Beloved Evangeline (A Dark Paranormal Urban Fantasy Trilogy for Grown-ups - Book 1)

by W. C. Anderson

  “You bastard!” Simon lunged toward him. One of the miscreations not meant for this world, the tallest and biggest one by far, smacked Simon to the ground with one-handed ease. He moved toward Simon’s body. I couldn’t let this happen. I struggled to get free, my body still trembling, but I was moving too slowly. Nightmarishly slowly. I wouldn’t be in time to save anyone.

  30.

  The echoes of Jonathan’s laughter filled my ears. I was giving him what he wanted, but there seemed to be nothing else I could do. A thought slowly occurred to me—under different circumstances, this would have been tremendously fascinating. As it was, I could only wish I’d been wrong about the existence of such things years ago because under this closure inspection, the surrounding horde of ghouls only grew more terrifying. Names for such creatures simply do not exist. No one could mistake them for people. The eyes—they were without emotion, without soul. Long hair and fingernails reeked of a century—centuries—of death and decay. Some were nearly without their skin.

  As I was sorting this out, the unnatural creatures encircled Simon, Gavin, and Nicky greedily, moving toward the smell of prey.

  I stumbled forward as best I could. A grotesque hand reached out for Nicky first. I let out a cry of pain, anguish.

  Jonathan was laughing again, right in my ear. Anger pulsed through me.

  Swinging an arm behind me, I connected sweatered forearm with the side of his face. Inexplicably, it hurt more than it should have—the padding failed to help—but I was in no mood to let a little thing like pain stop me. Jonathan swayed in a daze.

  I yanked the talisman from his neck and ran.

  I didn’t make it far. Just as I heard a loud growling sound that I initially assumed was some kind of demonic cry for my death, I ran into someone standing at the edge of the wood, someone I hadn’t known was there.

  At first glance, I didn’t recognize him. Of course my ill-fated nature would not allow me to escape. But—to my utter relief and astonishment, the ghastly creatures seemed to be backing away.

  The stranger moved closer to the others. He was dark haired and dressed all in black. There was coldness about him, something in his eyes.

  A hissing sound from the ghouls suggested they were unprepared for this. The men among them only looked at one another confusedly.

  In a flash, as if to make up the minds of the hesitating creatures, the tall man was upon one of them, snapping its neck and tearing through flesh in one swift movement. The monster fell to the ground, lifeless.

  The rest of them fell back, afraid, hissing and slinking back into shadow. The men fled into the forest without looking back.

  The dark man, once satisfied the ugly creatures had gone, turned to me. The clouds swept away from the moon in that instant, illuminating him for the first time. Only an idiot would fail to see what this man was. Almost two centuries of popular culture on the subject, however, had not done his image proper justice. The demonic creatures knew it, obviously; he was a vampire.

  The thought occurred to both of us at the same time, and we both focused intently on my bloodied forearm. To my great surprise, he only gazed with disinterest.

  Angling to attend to my injury, ready to pull off my belt and fashion a tourniquet, I observed the blood drying and the wound already slowly closing itself.

  “There’s just no limit to the trouble that finds you, is there, Ms. Johnson?” Although the words may sound playful, his tone was not.

  Too shocked for words for several moments, I finally managed, almost inaudibly, “How is it you know my name?”

  “There’s really no mystery. That idiot pal of yours has only been blabbing it the entire night.”

  I pulled a face and examined this man a bit more closely.

  He was unbelievably handsome, in a terrifically creepy, unnatural kind of way. All of the elements to make him attractive were clearly present. Dark, charmingly disheveled hair? Chiseled facial features? Ripped musculature? But... there was something off about himIt seemed too contrived to me, a facade masking the evil within. Maybe it was just the fact that I could see that his looks were meant to be bait—I actually got a mental image of him luring women into dark alleyways to meet their fates. They went with him willingly, eagerly, and never even saw death coming for them.

  Maybe I was missing something.

  No, I finally decided. How could anyone really fall for this?

  On this closer inspection of him, I realized there was something vaguely familiar. “I’ve seen you before...” I said slowly as I recalled the memory, “…when I was a kid... in this place?”

  He smiled, apparently oblivious to the revulsion I was feeling. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

  “I have a good memory.”

  “Well, this is a truly fascinating reunion,” Jonathan interrupted finally, “the vampire and the accursed, but I’m not finished here yet.”

  Several new apparitions appeared before us. I felt the air growing colder around me.

  “You summoned us?” a very deep, very unnatural voice called.

  “Yeah, Augustine. Changed my mind. Let’s just get this over with as quickly as possible. The girl—I want you to bring me her severed head. We’ll sort out how to get what we need from her after she’s inhaled her last breath.”

  Different from the ghouls, Augustine was tall and muscular and… missing his own head. He held it in front of him by the hair, like a lantern. The eyes glowed into the darkness—sending chills through me.

  The vampire stepped between me and the unholy creature.

