Fire Night – Devil’s Night Read Online Penelope Douglas

Categories Genre: Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
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I walked toward the hall, feeling my mother’s eyes on me. I stopped and threw a look over my shoulder, shaking my head. “Never mind. I knew that was stupid when I said it.”

She laughed, both of us knowing we still hadn’t seen one person who could take my father.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” I asked her.

I saw her chest fall in a heavy sigh and her hooded eyes shoot me a look. “I feel like a calm evening, thank you.”

“What do you mean? It’ll be calm.”

Her eyebrow arched up, and I bit back my laugh.

Okay, okay.

“Maybe,” she said, returning to her work.

I shook my head and turned, smiling. It had better be fucking calm tonight.

I headed down the hallway, exited the sliding door, and stepped into the rock garden. The miniature trees, bushes, and ponds covered with snow created a peaceful oasis in the open air at the center of the house. Banks and I had created something like it at our home in Meridian City, which was a feat, considering she preferred the wild overgrowth and garden maze of our house here. I favored the more stylized landscape that I grew up with.

Clouds hung low, promising more snow tonight, and I could smell the ice in the air. Devil’s Night was in our blood, but Fire Night was starting to become my favorite. I loved this time of year.

Coming to the door, I slid open the panel and spotted them immediately, sparring in the center of the dojo as I quietly slipped inside and closed the fusuma behind me.

Festivities in town had already begun, and we were going to be late, but my heart swelled, and I couldn’t interrupt just yet. I loved watching Banks and my father. I loved watching her spend time with my parents.

“You’re looking at me,” my father said, blocking her kick.

She charged him, hair that had come loose from her ponytail hanging in her eyes, and sweat covering my dad’s chest and neck.

He blocked a punch, advancing on her. “Stop looking at me,” he barked.

She retreated when she should’ve circled him to gain time.

“When you watch me, you don’t see,” he told her. “You must see everything.”

She growled, throwing a punch and then a high kick, the latter he caught and threw off without so much as a scowl of those severe black eyebrows of his. Mads looked more and more like him every day.

I folded my arms over my chest, remaining in the shadow of the beam that stretched to the ceiling as I watched my wife stumble to the side, breathing hard and already worn out.

We trained at Sensou several times a week. She was in great shape. Or should’ve been.

My father approached her, dressed in loose black pants with more sweat matting the salt and pepper hair to his forehead.

He pulled her back up and stared down at her. “Close your eyes.”

Her back was to me, but she must not have listened, because he said it again.

“Close your eyes,” he urged.

She stood there, and after a moment, I noticed her shoulders square and her breathing even out.

“In,” he said, inhaling with her. “Out.”

A smile pulled at my lips as a few snowflakes fluttered to the still ground outside the windows.

I remembered this lesson.

“Again,” he said.

They both inhaled and exhaled slowly as he waited for Banks’s mind to clear.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed.

Her arms hung at her side, and she continued her steady breathing.

“Do you see me?” he asked. “Do you still have the picture of me in front of you in your head?”

“Yes,” I heard her reply.

“What do you see?”

She hesitated.

“What do you see exactly?” he clarified.

“Your eyes.”

“And?”

“Your face.”

He studied her for a moment and then continued. “Zoom out. Now what do you see?”

“The…the room around you?” she answered.

He inched in, calming his voice. “Breathe,” he whispered. “What else do you see? Make me move.”

She cocked her head a little, like she was watching a scene in her head. “Your arms and legs.”

“And?”

“Your feet,” she said. “They shift.”

Finally, he nodded as if she’d finally seen what he wanted her to see. “If you look too closely, you won’t see anything. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

She needed to see but not specifically, as if everything in her vision, even the peripheral, was the focus. I saw them, but I also saw Frost, my mother’s cat breathing quietly on the rafter above. I could see Banks and my father facing each other, but also the snowflakes almost floating in the air outside.

“Open your eyes,” he instructed.

He took a step back and fell into a fighting stance. “Zoom out.”

Before she could move into position, he stepped and threw a fist. She shot her hand up and knocked it away, and then quickly dodged another fist as it came in.

I smiled.

And then, they were at it. She jumped into a stance, and in less than a moment, fists and feet flew everywhere. Arms and legs swept, flying, and grunts filled the room as he caught her thigh and she landed a fist in his side.


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