Starcrossed: Perigee

By Tracey Lee Campbell

Aric Brennan is a whisperer - a perfectly engineered human/alien hybrid, designed specifically to charm and seduce.

When Lucy is stalked by his unearthly creators, she has no choice but to trust him to help her navigate a way through a horrifying reality - a reality filled with creatures which should really only exist in nightmares.

"Thrillingly addictive paranormal romance"

If you're into X File type aliens and ufos, vampiric creatures, weird powers, romance and fast paced adventure, then Starcrossed: Book 1 Perigee, by Tracey Lee Campbell is a must read!

"...His face drew nearer, and I caught my breath at the closeness of such an impossibly perfect person. Despite every instinct which told me I was in danger, I couldn’t help but stare back at him, and be pulled into the spell he was weaving. The panic receded as I looked into his eyes and listened to the hypnotic timbre of his voice. The room filled with a strange buzz which permeated my body, vibrating and pulsing through every part of me. I didn’t care - I was still listening to his voice. Paralysis overtook me, but I had no will to fight it. The creatures moved closer and he backed away..."

*I will be publishing this on Royal Road

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracey Lee Campbell
• Release date: Apr 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458127891

Tracey Lee Campbell

Tracey Lee Campbell grew up in Sydney, Australia, before moving to Queensland as a teen. She has been writing stories since she was very young and wrote her first manuscript when she was just ten years old. She has always had an interest in things which can be classed as ‘highly strange’, the mysterious and the spooky. In 2010 she decided to combine her two passions to produce a paranormal romance series. The book, Starcrossed: Perigee, is the first in the trilogy.Tracey lives in Australia with.her family and an entire hoard of animals!More information on further titles in the Starcrossed series can be found at:https://www.facebook.com/traceyleecampbellauthor/

Book preview

STARCROSSED: PERIGEE

Tracey Lee Campbell

Copyright ©2011 Tracey Lee Campbell

All rights reserved.

ISBN:

ISBN-13:9781461116899

ISBN-10:1461116899

Cover art by Brenna Symonds

FOR MY FAMILY,

WITH LOVE AND GRATITUDE

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Acknowledgements

Much love and thanks to my husband Ben who is always there to ply me with caffeine, chocolate, encouragement and advice. To Katrina and Stella, for your, friendship, time and honest feedback, thank you. To my kids, who put up with a nutty mother who ‘likes weird things’—thanks for your encouragement, faith and understanding. I love you guys!

To my American friend Tina who very kindly edited the ‘un-Americanisms’ out of this book—thank you! You have the patience of a saint and the keen eyes of, well, anything with super-duper eyesight!

Finally, a big thank you to my Mum and Dad –possibly the ‘best parents in the universe’—you are inspirational in so many ways.

Prologue

There were three of them, waiting in the darkness. They stood silent and still—thin figures lurking amidst the line of trees bordering the muddy farmyard, watching, waiting for the signal to proceed. Their eyes focused easily in the dim light, gazing with apparent disinterest as their target emerged from the farmhouse into the weak pool of light thrown from the porch lamps. They didn’t need to follow her movements—they would find her no matter where she went.

She made her way across the rutted yard using the feeble light of a flickering flashlight, and headed for the barnyard gate. Stopping suddenly, she shone the light in the direction of the trees, but the weak, intermittent beam only illuminated a few feet around her. Giving up on the flashlight, she stood still, her head cocked as though straining to listen. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she turned to lift the latch from around the fence post. The gate’s hinges protested with a high pitched creak as she used her full weight to shove the gate across the boggy ground.

The horses in the barn moved uneasily, nickering and kicking the sides of the timber stalls as though they sensed this night held something unusual. The air was thick and still and the local creatures which usually filled the night with their chirping and croaking were strangely silent.

