Doucet's Stone: Pale Bay, #4

By Roxy Matthews

A Gods and Mortals Romance Series, Percy Jackson for Adults (Pale Bay Treasures Book 4)

 

He's haunted by the past. She's being tortured in the present. When a face from her nightmares becomes reality, she must decide which to trust and which to destroy.

Three Gems. One Destiny.

 

In the face of adversity, mankind will always find a way to survive, even against all odds. Because pure souls do exist, even if they have lost their way. Under the roof of the great Doucet home, listening to words of life, love, and happiness, Sam Doucet was raised to believe he had a greater purpose than that with which he'd been born into. When a freak accident takes his wife's life and drags him into the middle of another woman's troubles, Sam must fight the war inside himself to save them both or sacrifice everything to his past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roxy Matthews
• Release date: Sep 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781775287476

Roxy Matthews

R.M.Sackville is a self-published author of novellas, novelettes, and short story collections that delve into the dark and twisted, testing the boundaries of taboo with Dark Fantasy, Sci/Fi, and Thriller pieces. Her work has been featured in Suspense Magazine and LitFest Magazine.     R.M.Sackville's softer side can be found under her alternate pen name; Roxy Matthews, where she writes Romantic/Suspense and Fantasy. In 2018 she was named one of Canada's Best Writers of the Year by Polar Expressions Publishing. Her work has been featured in several anthologies under this pen name, including ‘The Way Through’ by Polar Expressions Publishing, The Charmed Writers Flash Fiction Anthology 2019, and Naughty Night's Press' Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology.  Subscribe to her newsletter for updates on new releases and promotions at https://bluebaloo79.wixsite.com/roxymatthewsauthor/newsletter

Book preview

Prologue

Eons ago, Divine Era of Gods and Mortals

Home of the Gods, Mount Olympus

No longer were the Virtues of Life safe in the hands of the gods. For centuries, they’d been protected, hidden within Olympus. Now, Cronos was in a fit, his eyes set on mankind’s destruction.

As Mother Earth, it was up to Gaea to see they were safe, secure, and protected. Her plan and the trio of warriors she selected would do just that, she was sure.

I will assign each of you a quest, a virtue of life to protect.

Before her, three gems glowed, their steady red, blue, and green hues brightened beneath her touch. Their destinies set as well as that of Helios, Selene, Eos, and herself.

Until the time that a mortal of complete purity can be found to carry on the vigil. Gaea pivoted to face her army. No longer will these virtues stay hidden in Olympus. It is too dangerous now. Mankind’s time to step forth, to hold these virtues of life, to protect them, is now. No longer will gods interfere. We must show mankind they are capable. They will falter, that I am sure. There will be those who try to dissuade you, trick you. She shook her head once more. But you must not be blinded. You must seek the ones that will stand for the virtues the gems hold dear.

Gaea stepped towards her army, her gaze on each of them. Each as important together as apart, such the reason she chose this trio for her quest. As brother and sisters, they knew the meaning of bonds, of honor. She’d watched them grow, tutored them in all that was important, not only to the gods above, but the mortals below. She knew their ethics, their merit, when it mattered. 

Now it mattered. Everything did. Whatever they did going forward, whether it took months, years, decades, or even centuries, would matter in the end.

Helios, god of the Sun, looked upon her with glowing, bright white eyes. His striking features framed in shoulder-length hair the color of gold. Wide shoulders, body long and lean, rippled in strength. He stood tall, adorned in a purple robe, a shining crown of the sun atop his head. 

Selene, goddess of the Moon, Helios’ sister, was the smallest of the three, with full round cheeks and curvaceous features. Her bright white eyes and shoulder length snow white hair mirrored the gleaming crown of the moon atop her head. The glistening gown only enhanced the bright aura that surrounded her.

Eos, goddess of Dawn and the youngest of the three, stood apart from the rest. Her eyes were equally bright, yet with hints of gold flecks that mimicked yellow and orange flames. Her gown displayed an array of Olympus flowers, as bright and colorful as those Gaea had created and nurtured. Her golden tresses, though short, were braided, the length barely touched her bare shoulders. Her body fuller, yet as strong as that of her brother and sister. 

The surrounding breeze lifted, the scent of fury and danger burnt Gaea’s nostrils. A tickle of trepidation rose up the small of her back, setting her teeth on edge.

Cronos was coming. 

Helios, please step forward. Gaea started.

There was no more time to waste. 

