Remember the Dark

Prologue

I remember laughing . . . I remember turning the radio up louder . . . I remember the song, I love Rock and Roll . . . I remember approaching the intersection . . . I remember the truck . . . I remember the screeching sound of metal being collapsed, the sound of glass shattering. I remember being spun, jerked against the seatbelt, smashing my head into the steering wheel. I remember the sickening pop of my femur breaking as the door and dashboard pinned it excruciatingly. I remember people screaming . . . I remember the brightest pair of blue eyes telling me to hang on.

“Jane how are you feeling today?” the cheery voice of Nurse Susie asked.

I know it’s not my name. I’m just another Jane Doe at County Mercy. I’ve been here six weeks in recovery. My leg still aches in the full cast. I feel weak and useless.

“Jane?”

“I’m ok,” I answered flatly watching her do her rounds checking machines. Her warm blue eyes came to me at last.

“You can’t lose hope Jane,” she insisted. “The detectives are doing everything to find out who you are. It takes time but your mind will heal just like your body.”

I nodded absently. She gave the same speech every morning. I was getting tired of it.

“How’s my favorite girl today?” Dr. Talbot asked entering the room. Nurse Susie giggled and I turned my head starring out the window. Dr. Talbot was a middle-aged charmer type. Most days it irritated me, today was no exception.

“How’s the leg?” he queried nearing the bed.

“Sore.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” he reminded me.

“Six.”

“I’ll adjust the pain killers,” he noted. “You have a visitor today do you feel up to it?”

“Visitor,” I repeated dubiously. It was usually a translation of another cop with questions to things I could not recall.

The door opened and I froze. It was blue eyes. Dr. Talbot looked me over studiously. “Do you remember him?”

“Paramedic,” I breathed and he nodded.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Dr. Talbot said motioning for Nurse Susie to follow him out.

The paramedic came close to the bed standing awkwardly. “I’m Bryce McKenna,” he introduced breaking the silence.

“They call me Jane Doe,” I answered softly shifting to sit up ignoring the pain throbbing through the cast. “I don’t remember my real name.”

He nodded shifting his weight. I glanced up into his bright blue eyes and he went still. “I heard you were still unidentified,” he acknowledged. “How are you holding up?”

I exhaled dropping my gaze. “I’m getting tired of the questions,” I confided.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” I assured scanning those stunning depths. “I remember your eyes,” I admitted blushing slightly.

“Really?” he asked in awe.

“Uh yeah,” I stammered, “thanks for . . . saving my life and all Bryce McKenna.”

“Happy too,” he grinned moving to the chair beside the bed sitting casually. “I remember your eyes too.”

“My eyes?”

“Sure haven’t you seen your eyes yet?” he queried. I shook my head sadly.

“The doctors didn’t want to stress my brain,” I explained. “They said I had to have a lot of reconstructive surgery. That my brain won’t recognize my face and it could be traumatic.”

“They can’t change your eyes though,” he offered. “You’ve still got the same eyes I saw that day.”

I lifted my hand touching near my eyes hesitantly. The swelling, bruises, and cuts have been gone a while but what color were my eyes.

“You wanna see?” he questioned and I looked over at him.

“You think it would be ok?”

“I think you tougher than they think,” he confided. “You surviving that crash are a testament to that.”

I smiled gently.

“So do you want to see?”

“Yes.”

He gave me an encouraging smile and stood fast. He went to the bathroom and brought back a hand mirror. “Eyes closed,” he ordered.

I shut my eyes and felt a nervousness wash my stomach. I felt his body heat tease my arm as he moved close.

“Ok, breathe out and open your eyes,” he whispered.

I exhaled and lifted my eyelids slowly. My mind saw the reflection and I went numb. It wasn’t right, I didn’t look right.

“Easy,” he soothed touching my arm. “Just look at your eyes,” he reminded me. I saw the girl nod but I focused on my eyes. They were a strange mix of pale green around the iris before blending out to brown. I remembered when I cried they’d go bright green.

I shivered closing my eyes from the sight.

“Are you ok?” he asked calmly.

“I don’t look like me,” I murmured hesitantly, “my eyes are the same but the rest.”

“Do you remember what you looked like?”

