He didn’t have to finish the sentence. If Tierney had found out the Solas Beir had left Cai Terenmare, it was only a matter of time before they would all be dead.
“Let’s get out of the open and inside the house,” Abby urged, grabbing David’s hand and tugging him toward her front door.
Once inside, Abby and Jon introduced David and Cael.
“So this is the mysterious David Corbin,” Abby’s mother mused, shooting her a not-so-subtle wink.
Abby didn’t mind, but there would be time to update her mom on her love life later. She tried to quickly tell her story about all that had happened since their disappearance, in as believable a manner as possible.
Abby experienced a feeling of déjà vu, remembering when she had told David a similar tale of everything she had learned from Eulalia: the existence of Cai Terenmare, the magical, silver nautilus necklace known as the Sign of the Throne, and the fact that David was Eulalia’s son and the next Solas Beir. With David, she had been terrified that he wouldn’t believe her and she would lose him for good.
She was less worried about being believed now, especially since she had Jon, David, and Cael to corroborate her tale. Abby watched her parents’ initial expressions of shock soften as they listened. Abby’s mother seemed to be hardest to convince, but even her doubting questions tapered off as Jon and David nodded emphatically, their faces sincere. Bethany Brown knew her daughter wasn’t given to lying. Abby wasn’t sure how much of the story her parents believed, but they seemed to be taking her concern for their safety seriously when they heard what had happened at the Buchans’ house. It would have helped if they could have seen what Calder did to Jon’s car, but the old Mustang had already disappeared. Whatever spell had been cast seemed to be working; as they had traveled to the Browns’ house, no one in Newcastle Beach seemed to notice the four people walking down the street, armed with swords.
“So now we’re here,” Abby finished, and looked at her family and Blanca Reyes expectantly.
Jon was sitting with his arm around his mother, who seemed reluctant to let him out of her sight. Based on the steely look of determination in her eyes, Abby was certain she would be making the journey to Cai Terenmare.
Bethany Brown exchanged a look with her husband and he nodded. Bethany took his hand, slipped her other arm around Abby’s younger brother, and then turned back to Abby. “What do we need to pack?”
Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry about taking clothes or food,” she stressed. “There are plenty of supplies where we’re going.”
“So much for hoarding toilet paper,” Jon said under his breath.
Abby shot him a warning look. Not the time to be messing with me, dude, she thought. He mouthed Sorry, and she continued. “I don’t know when we’ll be back, but only take the few mementos you can’t live without. We have to hurry. The Kruorumbrae will be here soon.”
Michal was getting a little freaked out. It seemed much darker than it should have been in the trees, like the moonlight was somehow unable to penetrate the canopy. She kept hearing little scurrying sounds—as if the spider web hadn’t been creepy enough. There had better not be rats in here, she thought.
Obviously Joe was toying with her now, but the joke was on him, because this little game of hide-and-seek was not going to win her affection. He was this close to blowing his chance with her, never mind how cute he might be. This was not worth it. She was annoyed, but she was also starting to feel a little scared, and she wasn’t even sure why. If Joe came out right now, she might still forgive him. She heard the snap of a twig behind her and twisted in the direction of the sound. “Joe?”
Nothing. No response, no one there, nada.
Now the leaves crackled in front of her—she turned back quickly, the hair rising on the back of her neck. “Joe? Come on Joe—this is so not funny.” Her voice sounded overly loud as she tried to convince herself there was nothing to fear.
Again, nothing but silence. Even the weird little scurrying sounds seemed to have stopped.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement, and she whirled toward it. “Joe! Stop being such a—” Michal stopped midsentence. There was a young man standing there. His face was gaunt, handsome, and his eyes were dark, charismatically intense. “You’re not Joe,” she said simply.
“No. I’m not,” he replied. He stepped toward her and took her hands, pulling her toward him.
She let him—it didn’t occur to her to do anything but step into his embrace. As he drew her into his arms, Michal stepped through a mess of trailing brambles, grazing her ankles and shins on the sharp, prickly thorns. They were just scratches, but deep enough to bleed. She didn’t feel any pain.
