Risen Read online

  “What does that mean, as long as they think that?”

  She ignores the question and instead whirls around, pulls open a kitchen drawer, and rummages through it with shaking fingers. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” she utters over and over. “I was so stupid to think we could stay hidden. We stayed in one spot for too long. This is all my fault.”

  I take a step toward her only to stop. I’m afraid to touch her. The wildness rolls off of her in waves so thick they prickle against my skin. Is she losing her mind? Am I?

  “Here we go.” She withdraws a small blue glass bottle like the ones that hold our essential oils. Unlike the oils, this one is not labeled.

  I inch away. “What is that?”

  “My own special blend.” She unscrews the lid and dips a dropper into the bottle. “Dogwood, the cursed tree, and Palo Santo, the blessed tree. Here, put it on your pulse points.” She snatches my wrist and squeezes three drops onto my skin. “Rub it in good. It doesn’t take much.”

  The mixture burns, but I do as I’m told. “What’s this for?”

  Ignoring me, she drops oil onto her own wrists, rubbing them together, along with the back of her neck.

  “What’s going on?” I ask again.

  She shoves the bottle into my hand, curling my fingers around it. “Keep this on you at all times. They don’t like the taste.”

  “The taste?” The last word comes out a squeak. I shove the bottle into my pocket where it rests beside the phone. Is this my fault? Did I do this to her when I said I wanted to leave? I nearly have my phone pulled out of my pocket to call 9-1-1 when I hear tires crunching over gravel.

  Aunt Rachel’s face pales to the color of a full moon. “We’re too late. They’re here.”

  Something sour burns up my throat. “Who is here?”

  “The monsters.” She snatches the worn baseball bat she keeps beside the stove. She told me it was for wild animals. Now I’m not so sure. “Stay behind me, Charlie. If you run, that will only make it worse. They get off on the chase.” A strange sound, something between a whimper and sob, escapes her throat. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted this.”

  I can’t stand it. I pull the phone out of my pocket.

  Aunt Rachel recoils like it’s a viper poised to strike. “Where did you get that?”

  “At the gas station. I’m calling the police.”

  “How could you—never mind.” She shakes her head. “The police can’t help. No one can.”

  The car’s engine turns off. The silence that follows is so heavy, for a moment I wonder if I’ve fallen deaf. Then Jax lets out a series of sharp barks. I flinch at each one.

  The knock at the door is much softer than what I’d expect from a monster. Jax lowers his head, teeth bared in a snarl. His normally dark eyes are wide and bloodshot. A line of drool hangs from his lips.

  Aunt Rachel raises the bat. “Remember, don’t run.”

  I dial 9-1-1. A message appears on the screen to let me know the call failed. “Shit,” I mutter.

  Aunt Rachel glances at me and then the phone. “It would have been pointless, anyway.”

  “Rachel Keegan?” A man calls from outside the door. “We know you’re in there.” There’s a lilt to his voice, betraying a smile.

  Aunt Rachel snatches me by the arm and shoves me behind her with enough force to nearly knock me over. “Do not touch that door,” she hisses.

  The man clucks. “Don’t be like that, Rachel. We have, after all, missed you so much all these years. Who do you have in there with you? I should say we’d like to meet them as well.”

  Before I can wonder how it was he was able to hear us, the door handle jiggles.

  Aunt Rachel inhales sharply and raises the bat higher. A line of hair has risen from the top of Jax’s skull all the way to the base of his tail. His growls sharpen.

  “Please contain your animal, Rachel,” another man calls out, “or there will be consequences.”

  “What is going on?” Fear rockets along every nerve in my body, frying them to a crisp.

  “Hush,” she spits at me.

  “Pity,” the first man says. “This could have gone so easily. But as you wish.”

  Aunt Rachel grabs my arm and squeezes until pain shoots up my shoulder. “Remember, do not run. They love the chase.”

  Before I can ask her what she’s talking about, an ear-shattering crash sends me staggering backward. Aunt Rachel releases me and I scream—or at least I think I do. Splintering wood and shattering glass blow inward, as if a truck had rammed through the front door. But when the rubble settles, instead of a car, two men stand in the hole that was once our door. The night sky illuminates their tall frames.

