Immortal Prey

by Diana Ballew

  This was the first time she had ever set foot in a logging camp, and the process of getting wood from the forest to the mills was far more complicated than she had ever imagined. “I had no idea. I’ve heard these men worked hard, but I had no idea how hard.”

  Derek turned, his piercing eyes locked upon her gaze. “Which is why I wanted to bring you here. I have three other camps, as well, but my cabin here reminds me of my humble beginnings.”

  Erin winced. Her back had begun to ache from sitting upright on the saddle so long.

  “Are you tired, dear?” He looked up at the sky. “Perhaps we should return to the cabin and rest the horses a while before I have Franz hitch them for the return home before dark.”

  “Derek! Miss Richland!”

  Erin turned to see the man she recognized as Gregore jogging up the path toward them.

  “Ah, Gregore,” said Derek. “Another fine job having the cabin ready for my arrival. When do you go back to the city?”

  “I’m due at the morgue tomorrow.”

  Derek leaned toward Erin and frowned playfully. “And you think Franz is sinister. Gregore works part-time at the City Morgue.”

  Erin scrunched her nose and smiled. “Oh, my.”

  “What?” Gregore asked defensively. “Someone has to do the job.”

  Derek smiled. “I know, I know, and you’re a good man.”

  Gregore grabbed the reins of Erin’s horse. “Let’s get these beasts hitched.”

  She dismounted, and Derek and Gregore tethered the horses to a post. Up ahead, a cluster of burly men stood in a circle, cursing and shouting at one another.

  “What’s that all about?” asked Erin.

  Derek jutted his chin out, gesturing toward the boisterous group. “I believe I have some business to tend to. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Won’t take but a moment.”

  Erin watched as Derek strode toward the group of men and began talking to the group. She wondered if he had said something about her, because they all glanced in her direction at once.

  “So, Derek says you’re here to see the logging camps,” said Gregore. “Are we going to be in the newspaper and terribly famous?”

  She laughed. “I don’t know about famous.”

  He removed his hat and scratched his scalp. “Say, what did you ever find out about the murders at the cemetery and that poor girl downtown? Sure is a shame to have such a thing happening in our little part of the world. Did I hear a large wolf was seen in the city, too?”

  “That’s what they say.” Erin lowered her gaze. “It’s the most awful thing. I’m not sure we’ll ever really know exactly what happened to that unfortunate girl.”

  “But I heard there was a witness —”

  “Ah.” Derek patted Gregore’s back. “I think that business situation is taken care of.”

  Gregore’s gaze snapped to Erin then back to Derek in a flash. “Oh, all right, then. I’ll bid you two farewell.” He plopped his hat on his head at a rakish tilt and stuffed a smoldering corncob pipe in his mouth. “Nice talking to you, Miss Richland. And good work on those stories you’ve been writing on the women’s vote.” He sauntered toward the other men, still hovering in a small circle.

  She tilted her head, smiling, watching Gregore leave. “I like him.”

  Derek’s eyes followed hers. “I do, too. Gregore’s a character. The man should have been in the theatre.”

  They rode leisurely back to the cabin. Upon entering the door, Erin removed her boots and plopped on the sofa with a long sigh.

  Derek frowned. “You look exhausted. Would you like to lie on a bed and relax?”

  She sprawled out, using a cushioned arm as a pillow. “No, I’m fine here,” she said, her voice trailing away with the nagging need for a nap. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

  He knelt by her side and swept up loose strands of hair that had fallen across her cheeks. “You rest, then.”

  * * * *

  ERIN woke to voices outside. She rose up, peered out the cabin window, and saw Franz and Derek, their brows knitted together in angry frowns. She wrapped a wool blanket across her shoulders and listened.

  “It must have been those massive potholes. Damn thing is split to hell,” said Franz.

  “Well, that’s just perfect,” Derek sneered. “I’m not taking her all the way home on horseback, that’s for sure.”

