Dead of Winter

Chapter 9

I slammed the notebook shut and tossed it on the nightstand, attributing my strange drawing to the aftereffects of too much adrenaline. Given tonight's events, what else had I expected my mind to conjure but a monstrosity? But now that Rory was here, such unpleasant thoughts had no place in my head. With him home, I felt safer, more secure, his presence by my side a talisman against all dark thoughts and disturbing dreams.

When he slipped into bed beside me, warm from the shower and smelling of cedar and citrus, I took the essence of that talisman into myself. Body entwined with his, we melded together, our reciprocal motions rocking us to a shuddering c****x.

I awoke alone to the sound of Daniel Tiger's muted falsetto issuing from the living room. No surprise there. With school canceled, Charlie probably had been up since the c***k of dawn. Rory had left the door open, allowing comforting and tantalizing aromas—fresh-brewed coffee and bacon—to waft inside.

The storm had passed, transforming our backyard into a wonderland. Sunlight streamed through the windows and shimmered along the icicles that edged the eaves. Far below on the lawn, tiny sparks blazed like myriad jewels off mounds of fluffy, unmarred white. Evergreens, cloaked in thick pristine coats, bowed their heads like acolytes paying homage to a nameless god. I threw open the window and took great gulps of the crisp, clean air.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Rory abandoned his cooking duties long enough to plant a kiss on my forehead as I padded into the kitchen.

"Give me a break, it's not even ten yet." Pulling a mug from a hook under the shelf, I headed straight for the coffeemaker. "Hey, I thought you had the day off," I said, noticing he was wearing a fresh uniform, dark shirt, and matching cargo pants.

"I promised Kurt I'd take part of his shift today." Finished with the bacon, Rory cracked an egg in the frying pan. "By the way, you missed a call." He nodded at the phone on the counter. "Someone from New Horizons. They can take you tomorrow afternoon at three."

"Great, if that works for you. If I don't want to spend the night there, I'll need a responsible escort." Looking up, I batted my eyelashes at him. "Know anyone?"

"Yeah, I scanned through the info packet earlier," he said. "Oh, the woman who called also said that they'd prefer if you had nothing to eat after midnight." He transferred a few slices of crisp bacon to a nearby plate. "Better eat up while you can!"

"Why? It's not like they're knocking me out," I said, so annoyed by this newest rule I didn't watch what I was doing. Milk sloshed over the top of my mug.

"She said it helps counter the side effects of the conscious sedation. It can make people a little queasy. Although she didn't mention any specific drugs, I'm guessing they'll administer either propofol or give you IV midazolam and fentanyl. Something like that, anyway." He shrugged. "It's what they use in the hospital. 'Milk of amnesia,' they call it."

"Does it live up to its name?"

"Trust me, you won't remember a thing."

"Amnesia's just fine by me. You know how I feel about needles." As I grabbed a slice of bacon, Mia joined us in the kitchen. "Speaking of hospitals, is there any news about Taryn?"

"Ferrilyn came back a little after six." She put Charlie's empty cereal bowl in the sink, then helped herself to a slice of bacon. "Poor thing looked beat. From what she said, Taryn had an awful night. Transfusion reaction. That's what they called it, anyway." Leaning in, she whispered, "Taryn went off the wall—off more than her usual, which is something. Spouting gibberish, screaming. She even tried to attack Ferrilyn at one point. They had to restrain her to make her stop. She's sedated now, but they've ordered a psych consult. She'll be lucky if they discharge her by the weekend."

"Weirdest transfusion reaction I've ever heard of."

"Right with you, Rory," Mia said, nodding. "But the way she's been acting, a stay in the psych ward might be the best thing for her."

"When can I go sliding with Ferrilyn?" Charlie piped from the living room.

Mia winced. "Oh, sweetie, I think Ferrilyn needs to rest right now." When Charlie voiced her disappointment with a loud whine, she said, "Besides, Mommy has something even better than sliding planned for today: a road trip. We're going to Grammy's house! What do you think about that?"

