Angels Shade Read online

  Copyright

  Chapter One: Nightmare

  Chapter Two: Impressions

  Chapter Three: Warning

  Chapter Four: The Crazy

  Chapter Five: Fallen

  Chapter Six: The Crash

  Chapter Seven: Lost Truth

  Chapter Eight: Awkward Invite

  Chapter Nine: Hot and Cold

  Chapter Ten: Angel Arms

  Chapter Eleven: The Watcher

  Chapter Twelve: Headquarters

  Chapter Thirteen: The Dome

  Chapter Fourteen: Abandoned

  Chapter Fifteen: Tension

  Chapter Sixteen: The Sin

  Chapter Seventeen: Counsel

  Chapter Eighteen: Punishment

  Chapter Nineteen: The Meeting

  Chapter Twenty: Underwhelmed

  Chapter Twenty-One: The Mighty Michael

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Trapped

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Escape

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Homecoming

  Chapter Twenty-Five: The Devil Inside

  Chapter Twenty-Six: For Love

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Delivered

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Entwined Path

  Copyright (©) the author, L.C White/L. Whitaker reserves all rights to this work of fiction 2017. [email protected]

  The plot, characters, names, and settings are a result of the author’s imagination and in no way to be misrepresented as otherwise. If any similarities are noted, it is purely an unintentional coincident.

  This novel is not to be copied, redistributed, or altered in any way, without contact and permission from the author.

  Chapter One: Nightmare

  Beth

  Here we go again. I can estimate the distance he is from me. I can see the vapor of my breath as my crazy mind gets these two worlds mixed up. I know exactly how I’ll react. Any second, I’m going to leap out of my bed, race over to my closet door, push my back hard up against it, and try with all my might to release a scream. But the scream never comes. The event never changes. And I fall into some kind of strange darkness in-between realms. My shrink, and the outside world, call it sleep paralysis, caused by traumatic stress disorder after what I witnessed as a child. I call it seriously screwed up.

  Just like clockwork, I’m following the whole sorry routine, gaping at my comatose body lying as stiff as a plank of wood in bed. I will my rigor mortis body to move, even if it’s just a finger flick. If I move it is like a chain-reaction, and I begin to wake. But my stupid body doesn’t listen tonight, and I’m bound to the dark entity about to enter my room.

  It’s so cold and gray in this place. It’s a dead place where the darkness wants to eat you up; devour your fear like it is a drug for them. The murky shadows of my bedroom furniture move as though they’re alive, swishing in transparency. And now the booming menacing steps approach outside on the hallway.

  I press my hands against the closet door to feel it is almost pliable, like rubber. I strain to move, but I can’t. I fight to wake myself, but it’s impossible in this place. All I can do is wait for the inevitable rape of my soul.

  My head yells out, ‘wake the hell up…wake the hell up, Beth,’ as my eyes seal tight.

  The silence comes, and I know when I look, I will see him before me: the cloaked shadowed faceless figure.

  I hang on a few seconds more. I know I have to open my eyes, this will not stop until he gets what he wants. Okay Beth, just do it.

  I flicker open my eyelids and slowly peer up in terror. He towers feet over me, making the same satisfied deep whistling sound, knowing I’ve succumb to him. Now he readies the long transparent tentacles of his cloak like an octopus, ready to wrap me up, over and over.

  My wrists are suddenly bound by its cloak, coiling up my arms like pythons. The arctic fabric tightens and begins to cut into my skin, as the creature pulls me closer. Now my legs and waist are bound, and the darkness embraces me. I close my eyes, waiting for what’s to come.

  I’m whizzing around like the motion of a spinning washing machine in the freezing airless atmosphere, surrounded by its cloak. The dark within the hood is so close to my face, sucking the breath from my body. It will soon be over, I tell myself.

  I count to three and open my eyes, as the movement of its cloak slows down. I watch my body on the bed to see my neck tendons straining, trying to lift my head up from the pillow. One finger flicks upward, then another, as the cloak releases its grip. Drained, I hover closer to my body and as fast as a reptiles blink, I’m back in my sweat laced skin, sitting upright, gasping for air.

