When
twins Cecily and Calder Sizemore’s parents are killed in a car accident they
are taken in by Gus and Mae Frost. Raised like family by the Frosts, Cecily’s feelings
for their son, Marcel, evolve into anything but sisterly as the years pass.
Cecily always
knew something was amiss in the Frost household. Little things belied the calm,
peaceful ambiance Mae did her best to portray. Calder tried to warn her things
were not as they appeared, but she didn’t want to believe him. But when Calder
begs her to leave Des Moines, start a new life away from the secrets, away from
the Frosts and away from Marcel, she follows his advice and shatters her heart
in the process.
Now she’s
been called home for her beloved brother's funeral. There's more to the story
than meets the eye. Discrepancies in how Calder died lead her to believe it
wasn’t a car accident. And she's not returning to Minnesota until she uncovers
the truth.
She’ll
have to face Marcel again—the boy who stole her heart when she was eight, the
man whose very presence turns her blood to liquid fire, and the man who walks
the earth as if he owns every piece of it. He’s always played his cards close
to his chest, but this time, he’s underestimated her dogged tenacity. She’ll
find out what really happened to Calder, even if it’s her last act in life.
Chapter One
"We therefore commit Calder Sizemore's body
to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust...."
The cloying scents of damp earth and white lilies
spiraled up Cecily's nose. Overhead, a
pitiless sun bore down on the mourners gathered around her brother's casket—familiar
faces she’d known forever, lived with and loved. She fought back the bile
rising in her throat and prayed the minister would come to the end of the
service before her knees buckled.
To her left, stood Mae Frost, her mother's best
friend and the woman who had raised her and Calder after their parents died. As
if Mae could read her thoughts, the woman squeezed her hand, an unspoken sign
of moral support and unconditional love.
She would expect nothing less from Mae, and had received nothing less
for the past twenty years. If Mae's husband, Gus, were here, she would receive
the same outpouring of love from him. In essence, Gus was in attendance, not
above the ground but below. And now Calder would rest beside the man through
all eternity.
"And
so, shall we ever be with the Lord."
Dear God,
when will he say 'Amen?
She stared at the burgundy coffin with its hideous
spray of red roses, yellow lilies and white orchids while a thousand questions tore
through her brain. How could she go on without Calder, the other half of her
soul, her womb mate, the one person who had always been there through the highs
and lows of her life? What was he doing in St. Louis when he died and who was
with him at the end? She had to know what kind
of an accident had taken his life.
That's the word Mae used—accident—when she called her in Minnesota to deliver the dreadful
news. 'We've booked a morning flight to Des Moines,' she'd said. 'The ticket is
in your name and waiting for you at the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport, Delta
Airlines ticket counter.' Numb with shock and grief, Cecily had pressed Mae for
details but the woman circumvented her question. Why should she be surprised? The
entire Frost family held Masters’ Degrees when it came to dodging and ducking
topics they didn’t wish to discuss. ‘We’ll be waiting for you at the airport
when you arrive,” she’d said and then ended their conversation.
Zombie-like, Cecily had packed her luggage and drove
through the night from Gull’s Landing— the picturesque resort town where she
lived—to the Minneapolis airport. During the three-hour drive, she'd saturated
an entire box of Kleenex with a gazillion tears and relived every precious
moment of her and Calder’s childhoods—the death of their parents, the
extravagant Christmases after the Frosts took them in, the luxurious summer
vacations, but most of all, the cross-your-heart-hope-to-die
secrets no one but twins would share.
Her gaze wandered from the casket to the
pallbearers standing opposite her— Chad and Will, friends from high school,
Travis and Chris, college buddies, and, of course, Elliott and Marcel Frost,
Mae and Gus' sons. And the boys she
and Calder had shared a home with most of their lives. The brothers stood over
six-feet tall now with broad shoulders and rock-hard bodies. Gym-rats Mae
called them. Anyone with sight could see they were no longer boys, but
hot-blooded, virile males most men envied and every woman on God’s peachy earth
drooled over.
Her pseudo-brothers shared the same grey eyes and
midnight hair, but there the similarities ended. Elliott, two years younger
than Marcel, was leaner than his brother and kept his dark hair short and
neatly trimmed. He looked more like Mae with his oval face, round, inquisitive
eyes and soft, full lips.
