The Twilight Before Christmas (9 page)

“What do you mean?” Matt tightened his fingers around hers.

“My sisters do incredible things and people expect it of us, but I wouldn’t want you to think I’m capable of climbing mountains or jumping out of planes because you’ve heard of all of their exploits.” She was feeling her way in the fog rather than following the glow stick. She lifted her face to the droplets of sea moisture, inhaling to try to catch the scent of something foul. “We have to cross the highway.”

With the fog so thick there was virtually no traffic. Matt moved with her across the coastal highway and took the shortcut that led to the center of town. She was so serious all of a sudden, so distant from him, that he was actually beginning to believe she was on the trail of something evil. He could sense the stillness in her, the gathering of energy.

The survival instincts he’d honed during his years as a Ranger kicked in. His skin prickled as he went onto alert status. Adrenaline surged, and his senses grew keener. He felt the need for complete silence and wondered if he was beginning to believe in supernatural nonsense. Matt eased the glow stick inside his jacket without activating it. The fog muffled the sound of Kate’s footsteps. He was aware of her breathing, of the eerie feel of the fog itself, of everything.

By mutual consent they were silent as they walked along the street. He became aware of a slight noise. A puffing. It was distant and hushed, barely audible in the murky blanket of mist. Matt found himself straining to listen. There was a rhythm to the sound, reminding him of a bull drawing air in and out of its lungs hard before a charge. Breathing. Someone was breathing, and the sound was moving, changing directions each time they changed directions.

Matt pressed his lips to her ear. “There’s someone in the fog with us.” He was certain someone was watching them, someone quite close.

Kate tipped her head back. “Some
thing
, not someone.”

Kate turned toward the residential area. The town looked strange shrouded in the gray-white fog. Heavily decorated for Christmas, the multicolored lights on the stores and office buildings, the houses and trees gave off the peculiar glow of a fire in the strange vapor, giving the town a disturbing infernal appearance rather than a festive one. Matt wished he had brought a weapon with him. He was a good hand-to-hand fighter because he was a big man, strong, with quick reflexes and extensive training, but he had no idea what kind of adversary they faced.

Something hit him in the back, skittered down his jeans, and fell to the street. Matt whirled around to face the enemy and found nothing but fog.

“What is it?” Kate asked. Her voice was steady, but her hand, on the small of his back, was shaking.

Matt hunkered down to look at the object at his feet. “It’s a Christmas wreath, Kate. A damned Christmas wreath.” He looked around carefully, trying to penetrate the fog and see what was moving in it. He could feel the presence now, real, not imagined. He could hear the strange, labored breathing, but he couldn’t find the source.

As he stood, a second object came hurtling out of the fog to hit him in the chest. He heard the smash of glass and knew immediately that the wreath had been decorated with glass ornaments. “Let’s get out of here, off the street at least,” he said.

Kate was stubborn, shaking her head. “No, I have to face it here.”

Matt pulled Kate to him, shielding her smaller body with his own as more wreaths came flying through the air, hurled with deadly accuracy at them from every direction. He wrapped his arms around her head, pressing her face against his chest. “It’s kids,” he muttered, brushing a kiss on top of her head to reassure her. “Always playing pranks; it’s dangerous in this fog, not to mention destructive.”

He hoped it was kids. It had to be an army of kids, tearing wreaths off the doors of the houses and throwing them at passersby as a prank. He heard no laughter, not even running footsteps. He heard nothing but the rough breathing. It seemed to come out of the fog itself. The nape of his neck prickled with unease.

“It isn’t children playing a prank, Matt.” Kate sounded close to tears. “It’s much, much worse.”

“Kate.” He stroked a caress down the back of her head. Her hair was inside the hood of the cape, but his palm lingered anyway. “It isn’t the first time a group of kids decided to play around, and it won’t be the last.”

The Christmas wreaths lay around them in a circle, some smashed or crushed and others in reasonably good shape. Kate lifted her face away from his chest and took a breath. “I can smell it, can’t you?”

Matt inhaled deeply. He recognized the foul, noxious odor of the gases in the old mill. His heart jumped. “Dammit, Kate. I’m beginning to believe you. Let’s get the hell out of here before I decide I’m crazy.”

She pulled free of his arms. “Is that what you think about me? That I’m crazy?”

“Of course not. This is all just so damned odd.”

Her sea-green eyes moved over his face, a little moody, a little fey. “Well, brace yourself, it’s going to get damned odder. Stay still.”

The fog swirled around them, their faces, their feet, and bodies, spinning webs of charcoal gray matter. As at the cliff house, Matt got the impression of bony fingers, and this time they were trying to grab at Kate. Without thinking, he caught her up and started to run, the urge strong to get her away from the long gray tentacles, but the blanket of fog was thick around them.

Kate pressed her lips to his ear. “Stop! I have to try to stop it, Matthew; it’s what I do. We can’t outrun the fog, it’s everywhere.”

“Dammit, Kate, I don’t like this.” When she didn’t respond, he reluctantly put her down and stayed very close to her, ready for action.

