TAKEN FROM HUNTES – CHPATER EIGHT – DEMON TRAP (ABIGAIL)
It took us nearly an hour to locate Stacey’s house. Her memory wasn’t great and it took four estates before we found hers.
“This is it!” she said, and her enthusiasm died as I made my way to the door. She fidgeted with her hands, nervous now. Her fingers brushed through her golden hair and that’s when her wounds became visible to me; I watched as Stacey put the pieces of her death together, like all spirits who bring to memory their deaths, her wounds began to resurface. She was remembering what happened, I tried not to look away as the transformation began, half of her skull was bashed in and blood started to taint her hair and clothes. I looked away as my stomach heaved, I couldn’t watch anymore.
“Do I look okay?” she asked.
I swallowed and gave her a smile. “You look great.” No point in telling her that she looked like something from a horror movie.
The door opened, and before I could say hello, Stacey started mumbling, “Mum.” But the women looked at me… waiting, not hearing her daughter.
“Mrs. Moore, do you have a moment, please?” She looked at me, unsure. I really should have changed. “I’m a friend of Stacey’s,” I said.
The woman opened the door and her eyes filled with sorrow, “Come in, dear.”
I crossed the threshold and Stacey followed, her movements becoming stiff.
Something felt off, really wrong. Maybe it was Stacey being home. I sat down on a worn brown settee, my body not settling.
Mrs. Moore sat across from me, her hands knotted together “How did you say you knew my daughter?” she asked while looking around nervously, as if she could feel the shift in the atmosphere.
I looked at Stacey, but she was unsettled. Her body was phasing in and out and alarm was on her face.
“What was your name?” Mrs. Moore’s voice came through my cloud of thought.
I looked at her weary face now. “Abigail,” I answered as I looked back at Stacey, who was almost invisible now.
Something was really wrong here. Bad vibes hit me in waves, and my stomach knotted.
“Is there anyone else here?” I asked.
Mrs. Moore stood, looking alarmed. “I think it’s best if you leave.”
I stood too, with no intentions of leaving. I looked around the small sitting room. Photos of the family adorned the wall, three blonde girls, Mrs. Moore, who looked healthy and happy, and a tall man with a deep set of blue eyes and the blond hair that he had given to his two beautiful daughters. Stacey was smiling in the photo, wearing a snow white summer dress, the same one she had appeared to me in.
“When was this photo taken?” I asked.
“Five years ago. Now, I think it’s best if you leave!” she said, looking afraid for the first time. Stacey’s outline started to appear.
“What age was Stacey when she died?”
Mrs. Moore looked about ready to bolt from the room, but I grabbed her arm. “She was fifteen. It was an accident,” she said as her eyes filled with tears.
“You lied to me!” I said to Stacey as she hovered at the door.
“Just like you lied to your friend.” Something sinister crossed her face.
“Oh no, I’m sorry. Please, don’t let her hurt me!” Mrs. Moore was on her knees, with her hands in a praying gesture.
The woman’s eyes were pleading, terrified as her eyes went to the area that Stacey now vacated. The light bulb overhead started to glow brightly and smashed into a million pieces, raining down on us. I covered my head as small bits pierced my skin. I hated when they did that.
“Where are you?” Stacey roared and the photos on the wall started to shake, leaping from the wall before crashing to the ground. Her outline glowered an ugly red as her anger grew. She would take down the whole house.
“Mammy!” The scream of a terrified young girl came from upstairs. I met Stacey’s eyes as she disappeared through the ceiling and the girl’s screams became blood curling. I raced up the stairs as ornaments and pictures were flung in every direction.
I dodged as much as I could, but still got hit all the same. When I opened the door that the screams were coming from, Stacey had turned into something ugly. Her outline now black as blood dripped from her. The young girl’s room was smashed to pieces. The only piece of furniture still in place was the bed where the little girl sat on, her knees drawn up to her chest as she tried to protect herself. The bed levitated off the floor. I could hear her mother’s soft whispers of prayer as she stayed downstairs. Maybe fear kept her rooted, or she believed that God would intervene. Good luck with that, I thought.
“Stacey Moore, your time ends now in this world” I removed my cross and the bottle of holy water from the inside of my coat, and as I started to splash her with it, the bed hit the floor with a thud and all movement ceased as Stacey turned to me.
