Page 1 of Coveted

PROLOGUE

Halloween Night

In the misty, twilit chaos of Darkbloom University’s front steps, no one sees the body drop.

The party overflows from the buildings. Thumping music and drunk students drown out the groans of a life ending in quiet, desperate agony.

A bitter wind scatters dead leaves, one catching on a torn hem before dancing away again.

“That’s a dummy, right?” asks a guy in a medieval-monk costume, bending to look closer.

The tide of blood expands steadily as fingertips scrabble in vain on slick stone. Laughter swells all around, distorted and echoing.

“Ew, are the dummy’s fingers moving?” The senior dressed as a pirate inches forward, teetering in her heels. “The pranks have been extra good this year.”

A coppery scent stains the frosty air. As the creeping garnet tide reaches the monk’s boots, he jumps back.

“Yo, what the fuck?” he shouts. “Is this real?”

Cold seeps from the stone into twisted limbs like an illness.

The jack-o’-lanterns perched on Benedict Darkbloom’s statue blur into soft halos. Gold dissolves into white. White into shadow.

Pain ebbs away.

Sounds fade.

The veil dips gracefully open, and the hidden side gains another soul.

CHAPTER 1

Two Months Earlier

Sadie

The anonymous parcel is addressed to me.

While locking up after my shift, I nearly trip over the package lurking on the cobblestones like a bad omen.

My breath hitches, the suitcases in my hands suddenly leaden. Fear trickles down my spine as my eyes flit around the empty street.

A storm brews, spilling dark clouds across the afternoon sky like tar. The crisp New England air carries an unsettling tang.

Why did my stalker have to send something today, when my stomach’s already full of nerves?

The first time was flowers. The second was a switchblade knife. Going by his pattern, this latest gift could either be a cute bracelet or a block of C4 explosives.

Cursing myself for missing the drop-off, I set down my bags to pick up the black box and turn it over carefully in my hands. My co-worker saw the flick of the stalker’s long coat after he left the switchblade knife, and I had hoped to catch him the next time.

Maybe it’s my imagination, but a subtle warmth radiates from the cardboard, like the heat from his touch has lingered. Something rattles within the box, mirroring my anxious insides.

He might’ve glimpsed me through the window of Ink & Ivy Books while I shelved thrillers from a rickety stepladder. If so, I was blissfully unaware. Head always in the clouds, Mom used to say with a fond smile.

The shop has no security cameras to check. All that hangs in the corners of the ceiling are spiderwebs. My boss doesn’t strictly know I’ve been bunking in the staff nook upstairs all summer though, so I probably shouldn’t complain about the lack of security.

I stuff the parcel into the front zipper pocket of one of my suitcases and lock the door behind me. I’m running way too late for this.

The ancient bus angles into the stop on Main Street while I’m still half a block away. Gritting my teeth, I ignore my aching fingers and shoulders, and run.