The forest is so familiar Reid is almost comfortable perched on the limb of the tree he’s chosen. Who would have thought six days ago he was safe and sound, living with his sister Lucy in her new and expensive apartment, no longer in foster care. It amazes him when he reflects on it and wonders if he’ll ever be comfortable indoors again.
He glances at the back of his hand where a small bug trundles with purpose across his skin to get to the other side. Birds sing softly in the midday heat, while the leaves above rustle from a passing wind. Reid feels a connection to the tree, like the sap flowing within it is his own blood. The song of the robin in the spruce next door is almost translatable into words. The fresh air swells his lungs, fills him with calm and purpose.
He’s a far cry from the drugged and kidnapped kid dumped in the darkened woods with no idea what was happening to him. He’s learned so much since that first night when he discovered he was there to be hunted by creatures who looked human but weren’t. Reid still remembers the dead stare of the first kid he saw, suspended from a tree, his entrails spread over the path, stinking like road kill.
He was so terrified he spent the next several days running. And hiding. Meeting other kids like him, almost dying a number of times, all for the pleasure of the hunters. Rats in a maze, that’s what the kids are. Ruled by terror and the need to get away.
Not anymore. Reid’s so done with that. He wonders what is happening to him that he’s changed so very much.
He feels different. Strong, steady. Powerful. His fear remains but most of it has left him, only a dull ache of anxiety left behind. Compared to the terror he’s lived with the past six days, Reid finds the hint of it almost pleasant. He’s replaced it with excitement. The thrill of knowing he is acting instead of running or hiding.
Reid is finished with being a target.
His adrenaline spikes as the forest falls suddenly still. The robin wings away in the quiet, the rush of its departure almost a song in itself. Reid’s body tenses in anticipation. This is it, his plan come to fruition.
He can’t wait to kill another hunter, to feel it die at his hands, the soft hiss of its collapse as he ends its life. Reid doesn’t spare a second worrying what that says about his state of mind. They’ve created him, shaped him into what he’s become. And if killing them is the only way to survive, the hunters and their creators have done a fantastic job turning the tables on themselves.
The familiar tingle returns for a moment, the surge he felt when he inhaled the dust from the last dead hunter. Something about it feeds Reid’s body, gives him strength, heals his wounds. His lips split wide, teeth shining as he grins, heart pounding against his breast bone, this time not in fear but in pure joy at the thrill of fighting back. He knows he should be worried about it. Whatever is happening isn’t natural. He can almost hear Drew’s voice questioning him, while the chubby kid’s glasses flash in the light.
“What the hell is that stuff, anyway? And what’s it turning you into?”
Reid doesn’t have an answer for his dead friend and, not for the first time, suddenly wishes the boy was here. He has a sharp moment of loss all over again, as fresh as the day Drew died, crushed under the rockslide that sealed the kids inside the mine. Reid is surprised when tears actually well in his eyes and he has to swipe them away with the back of his hand. Everything he is feeling seems intensified, immediate. And yet, when he recognizes it, the emotion fades in favor of his intense need to strike back.
Drew flashes out of his head and all his questions go away in the next heartbeat. Someone is coming, running fast. Reid hears Ashley’s footfalls before he sees her, his focus sharpening down the trail. With quiet deliberation, he unfolds the knife as the tall, slim girl appears through the canopy, running hard, her sneakers barely making a sound as she practically flies along the trail, auburn hair streaming out behind her.
She glances up. Their eyes meet and she pumps a fist, fear written all over her face but a wild exultation there, too. She doesn’t stop but continues on, while a flicker behind her draws Reid’s attention back to the job at hand.
The hunter lopes along at a casual pace, covering far more ground than Ashley could ever dream to. It is taking its time, teasing her with terror, wearing her out. Reid has come to know this tactic, to find it familiar and less horrifying than it used to be. So predictable. Reid’s lips curl back from the grin into a snarl of fury. The creature’s arrogance is almost as much a weapon as it’s sharply curving claws and shark-like teeth.
