27
THE CREATURE
The curtain-quarter rockaway carriage was a beautiful rig. Comfortable upholstery, a shiny coat of paint, lightweight. I wanted to surprise her, but it took entirely too long for the import.
The carriage was mine, it was the final piece that I had to bring in from far away.
“Horse!” Alina’s voice cut through the air like wind chimes. Her steps so quick, she looked to float. She wore something light, as I instructed. No purse. A lighter day dress in material, but the burgundy nearly made her glow.
She ignored me for her prized blue roan gelding.
It didn’t bother me. It didn’t . . . or else I wouldn’t have put in the effort to get the stubborn thing here.
But it was worth it.
The blue of her eyes was so striking, framed by such dark features, then her luminous stripe of white hairs in her lashes and brow.
Everything about her was so marvelous, such a personality that could entertain me infinitely.
How amusing it was to know such a macabre woman would have a soft spot for a steed she so cleverly named Horse.
I slid over in the front seat, patting the place next to me.
She gave the roan draft one last peck on the nose and rubbed his neck before accepting my hand to help her up.
“Wearing some new colors lately?” I commented, clicking my tongue to move the horse forward.
Her eyes raked me from head to toe. “You as well.” She raised a brow.
“Do you like it?” I smirked. “Thought it would fit the outing.”
The outfit of choice was a tan sack coat with matching vest and trousers, black tie, and black wellingtons that came just below the knee. To top it off, a gray flat cap.
Together we looked quite fashionable for a trip out east.
She didn’t answer my question, her eyes did all the talking.
She hooked her arm around mine as I steered. “Where are we off to?”
“East,” I couldn’t hide a grin, “that’s all I’ll tell you.”
“Do you have an estate out there?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “It’s more of a day trip.”
With that, we were off on our journey.
The longest part was getting out of Manhattan. Once you crossed Queens County and out onto Long Island, it was relatively easy if you kept to major roads.
Even in a new city, I still found traces of home along the way. Not only were there similar village and town names, but even the scenery was reminiscent of the countryside of England. Out east of New York, specifically the northern shore, you can find cliffs with pebble beaches among wet forests.
We didn’t go terribly far, just enough to evade tourists.
A secret little spot Luka sometimes used.
He said it was for making fertilizer, didn’t say what type.
Now that I thought about it, that might be code for discarding bodies.
I didn’t bother asking. It was better that way, since the less you know about your Fixer’s methods, the merrier.
No matter; he said it was isolated and that was perfect.
We pulled up to the dirt road after a rocky last half mile and stopped the horse on a natural overlook.
The ocean glimmered in the distance, framed by the lush coastal trees waving in the summer breeze. The air was as refreshing as cold spring water. It was still before noon so the sun had yet to meet its peak in temperature or intensity, so my fair lady should do just fine under cover of trees.
“I know you are having some difficulty feeding. To which I’m sympathetic, but I think I know how to fix it.”
Her face fell, then turned to annoyance when she looked at me.
“I’m sure Phoebe and Luka are doing their best.” I slipped out of the seat and hitched the horse to a sturdy tree. “But I thought you may benefit from more traditional methods.” I held my hand out to her.
“Traditional?” She grasped my hand as she stepped down out of the carriage.
“Sometimes steps have to be taken when children are behind on milestones, such as lack of prey drive.”
She didn’t seem amused, looking past the shrubs at the sparkling water in the distance.
“There’s no shame, I had troubles too when I was just a spawn.” I thought offering an anecdotal reassurance would make her more comfortable, but it was a lie.
I never had trouble with my prey drive. But I did get to help my father train the siblings when needed.
“Silas.” Her brows pulled together as she crossed her arms. She stared off into the distance for a moment before looking back at me, “What are we doing here?”
“Just a bit of training,” I reassured her, opening the main compartment of the carriage to grab one last thing. “You remember our truce word, correct?”
“Pest?” she asked, her eyes widening when I closed the door.
“We’ll get you all sorted, love, don’t you worry,” I smiled, pulling the rifle from its half-cocked position.
She took a step back but was otherwise frozen in place, her eyes locked on mine.
I raised my wrist to check my timepiece. “Ten minutes.” I glanced back up at her without changing my position. “I’d start running.”
