FF Sky Croft - Shadowstalkers

The mission of a shadowstalker is simple: stalk, hunt, and kill creatures of the night, while protecting the innocent, unsuspecting public who have no idea of the horrors that lurk in the darkness. For the Valentine women, shadowstalking is a way of life. Supernatural threats lie in wait around every corner, and danger is a regular occurrence. Though the mission is simple, Cassie Valentine finds her life is anything but. Not only is she in love with her best friend, but past mistakes haunt her dreams. Along with her mother, Eve, and her younger sister, Vicki, Cassie must learn to negotiate the perilous terrain of day-to-day life, while also coming to terms with the past. Will Cassie be brave enough to overcome her fears and give love a chance? Or will the Valentine family fall when a legendary foe resurfaces?



If you like this book support the author by buying it.
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18285406-shadowstalkers

You can find my entire collection here:
http://kickasstorrents.ee/user/perellopis/uploads/




Chapter One

EVE VALENTINE MOVED confidently around the bar, knowing exactly what needed to be done before they opened in one hour’s time. Though running slightly later than usual, she knew she would easily be able to complete her tasks before the first customers came through the steel-plated, double front doors.

There were steel bars covering the windows too, as in all the rooms, though they were on the inside, so the two-story house looked like any other from the outside—though perhaps more run down. Not that there were many other houses to compare it to, as the nearest town was more than an hour’s drive away.

Eve liked the privacy that was afforded to them by their home’s remoteness. They needed it. Her family’s business—a pub called The Smoking Gun—thrived because of that remoteness. The authorities never bothered with anyone out this far, and so her patrons were able to trade arms, make deals, whatever they wished, without the added hassle of the law butting in.

The surrounding land was barren, completely desolate, with nothing of note or interest in the area for miles around. Because of that, civilians didn’t come near, and they’d certainly never had one enter The Smoking Gun. The clientele was strictly shadowstalkers. And since shadowstalkers only heard of this place by word of mouth, and shadowstalkers were tight-lipped folks, there was little to no chance that a civilian would ever just drop in. Eve had been running this business for nigh on twenty years, and she’d never had one yet.

It helped also that the house was a good distance from the country road that went by them. An un-signposted single track led across their acres of flat, dusty land and eventually led to their house, where the track simply came to a dead end.

Eve walked out from behind the bar, heading toward the two large, wide bay windows that sat on either side of the main entrance. She wanted to see what the weather was like outside. She stepped on a discarded chewing gum wrapper, hearing it crinkle underfoot. Picking the paper up, Eve scrunched it into a ball, planning to dispose of it when she returned to the bar. Reaching the window, she leaned on its sill and peered out. The sun’s setting rays filtered in through the glass, the metal bars on the windows throwing striated shadows across the room.

There wasn’t much to see outside: the landscape bleak, lifeless. Eve had never attempted to plant anything in the surrounding acres; if nature herself hadn’t managed to grow anything there, she didn’t think she would have much luck.

Most people would likely think that the surrounding land was ugly, but Eve thought it was beautiful. It was home. She had raised her two children here, and those times would always be cherished memories for her.

The fine powder from the dry earth blew about in the light breeze, though it was by no means cold for this time of year— autumn.

The even plains had often proved useful to the Valentines, allowing them to see if anyone or anything was approaching. And giving them time to prepare if there was any oncoming threat.

Eve’s gaze shifted, flitting around the inside of the pub. The walls were cream, faded from white long ago. Old paintings decorated the walls, along with muskets, swords and numerous other ancient, outdated weapons. The bar itself was mahogany, as were the barstools that sat along its length. The bar was on the right side of the room upon entering the front door. The rest of the room was filled with tables and chairs, ranging from two to six seaters, which were mostly made of the same matching wood. But as and when one had been broken, which was inevitable in a pub, with careless drunks and disputes often occurring, the replacement furniture wasn’t of the same wood, making several clusters of tables and chairs look mismatched, and somewhat thrown together.

The wall opposite the bar housed a gray stone fireplace. In its hearth sat a log fire, waiting to be lit. The fire was only ever used in the winter, on the coldest of nights. It wasn’t often needed; the body heat from the numerous patrons was usually enough to warm the room.

To the right of the fireplace was a single door, which led through to the public toilets. At one time it had been a large storage room, but it had been converted along with the rest of the farmhouse, when Eve and her husband, Mathew, had been altering the expansive building to include the addition of a pub, so they could run a business. Eve certainly didn’t want the clientele to be traipsing through the house every time they needed to relieve themselves. Though the toilets were small and basic, they did the job, allowing the Valentines to keep the part of the house that was their home separate, which in turn afforded them some privacy.

