Night Terrors Read online

  Book Description

  Magic has a cost. Sarah Beauhall, blacksmith and dragon slayer, just didn’t realize how high. Her lover, Katie Cornett, has finally been overwhelmed by this spiraling cost and her spirit is blasted from her body and flung into a world of nightmares and monsters.

  As Katie’s coma deepens and her chances of survival fade, Sarah’s spirit must make a journey of its own, through a world of crystalline eaters and malevolent spirits who exist only to hunt and consume.

  Night after night, Sarah delves beyond the hidden paths, going from crystalline landscapes into the wild lands and lost worlds far beyond the great sea of dreams.

  When the spirit of a long dead murderer—known only as the Bowler Hat Man—begins gathering an army in the forgotten lands, Sarah discovers that more than eaters and feeders pursue her.

  Kobo Edition – 2016

  WordFire Press

  wordfirepress.com

  ISBN: 978-1-61475-411-4

  Copyright © Copyright © 2016, Johh A. Pitts

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the copyright holder, except where permitted by law. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design by Janet McDonald

  Art Director Kevin J. Anderson

  Cover artwork image by Ester Sanz

  Edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

  Book Design by RuneWright, LLC

  www.RuneWright.com

  Kevin J. Anderson & Rebecca Moesta, Publishers

  Published by

  WordFire Press, an imprint of

  WordFire, Inc.

  PO Box 1840

  Monument, CO 80132

  Contents

  Book Description

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Forty-six

  Forty-seven

  Forty-eight

  Forty-nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-one

  Fifty-two

  Fifty-three

  Fifty-four

  Fifty-five

  Fifty-six

  Fifty-seven

  Fifty-eight

  Fifty-nine

  Sixty

  Sixty-one

  Sixty-two

  Sixty-three

  Sixty-four

  Sixty-five

  If You Liked …

  About the Author

  Other WordFire Press Titles

  One

  Waking up at 3 AM, naked and cold is usually not something that bothered me. Katie was a blanket hog and I tossed and turned enough that I frequently shucked out of the concert shirt I wore to bed.

  I rolled over and reached out for Katie, but she wasn’t there. I was just trying to get my brain cells to fire in unison when I heard her vomiting in the other room.

  That woke me right up. My head was still fuzzy from too little sleep and the couple bottles of wine we’d drunk, but adrenaline has a way of cutting through the haze. I rolled off the nest we had in the living room, hit the light switch, and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom.

  Katie was on her hands and knees heaving her guts out into the toilet. I knew that feeling, could sympathize, my own gut churned at the sound of her combined moans and retching.

  I grabbed a couple of washcloths off the stack by the sink and ran cold water over them. By the time I had them wrung out, she was sitting back on her heels and had flushed the toilet.

  “Here,” I said, kneeling beside her and handing her one of the wet rags. She wiped her face with it and leaned against me.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice nearly a whimper. “I guess the wine didn’t agree with me.”

  I took the wash cloth from her and handed her the second one, which she pressed against her eyes, sighing deeply.

  “Not so sexy now, huh?” she asked as I helped her up.

  “Oh, you’re totally hawt,” I drawled, steadying her on her feet. Of course she was white as a sheet. Even her lips had gone grey. She leaned against me as we crossed the few feet back to the living room, she collapsed onto the nest. We hadn’t slept in the actual bedroom in months. Too dangerous with the shadow door on the far wall. It was closed for now, but I didn’t trust it. I got her settled and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “I’ll get you some water.”

  She smiled, but didn’t open her eyes. By the time I got back she was breathing slowly, sound asleep. The color was coming back into her cheeks, though. The clock read three-thirty.

  It had been a good day. I’d come home from working with Julie out at a bunch of farms in Redmond and Katie had arranged for Jai Li, our foster daughter, to spend the night at Black Briar. Katie wanted to have a romantic evening, so she insisted on cooking for me while I grabbed a shower.

  The steaks were awesome and the wine had just the right amount of buzz to make her both horny and willing. She’d been recovering for months now. The battle with the necromancer just before Christmas had nearly killed her. She wanted to be better, insisted she was mending, but I had my doubts.

  I set the glass of water on the coffee table by her side and went back into the bathroom. The cloth she’d used to wipe her mouth had traces of blood on it. I closed the toilet and sat on the lid, staring at the bright red of the blood on the cloth.

  We’d been to see a few doctors who were all confused by what could be bothering her. Katie thought maybe she was getting an ulcer or something, but I knew better. I think it was the magic. Her songs were growing more powerful since I reforged my sword, Gram and I think they were wrecking her body—eating her up inside. Magic has a price. I was growing more sure the price Katie was paying was her life. Things had been spiraling out of control with her ever since we had fought all those spirits at Samhain.

