Beyond the Creek

By Nico Bell

When Alex Foster accepted the caregiver position with the eccentric Nox family, she was issued a single rule: don't venture beyond the creek.

 

Not a problem, because Alex isn't interested in exploring the Nox's vast rural property. She's too busy rebuilding her life after escaping an abusive past, and she sets her sights on securing a stable future for herself and her unborn baby. Too bad the pesky ancient evil lurking in the shadows didn't get the memo. Now, she's the center of a dark secret centuries in the making. With time running out to save herself, she must face the darkest fears from her past in order to survive.

 

A creature waits beyond the creek, and it's hungry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nico Bell
• Release date: Feb 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224505333

Book preview

Beyond the Creek

Nico Bell

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, and incidents are fictitious. Any similarities to actual person, living or dead, locations, or events are coincidental.

Beyond the Creek; Second Edition

Originally Published by D&T Publishing 2022

Cover Art: Fabled Beast Design https://fabledbeastdesign.wordpress.com/

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages.

To Chris and Charlie

Beyond the Creek

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter 9

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Chapter One

Alex Foster never expected to survive her past; now she had no choice but to face the future. Her baby—growing in her womb, already the size of an avocado—demanded more.

More courage.

More grit.

And more security.

Nestled in the rural backwoods of Madison, Virginia, an army of trees surrounded the aged Victorian home in front of her. Unease knotted her stomach as she looked down at the secondhand khaki pants she wore. The hem settled an inch above her ankles, and the waist pulled at the button. The scent of mothballs still clung to the sweater that she’d dug out of the thrift store clearance bin earlier that morning. She’d never been slender, and an old insecurity reminded her that her new potential employers might take one look at her plus size and think of her as lazy, but she’d prove any doubter wrong.

This was her shot, not only at a steady job, but at a new life free from Robert.

Alex took a deep breath, rolled back her shoulders, and rang the bell.

The door creaked open. An older woman with wrinkles creasing her forehead stood in the entrance way.  

Alex cleared her throat. I have an appointment with Mrs. Nox.

You must be here for the interview. She’s been expecting you. Come in. The woman’s pale eyes failed to capture the light shining down from the afternoon sun as Alex stepped inside. 

The open foyer extended to the ceiling with a banister staircase whirling up to the second floor. The walls were decorated with framed photographs of smiling faces and, as Alex glanced over them, she realized not one contained a man.  

I’m Rachel. I take care of the house and help with Mr. Nox. She didn’t extend her hand. I’ll get Dottie. 

Rachel pivoted on her heels and walked down the hall—her footsteps barely audible as she disappeared around the corner.

Alex looked down at her worn Converse, the exact same pair of shoes she’d had since high school, the ones she was wearing when she first met Robert, and the pair she’d crammed her feet into the night she fled. Dirt still caked the rubber toes. She sighed and kneeled. With her thumb, she worked at chipping the gunk off, something she should have done earlier if her nerves hadn’t spiraled into a panic attack and almost made her late for the appointment that, hopefully, would change her life.

Alex barely rubbed away a flake when she noticed scratches in the wooden floor. She let her fingertip trace the gouges as her chest tightened. Once, Robert had made a similar crack in their kitchen tile, but with a knife and a missed swing. This wasn’t that. 

Right?

A tiny squeak startled her. She turned and spotted a little girl, no more than nine years old, standing in the doorway of what looked like a playroom. Coloring books and markers scattered the carpet behind her petite frame. 

Alex rose and offered a smile. Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there.

The girl cocked an eyebrow. Her hands were cupped in front of her. What are you doing?

Just tying my shoe. Alex took a small step forward. Whatcha got there?

A secret. The girl’s lips twitched as she reached her hands out.

Oh, sounds like fun. Can I see? Alex closed the distance between them and leaned forward. 

The girl un-cupped her hands.

Alex screamed and jumped back. Her pulse quickened as the girl giggled and clasped her hands together, covering the black tarantula. 

Callie! A sharp voice came up behind Alex. You know better than to scare people. Get Harry back in his tank.

Fine. The girl huffed, turned into the playroom, and slammed the door. 

Alex spun and stared into the dark eyes of a striking woman—tall, shoulders pinched back, chin ever-so-slightly tipped up as if she were balancing a stack of books on her head.