The movement triggered sensor light went on as the girl approached the barn door. Again she stopped and looked around, rubbing her temple. She peered into the dark edges of the farmyard, gave a slight shake of her head then raked her fingers through her hair in a weary gesture. Pushing the heavy wooden doors to each side on their rollers she disappeared inside the building.

The three figures turned their heads in unison toward the side of the barn, their eyes moving along with the girl inside as if they could see right through the walls.

One of the watchers put his hand to his brow and closed his eyes. He turned to his companions.

"Abort. The specimen has been uncooperative lately. We will need a whisperer." The messenger relayed the directive silently to the others and they took one last look at the barn before disappearing into the night.

perigee

[per-i-jee]

-noun Astronomy

The point in the orbit of a heavenly body at which it is nearest to Earth.

Dreams are so peculiar—the strangest things can happen in them but in the midst of it all, when the world around you is totally upside down and inside out, the mind still thinks everything is normal. It’s only when you wake common sense kicks in and you realize what you dreamed was total nonsense.

My dream should have been total nonsense.

I was in a room—a strange space enclosed by luminous white walls with no corners, edges, doors or windows. The air around me was hot and humid and I could feel the sweat collecting on my skin, running in rivulets to the hard metallic table I was laying on. He was there in front of me, very close.

Sometimes I wonder which is reality—the physical one we exist in or the one in our dreams. The strangers who populate the dream world sometimes seem so authentic you almost grieve for them when you wake and realize they never really existed. He seemed so real, as if I’d known him forever. But it was just a dream... wasn’t it? The notion of reality has been challenged for me and it is thoughts like these which make my mind go around and around until I feel as if my head will cave in from contemplating this overwhelming, indecipherable puzzle.

He was the only one in my dream who seemed what I could term ‘normal’. The others were monsters. We’re told monsters are figments of an over-active imagination and yet these beings, with their bulbous eyes and their malevolent aura were there, hovering, waiting in the background in all their solid, corporeal horror. But he looked at me with incredibly charismatic blue eyes and soothed me with his quiet, gentle voice.

My questions were deflected and he told me to hush, to be still—it would be over more quickly. A small voice in my head told me to fight, to run—perhaps it was instinct. He seemed to read my mind. Closing his eyes momentarily, a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face and he shook his head. Don’t do it—escape is impossible. Be still and you will be returned home all the sooner.

He turned and looked at one of the monsters behind him. With a slight nod of his head, he turned back to me. His face drew nearer and I caught my breath at the closeness of such an impossibly perfect person. He was mesmerizing. Despite every instinct which told me I was in danger, I couldn’t help but stare back at him and be pulled into the spell he was weaving. The panic receded as I looked into his eyes and listened to the hypnotic timbre of his voice. The room filled with a strange buzz which permeated my body, vibrating and pulsing through every part of me. I didn’t care—I was still listening to his voice. Paralysis overtook me but I had no will to fight it. The creatures moved closer and he backed away. I was rapidly losing consciousness. Before blackness took me again I heard his voice in my mind, very quietly, as though he was whispering from across the room... I’m sorry...

If I’d remembered the ‘dream’in the morning I would have thought it nonsense. But I didn’t remember it—not for a long time afterwards when I learned the most nonsensical things could turn out to be real and not a dream at all.

Chapter One

You know something’s not quite right when you wake up in the morning with your face next to a pile of old horse manure.

I’m so not a ‘morning person’. Most mornings I wake up feeling like a zombie until I revive myself with a shower and caffeine... but waking up with a lump of poop two inches away from your nose? That is guaranteed to bring you to your senses pretty quickly.

Gingerly shifting my cramped limbs, I sat up and shuffled away from the offending mess, confused and surprised at both my location and extra-decrepit state first thing in the morning. I peered about in the dim light. Sunshine broke through a crack high on the timber wall, piercing the dark, cavernous space with a beam of whirling dust motes. It shone on a sleeping cat curled up on a bale of hay in the corner of the room. A horse snorted softly behind me. As my confusion cleared I realized I was in the barn. After going to bed in my own room last night I had no idea how I ended up face down in a pile of straw and manure this morning. Weird... and I was used to ‘weird’.

