Night without Stars (Supergirls Book 2) Read online

  Night Without Stars

  Bad Bad Supergirls, Book Two

  Mav Skye

  Contents

  1. Bad Animals

  2. The Wolf

  3. Suffer The Little Children

  4. The Body

  5. A Box Full of Kittens

  6. Eyes Open Dark

  7. A Secret

  8. Monsters in the Dark

  9. Belly Full of Stars

  10. Charades

  11. Whistling in the Closet

  12. Birth

  13. Survive

  14. The Lion’s Den

  15. Blood of the Lamb

  16. Escape

  17. Oh, Thank Heaven

  18. Texas

  19. Twinkle, Twinkle

  20. Dangerous Things

  21. Stargazing

  22. Happily Ever After

  23. Born of Nightmares

  Excerpt of Wanted: Girl Clown Hatchet

  About the Author

  Also by Mav Skye

  Night without Stars, Bad Bad Supergirls, Book Two is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © Mav Skye, 2015

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact the author at the following email address: [email protected]

  For Sara & Evonna

  The monsters eat you. Everything goes dark. You wake up, and you’re still alive. But you wished you weren’t.

  Beware, for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.

  Mary Shelly, Frankenstein

  1

  Bad Animals

  Jenn sat on the scrubbed porch step with the two little ones in front of her. She braided Tina’s long golden locks of hair while Tina’s brother, Tony, played with pansy blossoms from the potted dishes sitting on the steps.

  Jenn plucked a bloom and placed it behind Tina’s ear. “A night without stars is a body without a soul.”

  Tony popped a pansy into his mouth. “I can see the stars. They’re up there.” He pointed to the clear night sky.

  Tina groaned and touched her forehead in frustration. “Tony! For the hundredth time, stop eating Aunt Jenn’s flowers.”

  Tony cocked his head and eyed Jenn. “But she lets me pick ’em for salads cuz they don’t hurt you none. Right, Aunt Jenn?”

  Jenn smiled, pausing long enough to ruffle his hair. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

  Tina sighed. “Well, save them for the salad already. You know the slugs slimed that pot.”

  “They did not, see?” He plucked a petal off and shoved it into his mouth, and then suddenly halted, spitting it out. “Ew!”

  “Told you so.”

  “Shut up.” Tony grabbed his knees and pouted, letting all the petals drop on the porch steps.

  Jenn watched as the breeze hustled the petals off the steps like a cranky woman with a broom. Innocence was like a pansy petal, plucked and blown away by the wind before shriveling into the dirt it had sprouted from.

  “It’s so pretty here. I like Colorado so much better than Texas.” Tina pointed. “Aunt Jenn! I see the North Star. It points to the Big Dipper.”

  Tony got up from the steps and moved towards one of the two rocking chairs on the small porch. “No, it’s a part of the Little Dipper.”

  “No, it’s not, you little worm. Aunt Jenn, tell him. It points to the—”

  Tony’s voice rang out in a shrill little kid tone that only nine-year-olds can manage. “Don’t call me a worm! I’m not a worm. Aunt Jenn tell her I’m not a—”

  Jenn’s voice cut through theirs. “Both of you are right.” She was always able to ring some sense into May with that voice. And it seemed to work for the children.

  “I’m not a worm,” whined Tony.

  “You’re a perfect gentleman,” Jenn replied.

  Both children quieted, and Tony seated himself in Jenn’s rocking chair. The soft, gentle creaking filled the night alongside croaking frogs. Jenn finished the girl’s braid, and sat down on the porch step beside her, admiring the deep velvet blooms and breathing in their scent before draping her arm over Tina’s shoulders. The girl snuggled into Jenn, despite her maturing eleven-year-old status.

  After a time, Tina asked, “Do some people not have souls?”

  “Some don’t.”

  Tony’s voice piped in. “How can you tell?”

