The Night Crawler: Casting Shadows, #3

By Dziyana Taylor

Ominous clouds gather above the Grimwood Family Crypt while Rebecca rests like Sleeping Beauty inside her glass coffin. Though her two loyal confidants, Nick and Derek, make desperate attempts to awaken her, the bridge that connects Rebecca's physical body to her soul is slowly withering away.

Inside the Black Book the diabolical yet irresistible love witches, Sophia and Garret, are plotting to return the Diary to its evil ruler. They will stop at nothing, even if it means using every heart-wrenching hocus-pocus in their spell book.

While skulls and bones levitate in the air, and cauldrons boil inside the witches' cottage, never take your eyes off the quietly sinister lake, because something horrible is lurking there. Even more bloodcurdling than the Butcher, a monster so wicked he will make your heart stop.

Love is a battlefield, but so is the Black Book. Is this the end for one of them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dziyana Taylor
• Release date: Jun 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215197097

Book preview

Chapter One

Midnight Whirlpool

The stars glistened like gemstones, scattered across the night sky. They all bled, shedding already fading tears, and I bled with them. My head throbbed, as if I had hit it hard on the concrete. It was the same feeling I got when the motorcycle crashed into the overturned ambulance, and Nick pulled me off the road, barely breathing. The wind felt like an invisible kiss, the ground scraped my ankles, and the world around me seemed to be turned upside down.

I felt vulnerable. I felt preyed upon, but I didn’t feel sorry for myself. I would have rather died than watched everyone I loved, including Nick and Derek, suffer from the hands of the Butcher. I would have rather died, knowing that the premonition Madam Rose had talked about was fulfilled, and it had been my destiny, and I didn’t live my life in vain.

When George laid me on Jefferson Rock in Harpers Ferry, I couldn’t feel my feet. It was the poison of his touch. It made me feel groggy, less likely to escape his magic venomous chains.

Rebecca, George said, rubbing his chin, and studying my face, I have never understood what my brother found in you. Truth is — you always bring trouble. Your existence in this world is …worrisome. But… I’m going to do you a favor, and let you live the rest of your life somewhere else. Far, far away from here. I don’t need you hovering over my brother anymore. I can take care of him myself, the Butcher grinned, revealing his straight teeth. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for his moment. It sure feels great.

I moaned and groaned, lifting my head up, and looking at the monster that now had me. Behind me, below the beautiful green pines, the rivers raged, breaking at the rocks. The waves were trying to get to me. They were trying to save me.

I am not afraid of you, I mumbled.

If only I had a chance to dip my hands into the water. I knew demons didn’t like water, and I wondered if George would be afraid of it too.

George leaned onto Jefferson Rock and pinned me down. He grabbed my hair and pulled it upward, twisting it. My neck hurt and I wailed in pain from his touch.

Be afraid, little girl. You have no idea what kind of power is invested in me. Once you are gone — everything will fall into place, like it was meant to from the very beginning.

I spit in George’s face as he held me.

Derek will never forgive you, I muttered. He will find you, and he will kill you, you filthy demon.

I saw a flame burn in George’s eyes. He held me in place, and breathed me in, before he slowly brought his lips closer to mine, stopping just an inch away from my face.

I’d kiss you just to make Derek jealous, but I’m pretty sure, you won’t be living after that, and I need you to live a while longer. So… please, don’t tempt me.

My face flushed, and my lips curled. Burn in Hell.

I already do, George said, grinning from ear to ear.

George finally lessened his grip, and I stretched on the cold rock like a starfish. It’s time for you to go now. Its time you face demons on your own, Rebecca Grimwood. Isn’t that what you really dream of?

While George talked, dark black magic accumulated around him. It grew like mist before racing into his body, almost knocking him off his feet. George looked up into the sky, watching the clouds gather. He let the magic ignite him with power.

Above us, the skies pulsated with lightning, and my heart nearly exploded when thunder struck, and the rain poured down.

George lifted me off Jefferson Rock and carried me towards the water. Not even looking at me, he lowered me down, barely touching the waves. I desperately reached for the water trying to direct it at him, but I realized in shock that he was controlling it. He wasn’t afraid of the water. The water was afraid of him. My heart sank, and I whispered Derek’s and Nick’s names for the last time before George dropped me into the river.