I lifted my eyes to his avoiding the mirror. “Why are you here?”

He stiffened removing his hand. “They thought it might help if you saw someone you recognized; that I might help you trigger your memory.”

“You’re just here for them,” I repeated feeling that withdraw that came when I was around people. I knew I didn’t like people and his actions reminded me why. You can’t trust people.

“I’m here to help you,” he corrected sitting back down. “You were dying in that crash, flat-lining when I jolted you. Your eyes flew open to mine. They were almost bright green before they shifted like mood stones. I told you to hang on and you did. Your car was totaled. We couldn’t find any trace of registration or a license. You were like a ghost.”

“It wasn’t my car,” I said hearing the chair scoot closer.

“You didn’t tell that to the police,” he murmured.

“I didn’t remember,” I countered. “I know it wasn’t my car though. I don’t know whose it was but I was just going to . . .” My mind went black, “damn it,” I growled. “Where was I going? I was singing, laughing. I remember the song.”

“What song?”

“I love Rock and Roll by Joan Jett,” I answered. “It was one of my favorite songs. The light was green.”

“I know,” he soothed touching my hand gently. I flicked my eyes to him. “The driver of the truck was drunk. He ran a red light we saw it happen.”

“Saw it?”

“I was in a parking lot waiting for a call across from the intersection. Its how we got to you so quickly,” he admitted.

“I never drove much,” I recalled sitting back closing my eyes wearily. “I didn’t like to drive. It scared me.”

“Why?”

“A friend was killed in high school, he was young and made a mistake,” I said automatically before stiffening.

“What high school?”

“I don’t know,” I breathed. “His name was Charlie. I remember that. Charlie was a nice kid, nicer to me than most.”

“Do you remember his last name at all? We could try and track it down find your high school,” he stammered excitedly.

“Why are you doing this McKenna?” I questioned darkly. “What difference does it make to you if I know who I am?”

“Are you happy being some random Jane Doe?” he demanded. “Do you want to be sent to a shelter or a psych ward when you’re released because you don’t know who you are?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied shutting my eyes.

“Of course it matters,” he barked.

“If someone out there gave two shits they’d have found me,” I growled.

“You said yourself it was your friends car, you have a friend at the very least,” he argued.

“Then where are they? It was plastered on the news, the car type, the video, the pictures,” I hissed. “I couldn’t turn the damn channel for a month without seeing it. Are you telling me my friend who gave me the car didn’t recognize their make and model? That they wouldn’t have thought hey it’s been six weeks and my cars still not home? Whoever lent me that car didn’t give a damn.”

“You don’t know that,” he breathed.

“I know people aren’t worth a grain a salt,” I retorted. “They’re vicious, spiteful things with hidden agendas.”

“Helping is not a hidden agenda,” he rumbled and I narrowed a look at him.

“You’re not helping me McKenna, you’re helping the state’s budget surplus by trying to make me remember so they’ll know what insurance foots the bill,” I stated coldly.

“Have you always been this cynical?”

“I was born this way,” I answered automatically freezing at the remark. An image flashed over my mind. I was fighting with a girl. She had bright red hair and jade colored eyes. “Have you always been this cynical Sienna?” The memory left as quick as it came. “Sienna,” I repeated smiling sadly.

“What?” he asked in confusion.

“My first name is Sienna,” I sighed looking at his perplexed gaze. “I remembered it.”

“Sienna?” he smirked. “It’s a start.”

Cross Paths

Prologue

 “Doodle,” the gravelly voice of my boss broke my thoughts.

“Yeah boss?” I queried blinking up at him innocently. He was giving me that hopeless stare as my pen moved in my hand without thought sketching the creature I’d been drawing all day.

“I need a favor,” he admitted shifting his weight almost anxiously. His chestnut eyes flicked to the drawing. “What is that thing?”

“Bug,” I answered smiling down at the picture. He was a strange little mix of a lion cub and a black bear with large almost rabbit like feet. “I call him Bug,” I rephrased. “What’s the favor boss?”

“Uh . . . oh right,” he rambled straightening his tie absently. His mannerisms caught my attention and I set the pen down. “This weekend’s the opening of Casa de Magék,” he began. “The board is setting it up as a big gala unveiling and I . . . uh . . . apparently I need a date.”

