by Gina Ranalli
Mothman Emerged
Azure House Book 1
Gina Ranalli
Mothman Emerged copyright © 2015 by Gina Ranalli All rights reserved.
Published by Bloo Skize Dark
Seattle, Washington
Originally published by Coscom Entertainment, 2012
Book cover art: R.G. Porter. All rights reserved.
Mothman Emerged
Bloo Skize Dark
ISBN-13 978-1-927339-18-3:
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, including mechanical, electric, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author.
Also by Gina Ranalli
Dark Surge
Unearthed
Rumors of My Death
Chemical Gardens
Mother Puncher
Wall of Kiss
Suicide Girls in the Afterlife
Sky Tongues
Peppermint Twist
House of Fallen Trees
Praise the Dead
Ghost Chant
Chapter 1
LOCKWOOD, WASHINGTON
June 13 11:37 p.m.
Jason Tremblay breathed deep, inhaling the sweet smoke into his lungs, holding his breath for several seconds, and then releasing it into the air.
The summer night was warm and bright elsewhere, but not in these woods where he’d gone to mellow out and smoke a jay to get away from the sounds of his parents fighting.
The forest behind his house was deep enough to get lost in and a good place to hide, to chill and think, and at fifteen, Jason did a lot of that. What he thought about most was getting out of this small town and moving to a city where he could be himself and not always be tagged with the repetitive term “the goth kid” or other, even less favorable slurs.
It was true, though. He was a goth kid despite his dislike of the label. His hair was dyed black and cut in such a way that it hung long, falling onto his face on one side while the other side was shorn so short it could have been considered a buzzcut. He dressed almost entirely in black and had worn dark make-up and black nail polish nearly every day of his life for the last year. His music tastes tended to be industrial metal and his parents had just bought him an electric guitar for his birthday, a hobby he was getting to be fairly proficient at. The very first song he’d learned to play in its entirety was the Kinks’ “Lola.” Not metal, but controversial and easy, both of which Jason was fond of.
He had dreams of starting a band at some point, and that dream was what he’d been pondering when he’d been sitting on the mossy ground, his back against a tree, listening to the sounds of the woods while thin shafts of moonlight shone through the treetops and cast mini spotlights here and there.
Almost to the end of his joint, he felt pretty stoned, but not enough to be completely zoned out, which was why, when he heard the odd, faint crackling sound above him, he knew something strange was happening.
He looked straight up, squinting in the darkness and trying to see into the thick boughs of the pine drooping low and heavy. His first thought was of a raccoon, claws scrabbling against the tree bark, and the last thing he wanted was one of those dropping onto his head, so he dazedly got to his feet and backed away from the tree, ready to shout to scare the creature away if need be. He’d seen a raccoon on the side of a tree not three months prior and he fully expected to encounter another one but, as far as he could tell, either it wasn’t a ’coon or it was doing a great job of hiding.
Jason cocked his head, listening as he searched the higher branches as best he could. A bird, then? Maybe an owl?
Vague movement caught his eye about three quarters of the way into the top of the tree. He stared harder and thought he saw some kind of pendulum motion, very slow and barely detectable. The crackling sound came again and he knew he was looking in the right place; if only he could see better. Pulling his lighter out, he held it skyward, but it was useless. The illumination it brought was hardly enough to light the hand that held it.
He dropped his arm back to his side and decided to give it up. Whatever was in the tree probably wasn’t worth all the effort he was putting into spotting it. A ’coon, owl, perhaps an opossum.
Big deal.
He put the lighter back in his pocket and pulled out his eye drop dispenser. It wasn’t likely his parents had even noticed his absence, but in the unlikely event that they had, he didn’t want to walk in with eyes as red as stoplights.
After he dispensed the drops, he turned to head back towards his house. He could already see the back porch light, a small, yellow pinprick of radiance in the darkness.
A twig snapped beneath his sneaker, causing him to jump a little. He chuckled at his own paranoia. Maybe he was more stoned than he’d first suspected?
Loud rustles from above made him pause and look up once more. This time, the thing making the noise was visible, though Jason still couldn’t be sure what he was looking at. In the dark, it appeared to be a large ball, or perhaps it was egg-shaped, hanging fifty or sixty feet off the ground from the underside of a thick branch.
“What the—?”
His first thought was it was a nest, probably a wasp’s, but the mere size of it was frightening. Much bigger than any nest he’d ever seen, he suspected the thing could have comfortably housed an average-sized man if he was curled into the fetal position.
The sound coming from the nest—or whatever it was—was louder now, similar to paper tearing. Jason swallowed hard, his heart now thudding in his ears. At his sides, his hands curled into fists and though part of him knew he should be getting out of there, he instead stood transfixed, his nervousness trumped by fascination.
