Claws of Death: Hellbound Series, #2

By Sara Clancy and Scare Street

Evil rises from the darkest depths…

A demon infests a peaceful seaside town. And only the Rose siblings can put an end to its reign of terror. The children of a powerful psychic, gifted with the ability to sense impending death, Wren, Shrike, and Lark have inherited a terrible burden. They must kill every last soul their late father had saved. For those who cheat death are claimed by the supernatural entities they now hunt…

Arriving in town, the three siblings discover they may already be too late. Multiple mysterious deaths haunt the streets. And all the victims are linked to one Clarence Muller… a kindly man who runs a charity for the homeless. But something lurks behind Clarence's kind words and friendly smile—an evil the siblings know all too well.

Clarence is more powerful than the other demons they have faced, and he craves the sweet taste of young flesh. To stop him, they must delve deep into the occult secrets of ancient magic—dark lore lost to the ages.

The Rose siblings know there is a price for cheating death. But forbidden knowledge comes with a cost as well…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scare Street
• Release date: Aug 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798224335008

Book preview

Claws of Death

Hellbound Series Book 2

Written by Sara Clancy

Edited by David Longhorn and Merill Ravago

Copyright © 2022 by ScareStreet.com

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Let the Nightmares Begin…

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Let the nightmares begin…

See you in the shadows,

Scare Street

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Hellfire Preview Prologue

Hellfire Preview Chapter 1

Voices from Beyond…

Chapter 1

A humid breeze swept over the dark waves, making the scattered bonfires crackle and stirring the towering beach grass. A narrow path linked the boardwalk to the shore. The sand was churned up with use and, in the dull light, Wren struggled to avoid the bigger holes. He stumbled. Before he could fall, Shrike grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him upright. The stitching of his sleeve dug into the tender flesh of his shoulder. He cursed in pain.

Wren? What happened? Are you okay? Lark looked up at him with her wide doe eyes.

I’m fine. I just tripped, he said.

Lark’s eyes grew wider. Over what?

She stepped closer to her older siblings as she looked around. The seagrass swayed again, allowing firelight and shadows to dance over the sand. It all looked normal enough. No unexplainable shapes or strange movement. No crushing sense that they were being haunted by something unseen. Still, after their encounters in the city, they knew to fear the darkness around them. Demons liked to hide in the shadows.

It was just a dip in the sand, Wren said. I hate the beach.

Without letting go of his shirt, Shrike gently cupped his shoulder and prodded the joint.

None of that hurts? Shrike asked.

No more than usual.

You’ve just gotten out of your sling, Shrike said. If you hurt it again, you’re going to permanently damage your shoulder.

I fell. That’s all. He tried to stalk forward, but Shrike kept her grip on him. He was the oldest of the Rose siblings, but she was the strongest. He wasn’t going anywhere until she let him. I’ll be more careful. I promise.

Shrike hesitated.

My online research alone isn’t enough to decide if we kill someone, Wren said. Maybe Clarence is a demon. Or maybe those newspapers are right, and all these deaths were just horrible accidents.

Yeah, okay, but… we really don’t have to do this tonight, Lark said. The Crab Festival doesn’t officially start until tomorrow, right? And it goes for a week. Everyone worth talking to will still be here in the morning. When there’s daylight and more witnesses.

By then, they’ll be nursing hangovers and far less chatty, he replied.

We give Lark one hour to do her thing and then we go check into our hotel. Shrike nudged him. And you don’t leave my side the entire time.

Wren nodded, and Shrike reluctantly released her grip. Wren took the lead once again. His feet sunk into the still-warm sand and continuously threw him off-balance. He could feel his sisters watching him like he was about to break. He picked up his pace. Something caught his foot, and he flopped forward. Pain sliced across his shoulder, and his face smacked into something wet and rancid. Gagging, he pushed himself up, feeling the lump squirm beneath him.

