The Gathering Darkness by Lisa Collicutt
My heart beat wildly in my eardrums as the figures approached the bed. I bolted into a sitting position and looked to the side. The night table was there, and on it sat the alarm clock displaying the time, twelve o’clock—midnight.
The urge to flee was overwhelming. I flung the covers aside and stood. A chill from the cold ground shot up my legs and seeped into my body, leaving my flesh dotted with goose bumps.
I had no plan, but I knew my life depended on getting out of there. Instinctively, I reached for the pendant. It was then that I remembered talking it off. I looked to where the dresser had stood. Everything was gone, except the bed and the night table. I knew I had to run. I had to find Marcus. So I forced every muscle in my body to move. I bolted in between two figures, and as I did, a deathly chill emanated from them, prickling my skin further. A cry I didn’t recognize flew from my lips.
In my tank top and underwear, I ran through the frigid darkness. I ran, not knowing where I was going. Only the outline of the trees was visible. Their clawed branches raked over my skin, biting into my flesh as I darted past them. The rough ground scraped against my bare feet.
Over and over again, I yelled for Marcus. There was no answer. I slammed into something solid. As the breath expelled from my lungs, I lurched forward over the hard object, slamming into the ground on the other side. Momentarily stunned, I lay still, one side of my face pressed into the musty earth. I heard myself moan. My entire body stung from the deep lacerations the branches had made in my skin. Stiffly, I forced myself into a kneeling position and reached a hand into the dark to find the object I had run in to.
I gripped something hard like a rough stone wall and felt my way up. The structure came to a point on top. On either side of the point the stone sloped downward. Despite the cold, my insides felt hot as the realization of what I was gripping penetrated my brain. With a groan, I pulled myself up.
“Marcus,” I whimpered hopelessly. “Where are you?”
Warm blood trickled from my wounds and ran down my cold and battered body. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping that when I opened them again, I would be in my room awakened from the worst nightmare of my life.
My teeth began to chatter as the coldness drew near. I opened my eyes to see five black-robed figures circling me. With shaking hands, I clung to what I now knew was a gravestone.
One-by-one the figures lowered their hoods.
The first face I saw was Megan’s. A shriek I didn’t recognize came from deep inside me. She glared at me with black, lifeless eyes. To the right of her, Robyn emerged from under a hood. The third was Evan and the fourth, Sammy. The fifth person, I didn’t recognize. She was a beautiful raven-haired woman, about nineteen or twenty. Her skin was so white as to be almost transparent; blue veins pulsed visibly beneath the surface.
I looked desperately at Sammy. “Sammy, what are you doing?”
She stayed silent.
It’s just a dream, I told myself, just a dream.
“Sammy, stop, please. It’s me, Brooke.”
She had the same dead expression on her face as the others—their eyes wide, their irises as black as their robes. The Raven-haired woman was behind me now. I turned to face her. Evil vibes seeped from her like pus from an abscess. My knees gave out, and my back slid against the rough granite until my butt hit the ground. I gathered my bloodied legs in front of me and wrapped my arms around them. It was hopeless. There was nowhere to run now that the gaps had closed between my pursuers.
I watched through straggled pieces of hair, fallen across my eyes and pasted to my face with blood and tears, as the raven-haired girl stretched a pale, hand toward me. She moved so fast I didn’t have time to duck. She latched onto my hair and yanked my head around, forcing me to face the front of the gravestone.
With a shake in my voice, I screamed to the others. “Sammy, help me. Evan, please,” I cried frantically. “Why won’t you help me?”
I felt myself being dragged backwards by the hair. Then she let go of me. Other than the trembling, I couldn’t make my body move. I gulped down a mixture of salty tears and blood.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hungry expression on Megan’s face. Her mouth was set into a wicked sneer. She was the essence of evil standing dominantly over me. Before I could turn away from her, they vanished and were replaced by a scorching ring of fire.
