Into the Mystic, Volume One Page 4

  “The night sky bleeds,” Thalia said. She rested her arms over Jordan’s shoulders. The clans clapped. The trees sang. She kissed Jordan again, and again, and again before she pulled back just enough to whisper, “And we’re reborn.”

  About Brooklyn Ray

  Brooklyn Ray is a tea connoisseur and an occult junkie. She writes queer speculative fiction layered with magic, rituals and found families.

  Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/BrookieRayWrite

  Tumblr: http://www.brooklyn--ray.tumblr.com/

  Zero Hour

  J.C. Long

  One

  Simone lay curled up on the bed in the small run-down motel right off the highway, arms clutched tight around her body. She fought the tears that threatened to come, as they did every night. How long had it been? Nearly a month.

  The muscles in her arm near the bite clenched tightly as she thought about it. She’d been driving every day since it happened, every day since the one person in the world who promised to never hurt her did something that could never be undone.

  Simone forced herself to roll over. She glanced through the slightly parted curtains at the night sky. The moon was big and round, almost full. The sight of it set the hair along the back of her neck on end. Something deep inside her gave a little lurch. With a cry of rage, Simone crossed the room and jerked the curtains closed, so hard they nearly came off their rings.

  Right on cue Simone’s phone rang. She glared at it where it sat on the bedside table, plugged into the charger. She didn’t need to check it to know who was calling. Robbin. Robbin called her every night, even though she never answered. Robbin couldn’t take a hint.

  Just like every night when Robbin called, memories were triggered in Simone’s mind: her first date with Robbin to see The Room when it was playing at the local dive theater (Simone still had no idea what happened in that movie; she’d been too focused on the incredibly cute girl sitting next to her); the first time she visited Robbin’s apartment, surprised to find that it was basically a big empty space with a kitchen and a bed; the way she panicked trying to find the absolute perfect birthday gift for Robbin, certain that if she didn’t she’d get dumped for sure.

  When those sweet moments swam to the surface of her brain she was tempted to pick up the phone, just to hear Robbin’s voice again. They were so seductive. She fought them off by dragging up the bad ones: the way Robbin would just disappear for a day or two every month; the really close relationship Robbin had with her four friends, Michelle, Dru, Yuu, and Heagan, a relationship that bordered on creepy when combined with all the disappearing Robbin did. There were the late-night phone calls from one of the friends, where Robbin inevitably needed to leave to take care of some emergency at work.

  And then the bite—

  Why is it that the worst memory of all was the last one to come? Shouldn’t that have been the first thing she thought of? Simone sat down on the edge of the bed, running her hand through her hair. “You keep doing that and your hair will fall out,” Robbin would say to her if she saw the action. Goddamn it, why couldn’t she think of something besides Robbin?

  Restlessness building up in her, Simone grabbed the first aid kit she’d bought at the first pharmacy she’d come to after she jumped in her car after the bite. She’d felt safe in big public places at that point; no possible way Robbin had followed her into the drugstore in her condition.

  In the motel’s dingy bathroom, she closed the toilet lid and sat down on it, placing the first aid kit on the side of the porcelain bathtub. It was old, with water-ring stains about halfway along its surface.

  Simone concentrated on that stain as she tugged the bandage away from her arm, wincing in pain as the adhesive pulled at the tender skin around the wound. The bandage was covered with small traces of blood and large amounts of puss. The odor of an open wound filled the small bathroom and Simone gritted her teeth hard not to retch.

  Though she had no desire to do so, she studied the wound. It looked so normal, as far as bites went. The lady at the Quick Doc! she’d stopped at on the fifth day driving was convinced it was a dog bite as she treated it with disinfectant. Simone didn’t argue with her, though she knew the truth. That’s no dog bite, lady, she wanted to say. I got it from my girlfriend.

  Not like she’d believe her, though. Simone didn’t want to believe it.

  She picked up the now half-empty bottle of peroxide and doused the wound with a generous amount of it. It stung a little bit, and the sensation drew an involuntary growl from the middle of her chest. That wasn’t a good sign.

