Chapter 6

A real demon just tried to kill me

A black stone pendant dangled from his wounded arm. I can’t explain, but in the absence of a pendant around my neck, my head immediately began to throb. I will need to restore it. At the first opportunity, I will repair the pendant and put it back around my neck. I was little when my mom pulled out the jewelry tools and made it for me and made me promise never to take it off.

Even after a hot shower, I couldn't stop shaking. Later, pulling on my warmest sweatshirt and burrowing under the covers, I dreamed of a cup of cocoa and a hand to hold on to. Instead, I fell into a restless sleep as my mind replayed past and present traumas.

And now we'll join this nightmare that's already begun. The sheets wrapped around my kicking legs, and I fell back into nightmares. Rain splashes on the untouched marble headstone. Bridget Corey Quinn. Beloved Mom.

I hear voices whispering, but I can't take my eyes off my mother's death certificate. Sobs get stuck in my chest. I am alone in this world. Seventeen years old and completely alone. I hear a strange growling sound, and then a blinding flash of lightning flashes across the sky. There are gasps and mutterings, but I can't take my eyes off the headstone. 

The loss, the crushing inevitable loss, drives me crazy. I fall into a shallow puddle of mud on fresh turf. The stone is split by a fissure, a jagged scar between Corey and Quinn. My tears are mixed with rain. My pendant is pulsing in time with my broken heart, when suddenly footsteps are heard.…

My treacherous subconscious rummaged through my memories for the next stop in Sam's Cycle of Suppressed Horrors. Footsteps crackle on pine needles. After midnight, I enter the inky black room, leaving the flashlight on my uncle's desk. The hut where I stayed is not far away. I have a phone if I need light. 

The sound of breathing behind me, and then a blinding pain. Emptiness. I wake up with suffocating fear and unimaginable agony. Blindfolded, hands stretched overhead in scalding metal handcuffs. The passage of time is marked by screams that turn into hoarse breathing. Slippery, sticky blood runs down my body, dripping from my toes. 

The tickling of fur against my skin signals his reincarnation. Part of me is happy that I'm blindfolded, that I won't have to watch this monster tear me apart. Teeth tearing my skin. The claws dig into the ribs. Does the bandage make it worse? 

Faceless, he becomes any man. The liquid washes over my belly and legs. The cuts are burning again. I kick again and come to my senses. I'm in hell, the torture never ends, but I still struggle. A long, serrated blade pierces my chest as he continues to cut in the dark.…

The memory faded, the tension leaving my body with it, until my mind snapped out another one, determined to torment me further.

Night again. The Killed Sheep is under construction. I do my best to ignore the angry vampire whose name I can't remember. He stands in the corner of a cavernous bookstore and bar. Helena, the witch I lived with for a few months after the attack, says Clive put me on guard. 

Do not understand why. I am nobody. Looking through catalogs of book titles, choosing what to buy, I try to ignore the dark, resentful eyes peeking out of the shadows.

Working, immersed in my own thoughts, I miss something important. Hours pass. Fog covers the ocean, hiding the moon. There is a strange wet sound. A huge shaggy figure stands out against the background of darkness. I search the corners of the bar. The evil eyes are gone. Have I fallen asleep? 

The big black horse shakes, the water splashes over me. A soft smack echoes in the silence of the room. I reach for him, he growls, snapping his teeth. Dripping blood. A shocked cry breaks the sleepy silence. I run, the monster is chasing me. Hooves rumble in empty rooms. I run through the back door and round it, heading for the huge free-standing bookshelves that were delivered earlier. 

Hiding, crouching between the rack and the wall, holding my breath while my heart is pounding, I try to be as small and quiet as possible. A blast of hot air hits the top of my head. When I look up, blood red eyes pierce me. I roll over and kick him in the face. Broad shoulders push bookshelves aside, and powerful jaws crash down on my leg, crushing my ankle. He drags me to the entrance to the water, to death.

Fighting, kicking, tearing my legs, screaming hoarsely, I cling to the floor, desperately trying to break free. My leg falls out of his mouth as the faerie horse rears up and crashes down on my stomach, crushing my organs. 

Had I survived that werewolf's torture only to die now that I was learning to hope again? Teeth scratching at bone, the creature dragging me towards the inevitable. Unspeakable pain, like fire, washes over me. I squirm and writhe, but his grip is unbreakable.

Squeezing my eyes shut in pain, with a scream on my lips, I kick again and again. My crippled leg falls. Clive is standing over me. Gray eyes assess my battered condition, and he tugs on the kelpie's jaws. 

There is a sickening squelching pop as Clive tears them apart. He tosses the corpse to the entrance to the water, and then kneels in a pool of blood and seawater, gentle hands hang over me like a ghost, warding off the pain. And then the darkness pulled me down again.

