Chapter Eighteen
I open my eyes and sit straight up, looking around in a panic. It takes a second for me to remember where I am—my parents’ cabin. The lights are still on, and it’s still dark outside, but I have no idea what time it is. It could be very late at night, or very, very early in the morning. I’m not sure.
Sawyer’s arm is slung across my bare thighs. I gently push him off and get up, gathering up my scattered clothes and putting them back on. I place his things in a pile near him and then shake him gently.
“Sawyer. Sawyer, wake up.”
His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me with a sweet smile, which falters when he sees that I’m already fully dressed. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s still dark outside, though, so we should have some time. Let’s look around a little more before we head back.”
I turn away to head into the kitchen while Sawyer dresses. There’s nothing but non-perishable food in the cupboards, but I find a locked cabinet in the pantry that contains small jars of herbs that I’ve learned about in survival class; things like dragon’s blood, mandrake leaves, and something called ‘devils breath’ that I’ll have to look into later. I grab as many as I can shove into my backpack. They might come in handy someday.
Sawyer’s dressed when I come back into the room. I walk past him toward the weapons hanging on the wall and grab two black daggers with red engraving on the hilts. These must have been my mother’s.
I turn them over, weighing them in my hands, then glance back up at the wall. There’s a part of me that wants to use the daggers as some sort of legacy—but I’ve always been partial to longer weapons.
A katana on the wall draws my eye especially, but there’s no way I can carry that all the way back through the snow along with everything else.
“Avery,” Sawyer says quietly, from behind.
I grab his backpack beside the desk and start shoving more things inside—journals, trinkets, more jars of unmarked herbs.
“Avery. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
I feel a pulse between my legs as he says it, but I bite my lip. I don’t want to talk about it.
I’ve thought about this, a lot … and it always comes down to the same thing.
“I don’t want to be a couple,” I say, tentatively. “I really need to focus on my grades.” I glance back at him to gauge his reaction.
He nods and puts his hands in his pockets. “I understand. So, we’re not a couple.”
“And this … won’t happen again.”
He nods again, his eyes on the floor. “So … you didn’t like it?”
I purse my lips. What is it with boys? I can’t lie to him.
“I did like it. I … really liked it. But that has to be the end of it.” For now, at least, I add in my head. I sling the backpack over my shoulder. “Let’s go. If we leave now, we should get back before the sun rises.”
We unplug the space heater and turn off the lights. I lock the door behind us. We walk away from the darkened cabin, and I try not to look back.
We’re well on our way home, just another hour or so out, when I hear a noise among the trees. I swing my flashlight around to look and see a brief flash reflected back, and movement.
“Sawyer,” I say, grabbing his arm. He turns his flashlight too.
“I saw it,” he says tensely.
“It looked like metal. It can’t be an ordinary animal.” I feel my instincts kicking in. I can sense that there’s something here, though it’s not the same as when I met the al.
How long has this thing been following us? I could kick myself. I knew getting involved with Sawyer, or any of the other boys, would end up with me being distracted. And here I am, distracted and being hunted already.
There’s another noise behind us. This time when I swing my flashlight around, I see it padding toward us, tongue lolling out. It looks like a dog—a Dachshund, I’d have to guess—with a long head shaped somewhat like an axe. Its tail is wagging happily as it stops and cocks its head at us.
“Oh my God,” I say, as recognition from one of my textbooks dawns on me. “It’s an axehandle hound.”
Sawyer laughs and looks at it more closely. “I’ve never seen one. He’s cute!”