Thane:
River and I crouched in a tangle of greenery, our bellies full and the both of us still wanting more. Sienna had sauntered off on her own not long ago, weary of our company. So my brother and I were at the edge of town now, hunkered down outside the Steak & Ale. We watched a human woman through the windows as she wiped a wet bar cloth across a counter, mopping up spilled beer and gravy—she was all alone now. Her last customer had walked out almost an hour ago and the pub was empty, save pockets of shadows and the cold wind that whistled whenever she got too close to the windows.
She lugged the last dirty dishes off to the kitchen. Meanwhile, the wind moaned through the poplars that stood like sentinels around the building. Their shadows bled in the windows, tossing and tumbling in the breeze.
She paused in the kitchen doorway, looking toward the bank of windows. I listened to her thoughts, grinning.
She could tell something felt different tonight, but of course, she couldn’t figure out what. Right now all she wanted was a soak in a hot tub, followed by a glass of wine and that new novel she’d picked up yesterday. She shrugged on her jacket. Snow flurries had caked the roads with white, slippery powder. She wasn’t looking forward to the drive home.
So my brother and I stayed hidden in silver shadows. We left the poplars that lined the building, flew up into the high branches of a ponderosa pine. Even from here we could smell her—ripe and plump and as ready for harvest as she would ever get. Another year and her dreams would evaporate, but tonight they were still effervescent and childlike.
As always, River waited for my signal.
Together we stared at the front door.
Then it swung open and the woman—Agnes Miller, that was her name, sure enough—stepped outside. She pulled the door closed behind her, stuck a key in the lock, ready to bolt it shut.
But she never did.
Because at that moment, we swooped down from the sky, each of us grabbing one of her arms. Then we flew off with her, her screams burrowing through the fog-drenched sky and finally ending somewhere in the ever deep forest.
I loomed over the cringing human, let my shape grow and darken until I was nearly twice her size. Then I growled, teeth glittering in the midnight gloom. Fear seeped from her pores like stale sweat and urine. She tried to run, but I just laughed; then I tossed out a small Veil like a lasso and used it to pull her back. Her protests came in a flurry of incomprehensible words. Meanwhile, River watched the two of us from the shadows, every inch of him submissive, just as he should be. He backed away, a step at a time, giving me room as I needed it, all the while not daring to take his eyes off me.
He knew that soon I would tire of this game and the feeding would begin.
Finally an oppressive hush fell over the forest as the human submitted, lying down in forest gloom. She glanced at the two of us, then lowered her head, as if she didn’t want to know what was going to happen next.
“Sleep,” I said.
Her eyes closed. Then, taking turns, River and I both ate our fill. It wasn’t until much later—when the woman curled in a fetal position on the forest floor, when her limbs were frozen and her thoughts were growing more cloudy with each shallow breath—that River pulled away with great reluctance.
And he allowed me to take the kill that was rightfully mine.
We stepped from the woodland copse, masking the rotted sour stench of death that clung to our hands and mouths. This kill had gone better than the last. No sound had leaked out. I made sure of it this time. Now, a human vessel of steel and glass lumbered over a hill toward us, engine rolling into gear with a deep bear-like growl. Narrow beams of light shot toward me and I instinctively raised one arm to shield the glare.
The lights flashed, pain-bright waves of heat. I closed my eyes as the beams steadily approached, growing stronger.
Even the darkness has been corrupted by these humans.
Then I felt something moving through silken-black shadow, faceless. It wore a mask, but I could smell it.
Ash was somewhere among the humans back in the village, hunting Madeline MacFaddin, the woman that bore my mark.
Fair and square, she would be mine again before this night ended.
I gripped a nearby sapling and gave a little shrug, shaking my human skin back into place—stretching out the folds that had tangled while climbing up that last bramble-covered hill, mending the tear that hung loose on my hip. I gulped a mouthful of fresh mountain air, clear and sweet. Just a little bit stronger and then I’d be able to steal all of Ash’s humans, whether they wore his mark or not.
I chuckled.