Damn, this nonintimidating thing was hard.
Kara jumped at the sound of the knife chopping through bone and sinew.
Not exactly a man of culture, her host. Eyeing him nervously, she folded the bread in half, making a little sandwich, and nibbled at the corner. This whole situation was just weird — the dogs last night, his eyes today, being here at all for that matter. For a bit she’d truly thought he was going to rip her throat out — wasn’t completely sure still that he wouldn’t. But…she stole a glance in Risk’s direction…he hadn’t done anything obviously aggressive since he’d started layering the table with plates. A little disturbing perhaps, what with the knife, talk of prey and such, but he hadn’t actually threatened her and she hadn’t seen any sign of glowing eyes.
Both good things.
Her common sense told her to take advantage of his slight mellowing by beating a fast exit out the door, but he had promised to find Kelly, and despite her fear of him, or perhaps because of it, Kara believed he could.
“Where do we start?” she asked, forcing the bite of sandwich down her dry throat.
“You tell me. How did she disappear?”
Trying to ignore the fact that he still held the gleaming knife in one hand, Kara willed herself to relax, to remember. “Kelly is…different.” By most people’s standards this was an understatement, but he didn’t need all the details, surely. “She’s always believed things other people don’t.” She edged a glance at him to see how he was reacting. He drove the knife into a turkey carcass then gestured for her to continue.
Suppressing a shiver, she said, “About six months ago, she started taking classes online, hanging out on bulletin boards, stuff like that. And she was going out, a lot, at night.”
“She have a mate?” he asked.
Kara paused for a second, thrown by his strange choice of words, then gave her head a slight shake. “No, Kelly isn’t much for dating — neither of us are.”
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.
“I got the feeling she was…” Kara squeezed the bread in her hand until peanut butter squished out the sides. A brown glob dropped onto her lap.
What to tell him? Swallowing, she made the decision. Might as well be the truth. He might even believe her. “Hunting. I think she was hunting something.”
“And maybe she got caught instead?” He ran a finger along his lower lip. Kara’s eyes followed its path. “Your sister, you said she was different. How exactly?”
Dropping her gaze before he could notice her interest, Kara used her finger to swipe the peanut butter off her leg. She had chosen her path, might as well stick with it now. “She’s, you know…new age-y. Incense. Little statues. Dead animal parts.” Grabbing a napkin, she wiped her finger clean, then glanced up. No expression, not even a glimmer of interest showed on his face. “Did she practice?” he asked.
Kara frowned. “Practice what?”
His only answer was a deep breath, as if calming himself.
Afraid he was about to slip back into berserker mode, Kara hurried to continue. “Well, I guess you could say she practiced. Kelly is what you might call determined.”
He arched one brow.
“Like a terrier. Give her a challenge and she’ll put 120 percent into conquering it. She’s physical, too, you know? Hands-on? She’s a big believer in being able to take care of yourself. Studied some self-defense stuff — the same thing used by the Israeli Army. She took classes five days a week for a while. They were closed the other two.” And she’d tried talking Kara into taking the classes with her, over and over. Based on the last twenty-four hours, Kara was beginning to wish she had agreed.
“A hunting warrior female. Your sister sounds interesting.” His hand wandered to the silver chain at his throat. “How about you? Do you practice?”
Kara dropped the sandwich onto the wooden tabletop. “No.” The last came out a bit abruptly. Kara had always accepted that Kelly was the dedicated one — the one everyone admired. It had never bothered her before, but hearing the edge of respect in Risk’s voice when he spoke of her sister brought the truth home more clearly than ever before. She could never measure up — apparently, even a complete stranger who had never met Kelly could sense that.
Uncomfortable with the topic, she changed it. “What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?” He turned back to the plate in front of him.
Kara hesitated again. Did she dare push her luck by questioning him, and what to ask first? His eyes, had they been her imagination? Too personal. Why would he help her? Didn’t want to put the idea not to in his head. Finally, she settled on a question. “How did I get here?”
He barely glanced up. “I brought you.”
His abruptness set her back for a second, but when he continued eating, she relaxed — a bit. “But how, and where are we?”
“I carried you, and about eighty miles from the city. If you want to measure like that.”
Eighty miles? All hope of an easy exit died. Then the other part of his answer registered. “How else would I measure, and how do you carry someone eighty miles?”
He smiled, a sad somewhat self-mocking slant to his lips. “Oh, I’ve carried…”
Kara waited for him to finish, but Risk’s attention appeared to have shifted. He froze, his eyes suddenly alert, and tilted his head slightly to the side.
“What is it?” she asked.
Clapping his hands over his ears, he stumbled away from the table and began to crumple slowly toward the floor.
Kara jumped up and ran around the table to kneel beside him. His hands gripped the chain at his neck with such force his knuckles turned white and Kara thought the metal might imbed itself into the back of his neck.
A seizure, it had to be. Kara reached out to pry his fingers loose. He was going to hurt himself.
He let go of the chain to push her hand away. “Jeep, in back. Take it…”
What the hell was he talking about? She couldn’t leave him like this.
“Is there a phone? I’ll call someone. Or medication, do you need something?”
She placed her hand on his shoulder; he began to shimmer beneath her, just like the ginger dog the night before. She could feel her own hand begin to shimmer, too, an unsettling sensation as if her hand had fallen asleep and now was in the painful process of waking up.
“No.” He pulled back his leg and, using one bare foot, shoved her across the oak floor away from him.
Her head knocked against the cabinet with such force, she couldn’t be sure what she saw next actually happened. Just like with the dog, the air around him turned into waves, and with a growl, he disappeared.
Kara stared blankly at the space where Risk had been. He was gone. Impossible. Rubbing the back of her head, she scrambled along the floor until she reached the spot where he had disappeared. She ran a trembling hand along the length of the wood. The floor radiated heat, like a stove burner that was just turned off seconds before.
What would cause that?
Curling her fingers into her palms, Kara willed herself to stay rational. Grown men did not just disappear. There had to be an explanation. She pressed her palm against the boards. They were still warm, though already cooler to touch. In a few more seconds even this sign of Risk’s disappearance would be gone.
It wouldn’t change things, though. He was there, then he was gone. This couldn’t be explained away. She looked around. She was still in a cabin — a strange cabin — and Risk had been real. He had been there.
The dog, now Risk. It was too much for her to comprehend. Kara slid onto the spot, letting the last fragments of heat seep into her.
Strange things had happened around Kara all her life, but none so blatant as this. None that couldn’t be explained away somehow.
But a full-grown man disappearing in front of her eyes, there were only two possible explanations for that. Either Kara truly was insane, or there was something else going on here. Something that didn’t play by the rules of the world she knew.
She wasn’t completely sure which she hoped was true.
