Epiphany: Part 1 Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Summary

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  1. The Other Side of Sanity

  2. Morning Disturbance

  3. Pinch Me…I Must Be Dreaming

  4. Goodbye Apathy

  5. Precipice

  6. Anger's Alibi

  7. Irate

  8. Forty-Eight Hours

  9. Fancy Meeting You Here

  10. Stop Rattling My Closet

  11. Darkness Falls

  12. Evade

  13. Secrets

  14. Sweet Whiskey

  15. Alter Ego

  16. Gone

  17. Moonlighter

  Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Epiphany: Part One

  Copyright © 2015 Gemma James

  Cover design by Rebecca Berto at Berto Designs

  Cover image used under license from www.dollarphotoclub.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  His mahogany gaze haunts my waking hours, his touch ignites my dreams. I know him in intimate detail, but I’ve never laid eyes on him.

  Until now.

  I’ve always seen things I can’t explain, but the reality of him blindsides me, his mere presence a captivating force I can’t fight. What’s worse…I don’t want to. He burrows under my skin and unearths my biggest secret, even as he hides his own demons.

  Then he warns me away. Stubborn man.

  I’m already in too deep, and if staying means I’m the next victim of the Hangman’s noose, then so be it. Not even the threat of a serial killer can keep me away.

  Part one of a three-part serial. Intended for mature audiences due to sexy adult situations, explicit language, and disturbing subject matter. Approximately 30,000 words.

  Much thanks to three of my super fangirls (Momo, Rachel, and Melanie) who’ve loved everything I’ve written in the dark romance genre. I wanted to test this newer, sexier version of Epiphany on them, and they made this author very happy by agreeing. You guys are the best! I’m so grateful you guys were up for trying something a little different from me. I hope everyone else embraces Epiphany with the same enthusiasm.

  I’ve also got to give props to Rebecca Berto of Berto Designs for creating such an amazing cover. Love your style, lady! Love your friendship even more. I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the rest of the books in this series.

  Thanks to Pam Godwin and Skye Callahan for not only your friendship, but for always being there to shoot the breeze about anything from writer woes to the headache of blurbs. Your opinions mean a lot to me.

  As always, much thanks to my best friend Crystal, who amazingly still tolerates my madness after all of these years.

  To my mom. Thanks for always being there.

  I awoke in murky stages, the first being a nauseating sense of movement. The second was the realization that something was wrong. Horribly wrong. The third was the clearest and the most horrifying. My wrists were tied together as were my ankles.

  I pulled at the bindings, and a low groan vibrated in my throat. Despite the persistent throb at my temples, I focused on the misty recollections; the wafting fog on the highway, the beam of a flashlight, the splintering sound of glass.

  Forcing my eyes open, I met total blackness. My cheek rested against the floor of what I assumed was a van, and a putrid smell burned my nose, an odorous mixture of mildew and bleach. The van bounced over uneven ground, and I held my breath, my ribs hitting the floor hard with each lurch.

  What the heck happened?

  My heart beat out of control as I tried to remember, but I drew a blank. I couldn’t recall anything beyond a blinding light and an explosion of pain…then nothing.

  “Don’t panic,” I chanted in a whisper as I tested the rope. Come on! I slid my wrists back and forth, and the knot loosened the slightest bit as the van came to a violent stop. The engine shut off, and I didn’t dare move or make a peep. A door creaked open before slamming with an echo. I ceased to breathe as footfalls drew closer, crunching on gravel with each step. I counted them.

  One, two, three, four, five…

  Keys jingled from the other side, and the handle squeaked and turned. The van dipped, and instantly, I knew who entered behind me. I wished I could see him, but I was lying on my stomach, completely vulnerable.

  “Where am I?” It wasn’t the question I wanted to ask, the one I could barely think of.

  What are you going to do to me?

  My body went rigid as he came near. He rolled me to my back with rough hands, and his silhouette loomed large, a dark shadow blocking the light of the waning moon. He shifted, causing the moon’s beam to glint off the cigarette lighter in his hand.

  “No…” My plea came out a squeak, an ineffectual cry for mercy. I was only an object to him, something to torture and kill for his perverse pleasure.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and yanked at the rope, ignoring the pain biting into my wrists. Hysteria wouldn’t help my situation, so I held it in. In fact, from what I knew of the Hangman, my cries and pleas would only heighten his pleasure…his arousal. Vomit burned in my throat, accompanying the rancid taste of fear, but I forced my eyes open anyway.

  He sparked the lighter to life, and the flame illuminated his face. Malevolent eyes peered at me, two expressionless voids holding no remorse for what he’d done to all of those other women.

  For what he was about to do to me.

  His expression distorted into something unrecognizable, and it took a few seconds to realize who towered over me. I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing.

  “Why?” My voice broke on the question, but he didn’t answer. A tear slid down my cheek as acceptance nicked at my composure. I wasn’t getting out of this. Aidan would find my body—I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. The bastard would dangle my death in front of him like a trophy. A muffled sob escaped. Not panicking was impossible.

  For all the times I’d witnessed the murders of other women in my dreams, I’d failed to see my own.

