Page 5 of Shadowed Whispers

“Just stay out of trouble,” she warns.

Rolling my eyes at the line, I glare at her. “You damn well know it isn’t my fault.”

“And I damn well know that where there is trouble, you usually aren’t too far behind. Whether that’s on purpose or not, I don’t know,” she says. “I’m just letting you know. Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

She knows I don’t. “I’ll figure it out.” I always do. A hot day in August won’t change that.

I can tell she isn’t buying it, not with the way she slowly inhales, her nostrils flaring just so. “You know?—”

“Don’t.” I swallow, knowing where she’s going with this. She’s going to show me compassion. I can’t. “I’ll be fine. I swear.” For twenty-one years, I’ve been fine. I pushed through any obstacle thrown my way, and I will continue to do so.

“What are your plans for the eclipse?” Officer Hart’s tone carries an unusual seriousness that piques my curiosity despite my best efforts.

“The eclipse?” I echo, my frown deepening. Her sudden shift in demeanor and the intensity in her gaze makes me wonder if I’m missing something. “You mean the lunar eclipse? It’s just a celestial event, right?”

Officer Hart pauses, her gaze drifting toward the clear sky then back to me with a significance that sends a shiver down my spine. “Not just any eclipse, Frankie. This one’s different. There are old legends in Morrow Bay, stories of rare, celestial alignments opening doors to other realms and other possibilities. I thought someone like you might find it interesting.”

Dropping her head, she looks through me. It’s an eerie feeling, being seen. I can always tell when Officer Hart sees more than I want her to. There’s a charge in the air, like something zaps between us, and I’m always the first to look away.

I hate when another person perceives me.

“What about it?” I ask, licking my dry lips. Damn, I’m thirsty. I shouldn’t have stayed at the bar, drinking with Andy last night.

“Just asking,” she replies. “Listen, why don’t you swing by the house tonight? Tori and I would love to have you.”

I try so damn hard not to wince, but I can’t help it, it slips through, and Officer Hart laughs, the sound warm and somehow understanding.

“I work.” I wipe sweat from my brow, trying not to show how much I want to strangle her daughter. We aren’t just polar opposites, but she also makes me want to commit literal homicide when she opens her mouth. Luckily, I didn’t have to deal with her too much on campus the first year.

The second? We were placed in the same dorm, on the same floor, and she made sure everyone knew she was in charge as the resident advisor. She’s equal parts preppy snob and compassionate. It’s an odd mix, one I steer clear of as much as I can.

This year, if I get stuck with her again, I’ll be sleeping in the student parking lot in Jeep, where I hope no one will try to rob me.

Tori is my own personal Cordelia. I’m no Buffy. Nope, just a foster kid from Arizona with more demons than reason, but Victoria Hart is a local, born and raised in Morrow Bay, and somehow, she’s the daughter of this angel before me.

I refuse to believe she came from Abigail’s womb. There is just no way they share genetics. Abigail is warm and comforting, and Tori is cold and calculating. Maybe she is really Andy’s, Abbi’s twin sister.

“Alright.” She holds her hands up, laughing. “The offer stands, Frankie. If you ever get hungry, you know where to find me.” She taps the side of my Jeep and takes a step away. From here, I can see how utterly exhausted she is. Dark circles rim her eyes, and red striations creep toward her irises.

“I know where to find you,” I whisper, because I do know where to find her. She always keeps the invitation open, and I never use it.

Stubbornness keeps me from showing up, and stubbornness will make sure I die alone. It’s a path I’ve accepted with open arms, and I’m fine with that.

“Oh!” She snaps her fingers. “Tori is moving in this weekend. Maybe head to the island to see if you can get in early.” With a wink, she spins around and walks away, pulling a baseball cap over her head.

At least I know where I’ll be sleeping tonight.

Chapter 2

Frankie

Shadow Locke University is located on an island connected to Morrow Bay by a bridge and a sandbar. I have to drive over the Morrow Pass to reach the university. The road stretches out, a ribbon of asphalt that clings to the coastline, its other side dropping steeply into the churning sea below. The scenery here can snatch your breath away, with rugged cliffs and expansive skies, but today, my focus is pulled elsewhere.

As I approach the bridge, I get the feeling I wasn’t the only one with the idea to see if I could get on campus early. A line of cars sits at the gatehouse, and I slowly pull up. My Jeep shudders and shakes as I throw it in park and lean over the center console to grab my student ID from the glove box. The little card falls into my hand just as someone behind me honks, startling me. With a snarl, I sit up and unfasten my seatbelt, my self-control disintegrating like a Chinese lantern on fire.

As I kneel on my seat, my attention snaps to the black Bentley idling impatiently behind me. Its sleek, imposing form stands out starkly against the more modest vehicles lined up for the gate. As I throw a defiant two-finger salute at its tinted windows, a ripple of curiosity runs through me. Cars like this are rare at Shadow Locke, and they usually herald the arrival of someone of importance—whether for their wealth, their family’s influence, or their hidden agendas.

I flip back around, bounce in my seat, and creep forward. The bastard honks again. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep—hell, maybe it’s just some weird astrological event—but I turn into the embodiment of fuck around and find out, because when I’m one car away from the gate, I angrily throw the Jeep into park and climb out, intent on giving the bastard behind me a piece of my mind.

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