The Living Darkness

By T. E. Harden

Fanatical cultists and their dark rituals threaten reluctant hero Cole Parrish's safety...and his sanity. Cole must fight the biggest bout of his amateur MMA career while navigating a perilous case brought to him by a mysterious woman from his past. The events that unfold over the course of a fateful week will define his future, if he survives.

The Living Darkness is the first book in the action-packed series The Parrish Chronicles. If you like fast-pace thrillers, heroes with heavy fists, and diabolical villains, then you love this high-voltage series from T. E. Harden.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543939255

Book preview

LATER

MONDAY MORNING

1.

Cole gasped for breath as he slammed to the ground, narrowly avoiding breaking his fall with his head.

Oh man, I’m sorry! Chester yelled, almost losing his balance as he tried to help Cole get up.

Easy, Chester! Cole said, laughing, as his huffing training partner pulled him up to his feet.

What the hell is going on?! Donzilla yelled from across the gym.

Cole and Chester froze and then waited an interminable time as Don threaded his way through the throng of guys on the mats.

The new Hierarchy MMA 5am Monday MMA class was packed. Probably because so many guys had fights this weekend. They would go hard tonight and tomorrow night, then the non-heavyweights would have to ramp up their cuts for the weigh-in Friday.

Cole was lucky in that regard. He kept himself at about 260, comfortably under the 265 upper limit that a lot of the promotions placed on the heavyweight class.

Suddenly Don’s broken nose was in his face, and Cole was glad that caffeine hadn’t fired Don up enough yet to really rip into him.

Don Dervy, aka Donzilla or sometimes the Vanilla Gorilla, was an imposing presence to have angry at you, even for someone Cole’s size. At 5’10" Don wasn’t terribly tall, but he was one giant muscle. It didn’t seem possible to pack so much meat on one person; even his bald head had a bulging look to it. On top of that, his crooked nose and slanted lips had never been properly fixed after his many fights, so he had the look of a person whose idea of a good time was lifting weights until he puked and then head-butting someone in the face.

Which really wasn’t that far off the truth.

Standing there with the veins popping out from his bald head, he directed his wrath at them. What the hell are you two clowns doing? C, you have a fight Saturday! Why are you teaching Chester a new throw?

I-I already know that throw! Chester exclaimed, not easily cowed; Cole had to hand that to him. On the other hand, the possibility did exist that he was just too dumb to be scared.

Donzilla looked at Chester like he had just told him he could flap his butt cheeks and fly up to the ceiling. If you ‘know that throw,’ why did you just drop C straight down to the mat from shoulder height?

Chester looked confused momentarily and then answered, I said I knew it, not that I was good at it.

Don’s look was even more incredulous, with a strong dose of indignation.

Cole realized how silly they looked next to each other standing there. His own body was carefully maintained and fit, ready for a five-round war this weekend. On the other hand, panting even after all this rest time, Chester’s belly was straining against his white belt. He was wearing his jiu-jitsu gi since he hadn’t bothered to buy a rash guard, his red hair and beard puffed out from his face in all directions, adding to his general impression of roundness and sloppiness.

Cole liked working with him, because it usually was good to train with someone close to his weight, even if he was a giant butterball. He was beginning to question this logic after that drop though.

A judo or jiu-jitsu throw, when done properly in practice, is a smooth motion that gives the person being thrown the time to fall correctly and minimize impact. However, when done Chester’s way, most throws seem to end up in the other guy being dumped from maximal height like a sack of potatoes.

Chester, Don started, and then paused and closed his eyes for a moment, visibly collecting himself with a deep breath. Never train with C the week of a fight again, okay?

Chester immediately nodded. He wasn’t a rocket scientist, but he was a good listener. His agreeable nature soothed Don a little.

Go work in with Jim and Sleepy Todd, okay? Under his breath, Donzilla said, Damn, for someone who pays attention so well, you think he’d learn something now and then.

Cole unsuccessfully tried to suppress a grin.

What are you smiling about, you dumb bastard? Don asked him. What the hell were you thinking?

