Chasing Secrets (Crimson Hollow #2)

Chapter One

N o p e . Jalen spun on his heel and headed back down the block, refusing to get involved with whatever was making those noises in the alley at two in the morning.

Maybe he was dumb enough to walk home this late, but he sure as hell wasn’t suicidal enough to stick his nose around that corner.

The entire summer he’d been seeing things that made him wonder if he was losing it.

Stuff like men growling real deep-throated animal sounds and then, a couple weeks ago, passing the Frothy Pine, he’d spotted two guys in the parking lot arguing in low voices about tracking down vampires.

Vampires.

There was no way Jalen would believe vampires were real. Those two men had to have been wasted.

As he started down the block, an unsettling feeling crawled up the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder, squinting into the darkness, but the street behind him stretched empty and silent.

He quickened his pace, his sneakers making soft thuds against the sidewalk. The streetlamps cast long, distorted shadows that reached for him with ghostly fingers.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his damp hair. The night air hung thick and humid, making his T-shirt stick uncomfortably to his back.

A car passed, its headlights briefly illuminating the row of closed storefronts. Jalen checked behind him again. Still nothing, yet the feeling persisted. Invisible eyes boring into him from somewhere in the shadows.

He pulled out his phone, pretending to check messages while using the screen's reflection to scan behind him. The blue light illuminated his tired face and not much else. Jalen slipped the phone back into his pocket and kept walking, faster now.

“Great. Now I’m paranoid on top of being an idiot who works late shifts.”

Maybe those weird growling sounds he’d been hearing around town were finally getting to him. Or maybe he was just losing his mind.

The sound of his own footsteps seemed unnaturally loud against the quiet of the night. Each time he passed an alley, his heart rate kicked up a notch. What was wrong with him tonight? He’d walked this route dozens of times without issue.

The moon hung fat and yellow above him, casting just enough light to make the shadows deeper, more threatening. Sweat trickled down his temple, partly from the muggy night, partly from the growing unease twisting his stomach into knots.

Every rustle of leaves made him flinch. Every car horn sounding in the distance had him looking around wildly. The six blocks to his apartment had never felt so long, making him feel exposed.

“Almost there,” he whispered to himself, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. “Just get inside, lock the door, and forget this whole thing.”

The feeling of being stalked intensified with every step, as if someone—or something—was closing the distance between them. His breathing grew shallow as he rounded the corner onto Maple Street, the familiar sight of Pinecrest Apartments never looking so welcoming.

The security light at the entrance of his apartment complex flickered weakly as he approached.

Jalen fumbled in his pocket for his keys, cursing when they slipped from his sweaty fingers and clattered to the pavement.

He bent to retrieve them, and a cool breeze brushed the back of his neck, carrying with it a scent he couldn’t identify. Something wild and unfamiliar.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered, finally getting the door open. The familiar musty smell of the lobby wrapped around him as he headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

At his apartment door, his keys fell again, the metallic sound echoing in the empty hallway. “Fantastic,” he grumbled, bending to pick them up. “If there is someone following me, I’m basically gift-wrapping myself at this point.”

Inside his apartment, Jalen leaned against the door, breathing hard. The silence of his small home gradually calmed his racing heart. He flicked on lights as he moved through the living room, banishing shadows to the corners.

“You’re fine. Everything's fine,” he told himself, heading to the kitchen. “Nobody followed you. You’re just hungry and tired and imagining things.”

His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since his lunch break.

Jalen turned on the kitchen light and opened the refrigerator, squinting against the bright light.

The cool air felt good on his face as he surveyed the sparse contents.

Half a carton of orange juice, some questionable Chinese takeout, and a lonely apple stared back at him.

“Gourmet selection as usual,” he muttered, grabbing the takeout container and sniffing it cautiously. Was it supposed to have such a funny smell?

A soft thump came from somewhere behind him. Jalen froze, takeout box in hand. The sound had come from his bedroom.

“No way,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry. “No fucking way.”

