Oracle of Spirits #1 (Werewolf Shifter Romance), Page 2

I had to walk two blocks to the store, but that was the closest one if I didn't want to hail a taxi. My block was one long row of houses with connected walls, all in various states of decay. There were broken windows, patched roofs, and the lingering smell of marijuana smoke that wafted through the open front windows and doors. Most of my neighbors were one step away from being the clinic's patients, and I swore a few of them catered to other mental health centers.

  With neighbors like those, my house was one of the better homes. There was a small stoop with a long, weed-choked flower bed outside the single front window. There were various stains on the steps that I tried to bleach off without success. Everyone had a dog, and no one's dog had a leash or fence to keep them in. An old wooden fence that surrounded the miniature back yard defied gravity with how far it leaned, and was supported by the ancient gate at the rear that led to the alley behind the row of houses.

  The whole place was in need of a renovation, or a demolition, but it was home. I walked up the concrete steps to the ancient, weathered door.

  "Hi ya," a voice called to me.

  I stopped and sighed. "Hi, Fred," I replied.

  Fred was my neighbor and a thorn in my side. He was a slum lord in the literal sense and owned most of the homes on the block. I refused to sell my home to him, and he took that as a challenge to consolidate our holdings through a matrimonial alliance. He resided in the house next to mine and leaned on the railing of his stoop to grin at me across the all-too-short distance between our homes.

  "So how was work with the psychos?" he asked me.

  I shrugged. "Same old. I'm always surrounded by crazies so I never know when I'm off work."

  His face fell and a frown slipped onto his lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I'm tired and I'll see you later," I quipped.

  I hurried into my house and leaned against the closed front door. A sigh escaped my lips and I ran a hand through my long brown hair.

  "I didn't think he'd be smart enough to see that one. . ." I mumbled as I looked over my home.

  The townhouse was built with the bedroom and bath on the upper floor, and the living areas in a long row straight to the back of the house. A small wall separated the kitchen from a winding metal staircase with wooden steps on the right wall. That led upstairs to my bedroom, and traveled downstairs to the old earthen basement where I kept my mold and cobweb collections. The living room was at the back of the house with a sliding glass door to the small backyard. The backyard was half bricked over and had only a small patch of tired grass. Then there was the kitchen in the center of the ground floor and finally a small dining area to my immediate left

  I wandered through the dining area, pulled the eggs from the bag and set the carton on the kitchen counter while I put the plastic bag in the hanger by the fridge for future use. My back was to the counter as I faced the rear of the house.

  I froze when a cold breeze wafted over me. It felt like the same cold wind from the alley, but this time the chill sank into my bones and sent a shiver down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself and breathed out. A small puff of air escaped my lips and dissipated. The temperature of the house felt like two degrees lower than Hell frozen over.

  "What the hell?" I murmured.

  A popping sound behind me made me jump. I spun around and looked for the source. My eyes fell on the open carton of eggs. I hadn't opened the carton lid. One of the eggs was cracked and its remains were splattered over its brethren, the carton, and even the counter. I frowned and took a step towards the eggs.

  I jumped when another egg exploded. The yolk flew farther and dotted the floor. My eyes widened and I stumbled backwards into the fridge as more of the eggs popped like fireworks. Their shells exploded and sent yolk flying in every direction. I turned tail and ran into the living room out of range of the demonic dead chickens.

  I stopped in the middle of the room between the couch and the TV and turned towards the kitchen. The sliding glass door stood behind me with the TV on my right. All was silent in the kitchen, and all the eggs were exploded.

  I let out a piercing shriek when the TV switched on to a classic movie channel. An old black-and-white horror movie played on the screen. It wouldn't have been so horrifying if I didn't know I didn't have cable, or any other working channels.

  I stumbled backwards away from the TV until the back of my knees hit the front of the couch and I collapsed onto the cushions. The horror movie played to the part where a victim meets the hideous phantom monster. She held her hands in front of her face and screamed. The TV volume was cranked up to impossibly loud. I clapped my hands over my ears and shut my eyes.

  This time the cool breeze sliced through me. It made me feel like I'd plunged into a deep, dark pool of chilling water. I opened my eyes and my mouth dropped to the floor.

  On the wall opposite me stood a tall, dark shadow completely enveloped in a black cloak. The only clear features were its burning red eyes beneath the hood and its pale-as-death hands that stuck out from the billowing sleeves. The cold air was calm, but its cloak whipped to and fro as though it stood in a strong, swirling wind.

