Markings (6 page)

Wait.

I bobbed my head up from the pillow. My cell sung to me, the sound muffled inside my bag on the floor. I thought about letting it go to voicemail.
It might be Mom
. I had forgotten to call her this evening. Rolling over, I dug into the front pocket. Bringing up the phone, the digits wobbled on the screen as I blinked. I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” I grumbled.

“Where are you?”

“Who is this?”

“Answer the question, Lina. Where are you?”

I sat up in bed. “Aaron?”

“Dammit, will you answer the question?”

“I’m up at Mt. Hood,” I snapped. “Jeez, why are you yelling? What the hell is your problem?”

“Mt. Hood . . .” He trailed off. Something snarled in the background. “Why? Why are you there?”

“My friend bought me a vacation for my birthday. What’s it to you?”

“You have to get out of there. Leave first thing in the morning, you understand?”

I was too shocked to respond. That did it. Something seriously was off about him.

“Please, Lina, listen to me.” Aaron begged, as if he knew my finger was hovering over the end button. “You shouldn’t be there. Trust me. Come home as soon as you can.”

“I . . .” I lost my voice for a second. Shouldn’t
be
here? “No.” I hung up.

Setting the phone on the nightstand, I hugged the sheets around me, shivering. Seconds later, it rang again. I killed the volume before Kat or Jamie could catch on. The same number appeared, still Aaron. I watched the number disappear off the screen, leaving behind a phone with an X through it.

I had just deleted the missed call when Aaron’s number came in a third time. I answered and said, “Don’t call me anymore. Back off, buddy, or you’re going to be real sorry!”

“No, Lina—”

Click
! I threw the phone in my purse. Rolling over, I tugged the blankets up to my chin. I lay still for a long time, mind reeling, unable to fall asleep. The minutes passed slowly. I rolled back over and checked my phone, just to see.

No missed calls.

Chapter 7: Monsters

N
o idea what time I fell asleep, but when I opened my eyes again it was morning. Kat stirred beside me, letting out a snore. I rolled onto my side, glancing over her curls, which seemed to have fused together in the night, morphing into an afro. The clock read in big, red numbers: 8:20.

I glanced sideways at my purse. The urge to bend down and retrieve my phone was hard to resist. It shouldn’t have mattered, but I wondered if Aaron had tried calling again. If so, how many times?

I’ll have to look eventually
. I needed to call Mom before we went hiking today. I had promised her an update on my trip. Pulling my phone up, I held my breath, sliding it open. A picture of Harry lying on his back stared up at me.

No missed calls.

“Wow,” I whispered, figuring there’d be at least one. So he
had
taken me seriously. Thank God. This was good.

So why did I feel disappointed?

He’d scared me last night with his talk of “you shouldn’t be there” and “leave as soon as you can.” I thought of an article, this story I’d read once. A high school girl had taken a job at a clothing store in Portland. Her co-worker, a boy about two years older, asked her out for a date. He had this obsession with always wanting to know where she was. It seemed harmless at first, and she was flattered by his concern, but it went downhill quick. He started yelling at her, calling her names. He had this habit of showing up wherever she went. It ended when he got fired and came at her with a knife. The police came and hauled him away, but she would forever be reminded of that night. The blade had left a long, jagged scar across her face.

I got out of bed and opened my duffel bag.
I’m done
, I told myself, pulling clothes out.
No more shelter, no more Aaron
. I couldn’t work at the shelter anymore.

Sunlight paved the carpet as I crept out into the living room, looking out the sliding glass doors. Above the pine trees, few clouds passed by. It might shape up to be a decent day, and blue sky in April can be a rare thing here.
There’s some good news
. I smiled a little then headed to the bathroom. As I climbed into the shower, I got more good news as I realized skin covered my shoulders again.

The spots were fading!

Oh, yes
! I leaned against the shower wall, hand on my heart.
Oh, thank God, no more spots, no more spots
I chanted in my head, overjoyed about having one less problem to deal with.

When we were all showered and dressed, we ordered room service for breakfast. We were in the middle of hogging down French toast when Jamie’s phone rang. Her boss—the one from her office job—needed her to write him a quick speech and email it to him by noon.

“Mom, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Kat snapped, mouth half full. “It’s going to screw up our hiking plans! Oh my gosh, just tell the lazy lard to write it himself. He took English in college, right?”

“Listen, here’s what I’m going to do,” Jamie said as she sauntered out of the kitchen. “I will drop you and Lina at the head of the main trail. My laptop gets service in the hotel. It should take me less than an hour to write the speech, give it a quick read through, and send it off. When I’m done I’ll meet you somewhere on the map, okay? This won’t ruin anything. We’ll all be good. This is one minor setback.”

