After Dark

by Mikey Campling

  “All right,” Matt said. “I’ll go and see what I can find.”

  Jen gave him a warm smile.

  “I’d better go and put some warm clothes on,” Matt said. “I can’t wear my coat, that’s for sure. I don’t think it’ll ever be the same.” He turned and left the room. Jen listened to him stomping up the stairs and then looked back down at the dog.

  “Oh!” The dog had rolled back onto its front and opened its eyes. And it was watching her. Watching her intently, as though it had understood every word she’d said. Jen smiled. “Did you hear me say, F, O, O, D?” she said. “I bet you know that word don’t you?” She pushed the dish of water closer to the dog. “Go on,” she said, “have a nice drink. We’ll find you something to eat soon. You won’t have to wait long.”

  And the dog lowered its head and lapped at the water. But it never once took its eyes from Jen’s face.

  ***

  As Johnny opened the rickety wooden gate, he lifted it a little so the hinges wouldn’t make a sound. He slipped through and closed the gate behind him. The cottage’s back garden was ideal. There was no sign of a security light and the high fence concealed the garden from the prying eyes of nosey neighbors. The tiny lawn was bordered on one side by a row of tall shrubs, and though they’d shed their leaves for the coming winter, their branches were dense enough to provide a web of deep shadows.

  Johnny stalked toward the house. He needed a hiding place that offered an uninterrupted view of the windows while shielding him if the couple decided to look outside. I’m spoilt for choice, Johnny thought. He waited for a moment, savoring the anticipation, then caught a glimpse of movement at one of the downstairs windows. Showtime, Johnny thought and sidled in among the bushes.

  He didn’t have long to wait before the performance began.

  At first, he could only see the man. Johnny chuckled to himself. The man did not look happy. It was comical the way that he bowed his head and shrugged his shoulders. You’re whipped, mate, Johnny thought. You’ve got to show her who’s in charge. And then he realized something: the man wasn’t bowing his head so much as looking down to talk to someone below him. Was his girlfriend crouching on the floor? Why? Johnny’s mind reeled. “You’d better not have hurt her,” he hissed under his breath. “You’d better not have laid a finger on her.” He clenched his fists tight, driving his nails into the palms of his hands.

  And then the man was gone and an upstairs light came on. Johnny waited, hardly daring to draw breath, his eyes darting between the upstairs and downstairs windows. What the hell was going on?

  The upstairs window went dark again and the man appeared downstairs. He walked backward and forward then bent down for a moment. What was it that occupied him down on the floor? Johnny shook his head. Perhaps it was something simple; a dropped glass that needed sweeping up. But when the man stood up, he looked defeated. His shoulders slumped and he folded his arms. And then he pulled a face, an exaggerated expression of dismay. A moment later, he flounced out of view, and this time, no upstairs lights came on. Instead, echoing in the still night air, came the distant thud of a slammed door.

  Johnny waited. And waited. There was no sign of movement. He licked his lips. Could it be true? Could it be possible that the man had gone out? He had to know, had to find out. This could be his only chance.

  He crept forward, staying close to the row of shrubs, clinging to their shadows.

  And suddenly she was there. She stood at the window, gazing out into the darkness. She can see me, Johnny thought. She’s looking right at me. And it was true. She was staring at him, looking into his eyes. A pulse of pure adrenaline surged through Johnny, tearing through his veins like ice water. His heart raced, his lips opened. And then it happened.

  Without taking her eyes from him, the girl - his girl - nodded. An invitation. She turned away from the window and walked away.

  “Oh my god,” Johnny whispered. This was the best day of his life. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and checked that his special tool was there. Yes. The smooth metal was cold and familiar against his fingertips. He was ready.

  He took a deep breath and walked toward the house.

  ***

  Jen gave the dog one last stroke along its ears and then stood up. She’d been kneeling on the floor too long and her knees tingled with pins and needles. She sighed. She felt like an absolute mess. She looked at her reflection in the kitchen window, staring at the state of her bedraggled hair. The sea breeze had done its worst. She felt as though her scalp was encrusted with salt. But she was too tired, too weak and hungry to do anything about it.

