The
Secrets of Love and Death
E.
Van Lowe and Sal Conte
Genre:
Romantic/Horror
Publisher:
White Whisker Books
Date
of Publication: July 12, 2015
ISBN:
13: 2940150851580
ASIN:
B010IFNF2Q
Number
of pages: 270
Word
Count: 104,269
Cover
Artist: Deb Daly
Book
Description:
Theo
"Turtle" Dawson is overweight, under-confident and unloved,
that is until the arrival of Turtle's new classmate, feisty Rita
Calderon. It's springtime in Foster City, and young love between the
teenage couple begins to bloom, until...
...Turtle's
best friend, big brother returns from the grave. At least that's what
A.D. wants Turtle to believe. Is A.D. really back among the living,
or is Turtle going loony-bin crazy? And if Turtle's loving brother
has returned, why is he asking Turtle to do such murderous things?
"The Secrets of Love and Death" is a ghostly tale of
romance and horror, memories, and murder.
ebook
On Sale for .99
Aug
14-16
“The
Secrets of Love and Death will tug on your heartstrings while
simultaneously scaring the pants off you. A triumphant coming-of-age
tale with a dash of the supernatural and a twist of gritty horror,
The Secrets of Love and Death may be Van Lowe’s best novel yet!”
–
Anabelle
Blume, author of Frozen Heart and Melted Tears.
“E.
Van Lowe and his dark twin, Sal Conte, dig deep in The Secrets of
Love and Death and come up with emotional gold. Not for the faint of
heart, The Secrets of Love and Death will grab you by the throat and
not let go until the horror-filled,
page-turning
ending.”
-
John Lansing, author of the bestselling thrillers, The Devil’s
Necktie and Blond Cargo
Prologue
Spring
1984
“I
don’t wanna go out!”
Marty
McKenzie was scrunching up his face, looking very much like that
prune-faced old guy in the Six Flags commercials. He’d been lying
on the floor playing with his Legos which were splayed out before him
like the ruins of an ancient city.
“See, that’s the
thing,” said Marty’s older sister, Allison. She pushed her
glasses up onto her nose. “You’re not goin’ with me.”
Marty’s
expression shifted, morphing from one of protest to one of
concern—dire concern. He stopped playing and sat up. They weren’t
real Legos. His father had bought the blocks for Marty’s fifth
birthday when he visited almost a year ago. He told Marty they were
Legos, but Marty new better. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t
want his father feeling bad about being gypped at the Lego store. The
Legos were one of the few gifts Marty’s father had ever bought for
him. He treasured them.
“You can’t leave
me,” he said, his voice going high and whiny, like a baby’s. Even
he heard it.
“I’m
not leaving you. I’m treating you like a grownup for once in your
life. You don’t want me treatin’ you like a little baby anymore,
right?” Allison knew full well no little kid wanted to be treated
like a baby, especially one as close to being a baby as Marty was.
“But
Mommy says I’m not to be left home alone,” Marty replied, his
voice going even higher. He tried keeping it level. Put some base
into yer voice, I say! Yet the babiness crept back in.
“That’s
because Mom thinks you’re a little baby,” Allison said, laying on
the word—baaaby—extra heavy. “But I know better.” She winked
at him. “We both do, don’t we?” she said, playing her
six-year-old brother like a well-worn instrument.
Marty
nodded. He was ascared of being left in the apartment all by himself.
But he knew if he told Allison about the monster that lived in the
closet, or the one that hung out under his bed, she’d laugh and
call him a scaredy-cat, or worse, a baaaby.
Even
at his age, Marty was wise enough to know that at twelve, Allison was
too old to understand there really were monsters out there, monsters
that had their eyes on tasty little kids.
A
few years ago she would have sympathized with him. A few years ago
they’d both hidden under the covers, quaking in the darkness and
talking in loud voices until the monsters went away. But somewhere
between the sixth and seventh grades the monsters stopped being real
for Allison, around the same time she started writing boys’ names
on the inside cover of her notebook.
“Where’re
ya goin’?” Marty asked, trying to add some grownup to his voice
and failing miserably at it.
“To
the mall, with some friends. We’re shopping for something fun to
wear to a party next weekend.”
