Darkness Falls: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 6
Darkness Falls: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 6
Darkness Falls: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 6
Darkness Falls: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 6

Darkness Falls: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 6

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A dark reflection stalks the night…

Vincent Donnelly has faced pain, death, and madness. His past is a haze of fractured memories. A host of restless spirits inhabited his tortured psyche once. He has inherited their powers, their magic. But all he wants is to be free of the nightmares that plague him.

Fleeing from the confines of a demonic asylum, Vincent and his allies take refuge in a remote mountain cabin. Lost, wounded, unable to access his supernatural abilities, Vincent struggles to sever the link between himself and the personification of Chaos itself.

But it is not so easy to destroy. This sinister entity has created a host body of its own… A body that looks exactly like Vincent.

Hunted by this dark replica and its monstrous creations, Vincent and his friends are forced into a bloody struggle for survival. But a powerful ally awaits—a being that could end the double's chaotic reign once and for all.

Assuming Vincent can survive long enough to find it…



Chapter 5

Jillian had taken the last of the chairs and sat by the window. She kept her fingertips against the glass, feeling the coolness of it on her skin, to help keep herself focused and alert. She was as tired as any of them, but she planned to stay awake for at least a couple more hours to ensure nothing sneaked up on them unseen. Either Fix or the owner was out there somewhere.

Listening to Dezzy and his uncle talk, she was reminded of why she had gotten involved with Thomas Coulson in the first place. The desire to help others, the pain of losing her own family, the need to fight back against the things other people didn’t see and refused to believe in—those were important to her. And it seemed important to these people as well.

As part of Sight Unseen, she had come to learn there were more in the world like her. Not many, of course. But more than she had ever guessed. And that was a comfort. To know that she was not alone in the nightmare, that other people saw the things she saw and knew the things she knew. She didn’t understand why it was important, but it was.

Sharing a burden, even in theory, somehow lessened it. That gave her strength to go on, in a way. To know that other people could relate to her experiences meant she had a bond with them, and the will to fight for them as well. And though Dezzy, Stanley, and Vincent did not see the exact things she saw or know what she knew, they had their own pieces in an even greater puzzle. All of it connected. All of it important. All of it worth fighting for.

Wind rustled through the trees in the forest outside. There was no sign of anything moving. No sign of the thing that bore Vincent’s face but called itself Fix. She was still not entirely sure what it was. And that was not for lack of trying. Even with her ability to see into the minds of others intact, she could not fully realize or grasp what the thing truly was. And it occurred to her that it was very likely beyond comprehension.

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” Shakespeare had once said, more or less. Several hundred years early, but not wrong by any means. There were things beyond science, beyond logic, and Jillian was positive that Fix was one of them.

Dr. Marcus Graham had sought to meld science with something beyond human understanding, beyond life and death. Jillian had almost died investigating that at the underground lab called the Abyss. But Fix seemed to be something even further removed from rationality. If Graham were a single musician playing a nightmarish tune, then Fix would be a symphony.

Stanley Crisp was snoring softly, and the sound was becoming oddly hypnotic. Jillian had been on enough stakeouts in her time to know tricks for staying awake, but this was a unique experience by anyone’s description. She had never imagined anything like this happening, and that was saying something considering what she’d already experienced in life.

The sound was like white noise, the only real sign of life in all the world at that moment. Dezzy slept like a corpse, which seemed oddly appropriate. Vincent’s breaths were soft and even. He did not seem to be in any pain or at risk of dying any time soon, which was some small relief. And if Coulson was sleeping, he did so silently in his secluded area of the house.

The night passed on, minute by minute, uneventful and unknowable. The darkness beyond held the secrets of what waited in the woods. The darkness in the cabin held little more.

She was not sure how long she had been sitting at the window, letting the cool glass keep her rooted and alert when she noticed a slight rustling sound from the room behind her. She assumed it was one of the sleeping men adjusting their position, but when she turned to look, she saw only still forms.

The sound was quiet and few and far between when she heard it, that at first, she doubted she had heard anything at all. And the moment she turned in her chair, the sound stopped.

She sat silently, holding her breath for a long moment, and then it came again. A faint scratching or digging sound. It reminded her of mice in the walls, rooting about behind cupboard doors looking for food. But given where they were and what they were doing, she was not going to take a chance.

Jillian stood, and the sound stopped once more. She took two steps away from the window, the wooden floor planks creaking and groaning under her weight. She stopped and listened, hearing only the sound of Stanley’s snoring mixing with the soft wind outdoors.

The scratching came again, firm and consistent but controlled. Not a wild, panicked scratching like something trying to escape or even gain entry. A firm digging, like someone working. Jillian could not place its origin. As she turned her head, the sound became deceptive, seemingly moving from one spot to another. She stepped towards the kitchen, two more creaks in the floorboards causing the noise to stop. She took another step and opened the cupboard where the sparse food had been stored.

No mice scattered through the darkness. There were no holes in the shelves or the wall behind them, no sign of nests or burrows. She gently closed the doors and held her breath, trying to force her hearing to become more acute.

It came again, with no urgency or change in tone or pace. A steady and determined sound, somewhere hidden within the cabin. She wanted to dismiss it as an animal—a mouse or a raccoon—or whatever might seek shelter in such places. But she could not.

She opened more cupboards around the kitchen. There were a couple of mugs and an ancient can of bug spray. She also found a flashlight, a half box of wooden matches, and a hammer. No sign of mice or rats. No holes and obvious sources for the noise.

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