April's Fool Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alpha Rising

  The World of Black Hollow

  About the Author

  Other Books

  April’s Fool

  By

  Robbie Cox

  April’s Fool

  First Edition

  Copyright @ 2020 by Robbie Cox

  All rights reserved

  Cover art & graphics by Brannon Jones

  Editing by CTS Editing & Weis Editing/Proofreading Services

  Formatting by SEA Creations

  www.robbiecox.net

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are strictly products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be reproduced in any form, except in assisting in a review. This book may not be resold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For up-to-date news on Robbie’s latest releases, book signing events in your area, and giveaways, follow Robbie’s newsletter - http://bit.ly/23CFhQQ

  To all first responders

  One

  April McCray stared at the stack of essays turned in by her literature class, regretting having assigned the essays in the first damn place. Twenty-five kids meant twenty-five essays, each five pages long. What the hell was she thinking? This is going to require some wine. Lots of wine. She ran a pale hand through her long red hair. At least I have all spring break to read through them.

  Pushing herself away from the table and those infernal essays, she made her way to the kitchen and the bottle of Merlot screaming her name on the counter. She desperately needed this break. The school year had been long, and the students rowdier than normal, especially Brady O’Leary, one of the leprechaun teens who seemed to think his lucky charms highly sought after by some of the female students. That boy had disrupted April’s class more times than she could count and sent some girl’s into a sexual heat, some of them literally, considering the paranormal nature of Black Hollow’s residents.

  After April poured herself a glass of wine, she took a slow sip, savoring the dry, slightly sweet taste as it slid past her lips and over her tongue, her eyes closed. Peace. Quiet. This, she desperately craved.

  Her cell phone went off, slicing her quietness. April smirked as she shook her head at the intrusion, moving back over to the table where her phone rested. Reina. April took another sip of her wine as she picked up the phone, sliding the call button to answer it. “What’s up, lady? Not working tonight?”

  “Not tonight,” Reina answered, her voice a giggle of excitement. “And a new batch of guests have popped into Daydreamer’s Inn. It’s a perfect night for a little wailing outside their windows. I bet some of them have never heard a banshee keening before. You in?”

  April took another sip of her wine. Ogres sang karaoke; banshees picked on the guests at the quaint inn ran by the Sandman. Everyone had to get their fun somehow, April supposed. She ran her tongue over her lips as she pulled the glass away from her mouth, contemplating Reina’s offer for a mere half-second. Tonight, however, all April wanted to do was settle back with more wine and a good book. “Not tonight, Reina, sorry. I’m starting my spring break by doing absolutely nothing. I’ll reach out tomorrow.”

  She ended the call before the other woman could guilt her into changing her mind. She slid her phone back onto the table as she lifted the wineglass once more, her world once again quiet. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy tormenting the guests at Sandie’s little inn. On any other night, she’d be more than happy to join Reina and the others, keening and wailing, tempting the guests to open their windows to give them entrance. Not that walls could keep them out; they were banshees, after all. However, it was the deal struck with Sandie to respect the boundaries of his inn, Of course, if the guests opened the window then the banshees saw that as an invitation, and the banshees rushed in to wreck even more havoc. None of the guests ever opened their windows, of course, so April wasn’t really sure what the banshees would do with a guest if they did open the window, but still it was fun practice for their keening. It was an enjoyable break, considering when a banshee usually wailed, it was to announce the possibility of someone dying. April had done that enough over her existence, and she had even made use of her keening when a student tried to disrupt her classroom. Still, tonight, April just wasn’t in the mood to see humans scared into petrified sheets of terror.

  She sighed as she lifted the wineglass to her lips, savoring the dry taste of the Merlot. As she lowered the glass, she glared at the pile of essays. Forget it. I’m not spending my first day of spring break doing more school work. She forced herself away from the table and moved toward her back porch. Massachusetts still held a slight chill in the air as winter tried its best to hang on as long as possible, but the coldness was bearable.

  The sky outside shifted from dusk to dark as she settled down into one of her chaise lounge chairs, ankles crossed as she held her wineglass with both hands in her lap and stared up at the twinkling stars. This is the type of night she lived for, quiet, calm, clear, a brisk chill in the air, and a blanket of stars to mesmerize her. She craved nights such as these, because rambunctious teenagers filled her days as they came in and out of her class. She breathed out a contented sigh as she lifted her glass to her lips, perfectly at home on her back porch and alone, hidden from the outside...