“A date,” I repeated.

“An escort Doodle, a girl on my arm that’s all,” he stammered making me smile slightly.

“Chill boss I didn’t think you were hitting on me,” I shrugged. He ran his hand through his short sable hair. I’d only worked for Wes Canto for six months. He caught on fast to my nickname and my OCD hobby. Doodling is a way of life. I liked Wes well enough and I thought what Rockstart did helping the rich socialites school their troubled kids and some grown kids in the way of the real world, hard work, responsibilities, before they took over million or billion dollar empires.

Casa de Magék was the newest locale in northern Michigan and my boss was handpicked to oversee all aspects from start to finish. He’d been a nervous wreck frankly leading up to it so the board authorized him to hire an assistant, me. I mainly just kept him calm and he didn’t complain when my brain wandered doodling aimlessly. He didn’t even complain when I showed up with neon blue hairstreaks through my midnight tresses.

I guess that’s what surprised me about him asking me. I was not what the upper crust would like to see at their posh expense paying to drop off, fill in the blank, to learn their hard knocks. “Are you sure you want me to go to this shindig boss?”

“Uh I don’t really know any other girls Doodle,” he admitted going back to straightening his tie.

“Last resort huh,” I giggled rolling my eyes at his apologetic look. “Don’t go puppy dog eyes on me boss I’ll go I just don’t want to dye my hair back is all.”

“You don’t have to Daniella,” he assured and I gave him a warning look.

“Only my momma called me Daniella and it’s when she’s PO’d to the max boss,” I muttered. The truth was when she passed six years ago to breast cancer I dropped my name. I couldn’t stand to hear anybody else call me that so I took up my childhood nickname and insisted upon it with everyone I met.

“Sorry Doodle,” he sighed leaning against my desk. “You know I don’t like the look you get when I slip up. Let me make it up to you. I’ll get you a nice dress for the event.”

Wes always thought presents solved everything. “I’ve got a dress boss.”

“Come on Doodle let me do something it’ll be a long weekend,” he insisted.

“Weekend,” I breathed and he ducked his head. “Boss,” I called irritably. “What do you mean a long weekend?”

“Uh . . .”

“Boss I’m getting PO’d,” I barked and his eyes came to mine.

“The board is doing a weekend long gala event for the first participants, then their daughters and sons will remain the rest of the week but I should be ok alone for that part. Griffon just wanted to make sure I had a date for all the social stuff, there’s a introductory brunch Saturday, a dinner and masque that night, then breakfast Sunday followed by a group outing through the national forest to the private beach,” he explained in a rush of words.

“I’d have to go on all that?”

“Griffon insisted Doodle. It would be in poor taste for the operations manager not to have an escort,” he stated flatly.

“Griffon insisted huh,” I grunted lifting the pen letting it scratch across the paper mindlessly. “Is he coming?”

“Yeah,” he muttered giving me another apologetic look.

“Does Griffon know you’d ask me?”

“He uh . . .” he trailed off when my eyes narrowed. “He suggested it.”

“Perfect,” I groaned shading in another side view of Bug. I went on one date with Griffon Midnight two years ago and never called him again. Working for Rockstart meant essentially working under him although Wes always kept us away from each other after our initial meeting went sour, the kind of threw a stapler at him, kind of sour.

“I’m sorry Doodle but I really don’t have anybody else I could ask,” he replied studying me. “You can count it as assisting me I’ll pay you overtime and everything.”

“I don’t need bribery boss,” I murmured setting down the pen again looking into his rugged face. “I’d go as a friend for you Wes. It doesn’t have to be about the job or about Griffon. I don’t mind helping you out of a spot.”

“Really?” he asked sounding almost hopeful.

“Sure,” I smiled. “What’s the worst that could happen? I mean there aren’t staplers there right?”

He laughed a deeply masculine sound that made me smirk. “I’ll make sure Griffon doesn’t get to say two words to you, promise.”

“Then we’re right as rain boss,” I agreed. “I’ll pack up enough hoity-toity appropriate clothes for the weekend and you can pick me up at the condo for the drive up tomorrow morning.”

“Uh . . .”

“Boss,” I moaned flopping back in my task chair giving him a hooded look.