“Can
I—”
“No!”
the word exploded from her lips. “You can’t go to the mall with
me, and you definitely can’t go to the party. It’s at night,
anyway.”
“Who
has a party at night time? That’s dumb,” Marty said, although the
idea of a night time party sounded pretty cool, as long as there were
lots of lights burning. It was darkness that was scary.
“You
are not to answer the door while I’m gone. Do I make myself clear?”
she said in a tone very much like one their mother might have used.
Marty
nodded again. He was happy for Allison. She’d made some friends.
Allison had had a hard time making friends during the past two years
as the family bounced from shelter to shelter. Marty knew from
first-hand experience that Allison made a wonderful friend. She was
kind and caring. Unfortunately, those qualities hadn’t been
recognized in Allison’s last school. In her last school, all they
saw was the homeless girl.
“What
am I supposed to do the whole time you’re gone?” Marty asked.
“The
same thing you always do—play. And this time you’ll have our
bedroom all to yourself. How cool is that?”
Marty
looked toward the bedroom he shared with his sister, the only bedroom
in the apartment. Their mother slept on the pullout in the living
room where he was now playing. His thoughts again turned to the
monster that lived in the closet, and his pal lurking under Marty’s
bed, and Marty could practically see the two of them licking their
chops at the thought of having him all to themselves.
“Think
I’ll play out here while you’re gone,” he told her with a
resigned sigh.
“Suit
yourself.”
From
the look on Allison’s face, it hadn’t dawned on her that he’d
be afraid. To ease her guilt, she built the neatest pillow fort and
stocked it with enough books, coloring books, toys and puzzles to
keep Marty busy until she got back. She even brought the Captain
Crunch cereal box from the kitchen and told him he could snack from
it right there in the living room—just like a grownup.
“These
are your rations,” she said, handing it to him. He smiled at that
one, and it eased some of the guilt that had been gripping her heart.
“Thanks.”
Allison
deposited Marty in the center of the fort, gave him a big hug, and
reminded him not to open the door for anyone.
“This
is just between you and me,” she said, her voice lowering
dramatically. “I don’t want you blabbin’ my business to Mom
when she gets home from work. Got it?”
Marty
nodded. His tongue was desert dry.
“I’ll
bring you some ice cream, you little con man,” she said, rubbing
her hand across the top of his head.
“That’d
be nice,” he replied with the shadow of a smile. “Chocolate.”
It
would be the last thing they’d ever say to each other.
The
sound of Allison moving away from the door, her footsteps retreating
down the stairs—away, away, away—died in Marty’s ears. “Good
riddance to bad rubbish,” he called. Of course, she couldn’t hear
him. He laughed high and loud. It was a fake laugh and when it died,
Marty realized he was alone.
The
first thing he noticed about being alone was how quiet the apartment
was without Allison or his mother there. No chattering voices of the
two of them going at it again, no music from the radio filling up the
empty spaces. Phoebe kept the radio on whenever she was home.
“Dance
to the music!” Sometimes she’d sing along with a song on the
radio, grab Marty and dance him around the apartment. “You’re my
new leading man,” she’d say, twirling him.
“Stop,
Mom!” he’d cry out, but he enjoyed dancing with her. He
especially enjoyed that she was happy again.
With
both Phoebe and Allison gone, the apartment was nighttime quiet, even
though Marty could see the bright Spring sun streaming in through the
living room blinds, casting long shadows on the faded carpet.
He
looked down at the treasure Allison had dumped in his fort before she
left. Think I’ll read. I’m a big boy now, and that’s what big
boys do. We don’t play; we read.
Marty
picked up his favorite book, Tall Timber Tales, about Paul Bunyan and
Babe the Blue Ox. He decided to read the part about where Babe drank
the entire Grand Coulee River. He wasn’t sure how big the Grand
Coulee was, but he knew it was a lot of water.
He’d
gotten the book when he was small, picked it out himself off a table
at The Salvation Army. Allison used to read it to him at night back
at the shelter, back when all he could do was look at the pictures.
But now that he was a big boy, he could read it all by himself—sort
of. He opened to the section with the picture of Babe drinking the
river and pretended to read… What was that?
