The Long Fall of Night: The Long Fall of Night Book 1

T
he trademarked products
mentioned in this e-book are the property of their respective owners and are recognized as such.

P
eople are
like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there’s a light from within.

—Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

T
HE END
OF ALL THINGS usually starts with a phone call, and this time was no different. Asher Caine fumbled frantically for his cell on the bedside table, trying to answer before it woke his roommates.

“’Lo?” he rasped, squinting at the alarm clock: 5:32 a.m.

“Ash.” Uncle Marvin. Ash sat up, instantly alert, the sheet pooling in his lap. His 5:30 was Marvin’s 2:30. That alone would have been enough to wake him, even without the warning that came next. “Destiny is on her way. You need to look sharp.” Marvin always spoke in code on the phone, and Ash smiled despite himself.

“What’s her type?” he asked, trying to pin Marvin to specifics of the danger without outright questioning which scenario he meant.

“Oh, she’s a dark and mysterious one. She’ll keep you on your toes. But she has soft spots. Likes hiking, fishing, hunting. Should be an interesting date.”

Why is Destiny always a girl?
Ash thought petulantly.
Why couldn’t she be a drag queen with a lot of sass and a nice surprise under her skirt?

“Got it.” Ash kept his thoughts where they belonged: in his head. “What should I wear?”
What will I need most?

“Flashlight.”

Shit.
“Okay. If I like her, maybe you’d like to meet her.”
If this means what you say, I’m coming to you.

“Maybe Charlotte would, too.”
Bring your sister.
Ash’s heart skipped a beat. This could be bad.

“What else do you know about her?”

“I’ll send you an email with her measurements.”
Details to follow.

“I have class tonight. Think she’ll be around this afternoon, or is tomorrow more likely?”
How much time do I have and how likely is this?
While Ash believed Marvin, there was always a scale of probability in his theories. Ash had too much riding on his shoulders, not to mention his multiple scholarships, to jump the gun if it came to nothing.

“Twenty-four hours. Maybe twice that, if what I heard is true.”

“She kind of a flake?”
How certain are you?

“Aren’t all women?”
There’s a chance it’s nothing.
Ash breathed in relief. Be ready, but wait. That, he could do.

A
sh heard
the heckling before he saw the confrontation. Rounding the corner to Rogers Hall at the Polytechnic Engineering Institute of NYU in Brooklyn for his Chem Lab class, he spotted three guys crowding someone not immediately visible, someone pushed against the side of a nice car parked on the street.

“This fancy car help you get laid, Davenport?” one guy sneered.

Ah, shit
. Ash shouldered his heavy backpack more firmly and stalked closer. Elliot Davenport, a guy Ash had known for the last year from various classes, wasn’t exactly the type to stand up to a bully. He was a people pleaser, so nice he sometimes made Ash’s teeth ache, and a bit dewy-eyed. They were lab partners, Elliot being the only sophomore in a class full of juniors. He was brilliant, if entirely too innocent. Both in bed and out of it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. T-This isn’t m-my car,” Elliot stammered.

Of course it’s not,” one of the goons said sympathetically. “You’ve probably never fucked a girl in your life. How does a guy get to college and not get laid?”

Three on one.
Shitty odds, but better Ash be the one in that equation rather than his partner, who’d probably never learned to punch. Ash’s mental image of the kid in high school was that he’d earned immunity from the jocks by helping them pass their classes. The three looming over him now weren’t exactly asking for extra tutoring. The foot traffic around didn’t acknowledge the quartet, except to shoot annoyed glances for interrupting the walking flow. If the kid needed help, it was Ash or no one.

“You gay, Davenport? What’s it like, sucking a cock?”

Elliot’s reply was brave, stupid, and weakly delivered. “You looking for pointers?”

“You calling me a fag, you little dickmonger?” Goon #1 went from cruel teasing to outright threatening. Where the guy was tall and thick-necked, Elliot was dwarfed, if not in height, then in stature. He was trim, with light brown hair that curled a little as it grew out, his expression lending him a startled prey look. Wide eyes behind thick-framed glasses darted about, desperately seeking an escape route. Elliot’s geeky lankiness hit Ash’s buttons just right, though Ash knew from experience it didn’t take much to intimidate Elliot. That didn’t mean he should get poked by idiots. Or beat up, which seemed like a bigger possibility now that he’d mouthed off. “You offering to suck me off? I heard a come-on in that question, cock queen.”

