House of Darken (Secret Keepers #1)

Today was somewhere in the middle, so I was brave enough to push for more information. “I know Mom and Dad missed you both when you started moving around. Your visits were always a highlight in our house.”

Sara’s light brown eyes got shiny then; her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “It was a highlight for us too, honey,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We miss Chelsea and Chris so much.” She cleared her throat and spoke again, louder this time: “And this time we will be staying in Astoria for your entire senior year. We promise. It might be nice for us to have some stability for a while too.”

That was a relief. I didn’t want to have to navigate two schools during my senior year. Still, Astoria seemed like an odd choice.

“It’s a fairly small town, right? Are you sure there could really be much supernatural activity?” It was hard to phrase these questions without letting my skepticism show. Even the word “supernatural.” What did that refer to? Was it ghosts? Vampires? Werewolves? What exactly did they think was out there? Any time I asked they just said, “Other than human…”

So basically it could be anything.

Michael lifted one hand off the steering wheel, waving it animatedly. “I can’t wait to find out, but so far all the signs look really positive. Unusual activity is picking up in the area. Reports of energy spikes. Missing people. Strange occurrences with natural landscape formations. This is definitely the one!”

I smiled, but internally I was shaking my head. It was hard to actually believe that my accountant father and science teacher mother had put aside their level-headedness to become best friends with the Finnegans. That in itself was bordering on the crazy, but I wasn’t going to complain. This kooky pair had saved my life and I would owe them forever.

Turning back to the window, I let the scenery capture me again. I expected the natural landscape to really thin out before we hit Astoria, alert me to civilization approaching, but one minute it was trees and the next … we were in the town. I sat up in my chair, moving closer to the window. The back seats were old and threadbare, springs digging into my spine if I shifted too far out of the center, but it was worth it to catch a glimpse of this picturesque little place. Despite the grumbling skies and rolling clouds, there was something truly beautiful here. Something which almost felt familiar … homey.

“What do you think, Emma?” Sara twisted again, her teeth bright against the dark of her skin. She looked happy and more energized already.

I didn’t reply straight away, choosing to focus on the world flashing by the window. Tiny fishing shacks gave way to large mansions scattered along the water. A huge bridge could be seen far off in the distance, looking like it disappeared out over the water. Fishing boats shared the water with huge barges. And so much greenery. Everywhere I looked it was lush and natural, pockets of forest scattered among the city. Eventually I had to say, “It’s perfect. Just perfect.”

From the corner of my eye I could see the Finnegans exchange beaming smiles, but I was too enthralled to care. I never believed I’d ever feel at home anywhere again after losing my parents. They had been my home. But Astoria was definitely special; maybe this was the place to heal a little of the heavy ache in my heart and soul. It would be nice not to hurt so much all the time.

When we were passing through what looked like the main town of Astoria, Sara started trying to direct her husband toward our new house. She was terrible with maps, which was comical considering how much they traveled. I’d asked them if they’d ever like a navigation system in their car. I had gotten a solid no from both of them. Apparently they trusted their paper maps more, saying electronics could be manipulated.

After about thirty seconds of her rotating the map, I leaned over her shoulder. “Do you want some help?” I asked.

Without hesitation, she thrust the paper toward me. “Yes, please, this damn thing makes no sense. It’s upside down or something.”

Michael chuckled, very used to his wife’s lack of map-reading skills. “We’re on Marine Drive,” he told me, before pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket. “And our house is on … Daelight Crescent.” He squinted in the dim light, repeating it: “Fourteen Daelight Crescent.”

I scanned across the map, searching for both streets. I found the one we were on easily enough, but the other was not jumping out at all. After a few minutes I was about to tell them they had the wrong address when I finally noticed it. The name was tiny, almost unreadable.

It was across the other side of town, near the water. I figured out the quickest route from where we were and directed Michael. The storm was hanging lower now, which gave me almost no visibility in the back seat, and since there were no interior lights I had to hold the map very close to my face while lifting it up near the window to capture the final rays of the dying light. I memorized the route as best I could.

After driving for about fifteen minutes I leaned forward. “Should be around here somewhere.” I had abandoned the map. It was way too dark to see.

“There!” Sara gave a shout.

She must have picked up the flash of a sign in the lightning sprinkling the sky, because there were very few streetlights out this far. Michael and I had missed it completely; he had to swing the car around and go back again. This time he approached slowly, indicating to turn before we realized that Daelight Crescent was actually barred by a huge, imposing wood and iron gate. The design was intricate and expensive: shiny wood, polished metal accents. It towered into the sky, making me feel small and insignificant.

We all stared in silence. Michael and Sara exchanged a look.

“This can’t be right,” Michael murmured, turning from his wife and leaning forward to see better through the front windscreen. “This was the cheapest rental we could find here. It’s only seven hundred a month. They didn’t mention security gates. There’s no way we can afford this street.”

Michael wasn’t kidding. Our place in New Mexico barely had a front door, let alone something that resembled the sort of gated community movie stars hid away in. A tap at the window then made us all jump. The man standing outside of Michael’s window had taken us by surprise.

He was a large, imposing guy, holding what looked like a heavy-duty LED camping lantern. Michael slowly rolled down the clunker’s old sticky window. It stopped about halfway, unable to go any lower.

The man inclined his head toward Michael and I caught a glimpse of dark skin and eyes, and very white teeth flashing as he spoke. “Can I help you, sir?”

His accent was mild, hard to place, and his tone very polite. I studied his dark uniform, trying to make out details in the light from the high-tech-looking lantern he held. The word “security” was finely stitched in white across the pocket, and it all clicked into place.

Apparently this was a compound for movie stars, and somehow we had scored a place in there for seven hundred dollars a month. No catch either, no doubt. I slumped back in my seat as I waited for the guard to tell us we were in the wrong place.

Sara spoke up, answering his question from before – which she often did when her husband got flustered. “We arranged to rent a house, 14 Daelight Crescent. We might have the wrong street, though. We only have an old map to navigate from.”

“Who did you rent this property through?” the guard asked. Hmmm … curious. I expected him to immediately usher our old clunker away, lest it taint the rich folk.

Michael, who no longer looked flustered, leaned over the back seat and yanked up a folder from the floor. Riffling through it, he pulled out a few pieces of paper and handed them over to the security guard. “This was the site,” Michael said. “We’ve already paid first and last months’ rent.”