Helios did as she requested, without hesitation. 

You have already shed blood for the Vitality Gem, therefore you will continue to watch over it until a suitable mortal can be found. You will be the first to leave Olympus.

Helios did not utter a word, instead nodded. 

Gaea turned to the gems, her trio of warriors behind her. With eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and expelled her breath in a whoosh. 

Before four sets of eyes, the clouds lifted, pushed by the breath of the Great Gaea. They separated, moved away from the group along the current of breeze beneath. Their paths chosen. 

Helios, now, Gaea ordered, her voice low.

With that, Helios nodded, leapt into the air towards the glowing green gem as it picked up speed. 

Gaea wasted no time in watching, instead she called her next warrior. Selene. 

Selene nodded, stepped forward. 

You are to protect the Prosperity Gem. In turn, it will protect you.

It will be an honor, great Mother. She nodded as she looked past Gaea to her retreating blue charge. Until we meet again, she called out as her sandaled feet pounded the lush grass beneath her, her legs pumping in tune with her arms as she gave chase.

Eos stepped towards Gaea without being called forward.

So, I am to take charge of the Destiny Gem.

Gaea met her glittering eyes and shook her head. No, my dear, you are not. Your quest is not to protect any gem. I, myself, have been chosen by the gods before us for the final gem.

Eos’ shoulders slumped, a look of forlorn diminished the natural glow behind her eyes. 

Gaea knew the girl felt that she, being the youngest of the siblings, was the reason for the choice, but that was untrue. If anything, it was the reason she would be given the most important part in the fight Gaea could smell on the wind. 

She reached out to Eos, clasped a soft shoulder in one hand as the other reached for her rosy, warm hands.

Gaea smiled. Fear not, my sweet, for your destiny is much more important in the end than any of ours. You may not be protecting a gem, but you will protect, nurture, and love someone that will be even more vital to mankind and the fight I know is to come.

How so? What is it you ask of me, Mother Gaea?

I ask you to bare Earth its ultimate warrior, one with an old soul. A soul whose quest intermingles with our own. She will protect all that is pure and virtuous. Will stand up against injustice and fight for not only mankind, but the gods as well.

Eos lowered her gaze to her flat stomach, returned to meet Gaea’s soft blue eyes.

‘’She’? I do not understand. I am not with child."

Gaea laughed, shook her head. No, you are not. But you will be. This child will bring a peace that not only we need here but also those on Earth.

Behind them, a loud roar impregnated the serenity of the forest, pulled their attention. Below them the ground shook, casting several seeds to fall from the Black Alders set to sway by intermittent gusts of wind.

Gaea tightened her grip on Eos’ hands as the darkness of the night deepened around them, blotting out the sparkle of stars that once had shone above them.

You must go now, Eos, she whispered as if Cronos himself were in earshot. Spread your wings. Take flight. Leave this world for now. Help save us all.

With that, Eos’ golden wings spread out behind her, her feathers dancing in the wind. She met Gaea’s blue gaze once more, nodded, and turned her attention to the direction her siblings disappeared.

No longer was their trail lit, but Gaea knew Eos would find her way. The woman was a fighter. One who protected and coddled yet fought with an iron fist when need be.  

With her attention on the final of her warriors disappearing into the darkness before her, Gaea did not catch the green and tan scales of a serpent’s tail as it crept towards her. Nor did she feel it grip her bare ankles until it was too late. 

She screamed as one foot was yanked from beneath her, the wind forced from her lungs when she hit the soft grass beneath.

But what Cronos did not know was that she had the upper hand. She was in her element, unlike him. With her fingernails digging into the damp soil beneath her, she closed her eyes and welcomed what was a part of her. 

Cloak our steps, blind those of unpure soul. Let no man or god know of what happened here or why. Kiss the hearts of those sent out to protect the Virtues of Life and bring nothing but pain and defeat to those who crave ill of that which is pure.

In her last second, she reached one finger up, circled it in the fresh air. From the tip of Mother Earth’s finger, a small cone-shaped windstorm brewed like mist. It grew by the second, twisting, turning until it stretched up towards the starless sky.

A loud crack sounded, rocked the ground, dispersing the mist until it cloaked the forest in a grey film.  

Before Cronos could react, Gaea slipped from his tail’s grasp, her body absorbed by the soil from which all was created.  

Chapter One

Pale Bay

Gabby, honey, answer the phone! The all-too familiar voice pulled Gabriella D’angelo from her torturous dreams. She quivered at the sound of his voice. He sounded so... so alive. Gabby?

