Near the Bone(54)

It seemed they’d been walking a very long time when Mattie heard the trickle of the stream. Her feet felt frozen, and the tips of her fingers had gone numb despite her mittens. She longed for the warmth of the cabin—the fire, a blanket, a hot cup of tea.

And a monster waiting in your bedroom? The cabin isn’t a safe haven for you.

Mattie shook her head from side to side, trying to dislodge any thoughts of William. She wasn’t going to enter the cabin if he was there. And if he wasn’t around she was going to lock the door against him and leave him out in the night, just like he’d done to her.

Maybe the creature will take him then. Maybe it will swoop down from the trees and take him away like it did with Griffin.

Mattie knew that the banks of the stream were bare of trees, and that the three of them would be exposed once they exited the cover of the woods.

“W-wait,” she said.

C.P. swung around to face her and the flashlight beam went right into her eyes. She covered her eyes with her hand and turned away, but her vision was temporarily ruined and all she could see were black spots on an orange background.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I thought I had the beam low enough but you’re a lot shorter than me.”

“Give me that,” Jen said, snatching the light out of his hand. “You can’t be trusted.”

“That’s not fair,” he protested.

They were going to argue again. Mattie never knew that people could enjoy arguing, but these two seemed to do just that.

They might enjoy it, but it’s making me crazy. Why can’t they just be quiet? Don’t they understand that every time they make noise they’re bringing danger nearer to us?

“Q-quiet,” Mattie said with as much authority as she could muster. It wasn’t a lot, especially given that her voice still resembled something like a mouse squeak, but she’d had enough and she thought they could tell.

She felt their gazes upon her, even though she couldn’t make out their expressions in the dark.

“The . . . creature. William. In the woods,” she said. “Quiet.”

It was so frustrating not to be able to talk like a normal person, trying to cut her conversation down to only the necessary words and hope they would understand.

“Right,” Jen said in an apologetic whisper. “We’re making too much noise. Sorry.”

“Sorry,” C.P. repeated, and he grabbed the flashlight out of Jen’s hand again and started toward the stream.

“Wait,” Mattie said again.

“She wanted to tell us something in the first place, dummy,” Jen said.

C.P. halted and spun around. Mattie heard the quick indrawn breath that meant he was preparing his retort.

“No . . . fighting,” Mattie said. “Listen.”

All three listened to the woods around them—the running of the stream over rocks, the sound of night birds fluttering in their nests, the sway of branches in the wind.

She carefully stepped closer to the other two, trying not to make too much noise as her boots crunched in the snow. She pitched her voice low as they leaned in.

“Stream . . . is . . . in . . . a . . . clearing. No . . . trees.”

“I get it,” C.P. said. “We’ll be exposed. I should shut off the flashlight.”

Mattie thought they ought to keep the flashlight off anyway. If they just let their eyes adapt to the night they’d be able to see more than just the pool of light illuminated by the beam. But this was too much to explain with her throat damaged.

What if it’s permanently damaged? What if William broke you forever?

She couldn’t let herself think like that. She would get better. Her voice would return. It had to. She had to be allowed to have a normal life, a life without hurt, a life without William in it.

Mattie couldn’t let him break her forever, not in any way.

C.P. clicked the flashlight off and the three of them crept to the edge of the woods. Mattie peered out at the clearing, trying to force her night vision along though she knew it took several moments for her eyes to adjust.

“Do you see anything?” Jen whispered, her mouth close to Mattie’s ear.

Mattie started, and Jen patted her arm, whispering, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It wasn’t that the other woman had scared her, exactly. It was more the way she was so familiar with Mattie—the way she patted Mattie’s arm or her shoulder, the way she came up close and invaded Mattie’s space. The only person who’d come near Mattie for twelve years was William, and it was unnerving to have a stranger treating her in such an intimate way, like they’d known each other all their lives, like they were sisters.

Sisters. Heather.

Mattie wished she knew what had happened to Heather.

“I don’t see anything,” C.P. said.

“Quiet,” Mattie said again. “Listen.”

She wanted to explain that if William or the creature were hiding in the woods on the other side of the stream they might hear. William could be standing there with his rifle, waiting for Mattie or just waiting for the creature so he could take down his demon. If he was, he might shift his weight and they would hear the rustle of his clothes or the slide of his boot soles in the snow. There would be something, some slight noise out of place.

And Mattie knew the sound of William, knew how to gauge his mood by the rhythm of his breath or the way he strode across the cabin floor or even the way he swung the axe when he chopped the firewood. She knew him. She would hear him if he was hiding in the woods. She was certain of it.