5
GOLDIE
My store is at the end of Braysville’s Main Street. It’s a small place, not much wider than the width of a door with a narrow window where I display my locks. Inside is a treasure trove of locks, keys, door handles, and padlocks. I even have a key-cutting machine.
It’s where I feel most at home.
I’m stock-taking today. I’ve fitted a lot of locks recently and need to replenish my supplies, but before I head to my store, I park up and cross the street to the opposite grocery store. I need to purchase my lunch and some cleaning products. The unpleasant side of stock-taking is ridding the store of its accumulated dust problem.
The carts are just outside the doorway, and I take one and head inside. Soft elevator music plays from the speakers in the ceiling, and I drift around, finding the things I need as my mind relives last night’s strange events. I’m next to the meat counter when I hear a voice I recognize.
“Steak and salmon, please.”
When I turn, startled by the familiarity, I come face to face with the Bjorn triplets. I swear the first one to see me growls under his breath. Hunter.
“Hi.” I give them a little wave as my heart does a weird floppy thing in my chest, followed by an attempt to race out of its ribbed prison. They look so unbelievably good and so unbelievably fierce.
A pack of gruff men.
A force to be reckoned with.
Robert has switched his dark pants and sweater uniform to jeans, boots, and a dark navy jacket. Evan has a lighter shirt, and Hunter is all in black. Their liquid chocolate eyes trail over my jeans and pink tank as though they’re mapping all my dips and curves, ready to explore them later. They look as hungry as bears.
I’m not in danger in such a public place, but the memory of last night’s strange eye thing is still fresh, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
Robert quickly puts his hand on Hunter’s arm. He’s slightly broader than Robert, with even shaggier hair than his brothers, and a meaner slash to his lips. Robert has that familiar furrow between his brows. The triplet at the back, who grins devilishly at me, is definitely Evan.
Trying to work out which triplet I’m looking at is like a game of Guess Who.
Is it a man? Yes. Does he look like he wants to crawl into a hole in the ground? Robert. Does he look like he wants to eat your liver? Hunter. Does he look like you just tickled his balls? Evan.
I tell my mind to be quiet as blood heats my cheeks .
“Not here,” Robert hisses at Hunter.
“She’s…we need to tell her.”
Robert shakes his head. “Nice to see you again,” he says to me. “We have to go.”
Hunter’s eyes bore into mine, the darkness in them as unsettling as standing at the mouth of an unexplored cave. His unwavering stare sends a skitter of nerves through me. He has no reason to wish me ill. I’m just a locksmith, and I haven’t done anything to warrant any malice from the Bjorn brothers.
Robert seems to nod his head as if to tell me to move on, so I grab the pack of bacon that I came for and walk away. I don’t say goodbye because it all feels too weird, but as I get ten paces down the aisle, Evan calls out with a sing-song lilt to his voice, “See you around.” I almost jump out of my skin. There’s something definite about his words, as though bumping into each other again is guaranteed.
I pay for my items quickly and then dash across the road, wanting to get into my safe space as soon as I can. Whatever the deal is with Hunter, Robert seems to need to rein him in whenever I’m around. The eye thing, if indeed it wasn’t a figment of my imagination, only happened when Hunter came through the door. Was it him, or something to do with the triplets being together? I shake my head as I unlock my store and shut the door quickly behind me.
The Bjorn brothers ring alarm bells. Maybe it’s the remote place where they live that has gotten me spooked. Or the fact that there are three of them, and they’re so alike. Didn’t triplets used to feature in freak shows? People have always found them a little unsettling .
And yet, I find them strange and magnetic.
The telephone interrupts my thoughts, and I take down the details of yet another emergency lock situation. A man has locked himself out of his home on the outskirts of town. It’s halfway between here and the Bjorns’ mansion. I put my ‘back in an hour’ sign on the door, now my plans for stock-taking are frustratingly delayed.
It takes fifteen minutes to reach the place. It’s isolated, set down on a dirt track behind a wall of swaying trees. My car judders over the rocky ground as my feeling of unease grows. Until yesterday, my safety hadn’t really cropped up in relation to the job I do. I live in a small town that feels comfortable and sheltered from the horrors of the rest of the world, but today feels different. Even though the Bjorns have been nothing but polite, they’re playing on my mind. Everything I think makes them strange could just be my prejudice. I shake my head. They’re just men whose egg split in the womb. Get a grip .
At the end of the drive, a man comes into view, seated on the front porch. He’s intimidating in size and very rough-looking, with worn jeans and boots and gray hair that looks like it hasn’t been trimmed for years. There’s a wolfishness about his face and a beadiness about his glassy yellowish eyes. He stands as I pull closer and park up but waits by his door as I gather my tools and the new locks I need to do the job.
“Hi,” I say. “Sorry for the wait.”
His eyes scan from my face and down my body. There’s not much to make out; my hastily thrown-on overalls certainly aren’t sexy, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. I now feel just as uncomfortable with this man as I did back in the store with the Bjorn brothers .
