping it all in place. A few perfectly placed strands perfectly frame her face on either side.

"Well?" she asks.

I can feel the nervousness in her voice.

"I don't know what to say."

"See? I told you. This isn't me. It doesn't look good."

She frowns at me and I reach out and take her hand.

"First off. I don't know what to say because you look friggen' amazing," I say, smiling at her. "Secondly, that dress is so you. It's unbelievable. And thirdly, I cannot believe how much I want you right now."

"Really?" she asks, smiling at me, some of the sparkle returning to her eyes.

"I shit you not. Can you turn around?"

For a second, I don't think she's going to do it, but then she does, and things just get better.

"Wow."

"Are you sure?" she asks, trying to twist herself so she can look at her own ass.

"I'm sure."

My heart is pounding out of my chest, my pulse racing.

"You're not just saying that, right?"

"No. I mean it."

I take a step closer, slipping my arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She smiles at me as I gaze into the calliope of colors exploding in her eyes. Leaning forward, I press my lips against hers and everything else around us seems to fade away. My hand slides down her back like a drop of water slipping down the side of a glass.

"I guess you really do like it," she says.

"I told you."

"Now it's your turn."

I reluctantly release her hand and retrieve my dress from the closet. She smiles at me as I step inside the bathroom, but I stop just before closing the door.

"You better not take that off," I say pointing at her.

"I won't," she replies, and then a thought occurs to me.

> _Eve ~ Wait...what am I saying?_

...and then I catch one of Kateri's in my head.

> _Kateri ~ Just shut up and put on your dress._

I close the door and hang the dress on the shower curtain bar. I look at myself in the mirror for a few moments. I can't remember ever feeling as happy as I am right now, and it's written all over my face; I cannot stop smiling. I drop the robe, letting it crumple around my feet. I have a bra hanging on the back of the door, but I look at the dress for a split second before deciding I don't need it.

I slip the thin, black garment off the hanger and hold it in front of me. It's a little longer than Kateri's, but not by much. This may be her first time wearing something as girly and sexy as what she has on, but I've never worn anything like this before, either. I never felt strong enough, or pretty enough, or had any reason to wear a dress like this, but Kateri has changed everything in my life, and I want to show her how much I appreciate it. I slip it on over my head, wiggling back and forth, and tugging on the bottom until the tiny black straps come to rest on my bare shoulders.

It feels like I have nothing on at all. It feels...amazing. I pull the pins out of my hair, and the soft curls tumble down across my shoulders. I pick a thought out of the air from the other side of the door.

> _K ~ How am I supposed to fight in this thing?_

> _E ~ Seriously? You're not Wonder Woman._

> _K ~ Shut up._

I adjust my hair in the mirror for a few minutes before tugging the dress down just a bit lower. I sit on the edge of the tub and pull on a pair of black leather boots that nearly reach my knees. Swallowing hard, I turn, take in a deep breath and open the bathroom door. The second I step outside and see Kateri's face, it tells me everything I need to know.

"That good?" I ask.

She just continues to stare at me, her mouth slightly agape, but she has yet to say a word, and it plants the seed of doubt.

"I...I can't believe—"

"You can't believe what? That I could look this nice?" I ask, becoming suddenly defensive.

"No. I can't believe that you're my girlfriend."

The door slides open with a whisper and we step out of our apartment into the hall. No one is around, and for a second, I'm relieved, but then I feel disappointed that no one may get to see me like this. The Factory, our headquarters, is usually a hive of activity, with Shayds rushing around busy with this or that task, or heading out to defend the Solas, or the Human world, from demons invading from the Abyss. I take Kateri's hand as we're walking to the elevator. When I look over at her, she still looks uncomfortable in the shoes and the dress.

"You know, you can change if you want," I say.

"Are you kidding?" she replies as she presses the call button. "And be shown up by you? I don't think so."

The doors open, and Reeva is standing there, wearing a stunning blue dress that shows off her finely tuned physique. She looks at us and whistles.

"Wow. You ladies clean up nice," she says.

"Thanks. You look pretty hot yourself," I reply.

"Are you going to this thing, too?" Kateri asks as she moves to the back of the car, still a little unsure in her heels.

"Father wanted me to go as a 'chaperone'. Whatever that is."

"We don't need a chaperone," I say.

"Hey. Talk to Father. I'm not really going for you anyway, it's more for the younger ones."

"That's better."

"You're not taking anyone? What about Evan?"

"He's busy," she says, frowning. "Doing some sort of server upgrade or something."

"Sorry."

She just nods, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes.

"I think we should stop by to see Father before we leave."

"Ya think? Because he would kill us if we didn't," I say.

The lift stops and a moment later the doors slide open. We step into a scene of chaos, but in a good way. Dozens of people are rushing about, many of them dressed for the same event we're heading to. They're all laughing and joking, which is good to see, considering everything we've been through lately. I glance over at Reeva, and I can sense her sadness even through her façade of happiness.

We stride through the library, on the way to the control center. In my head, we're moving in slow-motion, like some ridiculous action movie while explosions go off behind us. The mess hall is empty, except for the staff, mopping the floor and wiping the tables. Ka've looks over and shoots us a thumbs-up. I give him a nod in return, and I feel a blush run across my face. When we walk into the globe room, it's as frenetic as usual. A couple of the technicians look up briefly, but they're far too busy to pay much attention to us. As we're approaching the stairs to the office, my stomach gets tight, and I look over at Kateri.

Kateri reaches out and takes my hand, gently squeezing my fingers. We climb the steps slowly, with Reeva just behind. Father is sitting at the desk, his head down, sorting through a collection of papers. The monitors on the wall are running the news feeds from all the major networks and channels. He looks up and a smile breaks out on his face as he stands.

"My goodness," he says as he comes out from behind the desk.

I blush again, and I see Kateri do the same as Father looks at us. There are tears in her eyes.

"You both look so beautiful," he says, and the next thing I know, he's hugging me.

I hold him tight, only releasing him when I feel his grip on me relax. He immediately pulls Kateri to him, and they embrace like father and daughter. I can see a few tears in Kateri's eyes when she steps back before she slyly wipes her cheek, trying to hide her reaction. Father looks at Reeva, who's been standing in the back near the door, her hands clasped in front of her.

"And Reeva," he says, stepping up to her. "That dress suits you."

"Thank you, Father."

She steps forward and hugs him, wrapping her arms around his much thicker frame. He returns the embrace, the two of them standing there for a few moments while Kateri and I fade into the background. I see him whisper something to her, but I can't make it out. Reeva hugs him a little harder before they release each other.

"Anyway," Father says, "You all look amazing. Have fun, but don't be back too late, okay?"

"We won't."

I hug him one more time.

"Thank you, Father," Reeva says with a little bow.

"What did I tell you about that?"

"Sorry," she responds with a sideways grin.

Father hugs Kateri again and we start heading toward the stairs when Wren walks in. She's definitely _not_ dressed for the prom, with the jeans, boots, leather jacket and sword dangling against her right hip. She looks at us and smiles.

"Wow," she says as she looks us up and down.

Without thinking about it, I suddenly do a twirl and immediately regret it when I see Kateri's expression.

"What the hell was that?" she asks, half frowning and half smiling.

"I don't know. I just felt like it."

I can feel my face getting redder by the second.

"Leave her alone," Wren says. "She looks beautiful and if she wants to twirl, then she can twirl all she wants."

"Sorry," Kateri replies, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"That's better," Wren says.

"You're not going with us?" Reeva asks.

"Somebody needs to stay behind and defend the world," Wren replies with a sly smile.

"You should hang out with Brian," I suggest, and she immediately frowns at me.

"Shut-up." She bumps her hip into mine, but I can see the smile hidden beneath the downturned mouth. "Besides, even if I wanted too, I have work to do."

"Yes. And speaking of that work, we need to get to it, and you all need to get going before you're late," Father says.

We all give him one last little wave before heading down the stairs and out to the front door. When we step outside, there are a few other couples gathered in the parking lot. It seems odd to see everyone dressed in gowns and suits, when we're usually covered in leather, denim and blood. One by one, the groups stream off, stepping into the shadows thrown by the building and vanishing from the lot until only the three of us are left.

"Okay. We'll see you there," I say to Reeva.

She smiles at us, although it's hard to tell how genuine her expression is.

She gives me a silent nod and then just before streaming off, turns and looks at us.

"By the way. You both look pretty enough to twirl," she says, before taking a step and vanishing.

Kateri laughs and I take her hand.

"You ready?"

"I'm ready."

We fade together and stream to the top of the apartment building across the street, using the shadows created by the setting sun. I still feel a thrill every time we do this together; using the shadows to travel through the Umbra, the world between worlds, around the city. We land a few inches from the edge, and I immediately target the top of an old billboard two blocks away, but first I link us to the gravel covered roof of a small bank building turned restaurant. We launch off the bank, headed for the billboard. As we're streaming above the city, I look over at Kateri for a moment. The smile on her face as we glide toward our landing spot makes my heart swell with love for her. I look back at the top of the billboard at the last second and I make a final adjustment, but it's too late.

We touch down and I'm forced to pull her back from the edge, grabbing the rusting handrail to keep us from tumbling off the edge.

"You need to keep your eyes on the prize," she says, looking deep into my eyes before peering down at the ground, some forty feet away.

"I was," I reply with a wicked grin.

She laughs, grabs my hand and leaps off the edge, pulling me with her.

"My turn to drive!" she yells as we're falling.

I'm not afraid. I trust her with everything that I am.

We fall for two seconds before she fades us into a shadow cast by a water tower on top of one of the many buildings in downtown Collinsburg. Streaming in the dark is inherently dangerous, but it's also invigorating. The day is giving over control of the world to the night and telling the difference between shadow and darkness is not easy. I always remember back to the little rhyme that Kateri taught me so long ago:

_We use the shadows thrown by the light, but not the darkness born of the night_

We touch down in the alley a block from the school where Kateri first called me her girlfriend. The front of the building is crowded with kids arriving on foot, in cars, or even the occasional stretch limousine. A huge banner is strung over the doors:

_Class of 18' Prom_

There's a group of Shayds near the entrance waiting for an opportunity to slip in behind some other students.

"Come on," I say, starting to pull Kateri behind me.

She doesn't move when I tug on her hand.

"I need to tell you something," she says, her expression stern.

"What?" I ask, my heart suddenly racing. "What's wrong?"

"It's something I never told you before."

"Jesus, Kateri. What is it?"

"I don't know how to dance."

"Really? That's what you need to tell me?" My shoulders drop as the tension drains from my body.

"I don't want to look stupid," she says, and suddenly I realize she's totally serious about this.

I smile and chuckle, squeezing her fingers gently.

"You're not going to look stupid."

"How do you know?"

"Because everyone is going to be looking at me anyway," I say, raising my arms to the sides and winking at her.

"Yeah. Let's not get carried away."

