But who?
He inches closer, treading carefully so he doesn’t give away his location with a snapped twig. Then he sees her. Up ahead near the bothy. A woman, he thinks. She’s short, wearing a hooded coat.
Then she turns her head, and he sees her face.
It’s not just any woman.
It’s his stepmother.
His heart beats faster. She has come to him. She has found him and now he has another chance to kill her. Excitement shoots down his spine at the prospect.
He watches his prey for a few moments. She is a creature he knows well and has stalked for as long as he can remember. This beast is his ultimate trophy. Her eyes are searching but they haven’t found him yet. He slowly moves round a tree as she walks further from the bothy, dense condensation hanging low around them, obscuring the view.
He tracks her with his eyes but it’s tricky in the fog. He doesn’t want to lose her and he can’t get too close either. He hangs back for a moment, almost losing her, and then takes a few tentative steps. But as he does that, movement catches his eye to the right.
He turns.
What was that?
An animal of some sort? His instinct tells him that whatever it was moved like a human being. Dina? Back to get revenge? He waits, his senses tuned into his surroundings. Nothing stirs and he focuses back on the trail of the woman he hates most in this world.
Slowly, he moves in the same direction as his stepmother but she’s no longer in sight, swallowed by the fog. He swears under his breath and marches forward. She has to be up ahead.
He feels like he’s being watched.
But there’s nobody there.
He ignores the hairs standing up on the back of his neck and pushes on.
She must be close. His whole body buzzes with anticipation of the slaughter. He lifts the shovel in his hands, ready to strike. He’ll beat her bloody. Bash her skull in.
“Where are you, mother?” he whispers, lifting the shovel to shoulder height.
An owl hoots in the branches above his head and the fog hovers in tangled wisps above the ground. He thinks he sees a figure through the trees, dark and shapeless. A monster approaching, ready to devour him. It moves closer and he wonders if it is human at all. A spirit of the woods or a ghost sent to haunt him.
It begins to rain, pattering against his coat.
Then her long, white face emerges from the pale, hovering shroud.
The face of his stepmother.
CHAPTER 77
CLAIRE
Ihide behind a tree, my knife in hand, waiting for Magnus to pass me. The fog is heavy but I hear twigs snap as he makes his way towards me. He’s so close I can almost smell him.
I control my breathing so he can’t hear me.
Rain starts to fall lightly, hitting the leaves and sinking into the soil under my feet.
I cling tightly to the knife, waiting for the moment to plunge it into his flesh.
The hilt slips in my sweaty grip but I hold firm, blade raised.
I watch the forest, ready for my moment.
Then Faye stumbles out of the mist.
