Daimon by DANIELLE BOLGER (my miracle luna book free read txt) 📕

he was around...” Sandra reminisced.

I rolled my eyes. “You never know, we could always get lucky and find him around somewhere. I'll just go for a bit of a walk.”

“You mean you could get lucky.” Sandra teased.

I groaned. “I'll be back in a few.”

I left the barricade on the road and wandered around the perimeter of the taped off region, breathing in the air deeper as I left the masses of people back on the road. I could detect it more acutely now, the familiar smell, without the hindrance of those other reporters' odors and perfumes, but still I could not work out what it was. That thought prodded inside my head with greater virulence, begging for me to unravel it.

Continuing to distance myself from the barricade allowed me to hear the police officers’ further ahead through the thicket. Leaves crunched in a purposeful way, as if circling prey.

I looked overhead. The sun was approaching the center of the sky now, only just visible through the canopy of leaves, but as I peered in the direction of the crime scene, somehow the scenery transformed darker.

I stepped forward, and, for a moment, I thought I had stilettos on my feet, polka dot ones. I saw blood stream down my legs and coat my once-so-adorable shoes. A double take revealed my very ordinary black flats.

Then I heard mutterings from the other side of the tape. I followed this sound around, keeping to the perimeter, but was unable to get close enough to discern any of the words being said. Deciding I was out of view, I ducked under the tape and took cautious steps forward toward the speaker.

I tried to be quiet, but with every footfall, an enormous crunch resounded that echoed off the surrounding limbless trees. I hoped whatever noise I was making would be masked on the other side by the throng of reporters.

Finally, I was granted a glimpse of a man pacing through the forest, crunching far louder than I was, obviously completely unconcerned with detection. I could not make out any details as I was still some distance away and the trees continued to impede my view significantly.

I dared to venture further forward, risking yet another charge of trespassing into a crime scene, as a force, which I supposed was my journalistic curiosity, drove me onward.

As I paced, the smell became stronger, overpowering and yet it drew me in with its terribly sweet allure. I suddenly knew what that scent was—it was the cruelly beautiful scent of roses.

No, my thoughts whimpered. I'm here. I'm alive. This is someone else, some other girl. This was Valentine's murder scene, not the Foxes'. They returned me home, scared but unharmed!

Just as I thought I could see a figure lying on a slab of rock through the interweaving trees, the sky suddenly blackened. The sound of bats could be heard throughout the wooded area.

With consternation, I edged forward in a gruelingly slow pace. I, eventually, reached a point where the curtain of trees was no longer an obstacle and I could take in the view of a girl lying atop a rock.

She lay motionless in the still night, surrounded by candles and ebony roses. She was wearing a corset and polka dot heels. Her eyes were closed, body limp and drenched in blood. A crude rip was visible in the center of her chest. She was white—so white— with dark brown hair and a face I had seen a thousand times. I knew this girl. Her name was Jane Kirra.

This can't be me, it can't! I pleaded, as I continued to survey the scene in silent disbelief. It was like someone else was controlling my movements as I walked up to this other me. Leaves still littered the forest floor, but somehow no sound was produced. Not even my feet could penetrate the dominating silence.

I came so close that my own inquisitive face was a mere foot from hers. A trail of blood ran from her mouth. I panned across to her torso and stumbled back, shocked at the fist-sized wound between her breasts; left there was an empty cavern that could not even be filled by her clotted blood. Her heart was missing.

I looked all around me to call for help or to scream at someone, but discovered I was completely alone. No reporters were here, not even the man who did this, just myself and I, in the sudden strange darkness.

Then, most startling of all, the girl rose from her cold cradle, stiff and void like a zombie. She looked around her left and right, her eyes looking right through me, pulled herself to her feet and wandered awkwardly back in the direction of the road. It seemed the other me did not see me.

I followed her progress, eyes welling with tears as I watched her every distorted step. The way she walked appeared jagged and lifeless. Her muscles seemed inflexible, yet the ligaments and tendons posed no resistance to movement. With legs composed of mere bones, it did not seem possible that they could carry her. It didn't look like she was walking at all, but some other force was controlling her actions. Like something possessing her.

I followed her, afraid to view more but too entranced to retreat. When she reached the road, she stood still for about ten minutes. Finally, a car's headlights pierced the darkness. The high beams switched off as the car neared and pulled up by the girl. The car was a BMW.

The window lowered and a pleasant looking fifty-something man was visible in the driver's seat. “You alright there, miss?”

The girl didn't say anything but slowly turned her head towards the man. Wide blood-shot eyes red, and blood-streaked lips appraised him.

“What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere all by yourself then? Do you need a ride back to the city?” the kind man offered.

Again, she said nothing. She drew a finger up and curled it towards her, ushering him out of the vehicle.

“Whoa, your chest!” The man leaned across to the passenger side so that he could get a better look out of his window. “You're hurt!” He hopped out of the car and rushed over to the girl.

I held two hands to my quivering mouth. I wanted to bring them higher, to cover my eyes, but I had learned not to do that anymore. No matter how bad things had become, I could never blind myself from evil.

