Darkness Wakes

by Tim Waggoner

  Table of Contents

  DARKNESS WAKES

  LICENSE NOTES

  Meet the Author

  DISCOVER CROSSROAD PRESS

  DARKNESS WAKES

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Other Tim Waggoner eBooks Available from Crossroad Press

  DARKNESS WAKES

  By Tim Waggoner

  A Macabre Ink Production

  Macabre Ink is an imprint of Crossroad Press

  First Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

  Digital Edition Copyright 2014 by Tim Waggoner

  Copy-edited by: Kurt M. Criscione

  LICENSE NOTES

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Meet the Author

  Shirley Jackson Award-nominated author Tim Waggoner has published over thirty novels and three short story collections in the horror and urban fantasy genres. He teaches creative writing at Sinclair Community College and in Seton Hill University’s Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction program. Visit him on the web at www.timwaggoner.com.

  NOVELS

  Blade of the Flame 1: Thieves of Blood

  Blade of the Flame 2: Forge of the Mind Slayers

  Blade of the Flame 3: Sea of Death

  Cross County

  Dark Ages: Gangrel

  Dark War

  Darkness Wakes

  Dead Streets

  Defender: Hyperswarm

  Dream Stalkers

  Dying for It

  Ghost Town

  Ghost Trackers

  Godfire 1: The Orchard of Dreams

  Godfire 2: Heart’s Wound

  Grimm: the Killing Time

  The Harmony Society

  Lady Ruin

  Last of the Lycans

  Like Death

  Nekropolis

  Night Terrors

  A Nightmare on Elm Street: Protégé

  Pandora Drive

  Return of the Sorceress

  A Shadow Over Heaven’s Eye

  Stargate SG-1: Valhalla

  Supernatural: Carved in Flesh

  Supernatural: The Roads Not Taken

  Temple of the Dragonslayer

  The Way of All Flesh

  COLLECTIONS

  All Too Surreal

  Broken Shadows

  Bone Whispers

  DISCOVER CROSSROAD PRESS

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  DARKNESS WAKES

  CHAPTER ONE

  The unmarked metal door banged open, and a short pot-bellied man stumbled out into the night. Eyes wild with fear, breath coming in ragged, phlegmy gasps. He wore a red polo shirt stretched tight over his protruding stomach and khaki shorts from which emerged a pair of surprisingly bony legs. Sweat streamed from the man’s body as if his pores were weeping, and his damp clothes stuck to him like a second sodden skin.

  He hurried across the sidewalk in front of the businesses in the shopping center and ran into the parking lot, sandaled feet slapping against the blacktop. He was in his mid-fifties, and though he’d gotten a clean bill of health during his last check-up, heart disease ran in his family. He could hear his heart pounding rapidly, could feel it slamming against his chest wall as if it were a terrified caged animal desperate to break free. He feared that his heart might burst before he could escape, but given how likely that was, maybe he’d be better off if his heart did pack it in. He was certain it would be a painful, awful way to die, but he was also sure it would be preferable to what his pursuers would do to him if they caught him.

  It was after midnight, but the absence of sunlight didn’t do much to make the late July air any cooler. If anything, it seemed hotter and more humid than during the day. Breathing was like sucking in the air from a blast furnace, and he imagined it searing his throat and lungs, cooking him from the inside out.

  Stop it! he told himself. Keep thinking like that and you’ll talk yourself into having a heart attack!

  All he had to do was reach his SUV. Once he was behind the wheel of his Suburban Uber Vehicle, as he thought of it, he’d be safe. He’d drive straight out of town, not bothering to stop at his condo and park. He had an old college buddy in Kentucky that he went fishing with now and again. He’d head for Stan’s place — none of them knew about it, so they wouldn’t be able to find him there. He’d hole up there for a few days, maybe a week or two at the most until he could get his shit together and decide what to do next.

  There weren’t many vehicles in the parking lot at this time of night, and he’d left his SUV — with vanity plates that read FOOTZEE — beneath a fluorescent light pole, so he had no trouble finding it in his panicked state. He headed straight for it, wishing that he’d spent more time in his life exercising than sitting on his fat ass watching TV or surfing the Net. Hell, right now he wished he’d trained to be a goddamned Olympic sprinter!

  He hated to leave, though he wouldn’t miss Ptolemy. The town was little more than a stain on the southwest corner of the Ohio state map. And while he regretted abandoning his podiatry practice, the truth was he’d long ago gotten sick of treating in-grown toenails and bunions. He had no family and no real friends here, save for those he now fled from. The only thing he would regret leaving was Penumbra, and the dark ecstasy that he had found within its walls. The very thought of going without its fell bliss nauseated him, and he imagined he could already feel the first faint pangs of withdrawal.

