by Sara Clancy
“In a few of them,” Nicole said.
Logan hummed.
“Don’t judge him before you meet him, dad.”
“I’m not judging. This is recon.”
“Recon?” Nicole shot back. “Why?”
“Why would I want to know about the character of the paranormal creature currently living with my family, that has proven on numerous occasions to be dangerous?” Pausing to suck in a deep breath, he continued, “Gee, Angel, I don’t know. We need the Scooby Gang to crack that mystery.”
“So you do believe me that he’s not human?” Dorothy asked.
“Of course.”
“You just haven’t asked me any follow-up questions about that.”
“I’m still working through Nicole’s ‘monster file,’ babe,” Logan said, positioning Nicole’s phone to cast some light across the binder on his lap. “I’ll get around to it.”
Shuffling as far forward as her seatbelt would allow, Nicole pressed her cheek against the metal mesh. All of her efforts didn’t account for much. Her father’s shoulder still blocked her view of her ‘monster binder’.
“Are you finding everything okay?” she asked.
It was still strange to see people leafing through her binder. And, despite how much she told herself otherwise, really uncomfortable. Researching the paranormal hadn’t been as easy as she had first thought it would be. Sure, there was a wealth of information out there. Most of it happened to be the same points constantly repeated without any further elaboration. And it was almost impossible to sort the reality from the fiction. She had worked her way through fan sites and horror shows. True believers and ghost hunters. It had surprised her how many people insisted they were supernatural creatures just to get a date.
“I marked the creatures we’ve actually encountered.”
Logan held the binder up, wiggling it so all of the plastic tags wobbled slightly.
“You’ve marked every page, Angel.”
“There’s a color system in place,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“Okay.”
“It would just be madness, otherwise,” she said. “Encountered is yellow. Encountered and dangerous is sparkly yellow.”
“I know that’s the color that comes to my mind when I think about pure evil,” Logan said. Turning to a new section, his brow furrowed, and he held the binder up again. “Demonic killer weasels?”
“Kamaitachi. They’re from Japan. I’m both terrified of them and think that they might be kind of cute,” Nicole said. “And they’re marked with orange and lime green tags.”
“Yes. That is meaningful to me,” Logan said with complete seriousness.
Nicole sighed. “Orange means that it’s only ever been reported in one country. And, as is clearly outlined in the key at the front of the binder, I’ve used lime green for ones that I haven’t been able to find reliable corroboration on.”
“Of course. I knew that.” Logan was a brilliant liar.
“Logan, do you see that?”
Dorothy’s question instantly grabbed both father and daughter’s attention. Cautious of the gathering sleet, Dorothy was already traveling at a far slower pace than the speed limit dictated. Gradually, she brought them to a crawl. Gravel crunched under the tires as they inched to a stop. They idled there, staring beyond the reach of the headlights.
The night was dense and complete, like a sheet of black silk draped over the world. At first, Nicole couldn’t see what had grabbed her mother’s attention. She wasn’t confused for long. A solitary patch of white disrupted the abyss. Nicole pressed herself against the bars. It was the like a living moonbeam, existing somewhere between solid mass and a trick of the light. The figure lurched closer to the car. Growing and morphing.
“Angel,” Logan asked in a whisper, eyes fixed on the stark white that was steadily taking on a human form. “What does the glittery purple on the Hitchhiking Ghost mean?”
A burst of wind brought an onslaught of snow. A temporary whiteout that threatened to hide the creature from sight.
“Corroborated but not personally seen,” Nicole whispered in return.
“And the penguin sticker?”
Pain spiked through Nicole’s fingers as she clutched the mesh. “Known killer.”
“That’s comforting,” Logan noted.
In one swift motion, he slammed the binder and silently slid it onto the dashboard. At the same time, he rocked forward as far as his body would allow, reaching behind him to retrieve a handgun from his waistband. Dorothy cast a quick, disapproving glare at her husband before refocusing her attention on the slip of ghostly ivory.
