Dianne Duvall - Darkness Dawns

Dianne Duvall

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Copyright 2008 by Leslie Duvall

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eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-2242-8
eISBN-10: 1-4201-2242-8

First Printing: February 2011
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the United States of America

My deepest appreciation goes to my editor, Megan Records, and everyone on the Kensington team. Heartfelt thanks go to my parents for their continued love and support. Most of all, I would like to thank my husband for always believing in me and encouraging me and for bringing so much love and happiness into my life.

A strident screech pierced the predawn quiet.

The hair on the back of her neck rising, Sarah Bingham surveyed the meadow around her. The sky had gone from black to charcoal gray, a harbinger of sunrise that did little to alleviate the gloom. In the nine months North Carolina had been her home, she had heard some creepy animal calls, but that one had sounded downright human.

Couldnt have been.She lived way out in the boonies with no nearby neighbors.

Struggling to shake off her unease, she impaled the soil with a shovel, turned it over, then repeated the process that would ultimately culminate in a vegetable garden. The unseasonable heat she had hoped to avoid by starting early added a glimmer of moisture to her skin as she grappled with the drought-hardened ground.

Oh yeah. A few hours of this and she would definitely collapse into an exhausted slumber. Screw you, insomnia! The spring semester was over. Her students were gone. She was going to sleep tonight if it killed her.

Loud snarling, growling sounds abruptly split the air, accompanied by cracks and thumps and the snap of branches.

Starting violently, Sarah gripped the wooden handle of the shovel and stared at the heavy undergrowth in front of her with wide, unblinking eyes.

The foliage began to thrash and sway. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Oh crap! Werent there bears in North Carolina?

Branches and leaves exploded outward as a massive dark form, moving so fast she couldnt see it clearly, charged toward her.

Too panicked to even scream, she dropped the wooden handle and raised her arms to protect her face, head, and neck.

A heavy weight crashed into her left side. Feet flying up, she hit the ground hard on her back two or three yards away. Dry soil and twigs abraded her hands as she threw them out to the sides. Something tore through her right shirtsleeve and cut her elbow. A painful throbbing invaded her ribs.

Rolling onto her stomach, Sarah jerked her head up and looked around wildly in time to see the trees that bisected this end of the meadow envelop whatever had barreled into her.

Quiet settled upon the clearing.

Wincing, she pressed a hand to her aching side and scrambled to her feet.

The growls and thrashing resumed, even louder than before.

Adrenaline surging through her veins, shortening her breath, speeding her pulse, she grabbed the shovel with shaking hands, turned it upside down, and held it like a baseball bat.

She didnt know what that thing was, but if it came back, she was going to knock it six ways from Sunday.

Whered they go? a voice called out breathlessly.

Sarah jumped and glanced at the trees that bordered the meadow on her right.

That way! Straight ahead! Dont lose em!

Two figures, mere shadows amid the dense, dark brush, moved as quickly as they could in the same direction as the thing. Only visible for a brief moment before the trees swallowed them again, they didnt appear to have noticed her. The long-sleeved green shirt she wore over a black tank top and sweat pants must have made her blend into the dim scenery.

The growling ceased. So did the thumps and thrashing.

Sarah took a cautious step backward. Then another.

Ah man! the first voice blurted. I think Im gonna puke!

Dont be such a wuss.

What the hell was going on? Had those guys been chasing a bear?

It had to have been a bear, right?

Arent you gonna kill him? the second voice asked.

Let the sun finish him, sneered a new voice, deep and full of malice.

What do you want us to do? the second countered.

Stay until its over, the third instructed, his words softened by a British accent, then bring me whatever is left of him.

Sarah continued to inch toward the wall of greenery that separated the meadow from her backyard, trying not to make any sound that might alert them to her presence.

Who were you supposed to call when you thought someone was torturing wild animals? 911? Animal Control?

Is he gone? the first voice asked uneasily.

Yeah, the second responded.

Are you sure?

Yeah-yeah. Hes gone. Hes gone.

Dude! That was the most awesome thing Ive ever seen in my life!

Didnt I tell ya?

Wasnt torturing animals the first step toward becoming a serial killer?

Hey, what are you doin? the first asked.

Cuttin his clothes off.

Sarah froze, ice filling her veins. His clothes?

Dude, thats so gay.

Im not gay, asswipe. I wanna see what the suns gonna do to him.

Oh. Cool.

Get his boots.

A man? That couldnt have been a man that had knocked her down. It had been huge, had growled, and had crossed the clearing way too fast to have been human.

Yet, it sounded as if their victim was a man, not an animal.

And, apparently, they werent through with him.