Then, from off to her side, came a low growl. In her trance, Michal turned to find herself face-to-face with a sleek, jet-black panther with a silky pelt and glowing red eyes. It was staring down at her from the fork of a tree. The fur between its shoulder blades was standing on end, and its muscles were tensed as if it was ready to pounce.
“Lucia, dear,” the young man purred, “play nice.”
The large cat leapt to the ground. Lying on the sand next to where it landed was Joe, his blank, glazed eyes staring up at the night sky, his face pale like the full moon. And then Michal saw blood...so much blood. That was when she started screaming.
Shortly after Michal ventured into the grove, Monroe looked up from writing in the sand and saw hundreds of strange lights. The tiny red, glowing dots were illuminating the hedge, almost as if someone had strung a net of lighted faux holly berries across them. A bit early for Christmas, Monroe thought absently, picking at the driftwood log she was sitting on, her mind unable to grasp what she was seeing.
She realized that the lights were accompanied by the sound of scurrying feet, and the noise was getting louder. Whatever Marisol had seen in the bushes was back and had brought friends. Lots of them—and they were coming her way. Monroe stood up, her fight or flight response taking over and telling her that flight was the most reasonable course of action.
Then she heard Michal screaming, and there was no “all systems go”—only a girl frozen and confused by her fear.
Grabbing Monroe’s hand, Marisol propelled her into motion, moving her away from the bushes as hundreds of black cats poured fluidly through the branches, except they weren’t cats—not quite. They seemed to be, at first, but they moved like liquid and all together as one being—like black oil and smoke at the same time. Then they changed and didn’t look like cats at all, but something else, something unreal with gnarled limbs, black spiky fur, and gnashing teeth; something lethal.
All around Marisol, her friends were screaming, running, trying to get away, but the oily smoke was everywhere at once. The only place to avoid the creatures, the only safe place, was the grove, and yet, how could that be, when that was where the screaming began? But Marisol knew that was where they had to go.
Marisol and Monroe burst into the grove, clawing their way through thick vines, plowing through the brambles, moving away from the beach without rational thought. Marisol only knew they had to keep going, had to get away from the thing that was coming, that was consuming everything like a dark, hungry fog.
Ahead of them, more red eyes glowed in the darkness of the grove. Then Marisol saw Michal lying on the ground, her long blond hair splayed out around her, her eyes pleading with them for help, right before she was dragged by her ankles into a tangle of dark brush.
Monroe began to scream. The sound was muffled when something black and furry jumped down from an overhanging branch, straight into her face, knocking her to the ground.
Marisol picked up a driftwood branch, wielding it like a club, and began beating the thing that was on top of her friend. She hit it with all her might, and the creature yelped and scurried away, dragging a long prehensile tail behind it. Carrying the branch in one hand, Marisol pulled Monroe to her feet with the other and helped her run through the grove to a set of stairs etched int
o the stone retaining wall that bounded Newcastle Beach. Marisol knew that these steps led to the inn’s gardens, and hopefully, to safety.
The girls ran as fast as they could. Monroe was a little slower because she was wounded. Marisol could see deep gashes on her shoulders and across her collar bone, but luckily the thing had missed her jugular. The creature’s claws, if that’s what they were, had sliced her cheek though, and that seemed to be bleeding the most. Monroe seemed to be more in shock than pain, however, and Marisol guessed that the adrenaline coursing through her body was pushing her to keep going. She would feel the pain later.
Up ahead, Marisol saw the familiar lights of the inn’s swimming pool, and just beyond that, the lobby. Running over to the pool’s guest services cabana, Marisol snatched a towel and helped Monroe apply pressure to her cheek to stop the bleeding. She helped her friend get inside the lobby, and told the front desk staff to call for medical assistance.
“You’ll be okay now,” Marisol said. “I’ll be right back—I have to go help the others.”
“Marisol—no!” Monroe cried, reaching for Marisol’s hand. “Don’t go back out there—please don’t! It’s still out there!”
