Page 25 of Evil Hearts

Chapter One

T he shadows come for me, and there is nowhere to hide. No escape as they slither across my skin in waves of black silk. Cold yet gentle.

I can feel their touch as though they are caressing me... intimately. I’m being haunted or violated by a dead lover. Trapped under my covers and their chilling touch. The walls close in and I can’t wake up, no matter how hard I fight.

I gasp for air as the shadows creep up my neck, licking at my skin.

There’s nothing more terrifying than feeling awake while simultaneously being unable to move your limbs or open your eyes. I can’t even open my mouth to scream. It’s like being strapped down during a nightmare. There’s always something or rather someone present during these episodes. I can see the golden glow of his eyes in the recess of my mind. I don’t know how I know they are male. I can just sense it. He’s always there. Watching and waiting. To do what? I haven’t figured that part out yet. It terrifies and excites me. I’m not sure what that says about me.

My body welcomes the touch of the shadows while my brain tells me I should fight.

“Hello, little wolf,” the deep, gravelly voice coos, sounding far away and yet all too close simultaneously.

“You…” I test my voice, able to speak for the first time during one of these nightmares. “You can talk?”

“Of course I can talk, Daciana. I’ve walked through the fires of hell to find you.”

“What?” I awaken with a jolt, clutching my blanket to my chest as icy beads of sweat drip down my spine. A sensation of loss settles in the pit of my stomach that I can’t quite understand.

Every night it’s always the same. The darkness––the shadows claim me, but this time is different. He spoke. Called me little wolf. He knew my name. Not only that, the voice said, he walked through the fires of hell for me. Was that a declaration or a threat?

Blinking away the grogginess of sleep, I leave the comfort of my bed. My toes curling at the chill of the cold stone floors.

I stare out the window at the bright and full blood moon, wondering who or what is behind these night terrors.

I know it was only a dream, but why did it feel real? Like if I wanted to, I could have reached out and touched him.

I shiver at the realization and know I’m never going to be able to fall back asleep. Shrugging on my robe, I walk out onto the terrace, making note of the snow dusting the rail.

Since when does it snow in the summer? I move closer to the rail, running my fingers along the edge through the dust and stare at my fingertips. It’s not snow at all, it’s ashes.

I do a slow blink. Am I still dreaming? I turn back toward my room, but the door has vanished and is replaced by bars.

“Come to me, little wolf.” The same voice from before kisses the shell of my ear.

I spin around and now the moon is gone too and there’s nothing but darkness. The room spins, and I fall deeper into the darkness as more shadows curl around my body, constricting my limbs, stealing the breath from my very lungs.

I plunge into an icy river, gasping for my breath. Kicking my legs, I stretch my arms up, reaching for the surface. My fingers break through, but something or someone pulls me back under. Claws dig into my ankles. Is this what Alice felt when she tumbled through the rabbit hole? Pure madness.

“This isn’t real,” I whisper. “None of this is real,” I repeat the chant over and over again.

“Daciana, wake up,” a soft, familiar voice infiltrates my senses, warm and soft like velvet. Gentle hands shake my shoulders.

I rub my eyes and truly awaken to my sister-in-law Jacalyn leaning over me, worry lines etched around her eyes.

“Another nightmare?”

“Ahem.” I clear my throat, ignoring the chattering of my teeth.

“You’re freezing,” she notes.

“I’m fine.” I sniffle.

“Did you go for a swim in the tub before bed?” She rubs my damp hair between her fingers.

“You caught me. I didn’t feel like drying it.”

“What happened in the dream this time?” She sits on the edge of my bed.

“Nothing.” I lick my lips. “I don’t remember.”

“Hmm,” she muses, giving me a cross look that says she knows I’m lying. “You know what happened wasn’t your fault.”

I blow out a heavy sigh. “I don’t dream about that night.” The night my parents were murdered. I had turned sixteen, and all I wanted for my birthday was to see my favorite band in concert, but the show was sold out. My dad found some tickets online and my mother went with him to purchase them, thinking it’d be safer if he didn’t meet the guy alone.

It was a setup. A robbery. The detective said that when my father noticed the tickets were fake and confronted the man, he shot him point blank and then chased my mother down an alley and blew her brains out because she was a witness.

I didn’t pull the trigger, but it was because of me they were meeting some rando off the internet in the first place.

“You can’t punish yourself forever.”

“I’m not,” I tell her, though we both know it’s a lie.

“You can talk to me. About anything.”

“I’m aware. You’d think I’m crazy if I told you.”

“Told me what?”

“Nothing. It was only a dream.” I shiver and she frowns.

“You really should dry your hair. You can make your pillow moldy and gross, laying on it with wet hair.”

“I know.” I glance toward the window, noting the moon looks the same as in my dream. Red and burning as though it’s on fire. Maybe she’s right and the nightmares are because my birthday is nearing, and the guilt is rearing its head. Not that it ever fully goes away. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

Her face softens. “You didn’t. I was checking on the twins. Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Easier said than done. She doesn’t know what’s waiting for me when I close my eyes, but maybe facing the monster haunting me in my sleep would be better than facing another birthday, knowing I’m the reason my parents aren’t here.