Wild frantic air caught in my throat as I jolted awake gasping for a full breath, my hands desperately clawing my desk for a tangible object to ground the terror speeding away in my chest. This was reality. . . This, here. The wooden and splintered table with a lamp in the corner giving a dim hum of light to my dorm room, books and papers scattered across its surface. The somersaults of terror in my gut were not real, I hoped they weren’t. No, I’m safe. Locked away in my room, behind layers of security. Those squeezing grumbles were nothing more than the fleeting grip of a nightmare. 

What was that?! 

“What the hell was that?!” I repeated out-loud breaking the silence in the room and throwing the question out to the universe. As if the universe could answer back, not that I imagined it would if it could.

Beads of sweat formed by my temples and rolled down the sides of my face, I wasn’t sure if it was from my panicked thrashing or the uncomfortably warm temperature of my dorm room. It was the first thing I noticed–the thick blanket of heat–as my senses unfrazzled and wits returned. The dorm rooms on this end of the building were always freezing, and the school didn’t allow stand alone heaters in the rooms. Not that I blamed them. Most college freshmen are irresponsible on good days, on bad days everyone acted like a bunch of unsupervised teenagers. It was a wonder half the buildings on campus were still standing. Thankfully my dorm building was up for renovations on the ancient heating pipes over winter-break. No more nights with shivering hands cupped around a coffee cup to keep warm.

Instead of the subtle edges of frosted blooms forming around the borders of my labored breaths, the air burned inside my lungs, leaving them raw and my throat hoarse as I coughed. I found it painful to take in a proper breath, feeling as if I swallowed coarse sand when I tried to clear my throat. The layers of thick clothing I put on to combat the chill in the room were now unbearable as I stripped the large sweater over my head, and tossed it into the shadows. Underneath my shirt was soaked with sweat, and a warm glow softened my skin as if kissed by late summer sun.

Impossible.

December, on an average year, is the farthest from summer in Portstown. This year was by far the worst cold the area had experienced in “Two Decades” according to the local newspaper. Most of the eastern seaboard was in the same predicament, a polar vortex they were calling it, and it had the northern east coast in it’s merciless grib. I was fairly sure hell had frozen over along with everything else in the area.  

Hell, the idea gave me an uneasy shiver remembering the events of last year when all my friends tried to kill me using black dogs. That was my introduction into the supernatural world, and it wasn’t a pleasant time in the least. For all I knew hell was beneath a thin surface layer of the town, or maybe down that dirt road which disappeared into a part of the forest no one liked to venture. Perhaps it was behind the innocent looking door of the mystery house splattered with orange and black paint which belonged to the local crazy–a random scruffy guy who wandered about muttering to himself. Who knew? I didn’t. Never again would I make the assumption I understood the world around me–taking my reality at face-value–I wouldn’t be that arrogant again. 

With my mental declaration the last of the distorted sleep haze fell away, and I lifted my head to come face to face with the monster who roused me.  

“Jinx,” I growled.

The little green-eyed devil of a cat sitting there on the desk, happily finding a spot on my open notebook, with a paw and claws extended in my direction. His pitch-black fur faded into the shadows out of the range of the desk-lamp, as he cocked his head to the side in question. You little bastard, I thought to myself as I sat up more, giving a glance over my shoulder to see my securely closed and locked door. How the hell did he always manage to get in here?

Not only did I make certain my room was locked every time I entered (paranoid habitat), but I was on the top floor of the building. The windows at this level didn’t open, and I was five stories up, wayyyy back in a corner no one ventured down except the girl who had the room across the hall. He could have wandered in as someone opened the main doors on the ground level, I suppose, but then what?

There was no way he could make it into the stairwells with their heavy doors, and snappy springs. I’ve seen football players stacked in muscles struggle with those things. 

So, he rides the elevator up?

I chuckled at the image of a little black cat strolling into the narrow elevator, nose and tail high, like he owned the building. People looking on in question as he takes a seat waiting patiently for the elevator doors to close. Story of the week on campus, and for those students who didn’t believe they would want proof of their own, needing to witness the strange occurrence for themselves. Going as far as to wait up all night in the dorm ground-floor lobby, brimming with impainteint silence to catch sight of the odd cat riding the elevator. The curious ball of fluff making his way in through the front door as a student casually exits or enters, weaving between legs and feet as he strides toward the elevators. His body stretching up to press the call button with a bat of a paw, before sitting down to wait for the car to arrive.

