Forecast of Shadows

By Bronwyn Leroux

Forecaster can see the future. Except the one time it mattered most . . .

 

Since the fateful day she was kidnapped by a psychopath with the ability to block her visions of what's to come, Forecaster has used her gift to become the feared leader of a notorious gang in her decimated world. Dispensed forecasts for obscene sums making her rich beyond imagining. Cast aside any hope of vengeance in favor of an easy payout.

 

But she doesn't want to be Forecaster, a mask forced on her by the trauma she survived. She secretly longs to be simply Nylah, the girl she was before her world fell apart. But she sees no way out of the harsh life she's built for herself—until she forecasts the future for a pair of distraught parents and discovers their daughter may lead her to the man who ruined her life.

 

Can Forecaster free herself from the lie that's her life and live the forecast she always dreamed would be her future? Or will she succumb to the man who haunts her dreams and leave an innocent girl to her dreadful fate?

 

Forecast of Shadows is a paranormal urban fantasy novella probing tough issues with a wicked sense of justice. If you like jungle-law dystopian worlds, a woman with grit and some hard-hitting punches, then you'll love Bronwyn Leroux's deep dive into what it takes to survive in a world gone mad. Pick up your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bronwyn Leroux
• Release date: Apr 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393311867

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Living every day knowing the future before it happens is hell. But it has its advantages. Like making me the infamous female leader of one of the most notorious gangs in a decimated world. And warning me when we have new clients headed our way.

I follow my lackey, Jones, out of the abandoned high-rise that’s our base. As one of the few buildings that’s still mostly intact, my enemies salivate over claiming it. Yeah, right! Between its height providing unprecedented views of the surrounding area and my ability, we can see any threat coming.

Exercising caution in the long shadows of late afternoon, we navigate wrecked cars, trashed streets, and the rubble from buildings destroyed in the decades-long war between nations. The defunct governments always meant to fix things—until the arrival of Aberrants sabotaged any hope of salvaging what the rulers had left of the world.

I scan the area as Jones heads for the crumbling ruins housing the guest room. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it’s almost too quiet. And I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong.

The guest room, where we meet potential clients, is a misnomer, since it’s devoid of anything a guest might expect. It’s my solution for thwarting the countless curs who came to our base pretending they wanted a forecast but who were really gathering intel against me to sell to my rivals. Learning from my mistakes, I now restrict our base and gathering chamber to gang members only.

A nightclub in the old days, we gutted the guest room so nothing remains for anyone to use as a weapon. However, we preserved the viewing room hidden in the false ceiling. Not only will watching gang members know to intervene should our guests turn nasty, but they can witness the guest interviews—another thing I learned early on. Transparency is essential. Every gang member knows what gigs we have going on, what we’re getting paid for them, and our current financial state.

In the beginning, it meant no complaints when we had to cut rations because funds were tight. Those days are long past. Now they all earn a portion of the gigs, and well-paid gangsters are happy gangsters. Score another few points on the ranking scale that allows me to stay at the top.

I slide into the room. Trent, my lieutenant, is already there, securing our spot right next to the exit. Our guests are against the wall farthest from us. Numerous curious gang members lurk between them and any means of escape.

With a practiced glance, I size up the man and woman. Tailored clothes, manicured fingers (the man too), and coiffed hair. Yes, they’ll have the means to pay. But will they be able to live with the aftermath? I’m Forecaster. State your business.

Interestingly, the woman takes the lead after a nervous glance at my blade. I’m Grace Owens, and this is my husband, Matt. Our daughter, Beth, disappeared two days ago. When we received a ransom demand, we heard you might help.

I did not see this coming. I’m so stunned I can only stare. Is this KN?

Trent’s worried eyes find me. Forecaster?

His inflection and tone tell me two things. First, by using my gang moniker, not my real name, he knows where my head’s at. Second, he’s reminding me my anonymity has kept me safe all these years. There’s no reason to panic.

I’ve taken too long to reply—not my usual style. I focus on finding clues in the situation at hand. It’s what’s kept me alive this long.

You can afford the ransom. Why not pay and have it over and done with?

Grace licks her lips and sneaks a glance at her husband. We’ve heard rumors.

I stiffen. What sort of rumors?

Paying the ransom doesn’t guarantee getting your child back. When you drop off the money, the only thing you get is a bullet in the head.

My mind races. How have I not heard these rumors? I’ve been actively searching for KN all this time. Tell me exactly what happened.

Grace obliges. There’s not much to tell. Matt and I were out. When we came home, we couldn’t find Beth. We started looking for her immediately, searched throughout the night, but we couldn’t find her. Hunted all the last two days with no luck. Then we got the call this morning.

I cock my head. Something about Grace’s explanation doesn’t ring true, but I can’t put a finger on it. In the time it took to reach the guest room, dusk fell, so why did it take all day for them to contact me? What were their demands?

Bring the money to the corner of Lowell and Strand at four o’clock three days from now.

Three days from now? The idea is ludicrous.

Grace shrugs. That’s what he said.

I pause, processing. If this is KN, I shouldn’t be so surprised. I was also taken when my parents weren’t home. And it was a few days as well before my parents came. But those few days, the things that happened while I was his prisoner . . . no, I won’t go there. But if KN’s using Beth like he used me—I have to get her back.

You’re aware you pay my fee upfront? When the woman shrinks, I raise my eyebrows. I rarely misread peoples’ ability to pay. Then I realize my error. They spend everything they get as soon as they get it.

My mind spins back to the mother who claimed she couldn’t pay because she needed every cent for a surgery to save her kid’s life—the mother the gang turned away.

I should’ve left it there, but I couldn’t. I mean, c’mon, the kid was three years old! When I secretly sent her word of the winning combination for a small upcoming lottery, you bet she used the information. Then she promptly abandoned her child when she won, using the cash for a wild night of partying, which ended with her stabbed and left to die in a squalid alley.

I think of Talia, the kid the mother discarded. The kid Trent secretly retrieved and brought here after her vital surgery. The kid now being raised by a gang of thugs. Look how that forecast turned out for her and her mother.

But this is different. I can’t ignore Beth’s plight if KN has her. There must be a way for her parents to pay.

CHAPTER TWO

Silent panic suddenly rises in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. What if it really is KN who took Beth? If she has to endure what I did, and I could’ve stopped it?

For the first time in longer than I can remember, emotion cracks the ice encasing my heart. Beth’s predicament is too keen a reminder of my own trauma, her situation too close to my own for me to pass up. How would I have turned out if there had been someone there to save me?

But I have no choice. If her parents can’t pay, we can’t take the gig. My crew look at the parents like wolves approaching a wounded deer.

It kills me to say the words. I don’t do forecasts for free. Come back when you have the cash.

No, please, Grace shrieks, stretching out a hand. We can pay. As soon as we get Beth back, we can pay as much as you want. Double. Triple.

That stops everyone in their tracks. Her words freeze my soul. No one offers double, let alone triple. And the way Grace sounded . . . like her earlier tone. Then I get it. It’s desperation. But not to get their kid back because they love her. Because she has something they want.

Rage fills me. "Do you think I’m a fool? We don’t take payment after a