Page 31 of Blood Moon

She turned and looked past him in the direction he indicated and saw only a meshwork of trees and unrelieved darkness.

“This way,” he said again, tipping his head with impatience. Mutt had already disappeared into the woods, obviously expecting them to come along after him.

“We’re not going back to your house?”

“Not tonight. Come on. He may come back.”

“Who?”

“Come on.” He covered the distance between them, clasped her hand, and tugged.

She pulled her hand free and stayed where she was. “Where are we going?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

“I’m not going anywhere except back to your house. I need my purse, my phone, my suitcase. If you don’t want to drive me to a hotel, I’ll call Uber.”

He muttered something unintelligible but undoubtedly profane. “Okay. Go back. Get your purse. Your suitcase is in the car. Call Uber. Have a nice return flight to New York.”

“I—”

“One more thing. If you don’t come with me now, don’t ever contact me again.”

“Wait. If—”

“No, not waiting.”

“You’re being unreasonable. If you would just tell me why we’re…fleeing.”

“I will, but not now. If you’re coming with me, it’s gotta be right now.” He placed his hands on his hips.

She wanted to stand her ground, but one glance back toward his house changed her mind. Everything was cloaked in a darkness that was more than simply an absence of light. It was ominous in character.

Coming back around, she said, “When we get wherever we’re going, I demand a full explanation.”

He dropped his hands from his hips, reached for her hand, and struck off in the direction Mutt had taken. She either had to fall into step behind his long strides or be dragged.

They walked on for another five minutes before he stopped. “Wait here.” Mutt started after him. In a soft but imperative voice, John told him to stay. Mutt sat and looked back at Beth as though to say,That means you, too. She watched John’s retreating figure for as long as she could see it.

Since moving to Manhattan, she had walked the sidewalks of the city alone and after dark, always cautious but without fear. Now she looked back in the direction from which they’d come with uneasiness.

She couldn’t see John’s house, the shed, or any other structure. Interspersed with tall pines, the live oak trees appeared as solid as monoliths, ancient and mystical. Their drapery of Spanish moss looked like shredding windingcloths. She strained to see or hear any indication that they were being pursued, but nothing moved until John reappeared from out of the deep shadows. “Over here,” he said.

She followed him and Mutt through tall weeds and over ground that became increasingly spongy, but she didn’t see the channel of water until they were steps away from it. The bayou was wide. In the darkness, she could barely make out the opposite shore. She didn’t detect a current. The water seemed not to be moving at all.

Mutt was already standing in a boat, tongue out, panting happily, as though declaring that this was the most fun he’d ever had. The craft was small—very small—and looked as though it would tip over if someone nudged the shallow hull with a feather.

John stepped into it, and, as she’d predicted, it rocked violently. He balanced with seemingly no effort, and extended her his hand. “Easy does it.” She just looked at him. “Beth.”

“Why are we leaving, John? What are we running from? We are running, aren’t we? Give me an inkling, at least.”

He hesitated, cut a glance past her in the direction of his house, then looked at her directly. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me.”

“Bad like what?”

“Like the Mellin girl.”

Surprised by that, she expelled a short breath. “What are you talking about? You didn’t cause that.”

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