What a sight. Jinx, Mowery Tower’s personal mascot. A walking party trick for everyone to gossip about, that’s all I needed. Eventually people would get curious to see who he was going to visit every night, and the devil would lead them right to me. I didn’t need nor want the attention. Attention meant people, and people often had ill intentions. 

Thanks, I mentally cursed him. Attention was not something I wanted, and who knows what the RA (resident assistant) would say if they caught me with a cat in my room. College life. . .one big complicated mess.

With a groan, I put my hands to my head to rub away the tension building, while the stealthy little beast pawed at my hair and gave an innocent meow.

“Don’t you ‘meow‘ me,” I scolded him. “How do you keep getting in here, and why? What do you have against me sleeping?”

Over the last few months the two of us had fallen into a ritual of sorts. I fall asleep, usually studying or reading at my desk, and Jinx appears in my locked room to startle me awake. Sometimes it’s not all that bad. There have been a few times he’s helped keep me up and alert while cramming at the last minute for a test. The cat is better than coffee most of the time. Then there were the nightmares that started two nights ago, then, like tonight, I’m more than happy to have a ‘Jinx Alarm.’ I don’t remember the nightmares so they can’t haunt me in the waking hours, but still those nights are anything but restful.

Two weeks into my first college semester, right when I was finally getting settled, I started having dreams. Odd dreams. . . a lot of odd dreams. Vivid, memorable, and intense with emotion type of dreams–ones that lingered long after waking, and left a feeling of exhaustion. In one I’m an explorer doing the whole ‘Tomb Raider’ thing. In another I’m on a romantic cruise falling in love. Others included expert rock climbing, traveling to Asia, big family dinners, lovely nights spent under the stars, and a variety of other delightful adventures. Cozy dreams but still odd and intense. I never dreamt like that before or with such intensity. I’ve had the standard anxiety dreams in the past where I’m half naked at school or a big event. I even dreamed about mixing the wrong compounds in chemistry resulting in an explosion taking out the entire school, but nothing quite so vivid and I rarely ever remembered past a day or two. This was different. Every detail–and there was a lot of details–every emotion, thrill, heart-pounding moment of being on a cliff face or sharing a kiss on the deck of a cruise ship, stayed with me when I woke. There were times I opened my eyes and swore I could smell the ocean–feel the limitless breeze of mountains chilling my skin, it was difficult to distinguish dream from reality most times when I woke.

With a sigh I glanced at Jinx again knowing I was in for a long night. Once Jinx got into my room he refused to let me go back to sleep, doing everything possible to keep me awake. From whining for food, playing with my blankets while I’m in them, meowing loudly for no reason, hissing, growling, and clawing at my head when I dozed off. In general, being a pain in the ass. I was in a state of perpetual exhaustion thanks to him and my new found restless sleep. Neither of which I had any control over.

“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” I asked the little devil as I sat back and stretched in my desk chair. It did little to push away the lingering tension in my body.

Jinx, per-usual, ignored my question and started cleaning the paw he used to claw me. I reached for him and drew the black cat into my arms, distributing his bath. Turnabout’s fair play, I chuckled to myself cuddling the animal close to my chest.

“Look here you little demon, finals are coming up and I need to be able to study and sleep. So we have to come to an understanding,” I lectured him, pulling my mouth into a stern line so he would know I was serious. He offered a purr in reply.

“Shameless,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re utterly shameless.”

It was hard to be mad at the little guy, especially with those big kitty eyes of his and animal charms. Large round bright green symbols of innocence, a soft expression on his face as his chest rumbled in delight. I melted, helpless.

“Shameless,” I repeated on a chuckle.

He responded by nuzzling his head against my chin in a devious ploy to demolish my annoyance. 

“Yes, I love you too, spoiled brat.”

