Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection)

by McCray, Carolyn

  “Hey, I told you we were on a tight timetable.”

  Another shriek, and a Shivate priestess in full battle armor strode from the lodge. Rook urged Tomahawk toward the garage. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “No, we’ve got to—”

  Rook held Tomahawk’s gaze. “The best thing for your people is for us to lead it away.”

  The logic must have penetrated Tomahawk’s hostility, because he crouched down and made his way along the wall.

  “What’s a Shivate doing here, anyway?” Tomahawk demanded.

  “Oh,” Rook said as he followed closely. “Did I forget to mention that I killed one of her sisters yesterday?”

  Tomahawk looked furious, but kept sprinting toward the garage. A turn of the knob, and they were inside. Tomahawk threw Rook the keys to the dark SUV parked inside.

  “Rev it up.”

  But Rook threw the keys back. “You know better than that.”

  Exasperated, Tomahawk got into the driver’s seat. “How do you have the ability to call forth the elements, but haven’t learned to drive?”

  Rook opened the large garage door when a Shivate came at him. In a single swift motion, Rook pulled his knife and lanced it across her green, mottled face. She lurched to the side, screaming as Tomahawk gunned the engine and floored it backward, not stopping for Rook. With a well-placed kick, Rook knocked the demon away and used the momentum to jump, at least halfway, in the passenger-side window.

  Climbing in the tight opening, Rook scowled at Tomahawk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to ditch me.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Rook shielded his eyes from the sun as they exited the LAX terminal. Who would have thought that smog would be so damned bright? Tomahawk walked next to him, complaining, again.

  “I really needed that coupler and replay switch.”

  Rook shrugged. “I told you to carry it on.”

  “I would have, if our bags weren’t so filled with your junk.”

  How a private plane could lose luggage truly was a mystery. Between lost bags and lost socks in the dryer, Rook had more than enough proof that black holes, albeit minute ones, did exist.

  They arrived at the curb, but no Beauty. Hopefully, she had arranged for a Bentley or a Rolls Royce. Maybe that would get Tomahawk to quit whining.

  “Junk?” Rook asked, raising an eyebrow. “These bags hold the key to our survival.”

  “Yeah, right,” Tomahawk snorted. “The massage oil and bananas?”

  Rook searched the crush of cars, taxis, and buses that jockeyed for position like hogs at a feeding trough. “You’ve got your hobbies. I’ve got—”

  A loud honk cut Rook off. The source of the obnoxious sound was an extremely old station wagon with fake wood paneling and a Woodstock bumper sticker. The driver maneuvered between a taxi and a parking shuttle to pull up at the curb. What the…?

  A dark hand with zebra-print fingernails waved from the driver’s side. With a frown, Rook approached the car. Sure enough, it was his Arranger at the wheel.

  “Um… Beauty?” Tomahawk asked.

  “Don’t ask. Just get in.”

  “But—”

  Beauty waved her chipped fingernails at him. “Just don’t.”

  “You heard the woman,” Rook said to Tomahawk as they moved to the rear of the car. Opening the rear hatch, they found Chad bound and gagged by a piece of duct tape. His left eye was bruised a dark purple, and he had a gash on his lip. Rook glanced toward the front seat, and found a set of very pissed off eyes in the rearview mirror.

  * * *

  Beauty held up her one remaining intact nail. “I said, ‘don’t.’ “

  As the men loaded their gear into the car, Beauty leaned over and gave Tomahawk a peck on the cheek.

  “Beauty,” he said as he returned the gesture, “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

  She shushed him as she drove the car into the Byzantine traffic. “Oh, please. I would see you under any circumstances, hon.”

  Beauty went to push her bangs back, but got a nail caught in her weave. It took several awkward attempts to get it out, and in the process, she nearly ran over an old lady.

  “So, I take it that the rendezvous at the safe house didn’t go quite as planned?” Rook asked from the backseat.

  “You can say that again,” Beauty said, daring Rook to question her any further. “And I couldn’t exactly drag him in for a mani-pedi with me.”

  “Is everything else ready?”

