“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just shaken up, I guess.”
“Understandably.” He leaned over and held her, a comforting hug that made her feel some solace. She was glad he was there. Resting her head on his shoulder, she realized how good he smelled. He noticed her breathing him in and smiled.
“Well, I guess we should clean this stuff up,” she said, pulling away.
He still smiled, straightening up. “I’ll do it.”
She stood up, and he instantly rose to his feet, moving so quickly she didn’t see him do it.
His eyes glittered with energy. They stood only a foot apart. The tension hung between them, palpable, lingering. He reached out and touched her arm, caressing down from her shoulder to her wrist, then back up, across her collarbone to her bare neck, his hand warm against her skin there.
His fingers caressed her jawline, and she relished the sensation, closing her eyes momentarily to the arousing caress. He brought his other hand up, stroking her other arm and shoulder, till both hands curled around her neck. He stepped closer. She drank in every sensation.
His thigh moved forward, brushing hers. She shifted her leg so they continued to touch, thigh to thigh. He studied her intently, green eyes roaming over every feature of her face. Then he leaned in, pressing his cheek against hers, the rough of his whiskers gently brushing her skin. He radiated warmth, giving off an enticing scent she couldn’t place.
He inhaled deeply, lips tracing over her cheekbone to her jaw, then down to her chin, her neck. She sighed when he reached the sensitive skin there, and she leaned against the table to steady herself.
Still he breathed her in, mouth moving to her neck. His fingers found the collar of her shirt, and he pulled it down slightly, exposing a collarbone. His lips brushed along it, tongue darting out briefly to taste her, her skin humming to his touch.
Reaching out, she grasped his arm, pulled him still closer, stroking down the muscles between his shoulder blades.
And she could smell him deeply now, his skin, his hair. It was different somehow, the oils of his skin more fragrant, alluring. He turned his head to face her, their lips mere inches apart. She could almost feel his spirit tugging at her, an invisible force drawing her closer, irresistible and intoxicating. Her lips felt hot, engorged with desire.
But Noah didn’t draw closer. He stayed that inch away, eyes melting into her. She leaned a fraction closer, and he sealed the distance, pressing his lips against hers with such feverish passion that a well of electricity surged through her stomach.
His hand laced through her hair, cradling her head. He kissed her deeply, passionately, his tongue darting out to meet hers. He tasted exquisite, like some rich, tropical fruit. The tip of his tongue carried an electric charge when it entwined with her own.
It hadn’t been like this the first time they kissed.
His lips moved from her mouth to her chin, strong kisses then moving along her neck. He tilted her head to the side as his tongue flickered luxuriantly over her skin there. Then his arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her away from the table as his teeth grazed her skin and then sank in—not painfully, not breaking the skin, but passionately pressing against the muscles there while his tongue caressed her. Involuntarily, her eyes rolled back in her head in ecstasy as he moved to the other side of her neck, sensually biting and kissing her there.
She gripped his arms, his muscles taut from holding her, and gasped with pleasure.
His strong hands caressed down her back, across her stomach, up her arms. His lips returned to hers, and once again she tasted that sweet, delicious taste and breathed in his intoxicating scent.
Swaying, he moved his hips against hers. Their pelvises pressed together, she could feel him, hot and erect, through his jeans. Turning her hips, she pressed against him, and he sighed with pleasure.
She breathed in deeply, his alluring aroma making her head sing and feel warm with desire. Had he smelled this good before? Something was so different … so incredibly alluring. She felt light, swept away, heady and almost swooning. Her body sang at his touch, longing for his hands to roam over her.
“Madeline,” he breathed between kisses, sighing her name. “You taste so good. Better than I imagined. Better than anything … this way.”
His hands ran down her sides to her hips, Madeline thrumming on a wave of desire. Her lips left his, and she kissed along his jawline to his neck, his skin tasting of something exotic she couldn’t quite place. Vanilla? He tasted incredible. She wanted to devour him. Gently she licked along his neck, then bit him gently, eliciting a moan from him. She released, then bit him gently again, lower, by his collarbone, and this time he growled, his fingers curling into her.