  “Jax?” I twist around, searching for my dog. I spot his legs from beneath a large chunk of what’s left of our door. My gut wrenches. “Jax!” I jerk forward only to be stopped by my aunt.

  “No sudden movements,” she whispers in my ear.

  Dusting themselves off, both men tilt their heads, studying me in a way that makes my insides crawl. Even afraid, I can’t help but notice the blistering beauty of their chiseled jaws and angled noses. They’re both so beautiful, in fact, the word unnatural comes to mind, raising the hairs along my neck.

  “Rachel, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.” The first man steps carefully over the splintered wood. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He adjusts the leather gloves on his hands, even though it’s not nearly cool enough out to need them. He wears a dark, tailored suit, with a crisp navy tie, and spotless shoes. The black lenses of his sunglasses are every bit as dark as his hair.

  “What do you want?” my aunt snarls, pushing me farther behind her, forcing me to peer over her shoulder.

  The man grins. “Don’t be coy. Where is the boy?”

  “Dead,” she practically spits. “You know this. You monsters killed him.”

  Killed? My fear is a solid ball of ice wedged inside my ribs. I bring a hand to my chest as if I might dig it out. Aunt Rachel told me her son died when he was a baby from sudden infant death syndrome. What else did she lie about?

  The second man steps forward and sweeps his gaze around the cabin. His dark skin contrasts against the light gray of his suit. The overhead light reflects off his shaved head and black sunglasses. He sniffs loudly and wrinkles his nose. “Despite the disgusting odor permeating place, I don’t smell anyone else.”

  “Well, that’s a pity,” the first man says, clasping his hands in front of him. “Still, the Queen expects us to be thorough. Rachel, you’re coming with us.”

  “What?” I snake my arm through my aunt’s. “No. You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  Removing my hand, Aunt Rachel clutches my wrist so tightly I wince. There’s no mistaking the warning in her grip.

  “Who is the girl?” The dark-skinned man asks.

  “My niece.” Aunt Rachel edges in front of me, almost as if she’s trying to shield me from view. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  The first man continues to study me. Even though I can’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses of his glasses, I can feel them slide along my body, taking in every inch. It’s all I can do not to shudder. Finally, he shakes his head. “The girl is not important.” He walks forward and takes Aunt Rachel’s chin in his hand. “This is our prize.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut.

  “The queen is really looking forward to seeing you again, Rachel. It was impolite to leave without saying goodbye.” He raises his sunglasses, revealing blue-gray eyes the color of ice. “Look at me, Rachel.”

  “No.” She struggles in his grip, his fingers digging into her skin.

  “Maybe you would prefer if I spoke privately with your niece?” The man smiles at me, revealing long pointed fangs like those belonging to a snake.

  Yelping, I scuttle backward. My heart ricochets against my sternum. “What—What are you?”

  Aunt Rachel’s eyes fly open. “Leave her alone.”

  “Then look at me.”
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  “Please.” Aunt Rachel whimpers. The sound of it digs claws into my chest. “Don’t do this in front of her.”

  “Do what?” I press myself against the wall, fingernails digging into the wood. “What’s going on?”

  The man ignores me. “Sorry, Rachel, you don’t get to make the rules.” He squeezes her face until the skin beneath his fingers turns white. She gasps. “Look at me.”

  I should run to her. I should stop this. But fear snakes around my legs and keeps me rooted to the floor.

  Aunt Rachel meets my gaze. The desperation in her eyes carries a message I can’t make out. Slowly she turns away and looks up at the man. He stares at her for several heartbeats. Her face slackens, her shoulders slump, and her eyelids droop.

  “There we go,” he coos. “Now, you’re going to drop that silly weapon of yours and come along without a fight. Is that understood?”

  The bat falls to the floor with a thump.

  My pulse echoes like thunder inside my head. “Aunt Rachel.” I reach out and tug on her arm. “Aunt Rachel, look at me.”

  She doesn’t move.

  “Time to go.” The man snaps his fingers.

