II
I didn't like interacting with people. I didn't like people, period. But, then, most people didn't like me, either – or were, at least, wary around me – so I tried to avoid them, meaning I didn't go into town very often. I usually went after dark – I'd ended up in Washington the one and only time I hadn't; admittedly, some good had come out of it, but I wasn't keen on repeating the experience – but if it started to rain…
I deliberated for another moment, then got to my feet.
I'd risk it.
It was still very early; most people would be at work, the kids at school. I sometimes watched them at the bus stop, waiting for the yellow bus that took them to Richmond. I had a lot of spare time.
I decided to go by the river first, however. I wanted to wash up in case someone saw me. Normal people just didn't walk around covered in blood.
I was thinking about what I'd do when I got back – maybe track down that bear; I hadn't had a carnivore in quite some time – when the scent first hit me, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
My body tensed and I fought back a snarl. The scent wasn't fresh, but my body reacted all the same, my brain going into overdrive as I tried to process it. I'd never encountered it before. It was sweet, but not unpleasant, and clouding my senses in a way I didn't like. I forced my muscles to relax and walked on, sniffing the air like a dog. The scent grew stronger, thicker. It washed over me, and although my body was still on high alert, I didn't feel particularly threatened by it. It seemed familiar in a way I couldn't explain.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. Anything able to dazzle me and confuse my senses that way, not matter how safe and familiar it felt, could only be dangerous.
I had to follow it, had to find out how many there were and whether or not they were, in fact, dangerous.
If they weren't, maybe I could get them to leave.
If they were, I'd have to leave.
I started running. I didn't even know if I was going in the right direction, but I figured I'd find them eventually. Besides, a detour would give me time to think.
The forest flew by, streaks of green and brown and gray, the colours I loved. This was my home. I couldn't possibly leave again. But I was alone, and the concentration of the scent suggested there were at least three of them. Maybe even more.
The scent led me by the river – not where I'd crossed over last night, but farther up; I wouldn't have noticed – and into a part of the forest where I'd been only once before, the day I'd left New York for good.
Eventually I turned west and up a gentle slope. The highway wasn't far now, one of the reasons I'd never returned. And then I remembered. There was an old house, just another mile up the hill. But… I paused to catch my breath although I didn't really have to. If that's where they lived, they had to be people… I rushed on and only slowed down when the forest thinned. The house, tucked into a small clearing, suddenly appeared before me.
I skittered to a stop and hid behind a group of young maples. The scent was so thick I found it hard to breathe. Quietly I parted the leaves and looked at the house they way I looked at my prey as I analyzed the best way to kill it. Entirely made out of granite and three storeys high, it was beautiful. The broken windows I remembered had been replaced, the adjoining barn rebuilt. Flowers, hundreds of them, lined the driveway.
The house appeared empty. No voices. No radio. No TV.
Just silence.
I frowned. It was very quiet. Too quiet. I'd gotten used to the sounds of the forest and barely noticed them anymore, if I didn't pay attention. But here – nothing. No chirping birds, no animals scurrying through the undergrowth. I knew animals tended to avoid me, too, but they just hid and didn't vanish altogether. I sniffed the air and got nothing.
This was… strange, to say the least.
I decided to take a closer look.
But, as I was about to walk into the open, I caught movement behind one of the windows and jerked back. The maples snapped their branches angrily at me; apparently they didn't like to be disturbed.
And then, to my horror, the window opened and a woman, probably one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, looked out. At me. Or maybe not at me directly, but she had the general direction right. I didn't think she was able to see me, but…
But, obviously, she'd heard me.
I pressed flat against the ground, hardly breathing. I heard the window close, but I didn't dare to look up. Half a second later the front door opened, heavy wood scraping over the floor, and then footsteps on the gravel.
My muscles locked.
The leaves parted. The scent, sweet as honey, washed over me, and I glanced up. The woman looked down at me, her eyes the colour of molten gold. Her heart-shaped face was friendly, motherly even. Hair the colour of caramel fell to her shoulders.
"Hello," she said, smiling.