Paranormal Personnel Saga Box Set - Books 1-3

  I tried to fight, drawing long wheezing breaths, but I couldn’t move any part of my body. Someone else controlled me, took away everything, my strength, voice and freedom. The voice kept me in that dark, hollow place where there was no escape, just oblivion. I had no idea about the time, but it wasn’t long before the mermaid stepped out of the office on the other side of the street. The voice alerted me to keep close, to follow her. I fought whoever pushed me forward, tried to scream, turn around, do anything, but I was trapped in despair, utterly without control.

  Then darkness came and the street disappeared, the woman was gone. I was thrown back into different surroundings, a dark, wet alley, somewhere the on outskirts of the city. My feet thumped against the pavement as I ran, gasping for air. I was after someone. I was the chaser. My new host barked to keep my eyes on the person in front.

  The woman screamed, glancing back, trying to get away from me. My legs kept pushing forward even though I fought to stop. Adrenaline lashed through me and I felt in control, high on her fear, aware of a new, unexpected hunger that grew inside my chest.

  I was running in the wind, my hair blowing out behind me, pretending that I was a predator ready to kill. Her fear never left her, it affected me, pushing the anticipation and desire to have her. Death ran side by side with me, lifting her hollow lips into a smile, encouraging me to bring the girl to her.

  The voice roared through me that we almost had her. She was tired, slowing down, panting. I lifted whatever I had in my hands, recognising the sharp knife. Then everything stopped and I was back in control of my own body.

  I opened my eyes and sat up quickly, trembling like a leaf during a windstorm. I started spitting dirt out of my mouth realising that I was lying on the wet asphalt. My clothes were damp and my head felt like someone hit me with a baseball bat. I struggled to breathe, lifting myself off the wet ground.

  Fuck, this hurts!

  My clothes were soaked right through and when I darted my eyes around my new surrounding, fear shot right over me like a flying arrow. Alarms bells started going off in my head as I tried to recognise where I was.

  I was no longer in my apartment, but outside, on the cold street, wearing my pink pyjamas. There was only one explanation for this, for where I was.

  I’ve blacked out again.

  This area wasn’t familiar to me at all; the tall ruined buildings were like haunted ghosts, watching me calmly and unnerving. It was a cold April night, and the sky was covered with dark clouds. I could smell an approaching storm. Goose pimples shot over my back when I recalled the dream.

  The silence was broken by my pounding heart and wheezing breaths. Panic kept stroking me like a razor. My energy had caused me to black out. I’d chased after that girl. I wanted to kill her with an unnerving excitement. I looked around now searching for another living soul, but the street was completely empty. I had nothing on me, apart from my pyjamas. My phone was at home on my dressing table. Lifting myself up, I wiped the sweat off my face, searching for any internal injuries and my magic, that was now truly absent.

  Shivering with cold, I tucked my pyjamas tighter around myself and started walking. I didn’t even have my slippers on. I was bare foot and it was freezing cold. My anxiety was jetting all over my body, tightening all the burning muscles, sliding inside my bones. The air was dense, thick and alive with drifting magic. The strong smell of raw flesh brought back a gag reflex. That smell reminded me of old corpses that have been decomposing for some time and it was vile. The world spun around me as a few meters later there was a body lying on the ground in a pool of blood. For about a second I thought that I was going to pass out, but my magic stirred me back with an awareness that I was seeing a person in front of me.

  Taking long, deep, rough breaths, I squatted for a moment to gather some oxygen in my lungs. My pulse shot faster than a fighter jet. Panicking, I glanced back at the body. I didn’t have to go closer to see that I was staring at Abi. I’d chased after her in my dream, and now she was lying dead on the ground, a few meters from the spot where I just woke up.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking those violent images, making sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. Maybe I was still dreaming and I would wake up at any minute. Maybe someone was manipulating my thoughts, making sure that I believed in what was happening. My hands were shaking, but I tried to bring that ball of light or call out for Tron, but nothing happened.

