Grave Wind: (Australian Horrors Book 1) Available on Pre-order

Grave Wind

Janice Tremayne

CHAPTER 1
THE IN-BETWEENS

CIRCA 1880

The timber shutters rattled violently with each gust of wind like a crescendo of a masterpiece symphony, the cymbals clattering together to a climax—it was nothing more than an announcement of what was to come. An impromptu manifestation of horrors unimaginable.

A haunted lighthouse decayed on the edge of a towering cliff, its lantern long extinguished. The lantern room was encased in broken glass, with a powerful Fresnel lens that was the most advanced technology at the time and was now considered an old hack. The lens, now covered in dust and cobwebs, was unable to project a bright beam visible far out to sea—extinguished in the fray for relevance.

Solitary Island was located far from the mainland, surrounded by treacherous waters that made access difficult. The weather was unpredictable and often stormy, with frequent fog that blanketed the island in an eerie silence. It was nature’s way of maintaining its solitude from the quirks of civilization. The storms could be fierce, with howling winds and crashing waves. But did it matter? Not many people lived there anyway. Just a village with inhabitants caught in time and living at their own pace. It wasn’t called Solitary Island for nothing.
Dahlia didn’t react to the storm. She had been here before, more than once. Was she a lighthouse fan or a sucker for punishment? The jury was still out.

It was the adrenaline rush during each encounter with Betwixt that propelled her here to underscore each harrowing moment. A victory to her resilience in avoiding entrapment by the afterlife. She knew the drill because they only came out during storms. A game of cat and mouse or do or dare. Each time, she pulled up trumps and outsmarted it only to return for more—each time elevated to a higher level—her pièce de résistance.

But this time, she brought with her a reluctant friend from the village who had agreed to her invitation to experience the world beyond the physical realms. Dahlia had convincing ways, and Jack was a sucker for the paranormal. So much so that he developed an alias amongst the village folk: Paranormal Jack.

“So, explain to me what we are doing here again in this haunted place?” Jack said. His scruffy hair and lack of attention to dress may have been misunderstood for the untidy type. But he was as sharp as a toothpick and didn’t miss a beat.
Dahlia pretended to ignore him at first but realized he would only ask again.
“I told you. I come here for the game.”
“With whom? I don’t see anyone, just a dark, derelict room that smells like the inside of a fish tank.” Jack shrugged his shoulders while making a sniffing sound. The stench in the room was starting to affect his sinuses. “You know, the old-timers keep telling us this place is out of bounds—haunted by the ghost of the last lighthouse keeper.”
Dahlia placed her hands over her mousey hair and pulled it back tightly while adjusting the ribbon.
“Isn’t that the more reason to come here and explore…see it for yourself? I thought you were the curious type?”
“Yeah, well, I am. I guess it was drummed into us as children so we wouldn’t be too imaginative.”
“You mean to scare us from visiting the lighthouse, Jack.”
“I think some of the old timers are scarier than anything you’ll find here. Right. Nothing can get uglier than a crinkled face Joe. That scar that runs down the side of his face used to frighten the shit out of me as a kid.”
Dahlia smiled. Jack always had a way with words.
“I’m waiting on Betwixt. It always turns up during the storm.”
“You mean the storm is your calling card?”
Dahlia leaned on one leg and crossed her arms. “Do you need to be so skeptical all the time? You are a paranormal guy, and the afterlife is your game. Right?” She paused for a moment and clasped her hands together. “Except Betwixt is in between life and death.”
“It’s called passing over to the other side,” Jack interrupted.
“Yes.” Dahlia nodded. “It often talks about their frustration of not having transitioned to the afterlife.”
“So, what’s with the game then?”
“You’ll see. It’s different every time, but I expect it to be more testing than before.” She walked closer to the window, which was no bigger than the circumference of an oversized man. “It usually shows itself around there.”
Jack leaned against the wall and shrugged his shoulders. “You're lucky I’m into paranormal stuff and I know you very well, or I would have thought you’d gone insane.”
The mid-summer air in the derelict room of the lighthouse, once the living quarters of light keepers, chilled within an instant. Not a precursor, but a warning from Betwixt. They were ready to show themselves and unleash their terrible exploits of curse and melodrama combined into a harrowing evil that made your worst fears look like a family picnic. Oh, make no mistake—this personified act from hell was more than a scene; it was the real McCoy.

