SUBO-SS Chapter 5/6

Yay!  We are nearing the end.  Only one chapter left.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four


Chapter Five:


“Emmett,” Kacy called over her shoulder, hands fisted in the soft cotton of Sam’s sweatshirt.

“Yeah, baby doll?”

“When I wake up, don’t ever let me eat Hawaiian pizza or drink merlot ever again, m’kay?”

The warm chest she was cradled against vibrated. Sam’s husky chuckle filled the air and sent a shiver all the way down to her toes. She melted him against him for a moment before sanity returned. “Put me down!”

“I will when we get there,” Sam said. “Charles isn’t faster than me, but he is faster than you. I need to protect you.”

“Oh boy,” Emmett groaned. Kacy was not the type of woman who liked to be “protected.” He blamed their mother for that attitude. He and his father were used to indulging their ‘fierce womyn,’ but how would a man-incubus-whatever supposedly born with sixteenth century notions handle liberated, twenty-first century Kacy?

“You will put me down right this minute, Samuel Crowder, if that is your real name!” Kacy wriggled insistently until Sam had no choice but to set her on her feet. She planted her fists on her hips and glared up at the face she’d dreamed of for months. “If you expect me to believe any of the crap John’s been feeding me, I’m going to need more of an explanation.”

“Your name is Katya Clover Jacobson. You were born in Richmond, Virgina to Robert and Mariska Jacobson. Your father was an incubus, but your mother was human. That makes you part-succubus and part-human.” Sam shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not as terrible as it sounds, though. Eventually you’ll get over being half-human.”

“One would think it was the energy-sucking demon part I’d need to get over,” Kacy bit out icily. She liked Sam better when he was a long-dead soldier who wrote letters so full of longing and devotion they made her heart ache. At the thought of the letters, white-hot fury rushed through her veins. “Those letters. Major Sam Crowder. The soldier your commanding officers wrote so glowingly about. Was any of that true? Do I have a box of lies in my house?”

“No. It’s all true. I wrote those letters to Mother and I regretted that John and I could not see eye-to-eye on certain issues.” Sam wanted to pull her into his arms and feel her heart beating under his fingertips. Years of watching her from a safe distance had satisfied his need to be near her, but nothing compared to touching her. “John was supposed to return to the house after Mother ‘died’ and retrieve the box, but was intercepted by a clan of vampires. I had utterly forgotten the letters until you purchased the box.”


“So it was all one big coincidence? I just happened to buy a box of letters that belonged to the incubus who knew my parents?”

“Not at all.”

Kacy’s brow furrowed. She prided herself on being a logical person, but she was having trouble keeping up with the details. “So you arranged for me to somehow purchase the box.”

“Of course not!”

Stung by the vehemence of his denial, Kacy drew herself up to her full height, which she admitted wasn’t all that imposing, and gave Sam her most withering glare. “I swear, if I the next words out of your mouth aren’t a clear explanation…”

“You’ll what?” Sam arched an eyebrow, lips twitching as he fought to conceal his grin. She was still the fierce little kitten he remembered: all bristling hair, needle-sharp claws, and determination.

“I-I don’t know.” Kacy’s glare softened slightly. “But I can promise it won’t be pleasant.”

“We need to keep moving,” John reminded them grimly. He shot his brother an exasperated look as he brushed past to take the lead. Emmett shrugged at Kacy as he followed John. He didn’t know what to make of any of this, but if demons said to run away, he was going to run. At least until he figured out what sort of trouble Kacy’d managed to stumble upon.

Sam twined his fingers with Kacy’s and tugged her along. Their pace was fast but not brutal. She was glad she’d chosen to wear her tennis shoes and not the pretty powder blue ballet flats that matched her sweater. The thin soles weren’t meant to be worn on rough asphalt.

“Charles likely manipulated the situation so that you wound up with the letters,” Sam said as they ran.

Kacy wanted to scowl at him, but was too busy concentrating on keeping up with his long stride. She envied his ability to speak without sounding the least bit out of breath. Her lungs burned and beads sweat trickled down her spine. She wished they could pause just long enough for her to take off her sweater. Surely her camisole wouldn’t be too scandalous to wear in front of Sam and John.

“He’s been looking for you since you disappeared. For me, too, since I left around the same time you did. He likely assumed that I would be nearby keeping an eye on you.” Sam squeezed her hand and pulled her closer when she stumbled on a loose rock. “Someone must have seen you, but couldn’t be sure. You’ve colored your hair.”

“Had… t’get… respect…” she panted, prickling at the accusatory tinge in his observation. What business of his was it if she’d dyed her hair? It was her head.

“Charles gave the historian a juicy story she couldn’t resist and then sat back and waited. You went on television and, damn it, that was a stupid move. The hair might’ve fooled his underlings, but there you were with all the passion and intelligence and joy you’d had as a kid. He’d have recognized you in an instant.”

“Growling?”

“Yes. I caught him outside your house last night and then again this morning. As I said earlier, I chased him off, but he was on his way back with reinforcements. He’s not going to let you go twice.”

“T-twice?” Kacy dug her heels in until Sam stopped. She felt a pang of fear when John and Emmett disappeared from sight. She was alone with a man who claimed to be a centuries-old incubus and, possibly, her babysitter. Exactly how much wine had she had the night before?

