Witching Hour (Witching Hour Series Book 1)

by A. I. Nasser

  "With Caroline Bennings?"

  "You mean The Dragon?" Aley said. Kyle smiled at the devil editor's nickname. "Yeah, I had the honor, if you can call it that."

  "That bad, huh?"

  "Let's just say, she earned her title."

  "You know what she called Shelter when I first sent it to Pippen's?" Kyle asked. Aley shook her head. "A complete waste of paper."

  Aley burst into laughter, and Kyle laughed along with her. He watched her take another sip from her beer and decided that he could do with two strangers tonight after all.

  ***

  Helen Lint noted the time on her phone, and sighed when she realized that she was still in the office well after midnight. Steven would be asleep by now, which probably meant that by tomorrow morning, they would pick up right where the telephone call had ended. She could only hope that Brian would be out and on his way to school before the shouting started.

  She sighed, fingered through the last three files, and quickly calculated how long it would take her to finish them. She looked out across the empty floor at the light coming from Jack's office. He had come to her twice tonight, both times equally inappropriate. When he had walked out of his office a third time, she braced herself to tell him off, and thanked whatever force in heaven was watching over her when he turned and walked towards the bathroom.

  Helen pulled a file out of the remaining pile of three and began to work. She rubbed her hands together, feeling a slight chill race through her, and when that wasn't enough, cupped them together and blew into the space between. It was still early fall, and she couldn't remember the temperature dropping this early in the year before. She thought about turning the heater on, then decided against it.

  It's the lack of sleep and exhaustion, that's all.

  Only it wasn't, and the more time passed, the colder her office got until she could see her breath forming small clouds of mist with every exhale. She frowned, reaching for her suit jacket and pulling it over her shoulders. She looked over at Jack's office again, wondering if the sick bastard had turned the air conditioning on just to make her uncomfortable. But she couldn't hear any noise coming from the vents above her head.

  Helen stood up and crossed to where the thermostat was. The little screen read seventy four degrees. She tapped a finger against it, wondering if maybe it was reading the room wrong. It was definitely much colder.

  The fluorescent lights above the cubicles began to flicker.

  Helen frowned as she watched them, then looked up at the ones in her own office. She watched them in anticipation, but nothing happened. She waited a few more seconds, and then tapped the thermostat again.

  She gasped when the lights went out, the entire office suddenly drenched in darkness.

  Helen felt something cold race down her back, and her skin broke out in goose bumps. The lights coming from Jack's office were still inexplicably on, but they seemed confined to his space, as if the darkness were too thick to be penetrated.

  Helen rushed to her desk, feeling about with her hands until she found her cellphone. She swiped at the screen, trying to bring a little light into the darkness around her, but all that appeared was a thin red line at the bottom of an outline of a battery. A shiver raced through her. She had just checked the time and could have sworn her phone had been half charged.

  She turned around, pondering whether to go to Jack's office or just wait for the power to come back. She was cold, and the darkness scared her, but she was still hesitant about spending more time with him than she needed to. Somehow, she felt safer in the darkness of her own office than in his where he could ogle her and say things that would make her hate herself.

  That was when the scratching sound started.

  It came as a soft scrape at first, gentle against the glass wall of her office. Helen took a step back, her hip striking against the edge of her desk. The scraping continued, growing in intensity and volume, until it felt like the paws of a dog scratching against a closed door, deafening in the surrounding darkness. Helen felt her heart beat begin to race, and the temperature of the room dropped to the point that her teeth began to rattle against each other.

  Then it stopped.

  Helen stood completely still, waiting, the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her hands shook uncontrollably, and she clasped them together in an attempt to stop the shaking. The silence was broken by the sudden shrill sound of her cellphone, her ringtone playing as if on fast forward. Helen's eyes were wide as she stared at it, the red line of her empty battery blinking, yet the phone vibrated on top of her desk, the incessant ringing echoing across the walls.

  Helen reached for it, and when her hand wrapped around the cold metal, the ringing stopped. She held her breath as she stared at the phone in her shaking hand. She tried to turn it on, but the red line just continued to blink.

  "So pretty."

  Helen's head snapped up just in time to see twin red eyes gazing at her from the darkness, and a cold hand slammed against her chest.

  The wind was blown out of her. For a brief second she felt that her heart had stopped, her breath caught in her lungs as if a hand were holding her windpipe closed. She was lifted off her feet, floating inches above the ground, her arms twisting behind her, her head pulled forcefully back by her hair.