She responded by hiking the covers up over her ears.

If only she could drown him out.

Under the heavy comforter, her lids fought the weight of exhaustion.

He wasn’t there. Not on the other end of the phone, pleading for her. Not in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee in his underwear. Or even standing in front of the bathroom mirror, one hand gripping a razor, the other on the edge of the sink as he leaned in close.

She sighed at the memory and not for the first time knew she needed help. And not just any. She needed a shrink.

Gabby? Can you hear me? Pick up the phone.

She squeezed her eyes shut, tunneled shaken fingers through her brown locks, rubbed her temples.

It was almost over. She knew the routine. Hell, after four weeks, it was ingrained in her mind like the memory of his final moments in her arms. His chocolate brown eyes widened on her as his bloodied hands clenched around her arms. He was so cold, she remembered with an internal shiver. His usually able and sturdy body lay atop her in a fragile heap, his blood...

Gabby swallowed the lump in her throat.

Honey... please, don’t do this, Bobby’s voice pleaded.

She felt the familiar pull of her heart-strings followed by the tremble in her hands. There was nothing she could have done to save him. Yet even now, all these weeks later, she wished she could go back and find a way.

There had to be a way.

A lone tear streaked out past tightened lids.

Gabby? You’re worrying me, his voice cut into her thoughts.

With a turn of her head, she peered out the bedroom window, settling on the bright, full moon as she worked to steady her breathing. The dark sky, void of cloud cover, exploded in stars. Dots barely visible to the human eye, others much larger flickered above. They pulsated, flashed three different colors. Red, blue, green.

Gabby took another deep breath, remembered the self-help books she’d read in her many attempts to avoid the inevitable.

She followed the beam of light cast from the moon across her bedspread, up the adjacent wall, over the front of her dresser. The path of light stopped, glinted off a tiny glass jewelry box Bobby found her years earlier at a yard sale. Little blue and white crocheted roses littered the edges. Inside, nestled on a velvet pillow, her Bobby’s wedding ring sat. It was one of her favorite pieces.

Gabby, I need you to pick up the phone. Don’t be afraid.

She turned her head, met the red flashing light on the answering machine as a tear slid from behind her lids, dropped to the pillow beneath her.

Soft sobs that always ripped and clawed at the remaining bits of her soul followed, then the click of the line cut.

The light stopped blinking, and the display moved to a number ‘20’.

Gabby released her white-knuckled grip on the comforter, sat up and pulled her bare knees towards her chest.

The eerie quiet of her room blared in her ears as her eyes trained on the red number.

She had no choice but to face facts. Either she had herself a regular old stalker who’d done nothing but verbally harass her for weeks or she finally lost her mind.

C h... Char.., Sam Doucet’s voice croaked, his eyes rounded on the road ahead of them.

Panic invaded every orifice of his body. His chest tightened and breath caught. A wave of warmth followed by a brisk chill came over him. He struggled to stay conscious amid the acrid taste of bile that rose from his stomach.

He pulled one arm to his chest, fought against the crushing, breath-sucking pressure inside.

Char.... Charlene, he tried again, his voice barely audible.

Sharp, piercing pains shot across his chest, stole his breath.

He was having a heart attack. That was the only explanation. But how? It wasn’t possible, he argued against the blinding pain.

He was only in his thirties. Many years away from having to worry about such a thing.

He gasped for air and knew the argument was futile.

He was having a heart attack and in the worst possible place—behind the wheel of a thousand pound bullet on a highway with a quarter tank of gas and the woman he loved beside him.

Unable to control the shake in his hands, he reached out, grasped her hand in his. His grip tightened with each constriction in his chest.

He gasped for air.

No! I won’t take her.

Sam bit back the shudder in his body and the overwhelming feeling of light-headedness. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, take her with him. His hand tightened on hers, yanked it towards the steering wheel.

Sam? Charlene cried out, her tone accusatory and ready to fight him.

Yes, that was the woman he loved. Full of bite, yet cloaked in a mist of tenderness. She deserved better than having her life end inside a Plymouth Fury on a long stretch of deserted highway. She deserved a long life after sacrificing hers for him. She’d given up her dreams of becoming a dancer to be by his side when he needed someone the most. She was his someone, she was his rock and he would die first for her any day.

Sam? Sam, honey? Her soft voice called to him as if in a dream.

