Page 2 of Queen Takes Knights
“Sorry,” the man said. “Come in, it’s freezing out here.”
I looked back out over the forest, but the glowing red had only been in my mind. Sighing, I stepped into the one-room cabin. A small seating area looked cozy before a massive stone fireplace. A large king-sized four-poster bed dominated the rest of the room, with the hated Jacuzzi in the corner. Bubbles frothed over the top and onto the tiled floors. At least Hosea hadn’t put wood floors in. They’d have been trashed a dozen times just since I’d been here. The bride sat on the edge of the bed wrapped in a towel, avoiding my gaze. Candles lined the tub, along with a half-drank bottle of wine and… ew. A used condom.
You wouldn’t believe the disgusting crap housecleaning had to take care of.
I set to work, mopping, squeezing out the water, dumping the bucket outside, over and over until the mess was sopped up. I changed out the soggy towels they’d thrown on the floor to sop up the first spills, and took the rug outside to hang on the deck railing. I’d be back out tomorrow and pick it up for a cleaning. The happy couple had finished the bottle of bubbly and popped open another while I slaved to clean up after them. At least they bothered to say, “thanks,” as I headed back outside. No tip. Hopefully Hosea followed through with that promise of a bonus.
I checked my watch. One hour. A record cleaning, that was for sure, but it was pitch black outside. I threw my tools into the cart and started off on a rapid pace for the main building, scanning the woods around me.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I sensed a darkness, a nameless heaviness. Watching. To my left, up in the woods, high on a hill. But it saw me. It knew me. And I knew it. Him.
It was the same darkness who’d killed my mother.
I broke into a run, dragging the cart along the sidewalk. The tires skidded on the ice and the cart tried to overturn. I’d never make it back to safety with it.
Breathing hard, I stopped beneath the closest light pole and grabbed my small bucket of weapons. Using the meager shelter of the cart, I scanned the woods, using both my eyes and my sense of fabric of the area. There was a definite shadow creeping through the woods, and the watcher high up, though he hadn’t come closer. The nightmare of my mother’s murder tried to crowd into my brain. Gray shapeless monsters grabbing her. Dragging her. The tall dark shadow engulfing her. Blood spraying from her throat.
I shuddered and pushed the image away. Not now. I refused to panic. Panic would make me do something stupid. I’d escaped many times before. I’d escape again.
He won’t have me tonight.
I started to stand, but caught another whiff of wrongness on the air, warning they were close. They were between me and the main cabin. They’d already cut me off.
Fuck.
I could probably make it back to the honeymoon cabin, but I didn’t think the newlyweds would welcome my presence for long, if they even allowed me back inside. There’d be questions. I knew from experience that people always thought I was nuts if I started talking about monsters, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself sedated and committed. Easy pickings for the monsters. If I blabbed about monsters no one else could see, Hosea would would probably fire me. I couldn’t afford any marks against my name for fear news would spread, and then I’d never get another job.
Shivering, but not with cold, I gathered my resolve. I was going to have to fight. So be it.
I stepped out a circle, trailing a thick line of salt on the ground, about six feet in diameter. Close enough I could defend it—but large enough that they wouldn’t be able to touch me easily. I loaded my nailed club in my left hand, and the pocket knife in my right. Then I crouched down beside the cart and waited.
I felt the wrongness first. Like a discordant note that I couldn’t quite hear, a flicker of shadow out of the corner of my eye, but when I looked, nothing was there. The smell intensified that sense of wrongness until I wanted to gag. Dead, rotting flesh, rolled in shit, and left in a putrid swamp to mold. It’d be even worse if I managed to injure one of them.When, I corrected myself sternly. Because if I didn’t manage to create a diversion, I’d probably be torn apart long before dawn.
Only one monster crept toward my circle. They didn’t like the light. Terror made me snicker out loud as I thought about them drawing straws to see which one had to try and get me first. Long, stringy hair hung down to its shoulders, but I couldn’t tell from its shape if it had been a man or a woman. Its arms were twice as long as normal, creepy long bony fingers reaching out along the ground like a foul spider. It touched the salt and hissed.
But it kept touching the salt, digging scaly fingers through the grains, even as it started to howl, a terrible high-pitched screech that didn’t sound like any living creature. Smoke broke from its darkened skin, yet it still tried desperately to break my circle.
I leaped forward and slammed the nailed club onto its forearm, then jerked back, making sure to tear the dead, hanging skin open.
From the shadows, a chittering sound rose up all around me. I shuddered, trying to keep my instincts in check. Even muscle in my body vibrated with alarm. They’d surrounded me. I had no option. I had to flee. Now.
Even though my brain knew I had no hope of escape. They wanted me to break into mindless terror and run. They’d love a good hunt through the woods.
The pack came closer, creeping out of the shadows, lured by the smell of blood. Even black, putrid blood. The injured one hissed at its friends as they closed on it, gnashing inch-long razor teeth, shredding its own lips, as if it was driven mad by blood hunger too. Even its own.
A sound behind me sent me whirling. I slammed the club down, trying to catch the other monster scratching through the salt. Missed.
Another screeched to my right. I slashed without looking and felt the drag of the knife blade through flesh.
They closed in. Ten. I’d never faced so many before.
I couldn’t breathe with the stench. The terror. Their eyes glowed, the terrible clicking sound they made with their teeth sending goosebumps down my arms. I made a slow turn inside the circle, trying to think of a way to escape. A way to trick them. The one I’d wounded suddenly disappeared beneath two or three of the monsters, but the rest closed ranks around me.
It was almost like they’d learned from their previous attempts. Or maybe the watcher had managed to train them better. Either option spelled my death.
I thought again of my mother. How hard she’d tried to protect us. Rather than moving over and over like me, she’d built a fortress in an old stone mansion in Kansas City, Missouri. The walls were thick and stout, resisting even their attempts to burn us out once. We had a safe room deep below the house in the old cellars, lined in brick and stone, mortared with salt. We’d retreated to that room anytime the monsters gathered outside, and they hadn’t been able to penetrate our safe room.
Until one managed to outsmart Mom by using a young kid as bait. They’d guessed correctly that she’d have a weakness for a child. That she’d never turn her back on a child in need.
