by Tamsin Baker
As much as I loved the book, it was a complete mystery to me. Unfortunately, there was no one else in my family who could tell me anything about it. Mom was my only living relative. And yet, despite its value and ability to bail us out of this inescapable life, I couldn’t bring myself to sell it.
We were bound, that book and me. But where to keep it safe?
The answer slammed into my mind out of nowhere, as though it had been shoved there by someone else. The hunter’s cabin that was little more than a survival shack. It had little to no amenities, apart from a crude fire pit, but it would provide shelter if you were stuck out in the elements. It had been built by the state forestry service years ago, and it had all but been forgotten. I don’t know why I’d thought of it just now, but it was perfect place to hide my Grimoire.
The only problem was it was way up and over the mountain. So remote, but I’d always been drawn to the area for some reason. One day while I’d been hiking, I’d chanced on the cabin and then started visiting when I wanted some solitude away from Conway. No one I’d told knew it existed and I doubted that had changed. It was dangerous going there, especially in this weather. If there was no Grimoire, there was no proof, so I had no choice but to hide it.
Needles prickled my blood as I drove around the sharp bends of the only road in and out of Conway. I kept half an eye in the rear view mirror, half expecting lights from a police car, but luckily there was nothing but darkness and sleet. No other person was stupid enough to drive on this road in this weather. Desperation was my motivation. I only wished I’d had a phone to tell Mom where I was. She’d be worried.
The burgeoning storm was actively getting worse. Light rain had given way to sleet, and now snow. I shivered, my thin shirt no match for the intruding cold. I jacked up the heat full force. It helped, but only enough to take the edge off the cold.
White flakes swung into the headlights, the rest of the landscape was a solid wall of black. I traveled for another half hour, slowly making my way up and around the winding mountain road that was treacherous enough in dry daylight. Luckily I’d lived there all my life and knew every bend. My experience was a life-saver now.
I hummed a tune. I don’t know where or how I knew it, but it was a strange melody. All I could think of was that Gran used to sing it to me when I was young, but that was a long time ago. Too long to remember where it came from, but as soon as I started to hum, everything seemed to move in slow motion, like I was in an alternate reality.
Snowflakes flew towards me slowly, the truck hit potholes smoothly and I didn’t feel as cold as I probably should have, given my attire. The tune made me think of my own longing to be loved. To be cherished. How often I’d chased bitter loneliness away in the face of duty to the farm, the unending list of chores that was too much for one person to get through, and the perseverance to care enough and provide for my mother.
For a moment, I allowed the full force of my wish to find someone who would somehow complete me, care for me, understand and love me. I let it wash over me, through me and around me. If only I wasn’t stuck in this life. If only I had a choice. If only… if only.
But that was just wishing, and wishing never made anything real.
Goddamn I needed to get out of town. Things were different now I’d gone and done this. Gary would be out for blood that I’d stolen his truck. Mom was sick. The farm was going nowhere. Maybe it was time to cut and run, and get out while I still could. I’d hide the Grimoire and sneak back and get it later, after I had Mom set up somewhere else.
Steeled by determination, I almost drove right past the track that would take me towards the cabin. It wasn’t signed and was so overgrown, I’m sure people would pass it if they didn’t know it was there.
I slammed on the brakes and reversed, slipping a little in the mud. I manoeuvred the truck down the ditch and then gave it a burst of gas to get it up the slope. The headlights outlined the branches with stark light as I pressed on up the hill. Metal screeched as branches scratched the sides of the truck.
Snow fell harder, compacting onto the two wheel track, turning the mud into packed ice. The track ended in a dead end. Now for the hard part. The part I hadn’t exactly thought through. There was only one way to the cabin, and that was now on foot.
I turned the interior light on. There was enough garbage on the backseat to fill a dumpster. I emptied out a plastic bag big enough to fit the Grimoire and keep it watertight.
The cold was already invading the truck’s interior. Taking a steeling breath, I hugged the book to my chest and flung open the door.
