Chapter Eleven
The pup followed Pip as he left the forest and headed across the football field, scampering in its efforts to keep pace. Pip stewed, and for a dark moment, he wished the animal would disappear. As a gift from the Hunter, like everything that had to do with their time together, it left a bitter taste in Pip’s mouth.
He hated that he could still feel the lingering remnants of the Hunter’s touch. Now the Hunter had won what he wanted, Pip doubted he’d ever see him again. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, and he blinked them away.
He’d been a fool to think himself worthy of such a powerful being’s genuine affection. Pip could never be anything more than a shallow replacement for what had been lost.
The pup didn’t give up the chase when Pip made it to the sidewalk, and at last, he had to confront reality. The dog might’ve originally belonged to the Hunter, but it had been gifted to him. Pip was responsible for the young creature’s wellbeing, whether he wanted to be or not.
“Why don’t you go home to the forest?” Pip demanded. The pup flattened his ears and dropped down low to the ground. “Go back home to the Hunter. Go.”
It didn’t move.
“I can’t keep you,” Pip said. “You need to go.”
The pup whined, then dropped onto his side and rolled onto his back to expose his belly.
What the hell was Pip supposed to do with a dog? It was a ridiculous, impractical gift, which was probably why the pup didn’t have a name yet.
Pip puffed out his cheeks in frustration, knelt down, and picked up the animal. He relaxed completely in Pip’s grip, almost oozing out from his hands. Pip tucked it against his chest and continued down the street. If the animal wouldn’t go back to the woods, he’d need to figure out how to keep the dog’s existence a secret from Aunt Lauren. No matter what memories it stirred in Pip, he couldn’t let a living creature suffer.
Aunt Lauren worked night shifts, manning the front desk at the Beaumont Motel. Uncle Joe worked during the day. With the weather cozy and the days bright, Pip figured he could get away with staying out during the day, only coming home once Aunt Lauren had gone to work. Days off would be a little trickier, but he hoped that in the next week, he’d figure out a permanent solution to his new pet problem.
The thought of parting with something the Hunter had given him hurt, but the reminder that he was being used as second best hurt more.
He left the woods behind him, traveling to the other side of town to a small, peaceful clearing, where he let the dog play and tire himself out. Pip spent the remainder of the day outside, dodging foot traffic and staying off the beaten path. When the sun was no more than a line of red on the horizon, Pip collected the pup and went home. He had a narrow window of time when both Aunt Lauren and Uncle Joe were still at work, and he intended to use it to smuggle his pet up to his room.
Just as he’d hoped, there were no cars in the driveway when Pip arrived home. Being extra wary of unexpectedly coming face-to-face with his aunt or uncle, he rounded the house to head in through the back.
The door gaped ajar.
Pip stood on the lawn and cocked his head to the side, squinting at it, wondering what it meant. It wasn’t like Aunt Lauren or Uncle Joe to leave the door open, and he knew he hadn’t left it that way. Cautiously, Pip headed for the door and pushed it open, finding the house quiet.
He stepped into the kitchen and looked around.
There was no sign of Aunt Lauren’s favorite travel mug, one surefire indication she was at work. Uncle Joe’s lunchbox didn’t sit on the kitchen counter either, a sign he wasn’t home early.
So what was going on?
The floorboards in the hall upstairs groaned, and footsteps descending the stairs. With a gasp, he impulsively lunged toward the knife block and grabbed one of the butcher knives. Jolted in his arms, the pup woke up and bared his teeth. He growled in warning, then squirmed against Pip’s grasp and jumped to the floor.
A man appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Pip blinked hard, trying to rationalize what he saw. The man didn’t look particularly old. He had a pointed chin, and his mischievous eyes sparkled in the twilight. His dazzling, messy blond hair—so close to white—would rival Alex’s. But his hair was the least bizarre thing about the stranger in the doorway—Pip could only describe the man's dress sense as peculiar.
Fitted in a royal purple waistcoat, white dress shirt, and blue tie, the man would turn heads anywhere in Beaumont, and not in a good way. A silver chain hung about his hips, clipping to his belt loop and disappearing into his pants’ pocket. It hung at his side, glimmering in the day’s dying light. He had Aunt Lauren’s golden jewelry box tucked beneath his arm.
Complete with the stolen jewelry box, the man appeared set to head to a bizarre dinner party, not rob a house.
The fellow in the funky attire stopped dead in his tracks, not expecting to run into anyone in the kitchen. At least Pip had a few seconds’ notice of this encounter—he’d heard the man coming.
