Blood Ghost (The Hunting Tree Book 2)

by Ike Hamill

  “That’s weird. It looks dehydrated or something,” Don said. He knelt next to the squirrel and then shifted to the side so he wouldn’t block the light. “Get a stick or something.”

  “Forget it. I’m going to wash my hands. Barney, come on.”

  Kyle grabbed Barney by the collar and led him inside. Don heard the water running in the sink.

  The gray fur looked shiny and healthy, but it was loosely pooled around the little corpse. The eyes were sunken, almost concave. Don nudged it with his toe and the squirrel flopped over on its back. He saw little punctures in the white fur of the squirrel’s belly, but there was no blood around the wounds. Don wondered if the holes were from the dog’s teeth as it carried the squirrel, but they looked really small compared to the size of Barney’s teeth. The fur on the animal’s abdomen was sunken in. It formed a small hollow area under its ribs.

  Don grabbed the big fork from the grill and flicked the squirrel over the railing into the lawn. He took the fork inside.

  “You’ll want to put this in the dishwasher,” he said, handing the fork to Kyle.

  “Where’d you put the squirrel?”

  “I tossed it in the yard. Some animal will probably get it.”

  “Yeah, that animal will probably be Barney. That thing must have gotten into rat poison or something. I’ve heard that stuff dehydrates rodents. Then Barney’s going to eat the squirrel and he’ll be poisoned.”

  “Grab me a flashlight and a trash bag. I’ll go get it,” Don said.

  “No, we’re going to be late. I’ll do it when I get home. Remind me, though. Don’t forget.”

  “Okay,” Don said.

  # # # #

  Kyle directed Don to a small parking lot off the main drag in town. He pulled into a spot in front of a well-kept little apartment building. Don guessed there might be four units in the building. It was designed to look like an big old Colonial, so it blended well into the neighborhood.

  The two young men leaned against the hot hood of Kyle’s car. Kyle lit his pipe again and took another drag.

  “Shouldn’t we go knock or something?” Don asked.

  “No,” Kyle croaked. His voice cleared up with his next few words. “The woman who lives downstairs hates noise. She gets really pissed if she hears people clomping around on the stairs. Then she calls Amanda’s parents.”

  “Her parents live here?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh,” Don said. He waited for Kyle to take another hit before he continued his explanation.

  This time, Kyle’s inhale ended with a ragged cough. He stuffed his pipe and his lighter back into his pocket and then doubled over, pulling the fabric of his jeans away from his leg. “Mother fucker, that’s hot,” Kyle said, coughing and laughing.

  “You sound like you’re about to blow a vocal cord,” Don said.

  That made Kyle laugh harder. He folded over and looked like he was going to drop. Don hauled him upright by the back of his shirt.

  Kyle coughed a few more times and then took a deep breath. A conspiratorial smile spread across his face.

  “I burned my leg,” he said.

  “No shit. Jesus, you’re fucked.”

  “Fuh-ka-dupt,” Kyle said. He sniggered. “There she is.”

  Don looked up. She was gorgeous. She wore a green t-shirt that tapered to her tiny petite waist and the flared to meet the top of her shorts. Her legs looked amazing in the street lights. They were smooth and shiny and they tapered wonderfully down to her sandaled feet.

  “Hi, Amanda,” Don said. His eyes jumped from her face down to her breasts. He couldn’t help it. She filled out her t-shirt extremely well, but Don wondered if Kyle’s story about enhancement could be correct. He blinked and pulled his eyes back up. She was looking at Kyle.

  “Don’t tell me he drove over here,” she said.

  “No, I drove.”

  “Hey, babe,” Kyle said. “You know Don.”

  “Jesus, Kyle, get in the car. Mrs. Franklin will call the cops if she sees you like this.” Amanda pushed Kyle towards the door. She put Kyle in back and she took the passenger’s seat. Don looked down at the keys in his hand and realized that he was going to have to drive.

  “Who’s Mrs. Franklin?” Don asked. He started Kyle’s car.

