Except—none of that happened. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, too afraid to turn around and look.
Tyler, he thought. Gotta get back to Tyler. You’re just drunk, Sean, that’s all. Seeing shit.
Another part of his mind told him he wasn’t; that the monster he’d seen was already back at the campsite, rooting through the tents for food. Not for the treats he’d packed, either, but for his eight-year-old son, who slept soundly.
Sean pulled himself up. His head throbbed with an oncoming headache; the early warning signs of a bad hangover. So much for fishing, so much for teaching Tyler.
The air was crisp and cool. He used a tree to steady himself. He was already feeling better, his fear now a distant memory, like the last images of a previous night’s nightmare.
He sniffed deeply and almost gagged. His dirty hand came up to his mouth. “What the hell is that smell?” he choked out. It was like wet leaves and rotten roadkill. “The woods fucking suck,” he decided. “And I need more beer.” That was the alcohol talking, good old liquid courage.
As he turned around to head back to the camp, he was greeted by a giant spider. One that stood like a man, had eight red eyes, and six arms hanging from his torso. One that smelled like…like death.
And Sean died.
Malakai tore him to pieces with brute force. He mustn’t let anyone see him; that was what the Widow had said.
He was only following orders.
Now covered in that human man’s blood, Malakai left the forest, heading for the northeastern part of the state called Ohio. He smelled the boy, of course, but he let him be. The boy hadn’t seen him.
When Tyler woke up the following morning, he was lost in the woods, alone, without food, afraid. He stumbled away from the campsite and found a trail of red. Not realizing it was blood, he followed that trail and found the eviscerated remains of his father.
Not knowing it was his father.
Thinking it was some poor animal instead.
Chapter Six
Sherlock’s eyes got big in the dark. A low growling came from the back of his throat. The air upstairs, which was usually hot and stuffy in the summertime, turned ice cold. Goosebumps broke out all over Maria’s skin, though she was sound asleep.
Then Sherlock barked. It was such a menacing bark it burned his throat.
“The dream turns to a nightmare,” Maria whispered groggily. “Seriously, I’m off the Z-Quil for at least three months.” She stood there a moment, hoping the feeling would pass. Though she felt like she had control of whatever dream she was in, she didn’t want to lose it and head into horror movie territory.
“I suppose I should turn around now and be greeted by the world’s biggest spider or, like, a killer clown or something, right? Sherlock?”
She sat up.
Sherlock took off down the steps, whining. He left a trail of drops on the light carpet. Urine. Damn dog.
Maria rolled her eyes. Whatever, it’s a dream. He could piss a waterfall, and none of it would matter. Don’t have to clean up pee in a dream.
She turned around. Beating up a giant spider might be fun.
But what she saw wasn’t a giant spider. Somehow, it was much worse.
“Oh, man,” she said.
“I’m real and this isn’t a dream,” a boy said.
Standing in front of Maria, in what looked like a soldier’s uniform from the Civil War era, was a boy of about fifteen.
“W-What the hell is this?” She glanced around her room, feeling like the walls were closing in on her, tightening, tightening. “Okay, Maria, you can wake up now. Wake up before this kid eats you. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that whenever a kid appears, and especially if the kid starts singing, that it’s time to get the fuck out of there.”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the boy said.
He looked younger than Maria, but he was taller and very thin.
“Well, buddy, this isn’t your house, so it’s time for you to leave. And if you don’t leave, I’ll have to hurt you.”
“You cannot hurt me,” the boy reasoned, “because I am already dead.”
Maria felt a lump in her throat. “Dead?” she whispered, the word coming out hoarsely.
The boy nodded. Maria hadn’t seen the right side of him yet. He stood at an angle, but now he turned.
Maria clasped a hand over her mouth. “That’s…that’s really gross.”
Smooth talking, Maria. Insult a dead kid. What’s next, you’re gonna roll Gramps’s wheelchair down the basement steps…with him in it?
“It happened in a great battle,” the boy said. “We were winning. The Queen Witch was protecting us with her charms, but…”
“But what?”
“But there was a traitor among our ranks. A traitor I believe is coming for you. A traitor named Malakai.”
“Me? What the fuck? I haven’t seen anyone dressed up in bloody Civil War rags. And trust me, I’d know if I did.”
The boy smiled. It was an odd smile considering half of his face was charred. Maria thought that if he hadn’t died and had been allowed to grow up, that he’d have grown into a handsome man. The thought sent a wave of pain through her heart.
“We’ll get to the traitor later.”
“ ‘Traitor later’,” Maria repeated, chuckling.
“What?”
“Nothing, you just rhymed. Anytime someone rhymes on accident, I usually laugh.”
“You have an odd sense of humor,” the boy said. “I never quite understood the allure of planet Earth.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up there,” Maria said. She grabbed her nightstand for support. First blue skin and magical explosions, now dead alien kids? “You’re not from Earth?”
The boy shook his head.
Maria pinched her arm and yelped. “That wasn’t supposed to hurt,” she said through gritted teeth. “Well where are you from?”
“Near the outskirts of the Dark Forest. Through Gideon’s Pass in a village called Dominion, to be exact.”
Maria hadn’t heard of any of those places.
“Okay, that’s definitely not Earth, I’ll
