4
EMERSYN
“Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl…”
Dad nuzzled into my hair as he started the story in his dramatic voice and I giggled, his words tickled me.
Today had been the best day—running around the forest with Cole, swimming in the lake with Mom, and now Dad was reading my favorite bedtime story—Little Red Riding Hood.
We were sitting on my bed at the lake house, and I was enclosed safely in his arms on his lap while Cole snuggled into his side.
But as I continued to hear the soft rumble of his words vibrate through me, the bedroom started to waver and bleed away until I wasn’t in the lake house anymore.
I was in the woods. It felt sinister—not at all like the beautiful forest behind the house that I knew like the back of my hand. Fear lurched in my chest and I ran.
“Daddy!” I called out. “Cole!”
Branches reached for me, snagging on my clothing and hair. I’d always felt safe in the trees. But something was coming—something bad.
“Where are you going, little one?” The voice whispered in my ear.
I screamed—afraid to turn and see who had spoken. I ran.
“Come back—haven’t you seen the beautiful flowers?” The voice didn’t fade like I hoped, it caressed my ear, the breath of it burned my neck. I wanted my dad. He’d protect me. Branches cracked behind me; I heard voices—I stumbled and fell. I hit the dirt hard and scratched my knees.
I scrambled into some bushes and huddled in the shadows.
I looked down and there was a knife in my hand—my father’s knife. Why was I holding his knife?
Because he told me to run. To hide. And not come out until he came for me.
I heard the voices coming closer. The footsteps cracked twigs beneath heavy boots. Panic gripped me. I lurched from my hiding spot and ran back towards the lake house.
“Dad! Daddy, please!” I screamed, hoping he’d hear me.
Why wasn’t he coming? Did I do something wrong? Was he mad at me for not obeying him?
“I’m sorry! I won’t do anything bad ever again!”
A shadow moved. I ran straight into a solid wall of black. At first my heart soared thinking it was my Dad, but he smelled wrong and when rough hands grabbed me, I knew immediately they weren’t arms of safety.
“No!” I cried. “Let me go!”
Red eyes gleamed in the gloom of the forest, glowing maliciously as they loomed in front of me. I raised my knife, and hoped I could be as brave as my Dad said I might need to be. A hand clamped around my wrist like a vise and Vetticus’ face swam into view.
I struggled against his hold, trying and failing to bring the knife down to hurt him. He grinned, his teeth elongated to an unnatural degree. I screamed and fell backwards, but instead of falling to the forest floor, I kept falling and falling—
I was in a dusty clearing. My Dad was on his knees and looked terrified. My fear intensified—he wasn’t supposed to be the one who was scared. Something cold pressed against my head and I knew instinctively it was a gun.
“It’s okay, baby—” His voice broke.
It was not okay. It was not okay at all. Because he held a knife, a knife he had poised to hurt me.
“Do you need a countdown?” Vetticus mocked.
I could feel the tip of the blade shake as he placed it carefully above my eye. I knew then it was inevitable—he had no choice but to obey Vetticus.
“Just do it—” I heard myself say. “It’s okay, Dad…you have to…”
The pain was unimaginable—white hot—it took over every physical sensation I had. Blood dripped into my eyes and the world turned red. So much red. Why did my heart hurt if he only dragged the blade down my face?
“I love you…” He choked.
I didn’t know what that meant. The clearing blurred and I stared down the barrel of a gun.
Albatron.
Every hair stood on end as chills took over my entire body and I knew in that moment—I was going to die. There was a ringing in my ears and my entire world narrowed as I watched his finger pull the trigger.
Dad! Where are you? Please…
His features solidified for only a moment and imprinted in my mind the last expression I ever saw on his face: complete devastation. My strong unwavering safe haven, broken, crumbled to ruin.
He couldn’t save me.
The feeling of betrayal cut deep and broke my heart into a thousand tiny little pieces.
Daddy, please…
The red deepened to black and I sank thankfully into the shadows. The smell of flames and blood wrapped around me in the dark, and anguish and loss smothered me until I simply stopped breathing.
A soft snuffling pushed hair across my forehead.
I jerked awake, completely disoriented. Gold eyes met mine.
I yelped in surprise and jerked backward as the head of a wolf filled my vision.
I scrambled away at the glint of teeth, but my legs got tangled and I didn’t get far.
I cringed, convinced the beast was there to finish me off, my dream still viscerally real.