With a snap of his two fingers, George Cromwell turned the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers into a giant whirlpool. From out of the roaring water rose a great shadow. It swelled over the old Harpers Ferry bridge like a dark swan expanding over the horizon, with wings so black it made the night seem bright. The swan absorbed such a massive amount of water that I found myself lying on dry land among the gray rocks and bait fish. My heart went into my feet as the swan lurched forward, raising a powerful wave to tighten around my waist like a gallows’ rope. The wall of water was a mirage, and far beyond its veil I caught the silhouette of George Cromwell. He hadn’t moved a muscle, he just watched and grinned, seemingly proud of his accomplishment. There was relief in his face — a relief — his plan was falling into place, and there was no Gatekeeper to stop him. He had finally managed to get one step ahead.

I closed my eyes and let the swan take me.

Chapter Two

The Mausoleum

The sound of the motorcycle reverberated through the trees. The road ahead seemed to shimmer from the rain, intensifying the grayness of the concrete. The motorcycle engine hummed, and its solemn song drew the dark of the forest with it, allowing the shadows to gather along the vanishing mile signs of nearby towns. Derek had never travelled this fast, making the trees blink in his periphery, but he kept jerking the throttle, gaining more speed until everything behind him turned to distant dots of black.

The wind in his hair felt like freedom from pain. He knew that the hole in his heart felt smaller the closer he got to her. The smell of moisture followed as the road sloped along a steep hill. The adrenaline kicked in and Derek felt his face flush before everything around sank into silence and his motorcycle made a leap over the old bridge. The motorcycle bottomed out on the landing. It grinded and shot sparks along the road. Derek slammed on the brake, sending rocks and sand into the air.

The ravens sitting on the iron gates of the cemetery soared into dusky overcast skies, as the motorcycle rumbled forward like the bones of a corpse knocking within its coffin. Derek propped the bike on its kick stand, leaving it sit in the pile of wet leaves, and approached the cemetery, a vial of flower dust hanging off a chain around his neck.

The night felt suffocating. It ran its long fingers along Derek’s shoulders as he strolled away from Confederate Lane and towards the crypt.

The night whispered under its breath that no one was safe, not even Derek, and its murmurs filled his heart with unease. The trees cast their elongated shadows onto the road, and the tombstones fell into the fog and vanished like tents after the carnival leaves town.

A wide acorn-colored stone structure rose out of the forested side of the cemetery, and slowly cut through the blackness of the trees. It was the Grimwood Family Crypt with marble busts of lions guarding its cloisters. The crypt had stained glass windows, depicting scenes of war, which seemed to emanate pale moonlight. The moonlight highlighted the graveyard below, and Derek sighed with relief, realizing that the warlocks from the Forest of Lost Souls had finally arrived.

The winged black horses, like ravens, grazed outside the crypt. They looked partly decomposed, alive and dead at the same time. Derek meandered past them, as one fanned its black wings towards him. It turned into a woman in her mourning gown. The woman then spun in her dress creating a swirl of magic and swiftly turned back into the image of the horse, sending a chill down Derek’s spine. He blinked twice to make sure whatever he had seen was truly gone.

Took you long enough, Nick rushed out of the unshackled mausoleum doors, snapping Derek out of his vision, and making him jerk away.

Nick’s snow-white skin made him look ghostly, like the horses. He charged down the steps and effortlessly pulled the vial from Derek’s neck. The string snapped and slipped into Nick’s hands.

They aren’t the easiest thing to find, Derek said, watching Nick carefully examine the flower dust that resembled turquoise snowflakes. Carlyle and I scavenged the Sesame River until the very last rock was lifted from its bottom. Crystal Lilies are the rarest flowers in the Gazer world, and they only bloom underwater, Derek said and fell silent. How is she? Any changes?

Nick lowered his eyes and shook his head. No changes, but you should see for yourself. The warlocks… they haven’t started the ritual yet. I am still hopeful, he said, turning his eyes towards the mausoleum. Come on. Nick told Derek and they both ran up the steps through the withered wrought iron gates and the doors before crossing the magical threshold created by the warlocks.

The lanterns around the mausoleum lit up. Derek felt the cold touch of winter brush against his skin. He smelled the aroma of blooming flowers in the air and the sweet decay of the autumn leaves. The warlock’ magic invited different seasons into the crypt.

