Chapter Eighteen

Jasper

“I just want you to know how stupid this is,” I say.

“Noted,” Winter replies coolly.

We're standing in the shadows of the forest, watching Emily's house. Waiting for her to come out and do – whatever it is Winter thinks she's going to do. I can already definitively say what she's not going to do. And that's go out there, turn into some beast, and start killing people.

“We're wasting time here,” I say. “We should be out there looking for the real killer, Winter.”

“You sound like OJ Simpson.”

I grin. “At least I'm not going to try to convince you we'll find the real killer on a golf course somewhere.”

Thick clouds blanket the sky, snuffing out the moon, and pitching the world around us into near total darkness. A soft breeze blows, ruffling some of the dried, dead leaves on nearby bushes and trees, but otherwise, the world is silent. Eerily silent. It's as if everything around us suddenly decided to hold its breath all at once.

If I were the type to get the heebie-jeebies, I'd probably be pretty creeped out right about now.

I glance at my watch and see that it's already after midnight. We've been standing out here with our thumbs up our asses for more than an hour now. I've tried a half a dozen times to get Winter to give it up, but she stubbornly refuses.

My head knows that this is a lead we need to follow. But, my heart doesn't want to let me. And I know that it's because, in the back of my mind, I'm afraid of where this path is going to lead.

If nothing else, at least I'm honest with myself about it.

“You've met her, Winter,” I say. “Does Em seem like a killer to you? Does she seem like the kind of person who could do what was done to those bodies we saw?”

“As the woman I met? No. Of course not,” Winter says. “But, I'm convinced that she's something more than the woman I met.”

“I'm not so sure she is.”

Winter turns her dark eyes on me. “Well, there's one way to find out,” she says. “Either, you're right or I'm right. And we'll just wait around to find out.”

“Even if she is whatever you think she is,” I say. “We don't even know that she'll come out tonight.”

Winter shrugs. “Then we come back tomorrow night,” she says. “I'm a patient woman.”

I sigh and lean against the tree, crossing my arms over my chest. There's no talking her out of it, apparently. Winter isn't wrong. There is something different about Emily. But, I'm not convinced the fact that her scent is – odd – makes her the killer.

I know Emily inside and out and know, without a moment's hesitation or the shadow of doubt in my mind, that there is no way she could have ever killed another person, let alone mutilated those bodies. And, I guess, if the only way to prove it is to watch her for a little while, so be it.

We fall silent as we stand vigil in the woods, waiting for something I'm convinced is never going to happen. That theory is crushed though, about fifteen minutes later, when the front door to Emily's house opens. She steps outside slowly, completely naked.

Alarm bells go off in my head. If there's one thing that Emily is not, it's an exhibitionist. She is not the type of person who would go wandering out in the woods naked. Winter turns to me with a serious expression on her face and I know what she's thinking. Probably because I'm having the same thoughts.

We watch as Emily turns her head turned up to the sky like she's scenting the air for a moment, before she bounds off into the forest.

“It might be nothing,” I say.

“Oh, I'm sure,” Winter replies. “Who doesn't like to go for a naked run through the forest on a balmy forty-two-degree night?”

I sigh and turn, loping off into the forest, following Emily with Winter right behind me. It doesn't take me long to pick up her scent. It's like a glowing trail cutting through the darkness of the woods around us.

Moving quickly and quietly, I strain my ears to listen. Emily's stopped running and is standing still. Winter and I creep to the edge of the clearing and we see her. The trees ring a small clearing and Emily is standing in the middle of it. Almost like a spotlight is shining down from above, the clouds part enough for a shaft of moonlight, bright and silver, to stream down, lighting up the entire clearing. Emily turns her face up into the light, almost like she's in a trance.

What happens next takes my breath away.

Winter is pressed close to me, her gaze intense. And, as we watch, Emily – changes.

She doesn't shift into a bear like we do. She doesn't turn into a wolf, or any other creature I've ever seen before. She cries out as her body changes. Although she remains on two legs, her limbs elongate. Sharp, wicked looking claws burst from her hands, her skin turns a mottled black and gray.

From where I'm standing, it looks like she's covered in a downy, soft fur. Emily throws her head back and lets out a cry that doesn't sound like it's even from this world. A short, blunt snout blossoms on her face and is filled with sharp, pointy teeth.

The creature standing before me defies description. It doesn't look like something created by nature. Emily, my sweet Emily, has become some sort of hybrid – monster.

I drop to a knee and try to catch my breath, shaking my head, not believing what I'm seeing. But when I move, the Emily-creature turns and stares straight at us with eyes that glow a vivid golden color. She lets out a screech that startles a flock of nearby birds into flight.

