Authors: E.M. MacCallum
Midnight Ruling
To my beta-readers, early and new.
Copyright © 2015 by E.M. MacCallum
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in Canada
First Printing, 2015
Edited by Jessiga Meigs
Cover Art: Amygdaladesign.net
ISBN 978-0-9947782-5-3
www.emmaccallum.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
At the scream, Phoebe Williams spun around.
She stood between the twin beds of the motel room, her concentrated gaze on the front door. I noticed that she wore an unfamiliar hoodie over the tube-top she’d left our world in. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her angular face appeared gaunt and haggard.
The beds on either side of her were in shambles. Their mattresses had been flipped up in a flimsy barricade at the foot of the beds. The stained bedsheets hung over the windows and the bedside lamp in an attempt to dim it.
A hand shot out and grabbed Phoebe’s shoulder from behind.
Elbow up, Phoebe stopped herself from plowing Read Wallace’s face. They jerked away from each other. Even Read appeared weary and thin. After a pause, he managed a frail smile, cracking the dried blood on the side of his sharp cheekbone. His dark brown hair, which was regularly primed to perfection, was ruffled and crusted with blood and mud. A few days ago, this would have thrilled Phoebe in a sense of cruel satisfaction. Today, it appeared to make her worry.
Phoebe brushed a strand of her honeyed hair from her eyes. She nodded to him and tapped her ear, as if to ask,
You heard it too?
Read’s grey eyes flickered from Phoebe to their third survivor before nodding an affirmative.
Robin Thurston stood on the box spring to their right. She didn’t return their prying eyes. In her white-knuckled, child-like hands, she gripped a splintered baseball bat.
Unlike her two companions, Robin was at least a head shorter than both. Her petite frame made her appear vulnerable. Her chin-length dark hair streaked with golden brown was wet and in tangles. The once blue and white striped sundress was smudged with dirt and had rips in the hip and right sleeve.
Unexpectedly, Robin’s green eyes snapped up to look at
me
.
Until that moment, it felt like I’d been watching a movie or even been in Phoebe’s head. I’d been a distant observer until now, and Robin’s recognition made my heart bitch-slap my throat.
Robin’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ before the shock wore off and she managed to shout. “Look out!” Her words were slowed; I could see her mouth move but her words came a half a second later. For someone so small, you wouldn’t expect such a booming voice.
My insides jolted at the shrillness. I hadn’t even realized they could see me. They’d never seen me before.
Phoebe and Read looked over at me looking stricken. Neither spoke, but they looked ready to charge. I saw no love in their eyes, even though it was obvious they recognized me.
A flash of white interrupted the crude reunion. Jumping in surprise, we all looked to the bed Robin stood on.
From beneath, a hairless, bloodless hand shot out. It curled pointed, narrow fingers that were too long around Robin’s bare ankle.
When she’d left our world, Robin had knee-high boots. It looked as though she’d abandoned them since.
I screamed her name, but I doubt she could hear me over her own resounding, delayed shrieks.
Robin stood up to pull away and tried to beat the hand with her bat. Her urgency dulled her aim.
In a merciless response, the elbow at the bottom of the bed jerked, thumping the floor and pulling Robin off her feet.
In a flailing attempt for balance, Robin’s arm hit the mattress fort. It collapsed away from them, and Robin landed hard on the unyielding box spring.
Robin’s free hand moved to her throat, the wind knocked out of her. I tried to move to help her.
Every muscle was stone-tight, dead to every response. The attempt made my stomach warm, a sensation I was all too familiar with in the Demon’s Grave.
Was that where I was? Back in the Grave?
I didn’t scramble for the logic in the idea. Aidan and I had escaped, leaving all of our friends behind, and yet here I was, back with them.
Despite the horror, it felt right. I had to get them back. They didn’t belong here, and it was our fault. We’d left them.
“Someone help her!” I heard frailty in my voice.
Phoebe dropped to the floor and kicked at the white elbow under the bed, careful not to get too close.
Read jumped on the bed and knelt to pick at the white fingers wrapped around Robin’s ankle.
With another violent jerk, Robin was flung off of the bed, and she crashed into Phoebe on the floor. Phoebe was able to catch Robin before the small girl clocked her head on the opposite bed.
Gripping Robin’s arms, Phoebe began to shout at Read.
This time I wasn’t able to hear what she was saying. Phoebe’s eyes snapped back up to me. It was either a silent plea or an accusation. It was so fast that I couldn’t tell.
