Chapter Four – Octavia

As she ran, she heard something behind her, following her. Something big. The demon was on her trail. The thing had been in the car.

She shuddered: what kind of people sat in a car with a demon? Surely it would rip them to shreds, just as it had ripped the man in the park… Not the time to think about that. She needed to run, to figure out how she was going to escape.

Her inner voice laughed at her naivety. There was no escape, this demon was going to hunt her down and rip her to shreds. Unless… What if she had information that the men wanted? Why else were they tailing her?

What information? Think. Octavia was a doctor’s receptionist; she had no inside information anyone would want. Let alone any information anyone would chase her halfway across the country for. So why?

It all came back to the fortuneteller, the man who had read her palm. It was soon after that her life had changed, first Matthew, and then the demon. What had he seen? What hadn’t he told her? Surely, if he had seen Matthew entering her life, he should have seen a big-ass demon too.

Was the fortune-teller behind all this? Had he sold her out? Anger boiled up inside her. If she ever got her hands on the fortuneteller, she would make sure he didn’t have a future either.

The branches whipped at her face, and tore at her dress. Her shoes, with their impractical heels, were long gone, discarded as she ran. And didn’t Octavia’s feet know it. They were torn and bleeding, cut by the stones, holly leaves, and sharp twigs that she stepped on as she ran. But she couldn’t stop.

“Crap!” Octavia slid to a halt. In front of her was a bank of dirt, with a wire fence on top of it. Behind the fence was thick undergrowth. Of course, she remembered the New Forest was sectioned off into inclosures, and she had reached the edge of this inclosure.

Left or right? Which way to the nearest gate that would take her into the next part of the forest? With no time to think, she turned to follow the fence to the right, her heart thumping in her chest so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else.

However, she could sense its presence, the faint scent of rotten eggs confirming the demon was close. There was no escape.

Searching the ground, she sought out a good-sized branch she could use as a club. Octavia was certain that hitting the thing was futile, but she had to try something.

She stopped, turning to watch for the demon to approach. She was going to face it head on, rather than let it run her down. Spreading her sore feet hip-width apart, Octavia took up a fighting stance, the makeshift wooden club raised above her head like a baseball bat.

A noise to her left told her the demon was near, and then she saw its green eyes, coming toward her at a walk. As he drew closer she could see him more clearly. He looked like a man, a huge man, the kind that did steroids and worked out for four hours a day, seven days a week. But a man all the same—except for the green eyes.

“Come get me then, you bastard,” she screamed, psyching herself up for his attack.

The demon tipped his head to one side and looked at her. Damn it, was he like a cat who enjoyed playing with its prey? Was he hoping to scare her to death?

“What’s the matter, scared?” She took a step toward him. He took a step to the left. She mirrored his movement, her concentration intense while she tried to work out how he planned to attack. But he didn’t.

“You want me alive,” she said, taking two quick steps toward him. He backed away. “Why? I don’t know anything, I have nothing you want. Why are you doing this?”

The demon stared at her, the green eyes intense, mesmerizing. She fought through the fuzzy sensation filling her brain; something was off. Even if he wanted her alive, he would have acted by now, caught her in his huge hands, and taken her to his master. He couldn’t be scared, the club in her hand wouldn’t hurt him, a couple of blows and the wood would likely shatter.

“You don’t want to catch me, do you?” She lowered the club, testing her theory. The demon stood his ground, staring at her. “You want me to run.” The club fell to the ground, and exhaustion took her. “What the hell is this?”

The demon raised his head, as if he had heard something in the distance. Octavia listened, but there was no other sound besides her beating heart and the rustle of the leaves in the wind. She turned her head to look in the same direction as the demon; she couldn’t see a thing. However, when she turned back the demon was gone.

Octavia scanned the forest for his green eyes. She couldn’t see him. Walking to where he had stood, she looked for tracks, but the ground was too dry. He was gone. The only thing left was the smell, so strong it wrinkled her nose.

Another wave of exhaustion swept over her. Adrenaline had kept her moving past the point of exhaustion, but as it seeped out of her bloodstream, her body yelled at her. It needed to shut down and rest. The pain in her feet become acute, as the bruising and cuts all began to register in her brain.

She was in trouble. Not the a-demon-is-chasing-you kind of trouble. That, for the moment, had passed. This was more of a-you-are-lost-in-the-woods-and-your-body-is-in-no-fit-state-to-go-on kind of trouble.

Well, tough. I am not dying here.

She searched for another branch, a long slender one that she could use as a walking stick. Or maybe two, one for each hand. Finding them, she wrapped her hands around them, and began to walk, following the fence. She no longer had any idea which direction she was headed, but any direction was better than giving up and giving in.

Her resolve kept her going, although each step was painful. Her muscles screamed to be allowed to rest, and her feet throbbed, needing to be bandaged up.

No bandages here. What about moss, could she bind her feet with soft moss?

Octavia stopped beside an old oak tree and began to tear at the moss; it was soft and springy in her hands. It might do. If she could find something to bind around it to keep it in place, but it was so dark, and she was afraid of wandering too far away from the fence and not being able to find it again.

As she pulled the moss from the tree, her teeth began to chatter. Soon her whole body was shivering, what was left of her thin dress was no defense against the cold air. She looked up, seeing the moon between the thick leaves of the trees. It was late and with several hours before morning, she was only going to get colder.