The frigid, damp hit me like a fist. My shirt, jeans and ballet flats were no match for weather this cold. A stiff wind cut through the trees, coating me in wet snow in a heartbeat. I left the keys in the ignition and closed the door. No one in their right mind would come here and steal it. Then again, no one in their right mind would have done the crazy things I just did.
It took a moment to find the overgrown track. Freezing rain soon soaked through my clothing, my skin and seeped into my bones. If I wasn’t so desperate, I’d take my chance in the truck, but I forced myself to keep walking. Keep going. One step after the other.
I forced myself to think of better things as I pushed onwards. Brighter things. Anything to take my mind off the cold and the wind, the driving rain and the terror of the darkness, but soon that become too hard. The cold stole my thoughts. Everything slid from my mind, except the need to take the next step. And then the next. I slipped. Righted myself. Slipped again. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
Maybe I should go back to the truck. I turned, now unsure which way I’d come. The darkness pressed in on me. The trees hunkered towards me, swallowing me whole.
Which way? Which way? I didn’t know. Had to move. Had to keep going. Jagged pain radiated from my numb feet. Every step was torture. Step. Step. Step. It became a mantra. I had to keep going. Keep moving. I had to be closer to the hut now. Had to.
I walked through sheer will. Each step heavier. Harder. A tingle ran over my body. Something electric, as though I’d stepped through cobwebs. Wind whipped the branches into a frenzy, soaking me with frigid water. A blizzard came from nowhere, hard particles of snow sandblasting my skin.
I held onto the Grimoire tighter, pressing it into my chest as though it might provide me some form of warmth. I shivered relentlessly. My body’s reaction to trying to generate heat. My fingers, hands, feet legs and arms felt removed from my body. I was cold. So cold.
I faltered, falling down onto my knee, my outstretched hand sliding into frigid mud. I shook the sluggish dizziness from my head. Staggered to my feet. A sound came from behind me. A twig snapped. Eyes on me, weighing me down. Shit, maybe a bear. Breath tangled in my lungs, which were laboring to function. I swung around to get a face full of ice-encrusted leaves.
I slipped, went down. Pain ripped through my skin as I slid off the track and down the slope, tumbling over and over. A shout? No, my brain clinging to hope someone knew where I was.
I was alone. All alone.
Down, down, down.
Stones gouged my back. Skin was flayed from my palms. My body pinged off tree trunks that I desperately tried to grab, but missed.
Over I rolled, over and over again, my body nothing but a mass of white pain. The world spun. My brain spun. Something hard hit my forehead. There was a moment when I wasn’t part of my body before I slammed back into a world of nauseous agony. I drowned in the absolute darkness and knew nothing more.
Chapter Three
Voices. Low murmurs. Warm arms. Hard chest. Carried like a baby. Overwhelming pain scraping my skull. Impenetrable darkness and oblivion.
*
Arguing. Men. Angry. My body jerked in terror before I was swept away on a sea of agony.
*
Light. Too bright. Too sharp. Pain ricocheted in my head. I tried to cover my eyes. Hand too heavy. Turn my head away from the light. A feeble movement. Exhausted. A voice murmured. Indistinc
t words. Calming, somehow. A palm behind my head. A cup at my lips and cool water down my throat. Relief. Sleep. Nothing.
*
I surfaced. Male voices spoke softly.
“She has the Grimoire.”
“The question is – why would she have it? And why come here with it? She could have been sent by Ginevra. She’s more than what she seems.”
“She kind of looks like her, don’t you think?”
‘Don’t be stupid. Ginevra has been dead for centuries.”
“Like us.”
“Stop being sarcastic, Xander. A curse can’t last for eternity. Even Ginevra wasn’t that powerful.”
“Oh, she was powerful, all right. And pissed as hell when you killed her husband. That brings a certain extra element to any curse, don’t you think?”
Killed? Murderers?
Shock shot though me. I opened my eyes and whimpered as a glare struck like lightening in my brain. I tried to move, but my limbs weren’t responding as they should. My head felt cracked open with ice pouring in from the open elements right into my exposed brain. My body ran sweltering and freezing at the same time. I shivered, helpless as chills racked my body.
