Silence pervaded the cabin, broken only by the occasional crackle and hiss from the burning logs. The fire’s heat warmed the small room. Emma slipped from her parka and hoodie and kicked off her boots. She settled beside the stove again. Several hours ticked by before the heat lulled her to the brink of sleep.
A quiet knock sounded at the front door. Instantly alert, Emma stole to the window, paring knife in hand. She pulled aside the lace hem of her makeshift curtain.
Light from the cabin window sliced through the thick fog outside. A small, lone figure stood in the clearing. Dressed in a long, white nightgown, the woman’s gray hair was braided neatly down her back. Her feet were bare.
“Fae?” Emma quickly unlocked and opened the door. A draft of cold air hit her in the face.
Fae half-turned as if to flee.
“Wait!” Emma said. “What are you doing here? We thought you were dead!”
The woman paused to scrutinize Emma’s appearance from top to bottom. A smile touched her lips. She gestured for Emma to follow, and disappeared lithely into the forest.
Emma grabbed a flashlight and went after her. The white-clad figure flitted in and out of the trees. The path meandered deeper into the forest and the fog became thick. Suddenly, the figure disappeared.
Emma stopped, her breath pluming in the chilly air. “Fae? Grandmother?” Wearing only socks, her feet were like blocks of ice, and she cursed herself for not slipping on her boots. Or her parka. The drizzle soaked through the thin cotton of her t-shirt and sweatpants. She swept the area with her flashlight. “Where are you?”
“Where are you?”
She turned in the direction of the voice. Heading toward it, Emma stopped short. She was at the cave’s entrance. How did I end up here? This wasn’t the direction I was running. A sound came from inside.
“Fae?” Emma knelt, shivering violently. Oh, my god, she never died. She went insane. Emma was torn between running back to the cabin, or following in the hopes she could get the old woman to return with her. She’s been here the whole time. That must have been what I saw in the corner.
“Come up here right now,” she scolded. “It’s too cold to be in your nightgown.” She aimed her flashlight into the crevice. “I’m going back to the cabin, Grandmother!” Emma waited for a response and got none. “Dammit.” She carefully slipped the knife into the front pocket of her sweatpants and tucked the flashlight under her arm. Easing herself into the cave, she dropped to the floor.
The cave was dank and the air felt heavy. Emma pointed the beam of her flashlight toward the corner. The beam slowly weakened until it barely threaded through the darkness.
“Grandmother?” she whispered. “It’s Emma.”
“It’s Emma.” The voice dropped an octave. And it came from behind her.
Emma whipped around. “Where are you?” She held a hand in front of her, searching for her grandmother’s nightgown. Her hand connected with bare, cold skin. And it wasn’t the skin of an old lady.
Her scream filled the cave. Emma scrambled backward and hit the wall. She pulled the paring knife from her pocket, and frantically felt her way along the rock. Her heart pounded wildly. A wave of sleepiness overcame her. Emma collapsed into a sitting position. Her knife and flashlight fell with a clatter. The flashlight rolled, its weakened beam facing away from her. Her thoughts were muddled. What just happened?
Something white moved in front of her, low to the ground. Her heart sped up as fear raced throughout her. Emma’s breath echoed off the walls. The cave felt as if it were spinning. The side of her head hit the rocky floor.
“She has come to feed us,” said a deep, melodic voice.
“She has come to feed us.” The voice that repeated the phrase was finer-pitched, almost ethereal.
Emma couldn’t seem to open her eyes. Something brushed her wrist and lingered at her fingertips.
“Do not touch her.”
The melodic voice was close to her ear. Rough fingers traced her eyelids. The smell of burning wood enveloped her senses. Emma tried to push the man away. Her hand brushed against the pouch hanging from his neck. He was quick to grasp her hand to stay it. Every moment of grief in her life flitted through her thoughts like pages of a book. The pages seemed to pause on the funeral of her mother and held. Grief drained from her like a reopened wound. Darkness claimed her once again.
