0 comments/ 21267 views/ 9 favorites Hunting the Skinwalker By: epiphany65 Steven Paxton was asleep when the siren of the police car woke him. It was probably just Sheriff Baird chasing down a speeder leaving Earl's Tavern, he thought to himself. Rolling over in bed, Steven stared through the darkness of his bedroom at the glowing red numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand. It was almost two-thirty. Steven was hoping to fall back to sleep quickly when he heard more sirens. It sounded like two or three police cars; maybe an ambulance too. Now he was curious. Nothing exciting ever happened in Putnam Falls. Certainly nothing to warrant this much commotion in the middle of the night. As he listened to the sirens fade in the distance Steven tugged the blanket higher around his chin. He shut his heavy eyes. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't concern him, he reminded himself. But soon it would. The next morning Steven was in his room, lying on his bed, reading when he heard the phone ring. It was December twenty-seventh. There just over a week before college would resume after Christmas break and he was enjoying the time off. "Steve, the phone's for you!" Mary Paxton called up to her son from downstairs. Steven rolled over and picked up the phone beside the digital clock. "Hello..." "Holy shit, Steve, did you hear what happened last night?" It was Brian Marsdon, Steven's best friend since childhood. He was excited -- the most excited he had seemed since he was fourteen and discovered his father's cache of Penthouse magazines in a closet. Steven heard a click has his mother hung up the downstairs phone. He sat up in bed. "No, what happened?" he asked, more curious than excited. "Man, someone killed Mrs. Lawton last night," was Brian's grim reply. "Oh fuck..." Steven gasped, feeling sorrow well in his chest. Mrs. Myra Lawton had been Steven's and Brian's grade two teacher. The boys had known each other just a year and were only seven back then. That was twelve years ago, but at that moment it seemed a lifetime away to Steven. Mrs. Lawton had retired at sixty and for the past seven years she had lived alone since the death of her husband from lung cancer. Her house was less than a mile away and Steven passed it often on his way to Brian's. Now his sadness over the murder of the kindly old lady was mixed with questions. "Not just killed her," Brian continued, his voice softer now. "I mean, the word that Dad used was 'gutted'. He said it was the worst thing he's seen in all his years as a sheriff's deputy." Gary Marsdon had been a deputy with Putnam Falls Sheriff's Department for almost ten years. He had always been friendly to Steven when he visited Brian and never seemed what Steven considered to be a 'typical cop'. Steven knew that Mr. Marsdon hoped some day to become sheriff and he would make a good one. He had a reputation around town as being a fair and conscientious police officer, in addition to being a loving husband and father. "Fuck," Steven hissed into the phone as gruesome images filled his mind. "Do they know who did it?" he asked. "Uh-uh," Brian grunted. "Dad was working the night shift when the call came in around two. You don't know any of this, okay? 'cause Dad could get fired for telling people, but he told me and Mom that they found no fingerprints; no murder weapon either -- just Mrs. Lawton in her kitchen. Dad said that she'd been... well... man, you don't wanna know... It was pretty gross." His voice faded out until only his breathing was audible. "But who'd want to do this? Everyone liked Mrs. Lawton. And she wasn't rich, so it's not like they went there to rob her." Steven furrowed his brow as he spoke. "That's just it," Brian said. "Dad said that nothing was taken. Her purse was on the kitchen counter and there was some money in it -- not much -- but whoever killed her didn't take it." Steven stared at the floor as he listened to his friend, trying to piece together in his mind the information he'd been given. He shook his head, then brushed sandy-blond bangs of hair from his eyes. "It just makes no sense," he said. The corner of his mouth turned up as he thought. "I know," his friend agreed. "That's what Dad said. There seems to be no motive, outside of some monster deciding to kill a harmless old woman. I hope they catch the bastard and send him to hell for this." "Yeah... hopefully they will." There was silence on the phone before Brian spoke again. "Hey, what are you doing today? I'm not up to much, but I thought we could hang out and watch a movie or something," he suggested. A faint smile formed on Steven's face. He was not in much of a mood to have fun anymore, but didn't feel like being alone now either. "That sounds good," he said. "I'll be over in about an hour." The crisp December air bit through Steven's green pullover as he walked down Gibson Street. There had been another snowfall three nights previously and mounds of it lined the sidewalk where the plough had pushed it aside from the street. He tugged at the zipper of his black nylon jacket, closing it up around his neck as the cool breeze blew his hair about. He buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket and turned left on to Mason Avenue. Almost as soon as Steven turned the corner he noticed two cars from Putnam Falls Sheriff's Department in Mrs. Lawton's driveway. A man in a uniform and wearing a Smokey the Bear cap was on the snow-covered lawn taking photographs. He saw another uniformed officer enter the front door. Yellow crime scene tape was wrapped around trees and shrubs, cordoning off the area. Steven paused a moment on the sidewalk, surveying the scene. He noticed Gary Marsdon talking with someone who was probably a reporter. His thumbs were hooked in his Sam Browne belt. Gary looked up and nodded at Steven. He gave a wave to Mr. Marsdon, then with a sigh and a heavy heart he continued along towards Brian's house. Steven found that Brian was in as dour a mood as he was that afternoon. The two friends watched a movie in the living room while Brian's mother busied herself elsewhere. Once the movie