And no matter how many times she frequented the time—and that is what they called it—it did not stop a cold sweat on her back and a tingling sensation up her arms. As for the shivering—while she clutched her fists together, holding them close to her chest—that was not fear but anticipation of the next phase of the evil chapter.
Dahlia had been warned this test would be like no other. Betwixt raised it a notch to show off their strength of character. Street smarts would not be enough to carry her through the provocation this time—Betwixt pledged to get even. Was Dahlia ready for this, or had she gotten ahead of herself? Invincibility came with the territory of being a late teenager—no fear, no consequence. Cocky to the core. What could really happen to her?
“So, you’re here…” It was a squeaky voice that permeated the chill.
Dahlia gulped at first before taking a deep breath. She exhaled through her mouth and captured the mist that had formed in front of her in a swirling motion.
“I see you’re ugly as ever, Betwixt.” Dahlia smiled.
Betwixt didn’t react. It was the usual banter at the beginning of each conversation. “I accepted my fate a long time ago, my dear. The curse of identity. You know the story. I am neither male nor female, black or white, short or tall. Sometimes, my voice is deep, and other times frail. I dare not show my true form to frighten you away—because I like our encounters. It’s all I look forward to in this miserable spirit world.”
“You are Betwixt, after all.” Dahlia moved closer to the detestable creature and pointed towards her. “Betwixt, your face. It’s different this time—no hair.”
“What is hair but a mortal’s fascination with their beauty?” Betwixt scoffed at her. “It means nothing in my world. Yes, you should try my world, if only for one day, and you could experience the horrors of a cursed death.” Betwixt paused and sniffed. “I couldn’t do that to you now that I have gotten to know you. But what about your friend Jack, I mean Paranormal Jack?” Betwixt hissed like a snake.
“You know his name?”
“Of course I do, my dear. I can even read his mind if I want. But it’s no challenge. His mind is empty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fear has grappled him. Look at his pants. A wet spot on his crotch while he shakes uncontrollably. You really know how to pick them.” Betwixt snuffed.
Dahlia turned towards Jack. “It's alright. It's only a game. You'll see. Betwixt will call the challenge." Dahlia placed her hand around her mouth and whispered, "She never wins anyway." Curling her lips with a nod. “Just go along with it.”
"It's only a game?" Jack reinforced, his eyes in a wide-open stare.
Dahlia nodded repetitiously to put him at ease.
"So, I might change the challenge now you have a friend with you." Betwixt transformed into a marionette. There were strings attached to her body, and it dangled entertainingly, tipping its hand over to gesture a welcoming advance.
Jack thought it was amusing as he poked his head forward towards the little Mary lookalike as it pranced about, dangling on a string, inviting him closer.
"It looks so real," he said. "I want to go over and touch it."
Dahlia held back her smile, knowing Betwixt was up to no good. During her previous encounters, there was always a catch—a sideline attraction before the main event, an attempt to suck you into a false sense of security, and she was not buying into it.
"I wouldn't get too attached to it, Jack. I'd stay where you are for now."
“You’re being very cautious this time,” said Betwixt.
Jack took another step forward with his arm reached out. "But it's harmless… I mean, what is it going to do to me?" Jack’s innocent, naïve voice resonated across the room as he pointed effortlessly towards little Mary.
Dahlia clinched onto her long embroidered white dress. She felt an uncanny touch swipe across her apron like a flickering switch. Sometimes, Betwixt would get personal and let its spirit wander the room. It was one of the reasons it needed the encounters with Dahlia to reconnect—to remember what it was like to feel mortal again.
But it was the energy of the spirit it sent out, and it could never feel again—swiping Dahlia had its limitations. If anything, it was only able to hold her attention momentarily. And truth be known, Betwixt was dead and in between the spirit world and mortal life. It had never crossed to the other side and was caught in a dimension unbeknownst to those who usually die.
As the storm ravaged outside, the high waves crashed onto the rocks below like a sledgehammer. The lighthouse was an imposing structure built from sturdy stone blocks that withstood the test of time and its elements. It stood as a solitary sentinel overlooking the turbulent sea.
The air in the room chilled even further as overspray managed to cling onto the window frame. In some instances, the droplets made their way to the floor, creating a slippery mist, just enough to send you sliding across the old rustic wooden floor if you didn't take care with your step.
The only picture frame containing a black and white portrait of the last lighthouse keeper bounced about, rattling as though it was fighting for survival. How it managed to stay affixed to the wall was anyone's guess. But that was all part of the strange manifestations of this room and the folklore, as the last light keeper of Solitary Island had died in suspicious circumstances. And until this day, his body had never been found.
As the marionette danced, it decided on a game of trickery. It hurtled rope that resembled a fisherman's net into the air in a circular motion, swirling towards Jack before wrapping around him from head to toe. He was caught in a trap.
"I don't want to be tied up, Dahlia. What's going on?" He wiggled and pressed onto the rope, but it only became tighter with each thrust. "Get this off me…please." Sulking as he gripped the rope, he desperately tried to pull it apart with both hands as his body became entangled in it.
"What is this, Betwixt?" Dahlia pointed to it defiantly. "Let him go or no more games…ever… I mean it!"
