Chapter 1: Into the Blackwood

Chapter 1: Into the Blackwood

I hated the Blackwood road after dark.

Which was exactly why I took it at eleven forty-three on a Tuesday night.

"Brilliant decision, Ava."

I tightened my hands around the steering wheel.

The library had closed twenty minutes ago. Technically, I should have been home already, sitting on my couch with my feet up and something terrible playing on television.

Instead, Mrs. Delgado had spent twenty minutes arguing about a romance novel.

Twenty.

Apparently, Whispers of the Forbidden Duke had been returned two weeks ago.

According to Mrs. Delgado.

According to our computer, it had not.

According to Mrs. Delgado, the computer was wrong.

According to me, I desperately wanted to go home.

But I'd smiled, apologized, checked the return bin twice, checked the shelf three times, and eventually listened to a seventy-year-old woman explain in impressive detail why she had absolutely no reason to steal a book about a shirtless duke.

By the time I locked the library doors behind me, the sky had gone completely black.

The sensible route home would take twenty-three minutes longer.

The Blackwood road would take twelve.

Twelve minutes.

That was all.

'I can survive twelve minutes in a forest.'

I could practically hear my mother laughing at that thought.

I turned onto the narrow road.

Immediately, the town disappeared behind me.

No houses.

No streetlights.

No convenience stores with ugly fluorescent signs.

Just trees.

The headlights of my Civic pushed through the darkness, illuminating maybe thirty feet of cracked asphalt before the forest swallowed everything again.

I hated that.

The trees were too close.

Branches stretched over the road from both sides, tangling together overhead until they formed a black ceiling. The headlights made everything beyond them look even darker.

I rolled my window up another inch.

Cold air had been sneaking through the gap, carrying the smell of wet dirt and pine.

For some reason, there was something else underneath it tonight.

Something metallic.

I frowned.

"Great. Now I'm smelling things."

The radio crackled.

I jumped.

The sound lasted maybe two seconds before the station disappeared completely.

I smacked the radio.

"Don't you dare."

Static.

Then silence.

"Fine."

I switched it off.

The silence that replaced it was worse.

I'd grown up in Willow Creek. I'd heard every story about Blackwood.

Everyone had.

People went into the forest.

Some came back.

Those who did were never quite the same.

Quiet.

Nervous.

Sometimes they wouldn't talk about what they'd seen at all.

Most people simply disappeared.

Every few years the newspaper printed another explanation.

Bear attack.

Wolf attack.

Mountain lion.

Accident.

Exposure.

Every explanation sounded reasonable enough until you noticed how many people had supposedly been eaten by animals in a forest where nobody had actually seen the animals responsible.

Then there were the older stories.

The ones adults didn't tell children.

The ones whispered over kitchen tables after midnight.

Things that lived beneath the trees.

Things that hunted people.

Things that weren't animals.

I didn't believe any of that.

I believed in overdue books.

Rent.

Coffee.

Taxes.

Bad landlords.

And the fact that my car made a horrible noise whenever I turned left.

Monsters were not on my list of problems.

Something moved.

My foot came off the accelerator.

"What the hell?"

A shape crossed the road.

Fast.

Too fast.

I barely saw it.

It was tall.

At least I thought it was tall.

Then it disappeared between the trees.

I slowed further.

'Deer.'

Except it hadn't moved like a deer.

My headlights swept across the forest.

Nothing.

I swallowed.

"Okay. Keep driving."

I started forward again.

Another shape crossed the road.

This time I saw it.

Then another.

My stomach dropped.

There were three of them.

No.

Four.

They were running through the trees.

Not walking.

Not stalking.

Running.

And there was something horribly wrong with the way they moved.

One moment they were low, almost crawling.

The next they were upright.

Their limbs stretched too far with every stride.

They covered distance like gravity didn't apply to them.

One of them came out of the trees carrying something.

My brain refused to identify it.

Then the headlights caught an arm hanging down.

A human arm.

'That's a person.'

My heart slammed once.

Hard.

'That's a fucking person.'

I hit the brakes.

At that exact moment, the fourth figure burst from the trees.

It was bigger than the others.

Much bigger.

And it was running directly at me.

"Oh, shit!"

I stomped on the brake.

The Civic screamed.

The tires lost traction.

The steering wheel jerked beneath my hands.

The figure twisted.

Too late.

THUD.