Jalen lived on the second floor. His bedroom window faced the parking lot, a good fifteen feet from the ground. There was no fire escape, no balcony, no logical way anyone could have gotten in through his window.

He stood in the kitchen, paralyzed with indecision. The smart move would be to run, get out of the apartment and call the police from somewhere safe. But what if he was just being paranoid? What if it was just the upstairs neighbor or the building settling?

Or his imagination playing tricks after his paranoid walk home?

The creaking of a floorboard from his bedroom decided for him. Jalen grabbed a knife from the drawer, holding it awkwardly in front of him. Should he run out the front door and call for help? Or check the bedroom and prove to himself it was nothing?

Before he could decide, the sensation of another presence in the apartment washed over him, undeniable and terrifying.

A sharp knock at his front door startled him so violently, the knife clattered to the counter.

The knocking came again, more insistent.

Moving cautiously to the door, Jalen peered through the peephole.

A man stood in the hallway—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and the kind of jawline that belonged on a movie poster. Jalen blinked, wondering if exhaustion was making him hallucinate.

Against every survival instinct screaming in his head, he unlocked the door and opened it. Why are you opening the door to a six-foot wall of jawline and menace at 2 a.m.?

“Can I help you?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Chase Kurn,” the man said in a deep voice, his eyes scanning Jalen’s face with unnerving focus. “You need to let me in.”

“I— what ? Why would I do that?” Jalen asked, even as he found himself opening the door wider. “I don’t know you.”

Leaning closer, Chase tilted his head slightly and inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing.

Then came that sound. The same deep-throated animal growl no human throat should be able to produce. Jalen’s blood ran cold.

He tried to slam the door shut, but Chase pushed against it with surprising strength. “You’re not alone in there,” he said urgently. “Let me in. Now.”

Jalen backed away, suddenly remembering the noise from his bedroom. Then he felt the air shift behind him, the unmistakable presence of someone at his back.

He knew that feeling all too well.

Chase launched himself forward. Jalen shouted, whipping around to see another man standing there, an unnatural stillness to him. The stranger’s lips curled into a snarl, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp, and way too long.

The two men collided in a blur of chaos. Chase moved with impossible agility, driving the intruder back against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. The other man hissed—actually freaking hissed!—and retaliated with a vicious backhand that sent Chase flying across the room.

What in the hell was going on? Jalen had been trying to rationalize away supernatural activity all summer and now it was literally fighting in his livingroom.

He scrambled backward into the kitchen, crouching behind the counter. This had to be some hallucination, a bizarre dream, or some other weirdness that would explain what was going on. But since it was playing out, Jalen pulled out his phone with trembling hands and dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s calm voice seemed surreal against the chaos unfolding in his living room.

“There’re two men fighting in my apartment!

” he whispered, peeking around the counter to make sure he really wasn’t hallucinating.

He wasn’t. Chase had the stranger pinned against the wall, but the other man twisted free, sending them both crashing into Jalen’s bookshelf.

“They broke in and they’re destroying everything and they’re making these sounds—”

“Sir, what is your location?”

He gave his address then glanced around the corner to see Chase slam the intruder into his coffee table, shattering the glass top.

“That was from IKEA, you assholes,” Jalen muttered, wincing as his TV stand wobbled precariously.

“Units are on their way. Stay on the line and find somewhere safe to hide.”

Safe. Right. Jalen kept the phone pressed to his ear as he watched the destruction unfold, powerless to stop it. The other man had Chase in a headlock now, but Chase twisted and drove his elbow into the stranger’s ribs with enough force that Jalen heard something crack.

He moaned quietly, watching as his armchair toppled over.

He’d spent three years slowly furnishing his apartment with pieces he actually liked rather than the used stuff that had come with the place.

Now it was being demolished in minutes by two supernatural-looking men having a smackdown in his apartment.

“No way this is really happening,” Jalen whispered to himself.

“Sir, are you still there?” The 911 operator’s voice sounded tinny and far away.