Dark Daze (16 page)

Kingsley stood in the middle of the room,
surrounded by the shadow…enveloped in it. A blank book sat on a
stand in front of him, and on either side of it, what appeared to
be human leg bones. Ian’s stomach knotted.

“Dominus hic typicus est.” As Kingsley spoke,
he laid a picture of a Felix the cat clock on one page and a kitten
face coffee cup on the other. A bit of incense burned in a brass
holder beside the book. He picked it up and waved it over the
objects, leaving a trail of thin swirling smoke and repeating the
words as he did.

The novel’s cover seemed to materialize.
Kingsley shut the book. The image now showed a woman sitting in a
chair, staring in horror at a broken window while a claw busted
through it.

How was he doing that? Ian stepped closer as
Kingsley began chanting.

The scene before them made him wish he’d
convinced Brie to stay in the car, but if the creature had attacked
her, Ian wouldn’t have been able to protect her.

Kingsley stopped chanting and turned,
glaring.

“I wondered when you would show, Ian. I told
you that you’d regret the damned tree incident.” The deep shadows
gave Kingsley a sinister appearance, his glasses turning his jolly
face into the visage of a hellfire preacher.

The sneer on his lips sent a shiver down
Ian’s spine. A similar shiver emanated from Brie, who clung to the
back of his shirt.

“Why did…How did…” Ian stumbled over the
question, fighting the anger and fear mingling inside him.

Kingsley walked to a table in the corner and
uncorked the decanter of brandy. “Would you like a drink?”

Ian stared at him in disbelief. Kingsley, the
congenial party host, offered the refreshment as if they were
honored guests. Ian thought of the unlocked front door, of the
doors inside the house standing open, of the lack of servants. It
had been no happy coincidence. Perhaps he
was
the host and
they the guests, but Ian didn’t think this party would end the way
either of them expected.

“We’re fine. You going to tell us how and why
you did this? Or do you just want to wait for the cops,” he asked,
squaring his shoulders in an attempt to look more courageous than
he was.

Kingsley smiled and clicked his tongue. “Oh
Ian, I know you better than that, my friend. You didn’t call the
police. What could you tell them if you did?”

Ian cursed himself for not calling them. But
what would he have said?

“Please sit. Balrath doesn’t like people to
block his view.” Kingsley indicated a row of chairs along one wall
with a lazy gesture.

A soft cry of surprise came from Brie, who
tried to move around him and toward the shadowy creature drifting
into the basement. The black hole eyes sucked the candlelight into
their murky depths. The breath whooshed from Ian, and he stepped
back, keeping his body angled so he blocked Brie from both the
monster and the psycho. She tried again to push around him, but he
held her back.

“I have seen this thing before.” A thin
whisper sounded next to his ear. “I was right. It came through the
sky when I was in my brother’s head.”

“Well, if you’re sure you won’t sit.”
Kingsley waved a hand. “Do you remember being scared of the dark as
a child? Afraid of the things lurking in it?”

Ian’s eyes darted back and forth between the
two figures, he didn’t answer, but Kingsley didn’t wait for one
anyhow.

“I was never afraid of the dark or the
creatures hiding in it. While you were pissing your sheets in
fright at every sound in your closet, I was seeking them out.
That’s how I found Balrath. I discovered I had the ability to
summon him on Dark Day.” Kingsley chuckled. “It just came to me
during those hours when the darkness ruled, and I knew I could call
forth a demon from the depths of hell.” He lifted the decanter
again. “You sure?”

Ian drew his brows together. Had the man gone
insane?

Kingsley shrugged, then poured the brandy
into a glass and pressed the crystalline cork back into the bottle.
“Anyhow, I did call him, and it turns out he’s the perfect fit for
me. He feeds on fear, you see. I suppose my indifference intrigued
him.”

Balrath moved forward into the doorway,
sucking more of the soft light from the room. Ian’s heart thudded
as Kingsley continued like nothing out of the ordinary
happened.

“He’d never met a man with absolutely no fear
of him, until I came along. We made a pact; I would seek out the
weak and fearful, and in turn, he would, shall we say, repay some
debts I owed.” He plunked an ice cube into the glass, and it
tinkled against the sides as he swirled it around.

