The Dark Princess (The Balance Series Book 3)

  THE DARK PRINCESS

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  Black Quill Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 Janelle Stalder

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  Cover Artwork by Concierge Literary Designs

  EARLY PRAISE FOR THE DARK PRINCESS

  “This book reminded me why I love urban fantasy. Cillian Black is perfection! I'm obsessed!” - H.D. Gordon, author of The Wolf Wars Series

  "A decadent and intense page-turner, The Dark Princess is a rich paranormal romance you'll want to sink your teeth into.” - Casey L. Bond, author of Savage Beauty.

  "Janelle Stalder weaves a gripping story of love, heartbreak, and adventure. I couldn't put it down and it's impossible to forget." - Becca Vincenza, author of Art of Death.

  “A dark enthralling tale that’s compelling, sexy and action packed. A turn pager for sure. I couldn’t stop reading.” Terri E. Laine, author of Chasing Butterflies.

  “The Dark Princess has everything you could possibly want in a book. It's filled to the brim with mystery, intrigue, action and romance. The Dark Princess is without a doubt one of my favourite reads of the year so far.” Kayleigh-Marie Gore, K-Books Review

  ALSO BY JANELLE STALDER

  EDEN SERIES

  EDEN

  EDEN-WEST

  EDEN-SOUTH

  EDEN-EAST

  NEW WORLD SERIES

  SWITCH

  MASKED

  TESTED

  UNDERGROUND

  SILENCE

  BLOOMFIELD SERIES

  BRUSH STROKES

  SIMPLE BEGINNINGS

  DECIDING LOVE

  YOUNG LOVE

  BALANCE SERIES

  BALANCE

  POISE

  THE DARK PRINCESS

  THE DARK PRINCESS

  BALANCE SERIES PART THREE

  I dedicate this one to my wee Clarbear. Thank you for finally giving Mommy her brain back so she could write the next chapter to this series!

  xo

  One

  Dumpster Diver

  "Move it loser."

  I grunted as a shoulder collided with mine, sending my text books and binder crashing to the floor. The school body currently crowding the halls between periods barely noticed as they adjusted their paths around my stuff now littering the tiles, their unblinking eyes like robots from some sci-phi movie.

  Sighing, I bent down to gather everything together, glancing up at the retreating back of my assailant.

  "I've never understood what you did to Aaron Brooks to make him single you out all the time."

  I didn't need to turn around to know Emily was standing behind me. She was the only person in this school of five hundred students that I could call my - somewhat - friend. We didn't sleep over at each other's houses, or share secrets about who we had crushes on (which would be no one, since my school was filled with boys just like Aaron), but we stuck to one another during school hours. Probably because we were both part of the "out" crowd, as in, not the "in" crowd. No, we lacked the blonde hair and tanned skin genes that seemed to be a prerequisite for entering the popular circle.

  I stood, wincing as my head collided with a rather full backpack from a rushing passerby.

  "If I didn't know any better, I'd say his outwardly hostility was nothing but a cover up to hide his deep feelings of desire for you."

  "You don't know any better," I muttered, turning to my locker to quickly switch out books now that I had wasted a good five minutes cleaning my crap up. What made it even worse, was that Aaron and I both had geometry together next period. He'd no doubt be smirking my way as I rushed in before the late bell.

  "You never know, Hope. Those jock guys always secretly have the hots for the quiet book-nerd type. Or sometimes, even the hot gothic chick."

  She wiggled her eyebrows at me when I looked at her, those black lips pulling up in a grin. My own finally lifted, my annoyance with the kids in this school momentarily forgotten.

  "I can just see the two of you now," I said, slamming my locker shut. "Prom king and queen, Aaron and Emily, eventually getting married and having little gothic children straight out of the Adam's Family book."

  Emily laughed, falling in step beside me. "Wouldn't that be hilarious."

  I often wondered if, beneath all her jokes about the most popular guy in school, there wasn't a tiny part of her that really did like him. Way, way down beneath her sarcasm and cynicism. Not that she'd ever admit it.

  I didn't have the same dark make-up or clothes like Emily, but I still didn't look and dress like the other "American Eagle" type girls in our school. And because it was a smaller school outside of the city for all the more private citizens, I also didn't have the same household income that their parents had.

  Not that we were poor, but it was just my mom and I, and while we never seemed to be lacking money, I didn't think Mom was raking in millions with her self-published romance books. It didn't matter to me though. We had our old farm house that we both loved, and our cat, Cat. What more could two girls ask for?

  Emily and I entered the classroom, my eyes instantly finding Aaron despite the fact that I had mentally decided not to look at him on the way here. That damn smirk was exactly where I had expected it to be. I shot him a glare before taking my seat near the front.

