Alice Henderson - Voracious

“Bus seat?”

“Yeah. I first noticed it on a bus. My elementary school used these really old buses that had probably driven kids around since the 1950s. Our school district didn’t have a whole lot of money. Anyway, I noticed one day, bouncing along on my way to school, that I didn’t ever get any specific images when I touched a bus seat. I thought it was weird at the time. I mean, think of all the nervous and terrified kids who had used them for decades. I thought I’d get something-an image of a kid crying over a stolen lunch box, or a vision of a kid getting beaten up during recess by the local bully. But nothing. Eventually I realized that I got no images precisely because there were so many kids who had ridden in those seats before me. It was just too much information, a hiss and static of a thousand lives, each with their separate fears and terrors, struggles and triumphs.”

“The Bus Seat Effect. Got it. Want to try the other rooms?”

“Sure,” she said, feeling mildly sick, and not sure if it was due to nerves or the terrible stench.

Together they made their way through the sitting room, a tiny room sporting an ancient stuffed rocker and a magazine rack complete with wilting copies of Better Homes and Gardens dating back at least to the ’60s.

Madeline touched all the furniture, the magazines, the lamp. Nothing.

In the small bathroom, she touched the sink, bathtub, shower curtain, toilet. No images.

She moved into the last room, a small bedroom with a bed, dresser, and wooden writing desk with a lamp. Noah lingered in the doorway while she ran her fingers gingerly over the dresser’s smooth surface, then the writing desk and lamp. Finally she moved to the bed. It was unmade, recently slept in, the dark green comforter spilling over the bed and onto the floor. The sheets looked new or nearly new; they still had creases in them where they had been folded at the factory. A deep maroon, they weren’t the kind of cheap linens that rental places normally stocked. She reached down gently and brushed her hand over the soft cotton of the sheets. Immediately, powerful images swept over her.

The creature, in human form, dark wavy hair spilling about his shoulders, bare olive skin pressed against the sheets, asleep…

Still in human form, gasping, nightmare about the black, terrible void, awake, sitting up quickly, glancing about the room…

Rising, pacing, staring out the window into the moonlit forest beyond…

Falling back on the sheets, sighing, twisting in the covers, moaning, thinking about… thinking about… Madeline…

Quickly she pulled her hand away. Tentatively she reached down and touched the soft sheets again.

The creature in human form, naked and muscular, lounging on the bed, images of Madeline drifting in its thoughts, the scent of her hair, her skin… the creature’s tongue licking its lips, wanting to taste her… then gazing outside at the moon, at the dark silhouettes of the pines against drifting clouds set aglow by the moonlight… where was she… out there… right now…

She could feel his thoughts, his need, his desire for her. He wasn’t planning on killing her. Not anymore. But he had picked out no future victim because he wasn’t finished with her yet.

Madeline wrenched her hand away as if it had been burned.

“What is it?” Noah asked from the doorway, startling her. For a moment, she’d forgotten he was standing there, forgotten where she was, had only felt the creature.

“We have to get out of here now.”

“Why? What is it?”

She hurried toward the bedroom door and pushed past him.

“Did you find out who his next victim is?”

She turned, shook her head. “He hasn’t chosen one yet. But I can tell you this: it won’t be me.”

“I know it won’t. I won’t let him hurt you.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that… he doesn’t want to kill me anymore.”

“What?” Noah’s mouth fell open.

“I can’t explain it, but he’s lost interest in killing me.” Madeline couldn’t bring herself to say the rest. She felt strange, her mouth heavy and dry, her heart hammering away. What could she say? That the thing lusted for her? That it had some new plan? She just wanted to get away from that remote cabin, return to the civilization of Lake McDonald, and get her car and get out of there. There was nothing she could do right now; until it picked its next victim, she wouldn’t be able to get any helpful images. Later, when the creature chose a new victim and she happened to touch something of its then, she could inform the police with the specifics.

But right now, they had the information they’d come there for, and more than anything, she wanted to leave.

“I’ll tell you about it on the way,” she said. “Let’s get back to your Jeep.” An image flashed in her mind of the creature entering the cabin, sliding up to her from behind, wrapping its powerful arms around her and crushing her, her ribs snapping and piercing through her skin. She glanced around, saw the empty sitting room and backed up to the front door. “Coming?” she asked, a little too impatiently.

He met her at the front door, and they exited, Noah closing the door after them and locking it.

Once outside, she moved toward the Jeep and noticed something glide fluidly by the back window, then emerge on the side of the car: an inky, nonreflective mass of black among the shiny black paint of the Jeep. The black straightened up, blocking out the grill.

“Madeline,” said the shadow, “I hoped you’d come.”

MADELINEfroze in the doorway, Noah behind her, her heart thudding in her chest.

The creature stepped away from the Jeep, the pure inky black of its body suddenly shifting and slipping over its bones in a flurry of movement. Human skin snaked over his body in a matter of seconds; if Madeline had blinked, she would have missed the transformation. Long, wavy black hair cascaded from the head, framing a handsome olive-skinned face, the same face that had stared down at her during the wildfire.

Noah suddenly pushed past her, stepping out into the sunlight before the creature. “Stefan.”

“Noah,” the creature answered.

Both stood still, glaring, the tension so thick that Madeline found herself staring on morbidly, wondering what would happen. It was the first time she’d really seen them together, steadfast hunter and ancient enemy.

“I see you’ve found my little hideaway,” Stefan said. He turned to Madeline then. “And you’ve been going through my things… seeing what images you can get. My intentions, perhaps? My next victim?” He raised one dark eyebrow, his eyes flashing again, momentarily burning her retina. “Did you learn anything… interesting? Have any visions that were particularly stirring?”

He was playing with her. She knew that. Her face wouldn’t behave, either; she tried to remain stoic, to not reveal that she’d seen the images of him writhing, thinking of her. But instead her features started to fall apart; her brow crinkled, her mouth turned down at the corners, her eyes blinked rapidly. The creature held her gaze, eyes running through her, into her.

If Noah noticed this nonverbal exchange, he didn’t let on. Instead he slung his day pack off his shoulder and unzipped it quickly.

Then one moment Stefan was still by the Jeep, and the next he was latched on to Noah, legs locked around Noah’s waist and tremendous, extended claws trying to get at his throat while Noah blocked the blows.

“Noah!” Madeline yelled as he toppled backward, slamming against the side of the cabin. The day pack slumped to the ground, and Madeline ran toward it. She knew what he had been going for: the dagger.