Chasing Monsters

By Donna Milward

Noelle is keeping too many secrets.

But what happens when this paranormal investigator befriends a demon? Meeting Nequam complicates everything. Now people are dying. 

When she reaches out to Sam Castellano, she's met with skepticism. He thinks she's delusional, maybe lying, but he's determined to find out which. 

Danger is closer than either of them know. 

There's more than one predator watching. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna Milward
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201427092

Book preview

PROLOGUE 

Nequam shuddered so hard his fangs banged together. He gulped air as his stomach knotted in a nauseated ball. Must find shelter. The beatings he endured at the hands of his ‘brethren’ meant constant cowering in secret spaces, lest he be found and tortured, yet again.

Why did he bother to flee from them? Why play this cruel game? His existence held nothing more than eternal suffering in this hideous world. The endless, viscous darkness sheltered only demons like him and denizens too grotesque and foul to die.

Nequam knew he only resembled those creatures physically, ugliness the only common trait they shared. He never understood why, but he differed from them. He did not enjoy killing or inflicting pain. He wanted life without conflict. He wished to coast freely through the murk, to make friends and live in tranquility. A demented fantasy perhaps, yet precious.

For that desire Nequam received continuous punishment. Even now he licked at tangy weeping membranes and a long gash in his flank. Another narrow escape. One of many.

Why do they hate me so much? I am no threat to them, why must they hurt me?

A single tear sizzled down his maw, Nequam no longer felt the burn. His muzzle had scarred over eons ago, leaving sorrowful trenches in his skin. He dashed away the telltale sign of weakness with a claw. The others could detect the scent of his pathetic grief as they would the limp of wounded prey.

The long and lazy strokes of his wings belied Nequam’s desperation. He squinted so his bright, oversized eyes would not give away his location. Volcanic light reflected against floating alien scraps of bones and litter from unknown corners of the universe. So many things he did not recognize. He wondered at their names. Nequam heard magma spitting in the distance, but for the moment all was quiet. Nequam remained undiscovered.

They will find me.

They always found him. Then they would chase and slash and bite. Even in this vast hell, it became harder to find obscure crevices to hide in.

Why? The question had circled through his mind countless times, but he had no one to ask. Why the animosity? What had he ever done unto them? Why the taunts and attacks?

Why struggle? This he wondered often.

If he stopped resisting, the agony would end. He could cease to be. He would never have to flee again, never have to hide and hurt, to tremble and cry. He would never know pleasure, yet he would trade that hope for a quiet eternity. Anything but this.

Nequam could not bring himself to surrender. He desired true joy. He wanted to live. Even if sometimes he wished he had never been spawned.

He approached a great metal carcass suspended motionless. It seemed to be surrounded by a cloud of its own broken parts. Nequam could see it once flew, though not anymore. It sprawled, torn, rusty, and burned. Claw marks and holes marred its skin. It stank of poison fumes. Nequam hurried to crouch beneath it. Hopefully the dead visitor would cover his scent.

He began nursing his lesions, soothing the sting with the comforting roughness of his own tongue, tasting the bitterness of his wounds.  He cleaned while he studied the mysterious behemoth. It wore several scattered shapes with colors so rare Nequam could not name them. His gaze traced the markings on its stiffened wings, markings that said F-18, and circles containing a three-pronged design with as many spikes on each branch. Perhaps it was a leaf? Nequam had never seen one up close. Few otherworldly things came to the void, and nothing lasted long.

He recognized it as a symbol of some importance, though for what, Nequam had no idea. Not that it mattered much anyway. Just a distraction.

He had nothing else to do but rest and wait for the next onslaught. Hunger gnawed as always. Nequam rarely had the opportunity to hunt. Nequam was the hunted. Better to stay hidden and ignore the need for food. As always.

A cool sensation, much like a breath caressed the back of his neck. Nequam recoiled as though struck, even though the breeze offered tingling relief from the sweating atmosphere.

What is this?

Behind him Nequam spotted a disturbance, a friendlier blackness, not so dark. It beckoned with wordless whispers and sighs. It caressed him everywhere without touching him, and he shivered. Not from fear.

He ventured closer and sniffed.  The precious scent made Nequam shut his eyes with delight he had not experienced before. Never had he smelled anything so...he struggled for words...fresh.  It caused an eruption from his gullet, a bellowing of emotional tickling that could not be suppressed.