  "Nice cardigan, Hope," Lila Higgins said, as she sauntered into the room the way she always seemed to do. I wasn't sure how she managed to constantly look so perfect, but I expected nothing less from the Queen B of Montgomery Woods High.

  I felt my shoulders stiffen as I met her stare, bracing myself. I wasn't fooled for one second by her compliment. There was more to come.

  "Where did you pick that up, the thrift store? Or have you been dumpster diving again?"

  And there it was.

  The students around me giggled, except for Em, of course. I didn't have to look at her to know she was shooting daggers with her eyes at Lila right now.

  Once, in fifth grade, Lila had taken a hat Mom had just bought for me on our trip to the coast, and thrown it in the school’s dumpster. I'd stood there, staring at the green, stinky bin, torn between what to do as the other kids looked on, waiting to see if I'd actually retrieve it. The same kids laughing now. It had been either leave my hat and explain to my mom what had happened, or climb in and get it so she wouldn’t find out how cruel the other kids in my school could be.

  I'm sure it's obvious which of the two options I had chosen.

  The saddest part was that the sweater really was from a thrift store. Not because we couldn't buy new clothes, but because I liked shopping for vintage stuff. My fingers instantly rubbed the hem. I bit back any reply as she gave be a haughty smirk and walked away. There was no point in arguing with girls like her.

  ***

  Dark clouds loomed ahead, so I picked up the pace before the rain they promised started. Trees lined both sides of the road I took home every day. While some people might find the dense foliage creepy, I had always found it strangely comforting.

  Our old farm house was set back in the trees, so I was used to having nature around me. There was an otherworldly stillness about forests that drew me in. You knew the trees were full of birds, the ground riddled with small animals, and maybe even larger ones, but you never saw them. No, they were always just beyond the human eye. I always felt as though they were watching me though.

  That sense that there were e
yes following my movements was there even now.

  Kicking a stone out of my way, I started to hum just as I heard an engine coming up behind me. Moving further to the side, I kept going, thinking nothing of it until they slowed down.

  "Great," I said with a sigh. I should have recognized the rumbling engine of Jessie’s Trans Am before now.

  "Hey, Frenchie," Aaron called out. "You and your mom need a man around the house tonight? I'm sure I can keep you both warm." His laugh mixed with the others.

  Rolling my eyes, I stopped, turning to face the carload of jocks that stopped just beside me.

  "As much as I appreciate that chivalrous offer, we'll pass," I said.

  Aaron popped out of the passenger side window, sitting on the ledge as he grinned at me. I could feel the others watching me but I ignored them. Aaron, I could handle on his own. The whole group? That took a bit more patience than I was able to manage.

  "Are you sure? I bet it's been a long time since you ladies were seen to properly."

  They laughed again.

  Seen to? Where did this guy get this stuff?

  I smiled politely, gripping the straps of my backpack. "We're good. We're not used to being disappointed, so..."

  "Ooooooo," the others all chanted together.

  "Looks like the little nerd doesn't think you've got what it takes to please her, Aaron," Jessie Granger taunted.

  I flicked my gaze to him briefly, taking a step back at the look on his face. There was always something about Jessie that put me on edge. He constantly had that gleam in his eyes that made me think he was picturing me naked whenever he looked at me. Or any girl, for that matter.

  "You wouldn't know what to do with me anyway," Aaron sneered.

  Shrugging, I said, "probably right." I turned and started to walk again.

  "Dismissed, Brooks," Jessie laughed.

  I ignored them, picking up my pace even more than before. My house was still a good ten minutes away, and the rumbling in the distance told me I was unlikely to make it there dry at this point.

  "I wouldn't want to get involved with the French witches anyway," Aaron said, loudly enough to ensure I'd hear. "They're nothing but dirty bitches."

  Anger blazed through me. It was one thing to talk crap about me, but I wouldn't stand for them calling my mother names too. I turned to yell at them (what, I wasn't sure) but whatever I’d intended to say never made it out. A loud clap sounded through the air, followed by the shouts of every football player in the car. I slammed my mouth shut as I looked at the large crack now dividing the windshield.

  It looked as though someone had thrown a rock at it, but no one had even moved. Aaron swore, reaching down to run his hand along the broken glass. His furious gaze met my shocked one.

  "You stupid witch-whore. This is why no one will ever touch you."

  I instinctively took a step back at the hatred in his words, trying my best to hide how much they hurt. I hadn't done a thing, in fact, I'd been walking away for crying out loud. Still, they found a way to lay blame on me. It had been happening all my life.