The barn's sliding door opened with a rumble revealing the silhouettes of my Uncle Tom, his farmhand Gus and my eight year old cousin Luke. I blinked in the bright morning sun.

Lucy! What the hell are you doing out here?! It was Uncle Tom who recovered from his surprise first. Hauling myself off the ground, I wiped my dusty hands on the sides of my pajamas.

Beats me…I mumbled. I hadn’t had a chance to even think on it myself.

Luke laughed and jabbed a finger at me. You’re covered in poop! And your pajamas are on backwards.

I looked down and realized he was right—my pajamas were indeed on backwards. The buttons which were supposed to fasten down the front were fastened unevenly down my back. Flakes of dried horse poop and dirty straw stuck to the fuzzy flannel. After a vigorous attempt to brush it off, I conceded defeat and accepted my PJs were too far gone.

Gus eyed me strangely and gave me a wide berth as he went to grab a bucket from a hook near the stall. Strange night last night. I could feel it in my bones. The wife could too.He dipped a plastic jug into a barrel of oats and measured it out into the bucket. The horses were spooked. Bad, bad night…Gus was very superstitious and loved a good ghost story. We'd spent many nights on his porch enthralled and terrified by his spooky folk tales from his native Ireland. To Gus, anything odd was instantly put down to supernatural forces.

Uncle Tom, ever practical, grunted and lifted the wheelbarrow from its place against the wall. Probably Lucy here spooked them.He threw a pitchfork into the wheelbarrow and tossed me a glance. Looks like your sleepwalking has started up again.

I guess so.The explanation was entirely plausible. I’d sleepwalked often when I was a child but I thought I’d grown out of it as the family doctor had predicted I would. Ending up in the barn was kind of worrying. At various times during my sleepwalking misadventures I’d been found in the bathtub, in the dog’s basket, draped across the washing machine and scrunched up in the shelf above the hanging space in my closet, but never before outside the house. I guessed I was getting more adventurous as I got older. There was no telling where I might end up next time.

Evidently Uncle Tom was thinking the same thing. Maybe we should start thinking of a way to keep you inside at night.

Luke jumped on his bike and wheeled around toward the barn door. Tie yourself to the bed,he suggested. Or nail planks to your window and door every night.He took off out of the barn and headed off down the drive, ignoring Uncle Tom’s reminder to do his chores.

Uncle Tom winked at me. There’s spare wood and a hammer in the tool shed. Help yourself.

I stretched and flinched—the hard ground hadn’t been gentle on my back. Just a tad on the impractical side,I said of Luke’s idea. Maybe an alarm on the door will do the trick?I dismissed the idea even as I said it—I’d trip the alarm every time I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. Maybe last night’s adventure would be a one time thing. I’d have to wait and see if I made any more nocturnal trips. What was more pressing was the need to clean off the poop. Ugh! I need a shower!I said. I reek.I turned to head for the house.

Your aunt’s up and about!Uncle Tom warned. I thanked him and continued on over the muddy barnyard. It was early spring but the sun didn’t warm the valley much until the middle of the day. The ground was painfully cold under my feet. I wondered how I’d managed to stay asleep as I walked out into the freezing night—I must have been totally out of it.

I skirted around to the front of the house hoping to avoid my aunt. If she were up she would likely be in the kitchen, complaining about the mess, ready to pounce on any poor unfortunate family member who happened to come within nagging distance.

I realized too late my logic was faulty—she was out front sweeping the porch. She stopped at the top of the steps and leaned against the broomstick, a long-suffering expression on her face.

Look at the state of you! What have you been up to now?

Sleepwalking.

She looked at me with suspicion. Likely story.

I held my tongue; I didn’t feel up to a confrontation with my aunt. I trudged up the front steps but she put her hand up and glowered at me.

