Darker Days (2 page)

Chapter Two

“So
not
your biggest fan at the moment,” I said, closing the office door behind me. The runoff from my jeans had soaked my sneakers pretty good. With each step, I gave a slight squishing noise accompanied by an annoying squeak against the old tile floor.

From across the room, Mom stared. “What happened to you?”

“It attacked me.” Tossing my bag on the couch, I sank into her chair and made sure to grind my butt into the cushion. Got it nice and wet. I was all about sharing the love—and right now, the
love
was soggy.

She laughed, waving a folder in my direction. “Surely you’re overreacting. It was one little zombie. They don’t attack people.”

“I’m serious, Ma. It tried to drown me. And the client assaulted me with ugly footwear. As far as punishments go, I’d say we’re probably square. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You’re serious?” Amused expression now replaced by concern, she crossed the room and leaned over her desk to get a better look at me.

“As a coronary.” Once I was sure the chair had sponged up all it could, I stood and huffed past her. Pulling at my favorite T-shirt—the word
Fate
inside a blood red heart,
is a four letter
word
on the back—I said, “Child welfare would
not
be happy to hear you tried to feed your only child to a walking corpse…”

“But why would it attack? Did you provoke it?” Folding her arms, she frowned. “Insult it, perhaps?”

I winked at her. “
Provoke it
? Sure. I went and wiggled my ass in front of it yelling
lunch
just to see what’d happen.” I’d called it Stinky, but that didn’t count as an insult. Something couldn’t be considered an insult if it was true, right?

Right eyebrow twitching, she fought against a smile. “But you’re okay, right? No bites, broken bones, head injuries, possessions…?”

I smiled and did a little twirl. “All in one piece and still me.”

Mom had a checklist she went through at the end of each job. I was known for taking almost as much damage as I inflicted. Thinking of damage, it was time to come clean.

“Oh, and you’re probably going to get a call from the client. I sorta smashed her fence in the process.”

Mom groaned. “I told you to be more careful.”

“It’s not like I
tried
to break anything.”

“Something tells me you didn’t try hard enough
not
to break anything, either.”

“In my defense, it wasn’t a simple trap and slap…”

“We can’t afford this.” She reached down and pulled a white envelope out from under a stack of papers. “This is the bill for that Mercedes you smashed.”

“Oh! So not my fault. How was I supposed to know that Spring Heel was gonna land
on
the car? If it makes you feel any better, I think he was aiming for my head…”

“If you keep this up, we won’t even be able to afford the rent.”

She was right, of course, and it made me feel horrible. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a wrecking ball wrapped in blue jeans. Take my cut of this job and put it toward the repairs. Keep my paycheck for the next month, too.” A good start, but it didn’t feel like enough. Sure, it would cover the damages—I hoped—but I felt guilty about upsetting her. The bills that were piling up kept her awake at night. This was only going to make things worse. We got a fair amount of business, but the overhead in our line of work was sky high.

As much as I hated the idea, I knew what would cheer her up. “I’ll even throw in pet possessions for the next month.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. Aha! I had her.

“I swear. Any that come in, I’ll go. No arguments.”

“Deal.” She said, fighting back a smile. “I wish the biggest thing I had to worry about with you was teen drinking and pregnancy.”

“Hey, show me a guy who can take down a dirt demon without pissing himself and I’ll smack his ass and let him take me to prom.”

She rolled her eyes. “On
that
happy note, the phone’s been ringing off the hook again today.”

“Anything good?” Though Mom’s idea of good rarely matched mine. Hers was artifact theft and conspiracy. Mine was more rampaging spirits and demon possession.

The urban odd couple of the occult—that was us.

“Four cheating spouses, two inheritance scams, a missing child, and a missing sister.”

“Bah,” I gave an offhanded wave. “All normal cases. Boo-ring.”

