The Devil's Tail - The Devil Chronicles Book One - ROUGH DRAFT

Chapter Two

Marty's body warmed with every passing moment. A little too warm. She kicked assuming the extra heat would fly right off her, but it clung to her like a straitjacket. 

Throwing her arms above her head, she blocked out the agonizing light. The sun was fully overhead and wasn't going down anytime soon. The options for the time of day vastly surrounded around noon, but it was winter and the sun barely shinned. The forecast called for clouds and rain throughout the day, but the forecast was never right. On all of the days, that day was when the forecast changed at the flip of a coin.

She released her arms away from her eyes. Blinking, she adjusted to the world around her.

Before she could take into account where she was, something metallic was shoved into her mouth. She gagged and choked against it, but it slipped neatly under her tongue. 

Her eyes narrowed onto the woman standing over her and she relaxed her muscles.

She was back in her room with her mother sitting beside her. The drapes over her wide windows allowed filtered sunlight to scatter across the hardwood floors. The smell of rain intoxicated her as she inhaled. 

"That's no good." Taking the thermometer out of her daughter's mouth, she immediately turned to the nightstand where she wrung out a washcloth into a basin.  

Her mother was in her early forties with gray hairs dotting the base of her hairline. But being the amateurish family blogger she was, she always covered the roots with hair dye on a monthly basis and patted her face with the finest and latest of middle-aged makeup. 

As she placed the washcloth on her daughter's forehead, she brushed away Marty's stray hairs. "Now, tell me if that feels better." Whenever she began a sentence with now, it was an indication that she wanted information from you but she wasn't going to drag it out of you. 

Without hesitation, Marty snapped her memory in place. "There was a dog." She shook her head around wildly. "No, a leash. His leash. His collar. Someone has him. They took him." She pushed her covers off, but the strength required was too much as her head spun and she was forced to lay back down. She groaned and winced as her elbow hit the nightstand. 

Mrs. Reiling bent over her daughter and grabbed onto both of her wrists, so she wouldn't lash out anymore. "Calm down," she gritted her teeth and fought against her daughter pushing back.

"No, no, no! Listen! He got taken." Marty began to whimper, unable to keep track of her own thoughts. Yet, she wasn't sure if she was even thinking at that moment.

Diana relaxed her control and let her daughter run with her emotions. "What do you need? Do you need anything?" 

Marty's eyes were dry and her tears stung as they reached her cracked lips. "I don't feel good." She sat on her bed and reached her legs toward the ground. Shivering, she covered her eyes with balled fists. "I need to find him," she mumbled to herself, but her mother couldn't hear.

"Yes, I know. Lay back down." She placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders and tried to push her onto her back.

Marty ignored her mother's attempts to place her back in bed, sinking underneath her figure and falling to the ground. She grabbed a handful of pink plush carpeting the rug that she begged her parents to buy when she was fourteen. If it was good enough for her bare feet in the mornings, then it's good enough to lay her head on.

"John! Get in here!"

Quickened footsteps echoed through the house and her father entered the room, catching his breath briefly with his hand resting on the door frame, then bolting straight to her on the ground. "Mar! Mar," he lifted his daughter's head into his hands and then cradled her in his arms.