I sat on the ground, in the middle of the circle of fire with no escape. The flames cast an eerie, orange glow over the polished surface of the granite. Something was written on the gravestone. I read it and knew I was doomed. The flames closed in. The heat was intense—beyond anything imaginable. I screamed out the name, “Christian,” as the flames consumed me.
Chapter Fifteen
In my dream, I screamed the screams of someone burning. My body twisted on the ground in agony. I didn’t recognize my own cries. Then I heard another voice in the distance.
“Brooke, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up!”
My eyes flew open to the early light of dawn. Sammy was sitting on the edge of my bed, shaking me by the shoulders. When I saw her I screamed and cringed away.
“It’s me, Sammy. You’re awake now.”
I shook my head slowly, confused. I didn’t trust her.
“Look at your face. You must have scratched yourself while you were dreaming.”
As I stared at Sammy, in her little pink nightdress and messed up hair, fuzzy-slippered foot tucked under one leg on the edge of my bed, I remembered all too well how she’d looked just moments ago. How the blondness of her pin-straight hair had contrasted against the black fabric of the robe she’d worn. How she’d looked at me with dark, lifeless eyes. How she’d left me to burn.
“That must have been some nightmare,” Aunt Rachel said from the doorway. She let herself in and stood behind Sammy, waiting for me to say something.
The nightmare was too real. The sickening scent of burning flesh still lingered in my nostrils.
I took some deep breaths and tried to calm myself. Aunt Rachel sat down beside Sammy on the bed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
I shook my head. I couldn’t find my voice at first, and when I did, it was just a raspy whisper.
“I just want to go back to sleep now.” The truth was, I wanted them to leave.
“Okay Hon, if you need anything, I’m just down the hall. Come on, Sammy; let’s let Brooke get back to sleep.” Sammy shuffled to the door, yawning. Aunt Rachel looked back at me and smiled before she shut the door behind her.
I hauled in a huge shaky breath and sat up. It was then I noticed how sore my body was. “Ow,” I whined and pushed the covers away. I glanced over myself and wasn’t surprised by what I saw. Streaks of blood and dirt covered most of my skin. I felt faint and had to lie back against the pillows. A few minutes later, after my heart-rate slowed and I’d talked myself out of fainting, I rolled out of bed stiffly and looked at the clock. It was almost six in the morning. There was no way in hell I was going back to sleep. In fact, I thought I might never sleep again. As much as it was going to hurt, I had to take a shower.
The first thing I did was put the pendant back on—vowing to never take it off again. Next, I gathered together my blue velour sweat pants, matching hoodie, and a white tank-top, deciding it would be too painful to wear jeans. I was going to school today if it killed me. Marcus had to know what I’d seen.
With the softest towel I could find, I blotted myself dry. The water washed away the blood and dirt, leaving behind raw streaks of crimson and lots of bruising. I eased myself into my sweats, which were too snug against my tender skin. I was sure Sammy would have something to say about me wearing sweats to school, but she wasn’t on my favorites list right now anyway.
Too tired to care what I looked like, I pulled my wet hair back into a ponytail and dabbed some cover-up under my eyes. My dark circles couldn’t be concealed, so I gave up trying.
“You’d better change. We have to go soon.??
“I don’t feel very good today.” They were the first words I’d spoken to her since I’d come down stairs. “I think I’ll just keep them on.”
“But they’re sweats!”
“If you don’t want to be seen with me, then don’t.” I got up and walked out of the kitchen and slipped my feet into my sneakers, deciding to wait outside on the porch swing for Aunt Rachel and Sammy.
Since the first day of school, Sammy and I had decided to take turns sitting in the front seat of the mini-van. Today was my turn. I didn’t speak to anyone on the way to school. My insides were still shaking, and I really did feel sick, and on top of it all, I had to work at the Inn after supper.
