First Crush

by Ashley Ludwig

  The brakes squished underfoot. She pressed harder, but the little V-Dub didn’t respond. It picked up speed as her palms slickened on the wheel. She pumped the brake pedal again. No response. The car picked up speed in a blur of vines and trees.

  The castle was at the bottom of the hill, across the bridge.

  Downshift. Use the gears to slow yourself.

  Natalie downshifted to third and braked to no avail.

  She shoved the vehicle into second. The gears screamed in complaint on the steep hill, but the little car barely slowed. Her nerves ran wild.

  Bu-bam!

  Her tires jarred over a pothole. The brake pedal dropped, dead against the floor. She stomped on it, but the pedal stayed limp.

  Row upon row of vines sped by out the window as the car rocketed out of control toward the curve by the stop sign.

  The bridge. Heart rate skyrocketing, she downshifted to first. As the gear grabbed, it slowed the car with a lurch.

  But she still couldn’t stop.

  She had two choices: careen over the bridge or smash into the tree.

  Clutching the wheel against the blur of road and the oncoming ravine, Natalie shouted her savior’s name and jerked the wheel toward the tree as tires skidded in melting rubber. Spinning out, the passenger door hit and bent around the tree.

  Metal screamed. Twisted.

  Steam and gasses whooshed. The V-Dub’s side crumpled like a soda can, glass shattering with the force. The side airbag punched out with a small explosion of gunpowder. The seatbelt sucked her shoulders back, and her neck rubber-banded from airbag to headrest, leaving her dazed, blinking. But alive.

  She stared through the spider-webbed windshield, taking inventory of her bleeding nose, cut forehead, and aching ribs.

  Scents of gunpowder, smoke, gasoline, and daisies swirled. The crushed engine whirred, coughed, and died.

  Storm clouds rumbled above as she lost consciousness.

  “Natalie!” He shouted as if he yelled loud enough, he could halt Natalie’s Bug before it careened into the old oak on the ravine’s edge.

  It happened in a blink. One minute, she was right in front of him; the next, she was speeding out of control down the hill, racing for the bridge, the ravine, the oak. He couldn’t get to her fast enough. The car crumpled against the tree like a paper wad.

  He jumped from his truck and ran to her aid. Her Bug’s engine whirred like crazy before it suddenly died.

  He reached the driver’s door and tugged on the handle, but it refused to open. The whole driver side had shifted back, jamming the door solid. No way would it open. He heard himself telling her it’d be all right, but she wasn’t moving. Her head was at an odd angle, her eyes closed. Nose bleeding. But she was breathing.

  The car shifted with a creak. One wheel spun. The V-Dub was too heavy to remain at that crazy tilt over the edge of the ravine for long.

  Nick shouldered the frame and tried to drag it back to solid ground. He failed and raced back to his car for a tow rope as another vehicle arrived on the scene.

  A lady in a white hat emerged from her car, calling 9-1-1 on her cell phone. He heard her reporting the accident as he attached a tow cable between his Ford and Natalie’s car. He backed the Bug out of danger, and applause sounded at his back.

  Another woman opened the passenger door and came to help him drag Natalie out. She blinked awake, looking dazed and pale.

  “You okay, sweetie?” The woman looked teetery from a few too many tastes of wine. Nick swept in-between them, intercepting Natalie. “I’ve got her.”

  Natalie was warm and shaky in his arms. Alive. Amazingly unhurt considering the shape of her destroyed vehicle.

  “My Bug …” Natalie reached for her dead car, voice full of sorrow.

  “What happened?” His attention raked over her, inspecting her for injury. Her nose was bleeding, but not broken. A nasty two-inch seatbelt bruise was forming on her neck and shoulder.

  “One minute I’m beating you back to the house, and the next, no brakes.”

  “I wasn’t racing you! I was trying to stop you. When you pulled out of your parking space in town, I noticed brake fluid on the ground.”

  “Someone cut the line?” She shuddered. With a hiss, Natalie tested her nose. She drew bloodied fingertips away, her face twisted in pain.

