“I could hardly tell.” I took a deep breath. My heart had to stop pounding eventually. I’d have nightmares about his eyes for the rest of my life, but at least I’d faced Death and survived.

  “You are being melodramatic.”

  “And you’re being really nosy.” I leaned against the couch and studied him. The suit jacket stayed ripped and stained, but no new blood fell. Self-sealing wounds, maybe? Ultrafast healing? Magic? “Look, I need a generator and some kind of metal container for the lab stuff. Generator is more important than the other. If you feel inclined to obtain one, just leave cash. People can investigate purchase orders and come up with weird information.”

  His attention sharpened. “Who?”

  I cleared my throat and hauled myself off the floor to the couch cushions. Hopper remained crouched next to me, whiskers trembling, with his own wounds opened back up. “If someone called the company that delivered the lab equipment, they would find out that a company in Chicago purchased it for delivery. And they could google that company to figure out it has nothing to do with medical supplies or research. That could be suspicious.”

  “More suspicious than a destitute woman having tens of thousands of dollars in cash?”

  “I’m not destitute,” I muttered. “I’m frugal. And yeah, it’s more suspicious. There’s a paper trail, and that means people can unravel it. Cash is better.”

  His upper lip twitched and the tip of his fang peeped out. “I will consider it.”

  “Something else to consider,” I called as he moved toward the front door. “Maybe don’t name your company after Vlad the Impaler’s hometown. Seriously? Did you think no one would notice that? Or are you taunting someone? Do vampires not believe in subtlety?”

  The door slammed behind him and I snorted, letting my head rest against the cushions. Wonderful.

  Chapter 43

  I helped myself to a few more drops of blood, increasing the dose until I had enough energy to clean up the broken mug, the vampire blood, the waterhound mess, and the absolute disaster in the bathroom. I patched up Hopper’s wounds and gave him my last can of tuna. Then I buzzed around in the living room and kitchen, setting out all the mask making supplies. Then I finished compiling the list of reference books and journals I needed to get at the university, since the local library didn’t have the right subscriptions, and dug into researching waterhounds so I would know more about Hopper. I took pictures of him and measurements when he let me, and snipped off some fur and part of a long nail.

  He didn’t appreciate the pedicure.

  I stored it all away in the safe hidden behind a panel in the laundry room, giddy with excitement. Proof. I had proof.

  Archer texted back some time after seven to confirm they’d meet me by the access road at eleven. I told him to bring lunch, maybe burgers, and hoped it would lure the sasquatch in if we paused to eat in the clearing where it attacked Hopper. Then it was just four hours that passed in a blink of reading and marking some of the maps on the wall in the mudroom.

  I eyed Hopper, who finally went to sleep under my bed, and debated keeping him in the house or hauling him outside. He slept soundly on his back, paws curled delicately, and snored in great, heaving wheezes and snorts. After just a moment of debating, I set up the motion capture cameras I usually reserved for well-traveled wildlife trails in the bedroom, living room, and in the window to capture the yard. Just in case Hopped got into some trouble. I shook my head and left out some cat food I’d gotten when strays still came close to the house.

  A small brick, wrapped in brown paper, wedged just behind the porch rail. The frantic energy practically gave me x-ray vision, and I chucked it into the glove box of the truck. Cash. A whole lotta cash. Once I was done with filming, I’d go into town and get a generator. A perfect plan.

  I started up the truck and paused, frowning at my arm. The sunlight tightened my skin, and a hint of pink appeared. Sunburn already? I hadn’t been outside long enough to…

  I sucked in a breath. Photosensitivity. I touched my teeth to make sure they hadn’t turned into fangs, then pulled on the long-sleeve flannel I kept in the truck. Shit. No more vampire blood, no matter how helpful it was. I’d just have to deal with the hangover and fatigue, and stop pushing past my limits. My mouth tasted bitter and metallic as I drove toward the access road, and not even the anticipation of seeing the sasquatch again could chase away the concern that I might turn into a vampire.

