Title: Apparitions
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
ISBN: 978-159507-181-1
Author: Raven Bower
Prologue
She was one of them and she had to die.
His senses palpated with the truth and a surreal awareness. His nerves chimed, his senses heightened. He didn’t make mistakes anymore. In the beginning he took the lives of innocent women, but that didn’t matter much in light of the Mission and his ultimate goal.
He cloaked himself in the shadows of the trees, his keen eyes watching her every move. He’d stalked her for days. He knew her routines right down to the way she undressed. He didn’t normally invest such hours in dispatching one of the “creatures.” Erika…ah, she was an exception. Her corrupt spirit reverberated from within; its dark energy extended—calling others of her kind to solidify the vile sisterhood to which they all belonged. A creature of her strength and status bore the right to an elaborate, calculated demise.
He enjoyed watching her.He rubbed his chin as she bent to straighten her sock, which slouched around her slim ankle.
“Erika…”
The wind caressed the copse of trees as he whispered her name. Curled leaves tumbled, splayed and skipped over the grass and the sidewalk. The time was so close, so close it tantalized his tongue. She was beautiful, but ultimately, she was as icy as the rest of them, with the outward appearance of innocent approachability. Even the red glasses perched upon her nose did nothing to distract from her clear, blue eyes. Eyes like a churning arctic wake. It was all a shell, of course—an illusion to fool their prey. A shell that he couldn’t wait to tear from her hideous insides, leaving her innards open, exposing her corruption.
Soon her eyes would be glazed over, forever frozen—dull and harmless. One more of the enemy lost to his blade, its repugnant spirit banished, and one more rung up on his ladder to grandeur. Once his Mission was complete, his soul would be elevated above that of mortal men. His name would hold the power it was meant to have from the very beginning. His empire would be great, and his heirs…he would train them, too, so that their line would remain forever bathed in glory.
+
It was Autumn and the trees of the park were in their raiment of yellows, reds and browns. The castings of a handful of denuded trees bounced on the turf, driven by the wind. It was a perfect evening for running. Erika arrived at quarter after five, straight from work and already changed into her shorts, running shoes, and tee-shirt. She wore a yellow hair band around her wrist. She liked to keep the flying strands out of her face as she ran, but today she felt like letting them fly.She stretched near the South Pavilion, taking her time to warm up her muscles before pushing them to their limit. She neglected that detail once and limped for days afterward, curtailing her routine for over a week. It was torture. For Erika, running benefited her a lot like the shrinks her friends opted for; it released her mind from the chains of her troubles and soothed the pain. It was also less expensive than an office call, considering her insurance didn’t pay for mental therapy. Not that she needed it.Erika found it ironic that life dealt her a fair hand, her few misfortunes arising from her own decisions. Her marriage for instance; now that was an ill-fated spin of the roulette wheel, if ever there was one. She thought she’d won the game the first year, began to wonder in the second, and knew that she’d lost in the third. She met her husband, Rick, on a business trip out west in Manistee. He seemed so sweet and charming; he still was when he wanted to be.
Should have known. Erika propped her feet up on the park bench, tightening her laces and looping them into double knots. Any man that thoughtful had to be a fake.
The courtship lasted three months before both of them tired of the long drives and wanted to be closer. He proposed exactly three months, one week, and five days after their first meeting. She eagerly accepted and they eloped the next weekend.Her family didn’t react well to her decision. Even her older brother, Andy, who could usually be swayed to see reason, voiced his objections. She didn’t care at the time; she was in love and blissfully unaware of whom she really wed. When she witnessed the bare flesh of her husband melding with that of the paint-face whore in writhing ecstasy…her world crashed inward. Her nice, neat life, her charming and witty husband, all those illusions were shattered into a mess of rosy shards. She was left standing bereft of all the hopes she clung to, seeing nothing but stark black reality for the first time in years. The “wedded bliss” left that fateful day and never returned. They didn’t make love anymore. She rarely went home until after sunset, or when she knew Rick was passed out, or out drinking and whoring, likely both—the man put an entirely new spin on the term “multi-tasking.”
Instead of dealing with his harsh words, blaming, fighting and manipulating, she chose to spend her time pursuing selfimprovement. When the weather permitted, she visited the park and ran. In rotten weather she hung out at the library or the various shops around the area. Talking to the people on the streets and behind the counters gave her glimpses into lives different from her own—happy lives building towards the future. Maybe she’d take Andy’s advice and divorce the slob. She’d start looking into it tomorrow. Hire a lawyer, fill out mountains of paperwork, and get it over with. At the moment, however, she preferred to just forget.Erika tugged the zipper of her jacket. Soon the longer Autumn nights would steal away her time at the park. Once Fall gave way to the blizzard-ridden Winter of the north, she’d be confined to building hopping until Spring. It was a distraction, but nothing like running. She glanced at the sun as she secured her glasses to her face. It didn’t appear like she’d have much time for her run.
