Welcome to the Dream (A Celeste Cross Book, #1) (2 page)

Jack didn't have time to get
it.

There was a bang as
something jumped on the roof of his Land Rover. He ducked to the
side instinctively. The woman, who seconds before had been crumpled
next to the open driver's door, pushed herself forward, heels
scraping against the road.

‘
Get out of here,’ he screamed at
her. ‘I'll get its attention.’

She pushed herself forward,
hair streaming across her face, arms and legs jittering with fear
as she ran to the other side of the road.

‘
Get in your car, lock the door.’
Jack sprang backwards, trying to track whatever the hell was on his
roof. But that was just the thing – it was moving so quick, it had
already jumped backwards, and was now scampering behind the
car.

He had to get to the gun in
his boot, and he had to do it now.

Something scratched along
the side of the metal, and the car suddenly gave a buckle, actually
moving forward about a half meter, despite the fact the park brake
was still on.

‘
What the—’ Jack jumped backwards
just in time as the car suddenly slammed towards him. Something
massive and heavy hit one side of it, and propelled it forward like
a bloody bullet.

He dropped to his knees,
doing a quick roll, getting out of its way just in time, but
feeling the wing mirror swipe past the fabric of his
shirt.

Nothing short of a bloody
missile could move a car as far as that, but nothing had been fired
and nothing had exploded.

Jack backed off quickly,
eyes darting around him, glancing towards his car. It had landed in
the ditch, a good 10 meters to his left.

He still couldn't get a lock
on anything. Yet he knew there was something there; he could still
hear it, and occasionally he could see flashes of it moving between
the spruces. He just couldn't catch sight of it long enough to
identify what it was.

That wasn't going to stop
him going for his gun though.

He darted forward, the
rubber of his boots squeaking across the bitumen.

The force of the impact had
obviously shattered the headlights of his Land Rover, because now
everything was dark. It was an overcast night, and there was no
full moon poking through the clouds, not even a sliver was visible.
All he had to go on now was the faint outline of his car and the
long and dark shadows of the forest around him.

He jumped right into the
ditch as he reached it, almost slamming his body up against the
back door of his car as he wrenched it open. His fingers slipped
against the handle, his hands covered in sweat, but he quickly
re-gripped it and yanked the door open.

He practically dived into
the back, scrambling against the dirty carpet of his boot as he
latched a hand onto his strongbox. As he did, he heard something
shift behind him. The sound of heavy movement reverberated through
the car and shook right through his body.

He acted quickly and rolled
around, his body still in the large boot of his car. Brining up a
leg, he kicked the back door closed. Almost immediately something
slammed up against it, the car shaking so violently that it moved
forward a good half meter in the ditch. Jack's body jostled, his
shoulders and back slamming against the rear compartment and box of
tools he always kept stowed there.

Before Jack could grab the
strongbox, pull the key out of his pocket, and finally bring out
his gun, something smacked into the car once more. Again he was
thrown up against the side of it, and a quick and harsh breath of
air escaped his lungs.

He still couldn't see
anything. Something was out there, something strong enough and big
enough to manhandle a Land Rover, and he couldn't
see
it.

What the hell was he up
against?

Jack didn't wait to find
out. He lunged forward, grabbed hold of the door, and pushed it
open. He plunged forward and jumped right out of the back of the
Land Rover, legs landing in the ditch, balance good enough to
ensure he didn't stumble and fall. He whirled around, trying to get
a bearing on whatever was out there.

There was still a thunderous
cracking noise coming from the forest. It sounded as if something
incredibly large and heavy was moving through the close-knit
spruces, cracking each branch as it went. It sent such a shiver
down Jack's spine, a quick and flighty feeling of fear flushing all
the way through him.

He crested the ditch
quickly, gaze immediately locking on the crashed, crumpled hire car
just across the road from him. The door was open, but the woman
wasn't inside.

Jack swore loudly, pushing
himself across the road, sprinting over to the car, one hand on the
door as he peered inside, checking if she wasn't just hiding behind
a back seat.

Dammit. She wasn't there. He
twisted his head around again, his ears strained as he waited for
another onslaught.

But that was just the thing.
There was no more scratching, no more scrabbling of claws over the
road. Just silence. Well, just the cracking of the trees, but
nothing in his immediate vicinity to suggest something was after
him.

Then he heard it. The
scream. It was heavy and forlorn, the kind of scream that shakes
right through you, makes you pale in a snap.

It was her, it had to
be.

Though it was dark, even
though he still could hardly see in front of him, he plunged into
the forest. He had to get to her before-

There was another scream,
but this time it was cut short.

‘
Get off her,’ he
roared.

He ran to where he thought
he'd heard the scream come from, ignoring the fact he kept tripping
on the various dead branches, rocks, and muck littered across the
forest floor. He just flung himself forward, grabbing a hand onto a
trunk now and then to stabilize himself, but never dropping his
gun.

His eyes were wide, trying
to suck in as much illumination as he could. He was adjusting to
the dark. Still, the landscape was just a sea shadows around him;
scrub, wide tree trunks, scattered branches, and here and there the
outline of a rock.

It wasn't until he ran
another three or four meters that he reached a sharp dip in the
ground. He had to fling himself sideways not to fall down. It was a
steep descent, and he could have easily lost his footing and rolled
all the way down, probably shooting himself accidentally at the
same time.

He grabbed hold of a branch,
fingers clasping around the gritty, hard, sap-covered
wood.

Then he froze.

It wasn't dark any more.
Just down the valley there was light.

