I wake up late the next morning, the clock next to my bed tells me its half past eleven. I should be opening the store in half an hour but instead I pull Duke in under the blanket and pull up the news on my phone. Multiple sources are reporting gangs of junkies on some kind of new drug attacking people along with rabid dogs on the loose. Also, freak weather, it's almost noon but it looks as if the sun has just set. The city is in some kind of strange twilight. Every news outlet is repeating the same thing: stay indoors. I pull up a video titled MUTANT DOG MASSACRE IN NEW YORK the footage shows three "dogs" galloping down the street toward a police barrier, one clears a cop car in an effortless bound, landing on an officer and ripping his arm off, while taking fire from police on either side. The other two bowl into the barricade at full tilt, sending the concrete smashing into a line of mounted police, their horses screaming as they fall and are set upon by the dogs. This is really bad. Those are not dogs. They're the size of mastiffs but almost completely hairless except for a mane. Their eyes seem to glow.
Hellhounds. I've seen drawings in old texts of something similar; descriptions of the beasts describe them as savage killers, indiscriminant in their quest for bloodshed. There is no way though that there are hellhounds in New York. Only something powerful could summon them, and who would release them in the city? Maybe someone accidentally summoned one.
I close down the video and burry my face in Duke's fur for a minute, drawing comfort from him. I pull the blanket around both of us. I pick Duke up, carry him to our chair, and switch on the tv.
"Chaos in the streets is what we're seeing today Tom." Says the female reporter "A little after ten last night what some are calling feral dogs crawled out from the sewers and began attacking passersby. Soon after, what some are describing as junkies on some new kind of drug started making violent attacks on revelers in Times Square. Police have been unable to stop the attacks, or even to contain them. Last night six blocks of Midtown were cordoned off but this morning authorities have put all of Midtown in a state of emergency. Residents are cautioned to stay away from windows and doors." The footage shows a line of police behind the female newscaster. "I'm here with Police Chief Smithson. What can you tell us … … these attacks and why haven't … … gotten them under control?" She holds the microphone up to a man with a greying moustache in full riot gear.
"We currently do not know the source of these attacks but we are advising … midtown not to panic… … reason to… … coordinated attack … group." The feed is cutting in and out now. The sound is going out quite a bit, but as it progresses the picture starts to break into static as well.
"….rumors … … these … … junkies? … footage …"
"When … … they stop… … get … … are just …"
The tv cuts to a man in a studio. "Alright Tanya, stay safe out there. We're getting a video coming in now from one of our viewers of what they saw last night." A grainy cell phone video pops up of something running down a street chasing people. The camera focuses and a horrific creature is revealed, it looks human but pale, corpselike skin is stretched over a sinewy body. Its hands are claw like and the face is pinched with large pointed ears. The worst part is its mouth; it looks like the mouth of some kind of unholy predator. The footage cuts out as it leaps at a man.
Duke bristles and begins a low growl from my lap. I stroke him, trying to calm both of us. The man comes back on. "Do you have a video you would like to share? Send it to our studio via facebook or twitter!" The tv breaks to a commercial but I remain rooted to the chair. Both of us stay there for hours, watching the footage unfold on the television. Meteorologists are scrambling to explain the freak weather. It's not clouds, it's not smoke, it's just dark. In the streets the police are continuing to retreat in the face of an unknown enemy that seemingly can't be gunned down. Scattered videos of things flying through the air, and lumbering hulks in the shadows are played over and over.
"We are now being told that Midtown East, Murray Hill, Korea Town, and Hell's Kitchen are being told to evacuate. Authorities say not to panic, but to make your way to the Queensborough Bridge, the Midtown Tunnel, or the Lincoln Tunnel immediately. Hell's kitchen, that spurs me into action.
"C'mon Duke, we're leaving." I set him on the floor and hurry to change into some jeans, a white button up shirt, and a black sweater. I stuff a change of clothes, my laptop, phone, wallet, and toiletries into a backpack before grabbing my coat and heading for the door, Duke at my heels.
