Read In the Dead of Night Online
Authors: Aiden James
In the Dead of Night
In The Dead of Night
Ghosthunters 101 Series
Books I & II
by
Aiden James
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Deadly Night
*
The Ungrateful Dead
Acclaim for Aiden James:
“Aiden James has written a deeply psychological, gripping tale that keeps the readers hooked from page one.”
—Bookfinds review for THE FORGOTTEN EDEN
“Not only is Aiden James a storyteller par excellence, but his material for his story is riveting.”
—Huntress Reviews
“The hook to this excellent suspense thriller is the twists that will keep readers wondering what is going on as nothing is quite what it seems. Adding to the excitement is that the audience will wonder whether the terror is an evil supernatural creature or an amoral human…Aiden James provides a dark thriller that grips fans from the opening.”
—Harriet Klausner, for THE FORGOTTEN EDEN
“Aiden James writing style flows very easily and I found that CADES COVE snowballed into a very gripping tale. Clearly the strengths in the piece were as the spirit's interaction became prevalent with the family… The Indian lore and ceremonies and the flashbacks to Allie Mae's (earthly) demise were very powerful. I think those aspects separated the work from what we've seen before in horror and ghost tales.”
—Evelyn Klebert, author of A GHOST OF A CHANCE and DRAGONFLIES
“Aiden James is insanely talented! We are watching a master at work…ghost stories don’t get any better than this.”
—J.R. Rain, author of MOON DANCE and THE BODY DEPARTED
BOOKS BY AIDEN JAMES
CADES COVE SERIES
Cades Cove
The Raven Mocker
THE TALISMAN CHRONICLES
The Forgotten Eden
The Devil’s Paradise
GHOSTHUNTERS 101 SERIES
Deadly Night
The Ungrateful Dead
THE DYING OF THE DARK SERIES
The Vampires’ Last Lover
The Vampires’ Birthright
Blood Princesses of the Vampires
THE JUDAS CHRONICLES
Plague of Coins
Reign of Coins
Destiny of Coins
The Dragon Coin
(Coming summer 2013)
WITH J.R. RAIN
The Nick Caine Adventures
Temple of the Jaguar
Treasure of the Deep
Pyramid of the Gods
(Coming summer 2013)
WITH MICHELLE WRIGHT
The Judas Reflections
Murder in Whitechapel
COLLECTIONS
Terror at Midnight
Dark Legacy
Twice Bitten
Pray for Daylight
Cursed Immortals
In the Dead of Night
Dying of the Dark Vampires
Vampires, Ghosts, and God
In The Dead Of Night by Aiden James
Published by Aiden James Fiction
Copyright © 2012 by Aiden James
Cover design by: Aiden James and Charles Seiberling
Ebook 1st Edition, License Notes
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Clickable Table of Contents:
DEADLY NIGHT
Chapter One
I’d never seen a fresh corpse before. At least not human.
Blood dripped below her face, spreading across the chipped linoleum kitchen floor of our host, Johnny Rush. Candi Starr stared back at me, a red grotesque halo framing her tussled golden hair, still wrapped in foil strips. Her stone gaze faced us all as we stood in shocked silence.
Her head was barely attached at the neck, and a deep jagged wound traversed from ear to ear beneath her chin. Sprawled upon the floor, the expression in Candi’s lifeless steel blue eyes was one of sudden surprise.
Johnny sat at the kitchen table, across from Brenda Wright. Rope-bound to a pair of high back vinyl chairs, one olive green, and the other merlot. Both wore matching black t-shirts and jeans. Intense terror was visible in their eyes, and both mouths lay open, slack-jawed, and emotionless in contradiction. Their single fatal shots to the forehead announced assassination. Not intended victims, but here just the same. In all likelihood the pair not only witnessed the murder of their famous companion, but also had plenty of time to anticipate their own demise.
So...correction: I’d never seen
three
dead human beings before.
When I was finally able to tear my eyes away from the scene, my attention was drawn to Fiona. The loveliest, smartest and bravest woman I’ve ever known didn’t seem so at the moment. Two cops in the dining room were grilling her. One was dressed in uniform and the other wore plainclothes. Her gorgeous hazel eyes, which often morph to amber and pure gold depending on her attire and mood, were now swollen. They were puffy and red from a deluge of tears. Her grief was genuine, as these were real friends. She struggled to answer the cops’ questions—despite the pained looks each man wore, nodding quietly in response to her clipped answers.
