by Sam Crescent
Phew, what a way to heat up!
Because she’d be willing. He was handsome in a rough-and-ready kind of way. His blond hair, streaked with unusual black strands, hung over his ears and down his neck and appeared perfect for gripping. His eyes were the palest green, reminding her of the delicate moss coating tree trunks back home in England. And his jawline and neck were coated with the dense facial hair all the local men favored, no doubt it kept them warm when checking their animals on the mountain and tending the meager crops growing on the slopes.
She glanced his way. It had become a habit to know where he was.
As usual, he was looking at her from a seat in the corner. He didn’t drink alcohol, she’d noticed, and a glass of iced water sat before him. Iced water? A cold beer was fine, it was the only way to drink beer, but really … ice in his water? Up here where the temperature had been sub-zero for months?
He inclined his head, acknowledging her, and kept his gaze steady.
A small shiver ran up her back and tickled over her scalp. It was more than just his looks she found fascinating. It was the whole package. He wasn’t a man of many words, she’d found, but what he did say was to the point. And he knew the mountains better than the locals, so she’d been told. He was also tough, the freezing temperatures and bitterly cold winds barely seeming to affect him. And while everyone else huddled beneath several layers of wool, fur, and leather, he wore only dark pants and a black sweater, even when outside.
She took a sip of beer and studied the map in front of her. Two weeks ago, along with Jim, she’d set several motion sensor cameras a few kilometers from the village and spread over a wide area of the mountains. They were hoping to catch footage of snow leopards in the wild, hopefully a mother and cubs. Eager to prove herself, even though only twenty-five, as a wildlife documentary producer, Chloe had a good feeling about this place. Stories amongst the locals were rife. It seemed the leopards were around, as a couple of sheep had been taken over the last year. Sadly this made the beautiful creatures unpopular with their human neighbors, and this situation didn’t help their dwindling numbers. Add in poachers who wanted their fur, and it was no wonder these rare animals were so keen to hide away from people.
She rubbed her lips with the tip of her finger, a nervous habit, and hoped Jim would soon recover from his bad stomach. He’d been laid up since they’d returned from setting the cameras, which had meant staying in the village. He’d been too weak to travel down the mountain and he refused to be carried by Sherpa. She couldn’t blame him, because that would be a perilous and nausea-inducing way to travel.
But if she didn’t get the motion cameras back soon, she’d be going over schedule, something her boss would frown upon. And more to the point, if she hadn’t captured any footage, she wouldn’t have time to reset the cameras in different locations.
Again she glanced at Aaron.
He’d sat back and crossed his arms, his biceps straining against the material of his sweater. He was still staring straight at her.
Damn, those eyes. If only she could read them, find out what he was thinking. Sometimes she wondered if her presence annoyed him, other times it seemed as if he wanted to flip her over the table and fuck her.
Perhaps if Jim was still unwell in the morning she could ask Aaron to go with her to retrieve the cameras.
No. That was a crazy thought. Why would he help? As a carpenter, he surely always had work to do. She could pay him, but money didn’t appear to be a driving force in his life.
She tore her gaze from his and folded the map. No, she wouldn’t ask him. And she also wouldn’t wait for Jim. The forecast predicted a break in the weather for the next few days, so she’d go alone. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have the gear or the training to survive in the mountains. And retrieving a few cameras was hardly scaling Everest.
Standing, and feeling pleased she’d made a decision, she finished her beer and then headed out of the bar.
Several of the men, young and old, bid her goodnight, smiling and showing various dental issues. Her unplanned stay had been made pleasant by the friendliness of the people. Men and women were happy to chat the best they could given the language barrier, and she’d been made to feel welcome.
The night air was bitterly cold and freezing fog shimmered before her. She retrieved her flashlight and turned it on. The small room she’d rented was only a hundred yards away, but with no street lamps and a moonless sky, she needed to light her way.
She trudged along, a fresh layer of snow squeaking underfoot. She tugged up her zipper, protecting the lower half of her face from the chill, and was glad of the snow reflecting the flashlight.
She reached her low, shack-like building and pulled out the key. Fumbling a little in the dark, she suppressed a shiver. She’d be glad to light a fire and get into bed.
A soft thud came from behind her.
Turning, she raised the flashlight, her heart rate picking up.
Aaron stood only a meter from her.
“Bloody hell. What are you doing?” she asked. “You scared me.”
“I apologize.”
She pressed her hand to her chest, willing her heart to settle.
He watched her movement, his eyelids heavy and his breath collecting in the air before him.
“It’s not polite to sneak up on women in the dark.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be out on your own in the dark.”
“This place is safe enough.” She lowered the torch down his body and rested the ring of light on his clumpy leather boots.
“It’s not safe for you.”
“What does that mean?” She raised the light to his face again.
He didn’t blink. “It means I don’t want you out alone.”
