Page 2 of Bloodbane
CHAPTER TWO
Splashes of Scarlet
{ R U B Y }
“Oh my god.”
The shock in Milo’s voice draws more goosebumps from my skin than the frigid afternoon air. I follow his line of sight and immediately wish I hadn’t.
Splashes of scarlet peek up through the blanket of white like gory breadcrumbs, leading to the two frozen bodies lying a few yards from my abandoned truck. One man’s head is twisting unnaturally: buried face down in the snow, at odds with the naked body facing up. His hair is matted with blood, and splintered bones pierce jagged flesh, spearing out from both forearms. It’s something out of a nightmare, but the second body is much, much worse. Blank eyes stare toward the heavens, and his mouth—or what’s left of it—is pulled open in an eternal, silent scream: his lower jaw having been ripped from its hinges, now resting on his crushed chest. Crimson bloodstains spread out from the broken body like a gruesome halo.
I turn away as my stomach rolls, pushing bile into my throat. My hand flies to my mouth.
“You know, when Cooper came barreling into the clinic this morning, rambling about a horror show, I thought it was just his regular hyperbole. But seeing this…” Milo blows out a low breath. “How are you even alive right now?”
The shiver running down my spine has nothing to do with the cold. I don’t answer; I can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut but it doesn’t help—the nightmare laid out at my feet is etched into the back of my eyelids.
Why did I drive out onto the lake? Something here must have made me detour on the way to the station, but what? The glimmer of a memory hovers in the darkness, just beyond reach. The dull ache in my temple grows, throbbing outward in time with my heavy heartbeat. Milo’s concerned stare weighs on me uncomfortably, and I give up my chase of memories that don’t want to be caught.
I scan the vast frozen lake surrounding us. My gaze follows the bloodstains out, over the mess of disturbed snow, to…
“Wolves.”
“Where?” Milo spins on the spot, head whipping from side to side, eyes darting around wildly.
I point to the single line of wolf tracks as I trace their path toward the tree line. Somewhere in the darkness, a memory finally sparks to life.
“There were wolves here. Two, I think. Maybe three. But they were… hurt. Or sick. Or, or… something. ” I curse as the gossamer memory dissolves under searing scrutiny. “There were wolves, and… people. These guys, I guess. I think… maybe that’s why I came out here. Fuck. ” I kick my boot into the pile of ice at my feet. “Why can’t I remember?”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Milo’s hand lands on my shoulder, grounding me. “The memories will come back, you just have to give it time.”
“I don’t have time, Milo,” I snap. “Whatever happened here, two people are dead. At best, I’m a witness, at worst, I’m—” Somehow responsible. “I just need to remember.”
“This is not your fault, you hear me? I mean it, Ruby. There’s no way you could do that ,” Milo says earnestly, pointing where my eyes refuse to follow. “You seem to be forgetting that you weren’t the only one Cooper found here.”
The man in the cell. Just another question mark.
“I know, but still... None of this makes any sense, Murph. Who are these guys? What were they doing out here? Hell, what was I doing out here?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Could be drifters. Or poachers. Maybe they flagged you down?”
I twist toward the road. The white haze cuts visibility enough that I can’t make out much more than the dull orange glow of the streetlights now, but it was clearer this morning. At least, I think it was. Milo’s theory isn’t impossible. “Maybe. But if they needed help, it would have been easier to find on the ring road, and poachers would have stuck to the cover of trees. And neither possibility explains why they would be out here buck naked.”
“I can’t see any vehicles or tire tracks, so if they were on foot, they probably thought it would be quicker to cut across the lake. As for the nudity…” Milo moves closer to the bodies, eyeing them intently even as I drop my gaze to my feet. “They could have been hypothermic. It’s called paradoxical undressing. When vasoconstriction fails, people feel like they’re burning up instead of freezing to death. But that obviously wasn’t the C-O-D.”
My stomach drops. Milo is going to have to autopsy the bodies once they’re back in the clinic. The realization is followed immediately by a rush of guilt-corroded relief at not being the one to spend more time in the company of death.
“At least one of us will be able to give Coop some answers.” I sigh, pulling my phone from my jeans. I snap photos of the attack area, the tracks, and the tree line. I leave the bodies for last.
