Nightcrawler Read online

  “What’s out there, boy?” his father asked in a tone that made his skin crawl and made him feel worthless and stupid.

  “It’s n-nothing. J-Just a dolphin I think.”

  The look in his father’s eyes told him he knew it was a lie but didn’t call him out. “Brace yourself, boy, or you’ll swim with the fish soon enough.” He let go of Erik, handed him a rope to hold onto and returned to his mother.

  “I saw something too. It was a woman, wasn’t it?” Torsten whispered beside him. He too was leaning over the edge at the dark waters.

  “We don’t know what we saw. It could just be the sea air or salty water that’s making our brains see things.”

  “I know what I saw, and that was not the kraken nor the sea serpent. It was a woman with a fish’s tail.”

  “You—”

  The gentle music interrupted Erik’s words. Only this time, both boys peered over the edge. He knew his friend was seeing what he was seeing. She wasn’t something from their stories; she was something new and inviting. He wanted to dive into the water and spend eternity with her. He loved her and wanted to give her everything he owned. He felt Torsten move forward, both their faces near the water. If the boat were to rock, they would be underwater.

  The woman swam to the surface with her hands outstretched, about to grab hold of them, when something gripped his collar and dragged both boys to the center of the boat.

  “No!” Erik’s dad said to the boys. “Do not look at her again, and, if you hear the music, cover your ears.” He peered over the side of the boat. “It will end badly for both of you. She’s not what she makes herself out to be. She invades your thoughts and plants others, making you want to dive in and be with her. I’ve lost too many honorable men. I can’t lose you too.” He pulled Erik into an embrace. “She won’t stop until she gets one of you. If you hear her again, ignore her. Now come help us.”

  Erik and Torsten nodded sheepishly and helped their parents prepare the boat for the storm. Just as they finished securing everything and ensuring they too wouldn’t go overboard, the storm hit them as if the gods themselves were angry at their departure, that the gods were punishing them for what their fathers had done to protect their families.

  All four families huddled together to brace for impact. Rain lashed down on them, and wind blew drops with such force it felt as though it sliced their skin. The boat rocked from the gigantic waves, as if the kraken itself was moving beneath them. The women prayed while the men kept everyone safe.

  Torsten’s father stood to steer the boat from the approaching rocks. The same music filled the air as the storm pummeled down on them.

  Erik glanced at Torsten with knowing eyes. She had returned, but they both stayed seated. They huddled together and braced for the storm.

  Everyone stayed awake during the night while the storm hit them from all sides. As the storm subsided at daybreak, they fell asleep from exhaustion.

  Erik woke when water splashed on his face. Sitting up, he saw tall mountainous figures sticking out of the water that resembled trolls. On his left was Iceland, dark land covered in white. Snow fell gently around them. He shivered from the frosty weather and damp clothing and found a dry fur coat to pull on. The rocking of the boat was smooth as they sailed along the coastline.

  Soon they arrived near a beach, the sand as dark as night. Shouting from afar woke everybody in the boat. People ran on loose wooden planks.

  “Welcome to Reykjavík,” someone said near their boat with a broad smile and friendly face.

  Everybody sat upright. They had reached Iceland and somehow had steered in the right direction—right to the village and near the wooden pier as if the gods had helped them during their fight with earth’s elements and the lady in the water.

  Everyone moved about the boat until Torsten’s mother’s scream pierced the air. She pointed at something in the water behind the boat. Everybody went to see what it was.

  Tied to the rope behind the boat was Torsten’s father; his beaten and bloated body was face down. They had chewed off his left leg, and a crab emerged from a hole in his back. Torsten’s mother fainted in Erik’s father’s arms, who gently laid her down then untied the body. It was now his responsibility to look after her family as well. It was his fault they were there with them.

  Although this was devastating to Torsten and his family, Erik knew that through their father’s sacrifice and good fortune, it was what had led them to their new home on a strange, mysterious land.

  The villagers were accommodating and welcoming and helped build each family a new home.