  Amanda smiled at Don for the first time. “Hey, Don, how have you been?”

  He turned and met her smile with his own. His eyes bounced down to her chest again—he couldn’t help it. Kyle had cursed him.

  “I’ve been good,” Don said, stammering. “You? How have you been?” He couldn’t get control of his eyes, and now the awkwardness was spreading to his mouth. Where would it stop? He put the car into reverse and tried to focus on driving.

  “The other way,” she said.

  “Pardon?”

  “You want to head the other way. The theater is back there.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Just take a right on Hubert. Right. Take a right.”

  It had spread to his hands. Something—either Kyle’s notion that Amanda was augmented, or just her pure beauty—had stolen Don’s sense. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He flipped on his turn signal and steered the car to the right. He exhaled when they were moving. Amanda seemed to relax a bit in her seat. Don fancied that he could feel the heat of her skin lighting up his side, like he was sitting too close to a campfire.

  “I’ve been okay, I guess,” Amanda said. “I’d be a lot better if my boyfriend didn’t feel the need to get wasted just to take me out on a Saturday night.”

  Don flipped through possible responses in his mind. He came up with one. “Kyle said you want to be a director? Casting director?”

  “That’s his idea, but maybe,” she said. She flashed him a quick smile and then folded her arms. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

  “How long have you lived at that place?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A year maybe? I don’t really live there. My parents bought that place because Dad was always down here for his job. He was the football coach.”

  “Oh, right, at the college.”

  “Yeah. Lot of late nights, so he didn’t want to drive. Anyway, they kept the place because they thought they might want to spend winters there. But they’re not ready for that yet, so they’re letting me use it. It’s great except for Mrs. Franklin. Every time someone closes a door after midnight she’s on the phone complaining.”

  “That sucks,” Don said.

  “It sucks,” Kyle said. He opened his window and turned his face into the wind. A standing wave of air fluttered through the back seat and Kyle plugged his ears. Don used the controls at his side to crack the other windows and the flutter went away.

  “Thank you,” Kyle yelled from the back.

  “He’s really gone tonight,” Amanda said.

  “I can hear you,” Kyle yelled. “Hey, DonCo, pull over for a second.”

  The two-lane road was dotted with several businesses—all closed on a Saturday night. On their left, a carpet retailer and an auto parts store. On the right was a car wash and a drive-in that catered to a lunch crowd. Don didn’t know what Kyle intended to do, but he didn’t figure this would be a good place to do it.

  “Pull over,” Kyle said again.

  “Just wait,” Don said.

  He waited until they were passing a big cemetery and a stand of tall pine trees before he signaled and drifted off the road. The tires eased to a stop in a bed of soft pine needles and Kyle rolled out of the rear door. He sprinted away from the car, up the embankment, and disappeared between the pines.

  Don hunched down and tried to get a look out the windows to see where Kyle had gone.

  “Should I go after him?” Don asked.

  “He’s probably just going to the bathroom.”

  “I don’t think there’s a bathroom up there,” Don said.

  Amanda turned and studied the mock concern on Don’s face before she broke into a smile.


  “Why do you put up with him?” Don asked with a forced chuckle.

  “He’s upset about his dog, that’s all. He’s usually quite sweet, but you have to cut him a break. He hasn’t dealt with any kind of loss yet and he’s still trying to cope with the idea that Barney won’t be around forever.”

  “Me too,” Don said. “I mean about Barney.”

  Kyle threw himself in through the back door and popped up from behind the seat.

  “I didn’t find anything. Too far,” Kyle said. “But I found these.” He triumphantly held up pine cones. “There’s only two. We’ll have to share.”

  “Just close your door. We’re going to miss the previews,” Amanda said.

  # # # #

  Amanda sat through the credits, watching the names roll past. Kyle locked himself in a stall in the bathroom. After relieving himself, Don walked back to the theater and stood at the last row and waited for Amanda. As soon as the lights came up and the screen switched over to trivia, Amanda stood and came up the aisle smiling.