The well-worn wooden floor was easy to keep clean, and due to the amount of heavy wood used throughout, the whole room seemed dark and dingy despite its large size. The wide bay windows were the only saving grace, allowing plenty of natural light to flood into the room.

The clientele weren’t at all bothered by such trivial matters as décor, as long as they had a drink and a place to sit, they were content.

Eve heard the stairs creak, and knew that one of her daughters was on her way down to help. She didn’t hear the approach itself, Eve had taught them early on to be quiet on their feet. It was an absolute necessity to a shadowstalker. The slightest of noises was all it took for a creature of the night to learn of your presence.

Though her back was to the doorway that led from the pub to the rest of the house, and despite the lack of noise, Eve still sensed her daughter as she entered behind the bar. And from the slight hesitation she knew which daughter it was: Cassie. If it had been Vicki, she would’ve come straight in and asked what needed to be done. With Cassie, she would silently appraise the situation, look around for herself to see what had already been done and what still needed doing, then she would get on with it herself. She didn’t need to be told. She took the initiative. Cassie had learnt early on as a shadowstalker not to go rushing headlong into a situation. It had been a hard lesson, but she had learnt it well.

Sure enough, after a moment, Cassie started to check the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, removing any that had little or no liquor left in them. They’d be replaced with stock from the store room at the back of the house, off the kitchen. Bottles clinked together as she clutched more and more to her chest. Once her arms were full, Cassie took the empties out the back. Eve heard the clatter and breaking of glass as they were dumped into the large outside bin.

The full bottles that returned were more carefully carried, and it took a few trips before the shelf was fully stocked once more.

Leaning across a round table, Eve brushed long, wavy brown hair behind an ear. She scrubbed a sticky beer stain off the wooden surface, realizing as she examined the rest of the tables that Vicki hadn’t done as she’d asked last night. Feeling her temper rise, she fixed her brown eyes on the doorway Cassie had entered by. The only route to the rest of the house. She wondered where Vicki was, or rather what she was doing instead of completing her share of the work. Her youngest daughter, at nineteen years old, was very good at shirking her responsibilities and had a knack for showing up after all the hard work was done.

Cassie usually ended up covering for her, or simply doing the chores herself. Not because she wanted to, it was simply to keep arguments from erupting. She was the peacemaker in the family.

Eve knew that Cassie already did more than her fair share, and Cassie never once complained about it either. But if unchecked, Vicki would take full advantage of her older sister’s generous nature. And Eve simply wouldn’t allow that to happen.

She checked the time on the clock above the maroon double doors, the house’s main entrance; it was twenty past six. Eve had started at six, and Cassie a few minutes after that. She would give Vicki another five minutes before shouting for her.

Four and a half minutes later, Vicki ambled into the bar. Not hurrying herself in the slightest. She flashed Eve a defiant look, as if daring her to say something. Vicki idly twirled a long strand of brown hair, the exact same shade as Eve’s, around one graceful finger. Vicki was the smallest of the Valentine women, but was by no means short, coming in at five foot eight inches. Her features were rounder than Cassie’s, not as angular, or sharp. Eve often saw herself in Vicki, at least when it came to looks, they were remarkably similar, even down to sharing the same chocolate brown eyes.

Cassie’s hair was a darker brown again, looking almost black. She’d inherited the hair and her ice blue eyes from her father, Mathew, though she still retained the look of her mother. It seemed Eve’s genes were as dominant as her personality.

“What do you want me to do?” Vicki asked, her reluctance apparent to all.

The crumpled paper in her hand reminded Eve. “Check the snacks. We’re out of peanuts.”

Vicki went to fetch them. When she returned, after taking twice as long as was needed, she held a box in one hand—which she’d opened, and a bag of peanuts in the other, removed from the box. She was munching away, licking salt off her full lips.

She put the box underneath the bar and dropped the opened bag onto the counter. It was nearly a full bag, and some of the nuts fell out onto the counter’s surface. A surface that had just been cleaned by Cassie.

Cassie silently shoveled the nuts back into the packet, ran the cloth across that area once more, then carefully laid the bag back down.

None of this had gone unnoticed by Eve. Her sharp eyes registered everything. Knowing that Cassie would get more done if Vicki was out from underfoot, she said, “Vicki, can you clean those corner tables?”

Cassie threw Eve a grateful look.