Cole shrugged. He’s in my weight class.

"He’s in my weight class, Don mimicked in a higher voice. Damn! Here, follow me over here for a second. I wanted to talk to you anyway before we get into guard passes."

Okay, Cole answered, following him across to the side of the mats.

Hierarchy was a top-notch gym, one of the best in Detroit. The mat surface area was huge and clean, and the gym had both its own cage and boxing ring. Unlike a lot of MMA places, it was in an old warehouse instead of an industrial park. The high ceilings were a godsend when you had thirty sweaty guys grappling vigorously for a few summer hours.

When they reached the side of the mats, Don asked him, Are you sure you want that Jewish kid in your corner Saturday? He kept his voice low enough that no one else could hear the conversation.

Cole was surprised. I thought you liked David.

He’s okay.

Cole just looked at him.

Don rolled his eyes. Yeah, I do like him. He’s a little crazy, but he’s great to drink with. I’ve never seen anyone his size put down so much beer.

So what’s the problem?

Don kept a watchful eye on the mats. The problem is, he doesn’t know anything about fighting.

Cole raised an eyebrow. You’d be surprised.

Donzilla frowned. Maybe, he said doubtfully. But he doesn’t even seem to like MMA.

Yeah, he hates MMA.

Don stared at him, waiting for more. So?

He knew he owed Don an answer. He sighed. I’ve got you and Skip for technical help. Just something about having David around motivates me. Consider him my lucky charm.

Don looked skeptical, but seemed willing to let it go since he had said his piece. It’s your call, man. I’m just thinking about your future.

I know you are, Don, Cole answered with a smile.

The truth was, Donzilla probably cared more about his fighting future than Cole himself did. Don saw a potential future pro, maybe even a star.

What did Cole see?

He wasn’t sure, even though his fight this Saturday would probably be his last as an amateur if he won. The promoters were starting to get leery of booking him because, despite his box-office draw, he had a habit of pummeling their best fighters in title matches. Then what would happen once he went pro, as everyone assumed he would? They would be left trying to promote the shattered husks of their former stars as worthwhile headliners. Not a desirable job.

Plus, it was getting hard to get quality guys to commit to fighting him. As Don frequently said, guys with potential were a lot smarter about and more protective of their careers than they were in the old days. The take-on-all-comers attitude was as dead as black and white TV.

MMA was big business now.

Cole understood the kind of money that was out there. But he also understood that the real money was only there for a select few, and he had not worked his way through law school putting up drywall to make a living off getting his face beat in.

Despite the obstacles so far, he wanted his success to be as a lawyer.

All right, guys, line up! Don yelled, breaking Cole’s reverie.

He started to step back onto the mat to listen to Don’s instructions for the remainder of the class, when he felt a small hand tugging at a lonely dry corner of his shirt. Cole turned and looked down, thinking some noob wanted to ask him a question.

Instead, a five-foot-tall girl, with big brown eyes unsuccessfully hidden by a pair of round glasses, was staring up at him. I need to talk to you, she said quietly.

Cole hesitated, polite by nature. Uh, I’m kind of in the middle of training now.

I need help, she said, her voice almost a whisper as she nervously glanced around the room at pursuers who weren’t there. She lowered her voice so that he had to strain to hear it. It’s about a murder.

2.

They sat in Don’s small office amid fighting pads and dusty containers of protein powder. Donzilla had not been thrilled about Cole’s ducking out of practice, but something about Cole’s body language must have shown him it was important.

They sat awkwardly for a few moments, the girl looking around the room as if for something that might delay her having to talk.

Finally, Cole said, Shouldn’t you be going to the police if someone was murdered?

She didn’t answer directly. Do you remember me? she asked.

Cole’s blank face was all the answer that was necessary.

It’s Jackie, Jackie Carlino, she said, a note of disappointment in her voice.

He frowned. I feel bad, but… He trailed off as he realized what the answer had to be. Did we go to high school together?

Yes! I knew you’d remember me, she said with a smile that really lit up her face. She was one of those sneakily good-looking girls. Not the type to turn a lot of heads, but actually quite attractive.

