Commencement (The Pretenders Book 1) Read online

  Commencement

  The Pretenders Book 1

  Ashlyn Pierce

  Copyright © 2020 Sarajean Gatch

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9798641111575

  ISBN-10: 9798641111575

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  VISITOR

  Break-In

  Taken

  Three Months Later

  Trouble

  Help

  Mutant

  Beginning of the End

  Murder

  Fire

  Challenges

  Discoveries

  Danger

  Dead End

  Final Battle

  About The Author

  Books By This Author

  VISITOR

  Four in the morning in the Illinois countryside. A soft mist was beginning to converge on a tiny white house. The stars above sparkled against a black sky, as they had so many nights before. Only tonight there was something protective about their glow. As if the thousands of glittering lights were somehow keeping watch.

  Deep in the forest, an evil lurked behind the trees. Watching. Waiting.

  Inside, oblivious to the hidden dangers outside her door, Rachel Edwards was trying to breakfast.

  It was difficult—impossible. She gulped and dropped her head in her hands.

  She shouldn’t be sitting here now. Her mind spun. She felt like her world should have ended long before this. Time should have stopped.

  In the past, Rachel had lived with her parents. Her father was a successful lawyer, and her mother had opted to remain home after Rachel’s birth. Thousands of little micro moments flashed before Rachel’s eyes: her mother’s hugs, her father teaching her how to ride a two-wheel bike…And herself now, sitting alone in a tiny dark kitchen, the sound of her fork making empty clinking sounds against a plate of food she knew she would never eat. She’d taken so much for granted.

  She was on her grandparents’ farm now. They kept odd hours. Mr. Edwards worked at a hardware store and his shifts frequently changed weekly. Mrs. Edwards, a long time invalid, spent most of her time sleeping. Rachel found herself alone most of the time.

  She’d been fifteen when her parents died and had known no more about their murders than she did now. The police gave up the case after a four-week investigation yielded nothing.

  Must be at that point they thought it would be a waste of time to keep looking.

  It made her anxious that the police quit on her parents’ case so easily, and that the murderer—or murderers—was still out there. No justice had been executed; no punishment given. Without it, she felt the lack of a certain….closure.

  Closure she probably needed more than she knew. Rachel’s jaw clenched. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to rest until the right person was brought before a judge.

  And she wanted that for more than just for the reason that he had taken her parents from her, it was also so that she could feel safe again.

  Who was to say that that person wouldn’t come for her one day? Ever since that night, she’d felt the presence of some invisible malignant force. She was targeted for something, she was sure of it.

  Not that anyone believed her. PTSD, they said. The shock was too much…

  Tom strode into the kitchen, his presence pulling her from her reverie.

  “Mornin’, sweet pea,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Good morning,” she mumbled.

  Tom sighed, “Rachel—”

  “Where’s Gram?”

  “Sleeping in. Her heart has been bothering her, lately,” he paused for a moment then continued, “You know, Rachel”—

  “Yeah I know, Gramps. Listen, I’m gonna get my chores done now, okay?” Rachel watched him from the corner of her eye as she pushed her plate away and got to her feet.

  He didn’t say anything. His face fell a little. Poor Gramps, she thought, looking at his expression with a sudden pang of regret.

  But she still couldn’t stay. She couldn’t talk about this now.

  She shoved her feet into her boots halfheartedly, grabbed a pail and headed out for the barn without looking back.

  He shouldn’t expect her to want to talk about that, not after everything else she’d been through.

  She was, after all, the one that found them.

  She’d been the main suspect in the case….

  She was not the daughter she should have been. Not one for following the rules. Her parents were thinking about sending her to military school around the time of their murders. They’d argued about it the weekend before their deaths.

  These were things that the police hadn’t taken lightly.

  Rachel’s fingers tightened on the latch of the bucket. She needed to think about something else. The cool night air brought with it an icy chill, unusual for this time of year. Rachel shivered, and hurried to the barn, anxious for the warmth it promised. After releasing the cows to roam the yard, she walked over to the henhouse.

  That’s weird. The door was hanging open.

  Rachel dropped the pail and ran over. Blood marred the dirt in front of the door. Rachel pushed it open, it banged against the building with a sharp crack. She stared in horror at the blood-spattered interior. Inside, five chickens clucked at her, a meager fraction of the two hundred that were supposed to be there.

  The sight of blood sent her reeling back in time. When her best friend Dawn and her cousin thought it would be funny to sneak snakes into her bed. Rachel had come into the room, completely unawares, and sat on the bed….

  She’d hated all forms of wildlife ever since.

  Rachel’s breath caught. Her heart pounded in her chest as her breaths rasped through her body.

  The urge to run was overpowering. But she willed her stiff muscles to move slowly. Slowly, slowly. She backed up to the door.

  Her back brushed up against something hard and unstable.

