The Shuddering Part 9

"I'll take some," Sawyer said.

"A beer?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow at his sister. When she made a face at him he jutted out his bottom lip and batted his lashes.

"I thought you only drank blood, Vlad."

"Blood and beer," Ryan clarified.

"You're going to get fat. That stuff is full of carbs."

"Blood is full of carbs?"

"Beer, genius."

"Chocolate cake, though..." he countered.

"Shut up," she told him, gathering up Lauren's cake plate on her way to the kitchen.

"What?" Ryan blinked, feigning offense. "That's the second time I've been told to shut up in a thirty-second span. When did we all get so hostile?"

Jane wrinkled her nose at him and stepped out of the room. There was a crack of pool b.a.l.l.s a second later. Lauren shrieked, apparently under attack yet again.

The plates clanged against the counter as Jane left them beside the sink, grabbing the kettle off the stove. Holding it beneath the tap, she peered at Oona. The dog was sitting at attention in front of the kitchen door, seemingly staring at her own reflection in the gla.s.s without moving a muscle.

"Are you okay, Oona?" she asked, but the husky didn't respond to her name. "Do you need to go out?" It was a question Oona knew well, one that usually resulted in excited tail wagging. But again, the dog did nothing. It was almost as though she hadn't heard Jane at all. Placing the teapot back on the stove, Jane turned on a burner and slid dirty plates onto the dishwasher's bottom rack. Concerned, she approached the kitchen door to squat next to her brother's pet, placing a hand on the dog's back.

Oona reeled back, her teeth bared, and Jane jerked her hand away, her heart thudding in her throat. She fell backward, putting distance between herself and the growling dog by pushing away with her feet. She could hear Ryan in the hallway. He yelled Oona's name and she immediately backed down, ducking her head in guilt.

"What the h.e.l.l just happened?" he asked as he came into the kitchen, extending a hand to his sister while his eyes remained on his dog.

"I don't know," Jane replied, her voice shaking, unable to help the tears from springing to her eyes. Ever since she was a kid, she'd cry when she was scared or angry, as though processing an excess of emotion at once was too much for her to handle.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Just freaked out. I thought she wanted to go outside, and then she just turned on me."

Ryan crouched in front of the husky, catching her by the snout so he could look her in the eyes, then snapped his fingers and pointed her out of the kitchen. Oona bowed her head and slunk away, utterly harmless in her stance.

"I just scared her," Jane confessed, her gaze snagging on Sawyer, who was now standing in the mouth of the hallway, a concerned look veiling his features.

A second later Oona was barking in the living room-a less-than-friendly snarl that rumbled from the depth of her throat.

"What the f.u.c.k?" Ryan stomped across the room. Jane clasped her hands together, steadying their tremor as she offered Sawyer an embarra.s.sed smile.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly. Jane nodded, waving her hand as if dismissing the whole thing. Sawyer took a step closer, his fingers sweeping across her hand before he retracted his touch, startled by Lauren's voice behind them.

"Um, guys?" Lauren stepped into the kitchen with an expression Jane couldn't read. "I think I know why Oona's flipping out. There's something outside. April just saw something out the window."

The four of them made a beeline back to the game room. April stood next to the couch, her arms wrapped around her waist, her nose an inch from the gla.s.s. Oona leaped onto the sofa, growling beneath her breath before expelling another bark.

"What was it?" Ryan asked, flipping the light switch next to the outside door. The light illuminated a plain concrete slab; nothing but a barbecue grill and a couple of loungers folded up against the side of the house.

"Deer," April said. "Something was chasing them."

"A wolf?" Sawyer asked, giving Ryan a questioning glance.

"Could be." Ryan shrugged, but April shook her head in response.

"It looked big."

The group stared at one another for a long moment, then turned to look out the window again. Oona whined and jumped off the couch, stopping in front of the door, waiting to be let out.

"Don't you dare," Jane warned. "It could be a bear or something."

"It's not a bear," Ryan said. "They're hibernating."

"Well, what else could it be?"

"Hold on to her collar," Ryan commanded.

"What?"

"Hold on to Oona's collar," he repeated. "I'm opening the door."

"Oh my G.o.d," Lauren said from behind her hand.

"No," Jane protested, but she hooked her fingers beneath the husky's collar anyway, knowing that if Ryan went through with it, Oona would be out that door before anyone could stop her. "Ryan, don't," she said. "What if it's dangerous?"

"The only thing dangerous out here are wolves, and they're scared of people," he insisted, throwing the dead bolt. "Did you put anything in the outside trash can? They probably smell food."