Marisol hesitated. She couldn’t help but recognize the irony. In spite of all the times Michal had made snide remarks regarding Monroe’s intelligence, Marisol had to concede that Monroe was the smart one when it came to common sense and safety. Still, someone had to get back out there and try to save their friends.
Marisol made a decision. “I have to, Monroe.” She let go of her friend’s hand and hefted the heavy piece of driftwood against her shoulder like a baseball bat. As she walked toward the front door of the inn, Marisol looked back once more to reassure Monroe. Then she headed outside, down the inn’s front walk, and back onto the sand.
The beach was empty. The bonfire was still going, and a few coolers had been tipped over in the chaos, but no one was there. No people, no monsters, nothing but the full moon lighting the empty expanse of shoreline.
Marisol ventured out onto the sand a little further, hoping to find someone, anyone, alive, dreading a more gruesome discovery. Her terror threatened to paralyze her, making her stomach cramp like it was tied in knots. Taking a deep breath, she tried to force the fear aside and then discovered that she also felt supremely aware, all of her senses finely tuned to note every detail of her surroundings. Probably an adrenaline high, she reasoned.
The sand was littered with footprints, but it was too loosely packed to determine whether they were made by human feet or not. There were far too many impressions to find a discernible trail leading to someone who might need help.
Marisol studied the dark grove of trees where the trouble had started. She shuddered, thinking about the thing she and Monroe had encountered. Was Michal still in there? And if so, was she even alive? If she was, Marisol might be her only chance for survival, but it seemed like a very, very bad idea to go in there alone, in the dark. Just looking at the grove made her guts squirm. It would be smarter to go back to the inn and get some help rather than trying to find Michal on her own. That was, if there was anything left to find.
“Looking for someone?”
Marisol froze. The voice had come from behind her, somewhere between where she stood on the beach and the safety of the inn. She had no doubt it was not a human voice. Her grasp on the driftwood branch tightened. She turned, slowly.
No sudden moves, she thought to herself. You can’t let it see your fear.
Sitting on its haunches was a creature the size of a German shepherd. It looked much like a lean, black cat except for its disturbingly humanoid face and long, twitching tail. One side of its face looked scarred, as if it had been burned. It was smiling as though it knew a secret. The coy smirk broadened into a Cheshire cat grin, although not quite as mad. Not just yet, anyway.
“Feeling pretty brave tonight, I see,” it said. Its breath smelled like rotten meat and sulfur. “Too bad that big ol’ stick won’t help you. You can hit me all you like, but I think I’ll stay around for a while.” The creature cocked its head to the side, showing Marisol the large cavity in its skull where her weapon had found its mark. The hole was disappearing, filling in with a mass of black fur.
Marisol’s mouth dropped open and the creature’s grin grew a little wider. The cat thing chuckled to itself, as if it enjoyed the look of disbelief and horror on her face. She shut her mouth, trying not to show weakness.
The cat got to its feet and walked a slow circle around her.
Marisol followed the creature with her eyes and held tightly to the driftwood branch. Her weapon might be useless in the long term, but it could still buy her a little time—that she could see very clearly.
“My, my, my,” the thing purred, looking her up and down. “Little Marisol…all grown up now, aren’t you?”
Marisol didn’t answer. She didn’t know how this thing knew her name, but she had a feeling that responding wouldn’t help, and the creature couldn’t care less if she did answer. It had a story it wanted to tell, and she was going to hear it whether she wanted to or not.
“Oh yes, Marisol. I know you. I know you very well. Are you still afraid of the dark?” The creature waited for a response.
Marisol held her tongue.
“Not much of a chatterbox, are you? I’ll bet you can scream real well though—oh yes, I’ll bet those lungs are niiice and healthy. You used to scream so well when you were scared, back when I lived under your bed.”
Marisol’s eyes widened in shock and recognition.
The thing smiled—that was the reaction it had wanted.
Marisol quickly composed herself and tried to make her face look expressionless.
