And Soon Comes the Darkness Read online

  It was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol.

  With a reassured chuckle, she went back to her manuscript, eating while she read.

  For whatever reason, she actually began to see progress in her work as she steadily clicked away on the keyboard. There was certainly an element of spookiness revealing itself out of nowhere from the plot, but she liked where it was headed and kept writing, not caring that it was already late or that she was exhausted.

  Her glasses were low on her nose, hair thrown messily into a bun on top of her head, her mouth set in a grim line of determination. It was while her fingers danced along the keys, so quickly there were almost sparks spewing forth from her fingertips, when she heard two loud creaks from the deck in the back.

  Heavy creaks.

  Like footsteps.

  Cora remembered how she had drawn the curtains back earlier… and how she’d forgotten to close them.

  This left her feeling very vulnerable and exposed.

  An eerie sensation washed over her.

  She felt them. Eyes. Eyes fixated on her. Eyes burning with anticipation.

  Was she being watched?

  Cora didn’t want to check. She was afraid of what she might find, but as if she had no control of her own movements, she cautiously looked over her shoulder, inch by inch, mentally preparing herself for something horrible.

  But when she faced the sliding glass door, all she saw was her own reflection.

  She jumped to her feet, her legs almost giving out after being bent beneath her on the chair for so long, and rushed to the back to shut the curtains.

  Stop it. You’re doing it again.

  There’s nothing out there. It’s just the wind or a wild animal.

  Keep writing! You’re finally going to make your wordcount.

  She backed away from the glass and shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist.

  Maybe she would have felt better if she had an alarm system.

  Or a gun.

  You don’t even know how to shoot a gun.

  There is NOTHING out there.

  Cora reluctantly sat back down.

  And that was when she saw it. The doorknob on the front door was turning.

  Slowly.

  Right, then left.

  Left, then right.

  Paralyzed, her blood ran cold.

  She wasn’t imagining it. Someone was at her door.

  Cora did the first thing she could think of and ran to the wall to switch off the lights.

  Then she stumbled over to the desk, crouched low, and grabbed her phone, sandwiching herself between the sofa and the wall and hastily dialing 9-1-1. But to her utter dismay, the little bar of reception in the left-hand corner flickered on and off and then disappeared entirely, replaced with the dreaded “No Service.” The reception was never good in the mountains, but she had yet to have none at all. Perhaps the storm the night before had knocked out the tower.

  She peeked over the arm of the sofa, noticing the doorknob had stopped turning. Although she was frightened of what awaited, Cora had to know what was out there. The morbid curiosity made it impossible for her to stay still. She crawled over to the closest window and millimeter by millimeter, nudged the curtain aside.

  There were footprints in the snow running along the front porch.

  Large, deep outlines of shoes that were unmistakable.

  Calm down.

  Cora heard the small panes of glass on the door shatter and clank to the floor. She darted over to the kitchen and grabbed one of the knives from her knife block and edged backward into the living room, her eyes widening in horror as a gloved hand reached through the broken shards and began groping for the doorknob.

  She knew she only had moments before the intruder would be standing inside her house.

  You have to go outside, go back down the mountain. Call for help.

  Cora took one last look at the hand just before it grasped the doorknob to unlock it. Without a second thought, she fled to the sliding glass door leading to the back deck. She violently yanked it open, but every few inches, the heavy door would catch on the metal tracks, forcing her to pull harder in desperation while she stared at the front door as it slowly opened.

  With a final heave, the door jostled back enough to allow her to slip through. Once outside, Cora inhaled sharply when harsh, icy air blasted her body, her robe and pajamas ill-fitted to protect her from the bitter cold.

  She whirled around and saw a tall, dark figure move through the front door. Terrified, Cora spun away from the cabin and toward the trees.

  But if she wasn’t prepared for the cold that greeted her moments before, her bare feet were even less ready as she clumsily stumbled through the thick snow coating the mountain. As soft as it was, the snow burned the soles of her feet, mushing in between her toes, and up around her ankles and shins.

  Cora ducked behind a tree, pausing to lean against the trunk as she lifted one foot at a time to give it a momentary reprieve from the pain.

  She looked down the mountain, realizing she had so much further to go before she got to the main road.

  In the distance, the flickering sign for the gas station where she had filled up her rental car after picking up groceries now seemed galaxies away, a little speck of light nearly lost amidst a backdrop of pine trees and winding roads, the only piece of civilization between her and the town below.

  She groaned and rubbed her feet, trying to get the blood flowing again. They hurt so much.

  She wouldn’t make it far. Not without shoes and the proper clothes.

  You have to go back.

  Her car was sitting inside the garage. If she could get to it without being seen, she could drive down the mountain and get help.

  She pawed at the pockets on her robe, then remembered that the house keys were in her bedroom on her dresser where she always left them.

  Cora, you idiot. Of course they’re inside. Who carries their car keys in their house robe?

  Her feet and hands growing numb, she glanced back at the house.

  Maybe he’s gone. He was just a thief. He took what he wanted and left.