  It floated towards me. Not even the coffee table slowed it down as it went through it. It reached out one of its pale hands. I screamed and dodged around the phantom to the sliding glass door on my right. My hands fumbled for the slick handle as the cool breeze struck my back. I glanced over my shoulder to see the cloaked figure turn and float towards me again. Both hands were stretched out.

  I caught the handle and flung open the door. My body fell forward, and I stumbled into the yard and fell onto the yellow, dry grass. I rolled around to face the house and the phantom.

  Nothing. There was no one there. The door was open, but the dark shadow had vanished.

  I clutched my beating heart and sat there for a few minutes to try to catch my breath. Finally I struggled to my feet and shuffled forward until I reached the open door. The air from the house was as warm and dry as ever, and the TV was off. I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the kitchen.

  The eggs were still exploded.

  I swallowed my fear and crept into the house. I eyed the staircase to the upstairs with suspicion. Nothing flew down the steps like I expected, and the TV remained off. I reached the shattered eggs. The entire carton of eighteen was broken and their guts strewn about the counter.

  I screamed when a knock came from the front door.

  "It's the police. Is everything all right in there?" a stern voice called out.

  I rushed to the door and fumbled for the lock before I flung open the entrance. Two uniformed cops, one white and one black, stood on my small stoop and behind them was their patrol car.

  "Good evening, miss," the white cop greeted me. "We were called about a disturbance and-" I rushed into the arms of the front one and clutched his uniform in my hands.

  "T-there's something in my house!" I sobbed.

  He wrapped his arms around me and patted me on the back. "It's going to be all right, miss. Now did you mean someone was in your house?" he corrected me.

  I shut my eyes and nodded. "I-I think so. They were covered in a black cloak and tried to grab me."

  He pulled us to the side and his partner entered with his gun in his hands. "You stay here," the first cop advised me as he followed his partner.

  I watched the two men sweep my small home. One of them paused at the eggs and turned to me. "What's this?"

  I shook my head. "I-I don't know. They started popping and then the person came after me."

  "And did you see if the person left?" he asked me.

  "No. I fell into the backyard, and when I looked back they were gone," I told him.

  They finished their scouring of the ground floor and moved over to the closed basement door. The pair pulled out their bright flashlights and moved downstairs. I inched inside and listened to their feet creak down the stairs.

  A crack f
ollowed by a thud echoed up the stairs, and one of them swore.

  "What happened?" the lead cop asked his companion.

  "The step broke beneath me," came the reply.

  "Stay there and let me shine my light around," the lead cop told his partner. There was a few tense moments before I heard his voice. "Nope. Nothing here. Let's get upstairs."

  They shuffled up the stairs and one of the limped into the living room. The officer leaned against the wall and rubbed his ankle.

  "You might want to get those stairs checked out," he advised me.

  "I'll go check the upstairs," the white officer volunteered as he turned to me. "Could you tell me what's up there?"

  "Just my bedroom and the bathroom," I told him.

  He nodded. "All right. Both of you stay here and wait until I return."

  "You know the rules. Don't go alone," his partner scolded him.

  "I won't be long," he promised.

  He walked upstairs and we listened to his footsteps. They traversed the entire upper floor and he returned in five minutes with his gun holstered. "If there was somebody they're gone now," he informed us.

  "But there was somebody. I saw them," I insisted.

  The officer pulled out his notepad and a pen. "Did you see anything to identify the intruder?" he asked me.

  "They're hands were really pale, and they had red eyes," I told him.

  His pen paused over the paper and he raised an eyebrow. "Red eyes?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, like glowing coals, and he seemed to float across the floor."

  "So you think it's a man?" he wondered.

  I shook my head. "I don't know. They were covered in a cloak from head to foot, but they were so tall I just kind of figured that's what they were."

  He scribbled a few notes and pocketed the pad. "There doesn't seem to be any sign of a forced entry. Do you regularly keep your doors and windows locked?"

  "All the time," I confirmed.

  "Did you lock it tonight?" he persisted.

  I opened my mouth, but paused. "I. . .I don't know."

  "We'll dust for prints and see what we can find. Do you mind coming with us to the station so we can get a match for your prints and a written statement?" he requested.

  "Sure, no problem," I agreed.

  There was no way in hell I was going to stay alone in my house.

  CHAPTER 3