Darkness Echoes: A Spooky YA Short Story Collection

by L. A. Starkey

Maybe it’s because I am now absolutely alone.

  But, then again, maybe I’m not.

  The sense of unease grows stronger the deeper I flee into the trees. My breathing is labored – not because of exertion but because I am afraid. I almost turn around but I’m too scared now to go back, even though I have no idea where I’m heading.

  With an abruptness that’s disorienting, I’m suddenly in the forest bordering the graveyard. It’s darker here. The sunlight cannot penetrate the canopy of trees. I step through a low arch made by two vine-like intertwining branches and hurdle a mound of dead, dank leaves. Up ahead, through the flickering light-filled spots of greenery, I see a sunny clearing.

  I wrench myself forward, my sides beginning to burn from a stitch. But hope seems to lie ahead.

  And, at precisely that moment, a huge black shadow eases out from behind the thick trunk of an old oak, barely ten paces away from me. A shadow that oozes shadow. It’s enormous as it starts to take on definition. The shape of a man. At least, I think this monstrous figure is a man. There is no name for it but sheer terror as it stalks deliberately toward where I’m now standing, frozen. It is coming for me.

  Chapter Seven

  I tense for the creature to rush or spring at me, unable to unlock my limbs to run. Now would be a good time. The clearing isn’t so far away – and I believe that if I can just get to the light, it won’t follow me further. But it’s almost like I accept that I can’t outrun this thing and give up. Sadly, self-preservation has flown out the window. I simply stare in horror at the monstrous figure of a headless man as he dismounts from his horse, the malevolence blazing from him, and am frozen to the spot. His stallion’s eyes glow an evil red, its nostrils flaring as if it can smell my fear, and stamps its fore-hoof and loudly whinnies. It’s a sound that seems to stretch across the distance like thunder chasing down the lightning.

  I am afraid to look away but equally afraid to watch my own death.

  The chill wind whips up violently and so suddenly that strands of my long, coppery hair painfully flick into my eyes and obscure my vision. The branches of the trees brutally beat against the air, the long grass sways and parts as if something is moving through it, and the leaves spiral from the trees like ships that have lost their mooring. It’s as if nature is protesting against the abomination in front of me.

  When I look up again, pushing back the hair from my stinging eyes, the foul creature has disappeared. Instinctively, I know that this is much worse than if I could still see him.

  Before I can think or react, a sudden blurry movement at the periphery of my vision has me gasping and I stumble backwards, the heel of my shoe catching on an exposed root. I fall hard onto the damp ground and scrape my hands and arms. But I barely notice the pain.

  There’s a spiraling motion and the ripple of dark coattails as the figure splits the air, fanning the wind. A flash of bright silver catches the fitful fall of sunlight. And a manlike shape flies toward me.

  I scream so loud it hurts my own ears and try to scuttle backwards, crab-like on the forest floor, and up against the thick, solid trunk of a tree till I can go no further. There is a sudden, swift rush as the headless fiend hurls itself down from the branches of the soaring witch-hazel above me.

  But it is met with the unexpected impact of a careering solid bulk like that of a high-velocity bullet, and the interlocked figures ricochet the length of a cruise ship and into the copse of trees to the extreme far left of me, disappearing from my sight. But, in that whirling, brief flash of vision, I see the fury written on Ben’s dazzling face – the determination and focus of a Hunter – and the look that stresses it’s time for me to bolt.

  A cascade of cries and the abrupt flight of a flock of birds from the copse of trees, wheeling with wild wings, makes me leap to my feet and aim for the glade. I pay no attention to their ruckus, focusing only on what I am running from.

  I am shaking so violently by the time I reach the middle of the clearing, my legs wobbling wildly and unable to support me, that I collapse in a pathetic, messy, shivering heap.

  I can’t seem to control my violent shudders. I can’t control anything. My heart is crazily pounding as it tries to break free from my ribcage that I can even feel the beat of blood in my ears.

  I lose track of time. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. I’m not certain how long I’ve been here.

