CHAPTER EIGHT #3
Besides, if there was damage at his building, he’s probably dealing with that. I split the difference and decide to ask Brett for his number if he’s not back by dark. I might need to feed Edie anyway. It seems like he’s pretty strict with that routine, which I can identify with.
As soon as the curtains are drawn, I try to take my mind off the weirdness by executing Project Grumpy Christmas.
Which, by the way, is only days away. The low-key stress that I won’t get home in time is only mildly killing me.
Not that spending the holiday with Brett and witnessing Ev’s first Christmas wouldn’t be amazing, but there’s also the simmering dread of dealing with my job when I get home.
But I can’t dwell on any of it right now.
I have décor to make now that I’ve sealed myself inside Sergei’s house.
I’m pretty proud of my genuine pine wreaths adorned with twine bows and origami cranes.
The strings of white paper and foil four-point stars hanging from the middle of each curtain rod aren’t too bad, either.
I’ve also managed to kill a couple of hours in the process.
After reading a few more chapters of my book, I notice the glow behind the curtains has dimmed and once the sun starts dipping behind the trees, night quickly approaches.
I check the time and decide to shoot Brett a text and try to get ahold of Sergei.
Afterward, I head to the kitchen. Maybe I can make dinner, too.
I need to eat, after all. And seeing how Sergei is a veritable giant, he’ll need to eat at some point, too.
His pantry is neat and immaculately organized, which fills me with excitement.
It’s the little things. I’m in the middle of assessing his pasta supply and dreaming up a vinaigrette to make a salad from the vegetables in the refrigerator when there’s a faint thump from across the room.
When I glance up, I expect the lock to click and Sergei to open the front door.
But, instead, there’s only silence. Why isn’t he coming inside?
Oh yeah, I locked it.
Crossing the living room, I arrive at the door and grab the deadbolt knob, preparing to open it. But then I stop. I stare at my hand on the lock, images of the prints on the porch flashing through my mind. Then I remember—this is Sergei’s house.
He would unlock his own door with a key.
Slowly, I lift my hand and draw it to my chest as I take a step back.
I catch sight of Edie sitting on the arm of the sofa, staring at the door, eyes wide, and her back rising and falling in deep breaths.
She’s not purring, she’s watching. Just like Roux did whenever he heard a squirrel scratching around on the roof.
But this isn’t a squirrel, it’s something on the porch, and something tells me it’s much bigger.
Another creak draws my attention, as if someone’s shifted their weight on the floorboards.
And then, to my utter horror, the knob twists ever so slightly.
My heart pounds in my ears, adrenaline rushing through my veins as something turns the knob, but doesn’t try to open it. Almost like it’s testing it.
Seconds later, the knob goes still and then something shuffles away from the door, along the side of the house. My eyes track it to the curtains covering the massive windows along the living room. Fear claws at me as I come to the realization that I’m separated only by the glass behind the curtain.
My first thought is to turn off the lights. But if it’s not Sergei, then whatever it is already knows I’m here. My eyes stay glued to the curtain as the shadow lumbers along the porch, the floorboards creaking under its weight before it disappears around the corner.
That’s it, I’m calling Brett.
But when I do, it only rings and then goes to voicemail.
I let out a frustrated growl and my fingers fly over the screen, texting her again as I back out of the living room.
She’ll see a text before taking the time to listen to a voicemail.
I’ve already shot off a third and fourth one by the time I’m back in the kitchen and plugging in the countertop food processor to mix my vinaigrette.
Because now I can’t just not finish dinner.
While it’s going, I plug in the toaster oven to make some garlic bread and continue waiting impatiently for a response. But as soon as I turn the knob, everything goes dark. All the appliances stop and all the lights go out.
Oh my god.
Thanks to the curtains, I can barely see my hand in front of my face.
I grab the counter to try and get my bearings, but before I can make another move, I hear a sudden shuffle on the other side of the window in the living room and then a few quick footfalls on the wooden porch that send my heart into my throat.
I feel along the counter in a panic, trying to remember where it ends and the dining room begins.
My eyes start to adjust to the darkness as I scurry around the edge and stumble toward the hall.
I need another door, another lock between me and whatever the hell is outside. All the while, Colson’s voice echoes through my mind.