As the man walked forward, the girl smiled impossibly wide. A mixture of drool and blood dripped from the edges of her mouth. She started walking backward and disappeared into the trees.

“Hey, hold on, don't you want me to help you?”

The man had to jog to catch up with her surprising pace and when he found her again, she was cloaked in shadow. “Geez, lass, don't act all spooky like that. My heart's not what it used to be, you know.”

Suddenly she was upon him, and with a lightning fast snap, she had his heart in her small hand. Her wild red eyes observed the organ, then the man's pained and confused face. “It really isn't much, but for now it will have to do.”

Her voice was my voice.

Then the creature-girl opened her mouth so that her lips stretched, literally, from cheek to cheek, and placed the red tissue greedily inside. As she swallowed, her neck swelled as a snake's body does when it devours its prey. Then the organ was pushed down into the depths of her

The vision was repulsive, so then why was I smiling? As the girl-creature-me smiled her features suddenly softened and her chest wound completely healed in moments. From pale and crooked in appearance, the girl transformed to porcelain-skinned and boasted plump, full lips, luxuriant hair and clear white eyes with pupils so large they swallowed her irises. She suddenly became beautiful. The only feature belying the transformation was the mass of blood drenching her.

She turned towards me. Knowing that I was not really there, I expected the beautiful girl to simply look through me as she had done before. This time, her eyes locked onto mine. A moment later she sprinted off so fast that the breeze tousled my hair.

I screamed.

Chapter Five

The sky returned blue through the deep green leaves overhead; the bark of the trees surrounding me transformed once more to their vivacious brown and the stone in front of me reappeared as a harsh red.

Eventually, I felt myself being dragged away. Confused and scared as I was, I did little to resist. I just wanted this nightmare to end, however possible.

“How the hell did she get in here?” A man exclaimed.

“No idea. We were watching the perimeter like you ordered, but the damn reporter must have snuck through some crack.”

“Yes, you're incompetent, but how the hell did she get into the center of the crime scene?”

“Sir, I have no idea! She just appeared out of thin air.”

“Right, of course she did, that makes sense. At least we know what to write on the report now.”

“Hey, you don't have to act like a jackass about it. It's not like you saw her coming.”

“No, but that's because I'm not on reporter patrol. You see this badge here, hmm? That means I'm here actually investigating. I've got enough crap to sort through without some stupid reporter wrecking the crime scene.”

“Sir, you know she can hear you? She's freaked out, not deaf. She just saw a crime scene coated in blood, maybe you should—”

“What? Give the press some slack?

“I'm just saying, she's clearly freaked out.”

“Kev, that's enough! Just get her out of my sight, and slap her with a one-twenty-two.”

“Hey, sir, are you sure you want to do that?”

“Yes, I'm sure!” He groaned. “I just want to get on with this investigation. I want to get further than my predecessors did on this case and I need every moment of the fresh crime scene that's available to me.”

“Yeah, okay, it's just that...” the man who carried me dropped his voice. “Detective, I think you might want to actually have a look at her. You might find something interesting.”

At this stage all I could do was hyperventilate as I took in what I had just witnessed: me, on the flat stone with candles lit up all around; me, walking grotesquely like a zombie; me, killing a man and eating his heart. It scared me and excited me all at the same time, and I had enjoyed it. Then it clicked, holy shit—this is my crime scene!

A man peered down closely into my face, as I lay crumpled in some stranger's arms. I darted my eyes back and forth, not caring who the officer was, just desperate to escape my reality.

“Oh, crap,” the detective exclaimed. “I did not expect this. Shit, I knew she became a reporter, but damn.” The man sighed and stroked my forehead. “It's all right, Jane.” He waited a moment, and then gripped my face in his hands, firmly but not harshly. “Jane, settle down. It's okay. It's me, Ryan.”

With my head held stiff, my eyes were forced to focus forward. When they did, I recognized the face they lay upon. It had been six years since I saw the then aspiring man in the flesh. The distinctive, albeit subtle, crook in the nose and deep blue eyes could be no one else's. “Ryan?” I uttered.

He smirked. “You're lucky Kev here recognized you. I was about to be a real hard-ass to you reporter scum,” he chuckled.

“Oh, Ryan!” I flung my arms about his stooped form and hugged him tightly.

“Jane, ease up. You don't have to squeeze me to death.”

Realizing that I may have been clinging too firmly, I loosened my hold.

“Ah, now that's more like a warm bear-hug.” He indulged me a moment longer then gently pulled me away. “Alright, Jane, now I'm sure you're aware you shouldn't be here. The fact that you're a reporter complicates things for me nicely, but I'm going to send you off with Kev here. You remember Kev, right?” Kevin appeared around his shoulder and waved. “Well, he's going to take you back over the other side of the tape. Now, do you have anyone else that came here with you? A camera-man maybe?”

“Sandra,” I replied.

“Sandra? Oh, I remember her. So, you two are still close then? That's nice. Well, Kev’s going to take you to her and you're going to forget you ever saw this place, okay?” He gestured behind him and then nodded. “Jane, you know how to put a spanner