Clearer in the Night

by Rebecca Croteau

  When she opened the door, I watched her flash from surprise, to concern, to finally a sort of resigned sadness. She didn’t say anything, just gathered me in and closed the door behind me. We sat down on the couch, and I tried to tell her what had happened, but I couldn’t get the words out between the sobs. After a couple of hours, she gave up. She wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and excused herself to her room. Maybe she thought I couldn’t hear her once she closed the door? “Hi,” she said, once a voice picked up the line she’d called. “I, uh, know that I wasn’t supposed to call this number unless she…but something is wrong. You need to send someone.” She ended the call, then came out and sat down again, putting her hands over mine and giving me the softest, sweetest look of concern that money could buy.

  “Do they pay you well,” I asked her, “to watch me? Do you report on everything I do?”

  She only hesitated a moment before nodding. “It was the only way to pay for school. Mom helped with my BA, but the Masters tapped us out, and I wanted a PhD after my name.” She let out a big sigh, and there was my friend again, reaching out for me. I brushed her hand away. “I was worried about you, Cait. They said they could help you. They said they were helping you. That you knew what was happening. And I…I wanted to see you happy and healthy again.”

  “Were we ever friends?”

  It wasn’t cold anger in her eyes, but red-hot hurt. “Of course we were, Cait. The problem was that you stopped letting me in. I had to do something. I wasn’t going to be one more person who just gave up and let you die.” She stood up and stormed back to her room. I sat still until Eli came to collect me.

  Once Eli got there, Shan didn’t come out of her room. I kept replaying what she’d said, and the hurt look in her eyes, over and over in my brain, but they didn’t make any more sense than they had when she’d first come clean with them.

  The easy familiarity that Eli and I had shared over that week was gone. He glanced at me, every so often, but he hardly said anything to me, just “Anything else you need?” as he lifted up my duffle. I shook my head, trying to think of a way to mention that awful text message. To put into words how much it stung. How much I’d needed him to make a different choice.

  He watched me for a moment, then tried on that grin that had melted my knees forty-eight hours ago. “Come along, Pond,” he said, and the geek reference made someone that I used to be smile, but my own lips were too tired and stiff to bend. His eyebrows bent together for a moment, and then he forced himself back into business mode. He reached out a hand for mine, and I took it. I didn’t want to, but I was sure that if I stood up without being tethered to the earth somehow, I would just float away.

  His car was an old, American-made beater that looked like it was held together with prayers and duct tape. I adored it instantly, and I went and sat in the passenger’s seat while he tossed my bag into the backseat.

  “How long has she been spying on me?” I asked.

  “Shannon?” he replied as he slid into the driver’s seat and twisted the key in the ignition.

  “Are there other people spying on me?”

  “The way I hear it, no one else wanted the job.” He glanced at me as he reversed out of the apartment’s parking lot. “On some level, she did it to protect you.”

  “If she was protecting me, she would have told me.”

  “If you’d known, Clara would have had her replaced.” He made ‘replaced’ sound like ‘quietly killed, down at the docks.’ Meredith Falls didn’t have docks, but I let it go. “She cares about you.”

  “Not to hear her tell it.”

  “She’s scared for you. And for herself.”

  “So is this the end?” In a strange way, the thought that I might finally, incredibly, be done was so wonderful that I felt myself melt into the seat.

  Another glance my way. “Giving up so soon?”

  “I had a dream last night. I couldn’t…control it. I couldn’t control the dream, and I couldn’t stop myself from projecting. It’s not like I’m going to be able to contain an ancient spirit of nature when it tries to take over.”

  “When was that ever the plan?”

  “Better than yours.”

  He sighed. “Look, if it’s just an issue of squeamishness—”

  “It’s an issue of it being wrong to kill an innocent person. Show me proof, any kind of proof, that Sophie is the monster you say she is and we’ll talk, but until then …”

  “We are running out of time, Cait. The kind of proof you want isn’t easy to come by until the moon changes, and by then, it’ll be too late for you.”

  “Then it’s too late for me.” I leaned my head against the headrest and enjoyed the feeling of the wind over my face. “Where are we going? Back to the secret hideout?”

  “No,” he said, and his tone was harsher than I’d expected. “Why did you leave?”

  I barked out a laugh. “Your message made it pretty clear that you didn’t want me there.”

  “What message?” He looked all careful and concerned, like he actually had no idea of what I was talking about.

  “You said you’d be there in twenty minutes. You weren’t there an hour later, and you sent me a text that said it was all a mistake, and you’d see me in the morning.”

  His face turned dark, his lips pressing together into a thin line. “I see.”

  “Did you not send that?” My heart lifted up, and I tried to squash it down, tried to keep my distance, and the soft fuzz of peace around me, but it was hard, it was incredibly hard. Impossible even.

  “There was an emergency. I asked for a message to be sent to you, letting you know I’d be back as soon as possible. Clearly, something was lost in translation. I’m sorry. I certainly didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to be with you.”

  It was useless. My whole self was buoyed up with hope. “Do you? Want to be with me?”

  He didn’t say anything, just gave me a small smirk, then reached over and gently kneaded my knee.