Okay, enough.
Ash cut through the bodies on the sidewalk to step in. He pushed up his hoodie sleeves, revealing impressive tattoos in the setting, early-April sunlight. He couldn’t be sure if the bullies knew him on sight, but he wasn’t above pressing his every advantage. His tall, muscled frame wouldn’t be enough in this fight, but he’d hate to bother getting a new lab partner, and these things often fizzled if someone pointed out the douchebag behavior.

Assuming there’ll be any lab classes in a week,
flitted through his head, but he shoved the thought away. That was nowhere near certain.

He bumped his shoulder hard against the guy who had Elliot cornered, using the weight of his backpack to add emphasis.

“Leave him alone.” Ash squeezed in, backing the bully posse up a few steps.

“Aw, look, Elliot! Your boyfriend’s here to rescue you,” Goon #1 crowed, the other two jumping in with cackles like the hyenas they were.

Ash beckoned the guy closer with the crook of a couple fingers, noting when he took in the ink and then the rest of him: shaggy dark blond hair falling nearly to his chin in relaxed waves, his jaw scruffy but neatly trimmed, and a calm look of amusement disguising steely dislike in his blue eyes. He also had that unmistakable quality all scrappers have—ferocity. The goon’s expression went wary, even as he leaned in.

“Are you aware,” Ash began, “it is no longer okay to be a homophobe? Especially at that volume. Keep your voice down before you get your ass kicked, dude.” He made sure to be conversational, though his muscles were tensed to spring. Elliot, still flattened against the car, scoffed.
Shut up, twerp.
Ash glared at him, and Elliot quailed.

“Hey, I’m cool. My cousin’s gay,” Goon #1 assured him.

“Your cousin a big guy?” Ash clapped him on the shoulder, staying friendly.

“About six-three, two hundred. Why?”

“Because if he knew you just used your relationship to him to justify being a bigoted jagoff, he’d probably kick your ass. Plus, I might want his phone number. It’s obvious he’s got all the brains in your family.”

“
You’re
gay?” Goon #1, in his surprise, apparently didn’t register he’d been insulted.

“We come in all types.” Ash widened his arms, letting the asshole take him all in. Tattoos, daring glare, smartassed mouth that wielded sharper wit than this idiot could ever hope to battle and win.

“Look,” Goon #2 said, raising his hands placatingly. “We weren’t making fun of him for being gay. I don’t even think he is.” Ash suppressed a snort. He’d spotted Elliot way off, the first day of class, and had enthusiastically confirmed it the last three months. Hell yes, he was gay. Goon #2 went on. “I don’t have a problem if he is.”

Ash glowered at them, having stolen the upper hand. “Looked to me like you do, considering you just called him a fag and thought he was hitting on you when he was just trying to defend himself. You shouldn’t have a problem if he’s a virgin either. Nothing to do with you unless you’re planning to pop his cherry.” He focused on Goon #1. “You’re not, are you?”

Elliot cleared his throat. “As if.” Kid couldn’t shut up for two seconds to save his own ass.

Goon #1 paled and backed away, his friends already turning to go. “Fuck no.”

“Then leave him alone,” Ash warned. “Permanently.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Goon #1 turned and sauntered off after his friends as if they hadn’t a care in the world and hadn’t been tormenting a weaker kid. Ash shook his head, hefted his backpack more firmly onto his shoulder, and finger-combed his hair off his face to focus on Elliot.

“You okay?”

“Wow,” Elliot said reverently. “I can’t believe you did that. There were three of them.”

I can count.
Ash held back from rolling his eyes—barely. “Yeah, I know. Are you okay, though?”

“Are you one of those people with congenital analgesia?”

“Huh?” Ash stared at him blankly, his patience beginning to fade. Elliot’s mind was sharp as a scalpel, but he was often six steps ahead of everyone else. If there was one thing Ash
hated,
it was feeling stupid.

“You know, one of those people who can’t feel pain. Like you can take a punch and grin like you’re a superhero or something. Because if those three guys had started pounding on you, it would have been one hell of a hurt is all I’m saying. So it would make total sense if you jumped in because you can’t feel pain.”

“I feel pain just fine,” Ash replied, getting exasperated despite fighting a smile. “Just answer the question so we can go to class. Are. You. Okay?”

