The Dark Storm (A Dark Storm Novel Series #1)

Run, the thought exploded so loud in her head that her temples ached. She turned to shout a warning to her cousin Michal, but his rib bones had pierced the soft flesh of his stomach. The second shot separated his shoulder from his collar bone. Michel fell over, lifeless eyes staring up at her cousin. Her heart cried for him to get up, but she knew that he was too weak in the blood to heal the wound.

The sirens in the distance snapped her head around. She could see the flashing lights in the distance, but there would be no salvation from the law. Another bullet shattered the window of the car she was standing next to, causing her to drop. Her back rested against the car with her package hugged tightly to her breasts. She could not see her cousin’s murderer, but she knew he was out there and she would be next on his list unless she made her move.

            De Mona darted across the street, holding the hemp bound package close. The sharp scent of fresh cloves singed her nose, but it was necessary evil. When she hit the street she was blinded by lights as aspeeding car plowed towards her. The driver slammed on his breaks but couldn’t stop in time. The impact sent De Mona flying through the air and skidding down the street, before she finally slammed into the fender of a parked car.

“Dear God!” the driver shouted, jumping from the late model Ford. When he took in the prone form of the girl he prayed that she was still alive, but at the speed he’d been going when he hit her it didn’t look good. In the distance, police sirens sounded and they were getting closer by the minute. The man had barely checked her for a pulse when the girl’s eyes popped open. In swift motion she was back on her feet and scanning the block for danger. She didn’t see her cousin’s murderer, but she knew he was out there waiting for her. Picking up the burlap sack she began backing away cautiously.

“Jesus, are you okay? I didn’t even see you,” the driver approached her. “Listen,” he looked off and saw the flashing police lights in the distance, “help should be here any minute. If you’re okay I’m just gonna…” that was as far as he got before a bullet struck him in the right cheek and sprayed De Mona with his blood. Eerily, the darkness rolled forward and swallowed the driver’s body.

A tendril of darkness latched on to De Mona’s ankle, spilling her to the ground. The more she fought, the tighter the darkness wound itself around her legs. The darkness encircled her waist and continued upward, but when it reached the parcel she clutched to her chest it recoiled as if in pain. Using all her strength De Mona was able to kick free of her shadowy band and scramble clumsily to her feet. The darkness made a second attempt, but De Mona was already across the street. When she reached the corner she took a minute to look over her shoulder which proved to be a bad move. The darkness itself opened up, spilling three men out. The one bringing up the rear was the shooter. His face and uniform were splotched with blood, but he didn’t seem to notice as he tried to draw a bead on her with his service revolver. She was too quick for him to catch her in a flat out foot race, but the two leading the charge were closing the distance at an alarming rate. They looked like dime store versions of Siegfried and Roy, but the patches of rotted flesh on their faces revealed the truth of what they were…Stalkers.

De Mona willed every ounce of her strength to her legs and got out ahead of her pursuers. She had them by about a half block and was gaining distance, but eventually she would tire and they wouldn’t and then it would be on unless she came up with a plan. As if in answer to her prayers she spotted an alley a few yards down. Increasing her speed she grabbed a street light, doing a one-eighty, and propelled her self into the alley. When she crossed the threshold of cool darkness she realized it had been a mistake.

The street light on the curb still shone, but its beam stopped in a perfect line at the mouth of the alley. It was as if something had come through and swallowed the light. It was a set up and she ran right into it.

“Don’t look so grim, child,” the darkness directly in front of her spoke. From it stepped a man dressed in faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Along his arms De Mona could see tattoos that she knew to be symbols of dark magic. Though his face was pleasant, the unnatural shine to his eyes said trouble. “Give it to me, and I’ll keep you as my whore instead of letting Titus have his way with you.”

“Stay the hell away from me,” De Mona growled, backing slowly the way she came. She thought about boating, but that thought died when the three men who had been on her heels blocked the mouth of the alley. She was caught between the frying pan and the fire.

“You know what I’ve come for,” his eyes flicked and the darkness seemed to fill the whites. De Mona felt the hairs on her skin begin to stand and knew she had her hands full with that one.

Where demons were hell’s minions, the Stalkers were the foot soldiers. They were lesser demons and poltergeist that could inhabit the bodies of the dead, provided that it had been murdered or died tragically. Though they often maintained their supernatural strength, their full power couldn’t cross the void. They amounted to little more than half witted slaves, serving Belthon for the promise of chaos.

The more powerful demons were another case. Because their powers were stronger they were able to not only bring more of their full powers across, but also take living hosts. There had been more than one story where a demon had made promises to the weak or sickly, neglecting to mention that the host’s soul would have to take the demon’s place in hell until the body was returned or destroyed. The man in the black t-shirt appeared to be such a case.

“There is no escape,” he said to her, smiling to reveal jagged fangs behind blackened gums. “Alive or dead, you will give it up.”

De Mona tried to control her fear, but found it difficult. Already her fingers were involuntarily curling into hardened spears. Her control was slipping and she couldn’t afford that. Her mission was too important to compromise, but they were leaving her little choice. Slowly she drew her hunting knife from the pocket of her fatigue pants. Looking from the man in the black t-shirt to the Stalkers she whispered, “Let’s do this.”

Following her challenge De Mona heard two very disturbing sounds. The first was a battle cry as a Stalker

Continues...

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Excerpted from The Dark Storm by Greene, Kris Copyright © 2010 by Greene, Kris. Excerpted by permission.
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