The growl was deep and throaty, and she wondered if he was changing again. But when she gazed up, he was the same Noah, piercing green eyes meeting her own.
“I’m on fire,” he said. “Kiss me.”
She did, and he lifted her up, hooking his hands under her thighs while she straddled him. He carried her over into the bedroom and threw her down on the bed, landing on his knees between her thighs. His strong hands stroked the length of her legs, and then he sprang forward, arms supporting him mere inches above her. She longed for their bodies to touch. He lowered his lips, kissing her deeply, and then lowered the rest of his body, pressing down on her, writhing sensually.
“Madeline,” she heard him say, though it felt as if he was saying it from some far-off place.
An intense, deep wave crashed over itself inside her belly. Though they were still fully clothed, she felt desire like she had never known, her lips tingling, burning; her stomach rolling in on powerful waves; her chest heaving; her eyes closing with pleasure. She breathed him in, savoring every sensation. Her heart pounded so loudly it felt like it reverberated about the room.
“You feel … different …” she breathed out.
He stopped kissing her and studied her intently. “Do I?”
She nodded.
He remained staring down at her, his green eyes flashing briefly. Something in those eyes was hauntingly familiar, and yet she couldn’t quite place it. He stared at her, intrigued, looking into her. It wasn’t the way Noah normally looked at her. His smell, his taste, his kiss, all of it was so different. He looked like Noah, but—
Inside, the waves of passion turned to ice. She pushed at him, rolling out from under him while he continued to watch her, transfixed. “It’s you,” she breathed.
He watched her move away. “I’ve traveled for so long,” he said, reaching his hand out to her. “You can see the journey I’ve had. You could know me. Without me saying a word.”
The pounding continued. She realized now, separated from him, that it wasn’t just her heart. It was the door. Someone was there, desperately wanting in.
“Madeline!” Her name. From far off. It hadn’t been uttered moments ago by the creature at all but by the real Noah on the other side of the door.
She leapt up, the creature propping himself up to watch her, looking so strikingly like Noah that suddenly she was uncertain again.
Quickly she reached the door, flung it open. Noah stood in the doorframe, chest heaving, face desperate and bruised.
“Thank the gods,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “I thought he’d got you!” She clutched him tightly, breathing in his scent. Yes. This was Noah. The hint of sun protection, the wisp of cinnamon.
Then, looking up over her shoulder, he breathed, “What in the hell?”
She spun around. The false Noah stood there, framed in the bedroom doorway.
Behind her, Noah gasped. “But … am I dead?”
“No!” she said, not taking her eyes off the creature. “He can become anyone. Noah, you were wrong.”
“Back so soon?” asked the false Noah.
Behind her, Noah shook with anger.
“After you tumbled into that ravine, I thought of sticking around to kill you, but,” he looked at Madeline, “I had better things to
do with my time.” He sounded calm, assured, but his eyes held something else in their depths. Maybe sadness, she realized.
Noah was anything but calm. He stepped forward, neck veins bulging, “This is it! You die here!”
He pushed past her and launched into the air, colliding with the creature in the center of the room, a clumsy, rage-driven move that knocked the false Noah sprawling across the floor.
They tangled there violently as Madeline gawked, frozen. It was bizarre to see Noah and his doppelgänger roll across the floor, both wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. She moved in to help and suddenly realized she couldn’t tell them apart, had completely lost track of the real Noah. Both even had identical tears in their jeans and T-shirts.
Then one of the Noahs met with a violent kick in the gut and rolled off to the side, momentarily unable to breathe. The other Noah leapt to his feet and ran to Madeline. She steeled herself, ready to punch him in the face if she needed to. “Where’s the backpack?” he asked just as the other Noah rose from the floor and struck him in the head with an upraised fist. “Get the backpack!” he shrieked as he fell.