  Wordlessly, my aunt heads for the door. Her head sways on her neck as if she drank one too many glasses of strawberry wine.

  “No!” I dig my heels against the floor and try to anchor her in place. “What’s wrong with you?” My voice cracks as the sob building in my chest threatens to break free.

  She doesn’t look at me and yanks her arm from my grasp.

  “Don’t leave me.” I reach for her, only to be stopped when the man grabs my neck. His fingers dig into my skin, squeezing hard enough that fire burns in my throat and black spots pepper my vision. I cough.

  “Now, now.” He pulls me toward him, his eyes of ice penetrating my own. “I want you to stand still and be a good girl.”

  He flings me backward. My shoulder hits the wall first, followed by my head. The sound of a crack fills my skull as I slide to the floor. Lightning bolts of pain jolt through my body. I cough several times as air returns to my lungs. “You’re not taking my aunt.” Fighting the dark curtains of unconsciousness that threaten to close, I crawl forward and grab the discarded bat.

  “Interesting,” the second man says, tilting his head. “The girl doesn’t obey. Why wasn’t she compelled?”

  The first man shrugs. “Rachel loves her concoctions. Maybe she crafted something to ward compulsion.” With arms folded, he watches me as I struggle to stand.

  I have no idea what they’re talking about and I don’t care. I raise the bat and, with a scream, I bring the weapon down on the man’s shoulder.

  He doesn’t flinch, even though shockwaves from the impact roll down my arm. “You’re beginning to annoy me, girl.” He rips the bat out of my hands. The wood snaps and splinters in his clutched fists.

  With a yelp, I stumble backward. It’s not real. It can’t be. “You drugged us.” It’s the only thing that explains Aunt Rachel’s behavior and my hallucinations.

  He laughs, his fangs gleaming. “Oh, poor, sweet child. Has she not told you anything?”

  Monsters. Aunt Rachel’s earlier warning blasts through my head. I scramble backward until my spine meets the wall.

  The man waves a hand over his shoulder. “Sebastian, come.”

  A third figure appears in the doorway. He looks like one of the cologne models in the gas station fashion magazines I leaf through. His nose is sloped and slightly pinched at the tip. The angle of his jawline is sharp enough to cut bread. He’s younger than the other two, maybe in his early twenties to their forties. “Yes, Frederick?” His wavy chocolate-brown hair is swept away from his forehead, curling at the edges of his shirt collar.

  “We’re taking Rachel to the Queen. I want you to stay behind and search the cabin. Rachel claims the boy is dead. See if you can find evidence to prove or disprove the claim.”

  Sebastian pulls his sunglasses off and tucks them into the pocket of his jacket. He turns his icy-blue gaze on me. Arching an eyebrow, he asks, “What about the girl?”

  Frederick shrugs. “She has no value. Eat her. Kill her. I don’t care. Just make sure she’s disposed of.”

  Chapter

  Three

  My breath catches in my throat. I’m seventeen, I’ve barely left these stupid woods, and now I’m going to die in them.

  Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t agree to a disposal.”

  “You don’t have to. Consider it an order.” Frederick slides his glasses back into place. “Meet us in St. Louis when you are through.”

  Studying me, Sebastian frowns. “I’ll take care of it.”

  My heart leaps inside my throat, threatening to choke me. This has to be a nightmare. Wake up, Charlie. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

  With my shoulders pressed flat against the door, I don’t move as the first two men leave, taking my aunt with them. Minutes later, car doors slam and an engine roars to life.

  Studying me, Sebastian removes his suit jacket and drapes it across the couch. “What’s your name?”

  I clamp my mouth shut. Fear laces through my ribs. With as much as they’ve taken—my dog’s life and my aunt—I’m not about to give them one more damn thing.

  “All right.” Sighing, he perches on the arm of the couch. “Maybe I can guess. Sarah? Michelle? Olivia? Am I getting warmer?”

  “Screw you.”

  “Interesting name,” he says, revealing his own set of sharp fangs. My stomach lurches. “Is that German?” There’s a bit of humor in his eyes, a flash of humanity that the other men didn’t have. I wonder if I can convince him not to kill me. Better yet, maybe I can convince Jax to eat him.