“Hey, keep still. You’ll open those stitches I put in.”
A hand on my shoulders kept me down. I opened my eyes to see three men bearing down on me. I struggled even more, panic rising like floodwaters. “Keep away!”
“She speaks! Finally!”
“Let her go, you’re scaring her!”
“If I let her go, she’ll drop like a ton of bricks on the floor and hurt herself. She’s sick. We could do anything to her and she couldn’t do a thing about it.”
“We already have.”
A fresh flurry of chills racked my body at that comment, building on the fever that ran through my veins. Jumbled thoughts, disjointed and sharp, scraped the inside of my skull. I looked about but could only make out blurred walls, a curtained window and shadowed figures.
“Where..? Who..?” My mouth was sandpaper—dry and rough.
“You’re safe. Drink.” A hand supported my head and a cup was placed at my lips. I was parched. I sucked in a mouthful of water, gagging in my haste. Fire burned my veins and I was desperate for anything to cool me down.
“Hey, take it slow. You’ll be sick if you have too much at once.”
“More.” I managed to speak.
A hand on my forehead. “She’s burning up.”
“What did you do to her, Davon?” That voice was demanding. Cold.
“I’ve tried everything I can think of. The fever, it should have broken by now.”
I tried to focus on the source of the voice, but it was too difficult. I closed my eyes, taking refuge in the comforting darkness.
I had to get back to the town. Mom would be worried about me. Hide my Grimoire. Gary. The townspeople. Wait, they were talking about it. My fingers clawed thick arms. My heart lurched and then skittered with jagged beats. My breath came short. Too short. “Home.”
Fingers brushed hair off my face. “Shhh. There’s a good girl.”
Why weren’t they listening to me? Had I even spoken aloud? I tried to open my eyes, but it took so much effort. I was too tired. Sleep. I needed sleep.
“Do you think we should try..?”
“You know what happened last time.”
“There’s a world of difference. Literally.”
The harsh voice, filled with bitterness, ate beneath my skin. Another voice had spoken like that to me. Gary. Blackmail. My skin crawled. I needed to get out of here. I needed… Needed…
“Hey, calm down.”
Hand on my shoulder pressing me down. No. I wanted to go. Go now. I thrashed but it didn’t do any good. The hands pressed harder, taking me down…down…down…
*
“She’s getting worse.” Someone was worried.
I wasn’t worried now, though. I floated in a nice warm cloud. Nothing could touch me here. I drew a breath. Ragged pain burst in my lungs. It was better if I didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.
The darkness beckoned. It’d be such a good idea to let it sweep me away. I reached for it, and it drew me closer, luring me in. It offered comfort. Rest. That’s what I wanted. Everything I wanted. I drifted closer.
Muted voices. Urgency.
“Do it, Cassius.” That voice was angry.
“That would mean...”
“It would mean she would live.”
I let the darkness surround me like a blanket. I could rest here. So tired. So, so tired. Someone jostled me out of the warmth. Light was shards of glass in my vision. I turned my head away. Hurt too much. Didn’t want to hurt anymore. I screamed to let me go back to the darkness, but I didn’t make a sound. Not even a whimper.
“You do it, Xander.”
“I will not be responsible again.”
“If you don’t do it, she will die. She has the Grimoire. She is the key. Deep down, you know it too.” Harsh whispers, full of desperation and urgency.
I didn’t care. All I wanted was to go to the beautiful, seductive darkness. I tumbled closer, letting my fingers brush against its velvety allure.
Someone cursed. I was lifted, folded into a lap. Fingers brushed the hair at my nape. I caught a glimpse of caramel eyes, a grim expression and sharp, white teeth. Too sharp to be real.
“For this I am truly sorry.” His mouth slid to my neck, nuzzling my skin. “May the goddess forgive me.”
Teeth bared, piercing my skin. White hot pain was washed away in a torrent of arousal, building hard and fast. My mouth fell open but I didn’t know if I uttered a sound as an orgasm sent me soaring over the edge, and darkness of a different kind claimed me.
