No Fear

Other Books by Allie Harrison

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No Fear

by

Allie Harrison

ImaJinn Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

ImaJinn Books

PO BOX 300921

Memphis, TN 38130

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-933417-74-5

Print ISBN: 978-1-933417-48-6

ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2006 by Allie Harrison

Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ImaJinn Books was founded by Linda Kichline.

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Cover design: Deborah Smith

Interior design: Hank Smith

Photo/Art credits:

Vampire © Zegers06 | Dreamstime.com

Corpse © Artemfurman | Dreamstime.com

Cottage on Beach © Ron Chapple | Dreamstime.com

:Efnm:01:

Dedication

To Wayne, Rachel, Ben, Stephanie & Dex

—With Love

Chapter One

Night of Terror

Medusa’s Island

Five years ago . . .

WITH ALL HER fading strength, Emma Gray pulled against the binds that held her. She worked to ignore the pain in her wrists and her ankles where the ropes cut into her flesh as she fought for escape. The room was hot, stifling. Sweat seeped from every pore of her body. Yet, she was cold and clammy. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she shivered against the tiny prickles that moved up her spine. Just as there was no escape from the isolated island without stealing a boat, there was no escape from the binds at her wrists and ankles. Icy terror clawed at her stomach and left nausea in its wake. The terror swirled with rage at herself at being caught.

Despite the summer heat, more coldness touched her, like cold fingers clawing at her. More of her hair stood up as she sensed she was no longer alone.

The night had already been filled with unimaginable horror. She had witnessed unthinkable things, and she had done things equally as bad. Now, she could hardly believe that it could get worse. Yet, it was.

Again, she pulled with all her strength against the binds that held her. The danger of this creature touched her like an icicle. Sharp pain rumbled through her as she pulled against the ropes, but it didn’t stop her from trying. Her heart slammed against the wall of her chest, feeling so large, it choked her and she couldn’t breathe. There was a cold, metallic taste in her mouth that she couldn’t seem to swallow.

She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t let him see her terror. She turned her head to the side, away from the door, away from where she knew he stood in the darkness. She squeezed her eyes closed and ignored the tears she felt fill them just as she tried to ignore the pain. The only sound in the utterly still, dark room was the raspy sounds of her uncontrolled breathing, and she hated that she couldn’t control it. She hated that her captor could probably hear her heart pounding. Hell, he probably smelled her fear, if indeed he could smell at all. If he was what she believed him to be.

Hello, Emma, he said.

She had never heard a voice as smooth, as rich, as the voice with which he spoke those two simple words. Still, she worked not to dwell on the sound of that wonderful voice that compelled her to turn and look into his eyes. Swallowing hard, she tried to think of something else, of anything else—the sky, the grass, waves crashing up on the beach, the continuous beacon of light from Medusa’s lighthouse, or the fact that the island had never seen snow. None of these things helped. It took all of her willpower to keep her cheek pressed against the bare mattress on which she rested. The smooth sound of his voice was hypnotizing, making her feel like a rat caught in the gaze of a cobra.

Hearing just two words, she understood now how easy it was to fall into the trap set by this creature and his wonderfully rich voice. If he was anything near his legend, he was then, after all, the perfect seducer.

She did not reply to his greeting. Saying nothing at all, she clenched her teeth together as she worked to control her breathing and the hammering of her heart. She also worked to think of a prayer, but at that moment, nothing came to her. With her eyes so tightly closed and her jaws so tightly clenched, her face ached as much as her wrists.

Look at me, Emma.

Go to hell, she replied through her clenched teeth. Her simple words were raspy and rough and slightly mumbled. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t speak them forcefully enough, just as she couldn’t keep her fear out of them.

His chuckle all but echoed off the empty walls. I have already been there, my dear. It is a bit overrated, if you ask me.

She didn’t ask him. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t care if he’d ever been there. She didn’t care where he might have been, ever. She just wished he were somewhere—anywhere—else at that moment.

Look at me, he commanded again. His words this time were a bit more forceful.