A
sound. A soft, sliding sound had come from Marty and Allison’s
bedroom. It sounded to Marty as though someone or… something had
slid out from underneath his bed.
“Hello.”
No answer. Of course there wasn’t an answer. There’s nothing
there. It’s just my magination. Allison complained about his
overactive magination all the time.
“I
know there’s no monster there,” Marty called out. “So you may
as well get back under the bed.” Nothing.
Marty
glanced down at the book in his lap. He folded it back to the picture
of Paul and Babe on the cover. He enjoyed staring at the picture on
the cover because when he did, he could magine himself hangin’ out
with old Paul and Babe. He could magine so good that sometimes it was
as if he was right there with them.
Skreek!
Marty’s
attention was again drawn to the bedroom. He peered wide-eyed around
the arm of the old couch because this time he was certain he’d
heard the closet door opening, certain he now heard
whispering—monster voices.
I
gotta get outta here. The thought drifted in like an early season
snow, yet stuck like the first big fall of the year. If I don’t
leave now, all they’ll find of me are bones and clothes. Monsters
only eat the good stuff. Then, another thought drifted in.
Scaredy-cat.
That’s
what Allison would call him for being so afraid. And I thought you
were a big boy… I AM A BIG BOY!
Marty
began to rationalize: I’m a big kid. Big kids can go out all by
themselves—just like Allison did. The idea of him being a big boy
was a lot more palatable than thinking he was afraid. Marty clung to
it like a lifeline. He wasn’t leaving the apartment ‘cause he was
scared, he was leaving because he wanted to go to the mall, too. He
wanted to hang out with his friends. Shoot.
Marty
gingerly got up off the floor and measured his footsteps to the front
door. He could hear the monsters gathering in the bedroom, their
excited chatter no longer whispered. Why whisper? He’s all alone.
He knew if he tried to run they’d get him. Monsters loved grabbing
little boys as they ran. He needed to move toward the door as if he
wasn’t afraid.
The
shelter they’d lived in on Saul Road was a scary place, especially
at night. Allison had told him to count to ten whenever he needed to
walk down the long hallway all by himself. She told him whenever he
was afraid to take a deep breath, count to ten and let it out slowly.
“Just keep telling yourself there’s nothing there, and pretty
soon you’ll be down the hall.”
Marty
had used the trick several hair-raising times at the shelter, and it
seemed to have worked, so he gently placed the Paul Bunyan book on
top of a pillow and sucked in a lung full of air. One. He took a
furtive step over the pillowed wall, one foot now resting just
outside the fort, the other still in. Two. Now the other leg came
over, easy, easy. He let out a little bit of the air as both feet
rested outside the fort.
Gotta
get to the door. Gotta move to the door like I’m not afraid. If I’m
afraid, they’ll get me.
Three.
Marty
took a jangly step toward the door, then--four, five, six, seven,
eight, nine, ten. He bolted across the room. Arriving at the door, he
flung it open and let out the deep breath in a big whoosh! The
monsters had quieted down. They only bothered little kids, and he’d
proven he was a big boy now.
Kathunk!
This
new sound came just as Marty was thinking he was safe. It caught him
off guard, and he nearly leapt out of his skin like a snake in
shed-mode. He charged out the front door, fleeing into the corridor
of the apartment building.
It
was the sound of Marty’s book falling from the pillow and hitting
the floor that had alarmed him, but to Marty’s imaginative ears, it
was the sound of a monster exiting the bedroom, looking for a little
boy to eat.
Marty
looked back at the apartment door hanging open, and decided to leave
it open. He surmised that if the door was wide open maybe the
monsters’d leave while he’s gone and never come back. He was too
young to realize that leaving the front door open in a neighborhood
as iffy as theirs was an invitation for the McKenzie’s precious
possessions to walk away along with the monsters.
He
moved downstairs and out into the crowded street. It was broad
daylight, and the sun beat down on the top of Marty’s head feeling
good. The street was teeming with people, and Marty was no longer
afraid. The people were passing by as if he belonged there. Not one
person said: “Hey little boy, where’s your mother?”
Allison
is going to crap a brick when she sees me at the mall, Marty thought
with a grin. “What are you doing here?” “Oh, just came to hang
out with some of my boys. You know, Paul, Babe, the crew.” Hahaaa!
