Page 171 of Lost in the Dark

I take a step toward her with the intent of shooing her out of the room, but Nutella dodges out of the way, running several feet down the hall before stopping to glare at me again before yowling, this time pitifully.

Probably looking to be fed… again.

“You do realize that I just fed you a few hours ago, right?”

I sigh as I am greeted with another complaint and give her an annoyed look. My dreams aren’t the only weird thing going on lately. Nutella has always been affectionate, never scratching or biting anyone, even when having to endure a flea bath. Up until three days ago, that is. I returned home from running an errand, feeling a bit lightheaded and woozy, so much so that I barely remember the walk home, only to be greeted by a very anxious cat who has since spent all of her time watching me.

“If you want to be fed, this isn’t the way to go about it,” I continue to grouse, shoving my feet back into the house shoes I kicked off while working, and follow her to the kitchen. As charming as the wood floors are in my apartment, they are also freezing cold this time of the year. “Not that I think you need to eat at this hour. But a little tuna treat won’t hurt. You know what the vet said about getting your weight under control.”

She blinks back at me but doesn’t bother to come any nearer even when I retrieve the pouch of tuna bits from the fridge. I give it a shake and smile at her because usually she is fawning all over me at the promise of her favorite treat, but she just continues to stare at me in an unnerving way that has me pouring a small amount of the bits into her bowl and backing away.

Eyeing me suspiciously, she takes one step forward and then another, slinking across the floor, her belly getting lower as if prepared to tear off at any moment. She doesn’t even drop her unwavering gaze as she eats, and I shake my head in exasperation as I roll my shoulder along the wall, turning away from her to head back down to my bedroom.

“Weird,” I mutter and come to a stop at the edge of the living room.

The shadows move there as if something is standing just outside my window, blocking the streetlight as they move around. My breath catches and my lungs burn as it labors to escape, but I stare at that one point, oblivious to it or the way my pulse speeds up beyond an awareness of it that feels separate from myself in that moment.

I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that it is only my imagination, but I can hear the rasp of his voice calling to me, like something out of an old horror movie.

“Come to me, female.”

Fuck.That could be all in my head as well, but I am not taking any chances.

With a mute shake of my head, I cut through my living room at a sprint and barrel directly into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Normally being shut out would infuriate Nutella, but with the way she is behaving I am not sure she will notice. Right now, it gives me the illusion of feeling safer since the blackout curtains over my bedroom windows. Trembling, I crawl into bed and pull the blankets over my head, praying that the monster lurking outside—or within my mind—goes away.

He’s here. My house is bathed in darkness, but there is a surreal quality to it that seems more like a photograph imprinted on my mind, muted in details of those areas that fall into unnatural shadows that tells me that this is nothing more than a dream.

I shiver as I slowly turn in place. I am in my kitchen again, the tile beneath my feet. The decorative lines appear like pulsing black veins, making me skitter onto the hardwood floor of my living room. The lush rug in the center appears as little more than a dark pool, but that is not what grabs my attention and makes my blood pulse in my veins in a terrified rhythm.

A shadow separates from the others, his dark wings spreading wide around him. His face has a tragicness to its beauty, the right side deeply lined with scars from his eye to his mouth in a network of scars that vaguely resemble the shape of a skull, but the curved horns sprouting from his brow and the cold silver glow of his eyes makes his features crueler.

He exhales, and the world around me trembles as his clawed hand reaches for me.

“Come to me. It is time to leave.” His voice is deep and rough like something has mangled its timbre.

The shadows shift around him, a mantle of grays and darker hues sweeping around him as they converge. They don’t obscure him in the least but seem to make him appear larger as if adding this mass. Those shadows whorl around him, however, ghostly apparitions stirring in their depths as hands reach imploringly for me in mimicry of his simple gesture. I jump back as enormous feathered wings break out from the shadows, snapping forward toward me through the air. The span is so large that they reach across the living room, stopping just short of my face before dropping away again to fan back, dispersing the ghosts clawing at the shadows to be free so to fall upon me.

I shake my head at him, terror climbing up my throat. I don’t want to go anywhere with him, or those… things. Raising a shaky hand into the air, I sketch a hasty sigil I have memorized, pouring my power into it as I meet the searing silver gaze. It burns in the air between us, and my jaw hardens.

He steps closer, looming over me, his dark wings spread wide as the world around us begins to fragment and blow away. His lips peel back from dangerously sharp teeth, and he appears more and more terrible by the second as the walls cave in around him. Even the floor beneath us seems to sink into itself with a fierce rumble, dark pools welling up like blood as thunder breaks overhead in sudden, explosive bursts. My chest rises and falls anxiously as I pant, my eyes growing rounder by the second as I try to free my arms and legs from the bloody pools into which I’m slowly sinking.

I choke on a horrified cry, slapping my arms wetly behind me in attempt to drag myself from the slick liquid. It drags me down into its miasma as something skeletal rises from the heart of it. I stare down at it in horror as a skull turns toward me in the swirling ichor until the skull fragments and shatters. All the while, the creature grows more furious as he watches me.

“It is time, female,” he whispers.

I shake my head, lifting my hand to weave a powerful ward, my voice rising with frantic fear as I cast the banishing spell. Together they explode forward like a wall of light, an explosion that drives the entity from my home. A shrill scream rolls along with the power blasting through the air, and it takes me all of two minutes to realize that it’s coming from me.

The scream still rolls through me as my eyes fly open and I jerk upright in bed, my body hot and yet coated with an icy sheet of sweat. Rolling onto my side, I slap my hand against the lamp switch and am gratified when the soft glow of the lamp illuminates my bedroom. Eyes roaming around my undisturbed bedroom, I grab the giant squishable mushroom that doubles as an extra pillow on my bed and tuck it against my belly. I shiver as I curl around it, my winded breathing loud in the silence of the room.

The dream is a jumbled haze in my mind and fading fast. All except for his terrible snarl and his hand stretching for me, demanding that I come to him. Unfortunately for me, the more the day wears on, the more questions rise as my mind turns to him and his peculiar behavior. For all his persistence, why was it that he didn’t so much as make a grab for me?

The one thing that I do believe to be certain is that he will return. Somehow, I don’t think he is going to give up.

Gralius

Ahiss of displeasure escapes me. Stubborn female! I prowl around the wards of her house, scowling as I roll my neck to chase away the lingering pain that never seems to fade completely though it had reduced considerably when I am in her presence. As I’ve become accustomed to the pain, that which remains is tolerably dismissed as I observe the witch from outside.

It is odd that she has continued to maintain a strong, and effective barrier to keep me out. Out of the house, strictly speaking. I have discovered that her mind is delightfully open to my invasion at night while she slumbers. Not that I have a choice in the matter. It is there that I have observed her the closest over the last several days. My initial unwilling participation has turned into an undeniable relish with each new encounter.

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