She shook her head and refused to open her eyes. No. The single word was nothing more than a whisper, but sounded unnaturally loud.

I can ease your pain, he said, his voice low and seductive. I can erase your fear.

He was close. The coolness of his breath touched her cheek. He must be no more than inches away. She turned her head to the other side, trying to escape him. An undeniable coldness settled over her, despite the stale heat of the room. She wanted to move, to shrink into the mattress beneath her, but there was nowhere to move, no way she could move without ripping off a limb or two.

No, she refused again. She moved her wrists sharply, allowing the biting pain where her skin was rubbed raw to touch her like a hot coal. The pain means I’m still alive.

He chuckled again. You have no idea what it means to be alive, he whispered softly near her ear. I could show you. You and I could spend eternity learning what it means to really be alive.

No.

All you have to do is look into my eyes.

Never. She felt stronger saying that word, and yet it still did not sound as strong as she would have liked.

The room was perfectly still for a long moment. Only the touch of his cold fingertips to her cheek told her he was still there, still close. She jumped at his touch and almost opened her eyes, but didn’t.

Your friend, Marcy, had no trouble looking into my eyes.

With his words, anger and surprise burned through her control, as did his sudden touch. Not Marcy, she thought. Not friendly, outgoing Marcy. No, she let out.

Yes, friendly, outgoing Marcy, he said, reading her thoughts. This morning I paid her a visit. We spent some time together.

She moaned, unable to control the pain that clutched at her heart like the sharp talons of a bird of prey, worse than the burning of her raw wrists. There was no clouding the feeling. She had to keep her thoughts clear, she couldn’t let him manipulate her in any way, but it simply wasn’t possible. The very idea that the monster next to her had put his dirty hands on Marcy, her friend, tied every fiber of her being into a tight knot that worked to suck all the air out of her. She bit her lip until she tasted blood to keep from crying or screaming or looking at him. Still, she didn’t have the strength or the power to stop the tears that again filled her eyes and then slowly slid down her cheeks.

Let me end your pain, Emma, he said. Let me show you how wonderful life can be for you. We can share so much, you and me and Marcy.

Unable to speak through the pain that crushed her, she shook her head.

It’s not that hard. All you have to do is open your eyes and look at me. It will be beautiful. I promise.

Emma knew it was an empty promise. She shook her head harder.

Again, he was completely still for a long moment. Then she heard his intake of a deep breath. She fought the urge to ask him if he really needed to breathe, or if his action was done purposely to remind her how close he was.

I admire your strong will, Emma. I’ve admired you from a distance for some time and I know your strengths. I know it was very difficult for you to do what you did to Mary Jenkins. I applaud you for it. He paused, and then continued. Despite the fact that you owe me immensely.

In reply, Emma said nothing, knowing exactly what she owed him and what it would cost her. The truth was, she hoped he had no idea how dangerously close she was to giving in to his demand. She felt far from strong just then, and what she’d done to Mary had been nothing more than a reflex, a reaction pure and simple.

She felt his cold fingers touch her leg. A shudder moved through her body as she tried to move away from him. He just moved with her. And he gently—like the touch of a lover—moved his fingers up her leg and under her skirt. His next words were spoken slowly and seductively. You understand, don’t you, that there are worse things than my killing you.

Yes, she knew. Her insides literally shook with the knowledge. Even the breath she let out quivered, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Do you know, too, that there are worse things than my making you into someone like me or like Marcy or Mary Jenkins?

The room’s hot, dead air touched her skin as she felt him lift aside the strap of her sundress and undo the buttons, and yet, it caused her to shiver. She instinctively sucked in a breath and bit her lip. His icy, dead lips touched her on the skin at her ribs.

And Emma could no longer hold back her terror. Her fists were clenched tightly enough that her nails bit into her palms, drawing blood. She still didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes tightly shut. But she began to scream . . .

Chapter Two

Dead Men Walking

Medusa’s Island

Present day

JAMES STOOD CLOAKED with the falling dusk. This was, of course, his favorite time of day, when the town was being swallowed by the darkness. The cool breeze touched him, and with it, something more touched him.