  Her eyes flicked to the dark garden beyond her reflection. Had she seen something? A hint of movement? No. It was pitch black out there. She couldn’t see a thing. Perhaps a black cat had slunk through the shadows.

  She took a breath and stared once again at her reflection. What she needed was a nice hot shower. The cottage’s bathroom was a haven of modernity: all glistening chrome and sparkling tiles. And the power shower was fantastic.

  Yes, she thought, the dog will be all right for a few minutes. She nodded to her reflection, then turned away from the window and headed for the stairs.

  ***

  Matt pushed his hands deep into his pockets and headed out along the empty street. The icy breeze cut through his clothes and pricked his skin. What a waste of time, just for a bloody dog, he thought. But he trudged on. Jen was right. They did need something to eat themselves. Perhaps a hot meal would do them a world of good. And it wasn’t an overly long walk into town.

  The cold wind was making his eyes water. He blinked and peered toward the distant lights of the main street. It looked as though quite a few shop windows were still lit. That was promising.

  He walked a little faster. The exercise would keep him warm. I won’t be long, he thought, and then I’ll be back in the warm.

  But the first few shops that he passed were of no use to him. They sold trinkets to tourists, and even these establishments were closing up for the night. Outside a Gothic themed clothes shop, a young woman in a parka was pulling down the metal shutter.

  “Excuse me,” Matt said.

  The woman did not turn around. “We’re closed, love.”

  Matt shuffled his feet. “Yes, I was just wondering if there’s a supermarket open.”

  The woman glanced over her shoulder and looked him up and down, then carried on with her work, fastening the shutter with a huge padlock. When she was satisfied, she turned around and pointed down the street. “Go straight down there, then turn left at the traffic lights,” she said. “Go along the road for half a mile. You’ll see it on your right.”

  Matt’s face fell. Half a mile? But he didn’t forget his manners. “Thanks,” he said.

  “You know what,” the woman said, “you ought to have a coat on.”

  Matt nodded and did his best to smile. “Yeah, I know. Thanks again.” He turned and walked away. And at that moment, it began to rain; a fine drizzle that quickly soaked him to the skin. He shook his head. This, he thought, is the worst day of my life.

  ***

  Johnny studied the door that led out onto the tiny lawn. The door was old-fashioned; small panes of glass surrounded by a flimsy wooden frame and secured with a simple latch. And of course, it was locked. That was all part of the game. She’d let him know that she wanted him, but he had to fight for her. That was his role. Hers was to put up a show of resistance.

  Johnny pulled his knife from his pocket and flipped the blade open. The knife was solid; a relic from World War II. Its handle was metal and its blade was thick and strong. He pressed the blade against the edge of the door and smiled as its sharp edge sank into the soft wood. When he felt the resistance of the latch, he lifted the blade and pressed harder. There. For a moment, the blade grated against the lock’s metal tongue, but then, suddenly, the old latch gave way and the door juddered open.

  Johnny grinned and closed his knife before pocketing it. He wouldn’t
need it. Not tonight.

  He opened the door and stepped inside, scanning the living room for any sign of danger. “Very nice,” he murmured. “Very cozy.” But he didn’t have time to hang around. He let himself out into the hallway. From upstairs he heard the sound of running water, the faint, lilting tones of his girl singing to herself. She was getting ready for him.

  Johnny took a breath. This was so good, so perfect. It was all he could do to stop himself giggling like a teenager. Our first time, he thought. Yes. And it would be her last.

  He unzipped his jacket pocket and took out his special tool, slipping the smooth metal band over his fingers. He’d made it himself and the metal band fitted perfectly across his hand. He flexed his fingers, checking that the twin points protruded correctly from his palm. He’d fashioned them from the largest bore hypodermic needles he could find, cutting them down and clamping them onto the metal band. He’d cleaned and sharpened them just last night and he knew they were ready. All he had to do was press his hand hard against her neck and the needles would puncture her skin, releasing the warm torrent of her glorious blood. He could almost feel it gushing onto his skin, flowing over his fingers.

