25
Salem
Stay
I fell asleep on the couch, warmed by the crackling fire, too frightened to return to my room and sleep alone.
I listened to Rayne move about: her soft steps as she fed more logs into the flames, then the flick-click of her lighter, followed by the sour scent of a joint.
She sat beside me on the couch, and at one point I opened my eyes to find her with knitting needles in her hands, clicking as she worked with pale pink yarn.
The sound was soothing, and her face was soft as she worked.
Late in the night, she lay beside me. She grasped my hands and kissed them, and when I stirred, she whispered, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
When nightmares woke me before dawn, she was still holding me, even in sleep.
My heart pounded painfully as I stared at the windows streaked with rain, trembling with the thought of that awful beast appearing beyond the glass.
I shuddered, my eyes brimming, trying to not envision those destroyed bodies in the trees.
Near the fire, Loki stirred from his sleep and came closer. He sat beside me and licked my face, and I wrapped an arm around his fluffy neck. Rayne sighed softly, nuzzling her face into my hair.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered, voice groggy with sleep. “I’ve got you, baby.”
My pounding heart slowed. Loki lay down, my arm dangling off the couch to stroke his thick black fur. Somehow, I was able to sleep a few more hours.
By the next morning, a vicious storm had moved over the island. Rumbling thunder startled me out of sleep, as rain and howling wind buffeted the house.
I lay there for a while without moving, listening to the storm. My muscles ached, and my head was pounding painfully. Eventually, my grumbling stomach drove me to get up. My butt had barely left the couch when Rayne violently flinched, her eyes flew open, and she seized my wrist in a vise grip.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Do you want some coffee? Or tea?”
She stared at me for a good ten seconds without saying a word, before she mumbled, “I must be dreaming. You’re not supposed to be here.” She let go of me, scrubbing her hand over her face. “Did you say coffee? I’ll get it, you’re hurt, you’re—”
I firmly pressed her back down when she began to get up, her movements clumsy and half asleep. “I’m fine, I promise.”
She slumped onto the couch, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “I am definitely dreaming. Beautiful women don’t bring me coffee in the morning.”
It made my heart hurt, and I wasn’t sure why. Her eyes were closed, and I leaned down to kiss her cold cheek. She didn’t open her eyes, but she sharply drew in her breath.
“Well, this one does,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
With an absence of guests, the dining room had been cleared. The chairs were stacked along the wall, and both them and the tables were covered with white sheets to keep the dust off. It was as if the room was full of silent ghosts, or perhaps that was just my lingering paranoia.
My mind churned with surreal images—the creature, the bodies, blood and gore. I stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes closed, forcing myself to breathe slow and deep. My brain said, It’s not real. Don’t think about it.
But I couldn’t gaslight myself out of acknowledging reality, no matter how unbelievable. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I’d smelled the stench of death and blood. I’d heard the wails and cries of horrified witnesses.
The final ferry was gone; no one was coming to rescue me. It felt silly to even think about at this point, but I did feel a sudden pang of fear that a long absence from work would get me fired.
Maybe I could rent a helicopter—empty my savings, max out a credit card or two. Find a rowboat. Call the coast guard. I imagined rescue arriving, saying good-bye to Rayne—and leaving her to face that beast alone.
It didn’t feel right. As terrified as I was, I didn’t want to leave her behind.
She needed someone. She needed me , even if she didn’t want to.
Finding my way around the massive kitchen took longer than I expected, but I eventually found a five-pound bag of coffee, nestled among other large bags of supplies.
At least food wasn’t going to be an issue; Rayne was clearly well stocked and prepared for a long winter without access to a grocery store.
When I returned to the lounge with two mugs of steaming coffee, Rayne was seated in her green velvet chair, holding something in her lap. She had revived the fire, comforting warmth filling the room as rain streaked down the windows.
“Thank you.” She smiled at me as I set the mug on the table beside her. At the same time, I got a glimpse of what she was looking at. An open manilla folder lay on her lap, full of newspaper clippings and photographs.
“Is that—oh, God.” I hurriedly turned away, heart pounding, lungs constricting. The chair creaked, and the next thing I knew, Rayne wrapped her arms around me from behind, tucking my head under her chin. With a shaking voice, I said, “Those are photos of it, aren’t they? The angel?”
“Yes. I took most of them myself. They’re all blurry; it’s impossible to get a clear image of it. I’ve tried. You don’t have to look.”
But I took several deep breaths, and waited until I stopped feeling like my stomach was going to cave in. “No. I want to look. I need to.” I turned around, coffee mug shaking in my hands. “I want to see it.”
She nodded, taking her seat again and rifling through the papers until she held up an old Polaroid. “This is the first one I took of it.”
The photo was blurry; it was almost impossible to distinguish what was a tree and what wasn’t. But as I looked longer, I was able to make out the strange, long-limbed being, standing with its back to the camera.
Just as it had looked when I first saw it.
“Fuck.” I took a shaky breath, and set down my coffee before I spilled it.
“After it killed my dad, James put together a small posse of hunters to go after it. He didn’t want me tagging along, but...” She shrugged. “I followed them anyway. I didn’t have a firearm of my own, so one of them gave me an old rifle. I started learning to shoot.”
