The Better to Bite

by Cynthia Eden

  Join the club, buddy. I’d seen that look on my dad’s face plenty of times.

  Then Rafe was gone. Folks started talking again, and I ate my now-cold food.

  “OhmyGod!” Came Jenny’s high-pitched whisper once more. Seriously, that was just weird. I wondered if she practiced that particular sound at home. “You know Rafe Channing?”

  “Not well.” I stopped being lady-like and dug into my food. I was freaking hungry today, and my arm was throbbing again. Great.

  “He is so…oh, wow.”

  He was. But the guy knew it—I’d seen that much in his cocky half-grin.

  “He’s…he’s kind of…bad, though,” Jenny continued, her voice soft but no longer that strange whisper-shriek.

  I glanced up at her.

  She leaned across the table like she was about to tell me a very big secret. Maybe she was. “Rafe has been in juvie a few times.”

  Bad boys. I happened to have one big weakness. Them.

  Maybe it was because my dad was the sheriff. I’m sure a shrink would say I was acting out, trying to rebel, but, the truth was, I just liked boys with an edge.

  No, I had liked them that way. I was turning over a new leaf now.

  “I’m not interested in him,” I said and knew I was lying. It was the first day—I shouldn’t be interested in anyone this soon.

  Right?

  But when the bell rang, and I headed for my next class—history, someone save me—I found myself looking for Rafe.

  And I found him, huddled in the corner and talking real close with Valerie.

  Figured.

  Not interested.

  At least, that’s what I was determined to keep telling myself.

  ***

  The strange, little shop caught my eye. I’d done my bit at school, made it through the day by only pissing off one jock—score for me!—and I was doing my good girl routine and heading to the sheriff’s station for my after school care.

  Then I saw the shop.

  Small, tiny really, with glass windows and a tilted sign near the entrance that just said, “Charmed.”

  I squinted, but I couldn’t see inside the shop. All I saw was my reflection. Pale skin. Red hair.

  Me.

  I walked closer, feeling almost like I was being pulled into the shop. A little bell jingled overhead when I slowly opened the door.

  The scent hit me first. Incense. Not a bad smell, but rather one that tickled my nose. My gaze scanned the shop. Shelves of books. Small glass jars, all carefully labeled. Gargoyles watched me from the corners of the room. Candles lined one wall, all shapes and colors.

  My breath eased out. A spell shop. Did Dad know this place was here?

  “Can I help you?”

  I jumped because I hadn’t even heard the lady approach. She was tiny, with stooped shoulders and weathered, brown skin. Her dark eyes were coal black, and her smile was big and warm. “Is there something you need, child?”

  Child? Not quite. “I was just looking.” I offered her a tentative smile back. “What kind of shop is this?” I asked even though I already knew. I actually knew far too much about places like this.

  “Why ask when you know.” She was still smiling but her gaze had taken on an assessing quality. Then she came closer, definitely invaded my personal space, and she caught my arm.

  Her touch was cold. Like, ice cold, and a shiver worked over me as her fingers clamped around my wrist. “Dark,” she whispered.

  Coming into the shop had been such a bad move. Now I had to deal with this weird lady.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” She asked me as she closed her eyes.

  “Um, no.” I only felt her increasingly claw-like grip.

  “The dark is all around you, always has been, and it’s closing in.”

  Was this her sales pitch? Seriously? Scare tactics to make folks do what? Buy some candles for protection? I tried to yank my arm back, but she wasn’t budging.

  I inhaled a deep breath and pulled more incense into my lungs. “I’m not afraid of the dark.” Even though I knew just what could wait in the shadows. Monsters.

  Not vampires or demons like you saw in horror movies.

  Humans were the real monsters. My dad had taught me that. My mom had learned that lesson, too.

  It had been the last lesson she’d ever learned.

  Her eyes opened and they seemed, if possible, even blacker than before. “Soon enough, you will be afraid of the darkness, child. You will fear what waits for you.”

  Okay. She was more than a little creepy.