The firework display began. Shrill whirls and pops drowned out his sisters as they rushed to help him. Hissing embers streaked overhead and drenched them in colorful light. Wren finally saw what he was lying on. A mangled human torso. Its skin had been peeled off. Hundreds of tiny crabs scurried over the carcass, squirming around the exposed muscles, and devouring the fat. Their blood-drenched exoskeletons clicked as they swarmed. Wren’s scream mixed with the bursting fireworks and the cheers of the crowd.

***

Shrike wiped the sweat from her forehead and cursed the heat. Skuttle Beach was already insufferably humid, and it was only spring. Come summer, the fishing town would be swarmed with tourists. The picturesque boardwalk was built to accommodate those larger crowds. Since they were still in the off-season, the long stretch of storefronts looked like a neon ghost town. It put her on edge. She knew she couldn’t blame her paranoia on Skuttle Beach, or the darkness, or even the newly discovered corpse. Paranoia and dread had been twisting her up ever since they’d found their father’s body. That night had changed everything.

Rubbing the scarred side of her neck, Shrike scanned the thin crowd for Clarence Muller. It had been years since the Rose family had stalked the man, and she didn’t really remember him. He was just one of many they had saved using their father’s premonitions. Or rather, that’s what they’d thought they had been doing. It was all just a sick trick. All those people were supposed to die. Because of their intervention, the Rose family had condemned dozens of people to demonic possession. Their father’s legacy was a lie.

Shrike’s fingers trailed along her necklace until she found her pendant. A metal disc with a cardinal embossed upon it. Lark had stolen three of them shortly after their father’s murder and the siblings wore them in his memory. She rubbed the smooth underside and tried to keep her focus. A series of sharp cracks made her jump. She spun toward the beach. It wasn’t hard to spot the group of teenagers running from the firecrackers that sparked across the sand. They sprinted past a deputy who looked on with mild amusement. Apparently, illegal firecrackers were something they were willing to turn a blind eye to during the festival. I wonder what else they’ll ignore, she thought as she glanced between the bonfires. Hunting this demon would be a lot easier if they could avoid police attention. Something that would be harder now that they had to give witness statements.

She turned back to watch Wren talking to Sheriff Pollock. They had given him a wet wipe to get the blood off his face. It hadn’t really worked. His glasses had red streaks, and his dark curly hair was matted with sand and gore.

He’s been nursing his shoulder since he fell, Lark whispered as she pressed a little closer to Shrike’s side.

I should have caught him, Shrike said.

Lark scoffed. You’ve got to stop hogging all the blame. It’s just selfish at this point.

Wren felt them watching him and met their gaze across the boardwalk. He flashed them a weak smile. A small confirmation that he was all right. What little reassurance Shrike felt vanished when he looked away and began shifting his weight between his feet.

He’s struggling, Shrike said.

He’s got this, Lark reassured her. Wren looked into the whole Skuttle Beach police force, remember? All the sources say that Sheriff Ralph Pollock is a stand-up guy.

Pollock gave every appearance of being the sturdy type. The kind of man who will remain calm regardless of the situation. But Shrike didn’t know him. And she certainly didn’t trust him.

Trent had seemed like a normal person too, Shrike reminded her. And we’re here because Clarence, the small-town hero, might have created a charity for the sole purpose of murdering people. Not all sources are trustworthy.

Lark inched a little closer to Shrike. Why do they always pick on the homeless? First Trent, now Clarence, or whoever the demon possessed.

You don’t think it’s Clarence? Shrike asked.

I’m only saying that I’m not one-hundred percent sure. Clarence was a thief before we saved his life. He broke into people’s homes for a living. You’d think a demon would like that. Easy targets with all the privacy you could want. Trent kept working as a bus driver just to get that set up. It was all about blending into a crowd. So why would Clarence move to a small town and start a charity? That’s just drawing attention to himself.

Maybe that’s the point. Hiding in plain sight, Shrike suggested.

Lark scoffed. Oh, yeah. It’s famously easy to hide things in small towns. It’s not like everyone will be knee-deep in everyone else’s business.

Just because you’re an obsessive gossip doesn’t mean everyone else is.

She watched Pollock pat Wren’s injured shoulder. Her brother winced, and Shrike clenched her fists.