The six warlocks surrounded the glass coffin. Blue jays made of magic flew above them releasing shimmering powder that fell in light strokes onto the coffin glass, igniting it cyan. The warlocks raised their hands and the power that accumulated on their palms lifted the coffin and held it in place, as if it was on the crest of a wave.

Derek’s heart yanked, as he caught a glimpse of her face. Olive skin, a touch of ruby on her cheeks and a tint of raspberry captured in full lips. Rebecca lay inside the coffin in a sea of pink rose petals, a whisper butterfly quivering inside her hands. She remained asleep for nearly two months, and there wasn’t a thunderstorm loud enough to wake her.

At first Derek fought the anger that bubbled inside his chest. But then, as the days turned to weeks, grief and despair crept into his heart. Nick was fortunate, Derek thought, his memory of Rebecca came back in pieces slowly, and the agony of her being gone hadn’t fully settled. Derek, though, had suffered alone, like a wolf crying to a new moon, his mourning hidden away by the wings of the night.

Rebecca lay tangled in petals like a princess spelled by an evil witch. Her brown hair was curled up in the form of a fox on her chest, and if she dreamed of something, those dreams stayed with her.

The moon was full tonight, which meant the warlocks were able to invoke the Lord of Thunder, as they called it in the Gazer world, and create the perfect storm.

Salvē, Mr. Cromwell, one of the warlocks greeted Derek upon his entrance, while the remaining five warlocks accumulated the essence of the rain. I’m Lolligo, the oldest of the brothers. I have heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.

Likewise, Derek whispered, offering his hand to the warlock, who did the same in return but only using his tentacles.

Though not showing it, Derek was taken aback by the warlock’s appearance. Before him stood a creature of the veil, he was sure of it. Dark armor made of metal shielded Lolligo’s chest and leather belts wrapped around his torso, holding it in place. Feather epaulettes gleamed jewel green from the warlock’s shoulders while long purple tentacles spread towards the floor from under the armor, like that of a sea witch. Derek had never seen a creature so majestic, and yet utterly mystical.

Rain shed onto Rebecca’s coffin and formed into glittery ripples. The light from the ripples illuminated the mausoleum windows and Lolligo himself in a sea of colors.

The circumstances of our meeting are unfortunate, but nevertheless I’m hopeful we can be of service, Lolligo added, scanning Derek’s face. The warlock’s eyes were two colors — black and white. There was no face, but a silver mask engraved with a map which looked too familiar — the layout of The Forest of Lost Souls.

Thank you for coming on such short notice. We can’t quite fathom what spell she is under and how powerful it must be to keep her in this state of slumber, Derek said, locking his eyes with the other five warlocks. They now put on iridescent green tunics to look festive for the ritual. Being members of the same family, they all had the same complexion and height, with full heads of curls cascading down their shoulders. The curls resembled copperheads crawling in tall grass.

I don’t want to alarm you, but it might not be a spell that you are looking to break. Spells, whether created by natural or black magic, are evanescent. I sense that there is a dissonance within her, Lolligo’s voice was deep and powerful like the coming tides. Derek could hear the echo behind his timbre, a sound of the lingering ocean inside a conk shell.

A dissonance? Nick approached the warlock, overhearing the conversation, and fixing his eyes on Lolligo’s silver mask with pathways deeply etched into the metal.

There was a sudden explosion of magic.

Derek turned his head. Nick retreated backwards, not to be caught in the magic crossfire. Light firecrackers went off like gunpowder in short time intervals. The crypt’s fireplace along the back wall burst into flames. Sculls, bones, and candles that perched at its opening all drifted mid-air. The five warlocks were drawing on the wind, fire, water, and the land that lies below.

Lolligo’s eyes darkened. Rebecca’s soul has parted I’m afraid, but the bridge that connects her physical body to her consciousness somehow still exists. The whisper butterfly inside her hands is sustaining her lifeforce while she remains asleep. But it won’t last forever. The leather belts across the warlock’s chest tightened and fell loose.

But… Nick started, feeling the despair like a rock preventing him from drawing his breath. He rubbed his eyes, cradling the sadness and pain, saving himself from unleashing it into the world, and then darted his eyes at Derek, searching for an escape. A solution. Anything.

Derek felt his face muscle tense up. Where is her soul? There must be a place. There must be a way to bring her back. The ghosts linger in limbo… the demons go through a cleansing if they are accepted by the Gate. Where did she go and how is she still breathing? What is this place that takes the souls of the living?