  The bell jingled again, and she glanced over my shoulder. I snatched my arm free—hard—and jumped back a step as I whirled to see who’d come to my rescue.

  A girl stood there. My age. Light cocoa skin, bright green eyes, and with hair that tangled around her shoulders in loose curls. That green stare widened when she saw me, then it narrowed when she focused on the woman behind me.

  “Gran…” She began and there was no whisper of the South in her voice. None at all. “Are you trying to scare another customer out the door?”

  I’d seen the girl at school. She’d been in my English Lit class. Not the real talkative sort. But then, I wasn’t either.

  Footsteps shuffled behind me. I looked back. “Gran” was heading toward the long curtains that waited just beyond the cash register.

  “Sorry,” the girl muttered as she came to my side. “She didn’t mean to…” A long sigh. “Whatever she did, she didn’t mean it.”

  “Forget it.” I was more than ready to get out of that place. The incense didn’t smell so good anymore. “I’ve got to—”

  “I’m Cassidy Adams.”

  “I’m—”

  “I know who you are.”

  Right.

  “You—you helped my cousin today.” Her jaw shifted a bit, then she muttered, “Thank you.”

  I didn’t remember being a helper. I remembered just minding my own business, trying not to do anything too weird and—

  “James Colter?” she prompted. “A beanstalk with no sense?” She rubbed her neck. “He said you helped him find his class today.”

  Oh, right. “No big deal.” I brushed by her. I needed to get out of there. Gran had me creeped out. It’s closing in.

  But Cassidy moved and blocked my path. “You helped him, so now I’m gonna help you.”

  Wasn’t that sweet. Not really. Because her words had sounded more like a threat.

  Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip. “I saw you talking to Rafe today.”

  Apparently everyone who’d been outside at lunch had seen that little chat. What had been up with that? An all-eyes-on-me game?

  “You need to stay away from him,” Cassidy told me. “He’s dangerous.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Seriously?” I shook my head. “Thanks, but I think I’m alright without the warning.” First Jenny, now her. It was almost embarrassing. I was the sheriff’s daughter. I could handle a guy with a bit of a bad boy reputation.

  “No, you’re not.” Then she moved back. “Just remember, whatever happens, I did try to help you.”

  And I thought I was the weird one. “Right. I’ll remember that tip.”

  I pushed open the door, ignored the jingle, and hurried toward the Sherriff’s office.

  Two blocks later, I was there. I shoved open the front door and hurried inside. A lady waited behind the counter, a sweet-little-old lady type who smiled at me. I’d met her once before. Her name was Shirley Sims. Sweet Shirley. “Hon,” she said, and South Carolina rolled hard in that word, “your dad’s on a call. Give him just a minute.”

  Right. I dropped my bag in the nearest chair and let my gaze sweep around the office. Shirley had come out to meet us at our house, a welcome wagon with some home-cooked fried chicken. This was actually my first time in the sheriff’s station and—

  My eyes locked on the bulletin board on the far right. The board that was filled with pictures of folks with giant MISSING let
ters above their names. I stalked closer to that board.

  I scanned the details on those pictures. “All these people…” I raised my voice so Shirley could hear me. There were supposed to be a few deputies in the office, but I didn’t see them. Just me and Shirley. “They all went missing from Haven?”

  Haven wasn’t that big. This was insane.

  Her chair squeaked as she pushed it back and came toward me.

  My eyes darted over the pictures. Jason Tanner, age 25—missing for three months. Susie Harper, age 31—missing for six months. Julia Hall, age 23—missing for two months.

  I counted the other flyers, because there were so many…All going back over the last six years. What the hell?

  Now the hairs on my arms were rising and images were floating into my head. Fast, too fast…

  Julia Hall…Jason Tanner…Susie Harper…

  “They’re hikers, tourists…” Shirley’s voice was sad. “People go into the mountains around here on their own all the time. Some of ‘em never make it out. They just get lost and can’t get back home.”

  A buzzing filled my ears. Lost. Julia Hall. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin.

