Rain Of Stone (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 1)

by Lesley Woodral

  A privacy fence surrounded the house’s back yard. Brandon opened the gate and stepped through, closing it behind him. He walked around to the back yard and stopped when he found himself face to face with a young boy.

  The kid had red hair with a scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He reminded Brandon of Opie Taylor, the boy from The Andy Griffith Show. He wore a startled expression, his eyes wide and his mouth working as if he was about to scream. Brandon overrode anything that the kid may have been about to say and said. “Hi. I’m Brandon. What’s your name?” He kept his voice cheery and very, very normal.

  The boy jumped and said, startled into the conversation. “My name’s Phillip.” He blinked at Brandon and said. “What are you doing in my yard?”

  Brandon smiled and said, without missing a beat. “What are you doing to that cat, Phillip?”

  Phillip’s eyes popped and he worked his jaw for a moment, trying to formulate a response. Brandon took the opportunity to step around the boy and further examine the back yard. There was an in-ground pool, shaped like an egg. It was covered for the winter. A deep pool of rainwater had formed in the center of the tarp, with a scum of algae and rotting leaves. A large swing set and slide. A few other yard toys. A power wheel that had seen better days. A sandbox with green grass growing up through the sand in places.

  And a storm cellar. The round hump of the cellar was in the furthest part of the backyard, the steps leading down into it were cut into the ground. A pipe, for ventilation, stabbed up out of the top. The yowling was coming from there. It started up again while Brandon was staring at the cellar.

  Phillip stopped working his jaw and stared at the cellar too. He was young, probably 7 or 8, and his face was very white. As the cat’s screaming wound down, he looked at Brandon and said. “We don’t have a cat.”

  Brandon met the kid’s frightened gaze and said. “How long has it been making that noise?”

  Phillip shook his head. “It started when I came outside. I was about to go get my mom.”

  Brandon looked back at the cellar just as the cat started howling again. He looked back down at Phillip. “I want you to stay here and wait for me. I’m going to go check it out.”

  Phillip just nodded and started to stick a thumb in his mouth. He saw what he was about to do and stopped. “If anything happens, I’ll go get my mom.”

  Brandon nodded at him. “Just wait for me.”

  Walking softly, Brandon crossed the back yard, stepping around the pool, and made his way toward the cellar. He was almost there when he heard a step behind him. Whirling, he caught Phillip as he was taking another step. The boy squeaked and jumped a foot into the air. Brandon said. “I told you to stay back there.” “I got scared.” Phillip said, his thumb again nearly making its way into his mouth. Again, he stopped it before it could reach its destination. “What do you think’s wrong with it?”

  Brandon shook his head. “Don’t know. Could be, it’s just trapped and wants out? It could be hurt?” He looked at the kid. “Stay here and I’ll find out.”

  Phillip nodded, his big eyes staring past Brandon at the steps leading down to the cellar door. Brandon turned and took the first step down. The cat, which had just begun one of its screams, went silent as soon as Brandon’s foot touched that first step. Brandon stopped and turned to look up at Phillip. The boy’s thumb was in his mouth. When he saw Brandon watching him, he yanked it out, quickly, and blushed. Brandon said. “Stay back. And if I don’t come out in a couple of minutes, go get your mom. Do you understand?”

  Phillip nodded. “Be careful.” He said.

  Brandon smiled reassuringly at the kid then turned back to the cellar. Moving as silently as he could, Brandon took the last few steps down to the cellar door and stopped. The sound hadn’t started again. The door to the cellar was sturdy looking. Made of steel, by the look of it, and held shut by a sliding bolt. The bolt was pulled open.

  Reaching out, Brandon lay a hand on the door. The metal was cold to the touch. He pressed his ear to it and listened. There was no sound from inside the cellar. Brandon touched his front pocket, letting his fingers press against the stone resting inside. All right. He thought at the silent god. If you’re going to be any use, it better be now. Especially if I find what I expect to find in here.