The icy fingers of evil played across this flesh.

It had been five long years since he’d felt the stir of a vampire close-by. The feeling was that of the wind actually passing through his insides. He gasped at the sudden gust that sent his heart pounding, caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand. For a long moment, he stood perfectly still as he worked to get a sense of direction. Where was this evil entity? In which direction should he look? The energy that tapped into his soul was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, yet it was recognizable as wrong, evil.

Emma Gray. He had to see that she was safe, had to know for certain where she was and that she wasn’t out in the falling darkness where danger waited. He flew off into the night . . .

EXCEPT FOR THOSE souls resting there for eternity and for Jilly McComb, the Greenbury Cemetery was deserted.

Millions of different colored leaves rustled in the trees. The sound of all those leaves whistled between the headstones and formed vaults, casting an eerie tone through the stillness of the cool, crisp October evening.

It was, after all, not a Sunday after church or any time near a holiday. It was just Thursday evening. Although there was rain in the near forecast, rain bound to be cold, the air now was dry. A breeze blew the leaves that had already left the fingered branches. The scratchy sounds of their brittle, pointed edges added to the sound made by their brothers still attached to the trees.

Jilly McComb stared at the stone before her.

AMANDA MCCOMB, Beloved Sister.

The words were carved deep into the stone along with the dates of her birth and death.

The date of death was exactly one year ago today. Mandy, beautiful Mandy, gone a year already. How fast time went by, Jilly thought. It seemed like only yesterday when Amanda, Jilly’s sister, had succumbed to the dreadful disease she’d fought so hard and thought to beat. In the end, not only hadn’t she won, but she had lost terribly. In the end, she had lost weight and all but shriveled up like a raisin before drying up altogether, Jilly recalled. With the thought came a sprinkle of anger, even after all this time. The doctors on the mainland had been wrong. They hadn’t known the disease was as far along as it was. By the time all the tests were confirmed, it was too late.

Jilly concentrated on the anger. It was much easier to face in the approaching dusk, much easier to face than anything that might be hiding behind the headstones all around her.

Then the leaves rustled again, and Jilly fought down a shiver, trying to think more of the anger she still felt, but the anger gave way to building dread. She was in the cemetery facing her greatest fear. Amanda would be proud of her. She would have given Jilly one of her famous sisterly pats on the back and said, See, Jilly, I knew you could do it.

A childhood prank in a cemetery had left Jillian McComb scarred for life. Now, on the anniversary of her sister’s death, she was determined to face that fear head on so that she could visit her sister any time of the year and not be terrified. She glanced around, ignoring the hair that stood up on the back of her neck.

It was a breezy late afternoon, with building clouds in the darkening sky. Yet, this was a calm place, a peaceful place. She told herself there was nothing to be afraid of, only stones with names of the residents, none of whom could ever hurt her. She pulled her sweater tightly around her and crossed her arms over her chest to hold it closed. She was suddenly cold.

Was the air charged, really cooler than it had been mere moments ago?

There was another strong gust of wind. And there was no mistaking that it really was colder. It wasn’t possible.

This time she couldn’t fight down the shiver. It moved right up her back and caused her hair to actually tingle. It was time to leave. She couldn’t fight off the fear much longer.

See, I told you I’d work up the courage to come and talk to you, she said out loud, telling Amanda what she’d planned to say, believing that Amanda could hear her and be happy for her, as Jilly knew she would be if she were living. She wouldn’t tell Amanda everything she planned. She knew she didn’t have time. Her fear was growing. Her voice sounded strange in the stillness mixed with the rustling leaf sounds. She tried to think of some of the things written on the list in her purse, things she’d written down to tell Amanda.

I met a man. You’d like him. He’s tall and dark, very romantic, not demanding. And he lives right here on the island, so I don’t have to travel to the mainland to see him. He sent me flowers at work, roses like these. She bent down and set the bouquet on the ground near the stone, not really knowing what else to do with them. The bunch was too large for the empty vase in the ground nearby. Jilly knew the beautiful blooms would soon wither and die, but she hoped her sister could enjoy and appreciate them from wherever she rested now.