  “I’ll try to get this fixed by tonight, but I’m not sure —”

  “Christ Almighty!” Derek thrust his hands into his coat pockets and started for the cabin door. “Do what you can, Franz. We need to get her out of here.”

  Derek burst through the cabin door. She sat up tall and tugged the wool blanket to her chest. “Did I hear something about the carriage wheel?”

  He stood frozen, the lines on his face deepening as he shut the door behind him. “I thought you were asleep. What else did you hear?”

  The question caught her off guard. She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Well, nothing. I just woke up. Why?”

  He waved his handed dismissively. “Oh, no reason.”

  “Are we stuck here — for the night?”

  Derek bit down on his bottom lip, and the muscles along his jawline pulsed. “Franz will try his best to repair the carriage, but we might be stuck here for a bit longer than I had planned.”

  Thank heavens she had sent the note to her father. Not that he would be any less worried. But with him under the assumption that she was staying at Delia’s to “cool off,” at least he wouldn’t be calling the sheriff or sending out a search party.

  Derek rocked on his feet, frowning, gazing out the window as the dying sun dissolved in the evening sky. The orange sphere dipped low, glowing like fire between the thick tree trunks and hills. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but he appeared lost in thought, bewildered, alone, as though he had forgotten she was even there.

  From the small window, she saw Franz walking up the path with a mallet thrust over his shoulder. He knelt by the carriage and began banging away unmercifully. In between the pounding and thumping, he cursed up a storm rivaling even the roughest longshoreman, kicking at the injured wheel for added emphasis.

  Derek turned and said, “Will you be all right here by yourself for just a bit?”

  “Of course.” She wove her finger through the loop on his trousers. “Take as long as you need. If I get hungry there’s plenty of leftover chicken.”

  His gaze turned to the burning embers of the fire. He opened the door and returned with an armload of split firewood. He placed two logs on the fire and set the remainder in the copper caldron next to the hearth.

  “Stay inside,” he said. “There should be enough warmth from the fresh logs. Toss a few more in there if you get cold.” He lit two lanterns. After placing one by her side on the small end table, he grabbed the other and said, “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Erin smiled. “I know how to keep a fire going. Don’t worry.”

  A hasty peck on her forehead replaced the passionate goodbye kiss she had expected, before he headed out the door. She watched as he marched down the darkening path with the lantern lighting his way, his frame disappearing to nothingness as the bleeding sun gave way to the rising silver moon.

  Stacks of old magazines, books, and papers filled the cabin’s niches, keeping her occupied. Wind whirled outside, and a biting draft blew gusts of cold air beneath the front door.

  Outside, the gleaming moon glistened above the arcing treetops, casting claw-like shadows scraping across the windowpane.

  She surveyed her surroundings. Tea, perhaps. She rummaged around the tiny kitchen. One by one, she found the necessary items. A spoon. A cup. A kettle to boil water on the fire. A tea ball and tea in an old tin. She scanned the room. But what about water?

  That’s right. No water.

  Derek had mentioned there was no indoor plumbing. She remembered seeing a water jug inside the carriage.

  She sank on the couch on her knees and gazed o
ut the window. Franz was nowhere to be seen, and the carriage sat perched off the path at the edge of the forest. She stared at the large garment hanging by the door, debating wearing the massive beaver coat for such a short distance. Perhaps she could simply wrap the wool blanket across her shoulders, hightail it down the path to the carriage, grab the water, and rush back. Then she’d have tea in no time.

  Crisp maple leaves blew inside, whirling like orange tops across the wooden floor the moment she opened the door. She stepped outside, yanking the brass knob forcefully to shut the cabin door. A powerful gust nearly ripped the blanket from her clutches, and the fiery lantern she carried wobbled precariously.

  Hmm. Racing to the carriage would be out of the question. She trod carefully, steadily, keeping the lantern from flailing about in the biting wind. Sidestepping puddles and mud, she made her way to the side of the carriage. She opened the door, extended the lantern, and grabbed the water.

