Emily couldn’t help but laugh, as well.
One of the girls, Emily thought her name was Robin, stopped laughing long enough to ask. “You have to tell us. What happened at the last party?”
Her friend said. “Yes, you have to tell.” Emily didn’t know the girl’s name. She was a pretty thing, with curly red hair.
Emily laughed and said. “It wasn’t too bad. They both got slobbery drunk and ended up passing out in the same bed. Sometime in the night, they spooned up next to one another, like lovers.”
The girls started laughing into their hands. Emily was laughing too. She said. “Somebody took a picture with their camera phone and it went around the whole school for weeks afterwards.”
Robin and her friend were laughing so hard that other people stopped their partying to look over and see what was up. Emily smiled at the girls and headed back toward the silos. But not before she heard Marcus shout, from somewhere in the dark. “BITCH.”
Smiling to herself, Emily was walking past one of the silos, on the party side, when she heard another shout. This time from back where the tent was. Moving quickly, she made her way back to the tent. Stepping through the open flaps, she poked her head inside long enough to see that Jack, Bobby, and Lola weren’t inside.
Standing outside of the tent, Emily looked around, trying to figure out where they might have gone. She hadn’t seen them on the other side of the silos, with the other groups of drunks and smokers, so she focused most of her search on the tree line at the rear of the mill lot.
She saw nobody moving in the moonlight. No movement among the trees. Stepping around the tent, Emily moved further from the party and closer to the woods. She was getting a bad feeling as she heard less of the party and more of the night. She thought of Brandon and his insistence that it was dangerous out here in the dark. The cold night air was making goose bumps appear on her arms and legs. The stockings weren’t doing a good job of keeping her warm. She had brought a coat with her, but it was in her car.
Stepping around tall clumps of dying weeds, Emily was soon off of the broken pavement of the parking lot and in the grass. The moon had disappeared behind a wall of thick gray clouds, rolling in from all directions. Emily could make out individual trees as she got closer to the woods. She called out, trying to be loud without screaming. “Jack? Are you out there? Lola?” She reached the first of the trees and stopped. Resting a hand against the rough bark, she stared into the shadows and called. “Is anybody out there?”
No answer.
Suddenly, from somewhere in the woods, Emily heard Lola shout. It wasn’t a scream of fear or terror. More like a squeal of surprise. Emily shouted. “LOLA?”
Lola called out. “EMILY?”
Stepping quickly through the trees, Emily tried to move in the direction that the shout came from. She could hear leaves and branches breaking underfoot as she moved deeper into the dark forest.
Emily was stepping around a particularly wide tree, pushing through a thick pile of brambles, when a hand clamped onto her shoulder and whipped her around. She screamed and lashed out with her fist before she could stop herself, hitting Jack square in the face.
Falling backwards, Jack clutched his nose and yelled. “Ouch, damn it.” He fell against the big tree and glared at Emily. “What the hell?”
Emily wanted to cry out in relief and kick him at the same time. “What the hell are you doing out in the woods? Are you crazy?”
Jack smiled through bloody teeth. “Crazy, hell. I’m drunk, baby.” He tried to get to his feet, but fell back down again. “Help me up, baby. I can’t seem to find my feet.”
“I should leave you on your ass, Jack.” Emily said. Her voice was shaking. “Where’s Lola? We’re leaving.”
“Chill out.” Jack said, finally standing. He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The blood was black in the pale light of the bit of moon that was showing through the clouds. He spit a glob of black on the forest floor and gave Emily a hot look. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You’re what’s wrong with me, Jack” Emily said, letting her anger roll out. “Why do you always have to act this way?”
“Would you let up?” Jack said, his voice rising. “I’m the one with a busted nose here.”
“Where’s Lola, Jack?” Emily said. She tried to make her voice softer. If only just to find out where her friend was.
Jack threw his arms wide and said. “How the hell should I know?” He pointed off into the trees. “Bobby and her ran off into the woods, drunk and half assed naked.”