Sam’s lips dipped into a frown. He brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheek with his thumb. “Your father was Charles’ best friend for two hundred years. They were close as brothers until one morning Robert was feeding at a high school and met a young English teacher.”

“W-wait a minute! You feed off of students?” Her stomach churned with disgust and disappointment. How could she have forgotten that demons were killers? Child-killers, to make matters worse. “That’s… God… that’s….”

“We don’t drain them completely. Well, not always and not usually on purpose.”

“Yeah, that’s real comforting.”

“What kind of parasites would we be if we killed off the things that feed us?” Sam chuckled grimly. “High schools and hospitals are our preferred feeding grounds. Teens are bursting with hormones and emotions. It’s practically an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“Stop! Just… stop.” Kacy held her hand up to silence him. “So, you, what? Spend eternity as high school students… when you’re not masquerading as war heroes, that is?”

“Students? No. That’s just ridiculous. We’d go mad with boredom after the first decade. We either take jobs as teachers or principals. The hospitals work, as well. I’ve been a doctor seven times in the past century. War, of course, also provides adequate food.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“You won’t be able to hide your head in sand for too long, little Clover. You’re one of us.”

Kacy shook her head, hoping if she shook it hard enough she’d dislodge the terrible images his words conjured inside her brain. “What happened to my parents?”

“Your typical love triangle, I’m afraid. Charles fancied himself love with your mother. He wanted to make her like us, but she refused. Robert stood up for her. It was her decision, after all. We lived in an uneasy peace for several years.”

"What happened?”

“You were born. Charles claimed that you were his destined mate. Your parents fled. The clan split into two factions. My family accompanied yours.” Sam cupped her cheek. His thumb caressed her quivering lower lip. “Charles lied. There is no such thing as fated mates for our kind. Love is… wonderful and frightening and dangerous… but it is just something that happens without rhyme or reason.”

Kacy swallowed. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She tasted salt, grass, and something heavy like bitter dark chocolate. Sam. “What happened to my parents?”

“Charles caught up with us. He killed your parents and tried to abduct you. In all the confusion of the battle, you managed to escape. The authorities picked you up before we had the chance.” Sam’s eyes grew dark and haunted. Regret radiated off him. “When we finally found you, Mother insisted that we keep our distance. Charles could track us much easier than he could track you. We went to Africa to lead him on a chase. By the time we’d gotten him completely turned around, you’d been adopted and had settled into a life with humans.”

“I am human,” she insisted stubbornly.

“No, you’re not. Not really. You could have lived a human life if you’d never met any of us ever again, but being near us… activates the other half of your heritage.” Sam smiled gently before pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You’ll need to feed soon. I can sense your hunger.”

“This is completely crazy! You can’t just turn someone into by being near them.  I didn't go to bed last night human and wake up a succubus!”

"You know it’s not crazy. You may not remember your parents or me, but something inside you knows I’m telling the truth.”

He was right. She should have been screaming for Emmett or for help, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t calling him a liar or accusing him of playing a practical joke. A spark of something in the back of her mind brightened and filled her veins with warmth. Hunger gnawed at her stomach.

“Come on. We’ve got to catch up with the others,” Sam urged.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.”

A large, tanned hand clamped down onto Kacy’s shoulder. She whimpered at his bruising grip. Torn out of Sam’s grasp, she was roughly spun around so that she faced their attacker. The man was almost a foot taller than Sam, and his shoulders were twice as broad. He would have looked right at home on the football field with Emmett. The sun haloing his blond head gave him the appearance of an avenging angel, but his sinister black eyes were downright malevolent.

“Charles,” Sam growled, reaching for Kacy but blocked by two snarling minions.

“No need for theatrics, Samuel. I’ll just take my bride and be on my way.”

SUBO-Short Story 4/6

Did I say this was going to be five chapters?  I seriously underestimated how much I wanted to cram into this short story.  It's going to be five chapters and an epilogue.  I mean it this time.  Six chapters total.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three

Chapter Four:


“Back off!” Emmett scowled at the man on the doorstep as he hauled Kacy back against his chest. His stomach churned when she made no move to get free. She normally hated being manhandled. “What did you do to her?”

Thorne Dow held his hands up and cocked his head to the side. “I assure you that I did nothing at all to Ms. Adams.”

“’S John,” she murmured, turning in Emmett’s arms so that her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. Her self-preservation instincts railed against turning her back on the man who shouldn’t exist, but she couldn’t look at him any longer. He was wrong and, God, if he wasn’t John Crowder, she deserved to be back in that mental hospital.

“What was that, baby girl?”

“He’s John. He’s Sam’s brother.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Adams, but my name is Thorne and I don’t have any brothers.”

“Shut up!” Kacy whirled around, jabbed Thorne/John in the chest with her index fingers. Her flushed face was streaked with tears and her eyes were wild. “Don’t you dare stand there and lie to me. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I know who you are!”


“Kacy!” Emmett tightened his grasp on her waist and pulled her away from their stunned visitor. Her behavior was unsettling. She’d never been violent before. He smiled apologetically at Thorne. “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what’s come over her.”

Thorne gently grabbed Kacy’s left arm. He twisted it so that the inside of her wrist was in the air. He brushed his thumb along the ankh tattooed beneath the ‘KC.’ “Katya,” he whispered.

She yanked her arm out of his hands. “My name is Kacy.”