“We need to go tonight Doodle so I can finalize the details before they arrive tomorrow,” he admitted meekly.

“Boss you didn’t think to mention this I don’t know, Monday?”

“He didn’t mention me needing a date until twenty minutes ago Doodle I swear it,” he said sitting down on the desk scanning my eyes. “You’ll still come right?”

“It’s not like I have an active social life either boss but I still need to pack, dig out my pc clothes and what not,” I confided crossing my arms to keep from lifting the pen again.

“We can hit the boutique and get some new ones my treat for doing this,” he offered.

“Not everything comes down to the dollar value boss, someday I hope you learn that,” I breathed standing up stretching my spine, “but we’ll do it your way. We’ll hit Starlet’s but I do need to go to my condo.”

“Let me go to Starlet’s and then I’ll pick you up at the condo. It’ll save time,” he explained standing up towering me effortlessly.

“You don’t even know my sizes boss,” I argued feeling a little nervous at what he’d pick out for me on his own accord.

“Trust me Starlet knows you she’ll take care of it,” he said stepping into me a little too close for comfort. I shifted away lifting my purse and my sketchbook curling them to my chest.

“Fine I’ll see you at the condo in what an hour?”

“An hour will be fine,” he agreed firmly. “I really appreciate this Doodle.”

“It’s dually noted boss,” I murmured turning from his stare. “I’m still going to pack some down clothes though.”

“By all means I’ll only pick up the formal pieces,” he nodded. I flicked a look up into his chestnut stare. “During the weekend call me Wes.”

“As long as you keep calling me Doodle,” I replied seeing the argument form then fall away.

“Of course, I’ll see you soon then.”

“Yeah later,” I called walking away trying to shaky the inky vibes that clung to me. It was just a weekend. What’s the worst that could happen?

Tell Me A Story

Prologue

The silver crescent moon hung low in the autumn sky. I pulled the cloak tighter around my chilled body as the carriage rocked and swayed over the rocky terrain. Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I fought to remain serene.

“We’ll be arriving to the manor house soon miss,” the gruff voice of my footman Blain announced. “You should try and school your face better this isn’t a funeral we’re going to.”

“Yes master Blain,” I whispered closing my eyes breathing slowly. No we weren’t going to a funeral it was much worse. The formal term was fiançailles ball. The Lord Moreau’s son was now eligible and all of the single daughters of the region had to be presented to him. I didn’t want to go but my father’s failing health and my new stepmother’s insistence won out.

“This is for the honor of your family miss. A joining to the Lord Region’s son would give wealth and status to Carvoso Valley. Please keep in mind that the medicinal men all have high costs,” Blain continued.

“I am aware master Blain,” I replied softly lifting my blank gentle expression to him. He let out a ragged sigh. “I will do my best for my father’s sake.”

“I know you will miss,” he nodded sitting back further. I stayed in that serene state of mind until we turned up the road to the manor and my stomach sank miserably. Blain sat forward pulling back the curtain so we could watch the glittering monstrosity appear on the horizon. I lifted the hood of the cloak around my braided and curled hair letting its depth cloak my face. Blain gave me a nod of approval. “You will be very different to them and the granddames may treat you poorly. Never let your smile falter, your eyes water . . .”

“Or my voice rise,” I replied in a whisper.

“We will not be allowed to stay beyond announcing you,” he murmured straightening his jacket.

“I will follow the path laid out master Blain.”

“I know you will miss.” His hazel eyes scanned down me. “The veil Gia,” he advised. I lifted the sheer fabric and hooked it into the elaborate cloak leaving only my eyes visible. “Do not take the cloak off under any circumstances, never extend your hands beyond the sleeves, and . . .”

“I know master Blain please have faith,” I whispered. He gave me a solemn nod.

“The fiançailles ball will last the lunar path and then we can return for you,” he exhaled shakily as we approached the gates slowing to a stop. I curled my hands into the long sleeves grasping my wrists tightly ensuring I was covered completely. “We know this is a long shot miss so do not be disheartened if you cannot sway the young Moreau.”

“I will do my best master Blain,” I breathed sitting up straight as the door opened. He got up smoothly handing the card to the attendant. I stood waiting until Blain moved them back.