had finished the conversation returned to the murder of their former teacher the night before. Brian promised to share anything else that he gleaned from his father, but at that moment he had already told Steven all he knew. Steven appreciated his friend's sharing of information and promised not to tell anyone what he heard -- not even his parents. It was getting close to five o'clock when Steven left Brian's and was walking back down Mason Avenue. To his left he could see a faint hue of orange from the setting sun through the overcast. As he approached Mrs. Lawton's house he felt the muscles in his back and neck knot. He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself to once again pass by the scene of the old woman's grisly murder. In the distance he saw the yellow bands of police tape fluttering in the breeze. They reminded Steven of the yellow ribbons tied around trees, placed by people who anxiously awaited the return of loved ones fighting wars in foreign countries. His mouth turned into a grimace at the thought of Mrs. Lawton never returning to her home. When Steven was abreast of the cement walkway leading to the white front door of his former teacher's home, he stopped. There were no cars in her yard now. Besides the police tape, the only evidence of any activity there were footprints in the snow carpeting the lawn. His hands clenched into fists, deep in the pockets of his jacket. He felt a tear run from one of his hazel eyes and wasn't sure if it was out of sadness or because of the wind, or both. He wiped it away and swallowed hard. He began to walk on, then as the side of the small white house came into view, Steven paused. He noticed something hanging from a small open window. Dusk was falling and Steven squinted, trying to discern what he could see being blown about by the cold wind. He stepped closer, now realizing that the open window was one belonging to the kitchen where they had found Mrs. Lawton, sprawled out on the floor and eviscerated. Dangling from the window and wafting back and forth was a curtain. It was white, with pale yellow stripes. "That's odd," Steven said to himself. Taking a look left, then right, Steven stepped on to the lawn and began walking through the snow towards the open window. There were no cars going by and soon he would be hidden by the shrubbery, so he was not concerned with being seen. Besides, it was growing dark and he had not entered the area bordered by the yellow tape. He followed the trail of prints in the snow made by the boots of the sheriff and deputies, closer to the open window. Once Steven was in front of the window he discovered that it had not been inadvertently left open. The pane had been broken, probably by Mrs. Lawton's murderer. The curtain dangled through it, nearly brushing across his face. As he was examining the broken window and trying to imagine the events there not yet twenty-four hours ago, Steven heard a crunching sound of someone approaching through the hard snow to his left. Every nerve in his body fired and his heart began to climb up into his throat. He clenched his fists. When he whipped his body around in the direction of the sounds he gasped. Standing in the shadows, just beyond a stand of spruce trees, was a shadowy figure. Steven's heart pounded and he pulled his fists from his jacket pockets. When the intruder spoke, Steven felt somewhat relieved and curious. "What are you doing here?" the silhouetted person asked. It was a woman. "W-what are you doing here?" he stammered, now less fearful. The sound of snow crunching underfoot returned as she stepped closer to Steven. Now he could make out her features. She was around Steven's height, maybe five-foot seven, with curly black hair. Her corkscrew tresses moved in the evening breeze and hung down slightly past her shoulders, resting against her purple nylon jacket. Her lips moved into a smile and there were faint lines at the corners of her mouth. She appeared to be about thirty. Steven thought that her eyes looked brown, or maybe blue. It was hard to tell with so little light. "Probably the same thing you're doing here," she replied shrewdly. "Just having a look around." Steven nodded, eyeing the woman with suspicion. "Did you know Mrs. Lawton?" he asked. She shook her head. "She was my teacher years ago, when I was a kid," he said, thinking that might explain his intrusion in a crime scene. The woman let out a soft laugh. "Well, it couldn't have been too many years ago," she retorted, running her eyes up and down him. Steven bristled. "I'm nineteen," he snapped as he glared at her. "As if it's any of your business." "I'm Krista Cooper." She removed a glove and extended her bare right hand to him. "And I left nineteen behind about ten years ago." She laughed. "I'm Steven Paxton," he said as he shook the woman's hand. Her skin was soft and surprisingly warm. He wanted to hold it for longer than a just brief handshake. "So, what are you doing here then?" he asked, drawing his hand back. "You'd laugh if I told you," she said as she tugged her glove back on. "Try me," Steven replied defiantly. Krista Cooper drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "I'm trying to catch what killed this poor woman," she explained. Steven cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you mean who? And, besides, that's the job of the cops." He gave the woman a curious glance. Krista leaned over, bracing her left hand on her knee. She pointed down to the snow with her right index finger. "See those tracks? she asked, looking back up at him. Steven peered down in the direction towards where Krista was pointing. He could see footprints in the hard snow that he had left, as well as those made by the police, or perhaps even Mrs. Lawton's murderer. Beside those, he noticed what looked like paw prints. "Yeah, footprints and tracks made by a dog -- probably a police dog," he said. Krista shook her head once more. "Have you ever seen paw prints that big? From a dog, I mean," she asked. Her eyes met his. Yes, they were definitely brown, like mahogany. Even in the dusky outdoors they sparkled. Steven leaned