When MacCready bounced into sight, aiming for the dam, Madeline ran upriver, searching for Ellie. Finally, worried that her friend could die if more people weren’t brought into the search, she ran for town.
Madeline went quiet, one hand resting on her silver bracelet. Noah watched her silently, momentarily placing a hand on her shoulder. The forest faded away. The roar of the North Cascade River grew distant, and her heart beat dully, her mind returning to the present, to the little cabin in Glacier, and to Noah. “It’s all so vivid still,” she said.
“You don’t have to finish.”
“I know. I want to.” She closed her stinging eyes for a moment and then went on. “At the police station, I told them about MacCready and Ellie. They sent out a search party. Searchers found a new Sickle Moon Killer victim in the woods and called in the Feds. But it wasn’t until four days later that they found Ellie’s body.”
“Oh, God,” Noah breathed.
“She’d been caught in one of the old turbine holes of the dam. But she was dead before that, probably on impact with the rock, they think.”
“I am so sorry.”
“A week later, I went back and found her bracelet.” She held up her wrist. “I keep it inside this little silver box. I haven’t taken it off since.” Madeline felt her throat constrict. “I killed her.”
“What?”
“If I hadn’t been there, if MacCready hadn’t known about my ability, he wouldn’t have freaked. She’d still be alive.”
“No,” Noah said firmly. “You can’t think that. You’re no more responsible for her death than I am for Anna’s.” He took her arms and frowned at her. “Do you hear me?”
Madeline didn’t respond. It was her fault.
Noah released her. She met his eyes. “The Feds got a search warrant for MacCready’s house. In a closet they found skin from all the Sickle Moon killings. They’d got him.”
“I remember that … his trial … the media sensationalized it. He’s still in prison, isn’t he?”
“No. He was killed in a prison fight last year. I still can’t quite believe it. For years I was afraid he’d break out and find me. Now he’s gone.”
Noah shuddered. “That was a terrible case.”
“A lot of people got scared about the whole thing,” she said. “Even after he was caught, there was still an air of fear in some campgrounds and fishing spots. They kept me out of the newspapers, but the townspeople knew I’d played a part in his capture. I think a lot of them blamed me for Ellie, too. That experience permanently tainted my gift for me. It cost me my only friend. After that, when I was sixteen, my parents suggested I move out on my own. They still helped me with money, because no one in town would hire me. But they asked me around less and less. I rarely see them now. Until a couple weeks ago, I didn’t even think they knew exactly where I lived.”
Noah took her hands in his and squeezed. His touch was warm and comforting, full of good energy. She leaned forward and placed her head on his shoulder, and he gently stroked her hair.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“Your life sounds as lonely as mine.”
She pulled away and looked at him. “I’m sorry you experienced such a loss. I can’t even imagine …” Her voice trailed off.
He closed his eyes and nodded. “We’ve both been through some pretty terrible stuff.”
“Including the last twenty-four hours,” she put in.
“Including the last twenty-four hours,” he agreed.
A second flesh eater. Madeline closed her eyes in horror. Finally she opened them, regarding Noah closely. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, hunting him all this time, seeing one person after another killed. How many victims?”
“One hundred and sixty-four that I know of. A hundred and sixty-four whom he targeted and hunted. Maybe more. And then there are people, like that ranger, who just got in his way. It’s hard to say how many of those. He covers his tracks well. He can completely destroy a body.”
Madeline nodded. She thought of the silver spike plunging deep into the body of the men who had harassed her. Once again she felt conflict. Though he terrified her, she was relieved he had been there. She thought about the hundreds of victims over the years, bodies reduced to ashes.
“This is strange,” Noah suddenly said. “He’s blown his cover to you. Usually he insinuates himself into a person’s life as a friend, then hangs around frequently, learning more about them until he makes his move. Like he did with Anna.” Noah looked away painfully. “This whole situation with you is different. Why appear to you as a beast first?”
“Touch me.” She’d seen his true self, not a mimic. “How long has he been hunting me?”
Noah furrowed his brow. “For months, I think. At least, that’s when he first showed up in this area, though I didn’t arrive here until just a few weeks ago when I picked up on his trail.”
He grew silent, watching her openly, his secrets laid out.
She stared back. Months. And the first indication she’d had of being watched was just before the flash flood hit. They both went quiet, looking at each other, nothing hidden between them now.
At last he stood up, took her hand, and led her to the bedroom. He stretched out on the bed, rolling over on his back, and reached out to take her hand. Gently he pulled her to him, and she laid her head down on his chest. Madeline lost track of time there, feeling his chest rise and fall, hearing the deep thud of his heartbeat. Though they didn’t speak, they were united in their thoughts of their pasts, presents, and futures—how all the events leading up until now had brought them to this one moment in time.
Then Noah rolled over on his side, wrapped one arm around her, and pulled her flush with his body. She turned her head to face him. The light from the main room bathed half his face, while the other lay in shadow. Her eyes moved to his lips, and he pulled her closer, mouths inches apart. She could feel his warm breath on her and tilted her head slightly, bringing them closer. Slowly their lips met, and she felt desire bloom within her. She drank in his scent as they kissed still more passionately, their mouths meeting perfectly again and again as if they’d been kissing each other for years.
