Conjure: A Paranormal Erotic Horror, page 20
While she removes her bloodied latex gloves and discards them in a nearby trash can, I crouch down to look Camryn in the eye.
“You did so fucking well.”
Her smile is weak. She’s tired.
I swipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumb, then lean in to kiss her soft lips. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she replies, her bottom lip trembling.
“I should have protected you.”
Shifting, she trails her fingers through my scruff. I lean into her touch and kiss her palm before rising to my feet.
Gwen cleans her up while I pace, restless, clenching and unclenching my hands and tearing at my roots. Not even the prickling pain helps soothe this fury within me at seeing him touch her.
“She needs to rest,” Gwen says, trying her damn best not to tremble now that it’s over. “Take her upstairs to my room.”
Camryn whimpers when I scoop her into my arms. Pressing my nose to her hair, I breathe in the scent of blood and sweat. Beneath the horror of the last few hours is something sweeter. Something uniquely her. I allow it to settle my pounding heart as I carry her upstairs.
I tuck her into Gwen’s bed, and she’s out like a light within minutes, her soft breaths easing the brewing storm.
Trailing my fingers through her hair on the pillow, I watch her sleep, wondering when she crawled beneath my skin. I used to harbor such inexplicable anger toward her, yet now, as her chest rises and falls, I want to protect her.
My chest tightens as I brush her hair away from her brow and kiss her clammy forehead. I’ve done that a lot lately—felt the need to touch and kiss her and to just…be near her.
I leave her to sleep and then walk downstairs, still wearing my bloodstained clothes.
Gwen looks up from her phone when I collapse onto the kitchen chair and retrieve my Zippo from my pocket. She sits across from me and stares into the distance before her face collapses. “What happened?”
A lump forms in my throat when memories flood back in. I strike a flame, watching it dance in the silence. My Zippo is the only item I have of my dad’s. If I ever lose it, I’ll be fucking devastated.
Gwen is waiting for a response, so I sigh and put the Zippo down, and then I rest my elbows on the table and drag my fingers through my hair. I pull on the strands, but the pain does nothing to calm me down. “We drove past Wilfred’s farm, and Camryn wanted to investigate. I couldn’t fucking stop her.” I jiggle my knee beneath the table, my fingers tangled in my short strands. “Wilfred walked in on us in his living room, and Camryn… She was…” I pull harder, feeling my eyes burn with unshed tears. “He touched her.”
Across from me, Gwen swipes at her wet cheeks.
“I beat him up, but he got away. It was bad.”
“What happened next?”
Shaking my head, I drop my hands to the table and meet her sorrowful gaze. “He attacked me, knocked me out and tied me up, and then he shot her.”
Outside, a car drives past, the sound muted. I can’t look Gwen in the eye, so I focus on a scratch on the table.
“He held the shotgun to my head, and Camryn was ready to…” I grimace as the pain behind my ribs spreads.
I can’t fucking breathe.
I curse and shoot up so fast that the chair topples over. Gwen barely flinches, watching me pace. I walk up to the window, peering at the houses across the road. One of the neighbors shoves a bag in the trash can, shaded by a tall tree, streaks of sunshine breaking through the canopy of leaves overhead.
A shiver runs through me as a gentle breeze sways the gnarly branches. “Something entered through the open window,” I mumble, watching the man walk back up the drive.
“What do you mean?”
I turn away from the view and lean back against the counter. “You know what I mean. Something is hunting us.”
Gwen watches me cross my ankles and curl my fingers around the counter’s edge before she rises to her feet and picks up the Zippo. She hands it to me and shuts the window. Then she lingers by my side, her arm brushing against mine as she whispers, “I’m scared.”
There are specks of blood on my Doc Martens. Swallowing past a growing lump in my throat, I shift my gaze to look at her.
She smiles weakly, her eyes swimming with tears, as she shakes her head and laughs beneath her breath. Straightening up, she hugs her arms around herself. “How do we defeat it?”
