Page 95 of Hunter or Hunted

“We can’t do that, Sebastian.” Her tone bordered mothering. “It’s bad enough we’re doing this. We can’t risk Lizzie seeing something.”

As if I hadn’t thought of that. “You’ll see. Just wait.”

A dramatic sigh, followed by a turn of the stereo dial.

The clock on the dash said 11:38 when we turned down the gravel road. Easing on the brakes, I dropped the speed to ten miles an hour. “Now close your eyes.”

“That’s what they always say in the horror movies, you know.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“If anybody’s killing anyone here, I’d put my money on you,” I said, flicking on the high beams. The bend of the gravel road veered right, which meant we’d nearly arrived.

“I was thinking more ghost or werewolf,” she said. “But I don’t mind you remembering that I’m capable of murder.”

“Not like you’ll let me forget.”

Not like I minded either. I liked Gwen’s fire. Her convictions. She stood ten toes down on what she believed in.

That was why we were here. Not because her thirst for blood got mine pumping, but because she’d believed in society’s morality, and it betrayed her. She built her own from there. It so happened to align with mine.

The rickety farm fence came into view straight ahead on the left. Gwen started to say something, but I cut her off with, “Your eyes are still shut, right?”

“Yes, they’re shut,” she said. “You know, the whole vibe here—making this a surprise, that excited little grin of yours—aren’t we breaking your rule?”

I shifted the car into park just past the opening between the fence rails. Leaving the keys in the engine, I unclipped my seatbelt. “What rule is that?”

“About enjoying it.” She kept her hands cupped over her eyes. “This seems like enjoyment to me.”

“Give me ten seconds, and I think you’ll understand what I’m actually excited about.” I opened the car door and stepped out. “Keep your eyes closed!”

She did. At least, it looked that way as I jogged to the passenger door. As I opened it, I said, “Okay, keep them closed, but take my hand.”

“There’s no way this is a second location.” She kept her eyes pinched shut, closing her fingers around mine. “You’re way too happy for this to be a murder spot.”

“It’s not just a murder spot,” I said, guiding her onto the path I’d plowed this morning.

“Is it the crematorium?” She clutched my hand tightly, careful not to slip on the thick layer of packed snow underfoot. “Because, look, I am really grateful for it, but just logistically. I don’t need a grand tour. That’s where they burn dead puppies, and⁠—”

“Okay, that’s not the visual I want you to have in mind right now.” I stepped behind her and gingerly took hold of her shoulders. Gliding her into position for the right view, making sure the car’s headlights illuminated it, I trailed my hands from her shoulders down her arms.

Voice quiet, soft, I said, “Get all the doom and gloom out of your head. Think rainbows and unicorns and butterflies.”

She laughed quietly. “Rainbows and unicorns and butterflies. Got it.”

“Once you’re sure all the doom and gloom’s gone, open your eyes.”

A deep, soft breath fogged before her face, melting the tension in her shoulders. She opened them.

She gazed ahead, blinking slow, squinting at the old farmhouse.

It wasn’t the greatest sight to behold. Where the white siding hadn’t blown off, exposing the thick stone beneath, it’d turned gray from decades upon decades of neglect. At least a third of the dozen wooden-framed windows were cracked or broken out entirely. The whole right corner of the roof over the wraparound porch had caved in. All the snow disguised the dense overgrowth of vegetation, and the trees blowing in the winter wind cast eerie shadows onto the snowy ground.

Maybe this did give more of a werewolf vibe than the rainbows and butterflies I saw when I looked at this place.

“What am I looking at, Sebastian?”

She didn’t get it. That was okay. The view was only to set the scene.

“The guest house.” I pointed past the house and through the trees at the dim glow of light on the mountaintop off to the right. “That’s my house. My parents’ house, really. Lizzie’s house one day. And here’s where my great-grandparents lived while they were building it.”