Marcel was the mirror image of his father, Gus, in
the man's younger days. Marcel's hair,
gleaming now beneath the hot rays of sun, fell in a wild tumble of ebony waves
to his white shirt collar. His features were sharp, all angles and planes, from
the high cheekbones to the straight nose, to the strong jaw with a cleft smack
dab in the middle. Cecily's gaze lingered on his mouth…that wicked, wicked
mouth she'd kissed so many times and had tried so hard to forget.
Their eyes met and held. His reminded her of a
storm-tossed sea, dark and turbulent. He couldn't look into hers right now,
thank God. The sunglasses she'd donned this morning—after crying all night— hid
the red rims and the swollen lids that made her cousin to a puffer fish.
She looked away from Marcel when a veil of pain
descended on his beautiful face. She couldn't deal with his anguish and hers
right now. Nor could she trust him, had never wholly trusted him. The man
harbored secrets, deep, dark secrets only a select few were privy to, and she
and Calder were not among the privileged.
Marcel must have thought her dimwitted not to
notice the late-night trips, some that lasted for days. Did he think she hadn't
noticed the cuts, scrapes and bruises on his sculpted body when he joined her
in bed? For a long time, she thought he belonged to an underground fight club,
but why would he hide that from her? No, she'd concluded long ago; he didn't
spend his days and nights in a boxing ring. Locked rooms in the house, covert
phone calls and whispered conversations had nothing to with boxing.
Elliott was involved, of that she was certain, but
what about Calder? Surely, he would have told her, boasted about solving the
mystery of the locked doors, the secretive getaways and low-voiced discussions.
She had remained close with her brother,
albeit by phone, after she moved to Minnesota two years ago, and yet…a niggling
sense of unease washed over her thinking back on their conversations now.
When she asked about his life, why did he gloss
over details, filling their conversations with meaningless tidbits of banal
activity? 'I picked up my dry cleaning today', he would say. Or, 'I washed the
car and hit the gym tonight.' When she pressed him about work or his recent
love life, he slithered around her questions with vague responses. He’d become
just like the Frosts in this regard. “There's nothing too exciting about driving
limos, and as for my love life, I'm not ready for a white picket fence in the
burbs.'
Her heart cried out for answers. She had the
distinct feeling Calder's death and the Frost brothers' secrets were connected.
Her hope fell like sails caught up in a squall if she thought to get those
answers from Marcel. She had a better chance of winning the lottery. He'd
always held his cards close to his chest, walled his emotions from the outside world.
It would take a great deal of cunning and perseverance on her part to get to
the truth. If he thought to put her off again, shoo her back to Minnesota without
as much as plausible explanation, he was wrong…dead wrong. She wouldn't run
this time, not until she found out the truth about how and why Calder had died.
The minister's voice broke into her dismal
thoughts. "And so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one
another with these words. Amen."
With heads bowed, their hands still clasped
together, the mourners dispersed. Elliott still stood beside Marcel and visibly
winced when his brother reached out and touched the coffin for the last time. Cecily’s
heart fractured for the thousandth time that day.
"Come along, dear," Mae said, still
clutching her hand. "Everyone will be at the house soon for
refreshments."
"You go ahead, Mae. I'll meet you at the car
in a moment."
Elliott's eyes darted left to right and Marcel lifted
his head when she stepped forward and spoke. "What was Calder doing in St.
Louis?"
Elliott lowered his voice. "Why don't we talk
about this later?"
Her answer came hard and fast. "No, let's talk
about it now."
Elliott put his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"I'll wait in the car for you, bro."
She waited until his footsteps faded before she
pinned Marcel with a lethal glare. Too bad he couldn't see it behind her shades.
"Enlighten me, Marcel."
"It was just a weekend get-away." He ran
his hands through the hair at his forehead. "St. Louis hosts several
fourth of July celebrations every year, Riverfest, Fair St. Louis…." His
voice dwindled on a heavy sigh.
Lord help her, could she even say the words?
"What happened, how did Calder die?"
"Car accident." He blew air through his
lips. "Calder made a late-night beer run and…and…the sheriff said he spied
tracks from a deer sprinting at top speed across the dirt road. Calder must have
swerved to avoid the animal and hit a tree."
