Page 39 of Antihero
“You’re married to a man who deeply hates women,” I point out flatly.
“I know.”
“And he still does this?”
Marion is quiet. She sees more than I should be showing her. Once again, it's Paige. Harry took her back to his house. All the while, Paige thought she was carrying out her own plan. But what of his? If I hadn’t come, hadn’t knocked on the door, would it have been him attacking Paige instead?
More importantly, if that was his intention, what of her next attempt? And what of his sick desires? They’re surely not sated. Men like that aren't satisfied until they've broken something.
“You’re not a journalist,” Marion says evenly.
I don’t deny that. “I believe Harry is the next target of the Wraith.”
Marion nods slowly, like she may have already considered this. If she has, has Harry too?
“That doesn’t worry you?” I ask. I need to leave. To find Paige and warn her. A glance at the window tells me I’ve been here longer than I expected, the Winter sun on its way to the horizon. It’ll be dark soon.
“Oh, my young friend.” For the first time, she laughs, a real, mirthful sound. “Whoever is taking these men off this earth, I wish them only the best of luck.”
***
Wraith
We’re approaching the shortest days of the year, the coldest and dourest. When I leave work, bundled up in my coat, gloves and beanie, the afternoon sun is already on the horizon in no glorious sunset, just a grey bleakness. By the time I walk down to Kidswal and cross to the trail that leads to my house, it’s a cloudy and moonless early night.
Still, despite all of this, I smile the whole way. My thoughts are far from my numb fingers and toes, the gale stinging my face, even from the doctor, the tests yet to come. I’m thinking of him, of the baths, and I feel like a silly, giddy schoolgirl.
There are few lights on the short trail out to my cabin, but I always leave the front light on when I leave, a beacon through the scrub and low twisted trees for my return. I’m still smiling; still thinking of when I’ll see Tristan next, when I lift my face. I’m digging for my keys in my deep pockets when all happy thoughts vanish.
A shadow detaches itself from the corner of my house, just out of the pool of light. My steps falter, the cool feeling down my spine turning frigid. It’s not Tristan.
The man stands outside my house like he’s been waiting for me. My fingers clench around my keys as he steps into the light, towards me, alone here in the isolated night.. “Harry,” I say, stumbling over his name, taking a small step back. “What are you…”
“Paige,” Harry says, like I’ve just walked into a boardroom rather than up to the entrance of my own home. His smile reminds me of a bulldog, his jaw thick and eyes small. He’s tall, age hasn’t yet bent him like it had the others. “We didn’t finish your interview the other week.”
I stare at him, knowing my response, whatever it will be, doesn’t really matter. People who show up to where you live uninvited normally don’t care about your opinion on the matter. “I wasn’t expecting you here,” I say, forcing a smile. I could scream. But the only one who would possibly hear me if I did, is my neighbour, and I didn’t see his light on the way here, meaning James is probably out night fishing. “Maybe I could stop by your house tomorrow…”
“Here is good,” Harry cuts me off, stepping closer, towards where I stand at the edge of the light. “You can finish what you started.”
My chest tightens. There’s something about his expression. The possessive look in his eye tells me that this man is dangerous. More dangerous than I'm equipped for.
He’s within reach now. “Let’s go inside.” Not a question, an order. “Keys?” He holds his hand out, waiting for me to hand them over.
That smile stays pasted on my face. I adjust my hold on the keys, preparing to pull them out of my pocket.
Then I jerk my arm up; the sharpest, largest of them, connecting with and dragging across the back of Harry’s hand. It doesn’t go far through by any means, merely breaks the skin, drawing blood and shocking him for long enough for me to turn on my heel and try to run back to Kidswal.
It doesn’t work.
He snaps out a curse. I don’t even get back to the trail, or the possibility of being able to hide among the trees, before he catches me, fist clenching painfully in my hair to drag me back.Bent and gasping in pain, gripping his wrist, I tumble back into the clearing; screaming when he tightens his grip to crouch and pick up my keys where they fell to the gravel.
The last place I want to be is inside, locked in with him, alone. As Harry drags me towards the door, I swing out my elbow and it connects with his gut. I hear the breath whoosh out of him. Suddenly, I know nothing. It takes two long seconds for the pain to clear, then sharpen, before exploding next to my eye where he's struck me with a flung backhand.
My hands curl into the gravel where I’ve fallen. I can hear the clanking of the keys and Harry’s muttered curses. He’s standing right next to me, fumbling with the lock as I struggle to control my dizziness and gain my feet again.
“Who do you think you are?” he’s cursing at me, “You think you can come to my house, do god knows what with a man who isn’t me, then never give me what I’m owed?”
The door clicks open, and I feel the usually welcome rush of warm air. I shake my head, consider trying to run again and know it won’t do any good, then turn and latch my teeth on to his leg through his trousers instead. I bite so hard my teeth hurt.
