Sarah's Inheritance Read online

  The cold here had surprised her a bit at first, especially after dark. She had been expecting San Diego weather through the whole state, she supposed. The San Francisco Bay area did not have balmy beach-weather in January, and she was glad of Gran’s sweaters at night. They were cozy and made her feel like Gran was there with her somehow, encouraging and supporting her with whatever she decided to do. Warm for her body and her heart.

  The past couple of days had been about getting settled in. All the practical daily-life stuff that is so necessary: changing her address at the post office, calling Gran’s creditors and getting everything changed over into her name, listening to several of her mother’s rants over the phone. (No, she wasn’t sure when she’d be coming home. Yes, she knew that it would be difficult to explain to her employer— Sarah still hadn’t found the courage to tell Elaine about quitting. No, the house wasn’t falling down around her ears, it was in perfectly good shape. Yes, she was aware that made a difference in a listing price.) Honestly, if her mother would just get past the fact that Sarah wasn’t bending to her every whim anymore, she’d probably be proud! Sarah did need to find a job sooner or later— probably sooner, even though she didn’t need to pay rent anymore— but otherwise she was being very practical and responsible about everything from the bills to the laundry.

  Sarah spent her time during the day looking for the grocery store, the best place for coffee, and the best pizza place— not much luck there, since Californians had no idea what real pizza was, it seemed. She also invited Jennifer to bring her gardening friend over for coffee or tea or beer over the weekend. The idea of making friends that her mother would not even know about, let alone pre-screen made her feel practically drunk with rebellion, even though she was long past the usual age for such feelings.

  When her eyes popped open in the dark this morning, however, she had a sense that she needed to get up, get out of the house, and do it as soon as possible. She’d always resisted these odd, out-of-nowhere urges when they came to her. Anytime she mentioned them growing up, her mother would purse her lips and a line would appear between her carefully groomed brows.

  “You are far too mature to allow some nebulous foolishness to direct your actions, Sarah,” she would inevitably say. “Think with your mind, since that is what it is for.”

  Gran, however, had simply chuckled once and said that Sarah had good instincts, and she should listen to them. So this morning she got up and got moving. Hiking— well, going for a walk that wasn’t determined by the road layout— felt like something she needed to do. She’d seen the fox again, too, slinking down the middle of the street like it had no concern whatsoever for the humans in the houses. It had to have a den nearby to be so comfortable.

  She didn’t think she felt quite brave enough for a real hike in real wilderness, although there were plenty of trails nearby, winding up into the mountains and apparently over them to the Pacific Ocean. She had always thought it sounded like fun to just go out into the woods and enjoy nature, but she shivered, remembering her mother’s many rants about how dangerous the outdoors were and how undignified camping was and so on and on endlessly it seemed. Sarah’s mother didn’t even much care for garden parties in carefully manicured spaces within the city, but at least those were catered and had valet parking.

  Sarah reached for her water bottle and tried to calm herself. She was not her mother, wasn’t that part of the point? It was her life, and she didn’t want her mother to run it for her any longer. She was in her mid-twenties for pity’s sake, it was time to act like an adult and make her own choices. So. Sarah would explore. There was a trail just behind her property— she could see it through some trees just past her back fence— that looked like more of a runner’s path than a hiking trail, even if it was wooded on one side. She would go there for her first ever hike. Walk. Whatever. A path behind a bunch of houses would be safe enough for a first outing, even in the dark.

  She locked the door behind her and pulled her coat tighter to wrap across her chest. A few stars glittered in the cloudless sky, the moon having set long since. The night was now dark and kept its chilly grip on the world, and her breath puffed faintly in the streetlight. The air was quiet, waiting for the day to start in earnest, only a few folks getting an early start south to the beach or north into Silicon Valley were out on the freeway making faint noises. Something about the atmosphere felt still, like the world was waiting.

