Witching Hour (Witching Hour Series Book 1)

by A. I. Nasser

  And all the while, the red eyes never left him.

  “I found you,” came a hissing sound from somewhere behind him. Kyle swirled around, but the backseat was empty. A burst of manic laughter followed from all around him, coming from every angle, threatening to drive him insane.

  “Kyle!” Aley screamed.

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” Kyle shouted. “Run it over!”

  “What?”

  Kyle grabbed the gear and shifted the car into drive. “Run the damn thing over!” he screamed at her.

  As if sensing what they intended to do, the woman stopped, then began to race towards them, her mouth open in a wild scream. The windshield burst, shocking them out of their stupor, and Kyle’s head snapped back as Aley pressed down hard on the gas and the car lunged forward. The tires screeched against the asphalt as they sped forward.

  They met the woman halfway, and with a sickening thud, crashed into her. There was the distinct sound of bones breaking, and Kyle closed his eyes as the woman was hurled onto the hood of the car. For a brief moment, he was struck with the fear of the body flying in through the windshield, of being locked inside the car with the demon. The fear was so strong, that a part of him wanted to reach out through the broken glass and push the body away. But he was frozen in place.

  If she’s not dead, if it turns its head and looks at me, I’ll lose my mind.

  Aley swerved the car to the right, then swung it sharply to the left and flung the woman off. There was a loud snapping sound as the woman’s head slammed against what remained of the windshield, then disappeared completely over the side.

  “Keep going!” Kyle yelled, but Aley didn’t need coaxing. She kept her foot pressed down on the gas pedal, sending the car flying down Elizabeth Street until they turned the corner, the car swerving dangerously out of control.

  “Is she following us?” Aley screamed over the screech of tires, struggling to keep control of the vehicle while simultaneously refusing to ease off the gas.

  Kyle turned around, half expecting to see the demon racing after them, but the street was empty.

  “Is she?” Aley screamed at him.

  “No!”

  “Dammit, Kyle, what the hell did you drag me into?”

  He didn’t know how to answer that, his body still shaking with the shock of what he had just seen. He had no explanation for it, nothing that would make sense anyway, and a part of him wasn’t even ready to believe any of it. Whatever that woman was, he needed to find another explanation other than what he was sure was the truth. Anything else. Because admitting it to himself scared him a whole lot more.

  It’s coming for you. It’s found you.

  Kyle shuddered.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  Kyle didn’t answer, looking left and right as he tried to make out where they were, his mind racing to figure out what their next move should be.

  Fegan. Go find Fegan.

  “Is this Bridge Street?” he asked.

  “Really?” Aley snapped. “What? Do you want a friggin’ tour? Maureen’s house just went up in flames, probably with Maureen in it. We’re being chased by some demented creature from Hell. And you want to know where we are?”

  Aley approached the bridge over the Housatonic, racing past another car as she made her way east.

  “Turn around,” Kyle said.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Aley shot back.

  “The inn,” Kyle explained. “We need to get to Fegan. He’s the only one who can tell us what to do.”

  “After our last talk, I really doubt he’s going to be very helpful,” Aley hissed. “I’m getting us the hell out of Kent.”

  “Aley, turn the damn car around!”

  Aley slammed down on the brakes, and the car came to a skidding stop at the side of the road. “No!” she yelled at him, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. “I left New York for peace, not freak fires and twisted walking corpses!”

  “Then take me to Fegan,” Kyle said. “The inn’s on the route out of Kent anyway, and you can keep the car. Drop me off and drive away.”

  Aley opened her mouth to reply, fell short of words, and cursed instead. “You know what? Fine,” she said, shifting into drive and turning the car around. “Suit yourself. But only the inn and that’s it for me. I’m out.”

  “Fair enough,” Kyle replied.

  “And if we run into the bitch from Hell again?”

  Kyle felt his body stiffen. “Then run her over again.”

  Chapter 10

  Deputy Adrian Brimstone turned off his computer, sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  He had been staring at his computer screen for hours, scouring lead after lead, trying to piece together any connection between Kyle Ashfeld and the Lints. He had made calls, sent out emails, and even called people in the Lints’s circle of friends. The only thing that seemed to connect them together was a library card in Steven Lint’s name, and the fact that Helen Lint was an avid fan of the horror genre and had a few of Ashfeld’s books.

  Other than that, Kyle Ashfeld was your typical model citizen. Stayed to himself, visited with Kingsley’s regulars, and smoked like a chimney. That last piece of information struck Adrian as particularly ironic, but there really wasn’t much more to the man. Came back home, sold his family house, and bought a smaller apartment closer to where he worked. All Kyle Ashfeld needed was a dog and a few pro-bono creative writing classes at the school, and he could have had a statue erected in his honor in the middle of town.

  Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted at the headache forming behind his eyes. He needed a cigarette break, a cup of coffee, and maybe a few minutes listening to The Doors before he got back to work. He was already burning the midnight oil and there were still a few officers lingering in the station well past their shift. Besides, as long as the Sheriff was here, Adrian felt he would probably look like crap if he called it a night with nothing to show for it.

