by Amelia Jade
“You just had to come back here. Thought it was so idyllic and beautiful. Well, Petal, one thing they don’t have in the city is freak storms that deposit you unceremoniously in the ditch. So, make sure you put that in the list of pros for the city.”
She snorted, both at her words, and the fact she was talking to herself. It was time to get a grip though. First things first, call David and let him know what had happened. Then wait for Lex to arrive. She pulled the phone from her pocket—a brand-new one to replace the one she’d lost in the mudslide—and started cursing.
“This is going to come out of my bonus,” she muttered, looking at the cracked and mangled screen. Apparently when she’d unbuckled her seatbelt, she’d fallen onto the phone. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
Angrily shaking her head, she climbed up the gravel until she was once again standing on the patch of driveway that covered the ditch, between the road and the fence.
A fence which was now blown wide open.
“Right. See, this is how horror movies start, Petal. The stupid blonde girl, without a cell phone and without a ride home, needs to make a phone call. So she sees the open fence, and goes ‘oh, maybe there’s a phone up there that I could use.’ But there isn’t a phone at the creepy old manor. There’s just a serial killer in a hockey mask from the 1950s waiting for her. Because you know, that’s where they hang out.”
Fat chance she was going up there. Petal walked across the road and stood on the small gravel shoulder, arms crossed and slightly hunched over while she paced back and forth, waiting for Lex to arrive.
The twisted metal of the gate across the street groaned in the light breeze that still filled the air.
“Nope, I’m not doing it,” she muttered. “I am not going to be that person. So you can just fuck off mind, and stop trying to tempt me. I am not that stupid.”
All around her the wind seemed to laugh at her, an all-too-human sound that had Petal looking in every direction to see if someone was nearby. But it was what she saw above the farmer’s fields that made her blood run cold. Thick, billowing black clouds were coming in across the horizon. And they were headed straight for her.
If there was one thing Petal feared more than an old, dusty, abandoned house, it was being caught outside in another storm. If the temperature dropped like the last one, she would freeze to death before she got to the manor.
Decision made for her, she turned and booked it past the creaking fences and up the twisting, turning driveway, never once looking back. Above her the sky grew dark, and the wind began to laugh once more.
It’s just your imagination, Petal. Nothing more.
“The wind can’t actually laugh at you.”
Petal smiled and laughed back defiantly, daring the wind to prove her wrong. “You aren’t real!” she shouted, grinning like a maniac as she confronted her own fears. “You can’t hurt me!
She felt more confident now, her spirits buoyed by her attitude. So when the wind responded, she nearly fell over from the shock.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Petal screamed as the air in front of her shimmered and spun around and around until it began to resemble a human figure.
“I going to kill you.”
22. True Nature
Lex
More rubber burned from his tires as he wheeled around a sharp right and gunned the engine. The temperature gauge was rising steadily from the blue toward the red. This sort of high-speed, heavy acceleration, and sharp braking was not what it had been designed for, and he knew he was overworking it. The tires were going to be nearly bald by the time he reached Petal, but none of that mattered if he didn’t get there in time.
BANG!
The truck jumped and the crown of his head slammed into the roof as he hit a rather thick tree branch, the high speed making it act like a large speedbump. “OW!” he snarled, gripping the wheel harder as he tried to focus, ignoring the pain even as a warm trickle down his right temple told him he’d drawn blood.
Houses flashed by on either side as he built up speed, the big, heavy truck taking its time. The skies were still clear, which was a good sign, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. If Petal was captured, the worst storm that Surrey had seen would descend upon it. Until he saw black clouds heading toward him, he knew she was safe.
No, not safe. Alive. There was a vast and important difference. Only once he arrived and dealt with the situation could Petal be deemed safe.
Assuming you can deal with it, Lex. You aren’t as young as you used to be anymore. And you just exhausted your reserves this morning.
Snarling, he adjusted his hands so he could hold the wheel with one, while the other shot into the bag and closed around a handful of sandwich. He shoved it into his mouth, chewing furiously. If only I could eat like a duck. I’d be fine.
His metabolism had already digested the food he’d eaten earlier and recharged his body. Now he was working on building up excess for the fight he suspected lay ahead of him. He was still hoping feverishly that he was wrong, that the situation was not what it looked like. But deep down Lex knew it was a pointless endeavor.
Gabrielle Wortley was back, and there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do now was what he’d done a hundred years before. Defeat her and banish her for another century.
Another handful of sandwich-salad disappeared into his maw. It tasted terrible. Soggy and wet, a disgusting mess of deli meats, bun, toppings, and sauces. His finger was covered in grease, to the point that he didn’t want to put it on top of the wheel again.
BAM!
“Shit!” he cursed as the truck started to swerve back and forth while bouncing around ungainly.
A warning light appeared on his dash, telling him that his rear right tire had just lost pressure. He coasted to a halt, the engine dead before he came to a stop. Keys still in the ignition, Lex leapt from the cab, closing the door behind him.
He wanted to strip down, but there was no time. Petal needed him. He laid the bag of food down on the ground, then called upon his wolf. An instant later he was standing on all fours amidst the shredded remains of his clothes. Spending ten seconds wolfing down food, he turned and took off down the road.