  A whisper came beside Tony. Jenn glanced back at the porch at her sister. The moonlight haloed May, and she looked like a midnight angel sitting in the chair beside Jenn’s. May rocked and rocked, but the chair didn’t make a sound. She was silent these days, at peace. It was what Jenn had always wanted for her. “Your Aunt May says that a soulless person takes on the shape of an animal. Like a pig or a wolf.”

  Tony looked at the rocking chair beside him. “Do you see Aunt May tonight?”

  Jenn nodded. “She’s right beside you, hon.”

  May turned and looked at Tony, stretching her long fingers towards his face, touching him.

  Jenn knew he couldn’t feel her.

  Tony made a face and folded his arms, briefly picking his nose. After discovering the well dry, said, “Well, why can’t I ever see her? I want to see Aunt May.”

  “I know, Tony.” Jenn smiled at him, then let her eyes wander to May. She wore the same old Godzilla t-shirt. The beloved monster breathed fire on a broken heart. The shirt was oversized and hung almost to her knees. She didn’t wear pants. Jenn didn’t know how the shirt had grown to be so large or why, but May was happy. If May was happy, then she was happy. “You’ll see her when she’s ready.”

  Tina nuzzled into Jenn’s breast. “I think Aunt May lives in the stars.”

  Jenn smiled and squeezed the girl’s shoulders. “She does, Tina. She does.”

  In the far distance, a car rumbled up the private gravel drive from the old highway.

  There was only one person who knew she and the children lived here. Jenn felt a flutter in her stomach. She hadn’t expected Father Wraith tonight. He came only on Saturdays to drop off food, clothes and meds. Occasionally, he even stayed to have dinner with them and play cards. Last Saturday had been one of those times, and when their fingers had brushed during dinner, he hadn't hidden how her touch affected him. He’d looked her straight in the eye, and she swore that electrical zip between them jolted from the top of her head straight down to her toes. He hadn’t said goodbye that night, but he didn’t need to. His body language said it all.

  Maybe he was coming back to finish what he’d started. It was Tuesday, and perhaps what he needed to say couldn’t wait all the way until Saturday.

  Jenn felt the butterflies again and smiled to herself. She went to give Tina another squeeze when she noticed the girl’s body had tightened up. She whispered, “It’s okay, Tina. It’s only the Father.”

  Tina shrugged but glanced around like a wild animal caught in a cage It was instinctual, survival was built into Tina’s very being from years of abuse.

  “Sweetheart, he saved you. And me. And Tony. If it hadn’t been for his kindness…”

  Tina froze beneath Jenn’s hands and she shrugged away. “He did it to save himself because he didn’t want to get caught with kiddies in his basement.”

  Jenn sighed and ran her ha
nds through her hair. “Tina. That is not true.” But, Jenn knew there was no convincing Tina otherwise. Besides her little brother, Tina didn’t trust men, period, and Jenn didn’t blame her. Not after what Tina had been through. “Tina, I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. You need to trust me.”

  Tina squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. Okay, Aunt Jenn.”

  Jenn hugged her again before standing. “Alright, kiddos, to bed with you.”

  Tony tugged at Jenn’s hand. “But, Auntie Jenn, I wanna see who our visitor is.”

  Tina rolled her eyes and looked at Jenn for assurance when she said, “You already know who.”

  Tony asked, “But…who?”

  Tina said, “Father Wraith, that’s who! Now stop making me sound like an owl.”

  Tony went quiet and looked at Jenn with huge knowing eyes. “Oh.” And made a loud, slurping kiss noise.

  “Shut up, worm,” said Tina.

  The car continued to travel up the long drive, slow and sure, the tires crunching on the gravel like old bones. Its headlights approached the rusted fence line. The car didn’t pause and honk like the father’s usual welcome, his sign to let them know it was him, and all was well.

  He probably just forgot.

  “Tina, inside…” Jenn grabbed the girl’s hand and rushed both children inside as the headlights approached the small cabin.

