Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (67 page)

Nothing seemed quite so daunting anymore.

* * *

Cecilia put her arm around her brother as they sat just out of sight on the stairs.

“You know what?” she asked Jeremy.

“What?”

“I think we are going to be okay.”

Her brother hugged her back. “Maybe, but not until I dump everything Dahmer in my life!”

They both jumped up and ran into his room. The Dahmer shrine took on a whole new creepy level. It felt so very good to tear down all those stupid posters and stomp on the CDs.

Nearly frenzied, she and Jeremy purged the room of anything black and sinister. Finally, they stood in a barely recognizable room. The walls were a light blue, except, of course, where the paint stuck to the tape, revealing white underneath.

“So? How are you going to decorate now?” Cecilia asked her brother.

“I was thinking about old-school Pokemon.” Jeremy said, and then he tilted his head. “And I’m gonna start listening to the Carpenters.”

“You
and
me, Jeremy,” Cecilia agreed. “You and me both.”

Rook: Let’s Stop the Apocalypse, People

PROLOGUE

General Samuel Houghlin watched out of the helicopter’s window as the craft bobbed and weaved, trying to stay out of the heated firefight below. The force of the helo’s blades allowed brief glimpses of the battle and bent double the leaves of the jungle’s trees. The army’s dark green uniforms and the guerrillas’ camouflage blended in with the tangled vegetation. Only the bright red smears of blood made it possible to see which way the fight was tipping.

Not their way, that was for sure.

Houghlin remembered an old sergeant’s warning when he took command here years ago. “Africa is a harsh mistress.”

How right the grizzled old man’s predictions were. Sympathies within the local governments were about as fickle as the governments themselves. With each coup, citizens got a whole new set of would-be dictators, or worse, the politicians calling themselves “reformers.”

Which was exactly how they landed in this incredibly untenable position. A rebel had declared himself king—and had enough fighters to put that claim to the test. Somehow, his forces had swept nearly fifty miles to the west within days, as the army proved ineffective to stop him. And that put this horrific fight just steps from an American archaeological dig.

Houghlin had no real authority here. He was an advisor only. With two Somalian pirate hostage situations off the coast and rioting in Cape Town, the soonest an American extraction team could get here was in forty-eight hours.

He had strongly urged the government to send a squad to extract the archaeologist, but it looked like Houghlin had just sealed these soldiers’ fates. The rebels had taken this evacuation mission as some sort of recon force and had dealt them a swift blow.

“Sir, we have got to pull out,” Emmeret, his assistant, stated as a bullet pinged off the helo’s metal rotor. “We just have to hope the team can stay holed up until reinforcements arrive.”

But after the garbled, frantic call Houghlin received from the lead researcher, Houghlin wasn’t sure if the greater danger to the archaeologists was outside the cave or within.

* * *

Professor Hoshi Sanu felt the claw sink into the flesh of his shoulder, and then tear. He screamed, but who could hear him over their own cries? Then the beast retreated into the shadows whence he had come. Clutching the wound, trying to stanch the bleeding, Sanu stumbled.

The cave’s damp floor crumbled beneath his feet, nearly knocking him over. Only crashing into the rough-hewn rock wall stopped his tumble. His glasses long ago knocked away and trampled in the chaos, Sanu squinted into the flickering torchlight. Maybe two other people were still in the cave with him. Where were their guards? But in his blurred world, he could not tell. Were the rest of his students dead? Or worse, had they been dragged into the shadows with the beast?

He had dug in Africa more times than he could count, encountering snakes the size of drainage pipes and lions so bold that they would stroll through his camp, but never had he seen any creature like that which attacked them now. It was more cunning than a wild animal and stronger than any man.

“Where is it?” whispered one of his students, Chad Fallon.

Before Sanu could answer, the beast grabbed hold of Chad and shook him like a rag doll. His student used the only weapon available to him—a backpack. With all the force the young man could muster, he swung the heavy pack and hit the beast squarely on the nose. It reared, blood pouring from its snout, and howled.