  Beauty glared at them in the rearview mirror. She might need an emergency makeover, but she did her job. Rook must have read her expression correctly. He pointed to the freeway sign. “Great. Take the 405 North.”

  Beauty didn’t turn off her right-hand blinker, although she was not quite certain it actually worked. “But the warehouse is to the south.”

  This time, Rook gave her a glare that allowed no argument. Sighing, Beauty switched off the right-hand blinker and turned on the left. Today, it seemed nothing was going to go according to plan.

  * * *

  As they drove up to the Morganstern Mental Health Facility, Tomahawk leaned forward.

  “No, no, no, man,” Tomahawk mumbled.

  Even Beauty looked askance as she pulled the station wagon to a stop. “Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of involving Fanny?”

  Rook grabbed the door handle. “Mainly so we didn’t have to have this fight.”

  “This is bull,” Tomahawk stated. “She’s just a kid.”

  “She’s twenty-three. A legal adult.”

  Beauty put her arm on the seat back and turned to him. “You know what Tomahawk meant.”

  “Did you both forget that we’ve got a Hellgate in the trunk?” Rook reminded them as he opened his door. “If this goes south, how safe do you think she’ll be here? Or anywhere?”

  Neither of them could argue, and Chad didn’t get a vote, so Rook exited the car and headed into the clinic. The place did not have the look, feel, or smell of an institution. Once through the door, you found yourself in a soothing atrium with a glass ceiling. Even the front desk was richly appointed. An orchid graced the desktop.

  “Hello. I’m Dr. Lerhaven,” Rook announced. “I am here to transfer Fanny Hops.”

  The two nurses exchanged glances. One of them turned and walked down the hallway, while the other remained, smiling a bit too cheerfully. “Yes. Dr. Metz would like to speak with you before—”

  “I’m sorry. I am on a tight schedule. However, Dr. Metz can call me with any questions.”

  “I believe she wanted to discuss the transfer, so if you could have a seat, I will page—”

  Rook skewered the nurse with his patented “Does it appear that I am messing around?” look. “I want Ms. Hops, and I want her now.”

  The nurse, though, seemed up for a challenge. Fortunately, movement down the hallway drew their attention. Dr. Metz walked toward them, while a young woman with her hair in four ponytails—all with a different color—skipped down the hallway.

  Fanny.

  Her clothes were a riot of colors, as though she had rolled around in tempera paint. She was like a fractured, chaotic rainbow of childlike exuberance. Fanny looked up. It only took her a split second to recognize him.

  “Rook!” she screamed, dropping the doctor’s hand and racing to him. He braced as she launched herself into his arms. “I mean, Doctor… Doctor…”

  “Dr. Lerhaven,” Rook reminded her. “And it is nice to see you too, Fanny.”

  Dr. Metz trotted to catch up as Fanny covered Rook’s face with baby-pink kisses. It was a bit like being mauled by cotton candy. A little sticky, really annoying, but in the end, kind of sweet.

  Still carrying Fanny like a baby monkey, with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, Rook turned to the nurse. “I assume Fanny’s release papers are ready.”

  The nurse stalled, though.

  Rook’s eyebrow shot up. “I�
�m the doctor who signed Fanny in, and I will sign her out.” Okay, so he wasn’t really a doctor, but he also wasn’t one when he checked Fanny in either, so he figured they were square. “Or, do I need to call someone who is further up the food chain?”

  Reluctantly, the nurse put the papers on the counter. As he signed, Dr. Metz tried to get his attention. “Before you leave, can we please step into my office?”

  “Sorry, but we really have to be going.” He was not kidding as he finished signing and headed for the front door.

  Dr. Metz cut him off. “It will just take a second. I’m worried about Fanny’s stability outside of her familiar surroundings.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Rook stated. “As I told your staff, I am on an extremely tight schedule.”

  Fanny stopped kissing Rook long enough to add, “Boy, does he mean it! Next thing you know, there’ll be some monster crashing through the window.” Despite Rook’s attempts to quiet her, Fanny kept going. “And sometimes they breathe fire out of their eyes, or others have tails, and you can try to ride ‘em. You know, they are usually trying to eat you, but that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

  Rook couldn’t help but grin. “That’s right, Fanny.” After Dr. Metz’s extremely concerned reaction, Rook whispered, “I will keep up her antipsychotic medications.”