  I’d blacked out again and killed someone. Another innocent human being.

  Tears started spilling down my cheeks as I stared at her dead body. Her eyes were open and I wanted to do anything in my power to make her come alive again, to shut these violent images out of me, shake them away. I didn’t know how long I stood there, but my legs went completely numb with cold and my whole body locked up with grief.

  No one was coming to my rescue. I was all alone here. I was a killer.

  Within the blink of an eye my life turned into a nightmare and without my phone I couldn’t call for help. My skin burned and yet I craved some warmth, for another soul. This time around I desperately wanted to be rescued.

  Seconds and minutes rolled by and I couldn’t move, I just stayed there staring at the corpse. Then I heard the noise of a car nearby; then came voices and steps. In front of me there was a scary, unknown street. No one knew that I was in danger. Dad’s charms seemed nonexistent.

  My heart skipped a beat when the blue and red lights of a police car moved towards the alley where I stood. My body tightened and I squeezed my knuckles so hard that I cut the circulation of blood to my fingers. In a matter of moments I heard doors shutting, then steps. My subconscious alerted me to get the hell out of there as fast as I could, but my body was like a hard rock. The wind blew from the west, but my hair was stuck to my forehead.

  ‘Hey you! What are you doing down there?’ asked the loud raspy voice. I moved my head slightly, staring at two tall uniformed officers that stood a distance away. One of them must have had a small flashlight because he pointed it at me. Then his light passed me and they both noticed the corpse a few steps away from me. And the blood. I couldn’t say if those officers were humans or paranormals, but a tiny voice in my head urged me to run. No one was going to listen to me. I was at the crime scene, covered with blood from the body that was only couple of meters away. They had to arrest me and take me down to the station where I would be charged with murder and ruin my Dad’s career forever. And my life.

  ‘Steven, get someone on the radio,’ the other office said. ‘And you get on the ground. I want to see your hands!’

  Chapter twenty - one

  In hell—and it looks like you might be here for a while.

  Two guns were pointing at me and my legs were trembling with fear. If I let them take me away, my life—and my Dad’s—would be over. If I tried to run, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. The time started moving slowly like a long, slimy snail, wrecking my senses. Magic whipped through my spine fast, making me aware of every single second that passed.

  I went for option number two, because I didn’t care anymore if I was going to live or die. My legs started moving before my mind registered my suicidal thoughts.

  Those bastards didn’t even give me a warning. They started firing at me. Adrenaline coursed through me swiftly, crumbling the fear into a tiny ball and tossing it on the street. I jumped over the body, somehow managing to avoid getting shot. A bullet came close, an inch closer and I’d have been down, wounded or dead.

  I was pumped with the heavy weight of survival instinct. My feet thumped against the asphalt, as I worked my muscles faster than ever before. The shots stopped flying around me for a moment, but I knew that I wasn’t safe. Someone was shouting to stop behind me. I heard thumping and more gunfire. I had no clue if I’d be alive in the next hour, but I was speeding, moving smoothly between the alleys in the darkness.

  For some time, probably because of the shock, I kept running, mildly aware of any pain, but as the minutes passed, and the adrenal
ine started wearing off my system. I was still barefoot, and the rough asphalt had torn my skin apart, so I had large open wounds on my ankles, toes, and the soles of my feet. My magic kept me going, but I started slowing down. A sick twisted feeling settled in my stomach and I kept wondering if any of those officers took a good look at me.

  I didn’t recognise any buildings or street names. I had no idea in which part of London I ended up or if I was still in my own native city.

  My chest burned, but I raced between the empty cars, glancing behind me from time to time. Police were chasing after me, and there was nowhere to hide, no time to consider any other options. After an exhausting ten minutes, I decided to stop, dropping my hands down like I was stretching, breathing hard. I wiped the sweat and my hair away from my face. There wasn’t any time for hesitation. A police helicopter was probably on the way. Dad explained on number of occasions that whoever was on the run, it was just a matter of time before he or she would get caught.