closer, examining the animal tracks once more. "Well, no," he conceded. "That's because they weren't made by a dog," Krista said. "So what?" Steven shrugged, now very curious but trying not to show it. "What killed Mrs. Lawton wasn't a dog. It wasn't a person either -- at least not a normal person," she said. "Of course not. Normal people don't murder innocent old ladies," Steven snapped. "Have you ever heard of a wendigo?" she asked. Strands of her raven hair had blown across her ruby cheek, just below her left eye. She brushed them aside. Steven gave his head a quick shake. "How about a manitou or a skinwalker?" she added. "No. What the hell are you talking about?" Steven demanded. Now anger tinged his voice. "They're shape-shifters; sort of like werewolves. They feed on humans. For centuries, long before the European settlers arrived here, the Native North Americans knew of these creatures. The Hopi, Algonquin, Cree, and Ojibwa -- they all encountered them, although they had a few different names for them," she explained. "You expect me to believe some superstition that people believed in hundreds of years ago?" Steven jeered. He gave her a derisive look and chuckled. "No. I didn't come here to convince you or anyone else," she said defiantly. "I know a skinwalker killed that woman and I intend to kill it. I've seen it's tracks in the snow around this area for the past week or more." Steven let out an incredulous laugh. "Have you followed those tracks -- the ones you think were made by a dog?" she asked, although she knew the answer. "No," he admitted. "Come here. Follow me towards those trees," Krista said. In back of Mrs. Lawton's house was a wooded area of about half an acre that abutted Beech Street. It was dotted with pine and spruce, as well as thickets of alders and shrubs. Krista motioned to the left with her head as she pointed towards the snow, coaxing Steven along. Once they had gotten beyond a cluster of spruce trees, she stopped. "This is where those so-called dog prints of yours end," she told him. "And, so?" he asked. "Look..." she insisted, jabbing her finger down towards the tracks in the snow. Steven squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the darkened thicket they stood in. When he leaned over and looked down to where the animal prints ended he now noticed that they abruptly changed. Less than a yard from where the paw prints stopped they were replaced by human prints. But obviously made by someone walking, or running, through the snow barefoot. His mouth went agape as he raised his wide eyes to Krista. She wore a smug grin. "How many superstitions leave tracks in the snow like that?" she demanded. "Holy shit..." he gasped. Krista nodded. Now her arms were crossed and she was shifting about as the cold began to penetrate her jacket. Vapor from her breath clouded the air in front of her. "Yeah... that's what I thought the first time I encountered one of these beasts," she said. She turned from Steven, casting her wary eyes up to the sapphire sky. "So, what are you going to do?" Now Steven was eager to hear more. "Right now I'm getting back to where I'm staying so I can get something to eat," she said. "It's cold. And dark. You don't want to run into a skinwalker at night, believe me. You should get out of here too," she cautioned. "Where are you staying?" he asked. "At a bed and breakfast place just down the road," Krista told him. "The Elms?" he asked. "Yeah, that's it." Krista nodded. "What room are you staying in?" he asked, squinting a bit. A foxy grin crept over Krista's pretty face. Her eyes glimmered. "Why? Are you planning on paying me a visit?" she taunted. "No, it's not that," he blurted out. Despite the cold, his cheeks felt warm. "That place used to be a brothel a hundred or so years ago, back when the tin mines were still in operation. They say a hooker hanged herself in room seventeen and it's haunted." "Oh... well, I'm in number twelve," she told him. "Too bad. Maybe it'd have material for another book if I was in seventeen." "Mom worked there when I was little -- not as a hooker though. She worked in the kitchen for Mr. and Mrs. Casey; they own the place now." He gave an amused chuckle. "I hear that Mrs. Casey is crazy as a shithouse rat." Krista's laughter filled the night and she clamped a gloved hand over her mouth, still smiling with her yes. "Steven..." she scolded. "Well, that's what my dad says," he said, hunching his shoulders. Krista looked up at the darkening sky, then her watch. "I better get going. You should too," she said. Steven bobbed his head, thinking about the fate of Mrs. Lawton. "I live just around the corner," he explained. "But, can I ask you something else?" "What?" she asked, sounding impatient now. "What are you going to do about whatever killed Mrs. Lawton?" "Well, I'm up here doing research, in addition to hunting it," she answered. "I'm going to write a book when I'm done. Once it's dead, that is." "Oh... I see," Steven said. Her eyes were on him and he was suddenly aware of how pretty Krista Cooper was. His heart sped up. "Ah... need any help?" he asked before considering his offer, then regretted it. Krista smiled. It wasn't a condescending smile like he had expected. It was warm and accepting. "Maybe. How are you at looking through old newspapers and microfiche?" "Okay, I guess," he answered, wondering how difficult a task that could be. "Well, I can always use another set of eyes. Meet me at the library tomorrow morning around ten. I'll be in the Reference section, on the third floor." Before Steven could reply, Krista had turned. She was hurrying through the snow, as lithe as a doe. He watched her through the bushes as she moved through the snow until he saw her get into a white car parked on Beech Street. As she drove off Steven began to hurry home. That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Steven's mind was flooded with a myriad of thoughts. When he has twelve he had found a cache of old magazines and comic books in the attic. They had once belonged to his Uncle George. His uncle had been killed in Vietnam and Steven only knew him from the