Chapter Two

"Why are you leaving? You just got here!" the demon yells after me, hot on my heels. The wood creaks under his quick, heavy footsteps. I'm so caught off guard by his sudden concern that I almost slip on a patch of ice on the porch.

Why? Why?! All he needs to do is open his eyes and he'll see why. Being catfished by a cabin is one thing, and being forced to pee in the woods in the dead of winter is another. Those I could tolerate. I wouldn't be happy, especially considering my cabin was not only supposed to have indoor plumbing, but a Japanese toilet that cleaned your butt for you.

Those setbacks I could live with. I have dealt with worse, but having to share a cabin with someone as rude as this demon? I don't care how lumberjacked his body is. All I wanted for Christmas was to be alone. It was the whole point of this stupid trip.

Nope. I can put up with a lot, but that is where I am drawing my line in the snow. I said I was going to be alone this Christmas, and by gods, I"m going to get it.

I don't bother explaining all that to the demon. He follows me all the way to the car.

"Why are you leaving?" he asks again.

I turn to glare at him, the new flurry of snow making his crimson skin brighter against the white background, and I just shrug. He'll understand, since he seems to prefer to communicate only through grunts and glares.

Without waiting for his response—I'm sure I earned a growl for my snarkiness—I round the car, pop open the trunk, and throw my suitcase inside. All I can do now is head down the mountain, call and demand a refund from the host, plus extra for the gas I spent to get up here, and pray some hotel has a cheap room open tonight. Which I doubt. Winter Bliss is quaint and charming but in an overpriced boutique hotel kind of way. I didn't notice any roadside motels on my way here.

I hear crunching snow right behind me as I put my key in and unlock my driver side door. When I turn around, I gasp. The demon's standing right behind me, crowding me against the car. I tip my head all the way back to meet his eyes. Crap, he's an intimidating mountain man compared to my barely five-foot-something frame.

The demon holds my gaze. His brows push together. He looks . . . nervous? Strange. He was anything but enthused about me staying earlier, but now he's concerned? Talk about emotional whiplash. What is going on here?

"Please," he says. "You can't leave."

All I can do is gape at him. Yup. I really need to get out of here. No offense to this demon, I'm sure he's fine, but it's never a good idea to stay in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with someone who's this emotionally unstable. I've seen The Shining. I know how a story like this ends.

"Step away from my car," I order. I'm proud of how authoritative I sound because right now, my core is shaking harder than the inside of a rogue snow globe rolling down a hill.

He huffs, but obeys, giving me enough space to open my door. I climb inside, and just before I'm about to slam it shut, he leans down to say, "I understand you don't want to share a cabin with a stranger, but it's not safe to leave right now. The sun is setting soon, and I heard the temperature is dropping tonight. That means more ice. It's already too dangerous to drive down Last Hour Ridge in the dark. At least wait until morning—"

"I have snow tires; I'll be fine," I insist, but it's a lie. I'm remembering the sheer cliff drop off I drove by only minutes ago. It was on the opposite side of the mountain on the way up, but going down? I'm a little worried. At the same time, I live in Idaho and white-knuckling icy roads is something I've been doing since I got my driver's permit at sixteen. I made it up the mountain no problem, I'm sure I'll have no problem driving down.

He seems desperate for me to stay, which is all the more reason to get the hell out of here. I slam the door in his face, shove my key in the ignition, and back out of the gravel parking spot.

The demon is now a red dot in my rearview mirror. He hasn't moved since I left. I should be weirded out that he's still watching me, but I can't help but feel a little sorry for him. I grew up with my dad telling me tall tales of mountain men around the campfire–Buckskin Billy, Three-Horned Ruxton, and Jim Fairie-Scary. I admired them like a child admires Batman or Superman.

But part of me always wondered if those men were lonely. The wilderness is a hard and unforgiving place. Don"t they have friends or family they miss? What about flushable toilets? What possesses a person to choose the wild over the comforts of home and modern convenience in general? I don't know the answer, but whatever it is, it has to be devastating.

I guess I can relate on a very, very small scale. I'm a rare extrovert. I love hanging out late with friends, and I feel energized after parties, but after I divorced Jeremy, I didn't even have the bandwidth to order from my barista. All I wanted to do was crawl into the nearest hole and disappear until next year.