She shifted from a lazy trot to a moderate pace before she kicked it up to full throttle. Her shoes smacked against the walkway, lungs burning with exertion. Sweat flowed from her pores and drizzled down her back, taking with it her troubles and thoughts until all that remained was will. As the golden rays shortened, so did her stride. She walked briskly then slowed to a stroll, her legs feeling numb and heavy. She smiled and lifted her head into the wind, its chilly caress soothing her heated flesh.
It was a long run today.
Her breathing returned to normal and it was time to head home. The path leading to the parking lot where she left her car was shadowed with overhanging trees and dense brush, giving it an aura of foreboding. She’d stayed longer than she intended. On the upside, that meant less of a chance Rick would be awake when she got home. She wasn’t one of those women who feared the dark or entertained ideas of danger lying in wait around every corner. Those were childish notions that a woman of newly discovered strength and independence simply didn’t have time for. Yet, she hesitated on the threshold of the path. The park grew eerily quiet, devoid of the murmur of bike tires and the banter she was accustomed to.The only thing that remained was the coarse sound of the wind driving leaves and debris through the grass and brush.
Don’t be silly. You’ve walked this route a thousand times.
She could go around to the center exit, which offered a clear path through the playground, but that would mean a further walk when what she needed was a steamy bath and her bed. She shot a haughty glare down the path and shook her head, challenging it to dare and try and stop her. She was a big girl and she wouldn’t let her imagination trick her into making concessions. Ignoring the nudges of warning at the fringes of her awareness, she tilted her chin stubbornly. Her ability to think logically and do whatever it took to get the job done put her in the upper ranks of her company. Those abilities could surely get her down a simple wooded path. There was no place in marketing or in the world for ninnies. She strode down the path, confident that within a half an hour she’d be basting in a tub of bubbles with her earphones cranked to block out Rick’s snoring.
+
He watched her hair glimmering in the fading light, its pale color reflecting the pinks of the dying sun. It was a pity she didn’t look up to see her final sunset. He’d describe it to her before she faded into darkness. It would make the fading light in her eyes all the sweeter. He nearly laughed. After days of carefully hounding her steps, his opportunity was now at hand. She stayed late, too absorbed in herself to notice she was being pursued. He shivered in anticipation, his fingertips caressing the hilt of his blade. He so ached to take her.
So close, so close…His eyes made a discreet sweep of the park. There was no one in sight, the swings rocked empty in the wind. Threads of sand and tattered leaves whirled into mini-dust devils, with no children to obstruct their dance. The joggers were gone and the bike racks abandoned. The shadows grew, swallowing the ground and clinging to the brush. His gaze returned to his prey—so secure, unhurried and unafraid.
I will show you fear.
Her hair was damp with perspiration. He grimaced; a shame he couldn’t play with it now. It looked so inciting to the touch, but the mere thought of the creature’s nasty waste products fouling his skin was appalling.He leaned closer to the edge. Every hair on his body, every organ was tuned into her. Her gait was determined and stiff.
Sore muscles. She’s weary. Splendid!
The redolence of her sweat, mingled with the traces of spicy perfume, tingled up his nostrils. Her shoes scraped across the walk as if her feet could barely clear the cement. He sensed her very core, its depravity scraping against his nerve endings.
It was time.
His knife shicked softly as it slid from its sheath. He crept forward. Electric jolts raged through him as her outline melted into the wooded path leading to the east exit.
Now, now, now!
He followed her, remaining carefully hidden in the brush. Leaves and branches swayed, tousled by a wind tainted with the dank odor of the city. Ah, how he loved to hunt when the winds blew. His dark eyes gleamed with excitement. It was the perfect accomplice, hiding the sounds of approach and providing a wondrous variety of excuses: the bang of a window being pried open was shrugged off as a thump of a wind-driven branch, the scrape of a shoe or the click of his blade was written off to the skittering of leaves or scratching of the boughs. The breeze swirled the scent of his prey to his nose once more, tantalizing him, heightening his feral instincts.
Most pleasing of all…the wind didn’t divulge secrets.
He closed in, his steps dulled by the padded forest floor.
He could make out the taut muscles of her legs, the peaks of her breasts straining against the material of her shirt. His genitals engorged. Although her steps were confident, they were short and choppy. Her socks were sullied with a mix of sweat and dust. Her finger flicked a wet strand of hair from her glasses. Perhaps he’d play with this one for a while—or not. Julia would be most displeased to learn of his dalliance. She’d been sufficiently compliant lately and he couldn’t reward her with an infidelity. Not now. This one would be taken like the rest, with only the hardened lick of his razor sharp blade. He flanked his quarry. His mouth watered. His eyes honed in, marking her shape.
+
Erika froze, her skin prickling. She’d felt the sensation before…when she caught someone watching her.
Where is it coming from?
Her eyes darted from the brush to the path and back to the brush, her vision useless in the murky dark under the canopy. Her innards shriveled into a tight ball.