Vicki moved around to the front of the bar and perched on a stool. “I did them last night.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Eve said flatly. Along with her words, her tone also made it perfectly clear that she didn’t believe Vicki, and no amount of excuses would convince her otherwise. “I asked you last night, but I can clearly see that you didn’t do it.”

Vicki sighed, giving up the pretense. She spun around on her stool to face Eve. “I really don’t see why we need to waste our time like this. It’s pointless. They’ll just get filthy again tonight.”

“True,” Eve said. The pub was always left in a state after the punters had gone home for the night. But though the pub may need a lick of paint, Eve made sure it was always clean. “Though that’s hardly the point.”

Vicki rolled her eyes, then swiveled back around to the bar, making no move to do anything further.

Where Vicki had inherited her reluctance for work, Eve had no notion, for she herself was a hard-grafter, and Mathew had been the same, certainly not shy of putting in extra effort. Cassie was cut from the same cloth. Vicki may look more like her mother, but Cassie was more similar in nature and temperament.

Eve opened her mouth to continue, but Cassie held her hands up in a halting motion.

“I’ll do it,” Cassie said, clearly not wanting an argument to break out. She lifted the hatch at one end of the bar and slipped through, taking the cloth with her. There was a hatch at both ends of the bar, allowing easy access.

Eve frowned. Though she knew Cassie was only trying to keep the peace, Vicki would never pull her own weight if Cassie kept bailing her out. Vicki was smirking cockily, and Eve’s disapproving look barely dampened it.

“I’m going to start calling you Vicki,” Eve told her eldest. “It seems you do most of what I ask of her.”

Cassie chuckled, giving Eve a wry grin over her shoulder. “She must think I need the exercise.” She glanced toward the bar. “That so, Vic?”

Nothing could be further from the truth. Cassie was a statuesque brunette, six foot tall, curves in all the right places, and incredibly fit, toned. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her. Nor on any of the Valentines; as shadowstalkers, they had to be fit.

“No. Of course not.” Vicki spun around on her stool, making a show of looking at Cassie’s form. “Though you should be thanking me for your figure.”

“Oh?” Cassie said amusedly, a single, delicate eyebrow lifting. “How so?”

Vicki, it seemed, was quite serious. “You wouldn’t be so fit if you weren’t running after me all the time.”

Eve scoffed loudly, not quite believing the audacity of the girl.

Cassie merely rolled her eyes. “God forbid.”

“And then perhaps you wouldn’t have so many suitors after you,” Vicki continued.

“I doubt that,” Eve said, drawing closer to Cassie with each table she cleaned. There were a lot of tables, but between them it would soon get done. It would go even quicker if Vicki would only pitch in and help. Eve placed her hands on her hips as she looked at Vicki, who sat munching away on her bag of peanuts. Before Eve could say anything, Cassie responded to Vicki’s claims.

“I’m probably only fit because I spend so much time running away from those suitors.”

Eve broke into unexpected laughter, and Cassie gave her an irritated look. “I’d gladly have less. Take them all.” She waved a dismissive hand.

“Honey,” Eve tried to rein in her amusement, seeing Cassie’s annoyance. “Don’t say that. Half of what we make is from people buying you drinks.”

Vicki giggled. “Yeah. And if you actually drank all of what they buy you, you’d die from liver failure in one night!”

Cassie scowled at their raucous laughter. Vicki was laughing so hard she looked like she might fall off her stool.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Cassie said.

Eve nodded in agreement. Her youngest did have a tendency to over embellish, and certainly wasn’t one for understating things.

“Not by much,” Vicki insisted.

Cassie focused on cleaning the tables. Eve went back to work too, knowing of Cassie’s aversion to the subject matter—her many suitors were a sore spot.

Cassie was cleaning the last table when Eve placed a glass of vodka and coke in front of her. “Take a load off.”

Eve patted Cassie’s shoulder, then pulled out one of the four chairs and sat down. Eve also placed a drink of her own, a whisky sour, on the table.

Vicki joined them, bringing her peanuts and her own personal, stylized glass mug, which was filled to the brim with beer. The writing etched on to the glass read, You’re not drunk, I really am this attractive.

They all sat around the table, chatting about anything and everything. It was the same every evening. No matter what happened during the day, they always tried to fit this in. This was their family time. The time to be together.

“QUIT YOUR BITCHIN’.” Cassie grinned and reeled in the haul of money from the center of the circular table.

“Every damn time,” Ric moaned, looking around at his fellow poker players. “Remind me again why we let her play.”

He withdrew