“We . . . can’t. Creature. William,” Mattie said, and rushed toward the door. She sat down in the chair that C.P. had placed there earlier, determined not to let him outside.
She wished she could speak properly, or that Jen was awake to help talk some sense into C.P. How could he consider going outside? If the creature didn’t get him then William would, and once the door was open, William would come inside.
“I don’t care what you say, I’m going out there! Griffin would have done the same for you. We’re only in this mess because of you anyway. He couldn’t stop talking about you, kept saying we had to help because you were being abused by your asshole husband. We only came back in this direction because he wanted to do something about it and now you’re going to sit there like a cowardly little bitch and let him die outside your door?”
Mattie stared at C.P., stricken by the sudden change in him, the snarl in his voice, the contempt she felt radiating from him. Griffin’s screams filled up the empty space between them.
Cowardly little bitch. Was that what she was? Was this true? Had the three strangers only been put in harm’s way because they wanted to help her?
A rifle sounded outside, a huge booming rifle that made a noise like Mattie had never heard before.
“Demon! Go back to hell!”
William. William was shooting the creature.
C.P. moved from the window to stand in front of Mattie, who pressed herself back in the chair that blocked the front door. The flashlight was in one of his hands and the rifle in the other. He trained the flashlight on her.
“Get out of the way or I’ll throw you out of the way,” C.P. said. “I’m going out there to get my friend.”
Griffin’s screams faded out then, overwhelmed by the angry roars of the creature, William’s screams, the report of the rifle.
If C.P. went out there, he would only get caught in the crossfire—shot by William, or snatched up by the creature like his friend. She couldn’t let him leave.
And if he leaves you’ll be all alone with an unconscious woman and who will protect you then? Isn’t that right?
Mattie wanted to shout at that voice, that smug little Samantha, the one who knew that Mattie was helpless, nothing unless she had a man to protect her.
I’m not helpless, she thought. She curled her fingers around the seat of the chair. He’d have to pry her off if he wanted her to move.
“Can’t . . . let . . . you,” Mattie said. “You’ll . . . get . . . hurt.”
“Do you really think that matters? Griffin’s my best friend and I can’t leave him out there. Move.”
Mattie shook her head, half-blind from the glare of the flashlight. He was nothing but a silhouette to her, a silhouette of an angry man looming.
He’s going to hurt me he’s going to hurt me he’s going to hit me and throw me on the floor and throw the chair after me like I’m nothing but garbage and maybe I am because I don’t want to go outside and help the screaming man but there’s nothing we can do there isn’t anything the creature is too big William is too dangerous the world is too big and dangerous altogether it’s safer just to stay right here with the door closed.
The creature stopped roaring. William stopped firing the rifle. There was a strangled cry, and everything was silent.
Mattie’s fingers squeezed against the wood of the chair. What was happening now? Had William killed the creature? Was he even now stalking back to the cabin, triumphant in his defeat of the demon?
She listened. She didn’t hear anything, not the thunk-drag of William’s walk, not Griffin’s screams, not the flurry of breaking branches that meant the creature was moving through the trees.
But Mattie knew the creature could be silent when it wanted to be.
A second later, the front window shattered.
There was another huge roar, loud and close. Mattie covered her ears, curled up on the chair with her legs tight against her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. The cold night air rushed in behind the open window.
C.P. turned the flashlight toward the window, and for a moment Mattie saw claws shining in the beam of light, thought she smelled the sticky metallic sweetness of blood, and then it was gone.
Neither of them moved. Mattie realized she was holding her breath and it was making her lightheaded. She exhaled but her whole body trembled.
“Was that its paw?” C.P. said. He sounded scared but fascinated at the same time.
Mattie hadn’t seen anything like a paw. She’d only noticed the claws—long, almost impossibly long things the color of night and sharper than any falcon’s, not the claws of a bear at all. Those were claws to rend and tear, claws to peel open flesh.