  He reached his SUV and jammed a pudgy hand into his shorts pockets in search of his keys. At first he couldn’t find them, and an icicle of fear pierced his gut. Had he lost his keys earlier in the club? Or had the others, somehow anticipating his failure tonight, stolen them from him? He didn’t see how the latter was possible, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Not for them.


  But he dug a little deeper and found his keys right where they were supposed to be. He pulled them out and fumbled for the car remote. He unlocked the car, gripped the handle, and threw the driver’s side door open. But before he could climb up into the seat, he felt a hand clamp down on his left shoulder. A tiny screech escaped his throat, a sound like a frightened little girl might make. His keys slipped from his fingers as he was turned around, and they hit the ground with a jingle. Excuses began to dribble from his lips like an idiot’s drool.

  “I didn’t know she was strung out, I swear to Christ! If I had, I never would’ve brought her, never!”

  “You should’ve checked her out before you brought her to Penumbra, Morgan.” Caroline’s voice was cold and without pity. She was the only one that had caught up to him so far, but though she must’ve run fast to catch him, he hadn’t heard her and she wasn’t breathing hard.

  “What was I supposed to do? Take her to a clinic for a blood test?” He surprised himself by how calm he sounded, as if the fault for what had happened was theirs instead of his.

  “If you weren’t certain, you shouldn’t have brought her. You know the rules.”

  Morgan detected movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced toward the open doorway that was the entrance to Penumbra and saw the others were filtering out one by one to join them. They didn’t run, didn’t even walk fast. They simply walked out of the club and into the parking lot as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Somehow, that was even more frightening to Morgan than if they had run. It meant they weren’t concerned about his escaping, that they’d never even considered it a serious possibility.

  “But I couldn’t find anyone else, and it was my turn tonight.” He hated how whiny and pathetic his voice sounded, like a little boy trying to talk his way out of being punished. But he couldn’t help it. “I didn’t want to come empty-handed. Didn’t want to go without any longer. I … needed it.”

  The others were coming closer. They were all there — Wyatt, Gillian, Trevor, Shari, Spencer, and Caroline’s husband Phillip — and they all shared the same grim expression on their faces.

  “We all need it,” Caroline said. “Just as badly as you do. But the difference between us is that we’re still going to get it.” She stepped closer, smiled, and touched her index finger to his pudgy dry lips. “And you’re going to give it to us.”

  Morgan cried out in terror and shoved her away. He knelt down to search for his keys. He saw them lying on the ground, reached for them, but Caroline kicked out and knocked them under his SUV with the side of her flip-flop. Morgan swore, crouched lower, stretched his hand under the car, fingers scrabbling frantically as he tried to grab hold of his keys. But even as he reached for them, he knew it was too late. Even if he managed to get hold of them, he’d never be able to get into his SUV in time, let alone shut the door and start the engine.

  He heard footsteps on the blacktop draw closer, then stop. He turned his head and saw feet and legs of his friends and fellow addicts. He knew he should stand up and accept his fate like a man, but instead he collapsed to the ground and began to sob. Someone — Phillip and Trevor, he guessed, though he couldn’t tell through the tears in his eyes — grabbed hold of his fleshy upper arms and hauled him to his feet. And then they began escorting him back to Penumbra, walking on either side of him, holding tight to his arms so he couldn’t escape. He considered letting his body go limp, becoming deadweight. He was heavy enough that they would have trouble getting him back inside if he didn’t help them. If he could delay them long enough for someone else to enter the parking lot, perhaps a patrolling police car …

  But Morgan didn’t do it. For with each step he took back toward the open doorway, his fear slowly receded to be replaced with the first faint stirrings of desire, and he was surprised to find himself starting to become erect. He knew he was going to die this night, and in a way far more horrible than most people could imagine. And yet, at least he’d get to be in its presence one more time, feel its cold loving touch …

  Maybe it won’t be so bad, he thought. Maybe it’ll even feel good … better than ever before.

  And so by the time Dr. Morgan Pierson, DPM, was escorted across the threshold and back into Penumbra, his fear had given way to anticipation. The last person to return to the club shut and locked the door behind him. And though no one outside could hear because of Penumbra’s soundproofed walls, several moments later, Morgan began to scream.

  He’d been wrong; it didn’t feel good. Not for him, anyway.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Aaron pulled into the parking lot of the Valley View Shopping Center at 11:48 p.m. with eleven minutes to spare.

  He parked in a handicapped space in front of Starbrite Movie and Game Rentals, put his Lexus in park, and cut the engine. Normally he wouldn’t have taken the space, but it was almost midnight, and he was only going to be here a minute. He’d had his Lexus for two weeks, but he still hadn’t gotten over his boyish glee at driving it. That was the real reason he’d gone out this late to return the DVD’s he’d rented. He didn’t give a damn about late fees; he just wanted any excuse he could get to climb behind the wheel of his new toy and drive. And none of this certified pre-owned shit for him, either. He’d bought this baby brand new. Of course, he’d waited until an inventory-reduction sale at the dealer, but new was new, right?

