The Night House Read online

  The sole of a shoe poked out from under the bush. Taya froze.

  George’s shoe. Attached to George’s leg. Attached to his body under a bush.

  “He’s not dead.” A deep voice spoke behind her.

  She whirled around.

  A Tarka.

  The Tarka.

  She’d recognize the beautiful beast from the supply cart anywhere. He stood well over six intimidating feet with a powerful build from a lifetime of training. Where the hell had he come from?

  The Tarka held perfectly still, gray gaze flashing, platinum-blond hair shining under the setting sun. He looked like a warrior angel sent to Earth to smite the pest-like humans.

  She clutched her staff and brought it up with numb fingers.

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “You plan to fight me with a stick?”

  “I can hand it over and tell you what to do with it, if you promise to follow directions.” She moved the stick slowly. Not fast enough to give away her skill, but enough to warm her wrists and get blood flowing back into her limbs.

  “I’ll take option number one, thank you,” he said.

  Praise for novels of J. C. McKenzie

  Shift Happens

  “SHIFT HAPPENS has excitement, intrigue and lots of danger. I love the whole cast of characters and how they played a part in the story” –Fresh Fiction

  Beast Coast

  “I loved this book as much as the first. There are secrets, surprises, and all manner of supernaturals.” –Paranormal Romance Guild

  Carpe Demon

  “The story keeps the adrenaline pumping and spine tingling tension building throughout the story with well written scenes full of vivid details that capture the imagination and make it easy for the reader to become engrossed...” –Literary Addicts Book Community

  Shift Work

  “It’s a terrific series and if you like supernatural reads, with a side of romance, the sort with solid and intense plots, gripping and very real dangers, hard choices, supernatural people some of whom can be selfish, cruel and bloodthirsty…You’ll be hooked.” –Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews

  Beast of All

  “This time out, J. C. McKenzie has outdone herself with high-velocity action, soul deep emotions and one of those finishes that you want to replay over and over!” –Tome Tender

  Dangerous Dreams

  “This new world promises to be an adventurous one full of snark, passion, thrills, romance, danger and wonderful characters and I can’t wait to read the next one.” –Stormy Vixen Reviews

  Dangerous Liaisons

  “Loved this story and loved Raf and strong, stubborn Lara and I can’t overlook Lara’s dragon who brought humor to this story.” –Paranormal Romance Guild

  The Good Griffin

  “THE GOOD GRIFFIN is as addictive as a double shot of espresso, only without any of the withdrawal symptoms.” –N. N. Light

  The Shucker’s Booktique

  “Is there anything sexier than a man who wants to do more than just twine his aura together with another woman? Because if there is I simply don’t know if I can handle that kind of blatant sexuality.” –Romance Novels For The Beach

  Be My Love

  “When this book ended I think I actually sighed. Not because I was happy it was over! No, it was just so darn sweet I couldn’t help it." –Romance Novels for the Beach

  Books by J. C. McKenzie

  Shift Happens

  Beast Coast

  Carpe Demon

  Shift Work

  Beast of All

  Dangerous Dreams

  Dangerous Liaisons

  The Good Griffin

  The Night House

  The Shucker’s Booktique

  Be My Love

  THE NIGHT HOUSE

  J. C. McKENZIE

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

  The Night House

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by J. C. McKenzie

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art: Jacqueline Sweet

  Poem: J. C. McKenzie

  Internal Design Elements: Yana Zemliana

  Raven Graphic: Susana Herrera

  Warrior Graphic: Dusan Kostic

  Forest Graphic: Anna Subbotina

  Sword Graphic: Katja Piolka

  Publishing History:

  First JCM Publications Edition, 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7752251-7-1 (Digital)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7752251-6-4 (Print)

  To my daughter

  We named you after the last colour in the spectrum of light because you are the bright rainbow after a storm. It’s only fitting that I dedicate the first book I ever wrote to my last child. You will always be my rainbow baby and I will always love you.

  Author’s Note

  As I’m Canadian, and this story is set in Canada, I will subject all my fabulous readers to the wonderful, and sometimes confusing, world of Canadian spelling. We use a combination of British and American spelling in the True North. It’s “colour” not “color” and “organization” instead of “organisation.” We love the letters U and Z. Please keep this in mind when you’re reading. It’s not that I can’t spell or didn’t have a fabulous editor, it’s that I’m demonstrating complex Canadian spelling.

  Also of note: Although we are technically a metric nation, our proximity to our American neighbours (see how I spelled that?) means we are well versed in the imperial system. Many of us still use feet and inches to describe our height and pounds for our weight. I’m not being inconsistent in my world building, I’m being realistic and reflective of the community I was born and raised in.

  Canadians…we’re complex and full of layers.

  Like onions.

  What I had, is no more.

  Gone because of them.

  Discarded to the depths of hell,

  Painting dirt a dusty crimson.

  I look back at the past,

  As something I should’ve cherished.

  Now, only memories,

  Those realities have perished.