The street is packed with cars, people trying to get their families and belongings into their vehicles as quickly as possible. I call Duke and he leaps into my arms, then climbs up to my shoulders, wrapping his tail around my neck like a scarf. Many people like me either don't have cars, or have decided that walking will be faster. The crowd is all headed for the Lincoln Tunnel and we're easily swept up in the mob. After only a few blocks someone in the front of the crowd screams, suddenly there's a push back, the people in front are turning and trying to run back while the people from the back are still moving forward. Many people are screaming now. I hear a horrible sound from in front, like a gurgling snarl, and a wet gnashing sound. Every hair on Duke's body stands on end and a low growl starts next to my ear. I turn and start to push my way back through the crowd. Everyone is trying to go in a different direction. A horrible howl echoes down a side street and terrified people start to run in every direction I try to break free of the crowd but I end up pulled along for almost a block. I jump over the side of a newsstand and pull myself in under the counter trying to make myself as small as possible. Duke starts to growl again.
"Shh, Duke, we have to be quiet." He acquiesces but continues to lash his tail back and forth. I don't know how long we stay like that under the counter. The sounds from outside are horrible. It's like everyone in the city is screaming all at once. Frantic voices and running footsteps pass our hiding place. I hear a woman crying nearby. There's a horrible wet noise and her crying turns into a long screech that gurgles into silence. Something large slams into the stand at one point, showering us in magazines. I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a shriek. I can hear something breathing on the other side of the wood, something big. I stay frozen, until I hear it move away. We stay until the noise dies down, and then some. I'm shaking and holding onto Duke for dear life. We have to get out of here; the apartment will be safer. We have to get back home. Steeling myself I inch upwards until I can just peer over the counter. The street looks deserted now. In the gloom I can make out bodies on the pavement, many look like they were trampled in the confusion; a few have been torn open, and barely resemble people, their insides strewn about the street. I duck back down and immediately vomit all over the floor. Duke jumps onto the counter and hisses at me in annoyance. We have to get home, I can freak out later. C'mon, you can do this. I swing over the counter and we creep along the buildings, hugging the walls. It's only three blocks back to the store, but it feels like miles. We barely make it back without being seen by one of the strange human creatures. It seemed occupied with the poor soul it was eating. I slam the door on the stairwell, but I don't stop running until we're locked in the apartment. My breath is coming in short gasps, I don't realize I'm crying until I feel Duke licking my face.
"I'm ok buddy. We're ok." I pull out my phone and try to call aunt Seraphine. No coveragereads the screen. "Aaauuuuggg!" I lob the device across the room. We're trapped. No… I'm trapped. I look down at Duke.
"Ok Duke, I need your help. I can't get out of here. I hate to ask you this buddy, but I need you to go and get help. Do you remember aunt Seraphine's friend Morgan in Salem? I need you to fly there for me as quickly as you can and tell her what's happened. She can contact aunt Seraphine. Duke jumps down from my arms and hisses at me. "I wouldn't ask you to do this unless it was life or death, and I think it is. Please? For me?" Duke wrinkles his nose. I know the idea of changing is distasteful to him. In his heart he really is a cat, being anything else is uncomfortable for him, even though he can change at will. He begins to shrink in size, whiskers pulling inwards, hair growing longer, claws elongating, and head compressing until a raven blinks back at me from the floor.
"Thank you buddy. I swear, when this is over I will buy you an entire salmon every week for a year." The raven lets out a loud caw. I pick him up and carry him to the window. "Be careful Duke." I whisper as he takes off, a black body against a black sky. I watch the little shape until I can't see him anymore, then I shut the window.
