Hallows Gate: A Stoddard Sisters Book, #1

By Michelle Erickson

New Years Eve changed Angelina 's life

She got lost and fell in love – with a ghost.

Now she needs to save him by becoming his wife

The problem?

If she succeeds, she frees him, but loses him forever.

Love is more complicated than she thought...

And that doesn't include the elves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Erickson
• Release date: Jan 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386937258

Book preview

Prologue

He had to unbury her! 

There was no other explanation as to her disappearance.  She wasn’t dead! She couldn’t be – not yet!  Please not yet!

His horse could not move fast enough over the muddy roads.  He willed it to keep its balance, grateful the road was straight; praying time was on their side and God would be merciful.

The rain let up enough he could see there were lanterns in the yard of the mansion, their lights bobbing in the distance.  Hope surged!  He wouldn’t have to save her by himself, someone had gone for help!  

He rode up the short drive, nearly to the door, and jumped off the horse.  The maid on the top step pointed at him and screamed, There he is!

The men in the yard grabbed him and hauled him over to the Sheriff, whose face was in shadow. 

There was no time for this!  His wife had to be suffocating, in the dark, alone, counting on him to dig her up! 

You’re under arrest for murder.

The shocking words brought him back.  "She’s dead?"

They’re both dead.

The words meant one thing: there was no one left to save her except him.

He punched the Sheriff in the mouth, shrugging off the men that held him.  I have to save her!

Filled with desperate need, he charged up the front steps, intent on reaching the ground behind the house where she’d been buried.

He got as far as the first headstones before they caught up to him.  A big man with an unfamiliar face stepped out from behind a tree and threw a massive fist.  The world went black. 

When he woke, his vision was blurred and there was a burning ache in his head.  He was roughly hauled to his feet and the world spun, nausea rose.  Help me save her! he pleaded.

The world went black again.  The next time he became aware of his surroundings, a horse was beneath him.  He was sagging in a saddle with his hands tied behind his back.  There was a noose around his neck.  With the pain of a lightning strike, his mind recognized that he had failed! 

He looked through the darkness toward the west and whispered his last word, Angel.

Chapter 1:  Lost and found

My name is Angelina and I was late for my own engagement.

It wasn’t because I wasn’t watching the clock!  I’m a perpetual clock stalker because I don’t own a watch. I don’t own a watch because I’m a battery vampire. 

Okay, as much as it pains me to admit it, I got lost. 

There was an accident three minutes after the city of Stuarts Draft and a detour on unfamiliar roads.  I didn’t dare look too closely at the wreckage.  A scowling policeman motioned my car forward.  I wasn’t sure why he was so impatient; maybe it was the pelting rain. 

I scowled right back.  For crying out loud! I was driving one of six cars on the lonely road and four were emergency vehicles! 

Realizing the instinct to stick out my tongue at a policeman indicated a need for sleep, or the onset of a brain hemorrhage, I decided to take a detour of my own.  I had been up for twenty-eight hours straight and needed caffeine, just as soon as I found a store. 

While maneuvering the rental car the direction the unfriendly officer indicated, I saw the road sign the wrecked car must have hit.  It leaned sideways at a precarious angle. 

It looked grey in the downpour, but I could still read it:  Hallows Gate 1 mile.

Yawning hugely, I took the exit and at the stop sign, turned right.

The road I traveled became deceptively head-noddingly straight for what felt like millions of miles.  It didn’t take long to wish I were home tucked into my own bed.  If it had been anyone else but Kevin that had called, I would have stayed home.

I involuntarily smiled as I guided my rental car through the deluge.  My time-obsessed mother would be pleased by the road because she was not just the original white-rabbit-of-time, but a perfectionist.  Not only was the road straight, everything matched – it was all black.  Black and wet.

The torrential rain made the windshield wipers look like a pair of stick twins jerking furiously back and forth in a tug-of-war both were losing. 