  “Shit.”

  As I steady my pounding heart, I toss my drenched lilac quilt on the floor. My eyes scan over my arms. Great, another red grip mark. My mom is going to flip if she sees this. Last week she had me on the phone at two a.m. with Dr. Bennett, trying to convince them both, I’m not self-harming. It was a nightmare, and of course they didn’t believe me. Now my mom checks my arms every damn morning.

  I brush my fingers through my long red hair, rub my eyes, and flick on my lamp. Now I’m required to write down in my nut-job diary, exactly what has just happened to me. It’s there on my bedside table, the little black book Dr. Bennett will use one day, to have me tied up in a straitjacket, in my own padded cell. So it is blank, and it will remain blank.

  With absolutely no chance of sleeping, I decide to get up. I don’t think there has been one night this month when I have slept passed four o’clock. Now I’m up before the bird sing, drinking strong coffee, eating a banana, hoping it will fuel me for the day.

  I sit in our newly modernized kitchen at the granite breakfast bar, scrolling through the latest pointless status’s on Facebook, because I have nothing better to do. I have four notifications, three private messages, and an event invite. I click on the poster for the senior prom that will take place in twelve weeks’ time. I’ve already decided I’m not going. Due to my screwed up sleep pattern, I’m in bed by ten. Yep, that’s me, eighteen year old Beth Winters, the party animal.

  With a grumble and sigh, I click on my private messages. There are two from Kim Wyatt, asking me if I’m still up at twilight, and if I’d seen Mesa High’s senior prom invite. And one from Marcus Peterson. Both are good friends. But both are kind of pushy, in your face, excitable friends. I click on Marcus’s message.

  Hey, I need a date for the prom. You up for it?

  Wow, talk about straight to the point.

  Marcus and I have what you could call a close, but complicated relationship. He’s a linebacker for Mesa High’s football team. He’s no jock though. He’s over intelligent sometimes, and makes me feel dumb with his knowledge of all. We’ve been friends since middle grade. He knows everything about me, about my freaky night time visitor, and he’s never judged. Once he even slept on my bedroom floor, in an attempt to protect me (without my mom’s knowledge of course) but he slept right through the whole thing. We’ve dated. Got to second base. But it was all just too weird for us. Going from friendship to sexual relationship, wasn’t going to work, so we called it off.

  I stare down at my cell phone screen at his request. Why on earth is he asking me anyhow? He has girls swooning around him every day. I’ll admit, he’s hot, with his ripped body and handsome good looks. Plus he has arms a girl can envision herself in. Whoa, completely going off the train of thought right now.

  Anyhow, he knows I don’t want to go to the stupid prom. I can’t face turning him down at school, so I click on the keypad and begin to type.

  Marcus, you know I’m not going. I hate all that pompous, pointless, let’s make some memories shit. So no, I won’t go to the dance with you. Ask Belinda, she’s been waiting to date you for months now.

  See you at school ;)

&
nbsp; I finish washing up last night’s dinner plates, so Mom doesn’t have to do them when she gets up. She’s been over-stressed lately with the shop she opened this time last year. Baby Boomers has been a real success. They sell everything you need for toddlers and babies, and they’ve just opened a Lamaze clinic for mothers to be. Now Mom is painted as a successful business woman in Fort Carson. But with success comes moodiness and lack of time. Especially as she’s a single Mom. I can look after myself, but my six year old Brother, Jake, can’t. So I help out when I can.

  I dry my hands when my cell phone flashes. It will be Marcus. It’s seven-thirty. I bet he’s just woke up and is checking his messages. I click on messenger.

  Belinda talks too much, you don’t x

  I type back:Well the answer is still no!

  Fine. I will change your mind though! Do you need a ride this fine morning? Or do you want to walk and think about my proposal some more?