  Before the doctor could respond, Rook made for the door. Once their escape was accomplished, Rook tried to set Fanny down. She sprang out of his arms, and then jumped on his back, riding him like a horse. Sighing, Rook made his way to the car. It was usually easier that way.

  “Where are we going?” Fanny asked, chewing her gum.

  “To fight some bad men.”

  “Yippee!” Fanny exclaimed as they reached the car.

  Rook opened the back door, but Fanny wouldn’t budge. “Fanny, please. We’ve got to get going.”

  “But I want to ride in the front with Beauty.”

  Rook pointed into the car. Using his best tempting tone, “But look who’s in the backseat.”

  Without getting off his back, Fanny peered inside the station wagon. “OMG! Tomahawk!” She launched from Rook’s back into the car. “I’ve missed you so much!”

  Now it was Tomahawk’s turn to be showered in pink love. Rook used the opportunity to get into the front seat before Fanny turned her abundant affections onto him again.

  “Onward to the warehouse,” Rook instructed Beauty.

  “You got it,” Beauty stated as she pulled away from the curb. “I’ve already scouted it.”

  “Oh, my gosh! Beauty! You’ve got pink hair!” Fanny exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the Arranger’s neck. “We are like twins!”

  Beauty laughed. “Yes, honey. We are soul sisters.”

  “I am so excited!” Fanny clapped her hands. “We’re all back together again! Do you know what that means?”

  “What? Death and certain destruction?” Tomahawk asked sourly. However, Fanny did not seem to notice.

  “No, silly! S’mores!” Fanny clapped again. “Rook always lets us cook ‘em once we are done!”

  Rook grinned. Not even Tomahawk could stay sullen around Fanny. “Yes. That he does,” Tomahawk said.

  A moan from the rear of the car must have caught Fanny’s attention. She leaned over the seat and giggled. Pointing, she asked innocently, as only Fanny could, “Who’s he?”

  * * *

  Angela tried to rest, but her foot twitched on its own. Even after the more-than-thorough exam, they still could not decide if her pregnancy was normal or not. She tried to push that from her mind. Did the origin of her pregnancy really matter if she was stuck in this prison?

  The lights flickered overhead. Was someone in the corner?

  “When you are freed,” the mechanical voice whispered, “you must run up. Always up.”

  “When will I be freed?”

  “Soon,” the mysterious figure answered, “but you must run up.”

  “But why?” she asked, and then the lights stopped flickering. She didn’t need to crane her neck to know that the figure had gone. Still, hope flooded through her as surely as the fluids going into her veins from the IV.

  Whoever was behind the voice obviously circumvented security. But could this person actually break her out? And, once out, what would they want with her?

  Angela rested her head on the pillow. There was only one way to find out.

  As she waited, she muttered, “Up… up and out.”

  * * *

  Tomahawk lay on his belly at the edge of the roof, sweeping the infrared binoculars over the building across from them.

  “Is it my turn?” Fanny asked, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “Not yet, honey,” said Beauty, guiding the girl away from the edge.

  “But that’s what you said thirty-seven seconds ago,” Fanny whined.

  Tomahawk sat up and turned to Rook. “Clear so far, but I don’t want to make any bets on the type of security they’ve got in there.”

  “Why?”

  “See those wires?” Tomahawk asked as he pointed to a cluster of wiring that ran from a pole to the building in question. Rook nodded, and Tomahawk continued. “They are drawing some serious juice into the building. My guess is for some serious surveillance and defensive equipment.”

  “Achoo!” Fanny announced behind them.

  “Fanny, are you sensing something?” Rook asked the girl.

  The girl sat hugging her knees, rocking back and forth, no longer jubilant. Her voice was lower and more somber. “There is something. It tickles my nose.”

  “Forces of good? Or evil?” Rook asked.

  Fanny though, seemed in a trance. Her eyes glazed over, and her head weaved of its own accord. “I sense only hunger.”

  Despite the answer not being particularly helpful, Tomahawk watched Rook pat Fanny on the shoulder. “Good job.”