  A shiver ran down her spine but there was no reason for it that she could tell. Just city-girl nerves running rampant on her first morning out in the dark of wilderness-adjacent suburbia. It wasn’t too much before the pre-work runners would start coming out, so she wasn’t too scared of muggers. Mostly. Honestly, what was she afraid of out here, the Big Bad Wolf, for crying out loud? She shut off her mother’s running commentary about how awful the little backwater area Gran lived in was, and stepped down the street.

  There was a little access path at the corner where the street swooped away from both the highway and the creek that separated the residential area from the traffic, and that’s where Sarah turned in. She hesitated slightly under the first twisty tree branches that hung over the narrow path. The sense of something being wrong hit her, strong enough to make her gasp and stand there, uncertain. She peered down the path to where the trail showed through, flattened and graveled and easy for joggers and strollers and those entirely unused to tramping through the forest.

  There is nothing at all to be afraid of. It’s just a little neighborhood park. She pulled her shoulders back, continuing her mental pep talk, and walked down the path with more assurance than she really felt. Besides, the same odd feeling in her chest that had woken her with the need to go for the walk in the first place was still there, unsatisfied with simply being outside the house in the dark morning.

  She could hear the faint sound of the freeway starting to gear up for rush hour now, and smell the trickle of water from the creek just ahead. It was paved like a drainage ditch instead of being allowed to look like a natural waterway, which was both weird and oddly Californian, and there was another path on the other side. She decided that she was going to have to learn more about how things worked here because she would never have thought to call this a creek, nor consider to it picturesque parkland. Well, it was what she had at the moment, and it was a nice enough walk for her first try. And the trees really were quite pretty in a creepy, haunted, Halloween sort of way. Like witch trees, she laughed to herself.

  Gran would have known what they were but wasn’t around to ask, so Sarah would have to go online to find out what the twisting, funny looking trees that lined her street were. There were also several other kinds of trees, huge bushes, and tall grasses rustling softly at the side of the graveled trail as small nighttime critters scurried home to beat the sun. I bet Gran knew what all these plants are. I should have come sooner. I should have visited when she was alive. Sarah sniffled a bit and kept walking. It was strange to be here, knowing that her grandmother had probably walked this path all the time, just to get out of the house.

  Her train of thought was interrupted by a harsh sound, like an asthmatic dog bark, from near the side of the path. Sarah froze, the nerves she had been fighting off reasserting themselves. She turned towards where the sound had come in the brush near her feet, her eyes wide, and saw the grass wave wildly as a fox limped onto the trail.

  The size of the animal made her blink and she realized it was the same fox she’d seen twice now. It was way bigger than she’d thought foxes grew, and at the moment it was filthy. Its thick fur was full of leaves and brambles and was matted down and smudgy on one leg with something dark and shiny. Somehow Sarah knew that wasn’t mud. She stood, still as a river stone, and watched the animal approach her in the middle of the path to stop, looking up to meet her eyes squarely as if it was a friend extending a terse greeting.

  It flicked an ear and barked again. The wheezy sound grated on her nerves, but she knew that this creature wasn’t what was
setting off all the alarms in her mind. In fact, she had the feeling that it was trying to warn her about whatever was causing her fear. Something deep in her brain knew that she and the fox were together against whatever the danger was.

  The air grew sharp with the cold and the fox turned back down the path to growl into the dark. The sky was not quite as inky as it had been, but there was no way the sun could rise fast enough for Sarah, who was shaking wildly now. Her whole body rang with the terror of realizing that whatever caused this soul-deep reaction was just out of sight down the path and was absolutely something she wanted to remain ignorant of. She looked down at the fox, who had moved onto the path in front of her so close his tail draped over her feet and was growling, clearly alert with all it’s animal instinct and preparing to defend itself. And… her. That thought nudged her to speak.

  “Wait. There’s no way you can fight right now, you’re hurt. You have to run!” she said, some instinct driving her to band together with the fox.

