The Mistwalker (Dark Tales Book 2)

by Regine Abel

“Please, let me go,” I begged.

  “We belong together. I can’t let you go. I won’t.”

  “Why?” I asked, feeling trapped and helpless.

  His vaporous hand caressed my cheek, then my lips.

  “Because you don’t want me to.”

  I gaped at him, speechless. That made no sense.

  The barely visible line of his mouth stretched into an amused smile. He lowered his head and licked the skin right above my heart in an almost reverent fashion.

  “Soon, all will be clear, my Jade. And then we’ll be together, for eternity and beyond.”

  Before I could ask another question, a falling sensation startled me. I seemed to land heavily into my own body, then jerked into a sitting position to find myself safe in my own bed. The movement activated the motion-sensor of the night light. My eyes flicked to the metal shutters on the window. Finding them still properly closed, and the absence of Mist swirling around the room confirmed that this ‘encounter’ had either been a dream or some kind of out of body experience.

  Taking stock of myself, and in spite of the lingering arousal, I had to admit that my body had not been touched; all of this had happened in my head. Relief flooded me. To my shame, I’d been a ‘reluctantly willing’ participant. But at least, I could shirk all responsibility by calling it a nightmare or twisted fantasy induced by my earlier traumatic experience.

  Rubbing my chest where the Mistwalker had licked it, I winced at the tenderness. It still throbbed and I had no doubt that was where his essence had nested inside me. Lying back down, I closed my eyes, hoping for pleasant rainbow and unicorn dreams, but sleep eluded me. Turning to my side, I stared at the shutters, wondering about the Mist beyond.

  No one knew what had caused it, although everyone suspected our governments had had a hand in it. Nine years ago, on March twenty-sixth, a little after 8:00 PM, tearing, thunderous sounds had been followed by a series of bright lights that had flashed throughout every city around the globe. People called it a tear in the Veil between our dimension and another. From these rifts, a thick fog had poured out endlessly, swallowing the world, and bringing with it countless nightmarish creatures. In the three days it lasted, millions of people vanished, never to be seen again.

  We had divided the Mist dwellers into two categories: the Walkers and the Beasts. While no one had survived exposure to the Mist to tell what lurked within, when it withdrew after three days, the dwellers that hadn’t made it back to their dimension when the portals closed died, leaving ashy statues of their former selves. We didn’t know if the sun, the air or something else caused it, but it fit the lore of vampires exposed to daylight.

  I couldn’t quite say why we called them Walkers as they didn’t have legs but instead looked like faceless, shadowy wraiths with human-like arms and hands. The statues of the beasts greatly varied in shape and size, from small fox-sized creatures to building-tall, hulking, nightmarish monstrosities. However, the slightest touch or gust of wind sufficed to bring down those ash ‘sculptures,’ to use the term loosely.

  Oddly enough, the Mist dwellers never tried to break into houses. They would try to open doors and windows but finding them locked proved to be enough of a deterrent. The Mistbeasts never attacked the houses. From all accounts, they merely lumbered about, looking for easy prey. Thank God for that, too. No houses could have survived an assault from most of these creatures. That behavior further emulated vampire lore according to which they couldn’t enter your house without an express invitation. It made me wonder if they were bloodsuckers, too.

  The population looked for someone to blame. But every country around the world being hit by the Mist, on the same day and at the same time, made it impossible to pinpoint a culprit. Conspiracy theorists spoke of government experiments, further supporting that theory with the fact that the Mist only rose with the full moon and faded after 72 hours, like a scheduled test gone wrong. For their part, environmentalists claimed our abuse of Mother Earth had unleashed something that would have otherwise remained dormant.

  Indigenous tribes, homeless people, animal farmers and breeders, zoos and wildlife parks were the most severely affected. Many tribes completely disappeared over night, entire herds were decimated. However, construction companies enjoyed an insane boom in business, which still continued today with new improvements to home security against the Mist, automated lockdown systems, panic rooms, herd shelters, you name it. Needless to say, vegetarians rejoiced as the price of meat skyrocketed, forcing many to significantly reduce or eliminate it from their diet.

