by Hunter Shea
Ryker shrugged. “It’s possible. I’ve told you, we can attract and manifest anything we put our minds to. With you being a little, off…”
“Way off.”
He grinned. “Way, way off, you managed to pull in some bad vibes that have been lingering around. Who knows, maybe this is where some pioneers were attacked by wild animals in the 1700s, and you’re latching on to their anger at having their lives cut short.”
“Very dramatic,” Kate said.
“And most likely completely wrong, but you get the gist.”
Chewing on a fingernail, Kate said, “Is there a way to reverse it?”
He grabbed her elbows and helped her stand up. “Yes. By having fun with Nikki and me this weekend. We’ll make you forget all that weird stuff and leave you positively glowing.”
Kate smirked. “This isn’t one of your seminars, you know.”
“Which is why I won’t send you and Andy a bill. Now, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
* * *
Andrew barbecued steaks on the little collapsible grill, almost knocking it over twice. Kate and Nikki watched the boys from the Adirondack chairs on the back porch. Her sister-in-law had consumed a bottle of wine all by herself and was working on her second. So far, the alcohol didn’t appear to have any effect on her.
“Do all Brits have hollow legs?” Kate asked. “I mean, where do you put it?”
Nikki was five-eight and all of a hundred and twenty pounds. Kate didn’t know where the woman put anything, much less liters of alcohol.
“It’s born of necessity. You ever see a cooking show about strictly English food? Ugh. We drink to survive.”
Kate tapped her can of soda against Nikki’s glass.
The boys were drinking beer and talking, but she couldn’t hear them. Kate kept recalling the look in Ryker’s eyes when he’d first walked in. He’d tried to mask his shock, but she’d caught that glimmer of trepidation. They hadn’t seen each other in almost three months, with him traveling every week. She’d lost some weight since then, and she knew her makeup couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes or the graying tone of her flesh. It made her realize how much worse things had gotten when Mr. Positivity couldn’t put on his happy face…at least in that moment.
“Are you chaps just about done?” Nikki called out to them.
“Five more minutes,” Andrew said. “Give or take.”
Ryker shook his can. “As soon as the beer’s done, the steaks will be, too.”
“Good. I’ll set the table.”
Kate struggled to get up, her arms weak and wobbly. “I’ve got it.”
Nikki put a hand on her shoulder. “At best, I’ll allow you to watch me. You can tell me where things are. Come on, up you go.”
Kate felt like a child, needing Nikki’s help to get up and into the cottage. Nikki directed her to a chair at the dining room table, and then poured herself a fresh glass of wine.
With Kate’s direction, she found everything to set the table, warmed up pre-made bowls of creamed spinach and mashed potatoes (Kate cringed at that, but Nikki and Ryker were also not the slightest but picky when it came to food. As she’d heard Nikki say more than once, Today’s food is nothing but tomorrow’s shite), and managed to down her wine seconds before Ryker and Andrew came in with the platter of steaming steaks.
As good as the steaks were, Kate’s appetite wasn’t up to eating much. She nibbled on the potatoes, just enjoying the company. Andrew looked happier than he’d been in a long time. He’d always been a social person, and she realized he needed this as much as she did.
After dinner, Ryker, of all people, cleaned the dishes.
“I see you’ve domesticated him,” she said to Nikki.
“I’ll be able to confirm that if I ever see it happen at home.” When she broke into a fit of giggles that left her gasping, Kate knew the wine had hit home.
They sat around the living room, Andrew finally lighting that fire at Nikki’s insistence. He looked like a pyromaniac who’d been handed matches for the first time in a decade. Kate swallowed her fear and had to admit it made the cottage cozy and smell this side of heavenly.
When night fell, Andrew said, “I have a surprise.”
“Should I be nervous?” Kate said, feeling so drowsy but, for once, very content.