As it passes beneath him, Reid speaks.
“Up here, asshole.”
The hunter stops immediately and tips its head back. Those silvery eyes meet his, pupils slitted like a cat’s. It hisses at him, a large smile on its pale but human face. All of its teeth shine, far more than should ever fit in a normal person’s mouth.
Reid smiles back. And takes advantage of the arrogance, turning that weapon against it. He deliberately flips it the finger.
The hunter howls, rage stirred, and lunges for the tree.
Reid bounds down the branches, practically throwing himself at the attacking hunter, his blood on fire, need to kill driving him to get to the thing first.
But he is too late. As the hunter leaps forward, Marcus, Milo and Cole rise up from the undergrowth on the other side of the path, sharpened sticks at the ready. They surge forward with a common yell of defiance. The hunter has just enough time to spin and face them before the two lengths of wood impale it through the abdomen.
Reid hits the ground running, on top of the two boys with the sticks while Marcus lifts a rock and smashes the hunters face into pulp.
Feet approach, Ashley’s light tread. He can see her out of the corner of his eye, panting with her hands on her knees, watching from a safe distance. She needn’t have bothered keeping space between her and the hunter. It’s not going anywhere.
Reid unfolds his knife while Marcus raises the rock again. Before his rival can bring the weapon down, Reid jabs the hunter in the heart with the full length of the blade.
It groans once, softly, like the sound of a soul set free, before it disintegrates into a fine dust, shimmering in the light of the sun.
“Wicked.” Ashley crouches next to Marcus with a grin on her face. “That was wicked!”
Milo and Cole look traumatized, both shaking and skin ashen, even through Milo’s deep color, but they nod at the girl while Marcus glares at Reid.
“That was my kill.” There is a fierceness in Marcus’s face, an animal quality that makes Reid consider his isn’t the only screwed up state of mind.
“You can have the next one.” Reid looks at his knife. The blood he expects isn’t there, that too gone to dust. “We need to move. That howl will bring more hunters.”
Ashley is already moving, one hand on Cole’s shoulder and the other on Milo’s. They run together, their weapons carried lightly with them.
Reid steps over the remains of the hunter and into Marcus’s space. Marcus blocks him, whole body rigid with anger.
“Don’t ever take my kill away from me again.”
Reid’s own need is forgotten, shunted aside, his worry taking its place. He had begun to rely on Marcus a little, very little, but still. They have formed a sort of uneasy truce since the night before and Reid is unhappy to see it crumbling already. It’s enough to drag him out of his own blood thirst and back to himself.
“The point is to kill them,” Reid says. “I don’t give a damn how or who. But if you can’t do the job in the first blow, don’t try. The hunter will kill you.”
Marcus is shaking, eyes wild. “You’ll see,” he mutters. “I can do better.”
Reid gets the impression Marcus isn’t talking to him anymore.
They don’t have time to discuss it further. A hunter howls in the distance.
“We have to go.” Reid tries to get Marcus’s attention, but he just stares at the powdered remains, his fists clenching and unclenching. Reid grabs his arm only to have Marcus jerk away. “We have to go,” Reid repeats. “Marcus. Marcus!”
Marcus looks at him again. When their eyes meet, the terrible rage visibly drains away, leaving confusion and hopelessness behind.
“Reid?”
Reid grabs his arm and pulls him forward, unable to deal with Marcus’s breakdown right now. “Run, you idiot.”
As they do, their feet pounding over the hard-packed trail deeper into the forest, Reid wishes he had thought to gather some of the powder, a subtle aching need for it making him wonder not only about Marcus but his own mental well being. He shakes off the concern. Whatever the powder does, he feels stronger for it. And he won’t waste an opportunity like that again.
***
About the Author
Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.
Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.
I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at patti@pattilarsen.com. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail.
Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!