What questions did they ask? I could only imagine, but I managed to hear a few. Basic things like ‘how long have you known the victims?’ and ‘can you think of anyone who might hold a grudge, one bad enough to do something like this?’ No doubt they also want to know what she and the rest of us were doing there, anyway.
Meanwhile, two forensic techs brushed past our group on their way to beginning the painstaking task of moving from the stiffening corpses in the kitchen to the living room to look for more evidence. It made me feel awkward, standing near the entrance to the living room. I fidgeted, unsure of what to do…or where to go, half horror movie, half feeling five years old and told to stand in the corner.
The plainclothes cop kept eyeing the rest of us. He glared a bit while the other continued questioning Fiona. I’m sure my face was turning red, thinking of what I might have to explain.
My name is Jimmy Alea, and I’m a paranormal investigator. Spook chaser, ghost hunter, or a supernatural whack-job, whatever euphemism makes normal folks feel any better. Hell, that’s what my pop thinks back in Denver, my hometown. I came to Nashville, or as we serious musicians like to refer to it—‘Nash-Vegas’, nine years ago. But like 99.99% of the more than 80,000 music hopefuls who call this place home, I haven’t made it yet. Maybe I never will, but I try not to think about that.
Yeah, the cop probably passed judgment just the same. I could picture him saying something smartass like, “Did Casper call and tell you there are three brand new ones?”, and then laugh at his own lame joke. But this is what I do. I don’t try to see dead people. Rather, I attempt to catch evidence of their spiritual essence, whether ethereal or physically tangible. It’s somewhat like TAPS and the other ‘hauntings’ shows on TV.
But that ain’t the story here…not exactly. My gang and I were just stopping by to drop something off at Johnny’s. A little something to welcome him and Brenda to their new digs. Fiona planned to do a quick psychic reading for Candi before she set off on her first international tour. Afterward, the plan was to investigate another home where supposedly a lot of weird shit’s been happening. A ‘paranormal event’ is what we call that sort of thing. Apparently stuff’s been going on for several years at our next locale along the Cumberland, and getting worse and more aggressive lately.
But at the moment, it seemed best to stop thinking about the cop and my imagined exchange. I focused again on Fiona. She was still talking to both him and the uniform. How I wished to wrap my arms around her and somehow ease her profound pain. She is my wife, and I will always feel the need to protect her. If only I could erase this scene from her memory and make the cops shut up.
The uniformed guy was really trying to flirt with her. Granted, Fiona’s a tall, gorgeous blonde with a smile that lights up any room, and a statuesque build that spells trouble for any male with a pulse. She’s the only thing that’s ever distracted me long enough to make me reconsider my life’s direction. She literally saved me from the destructive course I once was on. I truly pity the dudes who wish they were me.
I soon realized that I needed a temporary diversion—anything to take my attention away from the bodies and some dude smiling at my wife at such an inappropriate time. I noticed a female cop staring at me from near Johnny’s bedroom. I’ve often wondered about homicide detectives and how they deal with it. When I looked again at her she smiled. Maybe for some cops...the aggressive ones...a scene like this is a type of foreplay. Kind of like people who go home with a complete stranger and screw their brains out.
As she looked at me her smile was getting wider. I’m pretty sure I know what she gathered from looking me up and down.... My wife, among others, tells me it’s a six foot two, one-ninety pound man, with very little body fat. Hard and lean, with chiseled features inherited from a handsome Cuban/Italian line, I possess an easy smile, and piercing blue eyes that become deep cobalt pools if I’m pissed. And, I’m lucky to have a full head of dark wavy hair hanging down to my shoulders.
Nobody will ever find me wearing a suit—not unless somebody’s getting married or buried. T-shirts, jeans, and boots—I’m either biker or cowboy, depending on my mood and the weather. Thank God the dudes I roll with share my taste in threads, and my daytime employer can hang with the way I am, too. As long as I occasionally wear a polo shirt and slacks, nobody gives me shit. It sucks a little, but I’ve gotta have something steady to pay the bills.
Fiona motioned toward me, and to be polite the two cops nodded. I wondered if they had heard of her, since she’s helped Metro’s finest solve nearly a dozen crimes over the past few years. Clairvoyant, clairaudient, and clairsentient. They are valued commodities among a few detectives these days, though most won’t admit it. Regardless, I could tell these guys didn’t think much of the thirtyish biker-looking dude and his cronies blocking the doorway to the living room. At least they liked her…certainly didn’t seem like her tear-streaked face had diminished her charm. Not in the least.