Chapter 1

The cry of an owl woke Colin from a rather pleasant dream. It wasn’t the normal hooting, but more like the bird was being ripped apart by a dog. It took him a few moments, as he waited for his heart to stop hammering, to remember he had never heard an owl in the area before. It must’ve just been a fragment from an encroaching nightmare.

Now that he was awake, he slipped off the bed onto unsteady legs. The only light was that of a full moon, seeping between the split in his curtain. Like a drunkard, he snickered at seeing his own skinny legs in the pale slice of moonlight. He really was too thin, just like classmates told him. Perhaps he should give in and start hitting the gym. Now that would be a nightmare. Then he recalled the dream that had caused a rather strong reaction in him. His erection made it a bit hard to walk and stand straight up at the same time, but he managed, more or less.

Staggering slightly, he headed for the door, catching a glimpse of movement outside his window. It was just for a second, as his view through the thin visible line of glass was angled just right, but he swore he saw red eyes. It was like a barn owl, but gray. He sniffed, shaking his head to toss away the idea. First of all, everything was monochrome, and he couldn’t even tell that the leather jacket tossed over his desk chair was light brown. His mind was still frayed from being pulled violently from the dream.

Out in the hall, he stepped quietly, leaving the lights off and one hand brushing the wall, so that he wouldn’t wake his mother. After pulling a sixteen-hour shift at the restaurant, she was likely in a coma right about now, and she deserved the rest. His father was away on business again, some meeting for managers at his company. He just hoped the guy wasn’t drinking too much, especially since he’d been gone a month now. At the end of the hall, he found the bathroom, did his business, and started back toward his room.

“Colin? Colin, can you help me real quick?” Great, she can’t sleep, he thought. That often meant he wouldn’t be getting much sleep, either. She had been suffering bouts of insomnia during the last few months. And recently when it hit, she got the drive to do as many odd chores as she could, and would drag him into it. It didn’t help matters that she had started wearing an old tattered button-down shirt that hung off her to bed. Without meaning to, he had glimpsed a bit more than expected. “Coming.”

He passed his room, still leaving the lights off and walking softly as he came to his mother’s bedroom door. It was an odd thing to do, since his mom was already up.

“Colin, come on, honey,” she said with more urgency. “I need your help.”

He passed the door and reached the stairs. Strangely, the lights were off down there, too. During the last couple of weeks, she had begun hating the dark, even leaving a light on in the basement if she thought she may have to go down there at some point that day. His mind was still foggy, so he brushed it off and took a step down.

Then the door behind him cracked open.

His mother stood there, the small lamp in her room casting her in a weak, sickly glow. Her eyes locked onto his. “Don’t go down there,” she said. “I heard it too.”

His body snapped awake with more force than that nightmare owl had managed. His hand, clasping the handrail, turned ice cold. Glancing down the stairwell into the darkness below, he swore he saw a silhouette, heard a slight rustle of something, but the voice – it was definitely his mother’s voice, even down to the hint of southern drawl – did not repeat. At least, he wasn’t going to wait until it did. He backed up, keeping his gaze down into the darkness, until he reached his mom’s bedroom.

She closed the door as soon as he entered and flicked on all the lights, even turning the lock in the doorknob. He slipped under the covers, almost tossing the comforter over his head like he was a child. Then he remembered that he was sixteen and too old to be like that. Annabelle Williams climbed onto the mattress next to him. She stared at the door, her face showing less horror than anger. That was enough to strengthen his own bravery, if only a little. Then his eyes darted down to notice how her shirt was unbuttoned almost halfway, and folded just right. He quickly looked away, but it was too late. The hard-on left behind from the dream, which had subsided barely enough for him to pee, solidified rather quickly. He groaned inwardly in embarrassment. Daring a second glance, he caught her looking at him.

Annabelle, despite her heavy dark eyes, looked far younger these last few weeks than he had in ages, thanks to a new health kick and having died her hair from plain blonde to a sleek black that shined. That was what caused his dream, and was now thankfully taking his mind away from what may be downstairs.

She looked down, and since the covers were pulled back enough to see past his waist, she spotted that certain detail. “Did you see anything?” she asked.

“Nope. You?” Whatever had moved, he only noticed the silhouette. And barely at that.

“Nothing.”

“Okay. So, uh, can you button your shirt up now?”