  Chapter One

  The Reaping

  August, Vancouver Island, Before Arkavia (BA)

  Taya stood knee-deep in a glacial-cold river with a beer in one hand and watched the world end. Of course she didn’t know at the time the wall of sparkling blue dust moving rapidly through the evergreen forest like some sort of science fiction force field heralded the collapse of society. Instead, she mocked her drunk girlfriends from the river while her feet grew numb.

  A sonic boom reverberated through the woods followed by a whoosh of fragrant summer air. Taya’s platinum-blonde hair flung back and her eyes watered. She turned to the source.

  “What the fuck is that?” Amy dropped an armful of firewood in a heap and brushed dirt from her shirt.

  A wall of blue ballooned out and barrelled toward them through the now-still trees.

  “Quick, Taya. Use some of that Ninjutsu against it,” Michelle yelled out, slurring her words a little.

  The women laughed.

  “It’s not Ninjutsu.” Amy threw her hands on her hips in what must be her impersonation of Taya. She flicked her brown curls out of her face.

  “It’s Kung Fu.” All her girlfriends recited in unison before erupting into peals of laughter. Ashley and Monica made terrible karate kicks at one another an
d shrieked, “Hiyaaaaaaaaah.”

  Technically, Kung Fu was only one of the styles she trained in, but there was no name for the style her father taught. She gave up trying to explain the finer intricacies of martial arts and fighting styles to her friends long ago.

  Taya pointed her beer bottle at them. The bitter smell of booze tickled her nose. “Laugh all you want now, ladies, but when the zombie apocalypse happens, you’ll beg to be my best friend.”

  Ashley snorted. “We’re already your best friends, you—”

  Her words cuts off. The blue wave had reached them.

  It hit Amy first. The serene fairy-like mist glittered under the summer sun and travelled through Taya’s friend in slow-motion. The last expression on her face was one of horror. She crumbled into a small pile of reddish dust.

  No sound. No shrieks of agony or crack of bones. One moment she stood there gaping, and the next, she was ash.

  Monica screamed. Then Ashley. Both their cries cut off the moment the wave reached them and turned them to dust. Michelle glanced at Taya.

  They smiled at each other, a sad smile that said everything in their hearts. This was it. Taya would die here. In the forest with her best friends. She gulped.

  The wave hit.

  Taya’s skin vibrated. Her gut twisted. Her heart spasmed. The floral pine scented wave passed through.

  She still stood in the shallow glacial water. Her heart raced. She patted down her body. Still here. Boobs still there. Her friends? She whipped around to face them and her breathing stopped.

  Piles of ash sat around the campsite where her friends stood moments ago.

  The blue wave spared Taya, but it took everything from her in one fell swoop. She sank to her knees. The cold water rushed past, just as it had before, as if nothing had changed. The river kept running, the trees swayed and even the birds chirped.

  The hoppy taste of beer turned sour in her mouth. She threw the bottle to the side where it smashed against the rocks. With a wail, she scrambled up the river bank. She reached Ashley’s crimson-gray remains first. The ash, dry and slightly warm, flittered through her fingers. The soft scent of wild roses slid along her skin. A sob wracked her body.

  This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. How could it be? Had she drank too much on the first night of camping? Was this some sort of sick booze-induced nightmare?

  The rocks poking out from the packed dirt dug into her exposed knees. The cold river water still dripped from her skin.

  No. This was real.

  There was no rewind button for this horror show.

  Whatever swept through the forest targeted her friends. Why was she spared when they weren’t? Was she some sort of statistical anomaly? A mathematical remainder from someone’s deadly calculations?

  Taya swiped her hair from her face. Her parents hadn’t raised her to be soft. She needed to steel herself from this moment and survive.

  She pulled her numb body from the ground and brushed off the dirt clinging to her shins and shorts. The death wave was well on its way south from here.

  South.

  Toward her home. Her parents. Her brother. They weren’t close. They had time. Maybe the blue wave wouldn’t reach them. Maybe it would fizzle out. Maybe she had time to warn them.

  She scrambled to her phone. She fumbled the device in her shaking hands. It slipped through her fingers and smacked the ground. She scooped it up and pressed the screen. Nothing. Tap. Tap. Still nothing. She flipped it around in her hands. No damage. No cracked screen. She tried again. Dead.

  She found Amy’s phone next. Dead. She tried the others. None of the electronics had any battery power. They were all dead. Like her friends.

  Foreboding clamped around her body, locking it straight. What the hell was going on?

  She raced to Monica’s truck and grabbed the keys from under the driver’s seat. She slid the key into the ignition and turned. Nothing. Not even a sputtering engine. She tried again. Silence greeted her.

  What. The. Fuck.

  No engine sounds. None of the lights came on to flash a silent “fuck you” like they normally would when she did something stupid like leave her lights on.

  Was the blue death wave some sort of magical electromagnetic pulse? Didn’t an EMP only work on technology when it was running? Chills racked her body. Her knowledge of anything techie like that was limited to what she saw in movies and read in books.

