Head wounds—even those not serious—bleed a lot, and this is no exception. I wipe my bloody fingers on my pants, wincing from a sharp pain in my hip. Falling off a horse is never fun. I’ve had my fair share of falls, and most have never resulted in open wounds, yet I’m still stiff and sore the next day or two.
Mystery spooks, and his lead rope almost slips out of my trembling hands. I turn, fist clenched, and see Bob. He’s yards from his tree, and the front of his t-shirt is soaked with blood again.
“God dammit, Bob,” I grumble. “Go haunt someone else.” I stare down Bob, hearing his voice echo in the back of my mind. He turns, locks eyes with me, and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water down my back. I squeeze my eyes closed, and when I open them, Bob is gone.
“What the hell?” I mutter and stumble back, bumping into Mystery. He nervously sidesteps and presses his head on my back. I’m shaking and feel like I’m going to throw up. A surge in electromagnetic energy tends to do that to me.
The sound of hooves on cement startles me, and I turn to see Leslie leading Sundance to the outdoor wash rack. She looks up and smiles, opening her mouth to say hi, no doubt, but stops. “Are you bleeding?” She quickly ties up Sundance and comes over.
“Oh, yeah, but I’m fine,” I rush out, pressing my trembling hand against Mystery’s side. “There was, a, uh, a coyote out there and Mystery sidestepped off the path.” I blink my eyes closed, shaking my head. I’m not a good liar, and the shock that’s running through my system isn’t helping. It’s hard enough to form a coherent thought right now, let alone come up with a lie that actually makes sense. “We probably crashed right through one of those trees with prickly branches.”
“Ugh those are the worst. I’ll have to go out and make sure they’re trimmed if they’re that close to the path.”
“Not now. The, uh, coyote might still be out there.” I swallow hard, not sure what else to say to keep Leslie—and anyone for that matter—from going out in the woods.
“I’m sure it’s gone. They’re not usually out during the day like that anyway. Are you sure you’re okay? You look…pale.”
I’m far from okay, and it’s taking everything I have not to freak the fuck out. First Bob wigs out on me and then something attacks me in the woods.
Blood drips down my face but I nod. “Yeah. Just a little shaken up. Mystery doesn’t spook like that often.”
“No, he’s pretty calm for an Arabian,” she jokes. “Want me to put him out in the pasture for you so you can clean that cut up?”
The thought of putting Mystery out in the pasture with that…that…thing makes my stomach twist. “I don’t want the coyote to come back.”
“It would be really freaking stupid to go after the herd.”
“Right.” I wipe some of the blood from my forehead. “Thanks.”
Leslie takes Mystery from me and heads to the pasture. I shut my eyes and let out a slow breath, giving myself a minute before going into the barn. I try to keep my head down so no one else sees and questions me. I make it to the bathroom without notice, and turn on the water to warm it up. I stare at the water coming out of the faucet, not ready to look at my reflection just yet.
I blink, and get a flash of that thing. My heart speeds up and I grip the edges of the sink. It was real. I know what I saw, and more importantly, Mystery saw it. But what in the actual fuck? It was dog-like, that’s for sure. But its face was all wrong and dogs have paws, not finger-like talons. That thing was like a Tim Burton nightmare come to life, and I know without a doubt if Mystery hadn’t clipped it in the face with his hoof, it would have attacked me. And for some reason—that makes no freaking sense, I know—I have a strong feeling that thing was there for me and me alone. It was the way it looked at me as if it knew me.
Fingers trembling, I tear off a paper towel and wet it with warm water. I lean over the sink, carefully rinsing the blood off my forehead. The cut isn’t as bad as it looks, but I’m sure it’ll get nice and swollen with some bruising later. I don’t need stitches at least.
Turning off the sink, I grab the first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink and wince as I blot an alcohol pad over the cut. I press a piece of gauze over the wound next and do my best to tape it to my forehead. It’s right along my hairline, making it hard to get the tape to stick, but at least I can cover it with my hair once the wound has scabbed over.
Leslie is walking back into the barn as I leave the bathroom.
“Mystery’s out with the herd, and everyone is calm,” she says.
“Thanks,” I reply, voice thin.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks again. “You look like you saw a ghost?” She sharply inhales. “Did you?” she whispers. Leslie and I have gotten close over the years and she knows the truth about me. Well, some of it.
“Bob is always here.” I force a smile. “I’m good. Thanks again for taking Mystery. I’m having dinner at my parents’ tonight, so I should head out.”
It’s an awkward exit, I know, but fuck. I need out of here. I can’t get the image of that thing out of my head. I’m fully aware of how much humans crave normalcy. How much people are willing to overlook the obvious and give things “logical explanations”, and part of my brain is trying to tell me what I saw was just some ugly, inbred, deformed dog.
Because monsters don’t exist.
Just like how ghosts don’t exist…and how vampires didn’t until a few years ago. I know what I saw, and I know it was something not from this world. Something evil.
So, what the hell did it want with me?
Chapter Four
“Anora?” Dad says in a tone that makes me think it’s not the first time he’s said my name.
“Sorry, what?” I look up from my salad, realizing I’ve completely zoned out. It’s either that or feel my pulse race as I think about what happened in the woods. I want to make sense of it but just can’t.
“I said, you’re quiet tonight.”
I stab a piece of spinach with my fork and shrug. “Just thinking about work.”
“How are things at the clinic?” Dad asks.
“Busy as always. We got seven of the dogs that were rescued from the hoarder in Camillus.”
“I read about that in the paper. How are the dogs doing?”
“Overall okay. Two will be ready for adoption soon,” I say.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mom tells Dad. “One dog is plenty.”
I laugh and take another bite of salad, making it a point to try and talk with my family. Mom will take my silence as me still being upset with her, and that woman can hold a grudge like it’s nobody’s business.
About an hour later, Harrison and I walk out of the house together carrying Tupperware full of leftovers. Hunter trots along next to me, waiting patiently as I balance the food on top of the box full of gifts from Aunt Estelle.
“Be careful tonight,” Harrison says, opening the door to his BMW.
“I will be,” I promise, though I could really fucking use a distraction tonight. “Night, Har. Love you.”