“Me either. After I spend a full day in the hot tub, I’m going straight to Urasawa and ordering everything they have.” Andrew’s tone matched her wistful joviality perfectly. Only someone who knew him well would have picked up on the fear underneath.
She listened hard for a moment, but heard nothing. “Sounds fantastic. Count me in. We’ll make a party out of it.”
A long, low howl very different from the ones they’d heard earlier that evening made her jump.
“I think he’s found his friend,” Andrew said.
The sound ended as abruptly as it had begun. While they waited, the cold from the snow underneath them crept into her bones. She held her breath, listening for anything that would tell her where the creature was.
Scraping and rustling noises came from the direction of the pit.
“Never mind him. Look at me, you fucker. What are you doing, you ugly prick? I was saving that for my dinner, you sad fuck.”
Igor’s taunts gave her the courage to risk another peek. The snowman had lifted his dead comrade from the pit and slung him over his shoulder. In the firelight, his coat looked oddly shiny, like no hide she’d ever seen. Despite his immense strength, the creature staggered under his buddy’s weight, his feet sinking into the snow.
“He’s taking him. We can’t let him leave.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “How are we supposed to stop him?”
“I don’t know, but we have to do something. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck waiting for him again.”
Among their homemade arsenal was one true weapon: Anubha’s crossbow. There was only one problem: none of them knew how to use it. Nat had been dumb enough to mumble something about archery classes in high school, so the men had entrusted her with the sleek, aluminum contraption that bore no resemblance to the clunky, wooden thing she’d struggled with as a teenager.
Still, if Jennifer Lawrence could manage a bow in The Hunger Games, how difficult could it be? After several tries, Nat could only hope she’d managed to load it correctly.
Adrenaline racing through her veins, she leapt to her feet before she could think better of it. Pulling away from Andrew’s grasp, she stepped out from the tent into the open. The snowman was past the fire, making his way to the tree line now. A few more steps and he’d be gone. Taking a deep breath, she raised the crossbow, doing her best to sight it.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” she yelled.
“Nat, are you insane? He’s too far away. Get back here,” Andrew said, but she held her ground, and as the monster turned, she fired. With the full force of her fear and rage behind her, the bolt went farther than she’d expected, hitting the creature square in the hood. From the resulting squeal, it had pierced the strange hide and found flesh. Snarling, the snowman tossed his friend to the ground as though the body were a sack of leaves. It came for her, closing the distance between them with frightening speed.
“Nat, run!”
“Stick to the plan,” was all she had time to say before she ducked inside the tent, praying with everything she had that the creature would come after her and leave Andrew alone.
A second later, the snowman tore open the front of the tent with its claws. She screamed, the suddenness of its movements more frightening than its dark form charging her. Scrambling backward, she crawled toward the hole the snowman had slashed in the side the night before. Fresh air assaulted her face—her upper body was free. Now to—
Her right leg was pinned, trapped. The creature had hold of her ankle and it was like being wedged in a vise. There was no give, no leeway. She felt hot breath against her skin as her snow pants tore and she cried out, begging for help that wouldn’t come in time. This was her plan, this was the way she had wanted it. If she fell, she wouldn’t take anyone with her.
But she’d never expected to fall.
“Do it now,” she shouted at Andrew, accepting all she was about to sacrifice.
“But you’re still inside!”
“I don’t care. Do it anyway.”
For a second, time stopped. Impossibly, Nat heard the click of Andrew’s lighter over the creature’s snarling and her own harsh panting.
A fireball engulfed the tent as the creature screeched. The roar of the inferno, the intensity of the heat on her face, was blistering. Something seized her under her arms and ripped her backward. Her boot came free and Nat yelped as her bare foot was pulled through the blaze.
“Jesus Christ. What were you thinking?”
Steven. He didn’t let go until they were halfway across the campsite. Her tent, soaked with her own blood as bait and Igor’s moonshine as accelerant, burned brightly enough to turn night into day. And still the creature shrieked. Nat pressed her hands over her ears.
“Where’s Andrew?” Panic crushed her, making it impossible to breathe.
Then she saw him, over near Igor, his eyes wide enough to swallow his face. Did he get that she’d escaped, or did he believe he’d burned his best friend alive? She yelled to him, but he continued to gape at the tent.
“Don’t bother. No one can hear you over that. How’s the foot?”
Her foot. Wincing, she surveyed the damage. The right leg of her snow pants was ripped to shreds. Her sock was literally hanging by a thread, and her ski boot was gone. But the foot itself was okay, thanks to Steven. She wiggled her toes and gasped at the resulting sting. Singed, and probably soon to be frostbitten, but she’d gotten off lightly, all things considered.
“Here, put these on.” Steven handed her two wool socks from his own pack, and she gratefully pulled them over her bare skin, ignoring the throbbing from the burn. She hadn’t seen any blistering, so hopefully she didn’t have to worry about an infected foot on top of everything else. Losing the boot was enough of a catastrophe.
“Lana’s boots should fit you. We’ll go get them as soon as it’s light.”
She cringed. “I can’t do that.”
“Nat, she’s dead. They’re of no use to her anymore. And you can’t go without. Not if you want to get home.”
It made sense. Why leave perfectly good ski boots to rot when she was in need? But, common sense or not, she couldn’t imagine stealing the boots from a dead girl’s feet.
Best to change the subject.
“Do you think we got them all?”
Steven squinted at her, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell the truth. “I wish I could say yes, but there were a lot more than two of them making that racket tonight. You know it as well as I do.”
Andrew called her name. She looked up to see him waving at her, an expression of ecstatic joy on his face. So he had thought he’d killed her.
As he started toward her, something loomed out of the shadows behind him. Intent on their reunion, her friend didn’t hear it.
“Andrew, no! Look out!”
But it was too late.
The creature seized him by the neck, lifting him off his feet. There was a moment when his eyes stared into hers with a dreadful knowing.
The snowman twisted Andrew’s neck, killing him instantly and tossing him to the ground. His body flopped like a doll’s.
Nat sank to her knees, in too much emotional pain to move or cry. He can’t be gone. Not Andrew. I can’t survive without Andrew.
With a roar, Igor sprang upright on his good leg and stabbed the snowman in the face with Joe’s knife. He struck the creature again and again, mindless of the gore that gushed from within the hood to splatter his face.
More shadows appeared behind him.
She finally found her voice. “Igor!”
Steven lifted her from the snow, dragging her toward the forest. “We have to go, Nat.”
“We can’t leave him.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp. She tried to run to Igor, but her sock slipped on the ice, giving Steven a chance to take hold of her again.
“Look how many there are. We have to go, now. If you want to live, come with me.”