  Rachel spun and dodged out.

  Rachel raced back into the house, slamming the door loudly behind her just as she reached the point of safety. Her fingers slid the lock into place without her realizing it, then she sped to the kitchen, where she knew Tom would be clearing off dishes.

  “The chickens are gone!” She announced breathlessly from the doorway. “Something got in,” she added quietly.

  Tom looked at her, white as the plate he held. For an instant, she worried that he would faint. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

  But he recovered quickly.

  “I’m fine,” he reassured her, “let’s take a look around.”

  Rachel fidgeted in the doorway, while he put on his jacket. He carried with him an old shotgun which she eyed speculatively. She doubted whatever it was, was still on the property.

  Tom crouched at the door, inspecting the broken lock. It had been smashed. It hung to the door now, barely attached. Tom’s face was hard.

  Inside, he inspected the cages and the interior damage. Rachel lingered at the doorway, too much of a coward to go all the way in. She folded her slim arms across her chest and watched him walk around the
empty, blood spattered shelter like a war victim. He paused near a support beam, where a large paw had nearly shorn the wood in half with its powerful claws. Splinters of wood poked out from it, like spikes. His hand smoothed the jagged strips of wood, a faraway look haunted his eyes…..

  “Gramps, are you okay?” Rachel asked. She was still worried that he might collapse.

  Tom jumped a little, evidently having forgotten that she was there. “I’m…fine. Go inside. I’ll be in, in a minute.” Something seemed to occur to him then, and his eyes flashed. “And don’t mention a word of this to your grandmother, either.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Get going.”

  Rachel slipped out the door and headed up to the house, still wondering if she should stay and make sure he was truly okay. When she got inside, she finished the dishes Tom had started. She tried not to worry about him or the hens, but the disturbing expression on his face kept shooting through her mind. Rachel shook her head and flicked the water off her hands as she turned to her bookbag.

  She was packing her books into it when she heard footsteps in the living room. Boy, she’s up early, she thought.

  But then she listened harder.

  The footsteps were too quick to belong to Rose… or to Tom for that matter.

  Slowly, and as silently as possible, Rachel eased her bag on the table. The black duffel flopped over noisily, making Rachel flinch. She didn’t hesitate. She slipped to the door and cracked it open.

  Froze.

  She didn’t dare breathe.

  Rachel stood in the threshold, terrified by the sight that met her eyes.

  A large shadowy form was bent over Tom’s desk. She could hear the rustling of papers being disturbed as the intruder hunted through the drawer.

  Something inside her told Rachel she should object to this, but she couldn’t get her mouth to form the words. She watched helplessly as the man grunted in exasperation. He shoved the drawer shut with a bang. He turned to the stairs next.

  What’s he doing? It occurred to her that he was considering whether to go up. Surely, he must know he wasn’t alone in the house, that someone would be back at any minute….

  He must have decided it was worth the risk. He ascended the stairs, as stealthily as any cat she’d ever seen.

  Her grandparents’ bedroom was clearly visible from the living room. Rachel could see the man slip inside. He went to the nightstand and lifted a glittering object from the mirror. He gazed at it for a long moment, seeming to inspect it, and then tucked it carefully into his pocket. There was a brief glint of light as the rubies caught the reflection of the ceiling fan.

  He can’t take that! She wanted to run up there and yank the necklace from his pocket.

  One foot inched forward slowly…and stopped. Returned to its place.

  How was she ever going to stop him? He was huge. Rachel bit her lip. What to do, what to do….

  The man was no longer in view. Was he looking for something else to take? Or just a way out?

  Then she caught a movement in the dark—nothing substantial, it was just shadows on shadows. But they played out a scene on the faded yellow walls that Rachel could clearly see.

  He was stuffing something into his pocket. His shadow shifted as he turned to look at Rose’s sleeping figure.

  Rachel’s heart skipped.

  He didn’t move.

  Rachel held her breath.

  Then, the shadow bent low to pick up a large rectangular object from the floor. With it in his hands he crept closer to Rose, lifting it higher as he came so that it was soon directly above the sleeping woman’s face.

  With a pang, Rachel realized his intentions.

  That was the breaking point.

  Pure, scorching anger exploded in her chest and set her body afire. Rachel flew out of the doorway and up the stairs before she realized what she was doing. She threw herself at him in silence, knocking him away from the elderly woman and positioning her body between them. Her cheeks were hot, her hands quivering.

  He stared up at her, shock in his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Does that matter?” she snapped back. “Give me back that necklace and get out of here.” She had to work to keep her voice down, to calm herself. If Rose woke up now…..

  “That’s not going to happen.” The tone of his voice was stern, his eyes cold. He seemed very confident that he could overpower her. He was probably right; she didn’t care. She couldn’t let him hurt Rose.