More than likely rescue will come too late for me. I'm glad to know though that Duke will be safe. Fat tears slide down my cheeks as I slump down under the window. I'm going to die horribly here, I'm sure of it. I can hear things moving through the streets around the building. Screeching calls echo between the structures. The little charms I have wont stand up to things like this. I'm sure they will smell me or hear me soon; as soon as the easy prey running in the streets is gone they're going to come into the buildings. I need some way to defend myself. I go to the kitchen and pull out my carving knife and slip in in between my belt and jeans. I grab my bag and stuff some water bottles, and a few granola bars in it. I grab my blanket and pillow and head downstairs. The basement is my best bet. The door to the book room is heavy solid wood and the whole room has no windows, It's possible that if I stay quiet I can make it long enough for Duke to reach Morgan and her to contact aunt Seraphine. I run the math in my head: It will probably take Duke at least ten hours to get there, an hour for them to get the information and prepare for a teleportation spell, an hour for the spell to get aunt Seraphine to Salem, then at least a two hour drive here. Then who knows how long it will take them to make their way through the city. I just need to stay hidden for a little while. I creep down to the basement, every noise outside making me freeze. I finally close the door behind me and lock it from the inside. I drag a heavy chair over from the reading table and jam it under the doorknob. I fold up my blanket and pillow in the space under the desk, and crawl under it, pulling my backpack up to me like a door on a child's fort.
I'm only under there for a few minutes when I hear a board creak upstairs. I listen hard; it sounds like footsteps, but all the doors are locked and I didn't hear anything breaking. There's no way Aunt Seraphine could be here already is there? Maybe as soon as she saw the news reports she left to come here. Maybe I'm going to be fine. That's when the door explodes inward in a hail of splinters. I instinctively cover my face with my arm to shield it from the debris.
"There you are." Says a quiet accented voice. I look up from my hiding place and see the man, Nicholas, who came to the store yesterday. For a second I feel relief rise in my chest, then caution takes over. I pull myself out from under the desk. My hand moves to my belt.
"How did you get here? They're killing everyone on the street… and how did you break down that door just now?" I pull out my knife, and keep it by my side. Things really aren't adding up here now that I'm thinking about it.
"Very observant of you." He isn't doing his strange way of talking to me while looking away from me anymore, and now I see why. I can see a pair of fangs glinting when he talks.
"Stay away from me!" I shout, scrambling back to the wall and brandishing the knife in front of me. At least I can die trying to fight. I'm not going to go down crying in a heap, I know that much.
"If I wanted you dead Lady Rose you would already be so." He advances on me with a few long strides. I tighten my grip on the knife, I've gotta get out of here. I stab out wildly in panic. Nicholas lets out a grunt. "Now that was completely uncalled for." I watch transfixed in horror as he pulls the blade out from between his ribs, a little blood stains his suit as he flings the knife away, it lands with a clatter in the corner of the room. I feel like the air in my lungs has gone solid. "If you're thoroughly finished, I had mentioned before that I had some books in need of your expertise."
"What the fuck dude, this is not the time for that!" I yell, totally loosing it.
"Well either you can come with me, or I can call the hellhounds. Your choice." He shrugs and begins pocketing a few books off the shelves.
"They're yours?" I start to back away again.
"No, but they will listen to me. My master's library has need of a librarian. I believe you will fill the role satisfactorily." He straitens his shirt over where the stab wound is.
"Why would I do that? Why would I ever help someone who's laying waste to the city?" I spit back.
"As I said; if you don't think it's worth your time I can call the hounds and be on my way." I swallow but remain silent. "Come, we have already wasted much time." He extends a hand toward me; his long nails look more like claws to me now.
"I… I need to pack some clothes." I say, strangely something so mundane is what comes into my head. Clothes. Something is wrong with me.
