Want to read the first chapter of the New Series- Evil Behind These Doors
Evil Behind These Doors -
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Chapter One
The clouds gathered above, thick and dark consuming the sun. The wind turned North and was suddenly cold. The mist was moving in fast and thick, like steamy soup. Outside the office windows, darkness was forming in the eerie mist of the fog where evil lurked.
Inside the office of Calloway Law & Trademarks, Gabriel Anderson, Max Calloway’s secretary was filing the past weeks worth of case files. Gabriel was a beautiful French decent young woman that Henry Calloway brought to Max when he first became a partner with the family firm. Her beautiful Jade colored eyes and her coal black hair always turned men’s head. One of those men was Max Calloway. Max Calloway a muscular man, had coal black hair and a devious smile; he has fought his desires for her for years. People always stated that his eyes were people’s windows to his emotions; emotion that he had always said caused chaos.
Max Calloway sat rubbing, slow and intimately, the folder contained a number of colored eight-by-ten photographs of The Calloway Collection; revealed the treasure of a dazzling mystique Calloway Stones. He opened the folder, his hands shaking, and he let a heavy sigh escaped him. No matter how many times he saw them, they always affected him the same way. His heart raced at the sight of these flawless, but dangerous stones. His stomach was filled with fluttering butterflies at the thought of him tossing his conservative side away for an adventurous hunt. At the same time, he feared that he would lose his beautiful wife over these stones.
The first photograph of the priceless and breath-taking collection was the Bossie Diamond, possessed with a tragic history and a curse of death to the owner that kisses it. Perfect cut, perfect clarity, and perfect in every sense of the way, a girls dream and wealth for the owner or seller.
The next stone, the Midnight Sapphire, flawless and was believed to be three hundred years old. The stone’s color came close to the darkness of midnight without a star dropped in the sky. Darkness was never so beautiful, except for the Midnight Sapphire.
The last stone, the Talisman Emerald, housed in two gold rings had a myth relating to the stone; a myth of danger that all owners fear. The belief of this myth was that a powerful red vampire placed the mystical circles on this stone and whomever possessed the stone would forever have danger in their lives if they were evil people. This was Max’s favorite stone of all; it played with his hidden dangerous side of him.
Every piece in this collection had a mysterious attachment to them, which is true with most stones, but these one is more personal.
Henry Calloway found these stones in an ancient stoned box hidden in the walls of his grandfather’s remodeled mansion. This ancient stone box had a line of jade stones around the outside and a large red ruby stone on the top with six small diamonds circling the Ruby. Inside was a metal dragonfly that housed three Emeralds, three Sapphires, and three Diamonds in each wing, a priceless find. Henry, Max’s grandfather, had sought out this mansion for years, waiting for buyers to die and their heirs to sell it or even die, if Henry had to wait that long he would. Henry’s patience paid off, the heirs sold the mansion to Henry to the tune of two million dollars. Henry was told of the curse that came with the box. Whoever that opened this box, letting the metal jewel dragonfly come alive, would release the Calloway Curse.
The dragonfly would turn into the powerful red vampire. The vampire's skin was blood red and had ghostly white eyes. They had a way of blending in will all humans, acting as humans, and carry on two lives; a human life and a red vampire life. The vampire was known to have his army of dragonfly slayers that also turned into red vampire; one bite to the enemy meant a very slow and painful death. The Calloway Curse would release an evil that would eventually kill the owner and everyone that did not return the stones to the box. Max knew about this myth. He soon found out this first hand. What Henry had feared had came true, Henry Calloway, opened that box more than ten years ago from the day the police said he disappeared, everyone else said he was kidnapped. Max knew his grandfather well; he would never run from anything, especially when he had his dreams finally in his hands. Henry had tracked the existence of these stones for over a decade.
Max remembered all the childhood bedtime stories that he truly believed were real. Maybe he had just a bit of his grandfather’s adventurous side in him. A side he kept from his loving wife Rebecca.
