Available Darkness Box Set | Books 1-3

by Platt, Sean

  He cried out for help, but there was no one left.

  Jacob’s eyes met Duncan’s, and the intruder smiled like a snake.

  “Tell you what, Mr. Alderman,” Jacob leaned in toward Duncan. “I do appreciate your spirit! You’ve admirable fight, especially for a withered old man. I hate the thought of you winding up on the wrong side of history, simply because you were too hasty to make the right decision. So to save us both from the trouble — you the agony and me the disappointment — I’ll decide for you. You will be with, and not against us. Does that sound right?”

  Jacob lowered his weight onto Duncan, as if trying to push words from his body.

  The old man struggled to speak, but Jacob’s grip was too tight, choking his air and killing his words. He squirmed beneath the weight, shaking his head NO as best he could.

  Jacob’s smile spread wider, moving his fingers from Duncan’s neck to the corners of his mouth where he pried his lips open against his thrashing.

  Oh God, what is he doing?

  Jacob’s right hand held Duncan’s head firmly in place as he lifted his left, and showed the old man his now ungloved palm along with the parasite slithering under his skin.

  Oh God.

  The flesh on Jacob’s hand split then broke open as drops of dark blood started to fall, first in a trickle and then in a gush, pouring from the widening wound as the terrible something under his skin burrowed out.

  Duncan choked on his scream as the creature surfaced; an inch in width, a bulbous, dark, segmented body, with hundreds of tiny legs skittering from the open wound of Jacob’s hand, and snaking its entire length — nearly a foot long — around Jacob’s left hand like a pet millipede from a world of monsters.

  “Open wide,” Jacob said, his right hand prying Duncan’s mouth open further.

  The old man struggled, but the pain in his back made movement impossible. He tried closing his mouth, moving his head, everything and anything, but Jacob’s grip was too strong. Duncan could only watch in wide-eyed horror as Jacob moved his left hand, and the terrible creature in it, towards his mouth.

  “No!” Duncan screamed in a muffled, gagging cry.

  Jacob forced his jaw even wider, pressing his tongue into the bottom of his mouth to prevent it from moving as he brought the parasite closer. The insect-like creature unspooled from Jacob’s hand, descending slowly like a rope with its thousands of moving legs, wiggling and eager to burrow.

  Oh God, help me!

  Jacob’s parasite dropped into his mouth.

  Duncan lay helpless as the monster burrowed into his throat, then down on its way to God knows where.

  Duncan cried for Jacob to let go, but he kept smiling like a maniac, holding the old man in place.

  “Relax, Mr. Alderman. I gave you a choice, and you chose wrong. Fortunately for you, I care too much to let that happen. So, I’m deciding for you. Only now, Mr. Alderman, are you are one of us. One of the winners.”

  Nine

  John

  Hope’s voice faded to a barely-there wisp almost as soon as John heard it, just fleeting enough to make him wonder if it was only cruelty of loneliness and memory blending to taunt him with a lie.

  He was again alone, lost in the darkness.

  Where am I? How long have I been out?

  Only after his eyes adjusted to the gloom did John finally realize he wasn’t in complete darkness. Thin slits of moonlight illuminated the brick circular wall spiraling upward above him. A pair of charred bodies and the scattered remnants of who-knew-how-many skeletons lay beside him. He was, he realized, at the bottom of an old well transformed into something else — a tomb for his kind. Once the sun devoured the moon, John would be charred, just like his wellmates.

  He scanned the darkness, searching for any weaknesses, or something he could use to climb out from the well. It took him less than five minutes of squinting and running his hands along the wall before John found the outline of a door, like a grin in the brick.

  He pressed his fingers against the cold metal, feeling for anything — a slot, a knob, anything to help him pull or push the door open. Finding nothing, he used his shoulder instead, ramming at a door that refused to budge.

  He banged on the door with the full brunt of his folded knuckles, alternating fist with shoulders. Though both pounded hard enough to knock the door from its hinges, John couldn’t manage to rattle the door in its frame.

