The machine was a tall, square box tucked away in the corner. Mason passed Julie the flashlight and moved to crouch down next to it. She held the light aloft, illuminating the machine as he fiddled with it, twisting knobs and pushing dials. He stabbed at one several times, harder each time than the last. Then he smacked the top of the machine with the flat of his palm.
“Not out of gas,” he muttered to himself as he adjusted his position to peer over the top and into the back. “Why aren’t you turning on?”
Julie moved to shine the light where he was looking.
He reached into the back, fumbled around before releasing a stream of curses that would have made Shaun proud. “This is why!”
He was showing her a tattered bit of wire that was torn from a much larger section. She had to adjust her light to see what it was exactly.
“Is that...?”
“The cord.” He pitched it aside. “Someone deliberately ... fuck!”
He turned and took the light back from her. He rapped it in the palm of his hand with frustration and made the beam flicker, casting them in momentary darkness before he exhaled and let his arms drop down to his sides.
“Okay, well...” He jerked the light back the way they’d come. “There are some candles upstairs. We’ll just hunker down until—”
A sharp snap caught the rest of his words, tearing them away as he and Julie both whipped around in the direction of the sound. Deep in the shadows where even the light from the thin, rectangular windows couldn’t quite penetrate, something flared like a sparkler on a birthday cake. It wasn’t bright enough to bring comfort, but it continued to sparkle and pop.
“What is that?” Julie murmured.
Mason didn’t respond. He motioned with his free hand for her to follow as he started a careful path in the direction of the flashes. The light in his hand crept two feet ahead of them, a dim circle that barely made a dent in the darkness. Julie kept close on Mason’s heels, but not so close she was stepping on him. Her heart cracked between her ears, muffling the sound of their feet.
Gingerly, he lifted the light, letting it climb over boxes, forgotten pieces of furniture, abandoned toys and sport equipment to glisten over wet walls. At the foot of the stairs, he motioned for Julie to stay.
She tried to protest, but he was already walking away, taking the light with him. She contemplated following him or, better yet, bolting upstairs and locking herself up in her room until help arrived. But as tempting as the thought was, she remained and watched in silence as the flashlight skimmed over a gray, metal box. It was crushed and dented. Sparks were flying from where wires had been torn out. Mason cursed as he leaped forward and yanked down the lever along the side. The crackling stopped, but the fuse box was toast. It would need to be replaced. It was also why the lights were no longer working. Someone had gutted the thing, leaving them without power or any way of getting help.
They were truly fucked.
“Oh God...” Her breath came out broken and hoarse.
The room spun. She would have hit the ground had she not been saved by reflexively grabbing the banister. Splinters burrowed into her skin, but she felt nothing, except the overpowering urge to throw up. Cold sweat dampened her top to her back. She shuddered at the clammy sensation slithering up her spine.
“Julie.”
Mason took hold of her. It was his firm hands that guided her upstairs. He shut the door behind them and propelled her into the living room. He dumped her down on the sofa and hurried to the window overlooking the driveway. He shoved back the curtains and peered out through the downpour.
She knew the others must not have arrived, because he growled deep in his throat and shoved the curtains back over the window. He scooped a hand through his hair and fisted his fingers into the thick, silky strands.
“Okay.” He straightened as though that single word had the power to fill him with confidence, and a plan. “Stay here.”
Disliking that idea immediately, Julie lunged to her feet as he took wide strides to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find weapons. This asshole wants to play games? Well, I’m not going to just sit here and wait for him.”
She watched him leave and felt a chill pass through her. Shadows pooled in the corners of the room and poured down the walls to collect all around her. They seemed to move in as though sensing her fears.
In the other room, she could hear Mason rummaging through the cupboards and drawers. Silverware cluttered on the counter. She had no idea what sort of weapon he was searching for, but she decided that he was right. She wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let some psychopath kill her. All the years she spent practicing kickboxing, all the money her parents spent to make sure she never became a victim, would be for nothing if she did nothing.
Pushing aside all the lingering fingers of dread clawing down the length of her spine, Julie stalked from the room. She hurried up the stairs, only to freeze on the landing. The upstairs corridor was dark, made even darker by the closed doors on either side of her. The cold fist squeezing her stomach tightened with terror. In her chest, her heart rocketed with such ferocity that she was certain it could be heard for miles. She trembled as she put one foot forward, then the other. Her breathing drove out of her lungs in pants. She dampened her lips as her eyes shifted restlessly from side to side, scanning the darkness for even the slightest movement. There was no sound, but the rustle of her footsteps along the carpet. She tried holding her breath, but that only made her lightheaded. She swallowed and the gulping sound seemed to echo around her.
At the end, the doorknob slipped under her sweaty grip. She tightened her hold and wrenched the door open. She bolted inside as though a monster were behind her and shut the door between them. The lock slid into place with a deafening snick. Cold chills snaked over her clammy body as if someone had left a window open somewhere. She knew that wasn’t possible, because she and Mason had checked all windows and doors before the lights had died. Yet the draft continued to blow over her as she turned to the room and fumbled her way to the bed. Her finger slid over cool sheets until they caught on the straps of her duffle. She dragged the bag to her and ripped open the top.