A soft groaning sound touched Jilly. Like a cold wind, it sent a shiver up her back.

Jilly looked around nervously. Was that a moan she heard? Impossible. There was no one else within sight, no wailing, grieving relative of any of the current residents. There weren’t even any freshly closed vaults to be seen. It had to be the wind. She was completely alone.

Or was she? She thought she felt someone . . .

Someone watched her. A shiver moved up her back, feeling like a thousand tiny fingers touching her. The wind bit against her cheeks suddenly. It felt colder than ever and caused her to tremble as it sent leaves swirling in all directions. The sounds of them sent her heart racing. Her stomach tightened, and Jilly fought the urge to crouch behind a headstone until she identified who was nearby.

Another moan rent the air, lost within seconds in the breeze.

Jilly looked around, trying to determine the direction from which it had come, but could not. Her heart beat faster. It really was time to go. She’d faced enough of her fear, she decided. She could make another written list of everything she wanted to tell Amanda and bring it on her next visit. She could come on a Saturday morning when darkness wasn’t threatening to swallow her and the air wasn’t charged with incoming coldness and rain. Her car was parked several rows of stones away on the road that circled through the cemetery.

Mandy, I’ll see you later. I love you, she said aloud, just as she had always said to Amanda in life. The sisters made it a point never to actually say the word good-bye for that word was too final. I’ll be back.

She’d call Emma Gray as soon as she got home and talk to her about this visit. Perhaps Emma could even come with her next time.

She turned toward her car—and stopped and stared in breath-stopping horror at the graves between herself and it. Because of the island’s high water table, the graves were placed in vault-like formations, and then covered with earth. The earth in front of one of the nearby stones moved, quaked, and rippled.

Jilly tried to scream, but all that came out was a squeak. She stared, unable to catch her breath. A sweet, bitter nausea gripped her suddenly, and she did her best to swallow it away, telling herself that what she saw was completely impossible. Then from her peripheral vision, she saw another grave ripple as the earth shifted, then a third.

She wasn’t seeing this. She wasn’t. She wasn’t.

Her mind told her she couldn’t be seeing it. Her eyes told her she was.

For a long moment, she stared, unable to move. She didn’t even breathe. When she forced her lungs to work again, her breaths sounded loud and labored and out of place in the quiet. The sound of her own pulse raced in her ears and her throat grew tight. Her legs grew weak.

Then, an owl hooted nearby, sounding almost as if he was trying to warn her, or at least get her attention. The sudden sound snapped her out of the terror that gripped her, and she forced her legs to move.

Without thought, Jilly ran, heading for her car. The ground trembled beneath her feet. A shriek escaped her, sounding foreign and unfamiliar to her own ears, as she ran past one vault only to see a bony, decaying hand break through the earth and protrude from the now partially open grave, complete with a worn, frayed, worm-eaten jacket sleeve.

Jilly would have screamed, even tried to scream again, but her throat was frozen with terror. Her worst nightmare was coming true.

Her legs weak with terror, she moved past another grave, no longer worrying or caring about being disrespectful.

Still, she was immediately sorry she did it. For she cut the corner too close as she ran by and she bumped into the corner of the vault with her hip. The motion was enough to force her to turn and face the headstone. Two hands, nothing but bones covered with rotting, dead flesh, poked through the earth and pointed toward her as if they knew she was there.

Jilly tripped in her effort to move away, sprawling almost flat on her face. She managed to catch herself with both palms at the last minute, although she still landed hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs and make her gasp for her next breath. She ignored the burn in her hip where it made contact with the corner of the vault. It was just as easy to ignore the singe that moved through her hands and elbows and knees where she’d landed on the ground. What was impossible to ignore was the searing pain in her chest as she tried to breathe.

