The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set Read online

  JET-Fueled Fiction

  The Steve Williams Series © March 2014 by J.E. Taylor

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Dark Reckoning

  (Book 1)

  “J E Taylor writes a thrilling and engaging paranormal horror, “DARK RECKONING”. The absorbing, fluid plot builds slowly towards its divergent terror-driven climax. As sturdy, forthright characters convey the story’s age-old message; stay out of the woods…and while you’re at it, the water too. DI do love a great horror story, so I’m adding this beauty to my ebook collection. Marking it for a repeat read too.” Pamela Jenewein – Romance At Heart Reviews

  "J.E. Taylor has penned a tale of terror worthy of Lovecraft. The strong characters, edgy atmosphere and unflinching narrative hooked me from the first and kept me riveted all the way through to its horrifying conclusion - a solid piece of storytelling!" Ty Drago, Editor of Allegory and author of PHOBOS

  “I loved DARK RECKONING - always had a soft spot for demon type horror/thrillers and this is fabulous. Just the right mix of terror and calm so I didn't have a heart attack while reading but came close! Excellent read for anyone who loves horror and a good love story.” Cat Connor author of killerbyte and terrorbyte

  Chapter 1

  The instructions fluttered on the ground under a new rubber mallet, ignored.

  She tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Daddy, you promised.”

  “Just a minute.” He lifted his hands from the canvas. Poles swayed and metal scraped. Before he could catch it, the tent imploded. Again. Muttering a few choice words, he picked up the fabric and the aluminum frame.

  “But Daddy, you said we’d take a walk when Mommy went to the store.”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Amy’s father glared sideways at her and tugged on the canvas again. “Just stay out of my way until I get this up.” He turned his back and continued to fiddle with the tent poles, swearing under his breath.

  Amy slipped to the edge of the campsite blinking back tears at her father’s harsh words. “Stupid tent,” she said and glanced in her father’s direction.

  He yanked the canvas over the unstable rods yet again, cursing as the tent tilted this way and that.

  She stepped into the woods, swallowed by the forest.

  That had been hours ago. Now she stumbled through the underbrush, sobbing, searching for the campsite, wishing she had stayed by her father’s side.

  She turned in frantic circles but dense brushwood blocked her path in every direction. Blueberry bushes, barberries and prickly thistles pulled at her clothing and scratched her legs. Evergreens reached high, mingled with century old maples and oaks, dimming the last of the evening light.

  Amy’s hoarse voice persisted, yelling, “Daddy!” over and over and over. Her cries fell on the deaf ears of the New Hampshire forest.

  Fighting through a thick clump of bayberry, she fell onto crunchy dried moss in a clearing bordering a small pond. She scrambled to her feet. The still black water rippled and Amy froze, her eyes glued to the malignant form rising from the surface.

  What climbed out of the water was far worse than any Pokémon she’d ever seen and fear locked down her ability to function.

  She couldn’t move.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  She couldn’t scream.

  The staccato beat of her heart thrummed like the wings of a hummingbird and she shivered despite the summer heat, her sweaty tie-dyed t-shirt not enough to keep her warm in the damp clearing.

  When it stepped onto the shore, the ground sizzled and the stench of burning moss and rotting flesh blanketed the cove.

  Her paralysis broke. A shrill cry of terror, like a lamb at slaughter, barreled from her throat and she turned, fleeing through the woods.

  She ran as fast as her little Keds would take her.

  But it wasn’t fast enough.

  * * * *

  The search party combed through the dense forest, each member clutching a picture and calling Amy’s name.

  The young FBI agent halted, the child’s name swan-diving from his lips in a silent rush of air. The earth in front of him was painted reddish-brown with pieces of cloth, flesh, bone and blood-streaked hair scattered through the red sludge. But the sneaker caught his attention.

  A single, blood-splattered Keds.

  He took a step back, his gaze bouncing between the photograph in his hand and the carnage before him, trying to reconcile the bloody remains on the ground with the happy child in the picture.

  Bile rose in his throat and he gulped, forcing it down his already burning esophagus, willing his churning stomach to settle.

  He looked down, surprised to see the snapshot crumpled in his clenched fist.

  His eyes were drawn back to the gruesome scene, scanning the massacre and snapping back to the bloody sneaker.

  “I swear I’ll find you, you son of a bitch,” he promised.

  He pushed the button on the radio clipped to his shirt, his voice rumbling in his tight chest. “I think I found her.”

  Chapter 2

  The apartment door swung open. Afternoon sun bleached the picture window, streaking the room with slivers of light.

  Jennifer Curtis scanned the expansive living room from the rich mahogany bar to the oversized entertainment center and everything in between. Her jaw dropped and pressure built on the back of her eyes. “Oh, my God, this is fantastic!”

  She set the carton down on the tile entry and walked through the living room, sliding her hand over the deep brown velour chairs, relishing the soft lush fabric against her fingertips, mesmerized. Kneeling on the couch, she glanced at the balcony and the magnificent view of Mirror Lake beyond.