“Jesus, Jack. It’s freezing out here.” Emily wanted to punch him again. This was it, she decided. Jack was on his own, after tonight. She was just sorry that Claire already had Brandon to herself. “Which direction did they go?” But Jack wasn’t listening. He was staring at the black smear of blood on his fingertips and laughing to himself. “Fucking bitch.”
She didn’t think that he meant for her to hear, that he was drunk and didn’t realize how loud he was talking, but that didn’t stop Emily from rounding on Jack with everything she had.
“You son of a bitch.” She swung, catching Jack off guard again, and her fist smashed into his nose for a second time. Screaming, Jack crashed to the forest floor, clutching his gushing nose and kicking his feet.
Emily could only stare for a moment, slowly realizing what she had done, then she did the only thing she could think of.
She ran.
Emily took off, trying to make it back to the party and the light of the bonfire before Jack could get back to his feet. She tried to put as much distance between Jack and herself as she could, but she soon heard him blundering after her. Crashing through the bushes and bellowing at her. “GET BACK HERE, YOU BITCH.”
She ran all the harder, her hands up to keep tree limbs and brambles from scratching her face. As she ran, she listened for any sign of Lola and Bobby. But the only sounds were coming from the party and from behind her, as Jack began to catch up to her.
Even drunk, Jack was faster than Emily. And the two punches to the face had apparently sobered him up somewhat. He crashed through the trees, slowly gaining ground, and Emily started to become really afraid of what might happen if he caught her. Their relationship was violent, even during the best of times.
She crashed through the tree line, within sight of the bonfire’s glow, a split second before Jack snagged his fist into her hair. Screaming, she twisted, tearing loose from his grasp, and crashed to the ground. The ground was rough; where it wasn’t covered in stunted, dying grass, it was gravel, and Emily’s elbows and knees were torn up when she fell. She cried out and tried to scrabble away, tearing one of her black fingernails loose in the process.
Jack was panting for breath and saying the word “Bitch” over and over again as he dove for her. He landed on top of her, driving the breath from her lungs, and his fist slammed into the side of her head. Emily grunted as her head bounced off the hard ground and the world went dim around the edges. She tasted blood.
Jack grabbed her by the throat with one hand and punched her again with the other. It felt like her nose exploded. Blood sprayed down the front of her heaving chest and Emily could feel blood running down the back of her throat. Jack was talking as he hit her. “Why do you make me do this, baby?” He hit her again, splitting her lips and knocking one of her front teeth loose. “I love you so much, you bitch.”
Emily couldn’t say anything. The world had dwindled down to two things for her. The sound of Jack’s voice as he hit her and the tiny slash of moon, hanging above her. She choked on some of the blood running down the back of her throat and started coughing.
Jack stopped hitting her long enough to look down at her shattered face and say. “I love you so much, babe. Why can’t you see that?”
But Emily didn’t see that.
The only thing she saw was that sliver of moon.
And the dark shadow that briefly hid it as something flew by overhead.
C
hapter 41
The party was already starting to die down by the time Claire got there. It had been a long walk and the whole way, Claire kept having the feeling that something was following her, watching from the shadows. It was probably just normal teenage paranoia, especially with how spooky and empty most of the walk was. As she left the more populated residential streets and found the little back roads leading to The Mill, Claire couldn’t shake the urge to stop and stare into the darkness whenever the sensation became too strong to ignore.
The Mill’s parking lot was scattered with cars and trucks, some with people passed out in them. Others were running, the radios loud in the night. She could hear laughter and sometimes shouts as she headed toward the biggest of the silos and the large tent erected at the base.
The tent was open, flickering yellow light painting the inside burnt orange. A radio was warbling rock music and the little generator outside was puttering in sporadic bursts as it ran low on gas. There were two guys she thought she knew, sitting in one corner of the tent. Both looked too drunk to stand.
“Hey.” Claire said, standing over them. She talked to the one who looked most familiar. “Link? Have you seen Emily?”