"Come on."

We dart across the street, making sure to stay in the shadows, and then up the stairs, slipping in behind a group of students just before the doors close. We have to be careful not to bump into anyone, and to stay faded, or at least I have to worry about it. Normal Shayds can't be seen anyway, but they can still knock into people by accident. With all the lights, and the decorations hanging from the ceiling, it's not as hard as you might think to stay hidden in the myriad of shadows.

We make our way down the hall toward the gymnasium, staying as close to the lockers as we can to avoid the other students. It doesn't always work, but even the ones we do make contact with don't seem to notice. They're far more interested in talking, laughing or making-out to pay any attention to us.

The music grows louder the closer we get, and my heart is beating faster with every step. I've never been to prom before, and certainly not with a girl. The school was always fairly progressive, so I probably would have been allowed, but I didn't even know another girl I could have taken. If I'm being honest, I'm not sure the old me would have been brave enough...but the new me is a different story...even if no one can see me except for the other Shayds.

I take Kateri's hand and we walk into the gym, or the ballroom, or whatever you want to call it. Multiple disco balls are hanging from the ceiling, spinning slowly, creating a mesmerizing light show of color that bounces off every inch of the space. At the far end, a long table is set up with drink dispensers and what looks like an endless supply of cups. I spot a few of my old teachers standing along the walls, chatting amongst themselves, including Mr. Zelinski. I wish I could tell him I'm okay, that he doesn't need to feel guilty about the day I ran out of the school and was never seen again.

The center of the room is filled with hundreds of kids dancing in couples or groups, including some Shayds in the mix, although most of them are on the fringes of the crowd.

I spot my best friend Amanda across the room. She's with a boy I don't recognize, but it's been at least six weeks since we've talked, so it's not that surprising. It makes me sad to realize that before all this happened we shared everything, and now, we're lucky if we can talk every few months. Her date is a handsome guy, and I can tell from the way he holds her hand and laughs at her jokes, that he's a good guy as well. I weave my way through the crowds, with Kateri just behind, deftly avoiding a few encounters with other students, while failing at a few others, but again, no one seems to notice. It's odd that we're invisible when we're in the shadows, but we can still touch those that exist in the Human world. The chaos of the event helps me remain hidden in plain sight as I move from shadow to shadow.

When I reach Amanda, I touch her free hand and she immediately closes her fingers around mine, as if she was just waiting for me. I place my other hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. She smiles, and I know it's for me, although the others around her probably think it's for them. Suddenly, Kateri steps up and places her hand on Amanda's shoulder as well, directly beside mine. Amanda releases her boyfriend's hand and then raises her own and brushes her fingers across ours, making that contact across the realms; Solas to Umbra. To everyone else, it looks like she's scratching her shoulder or dislodging something off her dress, but we know what it means. Another couple walks past, just a few feet away and she looks over at them.

"Have fun," she says while her head is turned in our direction.

"What?" her companion asks.

"Nothing," she replies. "I was just telling David and Lisa to have fun."

David and Lisa didn't hear her, which is fine, since she wasn't talking to them anyway.

"You want to dance?" her boyfriend asks.

She nods enthusiastically, and they head to the dance floor, but not before she turns in our direction and mouths the words... _I love you_.

I turn and look at Kateri.

"How about you?"

"What?"

"Do you wanna dance?"

For a second, I think she's going to say no, but instead, she nods as a smile builds on her face.

"Yeah, I do."

I feel giddy as I drag her behind me to an open spot in the center of the room. When I turn around, she's smiling at me, her eyes a hurricane of colors, swirling and twisting around one another.

"Be gentle with me," she whispers.

"Don't worry. We'll take it easy," I say, placing my hand on her right hip. "Just do what I do."

She copies me, and then I place my other hand on her shoulder, and she does the same.

"This doesn't feel right," she says. "Doesn't one of us lead?"

I smile and nod, blushing slightly.

"Yeah, actually. I didn't know if you wanted to...or if you'd be mad if I did."

"You're the one who knows how to dance, so you take the lead."

"Okay. Gimme your hand."

I hold her gently, our fingers intertwined.

"Ready?"

She nods nervously.

"We're just going to sway back and forth a little while moving in a circle."

I start us moving, and she follows along. Right from the beginning, we're in perfect sync. We stare into each other's eyes and my heart feels like it's going to burst, it's so filled with love and joy and happiness. She leans in and we kiss, our lips just grazing, but it still feels electric.

"I love you."

"I love you too," I reply.

We move around the floor in perfect unison, weaving our way through the other dancers in a delicate and graceful ballet. I feel myself becoming visible in flashes as I move between the shadow and the light, but it's far too fast for anyone to notice. Kateri's hand on my hip feels amazing as her fingers gently massage my side.

"You're a natural," I say.

"Only because you're an amazing teacher."

We dance for nearly an hour before reluctantly retreating from the floor to the chairs set up along the walls. They're empty except for a lone girl sitting by herself, her gold and silver dress cascading over the sides of her chair, and a small trio of three boys huddled by the wall, not far away. My heart aches for her. I know what it's like to be alone, to be the one that no one seems to notice. I wish there was something I could do, but there isn't.

Kateri puts her arm across my shoulder and pulls me to her, placing a kiss on the side of my head.

> K _~ You really are such a good person._

> E _~ Stop reading my thoughts._

> K _~ Stop thinking them._

"Be right back," she says.

"What are—"

I watch as she walks over to the three boys and then unceremoniously pushes one of them toward the girl. He stumbles forward, and she jumps up to keep him from falling.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking a small step back.

He nods silently.

"Yeah. I...I don't know what happened. I guess I tripped or something," he says, looking back at his two companions before returning his attention to the girl.

For a few seconds, they just stand there looking at each other.

"My name's Aaron," he finally manages to say.

"Lindsey."

"I like your dress."

"Thanks," she replies, looking down at her gown and brushing it flat.

"Did you...um...maybe want to dance, or something?"

"Sure," she says, smiling for the first time since arriving more than likely.

I walk over to Kateri, passing them as they head to the dance floor.

"That was nice. Why did you pick him?" I ask.

"He kept looking at her, over his shoulder."

"What if she had ignored him, or didn't want to dance?"

"Hey. Everybody has to take a chance sometime, right?"

"Right," I answer with a smile.

I reach out to take her hand and suddenly a chill runs down my spine and I look up toward the ceiling.

"Did you feel that?" I ask.

"I felt it."

I touch my earpiece.

"Evan."

"Here."

"Do you have anything?"

There's a short pause before he responds.

"Affirmative. I have two incursions happening now."

"Where?"

"Both in the school."

"In the school?" I ask, making sure I heard him right.

"Affirmative."

"Reeva."

"This is Reeva," she responds immediately.

"You need to get the younger ones back to the Factory."

"What? I can—"

"Reeva. This is Father. They're in your charge, you need to keep them safe. Bring them home. Most of the them are not ready for a fight yet and they're not armed."

"Yes, Father."

I can hear the annoyance and disappointment in her voice.

"Do you two have weapons?" Father asks.

I look over at Kateri and she pulls two knives out of the bun on the back of her head. Her hair tumbles down and she winks at me.

"Yeah," I say, reaching into my boots and retrieving two double-edged, curved blades with a handle in the center.

Kateri smiles at me.

"You really are my kind of girl," she says, her eyes sparkling.

"I'm sending Wren. She should be there in a few minutes," Father says.

"Okay."

"I've got them," Evan says into my ear.

"Location?"

"One's on the roof, the other...I'm not sure, but it's close."

"All right. We'll get the one on the roof first."

Kateri kicks off her shoes, and we sprint out of the room. I'm glad I wore boots tonight, and not high heels. We turn left as soon as we exit the gym, racing down the hall, dodging groups of kids and teachers. We burst through the front doors and race down the steps. I spin around and look up toward the roof.

"See you there," I say before stepping into the shadow of a telephone pole and streaming two stories up.

I step onto the roof, my weapons at the ready, but no one's there. A second later, Kateri appears and as soon as she hits the ground, she's running at me.

"Watch out!" she screams as she charges at me.

I spin around just in time to see a huge demon with blue skin and long, needle like fingers leap out of the darkness at me. I slip to the right and drop down while slicing deep into its arm. Kateri fades again and reappears behind the beast, plunging her blades into the creature's back. It roars and lashes out, it's right arm slamming into her midsection, sending her flying across the roof.

"Kateri!" I yell, and everything goes red all around me.

I rush the demon, screaming as I slash and stab it repeatedly. Every move it makes, I react and counter-attack, my knives digging deep, severing tendons, cutting muscle and breaking bones. It stumbles back, reeling from my assault. I slice it across the belly, the blade cutting deep before plunging the other knife into its right leg and then ripping it out as blood sprays onto my dress and face. It drops down onto one knee while trying to retreat. I advance on the monster, spinning my knives with my wrists.

"Where do you think you're going?" I ask, snarling at the beast.

Suddenly, something barrels into me from the side, knocking me to the ground, one of my knives skittering away across the roof. I flip onto my back and scramble to my feet, pain shooting from my ribs. A terrifying demon with massive, stone-like fists roars before charging. I take a step back and trip over a pipe sticking up through the roof. I hear a 'pop' as I twist my ankle and collapse. The beast leaps in the air directly at me. I roll to the left and it slams into the ground just inches away. Raising my knife, I stab its foot, but the blade just bounces off.

"Oh shit!"

I roll away again as the monster starts moving toward me. From out of nowhere, Kateri appears directly in front of me, her dress torn and bloody. The demon barrels toward her, fists raised, ready to strike. She looks beaten down, leaning to the right, blood running down her arm as she lifts her knife. Suddenly, just inches from Kateri, the beast stops in its tracks, staring straight ahead, like its looking right through her and then it collapses, falling face down onto the roof. She dodges out of the way at the last second.

Wren appears out of the shadows, striding across the roof, her hips swaying from side to side, a crossbow in her hand. That's when I notice the two bolts sticking out of the back of the demon's skull.

"You two okay?" she asks as she walks past us.

I nod and Kateri does the same as she makes her way over to me.

"We're okay," she says.

Wren gives us a nod and walks over to the other demon who is still trying to crawl away and fires two bolts into its skull.

"Ya know," she says, turning to look at us. "If you'd told me how fun prom was, I might have come along."

I shake my head as Kateri helps me up. My ribs are burning, and my ankle feels broken as I struggle to stand, leaning heavily on her, while she leans against me at the same time.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

"I'm all right," she says, with a weak smile. "What about you?"

"Same," I reply, both of us lying to the other, but both of us well aware that we're doing it.

"Okay. Let's get you back home," Wren says.

She takes my hand, while I hold Kateri's and we fade into one of many shadows crisscrossing the roof and stream back to the Factory. Wren guides us with a confidence that belays the short time that she's been with us, linking off fire escapes, rooftops and the crossbars of telephone poles. We land in the parking lot, just feet from the Factory door. Reeva is waiting for us. She takes charge of Kateri, while Wren helps me make our way inside. Reeva touches her earpiece.