He rolled on top of her, and her stomach thrilled to the feeling of him. She wrapped one leg around him, and he brought his knee up, half kneeling over her while he kissed her deeply. His lips left her face, tongue darting out over her neck and bringing a moan to her lips. She could feel that his teeth had gone sharp as they grazed against her skin, but she didn’t flinch.
He pulled up and looked down on her, eyes gone red and gleaming in the dark. She touched his face, and he stared down at her with passionate hunger. Then his hands traced down her face to her neck, collarbones, then chest. Gently he ran his fingers over her breasts, pausing on each nipple, stroking them, making them erect. She opened her mouth in pleasure, eyes fluttering in her head, and arched her back beneath him.
His hands on her breasts caused the warmth between her legs to erupt into a fire, and he lowered his hips over hers. She could feel the heat of his erection through his jeans, pressing first against her inner thigh, then blissfully between her legs. He moaned, wrapping his arms around her and writhing against her, their lips meeting again. When the kisses grew so intense she felt herself melting away into a fiery abyss, she pulled away.
She needed a moment. Needed to digest everything. Breathlessly she said, “I’ve got to think about all of this.” Just processing that he still wanted to be close to her, even knowing her ability, was a lot.
Noah looked at her with desire, his smoky eyes making it hard for her to turn away. But she had to think, and being this close to him made that hard.
He sighed. “I suppose you’re right … Despite this strange connection I feel to you, we have only just met.” He gave her one more long kiss before meeting her gaze again with resignation. “And we do have a lot of sleeping to ca
tch up on. I didn’t get any last night—spent the whole night creeping through the forest looking for you.”
Madeline felt a twinge of guilt at that, Noah searching for her while she slept away in the rock crevice. But she hadn’t intended to fall asleep in there. “Guess I’ll go change into my PJs,” he said.
“Okay. In the meantime, I’ll check all the locks.”
“Again?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Can you blame me?”
He sighed. “No. I can’t. In fact, I think I’ll check them when you’re done checking them.”
“And then I can check them again.”
Noah smiled, then held her gaze for a moment in silence, his eyes still burning, his lips so kissable—
She turned away, stood up, and left the room. Noah followed her out, got clothes out of his pack, and returned to the bedroom, partially closing the bedroom door behind him.
Madeline couldn’t help but glance through the crack in the door. Noah peeled off his long-sleeved cotton shirt in favor of a black T-shirt. As the cotton left his body, her eyes took in the smoothness of his skin, his muscular sides and chest, his flat stomach. His bare arms, working now to pull on the T-shirt, were muscular and toned, his biceps alone as big as a calf muscle. He was perfectly proportioned, inviting collarbones accentuating his already fiendishly attractive chest. And then the T-shirt covered him up.
Madeline swallowed and looked away, feeling oddly embarrassed for gawking. She supposed constantly being on the move, constantly pushing himself kept him in shape. And what a lovely shape. Oh my.
“I think I’ll take the couch,” she said.
Noah appeared at the crack in the door. “No way! You get the bed.”
She shook her head. “You’ve done so much for me, paid for this place, even, and I would just be too racked with guilt if you slept on the couch.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she added quickly, “I insist.”
He shook his head hopelessly and gave a little smile. “Okay.” Then he turned away to resume getting ready for bed.
Madeline sighed and looked down at the couch, forcing her body to cool down. Parts of her ached for Noah, and she told those parts to cool it. Even though they’d been through a lot together, she barely even knew him.
As she took the cushions off the couch and pulled out the hideaway bed, Noah appeared from the bedroom. “Ready to go brush our teeth?”
Madeline started. “Out there? Again? Where that thing is?”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I think I’d rather be irresponsible and not brush my teeth tonight. Damn. Why couldn’t they make these cabins with bathrooms?”
“Too cheap?”
“Can’t I just use a cup and some water from your canteen?”
Noah relented. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll do the same.”
They brushed their teeth in silence, Noah doling out water from his Nalgene bottle, and Madeline just glad to stay indoors, away from the creature.
“Madeline,” he said when she was finished brushing, “help me catch the creature.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “What?” Her gut sank.
“Help me catch him. With your gift and my knowledge, we could stop him. I can feel it.”
She shook her head, her gut wrenching at the thought. “No. I’m just a college student. I’m no vigilante.”
“But how can you ignore your gift like that? Especially after you already caught one killer?”
“My gift?” she spat. “It’s no goddamn gift. It’s not some knitted handbag my grandmother gave me. It’s made my life hell. You think I wanted to see those terrible things the Sickle Moon Killer did to those men?” She threw her toothbrush and the little tube of toothpaste into Noah’s backpack and stalked away. If that thing weren’t out there, she would have stormed out of the cabin right then.
Fear. Plain old mind-numbing fear swept over her.
“Madeline,” he said. “I know you’re hurting. I know it’s been hard. I’m just saying that this is your chance to turn that ability around, make it work for you.”
