The men led him towards the trailers, clearly eager to be away from his father. One of them opened the door, leaping back as the deer flowed out in a panicking river of hooves and tails and horns. Most of them were young but Cal saw a couple bucks boasting an impressive rack. They’d be the prime targets of the afternoon.
He helped corral the deer into the woods, away from the town. They were jumpy from the long ride over and eager to run. Watching them disappear into the woods, with its unfamiliar terrain and fauna, Cal felt a brief flicker of regret.
“Thanks, man.” One of the men clapped him on the shoulder. “Your father’s a strange one.”
Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it, he thought.
He headed back to his family. The reporter and the cameraman were still there but most of the equipment had been packed up and they looked tired and ready to leave. His sister and mother had already made their escape but his father and brother were both still there. Cal avoided eye contact as he started for the house, but Ben, standing beside his father like a hired soldier, stepped into his path to block him.
“Why don’t you pose Baby Cal in the square with the statue?” he called out.
The reporter perked up. “What a great idea.” Before he could leave, she darted to his side, looping a possessive arm through his. Cal shot his brother a dark look as she began walking the two of them to the town square. He was smirking.
Shelly posed him beside the festooned statue and then said, “Perfect. Stand right there.”
The wind blew cold as he stood under the statue, damp with the promise of rain that would bring hellish humidity later. He raked his fingers through his hair, pushing the dark locks out of his eyes; he had the same curl pattern as his great-grandfather.
“We should use these for the article,” Shelly said excitedly. “He looks so intimidating. It’s too bad we don’t have a long coat handy . . . or some sort of costume.”
“I think that’s enough,” he spoke into the flashing lights blinding his field of vision.
“All right.” She sounded disappointed. “I’d still like to speak to you about the festival—”
“Our city manager is just over there,” he said, pointing. “She has more of a hand in things than I do. I’m only the spare, after all.”
“But—”
He was already walking away. The light had grown more intense: a deep golden green filtering down through the stormy clouds. It reflected off the ancient pitted windows of Ravensgate like tarnished silver, each flash mirroring the unease that crested higher with every step he took.
Something is wrong, he thought, as he went up the stairs. His pace quickened, and in his haste, he forgot himself, boards squeaking beneath his weight.I can feel it.
When he go to the unicorn room, Nadine was gone.
Cal stood there, his heart still pounding from his rapid ascent up the staircase.I don’t believe it. They got to her first.
He’d been too late.
“Missing something?”
His brother’s knowing voice filled his veins with something as hot and bright as heated metal.
“What did you do to her?”
“I had Odessa take her into the woods. We would have done it earlier but she was—” Ben paused, hefting Cal’s rifle “—conveniently indisposed.”
“You took her,” he repeated slowly, “into the woods.”
“Odessa did,” he clarified. “And she’s still alive—for now.”
For now.
Reading his incredulous expression correctly, Ben said, “Find her, Brother. Find her before I do. One of us is writingin that book tonight. And one of us might just have two entries before the night is over. I wonder,” he taunted, “who it will be?”
Cal snatched his gun out of his brother’s hands and stormed down the stairs, ignoring his mocking laughter. The sun was beginning to set—his favorite time of day—but now the treeline looked black and menacing while silhouetted against all that gold. He cursed as he thought of all the time wasted on interviews and useless preparations. And for what—this?
The crack of gunfire was slowing as people began to retire along with the light. Cal strode determinedly for the woods. The road was clear now that the cattle trucks were gone, the deer having made off as deeply into the woods as they were able.
He went to the glade first but Nadine wasn’t there. The area looked trampled, though, which could have been from an animal, or from his sister or Nadine. He bent to inspect some crushed underbrush, moving them aside to reveal some tracks. They were faint, and didn’t look like they’d been made by shoes. His frown deepened, worried.
