The Darkest Embrace Page 6

  “It wants that feeling. The rush. An essence,” Freddy quickly said. “It feeds on that. It seduces its prey and sucks it dry.”

  “It kills what it feeds on?”

  “Eventually,” Freddy said. “It can keep them alive for a really long time.”

  “Oh, God.” Jessie started for the woods, ignoring Freddy and the mud and everything but following Max’s boot prints. “Max!”

  “What you saw wasn’t my sister!” Freddy shouted after her, but Jessie had no more time for him. No time for this.

  She needed to get to Max before whatever had led him into the woods did.

  * * *

  The fall of auburn hair was the same. The slight build, the freckled arms, hands with long fingers. The face, though, was only barely Patty. Unformed, the eyes the wrong shape but the right color, the mouth a lipless slash. The thing in front of him was a monster trying to wear Patty’s face and body, and failing.

  Every part of Max ached. He’d followed the monster straight into the woods and into a ditch lined with sharpened sticks and boulders. Nothing had punctured him too badly, thank God, but he was a mess of bruises and scrapes. He may have cracked a few ribs, too. Woozy from the pain, he’d been aware of something grabbing him by the back of the collar and dragging him through the woods to this slanting, ramshackle shelter built against the side of a cliff. It wasn’t quite a cave, though much of it was set into a huge crack in the rock. The rest of it had been constructed of broken trees and woven vines.

  Now he sat propped against the rock, his shirt opened to the waist. The thing had been kissing him all over, its wet, slurping mouth leaving a trail of slime along his bare skin. The thought of it made him heave, but he couldn’t move even to turn his face and spit. Something in the saliva, Max thought blearily. Something like a venom that half paralyzed him and, disgustingly, acted as sort of an aphrodisiac as well. It burned, but there was no denying it also sent another sort of fire through him.

  The Patty-thing shuffled in front of him, its hair obscuring that awful face. The body, from the back, bore no resemblance to Max’s ex-girlfriend. Broad, bony shoulders, the spine clearly outlined, knob for knob. Jutting hip bones. Sexless. The arms, too long and stretching longer. When the thing stood, its head brushed the makeshift roof.

  It hadn’t spoken a single word, but now it whispered, “Darling.”

  Max choked and tried to turn his head when the thing came close to his mouth and pried open his lips with its bony fingers to give him the darkest embrace. The long, slick stroke of its meaty tongue sent ripples of revulsion through him, but after a minute he found himself relaxing into it. Not accepting it, simply...unable to resist...

  * * *

  Jessie was no tracker. She’d gone hunting with her dad once in a while, more as an excuse for both of them to hike into the woods together and enjoy some one-on-one time rather than an actual hunt. She couldn’t remember her dad ever coming home with anything he’d killed. Still, he’d taught her how to look for signs something had gone through the forest before them—rubbed bits of trees, crushed grass, gouged earth.

  Following Max wasn’t hard at all. He hadn’t been trying to hide his tracks, had left huge patches of bent branches and footprints. At least for the first few hundred feet into the woods. Then the trail, such as it was, became harder to find. With the ground so soft from the storm, she’d thought it would be easier; but in the cover of the deep shadows, everything got harder to see.

  She listened instead.

  Head up, muffling the sound of her own panting breath as best she could, Jessie strained her ears for any sound. Max’s voice, the crack and rustle of underbrush. Anything. There was nothing but the far-off rush of water and the beat of her heart in her ears.

  She stopped herself from running pell-mell through the woods, screaming his name. That wouldn’t help, and might end up with her going in the wrong direction. The need to find him was staggering enough to knock her to her knees, but Jessie kept herself centered, focused.

  The half-assed story Freddy had told her would have been completely unbelievable if Jessie hadn’t always harbored a secret fascination with the strange and unknown—and if she hadn’t seen at least part of the thing with her own eyes. Ultimately, it didn’t matter what it was. Jessie was going to find Max.

  She gave in, at last, to the need to scream his name. Once, then again, even louder. She put everything she had into it, let her voice rise up and up until it cracked.

