Black Eyed Children (Black Eyed Children Series Book 1)

by Sara Clancy

  “I was running some of my dogs,” he said. His colossal torso shifted as he pointed to the far side of the yard, one thick finger signaling out a bush on the very edge of the light. “The entrance to the path is just on the other side of that hedge. I don’t use it so much in winter, what with the lake frozen and all, but right now we still have to go the long way around.”

  She flicked her eyes between the man, the gun, and the place he pointed to. “Where are your dogs?”

  “I left them a bit up the track. They tend to rile up these guys. Anyway, I heard the fussing and I thought you might need a hand. It’s just you up here, right?”

  Ruby’s hand drifted down to Bannock. Even as she felt him straining against her leg to get out, she wanted to reassure herself that he was there.

  “Snow got out for a bit,” Ruby confessed. “But she’s back now. Everything is good.”

  “That’s good.”

  Shifting her weight again, Ruby asked weakly, “Why are you out so late? And with a gun?”

  Peter laughed. Ruby couldn’t decide if she liked the sound.

  “It’s only just past six. And as for this guy,” he lifted the heavy looking shotgun with one hand, the metal surface catching the light. “No one should go into these woods without one. They did tell you not to go roaming around these woods by yourself, right? You just stay in that cabin and keep those lights on. The woods are full of predators you don’t want to run into at night.”

  Ruby nodded quickly and promised that she would.

  “You going to have Bannock in there with you all the time?”

  “Yes.”

  The answer slipped out easily. She still couldn’t quite tell what to make of Peter, but she was sure that she didn’t want him to think she was here alone. At the same time as she spoke, however, he slipped his hand through the door and ruffed up Bannock’s fur. The dog took the pat and the snack that Peter offered a moment later. The uneasiness that she had felt vanished as Bannock munched on the unseen morsel.

  “That’s good. He’s a good dog. Well, it seems like you have it all under control. If you need anything, I’m just down that road. Give me a yell.”

  “I thought you were a few miles away.”

  Peter laughed again. “Sound has a way of travelling around here. You’ll learn that you can’t really judge distance. Things that sound close can be pretty far off. It works the other way, too. You’ll be surprised what can creep up on you.”

  He nodded at her once, the ends of his hair bobbing with the movement, and turned to go.

  “Peter,” she asked in a rush. “Were you behind the cabin? I heard something moving back there.”

  “Wasn’t me,” he said. She couldn’t tell if he was lying. “I’m sure it was just a rabbit. They tend to hang around back there.”

  With one more nod, he headed off down the dirt road. She couldn’t see his sled dogs and soon lost track of him within the shadows. But every so often, the light would catch against the barrel of his shotgun. A quick flare that helped to pinpoint his progress. The dogs continued to bay and yelp as she watched until even that flickering light faded away.

  Shivering in the encroaching chill, she made sure to lock both doors and pulled the curtains tight.

  Chapter 4

  The cozy confines of the cabin seemed to be exempt from mundane things like time. Without a clock, there was no way to judge if minutes or hours had passed, so they soon began to feel interchangeable. The fire crackled as it emitted a glorious glow and equally welcomed heat. The wind picked up, growing into a muffled howl that whispered through the cracks around the windows. Every so often, Bannock broke the serenity with a sleepy huff, but he never left the patch of floor by the fireplace that he had claimed as his own. Ruby didn’t mind the loss of his body heat. The sleeping bags that she had unzipped to form a bedding did an excellent job at keeping her comfortable. Laying on her stomach, a novel in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee in the other, Ruby settled into the unstable serenity.

  She knew that, at any moment, Peter could return and the idea left a sour taste in the back of her throat. Perhaps he was actually kind. There was every chance that she had misjudged him. That it wasn’t his behavior but her disorder that had made him seem threatening. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been stalking around the cabin, and he was the only ‘someone’ out here. With simmering paranoia, she made sure to face the door as she read. But, as the pages passed, it became easier to believe that he wouldn’t be coming back.