  She was getting weaker, frailer. It was the little things: like when she had to catch her breath after tying her shoes or wringing her hands like she was in pain. She faked it well enough. Didn’t think anyone noticed, but I did. I loved her more than breathing.

  Our friend and confidant Stuart, one of the Black Briar leaders, had told me how Katie had nearly collapsed while battling the cultists during the winter solstice. Later, her brother Jimmy had found her face down in a pool of her own blood after the battle. She hadn’t been physically wounded, but you can lose a lot of blood through a nose bleed. I hated thinking about how close I came to losing her that night. They’d given her two pints of blood and kept her in the hospital overnight. Thing was, she had no real symptoms. They just got her stabilized and suggested she see a specialist.

  So, that’s exactly what we did. With the help and guidance of Melanie, our doctor friend, we’d seen a series of specialists from infectious disease, to gastroenterology, and finally a neurosurgeon to make sure she wasn’t having some sort of seizures or strokes.

  We had another appointment later this week just to rule out anything mundane—like cancer or something. I hated it. This would be the fourth specialist visit in as many months. I wasn’t dealing with the ambiguity too well. This wasn’t something I could stab or punch or hit with a hammer. I couldn’t bend it to my will like iron, or wrestle it to the ground like a dwarf. One thing I knew about myself, something I didn’t need any shrink to help me figure out, was I did not take well to feeling helpless.

  I’d killed a dragon a year ago, hunted the bastard down for taking Katie and my blacksmithing master, Julie. Oh, and killing too many of my friends. But this unknown malady was out of my wheelhouse and I was starting to get a twitch.

  The last few days she’d been doing remarkably well. Maybe even turned a corner, or so she claimed. She hadn’t had a nose bleed or anything for over a month. Heck, after Christmas we were so busy getting settled in with our foster kidlet—Jai Li—that we hardly had time to kiss each other in passing, much less do anything more strenuous. I kept an eye on her, and had others watching out as well.

  Last night she’d been urgent,
willing. But I wondered how much I’d overlooked in my own need. The sex had been good, and the evening as a whole was one of the best we’d had in months. Still, it seemed that maybe her health had backslid to where it was a couple of months ago.

  I hated how wiped out she looked, even while sleeping; like she was withering away while I watched. It made my heart hurt. Maybe it was time for me to bring in my witch friend, Qindra. She could perform a series of magical tests or something. Hell, I’d gladly get further entrenched with her and the old dragon Nidhogg if it would make Katie healthy.

  I sat on the rocker across from our bed and watched her until the sun started to rise. Another day of short sleep rations wouldn’t kill me. I just couldn’t stop watching her breathe.

  Two

  Katie had a follow-up doctor’s appointment at nine. I grabbed a quick shower and made some tea before waking her up. She was a little groggy, but in a pretty good mood.

  “Sorry for hurling last night.” She sat on the edge of the bed, running her hands through her hair. “I feel like a million bucks, though.” she said, grinning. She stood, stepped over to me and kissed me on the cheek. “Morning breath, sorry.”

  I’d already brushed my teeth, so I know she meant her. Silly girl. I watched her walk to the bathroom, admiring her ass, remembering holding it in my hands last night as we rocked it for the first time in months.

  Now I just felt guilty. Like maybe it had been too much too soon.

  I stood in the doorway and waited until she was under the shower spray before I went into the kitchen and poured my coffee. Luckily we’d remembered to set it up before we’d gotten too far into the wine last night.

  Katie already had a sub for the day and I’d rearranged my farrier work where I could, making arrangements for those who were willing to postpone a few days and getting Julie to pick up the rest.

  Didn’t matter, really. I was not missing this doctor visit with Katie. We were going to be discussing blood work with her general practitioner.

  I stood in the kitchen drinking my coffee and making some dry toast to see if Katie’s stomach would handle it, when the phone rang. Seven-thirty was damn early in anyone’s book. I didn’t recognize the number and almost let it go to voicemail, but decided to answer it just so Katie didn’t try and rush to the phone and fall over.

  It was Charlie Hague, the veterinarian I had met last fall, who just happened to be a member of the Order of Mordred. One of those watcher groups who kept secret histories of the dragons and their ilk. When that nut job necromancer murdered one of the horses out at Circle Q farm, Charlie had responded to help clean up the mess and check on the other horses. Of course, he was also scouting the scene for his order.

  He was a cute guy, more Inspector Clouseau than James Bond in my mind. Nice enough, with some exposure to the occult and magic, but really he was an animal doctor who was fairly fresh from college. Still, I’d seen his secret order tattoo, and I bet he had some sort of hand book, as well. Very earnest guy. But in reality he was a message boy. I doubt he had any real clout in the organization. At least that’s the impression he gave.