When we arrived at school, I told Sammy I was going over to the bleachers to study for the math quiz we were having. Of course she looked at me as if I was crazy. The truth was, I really needed to talk to Marcus, and it couldn’t wait until lunch. I also couldn’t get past how she’d treated me in the nightmare. It was more than just a dream to me; my defiled body was proof of that.
I walked over to the bleachers, which were on the side of the school, but had a perfect view of the parking lot. I was alone but for a couple of sophomores that were kicking a soccer ball around the field. I took a seat on the top bleacher and waited.
For every car that pulled into the school driveway, my heart skipped a beat. Finally, the red Civic squealed around the corner. I could tell by the reckless driving that Evan was at the wheel. I just hoped Marcus was with him. When I saw him get out of the car, I almost cried with relief.
Now, to get him to notice me and come over. There was no way I could yell out to him, or get his attention without getting everyone’s attention in the school yard. I drummed all ten fingers on the bleacher seat and watched his every movement. It looked as though he was searching above the crowd for something—hopefully me. I grabbed the chain around my neck and pulled the pendant out. I wrapped one hand around the double spiral and concentrated with every cell in my body for Marcus to look this way. It took great effort to not raise my arm and wave him over. When he finally did look my way, he immediately left the group and hurried across the soccer field to where I was.
“Hey, where are you going?” a female voice called after him. He didn’t look back. Then I heard a whistle. But it didn’t matter what anyone thought, as long as he was coming.
As I watched him approach, my stomach twisted into knots. I had a fleeting thought that conveying my nightmare to him might be a bad idea, but quickly dismissed it. He had to know. When he reached the bleachers, he stopped, rested one foot on the bottom seat, and smiled up at me. I sat six rows up, looking down at him in his long-sleeved, white T-shirt, which molded perfectly to the shape of his athletic upper body.
“I got your message,” he said grinning.
Despite everything, I blushed, remembering the XO I’d left him, but I had no smiles.
His grin quickly dwindled. “What’s wrong?”
With the pendant still in my grasp, I cleared my throat and asked, “Did you dream about me last night?” I gnawed on my bottom lip, waiting for his reply.
His look darkened considerably. “I did, but it was different this time. I heard you, but your voice sounded far away, and I couldn’t find you.”
I listened to his recount of the dream, one knee bouncing frantically up and down.
“I tried following your voice. I yelled to you over and over, but you didn’t answer. Just before I woke up, you yelled out the name, ‘Christian.’”
Suddenly overwhelmed, I thought I might cry. It took all my efforts to keep composed. I swallowed and cleared my throat again. “I wandered for hours in the dark, but you never came.” I bit down on my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
Although there was no way he could know the extent of my nightmare, the pained look in his eyes revealed the helplessness he felt for failing me. He took the steps two at a time until he was on my level and sat down beside me.
“Brooke, I’m so sorry. I tried, but I just couldn’t find you.” He shook his head, as if not knowing what else to say.
“They found me,” I whispered, still terrified as I spoke about them out loud.
“Who?”
I glanced over at Sammy and her friends briefly then back to Marcus. “The ones who’d been looking for me—the black-robed ones.” I didn’t want to tell him who they were, because however real the dream was, the faces under the hoods were just figments of my imagination. I let go of the pendant, which was now imprinted into my palm, and let it lay outside my clothing.
Marcus’ eyes dropped to it. I gazed across the field. Sometime during the last ten minutes, the two sophomores had left. I let out a deep breath and began.
“They chased me through the dark until I fell over a gravestone. They surrounded me, and then they vanished, leaving behind a circle of fire. I was in the middle. I couldn’t escape. I felt the heat. I could smell my skin burning. I … .”
When I felt Marcus’ hand squeeze my shoulder, whatever else I was about to say was lost. I turned my head to look at him. His already dark eyes had deepened to bitter chocolate. His brows pulled together deepening the line between them.
“I saw the engraving on the gravestone, Claire Elizabeth Day, 1896 – 1912. Exactly one hundred years ago, Claire died when she was sixteen.” It was an effort to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“It was just a dream, Brooke.”
