Prey (The Shade Chronicles Book 1) by T.K. Bradley

Author:T.K. Bradley [Bradley, T.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-15T05:00:00+00:00

Never have I slept so well in my life. At least, until I’m woken up just before dawn. I open my eyes in the grey light, and it takes me way too long to figure out where the hell I am. The mattress is too soft to be my cot, and the blankets too thick. For a brief moment, I’m even disoriented enough to miss my threadbare sheets and paper-thin pillow. But then I remember where I am, nestled into a mattress priced at $229.99, and hunker back down into the fog of sleep, intent on appreciating this bed for as long as possible. Not even the scratchy fabric of my coveralls—a better choice of sleeping attire than the sequined dress—can dampen this bliss.

Just as I’m about to drift back under, I’m jerked out of sleep by a soft murmuring. I’m instantly alert, my heart hammering under my ribs. I hold my breath and strain my ears in the dark. My body is tense. I reach one hand out and close it around the closest weapon. Obviously, it’s a lamp.

I hear it again, but this time it’s clearly someone speaking. At first I think it must be Dad and Bob, still up talking, but when an unfamiliar voice joins in, I freeze. It’s high-pitched and nasal, but muffled so I can’t make out the words. It doesn’t sound overly menacing or anything, but something drives me to pull back the blankets and tiptoe out of bed.

One voice is clearly Bob; I would recognize his southern twang anywhere. The other voice, however, is more feminine; higher, with a softer accent, and rounded edges. The voices are coming from somewhere in the maze of furniture. The bedroom area, basically just a few mattresses pushed into the corner, is draped off with some spare sheets, giving it an air of privacy.

Now that I’m out of bed, I can clearly see Dad and Brent, two lumps under another comforter. Their soft breaths are faint and even. Bob’s bed is empty, and it doesn’t even look slept in.

The floor changes from a well-worn carpet to the higher-traffic linoleum, and I suck in a breath. Damn, it’s cold on the toes! I sneak a peek around the privacy sheet. Bob is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a faint electric light coming from deeper into the department store. The warm light leaves a glow against the ceiling tiles far above, and draws me forward, as surely as a moth to the flame.

Hopefully I’m not about to get burned.

I slip silently through the aisles. Or, at least I hope I’m silent. I’m a little behind on my ninja training. At least the two voices are loud enough that they’re drowning out my furtive footsteps. The closer I get, the more words I can make out. And the more obvious it is that I made the right decision. Something isn’t kosher with this whole situation.

I prop myself against a black shelving unit and hunker down for some good, old-fashioned eavesdropping.

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