“I can’t believe he was right. I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Funny, I could say the same thing.” Kacy leaned back against Emmett, grateful for his presence. He was warm, solid, and real. She could trust him to protect her, even if she was certifiably insane. “I’ve got to say, you look really good for someone a hundred and sixty-seven years old.”

He chuckled. “I assure you, Ms. Adams, I am nowhere near that old.”

“No! You can’t do that!” Kacy shoved her wrist under his nose, the force of her anger sent him stumbling backwards a few steps. “You can’t claim to know who the hell I am and then lie to me about who you are, John Crowder.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the empty street. “Perhaps we should move this conversation inside. It’s not safe to be out in the open like this.”

“Not safe? Not safe from what? From whatever’s been growling outside my window?”

All traces of Thorne, the affable history teacher, disappeared. The man who all but shoved Emmett and Kacy into the townhouse was closed off and wary. He bolted the door once they were inside and closed the curtains on the picture window beside the door. Dark eyes quickly scanned the room to locate every possible exit and hiding place.

It was easy for Emmett to see the soldier in Thorne/John/Whoever-in-the-hell-he-was. He snuggled Kacy against his side, ran a hand down her trembling arm. His eyes fell on the framed Crowder Family picture on her desk. John Crowder’s grim face stared back at him. He mentally compared the image in the picture to the man prowling around his sister’s home. There was no denying they could pass for twins, but it was impossible for it to actually be John Crowder, Civil War soldier, wasn’t it?

“I’m right, aren’t I?’ Kacy wriggled out of Emmett’s arms. She planted herself in front of ‘Thorne’ with her hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. “The growling means something. It’s got you worried.”

Emmett was far too familiar with the determined expression on her face. He almost felt sorry for their visitor. Kacy was like a pit bull with a meaty bone when she wanted information.

“I heard the first one last night. It wasn’t… it wasn’t any animal I’ve ever heard.” She shuddered at the memory. “One of the ones this morning was different, though. “

“How many have you heard?”

“Definitely two different growlers.”

John ran a hand through his hair, cursed softly. “Sam.”

Kacy perked up, her head swiveled around as if she expected Sam Crowder to pop up from behind the couch. “He’s the one growling?” Her hands slid off her hips as her brow furrowed in concentration. “Is he… mad at me? It is because of the t.v. show?”

Dry laughter spilled out of John’s lips. He shook his head and leaned against the wall. “Mad at you? Kid, if you only knew…” His laughter stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowed. His sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through her. “You should know.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never met Sam Crowder.” Kacy plopped onto the couch, propped her heels up on the edge of the coffee table, and rested her aching head against the soft cushions. It had to be a dream. She was going to wake up at any minute with one hell of a red-wine hangover. “Of course, that’s not surprising, since, oh, I don’t know, he died 119 years before I was born!”

“No he didn’t.”

Kacy turned her eyes to a silently-observing Emmett. “Em, was I born in 1982?”

“That’s what the doctors figured when they checked you over.”

“Thank you. And, according to the letters written to his mother and the paperwork his commanding officers filled out, did Captain Samuel Crowder die in 1863?”

“That’s the story.”

“Thank you, again.” She flashed Emmett a smile before glaring at John. If she found out Juan had put ‘John’ up to this, she was going kill him. “I’m sure you think screwing with me is a ton of fun, but you’re going to have to find another victim for your little game. I quit.”

John hesitantly moved towards Kacy and perched on the edge of the coffee table. He kept his body positioned between her and the door. Half his attention was trained on the door. “Sam didn’t die in 1863. There was so much confusion then, it was easy for him to swap identities with another soldier that had been killed. I had done the same thing a couple of months earlier. ”

“That’s horrible!” Anger clouded Kacy’s face. She surged forward to slap John’s arm with the back of her hand. The heartbreak Annie Crowder must have felt, and for no reason at all! “Your poor mother! How could either of you do that to her?”

Rather than be indignant over her accusation, he stared at her in wonder. “You really don’t remember anything do you?”

“What am I supposed to remember?”

“Your parents, for one thing.”

Kacy shivered at the frost in his tone. When Emmett claimed the cushion beside her, she gratefully curled into his warmth. “I have parents: Jenny and Paul Adams. I have a brother, too. I had good childhood; I wasn’t spoiled but I never wanted for anything. I had friends, I played sports, and I got good grades.”

“But you don’t remember the first five years of your life.”

Emmett wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. He wanted to punch John in the face. For years Kacy had agonized over the blank spot in her memory. It wasn’t fair to bring it up when she’d finally moved on. “The doctors said it was unlikely she’d ever remember. Her brain buried those memories deep to protect itself from some sort of trauma.”

John paled. His righteous anger faded into a grimace. “I’m sorry. It was… traumatic for all of us. I can’t imagine what it was like for you. It never should have gone down like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Kacy demanded.

“What do you know about incubi?”

“W-w-what?” Kacy sputtered. “I ask for an explanation and you ask me about mythology?”

"They’re demons that feed off sexual energy. “Unexplainable” pregnancies were blamed on incubi. There’s a variation of the myth in dozens of cultures. Legend says that Merlin’s father was an incubus.” Emmett flushed and shrugged when two sets of eyes zeroed in on him. “What? I was an English major. I took a couple of mythology courses!”

“The myths are only half right. We require energy to survive, but it isn’t limited to sexual energy.” John frowned. “I don’t know for sure about that bit regarding Merlin.”

