The Stroke of Midnight: A Supernatural New Year's Anthology
Page 3
"Are you crazy?"
"I didn't think so. Fuck. Well maybe there's still time to"
Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a commotion from over the roof's edge. Not that Skye would've gone to look, since he wasn't exactly fond of heights. Thankfully, he didn't have to as some douche with a bull horn helpfully announced, "This is a raid. Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your heads."
"Of course." Sighing, she began to pace from him to the edge of the roof, and then back. During her fourth circuit, she came to a halt midway and sighed again. This time with one hundred percent more resignation. "Right, well there's no other option. You're going to have to hang onto my back."
With that bomb dropped, she turned from him as if waiting for him to climb on.
He didn't.
Instead he walked around to stand in front of her so that he could ascertain if he'd heard her correctly. "Onto your back?" he asked, proud that his tone only had a slight hint of 'are you fucking crazy?' in it.
"Well, if I hold onto you any other way, I risk scratching you. And that would be disastrous." Wide eyes accompanied that statement, like a facial exclamation mark, before she turned again.
"Scratching me?" he asked, walking around her.
She sighed before turning for a third time, this time looking over her shoulder. "You're probably going to want to be behind me for this bit."
He didn't listen.
Though he wished he had.
When he made it back around her, it was just in time to see something moving underneath the skin on her face. All he could think of was horror movies featuring some kind of giant parasites or worms, ones that possessed humans and multiplied until finally their hosts burst in a spray of blood and internal organs.
Karen didn't burst though.
She did crack and pop and make various other noises that not only sounded painful but more than a little disgusting. But she didn't burst.
Instead, her face continued to shift, her nose and mouth protruding while her jaw elongated until it looked as if she had a muzzle. A muzzle that, when she opened her now deformed mouth, was full of razor sharp teeth.
He was focused on those teeth for a long time. So long that he didn't take in any other changes until those teeth were tipping back, along with the rest of her head, to let out a long howl.
That's when he noticed the fur that now covered her face and arms. And that her hands now ended in fingers that looked rather a lot like claws.
Sharp and pointy claws.
"Right. Scratch. Makes sense now." Except that it didn't. Not at all. Even less so when he looked into her face to tell her so and found himself looking at a Wolf-man. Or was it a Wolf-woman? Was there a PC term for this kind of monster?
He had no idea.
In fact, the only thing he knew for certain was that he was now sitting, his legs having given out. And he wasn't even ashamed of that. How could he been when the woman he'd just almost fucked had turned into a monster right in front of him? The athletic build and height he'd previously admired had morphed into something even taller with muscles that were more defined. Even if they were in the wrong places.
Though it did explain her choice of baggy clothing. In theory anyway. Since loose clothing probably allowed for easier … whatever the fuck it was she'd just done.
"What the fuck?" he asked, looking into glowing golden eyes.
And then quickly away, since he was reasonably certain that eye contact was considered a dominance challenge with wolves. He was pretty sure that not challenging a Wolf-woman's dominance was the right way to go at that particular moment.
It would hopefully increase his chances of not being eaten.
"Hard. Talk. This." A low voice growled. He looked around the roof and toward the door before he realized that the voice was coming from in front of him. Shocked, he looked to Karen and found her crouching down in front of him.
A good ways away, but still in his line of sight.
It took him several attempts to get out the words, but he finally managed to ask, "It's hard to talk like that?" She nodded and pointed one clawed finger at her muzzle. "Gotcha," he said, with a nod.
What else could he have done?
She stood again, and he tracked the movement. He'd always thought she had a feline kind of grace, but now he knew he'd been wrong. It was a canine kind of grace, and it was even more pronounced in this form. Grotesque as it might have been. Turning from him once again, she gestured towards her back.
"I don't think that's—" She shot him a look over her shoulder. If he'd thought she was intimidating before, he'd been wrong. "Are you sure?" She nodded, and looked forward once more. "Okay then."
Without any hesitation—well any more than could be considered reasonable given the situation, he walked forward and wrapped his arms around her neck. She grunted and adjusted his hold using the back of her thumbs as a guide. "Well excuse me," he muttered, "I haven't had a piggyback ride since I was five." She snorted, which he assumed was a Wolf-woman's way of laughing.
Or he hoped it was anyway.
Not that he had long to consider it, since she was gingerly grabbing his thighs so that she was fully supporting his weight. Then she was taking off at a run toward the edge of the roof.
Then he sort of blacked out for a little while. At least he assumed he had, since they next thing he was conscious of was sitting against a brick wall in a dark alley, far enough away from the warehouse that he couldn't hear sirens anymore.
"So ... I guess this means you're a werewolf?"
He had been wrong before, when he'd thought a snort was her way of laughing. Since she was clearly laughing now. A weird little chortling sort of thing that was utterly terrifying and would probably haunt him for the rest of his days.