But instead, a warm and very wet tongue licked a stripe across my jaw. I heard a scoff and my eyes shot open. I was suddenly very, very aware I wasn’t outside. Instead of roots, my legs were tangled in sheets, and it wasn’t quite a wolf sitting in front of me, but a very giant dog.
“He won’t hurt you.”
I looked over the animal’s shoulder and noticed I was in a cabin before I settled on the next potential threat—a man.
He stood in a small kitchen area, slowly cutting up a loaf of bread.
At the sight of the knife, I tensed so hard my jaw ground together.
I clutched the blanket and willed my hands to stop shaking.
The man was old enough to be my grandfather, but there was nothing frail about him.
The wilderness had honed him and despite the lines on his face, his gnarled, sun-kissed hands were steady with the blade.
A soft thumping sound drew my eyes back to the wolf-dog whose tail beat a gentle rhythm against the wood floorboards. He inched his head forward and rested it on the pillow. Liquid gold eyes looked up at me, wide and obviously begging for something.
“He’s an absolute menace for ear scratches,” the man said, his accent clearly Russian.
I was still stiff with anxiety, and my attention bounced from the dog to the man and back again.
I forced my hand to slowly move toward the dog.
I heard his tail beat faster as my fingers inched closer until he was practically vibrating.
I slid my fingers through coarse fur to the back of his ear, and tentatively gave him a few scratches.
A whine escaped, and in a blur of grey and black he was suddenly on the bed, wriggling and twisting to try and fit his entire huge frame into my lap.
“He likes you.”
I jumped and looked up, startled to see the man was closer now. Memories assaulted me, but they were fragmented and made my head hurt worse.
“Holy shit, man, she’s alive!”
“What do you mean alive?”
“I mean she’s fucking still breathing, shit head!”
The car jolted as tires moved off smooth pavement to a dirt and gravel shoulder. Brakes locked and the vehicle skidded to a stop, throwing me forward into—what was I lying on?
Oh fuck, fuck fuck—I was lying on a body, several bodies actually—
I don’t remember getting brought to this cabin, but I do remember escaping the car with all the dead bodies. I shuddered and wondered what my fate would have been if I hadn’t managed to get away. I hoped I hadn’t escaped one fire just to end up in another.
I fought to steady my breathing as my nerves fired and I gripped the dog tightly, thankful for the barrier.
Fear burned through me as I studied the man for any indication he was going to hurt me.
My face throbbed and I winced—reminded that the nightmare I’d just woken up from had in fact been very real and not just in my dreams. I raised my hand and gently slid it over the cut where I felt stitches, and further up to my head where a fresh bandage was wrapped snug and clean.
The man snapped his fingers and the dog untangled himself from my lap and jumped down.
He offered a bowl of something steaming and fragrant and my stomach growled loudly at the scent of roasted meat and vegetables.
He waited patiently until I got up the nerve and slowly reached for the bowl.
The first bite burst across my tongue, and while a part of me cautioned that it could be drugged, the thought completely left as I truly realized how hungry I was.
The man retreated to the counter where he leaned against it and ate his own bowl of stew, albeit a lot slower. When he was done, the man set aside his bowl and folded his arms across his chest.
“Someone wants you dead.”
It wasn’t a question. The food turned over in my stomach. I met his gaze and tried to keep the spoon from rattling. His dark eyes studied me intently from under a furrowed brow.
“I know a gunshot when I see one,” he nodded to my head. “But that—”
His attention drifted over the knife wound on my face and his lips tugged downward. His eyes darkened further in a look that made me think he knew it wasn’t an accident. Goosebumps broke out across my skin and I dropped my eyes, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket.
“That’s something else,” he muttered in Russian.
I pretended I hadn’t heard.
“How—” I cleared my throat. “How long have I been out?”
“Ten days.” I looked up in shock at his answer. “You had a fever so I don’t expect you’ll remember most of it.”
Ten days? A fever?
I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. I tried again.
“I-I appreciate your help, thank you, but I’ll—I’ll leave—” I stammered.
“And go where?” He interrupted. “There’s nothing for miles. A child wandering around this forest won’t—”
“I’m not a child,” I snapped.
I immediately regretted the outburst—it was foolish when I didn’t know what would trigger this man.
Fear that he’d keep me here against my will had me regretting eating the stew so quickly as it turned in my stomach.
He tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression unreadable, but his jaw clenched as he once more slid his attention over my injuries.