Lolligo’s tentacles bent over the marble, leaving inky marks. We don’t know. As much as we wish, we can’t tell you where her soul is trapped. As warlocks, we are used to dealing with all kinds of dark magic, but nothing like this. Nothing as dark. We will perform the ritual to get a clearer picture, but you have to be prepared for the worst.

Which is? Nick asked impatiently. He rubbed his sweaty hands together for some semblance of comfort.

That we won’t be able to bring her back, Lolligo’s voice became quiet just before the loud thunder burst above the mausoleum and struck the sky, shaking the doors and convulsing the candle flames. Nick heard rain’s footsteps covering the cemetery grounds, moving like a storm over the ocean, taking his heart with it — into the dark swirly void of crushing waves.

Nick raised his finger into the air to ask a question, but slowly lowered it, catching a warlock’s cold stare. Nick felt the sobs trying to escape his throat, but he couldn’t show the warlock his weakness. Not here. Not inside the crypt. Time had healed most of his memories miraculously. With the help of natural magic, Derek’s spells, and Carlyle’s cleanse of his body, Nick put the pieces back together. But what time hadn’t cured was his pain.

It’s time, Lolligo announced.

Nick broke his eye contact with the warlock, and watched as he slunk away, followed by a cloud of ink, towards his brothers. The ritual was about to begin.

Chapter Three

My Resting Place

The swan carried me on its wings into a black new world I never knew existed. I was left in the dark and alone, just as the Butcher wanted me to be. This time, there was no way out.

I was in pitch darkness, and unable to move within a tightly confined space. It smelt like mildew and pine wood. I rocked gently back and forth as if I was floating, and once I regained my composure, I realized that it was the water lapping outside and making everything around me creak. A shadow formed somewhere above me and ran across the wooden planks, dragging it's tail behind it. Whatever it was, I heard it jump into water with a splash.

Oh my God, where am I?

I could see the light making its way through the planks. My heart palpitated inside my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. But it didn’t change the fact that I was living one of my nightmares. I lay inside a wooden coffin with its lid shut tightly above me.

I heard the water bubbling and whooshing, and I imagined I was being carried forward what was perhaps a long tunnel.

Inside the coffin, I made attempts to move but there wasn’t any space. My arms and legs were jammed with not even an inch to spare. My face was so close to the wood, it was impossible to turn my head. The water was dripping onto my face continuously, and I started to hyperventilate, praying that the coffin didn’t overturn and sink with me inside it.

This is not happening. This is not happening. I repeated to myself, panic setting in.

Help! Help! Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? I shouted desperately, my body shaking.

Nobody responded because nobody was there. I scooted my body to the edge of the coffin, keeping myself balanced, and pushed onto the lid with all the strength my body could gather. But it wasn’t budging. It just sat more heavily on top of me. I dug my nails into the wood, scraping them to blood, and pounding on the lid that squeezed the air out of my chest.

That’s when I heard something move in the water.

I held my breath and listened. It slowly waded towards the coffin, disturbing the water, and stopped level with my head. I heard screeching and rattling, and then suddenly the coffin lid came off. It fell into the water with a splash. I screamed bloody murder, watching two translucent ghostly hands slide off the side of the coffin and vanish as quickly as they appeared.

I lay, not making a sound, inhaling, and exhaling air I couldn’t get enough of. When I finally calmed my racing heart and was brave enough to rise out of the coffin and look around, I didn’t see anybody in the water. The coffin lid floated by, just a few feet away, drifting into the darkness, as if it was inviting me along with it.

Everything around me was suddenly still like whoever remained here was still watching my every move.

I was buoyant in black water and being dragged along by some dark current, when I noticed streaks of light diffusing onto the water surface. The light painted the waves in golden bristles. When the coffin travelled a few more feet, I realized it wasn’t paint, but a faint glow of the gemstones embedded into the walls. They emitted a soft light, like flames burning inside tiny lanterns.

I knew then I was travelling down a cave, the coffin rocking me left and right down the murky waters. There was nothing behind me and nothing ahead but white fog.

Peering into the foggy mists, I felt a sting. I brought my hand to my throbbing head and ran my fingers through my hair, feeling a cut. I didn’t remember how I ended up inside the cave. The only memory that came to mind was George’s empty stare, and everything else came up blank.

A breeze touched my shoulder as