  “I think we know who.”

  The woman in the white hat handed Natalie a cloth handkerchief. She pressed it into place over her bloody nose, muffling her groan.

  “How’s it look?”

  “You’re still beautiful.”

  “Great. That means it’s really bad.”

  He kissed her forehead, possessive, gentle. “You’re alive. That’s all I care about.”

  With a stuttering breath, she voiced her fear. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

  “He must’ve found you at the hospital. Maybe he did it then?”

  In the distance, an ambulance whined its arrival. Natalie’s eyes widened. “I just wanna go home. Come on, let’s go check on Corie.”

  “I’ll go check on her. You let the medics check you out … make sure your neck and back are okay.”

  “I’m standing here, aren’t I? I was wearing my seatbelt and the airbag went off … I don’t need a hospital.” Nosebleed halted, she railed at him with wild hair and heated cheeks. “I have a bad feeling, Nick. We have to go check on her!”

  “She’s okay, folks.” Nick waved off the crowd, watched them disperse back to their respective vehicles.

  “Take me home, Nick,” she pleaded, the ambulance lights whirling closer.

  If he didn’t take her now, the paramedics might make her stay. They’d check her out thoroughly, like they should. But he knew that look in her eyes. If he didn’t drive her the short distance home, she’d just walk there.

  “Okay.” With a zip and flick to the cable, he unhooked the Bug and helped her into his truck. “Buckle in.”

  The afternoon sun chased away the long shadows on the short drive back. He held Natalie’s hand tight in his.

  So, this coward thought he could end Natalie, or scare her off, with sliced brakes? Obviously, he didn’t know his target. She wasn’t that easily defeated.

  Chapter 32

  Making quick work of opening the gas line, Rudy found a candle and set it in the window. Maybe the flame would catch, and maybe it wouldn’t.

  Either way, the girl on the pantry floor would suffocate from the gas.

  If Natalie made it back, she would probably be too late to save her sister. The way things were going, both girls would meet their end without anything more than his facilitation. His hands would remain clean. Just how he liked it.

  It was time to return to the safety of his father’s workplace in the wine cave.

  With Mrs. Valence gone, the castle would be abandoned while buyers and auctions were sorted out. One more person prowling the property wouldn’t draw any attention. He could finally take what was his without worry of being discovered.

  Knob in hand, he gave a last glance to the dark-haired girl on the pantry floor and then shut the door at his back. With his nose full of sulfur, his thoughts were focused on the burning that would come.

  Outside, birds called and darted. A butterfly sipped from the red-blossomed salvia under the window. It bloomed all over the property now. The plant was so easy to crush, distill, and make into poison, just like he had those many years ago. Just like he had this morning before his last hospital visit.

  He’d always been drawn to the spear of blooms, the curling dry leaves, as if Amanda’s skeletal hand reached up from the grave and clutched his throat tight with memory.

  She came to his doorstep, angry, upset that he hadn’t forgiven her for abandoning him.

  He answered, calm and detached, no longer loving her. No longer wanting or trusting her. “You cursed me when you left the last time.”

  “I had to go. My dad made me go.”

  He bit back fury. Her promises and words were as
empty as her heart.

  At last, he opened the door and allowed her to enter. As if that hadn’t been his sole intention all along.

  “I have some tea for you. If you want it.”

  She’d smiled her way inside as if she’d won.

  This was a new, special tea made just for her. Rudy gathered the leaves from the blooming red salvia under the window by her kitchen door. She watched as he poured two cups, his and hers. Handed bone china to her waiting, long-fingered hands.

  With a sip, her ruby lips spread into a wide smile. “Your tea is to die for, Rudy.”

  How right she was.

  While Amanda remarked on his unique blends of herbs, their calming effects, his way with the garden, she tripped over her words as if forgetting how easily they had once talked, dreamed, and loved.

  He watched her inhale her own death, and smiled as he drank only hot water.

  “Something’s different about this. Kind of bitter.” Amanda cleared her throat, touched the hollow of it. She quirked her head and then set the cup down with a clatter. “Rudy?”