I’m sorry. That’s my granddaughter’s weird idea of a joke.

It’s okay, but I should probably tell you that I’m a little afraid of spiders.

Don’t worry. Callie takes good care of Harry. You won’t be responsible for him. The woman smiled and extended her hand. I’m Dottie Nox. Did you have any trouble finding our home?

No. Alex shook Dottie’s hand. Your directions were great.

She’d gotten lost twice along the backroads of central Virginia before finding the gravel road that led to the Nox’s home. 

Excellent. This way. Dottie led them down the hall to a bright room with long windows and plush furniture.

Dottie walked to the fireplace positioned at the front of the room. A few family photos decorated the mantle, including one with a younger Dottie and a little girl with a similar arresting presence, but whose eyes seemed sadder, hollower than Dottie’s. Alex looked away. Dottie stood next to the mantle and slid her hands into her pockets.

Please, take a seat.

Alex looked at the plush couch, the tall armchair, and the cushioned foot stool, all staring back at her expectantly. Dottie’s eyes followed as Alex took a small step toward the couch. A twitch—just above Dottie’s eyebrow, almost unrecognizable—turned Alex toward the tall armchair. She sat. The chair lacked softness, but it forced her spine into attention. She felt like royalty, or at the very least, someone of importance.

Dottie smiled. I’ll be honest. When your resume came in, I was hesitant to even give you an interview. You’re a bit younger than I wanted. 

I’ll be twenty-two in December, and I have some experience.

Right. You’ve taken care of a stroke patient before, correct?

Yes. Alex let the lie slip effortlessly through her mouth. My mother. She passed away, but before that, I took care of her for a few years.

A crash rang out from down the hall. Dottie’s composure faltered, and for a second, Alex saw a completely different human. Fragile. Tired. Held together by a fine thread. And then it was gone, replaced again by a confident mask. Dottie hurried down the hallway.

Alex followed. What was that?

Peter. He’s always been an independent man, so when the stroke hit and he had to come face-to-face with the reality of his paralysis, he didn’t adjust well. He still tries to do too much.

Dottie swung open a closed door. Rachel cursed under her breath, dragging a man to his feet, and trying to get him back on the bed. 

For goodness’ sake, don’t hurt him, Rachel. Dottie hurried to help.

Sorry, but he’s heavy. Has Callie been sneaking him treats?

Alex froze at the sight of the man. She’d never seen a stroke victim before, and the glimpse of his weak frame and contorted mouth sent a shock through her body. She swallowed back the building anxiety and rushed over.

I got him. 

Rachel frowned. She looked at Dottie.

Dottie nodded and stepped back. It’s okay. Let her try.

Alex wrapped Peter’s arm around her shoulder and used her weight to support him. The stench of body odor assaulted her nostrils and forced her to breathe through her mouth. 

It’s okay, Mr. Nox. Let’s get you in bed. 

Tears formed in his eyes as she gently set him on the mattress. The left side of his body looked like it was sliding off his bones, but his right hand reached out and gripped Alex’s. Hard.

She flinched. Do you need something? 

He mumbled, but she couldn’t make it out. 

He starts physical therapy tomorrow, which the doctors hope will help with mobility. You may need to drive him to his appointments from time-to-time, is that okay? Dottie asked. 

Yeah, no problem.

Dottie looked at her husband and frowned. He’s actually gained a bit of strength back in his leg already, and he can get around okay if he would use his walker and take it slow.

Peter waved his right hand at the comment, flicking it away.

Did I mention he’s stubborn?

Alex smiled. I think we’ll get along okay.

Peter looked at her and then shrugged his good shoulder. 

Yes, I see that. Dottie sighed. Let’s talk in the hall. Peter, please try to get some rest.

Alex gave Peter one last look. She understood the sadness of being trapped, unable to speak or live life as desired. 

Alex?

Coming. Alex walked into the hallway. 

Dottie gently closed the bedroom door. I see you have some natural skill, but I’m looking for someone to stick with us for the long haul. Do you think that’s you?

Absolutely. Alex watched Dottie’s eye travel down to the worn-out sneakers. I really need this. The words came out small and whispered. "We