A Haunting of Horrors: A Twenty-Novel eBook Bundle of Horror and the Occult

by Chet Williamson

  “Listen, kiddo.” Gerlinde’s voice was serious and angry, the first time Carol had heard those tones directed at her. It caused her to listen to the red-headed vampiress. “You want André to treat you better, right? Well, for him to do that he’s got to respect you. And he won’t respect you until you teach him how. That’s why everybody’s gone to so much trouble; to give you both a chance to figure it out. You can change just the body but I don’t think you’d exactly have a ball with a guy who’s on your case every other night for eternity. Unless you dig being the battered Bride of Dracula.”

  Carol sat at the vanity. She put her hands over her face and cried. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what he’s doing. I can’t understand this.”

  “You love André and he loves you,” Jeanette said in a soft voice. “It’s important to remember that. You just need to put that love in a context where it can ripen and mature into something meaningful for you both. That’s what this ritual is about.”

  Carol just cried harder, frightened to the core.

  “You know,” Jeanette continued, “when a caterpillar crawls into a cocoon, it looks dark for a while and she probably feels nothing’s happening or maybe that the worst will happen. But eventually, if she doesn’t give in to despair, something mysterious occurs. And when she emerges she’s no longer a caterpillar but an exquisite creature. That’s the magic of it, the magic for both of you.”

  “I’m afraid!” Carol said. She looked around the room, suddenly realizing that all but Rene had been right where she was now. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to control himself.”

  “André’s ability to control himself is no longer in question,” Morianna said cryptically. “But it grows late. And now we must finish. Gerlinde, see to Rene, please.”

  “I want her there,” Carol said. “I... I need her there.”

  She knew this was fear talking. Rene was beyond helping her, beyond even helping herself.

  Morianna nodded. Rene was brought upstairs still tied and gagged. Carol didn’t have the strength to argue for more.

  In the room everyone took their place. Carol faced the wall opposite the one she had faced on Friday night; tonight she would not see the waning moon.

  Morianna did not build a fire; the air felt clotted with finality. Carol did not look at André, afraid of the horror she would find.

  “This evening,” Morianna began, “just before midnight, you will receive the last drops of blood from André. As the clock strikes he will then claim you.”

  Her words sent a shiver through Carol. A sudden recognition of the inevitability of events descended, leaving her gasping for air and with a strong urge to flee. Tonight I’m going to die! she thought, battling down the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her. I may come back or I may not. But I’ll definitely have to embrace Death.

  During the night Carol avoided looking at André, but she didn’t have to. She heard and sensed him. He was manic, standing, sitting, pacing, his breathing laced with grating sounds. She was in the same room with a wild beast with only one thing on its mind—food.

  Unlike the second night, the hours passed quickly, all too quickly, Carol thought. Sometime after the church bells struck eleven o’clock, Julien approached her. He carried a small wide knife, the blade gold, the handle ornate silver.

  She gasped at the sight of it and looked into his obsidian eyes, ancient as stones, the truth of existence coded within them. She felt a sharp pain as he cut into her neck. Her body trembled, far beyond her control now. Warm blood cooled almost immediately as it trickled over her collarbone. Julien kissed her lips then wet his on her wound. He walked across the room and pressed his lips to André’s. An extended low hiss came out of André.

  André would, or could.

  What seemed only a few minutes passed and then Morianna said the fateful word, “Receive.”

  Carol stood on legs shaking so badly she could hardly keep her balance. This movement evoked a growl from André. He looked feral, fired up with a lust for blood. She walked slowly, not even daring to glance at him again, and knelt down. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rene, still tied and gagged, kneeling so close.

  The odor coming from André’s body reminded her of walks in the woods in the fall, of wet animal fur, of newborn puppies and the birth of her son. She watched his skin quiver as the muscles beneath it spasmed; she felt certain she could feel the vibrations coming through the floor, infiltrating her from the knees up.

  His hot breath on her face was liquid and intense. His breathing, so close to her ear, low and raspy, could have been a tidal wave rushing to crush her.

