Lure of Obsession (The Muse Chronicles Book 1)
Book #1 of the Muse Chronicles
by
Lisa Kessler
Lure of Obsession Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Kessler
EPUB Edition
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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Edited by Double Vision Editorial, Danielle Poiesz
Cover design by Fiona Jayde Media
Interior Design by BB eBooks
Vase Icon made by Freepik from www.flaticon.com is licensed under CC BY 3.0
Manufactured in the United States of America First Edition August 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9976274-0-4
The Muse Chronicles
LURE OF OBSESSION
LEGEND OF LOVE
The Night Series
NIGHT WALKER
NIGHT THIEF
NIGHT DEMON
NIGHT ANGEL
NIGHT CHILD
The Moon Series
MOONLIGHT
HUNTER’S MOON
BLOOD MOON
HARVEST MOON
ICE MOON
BLUE MOON
Stand Alone Works
BEG ME TO SLAY
FORGOTTEN TREASURES
ACROSS THE VEIL
This one is for my stepmom, Vivian, who has spent most of her life as a teacher inspiring the next generation to reach for their dreams.
Thanks for always loving me and my kids like your own.
M
el stepped out
of her car and froze. Damn. The condo was dark. Pitch dark. Nia never turned off a light, let alone all of them. Ever.
Worst-case scenarios played across her mind until she wanted to jump back in her car and drive away. Mel rubbed her hand up her arm, quelling the goose bumps rising on her skin. She forced herself to try to be optimistic. Maybe Nia went out earlier in the afternoon and, by some freak chance, didn’t leave any lights on?
No way. That was horseshit, and Mel knew it. She’d lived with Nia for two years now. The girl was incapable of facing the dark.
Mel took a deep breath. Coming up with positive scenarios was difficult for her. The day she turned eighteen, the Muse of Tragic Poetry blossomed inside her, and with it came a penchant for tragedy. The glass was not only half-empty in her mind, but it could shatter at any moment. The awakening of her muse also caused her to have crazy dreams about a run-down theater and a group of women like her, who had a higher calling.
Now, ten years later, she’d found her soul sisters, her fellow muses. Although they were mortal women only embodying the original Greek muses, each of her sisters had been chosen as a vessel—for reasons that were only clear to the gods themselves—to inspire the next generation of mankind. Together they’d worked and saved and pooled their money to buy the theater before it was marked for demolition, and together, they would restore it. The Theater of the Muses,
Les Neufs Soeurs,
would once again bring together the thinkers and artists and dreamers of the world.
But in spite of the progress toward their ultimate goal, she still struggled against a part of herself that continued to live in a perpetual state of angst.
Standing in the dark street where she could be hit by a car or abducted by an ax murderer wasn’t helping.
Before she slammed the car door, she leaned in, snagging her messenger bag from the passenger seat. Her students’ English papers still needed grading.
This is probably nothing.
With the bag slung over her shoulder, she locked the car and crossed to her front door.
Even the porch light, Nia’s twenty-four hour beacon, was off. A chill slithered down Mel’s spine like a viper. Her roommate, the reborn Muse of Astronomy, didn’t have energy conservation on her radar. She was all about stars and beacons of light in the darkness.
Talons of dread sank into the muscles on Mel’s shoulders, and her chest constricted. The silence magnified each click as she slid her key into the lock. She opened the door slowly, her hand searching for the switch on the wall beside the door.
Light flooded the room, and her heart stopped. Nia’s lifeless blue eyes gazed up from the floor at the base of the stairs.
“No!” Mel collapsed next to her, pressing her fingers against Nia’s neck in search of a pulse. No sign of a heartbeat but her skin was still warm. Her head was at an impossible angle, a small halo of blood framing her blond hair like a shadow.
“No,” she breathed. “Nia, no.” Mel blinked back hot tears, turning toward the staircase and looking it up and down. What had happened? Had she fallen?