Her face became young again. Innocence radiated from her now large green eyes. “He hurt me so bad, who will make him pay? Who will remind them of what they let him got away with? What about me? Does no one care about me?” Her face started to darken again. I needed to keep this spirit calm. A soft glow beside the little girl started to get brighter. Her guardian angel becoming more protective. Stacey laughed. “Where was my angel when he bashed my head in?”
She raced towards me with an angry scream and everything turned dark.
I opened my eyes but couldn’t see my own hand in front of me. I stood on shaky legs. A whisper brushed the back of my neck. I turned holding out my hands, trying to feel what was behind me, but my hands brushed through air. Laughter came from my right and I moved in that direction, but once again, I could only see darkness. Then a small light moved towards me and Stacey’s face jumped out, making a scream leap from my throat. I took a step back, trying to regain my composure. I hated when they did that. Half of her face was smashed in, the skull sunken from where a large object had bashed it and blood soaked her face and dress.
“I know what you are and I want them to pay!” she said.
Blood had seeped into one of her eyes, making it glow with an angry red hue. The other eye sloped at an odd angle, where the skull was no longer supporting it.
“I’m a demon hunter. I don’t hurt people,” I said as she moved closer. I looked around, but still couldn’t see anything. “Where am I?” I asked as this had never happened before.
“You’re inside my head. I needed you to myself for a moment before he came.” She smiled, cracking the blood that had coated her lips. “I know you can hurt them for me,” she said. I wasn’t playing her games, no one was coming she was trying to scare me.
“Release me now, or I will send you to the pits of hell!” I held her stare, even against how gruesome she looked.
“Have you ever been to hell, Abigail?” she asked sweetly.
“Stacey, this is your last warning, Release me, now!” I said.
Tightness filled my chest, making it hard to breathe. My knees buckled as my vision blurred, and I only had a split second to brace myself as she raced for me, her hands held high, and then she was gone. I looked up and around me, but once again, I was in darkness. The air filled my lungs and the taste of sulfur was overpowering. I stood too quickly as dizziness rushed me; something was here with me, something worse than Stacey. Maybe it was the person who she was talking about. Goose bumps broke out along my arms and the hair rose on the back of my neck. “He’s here!” I turned to the voice and Stacey stared down at me, anger now etched on her face. “My time has run out, Hunter!” she growled, before she raked her now long nails down my face.
I screamed in agony, my own hands trying to protect myself, but no more pain came. I turned and she was gone. My face stung and my hands trembled as I reached up and touched it gently. Warmth coated my fingertips and I could feel the dripping of the blood from my face. She had dug deep.
Ten voices came to me at once. I couldn’t find the source or understand the language, but two words were repeated constantly until the noise became louder and louder, “Everto parvulus”. The temperature had dropped and I shivered with the cold. My hair was starting to freeze and the ends held small icicles. The voices stopped and silence filled its void, just before light poured into the darkness. It was too bright and I shielded my face. A roar of anger filled my ears, a roar that I recognized as Zee’s. It sent all my nerves on edge. Air raced towards me along with the light. It was only a blur that passed me, but I knew it was Zee, and then light spread into the room and I could see the demon, its face was contracting into other faces. Each face brought a fresh terror, and then it paused on one and my legs gave out.
“Dad,” I whispered, and then nothing.
About the Author:
Aoife Marie Sheridan has loved reading from a very young age, starting off with mills and boon’s books, given to by her grandmother her love for romances grew, by the age of 14 she had read hundreds of them.
Aoife had a passion for writing poetry or in her eyes her journal entries. It was something she did throughout her teens and into her twenties. Aoife won first place for two of her poems and had them published at a young age of just nineteen. Realising she needed to get a real job (What writing isn’t) she studied accountancy and qualified working in that field for many years, until her passion for reading returned and she found Maria V Snyder. Poison study one of her favourite books has been read and re-read countless times.
Aoife’s first book Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) came to be after a dream of a man and woman on a black horse jumping through a wall of fire and the idea of Saskia was born. Now with her first novel published and taking first place for Eden Forest with Writers Got Talent 2013, Aoife continues to write tales of fantasy and is currently working on her third book for the Saskia Trilogy amongst other new works.
To contact Aoife you can email her at email@example.com
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