Secret Worlds (8 page)

I chewed my lip, eyeing the door, thinking about shouting at him through the hunk of wood to come back out here. But even the thought of doing that made me feel pathetic. I had come here to quit—to get away from him. And now I was running after him, on the verge of begging him to talk to me?

No, I couldn’t be that girl. But I certainly wasn’t going to be the girl who took commands from some man who didn’t even know how to work a damned ice machine.

Yes, there were things going on here. Things I didn’t know about, and things that I
did
. There were reasons for me to stay in this town. Dalton, for one, and for two, well … Abram.

Ugh
.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall beside the symbol door, tilting my head back. I was here for Lulu. That’s why I came in the first place, even if most days it felt more like she was helping me. But I promised I would be here when she had her baby, and if for no other reason, that was why I would stay. I certainly wasn’t going to run away just because some asshole told me I should.

I moved back to the club’s main area, deflating as I surveyed the mess. Dalton aside, this club had been the only bright spot in my last few weeks. Fixing this dive up—making it a place people wanted to be—filled me with a sense of purpose that I hadn’t felt since Mom died.

That’s when I knew what I would do. Instead of
telling
Abram what I was thinking, I would
show
him. I would fix this entire place up and let him see for himself that I was stronger than whatever dangers he feared for on my behalf. He might have been ready to throw in the towel, but I wasn’t. We would worry about the rest later—add security, do a night of free admission to show this place wasn’t a murder barn … whatever necessary, we would do it. But Milan-be-damned, this club wouldn’t be left for dead.

Mom didn’t raise a quitter and, soon enough, Abram would know that, too.

It took three phone calls and all of forty-five minutes to get help putting The Castle back together. I would have liked to give myself a huge pat on the back for proving myself to be a competent and effective manager (if that was even what I was anymore), but the truth was, for all the upper crust snootiness New Haven had garnered in the last decade, work was still few and far between—which meant the lowly middle class couldn’t turn away employment opportunities. Even if those opportunities happened to be at a murder scene.

I couldn’t, of course, actually do any of the refurbishments until the police tape officially came down. And since that wasn’t happening for a day or two, I had plenty of time to load up on supplies. Unfortunately, the only décor store I could find that didn’t have the word ‘Barn’ in the title was a good fifty miles away, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

It was that want for supplies—or, more precisely, the hunt for the perfect replacement tables—which had me on the road that night.

I should have gone earlier, but Lulu had woken up short of breath and, as the designated freeloading best friend, rushing her to the emergency room fell under my jurisdiction. It was just gas (thank God), but when you’re that preggers, they apparently have to run three dozen tests no matter what brings you to the hospital.

By the time I got her back home, fed, and safely in bed with Jack snoring in the next room, the sun had already set.

I thought about putting the trip off until tomorrow. I even thought about asking Dalton to come with me. It could be a date, of sorts. But I was behind schedule, and if I was going to be serious about this, then I needed to get a move on, and Dalton would have been … distracting.

I cut onto the main road, my mind firing off one stressing thought after the next. Things were supposed to be simpler here. This was supposed to be the place I could chill out and start over after my mother’s death.

But here I was, dating one man, thinking about another, and strutting down a runway surrounded by an ever-growing audience of dead bodies that looked unnervingly like me.

Why was I doing this? I never wanted to run a nightclub, and I sure as hell didn’t see myself settling down in New Haven.

I pressed harder on the gas pedal, accelerating as though I was already making a run for it from that miserable town. But there was a hesitation there I hadn’t felt before. Something that made me feel tethered to New Haven.

Maybe the reason I wanted club manager job was for the control. Maybe, with so much spinning in orbit around my head—so much that I couldn’t grab or change or fix—I felt compelled to find any situation I
could
control. And The Castle was just that.

