The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(61)
Author: M. Leighton

“You deserved that. And more!” The girl had risen to her feet and was standing in the center of the bed, shouting defiantly at Nathan. “Just wait until people find out what kind of monster you really are. Only a total loser has to take what he wants because no one is willing to give it to him. And that’s what you are—a monster and a loser.”

Nathan’s blood-streaked face blanched at her words and a look of utter satisfaction settled over her pretty features. But, alas, it was short-lived.

Suddenly the blood rushed back into Nathan’s face, turning it beet red, and he began to shake. The smugness drained from the girl’s expression when she realized that she’d overshot her mark. She’d made her threats before she was out of harm’s way. And her mistake was a fatal one.

With a cry that sent chills racing down my arms, Nathan leapt up onto the bed and grabbed the girl by the throat. Her eyes widened in shock and she pulled at his wrists. She couldn’t move them an inch. She beat and smacked at his arms then turned her fingernails to his face once more. When that didn’t work, she reached for his nose, but he was able to turn his face this way and that, keeping his wounded nose from her grasp.

He tightened his grip on her neck and began to shake her. She made coughing, sputtering sounds, her face turning an unhealthy purplish red. Tighter and tighter he squeezed, her struggles becoming less and less robust. Finally, her eyes rolled back in her head and a whitish ring began to develop around her mouth. Seconds later, she went limp in his arms.

Nathan followed her down to the bed, where he straddled her lifeless body. He continued to strangle her even though she showed no signs of consciousness. He muttered something under his breath and shook her again.

Furiously, he growled and mumbled, spittle flying from his lips and peppering her ruddy face. Again and again, he shook her, her head snapping back and forth violently.

Finally, Nathan released his grip on the girl’s neck. Behind him, I saw Grey walk to the bed and slide in beside the girl’s limp body. With a toothy smile that turned my blood to ice, she lowered her mouth to the girl’s throat and bit down.

The girl’s body twitched, almost as if she’d felt it. I wanted to shout to the boy, “Check her pulse! Check her pulse!” I knew it wouldn’t have mattered, though. He wanted her to be dead. That much was obvious.

And then my living room floor was empty once more, all the characters in the macabre play vanishing into thin air.

I sat on the couch, appalled at what I’d seen, but also thankful that my tryst with Stephen Fitchco hadn’t gone that far awry, ending in a similar manner.

My mind raced with one thought. What can I do? What can I do? What can I do?

Derek’s words broke the loop, so clearly he could’ve spoken them aloud.

Now that you’ve made the deal, there’s a house you can use… has a bunch of doors…take you to the marked.

A house with a bunch of doors? I thought of the house that I’d dreamt of, that huge, dark monstrosity that seemed to ooze evil from every nook and cranny. Could he have meant that house? “But how do I even get there?” I asked absently, speaking to no one in particular.

“Get where?” I’d forgotten that Leah was there.

“Oh, uh, nowhere. I was just thinking.”

Leah tipped her head to the side. “Car-son,” she said warningly. “Spill.”

“I just, um, I, uh—”

“Stop trying to lie without lying,” she interrupted. “Just tell me the truth. Aren’t we kind of past keeping secrets by now anyway?”

She had a valid point. It’s not like I hadn’t just told her all the gory details about my insane life anyway. What was I afraid of? What was I hiding?

I told Leah what I’d seen (foregoing most of the detail) and then explained my dilemma. Leave it to Leah to see the logic.

“If you’ve been dreaming of the house and Derek knows about it, it’s probably not over here,” she reasoned. “Maybe you should start with the clearing. Seems like the woods are where all sorts of bad things happen anyway.” She said the last under her breath and with no small amount of bitterness.

I couldn’t fully agree, considering all the good times Derek and I had shared in the woods, but Leah didn’t have to know that so I didn’t argue with her.

“You may have a point,” I conceded, still trying to think of another way, one that didn’t involve going to the clearing.

“What exactly is your plan anyway?”

I looked at Leah, puzzled. “What do you mean? I’m going to save her. What do you think my plan is?”

“Save her?” Leah sounded skeptical, which was odd since she’d very recently benefited from just such a plan.

“Yes. Is there a problem with that?” Leah’s attitude rubbed me the wrong way, aggravating me.

“No,” she said, looking away, but her body language and expression clearly said there was.

“Alright, Leah. Out with it.”

“Nothing,” she maintained then, after a moment, reconsidered. When she lifted her eyes to mine, anger simmered in their sable depths. “Well, look at me. It’s not like your rescue of me worked out so perfectly, you know?”

I was speechless. Did she really feel like this was somehow my fault?

“Well, excuse me for saving your life. Maybe I should’ve thought of the pros and cons first, asked around a little bit even. Oh wait,” I snapped. “I was too busy saving your life.”

Leah opened her mouth to rebut, but I wasn’t interested in anything she had to say. I turned on my heel and stalked out of the living room. I grabbed my jacket and the keys then walked out to the garage.

On the short drive to the forks, I seethed over Leah’s audacity, the conversation playing over and over in my head. Then, unbidden, a cryptic warning Fahl had given me popped into my mind. I hadn’t known how to make sense of it at the time, but now…

…as long as you don’t try anything reckless, Leah will be enjoying her cookies by Christmas.

Was this what he’d meant? Had I really somehow caused what had befallen Leah?

I pushed that disturbing thought to the back of my mind as I had arrived at the forks. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road, got out and headed for the forest.

I jogged through the woods, toward the clearing, eager to get in and get out. When I arrived, Fahl was already there, in his tall, blond form, waiting for me.

“Good. You’re here,” he said in a deep voice with traces of a Swedish or German accent. It was strange to be standing face to face with the man that had been spying on me and Derek at the beach. His long hair glistened in the moonlight and a satisfied smile graced his handsome face. “Three things. First, picture the black house. Can you see it?”