Witching Hour (Witching Hour Series Book 1)

by A. I. Nasser

  Grabbing her limp arm, she made for the offices, and would have been crushed by another sliding bookcase had she not tripped over her own feet and fallen right into the newly formed wall of books in front of her. Tracey slid down to her knees, defeated, the fight inside her dispelled by the nonsense of what was going on around her. She turned around, and at the mouth of the dead-end aisle stood Helen.

  Helen gestured to Tracey with both hands and began to applaud. "Great show, great show!" she said, her eyes fully ablaze, her lips pulled back tightly against her gums making her jaw protrude like a muzzle. "Superb sportsmanship. I have to say, if I knew for sure that you couldn't help me, I would have put you out of your misery a long time ago."

  Helen strolled towards Tracey, her hands clasped in front of her chest and her head cocked, like a predator waiting to see what its prey would do next. Tracey felt like a lab rat in this maze of books, and the test was finally over. Helen was done playing.

  "So, since you won't tell me what I want to know," Helen said, crouching down in front of Tracey, "I'll just have to find out myself."

  Helen grabbed the stake in Tracey's shoulder, pushed it in further and twisted. Tracey's head shot back and she screamed in newfound agony, the pain in her shoulder radiating through her entire body. She felt something hot and sickly extend into her open mouth, forcing her to gag, and silky tendrils extended upwards into the base of her skull. She could feel them racing about inside her head, and suddenly, the darkness overwhelmed her completely.

  All she could see were faded images of her memories, people from her life, her mother scolding her for not cleaning her room, her father nervously grasping onto his seatbelt as he taught her how to drive, her boyfriend from junior high to whom she had lost her virginity. They came and went in flashes, barely taking form before disappearing in a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke.

  Then there was Kyle.

  He stood at the front desk of the library, tapping away at the computer they kept there. He squinted at the screen, jotted something down, then gave the piece of paper to someone Tracey couldn't see. Kyle smiled as he watched that someone hurry off, visibly happy that he had been of help.

  He then looked straight at Tracey, and his eyes burst into flames.

  Tracey could feel the tendrils quickly withdraw from her head and out of her mouth, and she gasped for air as her vision blurred and slowly refocused. She was in the library, and crouched in front of her was Helen, smiling.

  "Thank you," Helen said.

  Tracey watched in horror as the woman's face shifted. It began to break, as if it had been stitched together like pieces of a puzzle, and from in between the pieces, small flames surged out. Helen's mouth opened into a dark abyss of smoke and burning flesh. The eyes maintained their fixed stare, and a hand reached out to grab Tracey by the jaw.

  Tracey screamed as her entire body went up in flames.

  ***

  The sirens snapped Kyle out of his trance.

  He was pulling out onto North Main Street and turning south towards the Kent Country Inn. His eyes were open, his hands firmly on the wheel, but his mind had wandered. His thoughts ran wild, some trying to make sense of the vision he had experienced at the café, others swirling about in his head in an attempt to work out what he was going to say once he saw Fegan.

  The fire engine raced past him, flashing lights almost blinding even in the light of the day, the sirens making his ears ring. It took him completely by surprise, and Kyle almost ran the curb as he swerved out of its way, heart pounding by the sudden eruption of sound and lights racing by him. He stopped the car and stared out through his windshield at the rising smoke a few blocks away, black and ominous, stretching out as if to cover the entire town.

  Kyle frowned.

  Two fires last night, and another one today. There was no doubt in his mind that there was something to Fegan's warning after all, and the sooner he made it to the Country Inn, the faster he could finally find the answers he sought.

  He shifted into drive, ready to pull away from the curb, when he stopped and watched as people raced after the fire engine. A couple of cars came to a stop outside Webster's Bank and the drivers climbed out, leaning against their open doors as they watched the fire from afar.

  Kyle did the same, leaving his car door open and walking out into the middle of North Main Street, bumping into people as they raced past him. He felt his heart beat faster, and as he moved with the crowd in a daze, he realized that the fire was a lot closer than he had thought. It was obvious that the fire was eating away with even more intensity at whatever it was that was burning, and the smoke rising into the sky began to thicken.

  By the time he had reached the edge of Kent Station, Kyle felt his knees buckle and his heart jump into his throat. The fire engine had set up and was starting to shoot water into the flames. The firefighters had pushed the onlookers back far enough to form a semi-circle extending right into the street. Police sirens joined the wailing sounds that mixed with the crackling of the flames, and officers jumped out of their cruisers to help establish a proper perimeter. Cars were parked at awkward angles on both sides of the crowd of spectators, their occupants watching in shock as flames shot up into the sky like tendrils between the black smoke.

  The library was on fire.

  Kyle began to run. He didn't know he was doing it until he found himself slamming into the crowd and pushing his way frantically forward. Someone shouted at him, someone else pushed him, but Kyle kept going. He shouldered his way through until he reached the edge of the perimeter and ran straight into the burly arms of a police officer.