  He stood up, stretched, and arched his back far enough until he heard the familiar cracking sounds. Shaking his arms and legs, he quietly made his way to the coffee machine and switched it on.

  There has to be something. Anything. None of this makes sense.

  He leaned against the wall, eyes on the pot slowly filling with fresh coffee, and let his mind sift through the information he had gathered so far. He made a mental note to call Maureen Chandler in the morning and ask about the new girl in town, hoping that maybe there would be something there. She hadn’t been in Kent for very long, and to be buddying up with Kyle Ashfeld in the midst of all that’s been happening, there had to be something there. It felt like he was grasping for straws, but it was all he could do right now. Until Helen Lint was found, that’s all they really had.

  Adrian poured himself a cup of coffee, took a sip, and cringed at how it tasted before making his way back to his desk. One of the younger officers caught his eye and nodded at him, and Adrian shot him a reassuring smile; one of his ‘you’re-doing-a-great-job’ gestures he hoped would keep the force motivated. The Sheriff was retiring in a couple of years, and Adrian was already working on the first few steps of his campaign. Making sure he got the support of everyone working with him was a big step in the right direction, and so far, he was making a lot of friends.

  He looked over at Sheriff Gadge’s office. The lights were still on, but the blinds had been drawn, and Adrian knew that probably meant Gadge was taking a short nap to recharge. He sat down at his desk, took another sip of coffee, and shook the computer mouse to turn the screen back on. The screen flickered, shifted and discolored, then went out completely.

  “What the hell?”

  Adrian slapped the side of the screen, then inspected the wires when nothing happened. Everything seemed in place, but he removed and replaced each one just in case. He turned on the screen, waited for a few seconds, then cursed under his breath.

  “Hey, Adrian?”

  Adrian turned around to the
officer he had just acknowledged on his way back from the coffee station, and racked his mind for the young man’s name. Forgetting people’s names is a great first step in losing that campaign, he thought.

  “What’s up, Jack?” he asked, praying he had gotten the name right.

  “My computer died,” the officer replied. “I turned it on and off, and nothing. Just like that. One minute it’s working fine, the next it’s dead.”

  Adrian frowned. “Yeah, mine too.”

  “Do you think we’re being hacked?” Jack asked.

  “Really?” Adrian smiled. “Us? Why? Because we’re hiding nuclear launch codes on our system?”

  “Might be some kid who’s learned a new trick?”

  Adrian shrugged. “I doubt it,” he said. “Probably just something with the system …”

  His voice trailed off when the fluorescents above him began to flicker. They gave off a light buzzing sound, and a few went out completely, casting parts of the station into darkness. Before he could wrap his head around what was happening, his computer screen lit up, the distorted colors shifting and mixing in what looked like a frenzied area of random brush strokes. One by one, the screens of the computers around him did the same, and the speakers began to emit a low humming sound in unison.

  “What the hell?” Jack muttered, pushing back from his desk as if the computer were about to reach out and grab him.

  Adrian frowned, clicking down on the desktop’s power switch and immediately pulling back when it sent a shock of electricity through him. Damn it, he thought, shaking his burning hand and cradling it as he watched the rest of the station break into an electrical frenzy. The copy machine switched on, the horizontal beam of light moving quickly back and forth as paper sputtered from the rack. The coffee machine began to heat up until the glass pitcher exploded, spraying coffee everywhere. Somewhere in the back, someone was cursing at the static coming through the station radio, turning the knobs around as he tried to get it to switch off. Jack reached for the desktop cable and pulled it out, but the screens remained the same, and the humming only intensified.

  “What’s going on, Adrian?” Jack yelled.

  Adrian shook his head, utterly confused by the mayhem happening around him.

  The light above him began to grow brighter, and the fluorescent suddenly burst into shards that rained down on him. Adrian ducked, rushing out of the way as one lighting unit after the other exploded. A desk lamp’s bulb lit up on its own, growing brighter until it too joined the frenzy of exploding glass.

  Adrian raced to the distribution board by the interrogation room, throwing open the panels in an attempt to turn the power off, but as soon as he touched the polyswitch, the board exploded, pieces of plastic ripping at his cheeks as sparks flew around him. He fell to the ground, crying out as he tried to protect his eyes, blood trickling into his mouth as he rolled away.

  And then it was over.

  Everything stopped as the power went out, leaving the station in a state of utter darkness. All around him, Adrian could hear the other officers calling out to each other, a few turning on their flashlights, bright white beams crisscrossing in the air above him. He heard someone call out his name, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, feeling around him until his hand brushed across the surface of a desk. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath, fighting the pain of his fresh cuts and the smell of burning rubber that filled the station.

  “Adrian?”

  “Over here,” he called out, wincing when the sharp beam of a flashlight blinded him. “Get that thing out of my face!”

  Jack rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”

  “Cut and bruised, that’s all,” Adrian replied.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  “I have no idea,” Adrian grimaced. “Someone check on the Sheriff.”

  As if on cue, the glass of the Sheriff’s office exploded, the force throwing them off their feet. Adrian grasped for a hold, jumped to his feet, and grabbed the flashlight beside him, making his way to Gadge’s office.