White-knuckled driving had its uses.  It was keeping me awake in spite of exhaustion.  I nearly pulled over, I wanted to pull over, but I was afraid of what dangers lurked on the sides of the road...glass, nails, dead animals...etc.  It was a lousy time to realize I had no idea if the rental car had a spare.  Not that it mattered.  I had no idea what to do with one anyway.

I didn’t know it was possible for black to get blacker, but the night gained a few more shades of black and quickly ramped-up to blackest-black – ever!  I’d never been anywhere without street lights, traffic lights, porch lights, or tail lights.  

The rental car climbed a steep grade and the road straightened out and slowly curved right.  

I had decided to turn the car around when I finally saw house lights beckoning to me in the distance.  As I got closer, I realized that somebody was having a party.  Make that several someone’s as there were several cars in the gravel parking lot.

There were trucks with the funny curved cabs of yesteryear and a few 70’s looking vehicles – muscle cars like GTO and restored Chevys that I never would have been able to identify if I hadn’t met Kevin. 

So...I mused, maybe it was a car-collectors New Year’s party in the middle of nowhere?

I pulled in between two pick-ups and braked to a stop.  In the dark, the large community-sized building looked like a haunted house.  With such dim lighting, the windows seemed more like eerie eyes weeping in the rain.

The rain was still sheeting down.  I pulled my jacket over the top of my head, opened the car door, dashed up the long walk, bounced up thirteen stairs (I counted them), and onto one of those big deep porches from a by-gone era. 

I timidly knocked at the door. 

I could hear voices and what sounded like live music playing faintly in the background.  I knocked louder and heard footsteps.

The door opened.

I’m ... and my voice squeaked to an embarrassing halt.  Once I got a good look at the person who opened the door, I knew I was dreaming again, because I’d dreamed about this guy my whole life!  Great, I thought, I fell asleep at the wheel.

Except, why was this dream so vivid?  I could actually feel the rain slap against my face.  You’d think the porch would have covered me better in a dream. 

Although he was the main character in some of my dreams he’d never been this close before. 

Like Kevin, my soon-to-be fiancée, this man was all the things I wasn’t – eye candy being number one.  He was a head taller than my five ten, so he was over six feet tall.  His dark brown hair was longer in the back than the current style called for.  Unlike the ‘Frankenstein’ look that most guys I knew were wearing (hair combed forward from the crown of their heads and gelled into place) his was brushed back, except for one stray section that had fallen forward; perhaps in his rush to get to the door.  It rested on his high forehead and above his eyebrows.  Below those slightly curved brows was a pair of nearly glow-in-the-dark silver-grey eyes fringed with thick black lashes.  He had a strong jaw and looked like he needed a shave. 

In my mind I could hear my mother’s drawl. "Watch out, darlin’, men with strong jaws are stubborn and proud."

Who are you?

His whisper sounded dry; the kind of sticky-dry that comes when you don’t drink enough.  My new-found imagination conjured an excuse for his whispering: he had a girlfriend in the next room that was insanely jealous. 

I swallowed and found my voice, I’m looking for Dr. Pepper.  I felt my IQ get slam-dunked into an abyss.  I was so close to collapse I began to giggle.  I never giggled. 

I made a note to myself:  stop giggling; it makes you look really stupid - especially around attractive men.  But I couldn’t stop.  I was near hysteria; a combination of nerves and lack of sleep.  I was also shivering.

I guess he didn’t know the cardinal rule about strangers because he pulled me into the house, soaking wet and still shuddering; occasional snickers kept erupting without permission.

He led me to what looked like a first-grade coat room with coat hooks low on the wall.  He muttered, I don’t know Dr. Pepper.  Drunk or not, you can’t stay here, boy.  It’s dangerous.  His eyes darted the direction I imagined his guests were.

The temperature felt like it had dropped twenty degrees.  I could see my breath.  Didn’t these people believe in heat?  I shuddered again.  Maybe they turned the temp down so the guests wouldn’t sweat while they were dancing?  I knew they did that at the high school dances.