  Finally, with the sunlight still beaming upon my flushed face, my breathing slows, and I become aware that nothing is following me, nothing is stalking me, that I’m all alone.

  And only then do I realize I’ve done the unthinkable. I’ve left Ben to cope with that monstrous creature on his own.

  I bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I feel like crying, but I don’t. My head pounds. And as the moments pass, I get more nervous and the guilt increases.

  My mom always says that I’m too stubborn, too proud and too generous – all of which she sees as failings which get me into constant trouble – and perhaps she’s right. But I’m too stubborn, too proud and too generous to let Ben fight that thing alone – and I know what I have to do.

  I heave myself off the ground and resolutely walk toward the edge of the forest. The chill wind whips through my clothes and, despite the sunlight, it brings back my shivers. Goose bumps pepper my body, the hairs raising on my arms.

  I hesitate.

  If I don’t do it now, I won’t be able to do it at all. Come on, Evee.

  I don’t think. I swallow hard and then I take off at a run, ignoring the stitch in my side and the sharp cramps in the muscles of my legs. I dodge trees and bracken and try to keep to the speckled light on my path. None of the gymnastics training I’ve done has prepared me for this kind of strenuous activity. The wind howls in my ears like an animal in pain but, at least, I can’t hear anything else as I surge forward.

  I hit something hard. It forces the air from my lungs, whooshing out of me in one long breath. Large hands reach for me as I slip down to the ground but I thrash and kick out as if my life depends on it – which I’m sure it does. Something strikes my chest and a scream of pain bursts from me, but I refuse to go down without a fight.

  ‘Evee.’

  A jolt goes through me and I stop struggling. Ben stands over me.

  Sunlight, breaking through the branches directly above, catches the back of his head like a halo as he bends toward me, extending a hand to haul me up. It gives him an eerie look – part angel, part demon – as it casts shadows over his face, obscuring his eyes.

  ‘Careful, Evee,’ he says.

  As soon as I’m on my feet, he grabs my arm and drags me away from the copse of trees, moving at a breakneck speed.

  ‘Idiot. Why did you come back?’ His hand hurts my arm, but he doesn’t give me an opportunity to pull away. ‘We have to get out of here now.’

  I look over my shoulder and see the shadows closing in behind us.

  ‘Faster. Hurry,’ I gasp weakly.

  In response, the wind whips the dead leaves along the forest floor, tangling around our legs as we run.

  I think I hear the pounding of hooves or maybe it’s just the pounding of my heart, I can’t be certain, but I pick up the pace, even though my lungs burn. Ben pulls my arm across his shoulder and throws a glance over my head. He is holding the same machete as earlier but the fierce look in his eye is unfamiliar to me.

  I stumble beside him over some dead branches and through a puddle of stagnant water – and now I know that I wasn’t imagining the sound of horse hooves behind us, and what’s worse, their beat has quickened.

  We round another tree, putting distance between us and the Horseman, and something comes hurtling through the air. It’s just a fuzzy ball-shape that comes straight for us and I feel it whizz over my head, missing me by a hairsbreadth. And then I hear a thud as it hits the tree in front of us and rolls toward our feet.

  My body goes rigid as the Horseman’s head comes to a rest and leers up at me.

  It’s the most
gruesome, horrifying thing I have ever seen – and I only look at it for a second but I know it will be permanently etched upon my mind for the rest of my life.

  But Ben doesn’t even pause. He continues toward the light ahead that signals safety, dragging me along with him. And finally we are about to burst through the canopy of trees and into the sunlight and Ben turns, a glint in his eye. He pulls back and swings his arm wide and lets the machete fly. I see it spin like a boomerang, like the blades of a helicopter, rotating through the air.

  And the next moment, I am flying through the air myself. Ben’s arms are wrapped tightly around me and we land in an undignified, painful heap in the sunlit clearing.

  Ben’s face is so close I can see the dark circumference of his irises, making them burst with their peculiar shade of green. I feel a shiver work its way down my spine and it has nothing to do with the fear of being attacked or the relief of escaping and everything to do with his body pressed up against mine and how every part of him is imprinting itself upon every part of me.