“That better be registered,” she hissed.
“Can you not cop right now?”
Logan’s deep voice rumbled like distant thunder. A stark contrast to the soft click of the safety being thumbed off. Silence descended upon them, made thick by anticipation. Nicole tried to be quiet, but there was no masking the sound of her seatbelt opening. Dorothy flinched at the sound. Her service weapon was in her hand a split second later. Nicole froze as her mother shot her a cold glare that said, Don’t you dare move.
The wind lowered, revealing the creature once again. It was now just beyond the rim of light, close enough that they could hear its muffled, dragging steps through the closed windows. Out of the corner of her eyes, Nicole watched her parents quickly throw a few hand gestures at each other. Sharp little movements that allowed them to form a plan of counter-attack in moments. It infuriated her that she wasn’t able to understand it. Her annoyance was short lived. It died as the creature took its final step from the shadows. Nicole hurled herself at the door, jiggling the useless handle and smacking the glass when she remembered she was in the back seat of a police car. The door couldn’t be opened from the inside.
“Nicole!” Dorothy snarled.
“It’s Benton!” She rushed. “Mom, please, get my door. It’s Benton!”
The car rocked under her efforts to get out. Benton continued forward, his normally fair skin made pale as death by the cold. The part of him left with color was the deep blue of his lips. A mixture of mud and blood caked his feet, and his thin pajamas rattled in the wind.
“He’s going to freeze. Mom! Let me out,” Nicole beseeched.
“How the hell did he get all the way out here?” Logan asked.
Moving in unison, the married couple lunged for their doors. It was more of an afterthought for Dorothy as she reached back and finally opened the back door. Nicole threw her body against the door, shoving it open far faster than Dorothy had anticipated, and hit the ground in a flat-out sprint. She dodged her mother’s grasping hand and ignored her father’s demands to stay back. All that mattered was getting to Benton before frostbite took its toll.
Stripping her jacket off, she cut in front of Benton. He didn’t seem to know that she was there, walking straight into her a few times before coming to the conclusion that he couldn’t go any further. Then he just stood there, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes, his facial features slack.
Nicole hurriedly wrapped her coat around his shoulders. A recent growth spurt had eliminated the difference in their heights. While she now matched his height, his broad shoulders still kept the jacket from being a perfect fit, forcing her to tug sharply in an attempt to get the zipper closed. The cold prickled her bare fingers. It didn’t compete with the pure ice of his skin.
“Benton.”
His eyelids hung over his dazed, unfocused grey eyes. They didn’t see her. Didn’t seem to see anything.
“Benton!”
After a moment, she tried again, putting the full force of her lungs into the shout. He didn’t even flinch. Giving up on the zipper, she hurriedly rubbed his arms, trying to work some warmth back into him. He still wouldn’t respond but began to tremble. Relief almost buckled Nicole’s knees. Shivering’s good, she reminded herself as the trembling turned violent. Shivering means he’s not hypothermic. She called his name over and over. Statically,
he came around on the eighth repetition. A burning lump of terror began to sizzle behind her ribs when she reached her twelve repeats and he still didn’t show any signs of looking at her.
“Nicole, get back here,” Logan ordered.
Nicole cupped Benton’s frozen cheeks.
“Benton it’s me.”
“Now, Nicole!”
Ignoring her father, she jerked his head around until he was forced to look at her, hoping that the sharp motion would snap him out of his daze. It didn’t work. Get him warm! Her brain screamed the command, and she hated herself for wasting time. He must have already been walking for hours.
“Come on. Let’s get in the car.”
He didn’t move. Carefully curling an arm around his back, she urged him forward.
“It’s nice and warm in there.”
Benton rocked on his feet, making no attempt to catch himself as the motion threatened to tip him over. Finally, he moved, his jaw dropping as he sucked in a deep breath. Her stomach plummeted into her feet.
“Get down!” she screamed.