For a moment, Pip and the man stared at each other.
Pip kept a firm grip on the knife, ready to use it if need be. With fur puffed up, the pup growled at his side. The dog looked more like a cotton ball than a ferocious predator.
The man in the waistcoat looked down at the pup, then flicked his gaze back in Pip’s direction. Pip took a half step forward, holding the knife in front of him.
“Drop the jewelry box!” Pip demanded. His voice shook with fear.
The man in the waistcoat took a long step to the side, sidling around the outskirts of the kitchen. Pip followed him from where he stood, knife held at the ready.
“Put it down!” Pip insisted. He waved the knife. “And then get out of here!”
The man stopped little more than an arm’s distance away from Pip. With his free hand, he slowly reached around to draw the chained object from his pocket. Pip had no clue what to do. If it was a weapon, he was sunk. Unsure he could wield a knife properly, Pip wasn’t about to attempt to disarm a man.
“Don’t touch that!” Pip shouted. The pup snarled and snapped at the air in warning.
“Easy, easy.” The man curled his fingers around the chain, and he tugged it from his pocket. Pip was baffled to see a pocket watch emerge. It was backed with silver, its clock face white. “No need to get in a snit. It’s just a watch, see? Just an innocent, harmless watch.”
The man held it by the chain, leaving it suspended in front of him as if he were a hypnotist. He took a step toward Pip, and Pip jabbed the knife out, ready to attack.
The man stopped out of arm’s reach, holding the pocket watch forward. He locked eyes with Pip and opened his mouth to speak, when his expression changed. His eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together. He snapped his mouth tightly shut, brows lifted in tremendous surprise, and shook his head as if he’d just rethought his whole life plan.
“Nope. So much nope I can’t handle it. Here’s your music box, kid.” The man set it down on the kitchen counter and tucked his pocket watch back into his pocket. “You—you just have a great life, full of wonderful, terrific things. Is that new?” His eyes flicked toward the dog. “It’s a keeper.”
Saying nothing, Pip watched in total disbelief as the man backed toward the open kitchen door. What the hell was going on?
“I’ll, uh, I’ll be going now,” the man said with a wink. “Totally love what you’ve done with your body. Definitely an improvement on the old. You’ve never looked better. So, uh, ta-ta for now.”
The man darted out the door. Pip scrambled after him, wanting to see him go. By the time he’d made it to the doorway, the man was already halfway across the backyard. He vaulted over the fence with near superhuman agility and was gone.
Pip stood there for a few moments longer, considering what he’d witnessed. He got the feeling that the empty-handed thief wasn’t exactly your everyday common or garden opportunist burglar.
Nothing in his life felt like it would be normal again.
After closing the door, Pip made double sure to lock it securely, and then returned the knife to the block. He picked up Aunt Lauren’s jewelry box to return it to its proper place.
“Come on, pup,” Pip said as he made his way across the kitchen. “I think I’m done with today. Let’s go bring this back to Aunt Lauren’s room, and then let's go to bed.”
It took a while for them to settle in Pip’s room. He had to keep on tip of bedroom chores, including sorting out his laundry. Shaken up by the kitchen encounter, he watched a little TV to distract his mind from all of the strange and upsetting real things in his life.
When he finally switched off the light and settled back, Pip fell asleep quickly. His dreams were a lot like the in-between.
Reality flickered there, phasing in and out, sometimes in focus and sensible, and other times outlandish and fantastic.
Hands tucked behind his back, Pip walked along the edge of what was, and what could be. His bare feet found purchase on ground he couldn’t see. He was naked, he thought, but not self-conscious about it. In the privacy of the in-between, his too-slender body and lack of definition didn’t mean anything.
Body consciousness and perfection didn’t exist.
A hand found its place against the small of Pip’s back. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. The Hunter’s presence was distinct from anything else Pip had come across before—a mix of feeling safe and secure in a familiar place, with the wild unpredictability of nature and the unknown.
“I don’t want to see you,” Pip murmured.
“I know. I feel your pain.”
Pip drew in a steady breath, filling his lungs with the scent of the woods and the humidity of summer. For a while, neither of them said anything. They walked together, bound by a single point of contact, as far as Pip wanted.
When he came to a stop, so too did the Hunter.
Before them, a body of water glistened in the night. Pip couldn’t tell if it was a pond, or a lake, or an ocean, but it gave him something to focus on as his throat clenched and tears prickled in his eyes.