  Her eyes shot wide, pupils retracting to fine points. Amanda’s body jerked like a marionette, thrashing as the poison surged through her system. At last, she sagged, surrendering.

  The knowledge of death by his hand clouded her eyes as the life left her.

  A flash of anger, terror, and finally acceptance filled her liquid gaze, those eyes that used to lavish love upon him.

  He left her by the lake.

  As if standing outside himself, soul detached, he watched his body dig an unmarked grave in the moonlight as he wept.

  He’d taken the easy way out and suffered for it a million times over each day since. But by sunset tonight, everything would be made right.

  Natalie clutched the truck’s door handle. Her head pounded and her body ached from the restraining seat belt and the slam to the air bag.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Nick’s gaze was worried as he reached for her. “The paramedics—”

  “I’m fine.” She kept her hand on the passenger door handle. The electric gates swung open at their arrival.

  There was no sign of workers. No sound.

  “Wasn’t someone coming today?”

  “Plumber and the fridge repair guy, but no one’s here.”

  Nick parked and Natalie stepped out of the car. She fumbled for her keys.

  “Corie!”

  The lock clicked, but the old handle stuck tight. She shook it to no avail.

  “Move.” Nick threw his shoulder against the door and shoved it open. A rotten egg odor rode the fouled air.

  Nick sniffed and covered his mouth with the hem of his shirt. “That’s gas.”

  The scent poured out in an overpowering wave. Natalie’s hand flew to her aching nose.

  “Where’s the shutoff?” His blue shirttail muffled his voice.

  “I dunno. Garage, maybe?”

  He set off in a run, shouting words of warning back over his shoulder. “Don’t go in there!”

  “Fat chance.” Her eyes watered as she entered the thick air. “Corie!”

  Foyer, living room, sitting room … all empty.

  Coughing, she raced down the hall toward the kitchen, where Corie spent all her time.

  The kitchen air shimmered with gas, and more poured out from the ancient oven Corie loved so much. A breeze from an open window pushed the gas through the house. A candle flickered in the window, the small flame dancing. Miraculously, it hadn’t sparked enough to punch the air into a blaze. Natalie rushed over and blew it out.

  The oven gaped open like a two-mouthed beast, uncooked scones inside. Natalie shut the doors and spun all six burners off. For good measure, she leaned behind the oven and turned the valve closed. The whooshing hiss ceased, but the rotten air remained.

  “Open the windows!” she called to Nick, but he didn’t answer. Where was he?

  She raced through the room and threw open the windows in the breakfast area.

  How could Corie have been so careless? Unless …

  In fast forward, she scanned the room. A toppled chair, scattered worker’s tools, the uncooked scones, sugar left open and tossed carelessly about …

  “Corie!”

  She spun around and a flash of light caught her eye. She looked outside the window and spied a white van tucked behind the barn.

  Someone else was here. Was it the Slayer?

  “Corie!”

  She looked around the room for other clues. The house was so big, and she was running out of oxygen herself. What if it was too late?

  Through the slight crack in the pantry door, Natalie noticed a hand splayed on the ground.

  She threw open the pantry door and dragged her sister’s limp form from the dark storage room. She was warm. That meant she was alive, right?

  “Come on, baby. Wake up. Wake up.”

  No response. The air was still thick and fouled here near the hall.

  Natalie drew on strength she didn’t know she had and heaved Corie’s heavy, limp body toward the back door. Arms locked around her sister’s torso, she dragged Corie out onto the grass and fell backwards on the lawn.

  Exhausted, head pounding, Natalie’s breathing came hard and fast. Fresh air was a balm for her ragged throat.

  Natalie smoothed hair from her sister’s face. Thick, clotted blood matted Corie’s dark hair to the back of her head.

  Natalie ran her hands across her sister’s cheek as she scooted to a kneeling position. Tears clogged her words of prayer. With shaking fingers, she pressed her sister’s pale neck for a pulse, trying to remember her CPR training.

  Check for pulse, then breathing.

  There, at her neck, Corie’s heart gave a subtle throb. “You’re okay.”

