Touched by Darkness

Micah Richards

Description

Ambitious and career driven, Chris Blevins is the youngest anchor in the history of Channel 9 news. He has succeeded where others have failed. Now his hard work has paid off. He's given the promotion of a lifetime to Editor in Chief at his company's newspaper. His boss, Chandler Preston has taken a personal interest in him. He has also found the woman of his dreams. Things could not be more right. That is until a night in the woods changes his life forever. Vampires and werewolves, once thought to be myth and legends, are horrifically all too real.

Sujets

• Micah Richards
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 10 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669846161
• Langue: English

Extrait

“A MASTERWORK... HORROR WRITING OF THE HIGHEST ORDER.”
~Jon Land USA TODAY Bestselling Author of THE RISING





TOUCHED BY DARKNESS






MICAH RICHARDS



COPYRIGHT © 2023 BY MICAH RICHARDS.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CONTROL NUMBER:
2022916609
ISBN:
HARDCOVER
978-1-6698-4618-5
SOFTCOVER
978-1-6698-4617-8
EBOOK
978-1-6698-4616-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and political figures are intended to give the story a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual private persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.




Rev. date: 05/10/2023





Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
805403



CONTENTS
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE

Chapter 1 Sent For
Chapter 2 Family
Chapter 3 Deception
Chapter 4 Welcome Home
Chapter 5 Dinner Date
Chapter 6 The Attack
Chapter 7 The Introduction
Chapter 8 The Confession
Chapter 9 The Gift
Chapter 10 A New Life
Chapter 11 The Escape
Chapter 12 Tough Choices
Chapter 13 Trapped Into Service
Chapter 14 The Hit
Chapter 15 Hurry, Hurry
Chapter 16 The Arrest
Chapter 17 The Wild Blue Yonder

NATALIE’S POEM
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR



DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my Grandmother, Helen Richards.
For always believing in me. To my wife, Natalie for her patience
during the process of writing this book. And to my children:
Chandler, Madison, and Hannah for their sacrifice and
understanding while I completed this work.
I love you so much!



PROLOGUE



PROLOGUE
The dark figure prowled the barren moonlit streets moving swiftly toward a large Victorian house. Its black trench coat hung low, attempting to conceal an expensive tailored suit and fine Italian leather shoes. With each advancing step, rang the tapping ping of its silver-tipped cane. This was the night he would call upon a young man who had earned his attention.
The man stretched his hands out at his sides, the cane dangling from his fingertips, and the blue of his eyes ran black as he gazed up at an endless sea of darkness. “ Pe de negura întunericului mă duc .” His voice was reverent and commanding, brimming with authority. In the mystery of his power, the man collapsed into a milky white fog.
Gracefully the mist crept. In a snaking motion, it slithered over the old Victorian’s fresh cut lawn and pooled around the rose trusses. Plank by plank the milky substance worked its way up the side of the house and seeped through the cracks around the old eight paned window.
Inside, the fog twisted and twirled like a vortex, then vanished revealing a shadowy creature, standing in the darkest corner of the room, watching. A young man lay shivering, struggling to sleep in the bitter cold brought on by the creature’s presence. The creature watched the man’s chest rise and fall with each labored breath, listening to the sound of his beating heart thumping beneath his ribcage. It was almost musical. The creature sneered, glaring at its restless prey. “ Dormi ,” it hissed. Swiftly, the young man drifted from a state of consciousness into the fray which lies somewhere in between. As the young man slept under the creature’s veil, it hissed a new command, “ Creştere ,” and its prey levitated off the bed in supine fashion.
The shadowy creature emerged from the darkness and silently approached the foot of the bed. In the moonlight, the creature had the appearance of a man, yet nothing quite human. It paused to study the young man’s features, then clasped his toes in its icy hands. As the creature eased its way toward the headboard, it ran its elongated fingernails along the man’s bare thigh, stomach, chest, and neck, finally caressing the contours of his face.
“Hear me,” the creature whispered. Its voice was soft, yet still, it rumbled the young man’s soul. “Hear these words of truth and admonition. For in time, that which I divulge in this hour, you shall come to accept. For I have staked my claim on you. And it shall come to pass that you shall kneel at my feet and serve my purpose. Upon your rebirth, the uttering’s I make this night shall surface, baring the truth of what I am.” The creature wrapped its long slender fingers around the young man’s head, almost cradling it. “For I have always been with man’s head, almost cradling it. “For I have always been with you. It is I who develops the deepest desires creeping through your mind. It is I who breeds your darkest emotions: anxiety, despair, fear, greed... lust. I’m the one you have been warned about all of your life, and I am here.”
The creature’s whispers traveled through the young man’s mind with no means of escape. Instead, the menacing rant subjoined deep into the subconscious caverns of the man’s mind, settling with the many distressing dreams of his past. The creature leaned in close, examining the large pulsating artery along the man’s neck. As its razor-sharp fangs filled its mouth, a click came from the hallway. Someone turned on the light, its brightness breaking through the cracks around the door of the young man’s bedroom. The creature’s dark eyes cut hard over its broad shoulders.
The intrusion had thwarted his opportunity, driving him to anger. The creature scoffed in frustration as it flicked its fingers, sending the young man back to his mattress. Studying the light for a moment, the creature sneered as the shadow of two dark feet approached and stood silently in the light’s blinding beams. A hiss escaped the clinched razored teeth of the creature as it violently spun into a milky fog, swiftly slithering over and under the man’s bed, and back toward the window. “Soon,” the voice rumbled throughout the young man’s soul.
“Soon...”