  André’s hand went to his neck; she saw the nails, impossibly long, dangerously ragged, yellow and bone hard. His body was thinner, the skin taped around the bone. That flesh stank of dark sweat—the little blood still in him. Pale blue veins bulged against startlingly white flesh, contrasting with the dark hairs. It was as though the blue veins would burst open any second and yet at the same time seemed curiously flat and lifeless.

  When he cut into his vein, she reeled. A sickly trickle of blood came out, pale in color. There was so little of it she braced herself to take all there was quickly before it dried up.

  Carol sucked on his throat. Being so close to his sounds and scents rattled her. Her heart hammered; he couldn’t help being aware of that too. She heard thunder but couldn’t tell if it had come from the sky or André. Eventually there was nothing more to take and she abandoned his wound.

  As she leaned back, Carol was aware that Rene had crept forward on her knees. Despite the gag, she moaned; her eyes glittered unnaturally.

  “Go back!” Carol heard Morianna say.

  Before Carol could move, André pounced. She fell onto her back, the wind knocked out of her. He straddling her on his hands and knees, a wolf about to devour its prey. His face hovering over hers was so terrifying Carol couldn’t even scream. Saliva dripped from gaping, panting jaws. Hair stood on end. His eyes were savage. He’s starving, she thought, and there’s nothing between him and my blood.

  “André!” It was Morianna’s voice carrying the weight of centuries. “Wait! Midnight is soon!”

  Julien said, “Tu ne te souviens pas d’elle? Rappelle-toi!”

  Crucial seconds passed. No one moved. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Michael watching. André hesitated.

  In the stillness church bells chimed the quarter before the hour. The sounds disturbed André. He threw his head back and howled like a wolf. Frenetic energy emanated from him. Carol tensed and held her breath.

  “If she doesn’t want eternal life, I do. Take my blood!”

  Rene had managed to work the gag from her mouth. She struggled to get to her feet.

  Julien stood to intercept her.

  Lightning flashed.

  André snatched Carol and threw her over his shoulder. At the same moment he grabbed Rene around the waist. Before the others could act he crashed through the plate glass and leaped down the fire escape, taking the steps three at a time.

  He bolted up through the trees and bushes behind the house, up the side of Mont Royal, streaking through the darkness and lightly falling snow, the dark night lit only by a dying moon. Cedars and pines whipped and scratched Carol’s naked body. He ran so fast everything was a blur. She felt like Persephone being abducted by Hades. But this time Demetre, Persephone’s mother, was along for the ride.

  When he reached the large cross lit with dozens of light bulbs at the top of the mountain, André stopped. He dropped both women onto the packed dirt glittering with white crystals. He paused for only a second, then turned on Carol, his teeth aimed at her throat.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Carol stared into the face of Death. André seemed to be no more and what drove him looked unalterable. The last vestiges of anything human had departed from his features. No kindness remained, nothing from which to evoke empathy or sympathy, just base survival instinct. And at the other end of his despera
te need lay her fate.

  “Take me. Me!” Rene whined.

  André snatched Rene’s shirt and yanked her to his side. He ripped the collar open. Every muscle in his body stood out, tensed for action. His mouth opened wide. Carol had never seen his teeth so large. Rene screamed as he plunged them into her neck.

  Rene twisted and buckled, shrieking, “No! No, stay away from me! Help me! Please, don’t kill me!”

  André threw his head back. Blood bubbled from his gaping jaws and overflowed down his chin. His pupils contracted to dots. He resembled a wolf, about to tear away Rene’s throat and guzzle her life blood. His face distorted further and became less animal and more alien.

  Rene’s neck oozed red. The wound was not two clean little holes but a sickening chunk of severed flesh.

  Despite her own terror, a knowledge welled within Carol, as old as the earth she lay upon, an instinct based on an ancient connection. It overwhelmed her; she felt fearless. “André!”

  His head jerked in her direction. She stared into eyes that no longer saw her, and said the most honest thing she could. “I love you.”

