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  The Beast Inside

  A Paranormal Horror Fiction Novel by David Horrocks

  The Beast Inside Series:

  The Beast Inside

  The Beast Inside: Blood of the Forsaken

  The Beast Inside: Blood Queen

  Cover Art and Design by:

  Kristyn McQuiggan of Drop Dead Designs

  Edited by: Judie Horrocks, Bob Horrocks and Jonny Horrocks

  Special Thanks to: Kate

  About the Author

  A British born author living in the United States, David Horrocks has a passion for writing, wanting nothing more than to share his ideas and stories with the world. The first novel he published was 'The Beast Inside', which he has expanded on further with other novels and short stories. The art of writing is an outlet in which he pours his heart and soul, hoping to bring the enjoyment of reading to everyone who picks up his books.

  Copyright © 2017 by David Horrocks

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: A bloody mess.

  Chapter One: There's no place like home.

  Chapter Two: The girl next door.

  Chapter Three: Part of the family.

  Chapter Four: Change never was easy.

  Chapter Five: Finding the strength to move on.

  Chapter Six: Blood is thicker than water.

  Chapter Seven: Getting lost in the crowd.

  Chapter Eight: By royal decree.

  Chapter Nine: The girl who cried wolf.

  Chapter Ten: Losing yourself in the moment.

  Chapter Eleven: A night to remember.

  Chapter Twelve: A shift in the balance.

  Chapter Thirteen: The wrong side of town.

  Chapter Fourteen: Making the right choice.

  Chapter Fifteen: The end of the line.

  Epilogue: On the road again.

  Prologue: A bloody mess.

  Blood. Blood everywhere.

  The floor was dripping wet with it, causing Alice to almost slip. Was it hers? No. She had no cuts or open wounds as far as she could tell. She seemed okay, at least physically. Then whose blood was it? There was so much of it pooling on the tiles and splattered up the white painted walls. Where was she? Alice tried to think, but her head was pounding. She had apparently exerted herself somehow, as she was panting heavily and her clothes were saturated with sweat.

  Alice noted that she was in a bathroom. The stalls, sinks and hand dryers had made that obvious. But which bathroom was it and how did she get there? It took a moment for it to click, but she soon recognised the place as the local diner. It was the public bathroom in the back. So that meant that she was at work, but she couldn't remember what had happened there at all.

  The large mirror that covered a third of the main wall was cracked, with one corner of it that had been shattered completely. The shards of glass sparkled like jagged diamonds along the edge of the counter as they caught the light. Something terrible had clearly gone down there, but what? She had to try and piece her memories together.

  Alice caught sight of her reflection. She was pale and frail looking, as if she had seen a ghost. Her waitress uniform was torn and missing a couple of buttons, with patches of red seeping into the fabric in several places. The blond bangs of her loose hanging hair were stained crimson, with droplets of blood across her face, with the largest concentration of it smeared around her mouth, teeth glistening.

  Moving her hands up to touch her lips, Alice inhaled sharply as she realised that they too were completely covered. Looking closer, she could see that the tips of her nails had something stuck beneath them. Carefully picking at one of them, she felt nauseous upon discovering that it contained flesh. Human flesh. She had clearly hurt someone, but had she killed them? Who did the blood belong to? Her heart raced as she fought to keep calm, panic close to setting in.

  In the corner of her eye, Alice could see a shoe peeking out from under a stall door. Was it a body? She hoped it was just discarded footwear and that nothing was attached to the other end, but she knew that it was just wishful thinking. Creeping over to the closed door, she held her breath and pushed it lightly. The door hinges creaked as the door slowly opened, revealing a truly dreadful scene dredged directly from her darkest nightmares.

  Within the confines of the stall lay a fresh corpse, slumped backwards over the toilet, ripped and shredded as if it had been savaged by a wild animal. Alice struggled to hold down her lunch as she turned away, a sickness rising in her gut.

  A woman's voice called through the bathroom door. “Alice, are you alright? I heard a ruckus.”

  Alice jumped at the sudden noise, taking a moment to gather herself before stuttering a reply.

  “I… I'm… Yes. I'm fine.”

  “Are ya sure, hun?”

  She gulped. “Yes. I'll be out in a minute.”

  It was a lie of course, Alice was far from fine, but she wasn't ready to face anyone either. She desperately needed to remember what had happened there first. Taking a deep breath, Alice stepped into the occupied stall to investigate.

  The young man lying there was well dressed, with a polo shirt, khakis and a watch that likely cost more than her weekly wages. He was approximately twenty years old, give or take a few years. Close to her own age. There was something about him that jogged Alice's memory, as she realised that she recognised him from somewhere...

