Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

“Another day.” Worry lines fanned from his dark eyes.

The aphid battle must have spoiled Naalnish’s hunting spirit. “Okay.”

I scrubbed my skin until my goose pimples were red and sore. The protection of towering gorge walls and my trust in Badger and Naalnish accorded me comfort in my nudity. Still, the feeling of being watched was an electric current licking my skin.

“What does wanunhecun mean?” My voice bounced between the walls.

Badger responded from around the corner, “The Lakota do not have a word for sorry. In the case of an accident, mistake or wanunhecun is sufficient.”

So Jesse admitted fault? I cupped water over one arm until the rust-tinged rivulets turned clear. Knowing Jesse was somewhere close filled me with warmth. And that feeling irritated the piss out of me. I was entirely too curious about the man behind those fire brimmed eyes.

I squatted, giving my hair a final rinse. I wanted to ignore the attraction, but the slumbering need in my womb had awoken. The part of me that longed to heal wanted to hear the song again. I wanted what I had with Joel. Not just the sexual assuagement. I craved the emotional connection.

“Evie?” Badger bellowed. “Everything okay?”

“On my way.” I dressed and buckled on the blades, slamming the door on thoughts about Jesse and his apology.

On the hike back, the brothers stopped to celebrate the victory of our fight by chanting a meditative song to the Great Mystery. I sneaked away to go to the bathroom, taking my time among the red and purple blooms of the rhododendron.

From the thrall of the scenery came a whisper without voice. I spun, tripped. The summons burrowed in my chest and festered in my gut.

I followed the pull, let it guide my feet. A short hike later, I stood before a wall of exposed sandstone. A paltry shanty nestled in its shade. The air shuddered around me. A bird took flight somewhere to my right. I crept closer.

An eerie stillness enshrouded the structure. The walls seemed to bulge with an ominous warning humming from within. And there, on the porch drenched in darkness, a small figure appeared. Eyes and expression hid behind shadows. An arm stretched up, waved.

My pulse quickened. The child’s body changed density, somewhere between real and not, and floated through the open doorway.

The children are our guides. They preserve the truth.

Shit. It could be Aaron or Annie. I had to follow. I shook out tired muscles, steeled my spine, and approached the porch.

The hair on my arms stood on end. A furry bundle darkened a step. I picked it up and turned it over. Aaron’s Booey, soggy with blood. I clutched it to my chest. Why would he leave it there?

Tree branches groaned. Two more steps and I reached the threshold.

A shriek snapped through the silence. The pitch of the voice froze me. A woman?

Her moaning seeped from the walls and ripped down my spine. It couldn’t be. I squeezed the bear.

Oh God, a woman.

I forced my feet inside.

So I wait for you like a lonely house

till you will see me again and live in me.

Till then my windows ache.

Pablo Neruda

I choked on the stench of mildew and stagnant water. Green-black mold carpeted the cabin’s walls. Behind another door, a woman cried. Dread clotted inside me. But I kept my feet moving, the groan of battered boards announcing each step.

A bloody handprint dripped on the door, tiny and low. Aaron’s? Couldn’t be real. The wailing on the other side weakened to a whimper. With the tip of the dagger, I nudged the door open.

The woman leapt back, hands blocking her face. Black strands straggled from her balding scalp. Rags matted her cadaverous frame. She dropped her hands, patting the bed behind her.

Her lips were pinched. Her features were human, all but the tiny pupils staring back. Then she opened her mouth. A howl escaped and insectile mouthparts writhed in her throat.

She jumped on the bed, crouched, arms outstretched. Her legs folded over lumps in the sheets. The lumps took shape, forming images I tried to reject. She shifted. A small rotting head rolled off the bed, thudded to the floor. She hovered over the bodies of three dead children.

Heart banging against my ribs, I clutched the bear tighter. The decay in the air was long gone, yet the heads on the bed retained pristine faces. My A’s. I knew my mind was twisting reality. Still, I inched closer. I had to be sure. The bed shook under her growing agitation. Her shrills rattled the ramshackle roof.

“Evie.” A Texan drawl next to my ear. “No sudden movements.” An arm snaked around me and pulled my back against a solid chest.

I reached toward the bed, Booey in one hand. “I need to—”

“No. She’s really pissed. We’re gonna back up nice and easy, like.”