The Rabbit and the Raven: Book Two in the Solas Beir Trilogy (6 page)

Marisol picked up a driftwood branch, wielding it like a club, and began beating the thing that was on top of her friend. She hit it with all her might, and the creature yelped and scurried away, dragging a long prehensile tail behind it. Carrying the branch in one hand, Marisol pulled Monroe to her feet with the other and helped her run through the grove to a set of stairs etched into the stone retaining wall that bounded Newcastle Beach. Marisol knew that these steps led to the inn’s gardens, and hopefully, to safety.

The girls ran as fast as they could. Monroe was a little slower because she was wounded. Marisol could see deep gashes on her shoulders and across her collar bone, but luckily the thing had missed her jugular.
The creature’s claws, if that’s what they were, had sliced her cheek though, and that seemed to be bleeding the most. Monroe seemed to be more in shock than pain, however, and Marisol guessed that the adrenaline coursing through her body was pushing her to keep going. She would feel the pain later.

Up ahead, Marisol saw the familiar lights of the inn’s swimming pool, and just beyond that, the lobby. Running over to the pool’s guest services cabana, Marisol snatched a towel and helped Monroe apply pressure to her cheek to stop the bleeding. She helped her friend get inside the lobby, and told the front desk staff to call for medical assistance.

“You’ll be okay now,” Marisol said. “I’ll be right back—I have to go help the others.”

“Marisol—no!” Monroe cried, reaching for Marisol’s hand. “Don’t go back out there—please don’t! It’s still out there!”

Marisol hesitated. She couldn’t help but recognize the irony. In spite of all the times Michal had made snide remarks regarding Monroe’s intelligence, Marisol had to concede that Monroe was the smart one when it came to common sense and safety. Still, someone had to get back out there and try to save their friends.

Marisol made a decision. “I
have
to, Monroe.” She let go of her friend’s hand and hefted the heavy piece of driftwood against her shoulder like a baseball bat. As she walked toward the front door of the inn, Marisol looked back once more to reassure Monroe. Then she headed outside, down the inn’s front walk, and back onto the sand.

The beach was empty. The bonfire was still going, and a few coolers had been tipped over in the chaos, but no one was there. No people, no monsters, nothing but the full moon lighting the empty expanse of shoreline.

Marisol ventured out onto the sand a little further, hoping to find someone, anyone, alive, dreading a more gruesome discovery. Her terror threatened to paralyze her, making her stomach cramp like it was tied in knots. Taking a deep breath, she tried to force the fear aside and then discovered that she also felt supremely
aware
, all of her senses finely tuned to note every detail of her surroundings.
Probably an adrenaline high,
she reasoned.

The sand was littered with footprints, but it was too loosely packed to determine whether they were made by human feet or not. There were far too many impressions to find a discernible trail leading to someone who might need help.

Marisol studied the dark grove of trees where the trouble had started. She shuddered, thinking about the thing she and Monroe had encountered. Was Michal still in there? And if so, was she even alive? If she was, Marisol might be her only chance for survival, but it seemed like a very, very bad idea to go in there alone, in the dark. Just looking at the grove made her guts squirm. It would be smarter to go back to the inn and get some help rather than trying to find Michal on her own. That was, if there was anything left to find.

“Looking for someone?”

Marisol froze. The voice had come from behind her, somewhere between where she stood on the beach and the safety of the inn. She had no doubt it was not a human voice. Her grasp on the driftwood branch tightened. She turned, slowly.

No sudden moves
, she thought to herself.
You can’t let it see your fear.

Sitting on its haunches was a creature the size of a German shepherd. It looked much like a lean, black cat except for its disturbingly humanoid face and long, twitching tail. One side of its face looked scarred, as if it had been burned. It was smiling as though it knew a secret. The coy smirk broadened into a Cheshire cat grin, although not quite as mad. Not just yet, anyway.

“Feeling pretty brave tonight, I see,” it said. Its breath smelled like rotten meat and sulfur. “Too bad that big ol’ stick won’t help you. You can hit me all you like, but I think I’ll stay around for a while.” The creature cocked its head to the side, showing Marisol the large cavity in its skull where her weapon had found its mark. The hole was disappearing, filling in with a mass of black fur.

Marisol’s mouth dropped open and the creature’s grin grew a little wider. The cat thing chuckled to itself, as if it enjoyed the look of disbelief and horror on her face. She shut her mouth, trying not to show weakness.

The cat got to its feet and walked a slow circle around her.

Marisol followed the creature with her eyes and held tightly to the driftwood branch. Her weapon might be useless in the long term, but it could still buy her a little time—
that
she could see very clearly.

“My, my, my,” the thing purred, looking her up and down. “Little Marisol…all grown up now, aren’t you?”

Marisol didn’t answer. She didn’t know how this thing knew her name, but she had a feeling that responding wouldn’t help, and the creature couldn’t care less if she
did
answer. It had a story it wanted to tell, and she was going to hear it whether she wanted to or not.

“Oh yes, Marisol. I know you. I know you very well. Are you still afraid of the dark?” The creature waited for a response.

Marisol held her tongue.

“Not much of a chatterbox, are you? I’ll bet you can scream real well though—oh yes, I’ll bet those lungs are
niiice
and healthy. You used to scream so well when you were scared, back when I lived under your bed.”

Marisol’s eyes widened in shock and recognition.

The thing smiled—
that
was the reaction it had wanted.

Marisol quickly composed herself and tried to make her face look expressionless.