Giving Jinx a kiss on the head I turned to place him on my messy bed, setting him on the rumpled pile of plush blankets and wrinkled sheets. So I’m a messy person, or at least I am one now. College tends to suck the importance and energy out of daily rituals. The first to go was neatness, followed closely by diet and sleep. In high school I kept my bed made, clothes clean and put away, and my room in perfect order. Everything had its place. Neat and orderly. Now, well. . . research papers trumped a clean room, which meant the pile of dirty clothes in the corner, overflowing from the basket, had become a standard fixture. Laundry was the last thing currently on my mind, it stood somewhere between having a healthy dinner and brushing my hair this week. So long as I had something clean to throw on at eight in the morning as I rushed out of my room, I didn’t care. After running around campus all day between classes, listening to lectures, studying, and finishing with my campus job, the rest of my time was spent doing classwork. Mustering up a fraction of energy to wash clothes rarely happened, and when it did the clothing never made it off my former roommate’s bed. 

She ran off three weeks into the semester. Literally, three weeks in she simply stopped showing up. After she left I wasn’t assigned a new roommate, which I was fine with. I enjoyed the extra room and not having to adjust to a new person always being around. Now it was me, the quiet studious neighbor across the hall, and on occasion, Jinx. Perfect for studying and getting assignments done, but it meant I could let myself go, a little. . . okay, a lot. I wasn’t proud of the discarded coffee cups from the cafeteria littering the windowsill, but the trashcan was full. A lazy excuse, I know, but every time I went down the hall to the trash-shoot I was flocked by girls that reminded me of Marty and Allie. All their dorm rooms were open, girls stood in their doorways talking across the hallway as music mixed with giggles and gossip. For me, walking that hall was no different than stepping into the past. An agonizing reminder of a happier time, and the nightmare that came after. 

How pathetic.

Besides the trash wasn’t that big of a deal, but the rest of it. . . I don’t know. It often felt like my inner chaos was manifesting in my room. Sweaters and jackets were thrown over the foot of my bed, a stack of textbooks discarded near an open book-bag. A sock or two tossed about, and the small stand-alone closet looked as if it had thrown-up into the room. A royal mess, both comforting and distressing. Inside the homely space, tucked away with books and my belongings, and behind a securely locked door I was safe. Nothing was getting in here without me knowing. Except Jinx, apparently. 

I loved my corner room with the three windows, from here I could see most of the campus but it had its drawbacks. The idea of being up high, settled in the far end of the building with limited escape routes brought on anxiety. Sometimes the old concrete walls moved in close making the room feel like a cell, or a trap with no safe way out. My rational mind overpowered in those moments by haunting remnants of being stalked by deadly creatures. Echos of thunderous heartbeats hammering my chest brought me back to the moment of being prey to the perfect predator, and there I stay. Teetering on the edge between palpable terror and a panic-attack. My ability to rationalize a blunt weapon against a massive spiky creature hell-bent on keeping me tucked away in apprehensive misery. 

That was at the heart of my fear–anxiety–PTSD–or whatever you wanted to call it. The lack of trust I had in myself, and the reality I lived my entire life in because what did I honestly know about the world?

Nothing.

Last year when I found out about black dogs, witches, ghosts I lingered in shock. Allowing ignorance to cuddle me away from the real bomb waiting to blow my mind. Now that the threat was over and time had passed my mind settled on the fact I knew nothing of the real world. What was the real world? Where did the line start between what I knew and what else was out there? What lurked in the frail edges of society waiting for someone to step into the gray beginnings of shadow to snatch life from them?

Stop it Joey, you’re getting worked up.

Pushing past the tightening of fear in my throat I turned back to the desk. Time to get some real work done, I had my history finale coming up and a lot of studying to do. 

“Oooooh, come on!” I yelled out to the treatious universe.

My notebook, the most important item in my class since the professor found textbooks to be useless compared to his years of experience, was open to the section I struggled the most with. It was the best place to start a Friday night study binge, until Jinx. My invaluable notes were covered in tiny wet, muddy paw prints, and a medium sized butt print with fuzzy wispy edges.  

“Perfect,” I groaned. “Just perfect. . . Perfect!”

Maybe if I say it one more time it will make me feel better.

“Perfect!!”

Nope.

I reached for one of the clean shirts on the other bed to dry the papers, but the notes were beyond saving. The ink bled away into diluted pools of illegible black scribbles on wavy pages, all of it, every last page I needed to review for the final. Destroyed. 

