Available Darkness Box Set | Books 1-3

by Platt, Sean

  How could you seek vengeance against the wild, of an animal doing what animals do?

  John shook his head, trying to clear the terrible images of death and unfulfilled vengeance.

  She’s not dead!

  Stop assuming the worst!

  He kept running, chasing Hope.

  Eleven

  Larry

  Larry woke to the sounds of death all around him. A macabre song born in a nightmare — cries of the wounded and not-yet dead victims of the monstrous wolves, the tearing of flesh, the slurping of guts, and the spilling of blood serving as an gruesome melody to the carnage.

  He vaguely remembered his horse rearing up and sending him flying off his mount to the ground where he hit his head on something hard.

  He was about to get up, but felt woozy.

  He fell back to the ground.

  When he woke again, everything was silent.

  Larry reached up, felt a wet spot and a giant lump on the back of his head, and turned, just enough to see that he’d hit a fallen tree.

  He stayed down, scanning the battlefield for any sign of John or Hope, trying not to alert the wolves to his breathing.

  So far as he could tell, he was the only survivor in the clearing littered with corpses of humans and horses ripped into barely recognizable shreds. The reek of blood and bile and shit was strong, practically choking him in its stench.

  Larry fought the urge to vomit, gagging as quietly as he could.

  He had to close his eyes to the grim environment. Focus on a way to escape, then find Hope and John.

  A low growl demanded Larry’s open eyes.

  But what he saw made him wish he’d kept them closed.

  There was a large gray wolf, only inches away. Glowing red eyes, bloody maw full of razor-sharp teeth, belly apparently not yet full.

  It growled, the sides of its mouth curling up, revealing even more of its horrible teeth, black gums glistening with the slick remnants of Larry’s comrades.

  The wolf slowly padded forward.

  Despite Larry’s pounding heart and flooding adrenaline, his body was only prepared to stay frozen in place. His mind screamed at his limbs.

  Come on, move! Do something!

  He wasn’t sure why the beast didn’t rushed to capitalize on his paralysis, as if it were delighting in his torment.

  Larry found the will to move — he’d make the wolf pay for not acting faster.

  He reached down, grabbed the pistol tucked into the holster at his waist, raised it, and fired straight into the fucker’s face.

  Larry got off two shots before the beast yelped then spun around and ran.

  Larry leaped to his feet, blood rushing to his head, making it hurt and turning him dizzy.

  No time to find his balance.

  While one wolf had fled, he could hear growling in the woods ahead. Then they appeared, four of them, all staring at him, heads low, teeth bared, eyes burning bright.

  Larry turned and ran deeper into the woods in the opposite direction.

  The beasts followed.

  Larry knew there was no way in hell he could outrun a normal Earth wolf, let alone these monstrosities. Nor could he shoot them all before one or two broke through and brought him down.

  All he had was a pistol and a few shots left in that. His rifle was lost.

  He had a few flash bombs in a pouch on his belt, but he wasn’t sure how quickly he could get them loose while running for his life.

  Four monster wolves against a fat dude wasn’t a match he would likely survive.

  Larry screamed as he ran, hoping that someone who could actually do something — assuming everyone else wasn’t already dead — was within earshot.

  But he had nowhere to run. No shack to hide in. No waterfall to jump off of.

  No escape.

  Only a swath of thinning trees in every direction.

  He could feel the wolves closing in, could hear their thundering paws gaining on him.

  He didn’t dare turn; he’d surely lose all hope if he did. His legs would turn to jelly, and he’d collapse.

  Then they’d be on him, tearing him apart, maybe fighting for scraps like some damned Otherworldly documentary.

  He could hear the narrator’s voice.

  Fortunately, the wolves had found the fattest of the species, so there’d be plenty to go around, perhaps there would even be leftovers.

  He screamed John! in his mind, hoping his friend was nearby.

  Automatic gunfire erupted from Larry’s immediate right just as he ran hard into something he couldn’t see, knocking it, and himself, to the ground in a violent collision.

  Deafening cries behind from the wolves.

  Larry looked up to see the rippling air where the gunfire had erupted. Beyond the ripples, a dark shape taking form.

  Not a shape, a person — Sanders, aiming an M16 at the wolves.

  Then Larry saw something materialize in front of him — the thing, or person rather, that he’d run into: Emma Crowe.

  She got up quickly, yelled, “Watch where you’re going!” then ran toward him.

  At first Larry thought she was going to hit him, but she grabbed his left hand instead.

  Sanders cursed as the gun jammed.

  The last wolf left had been starting to retreat, but must’ve sensed that the weapon no longer worked.

  It turned, growling.

  And moved, fast.

  Emma tightened her grip on Larry’s hand, pulling him as she launched herself toward Sanders.

  What the hell is she doing, trying to get us all killed?

  Emma’s other hand seized Sanders by the shoulder.

  Larry was confused as Sanders kept trying to unjam the gun.