Oh no you don’t!she snapped. I just washed the floor. Go around the back to the kitchen. And wipe your feet –they’re filthy!

I sighed and trudged around the side of the house, breaking into a jog across the wet grass when my toes began to freeze. My breath was still frosty in the cold morning air. If Uncle Tom and Gus were just starting their chores it must be about six. It was sacrilege being up this early on a Saturday. Now Aunt Janet knew I was up she’d be ready to bombard me with a long list of chores which would take a good portion of the day to complete. I’d made plans to go shopping in Craigsville with my friend Alison—which meant I needed to avoid running into my aunt again before I could escape by catching a ride into town with Uncle Tom.

My cousin Michael was on his way out the kitchen door as I went to open it. He looked at me in surprise.

What are you doing up?!His eyes took in my appearance. Is that poop?

I pushed past him. Yes it is.

He followed me back inside. What were you doing in the poop?

Rolling in it. I hear it’s good for your complexion,I replied, straight-faced.

Really?

I laughed. No, dummy. I was sleepwalking. All the way to the barn.

He tailed me as I headed up the stairs to my bedroom.

Cool!he said. Did you know if you wake someone up when they’re sleepwalking, they’ll die?

I threw him a cynical look. Where’d you hear that?

He shrugged. I read it somewhere. We should try it. Next time, I’ll wake you up and if you die…

I reached my bedroom door. You shouldn’t believe everything you read.

Michael was really into science. A mad scientist –he’d tried some crazy things. Although I was quite sure his sleepwalking theory was flawed I wasn’t about to offer myself up as a guinea pig for the benefit of science, however crackpot his hypothesis.

If we try it then we’ll know—I could learn CPR. You don't have to die...

No thanks, I think I’ll pass.I grinned and closed the door in his face.

My room was an unfamiliar mess. I’m a fairly tidy person but this morning my room was almost unrecognizable from its usual cluttered but ordered state. I found my jewelry box on the floor, its contents strewn across the room, the trash can beside my desk tipped over. My lamp was dangling from the nightstand by its cable. Apparently I was a clumsy sleepwalker. Ignoring the mess for the time being, I took a long shower, wrapped myself in my bathrobe and threw my dirty clothes into the washing machine.

Returning to my room, I stared absently at the mirror as I combed the tangles out of my wet hair. I wondered what had upset me so much yesterday to cause me to start sleepwalking again. Nothing unusually unsettling had happened. Same old nagging from my aunt, but otherwise a very pleasant, fairly relaxed day. I shrugged out of my bathrobe, letting it drop to the floor. I glanced again at the mirror and froze. What was that on my neck? And my arms... and thighs. I flicked on the light switch so I could study the marks on my skin properly. A strange rectangular mark about an inch wide, consisting of five tidy rows of small red dots stood out against the pale skin on my neck near my shoulder. Sets of what seemed to be four stripes of long thin bruises marked my upper arms and each of my thighs just near by knees. What had I been doing last night—beating myself up in my sleep? It's a wonder I hadn't woken the family. I studied the rectangle again. It was painful to touch. Was it a burn? Maybe I'd run into something rectangular and pointy in the barn but I couldn't think what it might have been. If I sleepwalked again I was definitely going to put an alarm on the door to wake myself up. I hoped Michael was wrong about his waking a sleepwalker theory...

I threw on some clothes and wondered where to start with my room. I figured I’d better begin with the bed—my aunt was a stickler for bed making. My sheets and comforter hung off the mattress, and were strewn halfway across the floor. Aunt Janet would throw a fit at the sight of them. A strange smell hung in the room –a kind of faint rotten egg smell which I put down to residue from my smelly visit to collect my bathrobe before my shower. I sniffed at the air and decided it was more like the burnt electricity smell which I was familiar with. I picked up my clock—a smart phone dock which doubled as an alarm clock. I was expecting it to have totally blown but it was still going. The time was wrong though—the digits 3:33 were blinking crazily. I unplugged it then turned it back on and it went haywire. Nothing unusual for me there—I don’t know why I even bothered with it. I should have stuck to the old mechanical wind up one.

