Dreams of Darkness Read online

  Not once did he recall her eyes opening, not even a slit. More than likely, she never saw him arrive. Figured. The one time he got to act heroically for a woman, and she wasn’t conscious to appreciate it.

  Leaning forward, he slid his arms around her and heaved her slight frame off the floor. He staggered. Not physically, more like his very soul found itself shaken as images flashed so fast he caught only a blur of motion and color—the glint of a sword falling, the red of arterial blood, the dark of a storm forming. Emotion slammed him next, as if a giant bell rang and vibrated every part of him.

  An overwhelming urge to protect—Mine—washed over him as Logan cradled her in his arms. He had to keep her safe. Stand guard by her side. Never do her harm.

  Protect…

  The alien feeling shoved against him, hammering at his mind. Trying to force him to become…what? Her willing servant?

  What magic is this? Did she cast a spell on him? Could she even do that? She appeared unconscious. The girl lolled lifelessly. If indeed magic were the reason for his odd reaction to her, then she did it unconsciously. A protective charm perhaps.

  It would have to be a fucking strong chunk of magic to affect him. Just another layer of mystery that made Logan more determined than ever to find out just who and what she was.

  Keep her. Once again, the inane urge hit him. Kidnapping was only a crime if someone pressed charges.

  The very fact that he went in that direction mentally decided for him. He gritted his jaw and carried her to the front of the store to set the stage.

  He positioned her, ensuring that everything looked plausible. So long as she didn’t remember, her mind would leap to the most logical conclusion.

  Once done setting the elements, Logan stood back, fighting an urge to scoop her from the floor.

  Don’t leave her.

  The magic hadn’t lessened one bit. Logan prided himself on his iron self-control, yet without even trying, this unconscious slip of a girl was so close to making it snap.

  She was dangerous. Killing her now would solve that threat.

  No.

  It wasn’t just his inner self that snarled at the idea. He couldn’t do that. Kill a defenseless woman because something about her frightened him?

  I fear nothing.

  He turned on his heel, fractured his stare, and returned to the rear of the store to handle the corpse. With the body draped over his shoulder, Logan exited through the back entrance into the dimly lit alley. He hoped no one was watching and reporting. Smart humans kept their blinds drawn at night. Troublemakers tended to have their phones out.

  Good thing most of the shit online that went viral was deemed to be fake digital alterations. Humans were as quick to believe as disbelieve. It made hiding in plain sight so much easier.

  Logan kept to the deepest shadows as he made his way far from the store—and the girl. Eventually, he found an empty lot, the building that had once stood on it having succumbed to age. The only thing remaining on the cracked asphalt parking lot was a dumpster.

  It made a handy pyre. He heaved the body into the overflowing bin. Wood and other flammables would make for intense flames.

  While he didn’t smoke cigarettes—anymore—Logan had gotten in the habit of carrying a lighter. Never knew when he’d want to spark a joint, or light a barbecue. Maybe ignite a garbage bin to incinerate evidence of a zombie.

  He wasn’t stupid. Fire wouldn’t completely obliterate the evidence. The body would be found. The firemen wouldn’t let this burn long enough to make the corpse ash. However, dental records would show that it was a body already dead. Dug up and used for a prank. It happened from time to time. Damned teenagers.

  And if they couldn’t match the body? It would be just another anonymous death in the slums.

  Bad things happened at night in this part of town.

  Sometimes, the residents got hungry.

  The thought of hunger reminded him of the girl. He snapped his gaze from the dancing flames, the heart of them intensely bright. He hoped the necromancer still had enough of a link with the thing to feel a little heat.

  Turning his back on the inferno, he headed in the direction of the shop, pulling his phone out but pausing before he dialed the emergency number.

  He wanted the body a little crisper first.

  The closer he got to the shop—and the girl—the more his steps quickened, the more his other side pulsed with anticipation.

  What is she?

  The resounding answer, which felt so right, chilled him to the core.

