My dad huffed. “If you feel that’s necessary.”
“There are a lot of things that I feel are necessary.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stared at him. “You know exactly what it means.”
“Don’t play mind games with me.”
It was nights like these that made me wish I had a dog. I needed an excuse to get out of my house and go for a walk. Anything to get the hell out of there.
“You’re never home, and when you are, all you do is yell,” Mom accused him. “I’m afraid of you when—and if—you come home at night. So is Elisabeth. It wouldn’t shock me if her nightmares are a result of all these years of you screaming at her for every little thing. This isn’t about you and me, Rick—this is about the way you treat your daughter.”
That was all I could stomach. I stood up from the table and took my plate into the kitchen, mentally blocking out my dad’s enraged response. Everyone’s parents argue—that just happens in any relationship—but parents shouldn’t fight in front of their kids. My mom and dad were focused on blaming each other for my nightmares, when both of them were probably the cause.
I went up to my bedroom and sat on my bed, staring into the mirror over my dresser. The pink music box my dad had given me when I was seven sat between a pair of scented candles and a birthday card my grandmother had sent me earlier in the week. I got up, walked to my dresser, and lifted the top of the music box. The little plastic ballerina inside unfolded and stood. I lifted the box and turned the key on the bottom. Delicate music began to play, and the ballerina turned slowly. I watched her dance for a few moments, wondering how my life had gotten this way, how my dad had turned into such a hateful person. I loved that music box, now mostly because it reminded me of the wonderful father the man downstairs used to be. I’d have given anything to turn back the clock on the last ten years of my life—and that wasn’t something someone my age should have to feel.
3
REFUSING TO LET MY DEPRESSION SINK DEEPER, I popped in a movie. I settled on 13 Going on 30, since that was how old my parents made me feel. At least the happy, funny moments might be able to restore my cheer. On and off I could hear the yelling. When my clock rolled past midnight, my parents had begun arguing again.
“Happy birthday to me,” I said dismally. Within the next minute, I received eight text messages containing variations of “happy birthday!” involving excessive punctuation and two texts including “luv u bitch!”
I decided to spend my first few minutes as a seventeen-year-old by sneaking out the front door to sit on the porch. I leaned against one of the columns and took in a deep breath. Night had settled and the air was a little chilly, but I was comfortable in my T-shirt.
After a little while of sitting on my porch and picking at my nails, I stood up and started down my driveway to the sidewalk. Once around the block should be enough, I decided. I really needed a dog. I considered for a moment: a car or a dog for my birthday…. Yeah, car. I didn’t think I’d get it exactly the next day, but more likely over the weekend. I knew a lot of kids didn’t get cars for their birthdays, or even cars at all, let alone the chance to go pick one out, so I shouldn’t complain. But then again, a lot of kids got to have parents who didn’t scream at each other. Everyone made their sacrifices.
I heard a low rumble in front of me and stopped walking. It didn’t sound mechanical like a car engine, and I definitely didn’t see any headlights ahead, either. I strained my eyes to peer into the darkness. The streetlamp above me buzzed and went out. Past the sidewalk corner and deep into my neighbor’s wide lawn, I could see nothing. For an instant I thought of Mr. Meyer’s murderer. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go walking around outside after midnight?
“What are you looking at?”
I let out a small cry and spun around as my heart leaped into my throat.
It was Will, as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. He looked worried and determined, but he was obviously trying to hide those feelings.
“What are you doing out here?” I whispered harshly.
“What are you doing here?” he countered.
I threw my hand up. “I live here!”
Suddenly, I had a terrible thought. I had first seen Will the day before, the night Mr. Meyer died. No, no, no. That was ridiculous. Will was just some hot, weird guy I happened to be seeing everywhere I went. That didn’t make him a murderer. Hadn’t my mom given me a can of mace for Christmas? What had I done with that?
“So why are you out for a walk this late at night?” he asked, distracting me from my thoughts. “Even if you live here, it’s pretty late to be wandering around at night.”
“Well, you’re out here too. I like being outside at night. It’s relaxing.”
That smile widened. It was like he thought this was funny. “Most people would feel nervous.”
My hands rested on my hips. “Why? Should I be?”
“What?”
“Nervous.”
“Probably.”
“You don’t seem like you’re nervous.”
“I can take care of myself.” His smile turned dark, knowing.
