by Ron C. Nieto
“Grandma!” she called again, flicking on the lights.
Out of her peripheral vision, she saw a shadow, a huge shadow occupying the center of the room that slowly folded in on itself instead of evaporating with the flood of light. She had to blink, and when she focused her gaze, everything looked normal. With a quick look around, she moved toward the living room.
“Grandma, as a joke, this is crap,” she said, her voice not quite as steady as it had been a moment before.
A noise came from the master bedroom. Lily left the blouse on the table and went to investigate. The hall lights were off, too, and it startled her. It was too dark, even though night hadn’t fallen, and in the recesses of the house, she had to squint. It was odd that her grandma hadn’t turned on the lamps to liven up the mood.
If she’s here at all, she thought. The idea crept on her and assaulted her, unfounded but unsettling. The house had never been this silent.
She opened the door to the bedroom very slowly without knocking, peering inside much like a child checks under the bed expecting to find all the monsters in spite of the irrational nature of such fears.
Holding her breath without even noticing, she reached in and flicked the lights.
“Hello? Is—?”
Something fell on her head. It wasn’t too big, perhaps the size of a big tomcat, but the impact suggested something much heavier.
Lily jumped back with a screech, batting at the thing perched on her head. Her hand found a clump of matted fur and something sharp clamped her fingers when she swatted at it. She wrenched her arm free and the thing thudded to the floor at her feet.
She would’ve kept screaming, but no air reached her lungs. A mixture of fear and incredulity gripped her throat as she stared at the unflinching yellow eyes leveled at her.
It wasn’t a tomcat.
The face staring at her might have belonged to a cat or a squirrel or a monkey, or to the twisted descendant of all three. Its ears were flattened against the sides of its head like a growling dog preparing to attack. It uncurled from the floor, stood on two legs and revealed long, ungainly arms, tipped with long fingers and twisted claws that came nearly to its knees. Its matted, brown fur was a mass of sweat and twigs with dull, rusty-red streaks that could have been dried blood.
Lily managed to drag in a breath and the air left her in a low, keening noise. The thing grinned at her, an expression entirely too human for its bizarre animal shape. There was amusement in that grin and its jagged teeth gleamed a thin crimson under the light from the bedroom.
Finally, Lily screamed, the sound tearing free from her throat and breaking the tableau. She stumbled backward, not daring to take her eyes from the thing, and it scurried after her with the disjointed movements of a two-legged spider. Something dug into her hip and there was a crash at her feet as Lily ran into the side table in the hall. She staggered and heard a hiss coming from the kitchen behind her, but it didn’t register, not until something sharp and twisted sliced into her calf.
There were more things in the darkness. The second one grabbed her leg with its over-sized arms and Lily kicked like a possessed woman, trying to dislodge it. It clung on, its claws digging deeper into her flesh as it prepared to bite. With a yell, she grabbed a flower vase from the side table and smashed it against the thing’s head. It let go with a yowl and Lily darted down the unlit hall.
She couldn’t stop screaming. It was one continuous stream of sound pouring from her throat, scraping and tearing at her vocal chords.
Lily collided against the front door. She wrenched at it with all her strength, shoved against it, but it didn’t budge. Behind her, she heard rattling laughter so close she could smell their tepid breath.
She had come in through the kitchen. The door she clung to now was locked.
Her trembling fingers held the latch for a few more moments, but then something big and hairy moved over her head, jumping lightly from one wall to the other, and her body bolted away of its own volition.
She crashed into the living room, the shadows and the panic making her trip and rush headlong into the furniture. The things scuttled behind her, their clawed feet tip-tapping against the floor, and their clawed hands scoured the walls with a screech.
She heard more scuttling in front of her. More things hid with her, and she lunged for a light switch. She needed to find an open window; she had to find something, a way to—
Through the sheer wall of terror, the state of the room hit Lily like a brick wall. The couch was overturned, shredded, spattered. There were red and black pools drying on the floor. The chairs had been shattered, and the table had become a convenient perch for yet another of those things. And the shades of every window were drawn.
C H A P T E R VII
Somewhere in her mind, a rational part of her realized with clinical detachment that the things had laid in wait and prepared a trap for her—the silence, the darkened house to prevent her from truly seeing what had happened when she first came through. The creatures, whatever they were, knew she would come back and were intelligent enough to prepare for it.
She scanned the room again, this time trying to think, to analyze. Fear still held her, but the precious few seconds the three creatures gave her, just looking and chattering, were enough to let her regroup. Lily knew she had to run away, and she also knew that if those things were taking their time, almost laughing at her, that meant she had fallen in their trap. There was no way out of the living room, so she would have to create her own escape route.
Mackenna’s house had a fireplace. It was just on the other side of the overturned couch. If she could only reach it, she would be able to use the bronze poker as a weapon. To do that though, she would have to get very close to the little monster perched on the table, and she would have to move fast before the three creatures stopped their yapping and closed in on her.
