“What do you want?”

The voice didn’t answer. All went silent. Abbigail swept her gaze around her house again as if, at any moment, a window would burst and some crazed maniac would jump through her window ready to gut her like the victim she saw this morning.

“Open this door.” It was a command, an order.

Abbigail had no intention of answering it. Instead, she slowly raised her gun, keeping her thumb near the safety, and pointed it at the door. Quietly, she backed up towards the kitchen and to her phone.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! The knocking started again, unrelenting.

Her breath caught at the sound of cracking wood. Her eyes darted around the door trying to see a crack, but she couldn’t see any broken wood. She could have sworn she heard it crack. He knocked again, louder, the banging sound ringing in her ears amidst more splintering sounds. God, he’s breaking down the doorframe, tearing it down!

She turned and ran to the phone. She faced the door, gun ready as she dialed. Her fingers slipped in their haste, and she had to end the call and try again twice before she got the three digits dialed—911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“A man’s trying to break into my house,” Abbigail whispered, but her voice sounded just as panicked as she felt. The knocking continued, never stopping. “Oh my god, do you hear that?”

“What’s your address ma’am?” Abby related it quickly. “Ma’am, get to a back room with a lock on it and lock yourself in there. Stay on the line. Patrol officers are on the way.”

Abby started towards the bedroom then stopped as she felt the cord to her phone pull taut. “I can’t take the phone with me. It’s not wireless.” God, she felt really stupid now. She thought the corded, old-fashioned phone was cute and trendy when she bought it. It was one of those vintage, dark yellow ones that hung on the wall. She liked it because it came from the fifties and had a certain flair to it.

“Then set the phone down but do not hang up if you can. Patrols will be there shortly.”

No sooner than the operator declared that the door shook violently.

“He’s kicking it,” she said, part in fear and part in disbelief.

Abby waited no longer. She turned and ran for the bedroom just as she heard the door burst open in an explosion of splintered wood. The front door bounced off the wall with a resounding crack just as she entered her bedroom, slamming the door closed and flipped the measly turn lock.

Her thumb swept the safety off her gun and she sprinted into her bathroom as another bang came at her bedroom door. No way would that weak wooded door last nearly as long as the front door.

She slammed the bathroom door shut, locked it and moved as far back as she could in the tight space by wedging herself between the toilet and shower. Shaking and scared out of her mind, she raised her gun, index finger poised over the trigger and waited.

BAM! BAM! CRACK!

The bedroom door slammed open. She heard it beat against her nightstand with another blow. She started praying for the police to come, and she didn’t want to be another body like the ones she found for a living. Her arms shook. As she looked down the peephole of the black gun, the hole wavered, wobbling around in waves that she tried to steady but couldn’t.

She kept waiting for him to come, kept waiting to hear the banging on the bathroom door. But it never came. A minute passed. Then another. And another.

A part of her told her to check the door, open it just an inch and peer outside. Maybe he was gone and she did have a gun after all. She could shoot if he charged at her, but the smarter part of her mind told her to wait there. Wait for the police. They shouldn’t be that long. After all, she lived close to her job and her job which was with the police department.

Sure enough, another minute passed and she could hear the faint howling of sires in the distance. As they got louder, her heart rate slowed and her muscles relaxed, but she never dropped aim no matter how hard her arms shook.

She heard men entering her house.

“Abbigail Krenshaw!” a voice shouted.

She’d never been more relieved to hear another person’s voice in her life. She collapsed against the toilet. “Mike, I’m in the bathroom!” Footsteps bounded in her bedroom but something made her stay in the bathroom. As if she had to be certain it was safe and this wasn’t all some gimmick.

A soft triple knock came at the door. “Abbigail, are you all right?”

Mike’s voice was tense, not that she was surprised. He was a sweet guy. A good cop and she’d probably just scared the shit out of him with her call. She stood on legs that didn’t feel like her own and unlocked the door. She opened it slowly, peering out as she’d wanted to before. She met his dark blue eyes and light head of hair then let the door open all the way.

He had a hard look in his eyes, the kind he used when surveying a crime scene. “You okay?” His eyes traced her quickly from head to toe ensuring all parts were accounted for.

She nodded and before she knew it, he wrapped her in his arms. It was beyond unprofessional but she hugged him back. After the insanity she just went through, the least she deserved was a hug, right?

She pulled back first and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Now tell me why your doors are busted in and what the hell happened.”

Abby shrugged then told him what happened. His frown got deeper and deeper as she continued. No matter how hard she tried to describe how terrifying it all was, she couldn’t. No words could describe that.

“Stay in a hotel tonight. Use cash.”

It was Abby’s turn to frown. “What? No, why?”

He lifted a dark blonde eyebrow at her. “Because you don’t have a front door.”

Her face flushed and she nodded. “Right.”

She packed a bag, being sure to put her gun in there, and changed out of her pajamas. As she left her house, she saw the detective unit making a crime scene out of her home.

Mike watched her walk to her car from the front door. She didn’t like his scrutiny or that she’d needed help like this. These were good cops and had much better cases to be working on then spending time in her house. However, Mike insisted.

This whole thing was all so bizarre. Too many questions rang in her head: who had beaten in her door, and why did he want her?

She opened her car door and tossed her hastily stuffed duffel bag into the passenger seat. Strange, she didn’t feel tired now. She felt as if she could run a mile at a full on sprint and not even be out of breath.

“Damn, hey, Abby.” Mike took a step towards her, but then stopped.

Abbigail blinked. What the... he didn’t stop, he froze. No, not just him, everything had frozen. The air that had been stirring the hair around her face stopped. The strands dropped flat against her. The trees swaying from the breeze stopped up and down the street leaning in mid-sway as if reaching for something. The voices in the house ceased. All went quiet, dark.

She felt him before she saw him. A roar filled her ears. She turned around and leaned back against the car for support. Time seemed to slow or maybe it was just her adrenaline pumping that made it seem like time slowed. What was that sound, the roar? Shoot, it was her heart racing.

“Mike!” Her one last chance for help, she called out. She darted a glance at Mike and saw him still frozen with one foot forward, his body in mid-step, and eyes locked on her, unblinking.

It dawned on her then...magic. The man coming for her was using magic. She should have realized it sooner, but she was so out of touch with it.

She felt him coming.

Spinning around, she stared at her neighbor’s dark house. Her neighbors were older and paranoid and they always kept their outdoor lights on and several inside the house at night. Now the house sat completely dark and empty looking. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized the streetlights were off too leaving everything dark with only the moon light to guide her eyes.