There were no tall trees
standing at the bottom of the incline, just splinters of wood and
snapped-up trunks spanning a massive semicircle of about 50-meters
diameter.

It looked like a bomb had
hit.

It took almost five seconds
before he pulled himself together. Pushing the breath trapped in
his chest out and clenching his teeth, Jack began to head down the
incline as fast as he could. He had to turn his hips to the side,
muscles tight as he took small mincing steps so he didn't trip up
and roll down the rest of the way.

He started shooting. He
didn't know what he was shooting out, but that didn't
matter.

The light that now shone
around the clearing before him was blue.

It crackled and moved
around, arcing up the broken trees around it and playing along the
ground. By the time Jack got to the bottom of the incline, he'd
almost spent his clip.

There was something inside
the light, if that made any sense. He could see something moving
within it. He could pick out the form of some kind of body. That
was what he was shooting at. In another moment a click told him
he'd finally expended all his ammo though; he'd just ran out of
bullets. He reached into his pocket, grabbed the spare clip he'd
thrown in there, and slammed it into the butt of his
gun.

As Jack walked forward,
bullets spewing from the muzzle, arms tense, something appeared to
crack. Several of his shots slammed into a thin, almost wafting
blue line. The line severed, a sound like breaking glass ringing
through the forest.

Jack stepped forward,
ignoring the sound, and taking the opportunity to sink a bullet
right between the creature's eyes.

It disappeared, and with it
the light went too.

Jack stood there, gun still
steady in his grip, eyes blinking warily as he tried to regain his
night-vision with the fading of the light.

‘
Are you okay, are you okay?’ he
called out to the woman.

She didn't reply.

He moved forward, finally
regaining enough vision to distinguish the sharp shadows of the
broken trees scattered around.

Then he saw something else.
It was on the ground, maybe three meters to his side. It was long,
thin, and even though he couldn't be sure with the poor light, it
looked like it was wearing a red dress.

He ran over to her, shoes
scrabbling against the chips of broken wood underneath him. He
dropped to his knees, brought a hand up to her head, and brushed
the hair from her face.

He let his hand drop to his
side.

Her eyes were wide open, but
they were sightless. Her whole body was slack and limp, and he
didn't need to press his fingers into the side of her neck to tell
that she was dead.

----

That was the first time Jack
West had met one of those creatures, but it wasn't the last. In
fact, now all he did was hunt them. He was part of an international
team call Knight that sought to protect the world from those
creatures. The first and last line of defense against an ancient
and terrible force. The Yaoguai.

He headed up a special team
within Knight called Squire, whose express purpose was to travel
the globe, containing the Yaoguai wherever they
appeared.

If you'd asked Jack
three-and-a-half years ago what he'd be doing in the future, he
would never have been able to guess. If you'd asked him whether
ancient, terrifying, ferocious demons existed, he would’ve got that
answer wrong too. But Jack was a different man today, he had to be.
He'd seen too many things and there was a heavy burden of
responsibility now resting on his shoulders.

Chapter 2

‘
We've detected a new potential
threat, right here at home in Gresham City,’ Gustaf swung around in
his chair, staring at Jack as he passed a hand over his thick
beard. ‘You want to send a team?’

Jack took a moment and then
shook his head. ‘We are stretched thin right now. Plus, what threat
level are we talking about?’

Gustaf shrugged his shoulders,
and the move was a very nonchalant one, a particular hallmark of
the laid-back Frenchman. ‘Not high. Nothing has happened yet.
There's just the possibility. One of the library boys has been
reading some of those old texts we liberated from that mausoleum a
couple of months back, you know, the one on the Indian border with
Pakistan?’

Jack nodded
quickly.

‘
Well, it talks about our old
friend Solomon Clarke. Apparently, he had a fetish for
architecture, just like he did for categorizing demons. Anyway, you
know he built a church right here in Gresham City,
right?’

Of course I
know that.
Jack thought
as he raised his wrist and checked the time on the heavy-duty
black-faced watch he always wore. ‘But we've checked that church,
multiple times. There's nothing there.’

Gustaf took a long, heavy
breath, and gestured wide with his hands afterwards. ‘I know, I
know. Point is, the library boys thought they read something in one
of these texts. Something about Solomon hiding a stash of
commentaries and grimoires in his monument to spirituality. The
boys justifiably thought it was his church.’

Jack ran a finger across his
jawline, scratching the stubble. ‘I'm listening. But how is this a
threat?’

‘
Like you said, we've been
through that church multiple times. It was recently handed over to
the National Register of Historic Places, and it looks like they've
opened up the crypt now,’ Gustaf turned back in his chair, quickly
tapping out something on the keyboard before him.

Jack walked over to the
computer, crossing his arms. ‘We scanned that crypt. There was
nothing.’

‘
I know, I was there, remember?
Anyway, they've opened up the crypt, and a bunch of historians and
archaeologists are at this very moment running their little dusty
fingers over it.’ Gustaf grabbed the mouse, clicking on a file and
brought up a wide picture of the church. There was nothing overly
splendid about the architecture, just a spire, a couple of rooms,
and the usual sandstone base that you got in most churches from
that era. But wherever Solomon Clarke was involved, you had to put
your first impressions to one side.

‘
You think the historians might
have come across something?’ Jack stiffened as he spoke, he
couldn't help it, because of course he thought about her. That
woman in the red dress. The woman that had started all this for
him, had first introduced him to the threat of the Yaoguai. He
still thought of her, even though it had been three years now. If
he'd been faster, if somehow he'd grabbed his gun sooner or he'd
known how to fight them . . . she would still be
alive, right?