  Cora dug her fingernails into the rough bark of the pine tree, her body shaking uncontrollably.

  Could she risk it?

  She looked over her shoulder, back down the mountain. Her teeth were clattering together loudly, and she could feel herself growing drowsy.

  In sub-zero temperatures, she wouldn’t survive if she stayed outside much longer. Hypothermia would set in, and she’d be dead before she even made it to the bottom of the mountain, much less the nearest town.

  You don’t have a choice. Either you go back, or you die.

  Her eyes filled with tears, but they froze as they trickled down her cheeks.

  She turned back to the cabin and cautiously made her way from one tree to the next, using the trunks as cover.

  The cabin seemed deceptively cozy as she approached it, warm light filtering through the curtains. The intruder must have turned the lights back on to see what he could steal.

  Cora cursed him under her breath.

  How long has it been? Did you give him enough time to take what he wanted and get out?

  You can’t wait any longer. You can’t.

  She swayed closer to the cabin until she was standing a few feet from the porch.

  The front door was slightly ajar. Cora stared at it long and hard, trying to focus. Her mind grew fuzzy, the freezing temperature sending her into delirium.

  She wondered if she was going crazy, envisaging an intruder had broken into her home, when it was nothing more than her imagination getting the best of her.

  Taking tentative steps forward, she found herself standing at the entrance of the cabin.

  Her feet were completely numb; she didn’t notice that there were shards of glass beneath them, cutting into her frozen flesh.

  She edged the door open a bit further and stood there, holding the knife out in front of her, at war with herself.
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  Am I losing my mind?

  The sound of a cabinet drawer being slammed shut deeper in the cabin answered the question for her.

  No. No, you are not.

  The direness of her situation snapped her out of her stupor, and she stumbled backward, falling down the steps of the porch, but quickly springing back to her feet and running for cover at the side of the house.

  Bloody footsteps trailed behind her, but Cora didn’t have time to examine her wounds.

  She smashed her body against the wood siding.

  Where is he?

  Clenching her jaw so that her teeth would stop clattering, Cora leaned over to a window and tried to see through the slit in the curtains.

  A tall, thin man dressed in black from head to toe had his back to her.

  Cora gasped and crouched under the window.

  Yes, there’s a bad guy in your house. You don’t have time to be surprised.

  She had to get those keys. Short of having the upper hand on him with the element of surprise and winning a knife fight she obviously wasn’t trained for, there was no other option.

  Maybe she could sneak in through another window.

  Cora tried to recollect which, if any, might be open.

  Then she remembered leaving the bathroom window cracked just a sliver. It was an old habit she had done in every house she’d ever lived in, to keep fresh air circulating.

  She stood and darted around the side of the cabin until she reached the bathroom.

  Her fingers, bright red, pried the window open as stealthily as possible. But the window was high, perhaps too high, for her to be able to hoist herself up and through it.

  Cora searched around and found a large ceramic potted plant, one that, judging from its brittle, shriveled branches, had been forgotten a long time ago. She flipped the planter over and carefully climbed on top.

  Heaving her body over the metal ledge and wriggling her shoulders through the small space, Cora finally freed herself and ungracefully tumbled onto the plush bathmat below.

  She clung to the edge of the bathtub, waiting for the intruder to run in and find her.

  But after a minute and the constant sound of cabinets closing and objects being moved around, Cora concluded he hadn’t heard her.

  She looked at her feet and hands, how they were swollen and red. She flexed them a little, prickliness the only sensation she could feel as she warmed.

  It’s okay. You’re alive.

  Now get those keys.

  She rose on unsteady legs and quietly made her way into the bedroom. As silently as she could manage, Cora began to close the bedroom door leading into the living room. She could see the man still rifling through the contents in the drawers.

  After flipping the flimsy lock on the cheap gold doorknob, she took a chair from beside her dresser and jammed it under the doorknob.

  You’re doing great. He doesn’t know you’re here.

  Cora backed up until her legs hit the bedframe, and she waited there, her chest heaving, expecting the stranger to burst through the door at any second.

  Yet there was nothing but silence, painful, dreadful, ominous silence.

  Then she heard a creak from behind her, from the closet.

  Cora stopped breathing, and her eyes looked to her periphery.

  The last thing she thought before she blacked out was that she had been wrong this whole time.

  There were two of them.

  Chapter 3

  “R ise and shine.”

  Cora stiffened in her chair, suddenly alert. All at once, she remembered what had happened, how two intruders had interrupted her quiet mountain retreat, violating the safe space of her snowed-in domicile, her private sanctuary.

  As her vision sharpened, a man came into view, dressed completely in black. He was tall and thin, dressed in a thick parka, a hood pulled low over his face, almost obscuring his features.

  “She’s awake,” he called out.

  “Shit. Knock her out again,” a female answered from another room.

  “Please,” Cora managed. “Don’t hurt me.”

  The man knelt down, still several feet away from her. He sighed. “Hurting you was never part of the plan. You weren’t even supposed to be here.”

  She looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Then let me go.”

  He shook his head.