As long as I could remember I’d always had a strange effect on electrical stuff. Some days everything I touched would go berserk. Television screens and computer monitors went fuzzy until I knocked them into behaving. Cell phones, household appliances, even streetlights—anything electrical basically malfunctioned when I came near. My teacher dreaded me walking into the computer lab. It was a running joke with my family and friends and no one could tell me why it happened.

I gave up on the clock and opened the window as wide as it would go. A cool spring breeze moved through the room dispelling the burnt odor. I shivered—but not from the cold. With the removal of the smell the mood in the room shifted. I hadn’t realized how oppressive it had been until after it was gone.

I took my time cleaning up my room, trying to appear busy whenever Aunt Janet passed by. Eventually I figured it would be close to nine and time for Uncle Tom to leave. He was downing coffee in the kitchen, the local rural newspaper spread out on the old wooden table in front of him. I looked around cautiously. He grinned and grasped the coffee pot.

She’s pulling weeds in her vegetable garden.He knew me well.

I accepted a mug of steaming coffee. Uncle Tom was possibly my favorite person in the world. His patient, unhurried manner was comforting and contagious and he was so easy to chill with. He’d made it his role to defuse any arguments which might arise between Aunt Janet and me. He possessed the patience of a saint but I still wondered how he managed to put up with his surly wife. I tried to keep out of her way—particularly on Saturdays.

Michael and Luke obviously had the same goal. Usually at breakfast time they hung around like a pair of locusts devouring everything they could find in the fridge but this morning they had made themselves scarce. Aunt Janet wouldn’t be happy. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

I don’t suppose I could catch a ride with you into town this morning?I asked, popping two pieces of bread into the toaster and pushing the lever down. As I feared it would, sparks emitted from the outlet and the appliance hissed, smoke spewing from the slots. I quickly pulled the plug.

Uncle Tom jumped up and took control of the toaster. Err... let me do that for you. It looks like one of those days.I shrugged and gratefully backed away from the stricken appliance. The toaster worked as it should for him. So, what are your plans for today?he asked.

Shopping with Alison.I fetched the butter from the fridge, ignoring the familiar flickering light and strange buzz coming from the fridge motor. Which is why I need a ride..

He placed my toast onto a plate and took a final swig of coffee before depositing the mug upside down in the sink. Sure. Although you’ll have to find your own way back—I’m not stopping in Craigsville. I’ve got business at the Junction.

By ‘business’, he meant talking and drinking with other local ranchers at Mallory’s Steakhouse, the main watering hole in the next town along from Craigsville. A monthly ritual rarely missed, it was Uncle Tom's favorite day of the month and Aunt Janet's excuse to lecture him on the evils of drinking.

In a premeditated attempt to dampen my aunt's inevitable bad mood, I made a small concession to her chore list and stopped to do the breakfast dishes before making my way outside.

Uncle Tom was waiting patiently for me in the pick-up. He was alone.

Where’s Gus?Gus never missed ‘business’at the Junction.

He’s not coming—Nell’s making him talk to a condo salesman this morning. She wants them to retire to the coast and she’s hoping this guy is fast talking enough to budge Gus from the saddle.

Well, this was a surprise! Gus and Nell had lived in the cottage behind the barn for fifteen years. They were as much a fixture of Shadow Bend Ranch as the rickety farmhouse which sat comfortably at a bend of the Carson’s Creek beneath the looming bulk of Shadow Mountain. I couldn’t imagine them gone from here and I certainly couldn’t imagine Gus sitting by the beach with his feet up. He was almost glued to the saddle—an indispensable help to Uncle Tom in the day to day running of the ranch. But Nell was a determined woman and Gus adored her so if she wanted to spend the rest of their days in retirement by the sea she would probably get her way.