  She smoothed her blouse wishing she’d worn the navy blue (Father Wraith’s favorite color) instead of the white one with black angel wings. She turned to the kids. “In the bathroom, brush your teeth, and get yourselves to bed.”

  “But Auntie Jenn, Tina forgot to get the water, and there’s none left in the kitchen.”

  “Tina, I asked you three times earlier to pump a bucket of water from the well, and you said you did.” Jen scolded.

  Tina shrugged.

  A car door slammed, and Jenn pushed the children off towards the hall leading to the ladder. The two of them slept up in the small loft of the cabin. Two old trunks held their few clothes and blankets donated by the church.

  Jenn rushed back to the door and tucked her long, dark hair behind her ears. She’d grown it out since she’d moved onto the property. She used to cut her hair short and dye it a black-ish blue, but after escaping from the Pig’s house, everything had changed, she’d changed. She kept her hair the way May kept hers, and May liked that. They resembled twins, one dark, one light, though May was two years younger.

  She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, then undid the next one before scolding herself (he’s a priest for Christ’s sake!), and quickly buttoned them back up. From her pocket, Jenn snatched a tube of strawberry lip-gloss and applied it quickly, just as three quick knocks sounded from the door.

  A phrase from an old children’s cautionary story popped into her mind. She envisioned a dark wolf with red eyes and sharp teeth knocking on her door. Little pig, little pig, let me come in?

  The priest always knocked the same, three rapid taps—tap, tap, taps. It always creeped her out. Unable to get the vision of the horrid wolf from her mind, she said, “Who is it?” Then wished she hasn’t asked. How dumb was that? But she had to follow the precautions. Father Wraith insisted on it.

  At first, no one answered, but the wind blew, it huffed and puffed outside the little cabin door, blowing rain against the windows. A storm must have rolled in between the time the kids had come inside and the car rambled up the driveway.

  Colorado was like that. Clear one moment, stormy the next.

  Again, the three taps: Knock, knock, knock.

  The sound was almost inhuman, like liquid dripping into an echoing basement. And she knew what that sounded like, didn’t she? Of course, she did. So did May.

  She grabbed the doorknob and went to turn it, when May put her hand over Jenn’s.

  Jenn looked at her little sister, now standing beside her.

  May shook her head; face pale as a ghost.

  “It’s okay, May. It’s just the priest.”

  Again, Jenn asked, louder, just to be sure. “Who is it?”

  Rain hit the windows like hammers. The children laid quiet in the loft now. She sensed their fear. Father Wraith always responded right away.

  Why wasn’t he answering? It was the priest. That was his car out there. Or was it? It was too dark to tell for sure. Most importantly, she trusted him. He would never let anything happen to her and the children. He always reminded her to believe in the good things of the world. And this was the moment when she needed to believe, to trust him, because the alternative—

  May jumped when the knocks came again. Louder this time. Thump! Thump! Thump!

  “Fuck it.” Jenn unlocked the door, and swung it wide open.

  It wasn’t the priest.

  May screamed a silent scream and ran towards the kitchen. Jenn wanted to follow, but couldn’t. She stood fixed to the wooden floor she’d just scrubbed that very morning, as the man in the smiling wolf mask glowered over her. The eyes through the mask were dark, so dark that Jenn’s own reflection was mirrored within them. Only she didn’t see herself, she saw a terrified May screaming at her. RUN! Supergirl, Run! RUN!

  The wolf wore a dark cape over his shoulders and had a Bowie knife in one gloved hand, and a rope in the other.

  Fat Bastard had come back from hell for revenge. Only this time, he wasn’t a squirmy little pig. He was the Big Bad Wolf. Behind him, lightning flashed daggers across the sky.

  Jenn couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. All she could do was stand there, horrified, petrified…Until May grabbed her shoulders from behind and shook her. Run, Jenn-Jenn, Run!