"Of coarse, please be quick though, we are in a bit of hurry." He steps aside and I rush past him, taking the stairs two at a time, my feet racing almost as fast as my thoughts. Is this a good thing? I'm not getting eaten, but I'm definitely not getting out. What the hell is happening to the city? I should try to get away. I wouldn't get far. Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe this is worse than dying. I pull out a duffel bag and start stuffing clothes into it. Wool skirt, black turtleneck, black boots, black silk blouse, black sweater dress, dark green velvet skirt with cinched waist, many more follow until I've stuffed most of my closet into the bag. My general wardrobe could probably be classified as goth librarian. I wrap my laptop in a sweater and push it in. I run to the bathroom and sweep almost my whole cabinet into the bag without a second thought. I grab the necklace my aunt gave me when I graduated high school, a protective charm, and shove it into my pocket. I head to the living room, but then run back into my bedroom and grab the picture frame from beside my bed. I glance at it briefly before I shove it into my bag. My mom holds a laughing eight year old me on her lap; she's smiling at the camera, our almost identical red hair framing both of our faces. The photo was taken a week before she got sick. It's the last good photo I have of her and it's how I want to remember her. I turn to go back to the living room and almost slam into the tall figure in the doorway. Both our heads whip around as a crash comes from the store below.
"Time to go." He says, grabbing my wrist. I struggle but his grip is like iron. Suddenly my feet leave the floor and I'm pitched forward into a running river, a tornado, a roaring blizzard. It's horrible, I'm suffocating and being torn apart at the same time. Wham! My feet hit ground and I pitch face first toward the stones, except the grip on my wrist keeps me from hitting my head.
"You did remarkably well. I thought you would faint." He says, finally letting go of me. I push my hair back from my face and finally look around. The room is absolutely ancient, like flagstones and gothic arches ancient. There are huge columns holding up the ceiling, and I crane my neck upward, almost unable to see the peak of the roof stories above me. The most amazing this is the books; there must be a million of them. The shelves extend out into the darkness and stairs wind up pillars going to the second and third floor, and maybe beyond. The smell of old leather, parchment, candles, and mildew is heavy in the air. Candles flicker on a few nearby tables. Two huge female statues are carved into the pillars right in front of us, they each hold a bowl to the sky and in front of them a river of fire pours down into a brazier at their feet.
"Beautiful isn't it?" Nicholas says from behind me. I realize I've been staring for a long time.
"Who's library did you say this was again?" I say dumbly, still staring at the incredible architecture and collection of tomes.
"My Master, Dracula, is Lord of this castle." I can't stifle the giggle that escapes me.
"Dude news flash, Dracula is fictional." He almost smiles.
"You shouldn't let him catch you saying that." He says. "I will show you where you will be staying and let you settle in. I would suggest not leaving the library. Not all the denizens of this castle are as friendly as I am."
He leads me dumbly past a huge front counter made entirely of dark carved wood and to a small archway behind. We descend a flight of stairs and stop at an intricately carved wood door.
"You're rooms my lady. This is where I leave you." He bows and ascends the stairs behind me. I grab the knob then turn, back.
"Wait!" He turns, "Where are we?"
"Why my dear, we've never left New York." He says then continues up the stairs.
Last time I checked New York didn't have a giant castle library thing. But last time I checked it didn't also have hellhounds or crazy demon people-eating things. Just roll with it I tell myself. I tentatively push on the door, the wood is smooth under my touch and it opens silently into a small living room. To the right a fire roars in a rough stone fireplace a Victorian chaise lounge is opposite it, I walk behind the lounge and peer into the doorway on the left wall: a small kitchen. I open some cabinets and to my joy there is actual food there. I'm not going to have to drink blood or eat human hearts or something it looks like. I return to the living room and cross to the doorway opposite the entrance. A large four-poster bed covered in deep crimson sheets sits against the right wall; a matching carpet runs almost the length of the room. Next to me is a large oak wardrobe, which I drop my bag in front of. On the left wall is a door, I push it open to find a bathroom tiled in dark grey slate, a large white claw foot bathtub is the main feature in the room. It honestly looks like I'm in some gothic themed hotel. I'm stuck here for now, I guess I should get comfortable until I can figure out more of my situation. Even though it's not very late at all I'm exhausted from the emotional and physical stress of the day. I make sure to bolt the door and then dive beneath the heavenly covers of what I imagine is the softest bed in the world. My sleep however is not peaceful, screams from the streets echo in my nightmares.