The impact threw my entire body forward against the seatbelt.

My head snapped back.

The car shuddered.

Something rolled across the hood and disappeared from view.

I sat there frozen.

The engine ticked.

My hands were still locked around the steering wheel.

For three seconds, maybe five, I couldn't breathe.

"Oh my God."

My voice barely worked.

"Oh my God."

I looked through the windshield.

Nothing moved.

'What did I hit?'

My fingers fumbled for the ignition.

The engine died.

I opened the door.

Cold air hit my face.

The smell reached me immediately.

Blood.

I stepped out.

My boots hit the asphalt.

The headlights illuminated the road.

And there he was.

A man.

I stopped breathing again.

'That's not a man.'

At least, not a normal-sized one.

He was enormous.

He lay on his side in the middle of the road, one arm stretched across the asphalt and the other pulled toward his stomach.

Black hair covered part of his face.

His clothes were torn.

There was blood everywhere.

"Oh God."

I ran toward him.

I dropped to my knees.

"Hey!"

Nothing.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

I touched his shoulder.

He was burning hot.

Not warm.

Hot.

"What the hell?"

I pushed his hair away from his face.

And then my brain made a completely inappropriate observation.

'Oh.'

He was beautiful.

Not pretty.

Not handsome in the normal way.

Beautiful in a way that made no sense with the amount of blood covering him.

Sharp cheekbones.

Strong jaw.

Full mouth.

A face that looked like someone had carved it rather than grown it.

Then I saw the wounds.

The attraction vanished.

"Oh fuck."

There were deep cuts across his side.

One was open beneath his ribs, still bleeding.

I put two fingers against his neck.

His pulse hit my fingertips.

Strong.

Hard.

Fast.

'That shouldn't be possible.'

I'd just hit him with a car.

A person should not have a pulse like that after being thrown onto asphalt.

"Stay with me."

His chest moved.

Barely.

I grabbed my phone.

"Come on."

No signal.

I held it up.

Nothing.

"Come on!"

I tried emergency services.

The call connected.

For half a second.

Then static screamed through the speaker.

"Hello?"

Static.

"Hello?!"

The call died.

I stared at the screen.

No bars.

I tried again.

Nothing.

"You've got to be kidding me."

I looked around.

The road was empty.

The forest was silent.

The other figures were gone.

So was the body they'd been carrying.

Just me.

My car.

And this bleeding giant in the middle of Blackwood.

'I can't leave him here.'

That thought came immediately.

The next one followed.

'I also can't explain any of this to the police.'

What would I even say?

'Hello, officer. Sorry about the unconscious man on my back seat. I hit him with my car after seeing four things that looked like humans but moved like nightmares' They would send me to a fucking asylum.

Yeah.

Perfect.

I looked at him again.

His eyes were closed.

His breathing was shallow.

"Fine."

I stood.

"I'll deal with the police later."

I walked around to the back of my Civic and opened the passenger door.

Then I stared at him.

'How the hell am I supposed to move you?'

I crouched beside him and hooked my arms beneath his shoulders.

I pulled.

Nothing.

"Come on."

I pulled harder.

The man shifted maybe two inches.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

I planted both boots against the asphalt and pulled again.

My shoulders screamed.

The man's body finally moved.

I dragged him toward the car inch by brutal inch.

"You're six feet of asshole."

Another pull.

"Maybe six-five."

Another.

"Definitely an asshole."

I managed to get his upper body inside.

His legs remained outside.

I grabbed his ankle.

"Oh, you're going to hate me for this."

I pulled.

His entire body rolled into the back seat.

The suspension groaned.

I slammed the door.

For a second I just stood there, breathing hard.

My hoodie was covered in blood.

My hands were shaking.

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

I looked at the back seat.

He hadn't moved.

"Don't die."

I opened the door again.

"I mean it."

No response.

I stripped off my hoodie, folded it into the thickest pad I could make, and pressed it against the worst wound.

Blood immediately soaked through.

"Shit."

I pressed harder.

"You're not dying in my car."

I got behind the wheel.

Locked the doors.

All four.

Then I started the engine.

The headlights cut through the forest.

I drove.

Every few seconds I looked into the rearview mirror.

He was still there.

Still unconscious.

Still bleeding.

Still enormous.

I drove faster than I should have.

Then slowed down.

Then sped up again.