Someone is there.
She turned in a slow circle, her ears picking up only the normal sounds of nature.
+
Her fear deliciously excited him. He wanted to play with her…to taunt and tease her.
Too much risk… Now!
He lurched forward as she turned her back to him. Upon that first precious moment of contact he felt her muscles stiffen against him. He slid his arm over her shoulder, the whetted edge of his blade biting into the delicate flesh of her neck with precise pressure…just enough to bring a dotted line of red to the surface. He yanked her tight against his chest, her every tremor scintillating across his skin. His mouth was so close to her throat he could feel her fine hairs bristle. He clamped his free hand down on her mouth, clamping her lips against perfect teeth.
“Be nice…and you will not be hurt.” His lips coiled into a smile as she shuddered against him. Whispers had such an arousing effect on prey. His adrenaline surged, sending him to the brink of abandon.
+
Bailey shot up in bed with a heaving gasp, her shock trapping a scream of horror in her throat. Her covers and nightgown clung to her, sticky against her flesh.
Knife…blood…blood, oh God…
Frantically patting her hands down the front of her body, she sobbed when her fingers felt the damp fabric.
It’s not me…it’s not me!
Forcing herself to look down, expecting to see herself bathed in blood from her vision, she saw nothing. Her laugh of relief sounded giddy and hollow within the silence of the house. Her mouth tasted tacky with sleep and coppery with lingering fear.
Sweat.
It was only sweat. Thor whined beside her. Bailey reached out and stroked the dog’s head with gentle, trembling fingers.
“It was just a nightmare, boy. That’s all.” Her lips quivered as she spoke, her voice trill and raspy. It had to be a nightmare, she couldn’t handle another “visitor.”
Bailey leaned over and hugged her dog. He was large and strong, his muscles solid in her arms. His heat helped ward off the chill of the room as well as his teeth and menacing bearing warded off strangers. There were some things, however, he could only warn her about. His black lips narrowed in another whine. The tips of his stark, white canines stood out in the moonlit bedroom as he began to growl, low and threatening.Bailey shivered, her hands balled tight, her eyes pinched shut, her breath escaping in huffs gathering into drifting pools of vapor. She felt as if she’d suddenly been shoved into a freezer. She tried to swallow but found precious little saliva to do it. She clutched the crucifix she wore on a silver chain around her neck so tightly its edges bit into her palm.
That’s all, no more. Please, please no more.
She’d been cursed with the visions for years, and they always followed the same pattern: a nightmare, a visitation, then the visions. The horrid visions.
Visions of a sharp knife shredding flesh. Blood… everywhere blood… pooled and sprayed… flowing… congealing. Their faces, so many beautiful faces, slashed and rent. He used his blade to do such hideous things to them—things that made them scream and writhe. Things she wished she could block from her memories.
Hoping her bedroom would be empty, she opened her eyes. A woman stood at the foot of the bed, her blonde tresses mussed and matted with dirt and leaves. Broken red glasses tilted to the side of the woman’s face, about to fall off any second. Jagged shards from the broken lenses protruded from her high cheeks and the soft socket of her right eye. Her jacket hung down over one shoulder, torn and soaked in blackish red.
Blood.
It was everywhere.
Her running shorts were compressed against her thighs, heavy with dirt and bodily fluids. This was the most brutal one Bailey had ever seen. The blue eyes behind the cracked glasses beheld her—pleading and pained. She looked so real…as if her body was actually there.
Sobbing, Bailey vehemently shook her head. “No… Please go.”
She wanted to run, but was immobile, held fast by her own paralyzing dread. It would go away. She would make it.
It had to. The apparition held out its tattered hands, beseeching, its mouth opening in a soundless wail of desperation. “No. I can’t do this… I can’t…not again…not with you…not with any other.” She didn’t want to see what the woman suffered. Witnessing the end result was enough to set Bailey on the verge of blacking out. To watch each stroke of the blade that did this…The apparition’s eyes shimmered with silvery tears.
“Give me strength, oh please, God, give me strength,” Bailey prayed, her thumb rubbing the crucifix in her hand.
The apparition’s forlorn, ravaged face was more than she could bear. She couldn’t allow her to suffer any further.
“This one last time. Then no more, I can’t do this again.”
Bailey knew what would happen; she’d write and the blood on the woman would go away. The apparition would be made whole once more; its wounds would knit together, and finally they would be gone. Finally, the apparition, too, would go find whatever peace awaited her.
Then Bailey could be at peace.
But first she had to see. Oh, God, how she hated that. Her warm tears mixed with the cold sweat on her neck.
Shutting her eyes, Bailey allowed the visions to come.
Link of the author’s choice: http://www.amazon.com/APPARITIONS-Raven-Bower/dp/1595071814/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/105-8001163-2859664?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1187063957&sr=1-1
Tags: Apparitions, Raven Bower, paranormal thriller, From the Start
