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To maintain her guise as Bonnie Brown, Brownie is forced to leave old habits behind. Avoiding running and more importantly, visiting cemeteries become standard leaving her feeling twitchy and unsettled. Unfortunately, the dead start coming to her. With people watching her every move, can she deal with the dead while still making them think she is just an average girl?
Chapter 1
'I am Bonnie Brown, ' I told myself as I used the flat iron to straighten my curls. The brown contacts were already in my eyes covering up the green. As strange as it felt to look at myself in the mirror and see straight hair instead of curls and brown eyes instead of my normal green, I knew it was a necessity.
Especially now.
After finding out that I could converse with the spirits of the dead, not through any crystal ball mummery, but in much the same manner as people everywhere talked to other people, the NCS, or National Clandestine Services, a rather shadowy branch of the CIA, sent someone calling himself Swift to recruit me into helping them out by questioning a host of unsavory dead. After seven years as his asset, I gained a wide variety of nightmares and a host of scars.
When someone named Matheson who possessed green eyes, curly brown hair, abilities similar to mine and claiming to be my uncle appeared, wanting to kill me so he could perform some sort of ritual to add my power to his, Swift hid me with a friend of his named Paul in a small town called Mayenfield. Admittedly, Swift didn't know Matheson was my uncle, as I was raised in the Riverdale Girl's Home, had no known family and he never got a look at Matheson to spot the physical similarities.
By now I figured he managed to find some sort of photo identification as Swift managed to find Cecil Matheson's house. I had the feeling once he found the photo, he would quickly put things together. Swift was many things, dumb wasn't one of them. When I left though, he just thought Matheson wanted to have me raise someone from the dead for some reason that neither of us knew.
Yeah, I lied to him.
After a necromancer showdown between Matheson and myself in the Mayenfield cemetery, Matheson died and I ran. I slipped out of town quietly and hid from Paul, Swift and the NCS. With the assistance of the dead I no longer needed the pills Dr. Harding, the doctor they routinely used to stich me up after something went wrong, created to keep my liver's bilirubin levels steady and my stomach from having constant upheavals.
With the assistance of Avery, Matheson's butler, who apparently helped my parents get me away from Cecil Matheson, I had a new identity. He made me Bonnie Brown instead of Brownie Oxford and as he spent my entire lifetime growing the identity, it had all of the background I needed to look real and not like I magically popped up from nowhere.
From there I started out on a new life. I drove across the country, found an apartment, set up a small sewing business and was accepted into the local university's fashion design program. I made friends with my neighbors and actually started to have a real life. I was well on my way to normal, when everything went pear shaped.
It turned out, my neighbors were serial killers.
Yeah. Serial killers.
They managed to kill fourteen people and as luck would have it, they buried their victims in cemeteries.
Yeah. Cemeteries.
Just my luck huh?
News spread and brought Swift, now calling himself Agent Mike Johnson, to the city. He actually apprehended my three neighbors in my apartment when one of them decided to make me victim number fifteen. He then informed my building manager, Nicole, that this was his last case, that he was retiring, taking a job with a consultant firm and apparently moving here to date her.
I finished straightening my hair and unplugged the flat iron. When he arrived Swift adopted a southern accent and exuded charm. The tall, blonde charmer swept Nicole off her feet. The fact that I thought of Swift as a cross between a surfer and a praying mantis made me a little creeped out at the thought of anyone dating him.
I tried not to dwell on the details.
The kitchen apprehension occurred the first day of my first fall semester as a fashion design student. Now we were two weeks into the spring semester and the media's interest was finally waning. I was certain that once the trial actually came to court interest would once again flare. Somehow, I thought that a full confession from all three of the murderers involved would speed things along.
Silly me.
Thinking things were taking forever to wrap up, I looked into it, since oddly enough, the length of time between arrest and trial was not covered in my junior high civics class, or if it was I was sick that day and probably have a doctor's note to confirm it.
In my random research I found that capitol cases, i.e. cases where someone was murdered, could easily take up to two years to make it to trial. The lawyers from both sides had to get their ducks in a row and then there were back and forth appeals and a host of other legal bits to get through before the trial could even begin.
And that was with one killer and one victim.
Without the Feds getting involved.
With the "Cemetery Three" as the media dubbed my neighbors, there were obviously three killers which tripled the amount of lawyers involved and I was certain probably extended the legal paperwork exponentially. Not to mention there were fourteen victims. It didn't help that the fourteen victims were not exactly working on the side of angels. In fact most of them worked for someone named Big Jimmy, who was apparently someone in the world of crime. I guess that's why they appended Big to his name.
Or maybe he was actually big.
I frowned at myself in the mirror. "Or do they call big people Tiny?"
As my knowledge of the naming practices of organized crime came from bad movies, I shook the thought away. His name wasn't as important as the information. My murderous neighbors turned out to be the over achieving sort and used their assorted skills to find out a host of information about their victims prior to making them victims. They wanted to make certain they were actually killing people they felt deserved to die, in addition to robbing them to make ends meet after they were laid off.