  I chose the wrong spot for a short rest. There were two turns, one on my right and one to the left. I had a few seconds to make a decision. I couldn’t waste any more time and I didn’t want be spotted by anyone. I took a sharp left and ten minutes later I found myself at a dead end. My heart was in my throat. There was no time to get back, no time to panic. Those officers probably called up for backup.

  There were some bins in the back, smoke was coming out of the building on my right. I started slamming into a set of double doors on the other side, wondering if I could get inside, but the entrance was shut and there wasn’t another way in. Buildings on the other side seemed occupied, and I had to be careful not to be seen by anyone.

  My vision was blurry as I hurried to the entrance in the back, but it was a dead end. Sweat mixed with rain and blood rolled over my face. I yelled in frustration, hearing the voices moving toward the alley. The police were on my heels, and I had to find a way inside. I could already picture the frustration and disappointment on my father’s face. Everything he worked for over the years could be gone because of me.

  I ran to the last door and started digging at the metal cover that was pulled slightly. It looked like someone had tried to get inside the building but gave up. Crying in frustration I pushed hard, gritting my teeth. Someone close by shouted. The space was tiny, but I squeezed in, tearing my pyjamas apart and wounding my waist.

  I slammed on the ground, breathing like there was no more oxygen left around me, baring my teeth in pain. The silence and darkness were my salvation. I stopped moving and listened. The air temperature around me dropped several degrees, as sparks of power began zooming over my skin.

  I stuck my ear to the door, but I heard nothing. Maybe I was lucky and maybe no one knew that I was hidden in this wrecked building. Those officers weren’t paranormals, otherwise I’d have been dead already. My father’s unit used magic to catch bad guys, not guns. Minutes passed, and the silence was making me sick to my stomach. The shock and adrenaline wore off. I desperately wanted to sleep, but I had to stay focused and alerted. My teeth were bared in pain as I lifted my feet and saw blood pouring out of me.

  I stayed in the same position for a good five minutes trying to calm down my irregular breathing. The skin on my feet felt like I’d been walking on a fire. The silence around me seemed deeper, pulling me away from the darkness. I’d blocked Dad’s protection spell. He couldn’t get involved; my lies would have ruined him. My magic had gotten out of control, and he couldn’t know that I was killing people in my sleep.

  Shivering, I finally lifted myself up feeling the ranting pain in both my feet. Despite that, I had to get back to my apartment. Then I’d call the girls and together we could figure out what to do. For the first time since I saw the body, I was seeing the possibility of a bright light in the end of the tunnel. I couldn’t give up.

  Knowing that I entered from the back, I figured there was probably a way out somewhere on the other side.

  Possibly police units were set all around this area, searching for a girl with my description, drawing conclusions and evidence against me.

  I walked in through the metal door, stumbling over rubbish on the floor, hurting my battered foot even more. The only source of light came from my fingers, but the energy lasted for couple of seconds. I was too exhausted to bring my magic back. I heard squeaks in the corners, saw rats, and stopped abruptly. Fear overwhelmed me, turning into glimpses of terror. I kept walking for about ten minutes, failing to find an unlocked way out. I felt like I was in a maze and the monster was going to get me before I found a way out. After trying many more doors, I started to panic.

  I hissed, running like crazy, slamming my hands into doors, imagining that I’d be stuck here forever and no one would ever find me. Finally a door opened and I jumped outside inhaling the dusty air—straight into a nest of giants.

  ‘Oh, who do we have here?’ asked a tall, bulky paranormal who caught me flying through the metal door. I gasped, dismissing the shattering pain in my entire body, trying to dodge away, but he held me tightly.

  ‘Get off me,’ I screamed, but the one that was holding me slammed his large, dirty hands over my mouth. If they were humans, maybe I would’ve had a chance to escape, but those fuckers were full-blooded paranormals. High on their own energy, alcohol, and fairy dust. From their tattoos I gathered that they were part of some sort of gang.