* * *
Emma opened her eyes to daylight. The beams of the cabin ceiling slowly came into focus. She lay on her grandmother’s bed. Her head throbbed, her clothing was damp and her feet stung. She stood shakily and went into the bathroom. Gazing at herself in the broken mirror, she cringed at her reflection. Her eyes were bloodshot. The scrape on her cheek was bruised and swollen. The dusting of freckles across her nose stood in sharp contrast to her pallid skin. The spider-webbed fractures in the mirror seemed to illuminate her injuries a thousand times over. Emma took a deep breath and winced. Peeling off her damp t-shirt, she was startled to see bruises along her ribs. She gingerly fingered them.
The albino and the dark-haired man were both in the cave with her grandmother. She recognized the dark-haired man’s voice. She was reasonably sure she’d touched the albino’s chest. Nervously, she wiped her hand on her sweatpants. Emma shed her clothes and pulled on a pair of dry jeans and a t-shirt.
She checked the front door and the windows. All of them were locked…from the inside. “That makes no sense,” she whispered. Unless you were hallucinating. “I wasn’t hallucinating,” she argued with herself. “I saw Fae. And I went to the cave. And then…” And then you ended up here, in the cabin. Which is locked from the inside. She grabbed her cell phone to see if the power had come back on. The phone was still dead.
Emma paced the cabin, her circles eventually slowing to match her heartbeat. “Someone will come for me.” The possibility that Fae was trapped in the cave with the two men gnawed at the back of her mind. The possibility she may have imagined the whole thing disturbed her even more.
There was a knock on the door, and Emma bit back a cry of surprise. Please let that be Gideon or Nathanial. The deep, melodic voice that came from the other side didn’t belong to either.
“We have come to see if you are well.”
“Go away!” Emma clenched her hands. “I told you, this is a private island! I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—”
“You had an accident last night,” he said. “We merely wish to know if you are well.”
Uncertainly ran through her brain like little beetles. “I-I’m fine. You need to leave. I don’t need your help.”
“We are looking after the other woman.”
“You’re looking after Fae?” Emma’s heart sped up. “My grandmother has been missing for seven years.”
“She is your grandmother?” His voice expressed surprise. “She came to us and we took her in. We are looking after her.”
Hesitant, Emma peered out the window.
The dark-haired man stood several steps from the front door. In daylight, she saw little more than she had the night before. His head was bowed. Long, dark hair hid his face. His broad torso was heavily muscled. His skin was like mahogany. He was easily a foot and a half taller than she was. The man he called Thim stood several paces behind him.
In spite of the cold seeping from the glass window, both were still dressed in loincloths. “Why are you dressed like that? It’s cold outside.”
“It is what we have,” the dark-haired man answered.
The albino brazenly met her gaze. Though he was several inches shorter than his counterpart, his demeanor was by far more intimidating. Something restless and calculating lurked behind his colorless eyes. His skin was flawless, his body angular, and his limbs, long and athletic. Muscles tense, he looked ready to spring at a moment’s notice. Emma’s gaze traveled down to the albino’s hip. One of the ties on his loin cloth was almost undone.
She quickly averted her eyes. “Where is my grandmother right now?”
“She is in the cave,” the dark-haired man replied. “You saw her.”
“And then I woke up here.”
“We brought you home. We are concerned for your wellbeing.”
“I have bruises,” she accused.
The dark-haired man turned his head slightly as if to consult with his counterpart. “Thim may have been heavy-handed with you,” he answered, his voice hardening. “He will apologize.”
The albino tilted his head and raised a pale eyebrow. His look was anything but an apology.
“Go away!” Emma said.
“We need to speak to you.” The dark-haired man asserted. “We wish you to come out.”
Emma laughed at the absurdity of his request. “I don’t think so.” Backing away from the window, she scanned the room. The hammer was missing, the knife she’d been carrying the night before was god knows where, and she had nothing in the cabin to fight with.
“Come out, Emma.”