Kat picked at the strawberries that’d spilled off her French toast. Something told me she thought otherwise. She hated Mr. Morris. He took her mother away from her about as much as The Golden Fox took mine from me.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But it’d
better not
ruin today!”

•   •   •

Hiking trails are scattered all over the Mt. Hood area, but the trail we wanted lay just a few miles from the resort. Down a narrow back road, the foot of Finch’s Trail stared at us from a paved rest stop. Picnic tables sprinkled the lawn, all in random spots outside the woods. A billboard in the parking lot read:
Welcome to Mt. Hood
! A list of park rules and regulations were below.

Jamie dropped us off with promises to return shortly. “It will only take me a couple hours if that,” she assured, looking at Kat.

Kat nodded, barely glancing at her as she pulled her backpack on. “All right, Mom. See you soon.” She shut her door.

We waved as the SUV drove away. With a double honk, it curved out of the rest stop and disappeared. I sat down at one of the tables, marking on my map our meeting point—a wiggly cross symbol with the words,
Sparrow Falls
, typed next to it.

Kat trudged over to the billboard. She expelled something that was half sigh, half moan. A group of young guys came off the trail, passing her. They all eyed her hot pink hiking boots and polka-dotted backpack, then raised their eyebrows at each other.

Stashing the map in my pocket, I got up from the table. “Come on, Kat,” I said. “It’s not your Mom’s fault.”

She rolled her eyes a little. “I know it’s not. Count on work to take her away. Again.”

Welcome to my world
, I nearly said. “I know. But that’s what moms have to do to take care of their kids. What would you do in her situation: spend time with your kid or spend time doing a job that supports your kid’s life?”

“Simple. I’d tie my tubes so kids weren’t a problem.” She looked at the minivan, where the group of young hikers stood. They continued to stare at her while cracking open beers from their packs. “What, man? You got a problem with my booties?” she yelled.

They all laughed. One of them cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hot!”

“That’s right,” she replied. “It takes a real person to wear pink!”

“Okay, Kat, let’s go.” I pulled her arm before she could walk over there, dragging her towards the trail.

“Be careful up there, Barbie,” another one said. The group burst out in guffaws. “Wouldn’t want any big, bad wolves coming after you!”

“Morons,” Kat growled, glaring over her shoulder at them.

“Kat, you really need to not pick fights with people. What if those had been psychos? We could be dead right now,” I pointed out.

She snorted. “Oh, please. Do you really think those little yuppie boys look like psychos? They’re wearing designer jeans, for God’s sake.”

I looked back at them.

The entire group wore Under Armour shirts and Columbia fleece, the diamond-like emblem of Volcom stitched on their jeans’ pockets. They didn’t look like yuppies to me. Their hair ran wild with the breeze, and each face had some level of facial fur. A blonde guy with a beard had an ugly, cricked gash down his cheek.

I sniffed the air. Maybe a bad smell was just stuck in my nose, but I swore I smelled wet dog again.

The trees thinned as Kat and I turned off onto Groundhog, a path crawling through the hills. She lightened up after I tripped over my own feet, making us both laugh. We raced each other past a valley of wild flowers, then up a steep, rocky slope. A clear view of the meadows awaited us at the top, the snowdrifts reduced to white patches here and there.

It’s so beautiful
, I kept thinking. Mt. Hood had always been one of my favorite places in Oregon, though it brought back memories of Dad. I frowned. Images of him flickered in my head. He hiked up this same trail once, hand wrapped around Mom’s, smiling as he called for me to catch up.

I shook my head, shoving the thoughts away.

The sun broke through the clouds and we shed our jackets and stuffed them in our packs. At the tip of the rocky slope the trees appeared again, this time growing so dense that very little sunlight passed through. I realized that I hadn’t gone near any woodland since the incident with Aaron, and that for some reason this forest didn’t frighten me. Maybe that’s because I hadn’t heard any screeching, dying creatures here. Then again, it could’ve been the fact I had Kat, who kept the wood’s aura light and friendly, even in the shadows. I started to think that maybe I could go home and be in my woods again, forget the creature incident . . .

Until I sighted a group of bare trees.

My feet trotted to a halt. Down a nearby deer trail, a series of leafless trees grew among the pine.
That’s strange
, I thought. Spring time and they were still bare? Their branches stabbed at each other like rival siblings, some sticking together. Their trunks seemed to be planted in a circle, their tops all spindly fingers reaching for the sky.

Hardcore déjà vu.

“Lina?” Kat’s voice called my attention. She stood several feet ahead, staring over her backpack. “What’s up?”

“Um.” I hesitated.
Just keep walking
, some part of me said.
Follow Kat to the top of the ridge
. Jamie’s meeting point would be up there, and we would snack on sandwiches while we waited.