  Her mother’s voice in the back of her mind chastised her for talking to an animal and for letting her imagination run so rampant in the pre-dawn air. There was no such thing as monsters. There was no good reason for her heart to be pounding so wildly she could feel her pulse in her fingertips and her ears. There was a rational explanation for why it was now so cold that the sparkle of frost was starting to form on the leaves to her side.

  There was probably nothing out there more dangerous than another fox fighting for territory. We are human beings, there is no excuse for allowing something so inconsistent as instinct to defeat reason. Elaine had no use whatsoever for ‘gut feelings.’ There was no way a wild animal was trying to protect her, of all the ridiculous ideas, and there was absolutely no possibility that a fox would understand human language.

  The fox turned to look at her over his shoulder and its eyes met hers with complete understanding. It rasped out that odd bark again and crept unsteadily backward to crouch at her feet and again growled into the night.

  Sarah blinked. What the hell? She realized that her breath was now puffing clearly out in front of her like billows from an old-fashioned train. The air around them became blade-sharp with cold that hurt her skin and burned in her lungs. This would be cold even in a place like Alaska, but for here it was just wrong. She needed to get somewhere warm and safe, but what about this wild animal that was trying to defend her from…

  She glanced down the path again and even her mother’s constantly droning voice was silenced inside her head. Her mind stuttered and failed, her body froze, even her breath seemed to stop. There, on the path gliding towards them, was a shadow. That was all Sarah could come up with to describe it. It wasn’t a shadowy figure, it wasn’t a dark form. It was a complete absence of light, like a hole in the fabric of reality that was the size and shape of an enormously tall, misshaped person. It moved with slow jerks, like it wasn’t used to having to obey the laws of physics, and each step closer sucked in more warmth, not so much from the air, but from her soul itself.

  The fox in front of her snarled his defiance and limped a step towards the thing, the brush of its tail whispering over her ankle.

  That brief contact broke the hold fear had on her mind.

  “Nuh-uh.” She said and scooped the animal up. It was almost as big as her friend’s dog— a mixed breed mastiff-lab-something mutt of a dog— though the fox was all muscle and much heavier than she’d expected. The only reason she managed to lift it and spin on her heel the way she did was because the fox was so shocked by her action that it didn’t struggle at all. She sprinted down the path the way she had come, hoping she wouldn’t miss the narrow trail back to the street. All she wanted was to get home, lock the doors, and turn on every light in the house.

  Not that she was sure that would help against a horror movie nightmare. She wasn’t sure anything would.

  She skidded around the gentle curve of the path and stopped dead. There, ahead of her and standing right next to the way out, was another shadow. She backed up a step, but the fox started growling again, its head over her shoulder, and she knew they were trapped. There was no place for her to go except across the creek, and she wasn’t sure she could get up the cement slope on the other side. She had no way to fight back, not that she would know how to fight anyway. Besides, she had the feeling that she could have a rocket launcher and it wouldn’t help against those… things. If those were horror movie nightmares, Sarah knew that she was definitely not the plucky heroine that saves the day.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She whispered to the animal as she sank to her knees. She felt the muscle and body heat under the fur as the fox shifted with her movement. The cold had sunk all through her, numbing her fingers and toes, burning her skin everywhere that wasn’t in contact with the animal in her arms. Even that heat was more of a memory of warmth, of light and goodness and optimism that these monsters were steadily driving out of her heart.

  She could tell that the fox wouldn’t just leave her alone to face these horrors, but that choosing to stay was as good as choosing death. She hugged the it close to her chest and buried her face in its fur so she wouldn’t have to watch the things get any closer. She started mumbling to herself, words surfacing in her mind from somewhere she wasn’t consciously aware of. They felt like a prayer, so she just let them come, and waited for the end. At least neither of them would die alone.