It was as if she just realized her appearance. If she was ashamed, she hid it well. Too well, considering what she said next. “Sorry. I was using my vibrator.”

“Your what?”

Something fell downstairs. It sounded heavy, and it was followed by breaking glass. He worried about the dogs, but they had yet to make a fuss. Perhaps they were in another room, sound asleep, picking up no real threat.

“Forget it. We’ll wait here until morning. If it gets any weirder, I got your father’s gun. Now, take care of that thing, will you?”

“What thing?” She pointed to his crotch. The bulge was still too obvious. “Should I just go to the corner and crank one out or something?” He was too taken aback by her order to keep his language in check.

Since she had started sleeping in the spare bedroom, usually reserved for his aunt or father’s friends, there was no private toilet like in the master bed downstairs. His only other option to “take care of that thing” was to go to the closet, which wasn’t very wide.

“Just do it under the covers. I won’t watch.”

Colin was too wound up to argue, or even think straight. Something else moved downstairs, but his damn penis didn’t care. Too frightened for the humiliation to have a hold, he pulled up the blanket, then slipped down his shorts and began stroking himself. As Annabelle kept an eye on the door, he tried to think of his rather hot geography teacher, then the cheerleader that sat across from him in physics. Instead, his mind kept returning to the dream, of his own mother going down on him. As his arousal peaked, his shame wavered, and he opened his eyes just enough to look over. Her shirt was still open, revealing one small but shapely breast, with only a hint of the areola showing. He squeezed harder, pulling his hand up and down, using the pressure rather than speed. She wasn’t paying him any mind at first, then her gaze traveled over him. The blanket had shifted down, though not enough. He closed his eyes again, letting the fantasy take over.

Breathing quickly, he realized he had only seconds left, and nothing to keep from making a mess. Then Annabelle slipped another shirt under the cover onto him, her knuckles brushing the swollen tip. That brief, soft contact made him lose it. He quickly pulled the shirt over to catch the sticky fluid spraying out of him, keeping the mess to a minimum. With a sigh, he wiped up, scrubbed his hands as best he could, and pulled up his shorts. Together, without a word, they sat and waited for the next six hours until dawn broke.

In the strengthening daylight, they searched side-by-side throughout the house, turning on all the lights. Every door was locked, as was every window. The alarm was still set. Their two elderly dogs, Butch and Sundance, were found safe, if cowering in a corner of the basement. One was a Rottweiler, the other a pit bull, and neither spooked too easily. But there was nothing - no sign of a person, no items disturbed that they could see. With one exception he wouldn’t think of until a week later. A picture of his family had fallen off the wall, cracking the glass. The crack actually split between his father and them, separating him from his family. Colin remembered this when they found his body hanging from a tree next to a secluded lake. His girlfriend’s body was floating in the water not far away.

ONE YEAR LATER

Dillon Holt fiddled with the badge that labeled him as the sheriff of Bella Wood. He had worn it for ten years now, following his father, who had followed his own father. Sixty years this badge had been in his family, assigning his bloodline to protect the town.

And Bella Wood was dying.

He took a slow, quiet breath as he waited in the lobby of the state’s governing body. The geological surveyors were gathering the rest of the paperwork and meeting with officials over the initial findings. This would likely be the last study of the coalmines beneath his town, which had been closed shortly after his birth. Like many of the kids growing up, he had snuck inside the old tunnels on dares, to hook up with a girl in private, or just to see what was so dangerous about them. Then his father had gone in.

He shook the memory away as the three he was playing chaperone for emerged from an office. Two were younger than him, neither the guy nor woman trying to dress to impress. They looked more like a couple of college kids just waking up after a night of studying and drinking. The third - an older gentleman - at least wore a suit, if a cheap one, and was clean-shaven. Dillon stood as they approached.

“Ready to head back out?” he asked.

The senior surveyor answered, “We’re ready. It shouldn’t take more than an hour to get the readings done, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Judging by their faces, the prognosis wasn’t going to be pleasant. They had already discussed the potential – hell, most likely – results and the resulting plans for the town. Full abandonment, and possible quarantine of the area. Such a thing had happened before in Pennsylvania, except those citizens could blame the government for dragging its feet on the process, and a few still lingered to watch their home die. The problem with Bella Wood was slightly different – the government had tried to help, but the leaders were the ones who held back the efforts that could have saved their home. Nobody knew what had sparked the fire, only that with so much coal, and its particular composition, the flames would be fed for a century.