What was I thinking?  This was my dream.  All I had to do was think warm thoughts.  Usually, whenever this man showed up in my dreams, we were sitting beneath a huge tree and talking. 

I was irritated he hadn’t said the sweet things he’d whispered to me in my previous dreams.  The things I craved to hear now he was close enough to touch.  Things I would likely never hear in reality if I didn’t wake up and get to...hmm...where was I going?  My brain surrendered.  The puzzle was too difficult and the path back to logic too slippery.

Regardless, I wasn’t going to allow him to ruin the moment. This was my dream and I was going to do whatever I pleased, including directing the players. 

As long as we’re talking about danger, you’re not following the script, I chattered.  Why didn’t he look cold?  I shivered.

He stared at me; the look in his eyes changed from border-hostile to the searching one people wore when they knew you, but didn’t remember your name.

As if on cue, he asked, What’s your name?

Something he said earlier finally hit pay dirt in my mind and I was offended. I’m not a boy!  Why I shouted this, I didn’t know – exhaustion?  I yanked my jacket off my head as if that would prove I was female.  And I don’t drink!  I knew my hair was short, but it wasn’t boy-short!  "I wear my hair this way on purpose; most exercise instructors do!" 

He looked as if I’d hit him in the gut.  I had to admit, it reamed my ego.  I self-consciously smoothed my hair. 

The music and laughter in the background settled into the traditional countdown as a clock began to strike.  

Midnight! It was much later than I thought.

The stranger’s reaction to the clock striking was disturbing.  His white teeth clenched and he seemed to come to a decision about me because his eyes caught mine and he said, Too late.  You’ll have to kiss me now or you’ll never leave.

Huh?  Giggles gone, I felt the blood rush from my head and bungee-jump back where it hit the hormone switch and every nerve tingled. 

He smiled, as if in apology, and all thoughts drained from my head while my heart skipped around; evidently it collided with both lungs because I could no longer breathe.

Happy New Years, his voice was a husky whisper as he stepped closer.  He cupped my chin with his hand and my heart started to pound louder than the clock chimed. 

He lowered his head to mine and I waited, feeling like I had waited my entire life for this moment.  He paused with his lips a breath away from mine.

I couldn’t seem to help myself.   I closed the distance and locked lips.  I wrapped my arms around his neck, locked my right leg around his left at the knee, and still felt like I wasn’t close enough. It was such a lovely dream.  His lips were like ice, but the electric shock that jolted through me at the touch of our lips toasted me from the inside out. 

He broke away first and I felt my heart dim with disappointment.  He hadn’t reacted at all the way the script went in my mind.  He was supposed to kiss me again. Instead, he looked shocked. 

Angelina? he looked as if he were fighting some inner battle.

He’d never said my name before in dreams.  His voice made it sound intimate.  I touched my lips and stared at his; he wasn’t going to get away that easily.  I wanted to kiss him again.

I looked at the ever-so-real illusion in front of me, You always called me Angel when we were under the tree, you know.

His eyes traveled over my face as if memorizing it.

I’m going to wake up soon.  Let’s just kiss ‘til I do.  It seemed the best use of my time. 

I stepped forward and he held up his hand to stop my approach, looking regretful, but not as regretful as I felt he should look. 

But you’re not dreaming, he was amused.  He also seemed to be able to read minds.  I guessed men who looked like super-heroes were entitled to super powers.

I blinked at him, confused. I need to kiss you again.

His smile deepened, revealing a shallow dimple in his right cheek.  It looked very attractive and I wanted to kiss it as well.  He looked wistful and then his eyes sank to my lips and rose back up to my eyes. You will.

I smiled, ready to step forward at the invitation in his eyes, just as he disappeared.

I blinked and looked around like the fool I was, wondering where he went. 

