Page 78 of The Souls of Lost Lake
Ava strained to recognize the voice. It was the same hoarse whisper as in the church the other night. A whisper that seemed purposefully disguised. Speaking an octave lower than their normal pitch maybe? His mouth brushed her temple as he held his cheek and jaw against her head.
“Murdering witch. It’s in your blood. Youfeedoff the killin’. Forty whacks and all that nonsense is as much about you as anyone!”
Ava grunted. She tried to kick with her feet, but he’d pulled her back far enough to where she was stretched out at an angle against the earth, her head and shoulders braced against his body. She twisted, trying to identify him. All she could see was an unfamiliar hat pulled down over eyes and tilted enough that the only parts of the face Ava could see were a mouth and a chin.
“I should snap your neck right here an’ now and be done with you.”
But he didn’t. Ava twisted. He rammed his knuckles into her cheek. Ava’s scream was garbled, the violent act shocking her into submission. The throbbing of her face was equal only to the heat of pain the blow had caused.
“Breaking into the church. Sneaking off with the reverend.”
Ava wrestled against him. He jerked her tighter to his chest. The chin that pressed against her shoulder was clean-shaven. Whiskered, but no beard. Ava racked her memory trying to place who she knew in Tempter’s Creek—aside from Noah—that was clean-shaven. Seemed like every man from Widower Frisk to Officer Larson had a full beard.
“No. I’m not gonna end you. Not yet.” He squeezed her untilAva was gasping for air, her chest constricting beneath his clutch. “Too much fun watchin’ you squirm and hide. You deserve to, you know. And I’m goin’ tohuntyou. How does it feel to be the prey, my pet?Myprey? How does it feel?”
He launched her forward with a shove. Ava cried out, her body smashing into the forest floor, twigs stabbing at her bare arms and legs. She rolled over and tried to sit up to see who had accosted her. Crashing reverberated through the forest as he ran. The snapping of branches. Ava glimpsed blue denim. An arm clad in brown wool. But he was soon gone.
Ava clapped a hand to her bruised face, and this time her breaths came in short sobs. She swallowed them back. Cryin’ wasn’t goin’ to solve nothin’. Crawling to her feet, she raised her shoulder and tilted her head so her dress would soak up some of the blood welling up in the corner of her lip. He had split it when he’d struck her cheek. As she brought her arm away from her mouth, Ava felt the warmth of the blood smear against her cheek.
“Good Lord in heaven!” A feminine voice trilled from the forest edge.
Ava met the shocked and horrified blue-eyed gaze of Mrs. Sanderson.
“Ava Coons, you little devil.”
32
“This might sting.”
Ava eyed Mrs. Sanderson as she squeezed water from a washcloth and lifted it to Ava’s lip. She sat at the Sandersons’ kitchen table, which was already finer than any table Ava had ever sat her bottom at before. Lace covered it, a vase of wildflowers perched in the middle, and a long slab of polished wood was on the far end, on which rested what appeared to be a freshly made blackberry pie.
Mrs. Sanderson dabbed at the blood. Ava winced, the warm water seeping into the split on her lip.
“Who did this?”
Ava didn’t answer. If she was bein’ honest, Mrs. Sanderson scared her now. If Ned was right—if she really killed Jipsy—Ava needed to be on her guard.
“You’re not going to speak?” Another dab with the wet cloth.
Ava tightened her lips.
Mrs. Sanderson submerged the cloth into the bowl of water she’d brought to the table. Ava noticed a few wet spots dotting her dress front. “You are aware all of Tempter’s Creek is looking for you?”
Ava nodded.
Mrs. Sanderson opened a drawer below the kitchen counter and pulled out a metal box. Returning to the table, she raised the lid. Inside were bandage supplies and various ointments. She set to work on Ava’s lip, the silence growing between them. Ava could hear Mrs. Sanderson’s quiet breathing. Her perfume wasflowery—rose maybe, or gardenia?—Ava couldn’t tell between the two.
When Mrs. Sanderson finished, she packed away the medicine kit and returned it to its drawer. She opened the icebox and wrapped a chunk of ice in a cotton dish towel.
“For your cheek.” Mrs. Sanderson handed the ice to Ava. “Hold it against it. It will help ease the bruising and swelling.” She took a chair opposite Ava and sat down, folding her hands primly in front of her. It was an act of kindness. Ava wavered between concern over Mrs. Sanderson’s trustworthiness, and gratefulness for the tender care the woman had given her.
“So, Ava Coons, you’ve become quite the hassle for Tempter’s Creek.”
Ava didn’t reply but instead lifted the ice and held it against her cheek. Even with the cloth wrapped around it, it chilled her skin almost instantly and seeped through to cause her hand to sting with cold.
Mrs. Sanderson smiled thinly. “Did you know we aren’t that far apart in age? In another life and another world, we might have been friends.”
Now that was a lark. Ava smiled at the irony. Mrs. Sanderson did as well. Their smiles weren’t friendly so much as wary.