  It was Drew. Drew Taylor. He was the Mayor's son, which meant that this was a big deal. Alice had met him on a few occasions, but didn't much care for his attitude. He was an idiot, who was completely full of himself and hit on her every chance he got. But why would she kill him? She had no motivation for it as far as she could recall. What kind of monster was she? How could she do something like this to another human being? And then it dawned on her. She wasn't the monster, he was.

  Alice had been working late at the diner like she always did when Drew had entered with his friends. They were drunk as usual and acting like assholes, with the other employees refusing to serve them. But Alice needed the tip money, so she put on her best smile and went over to take their orders, treating them as politely as she would any other customer. They were as rude as could be expected and inappropriately handsy, groping her more than once.

  As soon as the entire table was served their food, Alice took a break, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. It was then that Drew entered, cornering her and grabbing her arms in an attempt to force himself upon her. He had overpowered Alice at first, aggressively pushing her onto the countertop as he tore at her clothing, but something triggered in the back of her mind. Animal instincts. Something primal. She blacked out and everything after that was a blur.

  The body before her suddenly stirred, coughing and spluttering, his lungs full of liquid. Alice gasped loudly, taking a step back to distance herself from it. Drew wasn't dead, but he would be if she d
idn't get him some help soon. She realised that she didn't want him to die, no matter what he had tried to do to her. Even though he would have violated her, she didn't want to kill him. There wasn't a murderous bone in her body and he had already gotten what he deserved, but for some reason she felt guilty about it all.

  Alice scavenged her cellphone from her apron pocket and dialed 911, knowing full well that the police would have questions for her as soon as the ambulance had shipped Drew off to the emergency room. She wasn't sure if she would even be able to give them the information they'd require as she didn't have any of the answers herself.

  What was so wrong with her brain that she could flip out like that at a moment's notice? If only her parents were still around to help her through yet another tough time in her life. Maybe things could have also been different with Sam there too, but he wasn't and that too was all her fault. This had to be one of the worst days of Alice Delaney's life and things were only going to get worse...

  Chapter One: There's no place like home.

  It was a hot summer's day in 1996, when aging Bill and Martha Delaney decided to give up their busy lives in New York City, moving out west to live on a small, rundown farm in Kansas with their golden retriever, Charlie. The couple had become jaded with the attitudes of big city folk and were unable to have children of their own, so they wanted to grow old somewhere far away from civilization.

  With knowledge handed down from his father and his entire youth spent on the family farm in upstate New York, Bill renovated the ramshackle house and worked hard on getting the place up and running again. It wasn’t the simplest of tasks, as most of the equipment was falling apart, and it took hours of repairs for him just to get the tractor running alone. However, through sheer determination and perseverance, row after row of corn fields were eventually tilled, sowed and had their fences repaired. Martha headed off to the auctions to buy a plethora of farm animals soon after, enjoying the thought of having lives to look after.

  Within a year, the Delaney farm was up and running once more and was reliving the glory days of a time long passed. It had taken more work than they had originally anticipated, but Bill and Martha were finally settled, becoming known amongst the locals as the city folk who had achieved the American dream. They were free to live out the rest of their lives on their own piece of land in the middle of nowhere.

  **********

  On a peaceful and particularly warm spring evening, just three years after their arrival in the Midwest, the Delaneys were sat outside on their porch sipping homemade sweet tea together as they basked in the setting sun. The day’s crop planting was done, which meant that they could take the time to really enjoy their surroundings. The farm truly was a beautiful place to live, with endless fields as far as the eye could see and not another person in sight.

  Martha sighed happily, knowing that life couldn't get much better than that very moment. She looked over at her husband in the neighbouring chair, smiling warmly as he turned his head to meet her gaze. His old, tanned face cracked a smile in return, gray strands glistening amongst his mostly dark hair. No words were shared between them, as after four decades of marriage they knew almost exactly what each other was thinking. Staring into each other's eyes, they shared in that special moment for as long as it would last.

  Bill reached over, resting his hand on Martha's as he turned back to face out at the horizon. Admiring the contours and chiselled outline of his face, she could still feel her heart beating with love for the man that she had spent the majority of her life with. She had always wanted to bring a life into the world with him more than anything, but complications had removed a baby from the equation. As much as that saddened her, she knew that it just wasn't meant to be. They had almost adopted on a few occasions, but it either didn't work out or it just didn't feel right at the time.

  Over the years, Martha had begun to believe that God had other plans for them and that the farm was just the beginning. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, Martha looked back out at the setting sun, deciding to enjoy the wonders of everything they had built together instead of dwelling on the past.

  An hour passed by and the sun had long set when Bill stood up slowly, taking the time to collect their empty glasses.