Rebecca Calloway was the only daughter of the rich Moore’s family, a well-known name in Cambridge. The bloodline in that family was as thick as their high-class noses. The only one that broke the mold when she was born was the caring, Rebecca. Rebecca was a soft-spoken, kind, loving and had a strong desire to have children, rather than money. She met Max Calloway at Henry’s law firm and fell instantly in love, which of course, sent her father and mother into a furious rage. They never did approve of the Calloway’s. The Moore had always associated them as unstable characters of a lesser bloodline, and defiantly not good enough for their only daughter Rebecca. Rebecca found Max and his grandfather to be warm and fun, with a lot of love to give.
Gabriel cleared her voice. “Good night, Max.” She batted her sexy green eyes at Max.
Max showed no emotion. “Oh! Of course. Good night.”
Gabriel’s face tightened with anger as she left Max to continue studying the folder. Gabriel was determined to be the next Mrs. Calloway someday. She had admired Max from a far every since she saw his muscular body swimming in the lake behind her fathers' house when she was just a teenager. She tried to hide the facts of her infatuation since he was married and her high-class family would frown on any action that showed any inappropriateness and ultimately cause embarrassment to the family name.
Max sat immersed in his thoughts about his grandfather, Henry Calloway. He sat staring at several more pages of notes that his grandfather had recorded before his disappearance. He looked at these papers repeatedly, over the years, trying to find a small glimmer of hope. However, nothing. Why today was his feelings so strong? Why the need to look at these photographs and papers once again?
The phone rang.
Max picked up the phone with a smile on his face as he assumed it would be his loving wife, Rebecca, calling like she did every night to see when he was coming home. "Hello, dear." Max’s eyes grew with fear he stopped smiling, as a chill raced crossed his body and his mouth dropped a few inches he let out a moan of agony.
In a sibilant whisper, “Come in! Come in to my world to see your son and wife again.” He could hear his son crying and his wife moaning. Max yelled, "Don't hurt them!" as he dropped the phone, and raced from the office.
Outside in the darkness of the mist, a figure scaled the outside of the stucco mansion to an open balcony door. The white lace inset curtains fluttered in the night’s wind as the velvet curtains made a loud thumping sound. Rebecca could hear the sound of the curtains from downstairs in the living room. She just smiled, knowing that familiar sound. The figured made its way up onto the balcony, sliding into the empty room.
The room was beautiful. The walls were a soft mauve, so light it was impossible to tell if the color was there or merely your imagination. The carpet, a deep mauve, thick and soft like cotton, had reflects of light dancing on the carpet. There was a collage pattern, picked up the colors from the stained glass windows on all three walls. The pattern was soothing and intricate.
The shadowy figure turned its head to examine the other contents of the room. The furniture was antique and heavy. The figure flopped down on the bed a four-poster that was more comfortable than anything it had ever slept on in its life. The dresser was large and held several scented vanilla candles and some other feminine props. There were candles that lined the edge of the room that basked the room in a soft glow.
The shadowy figure slowly made its way down the circular stairwell and into the dark marble hall, hearing Rebecca singing a lullaby to Matthew, her eight-month old son with curly coal black hair. The figure paused to listen with a snicker on it face, whispered, “Oh! How cute!”
Rebecca paced around the playpen singing to a sleepy Matthew. A falling log on the fire sent a shower of sparks flying outward onto the stone hearth and interrupted the pleasant moment. Rebecca went to lay several more pieces of wood on the blazing heap, and then turned to Matthew, wiping her hands on her pants while ending the song. She glanced down into the playpen that was decorated with Teddy Bears and baseballs. Rebecca wanted Matthew to have a sensitive side but a tough side, also. Rebecca smiled in pride. Then she played with his soft curls for a moment, before returning to her tapestry high back chair by the cozy fireplace, to read her novel.
The figure slowly stepped off the last step and peered toward the living room. The figure stepped past the doorway of the living room and pulled out a candle and an old leather diary from inside its black uniform. The figure lighted the candle, placing it in the middle of the marble hall, before slamming the old leather dairy onto the floor. The figure slid into the entranceway to the North basement, waiting for Rebecca.