That had to be the real Noah. The creature wouldn’t need the weapon to kill, but Noah would. Without taking her eyes off the real Noah, she backed up quickly, groping behind her for the backpack, which she’d tossed down when she entered the cabin.
As Noah struggled and kicked at his doppelgänger, Madeline’s hand felt the wood of the chair, then the table, then the canvas of the pack. Desperately she grabbed it, unzipping it and shoving her hand inside. Her fingers closed around the cold metal of the dagger.
Dashing forward, knife in hand, she reached them just as the creature gained the advantage again and flipped Noah over on his back. She raised the knife and thrusting forward, drove it deeply into the creature’s kidneys. Howling in agony, he twisted and sprang up, trying to grab at the blade there, wrenching it out of Madeline’s grasp as he stood.
But Noah was too fast. In an instant he was on his feet, grabbing the handle of the dagger. With a sharp tug, he slid it out of his twin’s back and then brought it forward again as the creature dodged. The blade connected with Stefan’s cheekbone. A red gash opened in his face, streaming with blood.
Staggering backward, Stefan brought a hand to his slashed face, eyes bewildered. And there was something else, too: fear, Madeline realized. For the first time, he was afraid.
“So this is what you meant earlier by the ‘knife,’ ” he gasped. “I can see why you were so eager to have it.” And then he started changing, Noah’s features melting away into the visage of the same olive-skinned man she’d seen him take on before. Long black hair sprouted, taking the place of Noah’s blond color, and fiendish claws replaced the fingernails on his hands.
Noah didn’t stop, advancing on Stefan with clenched teeth and wild eyes. He struck out once, missed as the creature ducked, and then scored a hit just below Stefan’s rib cage, ripping open a hole there as big as a football.
With his right arm, Stefan swung out, connecting with Noah’s throat and sending him spiraling back into the wall.
Hacking and gasping, Noah bounced off and surged right back, swinging the knife, darting it in and out like a striking cobra. She’d never seen him move so fast. He must have practiced this scene a thousand times, picturing his moment of triumph.
Noah whipped his foot out suddenly while Stefan’s attention was transfixed on the moving blade. With a violent crash Stefan smashed to the floor as Noah’s leg swept him off his feet. Losing no time, he closed in, leaping on top of Stefan and stabbing the blade deep into his throat. Then, using both hands, he drew the blade across, ripping open a seven-inch weeping gash in the creature’s exposed neck. Blood gurgled and bubbled in the wound as Stefan tried to breathe, his eyes full of terror.
In a frenzy of rage, Noah withdrew the blade and struck over and over again, puncturing Stefan’s chest, stomach, neck, and face. Crying in gleeful ululation as each blow landed home, he sent up a spatter of fresh, warm blood with each wound. The creature raised his arms defensively in an attempt to block Noah’s blows, blood pooling on the floor, seeping ever closer to where Madeline stood transfixed.
She darted in to help Noah.
And then something terrible happened.
Stefan jolted his hip, hitting Noah and knocking him off balance. The creature turned, twisted, and rose to his knees, grabbing the blade of the knife with both hands. Not as strong as the creature, Noah struggled to maintain a hold on the knife as Stefan whipped it around violently in his grasp.
Then the creature’s left hand changed from flesh to metal, the same spike he’d used to destroy her attackers. The flashing metal touched the metal of the blade, melting and seeping over it. Instantly the blade changed form, bursting from Noah’s grip. The creature pushed away from Noah, rising to his feet. Where the blade joined the end of the metallic arm, it sprouted a finger, then four more, joining seamlessly with the creature’s arm until it was a hand.
Howling in agony, Stefan staggered backward, slamming against the wall. The metal hand grew flesh, fingernails. Chest soaked with blood, throat streaming red to the floor, the creature gasped and sputtered, staring at Noah through tearing eyes. “Thanks,” he growled. “I’ve been missing that part for a long time.”
Noah stood up, then froze, staring at the creature running free with blood.
Stefan staggered toward Noah and spat in his face, “I’m coming back for you. And I will kill you.”
