Princess of Apocalypse Read online

  The town hall clock in the distance struck 2 am — I’d hoped it wouldn’t take me another 5 hours until my alarm would drag me out of my dream as it did last week, when the same boring dream had happened to me. Almost the same. This time — to my embarrassment — I was wearing the red Snoopy pyjamas grandma had bought me to my 15th. That was a year ago and by now the sleeves were far too short and the pants reaching me up to my shins. My mother’s washing skills had managed to turn it pink and the writing spread over my chest — “Time for my Bed” — only read “Tie m Bed” by now. Luckily, Jake didn’t see it the other day. We weren’t at the tie-me-to-bed stage in our relationship yet. Anyway, another certain sign that I was dreaming. Beacon Hills was small enough for folks knowing each and every soul in this town. Yet, not a single car had stopped by and asked me, if I was in need of help. A teenager walking down the street well after midnight, dressed only in a red, sorry, pink Snoopy, the Beacon Hills Herald could’ve filled up their tableau for an entire week. It was as if I didn’t exist to them, well, I didn’t. Last month I’d tried and asked Frank Jones, the guy from the petrol station, if he could drive me home, but no reaction. He just continued his read through the playboy behind the sales desk. He wouldn’t even recognise me, if I’d done a striptease right in front of his hose. And back then, I wasn’t even wearing pink Snoopy. With a sigh, I had been contending with the situation and had strolled to the nearby park, where I had made myself a bed on one of the park benches, counting the many stars, and waiting for dawn to settle in. It had taken forever to fall asleep and I’m sure, sleep hadn’t come to me until my alarm rang. I had felt dog-tired that day. By now that stupid dream kept coming to me at least once a week and each time I ended up on that park bench waiting for sunrise or sleep, whatever would strike first.

  As usual, I stopped at Cinderella’s Bridal Wear for some window shopping. Not that I was much into weddings — far too young for such commitment. Jake, my boyfriend for the last twelve weeks, saw this differently. He was already planning our life together in detail. I should have been flattered, Jake was the dream of every girl, co-captain of our school’s football team, gorgeous Hollywood smile, blue eyes, and tousled blond hair to die for. I simply couldn’t believe my luck, he’s mine.

  While I tried not to peek at the prices of the dresses I might never be able to afford, I did what every girl would do according to my opinion and tried to mirror myself in the window, imagining wearing the garment one day.

  “Damn”, I said when the reflection struck me. My long brunette hair was a mess. It stood in all directions as if I had a run in the tumble dryer or had been struck by lightning. Instantly I combed my fingers through it, but they couldn’t help with the dark shadows under my eyes. I was dog-tired! As tired as the face next to me. “Ah”, I startled and veered around, my heart pounded hard against my ribcage, facing a boy of maybe ten years or less, no, definitely less. He had pitch-black hair and dark eyes with crimson marks underneath that stood out from his otherwise pale skin. My mind turned immediately to thoughts of zombies and vampires and I stumbled backwards, my back banging against the shop window. The boy on the other hand just crooked his head and looked intensely at me. Well, it was impossible to know, if he was staring at me or right through me, after all, in my dreams I was just air to everyone else.

  Then I remembered; vampires and zombies have been just part of the fantasy world, not reality that is. And shouldn’t vampires look like Edward Cullen? This boy had nothing in common with Twilight.

  Awkward seconds passed with neither of us even twitching an eye. Something about the boy was unsettling, but at the same time conjured feelings of pity in me, which was even more weird as I thought of myself not being the motherly type whatsoever. And here we were; a look at this dirty little kid with the sad face and all I wanted to do is getting over to him and clean up his smudged face... what the hell was I thinking about? Where was that train of thoughts even coming from? That wasn’t me at all. Dream-world was messing with my head or my boyfriend was. He was talking about such stuff all the time.