"We need a trauma unit, main entrance, stat."

"Copy."

We start moving toward the elevators, shuffling slowly down the hall. Just before we reach the doors, they open and four Shayds in scrubs rush out, taking over from Reeva and Wren. Less than two minutes later, we're in the hospital, and the doctors and nurses are buzzing all around us, poking and prodding.

"I'm gonna give you something, it'll probably knock you out cold," one of the nurses says as she slides a needle under my skin and almost immediately my lids feel heavy...

"Good to have you back," I hear Father say.

I look up and his face comes into focus, his all blue eyes gazing down at me.

"Kateri," I mumble.

"Right here," she says, and I look over to the bed next to mine.

I reach my hand out and she takes it, her arm heavily bandaged.

"Are you really okay?" I ask.

"Now I am. You?"

"Yeah. Ankle hurts though, ribs too."

"Kyle says you have three broken ribs, one of which they had to force back into place. As far as your ankle is concerned, it's a severe sprain, so you're on bedrest for a few days," Father says. "Kateri is about the same, but just two ribs."

"And forty-five stitches," she says, nodding toward her bandaged arm.

"Crap," I reply, frowning. "And we only got to have one dance."

"Well, I can't do much about that, but maybe this will be something," Father says. He looks over his shoulder and nods.

The lights dim and suddenly the room is filled with stars and moons flitting across the walls, ceiling and our beds. Demi Lovato begins playing and Father stands as a couple of orderlies push our beds together. I look over at Kateri.

"Did you plan all this?" I ask her, squeezing her fingers gently.

"No. This is all Father."

He smiles at us.

"Everyone deserves a prom...a demon free prom."

He pats us both on the leg and he and the rest of the hospital staff leave the room to us. I look over at Kateri again, gazing deeply into her multi-colored eyes and the storm of blues, greens, and yellows within.

> _I love you._

> _I love you, too._

# About the Author

**B.D. Messick** was born in Baltimore, years and years ago. He has held a lot of jobs in his lifetime, including retail professional, board game designer, and even farm hand (best job ever).

He currently resides in the Pittsburgh area where he spends his time writing, board game designing, and watching movies.

www.bdmessick.com

# Also By B. D. Messick

**_The Shayd Chronicles_**

All Things in the Shadows

**_Sojourn Series_**

_The Wildlands_

_The Deadlands_

_The Beastlands_

_Enclave_

# Chasing Shadows

### A Demon Hunters Story

### by Alice J. Black

Ruby, a Demon Hunter by trade, finds herself in a situation that leaves her entirely out of her comfort zone, but when she's faced with the shadows that move in the dark she knows exactly what she has to do.

# Chasing Shadows

I pulled the straps of the dress tight over my shoulders and sighed as I looked into the mirror where, in front of me, Becca remained crouched on the floor putting her make-up on. She paused for a moment, her eyes flicking to my reflection.

"You look good, Red." She grinned.

"I feel like an idiot," I grumbled.

Downing tools, she spun to face me. From where she sat on the floor her eyes sparkled with glitter and long bold strokes of eyeliner. Perfect. Everything about the girl was perfect and here I was trying to play the part.

"Ruby, you do this all of the time." She pulled herself to her feet. Her hands came to my shoulders, squeezing gently. "The dress is perfect. You look gorgeous, and you're going to knock him dead."

"I don't even know why I'm going, Becca." I stared at the floor. "I look desperate inviting him to come to the prom when clearly he has no interest."

"Why would he accept if he didn't want to come?" She stuck her hand on her hip.

"He felt sorry for me because I'm the only girl who had to ask _her_ date." I flung my arms up.

"Since when did you turn into an old maid?" Her brow arched. "You're talking about this as if it's the end of the world."

"Becca, I just..." I had no words anymore. I was feeling beyond stupid while my best friend dazzled. Everything about it made me nervous. I wasn't even a dance type person. "Maybe I should call this off. I'll stay home. You go and have fun."

"Oh no you don't." She shook her head and steered me towards the mirror. "Sit down and shut up while I do your make-up."

"But—"

"No!" She held up her hand. "Ruby, you deserve this more than anyone after everything you've been through. It's time that you were a princess."

I knew exactly what she was referring to. The fact that only recently I had found out that my dad was a Demon Hunter and that I, although I shouldn't have been able to, had inherited the gene. The look in Becca's eye told me that no matter what I said she wouldn't take no for an answer. Maybe she was right. Maybe I just had to give this a chance. Giving in, I sank to my knees on the floor, crossing my legs while my best friend began to sort through her copious amounts of products. When she came at me with an orange base and a sponge I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

"There," she announced, shuffling backwards as I opened my eyes. She pointed me towards the mirror. The result was breath taking. I pushed myself to my feet and took in the full effect. My skin was smooth and pale, my lips painted in daring red and my eyes were darkened with liquid liner and smoky eyeshadow. That, coupled with my auburn hair, straightened for the occasion, which tumbled down over my shoulders and the thin-straps of my black dress, I had to admit that I looked good.

"What do you think?" Becca asked.

"I don't know how you do it, Becca, but you're a miracle worker."

"I had a good canvas." She shrugged and made her way to the bed where she loosened her robe and threw it across the bedding. Becca had chosen a red plunging dress that clung to her curves and the momentary delight I'd felt was now gone. Compared to her, I was dour.

She spun to face me. "What do you think?" Her hands were poised on her hips and her head was cocked to the side.

I couldn't help but smile. "Beautiful."

There was a knock at the door and my stomach vaulted. "Come in," I shouted, clearing my throat.

The door slowly opened, and Melody popped her head in, gaze moving from me to Becca and back again, a wide grin curling her lips. "You two look amazing! I can't wait until it's my turn to go to prom!"

"What's up?" Becca asked.

"Your dates are here." Her brow wiggled, and her grin widened even further before she slunk from the room, pulling the door shut with her.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. I was going to have to go outside dressed like this, dolled up to the nines, and I was going to have to dance. The end of year party. It had been a religious rite of passage for every young person making their way through school only so far, I'd managed to avoid it. Until now. As seemed to be custom lately, I found myself giving in more and more to Becca and her demands whether that was shopping, make-up or the dance. And of course, I'd refused to come without a date. She was going with Jake, so it made sense for me to ask Vaughn. Or that's what I told myself anyway. I asked him because it made sense. Yeah, right.

I'd never been so humiliated as when I laughed my way through a stumbled effort to ask him to take me out. When he accepted it was with the smile and the ease of a man used to being in social situations. And now it was time to go to the dance. I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd asked him to come but never really expected him to accept and now I was going to have to go through with it.

"Red, come on." Becca snapped her fingers in front of my face. "We're going to the dance, not a funeral."

"Why is it that fighting demons seems less daunting than this?" I asked, holding my hands out.

"Because you've avoided this your whole life. Now grab your bag and let's go."

I did as she asked, throwing my bag over my shoulder. We had just made it to the door when Becca gave me the once over, her eyes widening when she saw what I was carrying. She wrenched the bag from my shoulder. "Ruby, there's no way you're taking that to the prom. It's your school bag!"

"I need it, Becca. I have to carry the tools—"

"From The Agency, I know." She sighed. "But you're not taking that thing. Here." Turning to her wardrobe, she rummaged, throwing a few things out into the room until she found what she was looking for. "Use this."

The bag she handed me was barely big enough to contain my phone let alone everything else I needed. "Becca, there's no way I can use that."

"You're using it, Red. So hurry up and sort yourself out." She crossed her arms over her chest and the pout came out.

Quickly spinning towards my bed, I emptied the contents of my shoulder bag onto it and rifled through it. I shoved my purse and phone into the small clutch but as I tried to add the torch and salt I realised that neither of them would fit, just like I knew they wouldn't. I turned around and glimpsed Becca who was now practically tapping her foot. I didn't have time to think about this anymore. Instead, I opened the tub of salt, pouring a whole load of it into a smaller tub that I'd had lying around and shoved it into the clutch. That would have to do. I scooped it up under my arm and hurried to catch up with her at the door.

"Are you ready?"

"I guess." I nodded.

"Then let's go."

Becca opened the door before I had a chance to protest any further and then we were out. I held my clutch in front of me, a barrier to the evening, as Becca locked the door, and then we turned to face the stairs together. We made our way down the steps, each one taking me closer to the ground floor when I glimpsed two sets of shiny shoes. My heart quickened. Beside me Becca squealed quietly, and I turned to look at the grin on her face.

The bottom of the stairs got closer and closer. I bit my lip, thought about turning around and running right back up the stairs, but I kept on going, my feet coming to a stop on the ground floor of the lobby. And finally, I looked up.

My breath was taken away. I'd seen Vaughn a million times over, but this was something else. He wore a tux, his suit jacket moulded to the muscles of his shoulders. The white shirt beneath was pristine, the bow tie black and he smelled divine. Not only that but he just looked every inch the God I knew him as.

"You look amazing." His voice was low and quiet as he stepped forward, taking my hand. A bolt of electric rushed through me and heat flared in my cheeks. Dropping my head, I stared at the place where our hands were linked until his hand came up to my chin, lifting my head gently. "I mean it, Red. You are gorgeous."

"You look great too."

He smiled as I cursed my inability to make compliments.

"Are you ready?" he asked, loosening his grip on my hand and holding out his arm.

"I am." I nodded, sliding my arm through his. Being close to him like this was a dream. I'd been close to Vaughn before but not like this, not this intimate.

"Girls?" The voice raised a prickle of fear in my stomach and I fought the urge to unhook my arm from Vaughn as I turned to face Barbara. The woman was as fierce as a big cat and severe as they come.

"Yes?" I answered.

"Have fun tonight. Curfew is twelve." A smile graced her lips for a moment before she turned away and stepped back into her office, shutting the door.

Maybe tonight was going to be worth it after all.

The school hall had been transformed into a wonderland. The overhead lights were off, replaced with a series of flashing coloured lights that changed the square near the stage into a dance floor. Tables had been covered with white linen and set out with places and even the chairs had received the same sort of treatment and had white coverings with silver bows tied at the back.

"This place really scrubs up," I commented as Becca led the way into the hall to a table halfway between the punch table and the dance floor.

"It's only because I was on the committee," she gushed as she grinned at me. Jake just shrugged, allowing himself to be led by hand.

"So this is your school," Vaughn whispered close to my ear, sending shivers racing down my skin. I could only nod. I was afraid that if I turned around we would be nose to nose and being that close was an awfully bad temptation. "It's nice to see another part of your life."

"It is but not for long," I replied. I continued to lead the way amongst the chairs, getting more than a few curious looks at my date. Throughout my whole high school life, I'd barely even had a kiss let alone dated and Vaughn was gorgeous to say the least. He took my hand as we continued walking, the touch sending another bolt through me. I took a deep breath. This boy had a habit of making me draw breath.

