Nightfall

  Penelope Douglas

  Copyright © 2020 Penelope Douglas

  Cover Design © 2019 Pink Ink Designs

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

  This 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 purely coincidental.

  Proofreading & Interior Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting

  Table of Contents

  Also by Penelope Douglas

  Playlist

  Author's Note

  Map of Thunder Bay

  Epigraph

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Birthdays

  Timeline

  Sneak Peek

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Penelope Douglas…

  The Fall Away Series

  Bully

  Until You

  Rival

  Falling Away

  Aflame

  Next to Never

  The Devil’s Night Series

  Corrupt

  Hideaway

  Kill Switch

  Conclave

  Nightfall

  Stand-Alones

  Misconduct

  Punk 57

  Birthday Girl

  Credence

  Playlist

  Stream the Nightfall playlist here.

  “99 Problems” by Jay-Z (not available on Spotify)

  “#1 Crush” by Garbage

  “A Little Wicked” by Valerie Broussard

  “Apologize” by Timbaland, One Republic

  “Army of Me” by Björk

  “Believer” by Imagine Dragons

  “Blue Monday” by Flunk

  “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed

  “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Lorde

  “Fire Up the Night” by New Medicine

  “Hash Pipe” by Weezer

  “Highly Suspicious” by My Morning Jacket

  “History of Violence” by Theory of a Deadman

  “If You Wanna Be Happy” by Jimmy Soul

  “In Your Room” by Depeche Mode

  “Intergalactic” by Beastie Boys

  “Light Up the Sky” by Thousand Foot Krutch

  “Man or a Monster (feat. Zayde Wølf)” by Sam Tinnesz

  “Mr. Doctor Man” by Palaye Royale

  “Mr. Sandman” by SYML

  “Old Ticket Booth” by Derek Fiechter and Brandon Fiechter

  “Party Up” by DMX

  “Pumped Up Kicks” by 3TEETH

  “Rx (Medicate)” by Theory of a Deadman

  “Satisfied” by Aranda

  “Sh-Boom” by The Crew Cuts

  “Teenage Witch” by Suzi Wu

  “Devil Inside” by INXS

  “Touch Myself” by Genitorturers

  “White Flag” by Bishop Briggs

  “Yellow Flicker Beat” by Lorde

  “You’re All I’ve Got Tonight” by The Cars

  Author’s Note

  Nightfall is the final novel in the Devil’s Night series. All of the books are entwined, and it is recommended to read the prior installments before starting this book.

  If you choose to skip Corrupt, Hideaway, Kill Switch, or Conclave, please be aware you may miss plot points and important elements of the back story.

  All four prior novels are available in Kindle Unlimited.

  Also, if you enjoy Pinterest mood boards, all of my books come with one. Please enjoy Nightfall’s storyboard as you read!

  https://www.pinterest.com/penelopedouglas/nightfall-2020/

  Onward!

  xx Pen

  “You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end, she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls.”

  -J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

  For Z. King

  Emory

  Present

  It was faint, but I heard it.

  Water. Like I was behind a waterfall, deep inside a cave.

  What the hell was that?

  I blinked my eyes, stirring from the heaviest sleep I think I’ve ever had. Jesus, I was tired.

  My head rested on the softest pillow, and I moved my arm, brushing my hand over a cool, splendidly plush white comforter.

  I patted my face, feeling my glasses missing. I rolled my eyes around me, confusion sinking in as I took in myself burrowed comfortably in the middle of a huge bed, my body taking up about as much room as a single M&M inside its package.

  This wasn’t my bed.

  I looked around the lavish bedroom—white, gold, crystal, and mirrors everywhere, palatial in its opulence like I’d never seen in person—and my breathing turned shallow as instant fear took over.

  This wasn’t my room. Was I dreaming?

  I pushed myself up, my head aching and every muscle tight like I’d been sleeping for a damn week.

  I dropped my eyes, spotting my glasses folded and sitting on the bedside table. I grabbed them and slipped them on, taking inventory of my body first. I laid on top of the bed, still fully clothed in my black, skinny pants and a pullover white blouse that I’d dressed in this morning.

  If it was still today, anyway.

  My shoes were gone, but on instinct I peered over the side of the bed and saw my sneakers sitting there, perfectly positioned on a fancy white rug with gold filigree.

  My pores cooled with sweat as I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, and my brain wracked with what the hell was going on. Where was I?

  I slid off the bed, my legs shaky as I stood up.