“I take it you’ve checked that there are no open windows?”
The man nods. “Everything is locked up tight.”
“Okay, then let’s get this door drilled and you inside.”
He nods and watches me as I climb the stairs to the doorway. The door itself has seen better days. The paint is peeling, and there’s a hint of rot in the wood around the bottom. The steps are filthy, with mud and leaves covering where I’m going to need to set my things. There’s a dilapidated feeling to this whole place, the man included. I inspect the lock, ensuring the one I’ve brought with me will be suitable to replace it. The man clears his throat behind me, and when I turn, I find that he’s come even closer. Strangely close.
“I just need to get something from my car,” I say, my instinct to put some distance between us kicking in.
“I need to get in there,” he says, and my hackles rise. There’s an urgency in his voice that doesn’t seem right. This guy is weird, and this situation isn’t good. Maybe this isn’t his home. That’s always a risk of this job.
“I’ll just be a minute.” I pick up my tools and start back to the car, going to the trunk. I put my tools on the ground while I search for my keys. I want to get out of here. I don’t care if I agreed to do this job. I glance over to where the man was standing, except he isn’t there anymore. He’s right behind me.
“What are you doing?” he hisses.
Fuck. My hands tremble at my sides. “I’ve got to go back to the store… I didn’t bring the right tools and lock. I need to get some more supplies,” I say. The tremble in my voice is obvious.
The man grins, and his narrow brown teeth are hideous. “I’m not stupid.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t say you were. I just, I made a mistake.” The leaves crunch underfoot as I take two steps back toward the driver’s door of my car. If I can just get close enough, I can jump in and speed off. I have to be able to. But the man is there, stepping with me, and my heart feels like a bass drum in my chest. Oh, God.
I put my hand on the door handle of my car, but before I can wrench it open, the man is there, grabbing my wrist. “YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” Spittle flies from his mouth and lands on my cheek. I try to yank my arm back, but he’s strong and looming, and the panic that races through me overwhelms any coherent thought.
“LET GO OF ME!” I shout, but my throat is tight, and I sound too scared for it to have any impact. He grins, squeezing my wrist enough to make me cry out in pain.
“You’re coming with me,” he hisses.
The way he’s leering at me is sexual, and the thought that this could escalate to serious physical violence makes my stomach heave. But what can I do? I can’t fight him. He’s too strong. I can’t get away. I’m in the middle of nowhere. No one has my location or my time of expected return.
I stumble as he drags me back toward the house. On the steps, I stumble, falling to my knees, and I scramble to stand but before I have a chance, we’re disturbed by the sound of crunching leaves behind us. The man turns before me, and his sharp intake of breath is enough to make me turn, too.
And what I see raises a whole other level of fear in me.
Bears.
Oh my God .
Two huge lumbering bears.
I scramble to my feet as the man backs toward the house, his hands up as though that will make the bears stop in their tracks. It doesn’t. I stumble back, banging my body against the door, but there’s nowhere to go. I shuffle to the side, thinking that if I can get close enough, I can sprint to my car. The bears move slowly, but they can run when they need to. Fear slips to a sinking feeling of inevitability. I won’t make it. There are too many of them, and they’re growling and slathering, dripping saliva.
But I have to try.
My eyes fix on the enormous predators. The first puts a paw on the step, and that's all I see before I run.
Running might not be the right thing to do. In the park near my home, dogs would roam off their leashes. On a summer evening when I was eight, a large dog started to bark at me, and I ran out of fear. “Run and they think you want to play,” Mom had shouted at me as I sobbed once the owner had grabbed hold of the dog. I remember wiping my snot on the hem of my shirt whilst Mom wrinkled her nose at me like she could smell something unpleasant.
When you run, you make yourself prey. But my reactions aren’t rational, and in this terrible situation, my instinct takes over.
I used to want to cuddle up with the bears from my mom’s dreams to fight my loneliness, but now that I've seen one in real life, I can't understand how I ever wanted to get up close with a predator.
The leaves and dirt crunch under my feet, making enough noise that the bears will be aware of my movements for sure. I hear the man call out, shouting for them to get away, and then a piercing scream, which clenches my stomach until I taste bile in my throat.
There’s terror in that scream. And pain. So much pain.
I run faster than I’ve ever run before, but not the way I planned. My car isn’t accessible with the bears close. There’s woodland behind the house, and that’s where my feet carry me. Twigs scratch my legs, and my ankle burns from twisting on the uneven ground. The bendy branches from small bushes scratch my face and hands as I try to get away as fast as I can, but none of that makes me stop. This is my only chance.
The screaming continues, mixed with snarling and growling, and I run faster. My lungs burn, and my heart feels as though it will split my ribs, but I keep going. Frantic crunching grows closer, the sound of the ground pounding underfoot. I whip my head around to see what’s there, fearing a bear has caught my scent and is pursuing me into the woods, but what I see is very different. It’s one of the Bjorn brothers running as fast as he can.