Nequam clamped his talons over his teeth to mute the startling bark. It sounded like laughter, but it lacked malice. He scanned the emptiness. No one seemed to have heard. Nothing else moved.

That was unexpected. Though not unwelcome. Just thinking about the sensation felt wondrous. He longed to experience it again, to burst with it.

He pawed the opening larger, cringing at the woofing sounds he made in his curiosity as the air parted. The ruin of the Abyss did not worry him. His universe had no true life. It only mattered that no one came to investigate the noise. He continued until he could fit his head through.

Crisp oxygen bathed his muzzle and Nequam sucked it in, despite the chilling pain. He blinked at twinkling lights. Hundreds, possibly thousands of them flashed in greeting. 

He saw puffs of smoke...not smoke he realized. These clouds did not stink of magma. They lay serene in the expanse, not churning with violent force. Again, Nequam found himself at a loss to describe their beauty. Magnificent. Such an insufficient word.

Nequam drifted away from the hole. What was this place? Could this be a new realm beyond the void? He dipped his wing and shot a glance over his shoulder, past the enormous grey corpse with its sharp angles and scorch marks. Still alone.

Moments before Nequam contemplated death at the hands of his own kind. Now he considered the possibilities of a new home.

He glided back toward the portal. He had no way of knowing what awaited him in this dimension. He had never even imagined such a place. Perhaps the trials he would face were worse than those endured here with unfathomable cruelties and greater hatred. His wing and thigh throbbed a reminder.

No...Nothing could be worse than this never-ending perseverance. Why exist in this noxious realm if he had another option? Perhaps this strange place could give him everything he yearned for, and maybe it could be the opposite of his life here. Could he dare hope that much? Positive thoughts were not common for Nequam.

He made his decision. For good or for bad, he would not endure anymore, not if given a choice.

He pried the gap wider. Carefully. Demons had excellent hearing, it would not do to alert them. When the hole became large enough for him to slip through, Nequam took a last look at the void.  He would not miss it, no matter what happened now. He clung to the hope that it would all be better soon. Nequam inhaled, pressed through the breach.

The taste of freedom made his teeth ache.

CHAPTER ONE

Dinners at the Danyluk house felt like dining in a mausoleum. Noelle shuffled spinach salad around the plate with her fork, hoping her father didn’t notice her lack of appetite. The subtle clatter of cutlery on Corning Ware mingled with lip-smacking noises. No conversation brightened the somber mood. 

Carol poured a third glass of Chablis. Noelle’s father didn’t seem to note that either. He just chewed his food methodically, like cud, as though eating were a necessary chore to plod through. Well, her stepmother wasn’t exactly a Michelin Star chef.

Noelle knew if she lifted her gaze she’d see her father staring at her as he ate. No doubt waiting for the right moment to broach the usual subject, and it did nothing for her digestion. She despised lemon chicken but shoved it into her mouth to discourage discussion.

So, Noelle... So much for that idea. What made her think that her father, with his open-mouthed chomping, cared if she talked with her mouth full?  How are things at campus? She glanced up to see Dr. Arthur Danyluk dabbing at his lips with a burgundy linen napkin, tilting his head expectantly.

Noelle swallowed the citrus mush without pleasure. Fine.

Fine? His mouth curved upwards, though the eyes betrayed intensity. I don’t suppose you could elaborate?

Noelle glanced at her stepmother. Carol sipped without comment, her gaze darting between Noelle and her father, back to the lace tablecloth. No help there. She obviously didn’t want to get involved.

It’s fine, she said. We’ve started on Nietsche.

And? And what? How come he only asked about classes at dinner? Was he trying to ruin her appetite?

Noelle stabbed at slimy dark meat, caught a whiff of lemon and grease and put her fork down. Even if Carol could cook, it would still taste like used dishwater to Noelle. Fruit and meat didn’t go together.

We are declining basic nouns in Latin. Because so much science-speak is in Latin.

Dr. Danyluk nodded. Very good. Do you need any help with that? We could get you a tutor and...

No, that’s okay, Dad.  Noelle bit the inside of her cheek in irritation. He just automatically assumed she wasn’t smart enough for philosophy and Latin, yet he was the one who pushed her into pre-med and other classes she didn’t want right after graduation. Because she had to be a doctor.  Like him and her older brother, Rene. Can we not talk about this right now? I have to get ready.

