by J. Thorn
Praise for The Hidden Evil Trilogy
"...Preta's Realm is a fine example of character building done right. Mr. Thorn does an excellent job of crafting the characters and making sure that you can identify with them. He does a better job than some of the heavy hitters in the horror realm, actually."
Bryan Hall
Author of Containment Room Seven
"...grabs you by the throat and does not let go. Incredibly graphic it had me screwing my face up in horror at many of the scenes, yet eagerly clicking for the next page just to see what would happen next."
Bernadette Davies from Amazon.com
"Be prepared to be unable to put this book aside until it is finished! The story builds like a mammoth wave and pushes you on its crest to a crashing finale. I was spent by the time the ride was over."
uhltides from Amazon.com
"If you ever read John Saul, Stephen King or VC Andrews and you liked them, then buy this and every book this author writes. This particular book is grossly engrossing. Had to say that because that's what it is. I can't put it down. The story grabs you. It is haunting and plays with your mind. There is always that wonder about who the true evil is. Just a very good thriller!"
kmlewis from Amazon.com
"...The basis behind this book was refreshing and intriguing. Its quite rare to find a book, especially a horror, when you don't already know how the presentation will unfold. I found the 'gaki' to be a mysterious and appalling concept. I will look forward to further reading."
Vicky Graham from Amazon.com
"Thorn carefully constructed his characters to bring a realism to horror novel. Dragging other worldly demons and demon hunters to bring good vs evil to light in a modern day family as they face their own inadequacies was brilliant. I could almost smell the fear and feel the terror the main character went through not to mention the demonic stench that wove itself within the pages of the story. Excellent reading!"
Cheryl from Amazon.com
"...I must congratulate Thorn on his creativity, this is a unique story line. I do like horror and this story is grossly horrific!! I personally think this would make a great film, along with the second edition. It beats a lot of the films out there on story line, hands down...Thorn has definitely made a name for himself as a great author of authentic horror."
Twinkles57 from Amazon.com
"...Preta's Realm is unlike anything I've ever read before. It was morbidly funny, while being downright scary at times, but over all I thoroughly enjoyed learning about something that I never knew existed until now-Pretas...The mother freaking Preta in this story kept me up late last night while I finished off the first book...Preta's Realm is NOT for the faint of heart. It is gory. It is scary...I'd recommend it to those of you who enjoy taking a step into the darker world of literature, and letting your mind explore the monsters and creatures from other parts of the world..."
Bgilvaja from Amazon.com
The Complete Hidden Evil Trilogy
By J. Thorn
MAIN MENU
Preta's Realm: The Haunting (Book 1 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Demons Within: Unholy Fire (Book 2 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Eternal: Blood Curse (Book 3 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Before the Realm and The Hidden Evil Extras
Reversion: The Inevitable Horror (The Portal Arcane Series - Book I)
Preta's Realm: The Haunting
By J. Thorn
MAIN MENU
Start Reading
Acknowledgments
Other Works
About the Author
Copyright
Table of Contents
Preta's Realm: The Haunting
(Book 1 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Fourth Edition
Copyright © 2011 by J. Thorn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by:
Talia Leduc
Katy Sozaeva
Laurie Love
For more information:
http://www.jthorn.net
[email protected]
For Andrew R. and James D.
Table of Contents
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
Acknowledgments
Other Works
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter 1
Drew slid his mouse across the desk with a flick of the wrist. One hundred seventeen messages, an in-box bursting with digital text. He took a sip from a mug filled to the brim with steaming Italian roast.
“Morning,” came the call from the hallway as Brian floated past on his way to the restroom.
“Hey,” replied Drew.
Brian stopped with a smile on his face. “Got the best blowjob last night,” he said through a toothy grin.
“Who’d you pay to touch that diseased pole of yours?” asked Drew.
“Your mom.”
Drew laughed and threw his hands behind his head.
“What did you do this weekend?” asked Brian.
“My son had his first ice-hockey game on Saturday. He scored twice and laid a mean hit on the other team’s defenseman. The kid knows how to forecheck.”
Brian chuckled and dropped his shoulder. He feigned a crosscheck on the office door. “Coulda been a center in the NHL. No doubt.” Drew shook his head and glanced back at the monitor on his desk. “Can’t keep your eyes off that thing for more than one minute, huh?”
Drew shrugged off the question. “Each e-mail is a gift from the tech gods, bundled full of excitement and possibility,” he said.
“Sarcasm?”
“Hardly.”
Brian glanced into the hallway as two skirts pushed through the rows of cubicles. Spiny coat racks covered with winter garments stood like buoys on an open sea of business.