  “Jessie!”

  She heard but didn’t see him. “Max! Where are you?”

  She turned at the sound of rustling brush, her rake raised and her hand on the knife. A moment later, a familiar black-and-blue plaid shirt emerged from the trees. Jessie let out a low cry and limped toward him. She was in his arms immediately, her face buried against his chest.

  “Hey, now,” Max said. “It’s okay.”

  Jessie looked at him. “What happened?”

  His mouth worked and brow furrowed, but it took him a while to find the words. Blood had crusted along his hairline and in one corner of his mouth, though she couldn’t see any wounds. Max shook his head.

  “It was Patty. I told you. I saw her, and I went after her.”

  “What did you do to her?” Jessie touched his scalp with gentle fingers, looking for the source of the blood.

  Max ducked from her touch. “Nothing. She went into the woods. I couldn’t see her. Let’s go back to the cabin. Get something to eat. I’m starving.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jessie pushed onto her tiptoes to get a better look, but again he ducked away from her. “Stay still. I want to see where you’re hurt.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  She hugged him again. “Thank God. Freddy had this crazy story about something in the woods, some sort of...thing...”

  Max’s arms went around her, squeezing. “Freddy.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t have believed it except, you know...we saw something.” A chill scratched at her when she thought of the monstrous, misshapen shadow. “I don’t know what it was, but it was definitely weird.”

  “It was Patty,” Max told her in a rough voice. “It was Patty.”

  Jessie looked at him again, uneasy. “Maybe you should sit down. You look pale.”

  Max kissed her. His mouth pried at hers, his hands roaming up and down her back until they settled on her hips and pulled her close. His grip was too tight, hurting. His tongue stabbed at her.

  Heat spread through her; desire rose unexpectedly and fiercely. Burning. Crackling through her nerves like an electric shock, the sheer force of it weakened her knees so that she sagged against him.

  Max’s mouth moved from hers to her throat, nipping and licking. One hand went between her legs, pressing her through the denim. She went crazy for his touch, arching, an inarticulate moan escaping her.

  The world swam.

  Max’s hands dug into her hair. He breathed hard into her ear, panting, his breath hot and somehow thick. He moved against her. The press of his teeth stung too much, too hard, and although Jessie sometimes didn’t mind a little pain, this was too much. All of it was—What did he want to do—fuck her right here in the middle of the woods with monster and ex-girlfriend and Freddy as witnesses?

  “Max...”

  He pressed her harder, his mouth working on her neck. Sucking. She was drunk on the pleasure, head spinning and stomach churning like she might puke or pass out.

  This was wrong.

  Then she realized what it was. Max smelled of fabric softener and soap and cologne, but the man mauling her throat reeked like a wet basement. Jessie put her hands on his chest and pushed, but he clung to her like a burr.

  What had Freddy said? It was hard to think, exactly like she was hammered, though Jessie hadn’t been truly drunk since she was a freshman in
college. She got a knee up between them, pressing his balls but not quite shoving hard enough to get him off her.

  What you saw wasn’t my sister.

  That’s what Freddy had said. The question was, if it wasn’t his sister, what was it? And if this wasn’t Max—

  “Get the hell off me!” Jessie put all her weight behind the sharp, upward jerk of her knee into not-Max’s crotch.

  The blow would have felled a normal man, but the thing gobbling and grabbing at her only grunted and went back half a step. She caught sight of its face and screamed, a high whistling cry of disgust and terror. It had Max’s eyes, but his mouth had turned into a long, fleshy tube capped with a contracting ring of muscle.

  Jessie jerked her knee upward again, harder this time, as she shoved it. Simultaneously, she wrenched herself free of its grip. Its fingers had gone long and wiggly, its arms dangling far below its sleeves. Its head swooped loosely back and forth on its neck as it grabbed for her, but she stumbled back, out of reach. Her hand found the knife on her belt and she pulled it free.