  His only response was the lack of further aggression.

  As Rene sobbed, Carol found her fear reduced to ashes by an unfamiliar clarity of emotion. She held his eyes, the eyes of a madman, a starving animal, a monster, and her strength contained him.

  With small movements, she slid back and away, out from under him, holding him with her gaze, and he let her go.

  Julien appeared behind André, framed by the glowing cross.

  In the blackness of the night he resembled a marble sculpture. He seemed to float, a dark mist easing along the air, until he reached Rene.

  André released her. Rene huddled in the snow sobbing, looking worn, alone. Carol could only pity her as Julien slowly pulled her back to safety.

  Carol sat up and turned away from André. Each of the others took the same positions they had before. All but Rene who was with Julien, and Morianna, who now stood behind Carol, where the fire had been, her eyes glowing blue-red embers. Embers that had glimpsed another world. “It is appropriate to be at the crossroads,” she said, “where life and death meet, where transformation is possible. The wisdom of Sophia is what we know but have forgotten. To remember in time is the miracle.”

  Off to the side Carol noticed Michael in Karl’s arms. His eyes so much like hers shone, his hair as dark as André’s but sprinkled with white. Her son, whose birth had occurred over many hours nine years ago tonight. He waved and Carol realized again just how precious he was to her. Gerlinde stood beside them. And the others, Chloe, Jeanette with her arms around Susan and Claude, Julien holding the sobbing Rene in his arms.

  In the distance cathedral bells began chiming out midnight, filling the air. Through that melodious sound came Morianna’s voice.

  “And now, André must take.”

  The snow fell harder, chilling Carol. Fear resurrected and she trembled. But despite the fear, she pulled her hair behind and over her left shoulder. She turned her head and looked into André’s eyes again.

  He moved on her immediately. Dry ice lips. Ice pick teeth. He stabbed her flesh sharp and quick. Although her body shook, she was keenly aware of him pressing up against her, and he was shaking more.

  When his incisors had cut deep enough, she felt his long razor teeth pulling out of her neck. His lips covered the painful wounds, numbing them. Sounds of lapping, sucking, swallowing. She felt him pulling back all he had given her, and more. Her heart beat erratically. Cold sweat chilled her.

  “Hold me,” she whispered.

  He gripped her shoulders and turned her body until she faced him, his lips never leaving her throat. He sucked firmly and continuously, the pressure on her skin and muscle intense.

  All the while his flesh changed as color returned to it. His body grew warm and she pressed against that heat because her own flesh had grown frigid and weak. Her heart skipped beats. She had trouble breathing and couldn’t focus. A small moan escaped her lips, a sob.

  He held her close, stroking her hair, cradling her in his arms, wrapping his legs around her. “I’m so afraid,” she cried, tears freezing to her face. He pulled her closer.

  As she weakened, her breathing became labored. Her heart skipped wildly; she was aware of sensation dimming.

  She didn’t know when he’d picked her up but now he was carrying her back down the side of the mountain, through the darkness and the whitened trees. The scent of the pines, the sound of his lips, the heat from his body and the strength of his arms were the last sensations Carol experienced as the door closed and she entered the valley of death.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Passage. Traces of sound, nearly sensation. Feathery movements through time. Another.

  No rhythm. No sense. Nonsense. But again.

  “Carol?”

  Instinctive movement. Corridors of thin air, haunting black light. A theater of the void.

  “Welcome.” She saw a face. Rob. Gentle and good, the best he had been. Beside him Phillip, her friend. And her mother. So sad. They smiled. Her mother opened her arms and she floated towards them.

  “Carol!”

  She turned. A whoosh of energy. A vortex of light sucking at her.

  “Don’t leave us!” her mother said. “Carol.” Rob reached out a hand. Phillip waved goodbye.

  “Follow my voice!” The sound echoed and vibrated as it expanded. She floated, around curves, drifting towards that voice, suddenly aware of intense light.

  “Open your eyes!”