Settle, Lark whispered in a singsong voice. People are watching.

Shrike shook out her arms and worked her jaw, trying to disguise whatever emotion had been showing through. She must have done a bad job because Lark pushed in closer. She hugged her big sister’s arm and rested her head on Shrike’s shoulder. It was a small thing that made a big difference. Having sweet little Lark curling into her for comfort softened Shrike a bit. Made her look more protective than mindlessly violent. It was enough to have a few of the people watching them lose interest.

News of the ghastly discovery had spread quickly. Shrike had expected that a crowd would gather. The curious, the sickened, and the distraught would all want to know what had happened. It was the number of people that continued with the celebrations that surprised her. In a town this size, there was a good chance they would know the victim. But the biggest disruption was the pathway being blocked off by a disinterested deputy.

Lark squeezed her arm and mumbled, In front of the ice-cream parlor. Green shirt.

Shrike turned her head just enough to view the storefront out of the corner of her eyes. Clarence Muller stood on the edge of a small group, his ice cream melting over his hand as he watched Wren and the sheriff. He had a face that was somehow both distinctive and unremarkable. Long and narrow with sharp angles. In the years since they had seen him, his hairline had thinned and receded back from his temples. His eyebrows and beard weren’t in a much better state. Beyond that, he looked surprisingly unchanged.

The fisherman lifestyle really agrees with him, Lark mumbled. That or he’s had work done. What do you think? A face-lift?

Lark, Shrike huffed. Can you take this seriously?

I am. We need to be looking for anything out of the ordinary. Well, Clarence didn’t have that airbrushed dewy complexion the last time we saw him. It’s a change, and I’m taking note of it.

Shrike mulled it over. Trent had begun to rot after the demon got in him. And Lisa looked like she had been through hell, too.

Neither of them wanted to think about the woman that murdered their father, and they quickly refocused the conversation on Clarence.

We saved Clarence a year before Trent, didn’t we? Shrike asked.

I think so.

So, logically, Clarence has been possessed longer than Trent ever was. Why is he in such good shape?

Lark shrugged. Maybe he and Trent are two different breeds of demon. Or maybe he’s not possessed at all. Like I keep saying, the guy runs a charity now. One that’s practically keeping this town alive. Maybe he’s Dad’s success story.

Maybe.

Shrike watched Clarence. The man didn’t do anything but mindlessly eat his ice cream, but Shrike felt a deep chill sweep down her spine. The sensation lingered despite the heat. It took her a second to pinpoint exactly why she felt so uneasy. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Wren. She checked on her brother. He was still standing with Pollock under a streetlamp. His hands twitched nervously as he talked, and the sheriff kept giving him reassuring pats on his shoulder. Shrike turned back to the ice-cream parlor and cursed.

Where did Clarence go?

Huh? Lark tore her eyes from Wren and checked the parlor. Damn it. I only looked away for a second.

Shrike started to scan the crowd again, but Lark squeezed her arm and forced her attention back. Wren and the sheriff were waving them over.

Remember what we talked about, Lark said as they hurried across the boardwalk.

I’ll keep my mouth shut.

Wren sagged with relief when Lark pulled him into a hug. Shrike rubbed a hand between his shoulder blades, easing some of his tension. He pulled back from Lark and cleared his throat.

I’m okay. He gestured to the man standing close beside them. Sheriff Pollock thinks it was a boating accident.

Lark dug her nails into Shrike’s forearm, but it wasn’t enough to stifle Shrike’s knee-jerk response.

You can’t be serious.

It happens more than you’d think, Sheriff Pollock said curtly. It’s the tides. You drown anywhere along the coast, and you’ll end up at our beach eventually.

He was in the dunes.

Shrike, Lark hissed.

Shrike bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Their dad had always been the one to keep her in line. He had a talent for making her see sense even when her temper was getting the better of her. But now he was gone, and she had to learn to control herself fast before she put them all in danger. Officer Barsotti had only needed a few minutes to figure out exactly how to manipulate her. He’d enjoyed winding her up until she did something stupid or blurted out a few secrets. It was because of her that he was still fixated on the strange events surrounding Joe Rose’s death. And she blamed herself for his suspicions that they were linked to Trent’s disappearance.

