Hunting Human (14 page)

“Yes.”

Sisters.

“I’m sorry. I understand she died a few years ago.”

Beth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the sincerity in his voice. “Yes.” She wasn’t even sure if the word had left her lips, but he must have heard her because he reached across the space between them and gently squeezed her hands.

“We need to know what happened, Elizabeth. We have our suspicions, but we don’t have the details.”

“I can’t.” She didn’t think she’d survive if she had to tell the story. She hadn’t spoken of it to anyone since those first few weeks in the hospital. She’d put it away, ignored it for so long…

“I can’t.” Her voice cracked and shame colored her cheeks. She felt the sting of tears and clenched her eyes furiously against them.

“Alright. Why don’t I fill you in on what we know? You can correct any details we’ve gotten wrong.”

Beth nodded and focused on the carpet between her feet as his voice filled the room with everything she didn’t want to think about.

“We know you graduated from Boston University,
cum laude,
with a degree in architecture.” He paused and squeezed her hand again. “Well done, by the way.”

Beth nodded. It seemed a lifetime ago.

“Shortly after graduation, you and Rachel went abroad. Backpacking through Europe?”

“Yeah.” The word was thick across her tongue, as though her entire mouth was swelling so she wouldn’t have to speak of it.

“Now here’s where we start to speculate. We know you were in Europe for a few weeks, but came home early.” He paused, curling his fingers around hers. It shocked her to realize he’d never let go. “We know Rachel died.” Her fingers flexed involuntarily in his hand.

Beth forced open her eyes as Rachel’s lifeless brown gaze swam to the forefront of her mind.

“How did Rachel die, Beth?” His voice was soft and kind. The question sliced through her heart like a blade.

A tear burned down the side of her cheek as she shook her head against the question.

“Who did you meet in Europe?”

Beth violently pulled her hand from his. “I can’t do this. It doesn’t matter.” She was vaguely aware of Braden up and moving on the periphery of her vision, but quickly shut him out again. It was better when she forgot he was there at all.

“It matters.” Strong hands gripped her elbows and held her in place on the edge of the bed. “Markko tracked you here. He wants something from you. We need to know what. Was Markko the one you met in Europe? Did he kill Rachel?” He was quiet for a long time, then asked in a low voice, “Did he bite you?”

“No.” Beth pulled out of his grasp.

“He’s not going to go away.” Braden’s voice, rough with something she didn’t recognize, cut through her. “We can help you.”

Beth felt the bed dip next to her, but refused to look at Braden. She shifted toward the headboard, keeping as much distance between them as possible.

“Braden’s right. If Markko’s here for you, he won’t give up. And you can’t run forever. Let us help you.”

Hedged between a wall and two men she didn’t trust, Beth turned her options over in her head as fast as she could. A part of her desperately wanted to believe that, despite everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours Braden wanted to help her. Confusion pressed heavily against her mind. Nothing had gone as she’d anticipated since she’d been shoved in the trunk of his car. They hadn’t hurt her. And she wasn’t dead.

Small blessings, right?

But Braden, and she suspected much of his family, were werewolves. Every instinct she had told her not to trust them. To fear them.

Beth struggled with what to do. She couldn’t force herself to trust them. Not completely. But she wasn’t stupid, either. Markko had brought this nightmare to her doorstep, literally. She couldn’t handle this on her own. Not anymore.

“Markko didn’t bite me.” She sucked in a breath, bracing herself for the words to come. “But he was there.”

Two Years Ago…

“Alright. That’s it.” Rachel slumped to the ground on a heavy sigh. “My feet refuse to carry me another inch.”

Liz backtracked to Rachel’s side, scanning the horizon, trying to determine how much daylight remained.

“I swear to God, if I never see another forest again, it’ll be too soon.”

Liz smiled and sat next to Rachel. “And here I was thinking we could trek through Yosemite next year.”

“Not on your life.” Rachel pulled her shoes off and massaged the balls of her feet. “Can we rest a while?” Rachel asked, as though dreading Liz’s answer.

