7
Salem
Watcher
T he dirt trail twisted ahead of me, narrow hairpin turns keeping me on high alert.
My arms ached, my limbs tingling with adrenaline as I sped through the forest. Low-hanging tree boughs whipped by overhead, the air cold and fresh on my face.
The path was craggy; rocks, puddles, and debris made it all the more difficult to traverse.
The forest felt clean and cool, pungent with the scent of loamy soil and fallen pine needles. Speeding through the trees, always on the edge of teetering from the path, wheels flying over every bump and dip, I could forget about everything else for a while.
I could forget about completely humiliating myself in front of Rayne. It was bad enough that I broke her bathtub. It was even worse that she’d found me naked and screaming with my vibrator. But the cherry on top was that the only explanation I had to give her sounded completely made up.
Of course she didn’t believe me. I didn’t even believe myself anymore.
As I sped around an embankment, then swooped through a dip, my tires left the ground.
My stomach dropped, the incredible feeling of flying overtaking me before gravity sucked me down again.
Breathless, I pumped the brakes just a bit as the trail turned sharply and became a steep grade, twisting and turning through moss-draped pines.
The trail forked, and I chose the narrower route.
The signs meant to mark the trails were still standing, but the old wood was weather-eaten and rotten, the words long since washed away.
But it was midday, and I didn’t care where I was going.
There was a map and compass in my pack if I truly got lost, and enough snacks to keep me going.
All I wanted was this feeling of freedom—even if it was full of risks. I swerved around a tree, realizing too late that I’d made a wrong turn and gone off the trail.
“Shit!” My tire struck something and twisted, and I couldn’t catch my balance quickly enough. I plunged to the ground, knocking the wind out of myself as I rolled a short way through dirt and leaves.
For several moments, I lay still, flat on my back, staring up at the trees. Gulls cried as they swooped through the sky, their eerie calls echoing from the sea, and wind whispered through the crisp pine needles.
With a groan, I got to my feet, dusting away twigs and leaves. No injuries other than a few scratches and bruises, luckily. My bike was tangled in the thorny tendrils of a blackberry bush, so it took me a while to free it.
My tire was popped, putting an end to my ride for the day. Grumbling to myself about how badly these trails needed to be maintained, I walked back up the path, searching for the object that had pierced my tire.
Something pale gray and jagged jutted up out of the dirt. Squatting down for a closer look, I observed its porous interior and immediately knew what it was.
My tire had been popped by a bone.
It was deeply buried, but the soil was loose. Giving the bone a tug, I was able to pull it free. It was about half the length of my forearm. I was by no means an expert; I certainly didn’t know what kind of animal it had come from, but it had to have been fairly large.
It didn’t look very old, either.
“Welcome to the wild, Salem,” I said, before tossing the bone away into the trees.
Wheeling my bike alongside me, I chose to take another fork in the path down to the beach.
I didn’t know much about bears, but I’d never seen a bear on a beach, so it felt safer.
Waves crashed against the large rocks jutting out of the ocean, blasting spray dozens of feet into the air.
Massive pieces of pale driftwood littered the sand, washed ashore from some faraway forest. The sun peeked through the clouds, nearly at its zenith.
For a minute, I stood there and savored the wind and sun on my face. The waves lapped against my shoes, mounds of foam floating on clear water. My face reflected back at me, a blur of pale skin and short brown hair. The trees loomed behind me, wavering sentinels at my back.
The waves receded... and rolled back in. This time, when I gazed into my reflection, something had changed.
Someone was standing on the ridge behind me, just outside the trees.
Turning my head, I searched the ridge. The trail ran close to the edge, so if anyone was walking past, it would be fairly easy to see them.
But no one was there.
My mouth was suddenly dry, my hands clammy. An icy wind whipped across the beach, drawing my attention to the thick gray clouds gathering on the horizon. The sooner I got back to the house, the better, but it wasn’t just the impending storm making me nervous.
Someone was watching me. The back of my neck prickled, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see that figure on the ridge again. Motionless. Watching.
I didn’t dare turn my head. Some deep, primal fear screamed at me to move , so that’s what I did. The sand made my steps painfully slow, as did lugging along my bike. The temptation to drop everything and sprint was building.
