House of Darken (Secret Keepers #1)

One bowl filled me, so after rinsing out the dish I excused myself to get ready. Sara was thankfully right about the hot water. Unfortunately the pressure was still crap, but, with a lot of difficulty, I managed to wash my hair. Long, thick waves were a pain, but I’d almost figured out how to control them. Only took me seventeen years.

Rubbing the steam off the old mirror so I could see my reflection, I grabbed my hair cream and quickly ran it through the damp ends. Then the heat protection. Hair dryer was next. It was one of the few high-quality pieces I owned.

Ten minutes later: long, shiny, loose curls. For how long one never knew, but right now “good hair day” was mine. I never wore much makeup; it was expensive and my mom had always encouraged me to avoid it for as long as possible. So I just swiped on some mascara, liking the way it enhanced the cobalt color of my eyes, and pale lip-gloss. My skin was naturally tanned – olive was how my mom described it. My heritage was Caribbean on my father’s side, and Australian on my mother’s. She had moved to America with her parents at the age of five, and they never left. My father was third generation, born in America. His grandparents emigrated from Dominica.

My mother’s parents had died before I was born, and my father’s when he was just a child. So I had no grandparents alive, and my parents had been only children. Mom always said small families could be perfect, with more than enough love to make up for lack of numbers.

She was right. It had been perfect.

I shook off the melancholy and forced myself to smile. I had to keep living … even more so because of the fire – I had to live for all of us. Plus, my parents would not want their deaths to steal anything from me. I knew that logically, but it didn’t mean I could just erase my pain.

I was dealing with it. Day by day.

Aware of the weather, I dressed in one of my few pairs of jeans, and a white, long-sleeved, fitted shirt. To finish my outfit, I pulled on a worn-out pair of black Converse that we’d picked up from a thrift shop. They were the most comfortable shoes ever, and until they literally fell off my feet I would not give them up.

Stepping into the living area, I took a second to pay attention to the view outside the double front windows. Someone had opened the old blinds and I could see straight out into the street. Daelight Crescent. Even the name was oddly mystical.

Movement across the other side of the road caught my eye. One of the gates was opening. The house behind it looked straight out of European royalty. A castle, for sure. There was no other explanation for such opulence and beauty. The glimpse I caught was brief: some towering turrets, cream and stone accents, a huge drive, and enough landscaped gardens to keep a team of gardeners busy year-round. A low, sleek car emerged, distracting me. The vehicle was dark, like a rich deep purple or burgundy. It rumbled, intensely powerful, as it slowly glided onto the road. I didn’t recognize the make or model, but it was clearly expensive. The engine purring with just enough grunt that I had no doubt it was going to be fast.

I shifted forward, wanting to catch a glimpse of the occupants. But the tint was so dark I saw nothing but a large shadow. Actually two. It was possible someone was in the passenger seat. I realized then that just because I couldn’t see them, that didn’t mean they couldn’t see me. We had no tint on our windows, and if they glanced across to my side of the street they’d have a full view of me gawking like a weirdo. Feeling my cheeks heat up, I sank down into the old couch, hiding myself. After waiting a few moments, I was just poking my head up to check if they were gone when—

“What ya doing?” Michael’s voice was close by. He’d crept around the couch and popped up beside me.

I might have let out a bit of a shriek, almost falling face-first off the chair. “Holy heck, don’t sneak up on me!”

He let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. He was still laughing as he took off down the hall again, back in the direction of his room. If it was possible, my guardian was acting even odder than usual. I dusted off my jeans and quickly followed Michael. I wanted to tell them both that I was going out to explore.

Even though the door to their bedroom was wide open, I hesitated just outside. We were still getting to know each other, so there was a certain awkwardness in invading each others’ privacy. I watched as Sara neatly unpacked their things; Michael was trying to fix the cupboard door that was hanging from one hinge. He wasn’t really one for carpentry talent, but he always had a go.

Sara finally noticed me hovering in the doorway. “Hey, Em. Everything okay?” She pushed back her mess of curls. Dust was scraped across her forehead, dark circles under her eyes.

I nodded, forcing that smile again. “Yeah, I’m all unpacked, so I was just thinking about heading out and exploring Astoria. I’d love to see the town.”

Sara finished folding the last shirt and closed the drawer. She was a little OCD with clothes, color and style coordinating. Michael was a mess; if clothes were left up to him, everything would be thrown into a pile in the corner.

“That’s a great idea,” she said. “It looked so beautiful when we drove through last night. I’ll have to find some time to explore too.” She glanced at her husband. “I’m still trying to get Michael to tell me how we ended up in this town, and especially how we lucked out renting on a gated street. I feel so much better about leaving you alone knowing there’s security here, but sometimes when things are too good to be true…” She trailed off, and we all knew what she was thinking.

Michael brushed a hand through his thinning red hair, shooting a smile at Sara. “Like I said, I was chasing up on some reports of weird happenings, energy surges, bright lights, disappearances – the usual things. Astoria has never been on my radar before, and then suddenly I’m inundated with countless news articles from here, some of them dating back at least a hundred years. I have no idea why this area never came up before. I’ve made that same search numerous times on the dark web, but this time there was all of this new information.”

He pushed the cupboard door closed. It was straight for about five seconds before a creak had it lurching back on one hinge. With a curse, he turned his back on the door and faced us. “So I started searching for rentals here, and strangely enough, there was nothing but this one place in our price range. It was a private rental. We got accepted without any fuss, over the phone. Kind of felt a lot like fate.”

Fate. That was a funny way to think about it. I mean, the way he explained it did really seem as if someone wanted us to come here … but that would be stupid. I refused to buy into their theories. No one knew about the Finnegans. They were nomads. Ghosts. They never planted roots, got jobs, or did anything that established them in a town – in and out, leaving very little trail behind.

No one would have lured them here. There was no reason at all for that to happen.

Since Sara and Michael were exchanging their “conspiracy theory” face, I knew they were about to hit their research again, so I bade them one last goodbye before heading to the front door.

“Don’t forget to grab your door key and security card, Emma,” Michael yelled after me. “They’re quite strict in checking you’re allowed in here. I passed at least five guards this morning on my way to get food.”

Geez, five guards … overkill much? I grabbed my wallet from my room before making my way to the kitchen to pick up the card and key sitting on the bench. It all went into my pocket.

Cool breezes wrapped around me as I stepped out onto the cement porch and made my way down the couple of stairs. Even though I told myself not to stare, I still had to check out the houses across the street.