  Something was wrong. John was weakened, with everything in him ebbing.

  He tried to focus, send a blast of energy at the door, but nothing left his hands.

  What did Shadow do to me? Have I been out so long that I need to feed?

  He didn’t feel the hunger, but John had grown so used to going longer between feedings that he wasn’t even sure he would recognize his energy dropping too far. The few times he’d been depleted on the job, he had enemies to feed from. Now, there was no one nearby.

  “Hello?” he shouted, hoping someone was on the other side of the door. He banged hard on the metal, shouting louder and getting no response. “Why are you doing this?”

  John wondered if his captors, assuming Shadow wasn’t working alone, were on the other side of the door, or if they’d simply left him alone to burn in the sunrise. He closed his eyes to gain a clearer sense of his surroundings, to see if he could sense anyone nearby. John tuned into the world and felt life teeming around him: insects and rodents in the dirt, birds above, a fox somewhere nearby.

  But not a single soul.

  He had no idea of the time, unconscious long enough to feel certain of nothing. It felt like midnight as much as four in the morning. Unable to see the moon, John couldn’t judge where it was in the sky. He had minutes or hours until death, and no way to know the difference between them.

  John tried reaching Larry and Abigail telepathically, but could find neither’s signal — not surprising since he’d been largely unable to tune them in with any sort of consistency for a while. The best he usually managed was the occasional fleeting thought from one or both, though they rarely came together. His attempts to communicate, or even read their thoughts from afar hadn’t borne fruit for a while.

  John wondered if Omega had somehow drugged him to dampen his abilities, and keep him from using his telepathy. He had no clue how they could consistently deliver a drug into his system, unless they were spiking food in his apartment, but they were capable of anything, and despite their aversion to all things magick, they had no problem using it to achieve their means.

  John wanted to believe he was sharp enough to sense if someone were inside his place while he was out, but his senses tingled whenever he was in his apartment, no matter what. He’d never felt right there, partly because it wasn’t really his home and never would be no matter how long he slept there, and partly because Omega routinely checked in on him. John always felt like he was being watched, and probably was.

  If they were already watching, why not drug him, too?

  Finally, more because he was out of choices than keen on the idea, John tried reaching the only human other than Abigail he’d ever turned — gangster turned vampire, Tiny.

  Tiny? Tiny? Can you hear me?

  John felt nothing.

  Shit.

  A deep voice suddenly echoed in his head:

  “Johnny? That you?”

  Tiny! Yes, it’s me, John!

  “What the fuck you doin’ in my head, Man. Your phone broke?”

  John laughed.

  Oh, thank God I found you. I’m in trouble, Tiny. Someone’s got me locked up in a well. I’ve no idea where I am, but I’m sure once the sun rises, I’m gone. What time is it?

  “It’s about four in the morning in Seaside Heights.”

  I didn’t wake you did I?

  “Hell no, I’m a creature of the night like you now, remember?”

  Of course. I need you to focus on my voice, okay Tiny? Can you feel where I am?

  “Feel where you are? How the fuck I’m supposed to feel
somethin’ like that?”

  I don’t know. But sometimes I can feel how close someone is to me, and can find them by concentrating.

  “Well, can you feel me, then?”

  A little, and you don’t feel too far. But I don’t really know because I don’t have any idea where I am, and I kind of need to know where I am in order for it to work.

  After a quiet moment Tiny said, “I think I feel something.”

  Yeah?

  “I don’t know. I think I have an idea where you are, but I’m not sure. I’ll hop in the car and see if I can find you, cool?”

  Okay. If I don’t hear from you soon, I’ll try reaching you again.

  “Okay,” Tiny agreed, then a second later said, “Hey, John?”

  Yeah?

  “You ain’t always listenin’ to my thoughts ‘n’ shit, are you?”

  John laughed.

  No, that’s not how it works. It’s not a permanent, always-on connection.

