Welcome to the Darkness (Darkness Trilogy)

For my husband Chris, the most supportive spouse
ever
in the history of supportive spouses.

In loving memory of
Heather, my BFF who taught me so much.

One Sunday in late October, I was in my room pretending to do homework when my father’s scream ripped through the air, followed closely by my mother’s.

What the hell?

I yanked my feet off the desk and slammed my chair down on all four legs. A high-pitched wail came from somewhere downstairs, sending a spurt of adrenaline through my veins. Leaping up, I raced across the bedroom and flung the door open. I emerged into the hallway at the same time as my sister, Sam.

“Stay here!” I yelled, switching into protective-older-brother mode. I dashed toward the stairs.

The screams had stopped. I took the steps two at a time, but halfway down I jerked to a stop, narrowly avoiding an airborne, soccer ball-sized object. As it flew past me, a warm, thick liquid sprayed my face. Sam started screaming hysterically, and I stood frozen with shock. I wiped the liquid out of my eyes, coating my fingers in red. Blood.

A man I didn’t recognize sauntered down the hall from our kitchen.  His dark, curly hair was plastered to his head with blood and he wore a t-shirt and jeans covered with gore. He smiled at me, revealing two teeth that looked su
spiciously like fangs.

He crouched, like a cat about to pounce. Then he jumped, inhumanly high, and landed at the top of the stairs between my sister and me.

I paused for a second because things were happening so quickly I didn’t know which way to run.

A moment later, my basic instinct to protect Sam and eliminate the threat kicked in. I darted up the stairs and jumped to attack the stranger. As I reached to grab him, he twisted around, grabbed me by the shirt and threw me backwards. I flew through the air, crashing through the wall of the downstairs hallway in an explosion of wood and pla
ster. I landed hard on the floor of our living room in a pile of debris. It felt like every bone in my body was broken, except for my legs, which I couldn’t feel at all.

I realized my sister had stopped screaming. I glanced around for something to defend myself with and spotted a splintered length of wood lying on the ground. It was a piece of the wall I’d just crashed through, and it would have to do. Vicious sparks of pain stabbed every inch of my body, but I managed to snap up my makeshift weapon just as he came for me.

He knelt next to me, brought his face inches from my own, and grinned. The blood of my family members dripped onto my face. I swung out, slashing at him with the piece of wood. He didn’t try to avoid me, so I gouged a deep cut across his forehead. His blood spurted into my nose and mouth and he laughed. I gagged on his blood as it trickled down my throat, and unbelievably, his wound healed itself while I watched. Then he struck, fangs sinking deep into my neck. I felt my life drain away and everything went black.

Unsure whether I’d been unconscious for a minute or an hour, my eyes popped open and time started moving forward again. I was still in the living room, and it was dark because the thick curtains blocked the daylight. Everything had a pinkish tinge to it.

I gasped
when a sudden jolt of pain hit the center of my chest. Fiery snakes of agony radiated outward until they encompassed every fiber of my being. I stiffened with a sensation that felt like each cell in my body exploding. It hurt more than I could ever have imagined anything hurting and my silent scream froze in my throat. The sensation focused, as though each bone that had been broken was being broken again, one at a time. Or maybe it was more like each broken bone was reknitting itself back together, so quickly it hurt.

The pain gradually subsided, ending with a pins and needles feeling in my legs. My legs! I could feel my legs. I could feel everything and it felt so good not to hurt any more.

I lay still, the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock over the fireplace mantle. The stench in the air was overwhelming: the metallic tang of spilled blood and death. I sat up slowly, afraid to see the carnage around me. When I glanced at the couch, I thought my eyes were playing a cruel trick on me, but no, it was him. That
monster
, lying there having a goddamn nap!

My rage was a growing ball of fire in my belly and my body shook.
There was a strange tingling in my gums. I grabbed my discarded, makeshift stake and slammed it with all my might into the middle of his chest. It sliced several inches into his body, but he didn’t even flinch. Only the barest trace of blood showed around the entry point. Undeterred, I grabbed his arms and dragged him off the couch. I found him surprisingly easy to carry and stalked with him through the wreckage of my home: down the hallway, through the kitchen, out the back door, across the shaded veranda, and down the stairs toward the back yard.

The instant we entered the sunlight, his body burst into flames. I fell backwards and his body landed on top of me. I threw him off in a panic, and he flew through the back wall of the house, landing inside the kitchen. I rolled on the ground and madly patted out the flames on my clothes. The curtains in the kitchen caught on fire with a huge
whoof
.