She gave me such a wicked, delicious glare before she stepped back, then disappeared into the trees. The dark red became less and less visible the farther she got.
I stood before the opening to the forest. The sparrows traded their songs with the gulls, waves washing in the distance paired nicely with the soft whistle of wind.
The perfect day, the perfect outing.
Just me and my wife.
I checked my watch. She had five more minutes. No, four now.
The beaten path tapered before it dissolved into foliage and twigs.
The fern and kudzu nearly dominated the forest floor.
The cliffside was to my left, the trees reaching up to the very edge.
I suppose the roots were the only thing keeping the earth in place.
As time went on, the trees would fall as the waves and storms chipped away at the ledge.
The sounds of hushing leaves in the wind made me pause. I closed my eyes and listened.
A twig snapped.
I glanced at my watch.
Time is up. Let the game begin.
I scanned over the forest, the cliffs down to the water to my left, deeper and thicker woods to my right. Then the faintest flash of red behind a tree. There you are.
Something tinged the air. The smell of sweat, of adrenaline.
I lifted the barrel, planting my heels to the ground as I steadied my sights on the red fabric.
Deep breath.
Heart beats slowed.
Then right in between pulses . . . Bang!
The bark of the tree ripped from the trunk. Birds rose from their hiding places to dart out in a cloud of wings. The forest settled and was still once more, only the sounds of ocean and the foliage I stepped on.
When I approached the tree, the fabric fluttered on the ground. The branch it was snagged on had been blown off from my shot.
The wood chips crunched as I knelt over it, lifting the discarded dress to my nose. I knew it would be a good game when I could smell the blood sugar drop in her blood.
I moved my nose from the fabric to the air. The same smell was faint, but it was nearby. Clever thing, removing the blaring color. But now I can scent you.
She was weak, running on fumes. My poor shadow, forced to hide instead of run. I stepped along the woods, over fallen trunks and through the thick brush. I followed the broken twigs, heel dents in the mud, and the vague direction of her scent.
Vipera couldn’t smell anything unique to identify an individual like a dog might.
But we did have an acute sense for blood, chemicals, bodily functions—more like snakes.
Driven purely on our instinctual needs. Just as born Vipera only see reds and blues, red being most vibrant for obvious reasons.
The only exception is when the blood fills our eyes and we can finally see the full spectrum, even if it leads to headaches when stimulated for too long.
It wasn’t long before the footprints became obvious. Too obvious.
They wrapped around a tree, then circled around before coming back and overlapping. It was a respectable try, but ultimately amateur. Snap.
My head cocked in the direction of the noise.
With steady steps and an even grip on the rifle, I stalked forward. There was a fallen tree, the roots tearing up a hole in the ground.
“Oh, my dear, that won’t do. You must be more creative with your hiding places.” I sighed, resting the rifle up against my shoulder.
I stepped just above the hole, giving her a moment to gather herself. I wasn’t too concerned about the hunt today, as long as she got the necessary kick of excitement to help trigger that pesky feeding response.
A blunt force met the side of my head, enough to make me stumble. I tapped my fingers against the numbness, black blood dripping from my fingers.
Over my shoulder, a wild and reverent creature.
My wife.
Alina’s chest rose and fell, her knuckles white as she held a heavy branch.
“Silly thing.” I shook my head as I faced her. “You should know by now not to strike unless it’s lethal.”
She was smart to discard her dress for the more natural cotton of her petticoat and top cover. But I wasn’t sure how the corset was serving her. Based on the flush of her cheeks and the dilation of her eyes, she was at her peak.
I flipped the gun down to hold properly with two hands, cocking it again to shoot at the ground in front of her.
She didn’t even scream, just ran.
Except she was running toward the ledge.
Fuck.
I threw the strap around my shoulder to chase after her. She stumbled about, using trees as support as if she could push herself forward faster. She found a sand path as the trees dwindled, running straight for an edge.
She was so incredibly lucky that she was never quite fast enough.
Her eyes caught me as she looked behind her, but my hand was already grabbing her by the bodice when she turned to look back.
Nails pierced my skin as she grabbed my wrist, and I dug my heels into the path.
Now I was breathing as heavily as she was.