But I couldn’t shake the other part of my mind. That part was saying,
I have to know
.

“Go ahead to the top of the ridge,” I called to Kat. “Make sure the waterfall is there and we didn’t take the wrong trail. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Kat blinked then shrugged. “Okay. See you at the top.” She turned, disappearing around a hairpin corner.

I took a deep breath, stepping off the trail. Blackberry vines grabbed at my boots and jeans, covering parts of the path. I stepped on them, crunching them against the ground. As I climbed past the last bush, I paused before leaving the trees. My heart jumped in my chest. My boots squished over the grass, through a patch of frosted flowers. I stood in the middle of a perfect circle.

It was the clearing.

Every now and again, you have a moment in your life that is too strange, too paranormal to explain . . . I had now officially had more of those moments in one week than most people have in their whole lives. How had I dreamt so clearly of this place I’d never set foot in before?

I turned to the clearing’s side, glaring at the oddball tree amongst the bare-branch crew. A red cedar waved with the breeze, needles clustered together, shaping it like a giant, green cone. Luckily, no yellow-eyed predator lurked below it . . . yet. I rolled my hands into fists, trying to keep them from shaking.

Maybe Grandma Celine wasn’t as nuts as I’d thought.

A crunching sound echoed nearby, like feet on dried leaves. I jerked around. The crunching stopped. I waited, listening. It was hard to hear past the thumping of my heart. Throwing my backpack down, I ripped open the side netting, taking out the pocketknife. I waited.

A rabbit hopped out of the blackberries. I squealed, giving a little jump. The rabbit spun around and darted back into the bush.
Okay, this is getting ridiculous
. I stuffed my knife in my jeans pocket. It was time to go find Kat, forget about this place. So what if I’d dreamt of it? Maybe I’d been here a long time ago and just couldn’t remember.

I had just turned towards the path when the crunching restarted. Then I saw a figure in a Metallica shirt and hiking boots.

Cain slowed to a halt. A smile broke out over his face. “Jane?” He laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Cain.” At least it wasn’t the yellow-eyed creature. “I’m on a hike with my friend. What are
you
doing up here?”

“Same.” He shrugged, hands in his pockets as he started towards me. “But they wanted to go down to the ravine at the edge of the trail. Egret Creek runs through there. With the snow drifts nearly all melted, it’s quite lively.”

He stopped a few feet from me. I pretended to be looking at the trail, giving me an excuse to step back another foot. Turning forward, I saw Cain’s friendly expression had morphed. His smile became a thin line, body still, stiff.

“You know,” he said, scanning me up and down. “Twice now I’ve seen you, and you still look incredibly familiar.” Another step closer. “I don’t suppose you’d silence my wondering and tell me your last name?”

My heart picked up the pace again. “That’s, um, not something I give out. Sorry.”

“Well, maybe I can guess then? Here, let me try to guess.” Cain linked his hands together, pursing his lips. “Is it Thompson? No? All right, what about um, Winslow? No. No, you don’t look like a Winslow. Oh!” He smiled, a sudden gleam in his eye. “Is it Bayberry?”

My mouth hung open, wordless. Oh, God. How did he know my last name? “Um.” Fingers shaking, I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. It took a lot of focus to act fearless as I said, “No. I’m, I’m a Barnes,”—I picked the first name of my favorite bookstore— “Jane Amelia Barnes.”

“A Barnes?” He sounded intrigued, but his face remained the same; he knew it was a lie. “Nah. You don’t have the right
scent
to be a Barnes. There are several in this area, did you know that? All part of the same family. They all smell like Tide laundry detergent meshed with the damp scent of sage. But you . . .” We stood just inches apart now. He sniffed at me. “You are very special, aren’t you, Jane? An infusion of scents from across the world, you delude the nose of any human or animal.” His eyes narrowed. “Just like her.”

The sun shown down over the clearing just then, illuminating his gelled hair and bronze complexion. As Cain tilted his head, the light streaked his eyes, changing them from dust-colored to amber, then to—

Yellow
. I inhaled sharply.
Golden yellow
. Like the monster in my dream.

I dropped my backpack, knowing it would only weigh me down. Spinning on my heel, I bolted for the path.

In a blur of color, he ran around in front of me. I gasped, digging my heels into the ground. The slick grass parted under my shoes. I slid, falling on my side.

“Not so fast, heiress,” Cain said. I whipped my pocket knife out. He kicked his foot up, nicking my hand and knocking the knife out of reach. I cried out, fingers pulsing. “To let you live could literally kill my kind. Trust me: if another way existed, I would take it. Such a pretty face doesn’t deserve to be wasted. It deserves a long, happy life—”