Chapter Four
I surfaced quickly. Darkness gave way to a light-filled room. I blinked and took in my surroundings, but nothing made sense. Figures from the corner of the room I was in stirred, came towards me. I seemed to be the center of their intense focus. A focus that was all consuming. A focus that made me think I was missing something very important.
“Calm yourself. We mean you no harm.”
That voice again. The one that kept me from seeking solace in the darkness of sleep.
“Stay away from me. Who are you? Where am I?” My voice was rusty. Hoarse.
I didn’t know these men and I didn’t trust easy. They could be dangerous, owned by the Holy Trinity. They’d make an example of me if they knew my secret.
They said they’d killed someone before. My brain may have been jumbled, but I knew I’d heard that admission. They could murder me. Murder Mom. We’d just disappear into the wilderness. This was rural Massachusetts, for Christ’s sake. Things happened out here best not known.
One of the men, the dark-skinned one with startling light blue eyes sat next to me and held me back when I attempted to swing my legs out of the bed.
“Let me go!” I tried pushing him away, but I might as well have been trying to push a brick wall.
“I can’t let you do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“She’s already hurt.”
“More than she thinks.”
I was. My body was a mass of aches and burning throbs. Nausea pulsed through me. My stomach cramped. “I’m going to be sick.”
My world tilted as sure hands turned me. I was helpless as the bile rose my stomach turning in on itself with each cramp. Finally, the purging stopped. I panted, bathed in sweat, my body wrung out. I collapsed on my side, burying my head in the pillow. They could do anything to me, these killers, and I’d be helpless to stop them. I fought back another wave of nausea, this time mental.
“Feel better now?”
I managed to open one eye. My blurry vision found faces. I waited a while for the six faces to become three. Three men. Three killers. Since words were all I had, I swallowed my pride and decided to grovel. “If you could just show me the front door, I’ll be out of your hair.” I could get to Gary’s truck. Drive back home. Desperation made people do idiotic th
ings.
“Intelligent, despite being half dead. I like her. She’s going to make a great pet now that she’s somewhat awake. We need a bit of life around here.” The man with familiar caramel eyes stared dispassionately at me. He’d done something to me. Apologized. But for what? I didn’t want to find out.
The darker skinned man looked a little more compassionate than his friend. I turned my attention to him, “Don’t kill me. Please. My mother needs me. I…I need to go.” To my horror, tears welled. I hadn’t cried in years. I tried to hide it, but I was too slow, too clumsy and two wet drops fell to the pillow.
Blue-eyes frowned. Another ran his hand over his close-cropped hair and turned away. A wave of discomfort traveled through the trio.
“And that’s where we’re going to have a bit of trouble,” the man with caramel eyes said. I found I didn’t much care whenever he spoke.
“Tell us if it’s true, Xander,” the man with short, spiky hair spoke.
“Do you really want to know, Cassius?”
“We have to know. There is little choice.”
“Very well. Let’s see if this slip of a girl holds our future in her delicate, little hand.” He – Xander – leaned over me, determination on his face. Intense. Powerful. I looked away, wanting to preserve some of my sanity. I didn’t understand what they spoke about and I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to get the hell out of here and back home.
“Look at me.” There was a command in his voice not to be denied. There was something peculiar about his eyes. They were the color of warm honey, but the deep, tawny brown rimming his pupils gave them an otherworldly edge. He studied me closely, as though waiting for something. Expecting it.
I gasped as heat flared deep within my body, my skin prickling and tightening with awareness. His eyes drew me in, tighter and closer, until I was consumed by him. Something stirred within me, awakening for the first time, sparking to life with an expansion of consciousness that wasn’t entirely my own.
His eyes widened with surprise although I didn’t think he was one to be surprised. He fell to his knees on the floor, his expression never losing its grimness. He was too stern for that. Cold and distant he may be, that didn’t stop me from this confusing awareness that held me in its grip, enthralled.