Elliot waved a hand at the end of an arm that seemed too long for his body. “I’m fine. Man, I was scared, though.” They moved toward their building, where class was set to begin momentarily. After a pause, Elliot asked softly. “Did you really want his cousin’s number?”

“No,” Ash said, torn between amusement and another eye roll. Elliot may have been one of the smartest people Ash had ever known, but he could be a bit dense. Especially when it came to people. “I was trying to make the dude uncomfortable. Guys like that don’t want to think about things like butt sex.” Elliot’s face turned a furious red, making Ash laugh and have mercy on him. “I don’t want to have to find a new lab partner who will let me do the blowing shit up part while he takes all the boring notes.” He grinned wickedly. “Or the blowing. It was purely selfish.”

“You know what I think?”

“You’re going to tell me anyway,” Ash guessed. Elliot didn’t blink at the aggrieved sigh Ash emitted, much as he tried to stifle it. Ash didn’t try to be a dick to the guy, but sometimes his sarcasm ran all the controls. They had an arrangement, study partners with benefits. Elliot may have wanted more, but Ash couldn’t afford the distraction.

“I think you’re an asshole to people because you’re a decent guy and don’t want anyone to know it.” Elliot bounced along like a squirrel having gotten into a discarded, half-full can of Red Bull.

Ash gave him a scathing look that would have withered anyone else, but Elliot only grinned. “Why wouldn’t I want anyone to know that?”

“Oh, lots of reasons,” Elliot went on. “You like people to be wrong about you. You like it when they don’t think you’re smart, so when you say something brilliant, they’re caught off guard.”

Ash’s insides squirmed uncomfortably. Elliot wasn’t far off the mark, not that Ash would ever admit it aloud. Most people took one look at him and underestimated him, thinking the tattoos and shaggy hair meant he was an idiot. Many pegged him for hard, physical labor, not because he was big and bulky, but because he had an air of rebellion that typically went with someone who had no use for school and worked with his muscles, not his mind. That couldn’t be further from the truth, and when people discovered he was an NYU student studying Biomolecular Science and getting his masters in Biotechnology at the same time, they didn’t know what label to slap on him. He liked it that way.

But Elliot apparently saw right through the armor.

“Look,” he sighed wearily, stopping in the lobby of Rogers Hall, the sun streaming in the windows at his back, forcing Elliot to squint to look at him. “I stopped them because I have a problem with homophobia. It’s not because I’m some kind of hero, or—” He stopped the words “your boyfriend” from exiting his mouth. There was no need to be cruel, even if he’d clearly stated his intentions from the beginning. Fuck buddies who helped each other study for tests. That was it. “I just want to go to class, get my degrees, and thumb my nose at everyone who said I’d amount to nothing. Frankly, I don’t need psychoanalyzing either. We study together, and sometimes do other stuff, hang out, whatever. Don’t read anything into it, okay?”

Elliot deflated but threw out a bright smile so quickly, it couldn’t be sincere, making Ash wish he’d been nicer.

“Sure. I mean, that’s the arrangement.” They stood awkwardly for a moment, and Ash turned and pushed through the stairwell door. “Um, maybe we could hang out after class tonight?” Elliot asked hopefully, following close on his heels.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed before considering if he should. He had other things on his mind as he trudged up the three flights of stairs, hunched beneath the weight of his backpack. It was heavier than usual with the extra supplies he’d packed. His cellphone, three backup batteries and one of those portable chargers that held four charges, a handheld GPS, a flashlight, and all his cash in the world—$1,200—were individually wrapped in foil, stuffed in plastic zipper bags, then arranged inside a cardboard-lined metal cookie tin with aluminum tape tightly wound around the lid to make sure there were no gaps in contact. Uncle Marvin had sent an encrypted email with a few more details of his suspicions, including the type of problem he expected and coordinates he wanted Ash and Charlotte to stick to on their trek across the country. Ash had spent the day packing what little he could and making sure the cookie tin was secure. As soon as class was over, he intended to write down the coordinates he hadn’t had a chance to transfer, so if his phone became nothing more than a glorified flashlight, it wouldn’t matter. His bag also contained a change of clothes in place of his schoolbooks, a small first-aid kit, and a few bottles of water. The only text he carried was for his immediate class.