by Rita Herron
Outside, sleet slashed the roof. She built a small fire to ward off the chill, then looked out the window. Thick woods surrounded the place, trees bending and swaying with the force of the wind. The Smoky Mountains rose toward the sky like a fortress that offered a hiding place from the rest of the town.
The way Hodges had wanted it.
Back then, it had frightened her to be so far away from everyone else. Now, she sought comfort in the solitude. Keeping herself at a distance from others had saved her life in the past.
A shadow moved outside, and she tensed, studying the darkness. Was someone out in the woods watching her, or had it only been her imagination? The roar of an animal rent the air. What if the werecats were real?
No, she did not believe in the supernatural. The monsters she saw were human.
A noise inside startled her. Birds flapping in the attic? Or maybe raccoons or another trapped animal?
Seconds later, the sound of a baby crying trilled through the hollow walls. Elsie covered her ears. The sound would never cease. She heard it every night as she tried to fall asleep.
She’d run from this place to escape it, but she had never been able to. And she never would.
Because the baby had been hers. And it was lost forever.
DEKE STUDIED the orphanage, surprised that Elsie had gone inside and hadn’t returned to her car. Age and weather had grayed the exterior while cobwebs and years of fallen leaves and tree branches overflowed the gutters. Weeds had overtaken the yard, the grass brittle from the winter, the windows dark and coated in layers of dirt and grime. It was as dark as Hades inside.
He couldn’t imagine Elsie spending the night in the spooky place, but the fact that she had gone inside proved she wasn’t as skittish as he’d first thought. Or maybe she assumed this was one place no one would ever look for her.
He considered approaching her again, but decided to wait until morning. Let her think she’d escaped him. Let her get some rest. Meanwhile, he’d do a little research on Wildcat Manor.
Then he’d catch her off guard, early in the morning before she had a chance to leave again.
Still, he watched the house until after midnight, when it grew quiet and the small light flickered off. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he walked down the graveled drive back to his Range Rover, climbed in and followed the dirt road to the main highway. A battered sign pointed left, guiding him to the small town of Wildcat. He’d heard the South and Smoky Mountains were filled with spooky old legends. Would he find ghost stories in Wildcat?
Blinking to see through the fog, he circled the square until he found a small ten-room motel called Mountain Man’s Lodge. He grimaced at the dilapidated concrete building. There was probably a cozy bed-and-breakfast the tourists used, but he didn’t need frills, only answers. This truck-stop dive backed up to the woods, which beckoned him to visit for his nightly ritual.
Inside, an old-timer with gray hair, overalls and a hearing aid lifted his frail hand in a wave. “I’m Homer. You ain’t from around these parts, are you?”
He shook his head no. “I need a room for tonight.”
“Just passin’ through?”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”
Homer handed him a key to room nine, then looked him up and down. “You never been to Wildcat before?”
“No. What can you tell me about the town?”
The old man huffed. “Don’t many people that come through here ever come back.” A chortle rumbled from his thin chest. “Fact is, some of ’em never leave, either.”
“You mean they like it so much, they settle?” Deke asked.
“Not hardly.” Homer gestured out the window to a small white chapel at the foot of the hi. “See that cemetery? That’s where they end up. Damned just like the town.”
Deke frowned, wondering if the man’s comment had been a warning. Then again, Homer didn’t look dangerous.
“The devil lives in those woods along with wildcats as big as tigers, some of ’em half-human,” Homer continued. “Call ’em werecats. They feed off animals and humans.”
Homer must be senile. “Then why are you still here?”
He pointed out the window toward the hills. “Buried my wife, Bessie, a few years back. Cancer got her. We were together forty-five years. Can’t bear to leave her here alone.”
Deke frowned. He had no idea love and devotion like that existed anymore. Of course, his parents had weathered their own terrible storm and wound up back together. “I passed a place called Wildcat Manor coming in,” he said, putting his personal thoughts aside. “It used to be an orphanage?”