Rebecca slowly appeared around the corner and gasped at the sight. She felt the warmth of the fire at her back, but a sudden eerie feeling sent a shiver simulating down her spine and compelled her to lift her gaze. Then suddenly a hand came firmly over her mouth was encased in a thin, black glove, and as much of the figure’s arm as she could see was also wearing black. Several hard objects near the figure’s waist dug into her back painfully. Then the shadowy figure pulled her impossibly close, as she felt the roughness from a wool ski mask- as the figures hard jaw brushed against her temple.
She did not struggle in the figure’s powerful embrace, although even if she wanted to she could not have, the embrace was too powerful. Instead, she concentrated on controlling her ragged breathing so that it would not be audible; her eyes fixed on the playpen in the living room. The figure started to drag her toward the basement; Rebecca began to put up some resistance. Her fear was for her son. She tried grabbing onto the wall edge, but the figure had too much force; it just tore her fingers tip until they bleed. She grabbed for the light; it fell to the floor and shattered, waking Matthew. Matthew wailed as Rebecca tried to scream.
The figure pulled Rebecca down the stone stairs of the North Basement. Rebecca pulled on the banister to trying and get away, but the force behind the figure was rage. The figure’s rage was so strong that it allowed the figure to lift Rebecca off her feet, while dragging Rebecca toward the open door. The figure dragged Rebecca into the dark tunnels, the candle flames wavering in the wall sconces and a multiplicity of shadows leap and dance ahead of her. The figure tightened the grip around her small waist.
Rebecca felt like the dark tunnels was leaving her, just as her breath was. The coldness made it even harder to breathe. Rebecca managed to state in a breathless tone, “I can’t breathe.”
The figure laughed as it tightened the forceful grip. Rebecca moaned in pain. She knew then that the figure had no emotions, no cares, especial for her. They continued down deeper into the cold tunnels until they came upon five large stone carved doors. The doors were made of yellow stone with brown carved hieroglyphics, but the headed above the doors were different. The first door had a heading marking of an Egyptian eye with a triangle in the pupil. The second door had a different marking in the heading of an ancient golden key. The middle door had a large stone coin that had a small revolving sun in the middle that was surrounded by a pattern of triangles and circles. The fourth door has two large triangles with Egyptian eyes as one triangle was reversed on top of the other triangle. The last door marking was a large golden bright sun with a yin-yang symbol in the middle. The figure opened the first door, revealing a dirty dark place with multiply shadows dancing off the concrete walls.
At least five minutes must had passed, with agonizing slowness, before her captor finally relaxed slightly and eased her down on the cold floor. The figured whispered again, soft and no more than a sibilant whisper, next to her ear. “I have your son, don’t do anything stupid. And next I will have your husband, too.” The figure shoved Rebecca hard making her stumble across the room into the concrete wall.
Rebecca sat there in a state of realism that she was in harms way. Where was her son? What was going on? They had to be after the collection of stones and artwork.
With Max's love of ancient artifacts, priceless artworks, and heavenly jewelry, she had never felt the slightest urge to romanticize about them. In addition, no matter how rapturous they looked on her, Rebecca preferred them to be on others. She was a simple humble woman with soft blond hair and a love for children.
She found herself, quite unaccountably, sitting on the cold marble floor. She had her cut fingers wrapped and her wrist were bound together with black electrician’s tape, and she was staring at the ornate leg of the display case full of skulls, which her one arms was wrapped around; effectively immobilized. Rebecca kicked, squirmed, and twisted trying to remove her belt, so she could try to cut the tape; still immobilized.
For the moment, she felt defeated, and when the door of the chamber was securely closed behind her, she collapsed weakly to her knees. Tears glistened in her thick lashes. Was she going to die? Where is Matthew? Was he all right?