  "Hey!" the officer shouted, grabbing him and pulling him back. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

  Kyle didn't hear him, desperately fighting to break free, his ears ringing and his eyes wide. All he could see was the fire. All he could hear was the sound of wood cracking and foundations bending. He was back in Los Angeles, gazing at his home as it burned, his wife and son still inside. Kyle opened his mouth and screamed in a mix of fury and pain, fighting with every bit of strength he had to break free from the officer holding him. He needed to get inside. He needed to save Jennifer and Michael.

  "Calm down!" the officer yelled at him, but Kyle wasn't listening. In front of him, the library shifted into his home back in California, and the home shifted back to the library. In the flames, he could still hear screaming, and in his ears the yelling of the firefighters telling him that going anywhere near the house was suicide. It was all coming down.

  The library's north wall crumbled, and the entire building shifted towards the missing weight. Firefighters were screaming at everyone to get back, the police frantically pushing back the perimeter even further. More sirens sounded as a second engine tried to make its way through the mesh of people and to the fire.

  And all Kyle could do was watch helplessly as he fought against the arms that wouldn't let him go, no matter how much he yelled and kicked and lashed out. A second officer came to assist, and together with the first one, they pinned Kyle to the ground as tears streamed down his cheeks. He begged them to let him go, but they wouldn't listen. To save his wife and son. They only stared at each other in confusion.

  The library roof toppled to one side and came down in a crash of fire, bursting out and showering the firefighters in debris.

  Kyle watched as the library crumbled and burned. His mind suddenly snapped back to reality, and he was overcome by an even worse sense of panic.

  Tracey. Oh God please don't let her still be in there!

  Kyle wrestled against his captors again, but still couldn't break free. The second officer bent his head down and yelled into Kyle's ear. "Don't force me to cuff you, Kyle!"

  Kyle looked up at him, recognizing the face but not the name, knowing that the only reason he wasn't in cuffs and being locked up in the backseat of the cruiser was because he knew him. Kyle gave up trying to remember and stared in a daze at the library as the fires licked away at what rema
ined.

  "Let go of him!" someone yelled, and Kyle felt the pressure on him ease for a moment. "You can't do that!"

  "Get back, lady!"

  Kyle looked behind him and gazed at Aley Davis as she pushed at the officer. He caught her eye and was surprised to see just how angry she was.

  "I'm easing up here, Kyle," the second officer said. "Please don't make me regret that."

  Kyle looked back at Aley. "I'm fine," he called out. He looked at the officer and nodded. "I'm fine."

  The officer let him go, and Kyle allowed himself to be escorted back to the edge of the perimeter where Aley was waiting.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  Kyle nodded and turned back to the officer. "Is anyone inside?" he asked.

  The officer shrugged. "No idea," he said. "Doesn't seem like it, but we can't tell for sure."

  "Tracey Garfield," Kyle said.

  "What about her?"

  "She was supposed to be working here today," Kyle replied. "You need to find her."

  "One thing at a time," the officer assured him with a small nod. "Let's just put that bad boy out first. You can look around if you want. Maybe she's in the crowd. Just make sure you don't try to break the perimeter again."

  Kyle nodded, and turned to Aley when he felt her hand on his arm. "We'll find her," she said.

  He wasn't as convinced. The flashing images of his past mixed with the memories of his wife's burning screams all made for one hell of a bad omen. Still, he needed to believe that Tracey was okay. If only he had been there instead of calling in sick.

  Kyle searched the crowd from where he stood. He squinted, trying to ignore the sounds of the fire and the yells of the firefighters as he scanned the faces. He couldn't find Tracey. He was about to give up and just wait for the crowd to thin when his eyes fell on a brunette standing on the opposite side of the perimeter to him. She wasn't watching the fire like everyone else, but was staring straight at him. He was too far away to recognize her, but he couldn't miss the dark stains on her blouse or the fact that she was standing barefoot.

  Kyle frowned, and just before he turned away, the woman's eyes turned a blazing red, and she smiled at him.

  "Ow!"

  Kyle's head snapped towards Aley. His hand was gripping her arm tight, and she forcefully pulled it away.

  "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, frowning at him.

  Kyle muttered an apology and turned back.

  The woman was gone.

  Chapter 7

  “You don’t have to come with me.”

  “You’re in no position to drive right now,” Aley countered, adjusting the driver’s seat of Kyle’s car and checking the rearview mirror.

  Kyle opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. She wasn’t wrong.

  For the past three hours, he had watched in frustration as the firefighters desperately worked to put out the fire that had consumed the Kent Library. By the time the flames were out and the skies were coated in black smoke, all that remained was a pile of smoldering rubble, a mountain of black timber and pages of burnt books fluttering in the wind like snowflakes. The crowd had dwindled to only a handful of people, and it was clear that Tracey had not been outside with the rest, watching her place of employment burn to the ground.

  He had tried calling her every five minutes, each call going to her voice mail after the fourth ring, and only adding to Kyle’s frustration and worry. It had taken the appearance of an ambulance, and the solemn face of the police officer that had come to talk to him, for the truth to finally settle in.

  Tracey was dead.