She bristled. He had no claim on her. No right to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. “I walk around London all the time.”
“This isn’t London.” He paused. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”
She frowned. His question didn’t deserve an answer. Besides, she was fascinated by the way the freezing fog had settled in his facial hair and the bangs hanging around his temples. It sparkled, as though he’d had glitter shaken over him, and it made him appear almost ethereal.
“There is more danger here than you realize,” he said.
“Like what?”
He stepped closer and cupped her elbows in his palms.
It was the first time he’d touched her, and the sensation of his fingers applying pressure to the material of her jacket sent tremors up her arms, over her shoulders, and across her back.
“I am concerned for you,” he said, lowering his face to hers.
“Why?”
“You are a white female high in the Himalayas. Your sort is not found here often.”
“Is that why you keep staring at me?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“So why?”
“Why do I stare at you, or why are you in danger?”
She wanted the answer to both questions, but chose the one her mother would opt for. “Why am I in danger?”
“The Shaman have been here. To your home.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He tugged her to the left and reached above her door to the frame. “They’ve left this?” He plucked a feathered-covered object, the size of his thumb, from a length of string.
“What is it?” Chloe asked. She peered at it and then quickly recoiled. “Oh, yuck!”
“It’s a chicken foot.” He paused. “It’s a warning.”
“But … why?”
“You have been here too long for their comfort. You have been too familiar amongst the men of the village.”
“Hey, I resent that. Apart from some friendly chat in the bar … if you can call it that … I’ve stuck to myself.”
“That’s exactly it. How many women do you see in that place?”
“Er … well … none.”
“Exactly. It is not the way of the village.”
“But no one said I couldn’t go in.” Her mind was spinning. She’d felt welcomed, comfortable. Had she really overstepped the mark?
“They have now.” He stepped back and then hurled the offending clawed foot into the air. It was quickly engulfed in darkness and Chloe knew it would land somewhere down the steep slope to the right of her shack.
“Well.” She set down her shoulders. “They don’t have to worry anymore. I’m heading into the mountains at first light to retrieve my cameras. Then, I’ll be on my way.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Your colleague is better?”
“I don’t need Jim. I can manage alone.”
“And you’re not worried about the storm?” He folded his arms and frowned.
“There’s no storm. The forecast is settled for the next few days.”
He tipped his head and huffed.
“What’s that noise for?” She didn’t think Aaron would have the access to meteorological information the way she did.
“I disagree. There is a storm coming.”
She spun her key in her gloved hand. “I’ll take my chances.”
“That’s my point.” He wrapped his hand over hers, stilling the key. “I don’t want you taking chances.”
His gaze was intense, and heat from his body poured onto her.
“Get off me.”
He didn’t move, just made a low growling sound.
“Aaron.” She tugged her hand away. “I appreciate your concern. But I’m a big girl. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself in the mountains, even if I come across Shaman, storms, and snow leopards.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes. I do.” She turned, unlocked her door, and quickly let herself into her room.
As she closed the door, she had one last glance at the man who seemed to be tailing her. What was it with him? Why did he care about her safety so much? He hardly knew her and certainly not enough to tell her what to do.
But damn it, the guy was cute. Her heart rate had rocketed by being close to him. And when he’d touched her…
Chapter Two
At first light, Chloe slipped a note under Jim’s door, telling him her plans. She then hoisted her heavy rucksack onto her back, locked up, and followed the small gravel trail heading west from the village.
It was barely trodden as the locals preferred the southerly slopes for their crops. The air was still and sunlight reflected off the snow, making her glad of her shades.
Chloe didn’t usually mind being on her own, but thoughts of the chicken claw and Shaman kept sneaking into her brain. Had she really annoyed some of the village elders? And if so, why not say something to her? No need for mangled animal parts to be left dangling from her doorframe for her to find.
Or rather for Aaron to find.
She stomped onward, navigating past a steep drop, then up a slope with sharp gray rocks jutting from it. She had two miles to go before she reached the first of four cameras. Then it would be another mile to the second. She planned on sleeping in the small sheltered valley she and Jim had used before, then retrieving the other two cameras and heading back to the village. The distances she needed to cover weren’t huge, but with difficult terrain, it could take several hours to travel a mile or two.
She paused and had a sip from her water bottle, took a moment to enjoy the beautiful view. It really was like being on the top of the world. Below her, clouds hovered, and level with her, an eagle soared.
She heard a sound from behind and turned, but there was nothing there, not even a Himalayan rabbit.
“Stop it.” She frowned. The last thing she needed was her imagination going into overdrive. There were no Shaman around.
But what about poachers?
If there were, she was sure they’d stay well out of her way. Or at least that was what she was telling herself.
She carried on, warming as the sun rose, and keeping a watch out for leopard tracks.
There were none.
Several times she checked behind herself. A strange sense of being followed was bugging her.
It’s only what Aaron said that’s put me on edge.