“Stop,” he growls. “Goldie, it’s okay. You don’t need to run.”
“There are bears!” I scream, my legs still carrying me as fast as they can manage. My muscles are fatigued, so my pace is slowing.
“It’s okay. They’ve gone.”
He’s almost caught up with me; that’s how much faster he can run, and he’s barely out of breath. His arm comes out, and he catches me around the waist, pulling me to a halt with a strength that feels unnatural. My head whips forward and back from the velocity, and he pulls me against his chest, his arms cradling me. My lungs are heaving to pull in enough breath, and I put my hands on him and shove, needing more space.
“There are bears,” I pant. “Two of them. They were attacking a man. They’re going to smell us. We have to move.”
Evan smirks, slow and lazy, his eyes smiling, too. “The bears are gone, Goldie. I scared them off.”
“You scared them?” My hands tremble with adrenaline, but my mind is starting to come out of fight-or-flight mode. Why is Evan here? And how did he scare away two giant bears in such a short time?
Evan nods and licks his lips, reaching out to touch my arm. “It’s okay now. Just come back with me. You’re all right. There’s nothing to fear.”
I take a step back, the woods looming around me. A gust of wind whips my hair across my face, and I shiver. I want to trust this man, but I don’t know him, and I feel more vulnerable standing in this desolate place than I ever have before.
“It’s okay, Goldie. I’ll take you back to your car and escort you back into town.”
“I need to go to the police,” I say. “I need to report what happened.”
Evan takes my arm gently and starts leading me back to the house. Is that man still there? Did the bear kill him? “There was a man,” I say. “The bear… it—”
“I didn’t see a man,” Evan says. “The bears were just up there looking for food.”
“There was a man. I was here to change a lock, but he was… he was…” I choke out a sob and can’t get the rest of the words out.
Evan rests his arm across my shoulders, pulling me closer. His shirt smells of pinecones and winter frost, and he’s so warm. “Everything’s okay. You don’t need to worry about anything.”
“But I have to tell the police.”
We’re getting closer to the house, and I glance around frantically, wanting to be certain there’s no danger waiting for me. I have a niggle of doubt about trusting this guy, but what other choice do I have? I can’t outrun him. But why is he here?
“What are you going to tell them?” he asks. He shrugs as though the idea of telling them anything is pointless.
“You don’t understand. The bears killed him. I heard screaming. Such terrible screaming.” I fold my arms around myself as the memory of the horror of that sound pierces my ears all over again.
“There was no one here, Goldie. Just some bears looking for food.”
I frown because that isn’t true. The screams I heard were filled with pain. Could a person scream like that and run before Evan arrived?
But why would he lie? I glance at him, and his face is impassive, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. As though everything I’ve panicked over was a figment of my imagination.
“There were bears!” I feel like I need to tell him that again so that he grasps the seriousness of the situation.
Evan smiles. “Bears have a bad reputation,” he says. “They’re not really interested in humans. They come looking for the food humans leave around.”
Is he serious about this? I’m sure I’ve seen stats about human deaths from bear maulings. They’re carnivores, aren’t they? And humans are flesh.
We’re almost at the house, and I scan in every direction, almost certain that we’re going to hear the crunching of paws on leaves and need to run again. My car is in sight. I could make it if they’re there, I suppose. But instead of bears, all I see is Robert and Hunter, leaning against what I can only assume is their vehicle. It’s a huge black truck, as looming and dark as their home and as filled with raw power. Robert’s face is grave with concern, and he strides over, putting his hands on my upper arms and scanning me from head to foot. “Are you okay?”
I nod, the lump in my throat burning from his concern. It’s been such a long time since anyone worried about me, and I just can’t seem to take it.
“Well, that’s good.”
I glance over Robert’s shoulder and find Evan talking to Hunter in a low tone. Hunter’s eyes are on his brother, but then they flick to mine, and I’m nailed by the intensity in them. He seems to get bigger before my eyes as he stands taller, bringing his shoulders back, head held high, and I can’t look away.
Hunter stares at me intensely. His eyes seem darker, hungrier. Evan gets between us, as Hunter’s fists ball at his sides like he’s barely holding himself back. In fact, the way he’s standing and almost growling reminds me of a bear standing on its hind legs.
I take a step back from Robert, who glances over his shoulder and then turns his back, putting himself between his brothers and me. “You should go,” Robert says. “Get in your car and drive.” His voice is urgent. Has he seen a bear?
I run to my car, diving inside, grabbing my bag and fumbling for my keys as I lock the doors. Fuck. Fuck. My hands shake so much that it’s hard to get the key into the ignition, and I have to hold on to the steering wheel for stability. I speed out of there before it enters my head to look around.
When I glance into the rear-view mirror, I don’t see bears.
I don’t see the Bjorn brothers leaping into their trucks.
What I see is Robert and Evan holding Hunter back as he stares after my car, his eyes flashing golden again.