Kingsley sure liked to hear himself talk. Ian
would have loved to shut him up. Tell him how delusional he was.
And if it weren’t for the proof floating around the room, Ian would
have.

“Finding people to feed Balrath’s wrath
wasn’t as easy at first, but one day, I submitted a novel for
publication, and the editor refused me. He told me my work needed
heavy revisions, my writing wasn’t ready for the public, and my
sense of humor was far too dark for human consumption. He said—and
this is a quote—’you will never publish a piece of crap like
this.’“ His bright smile faded, replaced by a snarl. “I hated him
for it.” The expression vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Ian stepped back, watching for any escape and
trying to keep his stomach from rebelling. Kingsley spoke as if he
were on stage at a press conference in his honor, bragging about
the noble things he’d accomplished, not a psycho in his basement
discussing his misdeeds. And this man, like it or not, had them in
his control.

“Anyhow, I was planning my revenge when
Balrath approached me and offered me a new deal.” Kingsley grabbed
the thick novel off the altar and fingered the cover. “He would
give me the wealth, time, and resources I would need to find
victims. So I supply the people, and he plays the villain, which
feeds him significantly longer than a single kill ever did. I do
regret making my enemies the heroes in my novels, but then again, I
know the truth about how much they suffer before the last page. The
readers get a whitewashed version of the ending to keep them
reading.”

Ian had retreated so far that Brie hit the
wall. She let out a huffing sound, still clutching at his shirt and
holding him back.

Kingsley was obviously excited to have
someone he could brag to, and Balrath seemed happy to feed off his
fear, for the time being. If Ian could prolong the conversation
long enough, they might find some means of escape. “Then that’s why
there’s a difference between what really happened, and what was
written in the book?” Ian wiped his damp palms on his pants.
Kingsley would answer. He just had to. He would keep sharing until
Ian could figure a way around the looming demon who advanced on
them, inch by slow and deliberate inch.

“Yes. Any reference to me is removed to
protect me and anything I would deem boring is extracted and
replaced, of course.” He continued the way one would to a child,
over-annunciating each word. “I do have novels to sell.”

Ian wanted to plug his ears. He didn’t want
to listen to how casually Kingsley spoke of what he did to other
human beings. Perhaps the man was more monster than the
creature.

“He taught me a little charm for a blank book
and when the enchanted paperback goes out, the person who reads it
unlocks the story. My friend here is living it out, just as you
are, but the fear feeds him. It makes him strong, and subsequently,
it makes me rich.”

Kingsley again hefted the novel he’d been
enchanting when they entered, showing them the cover. Balrath
closed in. Electric arcs snapped along Ian’s fingertips, and he
jumped away from Brie, fighting to suppress the power surging
through him. The sparks died down.

“Don’t be mad,” Kingsley said, obviously
misreading the reaction. “Your anger is pointless, really. After
all, what can you do? Now you know the truth, so this story must
have a tragic ending. You, my boy, are going to finish off this
little tale. You and Balrath here are going to fight to the death,
which you will lose with noble heroism. Then he’ll rip your pretty
girlfriend there to shreds, though her death won’t make it to the
final edits.” His tone was conversational, and Ian found himself
wanting to shred the arrogant bastard with his bare hands.

“Perhaps there will be a sequel. Your
mother…or maybe your best friend…Readers love a good sequel.” The
words were spoken more to himself than to them, but they made Ian’s
blood boil, still, he fought the power within him.

What would unleashing it mean? If he did let
go, would he ever be able to control it again? At this close
proximity, would he hurt Brie? So many unanswered questions ran
through his head, but Kingsley and Balrath weren’t waiting for him
to sort them out.

“Until you breathe your last, or my reader is
finished reading, it won’t be over. Since the book is already out,
and I can’t trust that bitch to keep the schedule, we might as well
end it now. My readers deserve a fantastic ending, don’t you
think?”

Balrath’s dark eyes rose toward the sky, and
beneath the sinister orbs, a set of sharp, malformed teeth gave the
nonexistent face the appearance of a grin. Taking an involuntary
step back, Ian held his arms wide to protect Brie. The teeth seemed
to grow from the darkness and didn’t appear to be stopping. The
sharp claws and fangs were starting to dominate the figure as grin
turned into snarl.