As he drove them back from the capital to his small town, he tried not to think too much on it. They could be given weeks or years, depending on the measurements for gas release and damage to the ground. If some of those caverns became compromised, massive sinkholes were expected to swallow entire areas of the town and surrounding forest. Thankfully, not many others knew the extent of what may happen just yet, so there was little panic or even worry over the town’s fate. For most of his fellow citizens, the place was simply foggier than usual and remained abnormally warm well into winter despite how far north they were. So far, he was one of only ten who were preparing for all outcomes of the survey. That was going to change before the month was out, but for now, it was easier to manage things with a small group. If only he could stomach being in the same room as most of them.

The surveyors weren’t the most engaging during the three-hour drive back to where they’d left their van filled with equipment. The younger ones talked in the backseat, the guy obviously trying to be charming for the girl’s benefit, though her eyes kept wandering over to her superior. Dillon was younger than their boss, and had deputies the girl’s age, yet they considered him the old guy. Frankly, he found it a little unsettling to think of younger women that way. At least it would provide some gossip for his crew when he was done with the scientists.

The interstate led to two of the three roads that flowed into town, the first being one that most people missed. The sign stating that it actually ran to Bella Wood had been knocked down by a drunk and never put back up, so all there was to mark it was a widened part of the shoulder and a street sign. LONE RD stood amidst overgrowth, all but camouflaging it, while the road itself was a two-lane in need of repairs for the last two decades. It stretched into the woods and disappeared when the trees became too thick. The others were almost surprised when he turned onto this road, as if none had even noticed it before. Plus, it was spooky as hell, so he came to love driving his passengers – especially the handcuffed ones – down this path just to see them squirm. Being sheriff needed some perks.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had taken this way today. A car was over on the side with a flat, probably having the misfortune of rolling over one of the deep potholes with a bad tire. It was a black short-bed truck, not too old, and badly in need of wax. This particular vehicle was not one he was familiar with, nor did he recognize the couple standing outside, inspecting the damage. He slowed, flashed his lights once, and pulled up alongside them.

“Everything okay?” he asked, leaning over the chief surveyor to let the couple see his face properly.

They turned to him, both seeming a bit apprehensive at first. That was understandable when confronted with an officer in the middle of nowhere. Now that he got a good look at them, he realized that the man was much younger than the woman, either a son or brother. Her age was a bit hard to grasp, as she looked fairly young save for the near-black eyes, which were tired and wrinkled in the corners, and a few strands of gray marred the black hair. She relaxed a bit when she saw he was only checking on them.

“We, uh, lost our jack,” she said, gesturing toward the flat back tire. “So this is gonna be a bit difficult.”

She wasn’t asking for help. Her stare told him to offer it regardless. “I actually have a couple. Hold on.” He said this last part to her as well as his passengers.

He made sure every cruiser held two different kinds of carjacks just for this purpose. After getting the tool out of his trunk – none of the surveyors got out to lend a hand – he studied the small trailer they were pulling. It was rusted, its tires weighed down too much. That’s when he noticed a fat gray pit bull lying in the grass not far off. It watched him with a panting smile, showing little interest. Those things were outlawed in the county, but he often looked the other way as long as the dog was calm.

“You guys moving into town?” he asked, turning away from the dog.

As he was setting up, with her son getting the spare ready for him, she said, “Yep. It was a short notice kind of thing.” Dillon debated on telling her about what the people in his cruiser were there for, but he caught something in her voice that told him these two likely won’t stay for more than a few months, a year at best. If they had purchased their own trailer, they likely had moved quite a few times already. As he worked on the tire, she stayed close, giving him ample opportunity to steal glances at her bare legs. It was late September, the temperature already dropping, and yet she wore shorts and a t-shirt. The young man, on the other hand, was covered up completely with jeans and a leather jacket. He stayed back a bit, acting nonchalant without once taking his dark eyes off Dillon.

He got the tire changed, wiped his hands on his pants, and smiled at the woman as he stood. “Done. Just be careful now. The road is pretty bad off.”

“Will do, sir. Thanks. This is the way to Bella Wood, right?”