  She was so comfortable that she didn’t want her body to ruin it. Unfortunately, as time dragged on, the pressure in the pit of her stomach grew too much to bear. There was no getting around it. She needed to make a trip to the outhouse. Reluctantly, she struggled out from under her blankets and gasped. The air wasn’t as warm as she had thought. Piling into her knee-length snow jacket and opting for her snow boots over her regular sneakers, she readied herself to leave the comfort of the cabin behind. All her preparation didn’t matter much when she finally opened the cabin door. An icy draft swept past her and covered her from head to toe as it swelled to fill the room. The sudden blast dropped the temperature enough to make Bannock lift his head with an annoyed growl. The noise died off when he saw what she was doing. At that, he lurched to his feet and trotted past her into the night.

  While the floodlights illuminated most of the yard, there were still a few feet of darkness separating the cabin from the reassuring glare. Bannock was barely more than a shadow, aimlessly wandering with his nose low to the ground. She lost sight of him altogether when she closed the door behind her to keep in the warmth. It was at that moment when the silence caught up with her. Without the walls to smother it or the sounds of the fire to cover it, the wind took on a ghastly undertone as it slithered through the surrounding forest. The floodlights had reduced the trees to towering figures that loomed over her, shifting as if they were edging ever closer. The cold pressed down upon her like a physical weight as it squirmed under the edges of her clothes.

  Ruby zipped her coat higher up her neck, shoved her hands into her pockets, and jogged across the dividing space. The sounds and shadows didn’t seem as bad when she entered the ring of light, so she slowed into a walk and watched her breath puff out in smoky clouds. A few of the dogs had curled up, their noses tucked under the protection of their fluffy tails to fend off the cold. The others had gone into their houses, cramming themselves into the small space and leaving only their twisted chains visible. The few dogs that were interested in her movements did little more than lift their heads or thump their tails against the dirt. And even that seemed like too much effort when they realized she wasn’t going to feed them.

  A breath of arctic wind pushed against her back, carrying with it the faint cry of an owl and the promise of a sharper cold yet to come. Beyond the steady drone of the generator, the world was populated with only the faintest of sounds. The snorts and rustling of the dog. The crunch of the leaves under her boots. Her thin and feathery breathing as her lungs struggled to adjust to the chill that filled them. If the air alone was this bad, she wasn’t looking forward to sitting on the outhouse toilet seat.

  Hunching her shoulders, she rounded the visitor’s tent, shaving a few seconds off of her journey by cutting across the edge of the garden. She made sure not to destroy any of the plants as she jumped over the row of boundary rocks. Nestled behind the visitor’s tent and surrounded by trees, the outhouse sat just beyond the ring of light. It was small, flimsy, and filled with shadows.

  The hinges of the outhouse groaned and rattled as she forced the door open. There was barely any room within the tiny space, and the air somehow seemed even colder than outside. As she crammed the door shut, her lack of a flashlight became painfully apparent. The only light was the gleam of the floodlights that blazed through the cracks between the blanks. It looked almost as if a spaceship were landing outside. She smiled slightly at the thought as she waited for her eyes to adjust. The bes
t she could do was make out the vague outline of a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of sanitizer perched on a small shelf.

  Somehow, the actuality of warm skin coming into contact with the wood was worse than what she had been imagining. With a sharp gasp, Ruby resolved to make the whole process as quick as possible. She needed to get back to the cabin before she lost every last trace of warmth from her bones. The hand sanitizer was just as bad as the wood had been.

  Then, with one solid thump, the lights died.

  Cast into an unbroken darkness, Ruby froze. Fear sizzled through her veins, filling every muscle until she could barely breathe around it. A single thought bounded against her skull in time with her throbbing heartbeat; Peter’s come back. Her ears rang at the intense silence that bore down upon her. But, as the moments dragged, her mind started to work again and she remembered that she had left the cabin light on. The bulb was so weak that the firelight had quickly outshone it, so she had forgotten to turn it off and it had been taxing the generator ever since. The gas must have run out.