  Cora chewed on the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit. She wanted to ask him, but she was afraid of the answer.

  Just ask. What do you have to lose at this point?

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  He responded more quickly than she’d expected, showing her he had considered the various possibilities of her fate. “I don’t know. If I cut you loose, you’ll go to the police.”

  “No, I won’t. I promise.”

  He grunted.

  A woman appeared from the bedroom. “What the hell are you doing? We don’t have time for this.” In one of her hands was a black duffel bag while the other held a gold locket Cora had left on her nightstand.

  Unlike the man, his companion wasn’t wearing a hoodie. She had a beanie drawn over her head, long, dark hair swept into a low ponytail. Her eyes were light blue, a stark contrast against her raven hair and pale skin. She might have been beautiful once, but over time, her features had become harsh and pointy, and the glint in her eyes failed to hide a palpable cruelty.

  “I told you someone was home, but you wanted to risk it, and now this bitch has seen our faces,” the woman shouted as she turned and stormed back into Cora’s bedroom.

  You’re in deep shit.

  Cora searched the room in desperation, her gaze settling on her cell phone which was now located on the kitchen counter.

  That’s it.

  She so rarely received calls from anyone outside of her agent, and he knew she was holed up in her cabin, diligently working to finish her next bestseller. To make sure she was on track with her deadlines, he rang her every night, and she never missed one of his calls. If Cora didn’t answer tonight, he would certainly sense something was wrong and send the police to check on her.

  It was a shot in the dark, the only glimmer of hope she could hold onto for now.

  Until then, she needed time.

  Cora’s eyes met Damon’s. “Please. I’ll give you whatever you want. I have money. And a safe,” she blurted. But her face blanched when she realized she’d said too much.

  When she’d promised something she shouldn’t have.

  She was aware of this, somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, the part of her mind that wasn’t focused on her survival.

  The man cocked his head, pushing back his hood in interest. He had dark hair and similar features as the woman, but his gray eyes remained stoic and his expression measured and calm. “A safe? Where is it?”

  “I… I can’t tell you,” Cora replied sheepishly, lowering her head.

  “Where?” he reiterated.

  She said nothing and stared at the ground, listening to the woman tear apart her room looking for valuables.

  “Look,” the man began, interrupting her thoughts. He cast a quick look over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “You need to tell me where it is. My sister…” He leaned in ever so slightly, as if he was going to confide in her. “She isn’t as… understanding.”

  Sister.

  So this was a brother-sister job.

  To Cora, he sounded genuine, almost as if he was pleading with her to let him help her so his sister couldn’t force him to do something he clearly didn’t want to do.

  But before she could respond, his sister stomped back in. “Did you not hear me the first time?”

  She glared at Cora, then back at her brother. “Are you talking to her?” she barked incredulously.

  The man looked at his hands, refusing to make eye contact with her. Although he dwarfed her in size, his body language made it almost seem as though he was… afraid?

  “Marisa… I was just trying to figure ou
t where she kept her money.”

  The woman reared her hand back and slapped him hard. “You dumbass. Now she knows my name. No wonder dad never respected you. You couldn’t find your way out of a paper bag.” She gestured around them. “She’s a big shot writer. There are only so many places to hide money in this cabin. If you don’t start helping me search for it, I’m just going to off the two of you for wasting my time.”

  Both Cora and the man gaped at her. “You need to calm down. You know how shit goes down when you get overly emotional,” the man chastised.

  “Oh, spare me the high and mighty, Damon. You’re just as rotten as me.” She rested a hand on her hip smugly. “Now she knows both our names. If we get caught, you’re going down with me, little brother.”

  Cora watched as Damon reluctantly went over to examine the shelves in the living room, shaking his head in disapproval. When Marisa was satisfied that he was actually going to help her, she retreated back into the bedroom.

  Damon and Marisa.

  His gloved fingers slid across the bookshelves, then rubbed the dust between his thumb and forefinger. He paused in front of the shelf that held all of her published books. Pulling one out, he scanned the front cover, then began reading the back.

  Cora studied him from the corner of her eye, noticing that as he continued to read, his eyebrows would subtly raise with interest.

  “You write thrillers?”

  She nodded slowly. “Mostly.”

  He returned the book to the shelf, then took out another. “I like horror. But I don’t read much. I like movies better. Ever done any movies?”

  “Not yet. But my agent says there’s rumor of a Netflix deal with one of my series.”

  “You’ve got to be making good money then. Or you will be,” he mused.

  “Maybe.”

  “It must be nice, being rich. Being able to afford whatever you want. Go wherever you feel like going.”

  Cora detected the slightest bit of vitriol, or maybe jealousy, in his tone. She nodded. “I’ve worked hard to get to where I am.”

  Damon’s face shot up from reading. “So you’re saying if you don’t have money, you aren’t working hard enough?”

  Cora shook her head quickly. “No,” she backpedaled. The last thing she wanted to do was anger him. “I’m just saying I’ve worked hard to be successful.” She thought for a moment. “And I’m not even that successful, not like Stephen King or anyone.”