Still of Night (Dead of Night 3)

She was running. Running. She didn’t know what she was running from, but she was running for her life. There was something chasing her, something fast, and she didn’t know what it was, didn’t want to wait and find out. It wasn’t an orc, not if it moved that fast, but she knew that if she stopped she would die. She could hear Brett in the back of her mind, telling her to run, telling her not to stop. Suddenly the ground beneath her feet ended, and she was falling, falling, and it was dark, and she didn’t know when she would hit the bottom.

Rachael sat up in bed with a start, dagger clenched in her hand, sweat beading along her forehead and dripping between her breasts, heart racing. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Sun streamed through her window—how could it be morning already?—and she lay in what was probably the softest bed she had been in since . . . well, maybe ever.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she put the dagger down, letting herself collapse back against the pillows.

A knock at her door forced her to leave the soft warmth of the bed, but she did so with a grumble, her bare feet padding across the plush carpet. Running her fingers through her hair to smooth the morning tangles, she opened the door a crack, remembering almost too late she was only in her underwear. Luckily it was Alice. Heavenly smells wafted through the inch opening.

“The council brought us breakfast,” she reported. “They want us to arrive, without any weapons, in an hour.”

“Arrive where?”

“Open the door,” demanded Alice. “This is heavy!”

Rachael did so, stopping short when Alice offered her a large plate of food. Pancakes dripping with maple syrup and a bowl of fresh fruit. Rachael stared at the plate as though she’d never seen food before.

“Right?” Alice exclaimed. “They have eggs too, and toast with butter. I haven’t had bread or butter in . . . well, it feels like forever.”

After nearly inhaling the food, Rachael pulled on her still damp jeans and T-shirt, grimacing at the feeling of cold, soggy fabric against her skin but reveling in the smell of jasmine soap. Oh, to have clean clothes . . . Like much else in Happy Valley, it seemed too good to be true.

Heather waited for them downstairs, impeccably dressed in a floral spring dress that made Rachael feel like a hobo in her Batgirl T-shirt and worn jeans. Heather led them on a pleasantly meandering trip through the community to a sprawling building that screamed “country club,” with beautiful orchards and gardens surrounding it.

“This is our community center and town hall,” said Heather. “We have our own government now that everything else has failed. We have a mayor, Margaret Van Sloane, and a town council. It’s all very proper . . . we had an election and everything. It really works wonderfully.”

As they walked through the entrance of the main building, she looked through sparkling glass windows that overlooked the gardens and orchards where a good dozen or so people were at work trimming leaves, picking fruit, pruning flowers, and weeding.

The council was set up in a spacious room, a long table with eight chairs on either side running the length of it. The chairs were all occupied by men in slacks and dress shirts, and women in dresses similar to Heather’s. A single chair sat at the head of the table, occupied by a painfully skinny woman; the kind of skinny that was once considered chic amongst the wealthy. Rachael stood at the foot of the table, Jason and Claudia standing beside her.

“Welcome to Happy Valley.” The woman at the head of the table stood, offering them a tight smile that made Rachael think of Botox. “I’m Margaret Van Sloane, the mayor of this community. What brings you here?”

Rachael cleared her throat.

“Good morning. I’m Rachael, this is Jason and Claudia.We were looking for supplies for our group when we found Tommy. He’d gotten lost so we decided to help him find his way home. We came across some of your people looking for one of your men, Pat. Long story short, we talked, Heather and John said the residents didn’t have much experience defending themselves, so we offered to come and spend a few days here to teach your people the basics.”

“I thought John said there were five of you.”

Rachael felt rather than saw Jason tense up beside her. “There were,” she replied readily. “But they wanted to rejoin our group rather than come here so we parted ways back in the woods.”

Van Sloane gave a small, satisfied nod.

“Well then, we will be glad for your help. Heather and John both maintain that you’re very competent fighters.”

“We just get a lot of practice,” Rachael deflected the compliment awkwardly. “I’d rather be as lucky as you all, and not need it.”

The mayor gave the same tight little smile she’d offered upon their arrival. “Regardless, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. And your friends as well, of course.” She nodded toward Jason and Claudia without really looking at them.

“You’re welcome to use the house you stayed in last night for the time being. In time, if you choose to stay with us, we’ll assign more appropriate quarters.”

More appropriate how? Rachael thought. What she said, however, was, “Thank you. Please let me know when you’d like us to begin training your people.”

“We can arrange some time tomorrow for you to start, see if anyone would be interested in learning what you have to teach. We have plenty of space where you can hold lessons.” Margaret Van Sloane nodded to one of the other council members, an older man with a full head of silver hair. “Tony, make sure it’s arranged. But, we won’t keep you longer. Heather will be happy to give you a tour.” With that, Van Sloane turned back to her council, clearly finished with the conversation.

Guess we’ve been dismissed, Rachael thought

Heather smiled, but it seemed a little forced. “Well, let me show you around.” Once again Rachael and her friends trailed after her like ducklings, back out through the building and surrounding gardens and out into the development, where they were given a cursory tour of the town and amenities the community had to offer.

Rachael took quiet note, however, that armed guards were always around. They hung back and tried to look nonchalant, but she wasn’t fooled.

She could understand it, though. Several citizens of this town had been injured by strangers dressed in—she had to admit—pretty bizarre costumes. Caution seemed entirely reasonable. Even so, she didn’t like it and made sure to keep track of every guard she passed.