22. Avery

The blood-red pinpricks of tail lights vanished behind a bend in the road, and Mac wilted against the porch, letting out a long, sustained sigh.

“What a sanctimonious bunch of—”

“Assholes,” Avery stated, earning a wry grin from Mac. “You’re not really thinking of working with them to find investors, are you?”

“No?” She cocked her head, brows screwed together. “Maybe?” She heaved off the porch rail and collapsed into a rocking chair, legs stretched out, her heels driving into the planks. “I want to expand, bring in a choir program, performing arts, the works, but we’re barely operating in the black as it is. The pianos need tuning, the concert hall needs new lights, the field is full of holes, half the bleachers collapsed in that storm, we only have two functional bullhorns,” she counted off on her fingers, frowned at all five, and dropped her hand with a slap against her thigh. “Cooky says we need a new walk-in, and the nurse’s office needs a new roof. We need the money.”

Avery propped her elbows on the railing, scanning the woods at the edge of the parking lot. A narrow gap in the trees, barely visible from their singular streetlamp, marked the start of a trail that serpentined behind the camp, connecting to the broader trail systems she and the campers frequently used and, eventually, to the Monongahela National Forest system.

“How much land does the camp own?” She tipped her head at the trees. “Could we sell any to fund repairs?”

“Nope.” The rocking chair creaked as Mac pushed her feet against the porch. “Elkwater owns the land outright. I tried to portion some of it off a few years ago to open an RV campground, but the National Park Service requires us to keep a perimeter of undeveloped woodland. Something about noise control.”

A howl rippled over the ridgelines, punctuating Mac’s words. Avery frowned in the direction of the sound. It came from far beyond the camp, but the mournful, haunting note was as clear as if it had been sung directly in her ear. Floorboards creaked at her back, and Mac stepped beside her.

“I’ll go check the field,” she said, eyes trained on the trees. “You good to do a cabin sweep?” Avery nodded and started down the stairs, halting as Mac brushed her shoulder. “Cabins, and then straight to the practice room. Lock the doors behind you, alright? And if you hear or see anything, you run straight back here.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, Avery. If you hear any sound or see any hint of anything suspicious, you’ll come back here. There’s a rifle in the closet in my room; the locker code is the last four digits of the camp phone. Shells are on the top shelf. Do you know how to fire a gun?”

Her stomach dropped, her tongue going dry at the implication of what Mac thought might be in the woods. She hadn’t told her about that moment in the kitchen with Troy; she hadn’t been able to find the words. How did you explain to your boss that a businessman trapped you in a kitchen and smelled you?

Still, she managed one tight dip of her chin. “I do.”

“Be quick.” Mac nodded, mouth a tight line. She squeezed Avery’s shoulder and released. Avery rushed down the stairs and was halfway to the main trail leading through the camp when Mac called out, “Hey, Avery?” The director descended the stairs, the tight strain to her expression softening. “About you and Cricket …”

“I’m sorry,” said Avery. A flush heated her neck and cheeks, and she ducked her head. “I know it’s probably inapprop—”

“No!” Mac blurted. “No sorries. I just—I know I said you should give the inhumans a chance, get to know them a little, and while I didn’t quite mean that in the biblical sense, I’m proud of you.” Avery raised her head, struck dumb by the admission and the praise. “I know a lot of this is new to you, the camp and … and Cricket, but if it ever feels overwhelming, or you have questions about the faun or need an ear, I’m here. Alright?”

“Alright.” She toed the dirt, barely able to bring her voice above a whisper. Something new fluttered in her chest at Mac’s offer. At her acceptance. Something new and lovely and fragile that she was too afraid to share, so she held it close and safe and said, “Thank you.”

“The faun are special,” Mac continued—her voice light and wistful. “Ramble is very protective of their family, but they’ll come around. Once they see how good you and Cricket are for each other, they’ll come around.”

Avery opened her mouth to respond, but only the tiniest little squeak came out.

“It’s pretty obvious.” Mac waved her hand, dismissing the sound. “I’ve met that cranky little deer a few times but never seen her smile the way she smiles at you.” Avery’s cheeks flushed hotter, and Mac took pity, jerking her chin at the camp, a smile in her voice. “Go on, make sure all the campers are in their bunks and get to yours.”