She froze. “How do you know my name?”
Silence.
Emma dove for the box she’d packed her grandmother’s silverware. She ripped off the tape and pulled out a fork. I have a fork. Great. I’ll fork them to death. The butter knives were at the bottom, wrapped in newspaper. Desperate, she dumped the box upside down.
“We have not come to harm you.” The man’s melodic, deep voice came from the other side of the door.
Her heart leapt at his proximity. Suddenly, the door seemed paper-thin. Emma shook one of the butter knives from the newspaper wrapping. Blunt-tipped, it was better than nothing. Keeping a distance from the front door, she maneuvered herself so she could see out the window. The dark-haired man still stood on the porch. The albino was gone.
“Where is your friend?”
“Thim is not my friend.” His answer was sharp.
Emma tried to see behind the curtain of the man’s long hair. “Why won’t you look at me? What are you hiding?”
“Hiding.” He seemed to ponder her question. “I am hiding nothing.”
“Then look at me.” Get as much information as you can, her inner voice chattered. You’ll need it when you tell the police. “So, he’s not your friend. Thim is an odd name. What’s yours?”
He paused before answering. “Itu.”
Don’t ask him anything else. The thought took her off guard, but she felt compelled to pay heed to it. “You’d better go because my friends will be here soon,” she said, clutching the butter knife. “And they’re bringing the police.”
His low answering chuckle caused a chill to creep down her spine.
“I know you’re holding Fae hostage!” she accused. “Let her come to me and then we’ll talk.”
“I do not have control on whether she…comes to you or not.”
A small shuffle from behind made Emma turn with a start. The albino stood a fingers-breadth behind her, an amused smirk on his face. Snatching the butter knife from her hand, he threw it with force across the room. Before Emma could scream, there was a sharp pain in her head and everything went black.
The scent of burning wood filled the cabin. Thim held her against his chest, his breath was cold on the back of her neck. His arms were crossed in front of her. One hand gripped her shoulder while the other snaked around her waist. Itu faced away from them. She started to lose consciousness again, and Thim shook her awake.
“This is a dream,” she whispered. “You aren’t in my grandmother’s cabin. There’s no way either one of you could have gotten in without breaking a window.”
Itu’s palms were closed and the muscles in his arms were tense. “You are not dreaming.”
“Why won’t you look at me?” Emma said, desperate. “What are you afraid of?”
“What are you afraid of?” Thim murmured from behind her. His fingers dug into her bare flesh. His body was icy cold against the heat of her own.
Itu turned to face her. Gaping holes were where his eyes should have been. His expression was pulled into a grimace. Furrows ran along the skin of his cheeks. A thousand years of grief and tears seemed permanently burned into his skin.
She stifled a scream.
He opened his hands in supplication. “I want to use these.” Two detached eyes lay in his palms. Itu pressed his hands against his face, and for a moment, it looked as though he wept. When he pulled them away, his eyes were in their sockets. Black with no irises, they were darker than any void.
Thim slid his hand from her shoulder and laid it over her heart. Fear rose from within her. The albino’s grip tightened, and she struggled against it.
“Your grandmother needs you,” Itu said. “She is all you have now. Come to us, Emma.”
Itu’s final plea seemed to lodge itself in her brain, sticking like tar.
She was jarred awake by the sound of the phone. Morning sun slanted across her face. The cabin ceiling slowly came into focus. The phone rang again.
Emma scrambled to her feet with a surge of shaky relief. “Hello?”
“Emma?” Margaret’s disjointed voice came between static. “Your dad. His heart…stopped. They couldn’t—”
The shock of Margaret’s words hit her like a freight train, blocking out all sound.
She clutched the phone in her hand. The sun was no longer shining through the front window, but had risen fully. Emma stood in the middle of the living room. One of the boxes in the kitchen had been upended. Utensils scattered the floor. A butter knife lay in the corner, almost twisted beyond recognition. She looked at her phone and saw the battery was dead.