  Groaning in frustration, she fixed her clothes to better defend against the wind and ran over the options in her head. It seemed a simple enough task to collect a flashlight and fill the generator. But the reality made her hesitate. Juggling a gallon of gas and a flashlight in the pitch black, with a wolf infested forest at her back, didn’t seem like the brightest idea. She had no idea what time it was, but it had to be late. It was possible that dawn wasn’t that far off. Instead, she could just pass the night in the cabin and deal with this in the morning. If she kept the fire going, the smoke should deter any lingering animals. It seemed like the far superior option.

  Resolved, she reached forward, searching through the ebony abyss for the door. She found the rough wood and was just about to push when she heard the bushes behind her rustle. Footsteps pounded over the underbrush and sprinted around the front of the outhouse. Snapping her hand back, Ruby stared at the door, her heart hammering within her chest. That couldn’t be what I thought it was, she told herself. She repeated the words within her skull, but she couldn’t convince herself that it was true. They were footsteps. Human footsteps. Maybe it was Peter? She tried to reason. But why would he be running around her outhouse in the middle of the night? A voice in the back of her head told her to stop that line of thought because there was no way to get to an answer that would be in any way comforting.

  Biting her lip, Ruby froze in place and strained to hear the slightest sound, trying to pinpoint where the person was now. She could hear the wind blowing, rustling the dying leaves that still clung to the trees. There were no other sounds. Her blood turned to ice as she realized that everything else had faded away. Just like before, when she had ventured into the wood after Snow and the world had evaporated around her. No birds, no bugs, no dogs grumbling as they sought out a more comfortable position. It was as if nothing existed beyond the frail walls around her. She blinked rapidly, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the dark, desperate to see even the slightest shadows. It was no use. She was blind. And she hadn’t locked the door.

  Her lungs felt too small for her chest as she reached out with a trembling hand. The unfinished wood scraped against her fingertips. It flaked and splintered, threatening to drive shards into her skin as she searched over the surface. There has to be a lock, she told herself. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember if there was one. The leaves crackled again. She couldn’t pinpoint where it had come from. Within the same moment, they would appear to be in a dozen places at once. As if she were surrounded. There was no way to tell how big it was. But there was no mistaking that it was close. It might just be Peter, she told herself again.

  There was no comfort in the thought.

  Her nail brushed against a thin slip of metal. It clunked against the wood, a tiny sound, but one that was instantly followed by another footstep. Ruby pressed her hand over it to keep it silent and held her breath. Had they heard? Do they know I’m here? Are they looking for me? The thoughts crowded into her mind as the frost covered hook pressed against her palm. With her other hand, she searched for the latch.

  The leaves crackled under a flurry of footsteps. A wave of cold air rushed through the cracks in the wood as the stranger raced past. Surging forward, she fumbled the flimsy hook into place and staggered away. The back of her legs collided with the seat and her knees almost dropped her onto it. Each step drew closer to the door. They were slow. Measured. There was no doubt anymore. Someone was on the other side, and they were beginning to circle the outhouse.

  Ruby held her breath until her lungs became infernos behind her ribs. Still, the only sound was of the person’s footsteps as they methodically walked around the tiny structure. In the crippling darkness, it was all too easy to imagine that the stranger could see her, sense her, like a shark circling its prey. She squinted, trying to force the shadows into some discernable shape by sheer force of will. The world around her remained a blank slate.

  There has to be a reason, she thought. Something logical. Something simple. But she couldn’t think of what that might be. The town was miles away. The night was freezing and promised only to get colder. And the silence of whoever was out there drove away any thought that it might just be a lost hiker looking for a safe place. They’re looking for me. The awareness drove into her chest like an iron spike. The fire is still burning in the cabin. Anyone passing would see it. As she began to tremble, she struggled to squash down that line of thought. All of her attempts amounted to nothing. But her mind snapped still when the footsteps stopped.

