“I used to be acquaintances with the caretaker in a past life.”
I wondered if he meant “past life” figuratively or literally. “So your friend used to take care of an unmarked burial ground. Interesting.”
Mack unthreaded the rusted chain through the hole and pushed open the door, giving me a view into the gloomy, dirty interior.
“The dead don’t need taking care of,” he said. “His job was to keep the living away. But he eventually went insane out here all by himself. Right before he died, he had my brother ward the entire property. It’s why you got sick when we stepped onto this land.”
I raised a brow. Ward. Now there’s a word you don’t hear every day. It implied that they’d used some sort of voodoo to protect the land.
“I see you don’t believe me.” He jerked his head, gesturing for me to go inside, which I didn’t do. I wasn’t afraid, but I also didn’t see why we’d want to go in there.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s inside first?” I folded my arms over my chest, grateful I had on my thick dark sweater. The chill in the morning air was prickly to say the least.
“It’s the sort of thing you need to see for yourself.” His voice was suddenly tinged with an ominous tone, and I felt the baby fine hairs on my arms and neck stand straight up as the expression on his face shifted into something that was difficult to articulate. It was…like…he wanted to hurt me. Hate. Rage. Whatever. But he looked mean and deadly.
Okay. Now I’m afraid. I realized Mack had my keys and there was nowhere for me to go—nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
I’m an idiot. If he intended to kill me, which I now had the impression he might, given the strange, deadly vibe oozing from his direction, I deserved to die. Just like those stupid girls who “check out that weird noise” in the attic during a horror movie.
I lifted my chin a bit, faking composure. A victim’s fear often fed a killer’s ego. “Mack, tell me what you’re doing—what’s really going on here? Because if you plan to drag me inside to cut my throat, you know I can’t go anywhere, so you’ve won. But I’d at least like an explanation.” No. I wasn’t giving in. I was buying time to think.
His blue, blue eyes flickered with disdain, and his surreally handsome face was coated in rage. There were no traces of the kind, dimpled man I’d seen only moments earlier.
What the hell happened to him?
“I owe you nothing, Theodora. Now do as I say, and get your ass inside, or I will drag you by the hair.”
Oh fuck. I knew in my heart that running wouldn’t do any good, but I did it anyway. I turned and sprinted down the road.
Arms pumping, boots slamming into the earth, I ran as hard as I could, kicking up dirt behind me. I felt a hand grab my sweater and jerk me back. My body slammed onto the ground, knocking the wind from my lungs.
“I fucking told you to get inside, woman,” Mack growled as I tried to breathe but couldn’t. With little effort, he plucked me from the dirt and threw me over his shoulder.
My lungs kicked back in, and I screamed, “Don’t do this, Mack! I can help you. You don’t want to do this!”
Marching with determination, me bouncing painfully on his shoulder, he said, “Shut the hell up. You have no clue what I want to do.”
I clawed and kicked, but he was too burly, and I was no match. “Mack, please! I’m begging you to let me—”
We crossed the threshold into the cabin, and that was when I became pretty darn certain that I was the one who’d gone mad.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TEDDI
“What the…?” I whispered.
Mack threw me down onto a soft leather couch beside an unlit fireplace, and then gripped the sides of his head, snarling and groaning with his eyes closed as if in pain. Then suddenly his face relaxed and his head snapped in my direction. “You cannot run from me like that, Theodora. Do you understand me? Do you!” he yelled.
Nodding absentmindedly, I was totally speechless. The inside of the cabin wasn’t dark and dusty, and the walls weren’t rotting wooden planks. The inside was rustic, yes, but it had clean white plaster walls and a cozy living room with a bearskin rug, fireplace, and knotted pine coffee table. In the other corner was a round table with a gas lamp in the middle and a hutch filled with canned food, stemware, and plates. There was even a little kitchen area with a propane hotplate and a granite counter.
My mouth half flapping, I stuttered out, “I—I—dun-dun-don’t understand.” And then I looked up at Mack. “Holyfuckingshit!” I was no longer looking at him, but…but… “Your hair. Your face.” His hair was dark, his stubble was jet black, his skin was a deep olive. But those eyes—those blue, blue eyes. He looked like that man King. Exactly like him.
Mack stood there, arms crossed, staring.
“Mack? Please help me understand what’s happening here.”