  I’d been at the firm. Working on the blueprints for the DeWitt Museum. Byron and Elise had ordered take-out for lunch for themselves, I went out instead, and—I pinched the bridge of my nose, my head pounding—and then…

  Ugh, I don’t know. What happened?

  Spotting a door ahead of me, I didn’t even bother to look around the rest of the room or see where the two other doors led. I grabbed my shoes and stumbled for what I guessed was the way out, and stepped into a hallway, the cool marble floor soothing on my bare feet.

  I still went down the list in my head, though.

  I didn’t drink.

  I didn’t see anyone unusual.

  I didn’t get any weir
d phone calls or packages. I didn’t...

  I tried to swallow a few times, finally generating enough saliva. God, I was thirsty. And—a pang hit my stomach—hungry too. How long had I been out?

  “Hello?” I called quietly but immediately regretted it.

  Unless I’d had an aneurysm or developed selective amnesia, then I wasn’t here willingly.

  But if I’d been taken or imprisoned, wouldn’t my door have been locked?

  Bile stung my throat, every horror movie I’d ever seen playing various scenarios in my head.

  Please, no cannibals. Please, no cannibals.

  “Hi,” a small, hesitant voice said.

  I followed the sound, peering across the hallway, over the banister, to the other side of the upstairs where another hall of rooms sat. A figure lurked in a dark corridor, slowly stepping onto the landing.

  “Who is that?” I inched forward just a hair, blinking against the sleep still weighing on my eyes.

  It was a man, I thought. Button-down shirt, short hair.

  “Taylor,” he finally said. “Taylor Dinescu.”

  Dinescu? As in, Dinescu Petroleum Corporation? It couldn’t be the same family.

  I licked my lips, swallowing again. I really needed to find some water.

  “Why am I not locked in my room?” he asked me, coming out of the darkness and stepping into the faint moonlight streaming through the windows.

  He cocked his head, his hair disheveled and the tail of his wrinkled Oxford hanging out. “We’re not allowed around the women,” he said, sounding just as confused as me. “Are you with the doctor? Is he here?”

  What the hell was he talking about? ‘We’re not allowed around the women.’ Did I hear that right? He sounded out of it, like he was on drugs or had been locked in a cell for the past fifteen years.

  “Where am I?” I demanded.

  He took a step in my direction, and I took one backward, scrambling to get my shoes on as I hopped on one foot.

  He closed his eyes, inhaling as he inched closer. “Jesus,” he panted. “It’s been a while since I smelled that.”

  Smelled what?

  His eyes opened, and I noticed they were a piercing blue, even more striking under his mahogany hair.

  “Who are you? Where am I?” I barked.

  I didn’t recognize this guy.

  He slithered closer, almost animalistic in his movements with a predatory look on his face now that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

  He looked suddenly alert. Fuck.

  I searched for some kind of weapon around me.

  “The locations change,” he said, and I backed up a step for every step toward me he took. “But the name stays the same. Blackchurch.”

  “What is that?” I asked. “Where are we? Am I still in San Francisco?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t answer that. We could be in Siberia or ten miles from Disneyland,” he replied. “We’re the last ones to know. All we know is that it’s remote.”

  “We?”

  Who else was here? Where were they?

  And where the hell was I, for that matter? What was Blackchurch? It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think right now.

  How could he not know where he was? What city or state? Or country, even?

  My God. Country. I was in America, right? I had to be.

  I felt sick.

  But water. I’d heard water when I woke, and I perked my ears, hearing the dull, steady pounding of it around us. Were we near a waterfall?

  “There’s no one here with you?” he asked, as if he couldn’t believe that I was really standing here. “You shouldn’t be so close to us. They never let the females close to us.”

  “What females?”

  “The nurses, cleaners, staff…” he said. “They come once a month to resupply, but we’re confined to our rooms until they leave. Did you get left behind?”

  I bared my teeth, losing my patience. Enough with the questions. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, and my heart was pounding so hard, it hurt. They never let the females close to us. My God, why? I retreated toward the staircase, moving backward, so I didn’t take my eyes off him and started to descend as he advanced on me.

  “I want to use the phone,” I told him. “Where is it?”

  He just shook his head, and my heart sank.

  “No computers, either,” he told me.

  I stumbled on the step and had to grab the wall to steady myself. When I looked up, he was there, gazing down at me, his lips twitching with a grin.

  “No, no…” I slid down a few more steps.

  “Don’t worry,” he offered. “I just wanted a little sniff. He’ll want the first taste.”

  He? I looked down the stairs, seeing a canister of umbrellas. Nice and pointy. That’ll do.