  Of course, Nidhogg, the oldest and most bad-ass of the dragons looked like a frail old woman most of the time, so there’s that.

  “What’s up, Beauhall?” he asked me, the cheer in his voice altogether too damn earnest.

  “Pretty early,” I growled, turning to face the cabinets so my voice didn’t carry into the bathroom. “We’d about given you up as a lost cause.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “Things are a bit crazy around here. Work has been a little steady with all the foaling and the fact we’re shorthanded here at the practice.”

  “Yes, tragic.” I had one ear out for the shower and I could tell Katie had just turned off the water. “Can we cut to the chase here? I’m not having the best morning.”

  “Well,” he drawled. “I was hoping you and Katie would be free for lunch today.”

  Black Briar had been playing footsie with the Order of Mordred for a while now, and it was about time they made a move. Hell, I could get to first base faster than this group could commit to a meeting, and I was definitely not comfortable with groping anyone but Katie.

  And here he was, finally making a move. I agreed to lunch in Bellevue at a quaint little Thai place over on Bell-Red. At least the food would be decent. I wasn’t so sure about the business. I didn’t have high hopes.

  We were in and out of the doctors by eleven-thirty and cruised over to Bellevue for our lunch date. Charlie was in the restaurant when we walked in.

  When I thought of secret societies, I tended to think of shadowy assassin guilds or ancient orders of knights who guarded a treasure like that old guy in Indiana Jones. What I didn’t expect, honestly, was khakis, a pink Polo shirt, and penny loafers. Reminded me of pictures of my parent’s generation. It just gave me the heebie-jeebies that today’s clandestine operative would be comfortable in a John Hughes film.

  Charlie was a total dork. Katie laughed when he stood up and practically dragged the teapot off the table along with the table cloth. As it was, his silverware bounced into the main aisle and the waitress skipped over it like she’d done it a dozen times.

  She waved us to our seats while Charlie tried to clean things up. By the time we were settled with crab wontons, pineapple fried rice, and Hot Mama noodles on the way, he had begun to get his act together. Dude was seriously freaked.

  “I’m really glad you both agreed to meet with me,” he said, flushing. “I hope you’re doing okay,” he said to Katie, his eyes round. “The news about the necromancer and the blood cult,” he swallowed hard and glanced at me. “We were afraid you’d think we were mixed up with them.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Things are a bit unsettled at the moment, if you’ve noticed.”

  Katie looked at me, raising her eyebrows. Was this guy for real?

  He’d been so calm and collected when we’d interacted back in the fall. He’d taken the lead, been sure and cocky.

  “I gotta be frank here,” she said, picking up my glass of water. “You’re not instilling a high level of confidence in your organization.”

  “No shit,” I said, glancing back toward the door. Charlie was glancing that way every few seconds. “You expecting someone?”

  I looked at him as his eyes darted from Katie, to me, to the door.

  “Not expecting,” he said, his voice a little shaky. “Dreading, maybe.”

  He began tapping his fork on the table, a rattle that was quickly growing on my nerves. I slapped my hand down over his, stopping the noise. “Charles, get it together. What the hell is going on?”

  There was a haunted look in his eyes. Not just fear, but resignation, defeat.

  “Two of our people have died,” he said, deflated. “Bobbi had gone into a meet with a prospective informant and the next time anyone saw her, she was washed up on the beach at Oak Harbor.”

  Katie shrugged and I pulled my hand away from him. He started to rattle the fork again, but stopped when I looked at him. “Sorry,” he said, putting his hands in his lap.

  “Where was the meeting? Who was she trying to get information on?”

  “Deception Pass,” he said with a snort. “She jumped off the bridge there. Three eye-witnesses.”

  “That sucks,” I said. “Who was she trying to meet?”

  He shrugged. “No idea. Madame Gottschalk won’t tell me.” He hesitated, taking a long drink of water. “One of the witnesses saw her talking to a middle-aged woman before she jumped. Real ugly woman,” he recounted. “Guy was pretty drunk, just kept saying Bobbi’s contact had a five o’clock shadow.”

  “How freaking odd,” I said. The runes along my scalp had begun to prickle. There was something more here.

  “Did he say anything else?” I asked. “This drunk witness of yours?”

  Charlie grimaced. “No confirmation he was drunk, but his behavior …”

  Katie looked at me sideways, smirking.

  “After Bobbi jumped, they were all milling around. This guy saw the older woman, Bobbi’s contact, moving away, but he said she looked younger, had lost the beard.” He looked from one of us to the other. “He had to be drunk.”

  My runes flared, burning for a split second. I doubted the guy was drunk. Why would this operative just jump off the bridge? How did this contact suddenly change appearance? Drunk maybe, but the way the runes were behaving I was betting there was something more there.