“Was it? And all our lives; were they just dreams too? Meaningless dreams?”
He sighed. “They have to be, don’t they?”
“What about Claire? Your Claire and my Claire. They have to be the same person. It’s too much of a coincidence to be otherwise.”
He shifted closer to me and gathered me into his arms. I leaned into him easily and found the nerve to lay my head against his chest. I felt his breath move my hair as the side of his face pressed gently to the back of my head. His embrace felt so natural, so comforting and protective.
With the rise of his chest, I breathed him in. Today he smelled of fresh linens and cinnamon gum. His hand drifted from my shoulder to my back, awakening the sting of my wounds. I lifted my head away from his heartbeat and told him what else I’d seen.
“There’s something else. On the gravestone, above Claire’s name, the word ‘Witch’ was written in blood.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Why didn’t you come?”
His shoulders rose then fell. “I don’t know why I couldn’t find you this time. I never stopped searching until I woke up. And then, I had the most horrible feeling. And I couldn’t wait to see you today.”
For me, it was all worth it to hear him say those last words. I angled my face more toward his. For the first time, his eyes rested on the inch long cut above my right eye.
“What happened?” he asked.
I turned my head the rest of the way to face him, watching his gaze slide from the cut above my eyebrow to the gravel burn on my cheek, to the cut on my chin. Wordless, I bent forward and pulled one pant leg up, exposing a leg covered in numerous cuts and bruises. His gasp confirmed his shock. I pulled the other pant leg up. That leg looked the same. Under the jagged crimson lines, swollen bumps had formed. Some cuts slashed through bruises, some crisscrossed each other. They all looked angry.
Marcus stiffened against me, cursing under his breath. “How did you do that?”
I looked at him helpless. “They were there when I woke up. It happened in my nightmare while I was running through the trees. I’d swear the branches were reaching out for me.” I shuddered and pushed the pant legs back down to my ankles. “They’re all over me.” I unzipped my hoodie and pushed one shoulder down, exposing two plump scratches, one slashed through the other. I turned my head, suppressing tears until my throat hurt again.
“I feel like I need an exorcism.” I let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh. “The whole thing is my fault anyway.” Through my bangs, I glanced at the stude
Marcus shifted beside me, angling himself toward me. “Why would you take the pendant off?”
Because I wanted you to come to me in my dream—yeah, as if I would admit that out loud. I lifted my head and looked at him apologetically, not offering an explanation.
“Wahoo, check those two out,” Robyn yelled out from halfway across the field.
She and Sammy were coming this way—an unwelcome distraction. Marcus pulled his arm from around me and sat forward, leaning on his thighs.
“Damn. I don’t need this right now,” I said.
“Do you want to go somewhere? We can take the car.”
Before I could answer, Sammy interrupted.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sammy stood at the bottom of the bleachers with one hand on her hip and one eyebrow raised. “Did I interrupt your studying, Brooke?”
I rolled my eyes at her.
“So what’s up? Are you guys studying?” Robyn asked, innocent enough. At least she seemed friendly.
Sammy was acting like Megan. I was confused by her sudden sarcasm and just wanted them to leave.
“The whole school’s talking about you two right now. I just thought I’d come and share that with you,” Sammy said. I felt heat rise to the surface of my cheeks.
“What’s your problem, Sammy?”
“Why would you think I had a problem, Brooke?” I had to pull my eyes from her piercing glare. She suddenly reminded me of the Sammy in my nightmare.
The bell rang, saving me. Sammy and Robyn skipped off toward the school hand-in-hand.
“Are you two having a fight or something?” Marcus asked.
I regretted not telling him everything about my nightmare; at least then he would have understood.
“No, not really.” I sighed. “Let’s just go to class.”
By the time I stood up, my muscles were stiff and sore again. My lacerations didn’t feel that great either.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.