“Why are you wet?” I demanded from the little hellspawn on my bed. He paused, mid-grooming, for a moment of thought with his little red tongue sticking out. With a confused tilt of his head he regarded me a second longer before returning to his bath.

Man, if only I could have the nonchalance of a cat. Then I wouldn’t be upset about my ruined notes or how awful I was going to do on the finale, nor the looming dread of getting a C in the class. Staring off into the mudd puddle that was once a notebook I groaned. There was no energy left in me to stay angry or truly care how the test went. 

“Dammit. . .”

All those years I dreamed about college, eager to be done with high school and all it’s pettiness. I had grand ideas about what it would be like–grown up, out on my own, taking classes with others that wanted to learn. Books, term papers, the occasional party with good friends. So far none of it met expectations, including me. 

In high school I was the star. A reluctant star but a star all the same. Top of the class, had skipped a grade, youngest person to graduate from Portstown High. Surviving what the town was calling “The Hunt”, only increased my twisted fame and earned me special treatment. I was, after all, the only descendant left of the seven founding families that established the town. The town’s pride and in a lot of people’s minds, it’s future, rested on me. It was a pressure I didn’t need nor want. Regardless I carried the forced honor through my senior year and graduation. Now I was here, at Portstown University and everything had changed. 

Yes, I could blame my descent from a straight A student to a weak B average on the full class load, two study groups, or the job I landed at the campus library, but what was the point of lying to myself? It wasn’t any of that. The problem was me–my head–all the memories and the nagging question of how deep the supernatural world went. What else was out there ready to cause me harm? Who or what lurked in the many shadows of nightfall? What creature was ready to target me now? Most importantly, how much danger was I actually in and never knew about? 

After the mysterious Warner family–clan–corporation–or whatever they really were, set the town back on course from October’s nightmare, I choose to be like all the other towns’ people. Ignorant in my knowledge and involvement of last year. Honestly, I wanted it all to go away. Never talk about it again, but my mind had its own opinion about that. Ignorance was what I wanted, but I couldn’t stop questioning all the things I didn’t know about. Who cared about algebra or American literature when things like black dogs were roaming around? Hell, one could be walking right beside me at every turn and I wouldn’t know! How could I? 

And there was the problem. The reason I barely heard a word my professors said in class, and why I was always getting called out for not listening. Two lines into reading assignments, thoughts of ghosts and demons attending the same class as me popped into my head. Could they be the person beside me or the new girl that started working at the library last month?! I didn’t know, I didn’t want to know but then again I did.

Putting my hands behind my head I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the paneled drop ceiling of the room. I loved living in the dorm, even with all the noise and parties from down the hall. I was out on my own away from my mother. The smart thing to do would have been to stay home, and drive the six blocks to campus to save money. The more I saved, the more I would have when college was over because those nice monthly envelopes full of cash couldn’t possibly keep coming. I expected them to stop once I finished high school, but they appeared every month as they had before. Only now they slipped under my door here at school. It worried me that someone was able to track me down like that, but I clung to the comfort and security that my mother knew my benefactor. My mother and I had our strange relationship but she wouldn’t let anyone knowingly harm me.

An angry hiss startled me from my thoughts, sending instant anxiety through my still rattled nerves. I glanced over to Jinx on the bed, unease climbing up my spine as I took in his stance. The black cat was at full attention, the slick fur on his back standing on end and his tail arched alerting to. . . something. This time it was a low growl sound that fromed deep in his throat followed by another hiss. I tried to push back the sense of dread filling my small room. 

“What, the bed too lumpy for you?” I joked to break the steady growing tension. It wasn’t helping in the least, and I had to fight myself not to rush to my door and check the locks.

It’s nothing. He’s being a silly cat. I tried to comfort myself but failed.

Again Jinx hissed and circled around in the bed looking from window to window, clearly distressed. Oh, god. What’s going on? 

I sat forward in my chair watching him pace from one end of my bed to the other, he appeared bulkier than before and his hair was standing more into defined spikes. His growl unnerved me, something had the cat startled–something I couldn’t see. Not what I needed or ever wanted to live through again. I tensed when he hissed again and his pacing grew more frantic, my heart in my throat forming a lump of fear. 

You’re safe, I lied to myself. Anything to make my skin stop crawling with nerves.