“Yes, Director Murray.”

“Avery,” she warned, and at that, Avery could only smile.

“You got it, Mac.”

The howls continued, puncturing the night from a distance in a baleful melody. It was enough to have the campers rushing into their bunks. The memory of Avery and Sanoya’s cabin, of the terrible destruction, was fresh enough in the collective camp mind that not even the full moon could entice campers to wander unchaperoned.

Avery hustled along the meandering center trail, forgoing the shortcuts behind the buildings to stick to the dimly lit path. A handful of campfires burned, the logs and stumps surrounding them abandoned. Aksel wove between the cabins, his broad-shouldered figure lending a sense of security to the campers, and counselors observed the flames from the front porches of their cabins, whispering among themselves and waving at Avery as she walked by. In the distance, hair glowing in the moonlight, Sanoya swept the perimeter of the marching band field, followed closely by a large shadow darting from bleachers to trees to trashcans.

All was well, the campgrounds secure, the campers safe.

Still, she couldn’t shake the memory of Troy’s leering smile and the cloying musk of his cologne. The sticky heat of his breath when he’d exhaled against her neck, almost as if he savored the scent of her. What had he said?

Need a little refresher.

A gag and a full body shiver had her hustling to the practice rooms, hand shaking as she fitted the key into the lock, shouldering the humidity-swollen door open and shoving it closed. She slammed the deadbolt into place, jiggling the knob to be absolutely certain the door was locked, the building secure, and only then did she exhale and drop her forehead against the window in the door.

Sleep was going to be a long time in coming, that was for sure. At least she had her favorite practice room and the only properly tuned piano in the camp to keep her mind occupied. Already, she could feel the music surging into her hands. Something in four-four time. A driving composition. Rossini? No, Khachaturian. Sabre Dance. The frenetic chords and arpeggios would burn through her energy, leaving Avery panting and sweating at the end of the movement, clearing her mind so she could think.

She was fairly certain Troy was behind the attack on her cabin, and she believed Cricket when she said the papers had smelled like him; she just couldn’t figure out how.

There were a few shifters at the camp—Aksel, for one. He was wolven, and he could have caused the destruction they saw in her cabin, so it was possible they were dealing with another of his kind. But when he shifted, he shifted into a wolf. Not a bipedal monster that smelled of stale cologne.

So whatever Troy was, he wasn’t any sort of shifter Avery had met before. Granted, that list was very small and entirely made up of the shifters in the camp, but when she took Sanoya’s comments about the whatsitcalled into account, Avery knew in her gut that Troy was something else.

But what.

With her head full of thoughts, she walked the length of the hall, idly checking the doors to the practice rooms and finding each one locked. Moonlight filtered in through the window in the door, illuminating the hall just enough for Avery to peer through darkened windows, each room empty, as they should be.

All the campers and counselors were safe in their cabins and bunks; the howls had only grown distant as the night deepened, and soon, Avery would be too tired to think. She would play until her fingers ached and fall into her makeshift bunk to sleep off this endless day. Tomorrow, Ramble would come home, and maybe they would bring Cricket, and they could—

Avery stopped in front of the door to her favorite practice room, the only one without a window facing the hall. A faint light glowed through the crack at the base, which wasn’t unusual. She hated entering a dark room and had gotten in the habit of leaving a lamp on years before. But her lamp glowed a soft yellow, not the cold blue of moonlight.

She stepped back, a hand pressed to her mouth, as she assessed the door. The only sound in the hall was her tight, panicked breathing, and the only light came from the window at the entrance and under her door. The practice rooms were empty and locked. Everything was fine; she was fine.

Been a long day, is all—a long day after a series of long days.

She just needed to go to bed. Needed to play out her nerves and her thoughts and get some sleep.

“Stop being a paranoid dummy,” she muttered, “and go to bed.” Rolling her shoulders and lifting her chin, she grabbed the knob, twisted it, and shoved the door open.

Moonlight streamed through the window set into the rear wall, casting her room in a ghostly pallor. Her makeshift bed, a twin mattress on a cot Sanoya had wrangled from storage, filled the far wall. An overturned crate beneath the window acted as a bedside table, and at the foot of the bed was the upright piano she favored. Curtains wafted in a slight breeze coming in through the window, tickling Avery’s nose with the faint scent of lavender and wintergreen. She pressed her mouth into her shoulder, stifling a gag, only to have her stomach turn at the lingering stench of Troy’s cologne on her shirt.