  Mine.

  Chapter Two

  Death is all around. Smell it, the coppery bite of blood. The sickly-sweet fear. The putrid decay of death.

  It’s come for me. I can see it reaching.

  Its fingers strong.

  Its grip unyielding.

  When it grabs me, I’ll die.

  You are dead.

  No. I can’t be. I was saved.

  You were forsaken.

  I want another chance.

  To die?

  The hands grabbed her. Squeezed. Stole the very life—

  “Nooooo.” The scream burst out of Adara and woke her. Her eyes shot open. Her hands scrabbled at the hard floor, scooching her back before she raised them to shield her face.

  Don’t let it touch me. Even with her eyes shut, she still saw the slack-jawed, gray-skinned face, the thick makeup on it cracked, some of it streaked by fluid. But it was the eyes that scared her most of all.

  Dead eyes. Milky and yet lit from within. Staring at her.

  Reaching for her.

  Blink.

  The dead thing was gone.

  Did I imagine it?

  Sitting up, Adara looked around and found herself behind the store counter. How did I get here? The last thing I remember is being in the back room with that thing about to touch me. And then, nothing.

  Another blackout. Had she made it through unscathed?

  Jumping to her feet first, Adara frantically patted herself down, wondering if she’d find an injury or signs of an altercation.

  Nothing appeared out of place. Not this time. But she wasn’t always so lucky.

  For a moment, she saw something else, another place, another time, where she wore torn, stained clothing. Stained with my blood.

  The fragmented memory disappeared so quickly, she couldn’t examine it. Did that truly happen? Sometimes, the line between reality and her nightmares blurred.

  Had that happened tonight?

  Looking around the store, the racks lined up like sentinels in the gloom, she wondered at her sanity.

  A zombie? Really? Wouldn’t it have made a mess? It wasn’t as if she’d have stood still while it tried to crack open her head and siphon her brains.

  What brains? Would a smart girl be working in this part of town after dark?

  It was probably the fact that she was nervous about her first night alone at work—and the reality she’d have to deal with nightfall on her own—that had her imagining a zombie.

  Maybe I didn’t have a delusional moment. I could have fallen asleep on the job and dreamed it.

  Which wasn’t much better. She glanced at the cameras in the corner of the ceiling. No red light, but that didn’t mean they weren’t recording.

  I hope nobody caught me napping. She needed this job. People with a past, or a lack of identity, couldn’t be picky when it came to employment. Dr. Forrester had gone out of his way to help set Adara up with a job at the comic book store. She couldn’t screw this up. He might send her back to the sanatorium otherwise.

  I won’t go back. Let someone else wear the jumpers and sleep in a room with bars on the windows and locked doors.

  A glance at her watch resulted in shock as she saw how late it actually was, lending credence to her sleep theory.

  Perhaps if the nightmares didn’t come every night I’d feel more rested.

  Not that she remembered them when she woke. However, not remembering didn’t mean she
could ignore the signs. Fatigue, aching muscles, her jaw throbbing as if her teeth had clenched for too long. Sometimes, she would waken damp with sweat, her sheets twisted all around. She wondered what exactly she dreamed that left her face wet with tears and her palms bloody from digging her fingernails too deep.

  It’s late. Stop mooning about and get your butt home. Step one, close the store for business.

  Peering over at the door, she noted the flipped sign. When had she flipped it?

  I didn’t. That thing did when it came in and—

  Forget…

  A heaving, shuddering breath in, and the tension in her eased.

  The sign was flipped. She didn’t remember it, which was nothing new. Dr. Forrester had said she might have forgetful moments given her previous head injury.

  What about remembering things that just couldn’t have happened?

  “Hey, Dr. Forrester, I saw a zombie.” Clang. That was the sound of the door locking shut because Dr. Forrester would send the men in the white coats for her.

  He’d said to call him if weird stuff started happening. In other words, if she began to lose her mind. Why else but to put her back where she belonged?

