Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)(7)

Is this my attacker?

Or were they ambushed and dumped here too?

I open my mouth to call out but then slowly close it.

What if it’s whoever took me, or what if they’re in on what’s happening? Why do they have a lantern and I don’t?

The cloaked person doesn’t look big enough to be a threat, but I also have some kind of head injury, and I don’t know if I’m thinking clearly. I huddle closer to the trunk of the tree behind me, hoping it will shield me if someone looks my way.

I look around, as though the trees and bushes will tell me what they know, when I spot another red-cloaked person on my other side. I tense, unease twitching through me, as foreboding slithers up my spine. Five huge pine trees separate us, the shadows dripping between them so dark that the person is nearly hidden from view. I worry they’re going to spot me, but just like the first mysterious cloaked figure, they’re staring into the forest in anticipation.

What the fuck is going on?

My mind slowly processes the scene, ticking along like an old wind-up watch at the end of its run. I’m sure I’m missing something, but my brain can’t increase its speed right now because every thought feels fuzzy.

Wait.

More red-cloaked individuals come into focus. They’re farther away than the two on either side of me, but each of them is clearly spaced out in a line. There have to be at least half a dozen others that I can see from where I’m standing, dabs of red painted across the deep blue darkness.

All of them are staring off in the same direction, just…waiting.

Shit.

The terrifying idea that some warped sicko brought me out here into the forest morphs into the gruesome realization that some sort of cult abducted me instead.

If it was just one man, I could try to fight—not with a ton of skill, but I might be able to hold my own.

A whole cult?

Chance and hope lock the door, sliding the bolt closed and leaving me trapped on the other side.

Oh god. Please don’t tell me I’m some kind of human sacrifice.

Dread creeps up the sides of my throat, my gaze passing anxiously over each of the cloaked figures.

Thank fuck none of them move or even turn toward me. I’m not sure they’ve noticed I’m awake, which is surprising because I’m certain that my pounding heart and gasping breaths are as loud as a fighter jet right now. My head and ears are pulsing expectantly, anticipation churning a boiling, bubbling lava through my veins. Any second now, this line of cloaked figures is going to pivot toward me and realize that one of these things is not like the other.

My hands clench with apprehension.

But they just keep waiting.

Waiting for what?

The hairs on my arms rise with warning, and fear screams at me that I don’t want to know what else could be in these woods.

I start to back away, trying to be quiet and discreet.

Something in the air changes.

Maybe it’s the way the nocturnal noises of the forest suddenly stop or my adrenaline is working on overdrive to sharpen my senses in an effort to survive whatever is coming, but—all at once—I know, without a shred of doubt, that something is coming.

I freeze, even though everything in me is begging for me to run, to escape.

My shallow, dread-filled breaths are too loud as they saw in and out of my lungs.

Terrified, I watch the other red-cloaked figures, each of them locked in place just like me.

Are they…are they not in on this? Are they clueless and hurt too?

But I’m out of time to ask questions.

A stick snaps in the distance and the air in my chest retreats.

Tension thickens the cold night, pressing in against me, and I taste acrid fear. I want to spit to remove the taint from my tongue, but I’m too afraid to move.

Two glowing orbs suddenly appear out of nowhere. I stop breathing as they slowly, steadily move closer, floating three or maybe four feet above the ground. It takes my panicked mind a moment to understand what I’m seeing.

It’s a pair of eyes.

Yellow eyes, set in a dark gray and silver furred face.

The biggest wolf I’ve ever seen seems to coalesce out of nowhere.

It’s as though the beast materializes from the darkness itself, one paw moving in front of the other as it stalks its prey. The only problem is I’m pretty sure I’m the prey.

Fuck my life. This is worse than a cult. Torn apart alive and then eaten? That’s number four on my list of worst ways to die.

The wolf slips from the shadows, and just when I think that’s bad enough, two more massive beasts step out of the darkness and join the first. Each of them watches me as they stalk closer, a brutal glint of anticipation flickering in their cold gazes. My knees knock painfully together as a full-body clench born of horror seizes control of my system.

A deep growl rumbles from one of the beasts, and I swear I hear the challenge to run in the menacing sound.

I have zero intention of doing that. I know better than to activate a predator’s prey drive. All my years of working with animals scream inside my head at once—a cacophony of warnings and instructions. Cautiously, I angle my body so I’m not squaring off with the wolves and drop my gaze. I keep track of the wild animals while also searching the ground for a stick or a rock. The branches of the tree behind me are too high, so climbing to get away from them is out.

Think. Breathe and think, I coach myself.