Up ahead, lights broke through the darkness, a flashing sign, she thought at first. But then, as she drew nearer, she realized it was a Jeep, pulled off on the side of the road. A police or ranger’s vehicle, with flashing lights on the roof, identical to the one Steve drove. She slowed as she drew closer. The Jeep was at a strange angle. Almost upon it, she slowed to a near stop. It was off the road, down in a ditch. The engine was still running; she could see the exhaust pluming in the cold air. She didn’t see anyone standing around and wondered if someone was still inside, hurt or unconscious. Cautiously she pulled up on the shoulder behind the car. When she got out, she immediately saw that the driver’s side of the Jeep was crumpled in, as if another car had smashed into it and sent the Jeep tumbling into the ditch. But no other cars were in sight.
The smell of gasoline hung heavily in the air, and Madeline could hear the steady trickle of what she presumed was gas leaking out of the damaged tank.
If there was someone in the car, she had to get them out fast. The battery obviously still held a charge, and one little spark could send them up in flames. Quickly she ran to the driver’s door and peered in. Her heart sank. Steve sat slumped over the wheel. Grunting, she tried to wrench the door open, but it was too damaged to budge. The passenger door was locked. She took in Steve’s condition through the window.
He was unconscious, breathing, bleeding from a head wound. The smell of gasoline reeked strongly, making Madeline feel dizzy and sick to her stomach. She scanned over the car. The radio! Of course. He must have a radio. Maybe help was nearby. She reached in through the shattered window, sliding her hand between Steve and the steering wheel, feeling for the radio. The round shape of a CB handset met her fingers, and she pulled it toward her. Instant dismay filled her when she saw it. It was completely crushed.
“Steve?” she said urgently. “Steve!”
The ranger didn’t so much as stir or twitch. He was out cold, and Madeline had to make a decision fast. Already her head was pounding from the noxious fumes. Slowly she reached out to gently touch him. Her fingers brushed his jacket, and suddenly he jerked violently and grabbed her hand. Madeline cried out and reflexively yanked her hand back.
Then he turned slowly to look at her.
And she knew it wasn’t Steve in that body at all.
10
MADELINE staggered back, away from the car.
The creature followed, wrenching open the destroyed door with ease and crawling out. Madeline’s head spun from the fumes as she watched. He looked exactly like Steve; it was uncanny. The tousled, sandy brown hair, the high cheekbones and narrow chin. But the eyes were all wrong; they had a feverish, haunting quality that the real, gentle Steve didn’t have.
“Madeline,” he said, straightening up in front of the car. “I had to stop you from leaving.” He paused, turning his head and taking her in. “Your gift… is amazing.” Again she noticed the strange accent she couldn’t quite place, just a hint of it in the consonants. “You touched me… and you knew. I could feel myself filling you with my memories. That gift is your destiny. You shouldn’t run from it. We all have our special… talents.” Just then the skin on the upper half of his face rippled and turned black, smooth as sharkskin and dark as ink. The pupils widened, engulfing the iris, then the white, until just black remained. The eyes bored into her.
Her mind froze. She couldn’t think. She backed away, her eyes filling with the creature and the gas-leaking car. She didn’t know which she was more afraid of: getting blown up or torn apart by the creature. If she turned and ran, he would chase her, but at least she’d be away from the car when it went up. If she stayed, she’d get blown to bits and torn apart.
Madeline took off. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sprint forward in pursuit. Darting away from the ditch, she looked at the meadow ahead and then the road. She knew she couldn’t run straight for her car now. If she darted back around, he’d intercept her. The dark meadow was her only option. Maybe she could lose him in the tall grass, get far enough away and then lie flat, out of sight. Or if she gained enough ground, she could double back to her car.
Panting and leaping over tall grasses, she hit the meadow. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see that tremendous granite outcroppings rose on both sides of her, bordering the meadow. No use darting to the side.
Zigzagging left and right, she leapt over tree stumps and windfalls of old branches. Behind her, the creature threw up branches and pinecones in its wake. Clouds slid away from the moon and made it easy to see anything big sticking out of the ground. She leapt over half-buried logs and large rocks. Chancing a glance behind, she saw a furtive bounding dark shape only twenty or so feet behind. She tripped on a rock, managed to regain her balance, tripped again, stumbled, righted herself.
Behind her the running footsteps thrashed through the tall grass, then took on the eerie quality of loping. It was on all fours. She could hear the rhythmic thump of each foot. In her mind, she could see the creature’s black form speeding through the trees, the gleam in its eyes as it hunted her.
A dull whump sounded behind her.
She had completely forgotten about the car. Glancing back, she saw bright licks of flame on the road at the edge of the meadow.
Then a tremendous weight crashed into her, sending her sprawling into the grass. The creature landed on her back, his claws curling around her shoulders, his legs straddling her body. With a whoosh, air exploded from her lungs, and she lay stunned, struggling to breathe. Then, slowly, oxygen returned, and she felt the crushing weight of him on top of her. She writhed beneath him, grass sticking in her mouth, pinecones piercing her cheek.
He moved his face down next to hers. Round red eyes filled her view. He had completely reverted to the sleek black creature she’d first seen on the mountain. A shadow with weight. “You give a good chase.”
The sound of creaking bones and snapping sinew erupted, and the creature shape-shifted again. She felt him grow very cold and then hot on top of her, the eyes, still near her own, closed as if in ecstasy. A face formed, one she didn’t recognize. Chiseled, classically handsome features. Olive skin, shoulder-length black hair falling in front of his face. He snapped open his eyes-deep green. They focused on her.
She jerked to one side, trying to throw him off. “You don’t like my real face?” he asked. “But you’re the first person I’ve shown it to in such a long time.”
Kicking out at his knees and elbowing him in the gut, she managed to flip herself over and came face-to-face with him. He still sat on top of her. His eyes flashed brightly, hot as embers, momentarily burning her retina. Quickly she punched him in the face, and he grunted but did not move off her. Rearing her hips up, she tried to throw him off, make him lose his balance. But smoothly he matched her moves with his own, never even coming close to falling over.
She struck him in the throat. He coughed but remained stationary. A fury of panic welled up within her, and she grabbed his neck, desperately trying to choke him. But instead, he brought his hands up and closed around hers in an almost tender gesture.
A surging wave of powerful energy hit her. She fell back against the ground, a blinding light enveloping her mind, the creature relentlessly holding on to her hands. Her eyes fluttered in her head; her back arched. A tremor began in her chest and spread throughout her body, her legs and arms shaking violently. Still he held fast. She tried to break the connection, tried to break free.
Too intense. Too intense.
Waltzing, dizzy, at a masquerade ball in eighteenth century France, twirling a blonde-haired woman around the dance floor and laughing giddily…