Of course, he said, hoping it sounded more convincing than it felt. The name was vaguely familiar, but other than that he remembered nothing about her. Still, he would help her if he could.

Although he seriously doubted he could if there was a murder involved. He waited to see what she would say.

Jackie looked around the room again for a few moments, eyes lighting for a moment on a particularly bloody photo of Donzilla after the five-round war that was his last fight, and then swallowed. I’ve been seeing promos for your next fight on TV. ‘The Terminator: Michigan’s Most Decorated Amateur Fighter.’ Is that true? She looked at him with what appeared to be genuine curiosity.

Cole nodded.

But you don’t look anything like Arnold Schwarzenegger, she said cautiously.

He chuckled. Yeah, it’s not a looks thing. In response to the question in her eyes, he continued with a sigh. "To me, the nickname is a little pretentious. But I had some early fights where I was getting my ass kicked, and I wouldn’t stop coming forward. They said it was like The Terminator."

Did you win? she asked.

I’ve never lost.

She looked impressed. So it’s true about you being the ‘most decorated amateur fighter’ in Michigan?

He shrugged. That’s what the promoter says. I haven’t looked into it myself, but I assume he is right. I doubt anyone has won more belts than me anyway, particularly in the heavyweight division. He paused and then added, I’ve won eight.

Her brown eyes widened. Eight?

Cole smiled and shifted in the chair self-consciously. He enjoyed fighting more than talking about it. "It’s not that impressive. MMA promotions spring up like weeds around here. I could probably fight for a different belt every week."

No kidding? she asked, sounding surprised.

He sighed. Yeah, some of them are real fly-by-night organizations too. They have huge cards to fill and no real fighters, so they pick up guys off the street with a couple weeks’ training, maybe none. Those are more like tough man competitions than MMA fights. I won’t do them.

Cole paused to see how she was taking all of this. Women’s reactions tended to range from finding the whole enterprise barbaric to the fight groupies who would sleep with any guy willing to step into the cage. He avoided both extremes.

Jackie appeared to be somewhere more in the middle. Definitely curious, but she didn’t have that look in her eye that the crazy ones got.

Why is that? she asked. It seems like those would be easy wins.

He nodded. That’s exactly the point. At the beginning of your career, that’s fine. You just want to get used to fighting. The opponent. The crowd. The energy. Train all you want, but you’re still ready to throw up the first time you walk out to the cage.

He smiled, and she returned it.

But you’re past that now…

That’s right. I’ve had plenty of fights. I’m more interested in getting better. Running through some guy off the street isn’t going to cut it.

She nodded and sat quietly for a couple of moments. Something about the way she sat suggested she was satisfied with the way the conversation was going.

Finally, listening to the guys grunting and grappling outside, Cole said, You didn’t come here to discuss my fight career, I assume.

Jackie shook her head. No. It’s good to know though. I had heard that you went to law school. Then I saw the fight promos, and I thought you might be the right one to help me.

You need a fighting lawyer? Cole asked, eyebrows raised. He tried to keep his voice light, but with an undercurrent of concern. What was she trying to get him into?

Jackie picked up on that concern right away. It’s nothing illegal or anything like that, I swear, she said in a rush.

Cole smiled. Well, that’s a good start.

He noticed she didn’t deny there might be fighting involved.

She smiled back nervously. And it’s not that I even necessarily need a lawyer. I just knew you were a good guy from high school, and if you went to law school you must be smart. On top of that, you’re a fighter, so you can handle yourself around rough people.

Now we’re getting somewhere, Cole thought. A violent boyfriend, perhaps? What people are these?

Jackie took a deep breath. They’re the people my brother was hanging out with these last few months.

A gang? Cole asked. Her designer clothes didn’t make this a likely guess, which Cole knew as soon as he said it. But you never knew who might join these biker gangs. TV shows could make anything seem appealing.

No, she answered, echoing his doubt. More of a … cult would be the best word. She looked at him nervously.