  He stopped in his tracks when he saw the Sheriff standing stoically at the door, arms by his side, head rolling on his neck as if he had just been woken up and was still trying to gather his bearings.

  “Sheriff?”

  Gadge didn’t reply, but his head stopped moving and turned to the sound of Adrian’s voice. Adrian guided his flashlight until the light was just below the Sheriff’s jawline. No need to blind the man, he thought. Although there was something odd about Gadge’s stance. From memory, Adrian knew that there was one thing he could always count on when it came to Jeffrey Gadge; in any emergency, whether asleep or not, the man was always quick on his feet.

  “Jeffrey!” Adrian yelled, trying to get his attention.

  Gadge’s eyes opened, and Adrian took several steps back when the twin flames where his eyes should have been gazed out at him. The flashlight fell from his hands, and he winced in pain as the edge of a desk dug into his side, stopping his retreat.

  “Sheriff?” Jack said from somewhere behind him. Suddenly, the whole station had fallen silent, several flashlights aimed at the Sheriff as his head moved slowly from side to side, taking them all in.

  Gadge’s lips widened into a grotesque smile, and tiny flames began to gather up and down his arms. “It’s dark in here,” he said, and Adrian felt a chill race up and down his spine. The voice that came out of Gadge’s mouth was not his; it was darker, deeper, with a hint of insane mockery in it.

  The flames on the Sheriff’s arms merged and extended to his shoulders. “Let’s see if we can light it up a bit.”

  Adrian had barely turned around when the Kent Police Station exploded into flames.

  ***

  “This is it.”

  Kyle looked out at the inn, its lights closed, a far less welcoming sight than when they had passed by this afternoon. The seats that had been placed outside were now gone, and the potted plants that lined the entrance gave a foreboding feel to the place. Most of the curtains had been drawn, except for one that looked out onto the dining area, the furniture inside just dark silhouettes that felt a lot more eerie than comfortable.

  There were only two cars in the parking lot, and Kyle wondered which of them belonged to Fegan. He doubted the man had skipped town as promised, but he couldn’t be sure. And even if he were still here, Kyle doubted that the host would be too happy to help after his little afternoon transgression.

  This was all a gamble, and he hated it.

  “This is it,” Kyle replied, looking at Aley with her hands clasped onto the steering wheel for dear life, her face pale even in the dim glow of the moonlight, her eyes wide with horror. All the way here, he had noticed that she had looked up at the rearview mirror every few seconds, as if half expecting that thing, or whatever it was, to be racing after them. But so far, their drive here had been uneventful.

  “You know the way, right?” he asked.

  “I’ll figure it out,” Aley replied quickly, her eyes locked straight ahead.

  “Just follow the 341 to Warren and leave the car there,” he said. “I’ll come for it later.”

  Aley nodded, glanced at him briefly, then returned her attention to whatever imaginary spot she had her eyes locked on.

  “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Yeah,” Aley replied. “And thanks. For the car. Sorry I’m leaving you here on your own.”

  Kyle nodded, opened the car door and stepped out. The night air was cooler than he had expected, and he shivered slightly as he made his way around the front of the car and towards the inn. He didn’t look back as he heard the engine roar into life and the gravel shift under the wheels as Aley backed out.

  Just as well, he thought. She’s been through enough anyway.

  He walked up to the door, pushed it open, and winced as the chimes above the door rang through the dark inn. A small light came on, and from somewhere in the back he heard the distinct shuffle of feet as someone woke up
and prepared to come out and greet him.

  “You’re back,” the receptionist greeted, stifling a yawn as she looked him over. She wasn’t smiling, apparently drowsy from the slumber he had woken her from, and didn’t look too happy to see him. Kyle could only imagine how much worse he must have looked since the last time she had laid eyes upon him.

  “I am,” Kyle attempted to smile, but failed miserably. “Paula, right? I came to see Connor Fegan.” She frowned at him, suspicion plastered all over her face. “He asked me to pass by again,” Kyle added, hoping to get past whatever walls she had suddenly thrown up. “Our last conversation ended a bit too abruptly.”

  “Mr. Fegan checked out right after you left,” Paula said. “Was in a bit of a hurry, too. He said you might come back, so he left you a package.”

  “Package?”

  Paula nodded. “Hold on a sec,” she mumbled, disappearing into the back room.

  The chimes on the door sounded again, and Kyle strained his neck around the corner to see who else had decided to visit the inn at this hour. He was more than surprised to see Aley walk in.

  “I thought you left,” he said.

  “I couldn’t bring myself to leave you alone in all this,” she replied, shrugging.

  “You don’t have to be here.”

  “Shut up, Kyle,” Aley said, shoving her hands into her pockets as she looked around the inn. It was a lot gloomier in the dark. “Just be thankful I’m here.”

  And he was. The day was taking its toll on him. He was exhausted, confused, and way out of his comfort zone. The whole ordeal had been hard to fathom, Fegan’s stories unbelievable until he had seen the truth with his own eyes, and Kyle felt like everything he knew was starting to fall apart around him. The only stable part of it all was Aley, and having her by his side through this mess was enough to make him feel that there was at least one sane thing in the midst of this madness. He barely knew her, but was grateful for her company.