Page 2 of Chasing Secrets
A sharp knock at his front door startled him so violently, the knife clattered to the counter.
The knocking came again, more insistent.
Moving cautiously to the door, Jalen peered through the peephole.
A man stood in the hallway—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and the kind of jawline that belonged on a movie poster. Jalen blinked, wondering if exhaustion was making him hallucinate.
Against every survival instinct screaming in his head, he unlocked the door and opened it. Why are you opening the door to a six-foot wall of jawline and menace at 2 a.m.?
“Can I help you?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.
“Chase Kurn,” the man said in a deep voice, his eyes scanning Jalen’s face with unnerving focus. “You need to let me in.”
“I—what? Why would I do that?” Jalen asked, even as he found himself opening the door wider. “I don’t know you.”
Leaning closer, Chase tilted his head slightly and inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing.
Then came that sound. The same deep-throated animal growl no human throat should be able to produce. Jalen’s blood ran cold.
He tried to slam the door shut, but Chase pushed against it with surprising strength. “You’re not alone in there,” he said urgently. “Let me in. Now.”
Jalen backed away, suddenly remembering the noise from his bedroom. Then he felt the air shift behind him, the unmistakable presence of someone at his back.
He knew that feeling all too well.
Chase launched himself forward. Jalen shouted, whipping around to see another man standing there, an unnatural stillness to him. The stranger’s lips curled into a snarl, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp, and way too long.
The two men collided in a blur of chaos. Chase moved with impossible agility, driving the intruder back against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. The other man hissed—actually freaking hissed!—and retaliated with a vicious backhand that sent Chase flying across the room.
What in the hell was going on? Jalen had been trying to rationalize away supernatural activity all summer and now it was literally fighting in his living room.
He scrambled backward into the kitchen, crouching behind the counter. This had to be some hallucination, a bizarre dream, or some other weirdness that would explain what was going on. But since it was playing out, Jalen pulled out his phone with trembling hands and dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s calm voice seemed surreal against the chaos unfolding in his living room.
“There’re two men fighting in my apartment!” he whispered, peeking around the counter to make sure he really wasn’t hallucinating. He wasn’t. Chase had the stranger pinned against the wall, but the other man twisted free, sending them both crashing into Jalen’s bookshelf. “They broke in and they’re destroying everything and they’re making these sounds—”
“Sir, what is your location?”
He gave his address then glanced around the corner to see Chase slam the intruder into his coffee table, shattering the glass top.
“That was from IKEA, you assholes,” Jalen muttered, wincing as his TV stand wobbled precariously.
“Units are on their way. Stay on the line and find somewhere safe to hide.”
Safe. Right. Jalen kept the phone pressed to his ear as he watched the destruction unfold, powerless to stop it. The other man had Chase in a headlock now, but Chase twisted and drove his elbow into the stranger’s ribs with enough force that Jalen heard something crack.
He moaned quietly, watching as his armchair toppled over. He’d spent three years slowly furnishing his apartment with pieces he actually liked rather than the used stuff that had come with the place. Now it was being demolished in minutes by two supernatural-looking men having a smackdown in his apartment.
“No way this is really happening,” Jalen whispered to himself.
“Sir, are you still there?” The 911 operator’s voice sounded tinny and far away.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” Jalen replied, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene in his living room. “But you might want to send an ambulance too. Or an exorcist. Or maybe even a game warden.”
Because those noises aren’t human.
His furniture wasn’t going to survive this night. Neither, he suspected, would his grip on reality.