I could hear him tell them firmly that no one is to touch me under any reason. He glanced back and I bowed my head exiting the carriage gracefully. I heard someone gasp but kept my head down. “Please lead us to the manor house,” Blain rumbled and I knew the attendants hadn’t moved.

“Yes sir,” a deep voice grunted and when I heard Blain’s first steps I trailed after the familiar noise blindly watching only the flow of the white satin beneath the glowing moon. They slowed to a stop and I exhaled going back to that serene place in my mind smiling softly to the humming noise of my mind.

The doors opened on a groan. The sounds of music and party-goers drifted out onto the air melodically. Blain started walking forcing me to follow deeper into the increasingly loud noise. I heard whispering and another groaning door before everything went quiet.

“We introduce to his lordship Mademoiselle Gia Larrieu of Carvoso Valley,” a loud voice boomed of the silent hall. Blain stepped back into my peripheral.

“This is goodbye miss,” he breathed.

“Farewell master Blain I will see you at the end of the lunar path,” I whispered stepping forward lifting my eyes slightly to the far side of the room where Lord Moreau sat over the introductory event. His ebony eyes widened and I stiffened when he stood up fast. He lifted a single hand motioning me forward.

I took the stairs without a sound. The crowd split around me as I kept my eyes on the Lord only. I got within a few feet of his perched chair and stopped going to my knees bowing to him. “It is an honor to be invited into your home,” I replied on a breath of air.

 “Stand up mademoiselle,” he commanded gruffly. I stood effortlessly catching his gaze again. He stepped forward and I backed up instinctively. “Do not move.”

“My lord,” the deep voiced attendant spoke from beside me. “Her papers are very precise she is not to be touched.”

“I am Lord here I can touch whomever I wish,” he growled but I saw him jerk the papers reading them swiftly. His eyes came back to mine fiercely.

“Really father,” a velveteen voice cooed coming up beside me in a rush of air. “Who is this veiled vixen who’s causing you such distress?”

“Gia I’d like you to meet my son Quentin Moreau. Quentin this is the hidden valley’s most prized possession, their Caelestisian priestess.” I saw him lift his hand and leaned back smoothly. His eyes flared dangerously as he passed through the empty air. He reached again faster as I dodged his moves gracefully.

“Stand still girl I want to see your face,” he barked.

“My good lord Moreau although it blesses me greatly that you know my old title it is unallowable,” I breathed.

“Old title,” Quentin repeated going wide so he was beside his increasingly agitated father.

“Cyrus,” a melodic female called and the emotion in the room changed dramatically. The Lord stood up stiffly. “My husband, are you being disrespectful to our son’s guest?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied coolly. “Gia this is my beautiful wife Karina.”

I stepped back to the side from his shift and her approach. Karina was beautiful. She had long wheat colored hair and cerulean eyes set in a pale face. She was wearing a deep blue velvet gown that contrasted her alabaster skin so it almost glowed. “Greetings to you mademoiselle Gia I think it would be best if you came closer to me child.”

I skirted around the men cautiously ending near her side. She blinked those cerulean eyes at me curiously.

“Oh my, you are lovely,” she smirked. “My husband and I had the distinct honor of meeting your dear mother once upon a time. I believe that is why his manners left him this evening. The Larrieu clan has been invited to many of our galas but declined until now, has something happened in the hidden valley?”

 I glanced back at the approaching guests before looking at her directly.

“Yes of course how silly of me,” she giggled that melodic sound that made my heart ache heavily. “Shall we meet in private young priestess?”

“I carry that title no longer your ladyship,” I breathed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly before she nodded. “A private word then,” she nodded. “May I call you Gia?”

“Yes your ladyship,” I whispered.

“Such a soft voice,” she exhaled studying me before turning on heel motioning her husband and son forward. “Please excuse us a moment honored guests we will return shortly. Enjoy the festivities until then,” she called and the band began playing once again. They walked with the air of regality. I waited three beats but followed them to the gilded door that the attendants held open.

I don’t believe Blain expected this because none of this was laid out on my path. I moved my hands up higher on my forearms clenching them to my body as I narrowed in on myself beneath the gown, robes, cloak, and veil. The doors shut behind me silencing the room making me feel terribly alone and afraid of the ruling house that stood before me.