There were about a dozen photos, some small, some enlarged. In some, I could barely tell the beast was there at all. But in others, even though they were blurry, it was all too obvious.
“Rebecca almost told you too much,” Rayne said, holding up a final photo. It was taken from high above, looking down on the angel as it crawled across a craggy expanse of black rock. “This one was taken from the firewatch tower at the north end of the island.”
“You don’t go there to look out for fires, do you?”
She shook her head. “This is what I go for: to search for this thing, watch the roads, warn people if I see it. Our only cell phone tower is there too, sometimes it needs maintenance.”
She abruptly closed the folder, set it aside and picked up her coffee. She took a long sip and sighed. “Wow, this tastes a lot better when you make it for me.”
“My first job was working as a barista,” I said. “It’s infused with my innate coffee-making skills.”
She laughed, and it made me smile. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, until I said softly, “Are you angry I’m here? I know you didn’t plan to have anyone here over the winter, and it’s probably weird to have someone in your house, and I swear I’ll pay you for the food—”
But she held up her hand, silencing me. “I’m not angry.
No, I’m... fuck, Salem, I’m... I want to keep you safe.
Don’t you dare think it burdens me to have you here.
It doesn’t, not in the least. It’s...
well...” She lowered her voice. “Part of me is happy you’re here.
I didn’t want you to leave. It’s hard in the winter, being alone.
” She put down her mug, rubbing a hand over her face.
“I dragged you into this. I’m gonna drag you out too. ”
Instinctively, I reached out my hand for hers. She took it, lacing her fingers through mine and kissing the back of my hand.
“Are we safe here?” I said. “In the house?”
She nodded. “As safe as we can be. I have cameras and floodlights around the perimeter. I’m going to walk the fenceline today and put up razor wire.” She squeezed my hand. “I’ll keep you safe, Salem. No matter what it takes.”
The day passed slowly. Rayne had plenty to do, and disappeared with Loki shortly after finishing her coffee.
But I could only sit and worry—draining the coffeepot as I did.
I tried reading, but couldn’t lose myself in the words.
I tried drawing, but my fingers shook and nothing but shadowy scribbles appeared from my pencil’s lead.
Instead, I curled up in the window seat in my room and watched the yard, waiting for a glimpse of her. When she walked by pushing a wheelbarrow full of razor wire, coat flapping in the breeze, Loki trotting at her heels, my heart didn’t just skip; it sprinted.
Eventually, I made my way down to the library and the computer there.
The desktop was old, the connection abysmally slow.
Over the next couple hours, I researched everything from renting private helicopters to calling for an emergency rescue from the coast guard.
With the upcoming stretch of bad weather, none of them could reach me for a week, at least.
And again, I thought of leaving Rayne. Knowing what I did now—she would tell me to go in a heartbeat.
But I didn’t know if I could. This woman who had sworn to protect me, who made me feel seen, who made me feel... cared for. Knowing what she faced, how could I leave her to fight it alone?
I was terrified. The fear of what I’d seen was so deep in my bones that no amount of pills would bury it. The fear of what was, and what could be . This island’s curse could take hold of me. It could infect my brain just like the others.
Maybe it already had.
A shuffling sound made me turn, but the library was empty. The lights’ soft glow flickered, and I hurriedly turned back to the computer, trying to ignore the chill running up my spine.
I typed and deleted multiple emails to my mom, before finally managing to write something that wouldn’t make her panic. There was no point in frightening her. Waiting for the message to send, I chewed my thumbnail down to a nub, feeling as if I’d just written my own obituary.
“ Stay. ”
The sharp, hissed whisper made me yelp, flying up out of my seat. My leg painfully hit the desk and I clutched it, my back pressed into the corner of the bookshelves as I stared around the room in horror. Empty, just like before. But my neck tingled from the cold breath I’d felt.
“Hello?” My voice echoed around the room. The lit sconce near the door flickered rapidly, then went out. My mouth was so dry; I tried to swallow to no avail. I could barely get my words out. “Rayne? Are you...”
My words dissolved into a whimper. Barely visible behind a distant bookcase was a woman’s hollow, blood-drenched face.
My throat closed. Lightheadedness washed over me, as if I might pass out. She was staring straight at me with sunken, unblinking eyes. Her long hair dripped thick, dark red liquid; I could hear the ominous drip, drip, drip of it hitting the floor.
Blood foamed from between her lips as they moved.
“Stay.”
I clutched desperately at the shelf to keep my knees from buckling. “I—I—”
Another sconce, this one right above my head, began to flicker. The woman didn’t move, other than the occasional small twitch.
“Stay.”
All the lights went out. The computer’s screen flashed white, then turned pure red, bathing me in its glow. I couldn’t see the woman anymore, but I could hear slow, wet steps shuffling closer. I was hyperventilating now, eyes straining to see in the dark.
“I—I’ll stay!” I gasped, voice squeaky with panic. “Please—I’ll—”
The lights came back on. The computer turned off. My breath clouded in the cold air, but nothing remained of the woman I’d seen...
Except for the faint wet imprint of bare feet, standing right in front of me.