"Yeah," Lauren said under her breath. "They smell food, as in us."

"I didn't throw anything out," Jane told him. "It's all inside."

"If they're scared of people, what's the point?" Lauren asked. "Just leave it."

"They're scared of people, but they may not be scared of dogs."

"So keep her inside!" Jane snapped, but the door swung open before she could insist any further. Oona tried to run, nearly jerking Jane's shoulder out of its socket. She whined as her owner stepped outside in a short-sleeved T-shirt and stocking feet, his breath puffing out in front of him. Sawyer moved toward the door before a little plea escaped Jane's throat. "Tom, stop."

Sawyer turned to look at her. She gave him a beseeching look, but before Sawyer had a chance to react-to either succ.u.mb to her request or defy her and step outside-Ryan was requesting his help.

"Sawyer, there's a flashlight in the laundry room," he said. "Grab it, would you?"

Sawyer offered Jane an apologetic frown before stepping past her, disappearing down the hall.

"G.o.d," Lauren groaned, shivering as the cold poured into the room. "This is like a G.o.dd.a.m.n horror movie." She forced a laugh, but she sounded more spooked than she was letting on.

Jane's attention wavered to April, blinking when she noticed that the girl wasn't looking out the window anymore, but was looking right at her-staring. Jane swallowed against the lump in her throat, her stomach sinking to the floor. Sawyer jogged back into the room, flashlight in hand, and stepped onto the patio. He swept the flashlight across the expanse of night, illuminating tree trunks and snow.

"There," he said, holding the light steady. A set of reflective animal eyes flashed in the distance, but they were too far away to identify.

"We scared it off." Ryan nearly sounded disappointed.

"d.a.m.n." Lauren snapped her fingers. "And here I was hoping we were all going to die."

"Get back inside," Jane demanded. But the guys didn't budge, still scouring the landscape like a couple of Boy Scouts. "Jesus, Ryan!" She was annoyed now. "Oona is about to take my arm off!"

The guys rambled back inside and Ryan locked the door behind them. The air inside the room instantly grew warmer, and Jane let go of the husky before rolling her shoulder with a wince.

"That was completely stupid. What if it had been something dangerous?"

"Then it would have eaten me," Ryan said. He pointed the flashlight at her, turning it off and on like a strobe. For a moment everyone was silent, and then both Sawyer and Lauren laughed while Jane continued to scowl, contemplating worst-case scenarios. Finally, Sawyer picked up his cue stick and broke the tension.

"Rack 'em up, boys and girls," he said. "Best two out of three."

Sawyer padded down the upstairs hallway with a gla.s.s of water in hand, pa.s.sing every single door until he reached the room he and April were occupying. It was dark, everyone already in their rightful rooms, exhausted by a long day on the slopes. Sawyer had nearly cracked a joke about their room placement when Ryan had led them down the hall the day before, but he understood the reasoning behind it; n.o.body wanted to hear them get it on in the room next door. Had Jane still been with Alex, Sawyer would have wanted them as far away as possible-down the hall, if not in a motel room twenty-five miles away.

April was already on the pullout sofa, Stoker's Dracula in hand, the sheets pulled up to her chest, squinting at the pages with an exceptional sense of intensity as Sawyer stepped inside. "I don't know how you did it," she said. "This is impossible to understand."

"It's not that bad, is it?" He held the gla.s.s of water out over the comforter, waiting for her to take it. April leaned forward and grabbed it, frowning.

"Water?"

"There was only diet soda left. Figured you'd want water instead."

She grimaced and took a drink, wrinkling her nose at him before placing the gla.s.s onto the end table next to her side of the bed.

Sawyer slid beneath the covers and glanced her way. "Are you going to read for a bit?"

April contemplated it, then shook her head and closed the book with a m.u.f.fled slap. "It's giving me a headache." She handed it to him, and Sawyer gingerly plucked it from her fingers, smoothing his hand across its leather cover. "It's your gift, anyway," she muttered.

"So? You can still read it."

"I'd rather watch the movie," she told him, readjusting her pillow before lying down.

Sawyer shrugged and slid the book onto a table that housed a lamp, his fingers lingering upon the embossed leather for a moment longer before turning off the light. The moon had reflected off the surface of the snow the night before, sending shards of cold blue light through the slats of the blinds, but tonight was as dark as pitch; the sky was heavy with clouds, casting the darkest shade of black across the cabin, the hills, the trees. Sawyer adjusted his pillow beneath his head, then pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes.