  “I thought you might like it.”

  She turned and smiled at her best friend, running her hand through her ebony hair. “I had no idea this is what you meant when you said a nice little apartment.”

  Tracy added her carton to the building pile of boxes in the entry and brushed her honey colored bangs out of her gray eyes. “Daddy bought the building this summer and it took some convincing, but he finally crumbled and gave me the penthouse for the year.” She crossed the room. “Wait ’til you see what we’ve got.” She swung the doors of the big mahogany cabinet open, revealing a state of the art entertainment system culminating with the fifty-inch plasma television in the center.

  “Holy shit!” Jennifer stared at the high tech system—knobs for this, buttons for that, and all the bells and whistles a girl could ask for.

  “This is our dream place.” Tracy’s eyes danced with childish joy. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight. “Look around,” she said over her shoulder, and disappeared from view.

  Jennifer wandered through the apartm
ent. In addition to the sprawling living room, a kitchen that could only be categorized as a chef’s wet dream sat to the right of the entry and monogrammed nameplates adorned the bedrooms in the hallway on the left. At the end of the hall stood a common dressing room and a bathroom torn right from the pages of Architectural Digest.

  She ran her fingers over her gold monogram and a chill crawled up her spine. Her vision transitioned to a shaded red, like blood dripping over the lens of a camera. She shuddered, shaking the bizarre hallucination away, and blinked at the glimmering script that mocked her sudden wave of fear.

  Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes and swung the door open. Jennifer let her breath out slowly and stepped inside, opening her eyes.

  Definitely over the top. Smooth cherry furniture, canopy bed, satin and silk in shades of powdered blue adorned the bedroom, sprinkled with accents of pink here and there, including light sheer curtains billowing gently in the breeze of the open windows along the back wall.

  She crossed to the door in the far corner, opening it with curiosity. Cedar drifted from the large walk in closet, enveloping her, reminding her of the woods in northern Maine.

  Thick and fragrant and dangerous.

  Standing in the entrance, Jennifer imagined how easy it would be to get lost when the closet was full of clothes and other things. Icy fingers tickled the base of her neck sending tingly sensations over her skull. She swung the door closed and a red flicker in the far corner caught her eye.

  What the hell was that?

  She yanked the door wide, her eyes scanning the closet again, but she couldn’t locate the source of the flare. The air shifted, sending a cool draft into her room. She closed the door and rubbed the newly formed bumps on her forearms, chalking up the nip in the air to an over-active air-conditioner.

  She glanced out the window. Brooksfield University and the surrounding mountains filled her vision and a slow smile spread across her lips. God, it’s good to be back at school. She tossed herself onto the bed with her arms spread on the lush fabric.

  “Nice view.” Tracy leaned against the doorway.

  “The best.” She propped herself on her elbows. “This is really ours?”

  “Yup. After we finish bringing our things up, I’ll show you my room.”

  “I gather that’s a hint?”

  Tracy nodded and turned, walking out of the room.

  Jennifer climbed off and followed her to the foyer. A dozen moving boxes lined the path to the door. “Have I really been gawking this long?”

  Tracy grinned over her shoulder and pushed the button to the elevator.

  An unsettling vision gnawed at the edges of Jennifer’s mind, but it was lost the moment the elevators opened. “This is going to be a fantastic year,” she said.

  The whir of the descending elevator lulled them in the silence and they both watched the numbers on the display.

  “How’s Billy?” Jennifer looked away from the bright digits crawling through their countdown.

  Tracy’s face lit up. “Billy is wonderful!” She grinned like the mad hatter. “And we’ve got someone we want you to meet.”

  “Come on, Tracy, you know I hate it when you play matchmaker.” Jennifer stepped off the elevator and pushed through the lobby doors heading toward her car.

  “This wasn’t my idea, it was Billy’s.” Tracy caught up with her with eyes wide and sincere. “He’s really a nice guy.”

  Jennifer sent a warning glance, grabbed one of the two remaining boxes, and started back toward the building. The trunk slammed and Tracy’s hurried footfalls followed her into the lobby and the waiting elevator.

  “Jen?” Tracy broke the silence as the doors closed.

  “I’m not ready yet. I know it’s been almost two years since Tom died, but…” The engagement ring he gave her the night he died still sat in the little velvet box on her bureau at home. Open, dust ridden, like a shrine. “Not yet.” Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away, willing herself not to cry.

  “You can’t keep mourning him forever. Tom wouldn’t want that.”

  “I know.” Jennifer edged around the clutter in the entrance of the apartment. “Are you gonna show me your room or what?” She changed the subject to something Tracy would latch onto like a fighting bulldog.

  Tracy beamed and led her down the hall. “Ready?” She swung the door open. “Tah-dah!”

