Dark

By Janet Joyce Holden

After an old grimoire falls into inexperienced hands, two of Alice’s friends discover a portal to the mysterious dead zone and are immediately in need of rescue. Alice has no other choice but to accept John De Grasse’s help, and soon finds herself immersed in a world of inter-dimensional terror and deadly intrigue.

Meanwhile, following the catastrophic events of a year ago, Emma remains in hiding, while John is left to deal with the fallout and re-establish the supernatural community’s decree—Guard the secrets, keep the gifted ones close.

But at what cost? There have been so many deaths, so many irrevocable losses. And yet, despite the dangers, the forbidden dimensions offer unimaginable treasures and there are those who will stop at nothing to reach them.

Some doors should always remain closed, but after the grimoire’s discovery, opening them is becoming all too easy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crossroad Press
• Release date: Oct 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9780463861127

Book preview

DARK

Book Three of the Carousel Series

By Janet Joyce Holden

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A Macabre Ink Production

Macabre Ink is an imprint of Crossroad Press

Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

Smashwords edition published at Smashwords by Crossroad Press

Crossroad Press digital edition 2022

Copyright © 2022 Janet Joyce Holden

Cover by Janet Joyce Holden

LICENSE NOTES

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Meet the Author

Janet Joyce Holden is a writer of contemporary dark fiction. Her novels include the Origins of Blood series, the Carousel series, and the Palladium Series. She also has a number of short stories in various speculative anthologies.

She is originally from the North of England and has lived in Southern California for the last twenty-seven years. Her website is at janetjoyceholden.com.

Bibliography

The Origins of Blood Series

Blood Paternal

Blood Nocturnal

Blood Ancestral

Blood Revival

Blood Terminal

The Carousel Series

Carousel

The Only Red is Blood

Dark

The Palladium Series

Palladium’s Gate

Palladium’s Fall

Palladium’s Rise

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Acknowledgments

Many thanks to David Dodd and Andrea Ball at Crossroad Press who knocked this little beast into shape. Also thanks to my fellow writers and artists who’ve kept the fires burning during the last few years of plague and upheavals. Your firelight has been a blessing in the dark.

Dedication

To those who love to pick up a book and dive into another world.

Table of Contents

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CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 1

ALICE

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W e’re up at Lake Arrowhead. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t think of who else to call.

Harold had sounded weird, his voice at a higher pitch than usual, rousing an alarm so loud that she had no choice but to push her dark, unruly hair under her cap, jump into her car and drive all the way from Santa Ana, traveling way faster than she would have liked.

The forest path was steep and full of tree roots, forcing her to watch every step. You’re sure they’re not pulling a prank?

When we get there, you tell me.

She raised an eyebrow and said nothing more. Her initial sense of alarm had dissipated, worn down after fighting traffic through the LA Basin, but at least she was getting a walk in the mountain air. It was a rare pleasure these days, the traffic congestion having killed her former enthusiasm, and thank goodness it was Sunday. Any other day and she’d still be struggling through traffic in the foothills.

Harold’s long, skinny legs were picking up the pace and she assumed they were getting close. A short while later he veered off the path. Alice cursed, glad she’d paused long enough at home to pull on her boots and not dash to the car in her sandals.

Oh, no.

Harold? She increased her stride until she was standing alongside him at the edge of a narrow clearing. They’d climbed high enough to witness the afternoon sun throwing shafts of light through the trees. Under normal circumstances it would have looked beautiful but right now it looked magical.

It’s not there, he whispered.

What do you mean, it’s not there? Alice couldn’t take her eyes off the dark, anomalous gap between two trees, its edges shimmering like diamonds. "What is that?"

You can see it?

Of course I can see it.

Okay, look, we went in there yesterday, only Sheri and Scott didn’t make it back out.

What?

It’s a portal and I think it’s other-dimensional. There’s a place inside, a cavern—it’s dark, it’s huge—Scott told me to escape and get help so I did. I got the sheriff. He came all the way up here but he couldn’t see it— He was babbling, enough to scare her because it wasn’t like him. Harold was always the cool one when everyone else was losing it.

