Creeping Beauty, page 1
Creeping Beauty
(Wendigo Girl Book 2)
Copyright 2017 Kaye Draper
Chapter 1
I rubbed the sore spot on my head with one hand while I tapped at my computer keyboard with the other. Hissing, I dropped my hand from its exploration of my scalp and forced it to contribute to my word count.
My phone vibrated, the sensation rumbling through the desktop where I was attempting to work. I ignored it. It was either my deadbeat senior parent or my clingy ghoul.
I supposed it could be Kwan—the immortal martyr was due to stop by and feed me pieces of himself any day now, if the burning in my throat was any indication.
If I didn’t feed soon, I’d probably lose it and try to eat the neighbors who had the audacity to decide to use their summer cabin this year. Though, thanks to the damned bracelet I wore my wendigo powers were mostly suppressed.
I almost picked up the phone. But then, what if it was my agent calling about the book I was so craptastically not making progress on?
I let the phone keep vibrating until it went to voice mail. Agents were scary. I’d rather risk missing a call from Kwan and eating the locals than get yelled at.
I turned my attention back to the cursor on the computer screen. How to best murder the main character in some spectacular fashion that would leave the reader emotionally damaged….
A loud, croaking caw made me jump. I glared at the raven perched on my bookshelf. Its yellow eyes met mine and I swear if bird lips could, it would be smirking.
“What?” I griped. “I’m working!”
Its outline rippled faintly, shimmering in that unnerving way it had since last month, when I’d killed a wendigo and halted my transformation into a monster.
I hoped.
At least it wasn’t getting any worse.
But the bird. The fucking bird made me nervous. I had thought it was just a bird. Not the guardian my sadistic ninja-Indian-keeper chick insisted it was.
Why it chose now to act like a spirit voodoo messenger, I had no idea. “Shut the fuck up,” I told it.
It ruffled its feathers and settled down in them as if innocently napping. Asshole.
Sighing, I lifted my fingers to the keyboard. Murdered by a deranged flock of demon crows sounded good for an ending. I finished one God damned sentence before my head started to throb.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. Angling my laptop just so, I leaned in to study my reflection while I prodded at the two bumps just inside my hairline. They were rock-hard and the skin there was bright red, irritated. “Fucking what now?” I whined, licking my lip when I nicked it on a fang.
After being attacked by a wendigo a few months back, I’d gained increased strength, night vision, and a hunger for human flesh, complete with the fangs to help tear into it. At first, I thought the sore spots on my head were because one of my companions had slammed my head into the bathroom sink last month to stop me going into a rage.
But now I wondered.
“Look at the bright side,” I told myself cheerfully. “Maybe it’s bone cancer.”
My raven clucked. I glared at him and poked at my head some more. The bumps were getting bigger.
Maybe I should go see a doctor. “Hello, Doc. What brings me in today, you ask? Well, you see I’m kind of part mythical beast now—but don’t worry, I won’t eat you. Probably. I just want you to tell me what these head bumps are.”
Or what they were not. I had a bad feeling I already knew. “Bone cancer,” I said again, to no one. “Nothing to do with wendigos. In fact, maybe I’m so sick that the whole past year has been a coma-induced nightmare.”
I should be so lucky.
All I had wanted after the death of my husband and child, after the death of the life I loved, was to live out the rest of my hopefully short future in peace and quiet. The drama of life didn’t interest me anymore. And I certainly had no interest in trying to save other people—I had learned it was a futile, wasted effort.
Unfortunately, the universe—and a couple of deranged creature hunters—had other ideas for me. I was given these freaky powers. And the hunters had decided that meant I had to serve the greater good or some bullshit. They were wrong, of course. It was not my responsibility to save people.
I was afraid the changes weren’t stopping anytime soon, that these bumps on my head were just an indicator of more fucked up shit to come.
