Thicker Than Blood - The Complete Andrew Z. Thomas Trilogy (68 page)

What a strange and beautiful summer with Vi in these woods.

I haven’t known peace like this before.

The sky had begun to pale toward evening when they started back for the cabin—a quarter mile hike through the woods on a moose run.

Andrew stayed out to split firewood.

Violet went indoors.

She laid her son down in the crib and sat at the kitchen table with a pen and paper.

Not knowing what to say, she spent most of her words describing Max.

She imagined Ebert and Evelyn in the North Carolina countryside, reading this letter about their grandson. It would be dusk and they’d sit out on the big wraparound porch of their white farmhouse, the pleasant stench of manure present in the mist.

She could smell her father’s pipe, see the long view from the porch—rolling pasture, barns, the soft
bluegreen
horizon of lush deciduous trees that would not survive one Yukon winter. For a moment, Violet felt as homesick for those eastern woods as she did for her parents.

I miss your trees
, she wrote.

Andrew made dinner while she rocked Max to sleep, the cabin filling with the incense of tomatoes and garlic and boiling pasta.

They dined on the back porch, their sunburned faces lit by a solitary candle, its flame frozen on this windless night.

Though it was after ten light dawdled in the sky.

This far north in late summer, true darkness doesn’t come until after midnight.

There had been a passing shower some time ago and the smell of the wet spruce was sharp and clean. Firs crowded the porch, their lowest branches draping within reach.

Andrew set down his fork and took a sip of the excellent Chilean wine.

"I finished the epilogue while you were in the shower."

Violet stared at her plate.

"Vi?"

When she finally looked at him across the rickety card table, he noticed her hands were shaking.

Andrew had converted the loft into a bedroom, managing to fit a mattress where his writing desk had been.

It was very late and dark and quiet.

Moonlight came through the windows and bleached the floorboards.

Violet had calmed down.

They lay awake, Max between them, the infant snoring delicately.

"Is it hard for you?" Violet whispered.

"What?"

"You know. Lying here with me…doing nothing."

Andrew smiled.

"Go to sleep."

He almost said go to sleep angel.

Her head rested in the crook of his arm.

She rubbed her cheek against his.

"What are you doing?"

"Max never had a beard. I like yours. I like how it smells."

"You gonna keep me up all night?"

"I just might."

10/14/03

Haines Junction, Yukon

Spent last night at the Raven Hotel. Pricey. Look for something more reasonable this evening. Breakfast at Bill’s Diner. Coffee. Two delicious
bearclaws
. C$11.56. AT came to the village again in that old CJ-5. (he went to the library)
 
I drove out to his cabin. 5.9 miles down Borealis Road. A one-
laner
. Rough. Beautiful weather. Cold. Saw his driveway but didn’t turn in. Too nervous. (don’t be such a
chickenshit
)
 
Think I’ll return on foot tonight and approach through woods under the cover of
  

The intercom broke in: "At this time, we would like to begin boarding Flight 6346 with nonstop service to Whitehorse, Yukon."

The tattered purple notebook closed.

On its cover, "H. BOONE" had been neatly printed in black magic marker:

The passenger of seat 14C slipped the notebook into a leather satchel, slung it over his shoulder, and strolled toward the gate.

His hair is blond and short now, but if you look closely, the roots are still black.

FOREWORD TO BREAK YOU

This novella is why I love reading horror.

Crouch takes you on a 20,000 word race straight into hell, and you'll love every minute of it.

Break You is a perfect introduction into the twisted, exhilarating world of Blake Crouch.

His characters are complex. Their motivations are terrifying. And the scenarios he dreams up are among the most creatively depraved since Thomas Harris.

How much would you hurt the ones you loved in order to save them?

If that question makes you flinch, DO NOT read this ebook.

But if you like your thrillers to have some depth to go along with the evil, and you like your villains to be so genuinely creepy you won't be able to forget them, then this was written just for you.