  After tying the wool blanket around her waist, she grabbed the lantern and jug of water and closed the door with a heavy sway of her hip. She narrowed her gaze, trying to focus in the near darkness.

  A rushing blast of icy air whirled through the forest, howling like a wounded animal caught in the arcing treetops. Birds squawked wildly as they fled their perilous roosts groaning with imminent warning.

  A towering branch high above her head snapped, and she heard the harsh scrape and whirl as it raced toward her.

  Shrieking, she jumped away, just before a massive, splintered branch crashed to the ground with a shuttering thud.

  Heated blood ripped through her veins, and her heart pounded so fiercely she thought it would leap from her chest. Willing her numb feet to move, she inhaled deeply and exhaled in slow, shallow breaths. To her left, a shadowy figure darted across the path in a flash. Within seconds, another figure scurried past her, disappearing behind a thick trunk to her right.

  She held out the lantern. The flame vibrated in tune with her shaky hand. “Who … who’s there?”

  The only reply came from a screeching owl above. She inched her feet forward, toward the cabin. One step, two, three —

  A large figure moved swiftly across her hazy line of vision about twenty feet away.

  “Dear God in heaven,” she whispered. The lantern wobbled in her hands as she angled it forward at arm’s length. “Just get me back to the cabin, and I promise I’ll —”

  At the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs on the forest floor, she stiffened. She stared straight ahead at the cabin, then glanced back and faced the disabled carriage. Gauging the distance, she figured she stood about halfway between the two.

  The smell of wood smoke billowing from the chimney beckoned a reprieve. All at once, she made a mad dash for the cabin.

  Though her feet flew forward as fast as humanly possible, she felt as though her body were moving in a slow wave.

  To her right, something with glowing amber eyes crouched low and paced toward her. To her left, another creature with the same glowing eyes moved in.

  Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

  She froze and dropped the water jug. Slowly, she stepped backwards, one foot behind the other. With each shaky step, the creatures slowly advanced toward her, side-by-side, mere yards away from where she stood. Moving into view, the beasts hunkered lower.

  Moonlight angled across the path, illuminating large, protruding snouts and bared teeth. Bristled fur glistened, and their wild scent seeped into her nostrils.

  Cautiously, never taking her eyes off the beasts, she stepped backwards until her back hit the side of the carriage. She extended her arm, slanting the trembling flame toward the two creatures. “Get. Go away,” she croaked.

  Trying not to blink, she focused on their thick paws and curled nails gripping the earth, as though ready to pounce at any moment. Illuminated gray vapor rose from their nostrils, drifting like fog in the stiff breeze.

  Her heart hammered, thundering in her ears, the pounding force rising into her neck, threatening to strangle her.

  One of the beasts growled and bared its massive, ivory fangs. The other snarled in return. In unison, they slowly advanced toward her.

  Dear God. Oh, Lord in heaven. Don’t let me die. Please don’t let me die.

  The creatures roared and sprang into the air, lunging straight for her.

  She screamed and hit one in the face with the lantern. The other snapped wildly at the wool blanket draped around her waist. The lantern fell to the moist earth, and the flame extinguished in a single blue flash. A sheath of clouds veiled the moonlight. In an instant, darkness consumed the area.

  “Derek! Help!” she shrieked. The harrowing sounds of her terror echoed across the forest as the beasts tore at her clothes, ripping the protective blanket to shreds.

  Her fingernails snapped painfully as she scraped and groped her hands along the carriage door. Gripping the handle, she flung the door open and scrambled inside, tugging the door behind her.

  “No! Get away!” Screaming like a ghoul into the night, she tugged and pulled, but the door was caught on the larger beast’s throat. Trapped against the carriage door, the massive head and jaws snapped violently. In one swift movement, she kicked the creature in the mouth.

  The animal retreated with a yelp, and she slammed the door shut. She hadn’t time to catch her breath before the second beast slammed into the carriage, scratching the door in a frenzy of grinding claws against metal.