I just needed a couple of days by myself, then I'd feel better. What makes someone want to spend their entire life alone? On top of a mountain? From the demon"s full beard and his tattered clothes, he's been up here for a while.

What happened to you? I wonder as I stare at him in the mirror. I quickly dismiss the question, ruing the fact I was born with an overenthusiastic conscience. I know it's not my problem, I shouldn't be worrying over this emotionally stunted jerk, but I'm too much of a bleeding heart for my own good. It's why it took me so long to leave Jeremy. He depended on me for everything: money, food, clean laundry, scheduled doctor's appointments, sex. He didn't bother setting his alarm in the mornings because he knew I'd wake him up. And I was happy to take care of him because I loved him, and I thought that's how marriage worked. It only took a decade for my emotional tank to run out.

I grip my steering wheel tighter, forcing myself to look away from the rearview mirror. Whatever brought that demon to the mountain can stay with him. It's none of my business.

As soon as the demon disappears from my rearview, the front of my car swerves to the left, slipping on a patch of ice.

"Shit!" I scream as I start cranking my steering wheel in the direction that my car is spinning. It's no use, though. My car fishtails off the side of the road into the snowy embankment below. Squeezing the steering wheel with all my might, I brace for impact and thank my lucky stars I'm still a ways off from the sheer cliff face.

The snow breaks the car's short fall into a ditch. I'm safe. My airbags didn't deploy, that"s a good sign, but my hands are trembling from the what-could-have-happened. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel to catch my breath. Thank the gods, this could have been a lot worse—

I hear the deep, thundering whumph before I see it coming. The sound penetrates my body, past muscles, tendons, and bones, all the way to my very core. Everything slows down and when I turn to look out the car window, my stomach turns into one giant knot as I see a building-high wave of snow barreling towards me down a peak at breakneck speed.

I've never seen an avalanche in real life before,I think absently as the roar turns louder. Is this how I die?

My body suddenly kicks into overdrive. I don"t want to die. What do I do? What do I do?! My heart hammers in my chest as I think. Stay in my car? Make a run for it?

You can't outrun an avalanche.The realization leaves me cold.

It's too late for me, anyway. The snowy tsunami draws closer. All I can do is sit and watch. The entire forest around me shudders. I don't have time to scream before the snow surrounds me, burying my car until all I can see is white, then—

Only darkness.

It takes a few minutes before the shock wears off, and I can take in a full breath of air.

Oh fuck. Oh fuckity-fuck! I close my eyes, swallowing the panic that threatens to take over and turn me into a sobbing, quivering mess. I know I need to stay calm and focus, but I'm so fucking scared right now. That's the only way I'm going to manage to find my way out of here—

"Holly!" A deep, muffled voice calls my name. It sounds so far away, like it's calling from another world. I shake my head. I figure it's my mind playing tricks on me until I start to hear scraping.

"I'm in here! Oh Gods! Please help!" I sob when I realize I'm not alone. Someone is here to save me. It feels like an eternity before nails scrape against my side window, creating a tunnel. I force down my window, and a pair of strong hands grip my shoulder, yanking me hard through the tunnel. Ice scratches my face as I'm pulled through. I keep my eyes closed, and it feels like an eternity before I reach fresh air.

I collapse into the snow. "Oh thank the gods. I'm alive," I sob into the ground.

I feel those strong hands on me again, and when I look over my shoulder, I see the demon. He's kneeling next to me with a concerned look on his face. His mouth is moving, he's saying words, but the ringing in my ears is too loud. His hand moves around from my back, up my shoulder, his fingers prod the back of my neck, until he's gripping my face. He stares deeply into my eyes as if looking for a lost contact.

His warm breath tickles my face, and I know I should be creeped out, but I don't feel that way. Maybe it's the shock. Maybe it's the fact he just saved my life? I don't know. I can't look away. I gaze into his dark eyes, and I can make out his deep amber pupils. The color reminds me of the bugs stuck in resin I've seen at the souvenir shops in museums. It's beautiful and fascinating at the same time.

I search his face. His hair and beard are still too busy to make out the lines of his jaw, but I do catch a glimpse of a thick, bumpy scar across his forehead, ending just above his eye.

For the first time since arriving, I'm grateful I'm not alone.