  “We should turn in for the night.” He said with a stifled yawn. “We have another early start tomorrow, dear.”

  An ever increasing crescendo of crickets signified that it was indeed getting late. Martha nodded in agreement, leaning forwards to rest her hands on her knees before pushing up into a standing position.

  “I can't wait.”

  The pair had just opened the screen door and were heading inside when Charlie began to bark incessantly from the shelter of his kennel. He was unable to run after whatever he had seen due to the stake his leash was tied to, but that didn't stop him from pulling at it.

  Over the ruckus, Martha could only just hear panicked clucking sounds coming from somewhere alongside the barn. Bill had clearly heard it too as he had stopped dead in his tracks.

  “The chickens!” Martha exclaimed, looking wide eyed in the direction that the sounds were originating from.

  Bill ran into the house without hesitation, placing the glasses on a counter before disappearing into the back room, yelling as he went.

  “Damn foxes again! Wait there, I'll get my gun.”

  It was only a matter of seconds before he strode back out, hunting rifle in his hands and determination pasted across his face. He loaded the gun as he went, hopping down the steps of the front deck before moving at a hurried pace towards the barn. Martha was close on his tail, lighting the way with a flashlight she had quickly rustled up out of a kitchen drawer.

  The pair of them made their way across the dirt of the driveway as Charlie continued to bark. From there, they set off over one of the smaller fields and past the handmade, smartly dressed scarecrow in its old tweed suit. The blank, sackcloth expression of its face was usually enough to scare off the pesky crows, but now it also leant a certain eeriness to the current situation that made Martha feel uneasy.

  The bright red colour of the newly painted barn looked closer to brown under the dim light of the moon, with only a small circle displaying its true colour as Martha lit it up on approach. Bill raised the barrel of his weapon as they skirted the edge of the building, heading to the side where the chicken coop was located.

  Jumping around the final corner, Bill did his best to startle whatever animal was poaching his livestock, but he was instead met with a scattering of very frightened birds who proceeded to flee in all directions. The door to their home had been torn from one of its hinges and left hanging.

  “Darn it. It'll take forever to round them up.” Bill said with exasperation.

  Still on guard, the pair slowly approached the coop to see if anything had been left inside. On closer inspection, they found no trace of any predators, other than a mess of straw and countless feathers. There were no tufts of fur caught in the wire of the fence or even claw marks in the dirt. Martha used her light to examine the hatch where it lay as Bill poked around for more clues.

  “Bill?” Martha spoke with some concern. “Foxes aren't big or strong enough to do something like this…”

  Bill finished his search, turning to face his wife before replying. “No. This had to be something bigger. But whatever it was, it isn't here anymore.”

  He shook his head in disappointment. Foxes had been a thorn in their side for the past few months, as chickens vanished on a weekly basis. A fox would usually dig under the wire fence or squeeze through small gaps though, nothing quite so damaging in scale. This meant that another animal had moved into the area, which would mean yet more problems for them to deal with.

  Bill shouldered his rifle, giving the area one last look over. “Come on, Martha. We can fix this mess when it's light out. Hopefully the rest won't stray too far.”

  Upon making their way back to the front of the barn, the pair both noticed that the main door
had been left wide open. It wasn't a windy night, without so much as a gentle breeze, so it couldn't have simply blown open on its own. Someone or something had clearly gone inside.

  Martha felt a cold chill make its way up her spine as they cautiously advanced towards the entrance.

  “That wasn't open before, was it?” She asked, hoping for some reassurance from her husband that sadly didn't come.

  “No… Stay behind me.”

  Bill had taken his gun from his shoulder and was brandishing it once more. He took the lead, peering in through the darkness inside in a vain attempt to see what lay beyond. Martha followed suit, pointing the flashlight that was barely able to illuminate the barn’s massive interior.

  Stacks of hay bales partially obstructed their view, with all sorts of farming tools lining the walls. A faint scratching could be heard, as well as the wet sound of sharp teeth gnawing on something that was likely flesh. Whatever the creature was, it was big and it was chewing through the raw meat of their poor dead chicken with ease.

  A shadow shifted in the corner of Martha's eye, causing her to aim the beam of light in that general direction. She caught the silhouette of something unrecognisable. Its shape could only just be seen hunched over at the far end of the building next to an empty stall. As soon as the light hit, whatever it was hissed loudly before scurrying quickly out of sight.

  “Stay here, I'm gonna try and corner it.” Bill whispered to Martha, barely audible over her heavy breathing, rapid heartbeat and the continuous barking from Charlie's kennel outside.

  Bill crept forward, rifle trained on where he had last seen movement. The floorboards beneath him creaked under the weight of every footstep, causing his body to visually tense up each and every time it happened.