Octavia slumped down on the ground, and for the first time in months cried for her mom. All she wanted was for her mom to be here, to wrap her arms around Octavia and tell her it was going to be all right. The sound of her voice at the end of the phone would be such a comfort.

“My phone.” She dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “One bar. Nearly dead.”

Who should she call? The police. And say what? I’m lost in the New Forest, no idea where, and oh yeah, I’m being chased by a thing with green eyes. One-way ticket to the looney bin right there.

So who? She had an address, but no number for Natalie. Unless she could get on the internet and track down a telephone number.

A noise in the forest broke her train of thought. The demon was back. Had he brought the men with him? Crap, she should have kept moving.

Crawling to the nearest tree, she placed her hands on the rough bark, pulling her tired body up to a standing position. Turning so her back was against the trunk, she listened, her eyes scanning the forest, looking for the telltale green eyes, but all she saw was the silhouette of a creature, big, but lower to the ground, half hidden in the trees.

It was just a pony or a deer. Although it looked bulkier than either of those.

Holding her breath, she watched it move. It zig-zagged through the trees, getting closer. Octavia could hear it snuffling, twigs snapping under its feet as it moved. This creature was not trying to be stealthy. It didn’t seem to care if she heard it. What kind of new terror was this?

Then it stopped. She stared at it, and she would swear it stared at her; it had its head up, sniffing the air. Then, before her eyes could make out exactly what it was, it retreated into the undergrowth and was gone.

Octavia blew the air out of her cheeks, puffing as she got control of her nerves, which were in tatters. Time to move. She shoved the moss into her purse, deciding to get moving and look for some kind of twine as she walked. Ivy might do it: it was bendy and could be tied around her feet.

Using her sticks, she walked, keeping to a rhythm, head down, forcing herself forward one step at a time.

“Are you all right?” The voice came from the dark, and she nearly peed her pants in fright.

“Who’s there?” Octavia asked, one stick held out in front of her in defense.

“I’m here.” She looked in front of her, and to her right, and as she stared, a man appeared. No green eyes, she sighed in relief, but that didn’t mean this man wasn’t one of the ones who had followed her in the car. He might be one of them.

“Where did you come from?” she asked.

“I live a couple of miles that way.” She saw the movement of his hand as he pointed over his shoulder. “And you look as if you need help.”

“Do I?” she asked, hostility in her voice.

“You do.” He was close now, she could make out his features. Dark hair, dark eyes, and stubble across his chin. His body was big, not as big as the demon’s, but she could tell he worked out and took care of himself.

“And what are you doing skulking about in the forest?” she asked.

“Me, skulking?” he asked. “I could ask, why are you skulking?” He stepped closer and looked her up and down, a sharp intake of breath telling her how bad she looked. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I got lost,” she said. Keep it simple, her brain fed her.

“Lost? You look like a deer who has been hunted for hours.”

“My car broke down. And I thought I’d walk.”

“With no shoes?”

“They weren’t practical for hiking through the forest.”

He leaned forward and sniffed the air, and the memory of the bear came back to her. She shook off her next thought. Demons were one thing, this man and the bear being one and the same was another. This wasn’t a scene from The Hobbit.

“Something is chasing you?”

She stepped back, dropping the one stick she had been leaning on, and grasping the other in two hands. “How do you know that? Unless you are one of them.”

“One of whom?” he asked, stepping forward. He wasn’t afraid of her.

Of course he wasn’t afraid of her. She was a woman with a stick, against a giant of a man. “Just walk away.”

“I can’t.”

“So you are one of them?” she accused angrily. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not the bad guy,” he answered, holding up his hands. “I want to help you.”

“You can’t help me,” she said. “The best thing you can do for both of us, is walk away.”

“No.” He reached for the stick, and she threw it at him, before turning and running. “Don’t.”

He was behind her, she could hear his footsteps on the ground as he ran. He was faster than her, his legs longer, and he wasn’t exhausted. There was no way she was going to get away from him. Unless she could hide in the forest. Ducking under a low branch, she ran deeper, into the trees, figuring he would have a hard time following her because of his size.

She was wrong, he was right there behind her, his hand on her shoulder, dragging her back toward him possessively. Octavia whirled around, pushing the heels of her hands into his chest, trying to get him away from her.

“Let me go.”

“No,” he said, his hand catching her arm, but she darted to the left and slipped out of his grasp.

“I want to help you.”

“You can’t help me. All that will happen is you’ll get torn to pieces.” He faltered as her words hit him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll protect you.”

Octavia stepped away from him, a movement in the forest catching her eye. Was he there, the green-eyed demon? It was time to put some distance between her and this man. Flipping around, she pushed him with all her strength, knocking him to the ground. Her plan was to run, and run fast.

Instead, as her would-be rescuer fell, he grabbed hold of her arm, and she fell too, landing on his broad chest, his large hands hot on her cold skin as he gripped her arms.

As their eyes met, she understood he never intended to let her go again. Ever. Octavia hated herself for the sudden and utter relief that swept over her.

Just like in a fairy tale, she was a damsel in distress, needing to be rescued by a knight in shining armor, instead of an independent twenty-first-century woman. She no longer cared; the fight left her and she sagged down onto his chest, big gulping sobs erupting from her body.

She didn’t care if he turned out to be the bad guy, she simply wanted all of this to end. Just like her mom had wanted an end when all treatments failed. She understood that now, and the anger she had stored away in her heart, the feelings that her mom had given in, not caring that she was leaving Octavia alone, disappeared.