Yet
as Marty continued walking, it started getting scary out on the
street all by himself. Everyone looked as if they knew where they
were going. But so do I. I’m going to the mall.
As
he neared the Canal Street alley, his footsteps slowed. The Canal
Street alley wasn’t actually an alley. It was a narrow pedestrian
walkway between two tall buildings that connected Main Street with
Fair Oaks. On any given Saturday the alley was heavily trafficked.
Call it a fluke, call it a moment in time, call it a curveball, but
when Marty arrived at the alley on Saturday June fifteenth nineteen
eighty-four, it was ominously vacant of foot traffic.
He
thought he remembered the alley being the shortcut to the mall. He
remembered going through the alley with Allison and his mother to go
shopping. Or was that his magination? No. He was sure.
He
stopped at the alley entrance. His first inclination was to wait for
other pedestrians to pass through and then mosey through along with
them. With the buildings being so close together, the alley was
heavily shadowed; the shadows were really scary.
But
Marty also remembered he was a big boy now. He waited another few
minutes, and when no one came along, he breathed in deeply and
entered the ally all by himself. One. The cobblestones of the alley
felt odd and slick beneath his feet. It was then he realized he was
still in his footsie PJs. He didn’t have on any shoes. Dumb!
Allison is gonna crap a brick when she sees me out here without my
sneaks on. But it was too late to turn back. He was closer to the
mall than he was to the apartment. Who needs shoes anyway? Two. There
were several scary looking doorways lining the alley, and a big
marquee near the end that read Bijou Theater.
Three.
Marty moved past the first of the ominous doorways and, as he did, he
let out a little bit of the air. Not much further.
That’s
when he heard a door scraping open up ahead. It startled him, the
scraping sound in the quiet alley, like something out of a horror
movie. His eyes grew wide as something emerged from the doorway,
stepping into the alley. At first he thought it was a clown, but
clowns are freakin’ scary and this thing wasn’t. This thing
seemed warm, and cuddly, and friendly. Out of the doorway, down the
alley, stepped a life-size blue teddy bear.
Marty
knew it wasn’t a real bear. It couldn’t be. Right? It was a
person in a bear costume, just like at the amusement park. Wasn’t
it?
The
giant teddy bear looked at Marty. It stopped moving, eyeing him
cautiously, like a deer in the woods seeing a hunter for the first
time.
Is it trembling?
At
that moment the teddy bear seemed real. The teddy bear also seemed to
be afraid of him. Marty started to call out It’s okay, don’t run,
I’m not gonna hurt you. But before he could speak, the teddy bear
began to dance. It was a silly teddy bear dance and Marty was happy
to see that the teddy bear had overcome his fear.
The
teddy bear was a lot like Marty. Hadn’t Marty been afraid not too
long ago? Now they were both in the alley, unafraid. The kindred bear
danced his silly dance up the alley toward Marty, and for the first
time since Allison had left him in the apartment all alone, Marty
smiled.
About
the Author:
E.
Van Lowe is an author, television writer and producer who has worked
on such TV shows as "The Cosby Show," "Even Stevens,"
and "Homeboys In Outer Space." He has been nominated for
both an Emmy and an Academy Award. His first YA Paranormal novel,
"Never Slow Dance With A Zombie," was a selection of The
Scholastic Book Club, and a nominee for an American Library
Association Award. Included in his many books are bestselling
novels, “Boyfriend From Hell” and “Earth Angel.”
He
is also, horror novelist, Sal Conte, author of the 80s horror
classics “Child’s Play” and “The Power.” Sal’s short
stories “The Toothache Man,” and “Because We Told Her To,”
are available as ebooks only on Amazon.
E
lives in Beverly Hills California with his spouse, a werewolf,
several zombies and a fairy godmother who grants him wishes from
time-to-time.
Website:
http://evanlowe.com
Twitter:
@Evanlowe @SalConte1
Facebook
fan: https://www.facebook.com/author.e.vanlowe
Amazon
Author page: http://www.amazon.com/E.-Van-Lowe/e/B004IJHGQ0/
Sal
Conte’s author page: http://www.amazon.com/Sal-Conte/e/B003ZLRXDI/
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