“Every ten seconds,” said Drew. Brian turned back, his eyebrows drawn upward. “The average guy thinks of banging every ten seconds. You’re probably closer to three.”
“Ain’t my fault marriage makes it ten years,” replied Brian.
Drew smiled and shook his head in mock disgust as Brian continued his daily office rounds. He faced his monitor again and noticed that three more bolded subject lines had appeared in his in-box. Drew clicked on the first one and wondered how penis enlargement offers had found their way through the company spam filter. The next one was cc’d to his wife, and the subject line demanded an RSVP to a child’s birthday party.
Molly will handle that, he thought as his finger struck the delete key.
The radiator next to Drew’s desk hissed and spat as the water from the boiler invaded
the pipes, reminding him of an air compressor at a gas station. Most of the women on the floor envied his location and fought winter with electric heaters stashed like stowaways under their desks.
The thought trailed along like a fine vapor until it led him back to Virginia Beach. Drew closed his eyes and could smell the cocoa-butter tanning oil on his wife’s body, and his breath hitched when he remembered the night they had spent on the sand behind the pool. Molly kept worrying that the kids would wake up or one of the other members of the extended family sharing the house would catch them in the act. As usual, Drew talked her into letting go of her inhibitions, even if her mom was a light sleeper. They rolled in the sand until it mixed with the salty smell of desire, sprayed off under the shower nozzle next to the hot tub, and snuck back into the beach house with nobody the wiser.
Drew felt his pants tighten, and he dropped the quarterly sales report into his lap in hopes of drowning his growing embarrassment with numbers.
“What time is the staff meeting?” a coworker interrupted. Drew shook and fumbled for the coffee mug, feeling his cheeks flush. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Chief.”
He rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of the mouse on his desk. Johnson never remembered a name. “You didn’t. It’s at 11:00.”
“Like, in ten minutes?”
Drew glanced to the bottom right corner of his monitor at the time, reading 10:49. “Eleven,” he replied.
Johnson shrugged and walked toward the break room. Drew marveled at his own ability to daydream. His teachers had warned his parents about his lack of attention. However, in a time before every kid suffered from ADHD, and before the FDA jumped into bed with Big Pharma, his parents treated his condition like every other parent did. They told him to pay attention and then sent him out to play with the neighborhood kids.
The alarm on Drew’s computer shook him. He glanced back to the screen to see that the time was 10:59, his one-minute warning to head to the boardroom for the staff meeting. Johnson had a habit of making the latecomers the butt of the joke, and Drew was tired of providing him with new material.
As he stood and pushed the fauxleather office chair back from the desk, Drew noticed a new arrival to his in-box. He placed both hands on the desk and squinted at the bold subject line. “Tonight,” was all it said.
Incentive to get me through the meeting, Drew thought as he hit the buttons on the keyboard to lock his computer from nosy cubicle mates and office pranksters.
***
The rest of the morning bled into afternoon with a constant cycle of texts, e-mails, phone calls, and drop-in visits from the usual suspects. Drew wondered how any business was done with the alluring siren call of social networking and smartphones tucked out of sight but within reach.
“Heading out to the Fox and the Hound after work. You coming?” asked Brian.
“It’s Monday,” replied Drew.
Brian threw both hands into the air and his mouth drew into a circle. “Can’t possibly have a beer on a Monday.”
Drew rubbed a hand over his forehead as three more messages jumped to the in-box. “I’ve got too much work to do.”
“You could come hang?”
“Billy has hockey practice, and Molly’s been at me for weeks to snake the drain in the bathtub.”
“Livin’ on the edge,” replied Brian as he shoved his hands into pockets full of lint, change, and scraps of paper.
“Someday you’ll get it,” said Drew.
“Already do, and got a prescription to keep it from spreading,” replied Brian as the fifties-era wall clock crawled toward five.
Chapter 2
“Hon, can you help Billy get the hockey pants on? The suspenders aren’t staying on his shoulders.”
Drew looked at Billy and motioned over his shoulder with the nod of his head. “Will you please tell Mom it’s fine?”
Billy smirked and winked at his dad. “All fixed, Mom!” he yelled toward Molly, who was upstairs working the knots out of Sara’s hair.
“Got a scrimmage after practice?” Drew asked while Billy pulled the shirt over his shoulder pads, releasing the musky fragrance of preadolescence on ice.
“Probably. Coaches let us play if everyone does their best on the drills.”
“Remember to—“
“Keep my head up near the boards, and not every shot has to be top shelf. Got it, Dad.”
Drew tousled Billy’s hair and reached for the hockey stick lying across chapter books on the Greek gods. He helped his son carry the hockey bag to the car and lift it into the trunk before backing out of the driveway, turning right onto Main Street and heading east. While the radio blared another “alternative” rock song that was no longer the alternative to anything, Drew remembered the subject line of the e-mail he did not have time to revisit.