  Johnny bared his teeth and sucked in a breath. Everything was as it should be. Everything was perfect. He squared his shoulders and walked toward the bottom of the stairs. Like the hallway, the stairs were carpeted. She wouldn’t hear his heavy boots as he came to claim his prize. Good. It would be such a shame to spoil the surprise.

  He placed his foot on the bottom step and began to climb the stairs. But then he heard something that rooted him to the spot.

  The growl was like nothing Johnny had ever heard; low and deep, a sound dredged up from the depths of hell. The hairs stood on end on the back of Johnny’s neck, and he turned, as slowly as he could, keeping his hand on the stair rail to steady himself.

  The dog stood in the hallway, its eyes narrowed, its lips twitching, and a growl rumbling in its throat. Christ! Johnny thought. It’s huge. And it was unexpected - a wrinkle in his plans. Where the hell had it come from? They hadn’t had it with them earlier. But whatever the explanation, the damn dog was here now, and it would have to be dealt with. Johnny held his ground. It might be big, he thought. But it’s still a pet - just a friendly pet.

  “It’s all right,” Johnny said, keeping his voice calm and level. “Nothing to worry about.”

  The dog pricked its ears up and tilted its head to one side. Its growl faded to a quiet grumble.

  Johnny nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Go back to your bed.”

  The dog raised its nose and sniffed the air as though trying to decide if it knew him.

  I’ll have to shut it in one of the rooms, Johnny thought. Keep it out of the way. He stepped down into the hallway and the dog backed away. “That’s right,” Johnny cooed. “You’re scared of me aren’t you? You stupid mutt.”

  The dog shuffled further back. It bent its legs and lowered its body. But it didn’t take its eyes off this strange man. It didn’t even blink.

  Johnny grinned and took another step toward the dog. “Go on,” he said, “go to your bed. Don’t be a bad dog.”

  The dog froze, its body tense, rigid.

  For god’s sake, Johnny thought. He raised his fist and advanced on the dog. “Just get out the way,” he hissed, “before I teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

  And the dog struck. It had drawn every muscle tight, wound every sinew, and now it unleashed their lethal energy, hurling itself through the air; a furious eruption of cold vengeance and ancient anger. Its huge paws slammed into Johnny’s chest, knocking him to the ground. Johnny fell heavily, crashing onto the floor, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. His head clipped the corner of the oak hall table and he cried out in pain. But not for long.

  The dog fastened its jaws on his throat, tearing into his flesh, crushing his windpipe. Johnny gasped for air, but none would come. The blood gurgled and bubbled in the back of his throat. He flailed his arms against the dog’s massive flanks, the needles on his palm sinking into the creature’s hide, but they had no effect. The dog hung on for grim death, closing its jaws tighter, squeezing the life from its prey.

  Johnny’s muscles twitched, convulsing his body, shaking him apart. And while his vision faded to gray, a burst of white-hot pain exploded into his mind. It scalded his soul, ripping through his body, searing into every cell.

  The dog watched its prey shudder and shake. It won’t be long now, it thought. And sure enough, within moments the strange man’s body went limp and flopped against the floor.

  The dog relaxed its grip and let go of the man’s neck, listening carefully as the gentle rasp of breath returned to the stranger’s throat. Good. He wasn’t dead. That would’ve spoiled everything.

  The dog changed its position to study the man’s neck. Among the mass of ruined flesh, the damaged jugular vein pulsed and dribbled blood. The dog bared its teeth. It would have to do better than that. It lowered its head and gently pressed its fangs against the man’s skin. There. A small bite and the vein was fully ruptured, the blood gushing out in a delicious stream.

  The dog drank, gulping at the rich blood, almost choking in its haste to swallow it down.

  And when there was no more to drink, the dog licked its lips and laid down on its front, nestling against the empty husk of the man’s body. It gave a satisfied grunt, rested its head on its paws and closed its eyes.

