The Darkest Star (Origin 1)

“That sounds too reasonable.”

“Or stay in, especially after what happened this last week.” She switched the popcorn to the bowl as I walked to the fridge. “What movie do you want to watch tonight?”

“I think I saw that movie about the haunted doll was available.”

“You want to watch a horror film?” Surprise filled her tone. “Since when?”

I raised a shoulder as I opened the door. “I don’t know. In the mood for something different.” Scanning the fridge, all I saw was a sea of blue. I frowned, craving a Coke. “There’s nothing to drink.”

“What?” Mom laughed. “There is a whole fridge full of soda.”

“Yeah, but I want a Coke.”

“A Coke? You never drink Coke.”

I shrugged again as I reached in, grabbing two bottles of water. “Do you want the spray butter?” I looked over my shoulder, finding Mom staring at me with her lips parted. “Uh, why are you looking at me like that?”

She blinked once and then twice. “Nothing. Leave the butter where it belongs.”

“All righty then.” I closed the door and headed toward the living room. Mom was still at the island, though, staring down at the bowl of popcorn like it held the answers to life. I set the bottles on the end table. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” Lifting her chin, she picked up the bowl and smiled, but as she drew closer to me, there was a forced quality to the smile. She placed the bowl next to the water and then picked up the remote. “Haunted dolls, here we come.”

* * *

I was editing photos on my laptop, trying not to think about haunted dolls or what I’d seen at school today, when a soft glow of light seeped into my bedroom.

Frowning, I looked over at the window. The curtains were drawn, but they didn’t block the light from the motion detector. I waited for the light to flip off, which it did pretty quickly whenever there was an animal like a deer in the front yard.

The light stayed on.

I set the laptop aside and tossed the covers off. I got out of bed and made my way over to the window, drawing the curtain back as I peered outside. There was a small roof outside my window, more like a two-or three-foot ledge, and that was where the motion detector was. It cast a bright spotlight down onto the driveway and part of the front yard. I saw nothing out there beyond the tree. Wind was moving the limbs, but that wouldn’t set the light off.

There had to be an animal out there.

Or a creepy-as-hell haunted doll.

Or a psychotic, killer Luxen.

Probably a deer.

My phone suddenly dinged from somewhere. I let go of the curtain and went back to the bed. Didn’t see the phone anywhere. Groaning, I lifted the blanket and spied it halfway under a pillow.

Snatching it up, I saw there was a number on the screen. My stomach dipped as I immediately forgot about the motion detector. It was Luc. I knew it was, because I hadn’t saved his number. I opened the text and my stomach tumbled even more.

Come see me tomorrow.

* * *

Sometimes I wondered if I ever made good life choices. As Clyde let me into Foretoken on Saturday, that was the question I was asking myself.

At least it wasn’t a half-naked Luc answering the door.

Though a very bad part of me was kind of disappointed.

Kent was waiting for me on the center of the gloomy, quiet dance floor.

“You came back!” He clapped his hands as he strode forward.

My steps slowed. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I try not to be too hopeful.” He threaded his arm around mine and started walking toward the back hallway. “Luc will be happy.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“And I mean, he’ll be really happy.”

I shot him a look.

He chuckled. “Hey, it’s a good day for us when boss man is happy.”

“Luc is your boss?”

“In a way,” he said, and that was all he said.

Kent basically escorted me to Luc’s apartment, knocked on the door, and then skedaddled, disappearing back into the stairwell before Luc even answered the door.

My heart rate was all over the place while I waited for Luc, and it had nothing to do with the walk up the stairs.

Before I had the chance to have deep thoughts about my actions, the door opened and there he was.

Wearing a shirt.

That deep violet gaze flicked over me as he stepped back, holding the door open. “Come on in,” he said, running a hand over his damp hair. “Want something to drink? Eat?”

Nervous, I shook my head and walked toward the couch. A three-wick candle burned on the end table, and it reminded me of mahogany and spice. I could feel his gaze on me as I sat on the edge of the couch and as I looked around the room.