  Brandon opened the cellar door, revealing a rectangle of blackness, and took a quick step back. He waited, watching the darkness for any sign of movement, before moving forward. The interior of the cellar was pitch black except for where the open door allowed a small amount of sunlight to slip inside. Listening hard, he stepped into the darkness. Brandon could feel his heart pounding away inside his chest. He felt the inside of the cellar wall for a switch. Finding it, he flipped it up and wasn’t surprised when the light didn’t come on. Stepping further inside of the cellar, he was about to turn and shout at Phillip, when something hit his leg.

  Shouting with surprise, Brandon fell sideways and watched as a grayish white shape darted for the open door. The cat was howling, even as it ran. He started to laugh at himself, taking a step toward the rectangle of light, when the door swung closed, throwing the cellar into pitch blackness.

  Something slammed into the back of Brandon’s legs, knocking him off of his feet. He hit the floor rolling, trying to orient himself in the darkness, but smacked into the wall instead. He felt something grab at his face and jerked back, snapping his fist out. It connected with something hairy and vaguely snout like. A pig squealed and something sharp stabbed his chest. It must have been a finger or a claw, because it didn’t break the skin.

  Brandon grappled with the grohlm, trying to get his hands around the thing’s neck. It fought and snarled, its fists pounding into Brandon’s face and arms. But it didn’t seem to have any strength, because the blows didn’t seem to do any damage. Brandon could hear Phillip outside, pounding on the cellar door and shouting. Brandon shook his head. Some people just couldn’t listen.

  He could hear another grohlm, somewhere in the darkness. It was laughing, a sound that was eerily human.

  The pig was still trying to stab Brandon with its finger or something, jabbing it into his side and stomach. Brandon finally got a grip on the thing’s neck and squeezed. There was a pop and crunch, then something hot ran over Brandon’s hand. The pig shuddered in his grip and was still. Brandon let it go and heard it hit the floor. There was a growl in the darkness and another grohlm slammed into Brandon’s stomach, driving him into the far wall. It was poking him too, with as little effect. Brandon caught a hold of the fur at the back of the thing’s neck and hurled it off of him. It must of hit the wall because it gave a sharp bark, then was silent.

  The inside of the cellar was suddenly as quiet as a tomb. Brandon got to his feet in the darkness and made his way to the door, feeling along the concrete wall until his hand touched cold steel. The latch on the inside of the door had been latched and locked. Brandon unlocked it and the door opened, letting in the sunlight.

  Phillip stumbled back from the door, his thumb in his mouth and eyes wide with terror. Brandon blinked at the sudden glare of the sunlight and stepped out of the darkness. There was blood on one of his hands. He closed the door and bolted it before turning to Phillip.

  The boy was staring at him. No, not at him. Phillip pointed at Brandon and said. “What happened to your shirt?”

  Brandon blinked and looked down at himself. His shirt, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle tee-shirt, was in tatters. Sliced open in dozens of places. Brandon looked down at the cuts and tears. He pulled it up, expecting his stomach to be slashed and bloody, but found unblemished skin. He looked at Phillip. “I guess I tore it.”

  Phillip looked past him, at the cellar, and said. “Was there something in there with the cat?”

  Brandon nodded. “A big rat. But I killed it. It’s pretty nasty and scary looking. You wont go in there, will you?”

  Phillip looked at Brandon like he had sprouted wings and said he could fly. “I’m never going in t
here again. Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Brandon smiled. “Good. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around, Phillip.” He left the boy standing there with his thumb in his mouth. Before he left Phillip’s back yard, Brandon used the water faucet to wash his hands. The blood came off slowly under the spray of ice cold water. While he washed his hands, Phillip went into the house through the back door. Brandon decided to get out of there quickly, before the kid’s mom decided to come out and see what had frightened her son so badly.

  Chapter 52

  Crossing the street to Claire’s house, Brandon couldn’t help but stare at the torn remains of his shirt. He wondered at the lack of even a scratch on his stomach. And he thought of the stone in his pocket. Rok had been silent during the entire fight, but maybe he had been helping Brandon somehow? Had kept the grohlm from harming him?