He thought for a moment, the glow of an entire day and night of drinking having put some pink in his cheeks. Swaying slightly on his feet, he said, “Possibly.” He went out to the car, and for a brief moment, Kate almost told him not to go outside, not in the dark. Ryker and Nikki’s laughter stopped her admonition. Andrew came back inside holding two huge plastic bags.
“Anyone want to light some rockets?”
Ryker jumped up and grabbed a bag. “I haven’t done fireworks in forever. Let’s go!” At that moment, he looked and sounded like he had when he was ten. Kate remembered them lighting penny rockets at their uncle’s beach house, Ryker insisting he hold the stick and letting them go at the last possible moment.
Nikki opened the sliding door. “Ooh, a proper Independence Day. I may just pledge my allegiance to the flag.”
Kate was happy to see everyone so excited, but her energy was seriously on the wane.
“You guys go. I’ll watch them from in here.”
Ryker handed the bag to Andrew. “Not a chance. Come on, I’ve got you.”
Her protests fell on deaf ears as her brother knelt before her and got her on his back.
“See, all you have to do is sit. I’ll take care of the rest. Remember when Dad used to give us pony rides?”
“Every day as soon as he walked in the door from work,” she said, smiling at the memory.
He carried her all the way to the dock, while Nikki brought a chair for her to sit on.
It was so calm out here. Even the loons were silent, tucked away for the night. Kate was more appreciative for her brother than she could express.
For the next half hour, Ryker and Andrew lit the sky with sparkling greens, whites, reds, and golds. Nothing was loud, just bright and beautiful. Kate pulled Andrew in for a kiss.
“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.
“You know I love you, right?” he replied, his tongue thick and clumsy.
“I always do.”
When the fireworks were done, they sat for a while longer talking, their voices skating across the lake’s dark surface. Kate hoped their neighbors, wherever they were, weren’t upset by the loud interlopers.
And so what if they are? We’re allowed to have some fun on a holiday!
While everyone talked in drunk speak, Kate kept peering into the woods, unable to shake the feeling they were being watched. There had been no signs of their night visitor since Andrew fired the warning shot, but that didn’t mean he – or they – weren’t out there.
So why did the back of her neck tingle?
When Andrew carried her inside, she clung to his neck, eyes adjusted to the dark, seeking any dark shapes that didn’t belong. But the woods were nothing but shadows, and the only things that didn’t belong were themselves.
Chapter Twenty-One
“You up for a run?” Andrew asked Ryker. His brother-in-law sat on the back porch, drinking a coffee. The man bun was gone, and it was obvious he was nursing a bitch of a hangover.
“I’m barely up for a crawl, man. You still run like the devil is chasing you?”
Andrew snickered. “Yep.”
“Then I’ll really pass. You’re gonna hurt yourself one day.”
“I do it to make sure I don’t hurt other people.”
The sun sparkled on the lake like spilled diamonds. Maine had decided to forego its usually chilly, damp start and had gone straight to warm and bright. Andrew looked back and saw Kate still out, lying on her side, her arm draped over Mooshy. Yesterday had been a long d
ay for her, and he knew how much she’d pushed herself. Today was going to be a complete washout for her.
Ryker said, “I don’t blame you for being angry. I get angry when I think of what Katy’s going through, but I don’t have to live with it twenty-four-seven. It’s just sometimes, I’m not even sure what I’m angry at. Maybe it’s a lot of things. Some days, it’s just this fuzzy, all-encompassing hate, you know? And sometimes, it’s hating myself for not being here more or doing more to take care of you both.”
Andrew clapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t know what to say, but he was sure that if he opened his mouth, it would come out wrong. Heart-to-hearts with anyone but Kate didn’t come naturally. Hell, they were even difficult with her.
Instead he said, “It’s not easy for any of us. But I’m not going to let Kate or me go down easy.”
“I know you won’t.” He took a sip of coffee and suddenly snapped his fingers. “I just remembered this dream I had about Katy a little while back.”
“Is that the one you called her about?”