She exhaled sharply, turning to look at him. “This is exactly what I don’t want. What I came out here to avoid. Don’t ask me to do this. That thing almost killed me! You can’t expect me to go up against it!”
He shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I asked too soon.”
“Too soon?” she raised her voice again. “No, please don’t ask me again. I’m sorry, Noah, but I just can’t. I came out here to try to scrape together a semblance of a normal life. Now my life is in danger and frankly … I’m terrified.”
He stared at her, then his eyes narrowed, and he went into the bedroom, leaving Madeline outside with her ghosts of Ellie and the Sickle Moon Killer. Before he shut the door, he said quietly, “I can see you’re terrified. But if you could just think about it—I can take you to his latest hideout, a cabin near here. You could touch his belongings.”
Madeline felt so opposed to the idea that she was shaking her head before he even finished.
“Please,” he said. “Think about it.”
Then he shut the door between them.
With Noah breathing softly in the bedroom, Madeline lay in the main room, unable to sleep. Why had she insisted on taking the foldout bed? Her face still felt flushed in anger at his request. She’d never escape this cursed ability. For a while she’d felt almost like a normal person with Noah. Now her “gift” loomed between them, just like every other relationship she’d tried to have.
Her mind wouldn’t rest, kept sweeping over the story he’d told her.
Noah was over two hundred years old.
She thought of the old journal she’d found in his backpack. At the time, she’d never dreamed it was his journal, just some keepsake he’d picked up on his journeys. The temptation to peek inside now was overwhelming. She glanced over at his backpack, which still sat on one of the chairs. But she couldn’t invade his privacy like that.
Throwing a worn, yellow blanket aside, a blanket she suspected had been living unwashed on that couch for nigh on thirty years and had probably developed its own rudimentary sense of logic and arithmetic, she crept to Noah’s bedroom.
“Noah?” she whispered when she got there.
He stirred.
“Noah?”
“Yes?”
“Sorry to wake you.”
“No problem.”
“It’s just I …” She faltered.
From the light filtering in from the main room, she could just make out his shadowed form on the bed. The sheets draped over his body, and he propped himself up on one elbow.
“Your journal … is it a record of hunting the creature?”
He nodded. “A spotty record. I’m not very good at journaling. When I first began, I wrote almost every day. Now I write once a decade if I’m lucky. Two hundred years, and I never had to buy a second book.” He smiled.
She felt uncomfortable, nosy. “I know this is a terrible thing to ask, but I was curious to look at it. Just to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
“Hmmm … well … I guess that would be all right. Just don’t pay much attention to the whole ‘girl in every city’ theme. And that barmaid in France? It was just a fling.”
Madeline began to doubt if she wanted to read the thing after all.
“And the herd of goats in Greece was really more of a roll in the hay. Heh.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m kidding. There was no barmaid. No girl in every city. I may look as dashing as Captain Kirk, but I don’t have a gorgeous alien lover on every planet. Not even on this planet.” He stared at her from the shadows, a thin slice of light falling across half of his face. “But suddenly I’m not opposed to the thought of being with someone again …”
Their eyes locked, and she smiled.
“The journal is in my backpack. Have at it.”
She could think of two things at that moment she’d
like to have at but opted for the journal. It was a little less daunting and would give a clearer idea of the other thing if she read it.
He winked devilishly at her, and she turned away with difficulty, intent on at least making it to the backpack. When she reached inside and her fingers closed around the diary, though, a great sadness swept over her, the same as on the mountain.
She returned to the sofa, climbed under the nearly sentient yellow blanket, and began to read.
July 14, 1763
Mountains above Vienna
I feel that I should keep a record of my tribulations so that, if I am found dead, and someone else takes up the cause, they will at least know something of the creature which I pursue relentlessly, and will be better armed with information in order to stop it.
I find it too painful to relate the details of how I came to be on this desolate mountain trail, weary from exertion, following a killer. Perhaps later I will be able to write about it. But suffice it to say that Stefan, this thing, this terror, killed my beloved, and I will stop at nothing until he is destroyed.
For days I have been tracking the vile beast. I spotted the fiend in an alleyway in Vienna and have been following him ever since. Now I trail far behind, however, the high elevation of this mountain pass robbing me of my stamina. My head pounds, chest heaves. I am not used to moving so quickly, carrying so much weight, or steadily climbing upward across slippery, gray talus slopes and melting snowfields.
The crumbling slope to the right of my path is nearly vertical, leading down to a steep valley far below. On the other side of the narrow, tree-filled ravine lie more peaks, the snowy Alps stretching to the horizon.
I struggle on, stomach rumbling with hunger. Repeatedly I attempt unsuccessfully to rearrange the uncomfortably heavy assortment of objects on my back: a clunky pot, a heavy bag of rice and coffee beans, an unwieldy canvas tent and its splintery wooden stakes. It is really just a lean-to at this point. I had to abandon the wood for its frame when I lost a handcart wheel over the edge of a precipitous section of trail yesterday. Realizing I would have to leave the handcart behind, I piled what I could into the tent, transforming it into a makeshift pack for my back and continued on, trying to follow the creature’s footprints in the mud and melting snow.
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