  “We don’t get women here.” He got closer and closer. “Ones we can touch anyway.”

  I backed up farther. If I bolted for a weapon, would he be able to grab me? Would he grab me?

  “No women, no communication with the world,” he went on. “No drugs, liquor, or smokes, either.”

  “What is Blackchurch?” I asked.

  “A prison.”

  I looked around, noticing the expensive marble floors, the fixtures and carpets, and the fancy, gold accents and statues.

  “Nice prison,” I mumbled.

  Whatever it was now, it clearly used to be someone’s home. A mansion or…a castle or something.

  “It’s off the grid,” he sighed. “Where do you think CEOs and senators send their problem children when they need to get rid of them?”

  “Senators…” I trailed off, something sparking in my memory.

  “Some important people can’t have their sons—their heirs—making news by going to jail or rehab or being caught doing their dirty deeds,” he explained. “When we become liabilities, we’re sent here to cool off. Sometimes for months.” And then he sighed. “And some of us for years.”

  Sons. Heirs.

  And then it hit me.

  Blackchurch.

  No.

  No, he had to be lying. I remembered hearing about this place. But it was just an urban legend that wealthy men threatened their kids with to keep them in line. A secluded residence somewhere where sons were sent as punishment, but given free rein to be at each other’s mercy. It was like Lord of the Flies but with dinner jackets.

  But it didn’t exist. Not really. Did it?

  “There are more?” I asked. “More of you here?”

  A wicked smile spread across his lips, curdling my stomach.

  “Oh, several,” he crooned. “Grayson will be back with the hunting party tonight.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks, lightheaded.

  No, no, no…

  Senators, he’d said.

  Grayson.

  Shit.

  “Grayson?” I muttered, more to myself. “Will Grayson?”

  He was here?

  But Taylor Dinescu, son of the owner of Dinescu Petroleum Corporation I now gathered, ignored my question. “We have everything we need to survive, but if we want meat, we have to hunt for it,” he explained.

  That’s what Will—and the others—were out doing. Getting meat.

  And I didn’t know if it was the look on my face or something else, but Taylor started laughing. A vile cackling that curled my fists tight.

  “Why are you laughing?” I growled.

  “Because no one knows you’re here, do they?” he taunted, sounding delighted. “And whoever does meant to leave you anyway. It’ll be a month before another resupply team shows up.”

  I closed my eyes for a split second, his meaning clear.

  “A whole month,” he mused.

  His eyes fell down my body, and I absorbed the full implication of my situation.

  I was in the middle of nowhere with who-knew-how-many men who’d been without any source of vice or contact with the outside world for who-knew-how-long, one of them who had a great desi
re to torture me if he ever got his hands on me again.

  And, according to Taylor, I had little hope of any help for the next month.

  Someone went to great lengths to bring me here and make sure my arrival went undetected. Was there really no attendant on the property? Security? Surveillance? Anyone with control of the prisoners?

  I ground my teeth together, having no idea what the hell I was going to do, but I needed to do it fast.

  But then I heard something, and I shot my eyes up to Taylor, barks and howls echoing outside.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  Wolves? The sounds were getting closer.

  He shot his eyes up, looking at the front door behind me and then back in my direction. “The hunting party,” he replied. “They must be back early.”

  The hunting party.

  Will.

  And how many other prisoners who might be just as creepy and threatening as this guy…

  The howls were outside the house now, and I looked up at Taylor, unable to calm my breathing. What would happen when they came inside and saw me?

  But he just smiled down at me. “Please, do run,” he said. “We’re dying for some fun.”

  My heart sank. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

  I backed up as I headed down the stairs, keeping my eyes on him as he stalked me, liquid heat coursing in my veins.

  “I want to talk to Will,” I demanded.

  He might want to hurt me, but he wouldn’t. Would he?

  If I could just talk to him…

  But Taylor laughed, his blue eyes dancing with delight. “He can’t protect you, love.” And then the floor creaked upstairs, and Taylor tipped his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Aydin is awake.”

  Aydin. Who?

  But I didn’t care to stick around and find out. I didn’t know if I’d really be in danger with these guys, but I knew I wouldn’t be in any if I ran.

  Leaping down the staircase, I swung around the banister and bolted toward the back of the house, hearing Taylor howl as I disappeared down a dark corridor, sweat already cooling my forehead.

  This wasn’t happening. There had to be surveillance. I refused to believe Mommy and Daddy sent their heirs and assets here without some kind of insurance that they’d be safe. What if someone were injured? Or gravely ill?