  I got the better of me and cleared my throat. “Hi”, I stuttered and to my horror or confusion or both, the boy raised his right hand and waved me over. Did I imagine it? The boy turned on his heel and walked further down the sidewalk. He stopped at the entrance to the gelataria shop two buildings further down and gazed over his shoulder. Another wink of his hand followed. So much to the imagining part. Why couldn’t it have been Edward Cullen? No, instead I was stuck in this dream with a ten-year-old. What was wrong with me? Everything! At this moment the streetlamp next to me flickered. How much more horror movie cliché could it get? I made a mental note to stop my sister from watching this crap. It wasn’t me, of course not, watching those shows, just the older sister keeping an eye on my sister… but this was a dream and how bad could it be following the boy? “Where are we going?” I asked casually, but he was already on his way. “Damn it…” I cursed and set after him with long strides. “Really, you could at least say something… anything.” Or at least explain why you’re the only one noticing me.

  “What’s your name?” I called after him. No reaction. Maybe he was deaf, couldn’t talk or came from another country without English skills. “Can you understand what I’m saying?” Again he turned his head to me, his index finger touching his lips and moved on… and I trotted behind him like an obedient kid, while it should’ve been the other way around. “You know that’s just wrong”, I spotted me whispering. Why was I whispering?

  At the corner to Little Harpers Alley, I’ve finally caught up with him. The boy halted for a moment, leaned his head to the side as if it helped him hearing, just that there was nothing only the sizzling of the streetlamp next to us that started flickering. “You could at least tell me where we’re going.”

  He answered with a gesture into Little Harpers Alley. It was not really an alley, in best case a delivery truck could squeeze through. Mitchell Donatello, the owner of the fresh fruit and veggie shop, was using it as extended garbage. Crate upon crate was piling up around a dumpster that was filled up to the rim with leftover fruit that had passed the expiry date. It will be picked up by council workers tomorrow, but the huge pile indicated, Donatello’s business wasn’t running as well as Fabio wanted us to believe in school. On the positive, Beacon Hills had no homeless, otherwise, the dumpster would have been empty by now. That meant, we had one, once, but old nutcase Kirk Michaels passed away five years ago. He was a strange man, Vicky called him creepy, but there are plenty on her list matching this description.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea”, I whispered after the boy. “Why not staying on Main Street?” The boy didn’t turn around, just winked to follow him. “Okay… okay… I’m coming.” I’d nothing better to do till sunrise anyway. In addition, I’d no longing to the hard park bench and counting the thousand stars. Like on command I was gazing up to the firmament and sure enough, there they were, waiting obediently for me to count them. Stars and strings, silkily ropes that sparkled silvery in the moonlight, running from house to house in a complex structure. I was just contemplating what Donatello was up to, when it struck me. Those were no ropes, but spider webs. Gosh, had the apocalypse arrived? Were we invaded by thousands of spiders? A shower was running down my spine. I hated spiders. I released a sigh that supported my disapproval of creepy insects and bumped into the boy who got pushed over. I didn’t even notice him stopping in the middle of the alley. “Sorry”, I muttered, but he was already back on his feet, his angelic face smiling at me, but yet again, there was something unsettling about him, him… and…. “AHHHH”… that giant spider behind him. “Watch out!” I screamed and pulled him behind me like an older sister her younger sibling. The eight-legged thingy was man-tall, scrutinised me out of a dozen or more eyes and its legs reached out from one side of the alley to the other. Luckily it was still at least thirty feet away. I swung around, grabbed for the boy’s hand and off we went… at least that was the plan. T
he boy, however, didn’t have the slightest intention of leaving. Instead he smiled at me half-mentally. In the next moment, his eyes turned dark as coal, his lips opened to a set of knife-like teeth, a greenish black ichor dripping from its tips. I stumbled backwards and before I knew what happened, the boy was on top of me. He grabbed my pyjamas and heaved me off the ground as if I weighed no less than a feather — maybe I was; Jake was claiming that much — but nevertheless, no boy had that much strength. He veered me around and threw me with the back against the brick wall of Donatello’s fruit and veggie shop. I cried for help, but I knew right there, this was hopeless. All I could think of was that couldn’t happen. This must be a dream, wake up, Izzy. Now! Now is a very good moment to wake up!