stories that his father had recounted of his older brother to Steven. In the old tattered cardboard box were copies of "Tales From the Crypt", "Weird Tales" and a stack of various DC and Marvel Comics. Steven was happier to find this cache than Brian was to chance upon his father's porn collection. He devoured them, one by one, until he had read them all -- then began again. Reading those eerie stories of ghosts, ghouls and monsters made a indelible mark on the young, impressionable Steven Paxton. In his mind those creatures came alive and it kindled within him a belief in the unseen and paranormal. Steven smiled to himself as he recalled meeting Krista Cooper that afternoon and their appointment the next morning. Maybe this was the adventure that he had longed for over the past seven years. ### Steven hurried down to the public library the next morning after telling his mother he was going to the mall. He had barely slept due to his excitement the night before. Despite this, he was not tired. He felt invigorated and more alive than he ever had. He dashed up the steps to the third floor of the library and looked around for Krista. When he didn't see her his heart sank. Then he looked at the clock behind the Reference desk and realized it was nine forty-five. He sat down and flipped through a copy of Time magazine. When he saw Krista approaching the table that he was sitting at about a half hour later, he smiled. Not only was he glad to see her, but he was taken by how pretty she looked in full daylight. She was wearing jeans and the same jacket she had on the night before. Beneath it she wore a pale blue blouse. Her black leather purse hung down from long straps slung over her left shoulder. She smiled when she noticed him and tugged at the pink fleece scarf wrapped around her neck. Hunting the Skinwalker "Sorry I'm late." Krista sighed as she sat down beside him. She placed her purse on the table and pushed it aside. "No problem," he assured her, falling in to her shimmering eyes. "Okay, so I want to look through old newspapers from all over the county. I'm looking for stories about murders -- like what happened to Mrs. Lawton," she explained. "In case some haven't been solved, or seem suspicious." Steven watched as she shrugged her coat off and hung it over the back of her chair, barely hearing her voice. As she moved he became keenly aware of how her firm breasts filled out the front of her blouse. No, they weren't massive like those on the women in the Penthouse magazines he'd seen while visiting Brian. But they were big enough, and nice. Very nice. Faint traces of her nipples appeared through the material clinging to them. Steven felt his mouth go dry as his cock hardened. During the next several hours Steven and Krista poured over newspapers and fought vertigo as they scanned miles of microfiche. Occasionally one of them would spy an article about an attack on someone, or a murder that they thought might have been committed by a skinwalker. Each time their suspicions were quashed by another article telling of a culprit being arrested or convicted of the crime. It was almost three-thirty when Krista leaned back from the newspaper spread out in front of her on the table they had returned to. Steven raised his head, looking across the table at her. She rubbed her tired eyes and stretched. He scanned her torso, noticing the curves that her blouse could not hide. When she relaxed and met his gaze with a smile he grew anxious. "Can I ask you something?" he asked. Krista leaned forward on her elbows, still smiling. "You want to know what a nice girl like me from Woodford Junction, Michigan is doing here hunting some sort of thing that might not even exist." When she finished her eyebrows darted up and she giggled. "Yeah... something like that," he answered with a modest grin. "My mother was part Cree. As a little girl I used to listen to her stories about the skinwalkers, wendigo and manitou. I was scared, but fascinated. She believed in them, just as much as her ancestors had for hundreds of years. When I was older, a little older than you, I asked her about those scary stories that she had told me as a child. I wanted to know if they were just her versions of fairy tales told to frighten children. That's when she told me more; things much too frightening to tell a little girl. That's why I got my Master's in Anthropology," she said. "They're real, Steven. They're not superstitions or folklore told by primitive people who roamed these lands for centuries." Once Krista finished Steven let out a long, slow breath. "Wow... I always believed in that sort of stuff. Ghosts and all that, I mean. But I think it's good to be skeptical too. I'm sorry if I --" "No need to apologize," she interjected. "You're here, helping me, aren't you? That says it all. Besides, skepticism is healthy too." Steven smiled and nodded at her. Krista folded the newspaper and placed it atop the pile to her right. She looked at her watch. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Yeah," he said eagerly. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch," she said. "No, you don't have to, Krista. I can buy my own." "Don't argue," she joked. "It's the closest to any pay you're getting for this." She stood up, pulling the strap of her purse over her left shoulder. Steven followed Krista out to where she had parked her car. He trailed behind her slightly in order to get a prolonged look at the flare of her hips and how her firm ass filled out her tight jeans. He smiled, feeling his cock thicken. She strode with confidence and her curly hair moved about, glistening in the afternoon sun. It made him crave her even more. "So, where's a good place to eat around here?" Krista was driving down Somerset Street when she turned her head towards Steven as she posed the question. "There's a McDonald's on Dorset Avenue," he said. "Take the next right." Krista laughed. "No way, Jose! I've been eating junk food for the past week while I've been on the road. I want something a little nicer. Something that will help me keep my figure." Steven shot her a glance, reflecting on