  “Good.”

  Why’s that? You thinking stuff you’re ashamed to be?

  “Shit, you don’t even wanna know, man. You didn’t tell me I was never gonna be able to fuck again, man. My sack started boiling, and it ain’t never stopped. You don’t even wanna guess at some of the places I think of sticking it.”

  Sorry. Again, John laughed.

  “It’s alright. I found a way to get off.”

  John was curious what the big guy was doing to take care of his needs, just not enough to ask. He could imagine Tiny getting started, then digging too deep into the sorts of details John didn’t want to hear, and would regret if he did.

  “Okay,” Tiny said. “Hopefully, I’ll be seeing you in a half hour or so.”

  Please, hurry.

  “See ya, Johnny.”

  John sat in the darkness waiting, hoping Tiny could find him in time. If it was around four in the morning as Tiny said, then he had maybe two hours before the sun started to rise. If Tiny failed, John would be ashes in hours.

  A sudden movement nearby startled John. Is that on the other side of the door? He leaned against the door, pressing his ear against it.

  “Hello?” he said, tapping the metal.

  Movement ceased.

  “Hello, I know you’re there!” John smacked the heavy iron door. “Hello?”

  The other side stayed silent.

  John sensed no one, but was certain he wasn’t alone.

  Ten

  Abigail

  “Well? Do you like it?” Katya asked.

  Abigail tore the end from her fried mozzarella, holding it between her teeth before tasting it with the tip of her tongue. “Not bad,” she said, surprised by the blend of salty and cheesy, the two flavors coated with the perfect amount of fried crunchiness.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never had these before. They’re even better dipped in marinara.”

  Abigail looked down at the green shallow bowl with red sauce and dipped the cheese stick in, timidly at first to get a bit of sauce, then she put it in her mouth. It was maybe the best thing she’d ever had, at least besides McDonald’s fries dipped in a milkshake.

  “Wow! That is good!” Abigail said as the waiter, a tall young man with neatly gelled brown hair, set a giant pizza on a stand beside them — easily the biggest pie Abigail had ever seen.

  “It came out earlier than I thought,” he smiled. “Would you like your slices now, or would you rather wait?”

  “We’ll wait until we’re finished with the appetizers, thank you,” Katya said.

  The waiter left their table and Abigail looked around the cozy Italian restaurant, marveling at the wooden trellises and fake vines creeping along the walls and separating each booth. Old, black iron lamp posts stood in each corner. Abigail wondered if they actually worked. The walls were painted with an ornate scene of what Abigail imagined was an Italian countryside, not that she’d ever seen an Italian countryside, pictures of an Italian countryside, or any countryside at all besides what passed outside a window while trapped in the seat of a swiftly moving car. The restaurant, with its delicious scents and lush interior, filled Abigail with a sudden longing for all the places she’d never been and might never go.

  Katya caught her looking and smiled. “Do you like this place?”

  “I love it! Are all restaurants this nice?”

  “You’ve never been to a restaurant before?”

  “Not in a long time, not since I was a kid,” she said, realizing only after she said it that to Katya, she still was a kid. Abigail added, “Not since I was like 5 or 6, maybe, I don’t remember.”

  “Wow. Did you grow up in a cave?”

  Not a cave, a closet.

  Abigail thought of the closet she’d spent too long imprisoned inside, then of Randy Webster. Again. She hated thinking of the monster. Abigail took another bite of cheese stick, buying her answer several seconds. She swallowed, then said, “My family didn’t have a lot of money,” hating the lie on her tongue.

  Katya smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

  “It’s okay,” Abigail shrugged, “That was a lifetime ago. Things are better now.”

  Abigail had only met Katya two days before, but already felt more comfortable with her than she’d felt with anyone else in a long time. She had tried not to like her, partly because she didn’t want another disappointment in her life when it was time for Katya to move on, but Abigail couldn’t help it. Katya was pretty, nice, and maybe the happiest person Abigail had ever met.