More ripping sounds filled the otherwise quiet night and he could see the nest tearing open, splitting slowly along the side closest to him. As the opening grew, he could clearly see movement from within and he vaguely wondered just how many wasps were inside it. Thousands? Hundreds of thousands?
But even as he considered this question, he knew splitting open nests was not normal wasp behavior nor were they active at night, at least as far as he knew.
No. Not wasps then.
This was something . . . different.
The nest tore open further and the thing within it began to emerge so quickly Jason felt sure it would fall to the ground.
To his surprise, it didn’t. Instead, it unfurled itself and hung there from its perch, which Jason realized wasn’t a nest at all.
The thing hanging upside down was black and hard to see, but it was definitely humanoid in shape and when the huge wings spread out from its body, Jason was no longer fascinated.
He was terrified.
Stumbling back a few steps, he bit back a scream as the creatures eyes opened, glowing orange like the inside of a jack-o’-lantern.
Jason spun, nearly lost his balance, but somehow managed to keep it as he raced in the direction of his home.
No, not a nest at all.
A cocoon.
Chapter 2
Clouds skittered across the sky as if they were restless ghosts, obscuring the full moon and briefly dimming its glow before moving on and revealing its radiance once more.
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the maples that lined the opposite side of the street from where Regan Cross stood in her own yard, camera at her face and aimed up at the lunar beauty. It was a rare thing—a supermoon—and Regan wanted to capture as much of it on film as possible, know
ing it would be many long years before the next one.
Her camera clicked away, virtually the only sound in the night, excluding the rustling leaves and the occasional passing vehicle on the cross street a block away.
At twenty-nine, she had been obsessed with photography for more than half her life and made a fairly decent living selling her photographs to a variety of publications. Her photos had graced the covers of many books, magazines and, on several occasions a few years back, CDs. She also sold her art to stock photo websites and on her own website as prints.
All in all, life was good. Her live-in boyfriend, Paul, a drug counselor, loved her very much and supported her decision to make a go of a life in the arts; her parents were both alive and healthy, as was an older sister down in New Mexico; and she made enough money to live a comfortable lifestyle.
Regan smiled to herself as she got off a few more shots. A neighboring dog barked so suddenly it caused her to jump, an instant later laughing at herself for being so skittish.
There was something about the supermoon that caused her to reflect on her life—maybe something as simple as the giant moon’s rarity and the fact she might never see another one. Whatever it was, she was grateful for it, grateful she was fortunate enough to have the life she did, surrounded by people who loved and supported her. She knew she was very lucky indeed.
Aiming her camera once more, she wondered where she might be able to sell these photos. Naturally, every photographer in the region was probably out doing the same thing she was tonight. They’d be crazy not to, and that meant the competition would be tough.
She moved closer to the street pondering this when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Turning to look, she saw a dark shape moving up the sidewalk, coming in her direction.
At first she assumed it was a jogger out for a midnight run, but there was something off about it. Entirely black, it moved swiftly and in complete silence, not even a whisper of heels on pavement, and as it drew closer to her, it was apparent that the shape of it was unsettling. Far too thin, its arms and legs were spindly and spider-like, and its head was misshapen, almost oblong.
Then it passed her and she watched it recede into the darkness, still on the sidewalk, but quickly racing out of sight.
Regan stood there, perfectly still, the moon forgotten, feeling more astounded than frightened.
What was that thing?
Even its silence, speed and alien-like shape weren’t the things that left her in awe. That was part of it, but the most peculiar thing had been the creature’s face: as far as she could tell, it didn’t have one. Just a flat, black surface with glowing orange eyes.
She stared off in the direction it had gone, knowing she’d never be able to catch up with it, but simultaneously wishing she’d had the presence of mind to give chase and maybe snap a few photos of the creature. Even from the rear, she might have been able to catch a shot of what appeared to be wings laying flat against its back.
Kicking herself, she hurried inside to tell Paul what she’d witnessed, hoping against hope he’d believe her.
And, what then? Should she call someone? The police? Would they believe her? It seemed unlikely.
After all, it probably wasn’t every day they received phone calls from people claiming to have seen a real live alien and when they did, Regan was sure the cops would dismiss the claims as coming from drunks or loons.
As she opened her front door, she cursed herself yet again for not having given chase.
Chapter 3
“Come on now, Bruiser,” Dan Helpen told his Boston terrier. “We don’t have all night, you know.”
Bruiser ignored him, taking a deep interest in a parked car’s rear tire.
Dan sighed and looked around. Nothing much was happening this time of night, but at least it was warm and the moon was bright enough to see by.
Seeming satisfied with his inspection of the tire, Bruiser continued on down the sidewalk, Dan loosely holding his leash in one hand.
“Number two,” Dan said to the dog. “You gotta do number two. Enough of checking your pee mail.”