her comment. His eyes moved down over her. When she turned and smiled he felt his cheeks grow warm. "Don't say it!" she snapped, then laughed. "Say what?" he asked. "That it's too late for me to worry about keeping my figure," she said. "No, Krista, that wasn't what I was thinking," he blurted out. "I was... nevermind." He frowned and stared out of the window. "No, what? Say it," she insisted, almost pleaded. "Well..." he began cautiously. "I was going to say you don't need to worry about that because you look great." Krista reached out for his hand, resting just above his left knee and gave it a firm squeeze. "Thanks. You're sweet," she said. Steven never replied, but he bristled. Her tone sounded condescending and he resented it. After a few moments he said "I meant it, you know -- about you looking great." "I know. Thanks," Krista said with a nervous smile. "Maybe I should beware of you, instead of that skinwalker. So, where are we going?" she asked. "Ah, there's Sarah's Kitchen on Brooker. Turn left at the next intersection," he said. "Sarah's Kitchen?" she echoed with a skeptical look. Steven laughed. "Don't let the name put you off. It's good, cheap food," he said. "About the best you'll get around here." By the time Steven and Krista were sitting in their booth at the restaurant he was starving. Everything on the menu looked good, but he didn't want to take advantage of Krista's generosity. He looked up from his menu and said "Thanks a lot for buying me lunch. I was getting pretty hungry." As though she were reading his mind or sensing his unease, she said "You're welcome. And get whatever you want. Once the book's published, this is a tax deduction." "Well, hopefully you'll find a publisher," he said. "Oh, I have," she replied with excitement. "They already gave me a small advance based on a twenty page submission I sent." "In that case, congratulations!" He raised his water glass to her in a salute. "Thanks," she said with a smile. "Actually, I have one published already. It's about the history of the Sioux and Lakota." "I'd like to read it sometime," he said. "I have a few copies back at my room. I'll bring one for you tomorrow." Krista could tell by the flicker in his eyes that his interest was genuine and not just politeness. It pleased her. During their meal Krista told Steven some of the stories she'd heard at her mother's feet as a child and how that lead her on her academic path. She gave him a planned synopsis of her next book and promised to send him a copy once it was finished. She reached in her purse and brought out an address book and pen. "Here, give me your address -- email address too. I'll keep you updated, then mail you a copy of the book once it's done," she said, handing him the pen. Steven smiled as he wrote, hoping that she would keep her promise. When he was finished he asked "So, what are our plans for this afternoon? Looking through more newspapers?" "I think that's a dead end," she lamented. "Then what?" Krista pushed pieces of fusilli through puddles of olive oil on her plate with her fork. She looked up at him. "I was thinking of going back to Mrs. Lawton's house for another look around," she said. "Okay," Steven replied. She peered into his eyes with a concerned look. "I didn't mean that you had to come along," she explained. Steven sat back in his chair and drew in a deep breath. "When I asked if you needed any help I didn't just mean looking through moldy old newspapers," he said. Krista laughed. "I know. But this may be more than you bargained for. It could be dangerous, Steven." Her eyes narrowed as her voice took on a serious tone. "I know. But I don't care," he said. "I want to come along -- to help you. Unless you don't want me to, that is." His voice died out and his eyes fell towards the table. "No, it's not that," she explained. "I just want to be sure you know what you're in for," she said. "I'd love your help, if that's what you really want. But I'd feel responsible if... if anything happened to you." She reached out to give his hand a soft squeeze of reassurance. "Nothing's going to happen to me. This is what I want," he said assuredly, then gave her a brusk nod. "Besides, I'd hate for anything to happen to you either." Krista smiled. This time it was a different smile from the others she had given Steven. It was full of emotions that she had not felt for a very long time. "Okay then, let's get going. We're burning daylight here. We've got less than an hour before it gets dark." She hoisted her purse over her shoulder and stood up. Krista paid for their meal, then lead Steven out to where she had parked her car. During the drive to Mrs. Lawton's house they never spoke. Steven stared out the passenger side window, stealing furtive glances at Krista as she drove. Her jacket was unzipped and he noticed the swell of her breasts rising from her blouse. His eyes moved up from their contours to her black hair cascading down over her shoulders. His cock throbbed and he looked away, just seconds before her glimmering eyes moved towards him. She smiled and pressed down harder on the accelerator as her clit began to throb. The weather had turned milder and some of the snow had begun to melt. There had been a light rain the night before, which helped to take off an inch or so of the frosty white ground cover. Krista brought her car to a halt on Beech Street. Steven peered out through the window to his right, past the bushes and trees towards Mr. Lawton's house. He gave a heavy sigh. "Ready?" she asked. "Yeah," he answered, sounding resigned. "Are you?" He turned towards her, now worried for her safety. "Yes. Ready as I'll ever be." Krista and Steven climbed out of the car. He followed her through the snow-covered brambles and briars towards the cluster of spruce and pine. His steps were tentative, but she marched along through the few inches of snow that still covered the ground. Steadily, they made their way towards the broken window of the house. The kitchen curtain still fluttered in the breeze. Steven's heart pounded in his chest, but he wasn't sure if it was out of trepidation or the burgeoning