Hunted

“Okay, I’ll fix us some coffee,” he replied, removing his hat and setting it on the small table beside the couch. It looked oddly at home there, next to my grandfather’s old pipe.

 

Smiling, I curled my fingers around his and leaned in to press my lips against his cheek, his skin still cool from being outside. “Sounds great.”

 

Figuring that if I was going to meet death, I didn’t want to do it covered in dirt and grime, I hopped in the shower to rinse off.

 

Scrubbed clean and smelling of my favorite lavender and vanilla body wash, I pulled on a pair of ancient sweat pants and a t-shirt, taking some small comfort in the old and familiar clothes. If it wasn’t for the tight knot of fear in my throat, I could almost have imagined that it was any other cold winter night where a simple cup of hot cocoa and a good book could chase away the monsters lurking in the darkness. As it was, the sight of Holbrook slumped on my couch half asleep with his feet resting on the edge of the coffee table did a damn good job of keeping the boogeyman at bay, if only for a moment.

 

Two steaming cups of deliciously strong coffee sat on the table, and he’d even managed to ferret out my back-up stash of Double Stuf Oreos.

 

I really would’ve liked to have gotten the chance to know him.

 

Curling up on the couch next to him, I laid my head against his shoulder, content to just listen to the steady thump of his heart.

 

“Mmm, you smell good,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, tucking me in tighter against him.

 

Weariness weighed on me, dragging my eyelids down. I fought against sleep for a while, but the heat of the fire and the solid security of Holbrook’s arm curled around me were a lethal combination, pulling me down into the sweet embrace of sleep.

 

***

 

 

The weight of Loki climbing into my lap woke me, startling me awake with a jolt. Blinking my eyes against the gloom, the fire burned down to glowing embers, I looked up into his violet eyes inches from my face.

 

“What’s up, buddy?” I asked in a whisper so as not to wake Holbrook, who still had an arm curled around my shoulders.

 

Letting out his familiar grating meow, he pressed a large paw to my cheek, the pads of his foot cool against my skin. Beside me, Holbrook continued to slumber, his heavy breaths the only sound in the room except for the occasional crackle and pop from the fire as the coals settled. Reaching up a hand to smooth the fur down Loki’s spine, I was already sinking back down into the warmth of sleep when he pawed at my face again, more insistently.

 

“What?” I groaned, batting at his prodding foot when I heard the unmistakable sound of claws raking over the siding of the cabin.

 

Fear curled into a cruel fist around my heart, clenching it painfully as dread washed through me in a bone chilling wave.

 

Samson was outside.

 

Going still, afraid to even breathe, I listened and waited, praying that it had simply been the sound of the wind scraping tree branches against the outside of the house even though I knew there were no trees that grew that close. When the noise came again, making my heart thump painfully against my ribs, I tried to shake Holbrook awake, my movements sending Loki leaping down to the floor where he disappeared into the darkness.

 

“Holbrook,” I whispered, receiving no reply. “Dammit, Darius, wake up!” I hissed, shaking him a little more vigorously.

 

Snorting, he jerked awake. “What’s going on?”

 

Before I had a chance to answer him, the blood chilling sound of a claw tapping on the window beside the front door cut through the quiet. My eyes rose to the window and I was relieved to see that the curtains were still in place. At least he couldn’t see inside.

 

“He’s here.”

 

“In the bedroom. Go. Now,” Holbrook ordered in a whisper, already pushing me up off of the couch and reaching for his hat on the side table. I wondered why the hell he was worrying about his damned hat until I saw the Glock underneath.

 

I half ran, half crawled, my way to the bedroom, staying low and out of sight of the windows. It wasn’t until I was on the threshold of my bedroom that I spared a thought for my furry companion.

 

“Loki!” Skidding to a halt, my socks sliding on the wooden floor.

 

“Don’t stop. Keep going,” Holbrook hissed behind me.

 

“I have to get Loki,” I argued, my voice frantic.

 

“Go. I’ll get him,” he said, turning to head back to the living room when a pale streak shot past us both, careening into my bedroom to disappear under the bed.

 

Holbrook and I remained frozen for a moment, staring at each other in the gloom, before we moved in tandem, high-tailing it into the room.

 

“Now what?” I asked, breathless with fear as I crouched next to the bed and watched Holbrook shut the door, turning the old brass key in the lock.

 

“Help me move this,” he answered, already moving to my dresser.

 

Together we shoved it in front of the door, though he knew as well as I did that neither it nor the flimsy lock on the door would keep Samson out for long.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 38

 

 

 

“WHAT NEXT?” I asked, staring at the barricaded door.

 

A.J. Colby's books