He frowned. Cole was a fairly devout Catholic, but he was aware of the profusion of alternative religions that was the trend today. Are they into drugs or criminal activity? He still wasn’t sure how he fit in to the picture here.

No, she said. At least not that I know of. Not specifically. Just weird rituals and ceremonies out in an abandoned farmhouse cellar west of town.

A chill went down Cole’s spine. That sounds disturbing.

She nodded. But the worst thing is… She trailed off, and Cole realized she was fighting back tears.

Go on, he said gently.

They killed him, she said quietly.

Cole was shocked. What? Did you tell the police?

She shook her head.

Why not?

They wouldn’t do anything, she said, fighting back a small sob. Besides, the … body hasn’t turned up yet.

Cole looked at her in horror. Then how do you know he’s dead?

Jackie slowly pulled a plastic case from her purse.

It’s all on this DVD.

3.

What is on this? Cole asked, holding the DVD uncertainly. Taking it felt like he had agreed to help her, but he didn’t even know what was going on. Just that some crazy cultists killed her brother.

She shuddered but seemed to be past the tears for now – as if passing the DVD onto him had relieved her to an extent. It shows… She paused, clearly having difficulty bringing herself to say it. …him dying.

Cole’s lip curled. It’s a snuff film…

He had heard of such things. Years ago, Faces of Death was a popular tape passed around. As far as he knew, those were not true snuff films, but the same kinds of people who watched them also supposedly had the real thing.

She blinked, her eyes brown and wide behind her glasses. What’s a snuff film?

A movie showing a murder that someone filmed for kicks, he said. Pretty sick stuff.

"Oh. That is horrible. She shuddered again, this time in revulsion. No, that’s not what this is exactly. Someone recorded one of their rituals."

Really? Cole asked, his curiosity aroused in spite of himself. You heard about this kind of thing sometimes, but to see an actual ritual that someone had taped, that was something.

Jackie nodded. Yeah, it’s pretty bizarre.

Cole nodded for her to continue.

It’s dark. Lots of chanting in a strange language. The walls… She trailed off, looking around at the tiny apparel-strewn office.

Yeah…?

She shook her head. "I can’t really describe it. The walls seem almost alive. But that’s not right. More like something behind them is alive. But it’s a dirt cellar. How could anything be behind the walls? Her voice was distant as she tried to describe the scene. It’s really hard to describe, as if my mind can’t, or won’t, fix on it. You just have to watch it."

Seeing her apologetic expression, Cole gave a small smile to reassure her. Okay. But your brother’s death was a part of the ritual, then?

Jackie nodded. Right at the end.

Hmm, was his reply as he tried to think of what to ask next. Law school wasn’t exactly a help for a situation like this.

After some quiet time, probably less than a minute but feeling like much more, Jackie said, I have more to tell you…

Go ahead, Cole said, his mind a muddle. He was glad she had chimed in, because he couldn’t think of a thing.

After he disappeared, but before I got that, she said, pointing at the DVD, I just had a feeling something was wrong. My dreams had been bad, nightmares really, ever since he started hanging out with that group.

Cole noticed she avoided calling it a cult. He wondered if that was to avoid associating such a thing with her brother, or because she was afraid. Nightmares about what?

Her face soured instantly. Is that really important?

He shrugged and decided being honest was the best policy. Tell you the truth, I have no idea. But you thought they were important enough to bring up, so maybe.

Jackie frowned, but then sighed. In them, someone was telling me to do things.

Who?

"I don’t know. I only ever heard the voice, I think. At least, that’s all I can remember. The voice was…wrong. It sounded like something mimicking a person talking. And the things it told me to do…"

Cole waited, but then prompted her when she didn’t go on. Yes?

Clearly reluctant, Jackie continued despite herself. Bad things. Very bad. Some of them were…sexual. She blushed, and despite the situation, Cole still found her modesty charming. Depraved things. I won’t go into detail. Most of them were violent though. Like one I remember … it told me to wait until I was washing dishes with my mother and then stick her in the eye with a fork and twist.

That’s awful, he said.

