Halfway Dead (13 page)

Dietrich snorted, stifling a laugh. “Every time you open your mouth, my world gets a little bigger. I had no idea.”

“Believe me, that’s how most of the supernatural world wants it. Lycanthropes are no different. Mostly.” I looked up at the growing stars. The Milky Way was a luminous belt pulsing overhead; it dared me to look away. We were a short distance from town, but it could have been anywhere in the deepest recesses of the park. A fox cried out in the distance, the jarring shriek dying away into the cool of night. The forest was still vibrantly alive, even though I could feel tiredness pulling at my eyelids. The day’s walk had been long, uphill, and intermittently hot.

“Let’s turn in. You’re sure about the wardstone?” Jim looked around suspiciously. His world was being turned inside out one magical fact at a time. All in all, I thought he was adjusting rather well. We both unrolled our sleeping bags and turned them toward the fire. It was a small, cozy camp, and even though the earth was hard, it was even.

I ran my fingers over my charm bracelet to reassure myself that our defenses were in place before slipping into my bag, boots off, and clothes on. Dietrich then climbed into his, granting me a wary smile as he closed his eyes and fell instantly asleep. There were only two kinds of people who could do that: new parents and soldiers. I made a note to quiz him a bit more about his employment history, and then I too fell asleep to the gentle hiss of our fire.

I opened my eyes to that first graying of dawn where the sky tricks you into thinking it isn’t changing. Dietrich’s sleeping bag was rolled up and the fire had been stoked. I thought I smelled coffee, but I wasn’t sure, which was odd since there was a cup less than two feet from my head, steaming in the pre-dawn chill. The wight must have
really
done a number on my sense of smell.

I pulled myself up with a modest groan to find Jim looking at me from a crouch, smiling, fully clothed, and disgustingly alert. He absolutely
had
to have been a career soldier, despite his supposed years as an investigator. “Ugh. Could you quit smiling, please? It’s offensive.”

His grin broadened. “Not as troubling as your hair. Did you fight an owl last night?”

I reached up to feel the springy locks of hair that had gone rogue. They were numerous, free of any pattern, and vaguely damp from the dew that settled on me in the night. I’d need a hat and some motor oil to slick them down; when my hair gets crazy, it becomes an alien life form that can threaten cities. Between humidity and sleeping, I can generate a nimbus of hair that makes me look like I’m one cowlick away from the loony bin. I didn’t waste time smoothing down the rebellion; instead, I merely slapped my hat on, took a long drink of scorching coffee, and began to reach for my boots.

Dietrich’s brows shot up in surprise. “My kind of camper. You’re army ready, Carlie.” He saluted me with his cup as I began to break our simple camp, then nature called and I mumbled as I stepped off into the woods.

And stopped dead. Before me were enormous paw prints at least an inch deep in the soft earth. They came from the forest, paused at the edge of our camp, and then vanished into some heavy cover that ran along the trail. The tracks were the size of dessert plates, and there were distinct claw marks ringing the edge of each imprint.

“Dietrich. Look.” My tone drew him to my side instantly, and he froze just as I had, his body tensing as his eyes snapped outward into the growing light of the day.

He knelt next to a print, spanning his hand across it. “That’s no bobcat.” He cocked his head, thinking, then took a picture of the print with his phone. “Just in case,” he explained. “I think I’d better stand watch you while you, ah . . .” he trailed off in embarrassment.

“If it’s just the same with you, I think I’ll go pee when I die,” I said drily.

Dietrich snorted, and we busied ourselves with clearing camp, one eye watching the trees at all times. There’s something chilling about an animal that big watching you sleep. Fingers of dread around my spine only began to loosen when we took our first steps away, Gran’s necklace lighting a path further into the depths of the park.

After an appropriately terrifying pee break, we spent the morning at a brisk pace, eating up the yards toward the next distinct peak. The tree cover was reaching a density I’d not seen before, lending the forest a brilliant depth that pushed civilization further from my mind with each soaring trunk. We snacked as we walked, breaking into that clean, hard sweat that is somewhere between liberation and punishment.

“Have you ever seen anything that could make tracks like those?” Dietrich asked. I knew which prints he was speaking of, though we’d been remarkably quiet, despite our companionable silence. The evidence of being watched was heavy on our minds.

I shook my head slowly. “A bear, yeah, but a cat? I’ve
heard
things, but never seen it myself.”

“Heard what?” He pounced at my pensive tone.

“About two years ago, there was a sighting. Some tourists said they saw a mountain lion about ten miles from here. I dismissed it, but then there was another sighting, and this time? It was a game warden. And then something else happened.”

“Another sighting, right?” he asked. His eyes were narrowed when I looked at him as we paused on a small rise. There were bees tracking across our path, and the ground cover was waist high and lush. This part of the park was no longer a park. This was wild.

“Mmm-hmm. And then another. Several more, some from locals up near Big Tupper Lake, a couple near Raquette. Every time, at night. Far from town,” I said. I’d never given the sightings a great deal of thought; growing up in the mountains means having nature foisted upon you whether you wish it or not. In the case of a large, stealthy cat, most people would opt for the latter.

“I’d say we have confirmation that
some
kind of big cat is here.” Jim sniffed thoughtfully. “I’ve seen bobcats, even a lynx, but that print was too large for them. I’m thinking that’s a cat over a 100 pounds. That narrows the field a bit.” He adjusted his step to let me keep up, and ran a hand over his neck. We were both in a heavy sweat now, and I waved for us to take a drink break.