"Here we are," Becca announced, opening her arms wide to indicate the table. "I saved this just for us."

"And us, of course."

I gritted my teeth at the intrusive voice. Jenny and Melissa were here, and what was worse, they had brought dates. I turned to look at the blonde snake and found she was wearing very little. The purple dress was cut out at the sides, leaving the skin of her torso on show just beneath her chest. It clung to her hips and ended just before mid-thigh leaving a whole lot of leg on show. Her eyes wandered up and down my form and I knew that in her mind there was a running commentary of slurs that she was just trying to sort through.

"Ruby, you look... different." A smirk formed on her face as once again her eyes moved up and down my entire form. I fought the urge to retaliate, instead holding my bag in front of me as a shield. Becca had made me feel the world over and now here was this girl, tearing me down. What was it about some girls that commanded complete and utter nastiness?

"Different doesn't do it justice," Vaughn cut in. "Ruby looks beautiful."

My heart skipped a beat. Vaughn was coming to my rescue, again, and though I didn't need saving from Jenny it was great to see the faltering smile on her face.

"Hi, Vaughn," Jenny swooned, completely negating the fact that only moments ago she was attacking me. "You look good."

"Who's your date?" He pointed to the boy standing behind her. I recognised him as John. He hung out with the popular crowd, but from what I could tell, he tended to keep to himself, much like he was now. He stood with his head bowed.

"That's John," she replied without turning around. How polite. "Are you guys sitting with us?"

"Actually, I reserved the table to make sure we could all sit together," Becca cut in. "Red, here's your seat."

I could have kissed her. She made sure to put me right at the end of the table as far away from Jenny as I could have gotten. I took a seat, and Vaughn sat beside me while Becca and Jake sat opposite. Surrounded by my friends like this I felt like I was cocooned.

Unfortunately, Jenny managed to nudge Melissa out of the way quick enough to make sure she got a seat next to Vaughn. She leaned in a little too close for my liking but who was I to actually say anything? He was my pity date and only here because nobody else had asked me. I couldn't exactly argue with someone for showing their interest. Still, I wasn't going to make any effort to talk to her.

"I wish I could have talked Mr. Darcy into letting us have a real drink." Becca grinned.

"Me too," I muttered. It would have made my life a whole lot easier right now.

"It's hard to imagine you in this hall doing anything else other than what you are now." Vaughn leaned in close.

"Copious amounts of assemblies and gatherings. Plus a little gym."

"You do gym?" His mouth opened wide in a mocking shock.

"Shut up." I slapped his leg playfully. "You know I do."

"I know you can kick ass." He grinned.

I swallowed hard as I thought to my bag where there was only the tiniest amount of salt stashed. I hoped I wouldn't have to kick ass today.

"We're going to dance," Becca announced, standing up. Jake pushed in her chair for her as they moved towards the dance floor to join the throng of people.

"Would you like to dance?" Vaughn asked, taking me by surprise.

"Dance? Me?" I laughed.

"That's why we're here, is it not?"

"I don't really do dancing."

"Just like you didn't really do sparring or running or anything else?" He raised his brow. "Come on."

"I don't know." I bit my lip.

"It's either that or we have to sit here with Jenny all night." He nodded his head subtly.

"Okay I'm sold." I pushed myself to my feet as behind me, Vaughn laughed. Then he was at my side, his hand reaching for mine, as he led the way from our table to the dance floor which was alive with people already.

We stopped a little further away from the periphery which I was glad for. Dancing wasn't my forte to begin with; the thought that Jenny, or anyone else for that matter, could watch me trying to move to the beat was daunting. So, tucked into the centre of the throng I began to move to the music, my body swaying as in front of me, Vaughn danced too. We moved together, Becca and Jake not far away but it seemed the moment wasn't meant to last as the song finished.

When a slow number came on I turned, ready to head back to the table when Vaughn caught my hand. "Where you going?"

"To sit down." I frowned.

"I didn't get my dance yet." He pulled me towards him and I felt my body pressed into his as he wound his arm around my waist. My arms went around his neck, automatically, as if we were meant to be this way. The breath caught in my throat. We were so close. Our noses were just inches apart and for a second everything was lost to me. I could see nothing but him. I gazed into his blue eyes and he watched me too without blinking. His tongue darted out and wet his lips as we swayed together to the slow beat of the music.

"Ruby," he breathed, almost too quiet to hear.

"Vaughn," I returned the sentiment, unsure what else I could say.

His breath was warm and minty. My heart was thudding in my chest. He was close, so close. Could it be that I'd been longing for him all the while he'd been watching me? It was so hard to believe.

He inched forward, the tip of his nose connecting with mine. Then his head was moving, turning slightly so he could reach a little further forward. My lips parted, waiting, expectant for his kiss.

Then I saw something move out the corner of my eye. My head snapped to the left towards the stage and I felt his lips brush my neck. Then he laughed once and moved backwards about ready to let me go. This time I was the one who held on close.

"Vaughn, there's something here."

A frown marred his brow and his eyes followed my gaze towards the stage. "Where?" He was instantly on the same page.

"It was off to the side. A shadow."

"Could have just been the lights."

I shook my head. "No. It was different."

His eyes met mine and I regretted the fact that I'd moved, regretted the need to know. I could have felt Vaughn's lips on mine, the very thing I'd been unwittingly pining over for weeks, but instead I'd turned away, and now it was time to do what we did.

"Let's check it out."

As his arms dropped from my waist I felt a sense of loss. Why couldn't I be normal? Why did I have to be cursed with the ability to see demons? The plus side was that without it, I never would have met Vaughn, but now I was silently moaning at the fact that where only moments ago I was wrapped in his arms, now we were pushing through the crowd of couples, Vaughn taking the lead, heading towards the stage.

The DJ was set up just in front of the stage and paid us no need as we pressed past him, past the flashing lights to the boundary of the stage.

"Where was it?" Vaughn had to lean in close to be heard.

I pointed to the right of the stage. "Up there."

With a nod, he vaulted the stage in an effortless jump. It took me a lot longer to climb the stage without flashing the whole room or losing a shoe. Eventually I was up, and Vaughn helped me to my feet as I dusted myself down with a grimace. A quick glance showed that we hadn't been spotted, and I hustled Vaughn towards the side of the stage, eager to stay out of view so we could do what needed to be done.

"It's dark back here," I whispered as we passed the curtain. It fell down behind us, muffling some of the sound of the party. "Do you have your torch?" I cursed the bag that Becca made me bring. It was neither of use nor ornament as I tucked it underneath my arm.

"Of course," he replied, lighting up the backstage area within seconds.

"Good because my bag doesn't exactly hold much."

"Don't tell me you left home without your tools." I could barely see the frown he threw at me, but that didn't stop me knowing it was there.

"You know Becca, right?"

"Fair point." He nodded. "Take my hand and stay close."

I took his free hand, and together we began to traverse the backstage area. I had never been back here before. I'd never needed to. I wasn't exactly the community loving school type and though I would often go and watch whichever play was on at the time, I never got involved. Now that I was here, I was glad I wasn't alone. The backstage area was pitch black and filled with props and several lengths of rope that would surely be considered a health and safety hazard.

The torch beam was our only form of light, and Vaughn swept it across the floor and in the air in front of us with each step we took. I saw curtains and material and closed doors. I gasped as the light reflected back across a dressing mirror, and I caught sight of us together, hands clasped tightly, Vaughn in his suit and me in my dress. We would have made a handsome couple if it weren't for the fact that we had abandoned the prom to hunt a demon.

I saw another movement as the torch moved again.

"There!" I pointed.

Vaughn found my arm with the light and followed it to where I was pointing. A closed door. I had no idea where it led or what I would find on the other side of it, but I knew that I'd seen something just there.

"Through there?" he asked.

"Yeah." My stomach was in knots. Vaughn was right. How could I have been so stupid as to come here without the tools I might need?

As Vaughn stepped towards the door, I let go of his hand. He froze instantly, turning to look at me, but I waved him on as I quickly rummaged through the tiny bag where I found the little tub of salt. It was a good job that nobody had searched me coming in; god knows what they'd think I was carrying. With the salt in my hand I hurried to catch up to Vaughn. He was almost on the door now. I stepped a little closer and bumped right into him, but he barely moved, his muscles tensed and rock hard. I resisted the urge to run my hands across his back and instead came up on his right.

"You ready?" he asked as he leaned forward to grab the door handle.

"Ready." I nodded, opening the tub.

He turned the handle and flung the door inwards, swooping the light around the room at the same time as I stepped forward. I saw nothing beyond the normal shadows that the torch cast. Another step took me beyond the threshold, and I felt Vaughn stepping up close to me, protective almost. Another step took me right into the room, and I found that we were in a prop room. Several rails of clothes lined the walls and along another I saw several dressing tables, various paraphernalia left out on the surfaces.

"There's nothing h—"

The door slammed behind me, and I was flung off my feet. I flew through the air and landed against something soft that moved behind me.

"Ruby!" Vaughn yelled. The torch flew around the room and located me, and I realised I had been flung into a rail full of clothes. At least it hadn't been a mirror. I was just starting to get up, Vaughn rushing towards me, when a side swipe sent him into the opposite wall which he hit with a dull thud. The torch dropped, and we were plunged into darkness.

Shit.

I froze. I was prone and so was Vaughn. For a second, I didn't dare move, but that wouldn't protect us for long. I couldn't see in the dark, but it could, we were in its realm now and that meant we were in danger.

My bag had fallen to the floor and I fumbled for it, finding it and flinging open the clasp. I located my phone and hurried to turn on the flashlight. It was a bright white light that didn't illuminate much beyond two feet, but I saw the vague outline of Vaughn where he lay on the floor. It looked like he'd been knocked out. Double shit.

I pushed myself to my feet and was about to rush to him when a face reared up in front of me, ugly and snarling. It was gone sooner than I thought possible, but it had done the trick enough to scare me, so I was caught off guard, stumbling backwards, my hands flying up into the air. It illuminated the ceiling for a second before once again, something caught me, and I was sent flying into the wall. My head collided with a dull thump that left my brain rattling inside my skull, and then I landed on something spongy. Stars sparked in front of my eyes, but I was quick enough this time to throw the salt in front of me. I heard something squeal and knew that I'd hit it.

"Ruby!" Vaughn sounded dull and groggy, but I couldn't muster the energy to answer him. My head was beginning to cloud over, the night drawing in and I knew I was close to losing consciousness. "Ruby!" This time I heard him jump to his feet and then fumbled around for the torch. I was sliding back into the darkness, all too happy to let it overtake, when a circle of light hit me. I shielded my eyes from the light, but it disappeared as Vaughn located the demon once more, using the light to separate the particles of darkness. That, alongside the salt I'd thrown, was strong enough to work together and within seconds, the demon disappeared from sight. It was gone.