  We drove just outside of town, then circled back around towards the lake. He parked the car in the middle of a corn field, then shut off the ignition and climbed out of the car, reaching into the back seat for my duffle. I slipped out of the car behind him. “We’re in the middle of a field,” I said, just in case he hadn’t realized.

  He flashed a grin at me, and this time it did make my knees go weak. “Come along, Pond,” he said again. He started ducking between rows, and I followed, trying my best to dodge the sharp leaves as they rustled in a breeze only they could feel. The sun was full in the sky, beating down on the back of my neck.

  “So, about this field,” I said. “Are you leading me to another secret base?”

  “It’s nothing even remotely so sexy.”

  I laughed. “You’re going to be there. I’m sure it’ll be sexy enough.” There was a tinge to my voice, something not me, and he heard it the same time I did. “Am I safe with you, Eli?” I asked, in that same voice that wasn’t entirely mine.

  He turned to me as I caught up to him. “Am I safe with you, Cait?” He was a whisper away from me, and his hands closed lightly over my wrists. “Are you in control of the monster? Of yourself?” He moved slowly closer to me, whispering his words into my mouth.

  It took everything in me to step back from him and bend my lips into a smile. “Of course.”

  He looked pleased. “Good.”

  And then, to spite him, I stepped in again, pressing my lips to his before he stepped away. He groaned, deep in his chest, and his hands weren’t light anymore, they were iron bands circling my wrists. I felt him react to me as I opened my mouth to him, twisting my tongue inside of him, bending my arms behind my back to press him, shoulder to thigh, against me. He broke off the kiss, gasping, but he didn’t let go of me. I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Thing for redheads, right?” I said.

  “Sure.” He was breathless. “We’ll call it that.” He turned away, walking gingerly, and I smirked.
<
br />   We stepped out of the rows of corn and found ourselves in a little meadow, which surrounded a small cottage, nestled in marsh and willows. You could throw a stone from the front door, and it would hit the lake. In the softening light, I could see a dock stretching out on the water. I thought of relaxing on it, trailing my fingers through the liquid softness of the cool lake water, minnows darting between my fingers. I thought of Eli’s frame looking down on me, girded with sunlight.

  But even at high noon, I could feel the moon, on the other side of the world. In time, in its due time, it would rise up in the sky. It was twisting me, turning me. It was making the beast pace inside of me, looking for a crack, a chink, a way to freedom. She’d get to change her girl-shape for her right-shape soon, and she knew it. She was just biding her time.

  Eli stood in the doorway and beckoned me inside. I followed. There were no lights turned on; there was ambient light from the windows, but many had curtains drawn over them, so it was dim. He gestured towards a couch, and I settled myself while he lit an oil lamp. He did use a lighter, at least, not an actual match.

  “Not wired for electricity?” It wasn’t common anymore, but there were still a few properties on the sides of the lakes that were much more like summer camps, and much less like vacation homes.

  He nodded, the shadows of the lamp creating planes and crags on his face that weren’t visible in the sunlight. He looked old. Decrepit. His eyes were hollow. “I have a wood-stove. It heats the place up, cooks. It’s not glamorous, but it gets the job done. And it’s easy to leave a clean slate behind.”

  “A clean slate?”

  “For the next Hunter.” The capital letter was painfully clear.

  “For the…what do you call yourselves, anyway?”

  “The name on the stationery isn’t important.”

  “You don’t live at the super-secret underground base?”

  He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. “Not if I can help it. I like the sunshine and the fresh air.”

  “You stayed down there with me for a week,” I said. He met my eyes, steadily and easily, until I blushed and looked away. “So what are we doing here?”

  “Shannon had always been instructed to call in if it appeared you were becoming volatile. So I came to collect you.”

  “Shouldn’t you bring me back to the base? Where I can be contained if—when—I lose control?”

  “The full moon isn’t for another five days.”

  I shrugged. He moved closer to me, perching on the small coffee table in front of the couch. “I don’t know if it matters. My skin itches. My dreams last night were insane, and when I woke up, I threw my sister across the room because she touched me, trying to wake me up.” I sighed. “I can’t control this, and you were very clear that we won’t have proof that Sophie is or isn’t the attacker until it’s too late. I just want it done.” My voice sounded thin and drawn out, like a dribble of maple syrup in January.

  I thought he’d try another stupid pep talk, or a lecture on why we should take Sophie down now, just in case, but instead, he stared at me for a long minute, then sighed. He shifted to the couch to sit next to me, and drew me into his open arms. I pulled my knees up, nestling myself between his legs, and letting his arms circle me. My head rested on his chest, and as he stroked my hair, I closed my eyes.

  I drifted for a while, not hearing or seeing or feeling. I wasn’t asleep, but I was rested. More thoroughly rested than I’d been in years. Maybe ever.

  After an indeterminate amount of time, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “You were going to tell me something.”

  He opened his eyes, liked he’d been drifting as well. “What?”

  “Before. That last night. You had some huge revelation to make, and then you were going to accept the idea that I determine who I sleep with.”