He shook his head, fought past the crushing pain, past the taste of metal in his mouth when he bit down on his lip.

He forced her fingers around the steering wheel.

Not Charlene!

Take... it..., he stuttered as he fought to catch his breath. Now... Char... no... time.

Not yet. No. She needs to be safe first.

His last thoughts were infiltrated with her—her soft blue eyes, bright smile, and wavy blond hair. Legs that stretched on forever, lean and muscular. Her dedication to him, to their marriage.

Did she know how much she meant to him, he wondered as he squeezed his fingers around hers, forced a tight grip around the wheel.

His foot fell off the accelerator.

His vision blurred.

His fingers and toes went numb.

I... love... you... Char...

Inside his chest came a ripple followed by an eruption, and then Charlene’s frantic screams filled the cab of the truck just as his entire world went black.

Chapter Two

Few understood suffering like he did. The everlasting effects that stuck with you, day after day, night after night. Nor did they understand loss. Not like he did. They couldn’t understand what it did to a soul. To the mind.

But Thomas did. He knew all too well. And tonight would be another reminder. A reminder of the Hell he’d lived through.

As the nightmare took hold, he felt the chill cover his flesh, felt the goosebumps rise as the thin mattress beneath him depressed, springs jutting into his back.

Small fingers shook, clung desperately to the thin sheet as he pulled it up beneath his chin. Darkness like that he could only imagine of a black hole sucked him in, stole his breath.

A creek down the hall sounded, stilled his breath, rounded his eyes on the shadows of the room. He waited for the inevitable with fear, heart raced with what he knew was to come.

He heard the doorknob turn before the thin sliver of light filtered into the room, across his prone body on the bed adjacent to the door.

The door opened wide enough to reveal the shadow he feared nightly. The one he knew was coming for him again tonight.

The figure stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, smothering Thomas in the darkness that caused his heart to pound in his ears.

I wanna go home. I don’t want to stay here alone anymore.

You’ve been a bad boy, Thomas, the voice that sent knife blades to his tummy whispered, stepped closer.

The squeak of shoes on linoleum as unmistakable as his voice.

Have I been a bad boy? Is that why I was sent here? Why the only people I loved left me behind?

The smell of cabbage and cornbread wafted across his face, the warmth of each breath felt on his cheek, but he dare not move. He knew the repercussions if he fought the Father.

Icy fingers curled around his, pried one finger at a time from its ironclad grip on the sheet.

Thomas bolted up in his own bed, in his own room, far away from the Boys Home. His bare chest glistened, heart pounded as the remnants of the nightmare lingered. He could feel the cold of his old room, still see the two empty beds, complete with fluffed pillows, and wrinkle-free sheets.

His brow narrowed at the thought of those he’d loved and lost, those who left him behind in the darkness, at the hands of the Father.

Thomas pushed the thick comforter from his body, threw his legs over the side of the bed.

Nothing he’d done so far to right the wrongs of his past had rid him of what plagued him. But he knew why. He knew the one person who changed everything. His plan was a solid one. It was how he planned to even the odds, to show those who hurt him what it was like, to show them what loss, what the dark was truly about.

But she’d been in the way.

Thomas stood from the bed, stepped into his bathroom, stopped before the mirror above the sink. He looked over features he had so many times over the years, fingered the dark scar that roughened his face. 

He’d done his research, found those who’d done him wrong. Knew what they looked like today. It was how he hunted them down in the first place. But the men weren’t at the top of his list, they never were. Their pain and suffering was.

Thomas grinned at his reflection, one so similar, one that would have him finally seeing his plan to fruition.

He would destroy her slowly, make her suffer for disrupting his plans.

She may have put a nail in his spokes once before, but she would not topple him off his bike again.

Chapter Three

Gabby fidgeted with the radio, flicked through stations as her gaze darted between the finicky stereo and the road ahead of her.

The highway between Wawan County and Pale Bay was never busy, but today it seemed as empty as her house, that is, except for the blue Plymouth fury ahead of her.

The chill in the air brought on by a brisk northern front coasted overhead. That, coupled with the first day of October, did as much damage to travelers as a long, winter snow storm would have. Even with the sun in full brilliance, it could not push away the early chill in the air. Bikes were already being stored and yard duty put on hold while people choose the warmth of their fires and hot chocolates instead.

Ahead of her, the blue fury edged toward the center line, moved back into its rightful lane in time to maneuver one of the many bends in the road.

