Reaper (2 page)

I went through the entire house; even into the basement which admittedly creeped me out. Other than Ethan’s exercise equipment, it was empty. Still, an odd feeling always hit me when I looked at the only storage closet. It was almost alluring, as if it promised something great behind the oak door. All that was in there was an old bookshelf and thin, puke-green colored carpet over the cold concrete.

I had just closed the basement door when something heavy hit the floor above me. I rolled my eyes and trudged up the stairs, prepared to clean up a mess; Romeo was notorious for knocking things over.

Nothing was on my floor and Romeo was fast asleep under my pillow. Just a few feet behind me, something hit the floor again. I spun, automatically unsheathing the dagger. Again, there was nothing. I stood unmoving, waiting. If there was a ghost, I would be able to see it. And more so, I’d be able to feel it.

 
But I felt nothing.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and stepped in the spot the noise seemed to have come from and again felt nothing.

“Ok,” I said to myself. “This is an old house. Maybe it’s settling.” Even I knew that was a lame ass excuse people made up when they didn’t want to believe something weird was going on.
 
I shook my head and went back into the bathroom to brush my hair. I opened my laptop and scrolled through my iTunes, cranking the volume and turning on my 80s rock playlist. I grabbed an old leather book and sat crossed legged on my bed.

I had flipped through, but hadn’t read, every page in the Book of Shadows more than once. Since it was all hand written, some of the pages were very difficult to read. I squinted at the page about astral and demonic planes for half an hour before the tiny cursive writing gave me a headache. To top it all off, something had been splattered across the page, smearing the ink. The concept of alternate realities was enough to give me a headache alone.

I closed the book and got out the Runic flashcards I had made, spending another half hour studying the names and meaning of different Runes. Wanting a study break, I picked up my phone and called my brother, forgetting he was still in school. Though I was eternally thankful I was able to graduate high school a semester early, being in school didn’t seem so bad right now. I hated being lonely. I sighed, still upset with the whole situation.

I dramatically left New York to move here, but ended up having to go right back to finish my remaining few weeks at school. My parents of course were upset and tried to reason me into staying. When that didn’t work, Mom moved onto threats. I spent the school week living with Laney, and the weekends flying back here in Indiana. It was exhausting and I just barely passed my classes. I left New York for good not on speaking terms with my parents.

I rode my white Arabian, Mystery, spent as much time as possible brushing him and then my other horse Neptune, baked cupcakes, and alphabetized my bookshelf. Around seven that evening, Harrison called me back.

“Hey Annie,” he said casually. “Why did you call?”

“I was bored,” I replied. And I missed him, terribly. In the last year or so, Harrison had become more of a friend than annoying twin brother.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d have cool demon news.”

“Harry, there’s nothing cool about demons,” I stated. A few months ago, he had been kidnapped and used as leverage against me by Asaroth, a demon who tried to take my powers. I thought Harrison would be scared shitless of demons, but he called every now and then asking if I had killed anything new. Harrison wasn’t big for talking to me on the phone, but I was able to keep a conversation going for ten more minutes. When I hung up, I felt lonely. I texted Ethan, telling him I missed and loved him and set my phone down.

I turned the family room TV on and the volume up loud, quickly heated up soup, and settled on the couch to eat dinner. When a loud bang that sounded like someone dropped a stack of hardcover books came from behind me, I jumped and sloshed tomato soup down the front of my shirt. Not bothering to wipe up the mess, I set my bowl down and sprang up.

“Who’s there?” I asked, irked at my shaky voice and cliché question. “You picked the wrong girl to mess with,” I warned, hating the predictability in my word choice. I held my breath as I waited. When nothing happened, I padded into the kitchen to get a towel. Giving up on mopping the soup off my shirt with the damp towel, I took it off and rinsed it in the sink.

A familiar creaking made my blood run cold. I dropped my shirt and sprinted out of the kitchen. The front door was slowly opening. My body slammed against it, expecting something to resist. The door easily shut. With shaking hands, I locked the deadbolt. I knew that I had locked the door. I had even checked more than once.

Something slapped the glass on the sliding glass door in the breakfast nook on the opposite side of the house. I jumped again, my breath catching in my chest. Forgetting I was only wearing short rainbow striped pajama shorts and a yellow push up bra, I forced myself to bravely walk down the hall. I held my hands slightly out to the sides, bringing in energy to have at my disposal.

As soon as I got into the nook, the doorbell rang. Then the sink turned on, spewing out brown, foul smelling water. I ran over and turned it off. Loud foot falls came from the front porch. The doorbell rang again before a minute of silence became deafening.

Then something hit the window behind me so hard I thought it might break.

“If you’re gonna attack me, just do it already!” I yelled, ready for a fight. “I invite you in, if that helps!” I clenched my fists, pissed off instead of scared. Something thumped down the stairs, through the family room, and scurried past me, laughing. I whirled around, wide eyed. A finger brushed against my cheek. Ok, the anger was wearing off now.

The doorbell rang once more. The stomping was on the back patio now. Suddenly I realized that anyone could see into the house with the lights on. “Off!” I screamed and telekinetically turned off every light in the house.

“That was dumb,” I said in the darkness. Now I couldn’t see. But neither could they. The TV shut off; I hadn’t done that. I held my breath in the quiet, waiting for whatever was out there to make the next move. A soft moaning came from my right. I put my hands out in front of me to feel my way out of the kitchen and into the family room. The floor boards in there had always creaked, so at least I’d know if someone—or some
thing
—was there.

