Master of the Abyss

Suddenly Thor disappeared. A whip of the flashlight revealed no dog. Turning, Jake swept his light along the side and paused at a bunch of scattered white stones that he’d disregarded. Not her name like Masterson had said. Jake sidestepped to keep Logan from plowing into him and asked, “Is this it, Masterson?”

“That’s it, and he’s here, dammit. Kallie would never mess up her stones. Where’s the dog?”

Logan shone his flash downward. “There.” Thor had already moved down the tiny animal path and stopped to wait.

Masterson said in a low voice, “It’s not far.”

Jake cocked his head, could hear the soft gurgle of water, and said reluctantly, “Take the lead.” This was Masterson’s territory.

The fear gripping his guts hadn’t loosened. All the way up, he’d hoped the bastard had gone somewhere-anywhere-else tonight. An icy hand squeezed his spine. Every instinct yelled that the woman he loved-and he did, dammit-was in danger.

He had a second of thinking they should turn off their flashlights, and then a woman’s scream of terror ripped through the quiet night.

Kallie frantically rolled. The club aimed at her head caught the edge of her shoulder and slammed into the bag with a muffled thud. Her shoulder flared with agony, and then she kicked free of the bag, scrambling away on hands and feet. From some instinct, she dodged left. The club grazed her thigh, a sharp slap of pain. Go, go, go.

She rolled, dodged one blow, shoved up.

Before she gained her feet, he struck her hip, knocking her sideways onto her back. Helpless.

“Beat the demon out of you.”

Stunned by the pain, she stared up. Stocky, barrel chest. Red hair. “I know you,” she gasped. “Andrew?”

Andrew attacked me? With a club? “Someone beat that woman to death with a heavy branch.” He’s the killer. “Why…?”

“No! Don’t talk!” he shouted and swung.

Roll! She heard the thud as he missed her again. He roared in frustration, and then his boot came down on her back and flattened her like roadkill. His weight was too much. Her hands scrabbled in the dirt. She futilely kicked her feet. He wouldn’t miss, wouldn’t miss…

As her muscles tensed, anticipating the blow, her hand bumped against something cold-metal. Her fingers closed around the handle of her whittling knife. She ripped it out of the ground and blindly swung up behind her back.

The impact hurt her wrist, and he screamed like an animal, the sound terrifying. She gripped tighter and yanked downward against the resistance of jeans and flesh.

He staggered sideways, and the weight lifted off her spine.

She shoved away, gained her feet, and darted for the trees. Fast. Faster. Dodge left, right, left. Into the shadows.

Too dark. She tripped over a log and landed on her hands and knees. Stop. He’d track her by the noise she made. Hunkering down behind a patch of brush, she tried to silence her gasping breath. Her heart hammered so hard she couldn’t hear anything past the pounding of her pulse.

An outraged bellow ripped through the night. Beyond the trees, sparks flickered upward like fireworks. He was taking his frustration out on her camp, she realized.

Then his footsteps headed straight for where she’d entered the forest. “Come out, demon.” An eerie note tinged his voice. He didn’t sound like the delivery man she’d met. He didn’t sound entirely human. Or sane.

Light flickered through the trees. Oh God. He had a flashlight, and the full moon had risen. She couldn’t hide long in the too-open forest. I can fight him. But if he caught her squarely with that club, she’d never get back up. Hide. Fight if I have to.

An explosion of crackles and a curse broke through the silence. She realized he was hitting the underbrush at the edge of the clearing…and working his way closer.

She shoved her hand against her mouth and bit down to muffle her breathing.

Barking came from the clearing, and Kallie’s head jerked up. A dog? Help?

Andrew stopped. His footsteps retreated. “Demon dog. Hellhound,” the unnatural voice called.

A growl ripped through the silence, and the killer yelled. A yelp. Oh, God, the dog.

Kallie almost stood up, then forced herself down. Jumped back up at a shout- Virgil’s voice, “Put it do-”

Another yelp and a grunt. The roar of a monster, sick with delight.

No! Terror filled her, and she ran, bursting from the protection of the forest into the clearing and straight into a nightmare.

Virgil on his back, unmoving. Andrew on one knee beside her cousin, holding her whittling knife up with his head cocked as if he’d never seen a blade before. He spotted her and laid the edge across Virgil’s throat.

Kallie stopped so suddenly she almost fell.

Virgil lay terrifyingly still. Blood streaked his head, almost black in the moonlight.

No, please God…not Virgil. Don’t touch Virgil. “Andrew!”

Andrew turned slightly, his eyes unfocused, the knife still there…

The blade filled her vision as it lay against her cousin’s neck. She had to get the monster away from him. Beg? Her thoughts came too slowly; why couldn’t she think? Every inadequate breath seared her throat. She stepped a little closer. Think, Kallie, think.

Begging won’t work. He’d killed women-lots of women. They’d probably begged too.

Make him mad? But if he hurt Virg instead of her? Her stomach knotted with fear.

Lure him away from Virg? Yes. Give him something better. Her hands fisted. “Hey, Andrew. You wanted me, right? Female?”

He turned a little farther.

“Yeah. Me.” Dammit, move, you bastard. “Hey, I’ve even got dark hair. Isn’t that why you wanted me?” She shook her head and ruffled her hair mockingly.

She stood close enough to see the way his eyes changed, and the wrongness in them raised the hair on the back of her neck. She forced her feet to stay in place, fought against the need to run. Get him away from Virg.

Andrew didn’t move. Why isn’t he coming after me?

Near the trail, Logan stepped out of the forest. “Let Virgil go, Andrew. Let him go, and we’ll let you leave.”

“No.” Andrew’s mouth flattened, and he looked down at Virg.

No, don’t look at him, don’t pay attention to him. “Andrew, why? Why are-”