We were tucking our canteens away when Jim kicked at a small stone, smiling oddly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Let’s get started, shall we?” His voice was flat and airless. When I stiffened, he said in a low tone, “We’re being followed.”

Taking his lead, I grinned cheerfully as we turned to surmount our next ridge, a moderate slope that terminated in a stone crotch between two small mounts to the northeast. “Where?” I asked quietly.

“Back on the last ridge. He’s still now, but he’ll start moving once we do.” Dietrich’s mouth barely moved as he spoke.

“How long have you known?” I asked him in a friendly murmur. I sensed that Dietrich wasn’t the type to sit on information unless he was uncertain. Our last stop gave us an excellent vantage point to examine the ridge. He must have seen the movement there among the broken light under the canopy.

“Not long. I sort of felt him first. He’s keeping his distance. I think we should just follow your necklace for now. We can deal with him before we make camp.” His voice was deceptively light and carefree. I suppressed a shudder and didn’t break stride. I thought of my wardstone and those tracks, and then I
did
twitch slightly.

We began to step downward in a serpentine series of curves that led us through two meadows and a small, wild profusion of sunflowers that covered a rocky outcropping, and then took our lunch break on a promontory that was bare of trees. The ground and debris told us that a lightning strike, probably last year, had cleared the oval space. Left behind were shards of heartwood from a tree that was only a stump, and the ground was stilly oddly charred here and there. It must have been a serious bolt to leave evidence from one season to the next. We studiously avoided looking around with too much interest; Jim buried his nose in an envelope of trail mix, while I shook out my socks and wiggled my toes in the ashen dirt.

“Still with us?” I asked him with a flick of my brows. I didn’t look up from my task.

“Not right now. This place isn’t optimal for observation, so I’d expect that he’ll pick us back up when we skirt that point to the left. Is that where we’re going?” He looked at my necklace expectantly, squinting in the peak sun of early afternoon.

I looked down into the depths and saw the dancing light pushed gently to the northwest. “That’s the way. It looks like we’re going to do some trail breaking in order to actually
get
to that pass, but I don’t see anything we can’t handle.” In truth, it looked fairly simple, once we got past the initial drudgery of what appeared to be a broad, lush meadow bottom that spilled up the small valley before us. I’d taken my first step when my eyes plucked something unusual at the limits of my vision. Before I could point out the odd shape hidden in a copse of trees, Jim froze, his head cocked and nose lifted to the light wind that spilled up the valley slope into the woods.

“Do you smell that?” he asked.

“I don’t smell anything. Not even me, which is probably a good thing. What is it?” I asked, watching him sniff the air like a ferret. Okay, a really tall ferret, but still, there was something comical about a tall guy poking his snoot up into the wind like he was tracking down a bakery.

“It’s woodsmoke,” he said, softly.

I focused on the squat shape that was cleverly disguised across the meadow, and pointed. “How much you wanna bet it’s coming from there?”

Jim peered from under a hand that shaded his eyes, and gave a single nod. “Your nose might be out of commission, but your eyes are fantastic. That’s a cabin. Sort of.”

We both stood for a long minute, examining the low structure that seemed to sprout from the ground. Grass covered the roof, and there were trees curated around it as camouflage. It was incredibly well hidden.

“Stars and Sun, who could live out here?” I wondered aloud.

“I do,” said a male voice from behind us, and we whirled to land, fists raised and in a state of utter shock. The man was less than ten feet from us, leaning insouciantly against a tree with a half-grin on his face that told me exactly what he thought of our survival skills. He was young, taller than Dietrich, and had long blonde hair in a complex braid that ran nearly to his waist. His eyes were midnight black, and he had the broad cheekbones of a Scandinavian, but the coloring of a Mohawk warrior. He was shirtless, wore doeskin pants with no shoes, and carried no weapons, save a small bone knife that hung from a leather thong at his waist. Around his neck hung a strand of water grasses, and at the middle, an enormous bear claw danced on his chest muscles as he moved.

Jim moved like quicksilver and his pistol was in hand, held calmly before him. “Just in case. You understand, friend.” His voice was calm, even though I could hear my own heart thudding in my ears like a triphammer. A bead of sweat pooled on the end of my nose, but I calmed when I took my charm bracelet between two fingers and felt the growing power of a fire spell resting at the back of my tongue. Whoever this ghost of a man might be, he was
not
going to find me an easy mark, no matter how quietly he could walk in the forest.

There was a shadow, then a cold breeze, and Jim looked to see his hand now empty, the man once again leaning in a careless, infuriating manner against the exact same tree. I hadn’t even seen him move. He dropped Jim’s pistol into the leaf litter with a smirk.

“You understand,
friend
.” The stranger left no doubt that we were most certainly not friends, at least not yet. His black eyes turned to me, taking me in with that sort of concentration that would make most people feel like a butterfly on a pin. I stared back, level and calm. At least on the outside. “As I mentioned, the cabin is mine, and if you’re this far into the woods, Carlie, then there can only be one reason.”

I closed my mouth to keep from looking foolish. I mean, more foolish. “Okayyy . . . I’ll bite. How do you know me?”

He laughed with complete abandon, and I brought my hand up instinctively, ready to cut loose a bolt of pure light, when I saw his mouth, and the tidy white fangs that peeked from beneath his upper lip.

He was no man. He was a vampire.