My hand touched a lampshade. Alright, I told myself; I’m in the family room now. The moaning stopped. I paused, suffocated by darkness. Fear pulsed through my body. I had worked hard to keep my mental shields up my whole life. There were spirits and traces of negative energy almost everywhere, and it always affected me. In the house, however, there was nothing for me to block out. I was able to drop all effort to keep things out of my head. My mind was open to the supernatural.

And I still felt nothing.

Going around the end table, I ran my hand over the loveseat, slowly making my way to the couch. I had stupidly left the dagger on the coffee table. I took another tentative step forward.
 
Almost there
, I whispered in my head. I felt the hot breath on my skin just seconds before my hand hit something firm.

Firm and warm.

Something cracked and popped and a fire roared to life in the fireplace.

Firelight danced off the face of the man in front of me. My mouth fell open in horror and I recoiled from him. He was horrible: naked and charred and still smoldering. He smiled, spread his arms, and burst into flames.

Chapter 2- Dazed and Confused

I shielded my eyes from the blinding light. The burning man laughed and took a step forward. I dove over the couch with too much enthusiasm; I rolled off and hit my shoulder on the coffee table. Not allowing myself the time to react to the pain, I grabbed the dagger.

The doorbell rang. The TV buzzed to life, the screen nothing but static and white noise. The doorbell rang again and something pounded on the front door. I didn’t take my eyes off of the burning man. I needed to kill him. I just wasn’t sure how.

Embers cascaded from his outstretched arms, withering away to nothing on the wood floor. Oh God, the house was going to catch on fire! Behind me, something hit the window. Fingernails dragged down the glass of the windows, screeching and echoing in the dark night. The volume of the white noise increased until it was unbearable.

I could take a flying leap at him, I supposed. I’d get burned but at least he’d be dead, right? I could only hope. My plan was to walk around the coffee table and draw him out. My heart was racing and my hand shook. Nervous and scared, my palms were sweating, making it hard to keep a firm grasp on the dagger. I took another small step away from the couch, hoping the burning man would follow. That epically failed and he lunged at me. I ducked out of the way, tripping on the TV remote, falling backward on the loveseat.

When I sat up, he was gone. The lights were on, voices softly drifted from the TV, and my bowl of soup still sat on the coffee table. There was no fire and the house didn’t even smell like smoke. I jumped up, looking all around me. Everything was how it should be. I swallowed hard and had to remind myself to take a deep breath. Doing my best not to shake, I moved away from the couch. With the dagger still tight in my grip, I went to the fireplace and touched the metal.

It was cool. There hadn’t been a fire. I ran to the front door and checked the locks; they were still locked. After a moment of feeling absolutely terrified, I put my hand on the deadbolt and twisted it back. I opened the door and jumped onto the porch.

There wasn’t anything there. I hurried back inside, relocked the door and leaned against it.

What the hell?

My phone rang, scaring the crap out of me. Heart racing, I ran back into the family room to answer it. I felt relieved when I saw it was Ethan, but knew I couldn’t tell him what had just happened…if I even knew what had really just happened. Not being here to physically protect and take care of me would upset Ethan way too much. I took a shaky breath.

“Hello?” I panted.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said, his deep voice calming.

“Hi,” I said nervously.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, um, just got out of the shower,” I said the first thing that popped into my head.

“Why are you out of breath?”

“It, uh, was a hot shower,” I lied; I’m a horrible liar.

“Oh, I bet it was a
hot
shower since you’re all out of breath. You miss me that much don’t you?” he joked.

“Yep. You know me. Did you kill the demon yet? Can you come home?” I sank down on the couch only to feel vulnerable sitting down. I stood back up slowly walked toward the stairs.

“Not yet,” he sighed. “There’s a ritual that forces it into corporeal form. We’re not having much success with it. I wish you were here; I know you’d get it done on the first try.”

“Yeah, I might be able to. Hurry and come home,” I said quickly. “Because I really miss you,” I added in a voice I hoped was sexy to cover up my fear. The heater kicked on and I just about jumped out of my skin. I shivered, suddenly really cold. With the dagger still in hand, I went up to my room.

“Are you naked?” Ethan asked.

“No,” I said automatically. Shoot. I supposedly just got out of the shower. “I am wearing a towel, that’s it.” I turned on the light, my eyes darting all over for Romeo. He was sleeping in his hammock. I didn’t hear what Ethan was saying as I walked over to lock the ferret cage. I caught the tail end of Ethan asking me if I was still wet.

“Yeah, I should go dry my hair,” I muttered, hoping to deflect him from trying to get me to have phone sex with him. That was just not gonna happen tonight. He pestered me some more about it and only stopped when I promised I’d send him a naughty picture. I didn’t want to get off the phone with Ethan but I felt guilty for keeping something from him. I changed the subject to my plans for fixing up the backyard and gardens, a topic boring enough to make Ethan end the conversation so I wouldn’t have to.

I sent the picture before I’d forget and then pulled on one of Ethan’s hooded sweatshirts. I shut and locked my door, cradled the dagger, and stuck my legs under the thick, blue comforter on my bed. I felt like someone was watching me.

I replayed everything in my head: the noises, the sink with the gross water, the TV, the Burning Man…it all seemed so real. It felt real; it
was
real. Wasn’t it? It was a ghost, I told myself. Sadly, that was comforting. If it was a ghost, I knew what to do. I could make it go away.

“It was a ghost,” I told Romeo, nodding. “That’s all. A ghost and a dream. It’s not the first time a ghost took me into a weird dream world.” I got out of bed and rushed to my bookshelf, returning with a canister of salt and a bag of Devil’s Shoestring. I poured a circle of salt around the bed and stuck the dried roots under my pillow. “There, all better.”