Downstairs, she heard a cupboard door slam shut. Then the unmistakable murmur of voices followed by a thud as though something heavy had struck the ground.
Julie grabbed her bat from her duffle. Her fingers held firm to the rubber grip as she crossed the room a second time and pried the door open a crack. She listened carefully for some sign that she wasn’t alone and heard nothing. Not cupboard doors slamming. Not the hurried shuffle of Mason’s feet. Not cutlery rattling. Silence. Endless, bottomless, silence.
Her mouth opened without any of her consent. His name rushed up her esophagus before she caught herself. Only stupid girls called out and they always wound up paying with their lives.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she eased out of her room and crept her way downstairs. She kept her back along the wall, moving quickly and silently over each step with the bat nestled against her shoulder. From somewhere in the distance, lightening crashed. A moment later, thunder rumbled, shaking the roof. Her heart galloped wildly with the sound and she had to pause to steady herself before descending the rest of the way.
At the bottom, she scampered to the opposite wall and plastered her back to the wall next to the living room doorway. She counted three heartbeats before tossing a quick glance inside. The room was empty. Not sure how she felt about that, she moved to the second doorway—the kitchen.
She paused for longer this time. She listened as the wind howled from inside. The sound of rain was more pronounced like a door or window were open. She wondered if Mason had gone outside, but she couldn’t figure out why he would, especially without telling her.
Holding her breath, she twisted her neck and did a quick scan of the room. It was also empty. Mason was nowhere in sight. The patio doors were flung open, letting rain stain the hardwood. Outside, the t
rees bowed beneath the wind’s merciless force like claws snatching at the night. The sky was the color of an ink spill. She frowned as she crept further into the room. She crossed to the opening and peered out at the dwindling fingers of light fading beyond the horizon. It shimmered over the rolling waves crashing into the dock. The lake roiled as though it were in competition with the sky.
Julie shivered as icy claws slashed at her, tearing at her clothes and hair. She rushed forward and pulled the doors shut. She locked them and took a step back.
Mind muddled by questions she had no answer to, she turned away and headed for the island. The remaining fingers of light sliced off the razor sharp curves of knives all piled on the counter. Forks, spoons and bowls littered the floor. Amongst them, she spotted the flashlight Mason had been using and the warning bells sounded in her head.
Something had happened to Mason. He wouldn’t just leave, not without her, not without a flashlight.
She spun towards the doorway and thought of the empty living room, the foyer, and the rooms upstairs. He couldn’t have gone that way without her knowing.
Her gaze went to the patio doors. Had he gone outside? But why? Unless he didn’t go of his own free volition.
Another cold, sinking thought gnashed its fangs inside her; what if the killer had him? What if Mason was dead?
No! She couldn’t let herself think that way. There wasn’t any blood. Mason could still be alive. She had to find him.
While she wanted to crawl into the pantry and wait until morning, she went with the first feeling. She let the white hot determination consume her, even as her hands shook.
She bent down and picked up the flashlight. She flicked it on and shone the beam over the room, chasing away the darkness collecting all around her. Part of her was dying to call out, to call for Mason, but she knew deep down he wasn’t in the house.
As big as the cabin was, there still weren’t very many places to hide. She had already been upstairs, so whoever was in the house, had to either be on the main floor, the basement, or outside.
Julie contemplated making a run for it. She could get help. But that meant leaving Mason behind with a lunatic. She couldn’t do that either. So with her bat in one hand and the flashlight in the other, she set off into the hall. She swung the light left, then right before turning her body right towards the laundry room. Her feet made hardly a sound as she traced the steps she and Mason had taken only ten minutes earlier.
The basement door was shut. There was no sign that it had been opened by anyone since Mason. But that didn’t mean anything.
After tucking the bat under her arm, she used her freed hand to turn the knob. She shone the light down the dark hole, waiting for something to jump out. When nothing did and silence resumed, she eased her way down. The steps creaked, each one making her flinch. The repugnant stench of copper slammed into her, stronger than before. She didn’t recognize the scent, but it was sharp. She swept the light over the dank walls, over the cold concrete floors, and even along the rafters overhead, but everything looked as it had when she’d been down there earlier.
She took a step right. The toe of her sneaker caught a bit of metal. The thing made a world of noise for something so small before it disappeared behind a stack of boxes.
Julie held her breath. She waited for something to lunge out and tackle her and exhaled when nothing did. More careful about where she stepped, she edged deeper. Her light swung over cartons, a wooden rocking horse, and a workbench that was mounted beneath a wall of tools.
Julie took a cautious step closer. The beam of light shook violently, practically vibrating as the halo stuttered across stone.
Something rustled in the black corner off to her right, behind a wall of boxes and shadows. It scuffled. A groan rose through the sickening silence and punched her in the chest. Her mind warred with itself and all her commonsense warned her to get away. Yet she stayed. She remained rooted to the spot and watched in wide-eyed terror as something dark and hulking rose from its crouch. It staggered and caught itself on the wall with a bloody hand. More blood soaked its blue t-shirt and trickled down dark jeans. It was holding something, something sharp and silver that caught her light and glinted.