SENT FOR



CHAPTER ONE
SENT FOR
I’ve laid in bed many nights staring at the ceiling. Sleep was elusive. The moment I’d start to drift the tiniest noise would snap me awake––the settling of the house, a perched owl outside my window, even the slow, steady drip from the shower head down the hall. It was a wonder I managed to be productive from day to day. However, I can honestly say, I felt fine. Even though my eyes carried the telltale signs of exhaustion, I managed.
The studio makeup specialist, Kaye, earned her paycheck covering up all the luggage I’ve been toting around. Though the hours were sometimes long and demanding, I loved being a reporter. I’ve worked extremely hard to deliver the best stories for our station. I knew exactly what my viewing audience wanted to hear and what the producers were looking for when I put a story together. Without a doubt, I could say I’ve succeeded where my predecessors before me have failed.
Come to think of it, I was reminded that I needed to speak to Craig. Craig Palmer was my boss. I had needed to speak to him for some time now about a raise. At a mere 24 years old, I was the youngest news anchor in Channel 9’s history and making a field reporter’s salary just didn’t cut it anymore. I needed the extra cash so I could get out of renting my one room apartment from Ms. White. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed a few of the benefits which came from staying there, but it was time for me to move into a real place. I knew once I was gone, I’d miss the homemade suppers she had been preparing for me. Every night she placed them outside my room on a covered antique tray, because by the time I’d get home, she would have long since gone to bed. Admittedly, though, I did get in a bit late. I couldn’t imagine how long she’d lived in the house, but it suited her well. By the style of her well-kept furniture, the discolored wallpaper, and the light scent of moth balls, it appeared as though she had lived here most of her life.
Ms. White had the only Victorian house left here on Edisto Island. All of the others had taken terrible beatings over the years from the many hurricane seasons. They fell apart one after another until they were all gone. I’ve been told the demise of the other old homes was in large part due to poor maintenance and repairs after the big storms had passed. But this house is and has been well loved and cared for. It wasn’t completely without its maintenance issues, but all together, I’d say it had been treated more like a home than a house. Over the years, Ms. White had collected a lot of noisy ticktocking clocks and porcelain knickknacks. And though I believed them to be somewhat tacky, it was obvious they were important to her. These delicately handcrafted figurines were carefully placed all over her large, well-kept home, and collectively they revealed the history of her life’s travels.
I’ve oft