Chapter 8
Rue woke to the sounds of shrill screaming, bolting upright in bed, gasping when pain lanced through his lower back and rear. It took his mind a while to catch up to his body, to the odd discomfort, the low lighting spilling in from the open window, and the man standing by the door.
It was the last one that snapped him out of it, Rue inhaling and clutching the blanket before he recognized it was Ryker.
The sleeping pills did that to him sometimes, made him all out of sorts when he woke, like his brain was swimming through molasses, but he was getting there, and the Black Hart’s presence made him think back on the night before.
He’d gone to bed straight after dinner, showering quickly before popping his pill and climbing between the sheets.
Getting lost in the forest had exhausted him, the emotional toll—brought on by fear and sadness thanks to Ryker’s rejection—getting the best of him.
The curtain had certainly been closed though.
The door locked. The room empty aside for himself.
“What are you doing here?” Rue took in the black jeans and rumpled black sweater. “Aren’t those the clothes you wore yesterday?”
“It stopped,” Ryker’s voice was matter-of-fact, but his spine remained stiff, shoulders back. The intense way he was staring at the closed door, as though he thought someone might try to get in, was giving Rue the creeps.
Tossing off the blankets, Rue got to his feet, cursing when the sharp pain shot through him all over again. He stumbled, but Ryker was there to catch him, helping him lower back onto the bed. The second his ass hit the mattress, he winced, confusion growing.
“Okay?” Ryker asked.
“Yeah.” He reached behind himself and massaged his lower back. “I fell in the woods. Must have hurt myself worse than I thought.”
Ryker gave him a strange look he couldn’t place, but then he was turning away again. “Get dressed. Something happened downstairs.”
“What?” Rue recalled the sound that had woken him. “Do you think someone is hurt?”
Ryker didn’t reply, opening Rue’s closet and pulling out a set of clothing for him. He tossed it over and then moved to the window, planting his palms against the ledge. “The fog has gotten thicker.”
It was gray and white outside the window. Rue couldn’t see a thing. But then, they were up on the third level.
He took a deep breath and then slowly stood a second time, gathering the clothes before dragging his feet toward the bathroom.
The pajamas he’d gone to bed in came off easily enough, but it took him twice as long to get ready as it normally would have.
Fortunately, the pain had dulled to minimal discomfort when he stepped back out to find the Black Hart still by the window.
“What are you doing here, Ryker?” Rue strapped his multi-slate over his right wrist and then slipped his room key into his front pocket.
The outfit the Black Hart had chosen for him was casual, a pair of brown pants, a white button-up, and a sleeveless pull over sweater vest in cream with red trim.
Casual, but still a bit showy, a sharp contrast to the all-black ensemble. “I can’t hike in this.”
There was a scheduled group hike, and while he was a bit put off after yesterday, knowing they’d have a guide who wouldn’t abandon him in the middle of the woods like Ryker had was comforting.
“That’s canceled for sure,” the Black Hart said, pushing away from the window. His gaze swept over Rue once, and then he headed for the door. “Look outside. Can’t do anything in this weather.”
“Stop.” Rue huffed as soon as Ryker’s hand settled on the door handle. “Answer my question.”
“I slept here.”
He frowned, head whipping to the bed then back to him. “You what?”
“You heard me. I got wasted last night and somehow ended up here. Don’t overthink it.”
“My door was locked.”
“You know better than to think a lock could keep me out, little brother.”
There was that damn title again, only this time, it didn’t feel as big of a taunt as it usually did. Rue tipped his head, considering.
“You’re trying to deflect.” He was making Rue uncomfortable on purpose to distract him. “Have you been doing that this whole time?” And he’d fallen for it. What had he missed because he’d let his guilt and self-disgust get to him?
“Come with or stay here.” Ryker shrugged a single shoulder like it didn’t matter to him, then yanked the door open and stepped into the hall.
By the time Rue caught up with him, he was already halfway down the stairs.
“Running away, Ryk?” He had no idea where the confidence boost came from, but Rue latched onto it. The fact that Ryker’s mind had brought him to Rue when he was inebriated was…He didn’t want to be a fool and say hopeful, but that’s exactly what it was.
At this point, he’d take anything. Scraps even.
Even if he could never be with the Black Hart the way he’d always imagined, he’d settle for them going back to the way things were.
