“Look out!” She gasped at the same moment the creature lunged.
It latched onto him from behind. Long, clawed fingers dug into his shoulders, and thin spindly legs wrapped around his waist. He twisted in its grip as it clamped dagger-like teeth into the meat of his arm. Mr. Thorn groaned and ran backward, slamming the creature into a nearby tree.
It seemed to have stunned her because, for a moment, the creature unhooked her legs, and they dangled as Mr. Thorn wrestled to pull her latched bite off his arm. Thick green ooze poured from the wound, and Mr. Thorn’s steps turned sluggish. He swayed on his feet. The creature had a venomous bite.
An owl screeched, and Catherine flinched as it flew just past her head and landed at the base of a nearby tree. It used its wing to gesture toward a rock half-buried in leaf debris and soft earth. Did it want her to take up the rock and strike the creature with it? But owls couldn’t communicate like that. This entire thing was madness. If she closed her eyes and counted down would this all go away?
Mr. Thorn stumbled and fell onto one knee. He climbed up again and staggered backward again, trying to slam the creature into a tree a second time. Real or not, she had to do something. Catherine clawed at the earth and pulled at the rock until it broke free. She had to use both hands to lift it as dirt fell in clumps from it.
They had their backs to her as she crept up behind them; her arms shook with the effort as she lifted the stone above her head and brought it down hard on the creature’s skull. A crunch and a scream, it turned toward her, lips coated in blood. It hissed as it leaped toward her.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed. Catherine threw her arms up to shield herself, eyes screwed shut.
Something hit the ground with a thump. Catherine waited for the blow that never came. She cracked one eye open. Mr. Thorn knelt over the limp body of the creature. A pool of greenish blood pooled on the leaves and soaked the earth. Catherine’s shaking knees collapsed beneath her. The creature’s sightless eyes stared up at her, teeth open with malice, and the gash in its skull wept green blood.
“Are you hurt?” Mr. Thorn asked, though his voice sounded like it was underwater.
Catherine blinked up at him.
This couldn’t be real. She must be dreaming. But her throat ached where the creature had tried to strangle her, and the sharp, acidic scent of its blood turned her stomach. Her nails were caked with dirt from digging out the rock. Mr. Thorn grimaced and reached for the place where the creature had bitten him. Blood trickled from the tear in his clothes, and the skin beneath was ragged and torn.
“You’re hurt. We should call for a doctor.” She tried to climb to her feet, but her legs shook and threatened to give way beneath her.
“I’m fine, but you look ready to collapse. Lean upon me if you need to.” He held out his good arm for her to steady herself upon.
He did not move to grasp her or hold her against her will. It was a small gesture, but one she was startled to realize she’d never been given before. It was up to her to lean upon him if she so wished. Hesitatingly, she grasped his forearm. It felt as steady as an ancient oak branch.
“I must say, keeping you safe is a full-time job,” Mr. Thorn mused as they started walking back through the misty forest.
“What do you mean?” The words escaped her in a rush.
“The last time we met, there was a body.” He said it as casually as one mentions the weather.
Catherine stopped in her steps. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. She couldn’t have heard that right. She’d imagined Miss Ashton’s murder...
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook her head, and tried to keep her voice even. Perhaps this was a trick. He wanted to catch her, expose her for her madness.
Or was it madness? His arm was still bleeding, and he wobbled slightly. An ashen pallor had taken over his skin. Was she imagining that as well? No. Better to pretend. To look the other way was always easier.
“You don’t know, or you don’t want to admit it?” He shook his head and pressed a palm to his temple.
No one ever questioned her. From Mama and Papa, to the caretakers at Elk Grove, they were all quick to smooth things over. Willing to deny all the signs until they became inconvenient, until Catherine disobeyed.
“Why is it that humans continue to deny what is staring them in the face?” He slurred his words as he leaned onto a nearby tree. He braced himself and stared at the ground.
She locked her eyes on the ground. Her heart pounded in her throat. If this were real. If all of it was the truth... the creature, the murders, everything, what did that mean...years of torment...all of it for nothing?
“Because I’m afraid.” The words slid out of her barely above a whisper.
She wasn’t sure why she’d said it aloud. Perhaps it was shock, or maybe it was resignation. If she were truly descending into madness, there was no way to hide it any longer.
“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, Lady Thornton.” Her gaze shot up.
All her life, she’d been taught to ignore what was inconvenient, so she’d hidden behind a mask. His eyes were fever bright, and he seemed to only be standing by sheer force of will. Then he pitched forward, collapsing onto one knee. She took a step forward, then held herself back. What should she do? He needed help, but as she scanned the forest around them, she wasn’t entirely sure which way she needed to go to get back to the village or the manor.
His breathing was heavy and labored. She approached him warily. If it were all the truth, then the ghost with her carved up body was real, and Mr. Thorn was her killer. If all this were real... she might be in danger. Catherine stood back, hands twisted together. A light sheen of sweat dotted his brow. If he were a murderer, why had he saved her from that creature?
At the very least, she should find help; the rest she would have to figure out later. One step at a time, first to get him aid. She held out a hand. He stared up at her, his hair falling into his eyes.