  “I liked it,” she said.

  Don wore an expression of shock and disgust.

  “What? You didn’t think Tracy Winters was good?”

  “Which one was that?”

  “The wife?”

  Don held the door open for Amanda and they exited to the popcorn-strewn hall.

  “Who’s wife?”

  “Hal Franklin.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “The husband?”

  “In the movie we just saw?” Don asked.

  “In the movie I saw. I’m not sure what you were watching.”

  “Here’s what I saw: explosion, kissing, kissing, that guy was shot, car chase, explosion, and then that guy got up and they shot him again.”

  “And did you like it?”

  Don was looking down as they walked. This is the part of the conversation where, if this were a first date, he would reach for her hand. They would walk out to the car, swinging their arms with their fingers linked. This would be the first physical contact that would promise more contact later. Instead, he was turning right to wait outside the bathroom for Kyle.

  “I thought it was okay. I didn’t really care much for the main guy, so I was a little bored while they were torturing him. I mean, who cares?”

  “But when that woman’s kid was taken?”

  “Oh, yeah, that was terrible. I felt awful for her.”

  “Yes, that’s who I’m talking about. Tracy Winters. She was in Bridelight, and Under Satin, and Quick Kill. She’s always good.”

  Kyle threw open the door from the bathroom.

  “Ice cream!” he yelled.

  “I don’t know if anything is open, Kyle.”

  “Ice cream,” Kyle repeated.

  “You guys can get ice cream,” Amanda said. “I have a race in the morning.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “I’ll take you to the gas station, buddy. You can get ice cream to go,” Don said.

  “Ice cream!” Kyle yelled.

  Amanda and Don look at each other and then started laughing. Kyle marched ahead and held the door for them.

  They dropped Amanda off and took the longer route home so they could stop by the convenience store. Kyle still wanted ice cream, but he was out of money. He’d spent his cash treating Don and Amanda to tickets and snacks. Don found a few dollars in his pocket and he paid.

  Kyle held the container in his hands all the way back to the house. His hands were wet with the ice cream’s condensation. Don put the car into park but didn’t turn it off.

  “I’m taking your car home,” Don said. “You can walk over and pick it up tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Kyle said. “Thanks for driving.”

  “No problem.”

  Kyle opened his door and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for driving,” Kyle said.

  “I heard you.”

  “I mean, I need my keys,” Kyle said.

  “Oh.”

  Don split the ring and wound it around the key in the ignition. He handed Kyle the rest of the bunch.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Don asked. It was just a polite, rhetorical question. He’d seen Kyle more inebriated than this, and Kyle never got too self-destructive on weed. When he was drinking, Kyle could be a little scary, but weed just made him goofy. The night was warm, and the mood was light.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Kyle said. “I’m just going to take Barney out and then go to bed. It’s good you’re driving home. There’s things in the woods.”

  “What things?” Don asked. The air blowing from the car’s vents suddenly seemed too cold.

  “Nah, I’m just saying.”

  “Saying what?”

  “Goo’night, DonCo. I’ll see you soon.”

  Don watched Kyle as he walked across the lawn and up the porch steps. He watched until the door closed behind his friend and the lights came on. Don turned around and drove back to his house. He parked Kyle’s car next to his father’s and he sat. It was only a few paces to his own front door, but he couldn’t stop looking over at the woods. Was there something there? Was Kyle just being silly because he was high? He would ask his friend tomorrow. He would ask him and he would ask to see the video that Kyle kept forgetting to show him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mare—Soucoyant (present day)

  HER SMILE STRETCHED FROM ear to ear—she’d been happy all night. She stole the blood from a squirrel and tossed it aside. She would need the blood from a dozen squirrels to satisfy her quota, but she didn’t dare take that many. If she cleared a dozen, more would move in, but too slowly. They might be easy to catch, but their population alone wouldn’t sustain her.

  She knew she must curtail her greed. Her greed could mean her undoing.

  Instinct whispered in her ear—“The bigger your prey, the more you must restrain yourself.”