I watch her scuff the ground with her foot. Her red socks have a chocolate bar pattern, and her frayed jeans shorts are stained near the pocket. She smells of cherry and antiseptic.
I already miss the girl upstairs.
“How do we defeat it, Dom?” she repeats, her chin quivering. “Benny and Wilfred are dead, and Brittany is in hospital.” She sniffs, swiping at her eyes. “At least it attacked him instead of you guys.”
“I think Brittany was right,” I reply, crossing my arms and flicking the Zippo lid open. “It wants Camryn... Whatever it is. That’s why it protected her by killing Wilfred.” I flip it shut again.
Gwen’s chest inflates with a deep breath. “What does that mean?”
“Fuck if I know.” I shrug, uncrossing my ankles. “It feeds on strong emotions. Fear. Anger. Desire.”
“You think it needs to feed to grow stronger.”
“Maybe.” I wet my lips, considering all possibilities. “We need to do some research.”
“What research?”
That’s a good fucking question. How do we find out information about a…supernatural being? How do we defeat it? “We start with the missing family. Scour the local library for information.”
She nods, worrying her bottom lip while looking deep in thought. “Yeah, let’s start there.”
TWENTY-SIX
BRITTANY
“Your vitals look good,” the nurse tells me as she makes notes on the iPad. “I’ve given you more pain meds to help you sleep. They should kick in soon.” With a final smile, she squeezes my foot through the thin blanket. “Remember, the sooner you rest, the sooner you’ll be out of here.”
She shuts the door on her way out, and I try to calm my heartbeat. Everything looks scarier in the dark. The lone lamp in the corner of the room isn’t enough to chase away the shadows or the sensation of something lurking. I tell myself that it’s all in my head, but as the drugs take effect, I become more fearful, and the room spins as the shadows grow taller, crawling across the walls. I struggle to keep my eyes open as my vision darkens at the corners.
I don’t want to sleep in case it comes to finish what it started.
Pain radiates through my severed wrist despite the strong pain medication. I grit my teeth and wince as I try to sit up in bed. I’m too weak, my fingers tingling with phantom sensations.
My hand is gone, but it still feels like it’s there. Now, a different kind of pain presses on my sternum, like a weight I’m unable to shift. I can’t look at my bandaged arm without remembering that…thing inside me that enjoyed my terror.
It savored my friends’ fear even more.
There was nowhere to hide.
The moment it entered my body, it saw everything—it knew everything: every thought I’d ever had, my fears, and the things I’m ashamed of, as well as every lie I’ve ever told.
My dreams are troubled. I drift in and out of consciousness, moving from one nightmare to the next.
Awaking with a start, I push up on my elbows, a layer of cold sweat clinging to my clammy skin. I become aware of movement to my left and slowly turn my head to the window, afraid of what I’ll see.
The curtains dance in front of the windows, opening like a gaping void to hell. I can feel my chin wobble the longer I stare.
Another gentle breeze drifts through the room.
This is it.
There’s no escape.
It has come for me and my soul. It wants my secrets. My memories of her.
“Your heart rate is picking up,” a voice says to my right, and I whip my head around.
Doctor Walsh, the surgeon who performed the amputation, steps out from the shadowed corner. His eyes are as dark as the night outside, his movements measured, and his smile cruel and vicious.
A cold sensation slithers down my back, and I shift my hand closer to the panic button, hoping he won’t notice. It’s stupidity. Something so ancient can read me like a book. The monster residing inside my surgeon predates humanity. He’s timeless, having roamed this plane for centuries.
He approaches the bed, sniffing the air, his eyes rolling back before he trains them on me again. The heart monitor speeds up, but all I can focus on is him as he tilts his head to the side.
He studies me.
My fingers brush up against the panic button, and I snatch it up, trembling with dread. Even my teeth chatter. There’s no Heaven after this, not if I die at his hands. That thing will feed on my soul until there’s nothing left.
He drops his eyes to the panic button in my hand, and the left side of his mouth quirks. I hold my breath, sweat beading on my forehead and trailing down the side of my face.