"Yay!"

As Charlie scampered off to her room to get dressed, Mia turned to us. "I didn't mean to spring it on you like this, but after what happened last night, I don't feel safe here. Mom's been after me for ages to bring Charlie for a visit, so I'm taking her to Middlebury for a few days."

"Sounds like a good idea, although I'm sure whoever attacked Taryn is long gone by now."

"Maybe..." She didn't sound convinced, and the frown accompanying her noncommittal statement further stressed her uncertainty. "Still, I'd rather not take that chance. Sorry to be such a coward—"

"You're not a coward!"

"—but I have to protect Charlie. I've already packed our bags. We'll leave for Middlebury after she's dressed."

After she'd gone, Rory squeezed my arm. "You didn't tell me you'd been in an accident. I saw the damage when I was outside this morning. What the heck happened to your car?"

Taking a seat on a stool, I told him about my brush with a wild animal on the way back from Saratoga. My assertion of what caused that attack raised a concerned scowl.

"A catamount out there? Doubtful. Sounds like it could have been a black bear. Depending on the weather, they sometimes awaken early from hibernation, and if injured, will strike back to defend themselves. You're lucky to be in one piece. I can't believe you got out of the car, though! What were you thinking?"

"I thought I hit a dog." I spun around to face him. "What was I supposed to do, just leave it there?"

"No, but..." He slid the egg on a plate, then took a seat beside me.

"Here's something even stranger," I ventured, though knowing in my gut he wouldn't believe me. "The claw marks on my car look just like the ones on our door."

He gawped at me for a moment, then snorted so hard that coffee spurted out of his nose. "Look, Amara, I know you had a close call and that you're still kind of freaked out, but do you hear yourself? Do you honestly believe that a bear followed you home—stalked you for miles in a blizzard—then attacked Taryn?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" I shot back, although a small, still-terrified part of me had been thinking the same thing. "How do you account for those marks?"

"Coincidence?" He made a funny sound in his throat, then stabbed at his egg with a fork.

"Guys, sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing." Mia, returning with a suitcase and backpack in hand, joined us. "You need to see this," she whispered. "Outside."

Rory and I followed her downstairs, stopping at the landing just long enough to pull on our boots. Trading luggage for a snow shovel, Mia stepped outside. "I found it when I was cleaning this morning. I didn't want Charlie to see, so I hid it." Padding down the walk a few feet, she plunged the shovel blade into a small mound of snow and rolled it over, unearthing a dark, tar-like glob.

As I leaned over for a better look, the stench hit me like a fist. Recoiling, gagging, one hand over my nose and mouth, I staggered back into Rory. This was the same smell we'd encountered in the basement. After his reaction to the maybe-bear, however, there was no way I would share this latest revelation.

"I've never seen blood do that before," Mia said, each word escaping with a puff of white.

"It doesn't smell like blood, either." Rory pulled a purple nitrile glove from his cargo pocket and slipped it on, finishing with a loud snap against his wrist. Squatting, he reached out, dipped a finger in the semi-frozen, gelatinous glop, then rubbed it between his finger and thumb. "Feels tacky, like old blood, but check this out." The substance left bluish stains on his glove when he pulled his fingers apart. "Blood doesn't do that; I've no idea what the heck this could be, guys." Grimacing, he wiped his hand on the snow, then rose.

"Is there any more?"

"Not that I could see. If there was, the plow took care of it," she said, pointing at the driveway.

"Best get rid of it. You never know." Taking the shovel from her, Rory scooped up the rest of the odd substance, then strode across the drive.

The wind rose, whipping the loose snow into long spirals. As he flung it into the trees, one of the pines nearest to him swayed, dislodging its wintry cap. Snow cascaded downward in a soft hiss and rush. But as it thud-thudded to the ground, I could've sworn I saw a large shape moving amidst the topmost branches.