I spotted Aunt Janet walking from the vegetable garden beside the barn. Let’s get out of here!I yelped.

With a laugh, Uncle Tom steered the pick-up truck down the drive, whisking me away to safety.

We pulled into the parking lot at Josie’s Diner—my rendezvous point with Alison. We were going to have a late brunch then hit the stores—for Alison—who was always loaded with money, to buy up big, and me to just browse, as money being in short supply at home, I was always broke aside from a few dollars I scrounged for my lunch.

You’ll call your aunt to come pick you up, right?Uncle Tom said as he climbed out of the car.

I cocked my head and shot him an exasperated look. Yeah, right, I’m sure she’ll be so thrilled to have to drive all the way out here to pick me up! Don’t worry about me—I’ll find a ride from someone.

He scratched his ear, his brow creased in exasperation. She won’t mind.

You know that’s not true.

We grinned at each other –who was he kidding?

Call her anyway. You can always put your fingers in your ears all the way home.His voice was light but there was a hint of genuine concern. He was both proud and disturbed by my independence. He knew the reason behind it.

I grabbed his arm and steered him in the direction of his truck. I’ll be fine—really. Go, drink your beer, talk, brag, whatever guy things you all do there.

As I ushered him to the car he fished his wallet from his pocket. Pressing two fifty dollar bills into my hand, he smiled at me. Get yourself something nice.

No! This is too much!I protested, trying to hand him back the bills. He pushed the money back at me then turned and opened the truck door.

Spend it—or else!he called over his shoulder. He wound the window down and dipped his battered Stetson in a small salute of goodbye. It’ll make me happy,he said with a grin. Driving away in the rattling pick-up, he waved again out the open window. I waved back and pocketed the money with a guilty conscience.

As I turned and headed for the diner it struck me a teenage girl being forced to spend money was pretty bizarre. At that moment I had no idea life was about to get much weirder.

Josie’s Diner was actually run by an old man called Sid. He was the stereotypical overweight, sweaty fry cook you often see in movies. I’d witnessed Sid wipe his sweat-soaked face with a dish towel and immediately afterwards dry one of his pots with the same revolting towel. Unfortunately Josie’s was the only eatery in town that opened before lunch so when we needed to meet up for a meal my friends and I had no choice but to stop there. We were careful not to order from the menu though and usually settled for milkshakes and pie—served by much more hygienic waitresses.

Alison was waiting for me in one of the booths.

You look like crap,she said cheerily. What are those? Bags or testicles under your eyes?Her sense of humor was rather caustic but her jokes rarely bothered me.

I didn’t sleep well last night. In fact, I sleepwalked out to the barn and slept on the ground all night. My back is killing me.I rubbed the side of my neck, scratching the weird rectangle. It began to sting again.

Typically unsympathetic, Alison screwed up her nose and gestured toward the counter.

I’ve already ordered for us—vanilla milkshake and apple pie?

I thanked her and slumped back in my seat. Now, sitting still, I realized just how tired I was. I hoped I could last the distance with Alison—she was relentless in her pursuit of bargains. She prattled on about clothes until our food arrived. I sat, half listening feeling my eyelids grow heavy.

Jeez you really are a ball of fun today.

I stirred a lump of unblended ice cream around the top of my milkshake.

Sorry, I think I should have stayed in bed.

Alison grunted. Fat chance of that. It's Saturday—slave labor day for your aunt, remember?

I grimaced, Not just Saturdays.

The bell attached to the front door of the diner tinkled and I looked up to see Jenny—another friend from school. She headed over and I shuffled across the seat so she could sit down.

I thought you had to work today?Alison asked. Jenny had a part time job at the local veterinary clinic, a job she loved as she was planning to study veterinary science when she left highschool. She shook her head and her red ringlets bounced about her face.

Joe is cutting back my hours. With that new vet in Morrisbank, business is a bit slow—I’m only working every second week now.

The door bell