  The screech of a Mistbeast outside, followed by the flapping sound of giant wings, startled me. A series of horrible scenarios I’d been trying to silence crawled back to the forefront of my thoughts.

  What if I turn into one of those nightmarish creatures?

  Yet, I dismissed that thought as soon as it entered my mind. For some reason, I totally doubted whatever lurked inside me would turn me into a Mistbeast. But the Mistwalker’s words made me believe I might become like him. He’d claimed me as his and stated that soon we would be together for eternity and beyond. What else could it be?

  I shuddered, anxiety driving sleep even further away. Every instinct told me this had not been a dream. It had felt too real.

  Hopping out of bed, I grabbed my laptop from the small desk by the window. Settling back in my bed, legs crossed and a few pillows stacked behind my back, I fired up my device. After opening a web browser in incognito mode, I searched every keyword combination that might yield results for being touched by a Mistwalker.

  Aside from a creepily official looking website urging people who came into contact with a Mistwalker to report immediately to the nearest Center for Disease Control—which I really didn’t want to do except as a last resort—every other site belonged to psycho-groupies wanting to be taken by a Walker and have Mist babies. For a while, Mist pacts had become a thing amidst young, troubled teens, and yet another risk parents were asked to keep an eye out for. Small towns with little career prospects were severely affected, although the most dreadful case occurred in a big town where half of the local football team and two-thirds of their cheerleading squad walked out of their dorms and into the Mist.

  My research yielding nothing, I tossed my laptop aside in disgust and watched it bounce on my queen-sized bed. With a frustrated sigh, I lay back down, weighing my options.

  Thanks to video call technology, my sister would be able to see whether or not I’d turned into a monster by the time the Mist lifted. She’d then be able to call the CDC to come dispose of me. But that sounded as horrible a fate as what I suspected would happen to me if I just turned myself in for having been ‘infected’ by a Mistwalker. But what if I did become something deadly? I always thought I’d be socially responsible if I ever found myself in this kind of predicament, yet right now, my survival instincts dominated. The thought of becoming a lab rat scared me even more than what the Mistwalker’s essence inside me could do.

  Why am I dwelling on this?

  Why indeed. In truth, within seconds of him touching me, when his dark mist entered my body, I’d already decided what to do if I turned. With my sister safely tucked away in the panic room, I’d open the front door of the house and walk into the Mist.

  Strangely enough, consciously acknowledging this less than comforting thought lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders. My anxiety abated and my eyelids grew heavy. I touched the throbbing pain above my heart one last time before sleep claimed me.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jade

  The tantalizing aroma of bacon, hash browns, and freshly brewed coffee stirred me from my slumber. Mouth watering, stomach rumbling, I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to wash the sleep from my face. Laura was a fabulous cook and her hash browns could qualify as fine dining. She knew how much I loved them and never failed to make some for me whenever she visited.

  As I turned on the faucet to wash my face, I looked up at the mirror, a nagging sense of unease at
the back of my mind. My gaze never reached my face in the reflection, remaining stuck on the dark, cabalistic symbol which had appeared on my chest, above the lacy line of my silk teddy. Memories of last night’s events crashed into me. I clasped my hand over my heart. The throbbing pain had gone. I rubbed the mark. It seemed tattooed into my skin, but was now completely painless.

  What the hell is she doing out of the panic room?

  I stormed out of the bathroom, grabbed my robe on the fly, and rushed down the stairs. Heart pounding, I wondered what madness had driven her to leave the panic room.

  “Don’t freak out!” Laura cried out from the kitchen, hearing my loud steps on the stairs. “You’re not dangerous or contagious!”

  Those words stopped me dead in my tracks, the tongue lashing I’d been ready to give her evaporating from my mind.

  “What?” I asked, as I stepped into the kitchen and stared at her, confused and worried.