In the process of doing their due diligence, they managed to unearth reams of information the local police did not have on file. I was fairly certain the police didn't have the information because they had to abide by the law when gathering information and as serial killers, my neighbors had fewer restrictions.
It was making local news more interesting lately. At the beginning of the investigation, I started watching local coverage at night in the hopes of keeping track of Swift. Even though everyone was behind bars as they awaited their trial, I decided to continue watching.
If there were any other serial killers around, I wanted to know before they tried to kill me.
This time.
While Christa, Matt and Noah were not cited as the source of information, local media reported an increasing number of raids and round-ups, most of which centered around Big Jimmy's businesses. Speculation was rampant and before the coverage was bumped to the back burner to simmer while waiting for the trial, various media outlets started referring to my neighbors as vigilantes rather than serial killers.
"That might help at trial time, " I said, shaking off all thoughts of my neighbors and temporarily focusing on me.
During the time Swift knew me, in addition to being known as Brownie, I pretty much lived in t-shirts and jeans. Most of the shirts were in dark colors so mud and blood would be less noticible. The only make-up I wore came out on the few occasions where I actually managed to get a date. By contrast, Bonnie was well dressed and always put together head to toe. I meticulously studied every inch of my Bonnie get up, more interested in concealment than vanity. Personally, I missed the jeans and t-shits, I just wasn't willing to die for them.
The hair was straight, the eyes brown. Work with the contour brush brought out my cheekbones and made my face look a little fuller. While I still looked mostly the same, Bonnie looked more like a distant cousin to Brownie, or so I hoped. The dress was an electric blue cotton with sleeves long enough to conceal the scars on my arms and a skirt long enough to conceal the ones on my legs. It also matched the headband in my hair and the flats on my feet. A chunky necklace with bright sparkling half-dollar sized chunks of faceted glass completed the ensemble.
"It'll do, " I decided. I double checked the flat iron, making certain it was unplugged and not near anything flammable while it cooled and then left the bathroom, turning out the light behind me. In the living room I turned on the television and flipped through the channels until I found one showing current weather conditions.
"Cold enough for a coat, " I decided turning the television back off and tossing the remote to the couch. "But at least it is sunny and dry." With the amount of product it took to keep my curls straight, rain was not my friend. I sighed.
In addition to staying out of the rain, I could no longer go swimming, for obvious reasons. I also had to give up my daily running as sweat was nearly as bad as rain. I compensated for the running with strategic parking, especially while on campus. The lot I was assigned when I applied for a parking permit was in the lot furthest away from campus. I added to it by parking in the most remote space in that lot and then using my walk to class to burn off some energy. As the pace was slow, due to non-running clothes and the backpack, sweat was kept at a minimum and the hair remained as I intended.
Or at least it had so far.
I had my fingers crossed for the spring as it warmed up. I also purchased a rather large umbrella that I kept in my car as well as a smaller folding umbrella to keep in my oversized purse. Spring showers were not going to catch me unawares.
Energy, or the expending of it anyway, was on my mind a lot these days. While I managed to compensate for the lack of running, with all the cemetery related issues going on, I hadn't gone to speak with the dead in a while. It was starting to make me twitchy. In addition, my dreams started getting strange.
"At least they aren't red poppy strange, " I muttered to myself as I went to my coat closet and took out my yellow wool coat. The dreams Matheson sent me when he was trying to add my power to his own, a process I'm certain would have left me dead, always started in a field of red poppies. These recent dreams weren't like that. These were more like the scenes I got when I looked through the memories of the dead while we were conversing.
Except that I wasn't currently speaking with the dead.
Weird, huh?
I slipped on my coat and decided I would puzzle things out once I returned. For now, I had a few supplies I needed to pick up for class projects and I wanted to check out one of the large flea markets. Even though it was still chilly as we neared the end of January, this was the first weekend this particular outdoor flea market was open and I was hoping that the chilly weather and newly stocked booths would result in some great finds for me.
"I can always worry once I get home, " I reminded myself.
Unbeknownst to most people, the world is divided into three realms, the normal human world, the world of the Fae and the Borderlands between where both species mix with each other and a third group, humans with magic. Detective Danny Faraway born into a powerful magic family, left and became a homicide detective in the human realm, content to forget the Borderlands existed. As bodies start piling up, it turns out a homicide detective is exactly what the Borderlands needs. With six dead, Danny is on the hunt for a killer. All is not as straightforward as it seems and soon Danny realizes that the fate of the Borderlands themselves is at stake.
When his wife died aboard The Defender in the Matrovean attack, all Michael wanted to do was join her in death. He sought oblivion but the Guild needed his skills as a cartographer as they sent teams inland to survey the planet outside of the town limits of Haven. Pulled back from the edge of oblivion for one last job, Mateo promises Michael that there are plenty of things on the alien world that could kill him if he looks hard enough. Hoping for a quick death, Michael agrees, but soon finds out there is more to the survey than he expected. Will Michael find the death he craves and doom the rest of his team into the bargain?