  A pulse of warm energy was already beating within the dog’s heart. Soon, its full strength would return, and then it would change, take on its true form.

  The dog sighed. The transformation would be painful, but it would be worth it to walk once more among the world of mortal men. It closed its eyes and made itself ready. And from upstairs, came the soft sounds of the woman singing.

  Thank You for Reading After Dark

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story, and I’d love to hear your comments, so please get in touch - contact details listed toward the end of the book.

  If you enjoy dark tales, you’ll like my collection: A Dark Assortment

  Find out where to buy A Dark Assortment

  Note: After Dark was originally published in a book called Ancient Enemies

  Find Ancient Enemies on Amazon.com

  Where do we go From Here?

  I’d love it if you would stick around. I’ll do my best to make it worthwhile; I try to deliver extra value to my readers whenever I can. The first stop on our journey together is to visit my website: mikeycampling.com

  Free Books, Special Offers plus a Proper Newsletter

  If you’d like to be the first to know about my new releases, learn about opportunities to receive some of my books for free, and get free exclusive downloads like audio stories and artwork, sign up for my newsletter without further ado: mikeycampling.com/freebooks

  Coming Soon

  The Trust—The Sequel to CHEATC0DE

  Hank is back, and this time, he’s playing for keeps. Hank’s next thrilling adventure is due for release in 2016.

  Don’t Miss Out

  The best way to keep up to date with Mikey’s new releases is to sign up for his newsletter at: mikeycampling.com/freebooks

  Also by Mikey Campling

  Click here to find all my books on Amazon.com

  Trespass: A Tale of Mystery and Suspense Across Time—The Darkeningstone Book I

  Three stories, separated by five thousand years, united by one deadly secret: Somewhere, sometime, the stone is waiting.

  Trespass combines gritty, edgy modern-day action with a thrilling adventure across time. Discovered over five thousand years ago, the Darkeningstone affects everyone who finds it.

  Jake was too smart to believe the rumours about Scaderstone Pit, but now he’s in more danger than he could ever have imagined.

  In 1939, as World War II looms, the lives of two men will be changed forever.

  Over five thousand years ago, a hermit will keep the stone a s
ecret. But someone is watching him—someone with murder in his heart.

  When it finds you, what will you see when you look into The Darkeningstone?

  Outcast—The Darkeningstone Book II

  3650 BC When Hafoc’s only family, his brother, is taken by the savage tribe known as the Wandrian, he’s determined to rescue him. But Hafoc is too young to face the Wandrian alone.

  2014 Tom lives a life of quiet, orderly routine. He needs it that way. But when he sees a mysterious stranger, his life begins to unravel. Who is watching him? And why do they seem hell bent on ruining his life?

  2018 Cally is working hard on her studies at university, so when she’s instructed to drop her research, she’s devastated. Will she give in or will she rebel? And who can she trust?

  Scaderstone Pit—The Darkeningstone Book III

  In the year 3550 BC, a woman runs for her life. She must find shelter before nightfall. But why is she so afraid?

  In 1919, the new owners of Scaderstone Rock prepare to open a quarry on the site. But what will they discover? Will the secrets of Scaderstone be unveiled?

  And in the future, what lies in store for Jake? He needs answers. But where can he turn? There is perhaps one person who can help him.

  Scaderstone Pit looks forward into the future and peers even further back into the myths and mysteries of the distant past. But there’s one thing you can be sure of:

  Somewhere, Sometime, The Stone is Whispering.

  Breaking Ground - A Darkeningstone Story

  A bonus story that adds extra detail to the Darkeningstone world but stands alone so it can be read before or after the full-length novels.

  A Dark Assortment

  Sometimes that noise you can hear upstairs is just the old floorboards creaking as they settle down for the night. Sometimes. But there’s no need to worry because that face you saw at the window was just a reflection. There’s no one else here. You’re alone. But that’s OK because you’re safe in your bed. And all those things you fear deep down in the dark reaches of your soul…well, they only happen in stories, don’t they?