She stepped closer to the gap. It drew her like a magnet. What made you go in there?

Sheri. She saw it from the path and dashed up here so fast—we saw her disappear and when she didn’t reappear we went in after her. He stopped. He was breathing way too fast.

Take your time. She walked around to the opposite side of the phenomenon and saw no evidence of it whatsoever. A normal person would put it down to a trick of the light or Harold smoking too much weed, which is probably what the sheriff had surmised. But she could see it, she could feel it, too, enough to make her skin prickle and not in a good way. Have you tried calling them on the phone?

He closed his eyes. That’s what the sheriff asked, and yes, I have, constantly. He laughed bitterly. I had this crazy idea that they’d pop up somewhere else, maybe at the bottom of the hill, or back in town, or somewhere crazy like Paris, but it was dark in there and Sheri was screaming—

Alice held up a hand. Do you have any rope?

Rope?

Yes, rope, that you can tie around my waist.

You’re going in?

Why not? If they’re in trouble.

Wait here.

She’d never seen him run so fast, and when he’d scrambled down the path she took a deep breath and stepped closer to the shimmering portal. She could see why Sheri had been so enamored. There had been rumors brewing for weeks, that someone had discovered how to create a gateway like this. And yet, according to Harold, as fast as word got around, the rumors quickly dried up until no one knew anything about it. He suggested people were being leaned on, threatened into keeping their mouth shut, which made Alice thankful she didn’t hang out with Harold’s crowd in Long Beach all that much.

This close to the phenomenon she could see its corners were full of scrawled sigils, incredibly complex. Undergrowth at the foot of the portal looked dead and decaying and the rot appeared to be spreading. A thin layer of dread hung there, too. It was most unpleasant.

What had her friends gotten themselves into? The logical thing would be to call for more help, but would they arrive in time? The portal was deteriorating, spilling out across the forest floor. Another hour and maybe she’d be like Harold, unable to see it at all.

Stepping forward she reached out. Its surface felt like water, and on withdrawing her fingers she noticed all four of the portal’s corners lighting up for an instant. This was what her aunt would call foolish dabbling, something she was forever warning Alice about. The whole idea of walking through while attached to a rope was still unwise, but she’d offered to help and what else could she do?

Voices arrived from farther down the hill. She recognized the one belonging to Harold, and moments later she saw him ascending the path with an older woman. The woman was breathless from the climb, her words difficult to make out until they finally arrived.

This is Charlene, Harold began, and—

Lucky for you I can smell these things like a truffle hog, and believe me it’ll take more than a rope to get your friends out of there.

But if they’re trapped—

Don’t you go worrying about that. I’m here to help. The woman’s accent bore a strong southern drawl and after a quick appraisal of the portal, Jiminy Christmas, she declared before bringing out her phone.

"Where did she come from?" Alice whispered when she’d drawn Harold a few paces away.

Before he could answer, Charlene approached them once more. I know it’s your friends in there, but I need you both to leave.

Why? What’s going on? Alice’s expression let the other woman know she was unhappy at being pushed around.

Cavalry’s coming, honey. Now git, if you don’t mind.

Harold was pulling on her arm. Come on, let’s go.

Stunned, she allowed him to lead her down the path some ways before stopping him. Wait. Do you trust her?

From what she told me, yes, I do. This is scary shit and way out of our league.

Reluctant to leave the plight of Sheri and Scott in the hands of strangers, she kept looking back as they left the scene until she saw a man walking toward them. Another hiker, she surmised, until he left the trail and headed directly toward the mysterious Charlene. She caught sight of the two embracing before Harold pulled her farther down the hill. Did you see him?

Yes. C’mon, we have to go.

His urgency puzzled her as they descended the footpath to the trail head, finally arriving at a row of vehicles alongside the main road. He pointed to a small diner across the street. We can wait in there. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.

Annoyed and baffled by his odd behavior, she bore it in silence until they were seated and two steaming coffee cups lay on the table between them. Okay, Harold, spill it. What’s going on?

Remember about a year ago, there was a party at the Haskell place in Bel Air? Remember me telling you how things went awry?