  But how?

  Claire’s mom answered the door. She blinked at the state of his shirt and smiled, uncertainly, at him. “What happened to your shirt, Brandon?”

  “I tripped.” Brandon said, knowing that it was a lame excuse before it ever left his lips. But Claire’s mom only shook her head and laughed softly. She ushered him inside.

  She said. “And you’re not even wearing a coat. It’s freezing.” She closed the door and made him go stand by the heater. If Diana Moody was a snapshot of what her daughter would look like in another 18 years, Brandon would be a very lucky man. With the same hair and the same bone structure, she could have been Claire’s twin, except for having both of her green eyes. She was a striking woman. Very beautiful.

  Brandon stood beside the fire and warmed himself, though he didn’t really feel very cold. Since learning of his birthright and embracing the goddess Nina’s protection, the cold hadn’t affected Brandon the same way. He felt it, to be sure, but it didn’t seem to bother him that much. He smiled at Diana and said. “Is Claire home?”

  “I’m sorry, Brandon.” Diana said, shaking her head. “Claire’s friend Emily had some kind of accident last night. Claire is at the hospital visiting her.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Brandon said, deciding that playing dumb was the best tactic to use just then. “Emily is such a sweet girl. I hope she’s okay.”

  “Claire said that she should be all right.” Diane said. “But they’re still going to keep her for a few days, for observation. I wish I’d known that you were coming over, I would have had Claire call you and save you the walk.” Brandon waved away her concerns. “It’s okay. Besides, I like the walk. When Claire gets home, would you tell her I came by?”

  “Of course.” Diana said, smiling warmly. She saw him to the door. “Are you sure you don’t want a coat? I’m sure Claire’s dad has a spare one that will fit you? It’s no trouble.”

  Brandon smiled. “That’s okay, Mrs. Moody. It would only slow me down.”

  She laughed. “I guess so. I’ll have Claire call you when she gets home.”

  “That would be great.” Brandon said, stepping out onto the front porch. He turned and met Diana’s gaze. Her eyes had the same liquid crystal quality that Claire’s eye did. “Thank you, Mrs. Moody. You have a good day.”

  “You too.” Diana said, smiling at his politeness. “Don’t stay out too late. Remember the curfew.”

  Brandon nodded at her and started to leave. His mind wasn’t on the curfew, though. It was on the clouds that had appeared on the horizon. He was almost to the street when Diana called out to him. “Brandon, wait.”

  He stopped and turned.

  Diana was standing on the front porch, watching him. She looked hesitant to speak, but she finally said. “Claire cares very deeply for you, you know. I‘m not sure what‘s going on between the two of you, and I‘m not going to pry, but I don‘t want you to hurt her.” She met his gaze levelly, a lioness protecting her cub.

  Brandon didn’t know what to say. He walked back up onto the porch and stopped, standing in front of Diana. He said. “I never meant to hurt Claire, Mrs. Moody. I promise you, my feelings are genuine. I love her. I just don‘t want her to get hurt because of that.”

  Diana stared hard into his eyes for a long time before her smile returned. She nodded and said. “You’re a very sweet boy, Bran. I can see why Claire cares so much for you. But don’t underestimate her because of her disability. She doesn’t need your protection, she can take care of herself. But she does need your trust. And your love. Do you understand what I’m saying?” When Brandon nodded, she said. “Be careful on your way home, Brandon. I don’t want anything to happen to you. For my daughter’s sake. And my own.”

  Brandon smiled. “I’m always careful, Mrs. Moody.”

  Chapter 53

  Claire had every intention of going straight home from the hospital, had even called her mom to let her know she was on her way, but still found herself taking the long way home. She was in her mom’s car, despite her lack of a diver’s license, and knew she was pushing her luck by not going home right away. But that didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t stop her driving down the winding road to the old mill and pulling into the parking lot. She shut the engine off and stared at the tall rusted silos, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.