  Those words held no meaning but suddenly she saw André. He smiled. His skin glowed. His grey eyes warmed her burning eyes. His face came towards her. Lips brushed hers. She felt nothing.

  “Breathe!” he said, and she didn’t understand what that meant until she heard the air move through her nose and felt it expand her lungs.

  She wanted to know something but couldn’t figure out how to get that knowledge.

  “You’re back. With us. With me,” he said, and then she realized she too had once known how to form sentences, to speak.

  André caressed her face, her hair. His features were soft-edged, his body luminous. His eyes shimmered, like grey opals, as they glided over her face. She had never seen such a look before and wondered what it meant.

  “You’ll begin feeling your body soon. And then you’ll be able to speak again. Just keep breathing.”

  She concentrated on the air flowing like liquid through her and became aware of sounds. Her hand shifted and sensation spread through her fingers. “I... live,” she gasped, amazed. Inside she felt a presence.

  “Yes,” he laughed. “You live. You’ll be here soon. And then you’ll feel sick. Your body’s got to get rid of the poisons. But I’ll be with you. Don’t be afraid.”

  The presence inside Carol assumed form as sensation returned. She experienced herself lying on a bed that she now knew belonged to André. Her mouth felt strange; her tongue found two upper teeth longer than the rest.

  “Michael,” she said.

  “Upstairs. They’re all upstairs. We’ll go up later.”

  The dark presence inside crushed the light that had filled her just moments ago. It took on the shape of a man, then a woman, floating back and forth, the faces of Bob, her mother, Phillip, Rene. In all its manifestations, the figure sobbed.

  “Is Rene... dead?”

  “Julien absorbed her memories. She’ll be alright.”

  She felt sick to her stomach. Her brain cells hurt.

  “OK, Carol.” He sounded relieved, as though the words released him.

  She looked at his eyes. They sparkled and glowed, two grey beaches with innumerable plankton glittering under a star-filled sky. Her stomach lurched. The being inside cried out.

  “You’ll be sick soon,” he said, kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips. She moved to touch him but pain streaked through her skull. Her body convulsed. She screamed.

  “Once it’s all out, th
e pain will stop. I’ll give you blood and you’ll feel strong again. I want to make love to you. Now. Forever.”

  The being inside became too sharply defined, so stark and knife-edged she had to look away. Cramps shot down Carol’s arms and legs and speared through her chest and deep into her stomach. She panted, terrified. She and the being inside spoke in unison, “Am I dying?”

  André helped her to the bathroom. He lifted her into the tub and held her as her body forcibly ejected what had once been necessary to existence but was no longer useful. She staggered from the pain. The being cringed, caught in the grip of agony and despair. ‘He doesn’t love you,’ a voice echoed. Both of them cried.

  “Are you disappointed?” she sobbed. Another spasm hit.

  “Disappointed? About what?”

  She noticed for the first time that he looked different.

  His hair was no longer just streaked with grey at the temples but shot through with silver and his face devoid of the anger that had lived in his features.

  “That it’s me.”

  He looked confused.

  “And not Anne-Marie. Or Sylvie.”

  One final wave rocked her, leaving her too weak to move, to even cry out, only to tremble before this awesome power that had passed through her.

  He cleaned her up and carried her limp body back to the bed, then lay down beside her.

  The pain was gone but emptiness lingered. The being inside seemed listless, lost in a stupor of hopelessness.

  André took Carol’s face in his hands. He cut his neck with a finely manicured nail and guided her lips to the gleaming crimson stream. The pungent scent of sweet copper reached her first, then the taste, warm, delicious, textured, a complicated beverage of finely blended ingredients. Liquid energy, like quicksilver, spread through her body. It coursed down her limbs, out to her extremities, expanding her as it went, filling in all the empty spaces so that she began to feel less flat and static.

  As Carol grew stronger, the being inside shrank and finally receded, absorbing the darkness as it went. The being looked at her with sad eyes then disappeared, leaving Carol alone in the glow emanating from André’s body.