Where are you going? her stepmother asked. I thought we could watch a movie together. As a family.

Sorry, Carol, Noelle said, cringing inwardly and thanking God she had something better to do.  I guess I forgot to tell you.

What are you and your friends doing tonight? her father asked.

Noelle wiped her mouth to hide the lie creeping to her lips. She didn’t expect him to understand her hobby. He’d think it a waste of valuable time, running around in the dark chasing ghosts. So she’d given it a name he would relate to and approve of.

Trivial Pursuits. She smiled into the napkin, and excused herself to her room.

*                                       *                                      *

Despite the warm radiance of the Energy, doubt slithered into Devaki’s head.  She had not been summoned in an eon or longer. Not since that terrible incident. What could it mean? Not that she minded the change of scenery. She spent all her time at her post in the purple valley, guarding them against occasional demon infiltration. She had long forgotten colors other than lavender, grey, and black. She welcomed forgotten sights and smells and the chance to bask in the Energy’s golden light.

My Lord. Devaki bowed her head, and lowered her gaze to the creamy marble steps. Her sword pointed to her toes. I am happy to see you.  Do you have a new request? The opportunity gave her a giddy rush in her belly. Her mind must have gone numb by now from counting the same blossoms with no one to keep her company, besides the occasional visit from other guardians or demons she killed.

"Devaki, I am pleased to behold your beauty."  She reveled in the Energy’s praise, the calming whisper of Its voice inside her mind. Her heart swelled with pleasure.

Thank you, my Lord. She could linger forever in the Energy’s love, but the idea of a new calling made her impatient. She tried to control the beating of her wings, contain her excitement. She longed for a new task. What is your bidding?

The Energy sensed her eagerness. It must drip from her pores like sweat. "I have a new mission for you, in a different realm."

A different dimension? She had never set feather from Eden. Her knees quivered with the possibilities. Which of the Homes of Life would It send her to?

Would she meet the Greys? Werewolves? She had only known them through those of her kind who sometimes stopped to tell her great tales of other worlds they had seen. Now it was her turn, and she could not wait.

"You must go to Earth," It said.  "There is someone there I need you to track."

Earth? The planet overrun by humans? She tried to brush off her disappointment. Humans were the least interesting beings she could imagine meeting.  And so dangerous in their petty squabbles. Devaki tried to recall what she knew of the blue-green planet even as the Energy created a visual in her mind. Instead of wingless bipeds, Devaki beheld her mortal enemy.

The sight stole her composure, and she hissed through her teeth.

Red eyes the size of her palms blinked at nothing in the darkness. It huddled with leathery wings wrapped around itself, trembling and peering out from them as though frightened. Devaki could almost smell the sulfuric stink of it.

She squeezed the hilt of her sword until her knuckles cramped. Hatred boiled through her veins. She tensed, preparing to strike. She lived to kill demons. It was the sole purpose of her existence, and her personal pleasure.

"Not this time, Devaki. Be still." She lowered her weapon, though her anger blazed. What was the Energy saying? If her task was not to destroy the thing, then...? What?

"I am sending you to observe."

Observe? Devaki had never heard anything so absurd. She paused to regard the wretched thing in her mind’s eye. She heard its pathetic cries, saw it trying to shield its face with its wings.  Why simply mind it? Because it lay weak and helpless? What better time to strike? Perhaps the Energy had become contaminated after all these millennia.

The Energy ignored her irreverence. "You will not harm this creature."

Devaki’s cheeks burned.  She had not experienced such rage since those things murdered Koth.

I left him to guard while I foraged. I heard his panicked call like stone in my skull. I flew until my wings spasmed, yet I had no chance to save him. Two of them held his arms, eating his hands. Another tore at his belly, feasting on his entrails. Still another chewed his head. I turned them to soot, but it was not enough. They had left not much more of him than blood soaked bones and feathers. When I close my eyes, I can still see the ruined gore of his face. I can smell his blood.

Why should I allow it to live? Devaki hacked the air with her sword as though doing so would disperse her thoughts. Her harsh shouts echoed as she began to pace. A flock of gulls took flight, screaming in protest. She cared not who she disturbed. Give me one reason why I should not slice this thing to ashes.