  But the wolf had stopped, head tilted, looking at them.

  Realization dawned on Larry.

  It can’t see us.

  He looked over at Emma, remembering that she and her brother had shadow abilities. She was using hers to cloak them. He could see her and Sanders because they were touching and on the same frequency, or whatever the hell the Halfworlders called it. But the wolf could not.

  Larry also knew that those powers rarely lasted long. The girl would soon lose her focus, and all three of them would become visible. Even then, the wolf could probably smell and hear them. Eventually, it would move toward the trio, or at least where its other senses told it they’d be.

  Sanders got the gun unjammed, lifted her rifle, and fired straight into the monster’s face.

  The wolf howled and turned to run.

  Sanders kept firing.

  The wolf went down.

  Emma released them, gasping for air.

  “You have to hold your breath to do that?”

  “Not all the time, but with three of us, yeah.”

  “Thank you,” Larry said.

  Sanders turned and nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

  Larry was about to ask if either of them had seen John or Hope, but then noticed that Emma was staring behind him.

  Oh God, not more.

  He turned, not sure his heart could take another attempt at escape. But this time he wouldn’t need to run. Emma was staring at something already dead, and it wasn’t a wolf.

  The trail of blood the wolf had left behind in its escape now led to a naked man, lying facedown on the ground.

  Sanders asked, “Is that a —”

  Emma finished the question, “Werewolf?”

  Twelve

  Hope

  Hope sat on the ground, frozen in the giant wolf’s gaze, a jumble of life flashing before her eyes.

  But unlike the movies where the heroine remembers sweet moments plucked from her life with soft, focused recollection — a few early memories with her parents, some struggles as a teen or young woman, or maybe a few romantic moments between herself and a lover or two — this was a torrent of recall, passing too fast for definition.

  Even odder were those memories that didn’t belong to her.

  John�
��s magick user had given her a new identity and created a fictional past. That had been confusing enough to sort which memories were hers and real versus the false and implanted.

  But this was a deeper layer of confusion — memories of herself as a child, with people who weren’t her parents. Places she’d never seen. And odd people and strange animals straight out of a fairy tale.

  She tried to slow the memories, to excavate deeper and determine where they were coming from. If they weren’t hers, whose were they? But they kept rushing by chaotically, so fast that it felt like she was in a projector room for a theater with a thousand screens.

  The memories washed over Hope in a tsunami, drowning her senses — insights, sounds, and emotions, all at once and all too much.

  She felt lost, adrift in nothingness, and lost sight of the danger literally breathing down her neck.

  But then she was reminded by the wolf’s low and ugly growl.

  And in a moment that should have been filled with raw panic, desperation, and adrenaline, somehow peace bloomed.

  She opened her eyes, and just as the torrent of alien memories and emotions had jarred her, so too had the serenity that spread over her in the face of certain death.

  She tried willing her body to stand, fight, or run. To do anything that would prevent this beast from turning her into its meal.

  But whatever panic she should have been feeling was gone.

  There was only the comfort of death on its way.

  It didn’t make sense.

  She met the wolf’s eyes, and found herself doing the unthinkable, moving closer to better see the fire in its eyes.

  The monster’s gaze, which had been so terrifying just moments ago, now seemed majestic. Its eyes were tiny planets, living in fiery swirls of red, orange, and specks of black, all in constant, impossible motion.

  Hope was awestruck by their beauty.

  Without even meaning to she reached up to touch the wolf’s thick, gray matted fur. She stroked it, smiling as she thought back to a dog she once had, unable to remember if it was truly her pet or another false memory.

  Maybe it wasn’t even a dog.

  The only thing Hope knew, even though it didn’t make sense, was that this wolf wasn’t going to kill her.

  As if the wolf had seen something in her, perhaps recognition of this awareness, it looked down, and softly whined.

  Then it turned and ran, back into the darkness.

  “What the hell?” she heard a man’s voice from behind.

  She turned to find John, staring at her.

  Thirteen

  John

  “What happened?” John asked, watching the wolf take off into the woods, leaving Hope unharmed.

  “I don’t know,” she said in barely a whisper.

  Hope stared at John, her body trembling.

  He grabbed the gloves from his uniform pocket, slid them on, went to Hope, and hugged her tight, careful not to let the skin showing through his open helmet brush against her.

  She said nothing as he held her. She barely recognized the embrace, as if he were hugging a stranger.

  He pulled away and looked down at Hope who was staring past him and into the trees, probably in shock.

  Perhaps she had snapped. It could happen in far less traumatic circumstances than staring down a giant wolf. Maybe this was the final straw. She’d been through a ton of shit in these last few weeks, least of all discovering that she wasn’t Hannah, the false identity she was living as for a decade. Maybe her encounter with the wolf had shoved Hope over the edge.

  If so, John wasn’t sure how to bring her back.

  He wasn’t sure if he should try to comfort her or ask questions.

  “Did you do something to scare it away?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, still staring past him.

