Page 1 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

ONE

In Angela’s defense, she’d been having a perfectly terrible night long before the alley tried to kill her.

Flanked by brick walls that seemed to lean inward, Angela’s heels clicked along the uneven pavement as the narrow alley stretched ahead of her. Somewhere above, a neon sign flickered, casting erratic bursts of red light across overfull dumpsters and grimy walls.

She shouldn’t even be here. Normally, she’d stay on the main street by the restaurants where the traffic flowed and people crowded the sidewalks.

But she’d been stood up. Again.

She was fine with it. Really. She enjoyed being single. Choosing dinner based on what she wanted, not what someone else considered date food. What was so interesting about potentially negotiating time with a man who’d eventually resent her work hours and life choices?

Now adding blind dates to that list of things to permanently avoid.

So when the flustered, elderly European couple stopped her outside the bistro, gesturing at an address scrawled on a crumpled napkin, Angela had smiled and dug into her rusty high school French.

“Par ici, suivez-moi.” Although she might have said chicken-cake-balloon-candle at one stage, which is how she ended up escorting them three blocks out of her way, pointing out landmarks, and making sure they found their restaurant.

They thanked her profusely, pressing her hands between theirs as if she’d saved their lives instead of just their dinner reservation. By the time Angela turned back toward her car, she was way off course.

The alley was faster.

Right?

So here she was…

Pulling her coat tighter, walking down this alley, her breath misting in the chilly night air. The sound of the street soon faded, swallowed by brick walls and shadows filled with secrets.

Then the temperature dropped. As that crawling sensation she’d get whenever someone walked too close behind her at night, making her skin tingle and senses heighten. But never this strong.

It was nothing, right? Cities had alleys. Alleys had dumpsters, rats, and the occasional homeless guy or junkie. So that metallic, faintly sweet, and overwhelmingly putrid aroma was perfectly justifiable.

Except her body didn’t believe her. Not with that annoying trickle of fear crawling up her spine, like some useless alarm bell from a primitive age.

Ahead, the alley split into a T-intersection. Left led to the street she wanted. Right led deeper into the shadows.

Angela hesitated. She should go left, but her gaze drifted right to a soft sound coming from behind a dumpster near the far wall. It wasn’t a cough or a laugh. And it wasn’t good.

Inside her handbag, her fingers dug past her change purse, the lip gloss, receipts, and tissues to finally close around her trusty pepper spray.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed back, so tiny.

Of course, the alley didn’t answer.

It was probably just a cat.

Still, there was this wrongness in the air itself, which had thickened into a deeper blackness, carrying a stench that made her eyes water. Along with a low, choking sound that made Angela’s skin crawl.

She took one step forward.

Then another.

What are you doing? her brain screamed. Go back. Go left. Go anywhere else.

But her body kept moving, drawn by some compulsion to look at the broken thing and try to fix it.

She edged past the dumpster where the smell swamped her as if stepping into a tent full of badness. It was metallic. Hot. And oh, so wrong-wrong-wrong, coating the back of her throat like rust, making her gag.

There was a man sprawled on his back, half in shadow, his jacket open to reveal a green uniform, like nurse’s scrubs. His mouth moved, shaping words that made no sound. His head jerked weakly, as his terror-filled eyes pleaded with her.