by Tessa Dawn
He backed further away.
Oh hell. Not now, Skippy. I clapped my hands. “Come on, boy.”
He looked at me like I was from Mars.
“Oh, c’mon, Skippy, please.” I snapped my fingers and he barked at me in his little puppy voice, so I tried it again. Same thing: No deal. I swore if I lived through this, we were going to start some obedience training. I jumped up, climbed into my car, and reached into the back seat for a handful of kibble from Skippy’s box. No, I thought, I should go for a treat instead. I dumped the kibble back in the box and rummaged through a plastic grocery bag for the bacon treats I had bought to keep him happy during our trip. Armed with a fistful of good-and-yummy, I headed back to Skippy.
It took an amazing amount of coaxing, not to mention laying out bits of treats in a forward line, before the silly pooch finally scooted within my reach. I snatched him a bit too hard. “Sorry boy,” I said as he yelped, “but we gotta get out of here.”
I opened the door to the back seat, placed Skippy securely in his box on his blue puppy-blanket, and hurried behind the wheel. My hand shook as I turned the key in the ignition, popped the gear into park, and slammed on the gas.
As we flew onto the highway, I glanced in my rearview mirror at the pile of clothes and bones sitting in front of the dead cop’s blue Chevy and thought, What in the hell have I gotten myself into? If the cop was that bad, what in the world would happen when I made it to Sedona and confronted the man in black?
five
Of course, the address on the man in black’s business card would have to dump me in an empty gravel lot beside a narrow hiking trail, in what could only be called the Sedona desert. Sure, there were probably amazing caves and cliffs to be explored and beautiful vistas to behold, but I had no idea where I was going. As it stood, it was getting late—almost five-thirty—and I didn’t want the sun to go down while I wandered around like the lost.
Regretting my careless choice to bring Skippy with me, I rolled down his window, just enough to allow him some air but not enough to let him escape. Then I grabbed a bottle of water, a flashlight, and the trail map I had taken from a wooden box staked to a post at the canyon entrance and I started down the trail.
I don’t pray much as a rule—and I didn’t care to become a hypocrite now—but with the dying thing hanging over my head, a few words seemed in order. After all, there was a good chance I wouldn’t make it back, and I wanted to say a few words for my family…and Skippy. “Dear God,” I whispered beneath my breath, “please look after the people I love and make sure someone finds my puppy before he starves to death in the car.” Seemed like a reasonable enough request to me. No need to go on and on about it.
I had probably been walking for about thirty-minutes when I started to get that ‘something’s-not-right-here’ feeling again, and the hair stood up on the back of my neck…again. While I wasn’t the world’s best detective by any means, I figured it wasn’t a coincidence that I happened to be standing right in front of the mouth of a cave when it happened, so I flipped on my flashlight and entered cautiously, careful to check for rattlers, scorpions, and cougars. Wasn’t exactly sure if those were the right animals to watch out for, but it seemed like an appropriate list. I tossed a few pebbles in front of me and listened to see if anything moved.
When nothing did, I shouted: “Hello! Anyone there?” No answer.
So far, so good.
No wild-animals, no skeleton bones, and no fresh droppings—just a plain dirt floor surrounded by low brownish-orange walls.
I checked every nook and cranny carefully with my flashlight as I ventured further into the cave. I was fascinated by how smooth the rock was and how narrow the passageways were—good thing I wasn’t claustrophobic. I couldn’t have gone more than an eighth of a mile when I noticed a faint glow in the distance, like firelight flickering in a hearth. I shut off my flashlight and tiptoed in the direction of the light. I still wasn’t sure what I planned to do: confront whatever I found, hide, or search for clues…
I guess I’d figure it out when I got there.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of time to do any figuring.
Before I could take three more steps forward, the man in black stepped out in front of me and blocked my path. And just like that first day in my office, he appeared out of nowhere.
