Page 24 of Salem’s Fall (Dark Seasons Thriller #3)

T he streets of Salem’s Fall are buzzing with energy as I return from the visit with my father.

With Halloween quickly approaching, the streets are even more crowded than when I first arrived days ago.

Everywhere I look, tourists are wandering through the maze of little shops, clutching hot apple cider and pumpkin lattes in their hands.

The sound of children’s laughter echoes through the street as kids chase each other in witch hats and cat ears, holding on to broomsticks and colorful gourds.

It’s almost too festive. Too perfect.

For a moment, I wish I could lose myself in it too, but there’s a darkness hanging over me now, something no amount of fall cheer can shake. It’s not just the weight of what I’ve learned about my father—it’s this entire case. The deeper I go, the more twisted everything gets.

As I walk up to the Cottage, I see Damien leaning against his sleek black car. He watches me approach, arms crossed, face set in a hard line. He smiles politely, but the air crackles with tension. I can feel the anger radiating from him even before I get close.

That’s okay. I’m none too happy with him either.

“Where have you been all day?” His voice is a low growl.

I stop short .

“You may be my client, Damien, but I don’t report to you on my every move.”

“I asked you a question.” He quickly closes the gap between us. “Where were you?”

I square my shoulders and lift my chin. I’m not about to be interrogated by anyone, not even Damien Blackhollow.

“I went to see my dad. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I was worried.” I see the flare of something—anger, fear, maybe both—cross Damien’s face. He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t be wandering around alone. Not after everything that’s happened.”

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to visit my father,” I snap.

“Don’t act like this is some normal situation.” His eyes narrow, and he steps closer, looming over me. “You keep putting yourself in danger. You have no idea what’s at stake.”

The condescension in his tone causes me to lose all semblance of self-control and professionalism, and I’m unable to hold back my fury. How dare this man sit here and lecture me about danger when he’s been keeping the most dangerous secret of my life from me?

“You knew, didn’t you?” My voice trembles with barely contained rage. “About my father’s connection to the Veil and my mother’s death? You knew this entire time, and you let me walk into this case blind?”

Damien’s jaw goes slack with surprise.

“He told you?”

“He’s my father, Damien! Of course he told me!”

“Yes, but why now?” He scratches at his chin, brows furrowed together, a frown on his face. “Why would he tell you the truth now after all these years of hiding it from you?”

“What does that matter? That’s hardly the point!”

He lets out a sharp, guttural curse.

“Of course! Lucien. That backstabbing son of a bitch.” His eyes blaze with fury as he steps closer. “He told you, didn’t he? At your little meeting yesterday. And naturally, you ran straight to your father at the prison.”

“Forget Lucien! He’s not important.” A sharp gust of wind whips through the courtyard, but I barely feel it over the heat prickling at my skin. “The question is—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Isn’t it obvious by now?” He grabs my wrist, almost desperately, and for a moment, I feel a surge of panic. “I wanted to keep you safe. There are things about the Veil—about my family and yours too—that are best kept secret. Knowing these things puts you in even more danger.”

“Is this why you insisted I stay on this case? You wanted to keep me close so you could make sure I wouldn’t find out about my dad?” My voice rises with each word. “Or did you pick me because of some sick game? Laughing at me the whole time behind my back?”

“Don’t be absurd,” he says, his voice low and rough. “That’s not why I chose you, James.”

“Then why? Why am I on this case, Damien?”

He sighs loudly, taking a step away.

“I recognized you the moment I saw you at the courthouse—Thomas Woodsen’s daughter, all grown up and assigned to my defense.

I knew you were too close to the truth, but I thought if I kept you close, I could protect you.

Control what you learned. Maybe even shield you from all of it.

I felt I owed it to you, after everything your family’s been through.

” He groans, frustrated, raking a hand through his dark hair.

“But instead, you’ve been completely foolish and reckless.

Running around town, chasing leads like this is just another case when it’s anything but.

You don’t understand what you’re up against.”

“I understand more than you think.” My hands ball into fists at my sides, my breath sharp. “And I don’t need your help!”

Something shifts in his expression, quick as a flick of a knife—cold, calculated, lethal.

