Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) (7 page)

J
uliet woke to
an odor that burned her nose and stole her breath. It smelled like someone had lit a match, but concentrated to the point of suffocation. What was that smell? Had she instinctively triggered a fire while being choked? She coughed and fought her way clear of the darkness. What had happened? Her thoughts seemed muddled and slow, and breathing through her damaged throat was an agony of effort.

Gray. Her heart gave one hard thump. Someone…some
thing
had been choking her. And Samuel had helped her. It had to be him. No one else had been there. She forced her eyes open. She yelped in fear as a gray creature came into focus. It lunged against the circle of light only six inches from her face. She jerked further back into the shadow cast by the nearby storefront.

She rolled away onto her knees. The world spun, and she closed her eyes to stop the sickening rotation. She opened them and forced herself to look at the thing. It was like a shadow, but it had bulk, and it had no eyes. Fear hit her like a slap, and tears streaked down her face. This couldn’t be happening. She was dreaming.

Samuel. Where was he? She looked across the uneven disk projected onto the ground by the streetlight. He was lying on his back, his head turned away. Was he still alive?

Juliet staggered to her feet, almost too dizzy to stand. Every inch of her body hurt, her throat and chest the most. Every breath was an agony. The creature inside the circle of light lunged and snapped. She stumbled away from it. It bounced back, as if the darkness formed an invisible, impenetrable wall between them.

Samuel lay on his back, his arms outstretched. As she got closer to him, she could see his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but his skin looked gray. He was fading fast.

Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she fell to her knees beside him and braced her hands on the concrete, her scraped palms sending sparks of pain up her arms. She gripped Samuel’s arm and shook him. “Samuel Newton, wake up.” Her voice was less than a whisper, not enough to drag him from unconsciousness. His arm stayed limp, and he remained unresponsive.

Juliet looked around for her purse and flinched as soon as she moved her head. She was hurt, really hurt, and so was Samuel. She needed to call for help. Her bag was just out of reach behind the creature. The thing paced back and forth, its focus riveted on her every move. Without any eyes, how did it know where she was? What was that thing? And why was it after her?

She glanced back at Samuel. He’d helped her, just as Tanner had. What if he died, too, because of her? She couldn’t be responsible for another man’s death. “Please don’t die,” she mouthed.

If she called EMS now, she’d never be able to speak loudly enough to give them her location. They’d lose precious time trying to locate them or think it was a prank call.

She tried to ignore the demented screams of the creature and focused on pushing away the pain and dizziness that threatened to swamp her. With an effort she centered herself and lowered her shields. A surge of energy flowed into her, embracing her like a long-lost friend. She gathered it to her, and immediately the pain in her chest and throat eased a small bit. While she waited for her head to clear, she spiraled the energy down into her hands.

Earth to center and support him, water to cradle him in a womb of protection, air to blow each healing breath into his lungs, and fire to heat and ease his pain and suffering. Her efforts drained some of the energy from the creature, and it became almost transparent. She stretched her hands over Samuel. After five minutes he began to groan, and his eyes fluttered open. She broke off the healing, afraid he would feel what she was doing.

As could happen when using energy to heal someone else, it had somewhat relieved the agony in her throat and chest, and her dizziness had ceased. She ran her hands over his pockets until she found a flat shape large enough to be a cell phone and jerked it free of his jacket pocket. What was she going to tell them? A gray creature trapped in a circle of light had attacked them? They’d have to see it for themselves. Otherwise they’d cart her off to the psych ward.

She dialed 911. When she spoke, she sounded as if she were speaking through broken glass…and felt like it, too. “A man is unconscious at the corner of Seventeenth Street and Stoker. I—we’ve been attacked. I need an ambulance.”

She gave the dispatcher all the information she had and then stayed on the phone. Five minutes seemed an eternity as she waited and watched the creature’s attempts to escape. Would it stay there until morning? Would daylight set it free? If it escaped, would it be able to find her again?

She glanced at her purse, lying just out of reach. Though she no longer had a car, she still had her license and other identification in it. The creature had shown no interest in the bag, just her. As she looked into its horrible, blank gray face, she shuddered. Its face split into a dark, empty maw. It shrieked again, the sound wild with rage. Her fear wound tighter, and she covered her ears.

Dear God, what was it?

What would it have done to her if Samuel hadn’t intervened?

An ambulance came around the corner, siren blaring, lights flashing. They’d see it, too, and maybe call the police. With a sense of relief, she turned to glare at the creature. The glow of the streetlight reflected off the empty sidewalk. It was gone.

*     *     *

Miranda stood at
the door and kept watch for Caleb. The students had departed fifteen minutes before, and with no distractions, every minute stretched to at least five.

She’d spent the time drawing some power to her, which had felt so unbelievably good she almost cried. It had been so long. But she wasn’t sure she’d be able control it—maybe it was like riding a bicycle, and once you learned you never really lost the ability.

But her magic might not work against the entity they’d seen outside. And what then?

She’d left all this behind as a kind of atonement, determined to live as normal a life as possible. But normal wasn’t what she’d gotten. She’d been alone so long. Closed off from everyone. When she contacted Caleb after his grandmother had died eighteen months ago, she hadn’t had any thought of starting up a long distance relationship with him. And when he continued to email and skype, she hadn’t had the heart to shut him down.

He’d been alone, too. His only living relative gone. He’d needed her.

And now she’d put him in danger.

Ted, the busboy, ran a steam cleaner over the linoleum floors, making them shine like glass. Sherry sat on one of the stools refilling ketchup bottles and saltshakers. The clatter of dishes being stacked came from the kitchen.