His paws made all sorts of racket on the pavement, and he knew they would be sore by the time he reached his destination. The asphalt was far rougher on the pads on the bottom of his feet than the forest floor. But it was also the fastest way there. He was on Highway 2 now, and it was a dead shot to where he figured Petal was.
Stretching his legs out, Lex covered ground. He didn’t have a built-in speedometer, but he was a fairly good judge of character.
Ten miles per hour came and went. Twenty.
Thirty.
Forty.
Now he was running faster than the most athletic of his wild brethren.
Fifty.
His system was screaming at him as he pushed it to the maximum. All the energy in the world would be useless if he didn’t get there in time. But Lex was positive if he’d been clocked by a radar gun it would have shown him somewhere in excess of eighty miles an hour. Not even a cheetah could have matched his speed, let alone kept up with him.
The wind tore at his eyes, which he’d narrowed to slits. But all he could do was ensure that he stayed on the road and didn’t hit anything. Seeing much more was asking too much at that speed. Even turning would have been fatal for him. The only thing that allowed him to reach such a speed was the straightaway run of the road.
A thick tree across the road was cleared in an effortless bound, carrying him fifteen feet up and forty feet or more across before he landed on the ground, losing perhaps two or three miles per hour as he raced onward.
What was that?
Lex came to a halt as quickly as he dared, spinning around as soon as it wouldn’t have snapped his legs, looking behind him at the object he’d spotted off the side of the road.
It was a Western Hydro work truck. Upside down in the ditch. He darted for
ward, Petal’s scent immediately reaching his nostrils as he tested the air. She’d been here, and recently too.
A quick search of the truck showed it to be empty, so he started following her scent.
As he’d feared, it led toward the Wortley Manor entrance. But then it veered away! She’d crossed the street. Good for you, Petal. Head for the farm house. Smart! He followed the trail, only to have it turn around and head back for the house. The smell of lilac and wildflowers then became infused with something else. Something he knew all too well as a predator.
Petal smelled of fear.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before padding across the road. Her scent went right up the driveway and through the twisted metal gates.
Petal, no. What have you done?
Steeling himself, Lex went in after her.
Somewhere ahead of him a woman screamed.
23. Banshee
Petal
She screamed again, falling to the ground and backpedaling away from the apparition that had appeared in front of her.
“This isn’t real,” she whispered. “This is a dream. I hit my head in the truck, and I’m hallucinating. I’m still in the truck. I’m asleep. This isn’t real, Petal. Wake up. Wake up, Petal. WAKE UP!”
She started yelling at herself, but bits and pieces of driveway whipped around the base of the wind-person, and occasionally they would flick out and painfully hit her.
Pain, she’d been told, was the one thing that couldn’t be felt in a dream. If she were feeling pain, it meant she wasn’t dreaming.
“I can still be hallucinating though. Nice try, mind. But I’m not so insane yet to believe that wind-people actually exist.”
The ghostly thing stopped floating toward her. Its head tilted to one side. She got the impression that its sightless eyes were staring at her.
“Do you always talk to yourself?” it asked.
“Damn straight. I’m a crazy person. You should probably go away, lest you get the crazy yourself.”
The wind-person chuckled, a soft musical noise like chimes in a cool summer breeze. It was female, Petal realized suddenly. The wind had a gender! She peered closer at the swirling bits of air and other things that had gotten caught up in the slipstream of the—she needed a better name than “wind-person”—and noticed that there indeed were faint bumps where a human might have breasts.
Petal scrambled backward some more, putting distance between her and the wind-rider. It was better, at least, but she still wasn’t satisfied with the name. Getting to her feet, she pelted full-bore down the driveway. Perhaps it was magical and couldn’t come off the property. If she could just get past the gates, maybe she would be safe!
Her escape lasted all of three steps before she ran into a wall of air. Momentarily thankful that she hadn’t gotten up to full speed before hitting it, Petal flailed about blindly, trying to make headway. The air was so hard, however, that it felt like she was hitting solid metal.
“Ahhh, such feeble struggles. Like all the others. It means nothing, you know. You can’t escape.”
Petal stopped struggling and turned around to confront the wind-demon. More accurate, but not really badass. “What others?”
Before she’d even finished speaking the ethereal hand gestured. A vortex of wind surrounded Petal, lifting her from her feet. The hand beckoned and she was carried along the property, through the carport, and into the backyard.
The scene before her made her stomach heave violently.
“Weaklings,” the apparition sighed.
The air-cocoon disappeared and Petal fell to the ground. She closed her eyes tightly, but the tableau arranged in the backyard was already seared into her brain. The four dead bodies, staked out to four individual trees around a fire. Tubes ran from the bodies to the fire, and they were stained a dark reddish color.
Harvesting, she realized suddenly. They’d been harvested for their blood. A corner of her brain, slightly more rational than the rest, recognized the face of one of the bodies as the first woman who had gone missing in Surrey. Leslie Mckay, she thought the name was. Which meant that this is where they’d all been taken to.
And Petal was next.