She took a sip of her coffee. Vaguely. It was an event I had to miss. Her aunt had suddenly taken ill which had been a pity. Because despite the hush hush and the non-disclosure agreements, the extra money for waiting tables and serving drinks at such events always made it worthwhile. In Haskell’s case she also got to see how the other half lived. Alas, after that particular night there hadn’t been another. Must have been some party, huh?

Harold rolled his eyes. You have no idea. But there was this one guy who came in and shut the whole thing down. I was working the door and saw him arrive with Michael Ralt—

"The Michael Ralt?"

The very same. I thought the other guy was just a patron, but holy shit—it’s like Ralt expected trouble and brought him in as insurance.

This guy wouldn’t happen to be the same one we saw on the trail, would it?

Yes. You don’t forget a face like that.

But he’s just a guy, right? What am I missing?

Ever hear the name John De Grasse?

Alice shrugged. No, but I don’t move in the same circles as you.

Which is probably for the best. He sat back in his seat. He hadn’t touched his coffee. I think we’re in trouble, big trouble, and I’m sorry I asked you to come up here.

Jesus, what did you guys do?

Nothing, I swear. It happened like I said. Sheri saw shimmering some ways off the trail, and you know how she is.

Alice nodded, knowing only too well. So, what you’re saying is, you stumbled on something you shouldn’t have.

Looks that way.

What exactly did you see in there?

Darkness, black on gray, a passageway and some steps leading to a cavern. I’ve no idea how big, but I got a huge sense of space.

That doesn’t sound so bad.

He snorted and picked up his coffee cup. She noticed his hands were shaking. Except there was something floating out there, like a tattered pirate flag. The next thing, Sheri is screaming and Scott is telling me to get help.

A flag? Was there any— Her eyes caught movement outside the window. Oh my God, look. They’d picked a spot with a good view of the trail head, where two figures were huddled together, emerging from the forest.

Hurriedly, they rose. Harold dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table and they ran outside.

Alice dashed across the road and pulled Sheri into her arms. The young woman was shivering violently. We’ll get you to Urgent Care—

No. Give me a minute and I’ll be fine. But Sheri didn’t look fine. Her blonde hair was plastered to her face, she looked as pale as death and could barely keep her eyes open.

Scott? Alice demanded. He and Harold were whispering.

It’s okay, Sheri’s companion said. No doctors.

Alice looked helplessly at Harold, who shrugged.

I want to go home. Sheri burst into tears.

I’ll take them, Harold said, and began fumbling with his car keys.

They made for a sorry little group, stumbling along the line of vehicles toward Harold’s SUV. Scott was limping as if he’d sprained an ankle. Sheri could barely stand and was holding onto Alice for dear life.

When they’d gotten the ailing young woman into the rear seat and Scott was buckling up in the front, Alice beckoned to Harold. Are you sure about this?

Yes, and don’t worry. He laughed sharply. We got them back and that’s the main thing. Awkwardly, he clapped her on the shoulder which startled her. Climbing into the driver’s seat, again he apologized for getting her involved. I guess I didn’t know who else to turn to.

Their goodbyes were awkward, and as Harold pulled out of his parking space and joined the road, Alice considered her next move. She’d half a mind to walk back up the trail and see if anyone was still there, maybe take another look at the portal, until her senses suggested she was being watched.

Looking back toward the trail she stared at the man Harold had called John De Grasse. He was partially hidden, standing slightly off the path and was looking right at her, his hands nonchalantly in his jacket pockets, as if he’d been there the whole time, watching them. There was something about his eyes, too, they appeared most unnerving.

Not one to back down, she stared back until it became apparent they’d remain like this until the sun went down. She also guessed she should be grateful, so in the end she silently mouthed the words thank you, and climbed into her car.

There was no sign of the mysterious Charlene, and as she headed back along the road that snaked down toward the LA Basin, she decided to ask Aunt Dolores if she’d come across either of those names.

Before I tell you, why do you want to know? They were sitting in the yard out back. There was a citronella candle burning at the center of the table, throwing light on two glasses of spiked iced tea, while another, smaller candle burned in a stone recess a short distance away on account of another of Alice’s aunts currently not feeling too well.

