The Witching Hour

Prologue

Thunder roared above head as lighting flashed in the distance. The gray clouds darkened the sky, but as rain fell in sheets, the forest grew bleaker. While rain wasn't strange for the Pacific Northwest, a storm of this magnitude was.

Amidst the chaos, a small cabin sat amongst the bleak forest. A curtain pulled back to reveal the resident. An older woman with silver hair stared at the sky through hooded eyes. Unsatisfied, she let the fabric drop. The door creaked open, and a yellow rain boot splashed in a puddle forming under her front door.

The woman walked a bit further out, leaving the safety of her porch for the rain. She reached her hands out. The water pounded against her skin. Bringing a hand to shield her eyes, she gazed upward. Another crack of lightning sounded. The purple streak hit a tree further away in the forest, a sickening crack filling every crevice of the woods.

A small smile pulled across her lips. She nodded at the sky as if it would nod back. The woman knew this was coming long before this day. A psychic you could call her, but she was so much more than that.

"So it begins," she whispered almost triumphantly.

Turning her back on the forest, she snapped her fingers and the front door of her cabin whipped open. She had much to prepare for. If this storm was any indication, there would be more to follow. And they would be much deadlier.