  Looking down at the bite mark that dominated her forearm and watching the antiseptic bubble and foam as it attempted to disinfect it, Simone couldn’t help but think about that September night, nearly a month before.

  Two

  Simone and Robbin had been dating for seven months, and things were going well, despite the minor annoyances they both experienced with each other. Simone had been working all month on plans for her birthday—nothing major; she was twenty-eight now, no longer at an age where she wanted to go out and party. Instead, she wanted to go to a really difficult-to-get-into restaurant with Robbin and enjoy a nice meal and some cocktails afterward.

  Robbin was all down for it, and the reservation was made for nine, because of how late Simone usually worked at the publishing house where she was an acquisitions editor. And then, the day before Simone’s birthday, Robbin started acting weird like she always did right before her little disappearing act, which worried Simone. Just as Simone feared, Robbin suddenly messaged her the next morning, saying something had come up and she’d be busy that night and probably too sleepy the next day. That she would make it up to her that weekend.

  Six times Simone had taken that and just gone with it, accepting that Robbin did work an unusual job as a night security guard, so it made sense that she’d have long nights like that—but once a month? And this month it had to be on her birthday?

  Simone was not going to have it.

  She’d stewed at work all day long, anger building up inside of her. What was it that Robbin was really doing? Was she working? Was she hanging with Michelle and the others? What was so important that she was willing to blow Simone off on the one day of the year Simone wanted to be about her?

  Her anger simmered throughout the day until she’d decided that she was going to confront Robbin, to hell with the consequences. Because it was her birthday, Simone was allowed to leave work early, so she did so, driving directly to Robbin’s apartment. Twilight had fallen on the city by the time Simone reached the chic complex. She had no idea what Robbin paid in rent to stay there, but it seemed that the security guard business she was in paid well. The building was modernist in design, creating the illusion of a spiral as it rose to its full eleven-story height.

  Before Simone turned into the complex, though, she spotted Robbin in her car, driving out. Thankfully remaining unnoticed, Simone followed Robbin, determined to know where she was going that was so much more important than spending time with her girlfriend on her girlfriend’s birthday. The rational part of her knew that it was slightly crazy for her to be tailing Robbin through the city, but that was not the part of her mind that was in control at that moment.

  Her confusion grew as she followed Robbin farther and farther from any place anyone would want to hire security for. Was Robbin having a tryst with a secret lover way out here, far from prying eyes? She’d always had that suspicion, somewhere deep down, but hadn’t wanted to risk being right, hadn’t wanted to lose the relationship because the parts that worked were wonderful. But now? Now she needed to know.

  Once outside the city, the urban sprawl gave way to forested growths of trees. Simone was so caught up in her musings that she almost missed Robbin make a turn down an old dirt road Simone would never have noticed if it wasn’t for Robbin taking it.

  Simone became even more nervous, because what on earth could be out here? Maybe, she thought, it was some secret sex club for certain k
inks or fetishes. Robbin had never shown any indication of harboring a kinky side, aside from her fascination with edible underwear, and that didn’t bother Simone so much.

  Up ahead Robbin’s car had come to a stop. Simone stopped, got out of the car, and marched angrily toward Robbin. She was already out and bent over, one hand braced on the hood of the car, the other clutching at her stomach. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

  “Robbin!” Simone called angrily. Her girlfriend whirled around, shock and fear written on her face, intermixed with an intense amount of pain.

  “Simone…what are you…?” Her words trailed off into a guttural groan and she stumbled.

  Simone’s anger dissolved into concern. Something was clearly wrong. “Robbin, what’s the matter?” She moved forward and crouched at Robbin’s side, surprised by the intense heat that rolled off of her body in waves.

  When Simone touched her, Robbin jerked her body away violently. “You have to get away!” Robbin’s voice was changing, deepening and taking on an animalistic quality. “Please!”