Alice gave her the details of the afternoon’s events. The other woman’s lips grew thin with disapproval, and for a long while she said nothing and let Alice stew.

This is Catherine Ryan’s territory. You’ve heard me talking about her? And when Alice nodded, While we ask for blessings and trade favors with a spirit or two, we stay on the edge, while people like her are in up to their necks.

Up to their necks in what?

Things no one should be messing with—realms of the dead, the devil’s domain, places so hungry they can swallow a person whole. Or turn them inside out if they’ve a mind to.

I thought we didn’t believe in the devil?

Daresay we do, daresay we don’t. It’s not to say he doesn’t exist.

It’s just—someone like Michael Ralt and Catherine Ryan, don’t seem the devil worshipping types.

Ralt worships nothing. He’s a mercenary. He’s good, too. You need to know anything about places, artifacts, books, even people, he either has it stowed in his repository or knows where it is, and he’ll tell you, too, for a fee.

And I guess this John De Grasse guy works for him?

I don’t know. I heard he lived out in Colorado. But rumor has it, as deep as the abyss goes, he’s traveled to the very bottom and he’s not a man we should be associating with.

Harold said we might be in trouble.

Harold is a fool, and maybe you should stay home for a few days.

I have classes tomorrow.

Sure you do. Have you been listening to a word I said?

Yes, but—

Stay home. That way, if anyone comes knocking, they’ll have to talk to me.

Alice and Aunt Dolores lived in a 1920s Spanish Revival in Santa Ana’s neighborhood of Floral Park. The house had been in the family since it was built, and with the exception of one or two modernizations, hadn’t changed very much. There was plenty of room downstairs for Dolores to run her highly secretive card readings and séances, while Alice shared the second floor with the family’s collection of books and paraphernalia. It was probably too big a house for the two of them but Alice enjoyed the space, even if sitting out on the balcony meant listening to the not-too-distant interstate traffic. She felt safe in this ratty old house.

Still, this business with Harold and the others was beginning to worry her. She tried calling him but he didn’t pick up, so she left him a text message before pushing the entire afternoon from her mind. After all, she did have those classes over at Chapman and some reading to do beforehand. An hour later there was still no word, so she left another text and figured she’d try again tomorrow.

Lunchtime, the day after, and she was walking south along Glassell after one of her classes when she became aware of someone watching her. On this occasion it was a woman standing across the street, partially hidden by a parked vehicle. Could be that no one else would have noticed, except Alice had that thing her Aunt Dolores had, that told her when trouble was coming and from which direction.

Any other time she’d have brazened it out and looked the woman in the eye. But instead she kept on walking, past the coffee shop, which had been her original destination, toward the center of town, finally ducking into a bar just before she reached the Orange Circle.

Sitting at the bar she ordered a Miller Lite, and while keeping an eye on the door she reached for her phone. There was a message waiting but it wasn’t from Harold, it was from Sheri.

Harold in a traffic accident. Call me.

There were none of the usual emojis following the text, and abruptly Alice felt cold.

It took a minute to get connected and in the meantime she forgot how she was being followed, along with the beer the bartender had placed in front of her. Sheri, what happened?

A hit and run. Oh, God, Alice I’m scared. Scott just called and he said it wasn’t an accident—

Woah, wait a minute, does he know for sure?

I don’t know and I’m frightened.

Do you have someone with you?

Yes. Mom is here and Scott’s on his way over.

Let me get out of here and I’ll come over, too. Don’t worry, okay?

Slipping the phone in her pocket she took a deep breath. Her own precarious situation was looking pretty pathetic right now so she took a sip of beer, paid the bartender, and headed out of the rear door, her intention to return to her car which was currently a block away.

Crossing the street she became aware of someone following her again and sure enough, the woman was thirty paces behind her and closing. She had short, bristly blonde hair and wore a smile on her face. Maybe she was someone Alice had met and consequently forgotten, or perhaps it was a case of mistaken identity, but she didn’t think so. She was a good judge of intention and