“Wait!” Kacy froze. Her fingers tingled and her stomach twisted. The fog that always shrouded her early childhood started to thin. “You said ‘we.’”

“I did.”

Her lips twisted in a humorless smile as bile rose in her throat. Something inside her compelled her to believe his story, but she clung to logic. “You’re crazier than I am!”

“Or I’m telling the truth.” John started to reach for Kacy’s hands but pulled back when Emmett snarled warningly. “My mother was a succubus and my father was an incubus. I was born in 1543. My younger brother Samuel was born in 1550 in London.”

“That’s… that’s really not possible.”

“Sam and I are incubi. So, Katya Clover, was your father. Your parents were part of our clan. Sam and I used to babysit you. You had Sammy wrapped around your bitty fingers. He called you Clover, you know. You hated it.”

Before Kacy could respond, the front door crashed open. Emmett instinctively curled over Kacy like a human shield. John braced for an attack. The growl died in his throat when he spotted the man standing in the doorway.

“We’ve got to get Kacy out of here. I ran him off earlier, but Charles is on his way back!” Sam Crowder, his jeans and sweatshirt a far cry from his Confederate uniform, rushed into the townhouse and grabbed Kacy’s limp hand. He smiled charmingly and winked before scooping her into his arms. “Hello again, little Clover.”

--
Come on, who didn't see that coming?  Still with me, here?

SUBO-Short Story 3/5

Chapter Three:

“That wasn’t the same one!” Kacy slipped out of Emmett’s arms and spun around searching for the source of the growl. While the one she’d heard the previous night had been full of malice, the most recent growl was more like a warning or… jealousy?

“The same what, kiddo?”

“Growl. Last night’s growl was different.”

“And I’m just hearing about this mysterious growl now because…”

Kacy groaned and ran a hand through her dark brown hair. “I knew you’d overreact.” She narrowed her eyes as he wound a massive arm around her waist and pulled her behind him. “Kind of like you are now.”

“No such thing as overreacting when it comes to my baby sis.” Emmett scanned the street, the driveway, and the tiny front lawn but couldn’t see anything out of place. At the sound of second growl, this one deeper and more menacing from the first, he pulled Kacy tight against him until the cold tip of her nose was buried in his back. He still didn’t see anyone and the house was too close to town for it to have been a wandering wild animal.

A third growl, the same as the first one that morning, had Kacy crawling up Emmett’s back. She looped her arms around his neck and locked her ankles around his waist. “In the house, please.”

He was certain his football equipment had weighed more than she did. Emmett rushed towards the front door. A manila envelope tucked in the white mailbox by the front door caught Kacy’s attention. She dug her heel into his abdomen to get him to pause long enough for her to grab it.

The envelope was heavy and rigid. Before she opened it, she knew there would be pictures inside. Inside her townhouse, she slipped off Emmett’s back and kicked off her flip-flops. She slid a trembling finger under the flap, sucked in a calming breath, and opened the envelope.

“Oh, God.”

The pictures fell out of her lax grasp and spilled across the floor. She staggered toward the couch. Her knees gave out before she reached the cushions. Hot tears spilled down waxy, pale cheeks. She drew her knees up to her chin and pressed her face into the word denim. Her heart thundered, her head spun and tried to make sense of what she’d seen.

Emmett scooped up the photographs and quickly flipped through them. Judging by the way the people were dressed, they were old photographs. He studied the signs and banners in the backgrounds, shrugged, and kept the pictures in his hand as he settled onto the floor beside his sister. “They’re just reunion pictures, Kace. You and Juan saw hundreds of them when you two did that project on the difference between the GAR and the UCV.”

Under different, less maddening, circumstances, she would have been proud of him for remembering the Grand Army of the Republic and the United Confederate Veterans. Most of her history lectures had gone in one ear and out the other. Tucked against his side, she reached for the photos.

“This is the May 1911 UCV reunion in Little Rock.” She held up a black-and-white reproduction of the original photo. “There were speeches, receptions, hot air balloon rides, a parade, and a Veterans’ Ball.”

“Okay.”

“This is the May 1951 UCV reunion in Norfolk Virginia. It was the 61st and final reunion.” She switched the 1911 photo for one that looked more recent. Three very old men stood front and center of a crowd of smiling people.

“What does any of that have to do with your freak out? Like I said, you’ve seen these pictures before.” Emmett eyed her carefully. He knew she was under more stress than usual. If he had to, he’d kidnap her and take her away from everything until she relaxed. Their adoptive parents wouldn’t hesitate to be his accomplices.

She tapped the space beside a dark-haired man standing near the back of the group in the 1951 photo. “This is Samuel Crowder.”

Emmett squinted at the image. He’d seen Kacy’s pictures of Captain Crowder. It could have been him in the photo or it could have been one of a thousand dark-haired men. “Kacy, Crowder died in 1863.”

“I know that,” she snapped. She flipped back to the 1911 photo and tapped the face of the same dark-haired man. “He was at the 1911 reunion, too.”

“Maybe it’s his son or a nephew. Family members went to those reunions, didn’t they?”

“Sam didn’t have any children. Neither did John. They didn’t have any other siblings. Their father died in 1857 and their mother never remarried.” She studied the photos for a moment and before holding up a black-and-white one. Her lower lip trembled and her bloodshot eyes glistened with fresh tears. “In 1913 the UCV and the GAR held a joint reunion to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.”