I sank back, breathing heavily, closing my eyes.

"Ruby!" Vaughn was over me, his hands cupping my face. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

I forced my eyes open. "Why is it there are demons wherever we go?"

Vaughn smiled. "I'm so glad you're okay."

We were back at St. Helen's, Jake and Becca already wrapped up in each other as they said goodnight just at the turn of curfew. I thought I saw the curtain twitch at the top of the stairs.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," I started as I found the courage to look up at Vaughn. Standing here just at the stairs at my home brought us to the final part of the night. The part in which we said goodbye, where traditionally there was a goodnight kiss. "And I'm sorry about the whole demon thing." It seemed that wherever I was they were and tonight that was not just a plain cursed. That thing had power and had used it against us. I reached up and rubbed my head.

Vaughn smiled. "Why are you apologising for something that you can't control?"

I shrugged. "I guess I'm still getting used to it. That and the fact that I never get a moment's peace."

"Ruby, tonight was perfect." He took a step forward, his hands hovering near to my hips where I leaned against the wall.

"It was?"

He nodded. "You know why?"

"Why?" I breathed as he closed in, his hands winding around my waist.

"Because I got to spend it with you."

This time as he leaned in, his lips coming to meet mine in a tentative kiss, there was nothing to stop me. I closed my eyes, and as his lips pressed against mine, I felt a spark flying through me.

# About the Author

**Alice J. Black** lives and works in the North East of England with her partner and slightly ferocious cats! Alice has always enjoyed writing from being a child when she used to carry notebooks and write stories no matter where she went. Nothing much has changed and she writes all manner of fiction with a tendency to lean towards the dark side. Most of her work is rooted in darkness, her inspiration coming from a macabre selection of reads as well as the dreams that frequent her sleep.

Her debut novel, The Doors, was released in 2014 and her next novel release, A Shadowed Beginning, the first part in a series of seven, was released in Autumn 2017. She is currently working on the Soul Seekers series. The prequel, The Leak of Madness, was released in Feb 2018 and they will continue to appear every two months. Several of her short stories have been included in anthologies with various presses and she is always working on more. When she's not writing, she always has a book in her hand and will read from whatever genre suits her that day.

alicejblack.wordpress.com

To sign up to my newsletter follow this link:

http://eepurl.com/cTpG29

* * *

alicejblack.wordpress.com

  Facebook

  Twitter

  Instagram

# Also By Alice J. Black

**Demon Hunter Series**

A Shadowed Beginning

Amidst the Chaos (Spring 2018)

**Novels**

The Doors

**Featured in**

Kick Ass Girls of Fire & Ice YA Books

# The Pirate Promenade

### A Pirate Romance

### by Caroline Akervik & Ruth Rankin

Sylvie is the daughter of infamous pirate, Captain Jim Reed, and is anything but a lady! Her father insists she make her debut at the annual Pirate Promenade on Port Royal, Jamaica.

Captain Reed's long standing feud with Philippe Le Noir has reached a boiling point. Philippe has instructed his son, Hugo, to abduct Sylvie at the ball.

Fate intervenes when Sylvie and Hugo meet. What will become of the two young lovers? Will their fathers' feud keep them apart or will they prove strong enough to withstand the plot already set in motion?

## 1

# Ahoy There, Mate!

"I'll be damned before I'll let you dress me up in some frippery and parade me about like a common doxie in front of all of the captains and their drooling sons," Sylvie Reed protested. Mutinously, she crossed her arms and glared at her father, Captain Jim Reed.

Nervously, the crew members shifted away from the confrontation between father and daughter taking place on the deck.

"Pirates don't dance," Sylvie spit the words out, nearly growling in frustration.

"Of course, they do, my dear," her father, Captain Jim, countered. "It's why I learned to play the fiddle, for those long still nights at sea."

Jim Reed was a barrel-chested fellow with bowed legs that balanced him on a rolling deck in even the roughest of waters. His ruddy, still handsome features were covered with a salt-n-pepper moustache and beard. He didn't stand much taller than his daughter, but he remained as thick in the shoulders and arms as he'd been on that long-ago day when he'd left the farm he'd grown up on to embark on a life at sea. Dotingly, he patted his daughter's hand as it rested on the rail. "By the Governor's order, all the privateers of Port Royal must make an appearance at the Pirate Promenade and so must our kin, and that means you, Sylvie."

"Pardoned privateers," Sylvie shook her head. "You mean pirates." She glared out at the seemingly endless horizon of sky and even bluer sea. "Like you give a damn about social niceties like the Promenade. Why, I heard you tell mother that it's plain foolishness."

"That's what I thought before I understood how profitable it is to be on the right side of the law. Even the Governor, himself, wants to do business with me now."

Sylvie snorted inelegantly in response.

"Now, now, Sylvie. We're privateers, my girl. Not pirates. Since we were all pardoned by the Governor, the _Buona Fortuna_ is a lady of legitimate business," Captain Jim patted the rail of his brig fondly.

"Even if I did agree to go along with this ridiculous farce, I don't have a dress to wear." She gestured at the boys' togs she was sporting, even her dark swath of hair was tied back in a leather queue.

"Don't worry, Sylvie," her father soothed. "Your mother planned for that." Lifting the battered tricorn off his head, he scratched at his temple. "She also knew that you wouldn't exactly be thrilled for this event. The Pirate Promenade is a Port Royal tradition. All of the pir...er privateers gather to celebrate the year's plunder...er...business."

"You only let me come along on this voyage, Father, because I promised to stay dressed as a boy and never leave the ship. Now, you want to traipse me around all manner of dishonorable characters."

"You're dressed as a boy because having a female aboard ship is bad luck. Every sailor worth his salt knows that."

Sylvie's eyes rolled. "And dressing me as a boy gets around that foolish superstition? Mother is a female and she travelled with you on the _Buona Fortuna_ for years. Everyone on this ship knows I'm a girl."

"You don't mess with luck, my dear, not when you make your living on the sea. On board ship, you dress as a boy. You are also my daughter. I am a man of means and property, and we will make the required appearance."

"You are a pirate," his daughter spat the word.

"Now that is an untruth, Sylvie. Me and the boys seek to lighten the load, if you will, of Spanish galleons that we encounter on the Main. It would be plain gluttonous for them to keep all that wealth to themselves. You're going to attend this Promenade with me dressed in a manner befitting the daughter of a wealthy and successful merchant. Your mother sent along an appropriate dress and other necessaries. I'll have the trunk brought to your quarters. All of the most important gentlemen of Port Royal will be there that night," Jim explained. "Think of the opportunities."

Sylvie considered how to twist his words around. "You've described Port Royal as the Sodom of the New World."

"Let's not fool ourselves, Sylvie." He winked at his daughter. "We both know you'd leap at the chance to see Port Royal in all its decadence. However, matters are a bit different on the night of the Pirate Promenade. All of Port Royal is at its finest. Why, even the Governor will be in attendance with his lady wife. It will be a jolly good time. To celebrate the end of a successful season, we all gather, flush with music and rum and dancing. Aye, it will be a rollicking good time. I would have you there with me."

Accepting her fate, Sylvie nodded slowly. "What of the _Anguille De Mer_ (the Sea Eel) and her captain, Philippe Le Noir? I thought you wanted him brought up before the Brethren Court on charges."

Jim's face reddened. "That bastard beat me to the _Manuela_ , a fat galleon that sailed from Havana Bay. It was loaded with gold and silver from the Spanish colonies. He will rue the day that he crossed Captain Jim Reed."

"I know. I know," his sixteen-year-old daughter muttered impatiently. She dropped her voice an octave trying to mimic her father's timbre. "And you'll 'keelhaul his ugly hide.' You've mentioned that about a hundred times."

"We'd been following that galleon for more than a week," Jim interjected, "since I'd heard report of how rich she was. We had to wait until she was clear of the ports in Havana."

"Le Noir beat you to her," Sylvie scoffed. "Will he be there?"

Her father sputtered. For a moment, she wondered if she'd gone too far.

"That despicable dog wouldn't dare show his face in Port Royal. He knows that I plan to see him dance the hempen jig."

Sylvie grinned. "You told me all of the pirates and privateers took oaths to keep the peace during the Promenade. You can't do anything if Philippe is there."

"It was the Governor's order," Jim grumbled, slamming his fist down on the smooth wood of the rail. "Under penalty of death, we must keep the peace. That scoundrel won't dare show his face. He's a bold one, but he broke the Pirate's code by not sharing his take."

"Did he agree to share the loot with you?" Sylvie prodded.

"Philippe signaled to me that he was being chased by a man o' war. I led that ship away from him so he could go after the _Manuela_. He should have cut me in. A gentleman would have."

"But you never shook hands?" Sylvie prodded, having a hard time imagining any captain risking a catastrophic fate by not cleaving to the Pirate Brethren's code, especially a clever man like Philippe Le Noir.

Jim threw his hands in the air. "By the wind, he should have shared. I'll fly that bilge rat's bloody head as my banner if I see him again. I'll whip him with the cat o'nine tails."

Sylvie shook her head, narrowing her eyes at her father. "If I dress up and act the part at this ball, will you bring me to shore at Port Royal? I want to see it with my own eyes."

"You'll see it the night of the ball." Jim patted his daughter's shoulder, sensing her capitulation. He exhaled. "I'm glad that's settled. Now, I'm off to Port Royal. Don't wait up for me, luv. I may be wetting my whistle until first dawn's light. Flynn, where are you?" Jim turned away, his mind already on other matters.

Sylvie peered longingly at the shore. _Father's intention is that all I see of Port Royal is the Governor's Palace. I've crossed the ocean to get here and I am going to see Port Royale this very night._

## 2

# Avast Ye

Near twilight, Sylvie decided the time was ripe to sneak ashore to Port Royal. Most of the crew of the _Buona Fortuna_ had already headed ashore for drink and revelry. Jim was sure to be gone for hours as well. First, conducting business and then drinking in one of Port Royal's many watering holes.

Only a skeleton crew was left on board with Sylvie to watch over the ship. With little effort, she feigned irritation at being left on-board, took to her room, and locked the door. Flynn, her father's soft spoken first mate, familiar with her darker moods, stayed clear of her. Later, as she snuck through the darkened boat, she heard him playing dice in the galley with the cook. She tucked her hair under her Monmouth cap, then slipped like a shadow through the darkened boat. She went over the rail, down the rope ladder, and into one of the remaining row galleys.

After untying the rope securing the vessel to the _Buona Fortuna_ , Sylvie gripped the smooth handles of the paddles and lowered them into the water. She was acutely aware of the slap of the water against the hull. No one appeared on the deck to stop her. No one called out her name. She began to row slowly, trying to work with the swells of the water. Her heart pounded in her chest. _I'm going to see Port Royal. I'm going to see it with my own eyes._ With each stroke of the oars, her confidence soared. Soon, the descending darkness cloaked her departure. With any luck, Flynn wouldn't check on her. He and Cook would be too busy with their rum shares and their dice games. Hopefully, neither her father or the crew would know that she had gone ashore.

