Page 69 of Black Hollow: Awakening

“But why? What did you hear?”

“Wait,” Liam repeated, before leaving the bedroom.

Will took a shallow breath. He heard Liam going down the stairs. God, had someone broken in? Just in case, he reached for his phone, and then he remembered what Blake had said. But even if someone was really here… What did that have to do with some warehouse?

Liam was gone for a long time. Too long. Will slipped his cell into his pants pocket and left the bedroom, then went downstairs, looking around attentively.

“Liam?” he said in a half-whisper.

The house was dead silent.

He walked into the kitchen, and then a horrifying sight met his eyes. Liam was lying in a pool of blood. His head had been smashed in.

“Liam!”

Will was about to run to his friend, but then he remembered the threat lurking somewhere in the house. His hand slid into his pants pocket, but before he could pull out his phone, someone appeared right behind him. They hadn’t walked up—Will would have heard that, would have seen someone as he entered. This person had literally materialized!

Before he could react, the stranger covered his mouth with something. A strange, alcohol-like smell assaulted his senses. He began to lose control of his own body. He went limp, and his eyes closed on their own.

The last thing he heard before he passed out was his attacker’s voice:

“How are you, Witch-man?”

*

Will came to, but didn’t open his eyes. His eyelids were too heavy. His hands were bound—something rough was pressing into his wrists, fastening them to the back of the chair he was sitting on. He could hear soft, cheerful whistling and smelled… smoke.

A panicked thought crept into Will’s wandering mind—someone was trying to burn him. The thing was, the smoke, though choking, didn’t carry the smell of something burning, but rather a strange, not entirely pleasant floral note. It made him think of incense, but a moment later, as the omnipresent fumes enveloped him, he could barely think at all.

“You finally awake?” A low, male voice reached him.

Will couldn’t react. His body was limp, his head heavy, his tongue foreign.

“Wake up.”

He couldn’t.

“Wake up!”

The loud shout, combined with a slap to the face, brought him back to reality for a moment. Will opened his eyes, though it didn’t do him much good. Everything around him was a blur. It felt as if the world had shattered into several hundred tiny fragments which then scattered all around, losing their original places. What he saw didn’t seem to make sense.

“That’s better,” the man announced. “That probably wasn’t necessary, but I was hoping you’d react somehow.”

“Who… are you?” Forming such a simple sentence cost Will a great deal of effort. Even his own thoughts felt alien and out of place.

“No point in asking, we don’t know each other. Or do we? Take a good look at me. Can you recognize me?”

The man’s laughter echoed from several different directions. He leaned over—that much Will could tell, but he immediately lost track of where his attacker was. In front? To the right? To the left? Wherever he looked, he saw the same blurry face.

“What do you want from me?” Will whispered, swallowing hard.

The man hit him again, harder this time. Will spat blood.

“I told you there was no point in asking,” his captor said smoothly. “What good is my answer to you if you can’t understand it anyway, Witch-man?”

The sound of footsteps, and then a scraping noise… Will truly couldn’t comprehend what was happening around him.

“You see…” the man began slowly. “I wasn’t always aware of your existence, though I’d been told it was true since I was a child. I was raised by my grandfather. Gramps was great, but crazy. He told me about witches, vampires, and other interesting creatures. Of course, as a child, I believed it, but eventually, I grew up. I met other people and finally came to the conclusion that Gramps was talking nonsense. All his stories about the circle, witches, spells, secret techniques, incense, and charms… It all seemed like nothing more than symptoms of his harmless but progressive madness. The day came when I buried Gramps. And I was still sure he was a lunatic. I probably would have thought so for the rest of my life, if I hadn’t met Alyssa.”