I stayed after school to study for an English test I had the next day on Romeo and Juliet. When I left at five o’clock it was already dark outside, but I didn’t hurry home since I knew nobody was there. Mom and Robert were at his company’s Christmas party and wouldn’t be back before midnight.
I’d forgotten to wear the hat, gloves, and scarf Mom had given me yesterday as part of my birthday present. The winter chill bit deeply into me as I left school property, but I was in too good a mood to let the subzero temperature bother me.
Well, not much, anyway.
It was a fairly short walk home. Twenty minutes if I went the regular way—up a hill and through a maze of well-populated streets. If I wanted to, I could even hop on the bus that went right past the mall on the way to my new neighborhood. But I’d found a shortcut by walking through a park nicknamed Hungry Hollow, which was at the bottom of a deep ravine and shrouded by thick trees. If I crossed a bridge over a narrow, meandering river, went past a parking lot—empty at this time of year since it was meant for people using the soccer field during the warmer months—and past a small kiddies’ area with swings and a seesaw, then up the equivalent of three flights of wooden stairs to get to ravine-set houses, it was only ten minutes from school to home. Twelve if I took my time.
I’d walked the same route for two months and hadn’t run into a single problem, except for the odd monster snowdrift. I always made sure I was fully aware of my surroundings. You never could be too careful.
Unfortunately, today was going to be the exception. I was in such a good mood after what had happened with Chris, and I was so caught up in wondering what I was going to wear to the dance, that I didn’t notice somebody was following me until after I’d fully entered the poorly lit park. And by then it was too late to change my mind about the direction I was going in.
With a sick, sinking feeling I realized it was the weird guy who’d been staring at me in school that day. I recognized the sweatshirt after a quick glance behind me.
Who was he? What did he want?
Maybe nothing, I thought. Maybe he’s just taking the same route as me. Coincidence only.
If that was the case, then fine. But if it wasn’t . . .
I swallowed hard and picked up my pace. I had a ways to go before I got to the wooden stairs, but first I reached a big oak tree and a patch of thick foliage that stood in the center of the park. As soon as I knew I was out of sight from the main path, I ducked behind some snow-covered bushes.
The guy stopped in front of the huge tree and turned around with an expression of confusion showing under the dark hood of his sweatshirt. He craned his neck to see where I’d disappeared to. When his gaze reached the bushes, he paused.
He could clearly see my hiding spot. A sharp stab of panic went through me.
He squinted at me. “Nikki Donovan?”
I felt a flare of anger push past my fear. “What do you want?”
“Why are you down there?”
I hissed out a breath and watched the air freeze in front of me. My heart was thudding wildly against my ribs. I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who hid from danger or got pushed around. I’d much rather be like Melinda in the cafeteria today—the sort of girl who confronted things head-on without fear. But yelling across a crowded room was one thing. Being followed into a deserted park was another one altogether.
A quick head-to-toe scan of the guy confirmed that he wasn’t carrying a knife. Or a gun. In fact, he didn’t have anything, not even a winter coat or scarf to keep him warm. I forced myself to stand up and shuffle away from my protective area—which I now realized wasn’t very protective at all.
I crossed my arms tightly in front of me. “You shouldn’t follow people into dark areas.”
“Sorry. I . . . I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Naturally, I wasn’t convinced.
“What do you want?” I asked again, glancing over at the wooden staircase. I could get to it in less than thirty seconds if I ran fast. I wished my backpack wasn’t so heavy, but it was filled with books I needed to finish cramming for my Shakespeare test tomorrow.
“I need to talk to you,” he said. “It’s urgent.”
I swallowed hard. My guard was still up. Way up. “Who are you?”
He looked confused. “Who am I?”
“It’s not a trick question. What’s your name?”
For a second I didn’t think he was going to tell me, but then, “Michael. My name’s Michael.”
I’d been nursing a headache since having the chocolate cake last night and I’d gone all day without any Tylenol. My head was pounding now and getting worse by the minute. “Why are you following me, Michael?”