  One month earlier

  The Watcher’s Point gossip mill welcomed me to town by exposing my mom’s secret. I bet if she’d known about my special ability she wouldn’t have kept the truth hidden all these years. Kind of hard to keep a secret when your daughter dreams of unexplainable things.

  Like how I’d known the sun’s rays painted the hillside in copper tones at sunset, or how violent the ocean became during a storm, crashing over jagged rocks and sending bursts of seawater onto the highway. I’d seen the town many times in my dreams, had walked the streets and tasted the salt in the air, but my mom hadn’t known about my virtual visits to her hometown. The place where I’d been conceived, or so I’d recently learned.

  That was the thing about secrets—they have a way of unraveling, even after twenty-three years.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  I blinked and focused on Six, the only friend I’d made since moving. “Doing what?”

  “Dwelling.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “No downers allowed on this night.” She wagged a finger at me. “Besides, you’ll forget all about this chaos with your mom when you se
e what I’ve got.” She pulled a dress from her closet, which was so overstuffed it practically spit the garment into her hands.

  “You’re nuts if you think I’m wearing that.” I folded my arms and bit back a smile. “Nuts enough to call Cahoots.”

  “What the heck is Cahoots?”

  “Loony bin transport.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.” Sticking her tongue out, she threw the scrap of fabric at me. “Try it on, Mac. You won’t regret it.”

  I hated the nickname almost as much as skimpy dresses. “Uh-uh. No way.”

  “These too.” A pair of strappy heels landed at my feet. “By the time I’m done,” she said, placing a hand on her curvy hip, “you’ll be hell on heels. Sexy hell on heels.”

  I didn’t want to be sexy hell on anything, especially in those torturous pair of shoes. “I don’t do sexy,” I said, draping the dress across her bed.

  “Are you kidding? That outfit will do wonders for those legs.”

  “What legs?” I glanced down at my freshly painted toenails. She wasn’t kidding about the makeover. “I’m five-four, not exactly leggy.”

  “Hence, the dress and heels, silly.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me into her closet-sized bathroom. “Chill out and let me work my magic.” One sharp look silenced my grumbling. Why had I agreed to let her drag me out? And to a dance club of all places?

  Oh, yeah. To meet people.

  Giving up the fight, I collapsed onto the lid of the toilet. It was only one night. Besides, maybe Six was right. I’d end up in a mental ward if I didn’t lighten up. So what if the upheaval of my life nipped at my feet like a Pomeranian?

  What a freaking understatement.

  I didn’t belong here. I should be back home, experiencing the high of my senior year of college, and mastering my artistic technique. But here I was, on my own in a new town, making new friends, and pretending my heart was still in one piece.

  “It’s time you learned the meaning of the word fun,” Six said as she pulled out a tray of colorful palettes and brushes. How ironic that her cosmetic kit resembled my art supplies in the apartment next door—the only tangible evidence I lived there. I hadn’t been there long enough to leave a personal imprint; no pictures or decorative touches, just my drawings and the related paraphernalia scattered throughout the space.

  I stifled a sigh as she put her skills to work, transforming my face into God knows what. Fun…I could do fun. “You’re not gonna make me look like a Geisha, are you?”

  She burst out laughing. “Don’t tempt me. You wanna talk about insanity? Missing masquerade night at High Times is unheard of.” She snapped open an eyeshadow compact. “Tonight’s our night to get drunk. Lord knows we’re gonna serve enough wasted dumbasses on Halloween.”

  Working on Halloween didn’t bother me, though I didn’t bother telling her that.

  “Close your eyes,” she said.

  I complied, and the soft bristles of her brush feathered across my lids. Instantly, a mahogany gaze flashed in my mind. Intense and brooding—those eyes imparted such a strong sexual vibe, the mere thought of them warmed the space between my legs. I pressed my thighs together, but vanishing the mystery guy from my head wasn’t the easiest thing to do. I’d seen him in my dreams too many times to count, had no idea if he even existed, but whoever he was, I knew better eye candy didn’t exist.

  “Are you done yet?” I mumbled.

  “Don’t move!”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Mackenzie, you’re impossible.”

  Holding back a smile, I let her finish her “art.” With face goo done, she went to work on my hair, wielding a secret female weapon: the curling iron. “You’ve got ten minutes, then I’m outta here,” I warned.

  “Not a problem.” Apparently, short hair came with advantages. She finished in five and stepped back. “Dress time.”

  I groaned. “Can’t I just wear jeans?”

  “Nope.”

  A few minutes later, after squirming into the tight dress, I stumbled in the three-inch heels to the mirror on her bathroom door. “I look like a hoochie momma!”

  “That’s the idea.” She twirled a red curl around her finger and grinned at me.

  The classic little black dress emphasized places I’d prefer to leave alone, though I had to give her props for the gunk on my face. My slate gray eyes hadn’t looked so smoky since prom.

  “I thought masquerades were supposed to be classy.” I yanked the hem down. “I mean, what kind of bar puts on a masquerade party?”