“Careful, James.”

He says it like a warning, and I remember then that Damien is a Blackhollow first and foremost. I’ve started to grow too comfortable around the man, but if his family is deadly and dangerous, he very well may be the most dangerous one of all. I have to remember that.

“You may think you don’t need my help, but I’m the only one keeping you safe right now.” His voice is clipped, sharp, and I can see the tension in his shoulders. “If you keep pushing, it’s not just your career that’s at risk–it’s your life and everyone and everything you hold dear.”

I stare at him, my pulse hammering in my ears. I can feel the ground shifting beneath me, like everything I thought I knew is unraveling right in front of my eyes.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s the truth you keep demanding,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“I don’t do well with people trying to control me and telling me what to do,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “I’m going back to see the professor. At least I can trust him to be honest with me.”

“You think you can trust him ?” Damien laughs, a cold, bitter sound. “You can’t trust anyone, James. Not him, not me, not anyone.” His face darkens. “Your professor has his own agenda, believe me. But go ahead, go run back to him—see what you find out.”

There’s something in his voice, something I know I should listen to, but I’m too angry, too hurt to care. I turn on my heel and shout back over my shoulder.

“Fine! I will! ”

I rush away from Damien, racing up the steps to the Cottage. I don’t know why I’m so upset; I knew it from the moment I met him. Damien Blackhollow is not a good guy, and he’s definitely not to be trusted.

Lucky is at my side the moment I return to my room, weaving between my legs and nudging my hand, his purr steady and comforting.

I scoop him up, and he settles against me, warm and grounding.

His soft black fur presses into my chest like he knows exactly what I need.

He’s the one constant in my life who I know will never let me down.

I stand like that for what feels like forever, holding my cat, trying to catch my breath. Everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control. The more I dig, the more I realize how deep this rabbit hole goes. And I’m not sure I want to know what’s waiting at the bottom.

Eventually, I force myself to text the professor, making sure he’s around this late on a weekend afternoon.

He texts back right away, thrilled to hear from me.

We agree to meet at his shop in twenty minutes.

I feed Lucky dinner and head out for the night, a cream-colored turtleneck sweater over my knit dress to protect me from the evening chill.

After a short walk, I push open the door to the Wandering Raven, the bell chiming as I step inside.

Something feels different this time. There’s a creeping stillness in the air, as if the shop itself knows what I’ve just uncovered about my family.

Flickering candlelight casts long, twisted shadows against the walls, almost ominously.

I walk past the shelves stacked with old books, a ripple of unease tightening in my chest as I notice something I missed the last time I was here.

Over in the corner, tucked away, is a glass case with an ancient-looking dagger inside.

Its silver blade gleams under the dim lighting, intricate designs etched into the hilt.

My breath catches as I realize the design closely resembles the one used in the murder of Damien’s fiancée— and my mother.

The same curving lines, the same twisted spirals.

I take a step closer to get a better look. There’s a plaque underneath it, the following words handwritten in neat, calligraphic script: 17th Century Sacrificial Blade. Origin: Unknown.

I turn away, trying to shake off the creeping dread, but everywhere I look, something else strange catches my eye: a row of vials filled with dark red liquid labeled “Vampire Blood”; bundles of dried plants and herbs with labels like “Nightshade,” “Foxglove,” and “Wolfsbane”; a rusted iron key on display called “The Key to the Underworld”; a pinboard of dried, dead moths.

A cold sweat forms at the base of my neck. Was this place always this creepy? Or am I now just more aware of it since learning about the Veil and what’s really at stake?

“James! Welcome back!”

I turn to see Professor Hargrove stepping out from behind a velvet curtain, his face lighting up. His smile is wide and warm. He’s even better looking than I remember with that casual, easy charm. Not a trace of the coldness or anger that I’d just dealt with from Damien.

“I’m glad you texted. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” He steps forward, his eyes locking onto mine with a mix of curiosity and something a bit hopeful. “Back for another history lesson?”

I smile. “You could say that.”

“Well, I’m flattered.” His eyes flicker with amusement. “Tell me—how did you find Strega’s Hollow?”