  She must carefully follow that instinct.

  Her memory lay cluttered with decades of images, but some recent event wanted to push its way forward. What was it? She stopped and looked up at the sky, looking for the answer there.

  “A name,” she said in some twisted, hissing language. “I’ve been given a name.”

  She smiled. That’s when she remembered.

  When someone in the world thought of her, it gave her a tickle on the soles of her feet. The tickle was pleasant, but it also might suggest the time to move along. When someone in the world gave her a name, she felt the tickle in a deeper place, a more private place. That’s what happened yesterday. That’s why she’d been celebrating and smiling. That’s why she’d thrown aside restraint. That’s why she’d left the young man with just enough blood to carry him home.

  Would he survive? Did she care?

  It was hard to care about anything except her new name.

  The boy had named her—the boy who sometimes watched over her shoulder from his dreams. He’d named her “Mare.” The name reminded her of the sea, and she loved the way it sounded. It was such a round and warm name.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kyle

  “DONNY!” HIS DAD YELLED from outside his door.

  Bright morning light streamed between the gap in his curtains. Even in the cool, humid basement, Don could tell this day would be another scorcher. The sunlight looked like it wanted to set the world ablaze.

  “Don!”

  This yell was accompanied with knocks.

  “Yeah?” Don asked. He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. “What?”

  “Your mom needs you to move Kyle’s car.”

  “Oh, right,” he said. He’d left the car in the driveway, blocking the garage. Don pulled on his shorts and swirled the clothes on his floor until he found a t-shirt that didn’t look too dirty. He looked for the keys—or rather, the key—and didn’t see it in any of the likely spots.

  “Don?”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “Are you up?”

  “Yes, of course. I can’t find the key.”

>   “Check your pockets?” his dad asked from the other side of the door.

  Don patted his pockets. It was there, in the front pocket.

  “Never mind. I found it,” he called back.

  “Well get a move on. She has surgery.”

  Don pushed his hair back and looked for a baseball cap. He didn’t see any. He opened his door and nearly crashed into his dad, who was still standing there.

  “And see if you can clean up a bit in there when you get a chance,” his dad said.

  “Yeah, sure. I will.”

  “I’m doing house laundry this morning, but if you have anything you need washed for tomorrow, just bring it to me and I’ll try to work it in.”

  “Yeah, good. Thanks,” Don said. He angled past his father and found the steps. He pounded up on bare feet and exited through the front door. On second thought, he opened the front door and grabbed a pair of his dad’s sandals. They were a little small for him, but they would be good enough to walk home through the woods.

  His mom was nowhere in sight and the garage was still closed. Don shrugged and got behind the wheel of Kyle’s little car. He’d left the windows open last night, and the interior had a warm moist smell. Don wrinkled his nose as he backed all the way down his driveway. He pulled into Kyle’s driveway pretty sure he’d have a clean getaway. With a little luck he could be back in bed before the prospect of getting a little more sleep was out of the question. Kyle’s car told him it was only 7:05.

  When he saw Kyle’s garage door open and the Umber’s car inside, he sighed. Who came home from a trip at seven on a Sunday? That’s when Don realized which grandparents Kyle had meant. When Kyle said that his parents were visiting his grandparents, he assumed Kyle’s paternal grandparents. They were an awesome old couple who had a beautiful house near Bar Harbor with a short walk to guest camp that sat on a little pond. Visiting them, you’d stay until the last possible moment, just to breathe in the sweet ocean air as you relaxed on their manicured lawn.

  But Kyle’s maternal grandparents were a different subject. They lived down in western Mass, where everyone talked funny and the town’s pastime seemed to be institutional racism. Ms. Umber’s parents didn’t believe in technology, so you were lucky if you could even find a power outlet in the guest room, let alone a television to break up the evening silence or a dishwasher to carry away the incinerated remains of the terrible dinner. Each summer when Kyle was a little kid, Kyle would spend a week with each set of grandparents. Most of the time, as his best friend in the whole world, Don went with him.