  But then he glares at me and I see no sympathy in his eyes.

  ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

  I blink in confusion. But as he continues to glare at me, I get angry.

  ‘Helping you. And usually in such circumstances a simple thank you will do,’ I say, hotly. ‘I’m not completely helpless and it wasn’t right to leave you to face that thing – that monster – alone.’

  He shakes his head. But before he can get a word in, I continue.

  ‘Besides, what the hell were you thinking? What were you trying to prove – like you’re some badass Hunter? Have you even killed anything like it before?’

  He looks like he’d like to slam his fist into the ground beside my head where his hand is resting, bearing his weight, but refrains from doing this. It’s obvious that I’m irritating him.

  ‘No. I have not killed anything like it before. It’s one of a kind. And if you didn’t notice, it’s already dead.’ He doesn’t yell but his cool voice holds a note of sarcasm mingled with belligerence. He leans his face into mine, narrowing his eyes.

  ‘Well, can’t you kill it anyway? What do they call those creatures? Like the undead or something?’ I stupidly argue, never thinking once of survival. ‘The undead can be killed, right? Like zombies and vampires?’

  His entire body seems to tighten at my words. I should stop now before he decides to strangle me himself.

  ‘Oh, so you’re an expert on the undead now? Where do you get your information from? Some B-grade horror flick or TV show?’ He sounds like I’ve offended him, and confirms it with his next words which expose my own ignorance. ‘Tell me, what do you propose I do? Cut off its head?’

  I feel totally foolish and hate it that he’s right.

  Shamefaced, I stare at the V of his black t-shirt where the exposed skin within the deep depression between throat and collarbone pulses the rhythm of his heartbeat. It beats a rapid tattoo as if it can’t be tamed and mine leaps in sudden awareness.

  Unexpectedly he sighs and almost collapses against me, as if all the fight has gone out of him. To my surprise, he rests his hand on the side of my face, his calloused thumb skimming my cheekbone. Yet his fingers are gentle and careful where he touches me.

  ‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Are you hurt?’

  Our eyes lock. I can’t breathe. There’s electricity in his touch.

  ‘Not much,’ I say quietly.

  ‘Good.’ And I know he means it.

  I feel the moment build and experience something I’ve never felt before as he bends his head toward me so that a lock of his dark hair is tickling my temple. I sense his surrender to whatever it is between us.

  I feel the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt. Thrilled. Elated. Nervous too.

  And I’m holding my breath, just waiting for his kiss...

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Bentley! Evelyn!’ A strident voice pierces the air and carries across the glade.

  The shock of the moment is registering on his face and Ben automatically pulls away from me as if he is stung. Before I can do so much as blink, he goes back to glaring, his green eyes slicing right through me.

  ‘Come on, let’s go. She’ll be waiting,’ he says in a flat, hard voice.

  He turns away from me, dismissively. It makes me annoyed that I like him. I so don’t want to be attracted to him because he’s not my type. I did not choose “B” on the quiz, trying to ignore the fact that it was about dream vampires and not hot guys, and there was no question which asked about eye color or the way he smiles or – Stop it, Evee!

  Ben strikes out across the clearing, walking briskly as if his stride is matched to his mood. It’s as if he can’t be bothered waiting to see if I’m following him as he seeks out his mother. The witch.

  We cut across the glade, moving away from the forest and back toward the cemetery. The trees grow thinner and less dense along the perimeter, and the long grass gives way to neatly groomed lawn. I know when we cross into the cemetery proper as the dark shadows pull back from the depths of the wooded area and creep across the manicured lawn like fingers stretching out in appeal, stopping abruptly at an invisible line.

  ‘Sanctified ground,’ Ben remarks tersely. He must have eyes in the back of his head to see my furrowed brow because, I swear, he hasn’t looked over his shoulder at me once.

  ‘I know,’ I find myself lying. Not to impress him. But just because … because he annoys me with his unexpectedly patronizing and arrogant manner. I’d stick my tongue out at him but that would just be childish – and I’m sure he’d see it.