  Rook straightened and looked at Beauty. “I guess we might as well get this party started.”

  Then, with no further explanation, Rook headed toward the metal ladder.

  “So, do you have a plan?” Tomahawk asked as he joined Rook.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Mind sharing it with us?” he pressed as Rook swung a leg over the ladder.

  Beauty joined them.

  “Pretty much, I am going to walk in,” Rook answered, “and snatch the Virgin chick.”

  Tomahawk waited for Rook to flesh out his intentions, but Rook just started climbing down the metal rungs. “That’s it? That is your plan?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Tomahawk glanced at Beauty, who lifted her shoulders in confusion. He turned to watch Rook’s retreating form. “You are, like, the king of really lousy plans, but this is the worst. They are not going to just let you walk in there.”

  Rook looked up at Beauty. “They will, once Beauty calls the Cabal. Tell them to pull some strings.”

  “Strings? What strings?” Beauty demanded. “This is an ultra-high security—”

  “Hello?” Rook said as he started climbing down again. “We just saved the vice president’s nephew!”

  Tomahawk looked over at the student, who was bound and gagged.

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say ‘saved’ is the right word,” Tomahawk retorted.

  Rook hopped off the last rung of the ladder to the street below. He craned his neck to look up. “But they don’t know that. Just get me in there, and I’ll get our mark out.

  Tomahawk turned to Beauty, who seemed equally exasperated. When he turned back, Rook was gone, melting into the shadows as usual.

  Beauty flipped her phone open. “I hate it when he does that.”

  Tomahawk could not agree more.

  CHAPTER 6

  Rook stood in the middle of the maelstrom that his entrance into the warehouse had created. He counted at least six guns pointed at him, and Rook was certain there were several more that he could not see. Nearly everyone was on some sort of phone to some sort of supervisor. Clear
ly, they did not have a contingency plan for a casual visitor.

  Two large, black doors burst open, and a trio of very angry and sweaty-palmed individuals charged toward him. The pasty one in the lab coat seemed to be in charge, but the two muscle-bound men in suits certainly appeared to be with an agency not in the public record. They had pull, or they wouldn’t be here.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the doctor demanded in a thick Slavic accent.

  “Let’s see…” Rook stated. “Your supersecret facility isn’t nearly as supersecret as you thought?”

  “I assure you that I have no idea—”

  “Angela Morrey,” Rook stated the name that he memorized from the file Beauty had furnished him. The chick who dragged him halfway around the world. “I need to confirm the reports of an immaculate conception.”

  That got everyone in the room agitated again. Guess that was supposed to be supersecret, too. There wasn’t much on this plane of existence, or any other that the Cabal was not privy to.

  The doctor stammered, unable to articulate his rage. However, one of the men behind him turned off his cell phone. “Do as he asks.”

  “But—”

  “Do it,” the man with no neck said, glaring at Rook. “Then we will escort him out.”

  Oh, how adorable security men were when they thought they had the upper hand. Sure, they both outweighed Rook by fifty pounds of lean muscle, but the Shivates had poisoned claws and bloodcurdling magic, and look where that got them.

  “So I take it, she’s thataway?” Rook asked, pointing to the large imposing doors that announced, “No Unauthorized Personnel.”

  The doctor bit back a retort and turned on his heel, stomping off. The guy didn’t just have a Napoleon complex. Rook feared that the man actually thought he was the French dictator. Quickly, the doctor guided them through three pressure-sealed doors until they entered an observation room. The window looked into a fully stocked hospital room with only one patient.

  A woman was strapped down in soft restraints. He could only guess—Angela Morrey. She must have heard the activity or the doctor’s huffing and puffing, for she opened her eyes and looked straight at him.

  Her gaze held him almost against his will. Even though her hair was plastered to her head and she had an ugly bruise on her cheek, Angela was stunning. The haunted look in her eyes caught him off guard. This woman had seen some life. She knew that stories never ended “happily ever after.” If anything, people simply hoped to come out with their souls intact. Rook assumed that they would show him some sobbing teenager insisting that she didn’t know she could get pregnant the first time.