  A crack of thunder buzzed around the house, and the suddenness of it woke Jenn up. Instead of running—like May had urged her to do—she snatched at the Wolf’s raised Bowie.

  2

  The Wolf

  Ross rapped on the door just like his boss had told him to, three hard beats and then a pause. He adjusted his mask as he waited for the door to open. It was too damn tight. He hated being a goon for Tucker Slim, but it paid well enough. And he didn’t mind playing a little rough. Apparently, the dirty priest was playing house with a dame he’d stashed in his uncle’s cabin. His secret would have been kept that way—a secret—until he decided to fuck around with the boss’s business. Word had it, he’d thrown expensive rifles in the river early this morning. Tucker Slim was teaching him a lesson by taking it out on the priest’s girl and her kids.

  Sucks to be them.

  He wrapped the cape closer about himself as the rain and wind picked up from fucking nowhere. He shivered as he snatched the Bowie from his pocket. He felt a jolt of excitement when he heard the doorknob jiggle.

  He waited.

  But the bitch didn’t open the door. Had she’d seen him get out of the car? He hoped not. He didn’t want to break down the door and chase the woman and kiddies around with the Bowie. It wasn’t exactly his style, but then again, he’d never done it before, and he was open to new experiences. It’d be like Halloween except he’d be a real monster.

  Not like the deformity of his face, that was another kind of mask, the kind he was born with. He wanted to be one on the inside where it most counted.

  How about that ma? You raised a real life, fucking monster! The thought of his mother rolling in her grave amused him.

  Ross had played role-playing games as a teen to escape the taunting his deformity had brought him. That was before he dropped out of school to work with Tucker Slim and the gang. He knew how to put himself into the role he needed to play for the moment.

  He didn’t mind being the tough, ugly guy when it came to being the muscle for Tucker Slim’s gang, but in all honesty, he’d never shot anyone. He was responsible for cleaning up the messes the other guys made.

  And that, well, he didn’t mind too much. He liked the smell of blood, the taste of it. ‘Course if Tucker ever found that out, he’d find himself in a grave next to his Ma. This was getting his hands a little dirtier than he care
d for, and, well, it wasn’t one he particularly looked forward to. Tucker Slim had told him the woman was a little bit cuckoo. If she was anything like Ross’s last girlfriend…well, expect the unexpected.

  The door flew open, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Lightning blazed behind him.

  The woman’s dark hair flew about her shoulders as she took a few steps back, her hand hovering over her delicious lips (did he smell strawberries?), her eyes petrified with fear. He’d expected her to run. Fight. Something. Instead, she just stood there, the collar of her white blouse open about her lovely pale throat, dark angel hair tossing in the stormy breeze. And there it was again; Ross swore he could smell strawberries.

  It aroused a hunger inside him. He was ready to play this game.

  Ross felt transformed into the wolf. He waved his Bowie, lightning flashing off its sharpened edge.

  He tugged the rope from the clip on his back pocket, and held up both the blade and the rope so the pretty young woman could see what he was going to do.

  “Auntie Jenn!” screamed a child’s voice.

  He glanced through the doorway to a ladder leading up to a loft. A young boy pointed at him, shrieking.

  By the time his attention had shifted back to Jenn, she’d come to life. The fear in her eyes was replaced by something else.

  Something crazy.

  He didn’t like it.

  She snatched at the Bowie, and he jabbed it toward her ribs. She swung to the side as if someone had pulled her, and he missed her by inches. She looked about to pounce on him, when he swiped out his foot and tripped her.

  Two screams yelped from the upstairs loft.

  She slammed to the ground hard, and he leaped on her like a mad dog. He sat on her thighs, dropped the rope and knife, freeing both hands to stretch her arms above her head. Mask still on, he grazed her neck, her lips (Aha—strawberry lip gloss!), her skin as soft as a lamb’s, her hair dark as midnight. Crimson pooled from beneath her head. And playing the role of a wolf, he wondered what her blood would taste like.