Lily got her feet under her and grabbed the first thing her fingers found: the glass bottle where her grandmother had put away the remnants of the remedy she had prepared that night, which was miraculously intact. She hurled it toward the table with all her strength and it shattered in front of the creature. The shards showered its face and arms, and it screeched in surprise, scurrying backward. Wherever the clear liquid from the mixture touched its dirty fur, a thin rivulet of smoke curled away, carrying the stench of burned flesh.
She lunged across the living room, vaulted over the couch with adrenaline-powered grace, and reached the poker. She turned back toward the creatures, brandishing it like a blade. Her breath came in short gasps, and her eyes roved wildly between the three monsters now crouched together in front of the living room door, but her hand held steady. She took a step forward and they scuttled back, shifting their weight, their eyes wide open.
They’re scared, she thought. One had fresh blood on its head where she had bludgeoned it with the vase. Another had charred tufts of fur and a gaping cut in one of its clawed hands. None of them made any sound anymore. I’ve managed to hurt them and now they’re scared.
A sliver of confidence made her stand straighter. She took two more quick steps and one of the creatures yipped and fled to the side.
Okay. Okay, I can get out of here.
She kept walking slow and measured steps toward the door, menacing the creatures while moving slightly to the side so she could keep the one cowering inside the room in her vision. It moved farther into the room while the other two retreated into the corridor when she was nearly upon the door. She stepped close to the wall, ready to bolt while still keeping an eye on both groups.
Then, the creature in the room smiled up at her. It was a sweet smile, huge eyes blinking and bloody teeth poking from behind non-existent lips, and it froze the blood in her veins with a grip of terror. The poker wavered in her hand and she heard a snicker coming from the creature that seemed no longer scared. She focused her attention and found it staring at her with amused curiosity. Very slowly, one of its hands rose to its face and one wicked claw
unfurled, pointing.
Up.
Lily raised her eyes. She stood below the trapdoor to the attic and the gleaming yellow eyes of a fourth creature stared down.
It launched itself at her, its claws extended, its mouth opening in a screech that displayed rows of jagged teeth. Lily brought the poker up but its feet kicked and slapped it out of her hands. It fell with a clank that was drowned by the thud of her body. Its face hovered above hers for a second, then it screeched again, bringing down its claws to rake her face. She twisted and brought her arms around her head, trying to curl into a ball to protect herself, but the moment her back touched the floor, the other three creatures rushed her. They held her arms and her legs, their claws slicing into her flesh. Teeth grazed her side and she arched her back, bucking, trying to dislodge the creature from her chest in a desperate attempt to escape.
She succeeded in forcing it to hold on tighter, its hands and feet opening bloody gouges in her upper body.
Grandma, where are you? I’m going to die here! I need you! The thoughts floated around her head, swimming in pain and fear.
Then, the creature on top of her collapsed, gurgling. A spear of cold punched her chest and icy water tickled out of its mouth and down her neck, mixing with her tears. It didn’t move again.
The one that had bitten her stopped gnawing and raised its head. Through blurry eyes, Lily saw it fall, struggling and fighting, clutching its belly. It had been speared by the poker. The figure wielding it yanked it free and the creature twitched before staying still. The figure then rose to his feet, arching the poker like a bat as he did. Warm droplets of blood fell on Lily’s face and the head of the creature holding her arms cracked with a sickening noise.
Lily jerked and kicked her legs. The thing that held them offered only a token resistance and then let go, scuttling back and hissing at the newcomer. He stood by her head and held the bent poker loosely clasped in one hand. The other he held out, palm up, to her.
She grabbed on with both hands like a lifeline, but her legs refused to hold her weight when she tried to climb to her feet. The understanding of how close she’d been to death—how close she could still be—made the sobs uncontrollable.
“Stand,” he said after a moment of her fumbling.
Lily felt fingers of hysterics reaching down her spine and she laughed between hiccups.
I’m trying. I’m trying! She couldn’t even form the words.
He canted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on the remaining creature as he considered it. His fingers tightened on her trembling ones. “There are more,” he said in calm tones. “Stand.”
And somehow, she did. She had to clutch his hand and forearm and use him like a crutch, but she did.
“My grandmother,” she managed to say.
He shook his head.
“No, what?” she insisted, her voice barely above a crow.
“Not here.” His gaze wandered the room, the house. He frowned. “We must leave. At once.”
There were sounds of scurrying feet, of claws hitting the wooden floors. There was faint chattering and yapping coming from other rooms, other dark corners. Part of Lily was appalled at herself, but still she nodded. She had to get away and then she would think straight and figure out what was happening.
“Okay.” She shuffled toward the door. He dropped the bronze poker and used his freed hand to steady her and hurry her along. They stopped by the living room door. “It’s dead,” Lily whispered, staring at the body of the fourth creature. She hadn’t seen it fall—hadn’t seen him attack.
“So it is,” said the stranger, his tone amused. “And so are the other three, if you failed to note it.”
“I didn’t see you move.” Somehow, that fact was important. It tried to tell her something, something she should consider instead of just following a man she didn’t know, but the message got garbled and lost in the trauma of recent events.