"Because he is not like the others."

Not good enough.

A hush fell. Devaki ceased her frustrated march, aware of the silence. Not a bird sang, not a breeze stirred the trees. At first she thought the Energy might be angry at her insolence, then she sensed tired patience.

Wait...What do you mean, ‘he’? Since when do those monsters have gender?

Sound returned to Eden. The wind whistled and frogs splashed.

"‘He’ is called Nequam."

Nequam... Devaki rolled the name over her tongue. She never knew a demon to claim a title of any kind. They were mindless eating insects incapable of true thought or emotion.  And with a moniker like that his kind obviously had no use for him. Strange indeed.

So the beast has a name and a sex, Devaki said. What does it matter?

"Those are only two pieces of the puzzle. Look closer, Devaki."

Pointless, Devaki thought, still she obeyed, banishing her memories and concentrating on the vision. I see a cowering beast. Nothing more.

"When have you ever seen one of his kind express fear? Any emotion at all? Have you ever seen one bleed?"

Devaki disliked this game, and her ire rose again. I do not understand, my Lord. What is it you wish me to see?

"This creature has a soul."

Devaki recoiled from the glow of her god.  Madness. Demons were spawned from the darkness like spores. They were not creations of the light, and therefore could never possess such a thing as true thought, let alone spirit. And they absolutely did not bleed.

Devaki folded her wings and straightened. You are mistaken, Lord. She tilted her chin in defiance. It is not possible.

" Have you a better explanation?"

She was forced to admit she did not. Curiosity baited her. A demon with a soul...

May I keep my wings in this dimension? The rules for each mission differed.

"You may. In order to stay close you will require the ability to fly. You must not be seen."

Devaki nodded her satisfaction. Indeed it would be difficult to hunt this ‘Nequam’ without flight.

"You will not require your sword."

Devaki’s weapon faded from her grip. Her fingers curled around empty space.

My Lord! Before she knew her own intentions, she had stormed the steps toward the divine luminescence. Her hands were balled into fists. How will I defend myself?

"You will neither defend nor attack," It said. "You will only bear witness."

Devaki’s body quaked with suppressed fury, yet she said nothing. The Energy knew her thoughts.

"Open your heart, Devaki. Do not let the past influence your judgment."

Devaki’s heart had broken forever when Koth died. She would follow orders, but the Energy could not make her bury her true feelings. Vortices of dust and petals circled as she flared her wings and took to the sky. She turned her back on the Energy’s brilliance without another word. She would find the portal to Earth. She would stay true to her task. She would do so with much bitterness.

"Spite will make you weak, Devaki. It will be your downfall."

She heard the Energy’s words, chose to shun them for her own counsel. The Energy would see the truth behind the demon’s eyes. She would see the monster exposed.

CHAPTER TWO

Noelle zipped her jacket and charged down the stairs, abandoning stealth in her hurry. Finally. Kat’s text couldn’t have come soon enough.

Have fun. Carol curled into a Snuggie on the loveseat, knees tucked beneath her, shouting to be heard over the orchestral blare of Cloud Atlas. Great movie. Noelle had seen it when it came to theatres forever ago.

A wet glass of soda-and-something bubbled on the end table next to her. Carol never drank anything without a shot in it. No reason to think tonight would be any different.

Thanks, Noelle said. Her father’s absence told her he wasn’t into movie night either. Most likely in his office, writing a submission for a medical journal, or whatever doctors did in their closeted private time.

Sometimes Noelle felt sorry for Carol. Her father worked hard at avoiding interaction with humans, especially family. A few more years of drinking alone with her movies, and maybe her stepmother might get that.

Goodnight. 

Goodnight, dear.  Carol’s eyes already demonstrated the glaze of drunkenness. Her sloppy smile confirmed it.

Noelle hustled in the cold to Katrina’s minivan. A chilling blast threatened to tear her hood from her head as she hauled the passenger door open. Kat tossed a few Star Wars action figures off the seat into the back.

Ugh...Brrrrr! Noelle leapt inside and yanked the door closed before buckling in. Freezing out there.

Yeah, the wind is really picking up, Katrina said, steering out of the cul de sac. Hope it doesn’t affect the sound quality.

Noelle took note of the swaying silhouettes of the naked trees in the cobalt