  Chapter 44

  The team waited with a trailer of ATVs in the gravel lot next to the access road. I slid out of the truck and put down ramps to get my ATV out. Despite being delirious with manic energy and visions of creating a UV-resistant tuxedo for Dragomir, I managed to focus long enough to find the hiking pants I knew made my butt look awesome and braided my hair into some Heidi-like ropes since it looked cuter under my watch cap.

  Dad would have laughed his ass off to see me worrying about how I looked in front of Archer instead of dressing for the weather, and Jamie would have teased me mercilessly before confronting Archer about his intentions. I’d had one crush I confessed to Jamie and paid for it for years. Lesson learned.

  Ryan held up a massive bag that smelled like grease and bacon. “Lunch awaits.”

  I grinned. “Fantastic.”

  Archer’s head tilted as he studied me. I dialed down the enthusiasm and tried for ‘cheerful’ instead of ‘manic.’ “You guys want to lead or should I?”

  I expected Giselle to tell me to get up front so they could film me exploring the woods that almost claimed my life, thinking big thoughts, but instead Archer pulled his ATV to the front. “I’m going first, then Lars. Then Ada, Ryan, Giselle, Isidro.”

  There was that military precision coming out again. I quelled the anticipation bubbling in my chest. We probably wouldn’t see anything. The sasquatch was probably long gone, and if it heard the ATVs’ noise, it would go to ground. The most I hoped for were some hair strands, possibly blood, a footprint or two. Maybe.

  We started out and the team remained upright and tense, scanning all around them instead of focusing on cameras or mics or asking me probing questions. I enjoyed the relative quiet under the hum and pulse of the ATVs, looking at the trees with fresh eyes. Strange, I hadn’t noticed how intensely green the leaves were, or the damp mossy smell of rotting vegetation in the undergrowth. The morning looked full of promise and activity, even without squirrels and birds moving about.

  I frowned. No squirrels or birds. Odd. The ATVs must have chased them off.

  Archer stopped his ATV where the path got too narrow to proceed, and looked back at me. “Now what?”

  “It’s about half a mile down the trail,” I said. I cut my ATV off and got ready to hike, then stood there like an idiot as they all turned theirs to face toward the truck.

  “You going to reverse all the way back to the road?” Isidro asked, grinning.

  I rolled my eyes, feeling like a teenager again, and grudgingly hauled the damn thing around. Archer conferred quietly with Giselle up front; when I would have eavesdropped, Ryan held up a tangle of wires and a battery pack. “Let’s get friendly.”

  I laughed and held my arms up, though I winced when my ribs pulled a bit. “Second base only. You gotta buy me dinner to get to third.”

  He chuckled and clipped the battery pack to my belt, then started weaving the wires into my clothes. He bumped my arm and I winced, pulling away. Ryan stepped back. “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “Nah,” I said. The sunburn. That goddamn sunburn. I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “Just a bump.”

  “Let me see,” Isidro said, moving my sleeve before I could protest. His eyebrows arched. “That’s a burn. Did you get sunburned?”

  “Stood too close to the fire,” I said, then fiddled with the mic myself until it clipped to my flannel. “Call me Icarus.”

  They traded looks but by then Archer and Giselle wanted to proceed, and we all started slowly down the trail. Giselle stuck close by me, Archer still in front, and she asked questions as we walked. Most of it was about flora and fauna in the area, and some of the stranger things I’d seen in the mountains that had nothing to do with cryptids. Despite her questions and my highly entertaining story about local moonshiners who over-engineered their still, everyone else kept their attention on the trees and undergrowth around us.

  A chill ran down my spine. The forest stilled, save the rustle of wind through the tree tops. The drone of honeybees dissipated into pure silence with only footsteps and breathing to break it. I stopped talking and no one asked me to start again. Maybe they felt the creepy tension, too.

  The closed-in feeling of the trees on either side of the trail drove me to move faster, despite my aching legs. Something wasn’t right. It hadn’t felt like that yesterday, even when a sasquatch hunted in the area. Now the forest held its breath, still and silent, as the prey animals went to ground and hoped the danger passed them by.