“You’re so scared,” he drawls, amused. “I can feel it pulse in the air.”
“Get away from me!”
His smile slips as he glides his fingers over my legs through the quilt. I try to kick at him, but he grips me hard, bruising my tender skin.
He tuts. “Such a naughty girl.”
When he rounds the bed, I glance down at the syringe in his hand. “What the fuck is that?” I scramble back, ripping the cannula from my hand and removing the wires attaching me to the heart rate monitor, causing it to flatline as I dash off the bed.
He’s faster, pulling me back by my hair. My mangled wrist knocks against the bedframe, sending a jolt of pain through me, and I cry out as he hauls me back onto the bed.
“Please, no,” I sob, trying to fight him off, but he overpowers me. I scream at the top of my lungs, his fingers brushing through my tears as he straddles me on the bed. “No one can hear you, little human. It’s just you and me.” He digs his fingers into my chin and shushes me. My heart threatens to break out from my heaving chest as I kick out at the sheets, bucking my hips. Nothing works.
He traces my trembling lips with his fingers and studies my face, touching me almost tenderly. “Human fear is delectable.”
“Please, don’t hurt me,” I whimper, my chin wobbling. “I don’t want to die.”
“Say it again,” he whispers, and my blood turns to ice when he opens his mouth to reveal a forked tongue.
“What the fuck?” I breathe, unable to believe my eyes. Then I let out another blood-curdling scream as he slides his serpent tongue up my throat and over my chin to taste the sweat on my skin. I struggle against him, sobbing uncontrollably when he grabs hold of my wrist and digs his fingers into the bandaged stump, a fiery pain spreading through my arm.
I’ll vomit.
I taste it in my mouth as he looks me in the eye. I’ve never felt pain like this. Never felt it consume me.
Through the intense agony, I become aware of a sharp prick at my neck as he inserts the syringe, tracking every flicker of fear. Every wince and swallow.
He holds the syringe steady. “You can feel it, can’t you? The life force draining from you.”
When I whimper, he hushes me again, his deathly cold breath whispering over my lips. “Your friends will think your heart gave out.”
“No, please,” I plead, my eyes burning with tears. “Don’t do this. I don’t want to die.”
He sniffs the air again, groaning deep in his chest. His forked tongue darts out and he drags it over my face in one long stroke. “I could feed on your fear for hours,” he says, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. When he eases back to look at me, my eyes widen with terror. “It’ll be over in minutes.”
I whimper as he grips my chin and pushes down on the syringe, injecting air bubbles into my bloodstream.
“That’s it,” he whispers, caressing my mouth with his thumb. “There’s a good girl.”
“No…” My voice breaks. I don’t want to die. My mom…my family…
He cradles my face the entire time, whispering sickening praise while we wait.
When pain begins to spread through my chest, my body seizes, and his smile widens as the black in his eyes intensifies until it bleeds down his cheeks like ink.
“Come to me,” he urges.
Intense, burning pressure radiates through my chest as my body spasms.
I convulse. Horror has hold of every muscle.
The ink crawls up my legs, starting at my feet and moving over my knees and thighs like a million little spiders or ants in a sea of black. It rises higher and higher, over my lips and in through my nostrils, until darkness is all I see.
TWENTY-SEVEN
CAMRYN
The following day, we gather in the library. Gwen lent me a set of crutches she had used after she broke her ankle the previous year. My injured leg throbs, but I was lucky to get away in one piece.
Aron sits at one of the tables and digs his laptop out of his backpack while Lily scours the old library records.
Gwen looks pale as she sits down beside Aron with a stack of books. The last week has taken its toll on us all. The horror of the situation is finally starting to sink in. Unless we do something, one of us could be next.
“How long are you staying at Gwen’s?” Lily asks, scrolling through news articles. “Will your mom not suspect something is wrong soon?”
Dominic is watching me like a hawk. I wish he wouldn’t treat me like porcelain. I’m fine. It was just a graze. At least, that’s what I tell myself, but I still wince when I sit down.