Pushing my chair back from my desk, I gave up on getting any work done. I picked up my phone, still refusing to look at it. Standing, I stretched, then held out an arm to my raven. “Come on magic bird creature, I’ll get you some treats.” He was obsessed with goldfish crackers. Pure nature.
Once I’d fed the shimmery black bird a handful of processed wheat, dye, and salt, I stepped out onto my back porch. He launched off my shoulder and circled my little cabin before joining the buzzard herd in the tall pines surrounding my yard.
The buzzards had thinned out a bit after the wendigo was gone, but a few were always kicking around in my trees or on the top of my roof, like creepy death omens.
I made my way past the cedar that grew through the center of my deck and across the yard to a small foot trail that led to the Lake Huron shore.
Sand and pine needles were soft underfoot and my shoulders dropped, tension easing as I was swallowed by the smell of the forest, the splashes of late wild flowers covering the ground, and the scurrying of the life that resided here.
I ignored the things I saw out of the corners of my eyes from time to time—odd creatures that belonged on the pages of a Brian Froud book.
If I ignored them, then they weren’t real. Even though I could feel them watching me.
I was sitting on a massive ice-age boulder in the rocky shallows, gazing out at the seemingly unending blue horizon that could put the ocean to shame, when that sense of being watched…shifted.
Beautiful. A voice said in my mind. Mine.
I shivered, heart pounding in my chest like an overeager band geek with a bass drum. My nails elongated, hands clawing inward. I crouched on my rock, fangs bared as I scanned the tree line.
Then the voice in my mind was gone, and I sensed no more than the silent woods and its odd, but mostly harmless, occupants.
A shadow swirled near the base of a tree and a husky alto called out. “Communing with nature, Tess?”
The Indian ninja chick took in my animalistic posture with a sardonic lift of one dark brow. I forced myself to slowly unfold, stomping down my embarrassment at being caught acting crazy.
Well, more crazy than usual.
“I smelled you and thought it was a demon,” I said, raking my claws through my tangled hair like a comb. I smiled with my fangs, cutting myself in the process, damn it. “My mistake.”
Cloud strode toward me, all tall, lean grace in black leather pants and a clingy black tank top. A silver axe glinted from the belt at her waist and the proud angles of her face were sharp and unforgiving.
She stopped at the shoreline. “I think you smelled yourself,” she said, wrinkling her nose and regarding me with faintly glowing yellow eyes. “You’re bleeding.”
I tilted my head at the odd tone in her voice, heart suddenly pounding again, for no damned reason.
I wasn’t scared of Cloud. Even if she hunted monsters like me for a living, and had done so for a couple hundred years. So what. No biggie.
I hopped off my rock and splashed through the cold, ankle-deep water, showing no fear. Glaring up at her, I crossed my arms and put my fangs and claws away. “What do you want?”
She flipped her shiny, angular-cut black hair out of her eyes and stared down at me. Cloud did emotionless and terrifying like a pro. “Just checking on my pet monster,” she smirked.
I was one second away from smacking her when Kwan appeared, stepping out of the same shadow Cloud had so recently vacated. “Hungry, Tess?” He looked between Cloud and I and grinned. “Or is Cloud feeding you today?”
I gave Kwan a look. “Gag.”
He chuckled, but he shot a look at Cloud that I didn't understand. “Come on then,” he said, holding out an arm to me.
I wanted to refuse. To pitch a fit and bitch and moan that I was fine. That I wasn’t a monster.
But we all knew that was a lie.
I took Kwan’s hand and let him transport me back to the cabin.
*****
My feet touched the old hardwood of my bedroom floor and I sucked in a breath, feeling like I’d just been plunged into ice water, inhaled it into my lungs, and frozen to my bones.
Kwan frowned at me as I shook myself like a dog, ridding myself of the sensation.
“It’s getting worse,” he said. Not really a question.
I narrowed my eyes at him. To him, traveling through the shadows was like a walk in a cool night breeze. To me it was like drowning.
“No,” I lied. “It has always sucked ass when you do that.”