“Okay.” Emmett kissed her forehead. She didn’t feel feverish. As soon as she put the photos down, he was going to bundle her up and carry her to their mother Mary. A day of coddling and Mom’s hearty vegetable soup was what Kacy needed.

“This is Sam Crowder.” She pointed to a dark-haired man then slid her finger to the man standing beside him. “This is his brother John.”

“Didn’t John die before Sam?”

“Exactly!” Kacy scrambled to her feet. She clutched the photos against her chest. “I’m going to scan these and send them to Lisa. She can tell me if they’ve been doctored or not. Then, I’m going to put up a request on a couple of message boards. I want to see if anyone else has seen pictures of Sam.”

Emmett hovered behind Kacy as she scanned the images, e-mailed them to her friend, and then posted messages on several Civil War-related boards. His thick fingers worked the tense muscles in her shoulders. She was wound tighter than she’d been during week before her thesis had been due.

“There. Now I just need to sit and wait.” Kacy clicked the ‘refresh’ button. There were no responses. She clicked the button again.

“Why don’t you come have lunch with me at Mom’s? You know she’s dying to see you.”

“I saw her two weeks ago. We argued because she wanted to set me up with the preacher’s son.” Kacy wrinkled her nose, shuddered. “I’ll join a convent before I let Mom set me up on any more blind dates.”

“Just for a couple of hours, Kace,” Emmett wheedled. He flashed a bright smile complete with dimples. It was a smile few women could resist. If Meghan had been over, she would have dissolved into a puddle of goo at his feet. “We’ll play cards and talk Mom into making banana pudding.”

“Why are you so determined to get me out of…” she broke off and glared at him angrily. “You think I’m losing my mind, don’t you?”

“No.” Emmett covered her hand before she could refresh the page again. He lifted her off the chair and folded her into his arms. “I think you’re tired, stressed, and maybe a little obsessed.”

“I mean, I’ve been crazy before,” she continued, voice muffled by her brother’s shirt. “It’s not like I’m a stranger to the mental ward. You and Mom have probably been sitting around waiting for this day to come.”

Emmett winced. He still remembered the skinny, big-eyed little girl his parents had brought home. Found covered in blood, wandering, and rambling about black-eyed women wearing old-fashioned clothes, the authorities had institutionalized the five-year-old with the letters K and C tattooed on the inside of her left wrist. His mother had been a nurse at the hospital and had fallen instantly in love with the quiet girl. By the time she was seven, Kacy Adams was Emmett’s new sister.

“That’s not fair, Kace. We’ve never done anything like that.” He didn’t bother to point out that there had been times he’d worried about her mental state. She tended to get lost in her studies and block out the rest of the world.

Kacy deflated. Her indignation dissipated. She hated hurting Emmett’s feelings. He’d always been her rock and her biggest supporter. He’d even helped smooth the way with their mother when she’d cut all her hair off and dyed the blonde curls a rich brown her senior year of high school.

“I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need a break.”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “It’ll be fun, baby girl. I’ll even let you when a round of Phase 10 or two.”

“Shut up.” She ducked to avoid the hand descending towards her head a second time. “You know I always kick your ass at that game.”

“Mom and I have been practicing. You’re going down this time, you little cheater.”

Kacy laughingly rolled her eyes. They always accused her of cheating. It wasn’t her fault she was better at finding patterns and had better luck. Emmett had been right. They weren’t even at their mother’s yet and she already felt a thousand times better.

The scathing retort she had planned withered on her tongue. Her e-mail program dinged, letting her know she had a new message. Emmett once again hovered over her shoulder while she opened the e-mail. It was a response from messages she’d posted. A high school history teacher in the area had not only seen her on television but had some information on the Crowder family.

“I don’t like this.”

“You’re so suspicious,” she teased Emmett. “You should have been a cop.”

“He’s a history teacher, for crying out loud. How dangerous could he be? He’s just a fan.”

“Or a murderer.” Emmett rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression was grim. “I want to be here when you meet him.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him to be here this afternoon. No, don’t give me that look. My address is in the phone book and anyone with half a brain could get it.” She quickly typed out a response to the e-mail. Once it was sent, she pushed her chair away from the desk. “Can you entertain yourself while I change clothes?”

“He’s not coming for tea, Kace. He’s coming so you two can get your geek on.”

“Thanks.” She popped up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “There’s soda in the fridge and Oreos in the cookie jar. Try not to make a mess, ‘kay?”

She was tying the laces of her tennis shoes when she heard the doorbell ring. She glanced down at her silver watch and frowned. It had only been five minutes. Surely Mr. Thorne J. Dow wasn’t that close. She smoothed down her blue sweater and met Emmett in the living room.

He stayed at her back like a menacing bodyguard while she peered through the peephole. The man had his face turned away so she couldn’t see him. After wiping damp palms on her jeans, she steadied her racing heart and pulled open the door.

“Ms. Adams? I’m Thorne Dow,” a masculine voice greeted, the barest hint of a Southern accent evident.

The breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Her vision swam. Her knees wobbled. If it hadn’t been for Emmett’s arm around her waist, she would have fallen to the ground. Tears stung her eyes and bile rose in her throat. She had lost her mind.

Thorne J. Dow was Union Lt. John T. Crowder.

Still Untitled Blog Only Short Story (2/5)

Honestly, I had forgotten about this one because I was so focused on finishing up TCC.  Since I need the distraction from all the rewrites, we're going to get this sucker done.