He walks past me to peruse the shelves, and I lean the crutches against the table before sliding my bag from my shoulder. When my laptop is firing up, I shrug. “Mom is busy with her new job at the hospital. I should get away with a few nights before she grows suspicious.”
“Long enough for you to put weight on your leg again without pulling a face.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t just tell her,” Lily says, pausing to peer at us over her shoulder. “Why the secrecy?”
Gwen rolls her eyes. “A man is dead, Lily. They broke into his house.”
“But they didn’t hurt him.”
“Her mom will ground her for all of eternity if she finds out she broke into Wilfred’s house. Not to mention, the police will get involved. At least now, it looks like a suicide.”
“Really? Are you sure about that? He shot Camryn in the leg, and she crawled to the bedroom. Besides, you think her mom won’t notice that her daughter has a gunshot wound?”
Gwen levels her with a glare. “It was a graze. Besides, I think we have bigger problems to solve. Let’s just focus on finding out more information for now, okay?”
My eyes flit to Dominic’s broad back while he reads the spines. He’s wearing a backward black cap today, and tufts of dark hair peek out around his ears. Despite the burning throb in my calf, I still eye him up. Now that I know how he feels inside me, I can’t stop myself from checking out his ass in those dark jeans.
His muscles shift enticingly when he pulls out a book. I’m going to hell. Sex should be the last thing on my mind, but maybe the gunshot damaged my brain more than my leg.
His gaze drifts over his shoulder as if he can feel my eyes on him. I quickly look away and open the search engine on my laptop, but it’s too late. I’m hyperaware of his every breath, and when he walks past, his intoxicating scent drifts around me. I gulp, staring at the screen. He takes a seat on the chair beside mine and turns the first page.
“What are we looking for, exactly? Aron asks, typing away on his laptop.
“I don’t know,” Gwen replies, then looks at Dominic. “What book did you get?”
Dominic shows her the title. “Mythology throughout the ages.”
“The house was built in 1923,” Aron says, a look of concentration covering his eyes. “Mr. and Mrs. Kriger bought the house in 2000.”
Dominic’s leg brushes up against mine. I struggle to focus on my screen when my heart thuds this hard. Gwen turns another page and tucks a green lock of hair behind her ear. Silence settles while we do our research, interrupted only by the tapping of keyboards. Aron pops the lid on a soda can and takes a swig before he slowly lowers the bottle to the table and frowns. “Guys, I found something.”
I stop scrolling and look up from my screen. Dominic shifts beside me and stretches his arm out on the back of my chair.
“What did you find?” Gwen asks, curious.
“Mrs. Kriger and their three children went missing in the summer of 2002.”
“We know they went missing,” Dominic drawls.
Aron shoots him a glare. “But now we know the month.” He peers over at Lily. “Look for articles around that time. August of 2002.”
“Behave,” I whisper to Dominic, and he stiffens beside me. The darkening of his eyes tells me I’m in trouble, and for some disturbing reason, it thrills me.
He snakes his fingers underneath my hair and wraps them around my neck. My breath catches at the dominance in his touch, and I squeeze my thighs together beneath the table. But then he releases me and turns another page in the book.
His eyebrows knit together. “Check this.” He taps the page. “The Nebri’hak travels on the wind and consumes the souls of its victims through strong emotions.”
“Nebri’hak?” Aron asks, looking skeptical.
“It’s the name of a demonic spirit trapped on our plane.”
“Surely, we would know if there were demonic spirits amongst us,” Lily says.
Dominic turns the page. “Not necessarily. They’re unseen, for one. Displaced demons without a host. They need to feed to grow stronger. With every soul they consume, they become more powerful, harnessing it to stay in a human body longer.”
“Is that what they want? To possess a human?” I ask.
“We are their food source. Demons are born from evil. They exist with the sole purpose of inflicting pain and suffering,” Dominic replies, turning the page. “It says here that they sometimes fixate on certain souls, and this fixation can…”