  Simone started to say something to comfort her but Robbin’s body suddenly seized, her back arching, an inhuman howl ripping from her throat. Horror built in Simone. As she watched, Robbin’s fingers seemed to elongate, grotesquely so. Long nails literally tore from her skin, surging forward. Tendons bulged along her arms as thick, coarse black hair began to grow.

  Simone fell back, legs jelly, unable to do anything but look on in horror, unable to even breathe.

  Robbin’s hands tore at the material of her shirt, the growing nails shredding the fabric. Her back was arching, the bones looking distorted. She made no effort to remove the pants safely; she ripped them clear with her nails. Simone thought she would vomit as she saw Robbin’s knees invert with a sickening pop, the bones grinding, the skin of her now naked body covered with hair—no, not hair.

  Fur.

  Robbin’s face was the last to change, the bones of her jaws snapping and crackling as they extended, her nose becoming a snout, her eyes losing any shred of humanity. As the last vestiges of Robbin vanished, she threw her head back and bayed.

  In the distance, howls called out in answer.

  When all was said and done, there was a big wolfish form crouched on the ground before Simone. While it was clearly recognizable as something lupine, there were still elements of a humanoid form in it, too; it appeared capable of walking either upright or on all fours.

  And it was in pain. It sprawled there on the ground next to the car—which it was damn near the size of—and whimpered as it breathed heavily. Here I am thinking of it as an “it,” Simone thought. Just a few moments ago it was Robbin.

  Still very much afraid, Simone climbed unsteadily to her feet and took a few cautious steps toward the furry figure. She struggled to find her voice several times before she was finally able to squeak out, “Robbin?”

  The wolfwoman shifted, as if stirred by Simone’s voice.

  It’s Robbin, she kept telling herself, stepping closer. “Robbin, are you okay?” She reached out to place her hand on Robbin’s furry back. Quick as lightning Robbin turned on her, jaws snapping, an angry growl emanating from somewhere deep in her throat. Her right paw slammed into Simone’s chest, knocking her to the ground. The next thing she knew there was a wild, snarling face bearing down on her, a face that bore remarkably familiar eyes, feral as they were at that moment.

  Simone raised her arms to defend her face and the wolfwoman bit down hard. Simone cried out in pain as she felt the teeth tear her skin. Her vision was reduced to a crimson flash as the synapses in her brain were overwhelmed by the pain.

  It must have been Simone’s sharp cry that drew Robbin from her feral state. Just as suddenly as she’d turned vicious, she was calm again, moving back from Simone, whimpering.

  Through the pain the one thought that kept coming to Simone loud and strong was, Robbin did this to me. Robbin hurt me.

  Robbin was dangerous.

  Simone forced herself to her feet, ignoring the pain. Her immaculately starched and pressed white button-down was a mess, red blood seeping into the fabric, the sleeve torn by Robbin’s teeth. Robbin. It was Robbin who did this.

  Wolfwoman Robbin cocked her head, studying Simone with a look she knew well, a look from a dog that was concerned by its master’s reaction to its action. When the massive form attempted to move closer, Simone scurried away from her, clutching her injured arm close to her chest.

  “Stay away from me,” she cried. “Stay the fuck away from me!”

  The hurt in the wolfwoman’s eyes was clear, but Simone didn’t care, because Robbin hurt her. Robbin was dangerous, and Simone had to get away.

  She’d jumped into her car, ignoring the bark-like calls from Robbin, and drove away. She hadn’t stopped driving yet.

  Three

  The ring of her iPhone drew Simone out of her thoughts once more. Like before, she ignored it. It stopped ringing quickly. That was unusual, if it was Robbin. She usually was bombarded by Robbin’s calls all night, to the point that she needed to turn her phone off. During those moments, she wished that she didn’t need to have her phone with her, but she had to stay in contact with her job and her mother, who would get worried about her. Thankfully she could do her job while not being in the office.

  She wondered if Robbin had finally given up after a full month of being ignored. The thought barely crossed her mind before there was a knock on the door of her motel room. There was not a single doubt in Simone’s mind about who it was.