  Doesn’t really count unless you can afford to walk in the very first day, hell the very first minute the new models go on sale and plunk down the full amount on the counter — cash money.

  The thought was his, but the voice he heard it in wasn’t.

  He grabbed the three DVDs off the passenger seat — two chick flicks for Kristen, and an old eighties slobs vs. snobs comedy for him and the kids — and got out of the car. He locked it with the key remote and headed for the store entrance. As he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Starbrite, he passed a blue metal return box, but he didn’t even consider dropping the movies inside. The last time he’d done that, the tattooed and pierced teenager behind the counter had insisted he’d returned them late the next time he rented movies, and no amount of arguing could dissuade the little prick. It says so right here on the store computer, sir. Aaron had wanted to say, Fuck your computer! I say I returned those goddamned movies on time! But he hadn’t bothered. Kids from Metalface’s generation didn’t believe anything unless they saw it on a screen. Ever since then Aaron had taken his DVD’s back inside himself, regardless of what time it was or how much of a hurry he was in.

  The bell above the glass door tinkled as Aaron went inside, and he was glad to see that Metalface wasn’t working tonight. Instead, a cute little blonde stood behind the counter. She had long straight hair, a heart-shaped face, and too much eye shadow and lipstick, but Aaron figured, what the hell? He’d always liked the bubblegum whore look. He smiled as he handed her the DVD’s, but her eyes didn’t even meet his as she took the movies and tossed them down on the back counter.

  “Thankshaveanicenight,” she mumbled.

  “Yeah, you too.” Aaron turned and left the store, ego stinging. Sure, he was forty-five, but he took care of himself, ate right, exercised regularly … well, regularly enough. He was starting to go gray at the temples, but he thought it made him look distinguished. But the blond clerk had acted like he was invisible, as if he wasn’t male but rather some third gender: Neuterguy. When he’d been younger, he could’ve chatted little Miss Blondie up and gotten her phone number within a couple minutes. They’d be out on a date the next night, and there’d be a good chance he’d get to bang her before the evening ended.

  When he was younger.

  Don’t kid yourself, Aaron. You never were that good with the ladies. Nothing like your old man.

  Aaron did his best to ignore the thought as he walked across the lot. Though he hadn’t noticed it crossing from his car to the store, the night air was humid and thick. Breathing was like trying to suck air through a mouthful of wet cotton. Not unusual wea
ther for late July in Ohio, but for some reason, he’d thought it’d be cooler when he left the house. Now he wished he’d worn a T-shirt and shorts instead of a polo shirt and jeans. Maybe if the blonde had gotten a look at his tanned, toned legs …

  As Aaron walked back to his car, he noticed swarms of small insects darting around the fluorescent lights that illuminated the lot. Aaron was no entomologist, but he was a veterinarian and had always had an interest in animals of every sort. He remembered reading once that the reason nocturnal insects such as moths were drawn to artificial light was because they navigated by moonlight and were disoriented by other light sources. He supposed their mindless compulsion was pathetic, especially since it so often led to their destruction from heat or simply smacking into a bulb until they died. But he envied them a little, too. What would it be like to feel such total, all-consuming passion for something? Aaron couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced such intensity of emotion, if he ever had. To know such passion, even if only for the briefest of moments before the heat of that passion burned you to a crisp … wouldn’t that be worth the price? Any price?

  As he drew near his Lexus, he thumbed the key remote again and the door locks snicked open. He got inside, closed the door, put the key into the ignition and was about to turn it, when headlights washed over his windshield. He squinted but didn’t turn away from the light, and then the car moved past him and pulled into a space two rows over from where he was parked. Aaron wondered who it was and what he or she was doing here this time of night. Not returning movies, not unless whoever it was hadn’t paid attention to where they parked. But Starbrite was the only business still open; unless you counted the bar at the eastern end of the shopping center. From west to east, there were nine businesses: an insurance agency, Suds-o-Rama (a laundromat); Lose It and Use It (a weight-loss clinic); Around and Around (a second-hand kids clothing store); I’d Buy That For a Dollar (where everything cost a buck or less); Starbrite Movie and Game Rentals; the Hobby Horse (a hobby shop); Earl’s Carpets; and Deja Brew — the bar. There were only a handful of cars in the Valley View Shopping Center’s lot, and most of them were parked down by the bar. But the recent arrival had parked down by the dollar store, directly under a light pole. The vehicle was a white Infiniti, and for some reason it struck Aaron as familiar. He understood why a second later when the driver got out. It was Morgan Langdon.