  The room was decorated in soft shades of yellow and lavender and, apart from the colors, it was a mirror image of Jennifer’s—with one exception. The view.

  Jennifer crossed to the window.

  The mountains stared back neutrally.

  “Mirror Lake,” she whispered, unaware she spoke aloud. When she turned, Tracy’s arms were laced with goose bumps, her face a peculiar shade of pale. “You okay?” she asked, and in a blink, the room disappeared.

  A little girl chased a butterfly and stood perfectly still when it landed on her outstretched hand. She looked up and her smile disappeared. Her eyes darted at the thick woods surrounding her and she slowly turned, searching for the path she had followed running after the winged creature still on her hand. She bit her lower lip, and the butterfly took off. She followed, mistaking a clearing for their campsite. When she stepped from the thicket, soft moss cushioned her feet and the butterfly fluttered into the open sky.

  Water shimmered, reflecting the butterfly’s winged journey against the clouds from above, the small cove lush and fragrant with spring flowers lining the edge of the pristine pond.

  Curious, she wandered to a flat rock resembling a clover, crawling until she was peering over the edge at her mirror image.

  The reflection altered, aging from the six-year-old to that of a young adult. A beautiful woman with honey blonde hair and grey eyes smiled back at the child on the rock.

  Back in their apartment, her gaze landed on Tracy, the spitting image of the reflection in the water. Jennifer’s hand shot to her mouth, covering the short gasp of air. She pretended to yawn, covering up the initial shock of the vision.

  Tracy dragged her eyes away from the lake, her face still pale.

  “Are you okay?”

  Tracy nodded and the color crept back into her cheeks. Her eyes looked too bright, too intense. She sat on the bed facing Jennifer, but her gaze drifted toward the window again. “The lake is haunted.”

  A burst of laughter escaped but it quickly dispelled with an ‘I’m-not-kidding’ look from Tracy. “Really?” She parked herself on the bed, ready for another convoluted story, one that would explain her vision.

  “There’s an old Abinaqui Indian legend about a rock in Paradise Cove that hangs over the water. They say if you kneel on it and look at the surface, you can see your future.”

  “No shit!” Jennifer folded her leg under her, turning fully in Tracy’s direction.

  Dimples made a brief appearance in Tracy’s cheek and she pressed on. “That part of the lake is practically impossible to get to and has been for as long as I can remember.”

  “Then how’d you get there?”

  Tracy’s forehead creased. “What?” Her smoky gray eyes shielded something behind them. Something disturbing.

  “Never mind.” She waved away the question. “Tell me more about this legend.”

  Tracy glanced at the lake and the edges of her lips dragged into a frown. “The legend says if you touch the water while it’s showing you the future, the mirror breaks and you see beneath it.”

  “And?” When Tracy didn’t answer, she voiced the question, begging to be asked. “What’s beneath the surface?”

  Shaded by her bangs, Tracy’s eyes flashed to the window and back. With an inhale of air, the words tumbled in a rush. “There are all sorts of stories. From the boogeyman to the devil himself, but the Abinaqui legend says people see a glimpse of their own death,” she paused and chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “The legend also mentions a beast that will wreak havoc on the town if it isn’t given an annual sacrifice. Maybe that’s wh
at’s happening lately. Why some folks have disappeared, and others have been found mutilated beyond recognition.”

  Chills caressed her, blooming into visible bumps over her exposed skin and she shivered. She read the papers. She knew about the violent deaths near the lake this summer. “Now you’re just trying to creep me out.” Jennifer crossed her arms.

  Tracy’s lips twitched into the kind of smile earmarked for psychopaths. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of stuff to put away.” She left the room.

  Jennifer looked at the lake, shaking her head. Ever since they were thirteen, Tracy enjoyed freaking her out. The girl was warped, truly warped.

  She walked into the living room, finding Tracy busy putting CDs and DVDs into the entertainment cabinet.

  “Is there really a legend or was this just another elaborate story of yours to scare the shit out of me?”

  “There really is a legend. Google it.” She put the last of the DVDs away and tossed the empty box in the direction of the entry hall.

  “Just out of curiosity, how do you know so much about Paradise Cove?” And why haven’t you ever told me about it before? Jennifer wondered.

  “My father grew up here. Enough about the lake, let’s finish unpacking.”

  She studied Tracy. Her eyes darted everywhere in the room except to meet Jennifer’s and she kept repetitively rubbing her palms on her hips. “You’ve been there,” she said.

  She caught Jennifer’s stare and looked away in the direction of the lake. “No.”

  In the distance, Jennifer heard evil laughter. A metallic taste filled her mouth and she ground her teeth against the sudden swell of fear.

  She headed for the kitchen. Her steps hurried, as if fleeing from the questions in Jennifer’s eyes. “We need to put the food away before Billy gets here,” Tracy mumbled with a frazzled edge.

  Jennifer stared at the lake wondering why Tracy had lied.