“You’re the weirdest boy I’ve ever met—and believe me, every single one of them is weird, so that’s saying a lot.” Once I realized what I’d just said, I wanted to smack my face into a brick wall. My mouth sure liked to run when it should have been my feet running.
He laughed. “At least you’re honest about your feelings.”
“They say it’s a virtue.” I turned around to walk back to my house. It was time to leave. “Do me a favor and leave me alone. I just know you’re going to go all Ted Bundy on my ass any second.” I looked around me, hoping one of the neighbors would flick their porch lights on and burst out holding a shotgun. I felt pretty sure I wasn’t that lucky.
“Are you afraid of me?” Will asked, jogging to catch up to me.
“Are you passive-aggressively trying to tell me that I should be afraid of you, too? Not just ‘nervous’?” I was only four houses away from home now.
“No, but have you ever heard the saying ‘The brave may not live forever, but the cautious never live at all’?”
“No, I haven’t heard that, but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks for the proverbial insight, my stalker friend.”
He threw an arm across my chest to stop me and looked ahead, staring coldly into the dark. His body stiffened, but something in my gut told me that it wasn’t because of the chilly air.
I turned my head to follow his gaze, but I saw nothing in the street ahead. A breeze scattered a handful of already fallen leaves. I smelled something strange, like eggs and black smoke. “Do you smell that? What’s wrong?”
He stepped around me to put himself between me and wherever he was staring. “You can’t see into the Grim yet.”
“See what? The grim what?” I peeked over his shoulder. I thought I saw a shadow cross my path, but when I blinked, nothing was there. It was too dark.
His gaze was fixed on something in the blackness. “It’s not time! Stand down. I don’t care if it’s after midnight—she cannot be touched, unless you’re prepared for the consequences.”
He was clearly not talking to me. I was suddenly very aware that though I knew his name, I had no idea who he was. He could have been some junkie. I had never seen anyone on anything other than pot or alcohol, not even shrooms, let alone anything worse, so I had no idea what to expect. My body tensed with fear. “What are you on? I’ve had enough. I’m leaving now.”
I started to turn back to my house.
“No, wait,” Will said.
I heard the rumble again, only this time it was louder. That was not a car engine. Was it a growl? Was there a dog—a big dog—out there in the dark? My mind raced with thoughts of a rabid-dog attack. If the dog was close enough for me to hear it, then I should have been able to see it.
Another growl came, and then very heavy footsteps—like T. rex–shaking-the-water-cup Jurassic Park–style heavy foot
steps.
“What is that?” I asked, trembling, my eyes searching the dark. I felt like I’d fallen right into a real-life version of one of my nightmares. My head whirled dizzily, and fear made my stomach churn.
Hot breath, reeking like roadkill, blasted my face from an unseen source, and I spun around, gagging. “Oh, my God!” I groaned, covering my mouth.
“Come here,” Will said slowly, reaching back for me without taking a step. The look of worry on his face that I’d noticed earlier had deepened. Now he looked afraid, and that scared me a thousand times more.
“No way!” I cried, reeling away from him.
His fear spun into frustration as I pulled away. “Don’t scream. You’ll make him attack.”
Panic set in. “Get away!” I shrieked, and tried to run, but Will grabbed my arm. I twisted and pulled, but his grip was amazingly strong. It was like trying to drag an eighteen-wheeler; I couldn’t get him to give even an inch. How could anyone be that strong? I started to pry at his fingers, but they were like solid rock.
“It’s time to end this game,” he said, sending stabs of ice down my spine. He yanked me to his chest effortlessly and pressed his palm to my forehead.
Bright white light flashed, blinding me. Every inch of my skull felt as if it would explode from the pressure. The ground felt as if it were rocking and rolling at my feet, and a cruel wind—I didn’t even know where it came from—punished me violently, beating at me from all directions. My knees began to sway, unable to hold my weight, but Will held me up so I wouldn’t fall. The light vanished just as abruptly as it had appeared as he took his hand away and released me. I staggered back and fell on my tailbone, my vision blurring—but through the haze I could have sworn I saw shadowy wings towering over me, spreading wide. I blinked and saw only Will’s blurry form where I thought wings had just been. Every muscle in my body ached as if I’d just run a mile, but I was energized. There was a rushing sensation through the air, through the ground, and every inch of my body tingled with tiny prickles of electricity, as if I were moving a hundred miles an hour, even though I hadn’t moved an inch. The air around me was sticky for a moment, sticky and smoky, and I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again to clear my vision. After a heartbeat, the haziness faded. I stared confusedly at the pavement, rubbing my forehead.