The beast looked like a hyena, only it walked upright like a man. But this was no human, as its eyes glowed red. It towered over the injured student. Sanu knew he had no chance, but he could not let Chad die while he crept along the cave wall. Sanu went to move forward, but another student screamed.

“Get back!”

It was Kadie Mannson. She held a sputtering kerosene lantern. She hauled back, and just as the beast lunged for Chad, she hit it squarely on the chest. The glass shattered, engulfing the beast in flame.

The cave lit up as the fire consumed the screeching, flailing beast. Sanu shielded his eyes from the sight, but slowly his arm lowered as he realized the wall behind the beast now glowed of its own accord. Detailed, scrawled etchings formed a circle within a circle within a circle. Sanu was a master of fifteen languages, and he did not recognize a single symbol.

The Seal of Deur Hel.

The myths were true. The entire reason they had begun this cursed mission lay before them. He had been right. Not that it brought him any solace as the beast’s wails threatened to shatter his eardrums.

Then, as suddenly as the fire started, it sputtered out, leaving no trace of the beast. Slowly, as if it had never been aglow, the wall, too, descended into black.

“Chad!” Kadie screamed, as she fell to her knees beside the unconscious student. “Oh, God! He’s hurt!”

Gingerly, Sanu knelt beside the young man, who lay face down. Bright red blood streaked his side. Sanu’s hand shook as he reached for Chad’s shoulder. The student’s back was badly injured. What would the front look like? Kadie helped to pull him over.

Chad flopped onto his back as Sanu and Kadie scurried away.

It could not be. It simply couldn’t.

Chad’s shirt lay shredded, revealing a glowing seal on his chest. The same seal upon the wall. The thing pulsed with his heartbeat, growing brighter by the moment.

Sanu held Kadie close as she sobbed hysterically, not knowing what else to do.

* * *

“Say again!” the general yelled into his mouthpiece, but the line had gone dead—replaced only by static. He could not possibly have heard what he thought he heard. The only thing he knew for certain was that things had gone south—
way
south—in the cave.

“Sir,” his assistant argued again, “the only other extraction team on the continent is bogged down in the Congo. We have got to pull out.”

Houghlin would actually like nothing better. However, there was a slight problem.

“So, I take it that you are volunteering to tell the vice president that we lost his nephew?”

His assistant looked sheepish, and then averted his gaze outside the window. But Houghlin knew that the sight would not give Emmeret any more comfort.

He patted the back of the copilot’s chair. “Get me Washington.”

“Whom are you calling?” his assistant asked.

Gritting his teeth, Houghlin prepared to make the call that he swore he would never make.

“Someone who can help.”

CHAPTER 1

Rook sat in a really uncomfortable kitchen chair, leaning over a large pewter and onyx chessboard. Of course, if he had known he was going to be playing a game for his soul, he would have chosen an overstuffed recliner or something with a bit of padding. But alas, here his butt sat on hard wood.

He moved his black pawn in front of another white pawn, taunting Dimitri to take the easy bait. But the figure sitting across from him, shrouded in a motley robe and hood, ignored his play.

“Rook, your moves are always so superficial.”

Instead of taking the pawn, Dimitri moved his bishop laterally across the board, endangering Rook’s knight.

“You should have listened to the czar, Dimitri.”

Rapidly, they made a series of moves. Pieces were removed from the board with frightening regularity—until there were only ten pieces left. Dimitri’s hand hesitated over his white queen.

“One would think that with all the time on your hands, you would have learned to play a bit better than this…” Rook taunted.

His words only seemed to steel Dimitri’s nerves. The Russian forcefully moved his queen into position.

“Check.”

Oh, why did opponents never see this coming? “Like I said…” Rook sighed.

Taking hold of his black rook, he slid it over and knocked Dimitri’s queen off the board. “Check and Mate.”