  Because you’re crazy. Not crazy.

  Just imagining things, things that didn’t exist. Red eyes…the pupils a dark burgundy. The iris, a bright, glowing flame.

  Panic clawed at her, and her breathing hitched in fear. All because she remembered impossible eyes.

  So crazy, but she wasn’t about to call anyone and admit it.

  Freedom felt too good to give up.

  So long as I don’t do anything stupid during my blackouts, it’s all good.

  As for the hallucinations? Didn’t some ancient tribes swear by them as symbolism for the days to come?

  What does imagining a zombie mean for my future?

  That she should probably tackle the vegetable drawer in her fridge. Something had died in there, and the landlord hadn’t removed it before she took up residence.

  Home. Time to leave work. She emptied the till, not much to remove, not when most people now used plastic or even the tap of their phone to pay. She peeled off her work smock, the big button that screamed, Ask me about the hero of the month, catching on her hair. She folded the garment over her arm as she headed to the back room—the closet-sized cubicle laughingly called the employees’ lounge—to grab her coat. Her steps faltered on the threshold as she noticed the slight splintering of the doorjamb.

  The door was kicked open, bouncing off the wall. It didn’t distract the foul one reaching to touch me. A dark warrior with blazing eyes appeared and... Adara shook her head. It never happened.

  Never. Happened.

  She kept repeating that even as she averted her gaze from the crumbles of dirt on the floor. She grabbed her coat and fled the storage room.

  Hurrying back to the front, she couldn’t help but see in reverse how the thing had entered the shop. Headed straight for her, its mouth opening. A word floating free, croaked and frightening.

  Didn’t happen.

  There was no zombie, and yet she flew out the door, almost sobbing when she tried to lock it unsuccessfully with trembling hands. Calm down.

  She stopped moving and ducked her head. She breathed, just like Dr. Forrester taught her.

  Breath.

  In.

  Out.

  Slowly, the anxiety in her eased. Her shoulders dropped, her breathing stopped rushing in and out in hot puffs.

  With a calmer demeanor, she brought the key to the lock again. The tumbler clicked into place, and Adara turned around to face the dark street. She slipped the keys into her purse, leaving her hands free. As her eyes darted left to right, she couldn’t help but note that the dim pools of light cast by the street lamps were too few and far between to really distinguish any threats in the murk. Her fingers laced.

  Unlaced.

  She wrung them as she tried to keep the fear of shadows from rendering her immobile.

  I didn’t have this problem yesterday.

  Yesterday, she’d finished work at twilight and hurried home, still in the presence of other pedestrians.

  Tonight, the sidewalks loomed, big and empty.

  All the better to chase you on, my dear.

  She almost heard the voice out loud. Its sibilant hiss made her skin prickle.

  There was no one here.

  She took a step.

  Chuckle.

  Her head whipped to peek over her shoulder.

  Is someone watching me?

  Such paranoia. Why would anyone spy on Adara? If someone did, then it wouldn’t bode well for her.

  Stop standing around. Move.

  Taking a steadying breath, Adara hunched her shoulders and took off at a brisk pace, the only way to outrun the ghosts of fear. The spot between her shoulder blades danced with awareness as she walked, urging her to look behind.

  Someone is following me. She hastened her pace and kept her eyes forward. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. Remember what the doctor said, it’s all in my mind.

  The sense of someone—or something—watching refused to leave, and warning bells rang in her head. What if it’s not my imagination? This isn’t exactly a nice part of town.

  Adara quickened her pace, vowing to get a can of mace before her next shift. Or perhaps she could ask for a day shift, one where she went home before dark like everyone else on the street.

  No one else seemed to work that late. At least not people who liked to wear neck-to-toe clothing.

  Be happy you have a job. This employment, along with her government assistance, meant she had a place to call home. And it wasn’t the asylum.