  Kyle’s body shook with this realization, a deep sense of guilt building in the pit of his stomach. No matter how much his mind tried to assure him that none of this was his fault, his senses refused to accept it. All he could think about was that he had not shown up for work, and Tracey had died in the process. A thousand excuses popped up in his head, a million scenarios where, if he had been in the library, he probably would have been able to save her.

  And let’s not forget the vision, right? That was a slap in the face right there.

  Kyle shook his head, the memories of his own smoldering house back in California fresh in his mind as if it had all happened yesterday. He could still see the gurneys as they rolled away the charred bodies of his wife and son, could still feel the comforting hand on his shoulder that had felt like a deadweight, and the words of comfort that were supposed to bring him some sort of inexplicable peace. He felt like he was reliving the past, now in broad daylight, with the entire town a witness to the nightmares he had been running from.

  The police had held him back for questioning, and although it had angered him at first, right now it didn’t seem like much of a surprise. His past was no secret, especially in Kent, and he could only imagine what most of the townsfolk would be thinking.

  They’re probably blaming you for the fire, eh Kyle? First your home, now the place you work? I mean, think about it. Really suspicious if you ask me.

  Kyle clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the voice in his head to the furthest corners of his mind, into the dark recesses where he hoped it would never return to remind him that, once more, he was surrounded by fire and death.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Kyle blinked and turned to look at Aley. She was watching him carefully, her worry clearly reflected in her eyes. He hardly knew the woman, yet here she was, sitting in front of his steering wheel, ready to help in whatever way she could. He was surprised she had stuck around through all of it, genuinely trying to reassure him when he had tried to reach Tracey, waiting patiently as the police had asked him question after agonizing question. She had even insisted on walking him back to where he abandoned his car, and when his keys fumbled in his hands, she gently pushed him aside and offered to drive him home.

  Kyle nodded. “Not really, but I’ll live.”

  Aley held her gaze for a few seconds before taking in a deep breath and placing both hands on the steering wheel. “Okay,” she said with mock resolution. “Let’s get you home.” She turned to him. “I’m new here, so you’re going to have to give me directions.”

  “I’m not going home,” Kyle said.

  “Oh?”

  He shook his head. “The Country Inn.”

  Aley sat back and frowned. He had definitely been off ever since learning about Tracey’s death, but Aley began to wonder if maybe he was in shock as well. “The Country Inn?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Listen, Kyle, I’m not a doctor,” she began, “but I’m pretty sure home is the place you should be right now.”

  Kyle didn’t look at her and only stared straight ahead. “I told you, you don’t have to come with me.”

  “Kyle–”

  “And no, you’re not a doctor,” he continued, turning to look at her. “So if you do want to help, then please start the car and take me to the Country Inn.” He turned away again and added, “I’ll give you the directions.”

  Aley bit her lip, watching him closely, trying to discern whether she should follow her instincts or do what he wanted. He was in no condition to be moving about on his own, and if she pushed any more, he would probably just kick her out and drive to the inn anyway. She sighed, adjusting herself in her seat, and started the car.

  “Why do you want to go to an inn?” she mumbled, not expecting a reply.

  It took Kyle a few seconds before he finally said, “I have questions.”

  ***

  Sheriff Jeffrey Gadge stood with his back to the remains of the Kent Library. His eyes scanned the streets, his mind drifting as he watched pedestrians slow down near the site, then quickly hurry away. A blue Ford drove past him, and Jeffrey squinted as he thought he caught sight of a recognizable face sitting in the passenger seat.

  “That’s Kyle Ashfeld.”

  Jeffrey turned just as Adrian came up beside him. The officer lit a cigarette, and Jeffrey fought the urge to remind him that they were
standing at the scene of a recent fire. He only stared at the red tip of the cigarette, thinking that there really wasn’t anything left to catch fire anyway.

  Jeffrey turned back and watched the blue Ford recede in the distance. “The author?” he asked.

  Adrian mumbled something incomprehensible, and when Jeffrey turned, he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and said, “Yeah, that one. We got a statement from him before he left. He worked here, you know? Didn’t come in today, though.”

  Jeffrey clicked his tongue. “Lucky,” he muttered.

  “I don’t think Tracey Garfield feels the same way,” Adrian replied.

  “Are we sure it’s her?”

  Adrian shrugged and shook his head. “Who else could it be? We’ll get confirmation within the hour.”

  Jeffrey turned his attention back to the remains of the library, grimacing as he watched the firefighters gather their gear and prepare to leave. Three fires in less than twenty-four hours, and he still had no idea what was going on. The one thing he was sure of was that it couldn’t have been a coincidence, and if he could reach that conclusion, it wouldn’t be long before others did, too. Soon he was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

  “Any idea who was with him in the car?”

  Adrian coughed. “What?”

  “Ashfeld wasn’t driving,” Jeffrey pointed out, raising an eyebrow to Adrian expectantly.

  “Oh,” Adrian nodded and scratched his head. “New in town. I think we got her name somewhere, but it didn’t seem like she was that important.”

  Jeffrey grunted.

  “It’s a little weird, though,” Adrian said. “I mean, the guy loses his wife and son in a fire, comes back to Kent, and now the place where he works burns down.”

  “Talk like that is how rumors start,” Jeffrey commented.