Ivy
The sun sets over the water, and I’m almost back to the cottage when I hear something.
I freeze, my heart pounding. I look around. My cottage is dark, the lane is empty, and the woods to my right are lost in shadow. When I hear my name again in my ex-husband’s voice, I know it’s coming from the woods.
Mark is in Texas with his secretary and probably a bottle of bourbon. He’s not here. So what’s calling me from the woods using his voice?
Whatever it is, they picked the wrong person. I wouldn’t walk into a dark forest for anything, especially not to follow that voice. I push the gate open and rush up the drive, my keys rattling as my shaking hands search for the right one.
Panting starts behind me, layered over soft, four-beat footfalls like a dog or a horse. My heart climbs into my throat and every nerve sparks sharp and hot. I don’t want to look back but I can’t stop myself.
Something comes out of the trees, about the size of a man but hunched on all fours, racing toward me. Its face shouldn’t exist. It’s just teeth and eyes stretched too wide for its skull.
I scream, the sound ripping out of me.
The keys slip from my hand and slide off the stoop into the grass. Inside, I’m screaming at myself to run, to jump off the bluff—anything. But my legs won’t move. I stand frozen as the thing charges at me.
Just as the thing is about to leap over my low picket fence, something slams into it from the side.
The new creature is massive, covered in dark fur and twisted vines, running upright on two legs with a long, dog-like snout and clawed hands.
Its torso is more man than hound. Its mane is green and its body is mostly covered in fur.
It snarls and lunges for the spindly thing that spoke in Mark's voice.
I squeeze my eyes shut as its jaws find the middle of the scary creature.
A sickening crunch reverberates across the bluff.
I look up just as the hound flings the other creature from its jaws and snaps its attention onto me. Green eyes glow through the darkening night as it prowls through my gate.
"Fuck," I breathe.
It stops a few feet away. Every instinct says turn and find a way inside. But I can't stop picturing the moment I turn my back, those jaws closing around me the same way. So between fight or flight, my body has chosen neither.
Just as my vision starts to blur at the edges, something drops from the roof. Searing pain slices down my right arm. For a moment it burns, then I lose all feeling. My arm might as well not be attached anymore.
The hound opens its jaws. I squeal, every muscle seizing except the arm that was sliced I can hardly see.
The sun has fully set, and I can only make out outlines and shadows in the moonlight.
The hound is less than a foot away, its eyes fixed on something at my feet.
I manage to look down and find a snake slithering through the grass.
I scramble back, but my right leg won't cooperate. It buckles, and I hit the ground hard. The hound lunges and sweeps the snake into its jaws, crushing it just as neatly as the other creature.
My left hand shakes as the hound turns its attention back to me. I can see now that the vines aren't stuck to it. They're growing from its hide.
I can no longer feel my right toes. The numbness is spreading, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
A rough growl pulls my attention from my body.
The hound is inches from my face. I tremble as its breath hits me.
Its gaze drops to my right arm, to the cut the snake must have left on its way down.
Its clawed hand shoots out toward me, and I flinch.
It pauses and then it steps back. Breath sawing in and out of me, I watch as the hound creature begins to jerk and spasm.
I have to look away. Nothing on this earth should move like that. Everything feels far away. My mind feels like it's floating somewhere above me.
Cracks from bones and joints snap through the quiet night until they suddenly stop.
"Ivy." A deep voice says my name. Not Mark's. Thank God.
Slowly, I manage to look back to where the hound had been.
It's gone. Crouching in the grass is Conall. Naked.
Why is he naked?
That thought drowns quickly in the realization that my left leg no longer works either.
"Ivy, can you hear me?" His moss green eyes scan me and snag on the cut on my arm. "Fuck. Ivy, can you feel this?"
I don't know what he does, but I definitely can't feel it, and I can't shake my head. It doesn't matter. Whether it's shock or overwhelm or venom from the snake, my vision tunnels, my eyelids drop, and the world tilts as I lose consciousness.