“Welcome,” he said, in that creepy Vlad Dracula accent of his. “I have been waiting for you, my dear Lacy.” I started to speak, but he shook his head to shush me. “No, no, my sweet; I am nothing like Count Dracula, nor am I a vampire. I am a nightwalker, and you have entered the Shadow Realm. My domain.”
Okay, enough with the cryptic double-talk already. I looked around at the rock walls and the sand floor. It looked more like I’d entered the Cave Realm to me—the domain of bats and creepy-crawlies. But, oh well, why split hairs over semantics? I took a step back. No point in standing too close. “You were waiting for me?” It suddenly felt very chilly, and I folded my arms in front of me. “And what the hell is a nightwalker, anyway?”
He smiled, and heaven forgive me, but he had to be as gorgeous as he was evil.
“Yes, I knew you would come,” he drawled, “because I implanted the suggestion that would bring you here. And of course, if that failed, then I had one of my servants prepared to retrieve you.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and his body seemed to glide more than move, all sinewy and languid, like some kind of big cat. Very, very dangerous, I thought.
The firelight suddenly flickered, casting haunted shadows against the wall like a stage light dimming for the final act. I swallowed. This was just way too creepy, but at least I was getting somewhere.
“Please,” he said, sweeping his hand in front of him in a welcoming gesture, “come in, and have a seat. We will talk, yes?”
Somehow I only liked the second half of that idea. Talk? Yeah, sure; that’s what I was here for—or maybe it wasn’t—since, apparently, he had commanded me to come with some kind of mind-voodoo or something—but have a seat? No, thank you. Not particularly feeling that one. “I’ll just stay here for now,” I said.
I thought I saw his muscles flex, but I can’t be sure. All I know is that between the time it took me to finish my sentence and close my mouth, the nightwalker was standing behind me with his right arm clasped tight around my waist and his hard body pressed flush against my back, breathing into my ear. “Forgive me, Lacy, but I must insist.”
And then he bit me!
Hard and deep, right in the neck.
Not a vampire, my ass! I thought.
My breath left me in a rush, and I reached back to grab a handful of his hair. I was just about to plant a carefully placed kick on his shin when he removed his teeth and licked my wound. Eww. Are you serious? And then his tongue turned into some slimy, slithery thing and began to expand. It wormed its way inside the holes in my neck and took off like a centipede racing toward my heart. I screamed like a freakin’ lunatic. I squirmed and kicked so hard I almost broke free. I beat at his face with my fists, but his tongue just kept growing…and going.
Like the Energizer Bunny.
All the way to my heart, where he bit me again.
I doubled over to puke, and he withdrew the nasty thing. In the space of a second, I looked up at him and saw this beast with green scales and eyes like fiery-diamonds. Suddenly, the nightwalker had the face of a lizard and the body of …I don’t know what…a dragon? And then, just like that, he morphed back into the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
He licked his lips with a normal tongue, and I shrieked in disbelief. “What-the-hell?!”
“I’m sorry I had to do that, my sweet,” he purred, “but I’m afraid I require your obedience.” He shrugged. “You will give it to me now.”
The hell I will, I thought, clutching my flashlight in my hand like a Billy club. I was going to crack his scaly skull open if he came near me again with that nasty, mutating mouth.
He laughed, and it echoed all a
round us in the cave. Good grief, he was disturbing. “Come,” he said, walking off in front of me. Leaving me standing there…all alone.
Was he kidding?
I was going to run to my car, grab Skippy, and make a beeline home where I could spend my final three weeks with the ones I loved. What the hell had I been thinking coming here? Oh yeah, I hadn’t been thinking. I had been under a spell. His command.
Well, not anymore.
I turned to run, and the strangest thing happened. My body went in the opposite direction. I looked down at my feet in stunned surprise. They were moving alright, one right after the other, following Mr. Slithery Tongue right down the dark corridor, just like a duckling behind a mother duck.
This was crazy.
I tried to turn around: I want to go…I need to go…
I have to go.