emotions he felt for Krista. He followed her with is eyes, noticing how her ebony hair moved and glistened and how the angles of her curved ass and hips filled out her jeans. He felt his cock harden until it strained the zipper of his jeans. It was then that he knew he wanted her -- really wanted her. If he could have pulled her down on the snow-covered ground and undressed her there without resistance, he would have. Instead, he trudged along, several paces behind her. When they reached the broken window, she paused. "What are you looking for?" he asked. "I don't know. Call it womens' intuition," she said with a shrug. Steven watched as Krista's eyes moved from the broken window pane, then down to the ground, now just lightly covered by snow. The tracks left by them and the police the day before were barely visible in the snow. Krista turned and followed the footprints back towards where they had come from until they turned into the human footprints in the snow. Krista leaned over, pushing snow about with her boot, then she smiled. She reached down to retrieve something from the frosty ground. "What is it?" Steven asked. Krista stood up, looking puzzled. Clutched between her fingers was a gold ring. It had a square setting. In it, Steven saw a small diamond gleaming. "Take a look," she said. She passed the ring to him. Steven turned the heavy gold ring over in his fingers. As soon as he saw the embossing he recognized it and gasped. In opposite corners, between the three point diamond, were the letters G and M. "Gary Marsdon," he gasped as he examined the signet ring. "What?" Krista asked as her dark eyes widened. "Gary Marsdon. He's a deputy sheriff here. He's also the father of my best friend, Brian," he explained. "This is his ring. I've seen it on his finger dozens of times when I've been over at Brian's." Dread began to fill him. "Then he's our skinwalker," Krista concluded, assuredly. "What?" Steven's mouth fell agape and his hand went limp at his side, still holding the ring. He jerked his head towards Krista. "Whoever... whatever, killed Mrs. Lawton turned back into human form here, or vice versa. This is where he would have dropped the ring," she surmised. "Whoever owns this ring is the skinwalker." Steven examined the ring between his fingers once more. Doubt and guilt filled his mind. He could not, did not, want to think of Brian's dad as a savage monster -- a murderer. What's more, he knew that Krista intended to kill him. Now he felt sad. Confused. Still, the evidence was compelling, he reminded himself. He looked at Krista. "So, now what?" he asked. Krista consulted her watch and looked up at the sky. It was growing dark. To the left the sun was falling in the sky. Soon it might not be safe to be here, she thought. "I think what we should do is get back to --" She had not finished her sentence when the sound of a car entering the driveway interrupted her. She gasped and turned towards her right, then back again towards Steven. "Let's get out of here," Steven said. He pushed the ring deep into the front pocket of his jeans. Steven grabbed Krista by the elbow and began to race through the thickets towards her car parked on Beech Street. He heard the beep of someone turning on their car alarm, then walking through the crusty snow behind them. He panted and his heart raced as he urged Krista along with a frightened look. Once they had passed the stand of trees and entered the thicket of brush Steven stopped, holding Krista to him. They breathed hard, filling the gathering dusk with the vapor from their lungs. Steven crouched down behind a patch of alders. He tugged at Krista's hand till she fell beside him on the frozen ground, leaning on his right shoulder. He pressed a finger to his lips and gave her a wide-eyed stare. Through the alders and underbrush they saw a figure approaching. It was a man. He was tall and dressed in the uniform of a deputy from Putnam Falls Sheriff's Department. Steven suppressed a gasp of shock when he recognized Gary Marsdon. He could feel Krista's body pressed to his. Between them, her purse lay on the ground. He was still clutching her hand, but now it had fallen down to the inside of his right thigh. The sound of her heavy breathing filled the air. Her hand was lying limp against his right thigh, inches from his semi-erect cock. He felt his erection pulse in rhythm to his beating heart and he was very aware of Krista's gloved fingers, just inches from it now. For what seemed like an hour, but was in reality only minutes, Steven and Krista watched as Deputy Marsdon searched through the snow. He kicked it aside, starting beneath the broken window, then leading up the path towards where Steven and Krista were crouched. Their hearts pounded. When they heard Gary Marsdon let out a breathy curse, then turn back towards the driveway, Steven and Krista both exhaled. The sun was beginning to sink in the sky and take on a fiery hue. Krista's hand was now clutching Steven's thigh. Even through her glove he could feel her warmth. Her fingers were inches from the outline of his shaft and he was torn between pushing it away and drawing it higher. Minutes later they saw the gleam of car headlights as Gary Marsdon drove away. "Shit, that was close." Krista breathed out the words as she slowly turned to her left. Steven nodded. "Yeah," he said, still dumbfounded. "Let's go." Krista stood up, tugging at Steven's wrist. She pulled him along through the frozen grass as she hurried towards her car. It was less than a hundred yards away. When the sound of a menacing growl echoed amongst the trees Steven froze, panic-stricken. He could hear Krista panting beside him and see her breath. Then he heard the growl again. Krista did too and she cried out, either in shock or fear. Steven turned just as an animal resembling a mangy wolf, only much larger, ran towards them. The muscles on it's legs and haunches rippled as it moved. It's bloodshot eyes seemed to glow and it's upper lip was pulled back in a snarl to reveal long, sharp teeth. Steven opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Before either of them could