Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Something Wicked This Way Comes

My feet are damp and aching, and my lungs burn from exertion. I’ve been running. Sweat drips down my slick forehead and evaporates rapidly in the freezing night air. I’m shivering and hot all at once. I’m not in my bed—I’m not even in my cottage. I’m in the forest.

And I’m not dreaming.

With rapid breaths I turn and turn, trying to gather my bearings. I walk over to an older trunk and tentatively place my hand on its mossy bark. I breathe in relief as it doesn’t shatter beneath me. But that relief fades as my energy connects with the forest around me.

I’m at least four miles from my home. I don’t know how I got here. As I attune to my surroundings, all the sensations, from my aching lungs and scratchy throat to the cuts and bruises on my legs, come into focus.

Dawn is closer than midnight, but the sunrise sky is still at least an hour away. If I keep myself grounded, keep my hands on the trees, I can make it out of the woods. I can—

A snapping twig interrupts my thoughts. I press myself up against the pine I have grounded to. There is a small hollow in the trunk, tantalizing in size. It’s almost big enough for me to squeeze into, but not quite. Still, I try to make myself as small as possible. Another twig snaps, and my heart stutters. I stop breathing immediately, despite my burning lungs begging for oxygen. My icy breath, fully vaporized, floats away into the sky and is gone forever. Another snap.

I turn my head slowly to look toward the sound, praying my eyes meet those of a deer or some small ground vermin. I scan the darkness, and for a moment, there is nothing. But then, one by one, lights blink out from the abyss. It takes a moment to realize they’re not lights, but eyes. Six of them, glowing red like firelight. Deep, guttural growls build from such a low vibration that it seems the forest itself is shaking. The growls grow louder until sharp deafening barks surround my tree. The forest erupts at this. Shrieks from owls, frantic running from nocturnal prey and predator alike, howls that echo around for miles. An intense carnal fear breaks me from the tree, and I run. The canine barks transform into squealing yips and ferocious roars, and the ground around me booms. Whatever these creatures are, they are chasing me.

I run blind at first, in a primal panic. My feet practically fly across the moss-laden forest floor. The hellish beasts are falling behind. I’m losing them.

After a minute of mad-dash sprinting, I throw my hands out toward any tree I pass by. I have to gain some sense of direction. Though my hands connect on the trees for less than a second, my stomach fills with dread. I am being chased farther and farther away from home. I’m not outrunning the creatures. Their movements are not random; they are calculated.

They are herding me.

I would sob if I wasn’t conserving every ounce of breath to fuel my sprint through the forest. I dash between old-growth trees, trying to find a pocket to escape into, to circle back around and head toward the edge of the woods, toward safety. But the three creatures have me flanked. Flashes of fiery eyes and visceral growling drive me deeper into the dark. I’ll never make it home now. True exhaustion is closing in on me as every cell in my body sputters and coughs out its final bits of energy. I beseech my spirit and the spirit of the forest for any little ounce of magic that might save me. Tears stream down my face as my legs give out underneath me.

I fall face first into the mossy dirt. The forest floor pushes its way up my nose. The cuts and scrapes on my feet sting.

These are my final moments. Celeste. Miranda. My mother. Their faces flash through my mind. Though I don’t have breath for it, a long, loud primal scream of despair escapes my lips.

And suddenly, there is warmth as all the trees surrounding me burst into flame, banishing the shadows. I suck in a few desperate ragged breaths, squinting as my eyes adjust to the brightness.

The creatures that were herding me continue to let out whines and barks. I can just make out the edges of their giant silhouettes on the other side of the fiery pines. But they don’t draw nearer.

Either fourteen trees all underwent simultaneous spontaneous combustion, or the creatures have brought me where they wanted me. The trees crackle and burn, and smoke fills my nose. I’m too tired to cough, and I feel dizzy, sleep crawling back up through my subconscious to drag me under into an eternal rest.

Somewhere in the distance I hear painful whines and keeling. Yips and roars and snaps. Trees fall over all around me, from the fire, from other damage—I’m not sure.

The darkness comes first, then the silence. The flaming trees extinguish almost as quickly as they had lit. Smoke lifts from the ground, and my lungs fill with blessed cool air. The forest is silent for half a second: no more growling. Soft thudding gets louder and closer to me, and then there are warm hands turning me over.

“Kate! Kate, can you hear me?” Matthew’s panicked voice fills my ears. His face is close to mine as I am pulled off the forest floor and into his arms. The relief that fills my body is the sweetest, most intoxicating high. A hand caresses my head, my cheek. He repeats himself. “Can you hear me?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Tears fall from them, but no sob escapes from my ruined throat.

He cradles me to his chest.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe. I won’t let him take you from me,” he whispers.

His warm hands push strands of sticky hair away from my face. I cling to him, leaning my head against the crook of his neck. For a long while I’m convinced that he’s rocking me on the forest floor, like a child. But when I manage to open my eyes for a short moment, I see the ground moving beneath us. He’s carrying me out of the woods.

“What—” I try to speak, but my voice comes out as the smallest rasp. Matthew shushes me.

“Don’t talk. Rest. I’ve got you,” he says, his voice lulling me to sleep.