I’d ridden even farther from the house than I’d realized. The blue skies had turned gray by the time I walked in the front gates and stored my bike in the shed at the end of the driveway. Luckily I’d brought a repair kit; I could patch the tire tomorrow.
The rain began to pour as I climbed the stairs. I was soaked by the time I reached the front door and rushed inside, shivering and anxious.
After changing into warm, dry clothes, I went outside to the covered walkway that ran along the back of the house next to the garden. Rain dripped between the stone archways as I lit a joint and slowly inhaled, hoping it would burn away the paranoia lingering inside me.
But I couldn’t shake it. That feeling of being watched was still there, so much so that I kept glancing left and right, expecting to see someone standing there. I smoked and paced, paced and smoked—until I turned around and almost smacked face-first into Rayne.
“Jesus!”
“Fuckin’ Christ!”
We both exclaimed at the same moment, and she braced her arms against my shoulders as she stared at me. “Are you good? Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I, um, no... sorry, I’m... I mean, I’m fine...” I was out of breath, and my hands fluttered nervously as I tried to collect myself. “I was out riding and I saw... I don’t know...”
Her eyes were narrowed, and she was still holding my arms. “What did you see?”
A cold wind whipped through the walkway, making a chill run up my spine. I moved closer to her instinctively, and she stepped closer to me too. With my back close to the wall and her body close to my front, it was significantly more difficult to remember what had frightened me in the first place.
“It was...” God, why did she smell so good? I could smell her wet leather boots, the rich vanilla lotion on her skin. She raised one eyebrow, and her fingers dug into my arms with anticipation.
“It was nothing,” I said quickly. “I just heard something weird and scared myself.”
She didn’t let go, not right away. She stared at me like she knew I was lying, searching my face. I suddenly wasn’t cold anymore. Quite the opposite; I was sweating with nerves.
“Nothing?” she said. “You sure about that?” Her frown deepened, and she brushed her thumb against my jaw. “Did you get hurt?”
My heart was still racing, but whether it was from fear or something else, I no longer knew. I hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror upon my return, but I could feel the sting of an abrasion beneath her finger.
“Had a little fall,” I said. She nodded. But still, neither of us moved.
I offered the joint, and she stared with an expression I couldn’t read, prompting me to say hurriedly, “Sorry, I should have asked if I can smoke out here—”
“Relax, pretty girl.” She laughed softly, took the joint, and inhaled. “I don’t usually smoke with the same girl twice. You’ve shaken me up a little, Salem.”
It was difficult to imagine anything “shaking her up.” Frankly, the woman seemed unshakeable. She passed the joint back, and instantly it was like we were back in the bar parking lot again. Just two strangers in shared intimacy.
“I take it one-night stands are your thing?” I said, and she gave me a roguish grin.
“Yeah. Not really any other option, living out here. It’s not like I’m going to manage to drag some mainlander back here for anything long-term.”
“There’s no one on the island you like? Not even a little crush?”
I offered the joint to her and our fingers brushed as she took it. Our eyes met, and for a split second I swore she gave me her answer without words.
“I’m a bit of a black sheep around here,” she said. When she broke eye contact, I sucked in a breath I hadn’t realized I needed. “Most of the other folks here... they’re like family. I may not particularly like them, but they’re what I’ve got. We take care of each other.”
She leaned against the wall beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. Birds had come to bathe in the garden puddles, and we watched in silence for a while as they splashed and twittered. But against my better judgment, my gaze was drawn back to her.
“So—you’ve never been with the same girl twice?” The words escaped, and I instantly wished I could swallow them again. I was never so bold. Something about her prevented me from thinking straight.
“Never,” she said, as casually as if we were remarking on the weather. “Are you trying to be the first?”
“I—uh—I mean—”
“Are you scared of me?” Her voice was almost a whisper, her gaze pinning me to the wall. What was wrong with me? I hadn’t felt like this since I was an overstimulated, hormonal teenager.
“Yes.” My voice cracked, but her serious expression didn’t.
Her lips wrapped around the joint, and she didn’t break eye contact as she slowly inhaled. Smoke flared from her nostrils, and she said, “Do you want me to stop?”
“Please don’t.”