On either side of the rolling highway hemlock, white pine and yellow birch burst into an array of yellows, oranges, and reds. Spent leaves littered the ground beneath. Fall was in full bloom.

Behind the weaving ford, she followed, leaving ample room.

Gabby hit the search button on the radio once more. She hoped for something, anything, except her own thoughts. Her attention moved from the road to the white digital numbers racing across the tiny screen.

Damn it, come on, she complained.

She looked back to the road and the car ahead. Washed and waxed, it gleamed for its day in the sun.

Gabby wondered about the owner. Was he a collector? A showman? Or even a man at all?

Her attention moved back to the blasted radio channels.

Today called for something void of news of death or the high school baseball game. She’d heard enough about Pale Bay and Wawan County’s game and could not care less who came out on top after the bottom of the ninth. Just as she was about to give up on ever hearing anything except her own self-doubts, the sound of ‘Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog’ belted out of her second-rate speakers.

With a sigh and smile, she dropped herself back into the seat and mouthed the words, forcing herself into a calm she didn’t feel.

Number ‘20’ devastated her more than she hoped it would. Sleep eluded her, adding to her unease.

Gabby gripped the steering wheel, fought to hide the tremors she was yet to shake. Her gaze moved to the yellow plastic bag on the seat beside her containing her answering machine and tapes.

It was time.

Fresh air whipped through the cab of her neon, through her dark hair restrained in a ponytail. She was grateful for the foresight. After all, she was already on edge. Having to fight unruly hair because she needed some fresh air would have pushed her over.

The smell of Lavender that breezed past her from the pine tree dangling off her rear-view mirror had her smile. The scent invaded her senses, shot a sense of ease through her.

She took a deep breath, exhaled. Everything was going to be okay.

She made a mental note to pick up some lavender spray for her pillow on her way home. Whether it was the power of the plant or her own deep seeded need, it didn’t matter. What mattered was her sanity, and right now, she was barely holding on.

The song on the radio ended. A familiar voice pulled her attention away from all that was going wrong in her life.

This is Abigail Weyther here with the local forecast, the woman’s voice belted out.

Gabby stabbed the search button in frustration as her attention moved to the sky outside her windshield, toward the rolling hills. The sun shone bright in the sky, tiny clouds littered the blue as the brisk wind filtered through her windows.

She didn’t need a weathercaster to tell her the weather, she just had to look up.

Ahead of her, the blue fury jerked towards the center line, pulled Gabby back to the present.

Her dark eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. She could make out the outline of the driver and one passenger.

The vehicle jerked back in line.

A niggle of fear inched its way up her spine as she released her foot from the gas, allowing the fury to gain some distance.

That’s all she needed, a drunk getting in an accident and bringing her along with him.

Gabby kept her eye on the vehicle, reached out to the passenger seat, her fingers fumbling along the cool leather, past the plastic bag, to her cell.

The Fury wobbled back and forth across the center line. An unsettling churn took hold of her stomach and a cold tingle started at her toes, inched its way up until it consumed her heart in a crushing grip.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat just in time for the squeal of rubber on dry pavement, the overwhelming scent of it that followed.

Once it careened towards the ditch, time slowed for her, the scene before her played out in slow motion.

The out-of-control metal monster slammed into the dirt shoulder, kicked up dust in its wake, then lurched back onto pavement.

She pulled in a breath as she helplessly watched the car swerve back towards the ditch. It skid across the gravel shoulder, bounced back onto the road where it didn’t stay for long.

The passenger-side tires caught in a soft spot left over by the brief rain shower from the night prior, lifted the front end enough to catch air.

Gabby slammed on her brakes, her mouth agape, heart in her chest as the metal beast went airborne.

With one flip in the air, it dropped back down to the earth with a sick metal-crunching thud into the ditch.

Fear constricted her throat, apprehension caught her breath, but nothing terrified her more than the sight of those four spinning tires. They continued their momentum unscathed by the events that unfolded only seconds earlier.

Gabby shifted into park and jumped from her vehicle. Once on the pavement, she forgot her door, her cell, and the number ‘20’ as she raced towards the ditch, her heart in her throat, eyes rounded on the spinning wheels.

Her mind flickered to an earlier time when Bobby ditched his own truck. The roads were slick, the snow thick, and almost impenetrable. She’d been none the wiser, safe in their home, preparing dinner when their front door blew open. She rushed to it and the men dragging Bobby’s bloodied body inside, one under