  Jeez. He really is not going to drop this. He’s using reverse psychology on me here. If I refuse the ride, then he’ll make it out like I’m seriously considering going to the prom with him. If I allow him to pick me up, then he’s going to annoy the hell out of me over it. I’m in a no win situation.

  You can pick me up, on one condition.

  Which is?

  No talk of the goddamn prom!

  I wait several seconds for the beep.

  Your wish is my command. 8:30 your carriage awaits xxx

  I hurry out onto the landing, tying up my hair in a loose bun. Mom comes out of Jake’s bedroom, holding his hand. He’s wearing his dinosaur pajamas. He has over eight pairs of the same ones, and will wear nothing else for bed.

  As soon as his sleepy eyes find me, a beam spreads over his face. He runs up to me and grabs my waist.

  “Bethy, you gonna drop me off at kindergarten today? Mommy drives crazy.”

  I look at Mom, who’s letting out a gaping yawn as she rubs her short blonde hair.

  “Can’t today Jake. Marcus is picking me up.”

  “Marcus is huge. Are you going to marry him?”

  “No!” I squawk.

  “I bet you do.” He giggles.

  “Jake honey. Go downstairs and put Barney on the TV,” Mom says in a pissed-off tone. “I need to have a word with your sister.”

  This is all I need. I know exactly what she’s going to say. I know how she’s going to react. She doesn’t understand, and never has. She thinks I’m losing my mind, and is not going to stop with the insistent mothering and worry, until she has fixed me.

  Jake bumps down the stairs on his butt and I watch him. I watch him to avoid looking at Mom’s disapproving face.

  “I heard you moaning last night,” she says, as I draw in a breath and turn to her.

  “Did you?”

  “Oh Beth, don’t give me the attitude. You know what Dr. Bennett told you. Keep a record. Talk about it. Be open, it will help.”

  “Okay, last night I was attacked by a frigging ghost,” I yell sarcastically. “He wrapped me up in his cloak, and sucked out my soul!”

  “Let me see your arms.” She wiggles her fingers at me.

  “So you can jump to the wrong conclusion because I have a bruise.” I blow out an angry breath. “You see what you want, that’s a mental illness in itself Mom.”

  “Look Beth, you can’t go on like this, you’ll be running on empty soon. If I call Dr. Bennett, will you agree to see him?”

  “No.”

  “Please Beth.”

  Oh my god. Now I feel guilty because her eyes have gone all glassy. I know she has a lot on her plate. But me seeing Bennett is not going to help either of us.

  “What you saw when you were a child, would damage the strongest person,” she says as my eyes begin to sting with emotion. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, seeking help. Your dad wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

  “Please Mom, shut up.”

  She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “I’ll make the appointment just in case.”

  She pecks my cheek, leaving me on the landing looking at my sneakers, lost in the past.

  I witnessed my dad’s murder at the age of nine. Mom and Dad were no longer together and I was spending Christmas with him. I can remember everything, apart from the faces of those who killed him. They had no faces, like they had been rubbed out with an eraser. Four men in suits, held my dad over the kitchen table. They had these fancy gold knives and used them to slice into my dad’s skin. Every time they dug that knife into his flesh, he screamed. It was a sound I’ll never forget.

  I hid for hours after they left. With my eyes closed tight, and my hands covering my ears, I stayed in that kitchen cupboard, until the police found me. I was quickly carried out by an officer, but he couldn’t shield my eyes from the horrors. I saw the blood, and I saw the symbols carved into his skin. Symbols I still haven’t managed to identify. Even at nine years old, I wanted to go to him to check if he was still breathing. The sight of all that blood didn’t even bother me. I needed to put my hands on his body to check for signs of life. But I was dragged away, and never saw my dad again.

  They think what I witnessed is the reason for the sleep paralysis. But deep down, I know it is something else. I know, because I’m growing comfortable with it.