  A week after they had arrived, they had settled into their new homes on Iceland.

  Torsten’s family lived next door, and his mother had already started seeing their new chieftain’s son, who was young enough to be Torsten’s much older brother.

  One day, Erik watched his father chop wood with an axe and then chopped the smaller blocks into manageable pieces for their fire. Once done, he called over Erik. “Erik, one day you’ll be a skilled leader.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have seen it.” He ruffled Erik’s red hair and kept his hand on Erik’s head. “I think it’s the fire in you.” He laughed then continued in a serious tone. “Things are out there we need to be careful of.” He stared at Erik for a heartbeat to punctuate his words.

  “The lady in the water?”

  “Yes, her and so many others I have not even seen.” He let go of Erik and grabbed his axe. “The visions I’ve seen showed me you’ll continue on many travels. You’ll lead your people to greater discoveries, but you need to remember one thing.”

  Erik edged closer to his father, eager to listen.

  “Keep your men safe from harm. You’ve only seen one monster, but there are many more we have yet to encounter.”

  * * *

  To read the rest of these stories on Amazon

  https://www.ngraybooks.com/series

  1st Chapter - Deadly Pattern

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Deadly Pattern

  Bianca stretched her legs. That familiar click in her right knee sent a jolt of pain up her leg; the movement caused her to move her upper body, and pain from her shoulder made her wince. She relaxed one muscle at a time, and, after a few seconds, the pain dissipated. Having another scar once she’d healed wasn’t comforting, but it was just another scar to add to the one that went down her right leg.

  When Bianca had first arrived at the hospital, she had shared a room with another patient before being wheeled into surgery. Now she had a private room and wondered whether her insurance had approved it in full, because she didn’t have money to pay the difference should there be an outstanding balance.

  Her room was clean with the standard eggshell-colored walls, starched bedding, and repulsive hospital smell—disinfectant mixed with body odor and the lingering stench of a corpse or two.

  Her shoulder throbbed, and the joint felt tight. She tried to move it, but it was strapped tightly in a sling against her body. It was an old sports injury that had worsened when she had fallen. She couldn’t remember how she had fallen on the sidewalk; she was walking one second, the next thing she had woken in the back of someone’s truck. The kind man had offered to take her to the hospital. The next day, she was scheduled for a rotator cuff repair.

  Gently massaging against the bandage on her shoulder, she felt something, and wondered whether the orthopedic surgeon had done an arthroscopy as he had promised or if he had gone full on butcher on her arm. She shuddered at the thought.

  Footsteps sounded; a light knock on the door was followed by a nurse beaming at Bianca as she entered. “Morning, my name is Mary, and I’ll tend to you today. How ya feeling?” The nurse wore a tight white bun on top of her head, had clear crystal-blue eyes, and a warm smile to match her happy demeanor. She carried a blood pressure monitor and reached for Bianca’s arm. Her powdery perfume wafted in behind her, causing Bianca to stifle a sneeze.

 
“Okay, I guess. When will I see the doctor?” Bianca sat up, using her uninjured arm. Her right arm throbbed in the sling as she moved even though she kept it still. She leaned against the pillow, breathless. She could stay where she was. She didn’t have the strength to sit all the way upright; that position was as good as it would get.

  “He’s busy with other patients, but you’ll see him soon,” Mary said while leaning Bianca forward, fluffed her pillows then helped her lay back again. “You comfy now?”

  Bianca nodded. “And my dad, is he here yet?”

  “No, but I’ll send him in the moment he gets here.” Mary squeezed her knee through the starched bedding. “Don’t fret. I’m sure he’ll visit you soon.” She cocked her head with a sympathetic smile. “You hungry?”

  “Not really. Maybe thirsty.” Bianca felt blood drain from her face. The sudden movements didn’t agree with her, and bile rose, which she swallowed, tasting the bitter aftereffects of the anesthesia.