She closed her eyes, spilling the overflow of tears down her cheeks, and from the dark recesses of her mind a vision took shape, that of Matthew lying, alone, crying in a dirty chamber. Rebecca dropped her face in her hands and began to sob heavily. She wanted desperately to be gone from this place, to have her son in her arms. Her sobs slowly eased and she lowered her hands and she stared through brimming tears at the filthy chambers. They did not sweep the floor, washed the walls, or gave her anything to lie on. The place revealed mostly of a damp odor of death and a chilling breeze that whistled through every crack and crevice.
Taking firm command of her emotions, Rebecca sat back upon her heels and brushed the tears from her cheeks. A long, calming sigh escaped her as she continued to survey her surrounding. All she knew was that she had a great deal of strength, wit, and fate in Max. Between her and Max they would save Matthew and escape.
Fog moved in, thick, white, and low to the ground. The wind ceased, so that the mist lay dense and stationary. Max fast approached the mansion as the fog surrounded the window shield. Max squinted his eyes, trying to see the road in such thick fog. Max placed the car in park; he leaped from the car without closing the door, and raced up the concrete steps to his grandfather’s old mansion as the fog thickened around him. Max could see that the large stain-glass door was open. He raced in to see a single burning candle sitting in the middle of the dark marble foyer. Beside the candle was an old leather dairy with a fourteen-carat gold antique key tied to the circular star emblem. All Max had to navigate through the mansion was the still glowing fire. Max raced into the dark living room. The room was deathly quite. The candles had been deliberately snuffed. The scent of the hot wax still lingered in the air. Max slowly walked toward the playpen seeing his son's soft blanket on the floor. Max took a deep amount of air and let it out as he looked into an empty playpen. Max heart pounded so loud and so fast that he felt weakness in his knees. Max grabbed his head, “No! No!” His voice echoed through the mansion.
In disbelief, he slowly walked back to the dark hallway.
Max called out for his wife, “Rebecca!”
There was no answer. He searched for the light switch, feeling the wall, but stopped when he found some sticky liquid substance on his fingers. He held his fingers up to his nose. His eyes showed the fear that was building in him. He found the light switch, slowly pushing it upward to find a horrifying site. The walls revealed a trail of bloody scratches. Max swallowed hard as he muttered softly, "My Rebecca, no!"
He slowly followed those scratches with tears in his eyes, and butterflies in his stomach. His thoughts flashed to his son. What could have happened to my son? Rebecca must have been trying to stay with Matthew. His mouth was dry as he tried to move his thick tongue to scream, but nothing came out. The scratches lead him down to the north basement of the mansion. Suddenly the scratches stopped at the entranceway of an empty room that had five wooden doors with ancient carvings. Screams of pain and terror filled the void of silence, as he approached the ancient door.
Max yelled Rebecca’s name, but it was slurred. Max felt as if he was entering a different level of oxygen. It was thick and heavy. Max felt the presence of evil and his blood was getting cold.
A second later, the whisper filled the room, “Come in. Come in to discover a lesson of survival, of love, or maybe death.” An evil laughter filled the room as the cold air dropped a couple of degrees and started swirling around him like a thick blanket. Max shivered at the thought of his baby son and his wife alone in the dark coldness with evil tormenting them.
Then silence took over and the middle door creaked open. The bright light filled the room with a blinking effect. The voice returned, but it was with a loud angry tone. “Come in! Come in!” Max could hear his son's cry louder, and his wife’s voice begging for help.
The whispers taunted Max, “I have the power, and, most of all, the people believe that in you, well, they fear me, my power, my knowledge, and most of all, all that I stand for. So, come enter through these doors to my world; a world of evil and fear that only I love.” The evil laughter once again filled the room as the cold temperatures continued to drop. Max's breathing became rapid and he could see steam coming from his nose like an angry bull ready to charge.
Max entered without a second thought and into a world of emptiness and darkness that was beyond any dreams he could imagine.
This is available is paperback or e-book form. Purchase it and let me know what you think. Send me youe book link and I place it on my site.
posted by Barbara Price Galvan at
4:37 PM
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