ONE

  

The forest beckoned. Most nights, Damien avoided the mountainous trails that bordered Elle’s property, tackling them only in daylight when the views were magnificent and the shadows less menacing. But this wasn’t most nights. He glanced back at the monstrosity they called home, the restored ruins of the Castle San Pietro, which lorded over the small South Tirolean village of Bidero, and watched the lights flicker. Too many people, too much noise. He waved the flashlight beam across the wall of trees, looking for tiny bright red orbs that would announce predators. Though there were no longer wolves or grizzlies here, he wasn’t taking any chances.

From inside a castle courtyard, a high-pitched laugh, surely Elle’s, caused his hand to tighten on the leash. He hurried farther from the buildings and glanced up at the canopy of stars. So beautiful—Douglas was right about the magnificence of outer space, even if he was wrong about so many other things—but the stars made him feel, as always, insignificant.

He stumbled, one hand wrapped around the end of the dog’s leash, the other still in his pocket, forcing him down on his knees. He righted himself, the tendon in his left knee screaming. Upright again, he reassured Elle’s little lion of a dog with an “it’s okay, Bits,” and then searched in his pocket for another Valium. Unsuccessful, he settled for whatever pill Elle had placed in his palm earlier, a pill he’d discarded in his suit pants in favor of a martini and a Valium. He dry swallowed three times to get it down.

The tiny terrier growled, then took off toward the stone wall that marked the entrance of the woods. Damien pulled her back. The Dolomite Mountains were stunning, but at night their splendor was matched only by the depth of their darkness. Night so complete it felt like a tomb, silence so pervasive you could hear the blood pulsating in your carotid. The dog tugged again. “Fine.” Like a man with a death wish, he plunged forward.

They walked quickly, both navigating by memory. Deeper into the forest, Bits snarled, her little body tense. Damien stood, listening. He heard a rustle coming from the direction of the trail, past the stone wall and across from the small ruined chapel. He waved the weak beam from his flashlight in that direction. Nothing—just more trees and undergrowth. Must have been a rodent, he thought with a nervous laugh. The rustling stopped.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled to the dog. The pills were taking hold and a comfortable sense of ennui blanked his mind. The dog wanted to take the trail? Fine. It would distance him from their so-called friends. For a while, at least.

The trail—no more than a three-foot path cut between the trees—led up toward the peaks or down toward the village. Damien headed along the cliff, toward the village. The path was steep, but Damien had traversed it many times. He waved the light in front of him, watching Bits to be sure she didn’t lunge over the side. As the castle fell away in the distance, Damien’s anxiety lessened, and with it his inhibitions. He paused to urinate on the side of a spruce, grateful for the release, then walked faster down the trail toward the ruins that marked the second stone wall.

It was there, by the ruins of the second wall, that he heard it—the sound of a person struggling for breath. It lasted only a few seconds and then ended, silence once again shrouding him. Beside him, Bits growled. Damien’s own breath quickened, as did his pulse. He tried to listen through the fog in his brain.

He walked another ten feet, then turned back toward the castle, the hairs on his arms bristling. He fought the urge to run. An overwhelming sense of foreboding rushed over him and he waved his flashlight madly from side to side. It didn’t help. He pulled Bits along, then deciding it would be quicker to carry her, he bent down. His flashlight beam hit something on the edge of the trail. He closed his eyes, blinked, and looked again.

The shadowy outline of a person. Someone was standing there, watching him.

It’s the pills, he thought. Whatever Elle gave me must have been hallucinogenic.

Again he closed his eyes, then wiped at them with the back of his trembling fingers.

When he opened his eyes, he still saw the outline of a person, standing there in the dark, cloaked in black. Mute. Looming. A thing of nightmares.

“What do you want?” A scream caught in his throat.

Bits growled. The shadow moved forward, knocking the flashlight from his hand. He lurched in the direction the light had fallen, terror stealing his breath, and let go of the leash. Behind him, around him it seemed, he heard footsteps on damp humus. Darkness enveloped him. He fought to get his bearings. The edge of the cliff was near—but how near? Fear paralyzed his legs. Run in the dark? There was another presence with him—he could hear it, almost smell it—but darting off a ledge could be worse than confronting his attacker.

He stood on unsteady feet, forcing a deep breath. “Elle?” he said weakly.

The push seemed to come from both nowhere and everywhere. He lost his balance again, quickly righted himself. His mind spun for answers…who, what, why? No insights came—only the stars overhead and the bitter taste of bile in his mouth. Run, he thought. The hell with the cliffs. Just go.

His body, numb with fear and drugs, wouldn’t obey. Adrenaline surged—only too late. A hand wrapped around his ankle, pulling him forward. He gasped, then took a step backwards, tumbling into the abyss below.