  I swallowed hard and brushed past Giselle, wanting to get to the clearing so we could actually see what was around us. We were closer to the pool than the ATVs, and I didn’t like being in the near-dark on the trail.

  “What’s the matter?” Archer asked, catching my elbow. “Why are you running?”

  “I’m not running,” I said, shaking my head. But I kept going, tugging against his hold. Straining to hear anything in the undergrowth got me nowhere, not with the heavier breathing of the rest of the crew and the beat of blood in my ears. “But something isn’t right. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Then stay behind me,” he said. “How far to where we’re going?”

  “Couple hundred feet,” I said, staring down the path. Was it Dragomir, screwing with us from the depths of the forest? Or maybe the sasquatch in a stalk-and-hunt kind of mood? “We should go back. We need to go back.”

  He and Giselle traded looks, and then they all had shotguns. I blinked, swinging around. They all had shotguns? Camera equipment, sound equipment, clipboard… all forgotten. Rather atypical for the cryptid hunters who usually showed up. They were no motley collection of conspiracy theorists and pseudoscientists who believed in warped space-time and Bigfoot’s ability to jump into a different dimension. Archer’s crew... they were serious.

  I gulped air and backed up, not wanting to take another step. Every cell in my body screamed to flee. Shotguns wouldn’t make a difference. Shotguns couldn’t protect us. I shook my head more. “Nope. Nope. We need to go.”

  “Okay.” Archer gestured and the team turned, smoothly shaping into a box with Giselle and Lars up front, Ryan with his hand on my shoulder, and Archer and Isidro in the back. “Don’t run, don’t panic. Just move calmly, keep your heads on a swivel.”

  Grumbles of assent all around. Business-like movement, scanning the forest from roots to canopy, everyone watching their quadrant.

  They definitely weren’t a film crew.

  I looked at Ryan and whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “Protecting you,” he said. He smiled but didn’t take his attention away from scanning all around. “And carrying you if we have to run.”

  “I ate a big breakfast,” I said.

  “It’ll be okay.” He squeezed my shoulder, but it didn’t help.

  The sense of pursuit increased in a sudden flashback of bolting through the rain toward the cave with the madman on my heels, breathing down my neck. Clenching the hems of my hiking pants didn’t relieve the anxiety, so I picked up a reasonably-sized branch next to the trail. I could swing that shit with the best of them after spending years playing who’s-on-first with Jamie during his baseball obsession.

  “It’s probably just a bear,” I said. “Getting ready to hibernate and not wanting to be disturbed.”

  “It’s not a bear,” Archer said. He searched behind us when I glanced back, shotgun sweeping everywhere he looked.

  “It could be two bears,” I said.

  “It’s not a bear,” Giselle said, her tone sharper.

  “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” I asked innocently. “Maybe you hallucinated and it’s really just a bear.”

  “It’s not –” she started, then stopped.

  I adjusted my grip on the branch. “Uh huh. Not fun, is it?”

  From the set of her shoulders, she fumed. Probably wanted to strangle me, but had to keep her attention on the forest.

  Archer scanned the surroundings as we eased into a wider part of the trail, almost to the ATVs. The urge to bolt gripped me, but so did Ryan. He won. “I don’t think it’s a… natural predator.”

  I didn’t want to believe it was anything but a bear, but my skin prickled like static charges surrounded us, like a spring storm with more lightning than rain. I fought my own incredulity as I tried to get Dragomir’s attention. Maybe it was him. Maybe he lurked out there and fucked with Archer just for fun. Vampires got bored.

  Amusement and a vague curiosity reached me in sleepy strands, but Dragomir made clear it wasn’t him. I clenched my jaw. Shit. Whatever stalked us might have needed the apex predator to take it down.

  Then perhaps you should have worked faster.

  Smug son of a bitch.

  He distracted me enough that I forgot to be afraid. So I was the only one who didn’t yell when something massive barreled out of the trees and slammed into Archer.