The man’s thin skin stretched over his bony jaws as he frowned. “Yep, but they closed it down ten years ago. Bunch of troublemakers lived there, didn’t associate with the townsfolk. Strange things went on in that manor. Stories about young girl runaways. The old man was crazy.”
“What happened to him?”
“Died in the fire that destroyed the basement of the building. The orphanage was disbanded then. Reckon his wife, Hattie Mae, was too scared of the hellions they put with her.” He wheezed a breath. “Rumors said one of the girls set the fire.”
“What happened to Hattie Mae?”
“She died a few weeks ago.”
“Did you know a woman…a girl actually, named Elsie Timmons? Was she one of the orphans?”
“Didn’t know any of them by name,” the man said. “Hodges never let the girls come into town, thought they’d stir up too much trouble with the decent young boys.” He scratched his chin. “To tell the truth, most of ’em were troubled, had been sent there by the law or cause their families didn’t want ’em. The town sure as hell didn’t.”
Anger sparked in Deke’s chest. How could the people in town have been so cruel to homeless kids? To Elsie?
And someone had wanted her—her mother. Only Elsie might never have known.
The tragedy of his own lost years with his dad rushed back, yet somehow Elsie’s situation seemed worse. He had to convince Elsie that her mother wanted to see her. He would go tomorrow.
His mind set, he accepted the key from Homer, retrieved his bag and let himself into the small motel room. The furnishings were minimal, the furniture old, the drapes and spread faded. He didn’t care.
He stepped outside, ignoring the brutal weather as he slipped into the dark wooded mountains. He’d see Elsie tomorrow. Find out why she was running. Tell her about Deanna.
Tonight he had to regroup. He couldn’t let Elsie’s sad story get to him. He was a loner. A falconer who needed no one. Who could not affordHe had his own rituals. His own secrets.
Nature called his name, begging him to return to the wild where he belonged. He had to answer.
SOMEONE WAS IN Wildcat Manor.
A young woman. He had watched her enter from the safety of his woods, and wondered if she was a stranger or if she might be one of the lost girls who’d finally come home. He’d figured that some day one of them might return. Looking for Hattie Mae.
Wanting answers.
Or revenge.
The abject fury in the thought sent a burning pain through his hunched shoulders. Wind whipped through the thin layer of his jacket and clawed at his aching bones.
He had vowed to Hattie Mae that he would keep the secrets of Wildcat Manor safe. That no one would ever find out about her weakness. And if this girl had come to snoop around or expose them, he wouldn’t hesitate to stop her.
No matter the consequences.
Forcing himself to remain in the shadows of Hattie Mae’s life had been torture, yet she had always known he was there. That if she needed him, all she had to do was whisper his name. That she was never far from his mind or his watchful eye.
This girl would learn that she wasn’t welcome.
Now. It was almost dawn. Time of the awakening.
A smile slid onto his wind-parched face as his boots sank into the thick snow. Slipping through the back gate came easily—he had
done it a thousand times. Even sought refuge from the cold behind those monumental stone walls. Tonight would be no different.
Clenching his jaw, he eased his way through the basement, his eyes automatically adjusting to the darkness, the sounds and smells of the dank space and the rituals that had been performed there rushing back as if time had stood still. He could still see the young girls pleading for their lives. The children who had been turned by the devil. The sinners who had to pay.
Hattie Mae watching in horror.
It was her fault, though. Hers and the bad children.
Pungent odors filled his nostrils, and warmth slowly seeped into his freezing body. He ascended the steps, remembering the night Howard Hodges had died. It had been a night just like this. Bitter cold. Complete darkness.
The wooden rungs squeaked, the sound of a mouse skittering beneath the furnace causing him to grin as he opened the door leading to the main hallway. Like a cavern, the house was completely void of light, but the scent of freshly lit kerosene wafted from above, and he realized the woman had found the lanterns. How had she known where they would be?
