Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About Monster Till Midnight

  Dedication

  Keep in Touch

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  A Message from E.J.

  Also By E.J. Russell

  About The Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.

  Monster Till Midnight

  Copyright © 2018 by E.J. Russell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review.

  Cover art: James, GoOnWrite.com

  Edited by Meg DesCamp and Hana R. Katen

  ISBN: 978-1-947033-00-9

  First edition

  October, 2018

  Contact information:

  ejr@ejrussell.com

  Cross-dimensional fugitive pursuit. Potentially deadly bioengineered creatures. Sinister artifacts. Stolen kisses. Time travel.

  Also candy corn.

  And tap dancing.

  You know… the usual.

  For everyone who likes giggles along with their chills.

  Keep in touch with E.J.!

  Join E.J.’s group, Reality Optional, on Facebook

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  Visit E.J.’s website at https://ejrussell.com for her complete book list, audio samples, and other extra treats!

  Rej hadn’t intended to break the terms of his probation. He was doing exactly what his restricted duties demanded—tracking a non-sentient construct that had slipped across the boundary from a techno-sorcery node into Alpha Prime two-niner, a magic-null time thread.

  But when he broke out of the tree line and saw the house looming beyond a dying corn field, he knew he was screwed. Or rather, Alpha Prime two-niner was screwed. Because Rej would have known that house for Gorvenath’s anywhere. The bastard had a taste for turrets.

  At least they’re not made of bones. Yet.

  Gorvenath. Rej ground his teeth together. Gorvenath was the reason for Rej’s probation, the reason he’d been busted down from Interdimensional Law Enforcement to Interdimensional Creature Control. Unfortunately, Rej’s professional setbacks were irrelevant compared to the real danger Gorvenath posed to the time stream.

  Rej’s captain acknowledged the threat, even sympathized with Rej’s point of view. But until they had clear evidence that Gorvenath was behind the attacks across half the post-2K time nodes, their hands were tied. And I’m stuck as a cross-dimensional dog catcher for the foreseeable future.

  Sure, the criminals could break the rules, but let a LEO bend one little regulation…

  He studied the layout of the grounds. The house was isolated—no other buildings within sight, either on the narrow gravel road or beyond the sparse woods—and sat in the middle of a wide expanse of rough grass, dotted here and there with flagpoles sporting orange or black banners.

  Rej squinted at one of the flags as an errant breeze sent it flapping. Bones. No, a full humanoid skeleton. In a top hat.

  Typical of Gorvenath’s twisted humor, the cocky bastard.

  Was Gorvenath inside? Rej checked the tracker on his wrist. The NSC still registered as being within range, but now that he was fully phased and attuned to Alpha Prime two-niner, another, more confusing reading joined the first. It definitely had Gorvenath’s flavor, for lack of a better word. Rej’s fellow ILE officers—former fellow ILE officers—had always mocked him for his gut feelings. But damn it, when you policed both technology and magic, it made sense to trust your instincts.

  Since the oddly shaped corn patch was the only cover that would get him closer to the house, Rej crept straight through it, wincing as the dry stalks rustled against his tactical gear.

  When he reached the last row, he eyed the distance between his position and the house. Its wrap-around porch was a good six feet off the ground on this side, which meant the windows overlooking the lawn were higher than his head. His gear was black. If he kept low and moved quickly, he ought to be able to reach the corner of the house without being seen.

  He flipped his visor down, automatically activating its telemetry, then took a deep breath and blew it out in a whoosh.

  Time to rock and roll.

  He broke out of cover and sprinted across the lawn, making it only halfway when an alarm bleeped inside the house, clearly audible from his position.

  “Blast,” Rej muttered, not certain whether to sprint for the trees or continue onward. Then the alarm ceased, the door burst open, and Rej froze, his breath caught in his throat. Because there, back-lit by flickering orange light, was a monster.

  The figure had a slim, even graceful humanoid body, the V of its torso and the length of its legs accentuated by some kind of well-fitted suit.

  But its head… Outsized. Misshapen. Grotesque, with no discernible neck, its eyes and mouth blazing with hellish inner fire.

  The creature held something in its hand. A sword? A club? No, it was too narrow for that, but Rej wasn’t foolish enough to fall for appearances. Countless nodes used seemingly innocuous artifacts to deal death. That cellular disrupter in thread Beta Secundus three-zero? No less deadly for looking like a lemon zester.

  Rej fumbled for the weapon at his hip, but before he could draw it, the air was filled with… music?

  The porch light flared on and Rej got a good look at the monster.

  By all the powers, has Gorvenath finally succeeded in animating vegetables?

  Because that head differed only in size from the jack-o’-lanterns peeping out from between the porch’s balusters. The weapon in its hand was an ebony cane, and the suit… Was it actually a tuxedo?

  As Rej goggled at the creature, it struck a pose and then whirled, its coattails flaring out behind it. Words joined the music, and Rej crouched, lest they were an incantation of some kind.