  Chapter 45

  It moved too fast. I stared as it roared and leapt straight in the air, craning my neck to track it. Shotguns went off all around me until my ears rang and I heard nothing but ringing. At least nine feet tall when it landed off the trail, though it dropped to four legs. Canine. Bright red eyes shot through with black. Massive paws tipped with claws. Gray-black fur, long and tangled, that reeked of death and rotting flesh. I gagged as it went upwind.

  More shotguns, the team shouting directions at each other, gesturing, trying to form up. Ryan’s arm wrapped around my middle and hauled me back, shoving me against two trees and leaned back against me so his body protected me from the beast. I stared over his shoulder, paralyzed. Apparently I wasn’t good at everything. Being brave definitely wasn’t on the list.

  Logic didn’t help against a demon dog of some kind.

  Something Archer had said tickled the back of my memory. He knew what it was.

  Sound crashed into my ears as curses and growling filled the air and bounced off the trees. Ryan, leaning against me, called directions as he tracked the huge wolf attacking his colleagues. How was he so calm? How were any of them so calm?

  Lars ran out of cartridges and calmly swung the shotgun to bludgeon the wolf whenever it got close. The beast dripped blood and saliva as it attempted to bite them, charging again and again into a barrage of shotgun blasts that didn’t even slow it down. Archer shot the thing point-blank in the mouth and its head snapped back as it flipped.

  They leapt forward – when my genius brain said to fucking run the other direction – as the wolf rolled down into a ditch and then… then it got up and started running.

  I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t blinked for hours, it felt like my eyes were dry and scratchy and permanently open as wide as possible. I gasped little huffs of air, gripping Ryan’s shoulders like he could keep me from losing my shit completely.

  Archer barked orders and caught a bag that Isidro retrieved from the ATVs, then he and Lars ran after it.

  Ran after it.

  Ryan exhaled but didn’t relax. He stepped forward and I slid until my feet hit the dirt, then kept on going. He picked me up like I weighed no more than his morning coffee and carried me and the shotgun toward the ATVs. Giselle loaded a crossbow, her pinched face more determined than ever, and strode off after Archer. Into the trees, following a blood trail, listening for snarls or the sounds of the damn thing eating her friends.

  I shuddered and latched onto him as the ATV lurched at full speed down the trail. “What was that? What just happened? Where did they… Why did they go after it?”

  “That was a werewolf,” he said. He didn’t say anything else until we reached the trucks.

  I half expected him to start laughing at the great prank they’d pulled for the cameras, but he remained stone-faced. Convinced.

  A knot tied up my throat. I’d dealt with plenty of misfit toys in the Bigfoot community, but none of them struck me as truly dangerous. I didn’t know if I could say the same for Archer’s crew. They sure as hell weren’t cameramen and producers.

  Chapter 46

  Ryan popped open the back of the SUV and wedged me in between two large pelican cases so I could sit. He didn’t stop looking around for trouble even as he dug through a first aid kit. “They went after it to kill it. Make sure it stays dead.”

  I stared at him. A werewolf. They really wanted me to believe it was a werewolf? “Maybe it was a bear,” I whispered.

  His full lips turned up, and he booped my nose. “You’re funnier than you think you are, Ada.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to be joking about something like that. That kind of hubris inevitably led to negative consequences, and with the charge in the air before it attacked… it sure felt unnatural. Looked that way, too. But I kept shaking my head, then it travelled down my arms to my hands and then to my legs until all of me trembled violently.

  Ryan checked a radio on his belt, then cracked open a small packet from the first aid kit. I stared at him as my brain sluggishly tried to catch up. He waved it under my nose and the smell of it smacked me in the face and shorted out my brain. Reality jerked through me and I stared at him with wide eyes.

  Smelling salts. ((NH4)2CO3H2O). Ammonium carbonate. Reacted with water to release ammonia gas, reactivating the sympathetic nervous system by inducing an inhalation reflex and raising blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen levels. Stupid, simple chemistry, yet it provoked such a substantial beneficial reaction. In small doses, at least.

  “There we go,” he said.

 

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