The muscles in her arms, shoulders, and back flexed as she pulled against the oars. Though slender, Sylvie had always been a strong girl and working in the rigging the past few months at sea had increased her strength. Sylvie had always felt the call of the sea and the need for adventure. It was why she'd insisted on leaving her family's tidy townhouse in London and going to sea with her father. The trip had proven humdrum until now. Sylvie felt excited and recklessly alive. As she neared Port Royal's cay, she observed the gray stone walls of Fort James rising out of the water. Her breath was taken away. _Blimey, that's quite a place._ While planning her evening's adventures, she'd poured over maps of the island. She felt confident that she could make her way through the crowded streets. She'd planned on making for shore south of the Turtle Crawls. Now, she could make out the tightly packed red brick buildings and distinctive tiled roofs of Port Royal.

According to plan, Sylvie rode the waves into the shore. Her boots splashed down into the water. Heaving mightily, she dragged the galley into shore and behind a nearby warehouse. With excitement coursing through her, she darted down the narrow alley between two storefronts and onto a street.

"Lime Street," she read the name aloud. The sounds of music, laughter and gaiety poured forth from multiple yet unseen taverns. Clinging to the shadows, she nearly walked into a couple pressed up against a building engaged in an amorous embrace. Stumbling back into the road, she hastened on. A group of seamen were strolling straight towards her, passing a bottle of rum between them, singing a raucous sea chanty. An enormous bearded fellow with a more than passable baritone carried the tune.

_Port Royal is as decadent as they all said it is_. Sylvie shivered, wondering if she'd made a mistake coming here alone. _I want to see the real Port Royal, not the gussied-up version at the Governor's ball._ Past the pungent fish market, she peered through an opened door. She glimpsed scandalously attired women of all ages, skin colors, and sizes cavorting with sailors. Suddenly, a body crashed into her.

Driven to the ground under a heavy and hot bodyweight, Sylvie was aware of the stench of sweat, unwashed man, and the sickly-sweet aroma of rum. Pinned down, she pushed at the drunken clod who had crashed into her while people shouted and jeered. Abruptly, the weight was lifted from her. Sylvie hesitated to get up, hiding her face, fearing a blow. It was then that she felt a light touch on her shoulder.

"Here boy, they've moved on now. Sorry about that. Rodrigo is a bit the worse for the wear tonight. He didn't flatten you, did he?" A warm hand reached out to hold hers, pulling her to her feet. Once upright, she stared into a pair of dark eyes illuminated by a tin lantern.

_He's beautiful_ , she thought. She was struck dumb by the impact of shiny dark curls, chiseled features, and a white toothed grin. Her rescuer had the swarthy skin tone of a Spaniard and the bone structure of an aristocrat. With gold hoops in his ears, a blue silk waistcoat, and a baldric holding a well-used sword, he was clearly of means.

The young man stared back at Sylvie equally stunned. "You're a lass," he muttered taking in her breeches and the loose-fitting doublet that she wore to hide her figure.

Sylvie turned to dash away when he gripped her forearm. "Don't run. Let's get out of this melee. This is my father's crew and it's their first night ashore in months." He led her over to the sheltering wall of another building. There, he shielded her with his body, blocking her from the view of passersby.

"Hugo?" One of the sots shouted, swerving dangerously towards them. "Aren't you coming to the Anchor with us? Your father's already there."

"I'll be along shortly, John," Sylvie's guardian replied, waving his companion away.

"Well, come along after you've drained the lizard. There are always comely wenches aplenty at the Anchor."

Sylvie stayed still in the shadow cast by Hugo as his crew mates passed by.

"Well, now?" He smiled at her and she noticed that his dark eyelashes were scandalously long. "What's a lass like you doing in Port Royal dressed as a boy? Were you looking for some companionship?" he commented, presuming that she was one of the many lightskirts plying their trade in the pirate city.

"No, of course not." Sylvie snorted in outrage. "I'll thank you kindly to get out of my way. I plan on seeing Port Royal tonight before I return to my ship."

"Ah, so which ship are you coming from?" There was a musical lilt to his voice that suggested that though his English was fluent, it wasn't his first language.

"That's none of your business. Now if you will kindly move, I'll be on my way." Sylvie started to push past him.

"That's a fine way of thanking me for protecting you."

"Protecting me from your own crew who are all drunken louts."

"As are most of the men and women on Port Royal. Crews from all over the seven seas are celebrating being here, where all of us are brothers and sisters."

"And scoundrels," she quipped. _This is exactly why Father didn't want me coming ashore tonight_. Sylvie squashed the notion that she should've listened to him. "I'll be heading along."

"Where are you planning on going at such an hour, mystery lady?" Respectfully, Hugo stepped aside, giving her room to pass.

"I told you. I wanted to see Port Royal." Sylvie shrugged. "As it really is, not all cleaned up as it will be for the Pirate Promenade. To be truthful, I wasn't supposed to come ashore."

"I assumed as much. Tonight, Port Royal is no place for a pretty girl to be out walking alone."

"Thank you. I'll be on my way." _Once I lose him, I'll look around a bit more and then head back to the ship._ Pivoting in a circle, she glanced at the houses around her, confused by what she was seeing. Somehow, they'd ended up at a juncture of two roads. She saw lights and heard people noise coming from both directions. _I don't know which way to go or how to get back to the galley._

Hugo crossed his arms smugly over his chest. "You're lost." He had the temerity to smile at her.

Despite herself, Sylvie laughed in response. "You're incorrigible."

"Where do I need to take you to get you back to your people?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" Sylvie placed her hand on her hip.

"Good question, you don't." He reached into his blouse and pulled forth a gold medallion on a chain. Gripping the pendant, he swore. "By my good mother's soul, you'll come to no harm while in my care."

"Why would you help me?"

"You're a pretty and adventurous lass dressed as a lad who speaks like a lady and is sneaking through the streets of Port Royal. I imagine that you've a good tale. I hope to hear it. I had planned on joining my shipmates at the Anchor Bar. Come with me? We'll have some food and share a flask of wine, and you can tell me how you came to be here."

"You'd swear by your mother's soul that I'll come to no harm?" Sylvie prodded.

Hugo went down on one knee and spread his arms wide. "My mother would have me keelhauled if I ever broke an oath on her soul."

"All right then," Sylvie agreed, tilting her head. "Show me Port Royal, but afterwards you have to get me back to my galley which is over by the Turtle Crawls."

He nodded eagerly. "They are a stretch of the legs away. You keep going down this very road, turn left at the next crossroads, and you'll end up right back there."

"I have to get there before dawn and be back on the ship before anyone notices that I went ashore."

"Ah ha," he replied. "It's as I suspected, you aren't supposed to be here tonight. I'm Hugo, by the way."

"And I'm Sylvie, and my Father would have my hide if he knew I was here."

"But he doesn't know." Hugo pointed out with a roguish wink. "Tonight is ours."

Taking her arm, Hugo led Sylvie down Queen Street. They strolled past the Merchant's Exchange and the Meat Market. There were raucous taverns everywhere. In front of one, a howler monkey and brightly colored parrots jockeyed about an opened barrel of ale, attempting to drink it. Sylvie stepped a hair closer to Hugo, grateful for his large and protective presence. _Who is he?_ His English was educated and slightly accented, but he was familiar with the Port Royal. _Hugo's a pirate_ , Sylvie surmised, _likely too young to be a captain, but educated enough to be a mate or a quartermaster on a galleon._

Perhaps sensing her discomfort with the depravity all around them, Hugo led her out to where the streets were broader, and the buildings were further apart. As they strolled, he proved a skilled and entertaining storyteller, sharing memories of and tales about the pirate city. They were far enough away from the rowdiness that they could hear the ocean breeze moving through the palm and Poinciana trees.

"What bird makes that call?" Sylvie questioned. "At night, I can hear it from our ship."

Hugo laughed. "It's not a bird. It's tree frogs."

"Oh," Sylvie giggled. Their eyes met again, and both glanced away. "Who knew that frogs could make such a sound."

"I like it, too. I lived here on Port Royal when I was a child. It was my lullaby. I miss it when trying to sleep in other cities. This is what I wanted to show you. There, that's the Governor's Mansion," he commented pointing out an impressive brick edifice that would have appeared at home in the most fashionable of London neighborhoods.

"It's where the Pirate Promenade will take place tomorrow night?"

Hugo nodded. "Will you be at the Promenade?"

Sylvie groaned, wetting her lips with her tongue. "My father insists."

"That's why you snuck ashore today. I don't blame you. I'd want to see Port Royal in all of her glory, too." He knelt suddenly by the side of the road, his hand brushing against hers on the way down. "Here you go, a flower for a pretty girl."

In the light cast by his lantern, Sylvie glimpsed the red petals of the hibiscus flower that he was holding out to her. "It's lovely," she commented. "Thank you. How did you see them?" She tucked it behind her ear.

By the moonlight, she saw that he swallowed. "I knew they were there." He leaned a little closer to her. Sylvie mirrored his motion.

Abruptly, the spell was broken by the sound of ribald laughter from somewhere behind them.

"It's getting late," Sylvie took a step back.

Hugo cleared his throat. "Not for Port Royal. The festivities will continue until the sun comes up. I promised my crewmates that I would stop by the Anchor. It's on the way back to the Turtle Crawls. Do you mind if we stop there so they know I haven't been abducted by some other crew needing a sailor?"

Caught up in the enchantment of the evening and not wanting it to end, Sylvie nodded. They turned away from the tended gardens and palm lined boulevards back to the narrow streets that led to the heart of Port Royal. Hugo guided her up to the door of a tavern. The sounds of merrymaking cascaded out under the door and through the opened windows. Once inside, the brightness of the lights and the perfumed funk of warm and sweaty sailors and wenches overwhelmed her senses. Sylvie hesitated, but Hugo tugged her along as he made his way through with a clear destination in mind.

Sylvie froze. There was her father. With his boots up on the table and his arms thrown wide expounding to some other captains, was Captain Jim Reed. He hadn't seen Sylvie, yet. _Father will have my hide if he sees me here._ She jerked her arm free from Hugo. Turning, she bolted through the tavern door and back out onto the street.

A surprised Hugo turned to go after her, but a familiar, callused hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Hugo."

"Pere?" he guessed, switching to their native French.

"Mon fils," Philippe Le Noir, nodded to the door, through which Sylvie had exited. "The girl, what's happening?"

"Father, I just met her."

"Bof," Philippe shrugged with gallic insouciance. His features were much like Hugo's own, except leaner, darker and weathered with decades at sea and under the unforgiving sun. "No tale that begins 'I met a girl,' ends well, especially when you're talking about that particular girl."