Sorry, she’s a bit rattled. We all are. Lark swallowed and brushed her long, dark hair back with trembling fingers. "It was so horrible. That poor man. I can’t wrap my head around the idea that a boating accident could do that."

You’d be surprised what a boat’s propeller can do to a human body. Sheriff Pollock studied Lark and his face softened. Put your mind at ease, sweetheart. It was just an accident.

He was in the dunes! Shrike mentally screamed. Sheriff Pollock glanced at her before continuing.

We had a storm only a few days back. I know our waves don’t look like much now but give it a swell at high tide and you’ll realize why that body washed up where it did.

Lark forced a small smile. Well, it is comforting to know that there isn’t a crazed killer running around.

I promise you there isn’t, Pollock said kindly.

This was Lark’s skill set. Looking innocent and scared. Making people like her. Coaxing out their protective instincts.

It’s just a sad fact of life, Pollock continued. Happens all the time.

It does? I didn’t know boating was so dangerous.

Oh, it can be. Fishing isn’t that much safer. And like I said, the tides bring a lot of folks to our shore.

We did hear someone talking about another body. One they found in a park. Lark looked to Wren like she was unsure. It was a park, wasn’t it?

That’s nothing for you to worry about either, Pollock cut in.

It isn’t?

Sheriff Pollock smiled at her. We have a charity program. People who have been down on their luck come to stay with us. We give them a home and teach them a few trades, and they stay to breathe some new life into our little town. The sad truth is that, sometimes, we’re just too late. Being homeless takes a toll on the body and it’s not always reversible. No matter how peaceful the death, it’s never a pretty sight once the wildlife gets at them.

Movement behind the sheriff caught Shrike’s attention. Clarence was drifting through the crowd. He stopped to chat with a woman, but his eyes remained fixed on them. Her stomach squirmed. Does he recognize us? Trent had. It had taken him a short while, but Trent had been able to dredge up the human memory of the Rose family saving his life. Shrike clenched her fists and took a deep breath. They had barely been in town for an hour, and everything was already falling apart. The sheriff now knew them in relation to a corpse, and Clarence was sniffing around.

It’s too soon, she thought. We haven’t even got a sense of the town yet. We have no idea what’s happening or what we’re up against. We should get out of here while we can.

What are you staring at? Pollock asked.

Shrike flinched. Nothing.

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. Nothing? Nothing at all?

I’m processing recent events, Shrike said flatly.

Lark rubbed her arm and smiled sadly at the sheriff. I’m sorry, I’m not feeling my best. Could we maybe answer these questions tomorrow?

I’m going to need both of you girls to give your statements tonight. I’ll make it quick and painless. Pollock clicked his pen and hovered it over his notepad. I’ll also need to check your names for the report. What’s your last name, Abraham?

Wren cleared his throat and shifted his weight again. Darby.

Lark was the only one comfortable using aliases. She had always liked acting and twisting up the truth. But since their father had kept them within the law as much as possible, the siblings had had very little need for them, and Wren and Shrike could blunder through. Now, they had the looming threat of Officer Barsotti. He was just a traffic cop a few states away, but he was persistent and seemingly had endless favors to call in.

The plan had been to keep off the radar. The tourist town was supposed to give them that. We weren’t supposed to end up giving a witness statement, Shrike thought bitterly. I wasn’t supposed to have to do this beyond checking in at the hotel. Damn it, what name did I choose again?

Sheriff Pollock glanced over, and Shrike blurted out, Louise Odier.

And you?

I’m Anne Harkness, Lark said. Spelt the way it sounds.

Pollock arched an eyebrow. Abraham said you lot were siblings.

Through adoption, Lark replied.

Pollock scribbled it down, paused, and stared at the paper.

Something wrong? Shrike asked with sinking dread.

"Oh, sorry, was just