Emma pressed the button repeatedly, frustration replaced by panic. “What’s happening?”
She pushed aside the curtain of her grandmother’s nightgown. The clearing was empty. Nobody stood on the porch. The front door remained locked. Emma ran into the bedroom. The window was latched. The bathroom window was also latched. There was no broken glass or sign of entry with either one.
“Oh, my god, oh, my god, I’m losing my mind.” She paced the cabin on the verge of tears. Vestiges of her nightmare came creeping back to her. “It was just a nightmare. The phone call, the conversation with the two men, the cave. All of it.” Her gaze fell upon the twisted butter knife. Strand by strand, Emma fell apart. It was only when she cried herself out that she was able to focus again.
I need to get off the island. The feeling was almost painful in its intensity, drowning out all thought.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMMA FLUNG THE DOOR to the tool shed open. The remaining hinge snapped, and she pushed the door aside. Spying a coil of rope on the ground, she snatched it up. A rusty chisel lay beside it and she grabbed that too. She slipped it into her back pocket.
She ran toward the beach as silently as she could. The forest around her was still, as if watching. Working quickly, she rolled several logs of driftwood in place and lashed them together to make a raft. Emma nervously glanced over her shoulder as she tied the last knot. She picked up a piece of driftwood to use as an oar, and dragged her raft to the edge of the water. What about Fae? She hesitated, her heart pounding. The dark forest stood behind her and the ocean yawned in front. Either direction filled her with dread. The police will come for her once I tell them what happened. She stepped into the water. It may be too late by then, her inner voice argued. She’s an old woman, Emma. And she’s your grandmother. The thought didn’t fill her with as much bitterness as it would have days ago.
“Dammit.” She turned from the ocean.
The cave was silent. Its opening gaped like a mouth. The clearing was also silent and devoid of life. “Fae?” she whispered. Hesitant, she shone her flashlight inside. Forget about her. Just take the raft and escape. Fear tugged at her insides. I can’t just leave her. She needs my help. Emma eased her way inside and dropped to the floor. She pulled out her chisel and lingered at the entrance, ready to flee. “Grandmother?” she whispered. “It’s Emma!” The cave appeared empty.
“Emma!”
Emma looked up. Fae stood at the opening, lo
oking down at her. Relief flooded her senses. Shoving the chisel into her back pocket, she climbed up the crevice. “Are you all right?” She made a grab for her grandmother’s hand. Fae avoided her grasp, dodging out of the way.
“We need to get off this island!” Emma said, frustrated with Fae’s odd behavior. “I can get us to safety, but you have to come with me.”
Cocking her head to one side, Fae turned in the other direction and slipped through the trees.
“Where are you going?” Emma followed her.
Running faster than seemingly possible, Fae sprinted through the thick foliage. As they reached the rocky field, the old woman showed no sign of slowing down. She made a beeline straight for the cliffs.
“No!” Horrified, Emma ran after her. “Fae, stop!”
Moments from plunging off the edge, the old woman stopped. The wind buffeted her nightgown. Tendrils of gray hair swirled around her head. Fae turned, seemingly ready to flee.
Emma held out her hands in an attempt to calm her. “I made a raft. It’s down by the dock. We need to leave right now. Those two men—were they holding you hostage? I can help you escape.”
A coy smile played about Fae’s lips. She seemed to relax and stood full-height, squaring her shoulders. Turning her head at an odd angle, she shuddered. For a moment, Emma thought the woman was going to collapse or was having a heart attack. Then suddenly, Fae’s arms and legs elongated. Her skin paled and her shoulders broadened. The nightgown she’d been wearing fell away like shedding skin. It was no longer Emma’s grandmother standing in front of her, but the albino.
Emma quickly backed away, tears springing to her eyes. Not human! Not human!
The albino made no move to advance. His gaze slid over her shoulder.
Emma smelled wood smoke seconds before it registered that Itu was behind her. She turned to face him, her mind in chaos. “What are you? Where’s Fae?”
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