Thinking of the club brought an image of Abram to mind, and I sighed. Was it The Castle I was drawn to … or was it
him
? I tried to think back to other jobs I’d had before, and never had thinking about work make me think about my employer’s eyes, or arms, or chest, or lips.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter and gave myself a little shake.
Snap out of it, Char
. The truth was, I was only thinking of Abram right now because I felt bad for him. He had seemed so defeated. Of course I couldn’t get that image out of my mind—who could? All I wanted to do was save him from that misery. Lord knows I couldn’t save myself from mine.

I mean, it was either that, or I just wanted the job because he didn’t want me to have it.

So I either want to help him or piss him off. Real healthy, Char.

Those thoughts, along with a little concern about whether the tables would look like they did on the website swirled in my mind.

On a long, dark stretch of highway with woods on either side, Lulu’s car made a loud pop. I had never been much of a driver. It wasn’t really a necessity in New York. As such, I didn’t really know what was going on when something about the steering changed the car startled swerving across the emergency lane.

I jumped, gasping. Tightening my grip on the wheel, I jerked back hard the other way. The car fishtailed and spun across the empty highway until it skidded sideways into a tree.

Despite being thrown back, my seatbelt kept me in place. Still, it hurt like a bitch and shook me up pretty badly.

I stumbled out of the car, kicking off my heels and cursing my incessant need to dress up even when only the employees at a furniture supply store would see me. A quick assessment of the car revealed the culprit for my distress: a flat tire.

Wow, Char
.
That’s pretty special
.

Only I could have such a disastrous reaction to something so basic. The flat tire may as well have been ancient hieroglyphics for all I knew about it.

As I stared at the shredded rubber, chewing my lip, my agent’s voice scrolled through my mind. “Pretty girls shouldn’t do that sort of work,” she’d said one day in reference to women learning to change the oil in their car. “It ruins the hands.”

I looked down at my hands now. They were
useless, but damn if they weren’t stunning. I rifled through the front seat until I found my cell phone. No signal.

Ugh! I hate this place.

So much for Triple A. Maybe if I walked back toward town, I could get a signal. It was only a couple of miles, and for all I knew, only a few steps until the signal kicked back on.

I grabbed my purse and took a look around. The road was dark, though, sandwiched by thick tree lines and without a single street lamp. Not exactly my idea of an inviting nightly stroll.

A sense of uneasiness crept over me. Here I was, all alone, in the dark, and without any way to call for help.

Would walking down that road even be safe?

Would staying here with the car be safe, either?

I thought about the girl in the club—her dead, open eyes. I thought about the missing girl, about what might have happened to her. I thought about the girl in the next town over, the one who had been found in these woods … not too far from here. She’d had markings all over her and a face that could easily be confused for my own.

But if I worried about that now, I was just as bad as the backwoods townsfolk who spun tall tales about forest monsters being the culprit.

A howl, sharp and terrifyingly close spiked a shiver down my spine. My muscles tensed as something primal and instinctive turned on in my brain. I grabbed at my phone, fumbling for my flashlight app and squinting as its thin white light forced a narrow cone into the darkness.

I spun slowly, looking around for the source of that howl and hoping to God I didn’t find it.

The woods were even closer than I thought, almost swallowing up the road on either side. Had they grown in the ten years since I had been gone? I didn’t remember them being so … encroaching.

I shone my light back toward town. Maybe if I waited here, locking myself in the car, someone would come by.

I inched backward, grasping for the door handle while scanning the area with my light.

Then I heard it—low, even breathes accompanied with a simmering growl. It was worse than the howl, mostly because of how close it was. I couldn’t dismiss it this time. It rumbled so near that every hair on my arms and neck prickled.

A whoosh of something darted in front of me, knocking into my hand. My phone flew from my gasp and landed screen first onto the road, the light shooting straight up into the air.

I jerked back as I saw what it now illuminated. A thing—some sort of animal—reared in front of me, huffing wildly.

Dark auburn fur covered its body. Its head stretched into a long snout, and fang-like teeth jutted from its open mouth. It had all the characteristics of a wolf—a massive torso, pointed ears, and powerful hind legs.