She had been here before. It was the logical explanation.
So which one of the pretty children had returned to the lair?
He slowly padded up the steps, his hand shaking as he focused on his plan, his mind spinning with the names of the orphans who’d stayed at Wildcat Manor, with the sounds of their cries and pleas, with the vulgar truth of their pasts. With their tempting ey
The dim glow of the lantern drew him closer to the bedroom, and he paused to listen, then heard sheets rustling and a whimpering sound as if a child had returned, not a woman. Pulling his cloak around his face and over his arms, he moved to the doorway and watched.
Her long dark hair was curly and lay across the pillow. So erotic. It had been a long damn time since he’d held a woman. She thrashed from side to side as if in the throes of a nightmare.
A chuckle threatened to erupt but he tamped it down. Didn’t she know that by coming here her nightmare had just begun? Like a voyeur, he hid in the shadows and watched her struggle for sleep, but no peace came. She muttered nonsensical panicked sounds, clutching the sheets with clenched fingers, perspiration trickling down her honey-lit skin.
Then he recognized her.
Elsie Timmons.
Rage and fear warred with the need to hold her. His hand trembled. His pulse quickened. Sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his back.
Suddenly, she jerked awake, eyes wide in the darkness, wild with confusion and fear. A shrill scream pierced the air when she saw him, and his instincts drove him forward. He pounced on the bed, covered her mouth with his hand, then shoved a pillow over her face. He desperately wanted to kill her. And he had to protect the secrets at Wildcat Manor.
She squirmed and clawed at his hands, but he chuckled.
No, killing her now would be too easy. She deserved to suffer.
Yes, he’d draw it out, torment her, make her feel the pain for a while.
Then he’d put an end to her….
Chapter Three
“Leave Wildcat Manor or die.”
Panic pumped through Elsie. The man’s acrid breath brushed her ear, and he loosened his grip on the pillow slightly. “Let the dead rest in peace,” he murmured. “Or you’ll be one of them.”
Icy fingers of fear tore up her spine, and she tried to wrench herself away. The years rolled back as if it had only been seconds since she’d run from Wildcat Manor.
The devil was in the house and he’d come to get her. Unspeakable horrors awaited.
He slid one hand down to her throat. His fingers dug into her skin, and Elsie summoned her fighter spirit. She’d found it the night she’d murdered Howard Hodges. And on the streets she’d practically become an animal.
She had to act now. A second longer, and he would cut off her windpipe completely.
Gathering her strength, she thrust her elbow up sharply, catching him in the ribs. He yelped and loosened his hold at the unexpected blow. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she spun around and stared at him, trying to see his face, but a long black cloak shrouded her view. He lurched forward, but she jabbed his eyes with her fingers, then rammed her fist into his belly. He bellowed in pain, grabbed her hair and yanked her head so hard pain through her scalp. Then he flung her across the room. Like a beast, he shot toward her with a roar.
She scrambled away, reached for the fire poker and swung it sideways at his legs. The metal end hit him in the groin, and he doubled over. She jumped to her feet and ran from the room, down the steps, nearly tripping in her haste.
Outside, the wind howled and rain pounded the ground. She grabbed her purse and ran toward her car in her pajamas. Barefoot, the ice stung her feet, sharp pains knifing through her toes. Running as fast as she could, she jumped inside her car and locked the door. Her hands shook as she tried to insert the key. It jammed. Good grief, she had it upside down! She had to hurry!
The roar from the porch bled through the haze of fear, and she glanced up to see the creature running toward her. She cried out and tried the key again, hands trembling. But this time she got it in and the engine sparked to life.
He raced after her, his cloak billowing around him, but she gunned the engine and flew down the mountain.
DEKE JERKED AWAKE with a start. Something was wrong. He sensed it.
Rising quickly, he jerked on a pair of jeans, boots and a denim shirt, then grabbed his coat and headed into the wooded mountains. Were the birds of prey in danger? Were there werecats preying on others or was the old man senile?