“Yeah. But then I got tied up with all these conferences. Spring is my busy season for some reason. I never got to talk to her about it.”
Andrew hated dream interpretations, but he asked just the same. “What was it about?”
Now Ryker tilted his head, thinking. “I can’t recall all of it, but I remember shadows. A lot of shadows around her. Well, not around her, but coming out of her.”
“Shadows coming out of her?”
Ryker clucked his tongue and said, “I know, it’s weird. The thing is, it felt very real, like one of those lucid dreams. I don’t have them very often, so it stuck with me. I looked up a few books on dreams, and shadows can mean a whole lot of stuff. Basically, it’s like negative feelings, aspects, or emotions that you’ve bottled up or things about yourself you’re afraid to look at.”
Andrew desperately wanted to run, but he also wanted to hear more. “But wouldn’t that then mean the dream was really about you and your feelings?”
“I think if they were coming out of me, sure. But I dreamed about them coming out of Katy. Look, I have no idea what it’s about, but I did wake up concerned and wanted to just talk to her. With everything she’s gone through, it’s no surprise that she’d have an endless bundle of dark emotions.”
“There’s a lot going on inside that head of hers, but she doesn’t talk about it much. She does meditate from time to time, though. I always hope it helps.”
Ryker nodded. “Well, I’ll see what I can drag out of her. Unlike you, I’m a bull in a china shop when it comes to her.”
Andrew smiled. “And I’m grateful for that. You can get away with so much more than me. You’ve got that sibling thing working for you.”
As Andrew was turning to go back in the house, Ryker snagged his arm. “Hey, what kind of wildlife do you have up in these parts?”
“Most of what you’d think would be roaming around. Nothing too wild and exotic.”
“I guess there’s a lot of moose up here.”
Stretching, Andrew said, “That’s what they say, though I’ve yet to see one. I thought I heard one once. Word is, you don’t want to come across them. They’re huge and cranky and dangerous. Why do you ask?”
Ryker rubbed his eyes. “Nikki and I kept getting woken up by something big crashing around outside our window last night. I couldn’t see anything, and even if I did, it would have been double. We’d go back to sleep and half an hour later, it would be back. Must have been a moose or something wandering around. Maybe it was attracted to the smell of the steaks we grilled up.”
“That was probably it,” Andrew said, feeling as if someone had just walked over his grave. “They were damn good steaks.”
“Well, I vote we cook inside tonight. I need my beauty rest.”
“That you do,” Andrew said, the joke on his lips falling far short from his eyes. He turned away before Ryker could spot his concern.
He tiptoed past Kate in the bed, slipped on his running shoes, and went out the front door.
Running up the drive, he kept an eye on the ground, searching for any tire tracks that didn’t belong. If the townies were back, perhaps they had driven onto the property late last night with their headlights turned off.
The gravel made it impossible to see if a multi-ton garbage truck had come around. Getting to the main road, he turned and headed onto the trail. The makings of a headache throbbed at his temples, but that didn’t stop him from pounding down the trail.
If they’re back, maybe Ryker and I can set some kind of trap or catch them in the act. Kate would feel better with Nikki inside with her, and we can put an end to this nonsense.
He leaped over a gnarled root. Or maybe it really was just a moose.
No matter how much he wanted that to be the case, he just knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.
Besides, he couldn’t punch a moose.
But he could unload on their night visitor if it was a person.
Sure, he was supposed to call the deputy if they heard anything else, but by the time the deputy got out here, the mystery prowler would be long gone. Andrew would have to show the little asshole how much he appreciated the nightly shenanigans.
He pulled up, gripping a low-hanging tree branch, panting so hard he thought he was going to hyperventilate. He spat into the leaves, fighting the urge to get sick. He needed some time to cool down before heading back to the cottage.
Andrew looked around, the terrain unfamiliar to him. Lost in his little revenge fantasy, he must have gone farther than usual. The lake was nowhere to be seen.