  But if I’m surprised at Ben’s change in attitude, I’m even more surprised by Dr. Martin-Crane’s – because, as soon as we catch up with her near my father’s grave, she’s suddenly fussing over me as if I’ve passed some sort of test.

  ‘You’re safe. You’re a survivor, Evelyn. That’s good. And you managed to find Bentley,’ she says, giving me all the credit – a credit I don’t deserve.

  Ben’s scowl says it all but, surprisingly, he doesn’t contradict her. Instead, he says, as if I’m not even here, ‘She ran too far. Into the woods. She’s got a lot to learn and not a lot of time to learn it in.’

  It’s a criticism. Of me.

  Dr. Martin-Crane focuses on her son and says sharply, ‘We will teach Evelyn everything she needs to know.’

  This is my opportunity to speak up and I seize it, opening with, ‘What do I need to know? I’m still waiting for the answers to my questions, Dr. Martin-Crane. So far, I’ve been attacked by a headless equestrian, been chased down the school hallway by the hounds of hell, and had visions of burning buildings, and – oh yeah, did you know – I see dead people?’

  Dr. Martin-Crane is quite calm and I suspect it’s due to years of training in her profession. ‘It’s nothing more than what I would expect. But for that you have Bentley to guide and protect you. It’s his duty and, like you, he was born for it.’

  I feel a dull ache in the pit of my stomach, not knowing how I feel about Ben being my protector and acting out of some kind of duty or burden which has been placed upon him. But that’s only one of my concerns, the other is, ‘What do you mean? You keep hinting that I’ve got some important role to play in all this. What if I don’t want it?’

  Ben sighs and, irreverently, props himself against my father’s tombstone – and even though I know my father’s body was never found let alone buried, I stiffen, feeling offended. He doesn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Yours is an ancient lineage. Your father was a Soul Guardian. You don’t get a say in it. It just is, like eye color.’

  I nod slowly, recalling my dad’s words. It makes sense. But it still doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  ‘Is. My father is a Soul Guardian,’ I challenge, my eyes narrowing. ‘So, okay, what’s a Soul Guard–’

  Before I can finish, Ben turns away to watch the line of crows perching on the electrical wires in the distance. I stare at the back o
f his dark head. There’s an itch that makes me want to strike out at his thick skull with something big and hard and solid.

  ‘I will tell you everything I know about your father and about the Soul Guardian.’ I hear Dr. Martin-Crane say with a satisfied smile. There’s something in her tone that makes me turn back to warily face her. ‘But first we need to retrieve Ichabod’s copy of History of New England Witchcraft.’

  *

  I pretend that I’m not here. It’s easier than witnessing Ben pretending that I’m not here.

  He’s speaking to my mother in the middle of my living room. They’re having one of those “what are you going to do with your life?” discussions and Ben is obviously winning – or, at least, winning her over – because she looks like she’s impressed, and that’s a very hard thing to get my mom to do. It’s the corporate taxation lawyer in her, I figure.

  This time when she laughs, she tilts her head back.

  OMG! Is she flirting with him? Wait! Is he flirting with her?

  It’s evident that he hasn’t told her anything about hunting monsters or she’d be throwing him out of our front door in a heartbeat and calling the cops.

  But no, Mom is smiling up at him, smiling at something he’s saying, and his receptive smile transforms him completely. His eyes light up a clear green as he laughs with her. Ugh! His ability to lay on the charm has me almost gagging.

  I definitely feel like I want to commit a violent act with a blunt object and grit my teeth. I need to get out of here now before I do or say something I’ll regret.

  Ben determinedly focuses on anything other than me as I walk past him toward the corridor to go upstairs to my room. There’s a rather ugly antique art deco bowl on the coffee table that has his undivided attention. But it’s as if he can’t help himself – because, at the very last moment before I pass by him, he looks over at me and our eyes lock for a second or two. But that’s all it takes. And I get this tight feeling in my chest.

  As I take the stairs two at a time, Dr. Martin-Crane is at the top landing, coming in the opposite direction. I thought she’d gone to the guest bathroom to freshen up and am surprised to see her upstairs where only our bedrooms are located.