Ian tried to move forward, but the cloth of
his shirt held him.

“Ian, no.” Brie’s voice was an octave too
high.

“I have to do this, Brie.” Ian pulled her
clutching hands from the back of his shirt.

The mouth opened, revealing more spiked teeth
lining its throat. How would he ever fight this creature?

Eyes gleaming with pleasure, Kingsley’s
stared with rapt attention. Balrath swooped toward Ian, snarling.
Great gobs of slime ran down its teeth into the blackness below.
His palms slick with sweat, Ian snatched a heavy wooden chair from
along the wall and smashed it across the hideous smile, which
floated in the darkness. The solid mahogany thudded against
Balrath, reverberating through Ian’s shoulders. The demon reeled
from the force of the blow. Claws slashed out, rending Ian’s shirt
and biting into the flesh beneath. His muscles contracted, and
Brie’s scream told him it was bad. Balrath turned his head, while
Ian rained a second blow, biting into the chair and breaking it
into firewood.

Ian thrust the broken chair legs at the
monster’s mouth and eyes. The four feet the creature towered over
him made it difficult for him to judge where the blows would land,
so he kicked out at the darkness. His foot connected with a solid
mass and his ankle twisted. Pain slammed through him, from foot to
hip. Balrath seized his chest, hoisting him, as a father would lift
a child into his arms. Its nails pierced his sides, and the world
blurred into searing agony. Brie’s feral cry pierced the darkening
edges of his mind. A jarring motion shook them both. Balrath wailed
in surprise and threw Ian to the ground.

Ian’s back adjusted with a loud crack when he
hit the ground. Cool cascades of relief washed over him when he
tried, and was able, to move his limbs. He scooted back, his hands
crackling with blue light.

“What is that?” Kingsley shouted from his
corner. “What the hell is that?”

Brie stood over Ian, a chair in her hands,
while Balrath advanced toward them. A loud snarl came from the
doorway. Before the demon could turn, Buster jumped like a rabbit
through the air. The dog hit Balrath, and they both fell. Buster
held on to something too shadowed to see and shook it vigorously,
growling.

“No!” Kingsley dropped the book and stalked
toward the dog. “The dog is supposed to be out of the story by
now!”

Ian stared at the blue sparks on his fingers,
which encompassed his hands. Oh God. It was happening. He tried to
push the power down. To regain his control over it.

“I was very specific about this in my
incantations. Why the hell is this mutt here?” Kingsley ranted to
the darkness.

Balrath grasped Buster by the scruff and
tossed the yelping dog away. Buster rolled, coming up near Ian’s
legs, feet braced and fangs bared.

Tears flooded Brie’s cheeks as she crouched
beside Ian, taking his glowing hand before he could pull it
back.

“It’s time now, Ian,” she said, her voice
exuded calm strength. “I trust you. I trust us. And whatever
happens, I love you.”

Ian’s gut clenched. Brie was right. He had to
do what he must to save the future victims of a madman and a demon.
He couldn’t control the electricity, but for once in his life, he
wouldn’t fight it.

“Damn you, woman. This is your fault. I’ll
kill you myself! You’re ruining everything.” Kingsley turned to
face them, taking a step toward Brie.

Ian’s skin crackled and his chest seemed to
swell as though he’d held his breath too long. A burst of blue
light shot from him, and his body convulsed. The years rolled by in
reverse. He loved Brie. He met her. His mother hugged him at his
graduation. He broke his arm. His father fell before him.

The crackling energy filled him, became him.
Pure energy pulled at his edges, breaking him into pieces.

“No. No. Stay with me, Ian. Don’t leave me.”
Brie’s voice anchored him in time and space, giving him form. The
room went dark, and then he was back.

Balrath’s eyes and mouth widened even farther
when the electricity engulfed him. An eerie shriek filled the
dungeon-like room. Dark mist rose from the creature and encompassed
Kingsley. The writer froze, clutching at his chest. He stumbled and
fell, wide-eyed and dead before he hit the floor.

Balrath burst into shadow, fading into the
darkened corners of the room.