Betwixt responded by changing into a small three-foot doll with a puffy face and red cheeks, bulging round blue eyes, and a piggish nose. It had no upper lip with a slight dimple on its chin, accentuated by solid contours around the smallish sunken mouth. A prominent forehead and high hairline were only added to this freakish lookalike doll. Its ragged movement of the head flicked about the straight red hair to the neckline. It was like a teenage head on the body of a chubby three-year-old infant. Betwixt’s dubious smile was fixed as its two buck teeth extended beyond the lower lips.
"So, do you like my real looks?” Betwixt scoffed.
Dahlia didn’t respond as she continued looking away from this harrowing figure.
“Hmm, as I thought.” Betwixt giggled. “Oh, this is not a game anymore. I want to raise the tempo a few notches—take away something with me this time—a souvenir of sorts." Betwixt grinned like a devil on the hunt. "And yes, my dear Jack…each time you fight the rope, it becomes tighter, until every ounce of breath from your youthful lungs is exhaled, and you suffocate to death." Betwixt paused for a while and took a deep breath as though it was suffering from emphysema. You could hear the wheezing like a whistle.
"What do you mean he could die? Are you mad?!" Dahlia was outraged.
Betwixt winked sarcastically. "Oh, the games are over. My prize is watching your dear friend perish in front of you, as you are the one responsible. It was your naivety that brought him here." Betwixt lifted her fat, short arms into the air. "How does that make you feel?"
Dahlia didn't respond immediately, preferring to stave off her fear. She had to think quickly. The games she had been drawn into during previous encounters with Betwixt were only a prelude of things to come. A crafty and patient build-up played by the devil's underling to scalp its prize—a human soul.
“It doesn’t make me feel anything, and less of you.” Dahlia shifted her weight to her right leg; leaning forward, she placed her hands on her hips in a retaliatory stance.
“Oh, you don’t understand the smell of death and how it consumes us. Like a drug, you know. You keep coming back for more. And each time it becomes…let’s say…exhilarating.”
“You’re a monster…”
Betwixt shrugged its underdeveloped shoulders. “Before you, there was the last lighthouse keeper. Oh, he liked my encounters… So lonely I could get him to do anything. A drunken skunk at night and a deviant during the day.”
Dahlia chuffed. “What do you mean?”
“He liked pretty little girls, you know, until he met his fate.”
“You killed him?”
“I prefer to say I took his soul and released him from his devilish desires.” Betwixt grinned and nodded its head frantically. “But there were more before him… Drunken fools, vagabonds, and more lighthouse keepers. They sent the rotten ones to Solitary Island…a sort of punishment by the authorities. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“So why an innocent boy? Jack doesn’t fall into the profile of the victims,” Dahlia said convincingly.
“Oh, maybe I didn’t make myself clear. I like the innocent types occasionally. It changes things around and makes it less boring.”
“You’ve done it before with the younger ones, haven’t you?”
Betwixt held back this time, sensing she was being caught in a debate. “No need to go into explicit details, but the town records show two children that went missing and were never found twenty years ago.”
“You did it?”
“They should have never ventured into the lighthouse. It was still staffed back then by cranky Bill—another drunken fool.”
“You got all three of them?” Dahlia’s tone turned inquisitive.
“You could say it was a catch of the day…three souls in one night. My master certainly liked it.”
“You have a master?”
“Don’t we all? We’re all accountable to someone along the line.” Betwixt pointed to the ground. “I have no illusion that when my master is sick of me, I will end up in Hell to suffer for eternity. But for now, I amuse my master by capturing innocent souls. And that keeps me locked in the in-between world.”
“Those that haven’t transitioned to the other side…”
“You catch on quick, my dear. And I must say, you are the smartest of all my encounters.” Betwixt paused, raised its chest, and took a gulping breath. It was the whistling sound of someone dying a slow death.
"What do you want to let him go?" said Dahlia. “State your terms, demon.”
"Oh, are we negotiating now?" Betwixt scoffed at her. "A little too late, don't you think? I kind of like the boy, he’s growing on me. I think he will fit in well in my world. Heck, I might even use him as a decoy to catch more innocent souls." Betwixt performed a terrible rendition of a tap dance and then stopped.
Dahlia didn't hold back her displeasure. "This is not funny. It's not a game. Tell me what you want to let him go!" She pointed fiercely at Betwixt.
"Hmm, since you insist and care so much for the boy, here’s the deal. One of you must die.”
“What…”
“That is a must for my master. I must bring back a soul today. So, it's either him or you." Betwixt shook its head as the straw-like red hair became untangled.
"That’s not going to happen,” Dahlia said forcibly, her arms pinned around her chest in an accentuating stance.
“Then you can watch him die.”
The rope firmed its grip around Jack as he started to choke. His face turning red, he gasped for air, desperate to stay alive. Unable to communicate, only his eyes conveyed the fear within.
“So, is it you or the boy?” Betwixt raised its index finger above its head, waving it around. “I’m waiting for her answer…”
Jack choked even harder this time. His tongue poked out and his eyes bulged. His face started to turn pale blue from the lack of oxygen.
“Suffocation is never a great way to lose one’s life,” said Betwixt. It continued to wave the index finger. “I’m still waiting…”
Jack’s head fell forward, and he began to lose consciousness. His body folded over the rope like a bird caught on a wire.
“Well, my dear, the clock is ticking… You or the boy?” Betwixt’s evil rant intensified as it raised the stakes. Jack was closer to death than ever, and Dahlia had to make a decision.