  “I don’t need your help,” I told him, less than convincingly and coughing uncomfortably when he glared back. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  He chuckled darkly before smiling a wide, predatory smile. “I guess you can call me Wesley.”

  I furrowed my brow at him. I suddenly felt I’d had my fill of interesting characters for one night.

  “And you’re not here to drink my blood?” I thought it seemed like a legitimate enough, albeit sarcastic, question to ask, but the angry look he shot suggested otherwise

  “Despite your obvious revulsion toward me, Ms. Johnson, I do have scruples. Two dozen to one doesn’t seem like fair odds. Anyone who’s pulled that kind of otherworldly army together just to kill one—no offense—scrawny little girl must be awfully scared of that girl for some reason. Maybe that girl would remember someone’s altruism down the road—I’m just saying. Sometimes loathsome vampires find themselves in bad situations.”

  I rubbed my eyes in frustration, probably smearing my eye make-up irreparably, but I no longer cared about such things. The pressure of all these decisions—knowing who to trust—was insufferable. What I wouldn’t give to not ever have to rely on another living soul.

  “Only my friends matter,” I whispered as Jonathan approached. “I need to find a way to get them safely away from here, but I don’t see how you’d be any help with that.” I lamented to no one but the earth beneath me.

  “I drive a car, Ms. Johnson, just like you. It’s just a ways up the road.” He gestured in the general direction of said vehicle. “If that’s the service you require, you have but to ask.”

  “Please, take them as far away from here as you can.”

  He appeared ready to argue, but we were interrupted by Augustine before he got the chance. I looked at this Wesley pleadingly for one brief moment, a moment I hoped was long enough and sincere enough, before breaking into a run into the forest. I would lead those monsters as far away from my friends as possible. With every ounce of my strength, I willed the vampire to do what I’d asked of him. I also prayed that he wouldn’t be in a frenzied, shark-like state when he got a whiff of Gavin’s blood.

  Despite running my pathetic fastest, I didn’t get as far as I’d hoped. I was close-lined before I reached the thicket I had hoped to hide in. My back slammed into the ground, and I heard the most sickening laughter. Coughing and clutching my throat, the stars winked at me from above, mocking my fa
te.

  “What were you thinking?” Augustine questioned, leering at me from above.

  I swung my leg up as he bent over me, my boot making contact with the side of his swaying head. To my enormous gratitude, he staggered sideways.

  With his free hand, he dabbed at a freshly made gash on the side of his head. “What the...”

  “Not so nice when it happens to you, is it?” My voice came out hoarse as I staggered to my feet.

  Augustine was still examining the blood dripping from his head.

  “What? Because I’m a girl you thought this’d be easy? I don’t care what I have to do—whatever you do to me—Jonathan’s time is up. So let’s go.”

  My friends were on borrowed time. Despite the fact that I was only dragging out the inevitable, I found I hadn’t spoken a single untrue word. Arms by my sides, I balled up my fists, tensing for the first fight of my life.

  Ignorant of the rules, I commenced an outrageously berserk, crazy attack. I caught him at a moment of confusion; he stumbled backwards as I kicked and punched and shoved in manic rage.

  I heard a stream of profanities coming from my lips, the likes of which I did not know I was capable.

  Augustine said nothing—did nothing.

  As I shoved him to the ground, I felt the rage slipping away. I swung half-heartedly at the air, feeling more than slightly ridiculous. I’d like to say I said something profound, something to relay the gravity of my convictions, but through the adrenalin I think I said “sad sack” and then grumbled unintelligibly. I’m not proud of it.

  Once he was sure the show was over, Augustine stood up effortlessly. “You did not tell us. This girl—she been to the other side. Why did you not tell us this?”

  In one surreal movement, he held his head over his neck, and I watched as the flesh lashed out and reattached itself. As if to show off, he craned his extremely thick neck back to the direction of the forest, where his progeny awaited.

  “You don’t know that. Why does it matter anyway?” Jonathan called, catching up.

  “You lie. I could tell where she been the moment her blood touched me.” He spoke slowly, his accent faintly Nigerian. The earth vibrated with each word.

  I wiped at the blood streaming down from my throbbing eyebrow self consciously, not having previously noticed I was bleeding, only to realize that it may also be coming from my nose and cheek.

  “This is the deal we made,” Jonathan barked back like a petulant child. “Just do what you agreed to do.”

  Augustine did not look happy.

  When he didn’t answer, Jonathan snapped again, “If you don’t kill her right now, I want back what I paid you.”

  “Payment can’t be taken back. You already received 100 times what you should have for that worthless soul of yours. Be thankful I don’t decide to drag you down to hell straight away.”

  Augustine hesitated, obviously upset at the turn things had taken. Nevertheless, he nodded with resignation. Without Wesley, the unholy congregation crept back into the light.

  Whatever strength was left I needed to summon now. This was it, my last chance to prove I was not a failure. I didn’t need to succeed exactly, just hold them off long enough for my innocent friends to escape. I convinced myself that this much I could do. Maybe this final act would be enough to wash away a lifetime of pain.

