Cripple Creek, Colorado—Present Day

     "Hey, honey, I'm home," Yari said in a low monotone to the silent house.

     Poised in the doorway, her heart thudded in her ears. She held her breath for a few more shuddering heartbeats and strained to hear any noises that might indicate the legal residents, as in those who actually belonged there, had returned home.

     The kitchen remained dark, silent, and even a little drafty. Her gaze darted around the space, examining the granite counter covered in a thin sheen of dust, a stack of realtor cards, and the placement of kitchen chairs. She swallowed. Everything exactly like she'd left it that morning.

     Even after borrowing empty homes for the last year, entering a vacant house still made her skin go clammy and her throat squeeze shut. She closed her eyes. Only another six months, a year at most. Her current job allowed her to earn great tips. She'd soon have enough money saved to buy a cabin, even with the overblown prices of Colorado mountain property.

     She'd purchase a place without electricity, of course, and off the grid. She just needed to save every cent and avoid causing another fire. The tightness in her throat twisted at the thought. No more sparks—please no more sparks.

     Seconds passed, and still the house remained cloaked in silence. She let out a breath and walked across the wood floor to the gas stove. The rest of the kitchen held a bunch of steel-faced appliances with menacing switches and plugs. Their electrical presence made her skin tingle in uncomfortable ways. With her back to them, she tried to not let their presence shake her frayed nerves.

     From over the range, she noticed the hands on the wall clock had stopped at 2:32, the moment she'd first entered the room. She'd been nervous on initially breaking in. Lucky for her and the house, her unchecked emotions didn't cause further damage. One broken clock was chump-change compared to what she'd done on other occasions.

     The thought of those times only added to the tension already seething inside her.

     Once the water had heated on the gas stove, she pulled out a bag of organic tea she'd swiped from the spa and moved over to a leather chair strategically pushed away from any wall outlets.

     The home looked staged nice and all for selling. She appreciated it when the owner left some belongings for her to borrow. It got old sleeping on the floor. Still her rule was not to cause damage and to never pry into the owner's affairs.

     After all, poking around would only lead her to discover the inevitable cache of household photos. Smiling mothers with their children perched on their laps, husbands with their arms draped around beaming spouses, and couples kissing. All happy family crap that showed what she didn't have.

     Whatever. She'd get her own place—things would be better then.

     With the last sip of tea, she got up and shuffled downstairs in the dark, an easy thing to do. Outside, a full moon cast a blue-grey light through the house's floor-to-ceiling windows. Halfway down the steps, a cool breeze curled around her toes.

     Her spine straightened. This was wrong. Touching the thermostat could cause damage, so the places she stayed tended to be on the cool side. But a breeze? That couldn't be right. Her muscles tightened as she descended a few more steps. Over the accelerated beat of her heart, she heard a thumping noise from the other end of the hall.

     She froze, one foot mid-step off the landing. Her mind tumbled, and she tried to remember the house's floor plan. An office. One big old mahogany-clad room with a computer and a flat screen TV, no less, lay in the direction of that sound. She bit her lip.

     Her backpack lay hidden in the linen cabinet by the far bedroom. Her trip to retrieve it would lead her past the office's door. That pack contained everything she owned.

     She descended onto the landing. The four-car garage led to the kitchen, which was near the front door. Someone entering the house from the main floor would make a racket that she would have heard.

     Glass crashed to the ground, followed by the screech of a large piece of furniture being dragged over the floor. What if it wasn't the family who owned this house? She trembled from an internal chill. Vacant vacation homes could attract more than squatters, like her.

     The motion detector beeped against the stairway wall. The red light on the readout panel blinked in error. She made a point of touching the security controls when first entering the home. With one small spark from her, and the place stood unarmed. Shit.

     She crouched closer to the nubby carpet and pushed her back against the wall. Maybe she could sneak past, get her stuff, and climb out a window. The surrounding aspens would hide her ones she made it twenty feet from the house. She crept to the end of the hall and peeked around the corner toward the office.

     Before her, five men worked the room. Two rummaged through papers in the desk drawers. One pulled wood paneling from the wall and another searched through a cabinet, emptying papers into a canvas bag.

     In the center, a tall, muscular man dominated the room. As she watched, he pointed to a corner. The man who held open the cabinet drawer dropped it, and moved to where was pointed.

     Robbers, Yari shivered. This was bad. First, she shouldn't been in the house either, and second the chance of them being okay with her witnessing their crime was pretty slim.

     While she watched, the clouds outside parted, and the moon's blue light flooded through the windows. The dark shadowy shapes of men disappeared. Their skin transformed into a putrid grey, and their eyes sunk into blank holes. Large gashes showed on their skin where their bones ripped through cartilage.

     Yari ducked back around the wall trembling. She did not just see that. Her heart leapt in her chest, her mouth turned dry. Oh-my-god.

     Witnessing a house being robbed was bad, seeing it ransacked by monsters was disturbing and bad and did she really just see what she thought she had?

     She placed her hand to her pounding chest. Okay, think. Her mind whirled. Forget thinking, she needed to get out of there. She could backtrack up the stairs and exit out the garage. Anything.

     She shifted from the wall to get to her feet, but stopped. This was madness. She couldn't have really seen that. It was a mistake, a mirage cast by the moon. Sliding her shoulder to the corner, she glanced toward the office. The light had disappeared. Only the shapes of four men could be seen. She blinked, relief flooded her veins.

    Er wait, only four, the man at the center...

    Glancing to the wall, her nose brushed a man's pant leg. Her eyes traveled from his shoes, to his jeans, to his black turtleneck. He was tall—at least from her position on the floor.

    She scooted backward, but he moved faster. Lunging over, he grabbed her by the neck and pulled her up, choking off her scream as he squeezed her windpipe. She scratched and tugged at his wrists while kicking frantically with her dangling legs as his hand tightened about her neck.

     Again, moonlight hit the room and the man dissolved into a grey-skinned monster. His cheeks shrunk into hollowed craters. The hands holding her became spotted with red angry sores, and his pitted-out eyes drilled into hers.

     Her vision clouded with black spots. She clawed a few more times at the man-monster before her focus blurred. With a thud, she hit the floor. Gasping for air, she rolled over, pulling at the neck of her shirt in a fight for breath. The man turned her over and pressed her to the floor. His hands pinned her shoulders, his weight crushed against her body.

      Her sight cleared. Shadows surrounded them, and she saw the man's blue eyes inches from hers. He had pale skin, high cheekbones, and straight black hair that fell across his forehead. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, maybe only a year, or so older than her.

      "It's broken," he whispered in a smooth, deep voice. "It's not working. I'm, I'm free," he choked with a sad longing in his voice.

       Yari shook her head as tears blinded her eyes. His grip dug painfully into her shoulder. His weight lessened, and she blinked while struggling to breathe.

       Standing, he stepped away from him. As he moved, his cool stare skimmed over her body, seeming to drink up what he saw. His taut shoulder muscles rippled under his tight clothing, and the air around him crackled.

      She scooted back until her shoulders pressed against the far door. Her blood pounding in her ears.

      Raising his arm, he rubbed his fingers together. A tight smile formed on his lips.

       He shook his head and his now very human-looking forehead creased. With a motion, the other men around the room dropped their goods and vanished down the hall. He studied her one more time, then his large physique blended with the shadows, blurred, and faded into the night.

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