“I have to talk to you. I tried to earlier, but there were too many people around.”
My hands felt like they were freezing into two solid blocks of ice. Maybe it was the cold that was helping to numb my fright a bit. Not a lot, but a bit.
“You should have talked to me at school, anyway. I have to get home now.” When I turned to leave, I felt him grab my arm. I froze, and not just with the temperature. I turned to face him, my eyes wide with fear. “Let go of me.”
He let go of me immediately and took a step back. “Sorry. It’s just that I have to talk to you. There’s no time.”
“You need to leave me alone.”
His jaw tensed. “I can’t do that.” He stared at the ground and then pushed the dark hair off his face. I finally got a glimpse of what he looked like underneath. I don’t know why I’d expected him to be ugly. The fact that he was attractive surprised me, but didn’t ease my mind at all.
He wasn’t as thin as I’d thought at first glance, more lean and athletic under the ill-fitting clothes. Which would explain the killer grip he had. He had high cheekbones and stern eyebrows like black slashes above his emerald green eyes.
“The cops patrol this park all the time,” I told him. “So I think you should leave or there’s going to be trouble. I’m going home and I strongly suggest you do the same.”
He raised his gaze to look directly at me. “Not yet, Princess.”
I blinked at that. “Who are you calling Princess?”
“You.” He took a step toward me.
I took a big step back. “You need to stay away from me or we’re going to have a serious problem here.”
He frowned deeply, then reached into the pocket of the navy blue hoodie he wore. I clenched my fists, trying to ready myself for anything. My throat felt too tight to scream, but I’d give it my best shot.
He pulled out an envelope and offered it to me. I stared at it without moving.
“What’s that?” I managed.
“It will explain a little. But you need to come with me right now. He’s waiting for us.”
“Who’s waiting?”
“Your father.”
My mouth dropped open. Out of everything he could have said to me, I couldn’t have expected that. At all.
“You’re obviously mistaken,” I said. “I don’t have a father.”
“You do. Please, take the envelope.”
My fear and anger were quickly losing ground to a deep annoyance. “Look, I don’t know who put you up to this, but it’s not funny.”
The hand that held the envelope dropped a little. Michael seemed uncertain of what to do now, since I wasn’t being at all agreeable. “He . . . he said you’d be surprised to hear from him after all this time, but there’s no other way.”
“My father sent you to give me a message,” I said with major disbelief.
“And to bring you to his side.”
I still couldn’t believe I was hearing him correctly. “Well . . . why you?”
He frowned. “Because he asked me to.”
This was so unreal. I’d barely thought about my father for years. It helped that my mother refused to talk about him even on the rare occasion that I was curious to learn more about where I came from. I guess being left alone and pregnant at eighteen might make you have a tendency to want to forget the somebody who’s treated you so badly. Made sense to me.
Michael waited patiently with his arms crossed, the envelope held loosely in his right hand.
“Let me tell you a little something about my father,” I said. My headache was getting worse the longer I talked to this weirdo. “He got my mother pregnant and then he disappeared without a trace and left her all on her own. Sixteen years and he hasn’t tried to see me. Not once. Not a letter, a phone call, or an e-mail. So even if I did believe you, why would I want to see him at all?”
His face looked strained. “Because there are things you need to know. About him. About you.”
My eyes narrowed. “I have an idea. Why don’t you take that envelope you have there back to whoever gave it to you and tell them to shove it?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think that message would go over too well.”
I had to admit, I’d always imagined what it might be like to have a real father. The four guys my mother had married over the last twelve years hadn’t exactly fit the bill for me—and in the end, obviously not for her either. Somebody doesn’t get married that many times if they’ve found Mr. Right.
Robert the accountant was the latest. I didn’t like him much. That was an understatement, actually. His hobbies seemed to include yelling a lot and getting mad about stupid things—like when I left my homework on the sofa in front of the television one night. Not exactly anything to freak out over, in my opinion. I really didn’t like how he treated me—or my mom, for that matter. Mom said it had only been two months and it might take a bit of adjusting to our new living arrangements. I wasn’t so convinced, but I figured I’d try to wait it out.