Fans of Thomas Harris, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Jack Ketchum, Richard
Laymon
, Brian Keene, and Dean Koontz will find themselves in familiar territory. Crouch's stalwart hero Andrew Z. Thomas (Desert Places, Locked Doors) thinks he's finally left the tragedy and horror of his past behind him. But the past has a way of catching up, and Andrew is pushed to the limits of human endurance to see if he does indeed break.

The ending is a jaw-dropper. You'll never see it coming.

J.A. Konrath, author of the Det. Jack Daniels' Series and Flee

BREAK YOU

* * *

Following the events of DESERT PLACES and LOCKED DOORS, Andy Thomas and Violet King are hiding out in the wilds of northern Canada, where Violet has a four-month-old son and a burgeoning romance with Andy. On a cold, rainy night at their cabin in the woods, the promise of an idyllic life that seems just around the corner is shattered when a man from their past, a monster of pure malevolence, returns. What he has in store for them will challenge their understanding of evil and stretch the fibers of their love to the breaking point.

They say that what you mock
Will surely overtake you
And you become a monster
So the monster will not break you

— U2, "Peace on Earth"

Yukon, Canada

Autumn 2004

Andy

EARLY October.

A cold, midnight rain pattering against the tin roof.

"We should be drinking whiskey," Violet said. "Something to
warm
our bones."

I set another birch log on the fire and crawled back onto the bearskin rug where Vi had sprawled with her wineglass.

"You’re already cold?" I asked.

"I’m a southern girl. I’m always freezing."

"Hate to say it, but that doesn’t bode well for you this winter."

"How cold does it get here? Worst case scenario."

"Fifty below. Sixty on a bad day."

"I won’t even get out of bed."

I sipped my wine, glanced at the
fireshadows
flickering in the rafters over the loft—what had once been my office now converted into Violet’s bedroom and her four-month-old Max’s nursery. He slept up there in bliss, the warmest spot in the cabin, where the heat of the fire gathered.

I studied the firelight flush across Violet’s face.

I’d shunned it, fought it, tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t deny what I felt in the pit of my stomach. I was falling...hard...for this woman.

"What is it?" Vi said.

"Nothing."

"No...you have this look."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

She smirked. "Are you crushing on me, Andy?"

I blushed through to the tips of my ears, wondering if she could see the color in the lowlight.

"Little bit, I’m sorry."

"No, it’s completely understandable. I’m adorable."

I laughed, my eyes closing only for a second, and when they opened again, Violet had
leaned
in so close I could smell the wine on her breath.

Her green eyes were flecked with black. This I hadn’t noticed before.

"Violet—"

"I want this."

"You’re sure? Because if you have any doubt—"

She shut me up with a kiss.

Soft.

Melting.

Melding.

I could’ve lived there.

We came apart, the corners of my mouth electrified with the taste of her. I ran my hand over the curve of her hip, wondering how far we were going to take this.

"I haven’t," I said. "Not in a long time."

"Haven’t what? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, I just—"

"Wait." She recoiled. "You think we’re going to sleep together?"

"No, I just thought—"

"I’m kidding, we are."

"Why do you torture me?"

"Because it’s so easy?"

She set her wineglass on the floorboard and pulled me on top of her.

"Tell the truth," she whispered. "How many times have you imagined this moment?"

I smiled, feeling her thighs against my ribs.

"You’ve been through a lot, Vi."

"We both have."

"It hasn’t even been a year."

"It’s been long enough for me to know who you are. Stop trying to talk me out of this."

So I kissed her, my hands running over her body in some kind of wonder. The fire raged behind us and the rain intensified. I
had
imagined this moment, many times, since the beginning of summer at least and still it didn’t feel anything like my fantasies. I loved her now, and that made everything better.

"Do you want to move over to my bed?" I whispered in her ear.

"Yes, please."

And still I could barely bring myself to separate from her. Such a sweet and perfect place.

I got onto my knees and helped her up.

"God, you’re beautiful."

I would’ve undressed her right there in the firelight if it hadn’t been so cold. I wished we’d done this in the summertime.

"I’m just going to run up to the loft for a second," she said. "Go get under the covers and warm it up for us."

I stood and moved across the cold floorboards toward the nook under the loft where my bed sat in darkness.