“You will remember in time.”
“Maybe. But Coop needs answers now, and my brain isn’t cooperating.” My eyes sweep the sky. “And neither is the weather.” The small flakes of snow that have been falling steadily since we arrived are growing in size, drifting down with purpose, as if attempting to bury the horrors that happened here. It won’t be long before the storm sets in, and I do not want to be out here when that happens. I can’t stall any longer. “Let’s get this over and done with before it gets worse. I’ll never hear the end of it if I have to be rescued twice in one day.”
Trudging through the snow with aching limbs slows my progress, and more than once I find myself wishing I’d agreed to let Cooper come in my place. Dead weight is heavy, but frozen dead weight? That’s something else altogether.
Grunting and shuffling and sweating despite the frigid temperature, I try my best to keep pace with Milo, carrying the men, one at a time, and hefting them onto the truck bed. My fingers are numb in my gloves by the time we’re working to secure a tarp over the pair. Gratitude floods me when Milo catches the corner of the tarp as the wind kicks up and pulls the dark shroud from my grasp. He wins the war against the gale with strength afforded him by his stocky frame. He tightens the final rope, and the job is done with a slam of the tailgate.
I rub my glove-clad palms against my jeans repeatedly. I know there’s no blood on them, but I can’t wipe the feel of it off my skin.
“Let’s get out of here,” I call over the wind, suddenly eager for that hot bath.
Milo nods his agreement as he comes to stand beside me. “Got your keys?”
“Yep. I’ll meet you back at the clinic. I’m going to grab Coop on the way. You can fill in some of the holes in his report, and he can do my portion of the heavy lifting.” I rub at the back of my neck, stretching it to the side, forcing a soft click.
Milo hesitates, shifting back into Doctor Murphy mode immediately. “Are you alright to drive?”
My cheeks push up in a decent forgery of a real smile, and if Milo doubts its authenticity, he doesn’t let it show. “Of course. You know me, just hamming it up to get out of corpse-carrying duty.”
After an assessing look that takes far too long for my liking, Milo turns and trudges to his car.
With no more appraising eyes on me, I let my smile fall. Truth be told, I’m not sure I should be driving, but it’s a moot point; there aren’t any other viable options.
I press the heel of my hand to my throbbing temple as I walk to the front of my truck. The dent in the driver’s side door stops me in my tracks. Goosebumps bloom anew over my skin. The bright red smear against gloss white grabs my attention first, but it’s the dark stain at my feet that makes my heart race. Ignoring the protesting of my joints, I squat down, needing a better view. The trail ends in a pool of blood—so dark it looks black—directly under the truck cab... right below where Cooper had found me lying unconscious.
I scratch at my chest without thought or intent as old horrors rise and bleed into the new. Familiar anxiety bites at the edges of my mind, and I pull a deep calming breath through my nose, trying to extinguish the embers of panic before they catch.
Working on autopilot, I grab my phone again, cursing when I fumble and almost drop it into the stained snow. I add a dozen more photos to the gallery before pushing to my feet and sliding into my truck, needing to get into a small space—a safe space.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tuck my hands between my thighs, willing away the trembling. Old memories churn in my mind. Why couldn’t I have forgotten those instead?
A loud honk startles my eyes back open, and I whip my head around to see Milo, now pulled up alongside me, motioning for me to move. That familiar concern, never far from the surface today, tugs at his features.
My fingers fumble with the keys as I press them into the ignition. I meet with success on my third try, and with a twist of my wrist, the truck roars to life. With no time to temper my distress, I do my best to shove it down as I start the slow journey back to town, with Milo following close behind.
I need to hold it together. Now is not the time to lose the control I have fought so hard for. This reaction is just the head injury playing tricks—the amnesia is rattling my nerves, that’s all. Everything is going to be fine. The man in the holding cell can help me understand what happened here. And why .
My eyes flick to the rear-view mirror, to the bodies hidden in the back of my truck. I can’t shake the feeling that, though I may not have caused their deaths, I’m somehow the catalyst. I hope I’m wrong. I’ve spent my life running from one nightmare, I’m not sure I have it in me to survive another.