“Oh, such fun we had! Your pretty madre loved her stories, didn’t she?
My
personal favorite was El Cucuy—she’d always tell you that story when you’d beg, ‘Please, please, please just one more glass of water,’ before beddie-bye. You were
so
annoying. She’d tell that one just to shut you up. Then you’d lay awake for hours, so scared that I was going to pop up like a jack-in-the-box. And sometimes I
did
!” The Cheshire cat grin was full-on crazy now, those red eyes swirling with madness.

Images from a half-forgotten nightmare flashed in Marisol’s mind.
No, no, no,
she thought, shaking her head.
It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real…

As if reading her mind, the thing continued. “Oh, but it
was
real. And where’s madre now, my
dulce
? Did you finally manage to annoy her so much she left for good?”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!” Marisol shouted, clocking the thing in the head with her weapon, knocking it off its feet. She started running toward the inn.

The creature was back on its feet in seconds, pursuing her. “Yes, oh,
yes
,” the thing growled hungrily.
“
Run, run, run, fast as you can…”

The Browns’ minivan was almost to the old mansion when Jon noticed something was amiss. A terrified girl was racing toward the Newcastle Beach Inn. Something was chasing her. It was difficult to see what it was exactly—the dark form seemed to meld with the shadows so that it was almost invisible. Jon didn’t need a positive ID to guess what it was and what it wanted. He had encountered that kind of monster before. But he did recognize the girl.

“That’s Marisol!” Jon shouted. “One of the Shadows is after her!” He could see Marisol try for the inn’s front door and then change directions, veering back to the sidewalk. She leapt away from the Shadow’s long claws, and it slammed into the door. As the blur of black resumed its chase, Jon could see that a long crack had formed in the carved wood. “Stop the car!” he
yelled, grasping the handle to open the van’s sliding door.

“Dad! Stop—please!” Abby
pleaded. The van skidded to a halt as Abby’s father hit the brakes. Abby looked around the vehicle, which was already full with her family, David, Cael, and Jon and his mom. “Make room guys—she’s coming with us.”

Marisol saw the van jerk to a stop, and was amazed to watch the door slide wide open. Jon was waving at her, frantically shouting her name. She flew toward him and threw herself into the van, landing on his lap with relative grace as he yanked the door closed, the creature still in pursuit.

Abby shouted, “She’s in, Dad. Hit it!”

Abby’s father hit the gas.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked, looking her over.

“I am now. You have impeccable timing,” Marisol huffed, trying to catch her breath. She put her arms around his neck, relieved to be safe, for now, at least. The creature was still out there. She remembered the feeling of its hot, putrid breath on her skin, its snapping jaws inches from her heels as it chased her. Her heart pounded as wildly as a prey animal’s thinking about it. Because that’s what she was to that creature. Prey.

She looked around at the others in the vehicle, wedged tightly into the minivan’s middle and back seats. “Hey, Abby…David,” she
said slowly, still in shock. She felt her whole body trembling. Apparently Jon did too. He stared at her, a question in his eyes. She managed a weak smile and wrapped her arms tighter around him, trying to stop shaking.

“Hey Sol,” David said from his position between Abby and a kid in the back. “Welcome to the crazy van.”

“Thanks,” Marisol said, swallowing, trying to slow the beating of her heart. “You saw the giant cat monster chasing me too, right? Or am I the crazy one?”

“Yeah. We saw it,” David assured her. “That’s why we’re all crowded in here like it’s a clown car—we’re trying to get away from those things.”

“Well, they were all over the beach, and everyone was running away, screaming and freaked out, but they’re gone now, except for the one that was after me,” Marisol said.

“Any idea where they went?” Jon asked.

“None, which is really scary, because I think they eat people...they must have gotten Joe, and I saw one drag Michal into the grove. And one of them wounded Monroe really badly—but she’s safe now in the inn. That thing came after me when I went back out to look for the others. Wherever those creatures went, we should head in the opposite direction and get help,” Marisol finished in a rush, finally taking a breath.

The woman
sitting beside Jon was thin with tousled, dark, shoulder-length hair and Jon’s brown eyes. The look on her face seemed to be one of shock or horror. Maybe both. Marisol was painfully aware of how crazy she must sound. She turned to the woman and held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Marisol Cassidy, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,”
the woman replied, shaking Marisol’s hand. “I’m Jon’s mom, Blanca Reyes. Are you sure you’re okay? That creature didn’t hurt you?”

“No, but it would have killed me, I think, if it had the chance. Thanks for the lift,” Marisol quipped, her voice
quivering a little. She tried a smile again, willing herself to calm down.

“Anytime,” David replied.
He seemed annoyingly calm, as if homicidal cat monsters were yesterday’s news. Marisol stared at him in disbelief. “So, introductions…Abby’s dad is driving, this is her mom and brother, and this is Cael.” David gestured to the man riding shotgun, but didn’t elaborate on who Cael was.

“Hello,” she said politely.

The man seemed tense, his eyes focused only on the road ahead. He didn’t even turn around to acknowledge her.
Not a big talker, apparently.
He seemed to be wearing some kind of armor, as were Jon, Abby, and David.
Weird,
Marisol thought.

The others nodded their welcome as Abby’s father drove through the open gates of the tall stone fence encircling the old Spanish colonial mansion.

Why are we going here?
Marisol wondered, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes. Although the old house was right across from the inn, people avoided it like the plague. Supposedly it was haunted, and she was pretty sure there’d be no one there to help them or the others she’d left behind.

As they passed the ruins of an overgrown garden and a reflecting pool, Marisol looked back. The creature that had somehow escaped from her nightmares and chased her down the street had stopped at the estate’s iron gates and was sitting nonchalantly on its haunches. It wasn’t following them.

What’s it waiting for?
Marisol pondered. She could see those red eyes glowing in the darkness. “What
is
that thing?” she asked.