“Of course. The road ends not far from the hospital and a gas station. The place is fairly easy to navigate, but feel free to stop anybody you pass if you need directions.”

She had a cute smile, he would happily admit. After saying their farewells, he got back into the cruiser and continued escorting the three people that would decide the fate of the town.

She watched the cop leave as Colin put the ruined tire into the bed of the truck, which was covered by a stained plastic tarp. He struggled to fit it in, to the point she told him to ditch it.

“Yeah, I gotta hurry so you can catch up to Mister Muscles.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” She put her fists on her hips, trying to look stern. His smirk said she was failing at that.

With a gesture toward where the cruiser had gone, he said, “You kept peeking at his ass when he was bent down.”

“I was not! I was ... just admiring his uniform. A man who can work any type of suit should be admired. Trust me, I’ll get you one and you’ll have girls hanging off you.”

“And what are the chances of that with you around?”

Adopting her most appalled expression, she huffed, “What is that supposed to mean, boy?”

“Your coworker, remember? Jana, I think it was. She asked for my number when I was shopping at the store and you came right up, called me a playboy and grabbed my ass.”

“That was...” She felt her cheeks burning at the memory. “I meant to swat you on the back but got too close too quickly.”

He smirked at her paltry excuse. “You squeezed.”

“That was your imagination. I hit with my full hand, nothing more than that.”

“And when she asked if we knew each other? What did you say then?”

Her mind raced to find a good lie, or even a diversion. Only the truth was there, waiting to be spilled. Biting her lip, she muttered, “I called you my boy toy. But I swear I’d told her about you.”

“She thought you were thirty, I heard. So talking about your son probably made her think of some toddler. It didn’t help any that you never corrected her.”

“Neither did you.”

“I was in a state of shock!” He rolled his eyes as he tossed the tire off the broken asphalt. “Yeesh, now you’re going after some other guy’s butt. Freak.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, though he was looking away at the moment. The boy was way too observant for her own good. That guy did have a nice ass, she told herself.

She climbed into the truck, and called, “Sundance! In, boy!”

Sundance got up, lumbered over to the tire, and pissed on it before hopping up into the truck. She turned back to Colin and asked, “Wanna head back to that Chinese place after we dump our stuff off?”

“If you don’t blow up the truck, or crash it into the house.” She was just about to defend herself when he held up his fingers. “Three times now. A dumpster, side-swiping a parked car, and now a blowout. Are you sure we’re not actually dead and our ghosts are continuing on?”

She hesitated at that, then shook off her nerves. These creepy woods were getting to her. Forests always did. “Just wait ‘til you get behind the wheel. I bet you twenty that you’ll flip the car within five minutes.”

He shook on that. As she started up the vehicle, she gave a silent prayer that he had been asleep when she’d backed into that semi at the rest stop.

They came upon a mundane stretch of white townhouses, all fairly narrow but with alleys between them. He honestly couldn’t tell one from the other besides what flowers they had under the front windows, or how recently the owner had bothered to mow. It was the tenth house they came to after making a left that Annabeth declared them home. There were no flowers under the windows, nor were their shades behind the glass. The grass was higher than everyone else’s. Other than that, it was the same as every other house along the three parallel streets that made up the neighborhood.

“At least it’s not up on a hill,” he said, “with its own private motel. I’d rather not end up wearing your clothes and stalking people taking a shower.”

“And I’d rather not be a dried-out corpse in the basement. But this has its own serial-killer vibe. Maybe cultish.”

“So we’ll be cannibals, then?”

“Or vampires. There’s gotta be some demonic bat in those woods behind us.”

“Works for me.”

After backing the trailer up to the house, they took a moment to admire the place close up. Sundance marked the mailbox as his territory before heading to the door. Inside were a spacious living room, an open kitchen, and a layer of dust over every inch of the carpet, counters and ledges. Up ahead was a steep staircase leading to a balcony, with only one door to be seen. He assumed the other rooms were hidden at either end. There were four rooms – two upstairs, the smaller ones on the ground floor - and two bathrooms. They each went for a toilet. As Annabeth was faster, he was forced to trudge up the stairs to reach the upper bathroom. The open corridor ended at two windows looking into the neighbors’ houses, though the blinds in those distant windows were closed. After doing his business, he checked the rooms, finding the master bedroom to the far left wasn’t much bigger than the one on the far right. He chose the smaller of the two.