“Oh, such fun we had! Your pretty madre loved her stories, didn’t she? My personal favorite was El Cucuy—she’d always tell you that story when you’d beg, ‘Please, please, please just one more glass of water,’ before beddie-bye. You were so annoying. She’d tell that one just to shut you up. Then you’d lay awake for hours, so scared that I was going to pop up like a jack-in-the-box. And sometimes I did!” The Cheshire cat grin was full-on crazy now, those red eyes swirling with madness.
Images from a half-forgotten nightmare flashed in Marisol’s mind. No, no, no, she thought, shaking her head. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real…
As if reading her mind, the thing continued. “Oh, but it was real. And where’s madre now, my dulce? Did you finally manage to annoy her so much she left for good?”
“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!” Marisol shouted, clocking the thing in the head with her weapon, knocking it off its feet. She started running toward the inn.
The creature was back on its feet in seconds, pursuing her. “Yes, oh, yes,” the thing growled hungrily. “Run, run, run, fast as you can…”
The Browns’ minivan was almost to the old mansion when Jon noticed something was amiss. A terrified girl was racing toward the Newcastle Beach Inn. Something was chasing her. It was difficult to see what it was exactly—the dark form seemed to meld with the shadows so that it was almost invisible. Jon didn’t need a positive ID to guess what it was and what it wanted. He had encountered that kind of monster before. But he did recognize the girl.
“That’s Marisol!” Jon shouted. “One of the Shadows is after her!” He could see Marisol try for the inn’s front door and then change directions, veering back to the sidewalk. She leapt away from the Shadow’s long claws, and it slammed into the door. As the blur of black resumed its chase, Jon could see that a long crack had formed in the carved wood. “Stop the car!” he yelled, grasping the handle to open the van’s sliding door.
“Dad! Stop—please!” Abby pleaded. The van skidded to a halt as Abby’s father hit the brakes. Abby looked around the vehicle, which was already full with her family, David, Cael, and Jon and his mom. “Make room guys—she’s coming with us.”
Marisol saw the van jerk to a stop, and was amazed to watch the door slide wide open. Jon was waving at her, fran
tically shouting her name. She flew toward him and threw herself into the van, landing on his lap with relative grace as he yanked the door closed, the creature still in pursuit.
Abby shouted, “She’s in, Dad. Hit it!”
Abby’s father hit the gas.
“Are you okay?” Jon asked, looking her over.
“I am now. You have impeccable timing,” Marisol huffed, trying to catch her breath. She put her arms around his neck, relieved to be safe, for now, at least. The creature was still out there. She remembered the feeling of its hot, putrid breath on her skin, its snapping jaws inches from her heels as it chased her. Her heart pounded as wildly as a prey animal’s thinking about it. Because that’s what she was to that creature. Prey.
She looked around at the others in the vehicle, wedged tightly into the minivan’s middle and back seats. “Hey, Abby…David,” she said slowly, still in shock. She felt her whole body trembling. Apparently Jon did too. He stared at her, a question in his eyes. She managed a weak smile and wrapped her arms tighter around him, trying to stop shaking.
“Hey Sol,” David said from his position between Abby and a kid in the back. “Welcome to the crazy van.”
“Thanks,” Marisol said, swallowing, trying to slow the beating of her heart. “You saw the giant cat monster chasing me too, right? Or am I the crazy one?”
“Yeah. We saw it,” David assured her. “That’s why we’re all crowded in here like it’s a clown car—we’re trying to get away from those things.”
“Well, they were all over the beach, and everyone was running away, screaming and freaked out, but they’re gone now, except for the one that was after me,” Marisol said.
“Any idea where they went?” Jon asked.
“None, which is really scary, because I think they eat people...they must have gotten Joe, and I saw one drag Michal into the grove. And one of them wounded Monroe really badly—but she’s safe now in the inn. That thing came after me when I went back out to look for the others. Wherever those creatures went, we should head in the opposite direction and get help,” Marisol finished in a rush, finally taking a breath.
The Rabbit And The Raven Page 4