"Sawyer?" April's voice cut through the quiet of the room.

"Yeah?"

"You still love me, right?"

He reflexively furrowed his eyebrows, as though April could see his expression through the darkness, but his heart knotted within his chest. It was the question he'd been trying to answer since they had arrived-since before that-the question that unspooled inside his head every time Jane was within arm's length, cooking or laughing or simply standing there doing nothing at all. He had almost kissed her when they had stood together in the kitchen. He had wanted to grab her by the waist and lift her onto the counter, his mouth rough against hers. He had yearned for the freedom to take advantage of the emptiness of the downstairs rooms, to sneak away behind a closed door and make frantic, m.u.f.fled love to the girl he had never truly given up. But he had made himself let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

"Of course I do," he replied, blindly reaching across the bed to catch April by the hand. Once he found her, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Okay," she said softly. "Just checking."

Sawyer gave her hand a squeeze and fell back onto his pillow, closing his eyes against the thud of his own heart.

It could have been ten minutes or two hours when he blinked awake. April was nudging his shoulder, whispering his name as she tried to pull him out of sleep.

"Sawyer," she hissed. "Wake up."

Rolling onto his back with a m.u.f.fled groan, he released a groggy sigh under April's continued prodding.

"What?"

"I keep hearing something," she whispered. She was sitting up, wide awake. Despite the darkness around them, he could see her silhouette. "I heard it last night too. I can't sleep."

"It's just animals," he told her, turning onto his side. "Just block it out."

"I can't!" she huffed. Her words were but a breath, but against the blanket of silence even the slightest whisper sounded like a scream. She jostled him again. "Sawyer."

"Jesus, Ape."

"I'm serious!" she insisted. "I think Oona is outside or something. Go check."

"Oona's in the house," he grumbled, regressing to an eight-year-old response and pulling the sheets over his head.

"If Oona's inside that's even weirder," she whispered. "Because there's something out there. I can hear it on the deck." When Sawyer didn't move, she huffed. "Fine, but the driveway is right below us. Don't blame me if someone breaks into your precious Jeep."

Sawyer loved that Jeep. It had taken him months to track down the perfect model on AutoTrader. Once he did, he obsessed over his new car for weeks, washing it every weekend, Armor-Alling the dash until it glinted in the Denver sun. He shoved the blanket away from himself and sat up with an irritated groan. "Really?" he asked. "You think someone's going to break into my car out here? I swear to G.o.d..." He forced himself to his feet, blearily stalking across the room to the window. Parting the slats of the blinds, he squinted into the night.

"If it's so unlikely, why are you up?"

"So you'll go back to sleep," he insisted, letting his hand drop from the window. "There's nothing out there, like I said."

"I'm telling you, I heard something."

Pulling his hand across his face, he gave a frustrated sigh.

"Fine," she said. "Whatever." Throwing herself down onto the mattress, she yanked the sheets up to her shoulders.

"I'm sure you heard something," Sawyer told her, trying to be compa.s.sionate despite his irritation. April was the lightest sleeper he'd ever met. Since they'd moved in together, he'd had to stop using the ceiling fan in the bedroom because it rattled, the s.p.a.ce heater because it ticked; he'd gone so far as to remove the wall clock because she insisted the click of the second hand was equivalent to a sledgehammer when the room was quiet. "We used to hear animals out here as kids all the time," he told her. "I can't exactly go out there and ask them to shut up." Leaving the window, he started to move across the darkened room. A moment later, a flash of pain ignited his senses, the sofa bed shuddering against his impact. Sawyer rolled onto the mattress in m.u.f.fled agony. "f.u.c.k!" he hissed, his right pinkie toe throbbing beneath the pressure of his hands.

"Christ," April whispered, crawling across the bed. "Are you okay?"

Sawyer didn't reply, too busy fighting back reflexive tears of pain. His toe was throbbing like a tiny heart.

"Is it broken?" She pulled his hands away from his foot. "Turn on the light," she told him. But just as he stretched his arm out toward the lamp, a loud thump sounded overhead.

Their attention snapped up to the ceiling.

"I told you!" she said, slapping her hand over her mouth as soon as the words burst from her lips. Sawyer shushed her, his eyes pointed skyward. They sat motionless for a good thirty seconds, both of them holding their breath, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the next noise to rouse them from their stillness. But the sound didn't return.

"There were these guys at the lodge," April told him after a moment. "They were talking about how the ski patrol found some blood in the mountains. Like, I guess they were worried that someone was eaten by wolves or something."