  “Ah,” he said, incredibly informative as always. “Any chance of you dropping that, ever?”

  “Not really, no.”

  He was silent for a little while. “There was nothing to tell.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know. I was buying time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Time for you to calm down and realize that I wasn’t the guy you wanted. That I…God, Cait, you smell like everything that was ever good in time or space, but I’m no good for you. I am old, older than I look by a lot of years, and I live my life mostly in the darkness. I chase death on a daily basis, and it has changed who I am, and not for the better. I have swept into your life, and I look like a rescuing knight on a barded horse, and I would like to be that for you, but—”

  I put my hand in the center of his chest, and pushed myself up until I was looking into his eyes. “I’m going to say this one time, and I really need you to put on your listening ears, okay?”

  He laughed, which was better than I’d been hoping for. “Sure.”

  “I am not a damsel in distress. I am messed up, sometimes, and I have made some very interesting decisions, even in recent memory, but they are mine, okay? I don’t want a rescuing knight, I just want someone to face the darkness with me. Think that you can do that?”

  For a moment, his eyes glistened with a softness and a gentle yearning that surprised me. “Yes,” he said, finally. “Yes, I can do that.”

  “All right then.” I settled back into his arms and just enjoyed his touch.

  “We should eat,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes. Always.”

  The cabin’s kitchen was more a section of the main room than a separate area. I’d thought, when he suggested chili, that he’d start pulling out some sort of canned food byproduct, but instead, he handed me onions and peppers to chop, while he pulled meat out of an actual ice-box—the kind where you put ice in one section, and it kept the rest as cold as a refrigerator—and started to brown it in a pan on his wood-stove. He did have canned beans and canned tomatoes, but I decided to forgive him, since I didn’t want to wait for beans to soak all day, either. Once I chopped the veggies, he started adding things to a stockpot and stirring like mad. When he was satisfied with how things looked in the pot, he added in beans, tomatoes, and the cooked meat. He added various spices for a minute, sniffing frequently. There was a certain chill in the air, even though the weather outside was lovely, but it faded as the little stove heated up. At first, it smelled like tomatoes, sharp and crisp and acidic, but as the pot simmered, the smell mellowed out, deepened, and my stomach started to rumble.

  He came to me, then, and wrapped me in his arms, my back to his front, and we swayed gently to music that only he could hear. He leaned down, slowly, and pressed his lips just under my ear, and I sighed, trusting him to catch me if my knees went weak. “I like to read,” he said. “I read everything I can get my hands on. There hasn’t been a good song made in this century, as far as I can tell, and I try to buy ingredients instead of meals whenever possible. I try to protect people even when they don’t need protecting. And I think you’re beautiful enough that looking at you is like staring at the sun. Can you stand to get to know me a bit better?”

  I smiled up at him. “For the next three days, anyway. After that, we’ll re-evaluate.”

  He laughed, a loose and easy sound that I hadn’t heard from him before. His mouth returned to gently teasing my neck, his hands steady at my waist. He was rock hard, pressing into the top of my ass, but whenever I tried to press against him, or shift his hands higher or lower, he gently moved away from me, keeping the contact light and soft. I sighed more than I moaned, but the soft shocks of desire that spread out from the lowest part of my belly were unexpected. The wolf was quiet, for once, distant and uncaring.

  When I was driven into the mildest frenzy of all time, he pressed one last kiss into my neck, and then went back to his kitchen, putting together drop biscuits faster than I’d ever seen. When they were done, he bowled up the chili, set a biscuit on top, and cleared off a section of a small round table. We sat down together, and the first bite o
f chili was like spicy heaven in my mouth. “This is delicious,” I said.

  “Thanks. My grandmother—my actual grandmother—taught me to make it when I was just a kid. The recipe has evolved over the years, but chili’s basically a kitchen sink meal anyway.”

  “What was she like? Your actual grandmother, I mean.”

  He smiled, staring off into the past. “She was small—short, I mean—but built like a fireplug. She took no nonsense from me, or anyone else. She whacked my hand with her spoon when I didn’t pay attention to her.” His face clouded. “She was killed by…well, it doesn’t matter what killed her. I was just a kid, a teenager. And I tried to track down the thing that had slaughtered her, and I nearly got killed myself. Clara was the one who found me, took me in, kept me from dying while I was unconscious, then kept me from dying again when I woke up and realized I’d failed. She offered me a purpose.” All that warmth he liked to hide showed in his eyes right then, and his voice shook just a little with feeling. “Said that once you’d been touched by darkness, you could see clearer in the night, and could help to protect those who were still night-blind.”

  “And you agreed?”

  He nodded. “It has its ugly moments, I’m not going to lie, but it’s been a good life. It’s…I’ve helped people. I’ve kept people from Gran’s fate. And that’s something.”

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  He studied me for a long moment, weighing his answer. “Would you go screaming out the door if I told you it’d been seventy-five years since I found Gran dead in her own kitchen?”

  I smiled. “Seventy-five? No. If it were a hundred, though, that would be just ridiculous.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not in a place to be judgey right now. As you said, if we survive this next week, we’ll revisit the conversation. For now—let’s just eat dinner.”