She turned in the direction of her home, her face serene, thoughtful, yet determined. She radiated beauty, an inner fire and strength. She whispered, a soft, melodic chant that became part of the night, of the air surrounding them. She wasn’t speaking English but a language he didn’t recognize. Her voice was soothing, tranquil, a soft invitation to a place of peace and harmony with the earth.

The fog itself breathed harder, in and out, a burst of air sounding like a predatory animal with teeth and claws. The mist seemed to vibrate with anger, roiling and spinning and growing darker. Gray fog whirled around the Christmas wreaths at Matt’s feet, spinning fast enough to lift them into the air. Bright green wreaths withered and blackened as if all the life was being sucked out of them. The objects reminded Matt of the garlands at funerals rather than the cheery decorations for a holiday, and each of them seemed to be aimed straight toward Kate.

His breath caught in his throat, and his heart pounded. Kate looked small and fragile under the onslaught of the vicious gray-black vapor. He moved, a fluid glide that took him into the path of the blackened garlands so that they smashed into his larger frame. Kate ignored the fog and the wreaths, concentrating on something inside of herself. She stared toward the house on the cliffs and abruptly lifted her arms straight up into the air. The wind rushed in from the ocean with wild force. It carried the crisp scent of the sea, the taste and feel of the waves, and a spray of salt. It also carried voices, soft and melodious and very feminine. The wind swept through the fogbank, the voices swelling in strength, Kate’s voice joining theirs until they were in perfect harmony, in total command.

The spinning Christmas wreaths dropped to the road. The fog receded, heading inland, blanketing the residential homes; but the wind was persistent, shifting directions and herding the fog back toward the ocean. Kate looked translucent, her skin pale and beaded with moisture, wisps of hair clinging to her face, but she didn’t falter. Her voice brought a sense of peace, of tranquillity, of something beautiful and satisfying. It filled Matt with longing for a home and a family of his own. It filled him with a deep sense of pride and respect for Kate Drake.

He watched the fog reluctantly retreat until it was far out over the ocean, dissipated by the force of the wind. There was a silence left behind in the vacuum of the tempest. Kate dropped her arms as if they were leaden. She staggered. He leaped forward to catch her before she collapsed, swinging her into his arms and cradling her against his chest.

“It’s growing in strength. I couldn’t have sent it away if my sisters hadn’t helped.” Kate looked up at him with frightened eyes.

Matt kissed her. It was the only thing he could think to do. She seemed weightless in his arms. He kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose and settled his mouth, feather-light over hers. “It’s all right now, Kate. Rest. You sent it away. Tell me what you need.” He could see that every drop of her strength had been used up in fighting the unseen enemy in the fog. She’d made a believer out of him. He was a man of action, having spent several years in the service training to protect his countrymen, yet there had been nothing he could do to stop the evil shadow in the mist. “What is it?”

She rubbed her face tiredly against his jacket. “I don’t know, Matthew, I honestly don’t know.”

“How did you know what to say to it? What language it would understand?”

“I didn’t know. I was using a healing chant my family has passed down from generation to generation. I was attempting to heal its spirit.”

He stared at her, trying not to look shocked. The dark shadow seemed beyond any sort of redemption to him, something dark and dangerous, looking for a chance to strike out at anything or anyone around it.

Kate looked at the wreaths strewn all over the road. “Strange that he would choose to attack us with the wreaths.”

“Strange that it could use them at all. Do you think it’s a he?”

She shrugged. “It felt male to me.”

The adrenaline was beginning to subside, but he continued to eye the cliffs warily. “I’m never going to look at fog again in the same way.”

“A wreath is a continuous circle, Matthew, and it symbolizes real love, unconditional, true affection that never ceases.” Her voice was thoughtful.

“I didn’t feel love flowing out of the fog,” he answered. He began walking back in the direction of her house, Kate in his arms.

“But he tore the Christmas wreaths off every door on the street and threw them.”

“At
us,”
he said grimly. “I’m used to looking my enemy in the eye, Katie, fighting him with weapons or my bare hands. I couldn’t exactly grab the fog and throttle it, although I wanted to.”

“Put me down, Matthew, I’m too heavy for you to carry all that way.”

“I was a Ranger for ten years, Katie, I think I can pack your weight with no problem.”

She wasn’t going to argue, she was just too drained. “Ten years. That’s right, you joined right out of college. I’ve been wandering around so much, and I knew you didn’t live here, but your family always made it seem as if you were here.”

“I spent my leave here, every chance I could. I picked up my life here again immediately after I got out of the service because the family business was waiting for me. My father and brothers kept me a part of it, even though they did all the work.”

“Why did you join the Rangers, Matthew? As soon as I heard, I researched what they were all about. It was very—” she hesitated, searching for the right word—“intense. And frightening. Why would you want to do something like that?”

“I’ve always needed to push myself to find out my limits. And I believe in my country, so it seemed a perfect fit for me. The Rangers embody everything I believe in. Move farther and faster and fight harder than any other soldier. Never surrender, never leave a fallen comrade, survive and carry out the mission under any conditions.”

Kate sighed heavily and turned her face into his shoulder, hiding her expression from him. Something about that sigh gave Matt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to ask her about it, but by the time he reached the path leading to the house, Kate was asleep.

Chapter
5