  All things to be grateful for…except for one. A teensy rebellious part of her wondered how Dr. Forrester thought placing her at a nighttime job in such a rough part of town would aid in her recovery, given her history with violence. Did it make sense for a victim to work in a location that just screamed accident waiting to happen? He knew Adara feared the dark. Was scared of so many things.

  Fear is normal. The important thing is to not let it control you.

  She could almost hear Dr. Forrester’s voice. She should try and trust him. He just wanted her to be normal again.

  Or he wants to get me killed. She couldn’t help the stray paranoid thought. As if her mind conjured it, danger answered.

  Two hulking figures stepped out from the shadows in front of her, and Adara halted.

  “Well, look what we have here, Tom. I think we’ve found ourselves a date,” said an ugly fellow who stank of alcohol and sweat.

  “I just want to go home.” Her statement trembled.

  “Why, that sounds like a mighty fine plan. Why don’t you lead the way?” Tom, who looked just as disreputable with an unshaven countenance and greasy, stringy hair, showed teeth stained yellow and brown.

  No. She wanted to say it, yet the word was stuck as Adara’s mouth went dry. She knew she should run, say something, but she froze like a deer in headlights, mesmerized by the disaster she saw coming.

  The fellow called Tom leered at her with blackened teeth. His fetid breath made her stomach roil as he leaned down to peer at her face. “I betcha you’re real happy you found us, aren’t you, darling?”

  Adara found the strength to shake her head and take a step back, then another. And that was as far as she went. Tom’s friend had circled behind her, and his arms wrapped around her, python-like bands that held her immobile. Adara wanted to scream with the unfairness of it all. Not again. Where that thought floated from, she didn’t know because it departed as quickly as it had come.

  Tom shook his head. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty girl? We aren’t done with you yet.”

  Silent tears wetted Adara’s cheeks, the only outward sign of her terror. The scream she longed to let loose caught somewhere in her throat, although it echoed loudly inside her head. Help me! Please, someone help me!

  And then, unlike last time, someon
e—make that something—did.

  Chapter Three

  The growl emerged low and menacing from the shadowy mouth of the alley beside her. Deep and primal, it didn’t belong in the city and caught her attackers’ attention.

  Adara turned her head to see and gasped. Bright green, glowing eyes hung as if suspended on invisible wires, luminous and frightening. So scary, she almost didn’t notice the wolf they belonged to. But as he stepped into view, she couldn’t ignore the immense beast.

  He stood as tall as her shoulder, thickly muscled, his fur the black, sinful deepness of the witching hour, his teeth white, gleaming, pointed fangs.

  All in all, the wolf looked dangerous. And angry.

  The arms around her relaxed as her captor stepped away.

  Sure, run and leave her as the snack.

  She held out her hands and whispered, “Good puppy?” The words held a querying note. Possibly the last thing she’d say if the wolf were hungry.

  A low rumble emerged from him, and the hackles on the beast’s back rose in a ridged spine.

  That didn’t bode well. She closed her eyes tight. She didn’t want to see him coming. She uttered a cry as fur brushed past her fingertips. Soft fur, not sharp teeth.

  Opening her eyes, Adara watched in astonishment as the wolf, paying her no mind, stalked past her, intent on the two brutes who no longer looked so cocky.

  Tom and his friend threw themselves prostrate on the ground and addressed the wolf.

  “We didn’t know she was protected,” said Tom, his eyes wide with fear.

  “We didn’t mean her any harm,” blubbered his friend.

  Still growling, the wolf continued to stalk them, slow steps, his back low.

  “Don’t kill us!” Tom begged.

  The wolf feinted in their direction. Tom and his buddy scrambled to their feet and ran, squealing in high-pitched fear.

  Good. She almost applauded but didn’t want to draw the creature’s attention. Let him chase bad guys instead.

  Except the wolf stopped moving. He stood still and watched the retreating thugs until they faded from sight. Then the beast turned those bright green eyes on Adara, and she had the sudden urge to pee. Like, right now. In her pants.