  With only one hand, he lifted me up and nailed me to that wall. I squeezed my eyes shut and started kicking after him, but it was like kicking against a rock. I opened my eyes, the nightmare was still ongoing. I tried hitting harder after him, but my fist didn’t obey my orders. A glance to the side and in astonishment, I realised that my right hand was engulfed in silky ropes and stuck to the wall. My glance wandered to the other, but this hand faced the same misery, in fact, half my body was already wrapped in sticky spider web like a cocoon. I screamed louder only to find my mouth full of that silvery stuff a breath later.

  I was all panic now. Why was I not waking up? My heart rate went through the roof. Worse, the spider was right in front of me. Its fangs or whatever this two chiselling things in its mouth were called, were only inches away from my face, its body right on top of me with all its eight legs to my left and right attached to the brick wall to which it had glued me. Decay and frankincense escaped its mouth, the smell made me dizzy, I was close passing out, the world around me started spinning and I could just hope it was over quickly. What happens if you die in a dream? I was going to find out soon.

  Then, silver sparked to my left, followed by a horrible noise escaping the creature, not quite a scream, but there was pain and anger in it, the latter winning the upper hand. One of the creature’s legs fell off as if amputated by ghost hand. And the silver sparked again and again the spider made this ear deafening sound. Suddenly, the weight lifted off my chest and before I could blink twice, it was gone. In its stead was the boy fighting with dirty fingernails the size of daggers against a hooded figure with a long knife in its hand. The boy hissed, the hiss of a snake before it struck. In a left right combination it hit after his attacker. There was nothing human in the boy’s movements, more animal-like. But there was little human in the quick counters of the hooded figure either. The boy’s attacks rained upon his opponent in a wild haste marked by fury and determination to inflict pain. No matter how quick the hooded figure parried with his knife, the boy had two hands and each was equipped with five daggers of sharp nails. It didn’t take long and the boy penetrated the stranger’s hoodie at its sleeve and cut it open. The stranger didn’t twitch once, but the blood that showed at the boy’s fingernails was witness enough of its success. If the stranger had even noticed the wound was hard to tell, but he tossed his knife into the other hand, then, went into a squat, the boy saw this as an invitation and pranced. My rescuer, if he might be called this, rolled to the side and the boy missed his target. Both got up, but the stranger was quicker and kicked from behind against the boy’s knees, which gave way and sent him backwards to the ground. A heartbeat later and the stranger’s blade was jammed into the boy’s neck. There was a short hiss, followed by black smoke, the air was full of frankincense once more and made me dizzy. The boy’s body was a mess of bubbling black ichor that evaporated into smoke. The scene was so captivating, all I could do was watch in horror while the body resolved into nothingness. Lovecraft would have been proud of my dream.

  “Hey, are you alright?” It was the stranger speaking. His voice was harsh and had this Eastern European accent, maybe Russian.

  “No!” I sounded hysterical. “I am most definitely not alright. I’m as far away from alright as it could get.” Were there a few sobs mixed into my words? Anyway, I went on nattering, because that’s what I do when I’m close to freaking out. “What was this thing? Those fingernails, his eyes were all black and the teeth, and that spider, are we in some kind of prank with a hidden camera. If yes, not funny, do you see me laughing?”

  With swift cuts of another knife — I had no clue where he’d gone that from or when he had pulled it out — the stranger cut me loose and once released from the bondage, I plummeted hard to the ground. He could have caught me, right? That’s what heroes do. Embarrassed, I scrambled back onto my wobbly feet, swaying insecure forth and back like being drunk and almost would have fallen backwards, if he wouldn’t have caught me in time. Maybe a hero after all.