With a trembling hand, Mel reached over to close Nia’s eyes. Then she scrambled back, her stomach twisting. While her mind was always quick to envision the worst, this was the first time reality had lived up to her expectations—maybe even beyond. She made it back outside to the porch before she lost her dinner over the railing. Coughing, she fumbled for her cell phone in the pocket of her blazer and then dialed.
“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.
“My roommate. She’s—” Her voice cracked on a sob.
“Is she injured?”
“Yes. No. I mean, she was.” Mel squeezed her eyes shut, begging her brain to engage. “She’s dead. I think she fell. I don’t know. I just got home.”
The operator managed to coax her address from her and kept her on the line until the first police car pulled up, lights flashing. She wasn’t sure how many others followed.
Mel was vaguely aware of the officers jogging toward her and then disappearing inside while she sat on the steps, lost in a fog of shock, oblivious to the cops and medics going in and out of her condo. But one thought gnawed at her, refusing to be ignored: the lights had been
off
.
Nia wouldn’t have come down the stairs in the dark. Not in a million years. The Muse inside of her thirsted for light. She didn’t even
sleep
in the dark. So who had turned them off?
“Are you Melanie Jacoby?”
She flinched at the sound of the stranger’s deep voice and blinked to find herself staring up at a broad-shouldered man dressed in navy-blue slacks and a white dress shirt. His cuffs were rolled up, exposing chiseled forearms. A tie hung loosely around his neck, the top button unfastened.
“Mel,” she muttered, lifting her gaze to his face. He had a strong jawline and bright green eyes, almost gray, in stark contrast to his dark hair. “Call me Mel.”
“I’m Detective Malone.” He paused, giving me a second to keep up through the fog of shock. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Am I a suspect?” she blurted out.
He cocked a brow and pulled a small spiral notepad from his pocket. “Should you be?”
Under different circumstances, she might have found this guy attractive, but right now, her inner muse had her too wired with tragic twists to focus on much else. Wasn’t it enough that her roommate was dead? Couldn’t that be enough tragedy for one night?
“No.” She sighed. “I wasn’t here when this happened, so I don’t think I’ll be much help with your questions. None of this makes sense.”
He studied her for a moment and then slipped his pen back into his pocket. “We can do this later.” Detective Malone walked past her to the door and stopped. “Do you have family nearby? Anyone I can call for you?”
“My sisters. Well, not really. Friends, I guess. Like sisters.” She shut her mouth, saving herself from more incomplete sentences.
He mumbled something to another officer about the medical examiner signing off on something, but she couldn’t make out his words. A black van pulled up, and her vision blurred with another wave of tears. They were coming for Nia. No,
not
for Nia.
For the
body
.
Detective Malone came around in front of her, blocking the view of the medical examiner’s vehicle and its occupants while they unloaded a gurney.
She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Am I free to go?”
He held out a travel-sized pack of Kleenex. “I’m not sure you should be driving. Why don’t you come with me to the station? We can talk, and I’ll treat you to a bad cup of coffee.”
“You make it sound pretty tempting.” She tugged out a tissue and stood up while she returned the almost-empty pack. She wiped her eyes and nose, and the tissue filled her lungs with his masculine scent, a combination of the ocean and something else that pulled at her. She couldn’t put her finger on it.
But for a split second, it almost made her forget…
Mel focused on his face instead of on the people with the latex gloves who were passing behind him. “Make it Starbucks and you’re on.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, hinting at a smile that might make her knees weak if her friend wasn’t lying lifeless a few feet away.
“You got it.” He tipped his head toward the street. “Let’s get out of here and let them finish up.”
He grabbed the arm of another plainclothes officer, talking to him in low tones. They both glanced her way. Subtlety didn’t seem to be a priority at the moment. Detective Malone returned to her. “My partner will stay and gather evidence. Let’s see if we can find you some coffee.”
She followed him to his car and got in. Through the window, an officer roped off the stairs to her front door with yellow crime-scene tape. Mel gnawed at her lower lip, fighting to keep it together. As Detective Malone pulled away from the curb, she closed her eyes and wished this nightmare were just a dream.