His eyes were finally willing to focus again and he sought her out, finding her crouching before him once again. "Well, that's um ... " He scoured his mind for a word, any word, but all he could find was, "cool." He winced, which was just as good since he had no desire to see what kind of effect that lame statement had on her. Desperately searching for something else to say—something impressive and macho that would make up for the whole acting sort of like a sissy thing—he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. "I'm okay with that."
Except that he wasn't.
Something that was obvious when she leaned in and licked his neck once again. This time when he shuddered, it wasn't in a good way. And he had a feeling she knew it too, since her eyes seemed sad when she rocked back on her heels. As much as a Wolf-woman's face could seem sad, at any rate.
There was another nod right before he saw her pull her hand back.
Then there was only a brief burst of pain followed by a lot of black.
The next time he came to, he was sprawled out on a stained comforter in a cheap motel. He still had his wallet, but he was missing his cell phone. Also missing was his camera. It was just a cheap point and shoot piece of shit that he used when he couldn't carry his more impressive gear, but it still felt like losing a limb.
Even when he found the note in its place.
Especially when the note only read, "Sorry."
---
Skye was in a really shitty mood as he hung around in the alleyway. Cold, and stiff from sitting crouched for so long, he was more than a little pissed off. At least it was too frigid for the trash in the dumpsters he was hiding behind to smell. Much.
The thing was, normally this type of thing didn't bother him. Normally the promise of being able to snap candid photos of a politician leaving a rundown motel with a lady of the night would be right up his, alley. Pardon the pun. Lately though, well lately he couldn't manage to muster that spark that always drove him.
He'd tried telling himself that it was because his last story was unresolved. And that the reason he'd been so unwilling to sell that story, and give himself anything resembling closure was because it didn't have an ending.
After all, the gang had
somehow managed to avoid arrest. And Leesha …
Well she was the real problem, wasn't she?
He'd spent the past two weeks looking for Leesha. Karen. Whatever the fuck her name was. And while he told himself he was pissed because he wanted his camera and cell phone back, part of him knew the truth.
He was pissed because he'd managed to lose her.
Sure, it had taken him awhile to come to terms with the fact that she could morph into some kind of monster. But the fact of the matter was, he still felt something for her. He'd tried not to. He'd even tried taking someone else home that first night. But it was no good.
He had it bad for a fucking Wolf-woman.
God fucking help him.
And since he couldn't find that Wolf-woman, he was really fucking pissed off.
So pissed that when he first heard her voice, he thought he might be imagining things. Except that as soon as she started speaking he whirled around to find her leaning there, casually, in the dead end alley behind him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you, alleys aren't safe. Not even for stray dogs." For a second he felt relief.
Then he simply felt overwhelming anger.
Who the fuck did she think she was, wandering back into his life so casually after she'd fucked it all up and disappeared. Leaving him behind to pick up the shattered pieces of what had once been his life. Sure, looking back, it might have seemed a bit empty, but at least it hadn't been full of monsters. And lust for monsters. It made his reply rougher than it should've been, considering his feelings towards her.
And the fact that she could probably kill him without even trying.
"What are you doing here?"
She smiled a sad little smile before pulling a familiar point and shoot piece of shit out of her back pocket and tossing it to him. "I brought back your camera."
Avoiding looking at her, he inspected the camera. Turning it this way and that before popping out the memory card.
And then, with a scowl, he couldn't help himself but look at her. "This isn't my memory card," he snarled.
"You're right. It's not. It's mine." The sad smile was still in place, and he could see the hurt in her eyes, but he couldn't seem to stop being a douche to her.
"And my phone?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd already gotten a new one, but that wasn't the point. He'd like his SIM card back to get all of the data off it.
"Sorry," she said with a little shrug, "couldn't take the chances with that one." The smile faltered as she shoved her own hands into her pockets and slouched her shoulders. It was as if she was a repentant dog, knowing she'd done something bad and was attempting to apologize with her body language.
He wondered if she knew she did that.
There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he started to say only to stop himself short. When he finally did speak, all he could manage was, "Why?"
"Why what?" she asked.
"Why protect them?"
"I'm not." She was looking down now, and her voice was flat. It only ticked him off more.
Without meaning to, he shouted, "You destroyed my phone! You took my memory card!"
It was a bad move. In an instant she was off her wall and in his face, shouting right back. "I'm protecting you, idiot."
"How do you figure?" he asked as he walked into her personal space until their bodies were touching.
"You know my secrets, Skye." It was said into his hair, since they were now so close their bodies were pressed up against one another, though he couldn't have told you which one of them had facilitated that. Hell, he couldn't even pinpoint at what point he'd managed to wrap his arms around her waist, or when hers had found their way around his neck. "You have the power to hurt me. Hell, you have the power to hurt more than just me. I should kill you. That's what we do, you know, when people find out about us."
"Your family?" he asked her hair, which he was now stroking with one hand while the other had managed to find its way under her shirt to the bare skin of her waist.