One of the guys blinked blearily and looked up at Claire, his jaw slack for a moment as his inebriated brain tried to catch up with what he was seeing and hearing. “Oh, hey, Claire!” He smiled and moved his head back as he tried to focus on her. Getting up was way beyond what he was capable of. “Emily? Who? Yeah, she was just here a minute ago?” Flinging his hand, he smacked the other guy on the shoulder, slurring. “Hey, man? Hey? Where’d Em go, man?”
But his friend was snoring loudly and wasn’t going to be doing any interviews today. He hit him again, but Claire was already leaving the tent.
Back outside, she was about to head back to the parking lot when she heard shouting coming from the darkened forest beyond the parking lot’s edge. The uneasiness she had been feeling all day blossomed into ice cold fear and she started to run.
Chapter 42
Jack was bringing his fist up to hit Emily again when he was suddenly hit from behind and knocked off of her. He hit the ground, screaming her name, and rolled over onto his hands and knees to find Bobby standing over him.
Bobby’s face was twisted with horror as he looked down at his little brother, then at the bloody girl lying on the ground beside him. He said, his voice a shocked whisper. “Jack, what have you done?”
Lola screamed and ran to her friend, dropping to her knees beside her. “Oh Jesus. Jesus.” She was afraid to touch her. Lightly brushing her hand on one of Emily’s, she said. “Emily, can you hear me?”
Emily could only retch as she coughed up more blood, spitting it on the ground, along with one of her teeth. Her breath was coming in big ragged gulps. Her hand caught a hold of one of Lola’s and squeezed, painfully.
From somewhere back toward the mill, somebody shouted. It sounded like a girl. Emily stirred and mumbled a name, coughing blood again and moaning as Lola rolled her onto her side to keep her from choking. Lola shouted toward the voice. “Over here!” She hated the way her voice sounded, all panicked and scared out of her mind. “We’re over here!” Jack was trying to get to his feet. His hands were dripping with blood as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. He stared at his brother with bleary eyes and said. “I love her so much.”
Before Bobby could respond, a screeching shadow leapt from the closest of the trees nearby and landed on Jack’s back. To Bobby, the thing looked like a cross between a man and a fox. Its rust colored fur stood out on its head and its eyes were ringed with white. As it crashed onto Jack’s back, it drove a narrow blade through the back of the teenager’s neck, punching the barbed tip through his Adam’s apple and spraying the front of Bobby’s shirt with blood. Bobby was screaming even as the fox was yanking the blade free, the barbed tip hooking and tearing meat, muscle, and veins out through the hole in the back of Jack’s neck. Lola was screaming, as well, and trying to pull Emily to her feet. She was about to give up, when suddenly another pair of hands appeared and Claire Moody seemed to materialize from out of nowhere. She was pale and shaking in the darkness, but she helped Lola get Emily to her feet and shouted into her face. “We have to run, now!”
But nobody was running. They were all paralyzed by the terrible spectacle unfolding before them.
The fox rode Jack’s body as it fell forward, blood spraying across the ground and watering the dying grass with claret. It bared a mouthful of sharp white teeth and pulled another blade from somewhere. Its gums were black and its tongue was very pink. It brandished both blades; one naked and gleaming, the other drenched with Jack’s blood and trailing strips of ragged flesh.
It crouched, the muscles in its legs bunching as it prepared to leap, and suddenly its head flipped off of its shoulders, followed by an explosive jet of bright crimson blood, spraying from the severed stump of its neck. A black, shadowed form landed lightly behind it, trailing a long black cloak. A deep voice issued from within the dark depths of the cowl, seizing Claire‘s attention and breaking the paralysis that had frozen her in place. “Get the others and go. Now.”
From behind the figure, came a chorus of howls and screams. Their cloaked savior turned just as more monsters burst from the trees. There was a gleaming arc of steel in his hand, streaked with the fox’s blood. He turned away from the coming flood of howling monsters and roared at Claire and the others. “RUN.”
Claire pulled Emily and Lola with her, urging them to hurry. Bobby was still rooted in place, staring at the bloodied remains at his feet. Claire screamed to be heard over the screeching of the horde. “Bobby, he’s dead! We have to go now or we’re dead too!” She and Lola held Emily between them, supporting her as best as they could.