“Then why are you here?” Pip finally asked.
“Because I can feel your pain, and I wish to end it,” the Hunter replied. “My tale was not intended to hurt you. I merely wished to explain why the new is not necessary, and will never be necessary again.”
“So what? I don’t want to hear it,” Pip said.
“No? You do not understand.” The Hunter’s voice remained calm and patient; his tone was deep, his words as slow as ever.
“I think I understand just fine.” Pip wiped at his eyes with a single hand. “I’m a replacement for him. You’re here to tell me I’m not good enough for you and I’ll never be good enough for you because you’re in love with some dead guy.” Words strained as they struggled to make it through the constriction in his throat. “What is it that drew you to me? Does my body look like his? Does my voice sound the same?”
“It does, on both counts.” The Hunter slipped his hand from the small of Pip’s back to the space between his shoulder blades. Pip had yet to look at him. “But more than that. Your laugh. Your soul. Your eyes…”
The voice that would’ve sounded soothing at any other time now stoked Pip’s anger, which raged like nothing he’d experienced before. So this was why they said love hurts.
“Stop it!” Pip shouted. His voice rang out through the stillness of the in-between. “Just stop it! I don’t want to know that you imagined him when you were making love to me. Or should I say, using me? I don’t. All I want is to keep you to myself, not…not be a stand-in for someone you love, and who you’ll never have again.”
“You think that is the case?” the Hunter asked, sadness in his voice. “Do you think I would ever disrespect his memory by being unfaithful?”
“I…” Confused, Pip turned his head, looking up at the Hunter at last. The antlers were there once again as Pip remembered them. Like a crown they made him appear regal, the king of the forest. There was no trace of bark for skin, his face appeared soft and human. “I don’t know.” Pip sighed.
The Hunter looked out over the body of water that stretched before them.“No. You do not remember. There is a difference.” The Hunter’s words eroded the anger in Pip’s chest and made him doubt what he’d thought. “You remember in bits and pieces. So comes a time that we should part.”
“Fear not, I shall be in your heart.” Pip spoke the words with the familiarity of time, an old call and response he couldn’t remember. Nostalgia washed over him again, and he bowed his head as the weight of the words pulled him into memory.
The hut. The Hunter, nude and lying on their furs, their dogs lounging at the foot of the bed, or curled up near the hut walls. Pip, proud and tall, a little older than he was now, standing in the doorway as he looked over his shoulder at the Hunter. His lover. The pouch the Hunter had given him was strapped across his chest and hung at his side, and he wore clothes held shut with wooden buttons.
They’d just made love. Pip carried the Hunter’s seed inside, proud to be marked. They mated each time before Pip left their tiny hut to head for the city, and every time they parted ways, they said the same, heartfelt words.
“In time, more memories will come,” the Hunter promised. “I do not know how much. I do not know if you will ever remember the time we spent together before, the years we spent as lovers.”
“I’m him.” Pip brushed the skin beneath his green-tinged eye. The Hunter’s mark. “It’s…it’s true, isn’t it?”
“It is how I found you,” the Hunter said. “Your soul was drawn toward the rift, where it might find me, and at last, you found your way. We found our way back to each other.”
They stood together in silence, looking out across the water. Flashes of memory from another life flitted through Pip’s mind like the glint of swimming fish scales in the sun. The tiny fragments manifested in different ways—sight, sound, smell, and touch—and each of them filled him with a better understanding of where he’d been and all he had lost.
“When we met, and the little time we’ve been together, for the first time in my life I felt like I’d found my purpose by being close to you. I felt desired and loved, and now I’m starting to understand why.” A timeless lover. The heart of an immortal creature. A life he didn’t remember. “You never took another lover? Even after so many years?”
“Never,” the Hunter said. “I could not. My heart belongs to one, and one only. My heart belongs to you.”
Pip tucked himself against the Hunter’s side, and the Hunter draped an arm over Pip’s shoulders to keep him there.
“I’m sorry,” Pip said at last. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone for so long. I’m sorry for…for letting myself be killed.”
“It was not your fault,” the Hunter said softly. “It was the fault of Man, and the blame has long since passed. All that matters is you found your way back to me.”
“Will I find my way back again?” Pip asked.
The Hunter didn't look at him. He kept his gaze directed ahead, stoic and strong. When he spoke next, he spoke with finality and a kind of low-burning love that Pip had never heard before. “I hope you will never need to.”