  The blow never came. In fact, what Sarah felt was a sudden heat fly past her head, but she didn’t spare any thought for the world outside her chanting until she felt the fox wiggle in her grip and stick its wet nose into her ear.

  “Hey. I asked if you’re okay. Hello?” A warm voice was speaking from somewhere in front of her face and she opened her eyes slowly. There was, in fact, a man crouching in front of her in the not-quite dawn darkness. Not a monster, or a void in reality that chased people. Not something to be afraid of. A live, flesh and blood, human being.

  His hand hovered in the air near her shoulder as if he wasn’t sure that he should touch her. His dark eyes looked worried, relieved, and more than a little confused, and when her eyes met them finally, he sighed in relief and his hand landed on her shoulder. It was a gentle, cautious touch, but she could feel it through her whole body. It was reassurance and life and safety. And warmth, god it was warm.

  “Thank goodness. Are you hurt? There’s blood on your arm,” he said. Here attention dropped down to the sleeve of her jacket and saw blood was indeed smeared across it.

  “Oh!” she flinched. “Oh, you poor thing, I’m so sorry I wasn’t more careful!” She set the fox down gently, trying to keep her hand off the ragged wound that sliced down its shoulder. She expected it to dash off into the grass, but it just crouched down where it was and put it’s head down with a sigh that sounded both exhausted and relieved.

  “Man. I bet that hurts like a bitch,” the stranger said to the animal who huffed a breath. Sarah looked at the fox, then at the man and then back down the path, which was looking less and less sinister with each moment. She felt herself wobble, unstable even as she knelt on the ground and was glad when the stranger put his hand out to steady her. Now that it seemed to be all over, she felt giddy and slightly hollow.

  “You may not be hurt, I guess, but you’re not exactly okay either. We should get you someplace warm.” He looked down at the fox. “You too. We’ll get that shoulder dealt with. Can you walk or should I carry you?” The fox looked up at him and Sarah would swear that the animal grinned. Then it turned and nudged her arm.

  “Not a chance. You behave yourself,” the man said, lifting the fox carefully to drape over his shoulders. “My name is Kai, and this idiot is Sebastian. Let me help you up there, you’re white as a sheet. Woah!”

  The last thing Sarah remembered of her walk that morning was Kai catching her as she slid to the ground.

  Three

  The warm air smelled spicy and pungent and sweet all at the same time, and even with her eyes shut and her mind still
swimming Sarah felt sure she was in a safe place. In the mix of scents somewhere was coffee, which perked Sarah up more than anything else. She shifted on the pillows and snuggled for a moment under the blanket that she clutched in her hand before her eyes snapped open. Where on earth was she?

  The walls of the cozy room were painted a spicy pumpkin color and were covered in a mix of paintings and photographs of landscapes. The drama in each image took her breath away, and the overall effect was of being in a room full of windows, each looking out onto a different dramatically beautiful scene from nature. All of the furniture was geared towards cozy comfort from the overstuffed sofa she sat on to the bookshelves lining one wall that were jammed haphazardly with reading material. The place was cluttered and seemed to run towards the messy, but the feeling she got here was welcoming, and though it wasn’t at all tidy and slightly sparse like her Grandmother’s house it had a very similar atmosphere to it.

  “Oh good, you’re awake! I was starting to worry a bit,” a woman bustled into the room and smiled hugely at her. Sarah blinked as a cup of tea was pressed into her hands. “Now you drink that and you’ll feel much better. Then I’ll get you some breakfast. I imagine you’re starving after such an ordeal.” The tea smelled faintly like lemons and the feeling of similarity to Gran’s house washed over her again as the heat from the mug seeped into her fingers. The woman had bustled off and was whisking open the curtains to reveal early morning light.

  “What’s in this tea?” Sarah asked, her nerves at being in a stranger’s house, god only knew where, and being told to drink a strange tea were reasserting themselves. She felt like she could probably trust this woman but two decades of being told not to trust strangers were hard to overcome.