"Was he alone in the car?"
Marcel gave a slow nod, but the flicker in his
eyes contradicted the head motion. He must not know she'd memorized his body
language and every nuance eons ago. A tug at the corner of his mouth meant he
was happy, a tic in his jaw, irritated. But truth and lies walk a thin line and
both resided behind those luminous orbs at the moment.
"Who made the decision to seal the casket
before I arrived?"
"Me. I didn't want to put you through…wanted
you to remember him in life. Both Mom and the coroner concurred."
She blew a huff or air. "Yeah? Well, you, Mae
and the coroner are not his next of kin."
Anger laced his words. "I did it for you,
Cecily."
This time, his eyes didn't lie. "So, who
identified—?"
"Me." His face blighted by pain his
voice guttered like a candle flame. "I identified him for the mortuary in
St. Louis, before they shipped his body home.” The seconds ticked by while he
held her stare. At last, he spoke. "You got something to say, Cecily, say
it."
Every bone
in her body ached, not like when she had the flu, but rather a dull pain in the
deepest part of her marrow. If she lived to be one hundred, she'd never get
used to the aberrant discomfort that took flight in her bones when something in
her world was off. "I do have something to say. Call it intuition, but
something reeks here."
Palms up, Marcel’s hands came out at his sides.
Translation—a defiant stance that meant she was getting under his skin. "Look,
I don't know what your internal truth compass is pointing to, but it's like I
said. Now, why don't you run back to your cozy little life of tea leaves and
tarot cards in that quaint little resort town you live in and get on with your
perfect little life with your perfect little boyfriend?"
How the
hell does he know about Leif? Mae, of course. Mae must tell him everything.
"You'd like that, for me to just go away, wouldn't you? Not this time,
Marcel, not when every short hair on my arms and at the nape of my neck is
standing at attention, not when my gut roils in protest at the words coming out
of your mouth. Twins know things about
one another, things others can't
possibly understand because they've never known such a bond. My soul would be
at peace if I thought Calder died from a freak accident." She lifted her
chin. "So, tell me, why is it so restless?"
Resignation laced his words. "I don't know what
your soul thinks any more than I know what your heart thinks. I'm pretty sure
we established that when you left for Minnesota, you know; when you walked away
from me without as much as a backward glance."
His words stung because he spoke the truth. She
had run, away from him, away from everything they once shared, but now she was
back and she wouldn't leave until she knew the truth about Calder—knew the
truth about Marcel and Elliott. "I'm not running this time, not until I
know what happened to my brother. I don't care how long it takes or what I have
to go through to get the truth." She pivoted on her heels, speaking over
her shoulder, "Get used to seeing me around, Marcel."
* * *
Cover Art by @ EmCat Designs
About A Darker Shade of Evil: A Demon & Devil Anthology
Including stories from USA Today and Bestselling
Authors
Khardine
Gray, USA Today Bestselling Author– Alone In The Dark
Dariel Raye
– USA Today Bestselling Author – The Devil Upstairs
Lori Titus USA Today Bestselling Author - Talons
Muffy Wilson
– USA Today Bestselling Author – Succubus Unleashed
Keta Diablo
– Bestselling Author – I Spy A Demon
Marilyn
Harlow– Bestselling Author – Demons Are A
Girl’s Best Friend
Gracen
Miller – Bestselling Author - Hex
Michelle
Scott – Bestselling Author – The Demon’s
Prisoner
Katherine
Smits – Bestselling Author – Siren
Descending
*
* *
About A
Darker Shade of Evil
Deadly
demons, diabolical devils and other creatures of the night will hold you
spellbound in this one-of-a-kind anthology. In a world of dark delights, they
trifle in forbidden passion, suspense, and kick-ass battles. It’s all right
here for you in this captivating urban fantasy and paranormal romance
anthology!
Brought
to you by USA Today and International Bestselling Authors, these stories of
sexy alpha heroes and heroines will keep you turning the pages. Devils, demons
and their lethal hunters will draw you into their conquests, twisted deceptions,
scorching heat, and yes, even love.
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* Heat Rating:
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* No Cliffhangers
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Thank you for reading Chapter One in I Spy A Demon. I promise, the other stories in the anthology are fascinating, fantastic reads.
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