  “Did it hear me coming?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was as lost as her gaze.

  “You’re okay now.” He pulled her close, though she still wasn’t receptive. As John hugged her, grateful that she was still alive, his mind kept circling the moment, trying to make sense of what happened.

  Why would the wolf just leave? Surely, he hadn’t scared it away.

  He thought of Larry and the others, and felt guilty for not thinking of his friend sooner.

  Larry?

  “I’m here, boss. Did you find Hope? Is she okay?”

  Yes, she’s good. What’s the unit’s status?

  “Not good, John. We lost a lot of them.”

  How many are left?

  “I don’t know. I’m with Emma. She managed to save me and Sanders, hid us from the wolves. But I think everyone else is either dead or took off.”

  Shit. What about the horses?

  “Also dead or gone.”

  Fuck.

  This was a breath from a worst-case scenario — a few hours into their mission, and most of their unit was gone.

  “How far out are you? Can you find us, John?”

  I dunno. Maybe a half hour walking. Just gather what you can in supplies, without getting killed, please.

  “All right, John. See you soon.”

  Larry was shaken despite his bravado. Signing off without some smart ass comment clearly broadcast his terror.

  “Larry’s okay. So are Emma and Sanders.”

  “What about the others?” Hope’s lost look was finally gone, and her voice was approaching something closer to normal.

  “Dead or running. Too soon to tell how many others are left. But a lot of them are dead, and all the horses are gone.”

  Hope covered her mouth then from behind her hand said, “Oh my God. So what now?”

  “We walk back, and regroup. After that, I don’t know. Maybe we should head back home.”

  Hope met his eyes and shook her head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “I want to stay.”

  John looked down at what was left of the horse, then back up at Hope. “After that you want to stay?”

  “Something happened, John, and I’m not sure what.”

  “Scaring the wolf away?”

  “No, before that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know how people say that their lives flash before their eyes when they’re about to die? Well, I was seeing all these memories, but … they weren’t all mine.”

  “Well, of course they weren’t. You were living another life for ten years.”

  “No, not that … these were … different. Not Hannah’s life, but a childhood I don’t remember having.”

  John didn’t like where this was going. He wasn’t ready to tell Hope that she was from this world. That she’d been used to smuggle one of the crystals to Earth. Not now. Not until things were closer to normal. They’d just reconciled after she learned that he’d had her mind wiped. He’d promised to never lie again, to include her in the decisions about her life.

  He hadn’t told her about her origin because he still didn’t know much about it himself. It was one thing to learn that she’d lost a decade or so of her life to a lie, but to learn that her humanity was also false? That might be too much, especially given how shaken she appeared.

  She locked onto his eyes. “Have you done this to me before? Was I someone else before Hope?”

  “I met you as Hope,” John said. Not a lie. “I don’t know what you experienced, but I would guess that when Adam loaded you with memories, he might have given you some he decided not to use. Like extra programming? I’m not sure. I know some spells, but I’m no expert in memory wipes or re-creations.”

  She continued looking at John, then past him again. “No, I don’t think it was him. I think it’s something else.”

  “Do you think the wolf leaving had something to do with it?”

  Again, she met his eyes. “I think so.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but it was the weirdest thing. I was scared to death, and then, as all of these memories rushed through me, I f
elt so … calm. I was no longer afraid to die.”

  “Maybe it was your brain’s way of finding peace in a horrible situation.”

  “Maybe, but it felt like something else.”

  “What?”

  “Like I was just waking up for the first time ever.”

  She paused, then added, “I don’t know what it was, but I need to stay here until I figure it out.”

  Shit.

  Fourteen

  Abigail

  The village must be close.

  Abigail kept repeating the mantra as they traversed the narrow canyon pass, walls on either side vanishing into a thick, milky moonlit fog above. At least she thought it was fog. But they’d been following the land’s incline through the night, so maybe they were high enough to actually be walking in the clouds.

  They were following a river that was supposed to bring them to the village of Kovar and a witch who might be able to save her from the poisoning.

  Abigail wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on.

  Her chest was tight; it was hard to breathe.

  Her body was racked with pain, every stiff movement feeling as though something was breaking, as if her insides were turning into cement and motion was the only prevention, even if moving was the very thing that hurt most.

  She thought of a story she’d read while in the monster’s closet, about a boy lost in the Alaskan wilderness, exhausted and in search of shelter. He was desperate to sleep but knew that slumber would be final. That was how she felt now. Stopping for rest would be the last thing she ever did.

  I have to keep moving.

  Just a little bit farther.

  Even though Talani had forced her to feed, the parasite inside Abigail didn’t seem to be sharing the energy. It was fighting for its own life, damn its host. If they didn’t get help from the witch soon, it would die and take Abigail with it.

  The canyon walls started to widen ahead. Though the fog was growing thicker, making it impossible to see in the distance, Abigail took the widening as a promising sign that they were closing in on Kovar.