* * *

Jumping up in bed, I woke up abruptly. That damn kelpie. Kelpies were magical aquatic creatures that took the form of horses and lured people into the water, where they attacked and bitten the victim. If I knew there were freaking kelpies Bay, I would never did not open the entrance to the water. I was destined to end my life as a fish snack.

The kelpie attack happened over six months ago when I left my pack, escaped from Gulther's plan, and a bookstore and bar was being built, and I still have nightmares about it. Fortunately, not so often now. Maybe Gulther and my step sister wanted to kill me through magic. May be they getting services from witch and vampires.

Perhaps the dead woman, the wolf and the scary blonde were too much for my subconscious. Kelpie sensed my fear and decided to haunt my dreams again. Bastard. Although it was strange to see Mom in a dream. I rarely dreamed of her funeral and that terrible thunderstorm. That day was a blur of pain and fear. Details were missing, but maybe that was okay considering how much my life had changed.

Taking control of another part of the nightmare that I refused to think about, I turned on the nightlight. No more darkness. Pulling on the blanket, I shuddered, my hands burning. I rubbed them, believing that I had cut off blood circulation, and cried out in pain. Slowly pulling up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, I saw long, crimson scratches running down my arms. How the hell did I get them?

It wasn't good. Obviously I won't sleep again. Grabbing a book from my bedside table, I slipped into my bunny slippers and shuffled into the living room. Taking off a soft azure cloak from the back of the sofa, I went through the kitchen of the bar, took the plate of sneakerdoodles that Dave had left for me. 

By the way, for a demon, he was a good guy. I wandered into the dark bar, fiddling with the knobs and buttons on the espresso machine. Cocoa is what I needed. With marshmallow. 

Snickerdoodles, Pride and Prejudice, and a cozy blanket were the perfect antidote to agonizing nightmares and mysterious traumas. Sitting at a corner table by the window, I turned on the lamp to the lowest setting and read, erasing the ugliness.

While suffering with Lizzy over Darcy's statement that she was "not pretty enough to seduce me," I felt an unnatural movement in the water. I was already used to the rhythm of the ocean, to the ebb and flow, when dark waves hit the window from my side. It was high tide now, so the line of water was high above my head. Turning off the lamp, I peered out into the seething bay, trying to find what inexplicably sent shivers down my spine.

Please, not another dead woman. I doubt my psyche can handle anything like this today. Drinking the rest of the cooled cocoa, I watched the silent swirling beauty, the cool weightlessness of the water pressing from all sides. Water could support and absorb. Life and death. But today she seemed to be watching me.

A dark, massive tentacle struck the window, right where I was sitting. Jumping back, I fell off my chair, tangled in the blanket. What… In all the months that I lived here, I saw only a few octopuses in the bay. Whatever this giant tentacle is attached to, it's clearly not from pack.

The suction cups spread across the window, and then the tentacle jerked towards itself. The window buckled, but held. A monstrous tentacle pulled its suckers down the windowpane, and the shrill screeching made me cover my ears with my hands. The ocean churned. Something huge was displacing the water.

Holding my breath, I slowly walked out, trying not to draw his attention. I walked around the bar and grabbed my phone. There was no beep. I wasn't sure what was in the ocean, but I knew I didn't want to have anything to do with it.

Incredibly long tentacles hit the window again. They covered a three-meter window, and even more. Bluish suckers the size of my fists stood out against the almost black tentacles. As they convulsed, the glass shook. Adrenaline surged, stomach dropped. I slid along the back wall of the bar to the stairs. Fangs and claws were no match for this creature. What I needed was a harpoon.

The huge dark body of the creature rose in the water, blocking the bay. A giant glowing yellow eye found me hiding in the dark. My blood froze in my veins as death itself stared at me.

The colossal tentacles twitched again, and one seal on the window broke. Water ran down the inside of the glass, pooling in puddles on the floor of the bar. No no no. The eye moved closer, the suckers contracted. 

A few more seals broke. Seawater splashed into the bookstore and bar, cascading down the window. My rabbit slippers were sinking. One more squeeze and the water will gush freely, quickly filling my house.

Trapped in the monster's gaze, my brain became sluggish. Why am I not moving? I couldn't think of anything but a burning yellow eye that looked straight into my soul, finding me weak and desirable. I have to give up. It is unlikely that anyone will miss me, disfigured, crippled, disgusting. Hiding alone with my stupid books.

As in the previous nightmare, my mind couldn't stop replaying all the horrors I had experienced. The psychic attack chained me to the spot. Useless. My head was spinning, and I realized that these were not my words. 

The voice in my head was dark and cruel. Knowing that this is not me, that although I may think badly of myself, I will never neglect books helped me distance myself from the pain of those words, helped me think.

Shit. I knew what it was. No wonder I hid in a bookstore for months. I explored and studied, learning all I could about the supernatural world that I was now a part of. I closed my eyes and broke the connection.