“Yeah. A breather sounds good.” As far as Liz could tell, they’d covered a lot of ground. They’d taken Allison’s advice and followed the water downstream, walking in the clear space between the tree line and the water’s edge. A few hours back, the stream had widened, picked up momentum and turned into a narrow river.

As the water had continued to widen, the embankment grew steeper and more slippery with every twist and turn, forcing them to slow down and pay attention to their footing. Rachel had been losing steam for nearly twenty minutes when she’d slipped and gone down hard, catching her weight on her wrist. Tears instead of cursing followed. Liz had carefully examined her wrist, lightly sprained at the most, then tried to haul her to her feet. Rachel had refused.

The shouting match that followed was the worst Liz could ever remember having with Rachel. She’d tried the tactic Allison had suggested and brutally detailed what was hunting them and what waited for them if they stopped moving. Resignation had settled heavily over the fear on Rachel’s face. When Liz threatened to leave her, Rachel had closed her eyes and called her a liar.

Walking away was one of the hardest things Liz had ever done. Second only to the words she’d spoken before she left.

“I love you. And I’d do just about anything for you. But I will not… I will NOT sit here and wait for them to catch up with us. It’s not in me, to sit here, waiting for death. I won’t die a sniveling coward. Not even for you.”

“Screw you.” The answer was so defeated it galvanized Liz into walking away, tossing words like knives over her shoulder.

“If you could ask that of me, expect that of me… then you aren’t the sister of my heart. She loved me too much.”

Liz had walked away, tears of hurt and sorrow burning at her eyes, Rachel’s stunned silence following her. But she’d forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she was around a bend in the river and out of sight. She’d cried, harsh wracking sobs and wondered if she could leave Rachel to die. She’d never had to make the decision. Less than ten minutes later, Rachel walked up next to her, and said in a watery voice, “Let’s go.”

Conversation between them had been sparse and uncomfortable for the next couple of hours. Liz tried to keep the river in sight, but eventually the embankment grew too steep, forcing them into the tree line. Every now and then, she’d catch a glimpse of the sun off the water, or hear rapids through the trees. She wished she had an idea of how far they’d gone.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get home?”

The sudden question broke the silence around them. “What?”

“You know, the moment we find civilization, what are you going to do first?” Rachel kept her eyes closed and her cheek resting against her knees.

“I don’t know…take a shower?”

One brown eye opened and regarded her with disdain. “Boring.”

“I suppose you have a better answer?”

Rachel’s eye closed and she gave a breathy sigh. “Right now I’m torn between getting a massage and pedicure or eating the biggest double cheeseburger I can find. With a chocolate shake. And fries. Chili-cheese fries. Yeah. Definitely chili-cheese fries.” She licked her lips. “Or maybe a steak, with a huge baked potato. Loaded. Mountains of sour cream. Or…”

Liz shoved her over, forcing Rachel to uncurl from her sleepy position. “Shut up.” She laughed. “I’m hungry enough already.”

“Then come up with something better.”

So many things sounded good. A soft pillow and a warm bed. A hot shower. Calling home. “Depends on where we are. I don’t even know what country we’re in.”

“It’s a fantasy, Lizzy. Turn off practical and dream a little.” Rachel looked at her, humor dancing in her eyes. “Don’t you have any imagination at all?”

Liz tilted her head back and closed her eyes, searching for a response.

“Hmm, well, if we’re fantasizing…”

“Yes?”

“Guess I’ll hop the first flight, call Ethan Fischer.”

Liz rose as Rachel’s disbelieving giggles filled the air around them. “You and Ethan? Right.”

“What can I say, last time was great. He’s good with his hands.”

Rachel choked on her laughter. Liz gained her feet and resumed walking, wondering how long it would take Rachel to string words together.

“Last time?” Rachel squealed, falling in step in an instant. “Oh my God, how long has this been going on?”

Liz smiled and increased her pace. Only Rachel. Gossip motivated her where werewolves wouldn’t.