He’d settle for getting his best friend back.
“That’s your style,” Ryker growled, “not mine.”
He was though. His pace picked up even more, as though he were trying to get away even though they were both headed in the same direction.
The main lobby branched off in two directions at the foot of the stairs, left to head to the dining hall, and right to the largest lounge area. Ryker made a beeline for the latter, and Rue followed, not realizing why until they’d reached it and the Black Hart came to a sudden stop.
The lounge area was open, the sliding doors left wide and tucked into the walls.
The long bar was visible first, though no one was behind it this early.
The space was large enough it’d been split into two, with identical resting areas complete with a long couch, armchair, and fireplace.
The wall opposite the bar was another floor to ceiling window.
Rue had popped his head in yesterday and gotten a look at the rest of the area, so knew what to expect.
At least, he thought he did. As soon as they were at the threshold, the chaos that had ensued inside was apparent.
The blood was the first noticeable thing. There was a pool of it by the fireplace that occupied the wall furthest from the entrance, then a smear across the floorboards, leading a few feet to the body.
Harlow Smith, one of the board members, was propped against an armchair, head tipped back, eyes peering sightlessly.
His mouth was partially open, hand still over his stomach, where blood continued to drip between his fingers.
There was a fire poker on the ground nearby, and his wife had been laid out on the coffee table by the fireplace closest to the door.
She’d been stabbed in the area where her heart was located, and it must have happened sometime in the past ten minutes. Her face was pale and she was crying, but the sounds were almost quiet now, broken.
Darae Corvina was attempting to staunch the blood flow, smears of crimson across her cheeks and over her arms.
In the corner between one wooden wall and the window, a man dressed in the employee uniform was being guarded by two coworkers who looked like this was the worst day of their lives.
There was a small crowd around that area, Uriel at the window, Penn, Hollis, and Esti standing off to the side.
“Guy went berserk,” Penn said to Ryker, stepping over toward them once he spotted them there. “Mid-sentence. He just picked up the poker and stabbed Harlow. When Delta tried to get between them after the fact, he went after her next. Uriel knocked the employee out.”
Rue’s mother stormed into the room, the coordinator hot on her heels. “Service is down,” she announced. “We can’t call for an ambulance yet.”
Rue checked his multi-slate. No signal.
“She’s bleeding out!” Darae stated frantically, then glared at Cosima. “Do something!”
“Tod,” Cosima motioned to one of the employees who was guarding the unconscious man. “Go outside and check if the lines in the pool house are down.” She turned back to Eulalie and explained, “They’re on a different system. If he can get a call out from there, the nearest hospital is—”
“Thirty minutes away,” Ryker filled in, staring at Delta. “She’s got ten minutes, tops.”
“What?!” Darae shook her head in disbelief.
“She won’t make it,” he insisted, mouth closing when Rue tugged pointedly on his sleeve and gave him a look.
“Still, we need to report this,” Cosima replied, trying her best not to seem as shaken as she clearly was. One of her employees had just murdered a guest—potentially two. “The police are the same distance. They’ll come with an ambulance. Tod. Hurry and go check.”
“He shouldn’t go out there,” Uriel spoke, his tone low enough it should have been missed amongst the heightened state of the room, and yet everyone seemed to pause and turn to him at once. He was staring out the window, and Rue finally realized how strange the view was.
The floor to ceiling pane of glass was at least fifteen feet tall, and yet the entire view was obscured by a thick wall of white and gray fog. He’d never seen anything like it before, and for some inexplicable reason, it sent chills down his spine.
“No one should,” Uriel added.
“With the weather like this, no one is going to be able to make it up the mountain,” Hollis said, but the Black Hart clicked his tongue.
“Even if they could, they shouldn’t.” Uriel partially turned, just enough to find Ryker. “There’s something out there.”
Penn chuckled, then came to the conclusion that it wasn’t a joke when neither of the Black Harts joined in. “What? Like deer?”
Uriel gave a curt shake of his head, eyes still on Ryker, as though they were sharing a telepathic conversation. His expression was grim, tight in a way Rue had never seen on his face before.
When he looked over at Ryk, he saw he was now wearing much the same look.
“What’s he saying?” Rue asked, shifting closer without meaning to.
“Fog is very common here, everyone,” Cosima reassured. “Tod, your job.”