Bobby gave his brother’s body one last look before turning to help, taking Lola‘s side and shouldering most of the weight. He was crying. So was Lola. Claire was dry eyed, though she knew she would cry later. Not so much for Jack, who she only tolerated for Emily’s sake, but for her friend. Emily couldn’t walk, she was barely conscious, so the two of them had to support her between them as they ran. Lola lead the way through the woods, screaming for help as she ran. She pulled ahead of them, charging headlong into the trees and brush, ignoring branches and brambles in her panic.
She saw the second cloaked figure before the others, coming from the direction of the party, and panicked so badly that she nearly ran screaming face first into a tree. The cloaked figure saved her though, catching her by the arm and steering her back toward the parking lot. He was slightly smaller than the first, but he also held a sword. He had two, actually. Short curving blades that ran the length of his forearms. His cloak was long and brown. As he spun Lola and sent her stumbling in the right direction, the hood fell back to reveal a masked face. The mask was black, with white rimmed eyes and a white smiling mouth. He paused for a moment, staring hard at Claire’s face, making her skin break out in goose bumps, before turning and rushing into the woods, back toward the monsters pursuing them.
Claire stopped for only a moment, watching as the second figure vanished into the shadows, before turning and shouting the others back into motion. “Let’s go!” Up ahead, she could hear shouting and the sound of car engines roaring to life. The noise spurred them on, as did the howls of the dying monsters behind them. Rain began to fall as they ran, freezing against Claire’s face. The icy rain was a sharp contrast to the tears now flooding, uncontrollably, down her cheek.
Chapter 43
Gerrick had already cut down a dozen of the grohlm when Brandon reached him. Brandon barely slowed when he saw Claire and the others, rushing past them to reach Gerrick’s side. He could see that Claire was okay, much better off than Emily, and stopping would only risk their lives and raise unnecessary questions. He knew that if he and Gerick failed to stop the grohlm, worse things than death could happen to Claire and the others. Things far worse than Emily’s beating. He still couldn’t believe h
ow fast things had gone wrong.
The beating had happened so fast, neither of them were able to reach the young couple in time to stop it. Brandon was circling the perimeter of the party, watching for stragglers, when Jack started chasing Emily. He missed the worst of it, hurrying through the shadows, but arrived in time to see Claire show up. Brandon was thankful the other boy jumped in and stopped Jack before he killed Emily, but that gratitude was overshadowed by the anger he felt when he saw Claire. She had promised not to come tonight! And, now, she was in danger and her best friend was a battered mess. As Brandon leapt into the fight, his eyes touched on Jack’s body, lying in the dirt. He couldn’t make himself feel any remorse at the boy’s death and felt bad for not being able to.
The rain was just beginning to touch Brandon when he faced his first target. A weasel faced grohlm with black fur charged him. He wasn’t sure which was making him stronger? The rain or the anger he felt upon finding Claire in the woods. Whichever it was, he had enough adrenaline in his system to power a small nuclear reactor. His muscles, his every nerve, were thrumming with need. A liquid need to unleash Hell onto his enemies and wipe them from the earth. If the weasel sensed any of this, it was too stupid to act on it. Otherwise, it might have turned and fled for its life. Instead, it waved a weapon that looked like a half sized pike and hissed something that might have been a curse. Or a greeting? Brandon greeted him right back with a sword to the chest. Driving one of his blades up under the pike, Brandon slammed the other blade hilt deep into the grohlm’s chest, twisting the blade as he yanked it free and spun to his next attacker. The second grohlm was a boar with a single curving tusk and armed with a spike studded mace. Brandon blocked its overhead swing and raked his blade across its hairy throat, spilling blood down the front of the matted fur on its chest.
Gerrick was a black blur, mowing down grohlm wherever he struck. His sword flashed in the moonlight, slicing through armor and the tough muscled hide of the grohlm with the same ease with which it cut through the falling rain. He danced through the rushing creatures, a razor sharp wall that they couldn’t pass.
Rain Of Stone (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 1) Page 19