Finely honed reflexes had Logan leaping for one side of the road, tumbling down the incline and out of sight. Dorothy performed the same motion on the opposite side. Each one trusted their daughter to follow, but there wasn’t time. Benton’s lips pulled back from his teeth. He swelled and the muscles of his jaw drew taut. Nicole dropped. Pain shot through her ribs and down her stomach as she collided with the road. The sharp edges of gravel nicked her bare flesh. She had barely landed by the time the stones began to tremble.
A Banshee’s wail cracked over her. Not just a sound, but a physical force. It crushed her down like a slab of steel, compressing the air from her lungs and squeezing her skull like a vice. Vibrations pulsated through the air and ground alike. Chunks of rock were ripped from the ground, some jumping where they were, while others were flung through the air. Somewhere within the ear-splitting scream was the crunch and squeal of metal. Droplets of blood trickled from her ears to curl along her jawline. Fire exploded behind her eyes. Her brain seemed to liquefy within her skull as the sound warped her bones. Gasping for air, she tried to drag herself to the side, knowing from experience that the screams were bearable beyond the line of fire. She could barely lift her fingers.
The high-pitched wail stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The damage remained. Nicole’s vision pulsated and blurred, lurching from side to side as if she were upon a thrashing sea, bringing bile gushing up her throat. A sharp ringing filled her ears. The sound pushed her deeper into nausea. She blinked against the onslaught of sensations, trying to force her senses back under her control. The only reason she wasn’t sick was that her body couldn’t convulse enough to heave.
Tiny specks of snow landed upon her cheek, each one like a needle piercing her flesh. She relished the small spikes of pain. They were the only thing keeping her from passing out. Ice settled within her eyes as the sharp ringing dulled to a constant whine. Gathering tears blurred her vision all the more. It took the complete focus of her fractured mind to dig her fingernails into the earth. There was nothing left for her but to lift her head.
Beyond the road, hovering barely within the reach of the car’s front lights, the wall of grass swayed and shivered. She blinked at the motion, aware that it meant something, but oblivious as to what.
Then something moved against the shadows. Nicole strained to push herself up. It was a small motion, but enough to slosh her brain against her skull. She whimpered and trembled, unable to keep the inch she had fought for, and dropped back down. Blinking hard, she strained to focus on the creature that stalked behind the first layer of reeds. A harsh gust of wind rushed over the world, parting the plant life, and she caught her first real glimpse.
Panic squeezed her heart like a vice. Even in her half-conscious state, she instantly recognized the textured skin of the bull snake. A speckled pattern of off-white, midnight black, and burnt wheat. It was the size that terrified her. The creature stood at least five feet tall as it moved along the edge of the road. But it wasn’t slithering. Gaunt, boney limbs carried it with a heaving stride. She saw the back of it first. A quick flash, but it was burned into her mind all the same. It looked almost humanoid. As if an emaciated person had arched back and scurried around. A second later, she saw the front of the monster. This, too, looked almost like a crawling human, but twisted around to crawl on hands and knees. She didn’t have time to work her shattered mind around the sight until the creature sunk back into the shadows.
The strength left her arms and she collapsed against the road, the stones digging into the tender skin of her cheek. Her head swirled, crashing and swaying, dragging her down into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she watched as a face emerged from the reeds. The features hovered somewhere between human and snake, but belonged to neither. It smiled at her.
“Angel?” Logan’s voice cracked through the ringing in her ears.
It sounded a million miles away. Still, she clung to it, trying to use it as a tether to keep herself awake. There wasn’t enough strength left in her arms to point at the monster lurking at the edges of the minimal light. She couldn’t work her voice out of her throat.
Her father crouched beside her and placed a large, warm hand against her back. “Angel. Are you okay, baby girl? Dorothy!”
Mom, Nicole thought with a spike of terror.
It was the last thought that chased her into the abyss – that the monster would find Dorothy first. That, before her father could intervene, it could drag her into the dark sea of endless prairie grass.