run, the creature lunged towards them. Saliva dripped from it's fangs and it's predatory eyes fixed on Krista. Steven felt her tear her hand away, which had been gripping his left arm. He watched as the beast leapt towards her. In a flash, Steven saw Krista pull a knife from her purse. The hilt was nearly as thick as his wrist and the silver blade seemed almost a foot long and nearly half as wide. With a shriek, Krista slashed at the animal's side, then drove the blade into it's sinewy shoulder twice. The angry beast let out a loud, shrill cry, but never ceased it's attack. It swiped at the air in front of Krista with it's wide paw. Steven saw it's claws. They looked like talons. Krista backed away quickly, stumbling over a broken limb lying behind her. She fell backwards onto the hard ground and let out a frightened cry. Her wide eyes looked up at the creature. Lying on the ground almost six feet away was her blood-stained knife. Steven filled his lungs with air and opened his mouth. "Mr. Marsdon -- NO!" he screamed. The animal stopped and turned towards Steven. It's mouth gaped. For a few seconds the bloodthirsty look in his glowering eyes flickered with recognition as he regarded Steven. The beast's eyes locked on Steven's. For an instant they almost seemed human. It let out a sound that seemed like a whimper. Then he turned and ran off into the woods as quickly as he had appeared. Steven watched in near disbelief. "Let's get the hell out of here!" Steven said. He looked down at Krista, still sprawled out on the ground. She rolled over to retrieve her knife and put it back in her purse. "Help me up," she said, clutching her right ankle. He wrapped an arm around Krista's shoulders and helped her to her feet. She let out a soft cry of pain as she stood up. He slung her right arm around his shoulder to support her as she hobbled towards her car and safety. ### "Where are we going?" Krista was driving down Argyle Street when Steven asked the question. The car's headlights made the wet pavement gleam like obsidian. "I don't know," she replied with a laugh. "What time do you have to be home?" "Not till ten or so," he said. Krista glanced down at the clock on the console, then nodded to herself. "Would you like to stop in to The Elms for a while? It's still early and I don't really feel -- " "I won't be able to sleep tonight either," he interrupted, giving a blank stare out of the windshield. His heart was still racing, sending adrenaline to every muscle. Krista turned her head and smiled at him. She turned left at the next intersection and drove down Henry Avenue until it met Coburg Road. When she pulled up in front of The Elms she brought the car to a stop and turned off the engine. Her heart pounded in her chest. Slowly, she turned towards Steven and gave him a nervous smile. Steven tugged on the latch and opened the car door. He stepped out and stretched, watching Krista limp around towards him. Her coat was unzipped and in the opening he noticed the faint ripple of her blouse as her breasts bounced. His cock throbbed and swelled. "Are you okay? Need some help?" he asked. Hunting the Skinwalker Krista winced and shook her head. "I'm okay. I just sprained my ankle when I fell," she said. The lobby of The Elms was quiet as they entered. Dim track lighting lit the beige walls and green carpet. Steven silently followed Krista up the carpeted stairs to the second floor. His heart pounded as she turned the key in the lock to the door numbered twelve. She pushed it open and ushered him inside. The room was small, with eggshell white wallpaper that was stained from years of cigarette smoke. A window faced the door. A venetian blind was closed over the window, but some stray light shone through the slats. Steven noticed the unmade bed. On it were a pullover and a pair of jeans beside a newspaper. Beside that, just to his right, was a night stand with a light and a clock radio next to a book. The light was turned on, casting a yellowish glow on the bed and floor. Two light blue suitcases were in the opposite corner beside a highback black vinyl chair with a shiny pine frame. To his right he saw a bureau with a laptop computer on it. Beside the laptop were three hardback books piled atop one another. The top drawer of the bureau was open slightly, but not enough to allow Steven to see inside. On the other side of the bureau was a door that was ajar. He assumed it was the bathroom. Over the door was hung a white terrycloth towel. A light shone from inside. "It's not much, but it's home for the next little while," she said with a sigh, giving him an embarrassed look. "It's cozy," Steven said. Krista laughed. "You should be writing descriptions for those advertisements they place in magazines. You can make a dump sound like home sweet home." "It's not so bad -- better than some other places in town," he said. "How long have you been here?" "It will be a week tomorrow," she said. "You spent Christmas here?" Steven felt pity for her. "Yeah. It was pretty dull, but I got a bottle of wine and made the most of it," she said. "I wish I had have met you sooner," he said. "I would have invited you over." Krista shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I don't have anything to offer you," she said. "I should have stopped on the way for some pop or juice." She was standing at the foot of the bed, fumbling with her fingers. "It's okay," he assured her. She gave Steven a nervous look, running her eyes down his body. They paused when they met the bulge in his jeans. She wondered if it was bigger now than when it had appeared to be at the restaurant, or if it was just her imagination. Her clit ached and she knew that soon her nipples would be hard enough to poke out at her blouse. "Do you still have that ring?" she asked. "Oh... ya..." Steven fished in the pocket of his jeans and produced Gary Marsdon's ring. He handed it to her, his fingers quivering slightly. "And you're sure this is his ring?" she asked, examining it. "Positive," he said with a nod. It was then that he noticed blood running down Krista's palm towards her slender wrist. Fear gripped