Except it wasn’t a wolf. Wolves weren’t this big.

It threw its head up and howled again, loudly into the moonlight. Never one to run toward a fight, I spun away and took off, my bare feet smacking the pavement, but I knew it was no use. This open road would make it a foot race, and an animal that size would have a gait I couldn’t outrun. My only chance, if I had any at all, would be to somehow lose this beast inside the woods.

The animal took off behind me, first two feet, and then four, clapping against the pavement.

I darted into the woods, stumbling as the ground shot up a little at the tree line. My heart raced ten times faster than normal while fear sent beads sweat crawling down my spine.

My eyes adjusted to the near absolute darkness just in time to alert me I was about to crash headfirst into a tree. I stopped, bracing myself against the bark. I dodged out of the way,
but the animal chasing me wasn’t so lucky. It slammed into the tree trunk and let out a surprisingly human-sounding yelp.

I zigged to my left then zagged to my right, remembering something from a television special about some kind of animal that couldn’t keep up with that sort of thing.

No such luck, though. The beast gained ground on me.

Oh that’s right. It was an alligator.

The beast’s breath, hot and terrifying, brushed against the back of my neck. I was even hotter now, pouring sweat as I spun around a nearby tree, changing directions.

I had no idea where I was headed or even what direction I was going in. But the quick thinking earned me a much needed split second. Using it, I slid to the ground, wincing and throwing my hands in front of me as the beast jumped over me. It skidded to a stop and turned.

Getting back on its hind legs, it paused with bright yellow eyes trailing down my body before baring its teeth again. Then, slowly, it started toward me again.

My eyes stayed locked on it, but my hand went for my bag. Back in New York, I kept mace in my purse. You know, because of the crazies. Maybe, if I was really lucky, I would have some left.

My fingers fumbled for the small rounded bottle as the monster neared me. When it growled again, I sensed a bit of hunger, but then, I suppose it wasn’t chasing me down just to say hello.

Grabbing the bottle, I cursed my luck.
Empty
. But there was something beside it—something small, hard, and bumpy.

That’s right. A stupid exfoliating soap my agent used to make me use—the one Mom said could take paint off the walls.

I wrapped my fingers around it, unsure I was going to do. It was a rock, at best. And what good could a rock do against a monster.

I mean, even David had a slingshot.

The monster settled in front of me, leaves crackling under foot, paw, or hoof—whatever this thing had. Its breaths were not labored like mine. It hadn’t even exerted itself.

Its hands folded
in a claw like manner, probably preparing to shred me to pieces, to mark me up the way it had the woman on the internet. And, like her, tomorrow I would nothing but a statistic—an unanswered question posted alongside a picture in the newspaper.

It opened its mouth wide, howling as it had before, and I reared my arm back and flung the soap. God must have been feeling cheeky, because it landed right in the monster’s open yap.

It grabbed its throat and starting heaving, choking on the soap.

I scrambled to my feet, not sure where I was going, but ready to get anywhere where this beast wasn’t.

As quick as my bare, pedicured feet would take me, I ran deeper into the woods. The monster probably wouldn’t choke to death on soap, but I might be able to find a hiding place to duck into to wait the horrible thing out.

I ran so far and so fast that my lungs burned. I kept imagining the monster behind me again, paws galloping after me. I had to keep running. Maybe there was a ditch, or a cave, or a … 

Or a two story house with front porch furniture?

There, sitting in the middle of the woods, like the greatest mirage anyone could ever imagine, stood a house.

I slid to a stop, bracing myself against the pain in my bloody and bruised feet. A light shone from a second floor window. Not only was there a house out here, where a house had no business being, but there was someone in it.

I might actually survive this.

A howl shot through the woods; the monster was undoubtedly back on track, so I pooled what little energy I had left and made a beeline for the front door. My hands slammed against it in panicked knocks.