  I turn toward the door, only Jax’s feet no longer protrude from the pile of rubble. “My dog.” Whipping around, my fingers clench into fists. “What the hell did you do with my dog?”

  He looks to the rubble and shrugs. “What would I want with a disgusting animal? Your dog ran off.”

  “No. Jax would never go anywhere without me.” I start for the door, only to have him snatch me by the arm and whirl me around. My heart leaps into my throat.

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe.” There’s a gleam in his eye that sends my pulse into a frenzy. “You’re not leaving this cabin unless I say so.”

  “I’d like to see you stop me.” I slam a fist against his chest with enough force to make me wince.

  Sebastian doesn’t budge. He sighs. “It’s almost cute how you think you stand a chance, but you’re only wasting my time.” With his hand still clamped on my arm, he drags me across the room and thrusts me on the sofa. “Sit.”

  I stand. “No.”

  His eyes narrow. “You’re starting to annoy me.”

  “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

  “I’m happy to show you.” Looking around, he snags one of Aunt Rachel’s handkerchiefs off the top of a nearby laundry basket. “Hands behind your back.”

  I fight to keep my fear from showing on my face. “Screw you.”

  He snags my wrist and wrenches it behind my back. Even as I struggle, he easily grabs my other arm and ties them together so tight, I can feel the blood pooling in my fingertips. After pushing me onto the couch, he takes a scarf from the same basket and winds it around my feet.

  “Now,” he says, standing, “let’s try this again. Sit.”

  I struggle to pull my tingling hands apart, but the handkerchief doesn’t budge. “So how are you going to do it?” Tears well in my eyes. “Stab me? Shoot me?” Other worse ways that I’m too scared to speak out loud cross my mind, and I shudder.

  He stares at me for several heartbeats before shaking his head. “You humans are all so afraid to die. You spend your entire lives dreading it—fighting it. If only you would learn to embrace death for the gift it is, you would have nothing to fear.”

  “Easy to say when you’re not the one tied up.”

  “Maybe.” He inclines his head. “Can I be hones
t with you?”

  I glare at him.

  “Thank you.” He chuckles. “I don’t really enjoy killing like the rest of them. It’s messy and I just don’t understand the thrill the others get.”

  The world shifts beneath me, leaving me dizzy. “Is that what those men are going to do to my aunt?” My voice trembles.

  “Truthfully?” He rakes his fingers through his hair. It’s such a human action that I almost forget he’s a monster. “I don’t know. I try to avoid court politics.”

  “Court?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.” He turns a small circle, taking in the room. He frowns. “What I do need from you is the proof the Queen is looking for—proof that your aunt’s son is dead.”

  I snort. “If she had a son, don’t you think I would know about it? There is no proof of anything here.”

  “Maybe.” He tilts his head. “Maybe not.” He pulls open a nearby closet, pulls the coats off hangers, and throws them onto the floor. Next, he runs his hands across the top shelf. “If you did know something, I’d be willing to make a deal with you in exchange.”

  I shift on the sofa, no longer able to feel my fingers. “What kind of deal?”

  He stops rummaging. “Your life in exchange for information about your cousin’s whereabouts.”

  “I already told you, there is no information. My cousin died when he was a baby. End of story.”

  “We’ll see.” He lifts a cardboard box off the shelf and dumps wool hats and gloves onto the floor. He kicks them aside and grunts. “This is going to take a while.”

  “Great,” I mutter. Leaning against the couch, I squeeze my eyes closed. This can’t be happening. It’s too crazy. A bad dream is the only thing that makes sense. All I have to do is open my eyes, and Aunt Rachel will be at the stove pouring a new batch of soap into molds. Jax will be curled up on the rug by her feet, snoring softly.

  When I open my eyes, nothing’s changed. Aunt Rachel is gone. Jax is gone. And I’m here, in my broken cabin, with a monster.

  Sebastian opens the bi-fold pantry doors. He picks up a bag of chips, sniffs, winces, and quickly sets them aside.