  She had suddenly begun shaking again, her legs incapable of movement.

  “Simone,” that familiar voice she didn’t want to ever hear again called, muffled by the door. “Simone, I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

  She ignored the voice and continued to deal with the bite wound on her arm. The wound caused by the woman on the other side of the door at that very moment. Her hands now felt as if they belonged to someone else, not easily following her own instructions. She had to try several times to pull a new bandage out of the box—the last one in her third box. Great.

  “Simone, you have to open the door, please!”

  Simone applied a liberal amount of Neosporin to the surface of the bandage before affixing it to her arm, letting out a small hiss of pain as the application irritated tender flesh. That done, she just sat there on the toilet, unable to move, unable to do anything but think about how the woman she thought she’d loved had transformed into some sort of beast and bitten her. She knew it sounded crazy, but the injury on her arm was all the proof she needed that she was not dreaming.

  “Simone!” Robbin’s voice was impatient, undercut with something else, a tone that struck right into the center of Simone’s mind, not letting go once it took hold. “Open the door.”

  Simone was on her feet and out of the bathroom before she fully processed what was going on. It was like part of her mind had been hijacked, no longer listening to her. No matter how hard Simone fought to regain control she found that she couldn’t. The Command had latched itself to her psyche, and she was going to fulfill it.

  Open the door.

  Simone unlocked the door and jerked it open. Robbin was standing on the other side, face unreadable, brow furrowed. She was dressed as always: nice jeans, V-neck T-shirt that showed just the right amount of cleavage, with a black backpack thrown over one shoulder. She did not wait for Simone’s invitation, just stepped right into the motel room.

  “You need to leave, Robbin,” Simone croaked, throat suddenly dry. She felt this strange prickling sensation along her head, akin to when you stand up too fast after being seated for a while.

  “Close the door.” Again that strange tone. Simone shut the door without thinking about it. She didn’t even know she’d done it until it was done. “Damn. I was hoping that wouldn’t work.”

  “Hoping what wouldn’t work?” Simone demanded, anger building in her now that Robbin’s voice was no longer worming through the chan
nels of her brain. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Don’t ask dumb questions,” Robbin said in her usual glib way. She looked around the motel room, a judgmental expression on her face. She didn’t think much of Simone’s current surroundings, unsurprisingly. As nice as Robbin’s loft apartment was, Simone’s was way nicer. On top of her job with Black Storm Publishing, she also worked as a freelance editor, one in high demand, and she came from money; her father was a powerful lawyer in one of Boston’s biggest law firms before he died.

  “Okay, fine. How did you find me?”

  Robbin shrugged, smiling ever so slightly. “You were pretty easy to track.”

  Simone sat down in the uncomfortable, ugly chair next to the faux-wood breakfast table in front of the window, as far away from Robbin as she could possibly get. “You mean…my scent?”

  Robbin laughed at that, a harsh bark of a sound, devoid of any amusement.

  “Your credit card use. Heagan is pretty good at the computer thing, and tracking you wasn’t too hard.” Robbin’s eyes fell on Simone’s bandaged arm. She made to cross the room to Simone, who held up a hand in a stop gesture. “I need to look at your arm, Simone,” Robbin said patiently.

  Simone shook her head vehemently. “I don’t want you near me.”

  “Show me,” Robbin said, and Simone extended her arm automatically. Robbin reached for it, but Simone, recovering herself, pulled away.

  “Stop doing that!”

  Robbin sighed, tensing and relaxing the muscles in her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to do it, honestly. It just happens sometimes.”

  “What just happens?”

  Robbin shook her head, holding her hand out impatiently. Simone, knowing how stubborn Robbin could be, gave in, offering her right arm. She felt a tingle of electricity spark through her as Robbin gently touched her arm. Her body began to react; it was intimately familiar with Robbin’s touch, and it had been a long time since Simone let herself find release; usually she drove all day until she could no longer keep her eyes open before checking into a cheap motel and passing out. When morning came she was back on the road, eager to put as much distance between herself and Robbin as possible.