  She opened her mouth to scream, and something cold and rotten reached down inside her. It filled her mouth and throat, slithering into her lungs and down her esophagus to her stomach and intestines. She felt it push against the soft tissue of her organs, seeping through and into her blood stream, racing alongside her cells and through to the rest of her body. She felt it seep into her spinal cord, rushing up to her brain in waves of fire that scorched her from the inside. She couldn't remember ever feeling this much pain, and still, she couldn't scream.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and she fell into a heap on the floor. The lights flickered and turned back on, and the cold quickly dispersed. Helen gasped and coughed, her eyes squeezed shut, her nails scratching against her throat as remnants of what had just happened lingered inside her. She could taste the rot against her tongue, and her stomach turned. She coughed more violently, and when she opened her eyes, she saw splatters of blood on the white tiled floor.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, and she painfully pushed herself to her feet. Slowly, she made her way out of her office, leaning against the frame of her door as another coughing fit wrecked her body. She looked up, tried calling for Jack, but her voice wouldn't come. When she coughed again, blood flew out of her mouth and splattered across the cubicle wall in front of her. She turned right, leaning against the cubicles as she forced herself to walk to the bathroom. The lights in the office flickered again, but remained on. She could feel her eyes burning, and her head throbbed, the world around her swimming in and out of focus.

  When she reached the bathroom, she flung herself against the door and stumbled inside, landing hard on the colored tiles and slamming her head against them. She felt a stinging pain in her temple, and was greeted with the sight of blood as she pushed herself to a sitting position. She reached out and grabbed the side of the sink, using it to help her to her feet. The pain intensified, and she fought the wobbling of her knees, which threatened to send her to the floor again.

  Helen gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, and blood was dripping down the side of her head where the skin had broken from her fall. Wrinkles spread across her face, giving her the appearance of having had aged a decade or two in the last five minutes. She lifted a shaking hand to where the blood was coming from, and she winced when her fingers touched the tender flesh.

  The lights above her flickered, and she looked up at them with a whimper. When her eyes fell back on her reflection, she stared in horror as the whites began to turn a bright red. Her pupils widened, darkening the irises around them until there was nothing left but a mixing cloud of red and black liquid. The colors swirled around each other, and suddenly the
skin below her eyes began to darken. She felt a rattling in her mouth, and when she opened it, several teeth fell out and clattered against the sink. Her gums shifted and darkened, and the skin on her cheeks slowly began to peel and hang in thin, rotting strands.

  Helen stared at her reflection as her face changed and shifted, and despite the horrors she was witnessing, her mouth curled up into a wide smile. Her lips cracked and bled, and when they moved, the voice that came from her was not hers at all.

  It was darker.

  Hoarser.

  Scratching, like nails against a blackboard.

  "So pretty."

  ***

  Kyle opened the door to his apartment and switched on the lights.

  His head was swimming.

  He had had one too many drinks, and the smile on his face was unlike him. Despite his wobbling and inability to lock the door after he closed it, despite the lightheadedness and his heavy eyes, he felt great. It was one AM, he was drunk, and he felt absolutely great.

  Aley Davis.

  The woman had definitely been a wonderful break from his usual routine. They had spent most of the night talking, and Kyle couldn't tell for sure, but there might have been some dancing as well. She had asked a lot of questions, and he had surprisingly answered all of them. He had shared more with her than he had shared with anyone else in Kent since he had come back, and for some obscure reason well beyond his understanding, he didn't care. For the first night since the fire, he truly felt like himself.

  Kyle trudged to his bedroom, throwing off his coat in the small hallway and kicking his shoes at the threshold. He unbuckled his belt, ignoring the lights and opting for the darkness instead. He slid off his pants, tried to step out of them and fell onto his bed, laughing.

  "Looks like you had fun."

  Kyle's laughter came to an abrupt stop. He felt a lump in his throat and he swallowed it with great effort. His head was still swimming, but he was starting to sober up real quick. He closed his eyes, hearing feet shuffling on the opposite side of the bed, and cursed himself for not turning on the lights before walking in.

  "Want to tell me about it?"

  Kyle didn't answer. He sat up slowly and made his way to the bathroom, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside.

  "Honey?"

  "Go away," Kyle replied, his mood killed, the reality of what awaited him during the next few hours sinking back in.

  "Kyle!"

  Kyle stopped. He began to shake.

  "Honey, why do you keep avoiding me?"

  Kyle felt tears well up in his eyes, and he shook his head slowly, his shoulders rising and falling as he sobbed.

  "Look at me."

  Kyle sniffed and shook his head harder.

  "Look at me, Kyle."

  Kyle's breathing quickened, and despite his better judgment, he turned slowly. He swayed, a part of him praying that he would lose his balance and collapse before he had turned around completely. His prayers went unanswered, though, and he stared through tear-filled eyes at the woman sitting on his side of the bed.

  Jennifer smiled at him. The flesh on the right side of her face was missing completely, the eye staring at him twitching in its socket. Her hair hung in thin strands from her burnt scalp, and her lips were pulled tight against her gums. The tendons in her neck stuck out and squelched as she cocked her head at him. The red dress she was wearing hung in strands over her burnt, naked body, and when she reached a hand out to him, the melting flesh popped and sizzled as if it were still aflame.

  "Now, come here and tell me about your night."

  Kyle felt his stomach turn and his head spin. He leaned a hand against his closet and tried to stay on his two feet.

  "Daddy?"

  Kyle's head snapped around instantly before he could think to stop it. His son stood in the threshold of the bathroom, his eyes gone, his face charred. He was still wearing his Cars pajamas, or what remained of them, and Kyle could see the missing toes on his feet.

  "You promised we'd go biking today, daddy."

  Kyle's eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the floor, darkness enveloping him.