  The wind stirred once more, strong enough now to bring with it the traces of wet earth and pine. On shaking legs, she inched forward. The steps didn’t come closer. They didn’t leave. There was only a stifling hush that almost felt painful. Ruby could almost feel someone watching her. In her mind’s eye, she could picture the stranger pressed up against the wall, staring at her through one of the cracks, waiting for her to feel safe enough to come out.

  Time continued on and the winter chill took its toll. Her hands ached as the air ravaged them. Too scared to leave herself vulnerable, she refused to shove them into her pockets. A fine tremor shook her. If I run, could I get back to the cabin before they catch me? Would they chase me? Should I risk it? The thoughts pounded in her mind as much as her heartbeat.

  Biting down on her lip until she could taste the faintest traces of blood, she used the pain to help center herself. It’s probably Peter. He probably saw the lights click off and came to check if everything was okay. It can’t be anything bad. If it were, the dogs would be barking.

  The dogs.

  Her spine straightened as she held her breath once again, exploring the silence to try and catch any hint of movement. If Bannock was nearby, she might be able to get him to come with her back to the cabin. The race through the unknown, completely blind, didn’t seem as daunting if she could have the massive dog by her side.

  Feeling slightly emboldened, she arranged herself into a crouch and pressed her ear against the wall. Each gust of wind spilled over her skin as though the night itself were breathing. Nothing stirred. She pressed a little closer. The leaves crackled just inches from her ear. Jerking back, she clamped one hand over her mouth to stifle her startled scream. The other grabbed the lock, keeping it firmly in place. Gathering what remained of her courage, she shot to her feet, pressing her hand over the latch in an iron grip.

  The structure suddenly felt insignificant. Fragile. Ruby could hear it straining now, battling against the soft wind to remain upright. It was alive with creaks and groans. Like a thousand whispering voices, each promising that the next second would be the last. That one more gust and it would all crumble down around her. But the door didn’t break open and the roof didn’t fall. The moments stretched out into nothingness, all suspended within the strange silence. Anticipation crawled over her skin as she stood there. Shivering. Waiting.

  Bit by bit, tension twisted her up like spools of barbe
d wire. Every inch of her ached. The wind was only growing stronger. It pressed against the side of the outhouse until she could hear the slats of wood shuttering against each other. More than anything else, it was that sickening sound that steeled her resolve. Forcing herself to keep her breathing deep, she slowly edged towards the door. For every inch she took, a million images filled her mind of what could be waiting for her. They morphed from a well-meaning neighbor to an axe-wielding madman to a creature that had clawed its way from the darkest recesses of her mind.

  Closing her eyes made no difference to what she saw. But the warmth of her lids proved how swiftly the temperature was dropping. Her fingers couldn’t shiver anymore. It was as if they had been encased in blocks of ice, barely leaving her enough mobility to pull the hook free. When only the tip of the hook remained in place, she opened her eyes and allowed herself one more second of indecision. Then she flipped the latch, hurled the door open, and bolted out into the night.

  Clouds had gathered, the thick blanket choking off the little light that the moon would have provided. Working by memory alone, she tried to round the visitor’s tent but misjudged the distance. Her shin slammed into something solid. Pain sliced up her leg at the impact, and a bolt of blinding pain sent her toppling to the ground. Her shoulder collided with the small stones that lined the garden. A jolt of burning pain sliced along her, but the position kept her head from hitting the earth full force. Her panted breath stirred the particles of unfrozen dirt, bringing it up to sting her eyes as she struggled to keep down her pained sobs.

  A twig snapped from somewhere behind her and her breath stuck in her throat. Then there was another crack. And another. Each one coming closer at a rapid pace. Jaws latched onto her arm and yanked with determination. She screamed and thrashed, her mind screaming wolf with a hurricane force. The approaching steps filled her with enough fear to make her realize that the fangs on her arm weren’t tearing at her. Instead, they were holding and pulling, dragging her forward.