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    From Darkness: Secret Shadows Serial, #1
    From Darkness: Secret Shadows Serial, #1
    From Darkness: Secret Shadows Serial, #1
    Ebook101 pages1 hour

    From Darkness: Secret Shadows Serial, #1

    By Charlie Arnold

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    About this ebook

    Luke was just a small boy when he used his powers to kill his father. Now, at 17 years old, Luke is a high school senior struggling to understand the power within him. He knows it's growing but he has no idea if he's meant to use it for good or for evil.
    When Kiera, his classmate and the girl he adores, begs for his help, Luke is forced to discover more about himself and his power. All the while, having no idea that he is being stalked by a skilled executioner.
    Episode I begins the serial that tells the tale of the Secret Shadows from the perspective of Luke who just might become the most powerful shadow ever created.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharlie Arnold
    Release dateSep 8, 2015
    ISBN9781516363155
    From Darkness: Secret Shadows Serial, #1

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      Book preview

      From Darkness - Charlie Arnold

      1

      (October 6th)

      ––––––––

      IN THE BACK of the room, behind the desks, the students huddled together.  Their eyes were large and their faces were frozen with expressions of surprise and horror, as if someone in a movie theater had snapped a photograph just as the killer jumped out at the heroine. Rick didn’t know why they looked so scared. He was pretty sure that he could figure it out if he stopped to think about it, to really concentrate. But he didn’t care enough to do that. All that mattered to him was the coolness of the tiled floor against his cheek.

      This isn’t so bad, he heard someone whisper. He knew the words came from his lips but he still wasn’t sure they were his own.

      He smelled the gun powder as he tried to take in a long pull of air. A cough stopped him halfway and left behind a glob of blood and mucus in his mouth.

      He tried to roll over, to maybe get back onto his feet or at least find a more comfortable position. If only he could stand and pull his arms up and take a deep, cleansing breath, then everything would be okay. But nothing below his neck would move.

      Like a spot of blood in a bucket of water, the knowledge unraveled itself and spread throughout him.

      Oh God, I’m paralyzed. Oh God, oh God, he repeated. The puddle of blood - his precious blood - moved out farther. It reached his cheek and then soaked into his hair.

      Then the only truth that mattered penetrated his mind: He was dying.

      Moments earlier Rick had been discussing The Grapes of Wrath with his students. He was nervous. So much so that he could barely keep his thoughts on the lesson. A person appeared at the door, for a moment Rick thought this was it, but then he realized it was one of his own students. So he went back to teaching.

      He asked the kids questions that none of them could answer. What did they think of Tom Joad leaving his family? They didn’t care whether Tom went or stayed, lived or died. Some of them probably didn’t even know the name Tom Joad.

      A pop echoed throughout the school, bouncing off the walls. Rick stopped speaking in mid-sentence. The sound was unmistakable. And then the high-pitched voice came blaring over the PA system: Mr. Smith please pick-up your lunch in the lobby. Mr. Smith please pick-up your lunch in the lobby. The voice was too high – unnaturally so. It reminded Rick of the scream of an injured rabbit.

      Some of the students looked confused; others didn’t seem to be affected at all. But Rick knew what it meant and he moved quickly to close and lock his door, though he doubted it would do any good.

      The announcement meant that there was an intruder in the building. Rick adhered to the school’s policy and peered out into the hall looking for wayward students. Classroom doors on both sides of him slammed shut, shaking the floor beneath his feet.  He closed his own door. His hands were bouncing as he shoved them into his front pockets of his khakis. His keys weren’t there.

      Then Rick remembered that he’d left them on his desk. He turned and started walking back across the room.

      You okay Mr. Turner? Julie Markle asked from the third row.

      He tried to smile but failed, I’m fine, he said.  I need all of you to move quickly to the back of the room and sit down.

      More looks of confusion.

      Now! he shouted.

      They’d never heard him yell before. The volume caused them all to move quickly. They shuffled to the back and began sitting two to a seat.

      On the floor! Rick yelled. And then he realized he was being too loud. He had to stay in control. On the floor, please. Please on the floor against the wall, he said.

      The students didn’t know what was going on but they heeded his order - all of them except for Luke Adams. Luke sat motionless in the second to the last row, his eyes staring at the wall.

      Mr. Adams! Rick shouted again. He had no choice this time. Do you want to die? Luke didn’t move. I’ll rip him right out of his seat, Rick thought. But then he remembered the keys. He had to lock the classroom door. So he turned away from Luke and took two steps toward his desk.

      But he never made it.

      He was already falling forward when he heard the gun shot. He banged his chin on the floor and bit his tongue. He lay on his side with no immediate knowledge that he was shot. He stared at his students in the back of the room and felt pity for them. They all looked so frightened, and so helpless.

      But he wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. And the students didn’t have anything to fear either. Well, except for one of them. She had every reason to be afraid. Did she know she was about to die?  She must. Stacy was many things, but stupid was not one of them.

      Rick tried again to get up. His body wouldn’t obey his will to move. He shifted his gaze from his students, toward the door, and then over to his desk. But there was nobody in his line of vision. Only his students in the background, while in the foreground the deep, dark red of his precious life flowed out of him into an ever growing puddle.

      If only he could pull in one long cleansing breath, he would feel much better. But his chest would not - could not - fill completely with air.  At least he wasn’t in any pain, and at least he had the cool floor pressing against his body.

      He realized he was paralyzed, and he realized he was going to die.

      He heard another gun shot.

      Poor, poor Stacy. He hoped her end was quick, that she didn’t have to suffer. Maybe she had played a role in this, but she had done nothing that should ever sentence her to death. Not at such a young age. Not ever. And now she was most likely dead, right here in the school, a place where everyone was supposed to help the students, not harm them. They’d all failed her, failed her in the worst way. And Rick knew his own end was not far behind.

      Somewhere, farther away now, desks were scraping against the floor, people were screaming, and another gunshot echoed off the classroom walls.

      Rick’s mind clicked to the images and thoughts of everything: Sitting in the rain beside Ted. Click. Waiting at a restaurant, wondering where the hell his wife was. Click. Driving to Rochester to lose the one he loved most. Click. Finding a teenage girl half-naked and crying in his living room. Click. Making the phone call that would send everything over the edge. Click.

      And then his thoughts turned to one person. They settled there and wouldn’t leave. Hadn’t they always been there anyway? Somehow - sometimes in the deepest

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