Brownie Oxford, now going by the name Bonnie Brown, is trying her best to avoid notice. She found someone to teach her the skills she needs to control her abilities and people have stopped leaving dead bodies on the lawn in front of her apartment building. Unfortunately, she is surrounded on all sides by Federal Agents trying to confirm she is Brownie Oxford so she once again be an asset. Maintaining her guise as a mild mannered seamstress and student of fashion isn’t easy, especially when the beast supposedly trapped by the Searchers starts visiting and ghosts start making demands. Can Brownie manage to keep this new life she built when even one false step could betray her?
After the dawn ritual on her eighteenth birthday, Cassie is welcomed by those of Abraham's pantheon. While she knows she isn't a Walker no one is quite willing to tell her exactly what she is other than 'family'. They are excited about the skills she might develop as her training begins and she realizes that she is the latest entertainment to break up the long monotony of their eternity. As she struggles to maintain her place in the regular world and complete her midterms, the mystical world and her newly developing abilities threaten to intrude. The line between her separate worlds is thin and beginning to blur. How long can Cassie remain a part of both?
After surviving an attack by the Brotherhood, Ivy tries to get back to normal life preparing for the launch of Wildwood's retail venture. Unfortunately others have different expectations. The head of the Seers shows up demanding Irina and Nick be turned over to him and Hamilton demands she figure out who else the Brotherhood paid off. Can Ivy figure things out before more attacks occur?
After being shot, Ivy Chambers settles in to her home in Wildwood to recover and read through her purloined files. Her recovery time is interrupted when the Head of the Mage Clan calls reporting that the golems running the Shadow Council Headquarters are malfunctioning. While she knows very little about golems, Hamilton can't risk anyone knowing he's lost control and since Ivy's ancestor created the golems, she's the one who needs to fix them. With a crash course in golems under her belt, Ivy returns to the archives, but it isn't only her family's actions causing problems. It seems more than the golems are malfunctioning. Can Ivy settle things without taking more damage or is the world destined to spin even further out of control?
Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all—from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn’t return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel’s terminal illness and realized she didn’t have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."
"Miss Brown, I am the butler here at your service," the butler replied. "My master wants to buy the baby in your belly." "What?!" Does that mean the abortion didn't take place? Did they kidnap her from the operating table just to buy the baby? But why her? "You..." Alice was about to ask a question, but the man in front of her calmly continued, as if he had expected her question, "You're pregnant with his child, and he needs a child. That's all I can tell you." Alice was forced to sign a surrogacy contract and eight months later gave birth to two healthy babies. Fortunately, the man was unaware of her daughter's existence. It wasn't until five years later that fate brought them together again...
The dream of everyone with regards to marriage is to be able to find that special someone and settle down with them. Even arranged marriages grant you an opportunity to meet your partner briefly before the wedding. How will you feel about waking up in the morning with someone sleeping next to you who is not just anyone but your legally married partner yet with no memory of how that had happened in just a few hours of going out the previous day? This is the story of Jason Haward and Julia Harrison, two strangers trapped in a marriage they never planned. The quest to find out why led to the unfolding of a mystery which made them realize they are both living a lie. To find out more, read this amazing story of love, betrayal, revenge and murder.
Madisyn was stunned to discover that she was not her parents' biological child. Due to the real daughter's scheming, she was kicked out and became a laughingstock. Thought to be born to peasants, Madisyn was shocked to find that her real father was the richest man in the city, and her brothers were renowned figures in their respective fields. They showered her with love, only to learn that Madisyn had a thriving business of her own. "Stop pestering me!" said her ex-boyfriend. "My heart only belongs to Jenna." "How dare you think that my woman has feelings for you?" claimed a mysterious bigwig.
When Corynn mustered up the courage to tell Elliot about her pregnancy, she unexpectedly found him gallantly helping another woman from his car. Her heart sank as three years of effort to secure his love crumbled before her eyes, compelling her to leave him behind. Three years later, life had taken Corynn down a new path with someone else, while Elliot was left grappling with regret. Seizing a moment of vulnerability, he pleaded, "Corynn, let's get married." Shaking her head with a faint smile, Corynn gently replied, "Sorry, I'm already engaged."
Melanie married Ashton out of gratitude, but she quickly found herself entangled in a web of relentless challenges. Despite these struggles, she stayed true to her commitment to the marriage. In the hospital room, Ashton indifferently attempted to draw her blood, disregarding her discomfort. This callous act was a harsh revelation for Melanie, awakening her to the grim reality of their relationship. Resolved to prioritize her own welfare, she decided to sever ties. With newfound resolve, Melanie filed for divorce. In the process, she unveiled her concealed identities, leaving everyone in shock. Throughout these turbulent times, Melanie realized that Derek, Ashton’s uncle, had been discreetly protecting her all along.