  This thing wasn’t Max, and Jessie was going to make sure it didn’t get her, too.

  Chapter 6

  Max came to shivering, curled on his side on a bed of damp leaves. He wore only his briefs. Every part of him ached, especially several raw spots on his neck and chest that came away sticky with blood and slime when he touched them.

  “Jessie.” He was on his feet in seconds, though he sagged against the stone cavern wall to steady himself.

  Everything seemed far away, everything seemed muffled. Max shook his head, then again, hard enough to rattle his eyeballs. When that didn’t work, he bit his tongue until the copper taste of blood squirted into his mouth. The pain was white and bright and knocked him down.

  He got up.

  He made it to the doorway before the earth came up and hit him in the face. Spitting dirt, Max rolled onto his back and found strength in the sight of the sky. Blue with white, fluffy clouds, just a glimpse of it visible through the canopy of trees, but it was enough.

  His bare feet found every rock and thorn, but those pains were nothing compared to the thought that Jessie might be in danger. Max pushed through tangled branches, fighting the slap of pine needles. From the clearing up ahead, he heard the sounds of struggle.

  When he burst through the final, entangling embrace of the underbrush, Max was in full-on battle mode. Fists raised, heart pumping, he staggered toward Jessie who was on the ground, the thing ready to pounce her. It wore his clothes, the son of a bitch. His hair. Fuck, it probably wore his face, and the idea that it could have used it to try and seduce her vanquished any last trace of fuzzy head or weak limbs.

  Max grabbed it by the back of the shirt and yanked. It stumbled back, gangly arms flailing. Crimson arced, spattering the ground and Max when the thing turned.

  It didn’t look like him anymore. It didn’t even look human. Blood gushed from the slash in its throat, and even though the thing scrabbled helplessly at the wound, there was no stanching it.

  Jessie sprang up, a carving knife in her hand, but she didn’t use it to slash again. “Max!”

  Together, they watched the thing go to its knees. Every part of it had distorted now, bulging and shuddering as it shifted rapidly through face after face. Hair in a rainbow of shades grew and shrank. It sprouted breasts that just as quickly disappeared. Its mouth contorted, the shriek coming from it like the sound of tires screeching, kettles whistling.

  Incredibly, it looked at them. It saw them and it knew them. It wasn’t human, but whatever it was, knowledge gleamed in its narrow-eyed gaze. Intelligence and something like hatred. It lurched upward, slashing at Jessie with fingertips suddenly transformed into claws.

  Max didn’t think, he moved. He pushed himself between the talons and Jessie, catching the brunt of the blow. Pain ripped up his side and across his chest. Behind him, Jessie cried out.

  Then she was at his side, gripping the rake like a baseball bat. “Down!”

  Again, no thought, just action. Max ducked as Jessie swung like a pro. The rake’s tines connected with the thing’s jaw, the sound thick and meaty as the blow rocked the monster’s head back. Its wounded throat gaped and tore, more blood gushing.

  Jessie swung again. This time, the thing’s head completely came away, leaving a jutting, gore-spattered stump from which sudden writhing tendrils sprouted. Its entire body heaved and shuddered before slumping forward, finally still.

  “Not so greedy now, are you?” Jessie said and spit on it.

  That’s when the monster started to change again.

  * * *

  The monster never dies the first time.

  Jessie knew that from the movies, but this was no movie. This was real life, and apparently when you cut off something’s head, it really did stay dead. The thing in front of them shook and shifted, melting. Flesh oozed and bubbled like it had been dunked in acid. The stench was horrific.

  In moments only a puddle of Max’s clothes remained. The dirt had soaked up whatever remained of the Greedy One. What had been green was now dead and brown. Jessie wondered if anything would ever grow there again.

  “Jessie?”

  She turned and gathered Max into her arms, not caring that he was covered in muck and blood. She kissed him hungrily. She breathed in deep, taking in his smell. Then she burst into exhausted, exhilarated tears.