“Must have taken the wrong fork,” he said, the sound of his voice somewhat comforting. “Hope I didn’t get myself lost.”
His cell phone was attached to a band on his arm. Of course, there was no service out here.
Better that way. If I called Ryker, Kate would overhear and get upset.
He walked the rest of the way, anxious to come to the fork and backtrack his way home. The tree cover here was thicker, blocking most of the sun. The ground was still damp with dew and the remnants of the last storm. Rich, moldy, earthy smells assailed his senses, making him feel even more isolated and alone.
When he saw the dead bird on the trail, its innards spilling from its open beak, body flattened in the contour of a sneaker, Andrew pulled back.
He checked the bottom of his running shoe and saw what looked a lot like a spatter of blood.
Disgusted, he rubbed his sneaker along the pine needles and leaf-covered ground, hoping to wipe the blood and any bird remnants off.
“Sorry, little guy. At least I didn’t kill you.” He gave a wide berth to the bird’s body…this time.
It took five slow minutes to get to the fork, and he saw where he’d gone wrong. He normally stuck to the trail on the right. The berry bush he passed by every day was there, thick, glistening cobwebs woven between the leaves.
Part of him wanted to run the rest of the way, but his legs weren’t having any of that. His thigh muscles were twitching like an overheated motor and his calves were starting to cramp up.
It was strange, walking the trail. When he ran, he noticed very little, living inside his head. Now, he took note of a crumbling log for the first time, wildflowers growing from its rotted trunk. There was an old license plate partially buried under brittle pine needles, the yellow background faded, Vacationland in blue lettering still prominent. He’d taken Buttons out a few times, going at a sub-snail pace because Buttons was old and curious, but they’d never been out this far. Evidence of people in the woods was everywhere. He found a broken Budweiser nip bottle (when was the last time Bud made those?), a crushed, empty pack of Kool cigarettes, bottle caps, and a strip of cloth that looked to have come from a shirt.
Andrew remembered partying in the woods when he was a teen. It looked like it was no
different up here. Teenage hormones and stolen beer were the calling card for woods everywhere.
What he was finding looked very, very old. The teens who’d left this stuff were most likely middle-aged now, recalling the good old days when a nip of Budweiser was all they needed to get rip-roaring drunk, the promise of copping a feel holding the same weight as winning the lottery.
He saw another dead bird, this one a robin, just on the edge of the rough path. Its tiny legs stuck straight up in the air. It wouldn’t have been worth a second glance if its head hadn’t been twisted completely around.
Maybe it died and some scavenger started poking at it.
If that were the case, wouldn’t there be bite marks? There wasn’t a single ruffled feather. It looked as if someone had snatched it from midflight, twisted its head around, and simply dropped it. It couldn’t have been dead long because there weren’t even any bugs around it.
Nudging it aside with his sneaker, Andrew moved it deeper into the foliage. Feeling its tiny weight against his shoe made his skin crawl.
Despite the fatigue and cramping in his legs, he broke into a slow but steady jog. He wanted to get the hell off the trail and back into the cottage.
As he hurried to the cottage, he spotted more birds along the path, birds that he had passed earlier but somehow missed. There were sparrows and blue jays, even a lone, crimson cardinal. Their tiny, stiff-as-a-board bodies had been scattered along the path like breadcrumbs.
Or birdseed.
The sweet stench of rot curled into Andrew’s nose.
He saw the cottage between the trees and almost cried out in relief. Pushing harder, he kept his eyes riveted to the house, having had his fill of dead birds.
He spilled out of the trail, jogged to his car, and leaned against it, catching his breath.
There was one final bird placed in such a way, it was if the killer had anticipated his decision not to look down at the killing field.
A crow, its black feathers golden tipped from the sun, had been impaled on a broken branch on the tree opposite him. Something pink and wet stuck to the end of the jagged branch. He was no vet, but he’d bet it was its heart. Its cold, dead eyes seemed to stare at him, into him. Andrew refused to break its gaze, his legs gone numb.