  The first injured beast shook off her kick with a single shake of its massive head, then leapt onto the outside bench. Clawing and chewing, it shredded the exterior in its frantic attempt to reach her.

  Pure terror numbed her throat. She couldn’t swallow.

  Or scream.

  Or cry for help.

  Unblinking, she focused on the sliver of moonlight emerging through the towering treetops, illuminating the large glistening fangs as the beasts ripped at the carriage. The taste of bile stuck in her throat with the frightening realization. Soon they would break the glass, and she would be torn to shreds within their mighty jaws.

  And she would never have had the chance to tell Derek she loved him.

  She gulped in jagged breaths, trying to calm her racing heart, threatening to leap out of her mouth. Suddenly, a massive gust of wind rattled the carriage, threatening to topple it over. She sank in the seat, covering her face with trembling hands.

  Then, just as swiftly as the howling wind had ascended, it was gone, replaced by a deep chorus resounding in the distance. Animals howled, feral sounds resonating in unison through the immense dark woods.

  Had the two beasts retreated?

  Breathless and weak as a newborn kitten, she slowly rose up, wiped the vapor from the window, and peered outside.

  Crack!

  The window shattered, and glass shards embedded in her hands and wrists. She hurled her body to the opposite side as a massive furred head with drooling fangs and glowing amber eyes bounded inside the broken window.

  She saw another creature bounding toward the carriage with amazing speed. In a flash, the beast tore into her furred attacker and dragged it outside the shattered window.

  Wild animal scents blasted into her skull as she watched the beasts rolling in balls of bristly fur outside the carriage.

  Dizzy and nauseated, she squeezed her eyes so tightly shut, stars danced against her eyelids. A deep growl sliced through the darkness, followed by a high-pitched yelp, then another.

  The familiar scent of bayberry laced with evergreen wafted into the shattered carriage window and straight into her brain.

  A stone hearth. Wine. Making love.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the large, blue-eyed wolf standing triumphantly over the injured beasts lying near its massive paws.

  Fangs, fur, blue eyes.

  Blue eyes.

  His blue eyes.

  Dear God.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I tossed the newspaper on the table and reached for my coffee.
Christ in heaven. Another murder on Chestnut Avenue. And judging by the article Erin had written, she was still determined to get to the bottom of the twisted mess, no matter the danger.

  I rose from the chair and gazed at the rough sea below. Weeks had passed since the frightful night in the woods, the night Regine and her hideous son — my evil, twisted son — nearly took Erin’s life. The night Erin had looked into my Were eyes after I saved her life. Then she lost consciousness. At that very moment, my animal heart had stopped dead.

  All these years, I had prayed for the rebirth of Ersule, confident her unwavering love would rise above earthly bounds. But Erin’s clear refusal to see me now gnawed inside my empty soul, my once hopeful heart having turned into lifeless ash with each missive she returned.

  That terrifying night in the woods haunted me. The blood oozing from her small open wounds that night had called to me, urging me forward with the promise of more.

  The promise of eternal bonding.

  The unexpected knock at the front door yanked the breath from my chest.

  Mrs. Schauss tidied her unadorned bun of white hair and smoothed her apron. She sighed and slowly plodded past me.

  I avoided her mournful eyes. What, pray tell, was she feeling? If I felt dead inside, surely the older woman did, too, though it was hard to discern with her, for her stoic German bloodline rarely allowed her to express emotion.

  Suddenly inhaling the familiar scent, my heart momentarily stopped dead.

  I heard a sharp inhale of breath from the servant upon her opening the door. “Why, good morning, Miss.”

  I froze in mid-step.

  The door opened further, and in walked Erin. My heart bounded to life with a single, massive punch against my chest.

  “Please come in,” Mrs. Schauss said with a sudden air of liveliness. “Have a seat in the parlor, Miss Richland, and I’ll get Master Rudliff.”