If you missed the first part, it is here.

Chapter Two

“See, you should have come out with us.”

Kacy sighed and continued stirring her drink with a swizzle stick. Cocktails in the courtyard, a Bloody Mary for Meghan and a Screwdriver for Kacy, after a night of partying was a Saturday morning tradition. After listening to Meghan rave about the club’s DJ and the amazingly hot guy she’d met, Kacy told her about the e-mails and the phone conversation with Juan.

“Come on, Kace, cheer up. Think about it this way: now you’ve got even more pictures of your Captain to ogle,” Meghan teased.

“I do not ogle him!” was the automatic protest. When Meghan rolled her eyes and snorted, Kacy couldn’t help but giggle. Okay, so maybe she indulged in some ogling. She didn’t think anyone would blame her. With dark, shaggy hair that looked perfect for burying fingers in and lips to die for, there wasn’t an actor or model who could compare. It didn’t hurt that she’d always been a sucker for uniforms.

“It’s not even him. Just a guy who looks like him. I’m being stupid.” Kacy groaned and took a long sip from her drink. The cool, tart juice soothed her dry throat while the more-than-generous shot of vodka warmed her insides.

She didn’t think she was imagining things, though. After staring at the pictures for hours, she was still certain that it was the same man in all the photos. Wartime was confusing and chaotic, but she had two letters written to Mrs. Annie Crowder regarding the death of her beloved younger son. Major J.C. Rogers and Brigadier General Jerome B. Roberston had both sent their condolences for the loss of such a “fine, passionate, and loyal brother.”

While Roberston’s letter had had more of a cookie-cutter feel, Rogers’ had been more specific. On September 23rd, 1863, three days after sustaining severe injuries to his lower extremities and abdomen, Captain Samuel Crowder died. Rogers had made a point to try and comfort Mrs. Crowder with the knowledge that her son, drugged to the gills with opium, had “felt little pain at his time of passing.” Kacy wasn’t sure Mrs. Crowder bought the lie any more than she did. Rogers had sent Mrs. Crowder Samuel’s silver-plated flask, a gift from his grandfather, and a pocket watch. The flask had been in the trunk but, though she’d tried her hardest, Kacy couldn’t locate the watch.

“Oh, no, sweetie,” Meghan’s laughing voice brought Kacy out of her thoughts. “You’re the resident expert on Captain Cutie. If you say it’s him, then it has to be him.”

Kacy hung her head, loose hair spilling over her shoulders and shielding her face from Meghan’s observant eyes. “I think I’m losing it. It’s not just the pictures, either. I could have sworn I locked the doors after you left last night, but they rattled when that storm came through and scared the hell out of me. Then, when I was walking back after locking the doors, I heard a growling. Not like a wild animal growl either. It was… weird.”

Meghan patted her friend’s hand gently. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You’ve been killing yourself wrapping up your doctorate and working overtime because Marcy went on maternity leave. That’s not including all the crap from that t.v. show. Cut yourself some slack.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Skepticism dripped from Kacy’s voice. A few years earlier, she’d pushed the limits of sleep deprivation while taking classes for her Master’s and working full-time. Coffee had practically replaced all the blood in her veins and the shadows under her eyes were almost permanent, but she’d never had auditory hallucinations before.

A glance down at her watch had her jumping to her feet, the Pier One patio chair falling to the ground behind her. “I’ve got to get inside. Em’s coming over for lunch!” she exclaimed as she straightened the chair.

“Oh?” Meghan quirked a pencil-thin eyebrow. “I didn’t know tall, dark, and yummy was gracing us with his presence.”

Kacy shot her a glare. Meghan’s complete lack of subtlety when it came to her crush on Kacy’s adopted brother drove her crazy. Emmett, whom Kacy had to admit was heartbreakingly attractive, refused to give Meghan the time of day. He liked girls with a little more class and a little less brass. Meghan, however, refused to take the hint.

“Juan called him last night after I totally flaked out. I don’t know what he told Emmett, but he was in full big-brother mode this morning.”

“That’s so hot,” Meghan sighed.

Kacy’s glare intensified. “No, it’s not. It’s annoying. I don’t care if they do have some weird ex-jock bromance going on, Juan shouldn’t have called Emmett. You know how pissed he was when I told him I wanted to live by myself and not with him.”

“How could I forget the Carter-Adams Smackdown of 2009?” Meghan pushed her sore, hungover body upright. She swayed momentarily before grabbing her glass and shuffling towards her townhouse. “Tell Emmett I said hi.”

Kacy nodded though she had no intention of passing along the message. It would just frustrate Emmett. He was a genuinely nice guy and didn’t like hurting Meghan’s feelings. She stepped back into the cool, dark interior of her townhouse, bolted the door, and then double-checked the lock. She flicked on the kitchen lights and set down her Screwdriver.

Fortunately she’d made a grocery run the previous afternoon. Emmett, a former football player and current football coach for the local high school, was a bottomless pit. Their adoptive mother joked that it was a good thing he’d gotten a football scholarship since most of his college fund had gone to filling his fridge. After sticking a few cans of her brother’s favorite soda in the fridge, she dashed through the townhouse to make sure there wasn’t anything embarrassing or, considering Emmett’s bull-in-a-china-shop behavior, breakable out.