He raised a dark brow at me and his perfect lips quirked. “The shadows want to keep you.” He stepped closer and ran his warm hands over my arms, attempting to ease the chill. His face lost all humor. “I probably shouldn’t transport you anymore.”
I shrugged, finally beginning to warm up again. More so when Kwan’s nimble fingers started in on the buttons of my shirt. I sighed, as if completely disinterested. He shot me a wicked look from beneath dark lashes, his almond-shaped eyes going cat-like.
There was awkwardness between us still. Kwan brushed it off and treated it with a dose of humor. But I wasn’t so resilient.
After losing first my son, then my husband a couple of years ago, I had given up on life. And on the human connections that comprised the act of living. Kwan had been gently pushing my boundaries after the wendigo attack, giving me time to acclimate to the thought of intimacy—even as superficial as ours.
But that had all changed last month. Out of my mind with the gluttonous hunger and rage foisted on me by my wendigo creator, I had tried to murder Cloud and Kwan. Kwan had managed to channel all that hunger into another avenue. I had taken him in an act that could only be called rape, despite his having offered himself up as the sacrifice.
He had completely forgiven me. I had not.
But my body was a traitor. And my instincts were so hard to fight. My body heat continued to rise as my shirt dropped away and his followed. Kwan was beautiful—graceful as a shadow but with the build of a warrior. I brushed his silky black hair from his neck as I leaned in to bite the flesh there, right between neck and shoulder.
He looked good, yes, but he tasted even better, like the ancient power his monks had imbued him with to allow him to fight monsters.
Monsters like me.
Blood welled up where my fangs sliced deep. The beast in me roared for more. Always more. Never sated.
Always hungry.
My throat burned, tracing a trail down my chest to my stomach, and I quenched it with Kwan. Swallowing down the blood, I tugged, getting a piece of flesh.
I shuddered in equal parts revulsion and joy.
Kwan grunted, but didn’t pull away. He tangled his hands in my hair and tugged, warning me to chill.
He backed me up to the bed, pushed me down, all that smooth muscle flexing as he leaned over to press hot kisses to my breasts, kneading and nipping at my flesh. I growled and fisted my hands in his hair, trying not to sink my claws into his scalp. I tugged in warning and he pulled back with a hands-up gesture.
We had found that tempering the lust for blood and flesh with a different kind of lust helped dampen my desire to kill and maim. I only wished I hadn’t discovered that little trick by basically raping Kwan beside the body of the wendigo I’d just beheaded.
Kwan seemed game to feed me in whatever way he needed to, and with no compunction about enjoying ourselves while we were at it. But I still felt beyond shitty and confused about it. I didn’t want to be a monster. And Kwan had only showed up and started insisting I eat him at Cloud’s command.
I’d eat her if I didn’t think the amount of bitchy in her body would kill me.
Kwan and I had an agreement when this all started. Sometimes I would relieve him of the unavoidable sexual tension that arose when we exchanged power. But I had kept it one-sided. Allowing it to become more than a transaction—a quick one-off in exchange for food—felt like I was betraying my dead husband.
I gasped as Kwan moved lower, sliding my jeans off in a move that was somehow graceful. Breathtaking. If I’d attempted that I would have ended up on a blooper reel somewhere. We had moved past the no-touching Tess rule…and I still hadn’t figured out how to handle that.
I pressed a hand to his perfect chest as he moved over me again. I couldn’t help curling my hand inward, drawing blood. I didn’t like to be held down. I needed to be in control. He growled at me in a way that made me shudder.
“Look,” I panted. “You don’t have to—”
He silenced me with a savage kiss and thrust into me, ending the argument. I surged up, flipping him over and pinning him to the bed. He could fight against my enhanced strength, but he didn’t. I licked the blood from his chest and he groaned, lost to whatever emotion it was that I was giving him—fear was easiest, but if I concentrated I could manage to push pleasure.