Finally, and with the help of her compass, she came to the first motion sensor camera.
“I hope you’ve come out to play, snow leopards,” she said, dismantling it. There were no tracks around it, but the snow here was deep and fresh and could be covering evidence.
After securing the camera safely in her rucksack and munching a protein bar, she took a northeasterly course.
A shadow slipped over her, engulfing the surrounding rocks. She glanced upward. A large, fluffy white cloud covered the sun.
“Mmm … don’t get any ideas,” she said. Aaron’s words came back to her. Aren’t you worried about the storm? “One cloud does not make a storm.”
Even so, she sped up and made good progress to the next camera.
Here there were large feline tracks in the snow. She couldn’t be sure if they were leopard, as pallas cats also inhabited the area. Though if anything, they were even harder to come across than leopards, so she hoped it would be the creature she was after.
Feeling more positive, Chloe glanced at the sky. The clouds had gathered, but there was no wind. She’d carry out her plan and stay in the mountains overnight. She probably didn’t have enough daylight hours to get back to the village anyway. And she did need those other cameras. Plus, apart from anything else, she was tired.
Half an hour later, she was in the small sheltered valley. It wasn’t exactly hospitable, but with the right equipment, which she had, it would be sufficient for the night.
She set about erecting her orange tent against the side of a huge pyramid-shaped rock clinging to the edge of the mountain.
Once the tent was up, she stepped back and gave it a visual check. A sudden clunking noise to her right caught her attention. It was a small stone running down the side of the rock. She glanced upward, wondering what had disturbed it, but could see nothing.
Again, an uneasy feeling swirled in her belly. She was all alone, miles from anywhere.
She shook her head. It was probably a bird or a rabbit, nothing more sinister.
Needing water, which flowed down the rocks at the far end of the gully, she headed off with her bottle. She’d make herself a cup of tea and a hot meal. The best way to ensure she stayed warm was to heat from the inside.
After collecting icy water, she returned to her tent. But as she approached, the niggling feeling rushed into something more. Fear.
Hanging from her tent, by its feet, was a dead chicken. The whole thing this time, not just a foot, and it appeared freshly killed—it’s throat slit, blood dripping onto the virgin-white snow.
She clasped her hand over mouth, held in a scream. Spinning, she searched the small valley.
There was no one there.
But there had to be someone.
She needed to get back to the village. Aaron had been right. She shouldn’t have come alone. There was much more danger up here than the elements.
Thinking of the weather, she glanced up. The clouds had taken on a dark hue, and as she looked, a gust of wind pressed her jacket to her body.
“Shit,” she muttered, turning back to the tent.
She gasped and a burst of terror shot into her veins. She dropped her water bottle.
Standing at the entrance to her tent was a man. He wore a long black coat with strapping binding it to him, and his boots were the same as the locals wore. His face was partly covered by his fur-lined hood, but what she could see had been painted with vertical red stripes.
He stared at her, and at his side, he held a knife dripping with blood.
Adrenaline pulsed through her. Did he mean to slash her throat the same way he had the chicken? Was she about to meet her maker?
“What do you want?” she shouted, clenching her fists and hoping she sounded braver than she felt.
He began to chant and walk toward her, leaving a trail of b
right red droplets in his wake. His eyes were dark and manic, as if he were in some kind of trance.
She turned, stifling a scream. She had to get out of there. Run. Find a way down the mountain however she could.
But I’ll die trying.
She stilled and a fresh wave of panic swarmed over her skin. Pacing toward her, its shoulders shifting and its green gaze fixed on hers, was a huge snow leopard. If she’d been scared before, now she was terrified.
The beast was baring its teeth, the canines enormous. A low purring noise, more like a growl, emanated from it, and its huge paws sank into the snow.
Chloe didn’t know what to do. Nausea twisted her guts and her legs threatened to give way.
The creature grew closer, its eyes flashing.
There was nothing for it. She’d have to take her chances with the Shaman and run back that way. Maybe she could fight him, because she didn’t have a hope against the powerful beast stalking her. It would knock her out with one swipe of its paw.
But just as she’d made her decision, the leopard broke into a run.
She screamed and shut her eyes, waiting for impact and for its teeth to sink into her neck.
But there was nothing more than a rush of air and a flurry of snow against her cheek.
A yelp echoed against the rocky cliff, and she spun to see the Shaman drop his knife and run.
The leopard was after him, its tail rod-straight and a cascade of snow puffing up behind it.
The Shaman made for the narrow gap in the cliff leading from the shelter of the valley. He went out of sight a second before the leopard did.
Chloe rushed to her tent, ignoring the gruesome blood splatters on the snow, dived inside, and zipped it up.
What if the Shaman outsmarted the leopard and came back for her? What if the leopard doubled around, still hungry, and dragged its claws through the flimsy material of the tent, sank its teeth into her, made her its supper?