  * * *

  Cleaned and bandaged, Max’s wounds were far from superficial, but he’d live. Dressed in clean, dry clothes, the only indication that he wasn’t his usual self was the stiff way he moved. Jessie had tried to get him to stay on the couch while Freddy changed all four of their tires with replacements he’d brought from the garage, but Max had insisted on overseeing the installation. He didn’t trust Freddy, and Jessie didn’t blame him.

  “It was too early,” Freddy said miserably. “I thought youse would be okay.”

  “How could you rent this place to anyone at all, knowing that thing was out there?” Jessie demanded.

  Freddy shook his head, looking away, and Jessie caught a glimpse of something sly on his face before his expression became contrite. “Needed the money.”

  “And so long as it was taking us, it would leave you alone,” Max said. He’d been quiet before this, but now his voice stabbed the air, harsh. “Right?”

  Freddy stammered, twisting his hands together, around and around. Grime had sunk deep into his knuckles, but it was better than blood, Jessie thought. He shook his head again.

  “No, no...”

  “Bullshit,” Max said evenly.

  Jessie looked at him and took his hand. Their fingers linked, squeezing. “Max?”

  “That thing,” Max spat, “was inside me. In my head. You think I wasn’t inside of it a little, too? I know what it wanted, and why you let us come here, knowing what would happen. If it took us, it would leave all of you alone.”

  Jessie’s gut twisted, and looking at Freddy’s guilty face, she knew what Max had said was true. “You son of a bitch!”

  “What are you gonna do?” Freddy cried, making a fist that didn’t look at all threatening. “You gonna go to the police? What will you tell ’em? Nobody will ever believe you!”

  “How long?” Max demanded, advancing on him. “How many years?”

  “Forever!” Freddy shouted. His voice softened and trembled. “It’s been around here forever.”

  “Why didn’t you just kill it?” Jessie asked. “I mean, it was strong and scary, but...it wasn’t invincible. Why wouldn’t you have hunted it down and killed it if it kept feeding off people?”

  Freddy said nothing, and finally, Max answered for him.

  “Because it was family,” he said quietly. “Right, Freddy?”

  Freddy got that sly look again, but just for a co
uple seconds before he completely broke down. “It didn’t take anyone for a long, long time. Years. It took Carrie when she was twenty, that was twenty years ago.... We thought maybe it was satisfied. We figured maybe it had had enough! But then she started showing up, hanging around and it was Carrie, but it wasn’t anymore. At first she was young, like she’d been. Young and pretty. But then she started getting old, her face was a mess. And we knew it would only be a matter of time. And I got kids!” he shouted. “I got kids.”

  “So you thought you’d sacrifice us?” Jessie spit away the sour taste. “Because it looked like your sister? It just looked like her, Freddy, don’t you get it? It wasn’t Carrie any more than it was Max!”

  “But it was still family, wasn’t it, Freddy? That thing belonged to you, and you all belonged to it. It had become part of all of you.” Freddy said nothing. Max made a rude, dismissive gesture. “We’re gone. C’mon, Jessie, let’s get out of here.”

  The cell still didn’t work and neither did the GPS, and the bridge wasn’t repaired, but Freddy had sketched them an accurate map of how to use alternate roads to get back to the main highway. They spent the time in silence until they reached asphalt, and then Max pulled to the side of the road and turned off the ignition.

  He turned to her. In an echo of that first day when they’d made out in the front seat after almost running off the road, Max and Jessie dived for each other. She clung to him, his hands in her hair, while she kissed the breath out of him.

  “I was so scared,” she said around the lump in her throat.

  “I wanted to make sure it couldn’t hurt you,” Max answered.

  They kissed again for what felt like a very long time, and even though there was need behind the embrace, it was more a comfort than anything else. When finally they broke apart to breathe, Jessie buried her face against him. She fought tears. Max held her close.

  “I would never let anything hurt you,” Max said. “I love you.”

  She already knew that, of course. She’d seen it in every look he ever gave her. But Jessie lifted her face to his and kissed him with salt on her lips. “I love you, too.”