"Not just my family. Even the most respectable amongst our ranks would kill you. Actually, the more respectable the person, the quicker they'd kill you." Her mouth found its way through his hair to the bare skin of his neck, and he felt her breathe deeply before licking up his neck.
"So you're going to kill me?" Oddly, he didn't feel afraid. He had been terrified of her before, when he'd first seen her in her other form, but now all he felt was calm. Well, calm and a little bit aroused.
She had just licked his neck, after all.
"I only said that I should, not that I was going to," she said, before licking his neck once again.
This time his shudder was full of lust. He pulled her closer so that she could see how much he approved of what was, apparently, one of her favorite activities. "Why not?"
"Because I don't think I could bring myself to kill you, Skye." She said, rubbing herself against him. "Not even if it means my own death."
"What does that—"
She cut him off by kissing him. Long and hard and with more than a little tongue. When she finally broke away they were both panting.
His heart was also pounding. Until she spoke again and caused it to stop altogether. "Just forget it, Skye. Forget me."
"I don't think I can," he said, as he brushed her hair out of her face and tried to get her to look at him.
It didn't work.
"You're going to have to. My family doesn't know you were there; I've made sure of that. You're safe. Just as long as you forget everything that happened. As long as you forget me." With that, she took a step back, breaking their full body contact.
And then another, until he was only just barely holding onto her.
Then a third until they were no longer touching at all. That was when she finally looked up at him, and he didn't think he was imaging the glisten of unshed tears in her ice blue eyes. It just made their coloring that much more haunting. "Goodbye, Skye."
"I'll find you," he promised.
"You can try." Though he had a feeling what she was actually saying was 'please try.' Even if she was certain he wouldn't be able to.
He was pretty certain he wouldn't be able to either.
At least until he made it home hours later and, in a fit of masochism, turned on the camera.
And found several pictures of Karen.
Totally naked.
As he scrambled to hook the camera up to his computer and back up the photos, he made a vow to him, to her, to whatever gods might listen.
"I won't just try, Karen. I will find you. I believe I still owe you a thing or two."
Obsidian Flames
Amy Miles
~Dark interloper, heed my call. Purge the land of all impurity.~
They came for me in the dark of night with torches and a hood. Four men crashed into the room that I share with my siblings and tore me from my bed. My father tried to stop them but was easily cast aside. He has always been a peaceful man. These men were not.
I can still hear my wee sister's cries as I was ripped from her side. I wanted to go to her, reassure her that this was all a mistake, but I could not, for I knew it to be a lie.
Nothing will ever be the same.
I stare at a crust of moldy bread that was shoved through the bars of my door only a few moments ago, knowing that my end is near. At first I ranted and screamed, beating my fists against the plank wood door until they were bloody, but no one came. No one paid me any mind.
A witch they call me. I am not… but my new mother is.
I knew it from the first moment she stepped foot into our village. Her hair was the color of flames and her skin as pale as a winter's frost. Crimson is her color, despite the drab shades the rest of us must be adorned in.
With her hood drawn upon her head, her eyes bury in shadow, but they are ever seeing, ever watchful.
Dark magic surrounds Anne Glover. She has the rest of my village fooled. I do not know why she chose to sink her claws into my father. He is neith
er rich nor overly attractive. The only treasure he has in this world is his three children, one of which now rots in this prison.
I will not eat or drink until she comes. I will not give her the satisfaction of bearing witness to my fright.
Yes, I am terrified of what is to come. Many others have gone before me, swallowed in the flames. I will go the same way, for no one is willing to stand at my side.
I am not what they think I am. The books they found beneath the floorboards of my bed belonged to Anne, but she whispered her lies in their ears and they obeyed.
Even my father fears me now. I have seen him passing my window, his shoulders slumped and his face withered with sadness, but he never looks at me.
I have not seen Elizabeth or the babe Charles since that night either. I miss them terribly. I thought to write them a message for when they are older, but I know it will never reach them. Even my dearest friend Margaret has abandoned me.
The villagers say I have a curse upon me, a blight that will bring ruin to our people. I have heard their whispers in the other room and know their hearts.
There will be no one to save me from my coming death.
Death.
I had dearly hoped mine would be simple, painless. Perhaps when I was old enough to have a grandchild in my arms. Old enough to have experienced love, the love shared between a man and woman.
I was to be married when the last of the snows melted and before the spring harvest had time to take root. Thomas is a kind, decent man. He would have been a good father, but there is no love between us.
I do not expect him to speak on my behalf. He owes me nothing.
Leaning my head back against the wall, I peer up into the wispy clouds that skate across the sky. The window above my head is small and barred, just like the door.
My breath hangs before my lips as I draw my skirts closer about me. The full moon is on the rise. Its light filters down through the barren branches of the maple trees that grow along the perimeter of our village. Towering pines are interspersed, permitting only dappled light to the ground below, where the forest is darkest and fearsome.