Prologue
Grant
Shadows danced and writhed along the jagged walls, lurking just beyond the weak circle of sickly yellow light.
Grant wiped the cold sweat from his brow with a grimy sleeve, his breath fogging in the frigid air, forming thick plumes. An unnatural silence settled over the mine hours ago and he couldn’t shake the prickle of unease skating down his spine despite the chill.
He told himself it was nothing—just the late hour playing tricks on a tired old man’s mind.
But the lantern sputtered and hissed, the feeble flame struggling against the clawing darkness of the tunnel.
“Come on, shit,” he grumbled. He didn’t have time for this. His bones ached, his feet wore sore and his stomach reminded him with an angry rumble that he hadn’t eaten since lunch, whenever the hell that was.
“Shit and piss.” He swung the lantern around and froze, his ears straining. Not even the constant, maddening drip of water dared to shatter the silence, heightening the soft whisper.
“Grant…”
The sound of his name drifted from the impenetrable blackness ahead.
“Tom? That you?” Every hair on his body stood on end as he waited, pulse rushing in his ears. He held his pickaxe steady in one hand.
He shuffled forward, the feeble light flickered across rough rock walls. Nothing moved.
“Maybe the wind…” he muttered to himself. But his instincts knew damn well there weren’t no wind this deep beneath the mountain. The only thing that lived and breathed down here were his fellow miners.
His boots scraped against the uneven stone floor as he forced another step forward.
“Grant…over here…come closer…”
The voice grew clearer and achingly familiar. It did sound exactly like his brother Thomas.
But…Tommy died in a tunnel collapse two years ago, crushed under tons of rock.
Grant’s mouth went bone-dry and he tightened his grip on the lantern handle. “Tom? T-that you? W-we buried y-you.”
A dark chuckle rolled down the tunnel toward him—still his brother’s but wrong.
“Come on, egghead. You always were a slow one. Get your ass over here,” the voice cooed, laced with affectionate teasing.
Grant laughed nervously, taking one hesitant step closer. Then another. The lantern jittered wildly in his shaking grip and he couldn’t command his heart to calm.
It’s Tommy.
Tommy would never hurt me.
What if he’s been trapped down here?
“Y-you o-okay, Tom? B-been awhile.” He drew closer and the source of the voice stepped fully into view, wearing his brother’s skin like a well-tailored suit.
It possessed the same crooked, boyish smile and faded scar above the left eyebrow. Messy brown hair brushed his—its—forehead. For a moment, Grant entertained the thought that it was his brother in front of him.
Until he took in the eyes—so very, very wrong eyes.
Dozens of glistening obsidian orbs clustered where human eyes should be, blinked lazily as they reflected the lantern light like wet jewels.
It grinned, the skin at the corners of the mouth splitting open to reveal rows upon rows of needle-thin teeth.
“Oh, little brother…how I’ve missed you…”
Grant dropped the lantern and it clattered uselessly to the floor, plunging him into absolute darkness.
He tried to scream but the sound never left his throat.
It tore into him with supernatural strength, teeth sinking deep into flesh and bone and something sharp slamming him against the wall.
