Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society by R.D. Hunter (pdf e book reader TXT) 📕

By the time I got out, the candles had burned low, the water was only lukewarm and the amethysts were only pretty bits of rock. But, damn did I feel better.

I threw on my comfiest set of pajamas, which consisted of an over-sized Tweety Bird shirt and boxers, and by then my stomach was remind me that I hadn’t eaten since the granola bar at Beth’s. That happened more often than I liked, another sign of my professional and person imbalance.

Normally, cooking dinner is one of the best parts of my day. There’s something relaxing about the simple ritual of chopping vegetables, simmering meats, and adding spices to create something that will not only nourish you, but taste good as well. But not tonight. Tonight, it was a can of soup heated up in the microwave and melted cheese on toast. It went down like ambrosia.

I gave Tilly a few cursory scratches behind the ear, and then it was off to bed. I barely managed to turn off the bedside lamp before delicious sleep overtook me. I should have known it was too good to last.

I had a nightmare. This wasn’t all that unusual. I had nightmares on a monthly, sometimes weekly, basis. Never anything substantial; it was usually filled with disembodied voices, whispers in the dark or snakes. God, I hate snakes.

But this was something different; something more terrifying; something more real.

I was running down an endless, dark hallway. There were doors on both sides of me, but each one I tried was solidly locked. I knew it would be no use in trying to break through. I didn’t have the strength.

Behind me, striding confidently forward, was a bald man in a black suit. He carried no weapons, but the psychotic smile plastered on his pale face was an indication of his intentions when he caught up to me. I was beyond terrified, and my heart hammered so hard in my chest I was afraid it was going to burst out and land at my feet.

But the worst, the very worst, was the laugh. Each time I tried a locked door, the air vibrated with a high-pitched, wild laugh that set every hair on my body on edge. There was no mirth in it; no joy. It was composed only of a cruel mockery of my growing terror and the pain it wished to inflict.

Eventually, as happens so often in dreams, my footsteps began to slow. The air became a thick mire until every movement took all my strength, and the Smiling Man grew closer. But then, a miracle happened. Just up ahead, one of the doors was opened a crack. A thin sliver of light could be seen piercing the darkness, and I knew if I reached it, I’d be safe.

Slowly, I forced one foot in front of the other, straining with the effort and ignoring the harsh laughter that continued to mount. I was going to make it. I had to. But just as I reached my hand for the door knob, the Smiling Man caught up to me. His cold, clammy fingers wrapped themselves around the back of my neck and drug me back, screaming into the darkness.

He jerked me around to face him. His eyes were lidless and empty. I knew what I was looking at was a shell, something designed to give form to the formless. And whatever inhabited it was as far from human as I was to a houseplant.

“We’re going to have so much fun,” he said in my ear, his voice like razor blades on glass. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of your kind to entertain me.” He raised one gloved hand, and I was horrified to see his fingers turn into hissing cobras, their hooked fangs leaking green poison.

He began to bring his hand closer to my face. The cobras, seeing their prey so close, began striking the air around me. Each time, he’d jerk them back just in time to keep them from breaking my skin, but it was just a stalling technique. Eventually, he’d let them have me, then we’d move on to some other sick, twisted game.

I couldn’t do anything. His grip was like iron. Every time I moved, he brought the snakes in, until I froze with terror and stopped struggling.

“Now, now, my Darling, don’t run out of fight too quickly,” he said mockingly without moving his lips. “That wouldn’t be fair.” He laughed again, this time right in my ear and I thought my brain was going to melt from the sheer force of it.

One chance. I had one chance. Bracing myself, I looked inward and found my power there, waiting for me to summon it. I willed it to the surface, soaking my words in its glowing energy. The Smiling Man paused, sensing something was happening but unable to tell what. It was then that I made my move.

“Waking World!

Summon home your wayward daughter!”

My voice rang out clear and loud, ricocheting off the darkness around me. The Smiling Man howled in fury and brought his snake hand in for the final strike, but I was no longer there. I felt myself being pulled by the force of my spell, out of his grasp and upwards. A moment later, I sat straight up in my bed, soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. I’d made it.

I sat there in the darkness for several minutes, choking back the terror that threatened to overwhelm me again and again. What the hell was that thing? It was unlike any dream I’d ever had before. It was crueler, more vicious and even smarter. It’s like it seemed to know it was a dream, so it wanted to inflict as much pain as possible before I woke up. What was that about?

I glanced over at the clock. It was a little after three in the