I kept repeating the words in my head, but my body kept following anyway, just as he had bid. When we finally came to a large medieval-looking door, I was at least able to stop myself for a moment, but the second the nightwalker opened it and crossed the threshold, my little duckling feet waddled right behind him. Quack. Quack.
“Oh shit,” I whispered, taking a good look around the dimly lit room. The place was like a cross between a feudal bedchamber and something barbaric from the Spanish Inquisition—the kind of room that made people confess to things they didn’t do.
There were heavy iron eyehooks anchored into the walls at various heights and intervals, all attached to manacles and different lengths of chain. In one corner, opposite a massive iron bed, was an old-fashioned chest of drawers topped with what looked like crude torture devices. The room was lit by lantern light alone, and old-fashioned settees with matching wing-backed chairs sat in the corners.
The nightwalker took a step toward me and I tried to back up, but my body wouldn’t move. It was totally under his command. “Follow me,” he said, taking my hand and yanking me toward the bed.
I shook my head the whole time…as I followed.
“If you are good,” he whispered, “I will only shackle one hand, leaving the other free for your comfort, but if you fight me in any way, I will shackle both of your arms and your ankles. Do we understand one another?”
My mouth dropped open. I understood him just fine, but he obviously didn’t understand me. At all. I didn’t respond, but I’m sure my eyes spoke for me: “Yes, and oh…shit.”
He smiled the entire time as he raised my left arm high above my head, placed it in a pair of manacles hanging from a hook in the stone wall, and snapped them shut. He dropped a thin black key in his pants-pocket and smiled graciously. “Now then, I will release you from my compulsion, and you will behave on your own, correct?”
I yanked on the chain. It wasn’t going anywhere. I eyed the bed and considered the alternative: Could be worse, I thought. I could be there instead of here. I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll behave.” What else was I gonna say?
“Good,” he said. “Now then, I imagine you would like to know why you’re here and what is going to happen to you?”
Hmm, I thought. Two points for Dracula. At least he was finally going to fill me in, and the way I saw it: the more I knew, the better chance I had of escaping. “Yes, please,” I answered.
He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on my cheek and I grimaced, but I didn’t try to stop him.
“Manners,” he crooned in my ear. “I love them.”
He stepped back. Thank the lord. And then he spun in a graceful arc, glided across the room, and took a seat in some prehistoric-looking chair that might have once been the throne of a feudal giant. I wanted to urge him to talk but sometimes silence is golden; so I waited instead.
He folded his strong, perfectly smooth hands in his lap and leaned back languorously, like a lazy cat. “You, Lacy Logan, are not a paranormal investigator.” He chuckled. “But then, I think we both know that.” He studied his nails with moderate interest. “What you are, however, is a daywalker…and I have searched a century to find you.”
“What?” I said, unable to stop the word from slipping out. “I’m not any kind of walker…day or otherwise…so if that’s why I’m here, then problem solved.”
He shook his head. “Are you sick?”
“Are you?” I snapped. I mean, look who was talking.
He sighed, sounding exasperated. “I mean your health, Lacy. Are you sick?”
Bastard! I thought. I started to answer, but reconsidered.
“Of course you are.” He sniffed the air. “And by your scent, I would say you have only two-weeks left to live.”
“Three!” I argued, wishing I could rip his throat out.
“Two,” he repeated, over-emphasizing the word in a clipped, emphatic staccato.
I groaned, deflated. Of course he would be right and my doctor would be wrong. No point in arguing with his nose. Feeling totally defeated, I whispered, “What did you do to me? And why did you do it?”
He stood then. He clasped his hands behind his back and started to pace around the ridiculous throne, looking almost like a midget in comparison. “I took what I needed from you—your essence—in order to be able to walk in the sun.”
I shook my head in confusion. “But I thought you said you weren’t a vampire.”