  The cabin of the truck closed in on her. She needed to get out. Her lungs hurt. She threw open the door and leapt from the vehicle. She stumbled on the dirt and her knee slammed into the gravel.

  Breathe.

  Focus.

  Think.

  The empty campsite greeted her. She couldn’t stay here. Not with her friends lying in piles of dust and some unknown force sweeping through the trees and obliterating people in a single pass. Staying in the campsite left her vulnerable and exposed.

  What if more death waves came? What if something more deadly followed? Icy shivers ran up her spine until it gripped her skull.

  Hell if she’d sit around and wait. She pulled her numb body from the ground, brushed her legs off and straightened. Her parents pushed her to excel not just in school, but a variety of martial arts. She needed to rely on her training now and think smart.

  Okay, brain. Think.

  The death wave originated somewhere to the north. Whatever caused it lay in that direction. She’d head south. She glanced at the river. The glittering clear water flowed past the campsite, mocking her with its carefree frolic along the rocks. Leaf-dappled sunlight cascaded down and danced along the rippling surface.

  The only difference between her and her friends was she stood in the flowing water while they were on dry land. Had the river saved her? Were the icy depths of glacier run-off the reason her life was spared?

  Taya found her backpack and gathered her camping gear in record time. Setting up the tent had taken an hour and three beers. Not because Taya couldn’t do it, but because she’d chatted with her friends and they’d teased each other mercilessly. This much-needed girls’ trip started with laughter and love.

  Taya sniffed. Okay, here are the tears. She let them roll down her face.

  Only the subtle sounds of nature surrounded her as she packed her supplies. Did those birds mock her along with the river? How come they were spared, too, but not her friends? Was it only humans who were affected?

  She swung the heavy backpack onto her shoulders and snapped the chest and waist clasps. With her compact tent, food and a change of clothes, the thing weighed at least thirty or forty pounds. She eyed the gravel road they’d come in on. A gentle wind brushed over the ground and stirred up dirt. She turned to the campsite. The same gentle breeze teased the piles of ash that had been her friends. Her best friends.

  Should she dig them graves? She hesitated. They were already ash. Let nature free them. Let the Earth embrace them. The dust played in the soft wind, spreading across the campsite and into the bush before whispering across the river.

  The road would be an easier path, but more dangerous. She needed to stick by the water in case another blue wave came even though traveling along the riverbank required more energy. She didn’t know what to expect when she reached civilization.

  If any civilization remained.

  More fear. More chills. She rubbed her arms frantically. How far did the death wave go? Was anyone else spared?

  The river had saved her life. She was sure of it now. She walked through the campsite toward the river. The last remains of her friends danced in the air and brushed against her legs.

  Her tears stopped. She had no more to give. If it was within her power, though, if she ever faced the person responsible for the deaths of her friends, she’d avenge them. She’d gut the blue death wave wielder and make him or her pay.

  Chapter Two

  Apocalypse for One

  Taya wiped the sweat from her brow and leaned down to refill her water bottle from the icy river. Th
e warm air brought the sweet smells of sun-ripened berries. It had been two days since the death wave, and traveling along the rocky, jagged river bank had been as exhausting and unforgiving as she expected.

  Her backpack rested against the rocks nearby, looking significantly lighter than when she started this journey. Forgoing the beer, chips and hotdogs, there hadn’t been a lot of nutritious food left to choose from when she’d packed her bag. Her food stores ran low, but she wouldn’t panic. Not yet. When she drove into the wilderness with her friends, days ago, they’d passed a small town on their way to the camping ground.

  She had to make it to the town. She’d find a bigger backpack, stock up on supplies and find out what the hell was going on. In the meantime, she rationed and questioned her decision making. Should she turn back? Should she have taken the wieners and risked them going bad without a cooler? The campsite she left had tons of junk food remaining from the ill-fated girls’ trip, sitting where she left it, unattended.

  She hesitated. No. Knowing her luck, scavengers already raided the supplies and she’d end up worse off than she was now. She had to be close to the town.

  She drank some water as the river rushed by her bare legs and the hot summer sun beat down on her. Dragonflies zoomed over the surface of the water, butterflies fluttered around the fragrant wild flowers lining the banks and cicadas sang from their lofty perches on the neighbouring conifers. So far, people and technology appeared to be the only casualties of the blue wave.

  A branch snapped. She froze.

  “Lookee what we have here,” a scratchy male voice spoke from behind her. “Another survivor.”

  She whirled around, her bare feet turning on slick river rocks. A man with a shaggy beard and greasy hair glared at her. Baggy clothes decorated with dirt and tears hung from his lean frame. The stench wafting off his skin hit her. Dirt, piss and body funk. He was too straggly for only two days into an apocalypse, or whatever this was. He had to be one of the homeless that lived along the river—the ones the tourist sites warned travellers about. Had the flowing water saved him, too? Another mathematical remainder?