Voracious - Alice Henderson [85]
Quickly she reached the door, flung it open. Noah stood in the doorframe, chest heaving, face desperate and bruised.
“Thank the gods,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “I thought he’d got you!” She clutched him tightly, breathing in his scent. Yes. This was Noah. The hint of sun protection, the wisp of cinnamon.
Then, looking up over her shoulder, he breathed, “What in the hell?”
She spun around. The false Noah stood there, framed in the bedroom doorway.
Behind her, Noah gasped. “But … am I dead?”
“No!” she said, not taking her eyes off the creature. “He can become anyone. Noah, you were wrong.”
“Back so soon?” asked the false Noah.
Behind her, Noah shook with anger.
“After you tumbled into that ravine, I thought of sticking around to kill you, but,” he looked at Madeline, “I had better things to do with my time.” He sounded calm, assured, but his eyes held something else in their depths. Maybe sadness, she realized.
Noah was anything but calm. He stepped forward, neck veins bulging, “This is it! You die here!”
He pushed past her and launched into the air, colliding with the creature in the center of the room, a clumsy, rage-driven move that knocked the false Noah sprawling across the floor.
They tangled there violently as Madeline gawked, frozen. It was bizarre to see Noah and his doppelgänger roll across the floor, both wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. She moved in to help and suddenly realized she couldn’t tell them apart, had completely lost track of the real Noah. Both even had identical tears in their jeans and T-shirts.
Then one of the Noahs met with a violent kick in the gut and rolled off to the side, momentarily unable to breathe. The other Noah leapt to his feet and ran to Madeline. She steeled herself, ready to punch him in the face if she needed to. “Where’s the backpack?” he asked just as the other Noah rose from the floor and struck him in the head with an upraised fist. “Get the backpack!” he shrieked as he fell.
That had to be the real Noah. The creature wouldn’t need the weapon to kill, but Noah would. Without taking her eyes off the real Noah, she backed up quickly, groping behind her for the backpack, which she’d tossed down when she entered the cabin.
As Noah struggled and kicked at his doppelgänger, Madeline’s hand felt the wood of the chair, then the table, then the canvas of the pack. Desperately she grabbed it, unzipping it and shoving her hand inside. Her fingers closed around the cold metal of the dagger.
Dashing forward, knife in hand, she reached them just as the creature gained the advantage again and flipped Noah over on his back. She raised the knife and thrusting forward, drove it deeply into the creature’s kidneys. Howling in agony, he twisted and sprang up, trying to grab at the blade there, wrenching it out of Madeline’s grasp as he stood.
But Noah was too fast. In an instant he was on his feet, grabbing the handle of the dagger. With a sharp tug, he slid it out of his twin’s back and then brought it forward again as the creature dodged. The blade connected with Stefan’s cheekbone. A red gash opened in his face, streaming with blood.
Staggering backward, Stefan brought a hand to his slashed face, eyes bewildered. And there was something else, too: fear, Madeline realized. For the first time, he was afraid.
“So this is what you meant earlier by the ‘knife,’ ” he gasped. “I can see why you were so eager to have it.” And then he started changing, Noah’s features melting away into the visage of the same olive-skinned man she’d seen him take on before. Long black hair sprouted, taking the place of Noah’s blond color, and fiendish claws replaced the fingernails on his hands.
Noah didn’t stop, advancing on Stefan with clenched teeth and wild eyes. He struck out once, missed as the creature ducked, and then scored a hit just below Stefan’s rib cage, ripping open a hole there as big as a football.
With his right arm, Stefan swung out, connecting with Noah’s throat and sending him spiraling back into the wall.
Hacking and gasping, Noah