Then he pivoted, turning toward Madeline. She gasped when she saw him look at her, eyes dark with pain, face smeared in scarlet, deep knife holes in his cheeks, revealing sections of teeth and glistening blood-streaked bone. He stumbled toward her grimly, and she moved out of his way, hearing the sucking and laboring of his breathing. He was hurt badly, close to death.
But now they had no way to finish him.
Sliding in his own blood, he walked right by her to the front door and went through it.
She looked back at Noah. He was still frozen in the same spot but had turned to watch Stefan go. Madeline didn’t know what to do. She thought of chasing after the creature, pounding on him until he stopped breathing so he couldn’t claim any more victims. But she knew that wouldn’t kill him. Noah had said they needed the weapon. And it was gone.
She glanced out the door. The creature was gone now, too.
“Noah,” she said, turning back around. He gave no indication of hearing her.
“Noah,” she said again softly.
Still he stood there, unblinking, unmoving.
And then he fell to his knees, a great eerie keening escaping his lips. He pressed his blood-soaked hands to his face and sobbed, a terrible long, helpless sound.
15
AFTER kneeling immobile for twenty minutes, deaf to Madeline, Noah staggered into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Sobbing, he rolled into a tight ball, his body shaking. Madeline went to him, sat next to him. Stroking his back soothingly, she said softly, “Noah … we’ll think of something.”
But he sobbed even harder at her words and shrugged away from her touch. Still she sat on the edge of the bed, watching his heaving and shaking body.
Mucus streamed from his nose, mingling with tears. Only occasionally he’d suck in a deep breath, shuddering, wheezing, and another great wail would explode from him. It was the kind of crying she hadn’t done herself since she lost Ellie, the day she learned for the first time what death was.
She rose and retrieved a big wad of toilet paper from Noah’s backpack. Placing it down by his hand, she stood over him, concerned. He pushed it away, mucus already soaking into the bedspread, streaming down his cheek and lips. His crying grew so loud she began to wonder if neighbors would call in complaints.
Then she sat down again, watching him. She sat there for a long time, and his crying only got worse. She didn’t think it was possible for someone to cry for that long. She remembered how much her lungs and stomach had ached that day she�
��d cried for three hours straight.
She tried to talk to him, soothe him, murmur to him, hold him. Nothing helped. He stopped pushing her away and just lay there helplessly, limply, sobs convulsing his body. She lay down beside him. And then, after four hours, he simply stopped. He lay limply, his back to her. Madeline thought he might be asleep, but when she peered over his shoulder she found him staring fixedly at some point in the distance, his mind a million miles away.
“Noah?” she asked softly.
No response. He was far away.
Each breath shook his body, his lungs not yet recovered from the weeping. She continued to lie next to him, her arm cradling him, body spooning him. Soon she drifted off to sleep.
A little later she startled awake, lying next to Noah. He still lay in the same position, still staring at some fixed point in the distance. Her outburst hadn’t even made him stir. His eyes, dry and bloodshot, didn’t even blink. “Noah?” she asked.
No response.
She looked at his watch. Five hours had passed. Beyond the curtains, light gleamed.
“Noah.” This time she shook him gently. His eyes slowly closed, but he said nothing. She decided she should leave him alone for a while, give him some space.
She rose, straightening her rumpled clothes. Quietly she picked through Noah’s clothes and grabbed a clean turtleneck and a fresh pair of Noah’s jeans. They were big on her, hanging low on her hips, but it was the only pair of clean pants she could find. In the front room, she scrubbed up as much of the creature’s dried blood as she could, using a towel and water from Noah’s water bottle. She couldn’t get it all up, though, especially where it had seeped into the wood, creating a dark stain.
She was careful not to touch any of it.
After a brief, lukewarm shower in the camp bathroom, she stood in front of the steamy mirror brushing her teeth. Her cut looked a lot better, and she didn’t think she needed a new bandage. She gently touched the cut and thought about Noah. If he was still lying there motionless when she finished, she’d go out and get them some food. Then she’d have to think of a plan.
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