Bruiser’s gait was casual; he was clearly in no hurry at all, despite his master’s urgings. He stopped to lift his leg for the third time, this time against a skinny tree planted in the grass between the sidewalk and the street.
Dan stifled a groan. They’d already been cruising the neighborhood for ten minutes. How long does it take to have a dump? Forty-four and still single, he had to assume his lack of patience had a lot to do with women’s lack of patience with him.
Funny how that type of thing works, he thought.
“Okay, maybe you don’t have to do number two,” Dan said, “that’s fine by me, but if you think you’re gonna wake me up at five o’clock with your pitiful whining and I’m gonna jump out of bed in my skivvies and put on slippers for your sorry butt, you got another thing coming.”
Bruiser glanced up at him, clearly unimpressed with his threat, before resuming his nonchalant stroll through the night.
“Yeah, zippety do da to you too,” Dan said, and then instinctively ducked as a powerful gust of air ruffled the thinning hair on top of his head.
Bruiser immediately began to frantically bark and Dan looked up just in time to see something large and dark swoop overhead, gracefully gliding through the air.
Dan cursed, and the thing—certainly no bird he’d ever seen—flapped its enormous wings and reversed direction, coming towards them again.
Crouching, he yanked the dog’s leash, pulling Bruiser in close to his legs while covering his head with his free arm.
Dan got a better look at the thing as it passed overhead once more. Hell, if it didn’t look kind of like a person, but at the same time, not like a person at all.
If it hadn’t been for the brightness of the moon, Dan was sure he wouldn’t have been able to make out any details at all and, in a way, he wished that had been the case.
The creature swirled through the night air, diving down at him before lunging skyward once more.
Bruiser fought against his leash, still furiously barking as he watched the threat come and go, and then come again. It occurred to Dan the dog could be what was drawing the thing to them in the first place and he dared to uncover his head in order to grab Bruiser’s muzzle and hold it closed in an attempt to silence him.
The creature continued to dart low enough for him to feel its passage, but only did so a few more times before shooting skyward and disappearing over houses and into the next block until it was gone.
Dan was frozen in place, still not daring to rise to his full height and kept his hand firmly clamped over the dog’s muzzle. Finally, he released the breath he’d been holding, but beyond that made no move to relax in the slightest.
Several minutes passed before he found the courage to stand and when he did, he picked up the dog, and held him close to his chest and kept him quiet.
“What the hell was that, huh, boy?” he whispered then quickly began to hurry back in the direction of his house. He wished he’d brought his cell phone on the walk with him but, as usual, he’d forgotten.
He had absolutely no idea what he’d encountered just now, but he knew he’d been lucky. Whatever it was had seemed pretty angry and almost certainly wanted to eat his dog.
Dan had clearly seen the thin, wispy arms—much longer than a human’s—and he’d also seen what must have passed as hands and the shiny-black, thorn-like talons at the ends of them. One on each “hand” and maybe five inches long, they’d shone in the moonlight, deadly sharp.
And those eyes.
That might have been the worst part of all. They had been illuminated from within somehow. Blazing like fire, but with no pupils he could see.
Just thinking about them made him increase his pace, all the while wondering just how insane he was going to sound to whoever answered the phone when he finally dialed 911.
Chapter 4
Jackie and John lay comfortably on a thick
wool blanket in the back of John’s pickup, holding hands and staring up at the moon.
They’d both just graduated high school and were drunk with all the wild possibilities the future held for them. They’d both been accepted to Evergreen State College down in Olympia, and even though John wasn’t yet positive he wanted to jump right back into school in the fall, Jackie suspected he’d change his mind by the time the fall quarter rolled around.
In the moonlight, she cracked a crooked smile, knowing her boyfriend of four years wouldn’t be able to stand being away from her for any real amount of time.
“I could drive down and visit on the weekends,” he said quietly, as if reading her mind. John was like that. Always seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling at any given moment. It was almost as if they were the same person, but opposite genders.
“Weekends, huh?” she teased. “I’m just sure.”
He released her hand and sat up, leaned his weight on one elbow and faced her, his expression serious. “I love you, you know?”
Jackie grinned. “I know. I love you, too.” She paused before adding. “A little, anyway.”
“A little? How much is a little?”
“Oh, you know. Maybe to Grover’s gas station or so.”
He tried to look wounded. “Not to the moon and back?”
“Definitely not.” She waved a dismissive hand for emphasis.
“You do, too, love me to the moon and back. Admit it.”
She folded her arms across her chest and with a straight face said, “Never.”
“Okay,” he told her. “You asked for it.”
With that, he proceeded to attack her with tickles, something she could barely stand. She squealed loud and tried to fight him off, both of them laughing and probably disturbing the wildlife in the forest behind where they were parked.