The purr of an engine vibrated through the thick plate glass windows before Caleb came into sight, and Miranda allowed herself a sigh of relief.

“Looks like your ride is here.” Sherry rose to unlock the door for her. “I might take your picture on that Harley and post it on Facebook,” she threatened with a tired smile.

Miranda laughed. “The students were stunned when I told them I was going to ride on it.”

“I’m glad to see you kicking back with Caleb. You couldn’t ask for a nicer guy.”

“Yes, he is. Thanks for letting me stay until he got here. There was an issue with my car, and he had to walk to the station to get his motorcycle.”

“No problem. We wouldn’t have let you stand out on the sidewalk and wait for him in the dark. You hold onto that man real tight.” Shelly opened the door for her.

Miranda smiled. “I will.” She scanned the restaurant parking lot. Nothing moved. She stepped outside.

Caleb rolled to a stop at the base of the ramp. Clutching her purse, Miranda hustled down the incline. A gray outline flickered out of the corner of her eye, and she broke into a run.

“Run, Mandy,” Caleb barked, his attention directed just over her shoulder, his features rigid with anxiety. She had barely swung her leg over the side of the motorcycle and gripped his waist when he spun the motorcycle around.

She turned to look behind her, and for a second Miranda was face-to-face with the entity. It struck out at her, and she raised a partial energy shield to try to block it. It wasn’t enough. An icy spear of pain lanced through her shoulder and arm, and she cried out. Caleb gunned the motorcycle and shot out of the parking lot.

Miranda’s right arm hung useless at her side, but she clung to Caleb’s waist with the other and pressed close against his back. The faster Caleb drove, the more rapidly the overhead streetlights flickered past like out-of-control strobe lights. Nausea struck her, and she swallowed and closed her eyes against it.

J
uliet jerked when
she heard the soft pad and squeak of footsteps out in the hall. Every nerve in her body seemed to be stuck on high alert. She clung to the blanket a nurse had given her and clenched her teeth against their need to chatter. The hospital bed’s metal headboard pressed against the back of her head, and she yanked at the pillow behind her. As the adrenaline started to drain from her system, exhaustion took its place, and every bump and scrape she’d sustained during the attack grated along her nerve endings. She hated to think how bad the injuries must have been before she channeled the energy to help heal Samuel during those five minutes before the EMTs arrived.

Never again would she walk home alone after work. She’d almost cost Samuel Newton his life. He’d sustained major bruising to one whole side of his body, and it would take weeks for him to recover. Just imagining it turned her stomach, and knowing she had once again been the cause of someone’s pain, this time because of sheer stubbornness, made it worse.

She was such a fuckup! Always causing trouble. Always responsible for people getting hurt. She and Miranda had never been the same since…She flinched away from the memory. They had lost each other that night.

She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall behind her. A vision of the creature’s gaping maw snapping at her face popped into her head and her eyes flew open again. As she scanned the room, sweat gathered under her arms and along her hairline, and the tremor in her hands worsened. The noises in the hall got louder. Could it follow her here? Could it get inside the hospital?

She covered her face with her hands, and even the delicate pressure of her own touch hurt, and her cheek burned where she’d skinned it on the concrete. She touched the sticky salve they’d put on the abrasion. Her palms had stung, too, at first, but they no longer burned.

A dull throb lurked at the base of her skull. Jesus, she’d been suspended in the air like a marionette. Her throat, still raw from whatever had been forced into her mouth, made swallowing difficult. Adrenaline had kept the pain of her own injuries at bay, but not any longer.

“Juliet?” The nurse who’d brought the blanket stood at the door.

“Yes,” her voice was just shy of a whisper.

“A police officer is here to speak with you about what happened.”

If she told him the truth he’d have her thrown into a padded room.

Her thoughts froze as Brian Underwood sauntered into the room. He was bigger than he’d been in high school, and a ring of fat around his middle perched atop his belt like an inner tube. But his features hadn’t changed. He still had the same shaggy brown hair. The same big hands. Her fingers knotted the rough binding at the hem of the cotton blanket and she stared at him.

“Hello, Juliet.” He paused to pull a straight-backed chair from the corner toward the bed.

The closer he came, the harder she had to fight to keep up her facade and not cower beneath the blanket the way she wanted to. As he paused next to the bed, a flash of memory made her stomach lurch. He’d stood over her, his fists bloody, his features contorted with hate. He’d called her Miranda. Bile rose into the back of her throat. She covered her mouth with the edge of the blanket.

“I just need to ask you some questions,” he said, as he sat on the chair. His hazel eyes studied her, his face bland. “I already have some information from the ambulance attendants. I just want to double-check the facts. You called nine-one-one to report Samuel Newton had collapsed and was unconscious.”

There was something surreal about being interviewed by someone who had beaten her bloody and gotten away with it.

She began to shake. Her bottom lip began to quiver. “I don’t want to talk to you.” She had to force her voice past her swollen throat.

“Look, Juliet, I have a job to do, and you have the information I need to do it. Just answer my questions and I’ll get out of here.”

“I want you to go. Now.” Anger started to offset her fear.

Brian’s expression morphed into the sulky, threatening one she recognized from high school. “Don’t give me a hard time, Juliet. Just tell me what the fuck happened.”

“Fuck you.” Just saying the words felt good, even if the hoarseness of her voice stole some of the power from them. “I don’t have to say shit to you. Get out of my room.”

Brian stood up and loomed over the bed.

If he laid a hand on her she was going to scratch his eyes out. Or worse, she’d set him on fire and damn the consequences. She tensed, ready to defend herself. He didn’t have a bathroom stall door to knock her out with before he beat her this time. She wasn’t taking any of his shit again.