  Those who decided to pick on me always seemed to find themselves in peculiar situations afterward. Unexplainable things that even I didn't know what to make of. Like when Spencer Douglas decided to push me into a puddle in third grade. I had, thankfully, caught myself before I was completely face first in the water. Only my knees ended up taking the brunt of the fall.

  The same couldn't be said for Spencer, whose shoelaces had mysteriously been tied together, so when he went to walk he fell right into the same puddle, his face completely submerged.

  That was one of many instances, and tended to make people leave me alone for the most part, but never for long.

  "I...I didn't do anything," I stuttered.

  "You're nothing but a freak." He disappeared back into the car, tires squealing as they sped away, barely missing me in the process.

  I jumped back with a squeak, watching the retreating car as my brain tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  "I didn't do anything," I whispered again to myself.

  A drop of water hit the tip of my nose, breaking me out of my confused stupor. Looking up, another drop hit my forehead before the dark cloud right above my head opened up.

  "Just perfect," I muttered. Hunching over, I hurried along, my tennis shoes squeaking against the pavement as I made my way home.

  By the time our blue mailbox came into view I was drenched. I could already picture my evening of blow drying the pages of my text books.

  Grumbling, I picked up the pace. The insides of my shoes were now swimming pools, and I was pretty sure whatever make-up I had slapped on that morning was running down my neck at this point.

  Note to self, pack an umbrella!

  Turning down our drive, I let out a breath of relief.

  There was something innately comforting about the forest surrounding our house. As soon as I crossed the threshold between it and the road, it was as though a heavy weight instantly lifted from my shoulders. Every time.

  Except now.

  My foot sank into the soft gravel of our drive, and paused. Hands gripping the straps of my bag, I peered through the drops of rain into the dense greenery around me.

  Nothing.

  There was nothing.

  And yet...

  I looked again, scrutinizing every bush, every tree, wondering what it was that had made me stop. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck slowly rose in unison as the thought crossed my mind that maybe the boys had come back to torture me some more. Without a doubt, Jessie would want retribution for his ruined windshield.

  I let out a slow breath, having realized I’d been holding it the whole time. Turning, I looked down the road, both sides, but couldn’t spot any tracks that would suggest they had come this far. What were the chances they would sneak through the forest just to get at me?

  Probably pretty good, I thought to myself with a grimace. After all, targeting me seemed to be a favourite pastime of theirs.

  I swung around and started down our long driveway. Each step a little quicker than the last, until I was practically running.

  Snap.

  My feet skidded to a stop as the sound of a branch breaking echoed around me. My breath wheezed in my ears as I panted.

  I inspected the forest again, but nothing moved.

  “What is wrong with you today?” I whispered. Shaking my head, I kept going, forcing myself to walk normally. The windshield thing had clearly messed with my mind. This was my home. There was nothing to be scared of. The most we had in these woods were some bunnies, squirrels, and a few extra brave chipmunks.

  Chuckling, I hoisted my bag further up my shoulder and promised myself I wouldn’t tell Mom about this. She always hated talking about scary things. Even when I had bad dreams, which was often as of late, something I attributed to my stress over the big chapter test we’d just done last week in psychology, Mom never wanted to hear about them. She wouldn’t even let me watch Lucifer, which was a prime-time TV show, not some horror movie.

  She could be so lame sometimes. But she was still the best friend I ever had.

  The rain started to fall harder, slanting in that way that went right into and under your clothes, making sure I was going to be thoroughly soaked by the time I reach the house.

  I could just see the blue of the exterior, the creaking of our porch swing in the near distance, when a loud, bone-chilling growl raced up my spine from behind me. My entire body froze, my heart sinking to somewhere down in my stomach where it wasn’t supposed to be.

  Slowly, I looked over my shoulder, and everything around me seemed to grow quiet. The breeze, the rain, every critter skittering through the mud - all of it stilled as my eyes met deep yellow ones that reminded me of honey.

  What struck me more than the creature who bore them, was that they were all too familiar.

  Everything was the same.

  The b
rown, mangy looking fur. The small, pointed ears. The sharp looking tusks protruding from the open, salivating mouth, filled with tiny, razor looking teeth.

  Oh, yes, it, whatever it was, appeared exactly as it did in my dreams.

  That was it! That explained the windshield too. This was a dream.

  A laugh bubbled out of me, eliciting another growl from the creature. I glanced down at my soaked feet, wet and cold that felt all too real.

  It was a dream, wasn’t it? It had to be.

  Otherwise...how could a creature that in no way could be real, be standing just behind me?

  I looked back at him. Shoulders hunched, hoofed feet braced apart, the thing looked ready to charge at me.