As far as the good people of Penance were concerned—most of them, anyway—the Darker Agency did the standard detective thing. We solved all sorts of cases. Stolen inheritances, missing loves ones, we even spied on a cheating spouse or two, but what we specialized in was far from common knowledge.

What we specialized in was just a bit…
darker
.

Demonic possessions, angry ghosts, all the things going bump in the night that the general population had no idea existed, we did it all. They were what Mom referred to as our
alternative
cases. My favorite kind. We were like the A-Team of the Otherworld, only with a permanent address and laminated business cards.

“Oh. And I managed to get some information out of officer Barnes about that break in at Saint Vincent’s last week.”

Managed to get some information… That could mean a million different things coming from my mom. “I don’t know why you’re so interested. It’s a crumbling church. There’s nothing of value except the building itself.”

“Exactly. Why break into a landmark like Saint Vincent’s? There has to be a reason.”

“Maybe someone needed to pray
really
bad?” And she said
I
went digging for trouble? It was just a stupid old church. “Eh. Occultist maybe? What’d you drag out of Binkie Barnes?”

That earned me Mom’s patented
look-of-death
. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

Was it my fault the guy’s parents named him Bindle Key Barnes? With a name like that, you’re begging for a nickname like Binkie. “He’s the Penance version of Deputy Dewey right down to his fanboy crush on Gale Weathers. He literally turns into a blubbering mass of schoolboy-goo whenever you’re around. That’s kind of hard to respect.”

More glaring.

I threw up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine. What did you find out from our illustrious and manly
Sheriff Barnes
?”

“It wasn’t much. No one was there at the time, but witnesses say they saw a young girl leaving the building around dawn.”

“A young girl, huh? Very specific. Just the kind of Mayberry detective work I’d expect from the Penance PD.”

Mom rolled her eyes as the phone started to ring. “It’s your turn. I’ve dealt with it all day.”

“I have homework,” I complained. “If I don’t focus on my studies,
how ever
will I get into a good college?”

She ignored me and went back to filing. The phone kept ringing.

I tapped the receiver. “It could be Ed McMahon. You might have won a million dollars.”

She waved a paper at me, grinning. “Then crack out the quartz, baby-girl, because Ed McMahon is dead.”

Huh. She had a point. Sighing, I picked up the cordless and slipped into secretary mode. “Darker Agency, how can I help you?”

“I’d like to speak with Klaire Darker, please.”

“Who can I tell her is calling?” The guy sounded young, but it was hard to tell on the phone.

“My name is Lukas Scott. I’m interested in hiring Ms. Darker.”

I sank into the chair and cringed when my butt hit the cushion. Slosh. Oops. “I can schedule a consultation for you. What day is convenient?”

“It needs to be right away. I can come now.”

Wow. Pushy. Pushy meant desperate. Desperate usually meant money. And money was good. I flicked a pen across the room. It sailed through the air and smacked into Mom’s leg before bouncing to the floor and rolling under the mini fridge. “
Consult now
?” I mouthed. She nodded and went back to the filing. “How soon can you be here, Mr. Scott?”

“Now,” his voice said as the front door swung open, letting a blast of chilly October air inside. That chilly air stole the breath from my lungs and sent goose bumps prickling along my skin.

Or it might have been him.

Dark, shaggy hair that might’ve been in desperate need of a trim—if it didn’t work so damn well for him. Piercing, liquid brown eyes that radiated trouble—and I
loved
trouble. He wore a leather jacket over a tight black T-shirt and worn jeans that were just a bit too baggy. Oh yeah. Bad-boy-vibe was off the charts.

“Holy house of hogs getting blasted by the blue birdie brigade…”

“Excuse me?” he said as the door slammed closed behind him. Head tilted sideways, he was staring at me like I had two heads, a forked tongue, and neon spikes growing out of my back.

I swallowed and gripped the edge of Mom’s desk, hoping to God that my cheeks weren’t fire engine red. “Um, I mean, can we help you with something?”

“Klaire Darker?”