She felt the hands firmly grip her right ankle. The coldness of them touched her through the leg of her pants and her sock. And she was too terrified to look at them. She tried to scream again and again, but all that she was able to get out was a hoarse, whispered gush of air that was quickly lost to the wind. She kicked at the hands with her left foot, making contact. The bones snapped, sounding a bit like a branch snapping from the trees overhead. The hands stayed attached to her ankle, but were no longer attached to the arms where they had been a mere second before.

Jilly scrambled to her feet, tried to ignore the pressure of the hands that still held her ankle, tried to breathe, tried to keep from fainting as darkness threatened her, and turned back toward her car.

She froze and stared, horror gripping her as nothing ever had.

Five graves were open, completely, earth scattered about in all directions, vault lids pushed aside as if they weighed nothing. Five dead, rotting corpses in various degrees of decay drew closer to her, gathering slowly about her, stalking her, as a pack of wolves would close in on a deer. Revolted, disbelieving, she took a step backwards, only to bump into the stiff, but now standing, carcass that had held her ankles fast. She knew who it was because, when it wrapped its stick-like arms about her, Jilly saw it had no hands, only stumpy decay at both wrists. Those wrists pressed into her chest where her sweater closed, not far from where her heart raced in her chest. Even through her sweater, she felt the hard boniness of them, just as she smelled the horrible decayed smell of something much worse than a rotten potato in her cupboard. She panted, desperately trying to draw oxygen through her closed throat. Black spots swam before her eyes.

The five corpses drew closer, sounding almost funny in the quiet cemetery as bone clanked against bone in their efforts to move.

We want you to stay and play with us, Jilly, the one rotting corpse before her said. Its voice was raspy and its bare teeth clanked with its words, sounding strangely like a drum beat, accenting the syllables.

Jilly didn’t waste precious time wondering or questioning how this horrific thing before her could know her name, much less how it could speak at all. The shock of her situation was taking its toll. Only the thought of escape and the thought of getting out of the grasp of the terrifying skeleton thing that held her prevailed.

No . . . No . . . No . . . No . . . she said over and over.

Instinctively, Jilly kicked at the thing that held her. With another snap of brittle bone, the leg broke and the thing fell backward. Yet, it still managed to hold Jilly with its arms. As it fell, Jilly tumbled to the ground with it. Several bones broke and smashed with a series of snapping and crushing sounds. The arms of the thing still held on to her. The back of her head hit what she knew must have been the chin and teeth of the skull. She tried to roll to her side, roll out of its gripping hold, but it wouldn’t let her move. The others above her cackled and let out sounds that sounded like laughter, their joints and teeth clicking and popping. They knelt around her. One of them pulled at her sweater. Another one poked her with a bony finger, as if it was trying to tickle her in the ribs.

We’ve been waiting for you, Jilly, one of them said.

You’re beautiful, Jilly, another said.

We want you to stay with us forever, Jilly, said the third. It reached up with fingers that still had some flesh attached and lovingly caressed her cheek. With the last of her fading strength, she pulled one hand free and scratched at the brittle hand where it touched her face.

Crushing pain gripped her chest. She no longer tried to comprehend the how or why this was happening to her. Her mind and body now worked on mere instinct, trying simply to survive. The sounds that came from her own throat were nothing more than simple, harsh grunts with the breaths her lungs forced out. Her heart galloped faster than a racing horse and couldn’t keep the pace much longer.

I want you, Jilly, one of the horrifying things said. I want you forever. Promise you’ll stay with me forever.

Unable to stop the thing on top of her, Jilly stared with wide eyes and indescribable terror as the skeleton with huge protruding teeth drew closer and pressed its mouth to hers in a kiss much like a lover would, only there were no lips to mold to hers. There was just the harsh, brittle hardness of the teeth and face bones. A rancid taste assaulted her. Her heart could take no more of the terror these beings brought to her. After one last beat that felt nothing more than horror, it stopped altogether.

And darkness as black and empty as the graves around her swallowed her forever.

Standing several yards away near the end of the row of graves, a lone dark figure watched her. As he finished feeding on Jillian