  “What was that thing?” I asked once more when he steadied me to an upright position, using the brick wall behind me to support my body that to my utter annoyance all of a sudden had decided not to obey simple commands of my brain anymore. With, his strong hands positioned on each shoulder, the world finally stopped spinning.

  “Who, the spider or its helper?”

  “Helper?” I asked back.

  “Black widow demons never work alone.”

  “I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming.”

  “Take a breath!”

  “I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming. What?”

  “You’re hyperventilating? Take a breath.”

  “I don’t, I never do.”

  “Honestly, take a breath, otherwise you pass out and I’ve to carry you home.”

  I followed his advice, but as usual, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “ Black widow demon? Helper? This must be a prank, demons don’t exist.”

  “Tomorrow you’ll think it was barely a dream anyway, so we can skip this part where I try my best convincing you and we go straight over to the part where I set after the black widow and you be a good girl and go home.”

  “You’re not accompanying me?” The disappointment in my voice was hard to miss. Nowadays, heroes are no longer what they used to be in the old stories and Hollywood seemed to get it totally wrong as well. “What if this thing is getting back to me, because you killed his helper?” I made it sound like an accusation and was very proud that my voice finally had managed to lose its panic.

  “The spider went in the direction of the city centre, your way home is in the opposite direction. I take the risk.”

  Getting angry at my saviour, I looked him straight into his eyes, when recognition finally was setting in. “You?” It was also the first time since my rescue that I looked into his face and with that, I was quite content that he didn’t go to the full extent of playing my hero. There are some people from which you didn’t want to be rescued.

  “A thanks would have done it.” His hands let go of me as if I was contagious with a deadly disease. At that moment, I didn’t care. Let’s leave it by saying, he’s on the top three of Vicky’s creepy list, straight after Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. With the latter two dead, he was the only one alive on her list.

  “That must be a dream…”, I continued and stared at my bare feet while shaking my head vigorously in the hope to finally wake up. Well, it didn’t work.

  “Yeah, a bad dream and now go home, Izzy.”

  Izzy? “Only my friends are allowed to call me that. It’s Elizabeth for you.” He had no right calling me that way, but right then, I was too tired to give him contra and what’s the point arguing to an imaginary person in your dream anyway.

  “As you wish. Go home, Elizabeth!”

  “Right then, have a nice hunt”, I snapped back and glanced up, but he was already gone. As I said, heroes were not the same anymore.

  Chapter II

  School

  The gang was already waiting for me, when I turned my old Hyundai into the parking lot outside the main school building. As usual, it took me five incredibly embarrassing attempts to hit the right angle until I finally managed manoeuvring the car in it
s spot in between Vicky’s Porsche 911 and my boyfriend’s Ford Ranger pickup — yeah, another embarrassment, but not everyone has Donald Trump as father. Flushed over both ears, I got out of the car.

  Jake was the first to greet me with a stunning kiss that took my breath away and caused more flushing. By now, I could have been mistaken for a fire extinguisher. But most likely no one would have noticed as everyone had only eyes for my god of a boyfriend, 6 feet tall, crimson-blue eyes, blond hair that fell like waterfalls to his shoulders, sparkling white teeth with a permanent embedded Hollywood smile upon his lips. Honestly, I still couldn’t believe my luck.

  “Izzy, let me know next time you’re on the road so that I make sure, I’m not.”

  “Hah, hah”, I brought out.

  “I told you, you need one of those self-parking cars.” Vicky’s greeting came with the French-style kiss on the left and right cheek. As usual, Vicky looked stunning, despite the fact that it was a Monday morning and no one was supposed to look that spotlessly brilliant on such a day. If today was a beauty contest, I was destined to lose. She was all what Miss America symbolised. It was her pink day, pink shirt, pink skirt, pink ballerina shoes, a pink bow ribbon in her hair, even the nail polish was pink.