Chapter 3
Well, this is awkward, Benton thought as he trudged down the dark, snow-dusted country road, the living mountain that had recently tried to strangle him barely a few inches from his side. His brain didn’t feel clogged up or frazzled. He could clearly remember finishing his call with Nicole and getting ready for bed.
That part’s true, he told himself, glancing down at his pajama pants. They were his proof. He had showered, changed, and laid down for the night. He recalled the chill of the air, the weight and warmth of the thick blankets piled up on top of him, the low howling wind that made him grateful to be indoors.
After that, he had to question himself. Sleep had started to pull at him, making his limbs heavy and thick. He remembered closing his eyes, feeling safe and warm. But when he opened his eyes again, everything had changed. He was freezing, thrashing, and terrified. Air had swelled within his lungs, useless as it failed to work past the mammoth hand squeezing his throat. The sudden shift had left his brain muddled and slow.
It had taken the chilled breeze against the soles of his feet for him to realize he wasn’t standing. His toes clipped the ground as the giant pulled him off of his feet. Using one hand and showing no signs of strain, the man lifted him until their faces aligned. Light pulsated from somewhere out of Benton’s sight, periodically illuminating the burning rage on the man’s features.
“Scream again, and I’ll snap your neck,” he had hissed while Benton choked.
He remembered kicking and only finding air, carving his nails through the flesh of the man’s arm only to have him squeeze harder. Choking tears had blurred the edges of his vision, but, as the light returned, he caught sight of Nicole’s crumpled body. With the last of his strength, Benton had grabbed the man’s arm with both hands and pulled his feet up. One swift roll of his body and he drove both heels into the man’s face. The grip had finally weakened. Benton had dropped, hitting the ground as air flooded down his abused throat.
The giant had howled in fury and struck out. Loose-limbed and dizzy, Benton had barely been able to avoid each kick, inching ever closer to Nicole. His arms and legs had quivered as he branched himself between Nicole and the furious man. He desperately pulled for air, but hadn’t been able to work in enough.
That was when Dorothy had intervened and made the introductions.
It had been weird at the beginning to know that the
first words Logan Rider had ever said to him were a threat. Now that he had been randomly repeating it for going on two hours, the novelty was wearing off. Not that he blamed the man. Any resentment he might have felt had dissolved when he had caught sight of the police cruiser. Balancing on its roof, it had slowly spun, rhythmically bringing the crumpled front end into sight. The headlights had dangled from the wreckage but had somehow still worked. The combination transformed the broken vehicle into a makeshift lighthouse.
Shivering against both the cold and his memories, Benton snuck another glance at Nicole. Cradled in her father’s arms, one arm danglingly limply, she looked small and fragile. Two hours and she still hadn’t regained consciousness. That can’t be good.
His stomach twisted tightly, trying to coax him back into the state of panic he had first felt at seeing her. He hoped Dorothy hadn’t said anything too important when she had introduced him to Logan. It was around that time that he had managed to get close to Nicole, and he wasn’t paying much attention to anything else. For one horrid moment, he had been convinced that the worst possible option had come true. His hands trembled at the memory of cupping her neck and finding no pulse. In his panic, he had pressed too close to the tendons. Dorothy had repositioned his fingers for him. He had never felt more relieved, or more stupid, when he felt Nicole’s strong pulse surging under his fingertips.
Everything else had been a blur after that. A mesh of pointless words and motions. He couldn’t remember anything beyond the steady rush of her pulse.
With the car completely totaled, walking back to town had been their only option. Their phones had worked enough for them to use the flashlight functions, but getting a signal would be impossible until they were closer to town.
Logan had carried his daughter the whole time. Even now, he didn’t seem at all put out by the weight. While he was reluctant to admit it, Benton was pretty impressed. Although he wasn’t sure if he should be. The man’s biceps were thicker than Benton’s head. He looked away when Logan shot him a dark look.