Until someone finally broke the spell.
“Hey, we can’t all stand around and freeze to death,” Hunter said, stamping his feet in the cold. I wished Jake had spoken first, that he would have proven that he truly was the leader of this pack. “It’s time to go trick-or-treating!”
“Come with us, Elspeth,” one of the younger boys pleaded.
“Yeah, come with.”
Jake didn’t say anything, but I could see it in his eyes. He wanted me to come too. I had no idea what trick-or-treating was, but I wanted to spend more time with him. Maybe if I could get him alone, I’d be able to harvest his dreams. I’d be more careful this time, keep my scent under control. I stole a quick glance at him again, hunger in my eyes this time. I couldn’t hide it anymore.
And then I saw something almost as magical as the snow that continued to drift down.
When his eyes met mine, I realized that he carried a secret hunger too.
Chapter 44
Strange Costumes
Thane:
Paintings of Cousin Ash and his dead wife covered the walls; this room was a mausoleum, a temple, a place where a tormented human begged for release. I pulled away from Driscoll, even before the dream was finished, then sat back on my haunches. The meal wasn’t what I had expected. It lacked effervescence, it lay in my gut, flat and stale. I stroked one long taloned finger across my chin, thinking about the many nights last winter when I had shivered beneath a pale moon, crouched low in snow banks at the edge of the Belovezhskaya Pushcha Forest, waiting and hoping that a human would wander off the path, that an unexpected and sudden feast might be laid at my feet.
Such were the dreams of a Darkling who doesn’t own land. Dreams of food and harvest. Even now, I could still taste the foul, twitching dreams of the rabbits and squirrels, remembered how the furry creatures had fought to be set free, then fell still. Before I was finished with them, even their flesh, ripped and raw, had been devoured.
My stomach and my soul had ached for weeks after each woodland creature died.
Until even the forbidden flesh of my brothers began to look winsome and whole.
I stood up and rubbed my arm, still aching from that horrid werebeast.
One good meal, maybe two, and my wound would be healed. After that my strength would grow. If I only could find a way inside the little homes of Ticonderoga Falls, if I could find a way to get a quick succession of meals—
Just then a knock sounded on the downstairs door.
I peeked out the window. From this angle I could see a portion of the downstairs wraparound porch. A small crowd of children gathered there, all dressed in strange costumes, holding bags.
With a grin, I left my brother to finish his bland meal, and I changed my skin as I walked down the stairs. By the time I reached the front door I looked exactly like Cousin Ash. Except for the fact that my feet curled up a bit on the ends.
But none of the children noticed that small detail.
Chapter 45
Like a Beacon
Maddie:
For two hours we roamed the woods, flashlights dividing the night into black and white. Sheriff Kyle taped off the area where the body had been, made vague comments—Maybe the guy was drunk or maybe some kids had been partying in the woods and they’d decided to play a practical joke. So far no one had been reported missing. Ticonderoga Falls was a small town, we would know if someone was missing—
“Not if that someone was from out of town,” I said. “Like me.”
“True,” he answered me with a slow nod.
But I could tell he was humoring me. He didn’t think there was a body out here, despite the effort he was making. No body meant no crime and therefore no paperwork or investigation. Once reality set in, I could feel the tension between my shoulder blades return.
Hands on my hips, I stopped. This was what he had been waiting for—me to give up. “There really was a body,” I said.
He nodded. Quiet. Then we both turned and headed back down the trail toward my cabin.
“I’ll call the search-and-rescue team,” he said. “They’ll come over in the morning and comb the woods. We might have been looking in the wrong spot. These trails all start to look the same after a while—”
I could see the cabin then, flickering like a beacon through the forest deep, peeking through a fine netting of black branches. The path steepened here at the edge of the wood. Somewhere up ahead, in one of the cottages that dotted the Driscoll property, someone was baking. The scent of apples and cinnamon wafted through the trees, reminded me that I hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner.
“I’m not imagining this, any of it,” I said, half to myself. “I don’t care what Dr. Madera says about hallucinations from deadly nightshade.”