  “You’ve obviously never been to High Times.” Of course, her brand of coercion wouldn’t be complete without a sparkly masquerade mask. She held it out, a challenge in her eyes. “Quit stalling and put this on. The night’s not getting any younger.”

  An hour later, I wondered if the night would ever end. Six started right in on her Mac-needs-to-meet-people campaign. She must have introduced me to a dozen men. Freakishly tall guys, chubby short guys, full-bearded tattooed guys, hunky gym guys. Even geeky tech guys. It was a smorgasbord of guys, and I was positive I wouldn’t remember a single name. Masquerade night, I scoffed. More like operation let’s-get-Mac-laid night.

  Techno music blared from every speaker, and like most popular bars, breathing room was a luxury. A kaleidoscope of masked faces whirled around me as I inched through the sea of bodies, amazed at what some people called dancing.

  Six was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t seen her since she’d dragged a tattooed guy onto the dance floor fifteen minutes ago, already drunk on some blue concoction. Sweat and alcohol wafted in the air, a reminder of another night, one that amped my pulse and made me want to hide behind closed doors for the rest of my life. I balled my hands as the room blurred.

  Coming here was a bad idea.

  “Watch out!” someone yelled after I’d stepped on a foot.

  Sweat trickled down my hairline, and I blinked rapidly as the walls imploded. Spotting the women’s restroom a few feet away, I muttered an apology and scurried inside. The room was blessedly empty. I tore off my mask and stared into the dingy mirror, breath coming in shallow gasps as I willed my heartbeat to slow down. It still hadn’t returned to normal when the door squeaked open behind me.

  “Hey!” A woman stumbled in with a crash. “You fucked up my shoe. Sorry ain’t gonna cut it.”

  I froze, recognizing Christie’s reflection despite the mask she hid behind. Out of all the toes I could have crushed, they would have to be hers.

  Christie’s dark eyes widened. “Why haven’t you slithered back to your hole yet?”

  I straightened my spine and turned to confront her glare. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  She smirked. “You don’t belong here. Everyone knows it.” Her gaze traveled to my toes and back up again. “Dressing like me. Trying to be me.” She tsked-tsked. “So pathetic.”

  “This isn’t about you.” I paused, trying to think of a way to make her understand. “I had no idea when I moved here. I didn’t know.”

  Christie’s face twisted, and her fingers bunched into fists. “He wasn’t your father!”

  “According to the whole damn town he was.” I clamped my mouth shut and tried to step around her. Last thing I needed was another argument with Christie Beckmeyer. Who would’ve thought I’d discover a sister just to have her hate me?

  She blocked my exit at the last second. “Your mom’s a slut. My dad wasn’t the only guy she fucked.”

  “Get out of my way,” I said through clenched teeth, fingers curling around my mask, “unless one ruined shoe isn’t enough for you.” Just because I wasn’t speaking to my mom didn’t mean I’d let anyone else badmouth her. Christie must have seen something dangerous in my eyes because she moved to the side. I resisted the urge to throw something as I shoved through the door and worked my way through the crowd.

  “There you are!” Six materialized in front of me, something blue sloshing over the rim of her cup. “Why’d you take off your mask?” She sh
oved her drink into my hands before refastening the mask over my eyes. “You rock the mysterious vibe. Now, bottoms up. You don’t look like you’re havin’ fun.”

  “Six, I’m not really in the mood—”

  “Oh, noooo you don’t. You need to loosen up.” She bounced away with a gesture for me to follow. “C’mon! There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  My gaze wandered to the bathroom entrance, where Christie stood drilling me with her glacial stare. Wonderful. I gulped down the alcohol and hurried after Six. “Who? Haven’t I met enough people tonight?”

  “Darn, he disappeared,” she said as she coaxed me into the center of twisting bodies. “But let me tell you, this guy is hot. And he’s a newbie in town like you. Fresh meat.”

  We began dancing, or more accurately, Six danced. I two-stepped with the finesse of a Ping-Pong ball. “I’m not interested in dating,” I hollered above the music.

  “Who’s talking about dating.” She scrunched her nose. “You know what you need?”

  I was afraid to ask. “What?”

  “A hot, sweaty romp in the sack. No strings, no expectations…” She paused long enough to wiggle her eyebrows. “Just a little wrestling between the sheets. It’s good exercise.”

  I needed that about as much as a tax audit, but I laughed despite myself. “You’re horrible!” The alcohol infiltrated my bloodstream with amazing speed. I couldn’t say how long we danced. Three songs? Four? Ten? By the time she pulled me to a less crowded corner of the bar, I’d gulped down another drink and my ability to walk straight worsened by ten degrees.

  “What was in that stuff?” I asked her.

  “What stuff?”

  “The blue crap you gave me!”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She laughed. “There’s a reason they named it Adiós Motherfuck—”

  “Okay,” I interrupted, “I get the idea.” Suddenly, the ceiling whirled in a nauseating spin. “Oh, shit. Be right back.” Pushing through the crowd, I covered my mouth and made a beeline for the restroom. In my haste to escape inside, I tripped over a boot. Two strong arms reached out and grabbed me. And how did I thank my rescuer?