“You’re being stupid,” she said to the room. “You forgot to turn on the lamp, that’s all.”

Avery shook out her hands and strode into the room. Glass crunched beneath her sneaker. She froze, squinting in the low light, and just barely able to make out the shape of her lamp on the floor in front of the crate. She crouched and picked it up, examining the broken bulb. Her gaze tracked upwards, snagging on the window and the wafting curtains. Every hair on her arms rose, unease breathing warm and sticky across the back of her neck.

“You left the window open,” Avery told herself, praying silently that it was true, that she was right, that she’d only left the window open. “You left it open, and a breeze knocked over the lamp. E-easy peasy.”

“Too easy,” Troy rumbled.

Avery lurched to her feet, spinning around and swinging the lamp. Glass tinkled as the broken bulb collided with an overly muscled shoulder. She wrenched it free, using her momentum to swing again, this time higher. He caught the body, wrestling it out of Avery’s grip. Her shoulder screamed in pain, she screamed in pain, and Troy laughed. He tossed the lamp aside, moving his bulk between Avery and the door.

“I thought you’d give me another chase, Elizabeth.” His voice was still slick and smooth, but there was a snarl to the words, a bestial roughness as though he’d been shouting for hours and was now trying to speak. “This is much better. They’ll find your corpse, bloody and mangled, in the one place Mac Murray promises human children will be safe from us.”

He advanced, crowding Avery into the tiny space. Moonlight danced over swells of muscle, allowing her glimpses of his hulking form: a bulging thigh, knobby, hairy fingers that sharpened to claws, and scraps of cloth hanging from his shoulders and torso.

“What are you?” she breathed, unable to make sense of what she was seeing. A tremble built in her limbs, and bile rose in her throat.

“What do you think, little girl?” He stepped fully into the moonlight, giving Avery just a second to take in the long snout, with lips curled back to reveal terrifying fangs. Bone stretched over the length of his snout and brow, his face a wretched skull with keen yellow eyes burning in the low light. “Inhuman.”

Troy lunged, teeth snapping. She jumped back onto the camping cot, arms thrown out, and pressed her back against the wall. Fangs closed over empty air where she’d been standing, and Troy straightened. His nose twitched as he breathed deeply, exhaling with a lusty sigh. “Your fear smells delicious, little girl.”

“Stay back!” She swept an arm through the air.

“Or what?” Troy laughed, advancing. “Where’s your little faun, Elizabeth? Where is your pet inhuman to keep you safe?” He cocked his head, feigning listening. “That’s right, she isn’t here. It’s just you”—he set one paw-like foot on the edge of the cot. The frame groaned beneath his weight, and Avery whimpered—“and me and the moonlight.”

Metal creaked, Troy launched himself at Avery, and she jumped to the side. The wall gave way to nothing, and she barely had the time to process Troy’s pained yip as she collided with the ground outside. The window rattled in its frame, wood cracked. Avery scrabbled onto her hands and knees, feet catching in her skirt as she tried to stand. Cursing under her breath, she gripped the fabric in both hands and lurched to her feet.

Howls shattered the night, pushing Avery’s frantic pace. She followed the trail for a few yards, darting into the woods and onto another trail and another, leading Troy as far from the camp as she could. Branches scraped her arms, thorns shredded her skirt, but she ran. Ignoring the shouts rising from the camp, barely audible through her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Another howl rent the night, this one closer—far too close. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming and pressed her speed.

On the trail ahead, a fallen tree blocked the path. Vaguely, Avery was aware of where she was—that this was the tree that had fallen in the storm. The tree on the trail where she’d first met Cricket, who had been chased to the camp by a monster.

By Troy.

But the only clear thought in her mind was the memory of a splintered hollow cloaked in shadow and shrouded in the scent of decaying oak. She scrambled over the trunk, slipping down the other side. Splinters and bark flayed her palms, and another howl had her scuttling into the hollowed trunk, hugging her knees and biting her arm. Listening for any footstep, any hint of where Troy was, how far away he was.

Where is he?She rocked in place, too afraid to close her eyes. Where is he where is he where is he?