  “When you’re blue and you don’t know where to go to—”

  That didn’t seem to be spell work, unless it was a banishing spell with a coercion component—urging Rej to head somewhere and put on the ritz, whatever that was.

  The monster danced across the porch, its feet beating out a bright cadence on the weathered boards, striking the wood with the tip of its cane in a syncopated rhythm that made Rej want to tap his toes in time.

  Is that what this is? A St. Vitus’s curse?

  But as Rej was debating whether to stun the creature and transport it to headquarters for study, it stopped mid-twirl, then crept to the porch rail and peered into the dark, scanning the yard from corn field to graveled roadway.

  Its shoulders slumped. “You’re alone? Nobody else came with you?”

  Rej’s neck prickled, and he was immediately on guard. Would it report to Gorvenath that Rej was here without backup? Launch an ambush of other constructed warriors in an attempt to eliminate knowledge of Gorvenath’s plans? Not that Rej had any idea what they were yet.

  “Shoot.” Rej ducked, checking for incoming, but the monster simply hooked its cane on a convenient nail next to the still-open door, its chest heaving with a sigh. “I get it. You’re from the agency, aren’t you?

  Play along. Find out what it wants. You can always kill it later.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Brady had a strong urge to kick the wall. Dang it, he’d expected this Halloween to be the best of his life. Sure, it was his first year in this new town—first month… first week actually, but this house was so perfect for his annual haunted house. The previous owner hadn’t even balked when Brady had asked to dig up part of the yard for the corn maze back when they’d signed the papers last spring.

  Brady had wondered about such a long escrow, but he wasn’t going to complain—he was getting a stellar deal on a house with more land than he’d imagined possible while he was stuck in that cramped apartment in the city.

  And this place was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Not only did it look appropriately spooky, but it was listed on at least three paranormal investigation websites. He’d expected to be so swamped with visitors that he’d called a temp agency to hire someone to help out with the crowds.

  But apparently staging a haunted house in a place that was actually supposed to be haunted was enough to scare away even the most intrepid trick-or-treaters. The only person who’d shown up in the hours since sundown was the UPS guy with Brady’s emergency delivery of gummy eyeballs and custom chocolate bones.

  Even the agency temp hadn’t arrived on time, and Brady was paying for him. Actually, Brady was paying for someone in a Gandalf costume, but this guy was wearing some kind of weird SWAT gear. He’d probably scare the little kids right out of their princess and superhero outfits, and that was completely unacceptable. At least it would have been if there had been any kids. Or adults, for that matter.

  Seriously, how can he see through a visor that dark?

&nbs p; “You’re late.” Brady leaned on the porch rail. “I expected you ages ago.”

  The guy flipped up his visor, and Brady fought not to swallow his own tongue. Wow. Talk about Jason Statham-gorgeous.

  “How many ages are we talking about?” The guy didn’t budge from his semi-crouch in the middle of the yard and his hand crept down to—

  “Jeez, that gun looks way too real. I’d say you’d need to stow it inside, but since you’re the only person who’s shown up tonight, I’m not sure it matters.”

  “I won’t relinquish my weapon. How. Many. Ages?”

  Brady wasn’t entirely certain how the guy could force any words out from behind teeth clenched that hard. “Look, if you’re worried about not getting paid for the whole shift—”

  “I said…” He rose to his full height, which had to be at least a few inches taller than Brady’s own five-ten, although it was tough to gauge accurately from this angle. “How many ages?”

  Yeesh. He’s kinda freaking me out. Brady had been thrilled that his new house, at the end of a winding road, was out of sight of his nearest neighbors, but now he wasn’t so sure. He took a slow step backward. Humor him until I can get inside.

  “I told the agency six. Didn’t they give you the details?” Another step. “They were a little frazzled, but they assured me they could find someone.” Two more steps, and Brady fumbled his cane off the nail. “After all, helping to hand out candy and escort kids through the corn maze doesn’t take a lot of skill.”

  “Kids? You’re luring children out here? What for?”

  Okay, now I’m getting annoyed. “What do you think? It’s Halloween. My haunted houses were legendary when I was growing up. I haven’t been able to stage one for ages.” The guy’s lip lifted in a growl, and Brady held up a hand, palm out. “Settle down. I mean since my senior year in high school, the last time I lived in a house and not a crappy, too-tiny apartment in the city. So that’s, what? Six years?”

  “How are you calibrating the passage of time?”

  “How am I what?”

  “Years, hours. Pfaugh. Useless information unless I know what measurement system you’re using.”

  Brady tapped his wrist, then remembered that he’d taken off his watch when he’d put on his costume. “Um, Pacific Daylight Time?”

  The guy stood up, muttering something under his breath that Brady was pretty sure wasn’t complimentary. Something about constructs and brains. What the heck?