“How long, Lizzy? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“About as long as you’ve been giving me a hard time about it.” Liz smirked. “I don’t tell you
everything.
”

“I knew no one could study that much! I want all the details.” Rachel pressed, Liz’s personal life crowding out thoughts of fear or hunger.

***

The sun’s warm glow had kept the worst of the fear in the shadows, constantly on their heels but out of sight. Now that night blanketed the forest, the full moon lit their path, casting everything in shadows that lunged at them with talons of trees and branches. Liz pushed them harder and faster with every snapping twig and every swaying shadow.

The third time Rachel stumbled, she forced herself to stop.

“Need a break?” Liz leaned against the tree behind her, wondering if it would be better to try and climb a tree. Wait for daylight. The temperature continued to drop and they were both exhausted. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay on her feet, let alone keep Rachel on hers.

“Yeah.” Rachel slid down the trunk of a tree, groaning as she went.

A cool breeze picked up, rustling the trees and shrubs around them, and setting Liz’s teeth and nerves on edge. The wind caught a distant howl, carrying it across God only knew what distance, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Rachel’s wide brown eyes sought hers in the darkness.

“Should we get moving?”

“Are you up to it?”

Rachel heaved a sigh and pushed herself up. “If I have to be.” Exhaustion saturated Rachel’s movements. Even if she got up, she wasn’t going to go far.

“Nah. That was faint. The wind probably carried it several miles.” Liz rubbed her arms against the chill, hoping she was right.

Hopefully, a short break would reenergize them. Right now it took everything she had to stay focused on getting through the night. She didn’t know what she would do when the sun crested the trees, revealing miles more of forest. They could wander for days. Weeks.

Liz shut down that line of thought.

Focus on something tangible.

She sat down next to Rachel, leaning into her, sharing her warmth.

Focus on the morning. Go from there.

Rachel’s head hit her shoulder and Liz snapped her eyes open. She hadn’t even been aware she’d closed them. Stretching her stiff legs out in front of her, cold dread slid into her mind, forcing her completely awake. How long had she slept?

She glanced down at her watch. Twenty minutes or so.

Thank God it wasn’t longer.

“Rach, come on. We can’t sleep yet.”

Rachel’s eyes blinked open.

“Come on, we need to get moving again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.” Liz hoisted herself from the ground, groaning as aching muscles stretched and protested against the strain and cold. “Come on.” She extended a hand to Rachel and pulled her to her feet.

They walked in silence for a long time, moonlight streaming through the trees, lighting their path. As they crested the top of a steep hill, Rachel stopped and bent at the waist, panting heavily. Liz understood why, her legs burned and cramped, every step forward reminded her harshly of every step behind her.

“I’ve got to rest, Lizzy.” Rachel wheezed out. “I’m sorry. But I’ve got to take a break.”

“Okay.” Liz tried to get her bearings. She couldn’t see or hear the river anymore. They needed to find it again. Not only did she hope it would lead to civilization, but it kept them from walking around in circles.

“Alright, you take a break. I’m going to take a look at what’s up there,” Liz said, pointing up the incline that rose to their left. “Maybe I can figure out which way to go.”

“Okay.” Rachel didn’t move from where she leaned against a tree, her eyes closed and her face pale.

Liz gripped her elbow and shook her until she opened her eyes. “We’ll take a break, Rach. But don’t sit down and don’t fall asleep, okay?”

Rachel’s forehead furrowed and she shook her head.

“I know you’re tired. But if you sit down your muscles are going to get cold and cramp again.”

Rachel opened her eyes, but didn’t respond.

“I know it’s tempting to sit, but it’s only going to hurt more when we get moving again. Rest, but stay on your feet, okay?” Liz pressed.

Rachel closed her eyes again and leaned more heavily into the tree behind her.

“Rachel?” Liz squeezed her arm, unwilling to leave until she’d extracted a promise.

“Fine.”

Relieved, Liz stepped back. “I’m not going far.”

“Yeah, fine.”

“I won’t be long.”

