Chapter 14 Karia
Karia
There’s a blur of movement as we head deeper into the forest, skirting around the hotel, giving the building a wide berth to make it to a road so we can catch a train out of this fucking city.
The motion was so fast it could’ve been a bug, a bat, a bird. But the sensation of being watched heightens.
I still, aware Sanford is growing further away at our backs but I am not sure that’s a bad thing.
To the train is ideal—how else will we get far enough away under the cover of a crowd? But after we arrive at the station, I’m not certain Haunt Muren should be the destination.
Sullen stops, too, at my side, and I can feel him staring at me, but he says nothing. I turn to glance over my shoulder into the gloom, straining my gaze in the dark.
My pulse beats in my ears and I’m terrified any moment will be the end of this. We have escaped too many times.
The story is over.
We both die.
That is our only happily ever after.
But I see nothing. Hear nothing else.
I start to apologize to Sullen—I don’t know why sorry is what I want to say—when I see it again.
And this time, under the moonlight drifting down through the trees, my eyes catch a sliver of who is watching us.
A deep shadow, far to the right of Sanford struggling to catch up.
But it’s not the shadow that holds my attention.
The blade of a large knife held by the silhouette shines under the sky.
And as I stare into the reflection along the metal, my limbs grow ice cold.
I see a dark mask, a hooked beak, and my mind conjures the imagery.
A plague mask.
A death mask.
“Sullen.” I reach for him but don’t move otherwise, the pits of eyes reflected in the blade staring at me, at the knife, at Sullen. The person is closer to us than Sanford, and who else would they be hunting? “Run.”
A wicked laugh erupts in the woods, causing creatures to scurry around us, but we don’t wait to see which ones. We begin to sprint as Sanford calls out his grandson’s name in a panic, but we don’t slow down, even if I am so sick of running.
So fucking tired.
Sullen could die out here.
I see the holes for eyes from our pursuer inside my head as we keep going, my chest heaving, my lungs nearly bursting.
Sullen didn’t question me, his hand in mine, and I squeeze my fingers tighter around his larger ones, but I desperately want this to end.
And part of me hopes I trip and fall. Offer myself as some spoiled, useless sacrifice for our pursuer. But the reason I won’t both devastates and decimates me.
Sullen wouldn’t let go.
Sanford screams his name again. It’s shrill and garbled, both at once, and bats or birds or both explode above our heads from the canopies of the thick trees.
A shiver cuts down my spine and I can’t help it.
I turn to look, even as Sullen says, “Don’t.”
I’m compelled to.
I want to know if Sanford is getting his throat cut.
I want to know if a macabre red waterfall is falling down his neck right now.
I wonder when I became so dark.
But as I look…
Sanford is still running.
The plague mask is closer.
I almost stumble, my ankle twisting because Sullen hasn’t stopped running and he won’t let go of my hand and I can’t give him up just yet.
The glint of the blade raises in the night.
But the person in the mask stops.
Suddenly.
Oddly.
Strangely.
They don’t do anything.
They just watch.
I can feel the intensity of their empty gaze.
I hear Sanford’s wheezing breaths as he tries to catch up to us.
Fear chokes me, but I force myself to turn away from our stalker.
Sweat drips along the back of my neck, around my scalp, across my chest.
Between my fingers and Sullen’s.
We keep going.
I know we are still being watched, but not pursued.
They are letting us go.
For some reason, though, this time, Sullen glances over his shoulder, even when no one calls out his name.
I don’t know yet if he saw the person in a mask, or if he’s just trusting me, but whatever he sees now… a whimper leaves his mouth.
It’s more frightening than laying eyes on our hunter myself.
What could make Sullen afraid?
A scream lodges in my throat as I feel a whip of wind a moment later, then the blade arcs through the air, only to land in the tree ahead of me, the black handle quivering with the force of the throw.
Sullen falters and both of us come to a sudden, frantic stop, his hand gripping mine so tightly it feels as if my fingers might snap.
I don’t think about it as I stare at the knife, large, like a butcher’s.
I think the hunter missed on purpose.
I blink, afraid to wonder why. To ponder if they have a worse weapon. A gun, maybe. Perhaps an entire arsenal of knives.
Sullen takes a step toward the tree, dragging me along with him.
Not far behind us, I hear Sanford’s steps crunching over leaves.
The handle of the knife has stopped quivering. Only the sharpened tip is caught in the trunk of the tree, revealing something streaked across the blade.
I think it’s crimson, although it’s hard to tell in the dimness.
It doesn’t matter.
My silent scream morphs into laughter.
I feel unhinged.
I know maybe we should duck, or run faster, or change direction, but we do none of that.
I reach out and yank on the handle with force, freeing the blade from the tree.
Sullen’s grip doesn’t loosen on my hand.
I curl my fingers around the warm handle, knowing it’s so from the person who threw it.
The plague mask. The evil doctor?
Maybe it was a last-ditch effort to get to us, because when I look over my shoulder once more, I only see Sanford, hobbling forward.
My mind spins.
My thoughts are disjointed as I keep the knife in my hand.
Maybe the hunter wanted Sullen. Maybe he wanted to protect him from me.
It’s too late, though.
He’s already mine.