“
Nooooooo!” I yelled and crab-walked backwards away from the house. I watched in horror as flames consumed it.

I panted, trying not to hyperventilate. I didn’t know what to do, so I turned and ran. I sprinted as fast as I could away from the house.
Everything was tinted dark red: the sky, the trees, the fields of our avocado farm. The ground was a blur beneath my feet; I’d never run so fast. In a matter of seconds, I’d already crossed our neighbor’s property. Their herd of cattle was grazing in the shade near the stream.

A bizarre instinct overcame me, and I ran over to the herd. I grabbed the closest cow by its ear and bit into its neck. Warm blood burst into my mouth and it was pure e
cstasy. I couldn’t drink fast enough. I gulped and gulped until at last the world spun away into blackness once again.

A giant, rough cat’s tongue licked my face. I opened my eyes. A cow was leaning over me, giving me a revolting tongue-bath.

“
Ack!” I shouted and pushed it away. The cow didn’t have bite marks on it or anything. Had I really bitten it, or did I imagine that?

I sat
up, the reeking odor of cows filling my nose, mixed with the stink of burnt wood. Plumes of smoke in the distance rose from the wreckage of my home. Was that the flash of lights from fire trucks or police cars? Yes, it looked like the authorities had arrived in full force.

Should I run home, screaming for help?
Images flitted through my brain: body parts flying, and blood, and being bitten by something that seemed a lot like a vampire. Vampires weren’t real though, so had I imagined the fangs and supernatural strength? I needed a chance to collect my thoughts and figure out what I was going to do before talking to the police.

A line of trees, which ran along a small stream, bo
rdered our neighbor’s field. In a desperate attempt to clean off some of the blood and burnt bits, I scrambled down the stream bank into the cold, refreshing water. I submerged my whole body and scrubbed every inch as though I could scrub away the horrific images in my mind along with the physical reminders.

At last I dragged myself out of the stream, my jeans and t-shirt were sopping wet. I turned away from my home and walked, trance-like, toward the nearest town.

King City, California, population: not very much. Big enough for fast food restaurants though, and I headed to the nearest one as soon as I got to town. It was early eve
ning and the sun was just setting. I pushed through the door into the McDonald’s and went straight to the restrooms at the back.

I had the men’s restroom all to myself, thank goodness. I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined biting a cow and drinking its blood, but I was scared an actual vampire had attacked my family, and maybe it had turned me into one too. Could vampires be real? I had no idea what to expect in the mi
rror. Would I look like a monster? Would I even have a reflection? I was pretty sure vampires in the movies didn’t have reflections.

I approached the sinks warily, and leaned sideways u
ntil my reflection came into view. I moved closer to inspect myself in detail, turning my head slowly left and then right. I forced myself to smile a huge, toothy grin. Nothing out of the ordinary. I leaned back with a sigh.

Of
course I had a reflection. What scientific explanation could account for a solid object not having a reflection? Either I wasn’t really a vampire, or vampires’ not having reflections was a myth. My brown hair was a disheveled mess, and my clothes were stained and partly singed. Other than that, I appeared to be completely . . . normal.

My eyes were their familiar blue color. My Mom always called my eye color cerulean blue, and said it was her
favorite color. My Mom. Oh, God. My Mom would never say that again. In fact, she would never say anything ever again. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to focus on something else. If I refused to relive the horrifying events from this morning, maybe they wouldn’t become real. I desperately wanted to ignore reality for a little longer because I was afraid to acknowledge everything I’d just lost.

Despite my efforts to think about something else, my eyes welled up with stupid tears. I stumbled out of the r
estroom and rushed outside for some fresh air. I walked aimlessly for a few blocks, eventually plopping down on a bench at the edge of a small park.

My life had seemed so freaking
normal
, of course I’d yearned for something exciting to happen. Living with my parents and younger sister on a small farm in the middle of nowhere, I’d never realized how good I’d had it: how great it had been to have a home, to have my family, and to be . . . human.

The sun was setting in earnest no
w, and life went on around me. I sat staring into space, lost in my own thoughts.

I
n the moonlit darkness just past midnight, Nathaniel crouched at the top edge of the tallest building in town. Although the tallest, it was only three stories tall, and all of its occupants were tucked in for the night. Like the predator he was, he gazed at the dim-lit, mostly deserted streets of the little town called King City. He scented the air for his nightly source of blood.