  She stood before me in a knee-length, black, cotton nightgown with a cute chimp illustration saying ‘monkey see, monkey do’ and her palms raised in front of her in a surrendering gesture.

  Laura took the pan off the stove before turning back to me.

  “I did research throughout the night, poked a few close buddies; those hacker friends I’ve told you about,” Laura said, eyeing me cautiously.

  “You mean those freak conspiracy theorists?” I asked, disbelieving.

  Laura’s face heated, and she looked somewhat embarrassed but didn’t back down.

  “Some of their theories are out there,” she conceded, “but while their interpretations are fucked up, the facts behind them are solid.”

  “How do you know? How can you be so sure as to put your life at risk?” I asked, still reeling.

  “Because I know them!” she said, giving me an irritated look. “Even though I act irresponsible from time to time, I’m not suicidal. I trust them. Anyway, you’re not in psycho mode right now so we can verify if their information was right. If they’re wrong, I’ll just haul my ass back downstairs.”

  “Verify how?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, trying not to give in to hope too soon.

  “They said a simple touch may not do anything, but if part of the Mistwalker enters a person’s body, within 24 hours, some symbolic tattoo will appear on their chest,” she said with a shrug.

  My hand flew to my chest, and I clutched at my heart where a tattoo had indeed appeared.

  “Oh my God! You already got yours, didn’t you?” Laura asked, her eyes all but popping out of her head.

  I nodded slowly and parted my robe to display the tattoo. It looked like an inverted half-moon with a straight bar in the middle, reminiscent of the É letter in the Cyrillic alphabet, but heavily stylized. Pitch black, it stood out against my pale complexion. Staring intently at it gave the impression it wavered.

  “What does it do?” I asked in a whisper, transfixed by it, now that my initial panic had faded.

  “Richard said it’s like a stamp of ownership,” she said, with a sympathetic tone. My eyes snapped up to hers, but she, too, was staring at my tattoo, looking fascinated. “Each Mistwalker has his own symbol. It tells the others to fuck off and serves as a beacon to find you.”

  “Why didn’t you text me that?” I asked, fighting the nauseous feeling in my stomach.

  “I did! You didn’t answer,” she said on the defensive. Laura turned to the cupboard and grabbed a pair of plates for us. Looking at me over her shoulder, she continued, “It’s not surprising considering the other tidbit of information Richard gave me.”

  “And what would that be?” I asked, walking up to the table and pulling out a chair.

  “That the claimed human ends up getting some pretty hot and steamy wet dreams for the duration of the Mist.”

  My cheeks burned, all but bursting into flames. Having her suspicions confirmed by my treacherously pale complexion, Laura gaped at me the way one does when witnessing or hearing a particularly juicy bit of gossip.

  “You naughty, naughty girl!” she exclaimed.

  “You know I’m a deep sleeper,” I countered, squirming on my chair.

  “True enough,” Laura said, giving me an amused look. “You could sleep right through Armageddon.”

  Too true. My alarm could blare for hours, and I wouldn’t hear it. Lucky for me, my internal clock never failed to wake me on time.

  “So what does he want? What happens to the human?” I asked, while Laura served our breakfast.

  “According to the ‘victims’ he’s spoken to, Richard says the Mistwalker just wants a life mate. That is, the ones that give you that tattoo. Not all of them are good guys, but the ones who brand you aren’t evil.”

  Relief flooded through me. I hadn’t gotten the sense he sought to harm me, but still, hearing it from a source that had nailed two of my ‘symptoms’ reassured me.

  “He will give you a choice to go with him or not.”

  “As in go into the Mist with him?” I asked, flabbergasted.

  “Yep. Apparently, he would take you to a safe place where you could live happily ever after and make little Mist babies,” she said.

  “That’s not funny,” I said, frowning at her.

  “Relax,” Laura said while pouring some coffee for me, then for herself. “This is all around good news, in my opinion. You have a choice, and you’re not turning into some monster.”

  “Thank you,” I said absentmindedly. After adding two spoons of sugar and some milk, I slowly stirred my cup. “Okay, you’re right, but what if I say no?”