You’re safe. The building is full of people, there is no one screaming. No one is yelling. Your body isn’t freaking out like before.

Comparing this moment to the many horrific ones I suffered through last year did nothing to ease any fear. It only built with each lie, and Jinx wasn’t helping with his strange and frantic behavior. 

You. Are. Fine. Joey!

But I wasn’t.

Palms sweaty, head spinning, and unable to take a full breath thanks to tightness in my throat, panic was taking control. Yes, the little hairs on my arms were not standing on end like in the past when danger was near. Nor did I experience that dropping feeling in my gut, but I did feel–something. What I thought was anxiety crawling up my back now turned into a sensation of urgency. A restless tick that scattered across my skin like tiny needles. Where they made contact my flesh warmed slightly, fraying nerves until I was about to jump out of my skin. Something wasn’t right. Jinx knew it, and I felt it.

A flash of red streamed in from the window followed by white and the faint sound of a truck rolling by on the street below. Without hesitation I jumped on my bed, scrambling past Jinx to the window and grabbed the sting of the blinds, before pausing for a heartbeat. 

Do I want to know what’s out there?

The idea of opening the blinds and coming face to face with some monster stalled me, and I clenched my eyes shut. My whole body tensed at the possibilities. Part of me didn’t want to look–didn’t want to know. Then there were the pin-prickles. The little needles jumping across my sink and driving my curiosity. I was panting, nearly out of breath as I froze there weighing my options. My heart was racing but not from fear or anxiety. It was as if I had finished a race, and was still amped up. Fresh with the thrill of intense competition.

Jinx let out another low growl from my side followed quickly with an angry hiss. His reaction to whatever was going on was more than enough to push me forward. With a hard tug the blinds opened with a screeching sound as I faced the possibility of danger. 

 In the distance a reddish-orange glow stood out among the winter night shadows. There across campus was the Aqua Complex (the indoor pool), and it was on fire!

There was no mistaking it. The building was a good distance away, but from my high corner room I could see clearly. Flames flared up from the open windows of the complex as emergency vehicles arrived, lights on but sirens off. Didn’t want to wake the student body. Smart. Ungodly early or not, anything that startled the calm of the campus was sure to draw a large crowd.

Enthralled by the bright flames and thick smoke billowing from the building I learned my arm against the window sill, welcoming the chill it brought.

A fire, at the pool? 

It was going to be the talk of the campus tomorrow, and I was. . . excited?

No, that was ridiculous. Why would I be excited? 

It didn’t matter how I tried to reason it, thrilled, excited, totally amped up was how I felt. Energy coursed through me like that time I made my usual cup of coffee with an energy drink instead of water by mistake. My heart fluttered against my ribs each time a flame glided from the window, breaking off and streaming freely into the night as another intense wave rushed through me.  

If this keeps up I’m going to pass out. 

Stuck in a trance of chaos and flame I teetered between overwhelming excitement and concern. Lost in the mass panic of scurrying first responders trying to put out the blaze. The fire, intense. I swear I could feel the heat from here, right through my thick glass window. I felt the warm glow of heat on my cheeks and the spark of flame on the back of my neck.

Intoxicating. 

Jinx jumped up on the window sill beside me, and let out the most horrid howl–hiss–growl sound. It was high pitched and dominating over the silence. The sound made my blood chill and my ears ring, pulling me from the moment as I turned to yell at him. My eyes moved to him as a large blast of color exploded from the complex.

I looked back in time to see it swallow the dashing people on the ground, creeping over and engulfing vehicles. Reds, oranges, and I swear I saw blue launch into the night sky in a ripple moving outward in a wondrous light-show keeping me stilled in awe. 

The pulse of light moved swiftly over the campus, conforming around buildings and rattling windows. I saw it coming, watched as it moved ever closer. My lips pulled into a delighted smile for some reason and then it hit.

Within a split second my room heated to a scorching temperature, and the small prickles of heat consumed me. My flesh burned as my blood chilled and I was knocked back from the window. One moment I was watching the beautiful light-show, the next I was sent backwards off the bed and crashing into something large and somewhat soft. The sounds of a crash echoed in my ears as pain shot up my right arm, and then another crash before my world fell dark.

Copyright J.N. Sheats 2022

Read Book 1 (Lineage)