“What do you want with me?”
An eerie keening wail filled the air as the suddenly solidified around the woman. It grew so fierce that Petal’s view was blocked, obscuring what was going on behind it. Fearful that the power was about to be unleashed on her, she looked around frantically for cover of any sort. The backyard was bare…except for the firepit.
Petal started crawling toward it, but before she’d gotten halfway to the big steel drum, the noise stopped. Scared and yet immensely curious at the same time, she glanced over at the wind-demon.
“You’re human,” she gasped.
The miniature cyclone had dissipated, revealing a disheveled, wild-looking woman in her place. A brown tunic of some sort covered her upper half, and a—was that a bedsheet?—covered her lower half. Black sandals adorned her feet. Long tangled brown hair hung from her head, infused with leaves, needles and other debris.
“Not quite,” the woman—she looked no older than fifteen, maybe eighteen—said, her voice now devoid of the slight fuzziness it had had while she was made of air.
Listen to her. Made of air! People weren’t made of air. They were made of flesh and bone and blood. Not the wind. People like that simply didn’t exist. It couldn’t exit. Could it? Did people like this really walk the earth? How could they exist and yet there be no records of them?
“I’m so confused.”
The woman, no more than a girl really, walked over to Petal, ignoring the comment. She tried to run, but a quick gesture whipped up some more air, pinning her in place. When the girl drew close enough she gestured with her hand, and the air leapt to obey. Petal’s long blonde hair swirled up above her head, and then was pulled with violent force after the woman.
“I don’t have another tree. So I hope you don’t mind a bit of metal.”
It was then that she noticed the thin metal pole next to the last body. Another bar had been lashed to it crosswise.
“It’s a crucifixion,” she said weakly, understanding at last. “Oh shit.”
“Up you go!”
The laughter was completely at odds with the death sentence that she was pronouncing on Petal, who screamed and struggled mightily, but to no avail. The wind lifted her up to the metal pole, acting as restraints. Her arms spread wide until they were pinned against the cross pole. Other circlets of wind wrapped around her upper arms, chest, waist, and legs. The control of the wind this woman exhibited was terrifying. Especially considering she shouldn’t be able to do that.
“Why are you killing me?”
“Why, my dear? Why? Because. You are in love! The best kind as well. True love. Do you have any idea how much more powerful that makes your blood? Oh, the things I will do to Surrey with such power at my fingertips. It will makes everything else look like a warmup!”
The crazy girl who could control the wind devolved into maniacal laughter as she busied herself detaching some of the tubing from one of the dead bodies, obviously preparing to use it on Petal.
Think, Petal. Think smart and fast if you want a way out of this.
What was she talking about? How could her blood be powerful? And what was she going to do with it? How could her blood hurt Surrey? Petal looked up at the other bodies, assuming the woman had done the same thing. She noted that the first two were set apart from each other, but the last two, the ones closest to her, were much closer. Three separate groups. And Petal would be the fourth. But fourth what?
The answer came to her with an abrupt clarity.
“The storms.” Petal knew as she spoke that she was right. “You caused the storms. With them.” Her head nodded at the other bodies. “Why?”
“Why?” The word was a fury-infused hiss. “Because you humans dare to step foot in my valley. You build your buildings, you pave over the beautiful ground. Yo
u cut down the wondrous trees. You are killing the valley, and you don’t even care!”
Petal’s ears hurt by the end of the rant, the wind acting like an amplifier to the words. She cried out and shook her head, trying to block out the sound, but the wrathful air-woman continued to wail. There were no words, just a sound of mixed anger and sorrow. Finally she came to a halt, her brown eyes glowing with orange-hatred as she fixed them on Petal.
“For that, you will die, and I will wipe the town off the face of the earth with your blood.”
“Please don’t.” She shook her head weakly. “I don’t even live there.”
The woman—what was she?—gave a very humanlike snort. “You can’t fool me. You’re all vermin.”
“Excuse me?” Petal’s head snapped up as fire coursed through her blood. “Vermin? You dare to call us vermin? You who would slaughter four innocents without a second thought? People who hadn’t done a single thing to you? People who didn’t even know you existed, because you’re too scared to reveal yourself? You are a coward! And you have the nerve to call us vermin? Pathetic. We don’t even know what you are.”
The wind had begun to whistle the instant Petal started speaking. As she lashed out at her captor it increased to a shriek and gusts of wind began striking at her, lashing out like whips. Petal screamed and tried to pull herself free, but she couldn’t. The wind kept her firmly in place while it struck her. A cut opened on her arm as it started to flay her alive.
“WHAT ARE YOU?!” she screamed, shouting the question to be heard over the gale-force roar.
The woman stood shaking, her eyes fixated on Petal as she quivered on the spot, clearly overcome with anger. She was forced to squint against the wind to keep her eyes on the woman. It was only because of that action that Petal saw the gray-white blur shoot across the clearing and ride the woman to the ground before it leapt free and shot back off into the nearby forest that encroached on the backyard.
Whatever had happened, it clearly got the wind-woman’s attention. The blasts of air striking Petal stopped, and her restraints dissipated instantly.