  The skin wouldn’t be there now. She’d just be bones.

  Bones beneath a twisted, gnarled oak tree.

  “Sheriff Brantley searched for them all, but he couldn’t find a trace of them.”

  Susie Harper. Red hair. Green eyes. Water poured over the scraps of clothes…

  I stumbled back. My lips tried to form words, but I shook so badly, I couldn’t talk. Dad!

  “Such a shame,” Shirley continued, her voice dripping with sympathy. “For them all to get lost like that…”

  Nothing was ever lost. Not from me.

  My knees buckled.

  “Hon, hon, are you all right?”

  A skull gleamed in the sunlight. Leaves blew around its white—

  I fell and this time, no one was there to catch me. My head slammed into the hard tile.

  Chapter Three

  “You know where they are,” my dad said.

  We were at home, on the porch, and the sun was setting in the woods behind the house. The fading light looked like streaks of blood across the sky.

  I nodded. I had a huge goose egg on the back of my head, and despite the fact that I’d held an ice pack on the thing until my fingers were numb, it still ached.

  He exhaled. “I should’ve moved those damn pictures.” I could hear the anger in his voice.

  Because my dad knew how I was. Part of my “different” self. If I knew something was lost, it was like some kind of switch just flipped on inside me. Say “lost” and I instantly homed in on whatever was missing. Jewelry, mementoes…people.

  My back teeth clenched. “Three of them…I saw three bodies.” I would have seen more, I knew it—I could have seen them all. But I’d focused on those three the most and the images had come to me. If I’d learned the names of the others…

  I would have seen more bodies.

  No, not bodies. I hadn’t actually seen bodies. I cleared my throat. “Bones.”

  He swore. My dad hated finding the victims too late. I knew he didn’t just like to catch killers—though he’d sure made a splash doing that back in Chicago. He wanted to actually save people.

  He’d been too late to save them back home. He was too late to save these others now.

  “Julia Hall’s beneath an oak tree. Susie Harper’s in a stream, and Jason Tanner,” I couldn’t get the image of his skull out of my mind, “he’s up on a slope, under some tree with big, yellow leaves.” I couldn’t give my dad an exact location because it wasn’t like I had coordinates floating in my head. I wasn’t that good. But if I were out there, walking in the woods, I’d be pulled right to the body that I thought of. I’d be pulled until I’d found what—who—was lost.

  I knew what I had to do. I straightened my shoulders. Suck it up and do what has to be done. “Dad, tomorrow, we can—”

  “No!” His snapped denial was immediate.

  I pushed to my feet, tension tight in my body. “I can take you to them.” He knew I could. We couldn’t just leave the bones out there. Those people had families that were worried about them. Families that were probably hoping they’d be found, alive.

  Not going to happen.

  Dad turned toward me. He still had on his sheriff’s uniform. His eyes looked tired. When I’d woken up back at the station, fear had been in his green gaze. I hated it when he worried about me. Unfortunately, he seemed to worry all the time.

  More now since mom was gone.

  He exhaled on a frustrated sigh. “If you go out there, and you immediately turn up three bodies…” He began.

  I bit back my instant response of Not bodies, just bones.

  “Don’t you think,” he continued quietly, “that people will wonder how we found all three of ‘em so quickly?”

  Of course they’d wonder, but I forced myself to smile. “Nah. They’ll just think you’re a really awesome sheriff who solved three missing persons’ cases within a week of taking the new job.”

  He didn’t smile back at me. He’d taken credit for one of my “finds” once, and I’d seen the guilt eat at him.

  “Three is too many,” he told me, eyes intense. “Folks here aren’t stupid, they’ll start to wonder.”

  About me.

  “They’re dead, Anna.” Sadness darkened the words. “We can’t rush out into the woods and save them.”

  “No, but we can give their families the bodies.” Closure, yeah, I knew how important that was. A shrink had told me all about it once. Apparently, I didn’t get enough closure in my life.