  ‘She’s paranormal; I can smell her. Fairy maybe, but not sure now, they are normally sexy. This one here is filthy,’ spat the short obese dark-haired troll licking his lips and gazing at my half ripped pyjama. The group laughed, and I tossed, trying to free myself, but the troll that held me tightened his grip over my neck, slowly suffocating me. He smelled of line detergent and vodka. His hissy breath was near the nape of my neck.

  ‘We can use her up a little. Gordon won’t mind,’ laughed the biker that was standing on my right. ‘She looks like magic thieves had their hands on her.’

  Where am I?

  In hell—and it looks like you might be here for a while.

  ‘She doesn’t smell like them,’ said another one, whose face I couldn’t see.

  ‘Lets use her. I need to wet my Johnson.’

  ‘Fuck you, Kirk. She looks like a junkie!’

  I screamed, trying to bite through his hand, but he tossed me over and grabbed me by my hair.

  ‘Fuck all of you, I’m taking her to Gordon. He can decide what to do with her,’ barked the one that was holding me. He started dragging me away, passing others who began to protest loudly. He ignored them, throwing a mouthful of remarks and swears. I tried to think fast, aiming to gain control of my energy, but my body felt like I ran out of fuel. Blackouts were draining away what was left.

  I didn’t know how long he dragged me, but I must have lost consciousness for a while. When I opened my eyes I was on a cold floor surrounded by empty barrels in some old warehouse. I snapped my eyes open, smelling magic and the tanginess of blood. It felt like someone had been slaughtering people in this room. My stomach lurched, then revolted before someone slapped me.

  ‘She is awake, sir!’ roared the same biker who took me away. He pulled me back onto my feet.

  Someone else approached me while I struggled to keep my balance. When my eyes snapped back to reality, I sensed another troll, although he didn’t look like one. His skin was rough, pale, and covered with many scars. His eyes were bright yellow and moving over mine slowly, like he was measuring me, devouring my scent. The lines in his forehead were deep, over a sharp wide face and thin lips. I stopped breathing and stared, trying to break eye contact, but I couldn’t, feeling like he was bewitching me. He couldn’t possibly be a troll. They were mostly wide, short and stocky and the man in front of me was consuming the darkness, pushing the boundaries of danger.

  ‘What’s your name and why are you here?’ he asked in a raspy whisper that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

  He was slowly unfolding my fear, leaving me gasping and panting for air. I was petrified
that he would reach out and touch me. I didn’t want to be infected by his ambiance. He was about five inches taller than me, dressed in leather. There was a tiny black cross on the side of his neck, which only embodied more fear, paralysing me and stripping away any glimpse of hope. Once I managed to gather my broken thoughts, I recognised this ugly face from all the posters that hung around my father’s office. I was facing Gordon Lancaster, a paranormal that had been hunted by the police Paranormal Unit since I could remember. The most vicious and desired gang leader in Britain.

  I was truly and utterly as good as dead.

  ‘Dolores Jones,’ I replied, with a shaky voice. I had to lie. Paranormals knew me because of Nathaniel and my work with agency, so there was no way that I was giving him my real name. This was the only chance of my survival, unless he was planning to kill me straight away.

  With a sharp intake of breath, he studied me for a very long time; his penetrating gaze was alluring and threatening at the same time.

  ‘I hate repeating myself, Dolores, so I’m going to ask you one more time. Why are you here?’

  ‘Boys are ranting that she is a junkie, magic thief, sir,’ barked the other biker who stood close.

  I sucked in a breath, feeling like that insult wasn’t helping me. Magic thieves were paranormals that everyone else didn’t talk about. They were outcasts in our society, born without magical genes. They fed on the energy of others, using sex and money to satisfy their own hunger. Most of them didn’t live long, but almost each one of those creatures turned either insane or on the streets. Magic thieves were willing to do anything in order to gain at least a tiny ounce of magic, otherwise they wouldn’t survive.