  Katya, seeming to sense Abigail’s reluctance to discuss her past, changed the subject. “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “I don’t know,” Abigail said, realizing it had been forever since she considered such things. Now that she would never grow up, dreaming about what might be was pointless. She tried to think of something that wasn’t, and wouldn’t sound like a complete lie, something that shared reality with the things she and Larry did together, approximately twice a month — tracking bad people and killing them.

  “Maybe I’ll be a police officer.”

  “Really?” Katya dipped her cheese stick into the marinara and then sprinkled some pepper on top of it. “A police officer? That’s cool. Why do you want to do that?”

  “To help people. To protect them from the bad guys.”

  “That’s nice,” Katya nodded.

  “What do you want to be … I mean when you get older?”

  Abigail wondered if she’d insulted Katya. What if watching kids is her career and what she wants to do? Crap. She wasn’t sure what to say without sticking one of her two small feet deeper in her mouth, so she waited for Katya to finish her bite of cheese stick and answer.

  “I don’t know. I used to want to be a realtor. My dad owns a real estate agency, and I was a big-time daddy’s girl and would help out around the office and stuff. But a few years ago, I thought, ‘Do I really want to do this, or am I just doing it because it’s easy to follow Daddy?’ So, I decided I’d wait a while and make my own money, just to see if I could. I went to school for a few semesters, took some fashion and art classes, then took time off to think about what I really wanted. That, I’m afraid,” she said with an embarrassed laugh, “was two years ago.”

  “You haven’t been to school in two years?”

  “No, and I thought it was because I was confused about what I wanted to do. But then a part of me thought, ‘Maybe I just don’t want to limit myself. I mean, I’m young. I have my whole life ahead of me, why not explore my interests and see where they lead?’”

  “So what are you doing now?” Abigail asked as Katya piled a piping hot slice of pizza onto each of their plates. Abigail took a bite of the pizza, stringing hot cheese in a stretchy line from the steaming triangle into her mouth. The pie was even better than the cheese sticks. “Yummy!” Abigail moaned, her mouth full of pizza.

  “I don’t know,” Katya smiled. “Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about traveling next year, and trying a
few different things — things I’d never even considered.”

  Immediately, Abigail felt a sting. She’s going to leave next year to travel. Stop it. Just focus on the conversation and try to enjoy the moment.

  “Really? Like what kinds of things?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe work on some organic farms upstate, or travel to the Northeast and work on a fishing boat. I’m not sure, I guess I just want to see what’s out there, you know?”

  Abigail admired Katya’s adventurous spirit, and wished she was brave enough to go out and do whatever, without a care in the world. She wondered how hard it would be to talk Larry into moving, then wondered if Larry could leave the area, or if John needed him nearby.

  “Is your dad rich?”

  Katya’s eyes widened from surprise. For a moment, Abigail was afraid she might have offended her.

  Katya laughed, “Yeah, you could say that. And yes, that does give me freedoms that most people probably don’t, and won’t, ever have. Most people my age have to worry about finding a job, providing for a family, paying rent, real-life stuff like that. So, yeah, I probably seem like a spoiled brat who doesn’t know what she wants to do, boo-hoo, and all that garbage.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that at all. I think it’s awesome that you want to do all these things. I wish I could get up and leave, go far away, and see what happens.”

  Katya smiled, but the corners of her mouth were sad. “You’re still young, and smarter than most kids I’ve met. I’m sure you’ll never let anything stop you from doing whatever you set out to do.”

  Abigail sipped her Coke, nodding.

  She lifted her head, popped the straw from her lips, pushed her soda six inches across the table, then noticed a pair of police officers sliding into a booth, three away from them. One of the cops, an older heavyset man with glasses too large for his face, looked at Abigail with what she felt certain was a flare of recognition. Her eyes fell to the table, and her hair cascaded in a shroud around her face. She wondered if the cop recognized her from all the news reports of her “abduction” by John.