“I am,” Mom said, stepping forward. She set the folder down and extended her hand. “And you are?”

He took her hand and gave what my dad would have referred to as a
proper shake
. “Lukas Scott. I just spoke with your daughter about a consultation.”

Daughter, huh? How had he put two and two together? I studied Mom. We were day and night. She was light skinned with crystal blue eyes and white-blond hair, and I took after my dad, with olive skin, dark hair, and eyes to match.

Mom must have been just as suspicious. “Who referred you to us, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m familiar with your family.”

“Well, then you must know we don’t take cases from minors.” She turned and gave me the
I’m-talking-to-you
eye. “Ever.”

“I’m aware of your policy, Ms. Darker, and I assure you I’m eighteen.”

She gestured to the seat on my left and he took it. “What exactly is it you need from me, Lukas?”

“I need to track someone down.”

Bah. Missing person? It didn’t get lamer than that. I picked up a pen. “Their name?”

“The family’s last name is Wells.”

Could he be more vague? “Do you have a
first
name?”

He shook his head. “Nothing current. This person would be the descendant of a woman named Meredith Wells. Born in Penance in the eighteen hundreds.”

I scribbled some notes.

“There’s also something else. A box. I need to find it.”

“What kind of box?” I asked, sticking the end of the pen in my mouth. I needed to do something to distract myself from staring at the guy, so I started picking at the edge of Mom’s address book. “And was this
your
box? Is it connected to this Wells family you’re looking for?”

He hesitated, then said, “It’s not my box and no, it is not
directly
related to the Wells family.”

Not directly related. Hmm.

“You’re being a bit vague,” Mom said, slipping into observation mode.

Silence.

We got a wide range of cons and bullshit artists on a daily basis looking to get us to steal their loot for them—we were the best after all—but Mom could always see through it. I attributed this to her time spent with Dad. He might not be around much anymore, but he’d left a lasting impression. It was great for business—bad if you were a teenage girl trying to slip something past your parental.

“What’s inside the box?” she pressed.

No answer.

“I need all the facts if I’m to do my job.” Mom stood and pointed to the door. “If you’re here wasting my time, I suggest you leave.”

“Sin,” he said after a moment.

Mom and I said at the same time, “Sin?”

“Sin. That’s what was inside the box. Seven of them, to be exact.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean by
sin
?” She sank back into the chair. He had her full attention again.

Had mine, too.

“The box containing the Seven Deadly Sins. That’s what’s been stolen.”

“Are you serious?” I turned to Mom. She used to tell me stories about it when I was a kid. Some parents told their children bedtime stories about knights in shining armor and fairy tale princesses—I got folklore and boogiemen. “Wasn’t the box tucked away in a little monastery in Tibet?”

“That was never proven. The true location of the box is a mystery—for good reason.” Her lip twitched with the barest hint of a smile. Hah. I
did
listen once in awhile when she talked. Granted not
all
the time—but once in awhile.

Lukas cleared his throat. “Not that big a mystery. The box has actually been here. Since the early nineteen hundreds.”

“Here? As in,
Penance
? No way was something that big sitting under our noses without us knowing…”

“There’s an old church—”

“Saint Vincent’s,” Mom said, stomping her foot. She turned and pinned me with an
I told you so
smile. “I knew something felt off about that robbery.”

Lukas cleared his throat. “The theft of the box isn’t the worst part.”

I pulled the pen from my mouth and tapped it against the desk. “Not seeing how it could get worse than that.”

“The box was opened.”

Definitely worse. “Color me corrected.”

“Earlier, the Sins were released. They’ve infected human bodies and have five days to find a witch and the person who released them.”

“Back up a sec,” I said. “Infected?”

“Infected,” Lukas repeated. “Think of it as a possession of sorts. When out of the box, they need vessels to carry their essences. They
infect
a human body—one vulnerable to their
sin
—and use it as a vehicle. The person is still in there—still conscious and unharmed—but has no control.”