She didn’t bother hiding the Crowder letters or the photos. Since Juan had likely filled him in on the phone call, Emmett would want to see them. He, much like Meghan, often teased her about her “crush” on Samuel Crowder. Of course, since a long-dead boyfriend meant he didn’t have to vet and threaten a real, live boyfriend, he didn’t give her too much grief.

While waiting for Emmett to pull into the driveway, she perched on the window seat near the front door and read her favorite Crowder letter. Samuel had written it to his brother but sent it to his mother in hopes that she would forward it to John Crowder. Like the two other letters to John in the trunk, it touched on the skirmishes Samuel’s regiment had been involved in and the places he’d seen. For the most part, though, he reiterated his love for his brother and his dismay that they hadn’t been able to see eye-to-eye. Samuel longed for the day that he and John could “be reunited one glorious day on Momma’s front porch without blue and gray dividing our hearts.”

“Oh, Samuel, I wish you and John could have had that glorious day,” Kacy murmured as she reverently folded the letter closed. John had been killed in action three days before Samuel had written that particular letter. From the letters he’d written to his mother afterwards, it was difficult to tell if he knew that John was dead or not.

Hearing gravel crunching under tires, she set the letter on the window seat, slipped her feet into a pair of old flip flops, and darted out the front door. As soon as her behemoth of a brother was out of his shiny red SUV, she threw her arms around his neck. “Em!”

“Hey there, baby girl,” Emmett laughed. He wrapped his beefy arms around her thin waist and lifted her off her feet. Only when he felt her ribs creak did he loosen his grip. He pulled back far enough to kiss her cheek.

This time, it wasn’t just Kacy who heard a growl.

Blog Only! "Untitled Short Story" Part 1/5?

Chapter One:

"Come out with us," Meghan Wheeler cajoled, tugging on her best friend's hand. "Lisa and I will buy all your drinks tonight, and we won't even make you dance unless you want to. It'll be a quiet night."

Kacy Adams shook her head and slipped her hand free. She loved Meghan like a sister, but they had different opinions on what constituted a 'quiet night.' In college, where they'd met as roommates, Meghan had always been the more out-going, party girl while Kacy spent most of her time in the library or computer lab. After eight years of friendship, Meghan still didn't understand that Kacy preferred historical texts to modern conversation.

"I think I'm going to order a pizza and veg out on the couch. My DVR's almost full so I need to watch and erase what I've got recorded."

Meghan rolled her eyes. "Yeah right. You're going to read those letters again."

Kacy shrugged a shoulder but didn't deny the accusation. Seven months earlier, she'd purchased an old trunk at an estate sale. To her surprise, and pleasure, the compartment below the trunk's false bottom contained letters written by Confederate Captain Samuel Crowder to his mother Annie and his brother John, a First Lieutenant in the Union Army. As she'd concentrated on the Civil War for her Master's, she'd eagerly devoured all forty letters.

Crazy as it sounded, she'd also fallen in love with Captain Crowder. He'd agonized over the split between him and his brother. He'd written to John and Annie about how he still loved his "Yankee" brother, and looked forward to the day they could all be together again. He'd tried to shield his mother from the true horrors of the war and constantly reassured her that he was fine. Kacy admired his spirit and his selflessness. It was a shame he'd been killed during the Battle of Chickamauga.

"You need a real boyfriend, Kace," Meghan remarked. It was an observation she made at least once a week. "I know it hurt when Paul the Prince of Pricks screwed you over, but that was two years ago. Stop licking your wounds and hop back in the saddle, kiddo."

"Oh please." Kacy waved her hand dismissively. "I am so over Paul."

Meghan playfully tugged on the end of Kacy's chestnut braid. She'd been there when Kacy had stumbled in on her fiancé Paul doing the horizontal mambo on the kitchen table with his "lab partner." Rather than falling apart or getting angry, Kacy had erected a wall around herself so thick that only her closest friends and family members could get through. And, of course, the Captain.

"Face it, kiddo, no one will ever measure up to the Captain," she teased. "Are you sure you don't want to come? Lisa and I have a bet going. She swears that if we hit the bar near the university, we can cash in on your fame and not pay for a single drink."

Kacy groaned. Shortly after reading the letters, she'd written an article on the Crowder brothers for one of the leading Civil War publications. The article had gotten quite a bit of attention and led to a short segment on several news programs as well as stint as an "expert" for the History Channel's most recent Civil War mini-series. Though the series had only aired a week earlier, she was already tired of the spotlight. Lisa, an AV whiz, had strung all Kacy's "bits" together and sent the e-mail to all their college friends. More than one had commented on her "crush" on Captain Crowder.

"I'm going to take that as a no." Meghan puffed out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, but knew it wouldn't sway her friend. Once Kacy made her mind up, there was little that could change it. It was one of the things she both loved and hated about the other woman.

"Get out of here," Kacy laughed, shoving her friend towards the French doors that opened out onto the courtyard separating their townhomes. Meghan waved cheekily through the tinted glass as Kacy locked the deadbolt.

To prove to herself and Meghan that she didn't need to spend every night with the Crowder letters, she ordered a Hawaiian pizza from her favorite pizza delivery and settled on the couch with the remote and a glass of Hill Country Merlot. Halfway through her third slice of pizza and two hours into her mini Spirit Sleuths marathon, her eyes slid to the packet of letters on her desk.