  The necklace was partially dangling out his pocket.

  Rachel lunged at him, fingers reaching for it.

  He twisted around, avoiding her hands. Too fast. His right leg shot out, catching her ankles. Rachel tumbled to the floor with a loud thud.

  A slow, menacing smile twisted his features. Rachel grimaced. “I’d like to see the day a child gets in my way,” he said as he rose to his feet. There was something gargoyle-like about him when he smiled.

  How old was he? Thirty? Maybe.

  What are you doing? Pay attention.

  As he rose to his feet, Rachel lashed out with both her legs, her position on the floor giving her the leverage she needed to send a powerful jolt into the man’s stomach. He exhaled in a huff, folding in two on the floor. Rachel scrambled on her hands and knees to his side to snatch the necklace. She stumbled to her feet.

  He grasped her ankle, gripping it much too tightly. Rachel gave a quiet yelp of pain and pounded on his head and neck with her tiny fists. The man ducked his head to evade her blows. One hand reached up to take hold of one of her wrists and pin it to the floor. Before he could do it, Rachel clamped down hard on his hand with her teeth.

  He released her with an exasperated grunt.

  Rose mumbled something and rolled over onto her stomach.

  She had to get him out of here before she woke up.

  Rachel sprung up to her feet and stood before him a short second before snatching him by the collar and dragging him to the door. She was strong and she’d caught him by surprise and that temporarily gave her the advantage. She realized with elation that she might actually win.

  He took hold of the doorjamb. The sudden resistance made Rachel nearly trip. She fought with him again, this time trying to hold her balance as he jerked one of her legs out from under her.

  She had a firm hand on him. He fell when she did. But he recovered more quickly than she did. He picked up the necklace from where it had been thrust, then ran full sprint down the stairs.

  Rachel could only hope Tom hadn’t come inside yet. She didn’t want him anywhere in this man’s way.

  He had beaten her to the first floor already. The stairway was high, and he was still moving towards the door when she leaned down against the railing to peer at him. She climbed onto the railing.

  And jumped.

  Rachel landed squarely on his back. He went down again. For a fleeting moment she doubted she’d hurt him much. Not fighting the way that he was.

  He got to his feet the same exact moment she did this time; Rachel reached out for the necklace for—she hoped—the last time. In return for her efforts she received a stinging blow to the face.

  Rachel’s head snapped sideways, she stumbled backwards desperately fighting to recover her balance. The hard hand came at her again, shoving her hard into the wall.

  And then he was gone

  Everything was hazy. Rachel pried herself into a standing position, struggling to blink the bleariness from her eyes.

  Where…..

  She stumbled to the open doorway where nothing but emptiness and the sound of peepers in the night welcomed her.

  Rachel leaned against the sturdy wooden frame of the threshold. Though she was disappointed and sore, her thoughts turned to Tom almost immediately. She had to tell him what happened. She could hear him coming in through the back door.

  Rachel took a deep, burning breath and went to tell him. If there had been any color left in his face, it drained when she recounted what had just happene
d. She went to her bag, searching for her phone. “I’m calling the police,” she huffed, out of breath. “I’ll stay until they can wrap things up here, then I’ll go down to school.”

  “No.”

  Rachel stopped and turned towards him, surprised.

  “Rachel, I don’t want to make a huge thing out of this. Please? Just let it be. I’ll fix up the henhouse and make sure your grandmother is all right. You go to school.”

  “But what about the police—”

  “Rachel that is enough!” He snapped, slapping his palm against the table. He dropped his head in his hands. The kitchen was silent for a long moment. Rachel heard the bus slow down outside. Her steely blue eyes flashed with latent anger as she watched him.

  Tom got up and walked around the table to take her shoulders in his hands. He squeezed them tightly, as if trying to convey the importance of his words. “Please. Listen to me. Everything will be fine. But, I don’t want you to tell anyone about what happened, understood?”

  Rachel started to object, but then bit her tongue. It was up to him if he didn’t want to press charges. And she didn’t want to make him any more upset than he already was. He was a strange color grey.

  She didn’t believe he was as well as he claimed.

  *******

  Conway burst into the dusty room. He sputtered something to himself and slammed the door shut behind him. His face was a violent purple, his eyes like hard glittering marbles.

  Caroline stirred in the corner, eyeing him cautiously. He knew her eyes were on him, yet he ignored her presence. The room was silent for a long moment. Then, he dug the necklace out of his pocket and began to count.

  Five. There were five rubies embedded in the necklace. He’d promised the Triad nine. He gritted his teeth.

  Caroline finally spoke. “I thought you went for the bracelet, as well. Didn’t they have it?”

  He stared at her icily. “I couldn’t get to it.” He shook his head in unbelief. “Rose and Tom took in the orphan. Rachel.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I couldn’t get to it.”

  “Can’t you go back?”