Julie’s insides went cold.
The figure roared like a cornered animal and lunged for her.
Chapter Twenty-One
With a scream that seemed to tear from somewhere deep in the center of her very being, Julie shot back. The light in her hand fell. It hit the ground with a noisy clatter that went unnoticed, even when the beam flickered and died, casting her into absolute darkness.
She grabbed the bat with both hands and swung blindly. It connected with something, but when there was no sound of pain, she realized she’d hit a row of boxes.
Struggling with the panic welling up inside her, Julie blindly threw herself back the way she’d come. The figure charged after her like a bull through a china shop, knocking aside boxes, and plunging blindly on her heels. There was a thud, a loud, snarling grunt and then scuffling.
Julie didn’t wait to see what happened. She took the steps two at a time, hand still fisted tightly around her bat. Somewhere below, a snarl ripped through her heavy breathing. More boxes hit the ground.
Julie fell into the laundry room. Her hip and side took most of the blow, but the pain was fleeting. She barely felt it as she scrambled the rest of the way in. Her bat rolled out of her hands, but she left it as she twisted around and kicked the door shut behind her. Half sobbing and half panting, she crab-crawled backwards, away from the flimsy bit of wood standing between her and the knife wielding maniac below.
Limbs numb and barely in control, she pushed to her feet and ran into the kitchen. She grabbed a chair from the table and hauled it back. The headrest slid perfectly under the knob and the back feet caught the grooves cut in between each square piece of laminate.
It wouldn’t hold him forever, but it would hold him for a while.
Snatching up her bat, she hurried out of the tiny room and closed the door behind her as an extra obstacle. For a moment, she stood in the dark hallway, surrounded by the howls of wind and crashes of lightening feeling shaken and sick.
Her momentary feeling of triumph was shattered when a scuffle had her entire body going rigid all over again. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound. The grip on her bat tightened.
The shuffle continued, getting closer. Then there was a grunt, the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground, and a low groan. It took all her willpower not to call out. She did, however, inch towards the kitchen; if she could get to the terrace doors, maybe she could make a run for it, get help.
“Hello?” The voice was low, weak, and full of tremors. It froze Julie to the floor. “Mason? Julie?”
It was Luis. He gripped the railings on the stairs and hauled himself to his feet. There was something long jutting from the side of his head.
“Luis?”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Julie?”
She hurried towards him. “Oh my God, Luis! Are you okay?”
The bar was his arm and he was holding a blood soaked rag to his brow, which, even in the darkness, glistened where a deep gash had been opened from hairline to cheek.
“What happened?” she demanded, taking his arm and helping him into the kitchen.
“Shaun...” A sound between a wheeze and a sob escaped him as she eased him onto a stool. “He ... there’s something wrong with him. He attacked me.”
Leaving him there, Julie set her bat down on the counter, grabbed a clean dish cloth, and dampened it in the tap. She returned to him and replaced his rag with hers. He hissed and jerked, but didn’t pull away.
“What do you mean he attacked you? I thought you guys were going to get help.”
“I don’t know what happened. I remember us leaving and walking up the road ... then everything went black. I woke up in the garage. Shaun was holding a knife and ... and there was blood dripping off it, and him. He was co
vered.” Luis shuddered, his voice wavered. “I ... I asked him what he was doing, but he came at me, screaming. I hit him with something ... I think it was a car jack, or something. I don’t remember. Then I ran. I came here and couldn’t find anyone. I was upstairs when I heard a bang. I thought at first it was Shaun, coming back to finish the job, but ... well, it was you.”
Applying a bit more pressure to his wounds, Julie shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would Shaun—”
“I told you I thought something was off with him,” Luis hissed, keeping his voice low.
“No, this doesn’t add up...”
“Where’s Mason?” Luis asked, interrupting her.
“I don’t know!” she cried. “He was here, in the kitchen, looking for a weapon. I went upstairs and when I came back, Mason was gone, the backdoors were open and there...” She broke off when realization suddenly struck her. “Shaun’s in the basement.”
Luis stiffened. “What?”
Julie wet her lips. “There’s someone in the basement. They have a knife.”
“Shaun!” The single name was choked with fear.
A cold tremor passed through Julie. “Do you think he did something to Mason?”
“Oh God!” Luis doubled over wheezing. “Oh God! Oh God!”
Realizing he would be no help, Julie took hold of his wrist. She brought his hand to the cloth staunching the flow of blood running down his face and stepped back.
“I’m going to find Mason,” she said. “He has to be here somewhere.”
Luis rocked his head morbidly from side to side. “He’s dead. Shaun killed him.”
“Stop it!” she snapped. “He’s not dead. He’s here somewhere.”
Luis continued to moan and sniffle. She left him there as she grabbed her bat and set off. But no sooner had she reached the laundry room when Luis staggered after her, looking ashen and scared enough to faint.
“I don’t ... I don’t think you should go alone,” he explained shakily. “Isn’t there a rule about ... about that? Don’t split up?”
Kissing Trouble Page 30