  The pain gripped her, her wineglass falling from her hands and spilling out onto the lounge chair as she doubled over, clutching at her head. No! Not now! Not tonight! She felt her body shake, felt herself lift off the chaise lounge and into the air, the glass shattering on the concrete below her chair. As she rose from her seat, her clothes shredded from her body, replaced by a drab gray rag of a dress, torn at the bottoms and frayed at the sleeves. Her red hair paled into ash-white locks as it flowed in the air around her by some unseen breeze as a force she had never identified, but which left her no choice, pulled her upward and out over Black Hollow, ripping a wail from her lungs that echoed in the night. As she flew, a vision of a shaggy gray-haired man with bushy brows filled her mind. A paunch belly shouted excess as he waved his arms, a black top hat in one hand, as he seemed to call out to people April couldn’t see. He had red cheeks from the joy that seemed to fill him and a twinkle that sparked his eyes, a sparkle that soon turned dim as the redness of his cheeks faded, replaced by the grayish tint of death that blued his lips and stole his joy. She watched as the man fell, his body limp, his arms crumbled underneath him as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth to stain his cheek. April’s wail grew louder as she knew the only outcome. Death. The man was dead. Or would be soon.

  The forces pulled her through the night air, yanking her over towns and even states until they shoved her down into a dark trailer. Pulled through the
small rooms inside, she soon found herself hovering over a younger, more fit man about half the dead man’s age. He slept soundly, his mouth parted slightly, his breathing shallow and calm. That calm was about to end.

  April hovered at the foot of the man’s bed, her arms outstretched, her hair drifting around her head as if she floated underwater instead of in midair. She stared at the man a moment, deep in peaceful slumber, his square jaw relaxed, his dark hair mussed with sleep. Under other circumstances, she would have become lost in the pale-red eyes that peeked under his slightly open eyelids. Tonight, however…

  She screamed. Wailed. Keened. She had to warn him, warn this unknown man that someone he loved was about to die.

  The man shot out of bed, his eyes wide with shock as soon as he noticed her, yanking the covers up around his shoulders, just under his chin. He screamed as he attempted to shove himself through the headboard of his bed and away from the apparition floating above him.

  April drifted closer, warning him of the other man’s impending death. She shouted everything she saw, the man with the top hat, the jovial demeanor he expressed, and then his sudden fall and demise. She did her best to relay the facts, to tell the man in the bed the severity of her visit, but all that escaped her mouth was the loud keening of the banshee. This man would never know who she was sent to warn him about, who he needed to help if he was to save his life. She tried to make herself known as the silent breeze upon which she rode pulled and tugged at her ash-gray dress, billowing the fabric to match the floating of her hair. For several long minutes she hung there, gesturing, screaming, doing everything she could to make herself understood, but knowing the man could comprehend nothing, might not even believe her visit was anything other than a nightmare brought on by an undigested meal.

  Then, the forces who controlled her yanked her out of his small trailer, back out into the inky night. The forces left her frustrated as they shoved her away from the man and back toward her own home, her arms outstretched as she strove to hold on to the man, continue to warn him. Her mission was done, however; she had left a warning, even though the warning was gibberish to the man in the bed. There was nothing else she could do, nothing more she could do to warn him of someone he cared about being the victim of a cruel end. That was the curse of the banshee, and April knew she would spend a sleepless night tossing and turning with visions of the older man’s death as well as the younger man’s shock at seeing her.

  Soon, the forces that be shoved her back into her chaise lounge chair, the dark gray dress clumped around her as she swallowed deep gulps of air. Her white hair shifted back to her deep red, her skin fading from gray to a healthy pale. The night seemed colder, darker, as she sat there, her body shaking at the visions she saw. She never knew their names, never knew if the visions thrust upon her came to fruition or not, although she knew deep down they did. That was the calling of her kind, after all. To warn others of their loved one’s demise.

  Her body shook with the aftermath of her flight, her head screaming in pain. She swallowed another deep breath as she sat there, trying to calm her shattered nerves. I need more wine.

  Two

  Wyatt Compton’s body still shook as he sat in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s car as they tried to make up tie and catch up with the rest of Professor Compton’s Phantom Circus. Wyatt still had no clue what he saw last night, but the image left him shaking and sleepless. Was it a ghost? One of the phantoms from the circus playing some sort of prank on him? But then, what was with all the screaming? He shuddered, squirming in his seat a little at the memory. Needless to say, he was more than happy to be out of that trailer and back on the road, leaving behind whatever the hell that was he saw last night. At least the circus was normal. Well, as normal as was possible for a paranormal circus.

  “You seem a little more pensive than usual,” Wyatt’s grandfather said from the driver’s seat. “Not really a good look for a clown, you know? Where’s that merriment and jovial conversation I’ve come to enjoy on these trips?”

  Wyatt chanced a quick glance over at his grandfather, the man’s shaggy gray hair falling into his eyes as he smiled over at his grandson. Chester Compton was the most jovial man Wyatt knew. His whole body shouted joy, his paunch belly jiggling when he laughed, his cheeks a deep burgundy red, and his nose a round bulb at the end of his face, drawing everyone to his sparkling red eyes. Humans thought he wore contacts to make him look mysterious and fantastical, but in reality, they were the eyes of a korrigan, the small dwarf-like spirits who used to haunt fountains in major cities. Chester turned that haunting lifestyle into a traveling business and entertained humans across the States. Wyatt debated telling his grandfather about the vision that woke him last night, but decided against it. Why worry the older man when Wyatt couldn’t even explain what he saw? Instead, he turned his gaze back out the window as night dusted the sky. “Sorry,” he said. “Just thinking about our next gig. I’m surprised Seraphine keeps asking us back to Black Hollow.” He glanced over at his grandfather. “I’m not sure a town of paranormals truly finds our acts entertaining.”