No, Elsie was in trouble.
He’d felt an instant connection with her just as he did with some animals, as if his sixth sense told him they were now bonded.
He considered driving straight to the orphanage, but decided he’d scare her to death if he appeared at her door this early. He could go in on foot, though, and watch the house. Wait for the sun to break through the clouds. Then pay her a visit.
Snow and ice crunched beneath his feet as he hiked deep into the forest and climbed toward Wildcat Manor. Inhaling the fresh raw scent of pine and winter, he paused to check the area for any injured animals, but saw nothing. Yet he sensed the evil. The predators. That there might be wildcats hiding behind the trees, sneaking through the forest. Or hybrids—human animals…
The uncanny feeling that Elsie was in danger here in Wildcat hit him again, this time so strong he began to jog.
Nearby, animals scrounged for food in the bed of ice and dead leaves. The piercing eyes of a wild animal, maybe a bobcat or mountain lion, caused him to pause, and he searched the trees for predators. Was the old man at the motel right? Were there strange creatures in these woods? Was the devil really hiding behind the shadows of the caves and snow-laden trees?
He came to a ridge that jutted out overlooking the valley, giving him a clear view of Wildcat Manor, which was only a quarter mile above him. He stepped onto the precipice, sensing the hollow emptiness below and the churning tide of tension in the area. Secrets. Evil. The town of the damned.
He had to know what had happened here.
He scanned the mountain property housing Wildcat Manor and glimpsed a swish of black feathers flying along the top of the house. Vultures. They squawked, falling into predator mode, circling and spiraling downward toward the chimnethey had just found fresh fodder.
His stomach clenched. Elsie. Years of honed instincts roared with the certainty that she was in trouble.
Adrenaline kicking in, he sprinted up the hill. Veering between the massive trees and brush was second nature, expecting the worst a nightmare that dogged him daily. What if something had happened to Elsie last night? Or this morning?
What if he’d misjudged her and she’d run again or someone had hurt her? What would he tell Deanna?
He increased his pace, climbing higher, higher, ignoring the biting cold and brisk wind. He was one with the birds.
The metal
lic taste of death sent a flood of bile to his throat. He had to hurry.
PANIC ROLLED THROUGH Elsie in waves. Where could she go now? What should she do?
The tremors intensified as she remembered the dark-cloaked attacker, but she quickly banished them. She was alive. She had fought him off.
And she was going to survive. No one was going to scare her away.
But she needed protection.
She’d buy a gun today, install dead bolts on the doors and get the power connected so she wouldn’t have to live in the darkness.
For now, she needed coffee to warm her and help her stop trembling. But she couldn’t go inside the town café wearing her pajamas. There was an all-night diner on the edge of town with a drive-through window. She headed toward it, slowing her pace as the rain intensified. Another car met her at the foot of the mountain, and she blinked, tensing as it approached. But the sedan flew by her, and veered onto another street that led to the river.
Her breathing finally steadied as she approached the diner. The temptation to go inside where she would be safe taunted her. Yet no one in this town had helped her ten years ago. Why would she think they might now? And if she told the police…
They might look into her story. Maybe her past. And she would go to jail for murder. Now that Hattie Mae had died, there was no one to verify that she was telling the truth. Admitting to killing Howard Hodges would be foolish.
Shivering at the thought of that horrible night, she rolled down the window at the drive-through, wishing she had a coat to hide her predicament.
A balding middle-aged man with a missing tooth narrowed his eyes at her momentarily, then grinned. “What can I do for you?”
She shuddered, then realized he probably assumed she was picking up coffee for her and an overnight lover. Let him think what he wanted. She’d long ago lost a good-girl’s reputation. Survival was all that mattered.
“A large coffee,” she said.
“Breakfast with that, ma’am?”
Her stomach was churning too badly to eat. But she’d need something later. In her haste to escape Deke Falcon, she hadn’t stopped to shop.