Think happy thoughts, I told myself, pushing away thoughts of all the other, far less pleasant, things I’d like to do to him. It worked, apparently, and I lost myself in Kwan’s pleasure and my monster.
But somewhere deep inside, I held the human side of me apart from the rest. I was a creature, slaking physiological needs. That was all.
*****
A while later, I rolled over to study my unfortunate victim while he slept. Kwan and Cloud didn’t sleep much, but Kwan tended to rest while he replenished what I’d taken from him.
He really was pretty. His beautiful Korean features softened in sleep, but there was still a look of…concentration, as if he were focused on healing.
I sighed. God damn it.
My hunger tamped down for the moment, my guilt rose up to bitch-slap me. Shortly followed by her brother, shame.
I inventoried the damage. A bite wound on his shoulder, claw marks on his chest, and another bite on his muscular thigh.
I ghosted a hand over his body, where I’d marked him. Already, the wounds looked days old rather than minutes. Within a day or so, not even a faint mark would remain. Thankfully, I didn't seem to leave scars the way a full-blown monster would.
The twisting, purple-black imprints that twined up my arms and legs like tribal tattoos were evidence of what real darkness could do. The scars were left behind when the shadows in my dreams had tried to devour me.
I sighed and sat up, pulling a sheet over Kwan. Guilt was appeased by his healing. Now it was shame’s turn to have a go at me.
Sliding out of bed, I hastily showered and got dressed, pushing aside all thoughts of my old life. Of my husband, Barrett. How he’d smiled at me so tenderly, teased me so mercilessly when we made love.
Dead, I reminded myself cruelly. He and Toby were gone and I was fucking shadowy strangers and drinking blood.
I glanced at Kwan one more time as I grabbed my shoes.
Beautiful. A voice whispered in my head, like a winter breeze. He will make a beautiful corpse.
I slammed my hands into my temples and left the room.
“Shut the fuck up!” I muttered.
“Giving the monster a pep talk?” Cloud’s husky voice halted me in my tracks.
I hadn’t told them about the voice. The wendigo had muttered in my head when it was turning me into a monster. But its voice died when I killed the creature.
I had only realized after the fact that there had been two voices. And one was still there.
The trouble was, I wasn’t sure if the psychotic ramblings in my head now were from the outside, or if that was me talking. The thing I’d become. And if Cloud thought I was getting worse—if the wendigo’s death and their little magical bracelet shackle hadn’t stopped my transformation after all—Cloud would kill me.
Once upon a time I had wanted to die. But now….
Shit, of course now I wanted to live. I would change my mind only after I was a monster.
Cloud cocked her head, golden-brown eyes flashing yellow, sharp and probing.
“Fuck you,” I replied.
She shrugged. “Kwan wasn’t enough?”
I sneered at her teasing, but something in her eyes left me feeling unsettled.
I flipped my tangled hair over my shoulder and strode past her to the kitchen. My hair grew at an alarming rate since the monster thing, and it was even more unruly than it had been—which is saying something. I felt at times like all of me was turning wild. Feral. “Ask him,” I said to Cloud, trying to sound flippant. “He’s the one sleeping it off.”
She snorted as she watched me make coffee. Her lean, muscular form had looked wrong in the daylight, but as the sun sank and shadows started to crawl about, she looked right at home slouched against my counter.
“Where do you even buy skin-tight leather pants?” I said as I scooped out coffee grounds. “Ninja-Indians R-Us?”
She levered herself up to sit on the counter with one ripped arm. “Not at the local Meijer,” she said, eyes traveling over my jeans-clad lower half.
I rolled my eyes.
“The leather helps prevent friction burns and slows down claws. And the blood and body fluids wipe off easier,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “We should get you some better clothes for hunting.”
I turned to find her eying my ass. Probably trying to figure out how in the world they would find anything like that to fit me.
“So that’s why you’re here? To give me a makeover?” I asked, handing her a cup of coffee. I smothered a grin at the sight of the ancient Native American warrior, clad in leather and sipping coffee out of a Batman mug.