'If I crash again, I deserve whatever happens next.'

The trees finally began thinning.

Streetlights appeared.

I almost cried with relief.

Civilization.

Houses.

People.

Normal things.

I drove straight to my apartment complex.

Eight minutes later I pulled into my parking spot.

I shut off the engine.

For three breaths, I sat there.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then I looked back.

The man hadn't moved.

I opened the door.

"Okay."

I climbed out.

"Round two."

Getting him out was worse.

Much worse.

It took nearly ten minutes.

Three times I almost dropped him.

Once my knee hit the pavement so hard I saw stars.

"You weigh too fucking much."

His arm was over my shoulders.

His weight pressed against me.

I wrapped my other arm around his waist and started toward the stairs.

"Please don't wake up."

I paused.

"Actually, no. Wake up later."

Second floor.

Unit 2B.

My key refused to cooperate.

"Come on."

I twisted it.

Nothing.

"Don't do this to me."

I kicked the door.

It opened.

I dragged him inside.

The couch caught him with a heavy groan.

I let go.

He collapsed across it.

I stared at him.

Then at my blood-covered clothes.

Then at the couch.

"Oh, my landlord is going to fucking kill me."

I locked the door.

Deadbolt.

Chain.

Then I checked it again.

'Why am I checking the lock?'

I knew why.

Those things in the forest.

I didn't know what they'd been.

I didn't want to know.

But I knew I didn't want them finding him.

I went to the bathroom and grabbed every clean towel I owned.

Then my first-aid kit.

Then a bowl of warm water.

I dropped everything beside the couch.

Under the apartment light, the wounds looked worse.

Much worse.

I cleaned what I could.

He didn't wake.

I pressed towels against the cuts.

More blood.

I pressed harder.

"Come on."

His skin was still burning.

I checked his pulse again.

Strong.

Too strong.

I looked at his face.

Still nothing.

Then I noticed the scars.

There were dozens.

Across his chest.

His arms.

His shoulders.

Thin silver lines.

Some were straight.

Some weren't.

Some looked old enough to have faded years ago.

'What happened to you?'

I touched one without thinking.

My fingers stopped.

A shiver ran through me.

I pulled my hand away.

"Nope."

I sat back on the floor.

"No more touching mysterious bleeding men tonight."

He remained completely still.

I wiped my hands on a towel.

The apartment suddenly felt very small.

Too small.

Outside, something howled.

I froze.

The sound came from far away.

A long, low howl that seemed to crawl beneath my skin.

Another answered.

Then another.

My eyes moved toward the window.

'Dogs.'

That's what I told myself.

'Probably dogs.'

I looked back at the man.

His hand had curled into a fist.

Even unconscious.

Even injured.

His fingers were tightening.

Slowly.

I stared.

Then his eyelids moved.

I stopped breathing.

They opened.

For less than a second.

Amber.

Not brown.

Not hazel.

Amber.

Bright.

Almost glowing.

Then his eyes closed again.

I didn't move.

I couldn't.

My mouth had gone completely dry.

"What the fuck are you?"

He didn't answer.

Of course he didn't.

He was unconscious.

Bleeding on my couch.

And apparently had eyes that glowed like fucking headlights.

I looked toward the locked door.

Then back at him.

My life had been painfully ordinary twenty-four hours ago.

Library.

Apartment.

Rent.

Coffee.

Books.

Now there was a giant stranger bleeding on my couch, four impossible creatures somewhere in the forest, and a pair of amber eyes burned into my memory.

I should have called the police.

I should have driven him to a hospital.

I should have left him exactly where I'd found him and pretended I'd never seen anything.

Instead, I'd dragged him home.

I'd cleaned his wounds.

I'd covered him with my towels.

And now I was sitting on the floor beside him like some idiot waiting for a monster to wake up.

I rubbed both hands over my face.

'What have I done?'

Outside, another howl rose through the night.

This one sounded closer.

I looked at the window.

Then at the man.

"No."

I shook my head.

"Whatever you are..."

I swallowed.

"...you are not dying here."

His chest rose.

Fell.

Rose again.

I pulled the nearest blanket over him.

Then I stayed there.

Listening.

Waiting.

And wondering why, somewhere deep inside me, I already knew the worst part wasn't that I'd hit him.

It was that whatever had been chasing him through Blackwood was probably still looking for him.

And now they had to find me first.