  Chapter Two: Impressions

  Beth

  Marcus has been on his best behavior, driving me to school in his brand new white Jeep. In fact, I’ve never known him be so quiet. I have felt his blue eyes peeking at me at each junction and light we’ve come to, but apart from that, there has been no communication. Now, as we pull up into the school parking zone, I’m becoming creeped out by his sudden personality change. I’m used to him gabbing on about anything from football, to what he had for his dinner the night before. This atmosphere between us sucks, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because I’ve refused to go to the prom with him.

  He takes the keys out of the ignition as I unclip my belt, and hug my biology folder to my green t-shirt. I bite my cheek, thinking of something un-stupid to say to him, but hell, it’s impossible. It’s impossible to speak or move because the air needs clearing between us.

  Okay, big breath, Beth.

  I quickly open the door and say, “Thanks for the ride.”

  I step outside into the warm spring breeze, and charge toward the path for school. That was so awkward, I’m actually relieved to see Kim bounding toward me, with an unusual sprightly step. Her glossy short black hair flops into her eyes as she grabs my arms. She shakes me with this massive grin across her face, as Marcus quietly slopes away with his head down.

  “Don’t scream,” she squeals. “And I know we agreed no homecoming because we are better than that. But guess who has asked me to be his date?”

  She presses her lips together hard, refusing to tell me more. Now I have got to go through the whole sorry act of guessing, and pretending to give a crap. My eyes comb the carpark, studying each group of students.

  “Kim just tell me. I have no idea, and I really can’t be bothered going through the names of every male senior.”

  “Nope, guess,” she sings out.

  I sigh a grumble, and again my eyes examine every male I see. My observations pick up nothing; that is until my view lands on the motorbike section. There’s a small rowdy gathering, and students are running across to get a better view. I watch two guys pushing each other. One I know to be Jason Parker, and the other, I’ve never seen before. He’s new. I would have definitely noticed going to the same school as him. I can’t see him close enough, but I can tell he’s trouble. He’s wearing torn jeans and a black t-shirt. He has pale skin and dark choppy hair. And his arms are like Marcus’s, but slightly smaller. Huggable athletic arms. But there’s an angry aura about him. He’s picking a fight with Jason Parker, and that’s brave but stupidly dangerous.

  “Who is that?” I mumble at Kim, watching as the fight escalates.

  Kim turns in a huff because I’m not bothered about her p
rom date anymore. The fight happening in the distance is far more interesting.

  “I don’t know. An idiot by the looks of him.” She squeezes my arms until I look at her. “So, have you guessed?”

  “No Kim!” I wiggle away from her annoying grip.

  “Okay, none other than the sexy Luke Garnett, has asked me to the dance.”

  I circle my eyes at her. “You do know that all he wants, is to get into your pants Kim. He may be okay to look at, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an STD floating around beneath his deceiving exterior.”

  “And who said I want to marry him,” she smirks.

  “Well, you better be safe.”

  She links up to my arm as we make our way toward the school entrance. “I will.”

  As we arrive at the doors, I hear wolf whistles and cheering behind me. Both Kim and I turn to see Principal Masters frog-marching both Jason Parker, and the new boy through the crowd. I quickly pull Kim aside to stop her being trampled on. My view follows as Masters opens his office door. The boy remains outside for a second with his head down, then strangely and slowly his view picks me out. My lungs stop working and my cheeks heat. I have to look away, but I can’t. Thankfully, he strolls into the Principal’s office, with the air of not giving a shit.

  “What a jerk,” Kim says.

  I reply with a hum, clutching my folder so tight, it might just cut through skin.

  ***

  I take my usual seat in class registration. Three desks up from the front, in the center. I slide my rucksack under the desk with my foot, as a yawn manifests from my mouth. I’m so tired and the urge to lie my head on the desk and drift away, is so inviting. It’s only registration, and I really don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of the day.

  With my head resting against my hand, and my hair shielding my face, I blink slowly as the sound of chatting fades.

  The clop of Ms. Gray’s heels, and barking orders for silence, rouse me. I look up to see her standing before her desk, with the guy who was picking a fight with Jason outside. I catch a sharp breath as all the class quietens, intrigued by the new boy who looks undaunted, like he’s done this a thousand times before.