“Ellie!”
My eyes suddenly focused and I saw Will again. My vision was crisp and the world had brightened. I looked past Will, marveling at how easily I could see through the darkness, distinguishing every leaf on my neighbors’ bushes, every groove in every shingle on their roofs.
And then I saw the monster: something vaguely resembling a huge dog covered in thick, black fur loomed over us, standing easily five feet tall at the shoulder. It lumbered over on all fours with a snout full of gnarled, vicious-looking teeth in the jaws of a heavy, oversize head. Its paws were the size of elephant’s feet and ended in talons that looked like they could tear a man in half.
But I wasn’t afraid. A calmness washed over me, and my mind analyzed at a lightning pace. Strange memories and thoughts that didn’t belong to me flooded into my mind: faces and violence I’d seen long ago in different times. I looked up at Will, whose face sparked the clearest and fondest memory. I knew I had to fight now, but I needed my weapons.
The beast leaped toward me, claws outstretched, and took a swipe with one of its front paws, but Will appeared between us. He grabbed the beast’s forelimb and kicked full force into its chest, sending it flying back, shattering my neighbor’s mailbox into countless little chunks of wood and brick.
It happened so fast that I knew I shouldn’t have been able to see it, but I did. I stepped forward, watching the creature climb to its feet as it loosed a low, dangerous-sounding growl.
I held both of my arms out and willed weapons into my open palms. The twin Khopesh swords appeared out of nothing in a flash of shimmering light. The curving silver blades glinted brightly. I glanced over at Will. I could now see intricate black tattoos twisting out from beneath his shirt all the way down his right arm to his knuckles. I remembered the beautiful symbols woven into the spiraling design, because I’d seen them before with different eyes, in another time.
My thoughts were calm and unnervingly clear. The blades exploded into white flames at my command. Blinding light devoured the silver, and the power coursed through me. My fingers squeezed the cool, familiar helves as the scents of silver and old blood flooded my heightened senses. The swords felt right in my grasp, like hugging an old friend.
The monster began to circle me, growling low and releasing an unearthly hiss. Its eyes were bottomless pits of blackness set deep into its deformed, terrible skull. I stared right back into those eyes without fear or hesitation.
I moved with the creature so that it was never at my back, and in a voice that did not seem my own I challenged the beast: “Come for me.”
The wolflike monster charged, paws and talons outstretched, massive jaws gaping. I spun out of the way just as teeth clamped down on the hood of my sweatshirt instead of my throat. The beast yanked the cotton flap, wrenching me around awkwardly, twisting, growling. Its paws clawed at my body, pulling me closer to its mouth so it could take a bite out of my face. I smashed my elbow into its nose, and it slumped back onto its haunches with a groan. Then my elbow slammed down on top of its skull and something crunched, but the monster only bit harder on my hoodie, shredding the fabric. Abruptly, it threw me to the ground, and I looked up. Will had it by the throat, his arm buried elbow deep in its thick fur, forcing the beast backward.
“Now!” he roared.
It thrashed like a giant pit bull and broke free.
My eyes locked on my target and my mind cleared to seize the opportunity. Quicker than my heart could pound, I was on my feet and shoving my fiery sword into its soft throat and straight through the top of its skull. The creature’s legs buckled as its fur shimmered oddly before exploding in flames. It happened very quickly. Fire devoured the reaper, swallowing it in white light, consuming it until finally the head disappeared, leaving nothing but empty space and falling ashes where a monster had just been.
Then the shadows closed in around me.
About the Author
Donna Campion and Courtney Allison Moulton
COURTNEY ALLISON MOULTON lives in Michigan, where she is a photographer and spends all her free time riding and showing horses. She has always loved reading about ancient mythologies, studying dead languages, and telling scary, romantic stories. ANGELFIRE is her debut novel. You can visit her online at www.courtneyallisonmoulton.com.
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Copyright
Copyright © 2013 by Courtney Allison Moulton
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © 2013 ISBN: 9780062250018
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A Dance With Darkness Page 9