“No!” Dimitri bellowed, but it was far too late to change his destiny.

“Oh, yes.”

Dimitri’s form began to waver as his hood slipped back, revealing half the flesh eaten away. His cheekbone glistened a sickly red. “You tricked me!”

Rook shrugged. “Of course I did.
Duh
.”

A fiery whirlpool blossomed behind the mangy ghost.

“Rook, you can’t—”

Dimitri flailed as the whirlpool sucked first his robes, and then his legs, in.

“Sorry, dude. A bet is a bet.”

Finally, the ghost’s torso slid through the flames as Dimitri screamed.

“Don’t do the crime, Dimitri, if you can’t do the time.”

“No!” the ghost screamed, as the last of him was sucked through, except his head, which promptly exploded.

Rook wiped the ghostly remains from his face. “Seriously, there isn’t a neater way to do this.”

But, all in a day’s work. Humming “Oops! I Did It Again,” Rook got up and rummaged around his broom closet. Well, not exactly rummaged, given the fact that only three items graced the shelves. He’d only had this apartment for a week, and, given his line of employment, Rook hadn’t made time for some serious grocery shopping. He did find a broom and a dustpan, though.

Which turned out not to be all that helpful, given how moist Dimitri’s remains were. Rook was definitely going to need a mop for this one. Which meant a trip out. Probably for the best. Maybe he could actually buy some food while he was at it. He had been subsisting on ramen noodles and Red Bulls.

Before he could grab his keys, Rook’s fax machine whirred to life. Weird. He wasn’t expecting any communications today. The machine beeped twice, but instead of the usual connection sound, a high-pitched scream announced the fax. Acrid smoke billowed from the machine as the lights flashed an ominous red.

Definitely not his weekly update.

Putting his sleeve over his mouth, Rook rushed over and tried to turn the damned thing off, but to no avail. As a singed parchment slid from the machine, Rook kicked the power cord, but the smoldering machine sucked power directly from the socket.

This was
not
good. Costco had a pretty liberal return policy, but
come on
.

Using the end of his broom, Rook smashed the wood into the power outlet until it sparked, but then went dead. Unfortunately, it was too late. The parchment lay in the tray of the charred machine. Rook sat back on his heels. Carefully, he reached a hand out and picked up the rough piece of paper. Grotesque scenes of human suffering bordered the edges.

How delightful.… Not.

The inscription was not just in Latin, but an ancient form of the dialect. He translated it rapidly.

“There is nowhere you can hide. We will eat your intestines and feast on your… yada, yada, yada.”

Typical demon smack talk. All it was doing was making Rook hungry. He really did need to make a grocery run. Quickly, he scanned the page of insults and threats. Surprisingly, demons had an impressive understanding of human anatomy. Finally, he reached the end.

“Beware our ire, and know that we watch.”

Rook nearly dropped the parchment as the cell phone rang… with the theme of
The Exorcist
as a ringtone. Rook hated to admit it, but damn, that
did
startle him. Should he answer it? Would it light up as soon as he hit that little green “answer” icon? But it was Beauty’s number. He had to try.

Still, Rook held it away from his head as he answered. “Beauty, I was just about to call you…”

The smooth, sultry voice of his cross-dressing Arranger came over the line. “Heads up, darlin’. Your location has been compromised.”

“Yep,” Rook answered. “The little devils have been busy. Literally.”

“That is the least of our worries, though. We’ve got a Level Five breach in the Congo.”

Rook stood up. “Africa, huh?” He looked around his trashed apartment. “Just as well. I was getting in a rut with domestic assignments. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

He disconnected the call before Beauty even had a chance to respond. Rook knew she would be there. She always was.

Grabbing his dark trench coat, Rook made his way to the door. With one last look at the place he had called home for a week—longer than most—Rook entered the code to the alarm system. Its steady green light changed to a frantic, blinking red. Closing the door behind him, Rook stepped into the hallway.