It dawned on me that I really was getting soaked and it was cold enough I could see my breath.  Through the misty shroud my breath made I realized I was not only alone, I was standing in a hollowed-out building in the dark, two feet from a gaping hole in the floor.  If he hadn’t stopped me from going forward...

Numbly, I skirted the hole, walked out the doorless building that had a large Danger! sign tacked to the wall.  I stumbled down the broken steps, avoiding those that were missing, ignoring the pelting rain. 

The parking lot was empty, except for my car.

I opened the car door, sat behind the wheel, put the car in reverse, and floored it.  I wanted to huddle over the heater, but my chattering teeth weren’t only connected to temperature.

Three things were screamingly apparent.

First, this wasn’t a dream.

Second, he knew my name.

Third, I wanted him to kiss me.

I touched my lips with a shaking hand.  No, make it four things:  Apparently, I just kissed a ghost and it was, without a doubt, the best kiss I had ever had. 

I didn’t need caffeine.  I was so awake my hair was standing on end.

*

Six hours later, I had to ask myself how I ever got to the freeway.  I had the fleeting impression that it was fast, like driving through a wet black blur. 

I asked myself how I reached Kevin’s. 

Heaven alone knew the answer because all I could recall with any definition were the last few seconds as I parked the car next to the curb just outside his parent’s house.  Apparently, my mind was on auto-pilot the entire trip.

It was seven in the morning and the sunrise was magnificent with golden rays piercing bruised pink clouds. 

Everything about his family home spoke of wealth from the well-manicured weed-free lawn, to the fancy front door where Kevin, my never-to-be-fiancée was lip-locked with an attractive redhead.  He held her hand as he walked her to the black Porsche sitting in the driveway.

Kevin once told me he wasn’t a morning person, but I was willing to bet he was enjoying his morning – so far. 

I could change that.  Switching from wearing a halo to riding a broom would be a piece of cake after what had happened in Hallows Gate.

But, did I want to?  

What was wrong with me?

I knew what was wrong.  My heart was aching for a figment of my imagination who kissed better than any guy I’d ever dated. 

Course, I didn’t have much experience dating; twice in high school and a dozen or so times in five years of college.  I had even less experience kissing. 

For a moment, I ached for that ghostly kiss so fiercely that I felt like I’d been punched in the chest.  As my eyes focused on the couple giving each other one more hug, it was like watching a particularly boring and ultimately predictable soap opera.  I watched Kevin wave to the redhead who got in the sleek machine and pulled out of the driveway. 

Then he saw me. 

With a smile on his tan face, he ran across the lawn wearing nothing but a pair of plaid shorts and a white smile. 

He looked great, but not as great as the ghost had – fully clothed, I might add.  Odd, Kevin looked like a little boy in comparison.  Maybe the ghost worked out when he’d been alive? 

Kevin placed his hands on my car just above the door and asked, What happened?  I thought you were coming last night.

Definitely immature.  Even his voice seemed higher than I remembered.

There was no way I’d tell him the truth.  It wasn’t something I planned on sharing except with a therapist – maybe.

I got lost, I shrugged.  He knew I had a lousy sense of direction.  The truth would have been too complicated.  Besides, how could I explain what I didn’t understand?

Sorry you missed the party. He smiled and waved at the sleek black Porsche that purred by with the redhead behind the wheel.  You just missed Jen.  She’s on her way to work; otherwise we could all go out for breakfast.

I looked up at him, feeling...numb.  Was I just too tired to care?

He misinterpreted my silence.  I told her we’re just friends, so don’t worry about her getting jealous or anything.  She’s above all that pettiness.

I did smile at his naiveté.  Pettiness?  

Kevin was handsome and charming.  He also dated what I called ‘dainty barracuda-girls’.  He never seemed to understand their looks were a veneer and underneath all the supple bronzed skin was an animal that feasted on men’s wallets for a living and their hearts for dessert. 

I remembered the slightly-brittle look in Jen’s eyes as I looked at his dainty barracuda girl through the tinted window of the sports car. 