Tonight, he thought, will have to wait until tonight.
***
“Left wing, left wing!”
Billy skated toward the corner and unleashed a bruising hip check on the unsuspecting kid hovering over the puck like a hen trying to hatch an egg. A collective sigh oozed from the parents clinging to the glass. Drew shrugged and looked at the parent next to him on the bleachers.
As the game progressed, however, Drew and the other parents retreated into somber silence. The opposing team filled the net with goals until the mercy rule came into play, and the referees let the clock run in hopes of protecting the self-esteem of the losing team, Billy’s team.
“Can you untie my laces?” Billy asked Drew through wet eyes and a sniffling nose. Other parents entered the locker room and helped the children shed their hockey equipment.
“You gave it your best out there, kid. I’m proud of you.”
Billy managed a smile for his dad as the coach prattled on about the merits of losing and how it builds character.
***
“Billy was really upset about the game.”
“Losing sucks.”
Molly rolled her eyes and let her toes crawl up Drew’s calf. “Don’t be so coy. Your opinion means a lot to him.”
“Just doing what fathers are supposed to do.” Drew struggled to complete sentences with his wife wrapping her naked body around him underneath the warm bedding of a frigid February night.
“Love you, hockey Dad.”
Before Drew could reply, smooth skin and flowing hair enveloped him.
***
The green LED clock read 3:13. Drew smirked through the exhaustion as he thought of the signs held up at sporting events. He then figured out that the verse quoted from John was 3:16, not 3:13, and the realization brought him completely out of the dream state.
He turned and saw Molly’s dark hair fanned across the pillow, and her ample chest raising the comforter. Drew slid his hand across the cool sheets between their bodies and touched the soft, hidden flesh of his wife’s upper thigh. Molly moaned and pushed his hand away.
The bedroom door opened to the hallway. Drew and Molly’s room sat between Billy’s and Sara’s, and directly across from the steps. The bathroom down the hall held a night-light to help the kids find it in the middle of the night, especially Billy, who struggled to hit the bowl between the hours of 10:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m.
Drew stood and his toes recoiled from the icy feel of the oak hardwood. He curled his right leg to fight off an impending cramp. The wood beneath his feet cracked and protested as he trudged toward the bathroom. He heard Sara snoring, and saw Billy’s right leg hanging through the Pittsburgh Penguins bedding and over the edge of the frame. Drew’s dark reflection peered back at him as he passed the vanity and emptied his bladder.
He crept down the steps and into the living room, and picked up the remote, holding it for a moment before putting it back down.
175 channels, 170 of them showing infomercials, he thought.
The laptop sat on the end table, the blue glow pulsing near the power switch. He ran a hand through his hair and lifted the cool, metallic hasp at the front of the machine. His finger
depressed the round power button, and the screen flickered from charcoal grey to black, and then to a blinding array of colors that forced Drew to squint. His desktop wallpaper appeared, a photo from a trip to New Orleans during Mardi Gras.
Molly hated the picture. A woman, young and blonde, stood on the balcony of a hotel overlooking Bourbon Street. Her sandy hair fell about her shoulders, tinted by the red bulb of a nearby streetlamp. The woman’s eyes shone with glee, assisted with a healthy dose of Hurricanes and Red Stripe beer. Her wrists were crossed at the bottom of a tight-fitting tank top that struggled to contain two upright breasts. Beneath the bottom of the shirt and the top of low-slung, hip-hugging jeans, a strip of tanned, tight skin clung to a toned abdomen. The light from the festival glinted off her naval piercing. Dozens of beads sat on her chest in the traditional colors of the holiday: purple, gold, and yellow. Drew took the picture because it was a perfect shot of Madame LeVive’s Voodoo Temple shop, which sat underneath the balcony. While his buddies spent rolls of film on drunken girls flashing boobs for beads, Drew was more interested in the story of voodoo in the Crescent City. While it may have been the truth, Molly never bought the story.
Once his eyes adjusted to the glare of the screen and had passed over the well-known intricacies of “slut on balcony,” as Molly named it, Drew used the track pad on his laptop and placed the cursor over the Thunderbird icon. He hesitated, somehow unsure as to whether or not it was a wise move. Years ago, Drew promised himself that he would never again check his e-mail at night.
Before he could reconsider, the beautiful, blue bird appeared and was then replaced by an in-box. At the top of the list, sorted by arrival time, sat more offers for penis enlargements and deep-discount, prescription meds. His eyes slid down the list until they caught the subject line that had escaped reading until now. “Tonight.” Drew’s mind jolted a memory before his eyes read the e-mail.