  Clearly the situation needed to be taken down a notch. “I’m sorry you came out here for nothing…” Brady let his voice lift in a question, since the guy couldn’t see his face inside this awesome jack-o’-lantern mask. But the guy just stood there glowering, without offering Brady his name. Guess I have to do all the work. “I’m Brady. Brady Hollister. And you are?”

  The guy’s eyebrows lowered even further—if that was possible—and he opened his mouth, probably to issue another mystifying demand for totally obvious information, but he seemed to catch himself. “Rej.”

  “Rej.” I can work with that. “The thing is that I honestly thought I’d have stuff for you to do tonight.” When Brady reached for his pocket, Rej tensed. “Take it easy. I just need to cut the music.” He hooked his cane over his arm and pulled out his cell. “See? Just my phone.” He killed the playback, but then keyed in 9-1-1, so he’d be ready to hit Send. Just in case.

  Brady jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Inside, in my living room, dining room, and parlor—can you believe I’ve got an actual parlor?—is the best haunted house in the history of the world, if I do say so myself. I was certain it would be a hit.” He smoothed his hand over his lapel. “In fact, when I found this costume in the attic, and it fit so perfectly, I was sure it was a sign of success.” He gestured to the overflowing candy bowls flanking the porch steps, then to the empty lawn and deserted road. “Clearly I was mistaken.”

  “Costume?” For the first time, Rej didn’t growl his words. “That’s not your real head?”

  Brady snorted a laugh. “Of course not. Have you ever seen someone with a jack-o’-lantern face outside ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’?”

  “I’ve seen odder things,” Rej muttered. “Trust me on that.”

  Brady blinked, and oddly, the eyeholes in the mask closed and opened as if it could mimic his movements. Weird. But then, it had felt ridiculously comfortable from the moment he’d put it on this evening—not like when he’d first discovered it in the attic. Then it had been wobbly and unwieldy. Now it felt almost… natural.

  “Then you must lead a way more interesting life than I do.”

  Rej peered up at the south turret—and how cool was it that Brady’s house had not one, not two, but four turrets? “I have a feeling that your life is about to get a damn sight more interesting than you want.”

  Rej ran a hand over his face. So allegedly this Brady—assuming that was actually his name—wasn’t one of Gorvenath’s spell programs gone awry. But Gorvenath’s signature was all over this place. Rej’s tracker didn’t lie.

  I won’t find out anything while standing twenty feet away.

  He started toward the porch.

  “Wait,” Brady said. “Please don’t come any closer.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’m a…” What exactly could he admit to? He wasn’t with any law enforcement agency that Alpha Prime two-niner would recognize. Even in his own thread, he wasn’t rated to do anything more than corral stray or unsanctioned creatures. Better keep it generic. “I’m here to help.”

  “Uh huh. I’m sure those are the last words heard by any number of murder victims.”

  “Really.” Rej took another step, hands out to his sides. “I can show you my—”

  Rej caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Dark. Large. Fast. Hurtling toward him from the top of a tree.

  His breath stalled and before he could even think, training took over. He pulled his weapon and shot, striking the attacker mid-body.

  Brady’s screech echoed around the yard.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  Detritus—although definitely not blood or viscera, thank the powers—fluttered to the ground around Rej. He peered at it more closely. Straw. Fabric scraps. A battered hat. “Blast,” he muttered.

  “You’ve got a gun. I’m calling the cops.”

  “I’m sorry. It was reflex. When I saw something flying at me—”

  “What if there’d been children nearby?”

  Rej glanced around at the vacant yard, the empty road. “There aren’t any children here.”

  “Yes, but there could have been. What if it had been an owl? Or a bat? They’re not evil, you know. They’re inoffensive creatures who keep the insect population under control.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.” Rej kept his voice even—with an effort. “But bats aren’t that large, nor are owls. I assumed it was an attacker.”

  “It was a vampire dummy, for Pete’s sake.” Brady’s glowing mouth—which had been turned up in a gap-toothed smile—was now stretched in a grimace, and his eyes, which had been cheerful triangles, were narrowed into slits.

  I’ve never seen a mask so responsive to emotions. That’s no simple costume.

  Rej set the safety on his weapon and holstered it. “Why in blazes would you have a dummy—especially a vampire—flying out of the trees at your visitors? Do you hate your neighbors that much?”

  “I haven’t even met my neighbors yet.”

  “Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Rej muttered, “if this is how you greet them.”

  “This isn’t my normal greeting. It’s part of the haunted house experience.” Brady propped his hands on his narrow hips. “Or at least it was. Now it’s trash.”

  “Forgive my ignorance since I’m, uh, not from around here. But don’t most people avoid haunted houses?”

  “Not everyone. I happen to think they’re exciting. That’s why I jumped at the chance to buy this one when I discovered its reputation in the paranormal investigation community. I mean what if there really are other worlds? Other places beyond this one? Wouldn’t that be great?”

 

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