Voracious - Alice Henderson [36]
In a grove of trees on the island of Anglesey, stalking a Druidic priest, fires erupting, cries of battle as the Romans invade, all turning to chaos, the Druid lost, wasted, dead before the creature even gets a chance …
Stalking the well at Alexandria, chariots rumbling by, the creature memorizing the routine of the Greek geophysicist, imagining the tasty meats of the brain, salivating, adjusting its garb stolen from a fellow scholar and the laurels crowning its head. Soon. So soon …
Midnight at an Egyptian festival, the full moon bright on the Nile, the young pyramid architect caught unawares in the grove of palms, the rustling of the trees’ fronds muffling the sound of eager feeding …
“What do you see?” the creature demanded.
A vague part in the back of her mind, beyond the visions, the anguish, the searing pain, remembered how to speak. But Madeline could see nothing but the visions. Her eyes filled with them, unable to see the creature, the woods. “You … were shot,” she breathed, “in Prague … and before that, you were in London, happy …”
She wrenched her hand free and gasped, sights of the real world flooding into her once more. The road. The bathroom. Pine trees.
The creature.
It stared at her, eyes wide, silent.
Neither spoke, Madeline forgetting to breathe. Images still swirled in her head, a cacophony of sounds and smells and images from a dozen other times. She could still smell bread baking in an eighteenth-century Viennese bakery, could taste a bitter root pulled from the earth in ancient Norway.
“Stefan!” Noah’s sudden cry cut through the heavy silence between them.
The creature looked past Madeline’s shoulder. Then it backed up, retreating completely into the darkness, just melting away. For a second she saw the red eyes moving in black, and then even they were gone.
Madeline heard Noah’s boots thumping on the pavement behind her, approaching quickly. She didn’t dare turn away, afraid the creature might bound back out of the darkness and take off her head with one powerful swipe.
“Madeline!” He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “Did he hurt you?” Madeline’s head pressed against his chest, and he felt warm and reassuring. She shook her head.
“But—I heard screaming.”
“It wasn’t me,” she said and pulled away. Silently she indicated the blood on the asphalt.
“Oh, no,” said Noah.
Maybe it was cold, but Madeline just felt relieved. Those guys would never bother her or any other woman again. She felt oddly numb and shaky and just wanted to sit down.
Noah evidently saw this on her face. “What is it? What happened?”
Madeline shook her head. After a long pause, she said, “He … he defended me.”
“What?” Amazement.
“The blood … is from these guys who were attacking me. He just came out of nowhere and …” Madeline thought of the intensity of the moment, of the creature’s claws, fangs, the ferocity of his attack.
Noah looked as surprised as Madeline felt.
“Has this ever happened before?” she asked.
Noah raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. “No. At least, not when I’ve been around.”
“Who—” Madeline swallowed, afraid of the question she wanted to ask. “Who does he usually kill? What sort of person?”
“Two kinds of people,” Noah answered. “Carefully chosen victims, and people who get in the way of his pursuit of those victims.”
A dark, terrible thought crept into her mind as her savior turned back into her killer. “Do you think he killed those guys so that he could still be the one to murder me?”
“Gods,” Noah breathed. “Probably.”
“That’s terrible!” Madeline almost yelled. “What kind of twisted, demented, screwed-up—” She stopped short when she realized how much her voice had raised. “Why me?”
“In the past, he has always chosen victims of extraordinary talent. Something that sets them apart from the rest.”
“You said he killed randomly!”
“I lied. I wasn’t sure if he had chosen you as a specific victim, and I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, I’m worried.” She swallowed back a painful lump