I stand up and set my jaw. Winter grabs hold of my arm, but I pull away and step into the clearing.

“Emily,” I say.

The creature shrieks once more and turns, sprinting off into the darkness of the forest with unnatural speed. Her cries echo through the night and ring in my ears. There are a million different emotions swirling around within me, but the only one that rings true and rings clear, is my anger. My rage. What they did to Emily in those labs – what they turned her into – it breaks my heart, but it makes me want to tear something, or somebody, to pieces.

“Well, I'm not sure what she is,” Winter says, standing beside me, “but she's surely something.”

I nod. “If the people who did this to her weren't already dead, I'd kill them myself.”

“And they'd deserve it.”

I feel Winter's hand on my forearm as she gives me a gentle squeeze. “For whatever it's worth, Jasper,” she says softly. “I am sorry.”

I lift my head and scent the air, catching the unique, musky scent that Emily left behind.

“Do you think she even knows what she is?” I ask. “Do you think she recognized us?”

Winter shakes her head. “I don't know.”

I clear my throat and stand up straighter. “Just because she's – something else – it doesn't mean she's the killer.”

“No, it doesn't,” Winter says. “But, I have to be honest. It doesn't look good right now.”

I scent the air again and freeze. Emily's scent lingers, but there is something else on the air. Another scent and one I don't recognize.

“Do you smell that?” I ask.

Winter raises her head and scents the air. Her eyes grow wide with alarm and a low growl escapes her throat.

“Oh, God,” she says. “I know that scent.”

I nod. “I do too,” I say. “I smelled it on the last body.”

Winter is nodding along with me. “I wasn't sure what it was,” she says. “I thought it could be Emily –”

She cuts her sentence short when we hear something else enter the clearing. The foreign scent on the air is growing thicker and we both turn in unison. Standing on the other side of the clearing is a creature that sends a sharp lance of ice through my heart.

Pale skin, long, gangly limbs, and red, glowing eyes. Hands tipped with long, curved claws. The creature has a long snout filled with teeth like a crocodile. And on its head are a pair of what look like antlers. If you only saw that, you might think it's a ten-point buck, but the creature those antlers are attached to is not just otherworldly, but downright terrifying.

“What in the hell is that?” I mutter.

Winter's eyes are wide, and I see the light of recognition on her face. The creature takes a few steps toward us and the moonlight glints off something around its neck. It looks like the thing is wearing a silver collar with some large, blue stone embedded into it.

My pulse is racing and my body tenses as I prepare to shift. I won't stand a minute against this thing in my human form. But then, Winter's hand on my arm makes me stop. I turn to her and she looks back at me, shaking her head.

“Don't,” she says. “It's not here to hurt us.”

Winter steps forward and shouts something in a language I don't understand. The creature turns its baleful eyes on her and hunkers down, looking like it's preparing to spring at her. Instead, it opens its mouth and lets out a loud, defiant shriek. The high-pitched keening goes on so long and is so loud, it sounds like the gates of hell have been opened and the demons themselves are escaping.

But then, the creature turns and quickly lopes off into the forest, leaving us staring after it. I look over at Winter, completely dumbfounded.

“What in the hell was that, Winter?”

“That, dear Jasper,” she says, still staring after the creature, “is your killer. That is what is killing people in your town.”

“I gathered that,” I reply. “But, what is it?”

“It's a Wendigo,” she says, a note of awe in her voice. “I've heard about them, but have never seen one in person before.”

“A Wendigo?”

She nods, unable to take her eyes off the spot where the creature disappeared into the woods. But then, as if shaking herself out of a dream, she turns to me, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I need to do a little research,” she says. “And I need you to keep this between us for now. Tell nobody, Jasper.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “You want to fill me in here?”

She shakes her head. “Not until I have some more information,” she says. “I need to fill in a few blanks just yet. Come to the hotel tomorrow and I'll tell you everything I know.”

I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “What was that you said to it though? What was that language?”

“It was something from a story about the Wendigo I was told as a child,” she says. “It's an old Inuit spell that's supposed to ward off the Wendigo. At least, temporarily. That was the first time I'd thought about it in, I don't even know how many years. I honestly thought it was just something from an old wives’ tale and didn't think it would work.”

“Apparently, it did,” I say. “It does.”

“For a little while,” she says.

“I need to get back to the hotel.”

I nod, and we leave the clearing, heading back the way we'd come. An Emily-creature and a Wendigo. Yeah, this is probably the strangest night I've ever had in my life. Although I'm still angry about what was done to her and don't yet know how to deal with it, at least I know Emily isn't responsible for the deaths around town.

It's not much, but it's something. And with so much flaming garbage raining down on us, I'll take whatever I can get.