She nodded, but now her voice was really low. The worst part is that when I would wake up, for a good minute or two at least, I would really want to do what it said. I almost felt compelled. She looked at him, seeking reassurance.

Well, he said, struggling to do so, some dreams can be very real.

It felt lame coming out, but she seemed comforted. What’s next is really weird, she said.

Cole grimaced, only imagining what this could be, but he nodded for her to continue.

My brother left one evening – late afternoon – to go to one of their rituals. He didn’t come back that night, which wasn’t entirely unusual. This time, I had bad feeling though. I got onto his iPad – it was locked, but I guessed the password pretty quick – and found some notes that he had been writing over the last couple of weeks.

Like a diary?

Kind of, she said, except this was a single Word document that was really one continuous stream of thought. Totally rambling and only vaguely coherent in parts.

Can I read it? he asked. He didn’t really want to, but he figured it might have some clues that would help if he did decide to take the case.

No, she answered. I deleted it.

What? he asked, surprised.

I know, it was dumb, she answered. "I couldn’t help myself though. It was bad enough reading my brother narrating his own descent into insanity. But when I got to the end, I realized that he was having the exact same dreams I was."

That’s nuts, Cole said quietly, not even thinking that he might offend her.

Jackie did not take offense. Instead, she nodded, leaning forward eagerly. That’s what I thought! The dreams were bad enough, but seeing them written in black and white on a screen…I couldn’t handle that. I deleted the whole thing immediately, without really thinking about it.

Cole nodded. I understand.

He tried to sort all of this out. The DVD stared at him from the desk, contrasting incongruously with a garish stack of fight promotion posters.

Deep in thought, he leaned back too far in the chair and then jumped as it almost threw him out backward. They both laughed. He felt like an idiot, but it seemed to snap the pall that had come over the room since she had started describing what happened on the tape. He hadn’t noticed it as it happened, but it was as if a pressure lifted from the room.

Cole suddenly could think again, and it occurred to him to ask, "How did you get this?

It was left in my mailbox on a Sunday. Yesterday, actually. With a note on it.

What did the note say?

Run.

4.

Cole had to get back to training, or Donzilla might murder him. But to do that, he had to make a decision.

Logically, he wasn’t sure what the right decision was.

On the other hand, his gut really wanted to help Jackie.

Since you’re here, I assume you are not planning on running, he said.

Nope.

He paused for a few moments, looking at this bookish slip of a girl perched on the plastic chair in front of him. She was hard to get a read on, but he decided she was tougher than she initially appeared.

A curious look crossed her face. You don’t know who my father is, do you?

Cole nodded. Sure do – Franco Carlino. Carlino construction. They did some work on I-275 a couple years back.

She smiled. Kind of shoddy work?

He raised an eyebrow. Yes, actually. I hate that stretch. Always makes my car rumble, and in a car like mine that makes you nervous.

Her smile had grown and was a little patronizing now, but not in an abrasive way. You’re not building my confidence in your deductive abilities here.

Then the light bulb went off. Oh! he exclaimed loudly. Then, more quiet, even with the training roar outside. You mean, he’s in the mob?

You said it, not me, she replied, but her smile was confirmation enough.

No kidding, Cole said with a whistle. Is that why you don’t want the police involved?

Partly, she answered. Although he has fairly good ‘relations’ with the department anyway.

Cole could hear the air-quotes on relations and didn’t need a roadmap to follow her this time.

It’s more than that, though, she continued. You’ll see once you watch the video. Pay attention to who’s in it. That will help you understand.

Cole didn’t find that answer very satisfying. Still, he could tell he wasn’t going to get anything more out of her at this point. Then another thought occurred to him. Do you think this could all be related to his line of work?

She shook her head immediately. No, we don’t operate like that. Targeting family members isn’t an issue, of course, she said in response to Cole’s skeptical look. But the whole ceremony and video setup is far beyond what would be necessary for this kind of a job. Our type of people are brutal, but they are efficient. This thing would have taken way too much time and imagination when a bullet in the back of the head or a garrote would send a much clearer message.

Cole