  ***

  "Sugar!" Jack greeted when Helen knocked on his open door. "Did you finish those reports?"

  Helen smiled seductively and walked into the office, slowly, giving him the opportunity to run his eyes up and down her body before she sat down on the couch to one side. She crossed her legs, the hem of her skirt riding high and revealing most of her thigh. Jack's eyes widened in surprise, but his expression quickly gave way to a hungry smile.

  "We need to talk, Tucker," Helen said.

  Jack leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on her thighs, and locked his fingers over his stomach. He had known this day would come. He had been watching Helen carefully since the day she had been hired, and although she had shot down his initial attempts at charming her into his bed, he knew it would only be a matter of time. He didn't care that she was married, or the fact that she had a son. Jack had slept with married mothers before. Helen was not special in that department.

  She was, however, definitely worth the chase.

  "What about, sugar?" Jack asked, finally looking up at her eyes. His smile faltered for a second. He remembered her eyes being blue, but now they seemed a dark shade of brown, almost as black as her pupils. Not that it mattered to him. It just seemed rather peculiar. He was good at remembering details like that.

  "First of all, about the way you look at me," Helen said. "I find it charming that you've taken such an interest in me, even if it's only because of my body." Helen uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, and Jack could have sworn she wasn't wearing anything under her skirt. "But, Jack, if you're going to be so obvious, you better be willing to do something about it."

  Jack sat up straight as Helen stood up and walked to his desk. She bent down, leaning towards him, showing off enough cleavage to make his mouth water, and gestured for him to come to her with one long, seductive finger. Jack leaned forward, and she grabbed him by the tie and forcefully pulled him to her. She locked her lips with his, kissing him hungrily, her tongue snaking into his mouth.

  Jack reached out and began to unbutton her blouse when his eyes snapped open.

  Helen's tongue seemed to grow in his mouth, reaching deeper until it was pushing down his throat, choking him. He tried to speak, but could only gag against her tongue's assault. He tried to pull back, but she held him tight, and he groaned in protest. When Helen opened her eyes, Jack tried to scream. Her eyes were bright red, and inside them he could see the thousands of ways she was going to make him suffer until there was nothing left of his soul to punish.

  Helen let go, and Jack collapsed back in his chair. He was still choking. He could feel her tongue in his throat, although she was standing several feet away from him. He clawed at his throat, trying to beg for mercy, but all that came out were gurgles and gasps.

  Helen watched him with a wide smile on her face, then ran her hand across his desk, leaving a trail of tiny flames in her wake. They coalesced, growing in intensity until the entire desk was ablaze. Jack tried to push away from the growing fire, kicking back aimlessly. He fell heavily onto the ground, slowly choking to death while the flames licked at his clothes, caught, and began to spread across his body.

  Helen's smile never left her face as she watched Jack Tucker burn. When she was sure the flames had consumed him completely, she turned and walked out of the office, her arms open wide, and hands tracing lines of fire across everything she touched.

  Chapter 4

  The world was on fire, and Kyle was in the midst of it all.

  There was no escape this time. He was not watching from a hilltop somewhere far away as the flames danced in unison to some deathly tune. There was no relief from the singeing heat and the smell of burning flesh. He was here, surrounded by it, standing in the middle of the wide street disappearing into the horizon, the burning crucifixes with their victims nailed to each. The screams mixed with the cac
kling of the fire, and Kyle could feel his head threaten to explode with the sheer volume of it all.

  Almost on cue, the beast emerged. It came from between the flames, on all fours, like a wild animal that took comfort in the heat. Its head swung left and right, taking in its kingdom, its lips drawn back into a wild smile that reflected its glee in the midst of all the pain. Kyle watched the oozing flesh ripple with each agonizing scream, as if it were drawing strength from the torture being inflicted on those around it. It made its way through the crucifixes and into the street, then stopped.

  Its head turned.

  Slowly.

  Kyle's breath caught in his chest. He begged his legs to run. He fought to turn around, throw caution to the wind, and just sprint the hell out of there. But he couldn't. And as the head turned to face him, as those blazing eyes bore into his and the smile widened to reveal nothing more than a promise of eternal darkness, Kyle's knees buckled.

  The beast turned to face him and slowly stood up. It seemed larger than the last time he had seen it, and much stronger. Its talons dripped with what he could only assume was blood. The black smoke of burning wood and flesh fogged his eyes and made them watery, and he blinked furiously to clear them. He needed to see the beast, knowing that if he were the first to break the stare, it would lunge at him, screaming, laughing, and ripping him apart with those talons.

  Run, dammit, run!

  But Kyle couldn't move. His legs were trembling, his hands shaking vigorously, but he couldn't bring himself to run. It felt like his feet were cemented to the asphalt, the fires licking at him from all sides. The beast cocked its head to one side and its shoulders began to shake, and Kyle realized that it was chuckling in amusement at his temporary paralysis.

  "The time has come," the beast sighed, and although it stood several yards away from him, Kyle could hear its voice clearly. It came like a whisper against his ear, the soft breath of menace against his skin as the words reverberated inside his head.