"Stop it, Kace! They're just letters," she muttered under her breath and turned the volume up. When she got up to pour herself a second glass of wine, she took a long, winding path around the desk. By the time she got to the kitchen, her fingers were shaking and her heart was pounding. "This just proves you need time away from Samuel Crowder, moron."

She tried to sit still on the couch and pay attention to her favorite show, but her attention kept wandering. She'd catch her eyes drifting to the desk and her feet swinging to the floor and pinched herself as punishment. When the ending credits rolled across the screen, she realized that she didn't remember a single detail from the episode's plot. Disgusted with herself, she clicked the television off and picked her laptop off the coffee table. T.V. wasn't a good distraction, but work always kept her mind busy.

As a researcher and assistant-curator for the Texas Heritage Museum in Hillsboro, there were always things that needed to be verified and cataloged. She loved the museum and her job, but was looking forward to the following fall when she was slated to start her Assistant Professorship at her alma-mater in Huntsville. The only downside was that it meant leaving Meghan, an instructor for Hill College's Fashion and Design program, behind.

An e-mail from Juan Hernandez, one of her old study partners and a staffer at the Texas Civil War Museum in Fort Worth, caught her attention. As she was downloading the attached files, she noticed an e-mail from Nancy Jacobs from The Pearce Museum with a similar subject and attachment size. Was there a reunion or seminar she'd missed that they were filling her in on?

Scanned photographs from the Civil War covered her screen. They were from the Battle of Cold Harbor according to what Juan had written. While it wasn't one of her "favorite" battles, she appreciated the images. In two of the photos, a tall, lean man dressed in a shabby uniform standing so that only his profile was visible caught her attention. She zoomed in as closely as the program would allow. She knew the curve of that twice-broken nose and the line of that strong, square jaw!

While her top-of-the-line photo printer, one of the few things she'd splurged on, printed the photos, Kacy set her laptop on the coffee table and launched herself off the couch. Shortly after acquiring the trunk of letters, she'd exploited all of her contacts and managed to purchase a Crowder family photograph taken shortly before John and Samuel went to war as well as a photograph of Samuel in his uniform. She grabbed the framed photo of Samuel off her bookcase and dashed to her printer. She bounced anxiously on her toes as she waited for the picture to print.

As soon as the last photo slid onto the tray, she held it up to the light and peered at it through her magnifying glass. She held the Cold Harbor picture and the pre-war photo side-by-side to compare images. Though she'd have to use a facial recognition program to be absolutely certain, she was sure she was looking at a picture of Captain Samuel Crowder burying bodies at the site of a battle that took place nine months after he was killed in action.

Her hands trembled as she scrolled through the contact list on her cell phone. She drummed her fingers on the desk while she waited for Juan to answer. "Do you know what this is!" she exclaimed as soon as she heard him grunt a terse greeting.

"Kacy?"

"Of course, moron. Who else would it be? I just got your e-mail. Do you have any idea what those pictures mean?" She collected her photographs and collapsed on the couch. With the tip of her index finger, she traced the outline of Samuel's face through the glass.

Juan's voice dropped off. Static buzzed in Kacy's ears. Before she could hang up and redial, the static cleared. "Kace, I didn't send you an e-mail."

"Of course you did. Five Cold Harbor photos were attached."

More static. "I'm not working on any Cold Harbor projects. I've been working day and night on our Battlefield Medicine exhibit."

Kacy's smile faltered. She leaned forward to double check the contents of her inbox. The e-mail from Juan was still there and it had come from his museum e-mail address. She opened the e-mail from Nancy and found the same photos. "You sent it to me. Nancy sent me the exact same pictures an hour before you did. I've got to tell you, I'm not sure I like knowing you both have better contact than I do."

"Kacy," Juan drawled, his West Texas accent more prevalent than ever. He said her name the same way he had when she'd gone nearly catatonic over Paul and when he'd accidentally deleted all their notes for their big Western Expansion project.

"What?" she whispered, heart thudding painfully. Juan wasn't the type to play practical jokes. He was one of the most serious, straight-forward people she'd ever met. If he said he hadn't set the e-mail, she believed him.

"Nancy's in Belize. She's been there for a week, remember? Big destination wedding for her sister?"

"Oh." Kacy slowly closed the top her laptop with her e-mail still open. She drew her knees to her chest and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder. Though it was October and relatively warm, she shivered and goosebumps dotted her arms. "T-thank you, Juan."

"Is everything okay, honey? You sound far away."

"I-I t-think I n-need to go now." With her thumb, she pressed the button to disconnect the call. Her teeth were chattering and tears stung her eyes. She licked dry lips and glanced down at the photos beside her. Captain Samuel Crowder, eyes dark and face grim, stared back at her. If Nancy was in Belize and Juan swore he didn't do it, who had sent the photos?

She let out a low screech when the wind picked up and rattled the French doors. Blowing out a shaky breath, she laughed at herself and stood on wobbly knees. They were finally getting the thunderstorm the weatherman had been promising all week. "Calm down, scaredy-cat. You know that always happens when you don't bolt the doors."

Kacy froze, hand extended towards the deadbolt. It wasn't locked. She'd done it after Meghan had left. She knew she had. She always locked the bolt when she was by herself. Was the wine messing with her mind? A lump in her throat, she flipped the bolt for the second time that evening and shoved her hands in her pockets.

As she shuffled back into living room, the sound of a low growl sent shivers down her spine.


AN:
So? Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Come on...