He threw up his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Believe what you will, Lacy, but nightwalkers are descended from dragons…and demons.” He paused, looking off into the distance. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”
“No,” I said, quickly. I had seen all I needed of that fine demonstration earlier. “That’s okay. I’ll take your word for it.” Dragons and Demons…great…just great. “So, I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”
He straightened the pleats in his black silk pants. “Every century, a new daywalker is born. The being is usually human, although not always female. Fortunately, he or she always contains the essence needed to give a nightwalker the sun.” His eyes narrowed and he frowned. “Unfortunately, a daywalker also possesses the ability to kill a nightwalker—at least once they have found their Quintessence Teacher.” He sighed then. “Luckily for me, you are a silly, frivolous girl, completely oblivious to what you are and wholly untutored in the ways of our kind.”
I thought about that for a moment. Besides the fact that it was rude and uncalled for, there was important information in his words. If I was this daywalker thing, then I could kill him. I just didn’t know how yet. “So where does a daywalker find a quintess—whatever—teacher?” I spoke very politely.
He laughed then. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He shook his head, “No, no, my dear; I’m afraid your purpose in life will be far less complicated…and short-lived. You will never have the opportunity to find out.”
My stomach sank, and I felt like I needed to puke again. “Why do you say that?” My voice sounded as depressed as I felt.
“Because you will die here in this chamber before you ever meet your Quintessence Teacher.”
“Why?” I asked, sounding both depressed and immature now. The miserable bastard! “What did I ever do to you? I don’t care about demons…or dragons. As far as I’m concerned, you can go on living for ten centuries if you want, just so long as you stay out of my way.” My voice took on a pleading edge and I hated it. And I hated him for reducing me to such desperation. “I’ll leave you alone; I swear it. I’ll never find a teacher, and I’ll never hunt you…any of you.” How many of them were there, anyhow? I wondered.
“Many, many more,” he answered, easily reading my thoughts, “but that hardly matters now, does it?”
I didn’t answer: I figured it was rhetorical.
“When I drained your essence in your office, I failed to take enough.” He shrugged then, like ‘My mistake’. “I didn’t realize that I had to take it all in order to be endowed with the ability to walk in the sun. You are here so I can correct that error. Not so I can save nightwalkers from your kind.”
I hung my head and fought not
to cry. This was all so unbelievable. “So, how did you find me?”
He looked up and away as if he were searching for an answer. “All daywalkers are gifted with psychic talents. As a result, they usually take jobs in fields that exploit those abilities. Nightwalkers, such as myself, will search out tarot-card readers, psychics, and mediums for decades, trying to find a true daywalker. We go to the back alleys of the metaphysical world, so to speak. When you started your paranormal investigations business, I came to see who you were. In all honestly, I never expected to find a true daywalker, but I did have to check, you see.” He smiled then. “And there you were.”
“Well, maybe you made a mistake,” I said, hopeful.
“No, darling. I’m afraid not.” He shook his head and offered me a sympathetic frown.
This was unbelievable. My paranormal business? Really?
Are you kidding me?
I didn’t have an actual psychic bone in my body. What the hell! Talk about your world’s worst luck. “And the cop on the road?” I asked. “Why was he after me?”
“Ah, yes.” The nightwalker licked his lips. “I felt his life force slip away when you killed him.” He sighed, as if he couldn’t care less. “I summoned you here and sent him as insurance, just in case you were able to resist my coercion. He was simply a servant doing my bidding, and now, he is…not.”
I scowled at him, hating his arrogant come-what-may attitude. The cop-a-like had probably been someone’s father, brother, or best friend. “So, he was a minion, then?”
The nightwalker laughed. “Vampires have minions. Nightwalkers have legionnaires.”
“What the heck is a legionnaire?”
He started to reply, and then he dismissed my question with a flick of his wrist. “You talk too much, Miss Logan.” He heaved a sigh. “It is a wearisome human trait, and it won’t do you any good. The whys don’t really matter as much as the hows, now do they?”
“The hows?” I echoed. I would’ve said more, but I was kind of tired of being insulted.