"You know her? How?"

Philippe took a swig out of his pewter tankard, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "That one has the look of her mother, a lovely wench who travelled with Jim Reed, also dressed as a boy and no more believable as such. That's Jim Reed's daughter. Where'd you find her?"

"We met a while ago out in the streets. One of the crew knocked her down. She wanted to see the island. We were just walking together, talking."

Philippe's thin lips formed into an unpleasant grin. He smacked his son on the back. "Good work, Hugo. Your timing couldn't be better. Captain Reed intends to call me up before the Brethren Court. He'll drop his charges to get his daughter back."

Hugo struggled to digest all of this. "Why does he want to call you up before the Court? What do you mean, get his daughter back?""

Philippe waved a ringed hand dismissively. "He claims that I should have given him a share of the plunder from the _Manuela_. We never made terms on that galleon. I earned her and all her pieces of eight. But now, Hugo, you've given me a way to hoist the Jolly Roger for a parlay with Captain Jim."

"What are you planning?" Hugo's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"It's so beautifully simple. You're going to rendezvous with a pretty girl at the Pirate Promenade. You'll lead her down to the caves. There, we'll abduct her and hold her hostage until her father drops his trumped-up charges against me. That girl's the key." Philippe thrust his thumb into his blouse, well pleased with his plan.

"You want me to abduct Syl... his daughter?" Hugo was incredulous.

"The minx is probably as rotten as her sire, and that's the plan, m' boy."

"No, absolutely not. I'm not going to kidnap Sylvie from the Promenade. I... I like her."

"Have you no feeling for your old father, then? You'd leave me to be strung up on the word of Jim Reed. As far as liking her, you'll have plenty of time for that once she's aboard my ship."

"Captain Reed wants to have you keelhauled." Hugo was astounded. "You never told me any of this."

"It's my word against Jim's and the Brethren Court doesn't take well to pirates who are not men of their word. Unfortunately, Reed has the Governor's ear. At the very least, he'll destroy my ability to do business in Port Royal. All I need is a little help from my own flesh and blood," Philippe wheeled. "Can I rely on you, son?"

Hugo swallowed hard. He pictured her dark eyes, fine, delicate features, and sinfully full lips. _I don't want to bring her into this mess, but I must help my father._ "Fine," Hugo gritted his teeth. "I'll do it."

"That's my boy," Philippe clapped his son on the back. "Let's have a tankard of grog to celebrate."

## 3

# Batten Down the Hatches

The night of the Pirate Promenade, Sylvie primped before her mirror in her cabin. She barely recognized the sylph-like vision of a masked lady in a corseted, Caribbean blue silk ball gown that was adorned with pearls and a translucent linen that covered the deep v of her neckline. Her dark hair sported a gold-threaded hairnet. Experimentally, she raised the black half-face mask adorned with blue feathers, glass beads, and ribbons to her face. _Perfect._ Her dark eyes were bright with excitement and a becoming flush adorned her cheeks.

Her father had harrumphed upon seeing her. "Are you certain that the bodice of that gown is the right thing for a lady of your years?"

Sylvie raised one eyebrow. "Mother did select this outfit in its entirety," she replied. "You question her taste or judgement?"

"No, of course not, but—"

"Oh father," Sylvie interrupted, rolling her eyes. "It's _a la mode_. I look like the daughter of a successful privateer, especially with this aquamarine necklace and earbobs." She placed her hand to the exquisite and likely priceless necklace.

Jim surveyed her proudly. "Indeed, you do, Sylvie, my girl. No one will doubt that you're the daughter of one of the richest merchants in Port Royal. Well, let's be on our way. The Pirate Promenade awaits."

He handed Sylvie carefully down into the galley, cognizant of the dainty heels on her silken shoes. Both were mostly silent for the entire crossing. Captain Jim was considering the important people with whom he intended to speak that eve, while Sylvie reflected on a fine pair of dark eyes and thick, dark hair that begged to have fingers run through it.

"Not a cloud in the sky," Captain Jim observed. "The moon has eaten the clouds. It's so bright, we can navigate by moonlight alone."

"It's near as bright as day," Sylvie replied,

Once they'd docked and disembarked, a two-wheeled carriage pulled by two high stepping horses transported Sylvie and her father to the street in front of the Governor's House. There, a queue of other conveyances and people on foot milled about. Sylvie peered out, taking in the throng. She observed the bold colors of pirate motley as well as the flamboyant purples, reds, and emerald greens of the wealthy lined up to pass through the brick colonnaded entrance. Captain Jim impatiently smacked his gloves into the palm of his hand and scratched at his forehead where his elaborate and likely stolen white wig met his skin. Sylvie noticed the sweat forming on his forehead. In contrast, she felt cool and fresh despite the weight of her gown. When their turn arrived, mask in hand, she stepped forward to do the niceties and greet the Governor, his wife, and the assembled important personages of Port Royal.

Passing through the narrow entrance foyer, Sylvie and her father curtsied and bowed, and made their way through a seemingly endless reception line which extended into the cavernous ballroom. Here, Sylvie drew a sharp breath. The air was heavily scented with exotic perfumes and pot pourri concocted from tropical flowers. Extravagant golden chandeliers filled with a seemingly endless number of candles brightly illuminated the magnificently frescoed ballroom. The assembled crowd consisted of pirates and ladies from every corner of the globe. Older seadogs and their women were seated on chairs and settees on the perimeter, so that they could observe the dancers, while the musicians were performing at the other end of the room.

There was ample evidence that this wasn't a typical society gathering. Most of men wore rapiers or cutlasses, and more than a few sported facial scars or powder burns from battles at sea. She even observed a pirate captain making his way about the ballroom with a dressed monkey perched on his shoulder. The mood was celebratory, and the rum was flowing as evidenced by the loudness of the voices, the peals of laughter, and the slightly scandalous holds of the dancers performing _La Volta_.

"How dare that scoundrel Philippe show his face here," Captain Jim muttered under his breath, but loud enough that only his daughter could hear him.

Sylvie perused the ballroom until she glimpsed Hugo, standing beside a lean, leather skinned man who resembled him. Anxiously, she smoothed the silk of her gown over the hoops of her skirt. His eyes met hers, then his gaze travelled her length. He smiled and began to weave his way through the crowd to her. As he did so, she noticed how muscular his legs were in their tights below his deep blue velvet doublet.

Her gaze fixed on Hugo, Sylvie paid her father no heed. "I'm parched. I'm off to find some refreshments," she said to her father.

"Fine, fine," he replied distractedly, his attention, elsewhere.

She moved through the crowd until she felt the brush of a tropical breeze on her neck. There she hesitated, waiting for Hugo to catch up with her.

From behind her, he whispered. "No quarter. You are beautiful."

"A little better than in boy's gear?" she teased, still not turning to face him.

"Oh aye." He moved to stand before her. His hot eyed gaze on her face, neck and décolletage was almost tangible. He grinned boyishly. "I'd ask you to dance, but I'm terrified you'd say yes."

Sylvie's lips curved. "You're not a dancer?"

"Not unless it's a jig on a ship's deck. My footwork is good only for fencing. Instead, would you care to stroll through the garden with me?" Hugo petitioned with a formal bow.

She closed her eyes, masking her delight. _The two of us alone._ Her heart was pounding. "A stroll?"

"As I told you last night, the Governor's gardens are admired by all of Port Royal. A stroll, nothing more and nothing less. The little ragamuffin looks much different now, no longer a sea rat," he commented, his expression, strangely serious.

"You look very different, too," she replied. "It's almost impossible to believe that everyone here is a pirate," she remarked gesturing back at the ballroom.

"You must be a pirate princess," he replied, smoothly taking her hand and tucking it into his elbow, as he'd done the previous night. She was aware of a strange undercurrent in the air. Hugo seemed anxious. "Shall we?" he prompted.

She nodded.

They travelled out through the opened doors that led to a portico that overlooked a torch lit section of garden.

"Why did you run out of the Anchor?" he inquired as he guided her down several steps.

"I saw my father there," she answered honestly. "He forbade me from coming ashore."

Hugo's countenance was stern. "That man you came in with is he your father?"

"Yes, he's my father. Do you know him?"

He didn't answer immediately. "In truth, we've never met. Come with me, I want to show you something."

"I can't leave the Promenade," she balked. "My father would be furious. He's meeting all sorts of acquaintances and business connections tonight. I'm sworn to my best behavior. I wonder if my father knows yours? What's the name of your ship?"

Hugo didn't answer her question directly. "We won't be going very far, just beyond that hedge. There's a grotto there that must be seen to be believed. We won't be gone more than a few minutes. This Promenade is a such a crush, no one will notice that we're gone."

For a moment, Sylvie could hear her mother's voice in her head counselling her to return to the ball. But she was her father's daughter, too, with his reckless buccaneer spirit. She continued to allow Hugo to guide her further into the gardens. She could hear the crash of the waves and taste the salty kiss of the sea. The path narrowed, passing through thick vegetation. Sylvie was about to protest that they were going too far when they came upon a limestone cave entrance.

"You want to bring me into a cave?" she questioned. "I'm wearing a silk gown. Trousers would be better for exploring caves." She wanted to be alone with Hugo, but she was sensible enough to recognize that this might not be the best idea.

Hugo wouldn't meet her gaze. He gestured at the cave mouth. "There's a beautiful grotto not far inside that I wanted to show you. You won't ever see the like again."

"Then, we'll return to the ball?"

He nodded. Sylvie noticed that a muscle flexed in his jaw. He held the hanging vines that draped over the entrance to one side. Carefully, she stepped inside to find that she was on a clear path and that there was a handrail.

"Are you quite sure this is safe, and I won't ruin my dress?" She could hear the trickling and dripping of water in the distance. The idea of coming here was seeming worse and worse, but Sylvie had embarked on this adventure and she was not one to turn back early. "How do you know about this place?"

"My father was good friends with the previous governor. My father used to bring him shipments of rum right to the dock inside these caves."

"You mean this leads down to the ocean?"

"Yes. Keep going straight. It's close now."

"I see light." Moonlight slanted in, casting the cave in a green luminescent dimness, revealing stalactites and stalagmites.

"There are light holes throughout up to the surface," Hugo explained.

Sylvie touched the limestone with her fingertips and found it cool and moist and strangely soft to the touch. "Why does it all appear emerald green?"

"It's the algae on the rocks."

As they walked, she noticed that the path seemed to broaden and the ceiling of the cave, to rise. She stepped out into a grotto overlooking a subterranean lake. Moonlight passing through distant light holes illuminated the deeply blue clear water and the green toned walls. Sylvie paused, her hand on the rail, taking it all in. "Oh my, it's so beautiful." She breathed in the cool cave air that was tinged with the salt of the sea.

"Keep going," he prodded from behind her. Though she wasn't looking at him, she was aware of the heat of his body behind her. "There are steps cut into the rock. Keep holding onto the rail. It's a sight not to be missed."