  Laura shrugged before tucking into her food. “Richard said the girl he spoke to refused to go, and the Mistwalker respected her choice. She was, however, willing to continue the steamy encounters during the Mist, which they have. But others have declined any further contact of any type, and their Mistwalkers have left them alone.”

  “Just like that?” I asked in a dubious tone.

  Laura shrugged again. “That’s all I got. Either way, you’re not turning into a freak show, and I don’t have to spend the next 48 hours in the basement. Like I said, all around good news! Now, I need deets! How’s demon sex?”

  I nearly choked on the sip of coffee I’d taken. Laura laughed while I glared at her.

  “Just eat your food,” I said, trying to chase away the memory of that frighteningly pleasurable interlude.

  * * *

  The next 48 hours flew by. Throughout the day, the Mistwalker would touch me with his ghostly presence. He didn’t speak or linger, content to give me a drive-by mental caress as if to remind me of his existence or to check that our bond remained. At night, though, he would whisk me away to his realm to launch another sensual assault on me. Like the first time, I would awaken from sleep to find myself surrounded by the Mist, his ethereal hands and mouth unleashing the most delicious torment on my willing body. To my shame, I didn’t try to fight but even anticipated it.

  After more than three years of celibacy, I was hungry for a release that didn’t come from my own hand, and that Mistwalker knew exactly where and how to touch me, giving me the most mind-blowing orgasms I had ever experienced. After Patrick, I’d taken a hiatus on men. I had believed him to be the one. We’d been talking marriage and had just gotten engaged when his ex-girlfriend returned from her four years of studying abroad and expressed the desire to rekindle their relationship. To be fair, Patrick tried to resist and was upfront with me about his warring emotions. It didn’t make it any less heartbreaking when he broke off our engagement and returned to her.

  Still, I wanted to believe that being horny wasn’t my only reason to surrender so easily to a mythical creature. It didn’t make sense, yet he felt familiar, safe even. As irrational as it may sound, I didn’t doubt for a second that he would stop should I ever ask him to… and meant it. In the three days of the Mist, he never took for himself but focused on my pleasure. He didn’t speak or answer any of my questions except with cryptic one-liners that left me as clueless or co
nfused as before.

  I didn’t even know his name.

  But his strength had grown tremendously. He sizzled with it, and the void space he’d been taking me to had begun taking shape with a sky, grass, and the shimmering outline of a mansion. I assumed he intended for us to live there should I accept his offer to join him, but I wouldn’t. My place was on Earth, with my sister, my simple life and job as a character artist in video games.

  As his expert tongue yet again sent me over the edge, I fleetingly thought that keeping him as a virtual lover, a few days a month, no strings attached, might not be such a bad idea after all. He didn’t interact with my physical body, no risk of pregnancy or STDs, and earth shattering orgasms by the dozen.

  Yep. Not a bad deal at all.

  Wondrously sated, my Mist-world body humming with pleasurable tremors, I fell back into my real-world body and then contentedly into a peaceful dream. As usual, I’d slept through the City Defense Alarm and had to get confirmation from the news channel that the Mist had indeed lifted. Going around the house, I opened the shutters and the windows to let in some fresh air and daylight.

  Although it was Wednesday morning, no one would be expected back to work before Thursday. Since the advent of the Mist, the day before it started and the one after it ended had been declared official holidays, fully compensated by employers. It allowed people who needed long commutes to reach their safe house or shelter to make it on time before the 6:00 PM curfew. At the end of the Mist, the city alarm would only resound two hours later to make sure all the tears in the Veil had closed and any straggling Mistbeasts had perished.

  With a heavy heart, I helped my sister pack, and drove her to the train station so she’d be back on campus in time for her classes in the morning. I was grateful we’d been able to spend those three days together after all. Despite her faults—which were actually few—I loved Laura to pieces and missed having her around. She’d further poked her hacker buddy Richard for any additional information. He’d had none but reiterated that we didn’t need to fear for my safety. In the end, that was all that mattered.