  Mary smiled knowingly. “It’s just the morphine. It makes patients a little nauseated soon after the procedure. Don’t panic with what I’m about to do.” Mary lifted the bleached covers. “I’m just going to remove the catheter.”

  Bianca felt a gentle tug on her lower body but didn’t notice the little tube leaving her. She did have an overwhelming need to urinate though.

  Mary unhooked the bag from the side of her bed and placed it on the trolley that stood against the far wall.

  Bianca relaxed, hoping the feeling would disappear, but it didn’t, and she needed to go. “Okay, I need the bathroom now.” Bianca slowly sat upright.

  Mary smiled, pulled the covers all the way back and helped her off the bed.

  Bianca wobbled slightly, but Mary steadied and guided her to the small bathroom in the corner.

  Once Bianca was done and back in bed, Mary left the room but returned after a few seconds, wheeling a trolley full of food and a glass of juice to Bianca’s bedside. She set the plate of food onto the over-bed table with cutlery and a plastic cup with three capsules. “Eat.” She sat in the chair beside the bed and watched intently.

  “Are you going to watch me eat the whole time?” Bianca lifted the lid to see scrambled eggs and toast.

  “They say eggs and dry toast go down easier on the first day. Don’t mind me. I’m here to ensure you’re okay and can eat something before you take your pain meds.” She jerked her chin at the plastic cup holding the capsules.

  Bianca ate slowly and sipped even slower on the orange juice then paused until the nausea passed before she continued eating.

  Mary watched Bianca the entire time. Frosted-colored eyes gleamed at her once she finished. “Now for your medicine, it’ll help with the pain. I promise.” Mary pushed the plastic cup closer along with the half-full glass of orange juice.

  Bianca swallowed one capsule at a time, finishing the orange juice.

  Mary removed the plate and glass and handed her the remote for the television against the wall opposite her bed.

  She flicked through the channels—all six of them—eventually stopping on a cartoon about a mouse. Bianca’s eyelids felt heavy. Her skin tingled, and her body relaxed one muscle at a time. The medication took its hold on her.

  When Mary closed the door behind her, Bianca’s eyes fluttered open, alarmed when she heard the door shut with a distinct sound of a lock turning.

  Bianca’s heart hammered against her chest. Why was she locked in?

  * * *

  To read the rest you can grab a copy from Amazon

  https://www.ngraybooks.com/series

  1st Chapter - Ulysses Exposed

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ulysses Exposed

  The air was cool, the sun warm against my face.

  I was sure it was evening in Sterling Meadow, and not daytime at the beach.

  I pushed my fingers into the sand, but the hard concrete beneath shattered my dream. My eyes fluttered open. I was lying on cold ground, looking up at the dark night and the shiny stars scattered beautifully like diamonds across the sky. There were no clouds to ruin my view. It was peaceful and serene. I glanced to my left, but an ache exploded at the back of my head, my blood trying to thump its way out. My eyes flicked to the sky once again.

  My pulse thundered in my ears, and my eyes clouded over with dark swirls and stars of my own. I lay still for a breath. When I lifted my left arm, I found that I couldn’t raise it any higher than my body before pain caught me in my ribs. I made a small yelping sound and lowered my arm back to the cold ground.

  I tried my right arm and lifted it all the way to my head, feeling something wet and sticky in my hair. I brought my hand into view. There was no bright red; only the dark maroon liquid dripping from my fingertips.

  I didn’t remember much before I saw the stars in the night sky. I didn’t remember how I got there, wherever there was. With an effort, I sat up, leaning on my right elbow, but my vision swirled and a headache blossomed.

  When I could focus again, I scanned my shadowy surroundings. A large dumpster was in front of me, full of garbage. Now that I could see it, I could also smell it. The stench wafted upon the air; the disposal trucks hadn’t collected in a while.

  Behind the dumpster was a brick wall with boxes on the floor and trash strewn around. It looked like an average alley, except it’s not a place that anyone should lay in.

