Page 2 of Rook
She wouldn't hate being on a tour led by him in other circumstances. He knew these woods well, and he had that infectious sense of adventure that made people come back year after year.
He even got better reviews than she did—a fact that galled her more than she cared to admit.
She was packing up her personal gear for the day, the late afternoon sun slanting through the trees, when she heard voices. A prickle of unease traced up her spine. She shouldn't have heard voices. Erik might be on a call, but, again, spotty reception. None of the rest of the team should be there. They were all on a multi-day hike far to the south and weren't due back for another two days.
Unless something went very wrong.
A lifetime of caution, of learning to listen to the subtle warnings the world gave her, made her move slowly. Something was off.
Erik wasn't in the main camp or in the small gravel parking lot. His beat-up sedan was there, right next to her van, and there were no other vehicles.
So far not weird. So where was he? And why did she hear voices? Had she finally cracked from the isolation?
Hopefully not. Hearing voices in the woods was a totally normal thing, she told herself, a trick of the wind through the pines. But hearing them get louder and more distinct as she stepped farther down one of the lesser-used trails meant that they were real and definitely not a figment of her imagination.
"I can show you wherever you need to go," Erik was saying, his voice carrying clearly in the still air. "There's no one who knows these woods better than me."
That was debatable. She knew them just as well, if not better. But she wasn't going to interrupt this strange meeting to say so.
"Are you sure?" another unfamiliar voice asked. He had a strange, clipped accent, one she didn’t recognize. In her line of work, she’d heard them all and had a pretty good ear for placement. This was different. Foreign, but not from any place she could name.
Sasha moved with stealth, her boots silent on the pine-needle-cushioned earth. She peered through the dense screen of greenery and saw Erik standing in a small, secluded clearing. He was surrounded by three men, all of them exceptionally tall and broad-shouldered.
They were dressed in dark, functional clothing that looked more tactical than civilian. Their posture was rigid, their presence radiating a quiet menace that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. One of them handed over a thick envelope. Erik took it, a greedy little smile playing on his lips as he weighed it in his hands.
Drug money? She didn't think Erik had that kind of sideline. Trail guides weren't paid well. Some weed on the side was one thing, but that fat stack was way more than a little weed. What was he into? Meth? Pills?
Her mind raced. Should she say something? Should she call the cops? Her phone was useless out there. She had no signal. Should she run away and pretend she didn't see any of this?
Yeah, that one. That was probably the best option.
Sasha took a careful step back, and her boot heel came down squarely on top of the only dry, brittle leaf in a three-mile radius. It cracked with a sound that seemed to echo like a gunshot in the suddenly silent clearing. She bit her lip hard to keep from cursing, her body tensing to stone.
She risked a glance back at Erik and his shady friends. Her blood ran cold. One of the tall strangers was looking right at her, his head tilted. His eyes, even from that distance, seemed to bore through the foliage, pinning her in place. They were an impossible, bright yellow, and for a terrifying second, she thought she saw them glow with an internal fire.
Oh, hell no.
He tilted his head. "Who is that?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
She wasn't going to stick around for introductions. She pivoted and ran, her survival instincts screaming. She heard Erik shout something after her, his voice tight with panic, but she couldn't make out the words.
Something scorched the air behind her, searing her back in a wave of intense heat.
Fire? Did they have flamethrowers?
What kind of drug dealers were they?
She didn't waste time looking back. She pumped her arms and ran like her life depended on it, because she knew with chilling certainty that it did. The forest floor, familiar beneath her boots, flew by in a blur of green and brown. Her lungs burned, her heart hammered in her ribs, but fear was a fuel more potent than oxygen.
She risked a single, fleeting glance over her shoulder, and what she saw made her stumble. A ribbon of flame was snaking through the woods behind her. It didn't spread or burn like a normal fire. It moved with a terrifying, liquid grace, like some sort of living entity that danced between the trees, incinerating ferns and vaporizing moss.
It had a mind of its own.
And it was coming for her.
2
Anywhere was better than Vemion right now.