  Please God, she needs to be okay …

  She wasn’t breathing, but her heart was beating.

  She needed CPR.

  You can do this. You can do this, Natalie chanted to herself.

  She leaned forward, checked Corie’s airway, tipped her head back, and blew long breaths into her lungs.

  A shadow spoke of Nick’s approach, but she didn’t turn, totally focused on her sister. Was that a breath? Natalie checked again for a pulse.

  “We need an ambulance!” she called to him in-between breaths.

  When he didn’t answer, her heart plummeted.

  She glanced up into the blinding flash of a silver wrench.

  In the brief moment of crushing pain before she passed out, she recognized him. The guy from the parking lot. The Lakeview Slayer. The angel of death. She dragged the knowledge with her into the darkness.

  Gas shut off at the main, Nick saw Dalton’s car roll up the drive as he pushed through the house at a run.

  Where could she be?

  “Natalie!”

  He angled to the kitchen and stumbled into chaos.

  Bottles and cans littered the pantry floor. Sugar dusted the floor and the counter. All the windows were open.

  The chair propping open the back door was out of place in the mayhem. Outside, a woman’s body lay prostrate on the lawn.

  He booked it to the backyard where she lay in the brick fire pit’s shadow.

  “Nick!” His brother called his name from the open front door.

  Nick raced down the back stairs. “Out back!” He skidded straight toward the limp body. Corie.

  Blood covered her neck and matted her dark hair. He turned her over, flinching at Corie’s slack-jawed face. He looked left, right, but there was no sign of Natalie.

  “Please wake up … Where is she? Who did this?”

  A gurgle caught in her throat as Dalton approached. She was alive. But alone. Where was Natalie?

  “Is she alive?”

  “She needs an ambulance, man.” Nick saw his fear and grief reflected on his brother’s face. “I can’t find Natalie. I’ve gotta find her.”

  Dalton called dispatch while he unsnapped his holster with the other hand. “Calm down, Ni
ck.”

  “Calm down?” His breath came ragged. “He’s out there! He’s got her!”

  “When? How long?”

  “Maybe three, four minutes since we got here.”

  “Then he didn’t get far.”

  Nick followed Dalton’s gaze across the grounds. “Lots of places to hide.”

  Corie moaned. Eyes cracking open, she winced. “My head hurts.”

  “Shh. Just be still.” Dalton wiped a hand across her brow and along her neck.

  “Natalie dragged me out.” Coughing, she told him what she knew. “Fridge guy … He talked crazy. About some cave. Tunnel.” Her voice trailed off and down a rabbit hole. “Find her …”

  “What cave?” Nick pleaded.

  Nick bit his lips, thinking. He’d walked the property. Spied the old shed where a great winemaker had once cultivated his craft. Could it be there was more underneath?

  “He left his van behind. He can’t have gotten far.”

  “If he left the van, he’s not planning on surviving this,” Dalton warned.

  “It should be me. I’ll go.”

  Dalton unholstered his service weapon in protest. “No. Stay with Corie.”

  “You stay,” Nick challenged, holding out his hand. “It’s time to end this. Without your badge. What else you got?”

  After a beat, Dalton freed a small .38 Special from his ankle and placed it, heavy, in his brother’s outstretched hand.

  “Thought you didn’t like guns, Nick.”

  “I don’t.” Nick snapped the action open. Finding six rounds, gun fully loaded, he tucked it into the waist of his jeans against his back. “But I’ll do anything to save her.”

  Chapter 33

  A slow drip, drip, drip roused Natalie from her stupor. Blinking through the pain, through the darkness, she found herself alone.

  Her shoulders were bound against a rickety chair in some sort of workroom. Her hands and feet were tied too, but her mouth wasn’t gagged. Wherever he’d taken her, he wasn’t worried about her screams being heard.

  Low light streamed down a long, rough-hewn hallway. The walls were dipped and angled as if carved straight from rock.

  She heard him approach and dropped her gaze, hoping that he couldn’t see her eyes, wouldn’t notice that she’d woken.