  I tried to sit, my breathing now labored, but pain tore through my abdomen and flooded all the way to my toes. A soft cry escaped my mouth. Beads of sweat trickled down my face as I pushed with both arms until I was leaning against the wall. In a half-sitting, half-lying position, I slowly bent my knees and noticed that my jeans were ripped, a wound on my left thigh visibly oozing a dark, murky liquid.

  It looked like claw marks.

  Was I attacked by a were-animal?

  Were-animals had been living among humans for a while now; along with all the other monsters, vampires, witches, warlocks, fairies and dragons, to name just a few. We, the humans, tried not to be food for any of them, and there were laws protecting us against the monsters.

  Being attacked by any were-animal, if it didn’t kill me, could leave me infected with the viral strain or virus of that specific were-animal. Shit!

  If I survived—which was to be a big ‘if’—I would turn furry once a month each time the moon was full. I didn’t want that to happen.

  I wiped the sweat from my forehead and pulled the rest of my shirt out from the waistband of my jeans, looking to see why there was so much pain in my side. I wore a black vest beneath a black blouse, and the two pieces of clothing came out of my jeans easily as I pulled. Pain cut through my side again and I clenched my jaw. I lifted the two shirts high, exposing my black bra, but as I was the only one there, there was no embarrassment necessary.

  What I hadn’t expected to see was a shoulder holster for a gun. The holster was empty, and I couldn’t see a gun anywhere nearby.

  Why was I carrying a gun?

  I hoped I had a license for it—humans got jail time for carrying a weapon without that piece of paper.

  With both shirts pulled high, I saw the wound. There were small chunks of flesh missing from my left-hand side; the soft delicate meat between my hip bone and ribs was gone, chewed and swallowed by something with big teeth. The wound had tears splitting from it that almost reached my belly button, like the were-animal had wanted to rip me apart.

  As I pressed gently on the wound, blood gushed thick and heavy from beneath my fingers, and the night sky swirled before me again.

  When I came to a few seconds later, the wound was still trickling blood. If an organ had been nicked by the animal’s teeth, there might not be enough time. If I was going to survive, I needed to do something quick.

  I unbuttoned my blouse and steadily slipped it off my shoulders. With my teeth and hands, I tore the blouse in half, scrunched one half into a tight ball, and pressed it gently against the wound on my side. Tears began to trickle down my cheeks
and onto my chest. I pulled the vest down to cover the wound and to hold the make-shift gauze in place. With the other half of the blouse, I flattened it out and twisted it so that it looked like a long rope and tied it around my thigh. It was the best I could do to stop the bleeding without having a belt.

  There was a sharp, shooting pain vibrating up my spine and down to my toes as I tied the knot onto my thigh, holding the wound on my side closed with both hands.

  I felt all the pain; the tearing of the bite wound and the pulling of the clawed wound as the adrenaline tapered off. I lay quietly, concentrating on my breathing and contemplating what to do next.

  I could scream for help and try to crawl out from the alley. But, there was a problem with that. I didn’t think I would be able move with this hole in my side, and I didn’t know the neighborhood.

  Was it human friendly?

  What monsters might leer around the corner, and what would they do when they saw me?

  Vampires loved blood. Were-animals loved flesh. Witches could use me for their spells.

  Shit. My pulse hammered in my ears, and tiny sparks fluttered in my vision. I needed help soon.

  I sat straighter against the wall, my body positioned slightly to the right so that the wound on my left wasn’t compromised. As I bent forward, something thicker than tears ran down my face. I wiped it away with the back of my hand to find it was a dark, thick liquid—somewhere on my head I was bleeding. Anything else going to go wrong tonight?

  Men were talking and footsteps approached; they were almost at the opening of the alley. There was maybe three or four of them. I didn’t know if they were good men and would help, or whether they would finish the job that the were-animal had started. If they were vampires and saw all this blood, then I was the perfect victim. I hadn’t heard of a vampire that couldn’t resist so much blood. And no were-animal could resist biting into fresh flesh. I was a Happy Meal to go.