As a reply, he gave the body a light kick, just enough to roll it on its back. A trickle of water escaped its nose and mouth, and Lily remembered the cold liquid on her neck when the first creature died too.
“Drowned?” She freed a hand to rub at her neck, fighting back a shiver.
“Yes. Now, if you are quite done?”
“Couldn’t you kill the rest? So we can stay? I need to find my grandma, see what happened to her.”
He pretended to be pensive for all of a blink and then began walking again, dragging Lily behind with little resistance on her side. “I will not,” he said while they turned the hall and crossed the main door. It had been blasted off its hinges and lay haphazardly against the wall. “They are but overgrown rats, nigh impossible to exterminate.”
“But—”
“They shall eat you the moment I turn my back for a fight,” he cut her off. “They will not be caught unawares a second time.”
Lily said nothing else and did her best to keep up with his long strides as they descended the porch.
“This is far enough,” he said when they cleared the front yard. He pried her fingers off his arm and hand, not without care, and guided her to cling to a young three instead.
“The house is right there,” she said, fighting his movements. “They’ll get me. They’ll come out and eat me anyway! You can’t leave me here.”
He paused, stared at her and, once more, disentangled her fingers from his clothing, using a little more force. “This is far enough,” he repeated.
“Don’t leave me!” Lily cried, hating the terror in her voice, the need in her outstretched hands, the willingness to just escape, and yet not hating it enough to stop clinging to survival.
Before her sentence was finished, though, he was gone. His body melted, a liquid shape of pure blackness that flickered in the purple light of a rapidly falling twilight, and then it coalesced once more before her very eyes. The blackness solidified into smooth skin covering coiled muscles, its rugged edges a dripping mane, and when it shifted, powerful hooves turned up the soil in their wake.
Lily’s knees gave out and she fell to the ground, her mouth opening and closing without any sound.
“This is far enough for me to shift,” the man’s voice said, sounding straight to her head.
“What are you?” she managed when he turned a steady gaze on her.
“I cannot imagine you find me to be a worse alternative to your other guests.”
She tore her eyes from him and toward the house. She thought she imagined yellow eyes blinking in the darkened doorway. If this man—this other creature—in front of her meant her harm, it couldn’t possibly be worse than what awaited her in there.
He sensed her resolution and the great horse head nodded. “Come. Climb up and let us be away.”
Lily climbed to her feet, leaning on the tree for help, and then gingerly placed her hands on the horse’s back, his arched neck. Her head barely came above his withers.
“I can’t ride,” she confessed.
Its forelegs bent, its back lowered. Its head remained tilted, staring at her with calm and intelligent eyes. “You cannot fall,” the voice said.
She clambered on awkwardly, mindful of her wounds and stealing glances back. Once astride, she barely had time to brace herself before he surged to his feet, heaving a great snort and launching into a fast canter that quickly became a gallop. She didn’t dare scream.
They cut through shrubbery and jumped clear through fallen branches, twisting around gnarled threes and evading rocky outcrops, and Lily didn’t fall.
C H A P T E R VIII
Lily woke. She didn’t have any recollection of falling asleep or passing out, but when she opened her eyes, the cottage was no longer in sight and she was no longer riding.
A dream? She stirred and a jolt of pain traveled her body.
“I would ask you not to do that,” the level voice of the stranger said somewhere behind her. “I took great pains to close your wounds and I dislike working in vain.”
Lily moved her arm ever so sl
ightly, just enough to glimpse her hand. In the dim light, it looked covered in a mud-like paste and wrapped in rough cloth. A doctor would fret at the possible infection, and it did feel numb, but after the attack and the overwhelming events, numb was too much of a blessing to complain.
“Where am I?” she asked instead.
“Someplace safe.” He walked around and crouched in front of her, close enough for her bleary eyes to make out his features and study him. His coal black hair was wet and slicked back. Occasional droplets of water fell down his brow, running down the side of his face and neck. He had delicate eyebrows, a well-defined jaw and sharp cheekbones that gave his angular face a striking, atemporal beauty. His thin lips were smirking.
“Who are you?” Lily pressed on, fighting a sudden urge to crawl back and put some distance between them.
“A friend. The question is, dear girl”—his eyes caught the scant light and glinted, the luminescent green of lichen—“who you are. What is your name?”
“Lily,” she said. He canted his head, eyes narrowed in thought, and after a moment she added, “Lily Boyd.”
That startled a laugh out of him. He rocked forth on the balls of his feet, his crouch bringing him too close, breaking all illusions of personal space. She caught sight of his tongue, darting out to wet his lips.
“Such delicious naivete,” he said. “It truly is, is it not? Lily Boyd.” Her name rolled off his mouth, languid and sensuous, and she felt a chilling tingle down her spine. He watched her reaction and nodded, satisfied, before sitting back to give her a little more room.
“What’s yours?” she asked, trying to shake the odd sensation.
“Why are you wearing that piece of jewelry?” he asked in turn, pointing to her neck with a long, delicate finger.
On reflex, her hand went up to grab the silver charms and the movement sent another flash of pain through her arm. She gritted her teeth through the worst of it.