Enchanted, she took one step and then another, finding herself descending to a dock. There were lit torches in sconces mounted onto the stone walls on either side. She stepped out onto the dock, taking in the view.

Hugo took her hand, his touch sending tremors all the way up her arm. He turned her to him. He studied her face, as if trying to seal it in his memory. Then, reaching out ever so carefully, he touched a strand of her hair that had come loose from her coiffure. She trembled beneath the warm touch of his fingertips at her collarbone.

It was a magical moment of emerald touched moonlight and the lap of waves on boat hulls. Sylvie felt her mask drop from her fingers, and without a thought, she was leaning forward, towards Hugo. Lips touched, softly, then a bit more firmly. His were warmer and softer than she could have imagined. Bones melted, and bodies melded closer together. The kiss lasted a moment and forever. When it was over, Sylvie stood there with her eyes still closed, processing what had happened.

Hugo broke the spell. "By the saints," he finally muttered, causing her to look up. "I never intended to do you harm. Well, I did, but that was before, when I didn't know you."

"What?"

"I led you here under false pretenses. I intended to abduct you. My father will be here momentarily. The _Anguille de Mer_ is anchored nearby. We planned to hold you for ransom so that your father would drop his charges against him."

Sylvie clutched at the wooden railing, panic rising in her throat. "Who is your father?"

"Philippe Le Noir."

"You are Hugo Le Noir?" Rage surged through her. She gripped her reticule to her chest, wishing that she had tucked the small flintlock that her mother had given her inside. "If I scream..."

"No one will hear you down here." He shook his head sorrowfully. "This never felt right to me, but I wanted to help my father. That's no excuse. They're not here yet."

"For what?" she demanded. "What have you done?"

"I am to hold you here until my father comes."

Sylvie stepped back as if she'd been struck. "You meant to abduct me this whole time? You knew who I was? You pretended..." The words stuck in her throat.

"Yes, and no. I didn't know who you were when we met. How could I? My father told me when you ran out of the bar. He knew your mother and recognized you. He came up with this plan."

"That bastard, and you... how could you?"

"He's trying to protect his crew. Your father would have all of them run up on charges. There must be another way. Come on now, with me." He grasped her wrist.

She resisted his gentle tug. "Where would you take me now? To lock me up in chains?"

"No. There's a secret chamber. You can hide there."

She followed him back up the stairs and down a narrow tunnel, where he pressed her back behind a floor to ceiling stalagmite.

"Stay here. Don't make a sound. They won't find you here."

## 4

# A Shot Across the Bow

Her heart pounding, she drew her skirts back behind the rock formation. It wasn't entirely dark in her hiding place. Though she was hidden behind a veritable rock wall, moonlight managed to make it down through holes in the cave ceiling. There was also torch light coming in through a larger hole in the wall. Taking a step to the side, she could peer through it. Below her, she saw Hugo pacing on the small dock. He glanced up at her, his lips pursed. Sylvie knew he couldn't see her. She touched her lips, recalling that unforgettable kiss. The memory was shattered by shouting male voices and a thunder of footsteps echoing through the caves.

Her father led the way out onto the dock, his cutlass extended before him. Hugo raised his hands in surrender, displaying that they were empty.

"Take him," Captain Jim ordered. Two of his crewmen grasped Hugo's arms behind his back. Jim pressed the point of his cutlass to Hugo's throat. "Where's Sylvie? You scurvy son of a dog! If you've done anything to her, both you and your father will pay."

"She's not here." Hugo responded, raising his chin higher in a futile attempt to evade the point of the cutlass.

"Where is she?"

"Unhand my son," another irate voice joined the fray.

Sylvie watched in horror as Philippe Le Noir and two of his men navigated a small boat up to the dock. One of the crewmen grasped a rope that was secured to the dock while Philippe leapt ashore, his own sword, extended before him.

"I'll cut his throat as I stand here, I swear it," Jim spit out. "Stand down, Philippe."

"You harm Hugo, and you and your men will die here," Philippe snarled.

"Where is she?" Jim demanded.

"Gone," Hugo replied, his voice, muffled by the pressure of the blade on his throat.

"What?" both fathers shouted.

"I'm here," Sylvie called out clearly. Emerging from behind the rock, she smoothed her skirts. She made her way back down to the standoff at the dock. "Father," she gripped his arm, seeking to draw it away from Hugo's throat.

He searched her face with his eyes. "You're well then?" He turned to glare at Flynn, his first mate. "You swore she'd been abducted by Le Noir's pup."

"As you can see, there's been no abduction," Sylvie responded.

"What are you doing down here? With him?"

"A walk in the moonlight," Sylvie shrugged, hiding her nerves at the charged situation. "Nothing more. Nothing less."

Philippe stepped forward. His cutlass was pointed straight at Jim's throat. "Hugo brought her here so that we could make a trade. Your daughter in exchange for you dropping those trumped up charges against me and my crew."

"Trumped up charges?" Jim's face became even more mottled with anger. "I was due half of the take from that galleon. I'll see you strung up at Gallow's Point."

"You'll do no such thing, Father," Sylvie countered.

"They planned to abduct you," Jim protested.

"If Hugo had planned to steal me away, I'd be on my way to the Sea Eel now. No, we came out to admire the moonlight in the grotto."

"Is this true?" Jim demanded of Hugo.

Hugo had eyes only for Sylvie. "Some things are too precious to steal away. I'm sorry, Father. I let her go. You'll have to come to terms with Captain Reed some other way."

Jim eyed the pair incredulously. "Sylvie, you rendezvoused with him? Philippe's spawn? How could you be so disloyal to your own loving pater?"

Sylvie met Hugo's gaze. "I did."

Philippe snorted, only now lowering his own blade. "Young lovestruck fool."

"The pair of them," Jim agreed. The fathers shared a moment of bemused consternation.

More raised voices and the stomp of booted feet heralded the arrival of yet more people at the dock. Unexpectedly, the Governor appeared at the front of a crowd of party goers. "What business is afoot here? Philippe and Jim, do you dare to draw swords in my home?" He shook his finger at them. "I warned you, if you brought your personal conflicts to Port Royal during the Promenade, I'd hang you both from the nearest yardarm."

Both Jim and Philippe hesitated, reluctant to invoke the wrath of the Governor of Port Royal, who'd once been the most ruthless pirate of them all before accepting the Queen's pardon.

Jim regarded Philippe. "Governor, it wasn't anything but a misunderstanding. Phillipe and I are no longer at odds."

Philippe nodded, following Jim's lead. "Aye, there's no dispute between us."

The Governor rested his fist on his hip. "Jim, are you dropping your charges against Philippe concerning that rich galleon?"

Sylvie's father mumbled something.

"What's that, Captain Jim?" the Governor boomed.

Glaring daggers at his daughter, Jim nodded. "It appears I am dropping all charges against Captain Le Noir. It was all a misapprehension."

"A misunderstanding," Philippe, who'd gone pale at the mention of hanging from a yardarm, nodded.

"Well then," the Governor, announced. "Let's return to the Promenade. It's near time to present the pirate princesses."

Jim reached for his daughter's arm, but she hesitated, drawing away from him.

Hugo stepped forward. "With your permission, Captain Reed, I'd hoped to escort Mistress Reed in and partner her for the next dance."

"Now they'll be none of that," Sylvie's father began. However, he quailed under the Governor's stern gaze.

"Yes," Sylvie asserted. "We planned on demonstrating the new-found fellowship between our fathers."

The pair linked arms and stepped past their stupefied fathers to ascend the steps to stand before the Governor. He smiled benevolently at them as Hugo bowed and Sylvie curtsied. "They make a lovely pair," the Governor boomed his approval, "a pair who likely averted a pirate war between you scoundrels. I'm glad young passions proved wiser than old enmities. And now, let's return to the festivities."

Jim and Phillippe lingered on the dock.

"Captain Reed," Philippe began, "I know the whereabouts of a fat pigeon of a galleon that will more than make up for you and your crew missing out on the _Manuela_."

"You'd share that information with me?" Jim prodded.

Philippe nodded. "I got word from an informer I have in Havana."

Captain Jim smacked his leg. "I wondered how you always seemed to know where and when the treasure ships would sail."

Philippe spit in his hand and held it out. "I tell you where she is, and we call it even, agreed?"

Jim reflected for a moment, spit in his own hand, and held it out to Philippe. The pair shook. Then, the two former enemies followed their respective offspring and the Governor and his men back through the caves and the gardens and to the great house.

For her part, Sylvie dared not look back to see what was happening with her father. It was only after her presentation as one of the pirate princesses, during the formal steps of the _Allemande,_ that she and Hugo had a moment alone.

She looked up into his dark eyes as they danced, looked away, and then peered back up at him through lowered lashes.

"Your father is likely planning my slow and painful death," Hugo commented wryly. "My father will no doubt give me an earful after the Promenade."

Sylvie chuckled. "Look at them over there, drinking and talking like the best of friends. Neither would dare do a thing since we have the Governor's approval. He'd have them both locked up if they tried anything." She sighed. "Still, my father will make sure that we leave Port Royal as soon as possible, and he won't allow me to return any time soon. We probably won't see each other again after tonight."

Hugo drew closer to her within the steps of the dance. "I'll find you again if I have to sail the seven seas to do so. We have the Governor's blessing, and thus, the Queen's. Neither your father nor mine would dare come between us. This isn't farewell, it's until we meet again."

The music began to trail off as they moved through the final steps of the dance. Ignoring the social dictates that he should now return her to her father, Hugo, aware of nearly the entire ballroom's eyes upon them, raised the back of her hand to his lips, marking her as his before all assembled.

"I'll hold you to that." Sylvie whispered to him.

Hugo pressed their intertwined hands to his chest. "I'll think of you in emerald moonlight until fate and the tides bring us together again."

Their gaze held as Sylvie's father stepped forward and drew her away. Jim was muttering under his breath, but she ignored him, floating along. The words, "Until fate and the tides bring us together again," reverberated through her mind and her heart.

* * *

The End

# About The Authors

> "Sisters are like fat thighs... they stick together."

**Ruth Rankin** and **Caroline Akervik** are sisters, friends, and coauthors. They share a love of good cheese and Young Adult Fiction. Both are Wisconsinites, though Ruth now calls California home. Caroline is the author of _White Pine: My Year as a Lumberjack_ and _a River Rat_ **** and _A Horse Named Viking._

For more news and information on their middle grade and YA writings, visit:

carolineakervik.blogspot.com

and

twitter.com/CAkervik

* * *

If you've enjoyed this story, please do consider leaving a review!

  Facebook

  Twitter

# Also By Caroline Akervik

A Horse Named Viking

White Pine: My Year as a Lumberjack and a River Rat

_by Caroline Akervik & Ruth Rankin_

Halcyon: A Sentinel Novel
