The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters
from in front to behind. More fluttering, getting closer and closer and then swooping up and away.
The fluttering not of feathers, or of wings, but of clothes.
“Glen,” Amber whispered.
Glen stood there with his hands on his hips. “Milo knew I liked her. It was obvious. Maybe it’s an Irish thing, but guys do not do that to each other. That is uncool.”
“Glen.”
“When he gets back, we’re going to have a talk. Man to man.”
“Glen, get inside,” Amber said, her voice flat.
From above, a giggle.
Glen looked round. “You hear that?”
“Get inside, Glen.”
Frowning, he watched her as she backed up to the door. The darkness was alive around them. On either side, a dreadful whispering, gleeful and mocking, while above, that fluttering. Always the fluttering.
Amber stepped backwards into the hotel, holding the door open for Glen as he came after her. He was frowning as he walked, kept turning his head. The darkness rippled above him. She saw shapes moving. The whispering got louder. Louder. There was laughter now – cruel and malicious laughter. Glen stopped looking around and fixed his eyes on Amber. He was terrified. His face trembled, like he was holding in a scream, like he was getting ready to bolt.
On either side of him, people were stepping from the shadows. An old man with white hair. A middle-aged woman with a pearl necklace. A young man with acne. More and more. They all wore identical smiles.
Then the shadows moved and something reached down from above and Amber grabbed Glen and yanked him inside, slammed the door and pressed her back to it.
Instant silence.
Except for Glen.
“Ohhhh my God! Holy crap! Would you look at my arms? See the goosebumps? What the hell was that? That was creepy! Oh yikes, y’know?”
He rubbed his arms and the back of his neck and laughed. “This place gets to you after a while, doesn’t it?”
Amber stared at him. “Did you not see them?”
“See who?”
“The people.”
“Where?”
“Out there! We were surrounded!”
“Uh, we were the only two out there, Amber …”
“They were about to grab you!”
“Who were?”
“The people! You heard them!”
“That was the wind. It was all creepy and spooky and scary and, y’know … The wind.”
“That was voices. That was people whispering and laughing.”
“It did sound like laughing.”
“And what about the people flying?”
“Flying? What?”
“They were going to grab you!”
Glen put both hands on her shoulders, and said with an irritatingly soothing tone, “Amber, we’re freaked out. The hotel is empty and Milo has taken off and we haven’t a clue what the hell’s going on, but we have to try to remain calm. If we let our imaginations run away with us, then we’re—”
“Screw you,” said Amber, walking past him.
“I didn’t mean anything bad,” Glen said, following. “Where are you going?”
“To my room. I’m going to barricade the door and wait till morning.”
“Yeah, a good night’s sleep is probably best.”
“Shut up, Glen.”
She climbed the stairs.
“Hey, I get it,” he said. “You’re scared. I get it, I do. Maybe if you change into your, y’know, other self, you mightn’t be so freaked out. You might be able to calm down.”
“Calming down is not a good idea when we’re in danger. We have to stay frightened and alert.”
“I agree,” said Glen. “And I believe you. I believe that we’re in danger. So I think we should go to your room, barricade the door, you should change into your other self, and we’ll wait until morning.”
Amber glared at him. “We?”
“I’m in danger, too, right?”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“Well then,” he said, and walked into her room.
Gritting her teeth, Amber followed, and locked her door.
“I’ll take first watch if you want,” said Glen, moving to the open window. “You can change any time now.”
Amber felt the blood drain from her face. “I shut that before I left,” she whispered.
Glen rested his hands on the sill. “Hey,” he said, “you can see Althea’s house from here.”
And then he was snatched away.
Amber screamed, found herself red-skinned before she knew what was happening. She ran to the window, looked out, saw nothing but heard laughter. She shut the window again, made sure the latch was secure, and closed the curtains. She pushed the dresser in front of the door. Finally, she dragged the bedclothes into the corner and sat, the duvet held tightly to her chin.
Something scraped against her door. Fingernails.
Someone whispered through the keyhole.
Amber waited for morning.
SHE DIDN’T SLEEP.
She was tired and her eyes wanted to close, but she didn’t sleep, not with Glen having been snatched away, not with Milo missing, not with those … people out there. Nor did she change back. She kept her horns and fangs and talons, as much of a comfort to her as a gun to a soldier.
A half-hour before dawn, the silence left the hotel. Amber heard footsteps in the room above. She heard a window close in the room below. They were returning.
When dawn broke the darkness, the curtains let through a few weak strands of early morning sunlight. Gradually, she heard the sounds of normality seep through the floorboards. Doors opening and closing. Voices bidding each other good morning.
She waited until seven, until the sun was up and the day had properly begun. She got up. Opened the curtains. Cascade Falls lay fresh-faced before her.
She pushed the dresser back into place, and unlocked her door. When nobody came rushing in, she took a deep breath, and felt her horns retract.
She stepped out, careful to move as quietly as possible. She crept to Milo’s room, reached for the handle, but the door opened before she touched it.
Amber yelped, and Milo jumped back.
“Jesus,” he breathed, scowling at her.
She pushed by him, into the room.
“Where were you?” she whispered.
He looked at the open door, then at her, and then he closed it. “I’m sorry?”
“Last night, you disappeared. You took the car.”
He nodded. “Veronica wanted to go for a ride. She’d never been in a Charger before. Why?”