“Shadows that move through the trees too fast to see. Tall ones with big claws, pitch black hair, and long snouts full of razor-sharp teeth.”
No, that’s completely ridiculous.
Damn you, Colson! Damn you and your stupid scary stories! Colson’s the only tall beast around here.
Well…him and Sergei. Sergei’s even taller. Talk about a beast…
Shut up! Shut up!
Fear propels me down the hall and into the bedroom.
I’ll sort out my growing list of embarrassing thoughts later.
Right now, I just need to feel safe. I shut the door and lock it before immediately reaching into my pocket for my phone.
I don’t care if Brett is asleep or covered in one of Ev’s blowouts, she’s going to stay on the phone with me until Sergei shows up.
But when I reach into my pocket, it’s empty.
My heart sinks when I realize that I left my phone in the kitchen.
Murmuring a string of obscenities, I pace around the room, trying to decide what to do.
I can’t just stay in here with no means of contact with the outside world.
I don’t even know why the power went out.
The storm has long been over. Maybe a limb finally fell somewhere outside.
Or maybe it was cut…
I remember what happened to Brett; all the strange things that happened on her property, only to find out that Bowen was responsible for them.
Colson’s right, sometimes there are monsters in the woods.
But Bowen is dead and I don’t know who or what is creeping around outside these walls.
Before I waste more time or talk myself out of it, I head for the window to see if there’s a logical reason for what’s happening.
Grabbing the curtain, I pull it aside enough to see outside, ready to scan the grounds for fallen branches and loose wires.
But, instead, I get the shock of my life.
It’s at the edge of the window, right on the other side of the glass.
A layer of double-pane glass stands between me and an impossibly dark figure at the edge of the frame.
It must have its back to me because I can’t see a face, and as soon as the shape registers, I let out a shrill scream and throw the curtain shut right as it jerks around.
Absolutely hysterical, I tear across the room and grab the doorknob.
I don’t make it two steps into the hall before running straight into another tall figure eclipsing the doorway.
I let out another scream and my hands fly up, hitting the solid mass towering over me.
Something grabs my arms as I flail, trying to flee back into the bedroom.
“Barrett.”
I freeze when I hear the familiar baritone voice wrapped in a thick Russian accent. I brace myself against the wall, trying not to hyperventilate as I realize I’m not about to be torn to shreds.
“Sergei?” I hiss, not knowing whether to be relieved or furious that he didn’t announce himself. “What’s going on? Why is the power out?” I snap.
“The power’s still on.”
“What?” I squeak. “But everything went dark!”
“You probably tripped the circuit breaker.”
Sergei takes a few steps back and opens the utility closet. Seconds later, there’s a click and the lights come on again. I nearly collapse onto the floor in relief. That is, until I remember that there’s something prowling around outside.
“Did you see anything outside? There was something on the porch. It was big.”
“We have elk. And bears,” he replies. “But bears shouldn’t be out right now. Not unless there’s something wrong with them.”
For some reason, I doubt this was a sick bear.
“Do bear prints look like human footprints?” I ask dubiously.
“Sometimes,” he shrugs. “The bones in their paws look like human hand bones, too. In the spring, tourists will call about a bunch of dead bodies on the mountain.”
“Lovely. Then do bears know how to open doors?”
“Sometimes.” Sergei doesn’t seem fazed by any of this. “They try to open car doors if they think there’s food inside.”
“Well, there was something outside. I saw the prints on the porch and then I heard it out there after I came back inside. It turned the knob! Then I saw it outside the bedroom window!”
Sergei blinks. “You went outside?” Even through his unwavering monotone, I detect a dramatic shift in his demeanor. “Why did you go outside?”
“To make those.” I motion to the wreath hanging on the back of the front door and the greenery affixed above the largest windows. “I guess you couldn’t see them in the dark when you came in.”
Sergei squints at the door, silently taking in the decorations.
“But I saw something!” I continue, my patience wearing thin. “And I think it was trying to get inside!”
He turns back to me with a resolve. “I’ll check the cameras. And in the meantime, you’re still safe here. You have my word.”
“You’ll check the cameras?” I echo, not letting him off that easy.