  Chester laughed as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Sometimes, it’s fun to see others do what you know you can do. Besides, it’s not the deed itself but the act we add to it. We put pizazz with the supernatural displays, giving the normal an abnormal appearance. They come to see how we decorate the magic.” He shrugged. “It’s all about the show.”

  Wyatt nodded, but still didn’t get it. Paranormals of all sorts resided in Black Hollow: gargoyles, leprechauns, demons, a yeti, even shifters of dragons and wolves. The phantom circus combined several of those plus added a few more, but nothing that didn’t already live in the paranormal town. Wyatt just thought the circus wasted their efforts on the residents of Black Hollow.

  However, that wasn’t the thing that troubled Wyatt the most, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Have you heard from Kezzryx? It would be nice to avoid the hassle we had in Salem.”

  Chester waved off the idea, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “We’re going to Black Hollow. The twenty-four-hour man is merely a formality. Seraphine assures me all is in order. We’ll set up at the gazebo in the town’s center, a roundabout in the middle of town, just like always.” The twenty-four-hour man was the person sent ahead of the circus to prepare the way, or so Wyatt hoped. Usually, he went a week ahead nowadays, but Wyatt’s grandfather was probably right and sending Kezzryx in early was just tradition. The circus had been going to Black Hollow for years, setting up in the same spot year after year.

  Chester turned the steering wheel, merging onto the interstate as the oncoming traffic moved over to the next lane, giving him room. A horn sliced the early evening air, and Chester jerked the steering wheel to the right to avoid hitting the semi. “What the...?”

  Wyatt stared as his grandfather shifted in his seat, straightening as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “What’s wrong?”

  “The brakes... They’re out!” Chester continued to slam down on the brake pedal as he swerved over the road. The tires ran over the warning bumps lining the berm, the clickety-clack echoing in the vehicle as Chester did his best to slow the car and keep from hitting the vehicles beside him.

  Wyatt grabbed the support that dangled above him, gripping the handle tightly as he stared with wide eyes out the windows. “How the hell did the brakes go out?”

  “What? You want a lesson in mechanics now?” Wyatt’s grandfather cried out. “Just hold on!”

  “Turn off the engine!” Wyatt screamed.

  “Then I won’t be able to steer,” Chester shouted back at him, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. “We’ll slow down. I just have to keep it straight and pray everyone behind us is paying attention and doesn’t ram into us.”

  Wyatt felt his whole body tighten into one ball of nerves as he pressed down into his seat, clutching the support handle for dear life. “Who the hell maintains this car?”

  “N
ow is not the time for questions,” his grandfather snapped.

  The car slowed as Chester moved to the shoulder, the tires bouncing on the rocks and uneven pavement. Wyatt couldn’t believe the condition of the roads or the brakes. This was supposed to be a simple trip, and now they were swerving across three lanes of traffic, hoping to god someone didn’t slam into them. This was not how Wyatt saw his night going with his grandfather.

  Finally, thanks to Chester keeping his foot off the gas, the car finally slowed enough that Chester could aim it at a small tree and bring the vehicle to a halt. The car rattled slightly, having only been moving at idle speed before it hit the tree. Still, it was enough to rattle Wyatt’s teeth as the impact jounced him around in his seat.

  As soon as the shaking of the car subsided, he jerked his attention to his grandfather. “Are you all right?” he asked as he reached over searching for broken bones or cuts and gashes.

  Chester swatted Wyatt’s hands away from his chest. “Will you stop touching me?” the old man snapped. “Check yourself out. I’m fine. Sheesh. We were barely going two miles per hour. Probably didn’t even put a dent in the front bumper.”

  Wyatt sat back in his seat with a deep breath and a shake of his head. His grandfather was usually a jovial personality, had to be as Ringmaster of the circus. Of course, almost getting killed thanks to some faulty brake system was enough to make anyone grumpy. Closing his eyes, Wyatt did a mental check to see if he felt pain anywhere, but nothing jumped out at him. Opening his eyes, he did his best to see if he noticed any bleeding. Nothing.

  “What the hell are you doing?” his grandfather snapped. “I told you, we barely hit that damn tree. You’re fine. Now get out there and see what happened.”

  Wyatt turned his attention to his grandfather, his brows pinched in confusion. “Seriously? See what happened? The brakes went out, and we almost crashed; that’s what happened. Besides, the brakes are under the car. I won’t see anything.” He leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath. “We need to call for help.”