  The parking lot still showed signs of the night before. Abandoned beer coolers. Charred remnants of old fires. Bobby and Jack’s tent was half collapsed against the largest silo. It was a sad sight. She had half expected to find the place swarming with police, but the only sign she saw was a long stretch of police tape, blocking off the part of the lot closest to the forest.

  Claire opened the car door and got out, squinting her eye against the wind. There was a winter chill to it that made her shiver. Any other time, it would’ve made her think of the coming holidays, but today it was just cold and forlorn. A reminder that summer was over. She closed the door and walked across the broken pavement, her footsteps loud to her ears. Except for herself and the wind, she was completely alone.

  But it felt like she was being watched. As if alien eyes were crawling over her, studying and memorizing every inch of her body.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she kept walking. She knew it was crazy for her to be out here by herself, but she felt compelled. Something had pulled her out here, something far more powerful than her common sense or instincts for self preservation. She skirted the ruined tent and found herself at the old metal ladder that was attached to the side of the largest silo. She started climbing without thought, remembering the last time she had come out here with Bran. How he looked climbing ahead of her.

  It brought a smile to her lips.

  Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when she got to the top and found Brandon sitting in their usual spot, looking out across the forest laid out below them. In the far distance, you could see the town and scattered houses, but there were still a lot of trees between here and there. A lot of places for monsters to hide.

  Stepping carefully, she made her way to Brandon and settled down beside him. For a long time, neither of them said anything. They just stared down at the forest below, both of them trying to catch any sort of movement that might betray any unseen watchers.

  “I’ve missed you.” Brandon said, disturbing the strange stillness that had enfolded them. His voice was thoughtful. He looked over at her and she was struck by how much older he looked. He frowned. “I heard about Emily. Is she okay?”

  Claire didn’t answer right away. Hooking her hair out of her face with a finger, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. His skin felt rough under her lips, salty, and it instantly made her wonder if he tasted salty everywhere. Which made her blush. She turned away and said. “She’ll be okay. She’s strong.”

  Brandon nodded, still shocked from the feel of her lips on his cheek. She was wearing a pink eye patch. It had a small red rose on it, dusted with glitter. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He found his voice, saying. “I went by your house. Talked to your mom.” He laughed softly. “I’m not sure she likes me too much.”

  Clai
re nodded. “She told me. Not that she didn’t like you, though you can’t blame her there. You did break her only daughter’s heart. But she told me you came by.” She sighed. “Are you going to explain to me how you knew what was going to happen last night? And no stories about bad feelings or psychic visions. Just the truth, Bran. Can you do that?”

  Brandon looked at her, really looked at her, this beautiful girl that he loved. His only true friend here in his new hometown. His best friend. She was so much stronger than even she herself knew. After everything he’d been through and knowing what was still to come, he knew that he had no business telling her about the insanity that was his life. She didn’t deserve the nightmares or the sleepless nights. But she wanted the truth.

  And he couldn’t live without her in his life. He just wasn’t strong enough.

  So he told her everything.

  And she believed him.

  Epilogue

  Standing motionless at the edge of the woods, Sha’ha’Zel watched the boy and girl embrace and felt a shudder pass through his frame. The time was almost upon them, he and the boy. Soon, they would face each other in the last battle and, whether the Curse succeeded or failed, there would finally be an ending to this tortured half life that he was forced to endure.

  Tearing his baleful gaze from the sole purpose of his existence, the demon slipped into the forest, moving deeper into its tangled depths and leaving the vestiges of the modern world far behind him. The trees grew thick and close together the further he went, their tangled limbs blotting out the sky and painting the ground with twisted shadows and hiding him in inky darkness.

  He passed close by a hidden Grohlm den, buried in a drift of dead leaves and broken limbs, and felt the eyes of the occupants follow him as he ignored them and continued moving deeper into the forest. There were countless such murder holes dotting the woods around Matheson, just waiting for the unwary tread of some hapless soul.