  A soulless ghoul bared its teeth, creeping ever nearer. I took a step back.

  He kept coming at me, undeterred, eyes curious.

  Now what? Not that I have a specific area of expertise, but hand-to-hand combat with a legion of freakish ghouls falls just about as far from any knowledge base as can be imagined. I literally know more about particle physics.

  I remembered the talisman—but found my hands empty. Likely it slipped away during my bout of madness. I dodged again as this diseased abomination reached out to touch my hair, and tired of running, I kicked its side. Though admittedly not aesthetically pleasing, the kick still managed to put him slightly off balance. After a few practice air kicks—that blessedly no living person witnessed—the next assault landed squarely on his chest. Connecting more solidly, he—it—flew backwards to the ground.

  Floundering on the earth, he looked... helpless, a tortoise on its back. When all else had failed, he twisted onto his side, shuffling in a circle while leaving a trail of oozing dark liquid in his wake. Too bad the situation was too grim to find this humorous.

  With a weary eye on the pitiful show, I tried to think of what my options were.

  With a grimace, I contemplated the creature before me shuffling on the ground, a lá an unimaginably creepy version of Curly Howard. Decapitation was definitely out. I was still far too squeamish about this whole situation to even seriously consider such a thing. My lifelong search had been for the spiritual supernatural—not these ghastly things, blood, guts, or pus. I shuddered.

  Maybe I could just run around in a circle for as long as my strength would last?

  Before I could reach a decision, something yanked on my hair from behind. Instinctively, I thrust my elbow back toward the threat, and connected with a profound absence of jaw. My arm shook involuntarily out of equal parts disgust and horror.

  This one had obviously been around longer than most. His hair was grotesquely long. His lips and eyelids were long gone, leaving bared teeth and bulging eyes. If I had to guess an eye color, I’d guess white. Unfortunately, however, he was not quite skeletal enough. As he staggered backward, I was overpowered by a tremendous stench.

  He sprang at me again and again as I kicked him back. This thing was a bit more bloodthirsty than the last, or maybe, like a Velociraptor, he was testing the defense. Knowing my own defense would last only so long, I ultimately swung my fist at his head, which squished ever so slightly. I suppressed an impulse to gag, seizing his momentary confusion to give a tremendous shove to the chest with my foot. The sound of skull meeting pointy cypress knee was sickening. Blood flowed freely.

  I stared down at the waxy, lifeless body, shocked and confused by what I had done. True, it was him or me, but still, this thing—whatever it was—would never get back up because of me, and I had shoved him forcefully.

  The blood flowing over the fall leaves left me with an empty, haunted feeling. Nothing would ever be the same after this night, even if I managed to survive. Killing another, even this not-exactly-living creature, would inevitably take some kind of toll. To survive, I had to push the thoughts from my mind.

  Without a sound, its hand locked around my ankle.

  Oh shit.

  Stomping my free foot on the gnarled hand, it pulled me to the ground while I was off balance. Grasping and grabbing at the largest branch within my reach, I thrust the limb at him. The first strike to his head didn’t do enough damage, so I swung at him. Again. And again. And again.

  I wiped at the spray of dark liquid across my forehead, only inches of the branch still intact.

  Still, he kept moving.

  And, unexpectedly, the rest of them were all around me, hissing, laughing.

  A hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh—but smile no more.

  I could’ve recited The Haunted Palace in its entirety, and that would help… how exactly? Why is my critical thinking process always so purposefully disobliging? And where is my shadow when I’m in trouble?

  What I needed was that damned talisman. They simply would not die without it.

  I clambered up the hickory tree as the ghouls hissed excitedly. The crowd of them below now numbered in the dozens. Their expressions varied from mild amusement to murderous glee. Stomping off a branch of sufficient thickness, I prepared to do something incredibly stupid. Their cackles only grew louder.

  “Come and get it!”

  After they’d mostly gathered underneath, I tossed my branch to the edge of the wicked creatures, who, thinking I’d meant to hit them, stared at it with undisguised merriment. Grabbing the limb nearest me, I swung as if from a trapeze, landing on the other side of the tree and
tumbling down over a few of the outer-lying freaks.

  The swamp was no more welcoming on the way out than it’d been on the way in. Thorny vines clawed my skin. My clothes, just beginning to dry, were once again thoroughly soaked. Scrambling back to the approximate spot of my “fight” with Augustine, I frantically scoured the ground for signs of the talisman.

  The task was seemingly hopeless, a talisman in a haystack, and the despondent feeling only grew as the slithering sounds of the body-snatchers’ footsteps grew louder. Several rocks offered false hope; I quickly hurled them at my pursuers.

  Realizing my frantic effort was fruitless, I closed my eyes, mentally retracing my steps and picturing the last moment I actually held the necklace. The only thing I pictured was a sizeable cluster of vines, like the one the creatures were now walking through. I dove through them down to the base of the vine, seizing what was either another rock or the talisman—my life clearly depending on which.