I was a tiny bit surprised he thought everything could stay the same.  I was living proof that it wasn’t wise to keep members of the opposite sex as friends after you were married.  I wouldn’t be able to be friends with Kevin.  Our friendship was over. 

Two reasons:  first, and most importantly, I was moving on. 

Second, Jen would never allow any female-friend time with Kevin – in spite of what he said about her being above all that.

I managed to be civil.  So, what’s this important question you wanted to ask me? 

She wants a June wedding, he said happily What do you think?

What did I think?

The logical side of my brain needlessly informed me that I had jumped to the ultimate wrong conclusion when I listened to the answering machine back in my apartment and heard his entire future depended on my answer to his question.

Heartless logic went on to state my assumptions were based on the phone call following his.  In that call my best friend, Cassie, asked if Kevin had asked me yet and then she had gushed into the answering machine that it would be the ‘most romantic proposal ever’ and to take notes. 

Before I kissed a ghost, I would’ve been humiliated and heart-broken.  I would have retired to the nearest dance studio seeking solace in music and sweat. 

So what did I think?  Now?  I told Kevin the truth: Perfect.  You were made for each other.

I should thank the ghost.  If nothing else, I understood one monolithic point:  I was not in love with Kevin and he had never been in love with me. 

Even the thought of kissing Kevin, which I had anticipated all the way to Hallows Gate, was repulsive.

Further, I recognized what my brain had been trying to tell my heart:  he would never be faithful – to anyone.  Barracuda Jen was welcome to him.  In my own opinion, unless Jen was possessed of some unknown superpower, the marriage would last one or two years – tops.

You wanna come to the gym? Kevin asked.  They got a great aerobics instructor there.  She’s almost as good as you. 

He smiled that smile, the one that first attracted me, but it bounced off me this time like I wore emotional Kevlar. 

That depends.  Did you pick up my luggage?

He looked confused. Was I supposed to?

Yeah, Kevin was supposed to pick up my luggage.  I had called his cell and left a message apologizing about missing the plane and I had asked him to pick it up.

I was okay with the fact he had forgotten.  I considered it a tender mercy that he was someone else’s problem now.

Chapter 2: Left or right?

Running on pure adrenaline, I drove to the airport.  I turned in the rental car to the still harassed-looking clerk, claimed my luggage, and stood in line to buy a ticket home.

While waiting, I composed an explanation for my mother, who had probably contacted a wedding planner by now.

Composition #1:  Mom, this is going to sound insane, but Kevin’s getting engaged to someone else.  Don’t worry about me.  I’m grateful.

In the bald light of a new day, this was true.  I felt thankful and happy that my life was unencumbered by Kevin.  I understood the thankful part – I had just escaped marital disaster, but how could I be happy? 

My mind conjured a pair of silver eyes that smiled at me, slid to my lips, and back up to my eyes.  Yum...I smiled and it must have been a nice one because the complete strangers I stood in line with smiled back.  I nearly laughed when I imagined telling them I got lost and kissed a ghost.

Kissed by an apparition that knew my name.  How did he know me?  I had never met him before.  Believe me, I would have remembered!  How could a ghost kiss anybody?  I’d felt his lips on mine!

I stopped smiling and firmly told myself that whether or not it really happened, it was over. 

Liar Liar pants on fire chanted its way through my jig sawed mind and I began to argue with myself about what had happened.  I wasn’t even the paranormal believing type.  Ghosts?  Get real. 

There had to be a logical explanation!  Previous to what happened in Hallows Gate, my mind was firmly planted in a field of logic.  That made me a logical person...that saw ghosts.

I scooted my bag forward with my foot as the ticket line shortened.  Soon it would be my turn. 

The ghost of my dreams couldn’t be real.  Could he? 

In all the other dreams I’d had of him, we’d never kissed. 

If he weren’t real, why did I still remember the taste of his kiss?  Why did I get goose-bumps when I recalled