Still, I’d seen too many of her relationships start out strong, only to fizzle after a couple of years. Sometimes it didn’t even take that long for her to realize she’d made a mistake. This was always after we’d already moved across the country, though. Atlanta, Phoenix, San Diego, and now Erin Heights. I was kind of sick of being told what to do and forced to move all over the place. But I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. I went where I was told to go. I did what I was told to do. I tried not to make too much of a fuss about it. End of story.
But any of the jerks she’d married were better than my biological father. At least I’d seen them with my own eyes. As far as I was concerned, my father didn’t even exist.
I was pacing a small section of the park, and when I glared at Michael, it was with anger now, not fear. Why did he have to stir up old issues for me? And after I was having such a great day, too.
He was ruining my good post-birthday mood.
“If you’re the delivery boy for my long-lost father,” I said, “then tell me. Where is he? Why couldn’t he come and see me himself if he’s so interested all of a sudden? And why now, after all these years?”
Michael raised his eyes to mine and his expression looked uncertain. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe somebody had given him money to contact me. Strange, but possible.
“You probably won’t believe me right away,” he said. “But you have to. It’s all true.”
“Tell me.”
“Take the envelope and I’ll tell you.” He held it out to me again.
I had to take a step closer to him as I snatched it out of his grip. “Fine. Envelope delivered. Now tell me. Please.”
He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Your father is the king of the Shadowlands.”
I blinked slowly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“The Shadowlands is the dimension that separates this human realm from the Underworld and Hell.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. Again, this guy had managed to render me speechless. He certainly wasn’t predictable.
“Another dimension,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“And my father is the king there. In this other dimension.”
“That’s right.”
“And that’s the reason why you called me Princess before. Because my father is a king.”
He nodded. “You’re the current heir to the throne.”
My mouth felt very dry and my head throbbed. I rubbed my temples. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding. I knew you’d have a difficult time believing me; you’ve lived the life of a human for sixteen years. That’s why you have to see your father personally. He’ll explain things much better than I will—even though I’m supposed to answer any questions you have to the best of my ability. He wants you to read his letter and then come with me—”
“Let me guess. To the Shadowlands?”
“That’s right.”
I frowned. “Hold on. Did you say that I’ve lived a human life for sixteen years? What other kind of life could I have lived?”
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Your father is a demon.”
“You’re crazy. I’m not listening to this.” I began to walk away.
“And as of your sixteenth birthday you will start to manifest the powers of a Darkling,” he said, following me. “One who is half demon and half human.”
“A Darkling?” I sputtered, coming to a stop and glaring at him.
“You’re the first one in a thousand years. Your father is concerned about how this might affect you. He had to leave the human realm over sixteen years ago and has been unable to communicate in any way since—”
I held up my hand. “Stop. Just stop, would you?”
He stopped. “I know this is a lot to grasp.”
“No, not at all,” I said. “I’m a half-demon princess. Sure. What’s so hard to grasp about that?”
Michael was crazy. Certifiable. Maybe that’s why I’d never seen him around school before—because he didn’t go there at all. He was an escaped mental patient. Somebody dangerous and about to have a major psychotic break if he hadn’t already had one. And for some reason I’d managed to work my way into his delusion. Just great. It was sick and twisted, and I’d feel sorry for him if I didn’t feel incredibly concerned for my own safety.
He eyed me warily. “So you accept everything I’ve told you?”
“Demons don’t exist.”
“Yes, they do.”
“No, they don’t.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to explain it properly. That’s why you have to come with me and see for yourself.”
I backed up a step. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Please, Princess, your father needs to see you. You have to come with me—”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. I turned and ran away from him as fast as my feet could carry me, thundering up the stairs in record time and down the street to my house where I slammed the door behind me and tried to put Michael out of my mind forever.