  The shrink had been full of crap. So I’d first thought, anyway.

  I stared at those woods. So dark. It’s closing in. Why couldn’t I get that crazy lady’s words out of my head? “We can’t just leave them out there forever.” That just wasn’t right.

  Dad curled his hand over my shoulder. “We won’t. I’ll pull up some maps of the area. I’ll talk to the rangers who patrol out there. Based on what you told me, I’ll give them descriptions of the areas we’re most likely to find the missing hikers…we will find them, I promise you that.”

  Just not right now. Probably not even tomorrow. Not too fast. He didn’t want to make folks look at me and say, “Freak.”

  He turned me so that I faced him. “They’re already dead, Anna. Nothing can hurt them now.”

  I wished I could stop thinking about them.

  “I will find them,” he said again, and I knew he meant it. Dad always kept his word to me. Always.

  I nodded and tried not to glance back at the woods. If I went out there, I could find them…

  “No.”

  My gaze flew back to him because there had been real anger in his voice. Dad didn’t usually get angry with me.

  “I’m handling this.” Now there was steel in his words. “It’s my job, remember?”

  Right. He had the shiny star. I didn’t.

  “Try to get some sleep,” he told me, as his voice softened. “In the morning, everything will be better.”

  That’s what he always said.

  And I never called him a liar. After all, he was my dad.

  ***

  Sometimes you know you’re dreaming, but there’s nothing you can do to escape the dream, no matter how hard you try.

  You just can’t wake up.

  I knew I was dreaming. I mean, why else would I be walking barefoot through the woods? The darkness surrounded me even as stars glittered above me.

  I could hear crickets. Bugs. And…howls.

  Fear pumped through me, and I called out, but no one answered me.

  Then I saw the wolf. The same black wolf that had sliced me before. It stood on a fallen tree. Its jaws were open, showing its razor sharp teeth, and its glowing, yellow eyes were locked on me.

  I turned and ran. The wolf snarled and chased behind me. I screamed, but no one came to help me.

  No one
.

  I tripped and fell…fell into a pile of stark white bones. A skull stared back at me.

  The wolf sank its teeth into my leg. I twisted, shifting desperately around to try and fight the wolf.

  Its teeth dug deeper.

  “Rafe!” His was the name I screamed in my dream.

  Then he was there. Standing behind the wolf. Staring down at me.

  “Help me!” He couldn’t just stand there…

  Just a dream.

  But he shook his head. “I told you not to go back into the woods. Now it’s too late.” He turned away from me.

  I shoved against the wolf, but the beast snarled and came right at my throat.

  “No!”

  My yell broke from me as a whisper, but that small sound was finally enough to push back the nightmare. I woke up, soaked in sweat, with my heart racing far too fast.

  My arm throbbed. I turned on my lamp with trembling fingers, and I yanked away the bandage that covered the claw marks.

  No more blood. Just raised, angry red flesh.

  In my mind, I could still see the wolf’s eyes.

  I didn’t go back to sleep for a very, very long time.

  ***

  When I went down for breakfast the next morning, I had a present waiting on me. I stared at the small, black tube on my plate, and then glanced at my dad. “Gee, you shouldn’t have.”

  I thought my dad said, “Smart ass”—that’s totally an affectionate nickname for me, by the way. I’ve even had teachers mutter that when they thought I couldn’t hear them.

  I picked up my surprise and unhooked the light leather casing that covered the can of mace. “I still have a pretty good supply around here,” I told him. An unpacked supply. There were unpacked boxes hidden under my bed and in my closet. I wasn’t exactly in a rush to tackle them. I was still getting accustomed to the idea of living in a new house—a house that belonged to a grandmother I’d never met—and unpacking more boxes wasn’t big on my priority list.

  “I want you to use that from now on.” Dad put some bacon on the table for me. “Just don’t take it into school.”

  I almost rolled my eyes. Like I needed to be told that. Even being the sheriff’s daughter wouldn’t save me from the trouble that bringing a can of mace to school would bring.