Read gripped the edge and punched the white forearm, leaving no mark, and still, it wouldn’t release Robin.
The splintered bat rolled to a stop at my feet. I made to pick it up but felt no response from my body.
Straining to look down at myself, I would have staggered back if I wasn’t already paralyzed. My feet had faded. I could see the scraped floor through my bare toes. Feeling ill, I caught Phoebe’s helpless gaze.
Setting her mouth in a grimace, Phoebe turned back to Robin and pulled hard. Robin gripped Phoebe’s biceps, twisting her friend’s hoodie in her fists. I couldn’t hear Robin anymore. Tears wet her face, but her sobs were mute.
Read grabbed Robin’s waist and pulled with Phoebe. Except when they pulled, the monster countered with a powerful tug of its own.
Robin yelled as her calves disappearing under the bed. Her frantic expression morphed into something heart-wrenching and frightening. I didn’t know if it was pain or if her fear reached a breaking point. But something had snapped. Robin wasn’t there anymore; she thrashed wildly, her eyes desperate but vacant.
I tried to twitch, to move. My heart racing, I knew I had to get in there somehow. This was all my fault. I could have traded myself, but selfishly, I didn’t.
Read and Phoebe managed to pull Robin out an inch when the monster gave such a tug it forced them to fall forward. Read’s ribs hit the corner of the stiff box spring. I saw him yell, and without thinking, he let go of Robin.
Despite her effort, Phoebe had hit the nightstand and lost Robin as well.
Robin disappeared into the darkness beneath the bed.
Blood speckling the floor, reflecting lamplight, but I couldn’t see who bled.
Read grabbed Phoebe’s arm, and they leaned on each other to stand.
Something they heard made them both stop in mid-motion and look to the bed.
In their pause, the bloodless hand swiped from the darkness and snagged Read’s arm. Before he could protest, the monster yanked Read to the floor.
Phoebe dove to fall on top of him, but the creature was faster.
Falling, she landed on hardwood with a wincing bounce.
Read vanished in a blur beneath the bed and into the abyss.
Phoebe screamed. I could hear her at last, though it was faint, like hearing a voice through the wall.
She dropped to her hands and knees, peering under the bed and shouting until she turned her dark green eyes to me. Her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, and she opened her mouth to speak when a hand shot from the dark and grabbed her around her neck.
Phoebe’s legs gave one last kick before the monster stole her away from me.
The familiar warmth in my stomach shattered the paralysis. The shards of the explosion snapped like an elastic over every muscle.
I fell to my side, my muscles aching, feeling new and uncoordinated. Crawling, my frantic breath pierced the silent air, sounding loud to my ears.
Without thinking, I reached a hand under the bed.
I was too late, but I didn’t want to leave it at this and let them die before we could get them back.
The hideous hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
Warmth gnawed at my stomach and trickled up into my skin. The unnatural, white flesh was loose, as if it wasn’t entirely attached to the bone and muscle beneath. The elongated, bony fingers tightened their grip and jerked me forward.
The monster under every child’s bed had taken my friends, and now it would have me.
The fire in my flesh roared upward into my head, making me dizzy, and I choked on acid on my throat.
Eyes opening, I took the first, clean breath.
The shadows on the familiar wall skittered away, like spiders.
Heart thundering, I took another deep, jagged breath and shook my head hard enough to give me a headache, but it meant I was awake.
Just another nightmare.
I touched the warm sweat on my forehead, brushing the blonde, matted hair to the side of my face. My body was sticky from the fear, suctioning my t-shirt to my upper body like a second skin. The prickly fire in my skin and head were gone.
Who needed exercise when you had nightmares like these? If only they weren’t true—to a point.
Almost every night since returning home, I’d dreamt of the friends Aidan and I had left behind. A new nightmare, new scrapes, bruises, and horrors for them to face. Usually, they never saw me.
Sitting up, I grabbed the glass of water at the side of my bed and drank greedily, letting the cool water burn my dried throat. I felt it slosh in my stomach a second later.
College would be starting again today, though neither Aidan nor I were going. I glanced at the little red digital lights on my alarm clock.
3:00am.
I frowned.
It was just another nightmare
, I told myself again, hoping to calm my shaky nerves as I set the glass down with an unsteady hand.
Two weeks ago, our little group decided to have a party at Aidan’s late grandfather’s house in the woods. The Victorian home was beautiful until we discovered the forbidden third floor.
The tower room was the only place Aidan wasn’t allowed as a kid, and for good reason.