Rachel didn’t respond but she stayed on her feet.

Good enough.

It took her the better part of fifteen minutes to crest the top; she’d had to use her hands to pull herself up the top third of the hill in places to keep from slipping.

She stretched, breathed out hard, and watched her breath fog and float away on the air. Below her moonlight glinted and shined like light reflected off hammered silver. The river flowed, fast and wide beneath her, less than a half-mile away. She followed its snaking mass, tracking its path until it faded into the dark horizon.

Just before the river passed beyond the range of her vision, two tiny spots of yellow, not unlike a predator’s night-eyes appeared, seeming to float above the water, slowly growing larger.

A car! A bridge, unidentifiable in the dark, connected the two river banks.

Relieved and excited, renewed energy surged through her. The terrain didn’t look too bad. If they pressed hard they could probably reach the bridge, and hopefully help, in an hour or so.

Galvanized, Liz turned and started the climb down, eager to finally be able to give Rachel more than hollow encouragements. As she began to navigate the steepest part of the terrain, Rachel’s scream pierced the air. Startled, Liz slipped. She snatched desperately for something to stop her, the plants and roots tearing up her palms before she snagged something.

She unclenched her fingers and carefully crawled down backwards, using her hands to grip vegetation and keep her balance. Heavy silence descended, pressing against her, forcing her adrenaline to surge, her breathing was thunderous to her own ears. Rachel wasn’t screaming. Nothing moved. Insects didn’t chirp. Bushes and trees ceased rustling. It was as though time stopped.

Screaming erupted again, closer this time, and Liz forced herself faster. The first scream had been terrified. This one was agonized. And it didn’t stop.

“Rachel!”

No answer. The screaming died again.

“Rachel!” Rachel’s screams terrified her. Her lack of response horrified her.

“Rachel, answer me.” Nothing. No crying. No yelling. Just heavy silence. Liz hit level ground, pushed to her feet and took the remaining slope as fast as she dared, gravity adding momentum. She hit flat terrain hard and stumbled, but forced her feet to hold her. She searched wildly for any sign of Rachel.

Hysteria pressed against her, adding frenzy to her actions. Why had she left Rachel alone? They’d sworn they’d stay together. Desperate, Liz called out again. “Rachel!”

“Lizzy…” Rachel answered, struggling with the final syllables as if speaking was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Liz spun toward the voice. Less than twenty feet away, Rachel struggled up from the forest floor. Her agonized expression conveyed her disbelief more effectively than any words she could have spoken. Blood painted the front of her sweater, flowing from a gaping wound across her collarbone. Her face stood out, an unnaturally white beacon in the middle of the forest. She trembled as she tried to stay on her feet.

Shock. She’s going into shock.

Rachel stumbled forward and crashed to her knees, jerking Liz into action. She sprung forward, Rachel’s name on the tip of her tongue even as a wolf, huge and snarling leaped against Rachel. The beast’s bulk dwarfed her, obscuring everything but the sight of jaws closing around her throat. “No!”

Liz rushed forward, searching the darkness and the forest floor for Rachel and the wolf. Stumbling, she went down hard. The knees of her jeans ripped against the brush and her hands collided with something soft and warm.

Rachel!

Liz curled her fingers into Rachel’s shoulder and flipped her onto her back.

Brown eyes, usually swimming with the emotion of the moment, stared sightlessly into her own. Liz choked on a sob as she let her eyes travel over the face of her best friend. She ran fingers along the side of her cheek, hoping for a response, anything at all. Her fingers slid through something warm. Blood. So much blood. Even as she gagged, Liz pressed her hands hard against the shredded mess that used to be Rachel’s neck.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as flesh slipped between her fingers.

“That won’t help.” Heavily accented English cut the air.

Liz sought the voice in the darkness, vaguely surprised she didn’t recognize it. Ivan. Markko’s younger brother stood, seemingly fascinated, a few feet away. He wiped a hand against his human face, smearing blood from his mouth across his cheek and against the back of his arm.