him. Images of her turning into a hellhound like he had seen in Hammer horror movies as a child came to him. "You're bleeding. Did he... did he get you?" he asked, his voice full of worry. Krista raised her hand and looked at the cut on the heel of it. She shook her head. "No, he never touched me. I cut it when I fell back on the ground," she said. Steven gave her a relieved smile. "Good," he said. "Not good that you cut yourself, but good that..." "I know what you mean," she interjected, then smiled. Steven walked in to the bathroom. He looked around and saw a neatly folded towel hanging from a chrome rod beside the vanity. He pulled the towel from the rod and wet one end of it with warm water, then returned to Krista beside the bed. "Here, give me your hand." His voice was gentle, like his touch as he wiped the blood from her palm and cleaned her wound. Krista watched as Steven tended to her, then smiled up at him. It was the first time in a very long while that a man had touched her. And although it was just his hand on hers and certainly not in a romantic context, it still moved her. She felt her tense muscles relax. Now she was growing wet. It surprised her, but she welcomed it. "Thanks Steven," Krista said, noticing how her voice had grown thick. She gave him a shy glance. He wiped her hand with the dry end of the towel, then tossed the towel on the bed. He brought her soft hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her palm, kissing it tenderly. Her fingertips grazed the stubble on his left cheek, then they trailed down towards his pursed lips. She caressed them, smiling. He parted them and sucked at a fingertip like a child nursing. When Krista stepped away Steven noticed that her cheeks were flushed. His felt the same. He moved his eyes down until they met the distinct outlines of her hard nipples protruding from her rounded breasts, straining the fabric of her blouse. He licked his lips. It was only when he felt her hands sliding along his sides that he looked up. Krista opened her mouth, as if to speak, then she slowly pressed her full lips to his. They were soft and wet. He parted his to receive her probing tongue. It flicked over his, then she began sucking and tugging at his lower lip. Her breasts were pressed to his chest now. They felt firm and larger than they had seemed to him. When he slid his hand up from her hip and gently cupped her left one she moaned and kissed him harder. Steven rubbed and pinched at her nipple through her blouse, surprised by it's thickness. Now he wanted more. When he began to unbutton her blouse her eyes caught his. "Is this okay?" he asked. Krista nodded. She ran her hands under his pullover, caressing his firm stomach and chest. Once Steven had gotten her blouse fully open he stopped to admire her breasts, still held snugly in her light red bra. He tugged his pullover off and let it fall to the floor while she did the same with her blouse and bra. "You're beautiful," he said as he pulled her to him. He ran his hands over her bare back and bent down to run his tongue around her dusky right nipple and areola. She moaned and stroked his back and sides. Her hips swayed as he squeezed her breasts and teased her nipples with his mouth and tongue. When he felt her hands working on the button and zipper of his jeans he froze, looking up. "Time for me to see the rest of you," Krista breathed. She moved him towards the foot of the bed and sat down. Her mouth was in front of his hard cock now. When she finally pulled his underwear and jeans down past his knees it slowly rose to it's full length and thickness. She smiled and cupped his balls in her palm, then ran her fingers along the underside of his shaft. Steven shivered in pleasure and kicked his shoes off. He tugged at his jeans and underwear until he was free of them, then pushed them aside. Krista had stood up briefly and now her own jeans and panties were on the floor beside her boots. Krista crawled backwards on the bed, inviting him to join her with her smile. Steven moved between her silky thighs. He bent down over her and kissed her. She ran her hands up and down his back, then guided him lower by tugging on his shoulders. "I want you in me," she said as she curled her legs around his. He looked down at the beautiful woman spread out under him and settled between her open thighs. When he felt her hand give his cock a squeeze he moaned. She raised her hips and cried out as the head of his shaft slipped between her wet, pink folds. She gripped him inside her tight walls and began meeting his thrusts. "Yes... that's it... deeper, Steven..." she said. Steven began moving his hips faster now, watching her expression change as her passion grew. His hands were under her, cupping her shoulders and he felt her stiff nipples rub against his chest. When he heard her cry out and arch her back he paused. "Keep going," she urged. "I need to cum again." He raised up, sliding his hands down until he was holding her by her firm ass. He lifted her from the bed and began working his glistening rod in and out of her tight pussy, harder than before now. Krista moaned and writhed. She began rubbing her breasts and tugged at her right nipple. Her eyes were closed and her moist lips parted slightly. She looked beautiful, rapt in pleasure. When she came for the second time Steven felt her squeeze his cock harder. She was as tight as a fist and he knew he was going to be overcome with his own orgasm soon. "I'm close," he panted. "Cum on me," she said. Steven needed no more encouragement. He slid from her and gave his throbbing cock a few quick strokes. Cum shot from it in successive blasts, splashing across her quelling stomach and nipples. She ran her fingers through it, painting her sexy body with his seed as she looked up through half-closed eyes, smiling. Once he was spent he fell down beside her on the bed, still breathing hard. "I knew this was going to happen, ever since this morning in the library." Krista rolled over and rested her head on his chest. She ran her finger through the trail of hair leading down to his spent cock. "You did?" he asked, lifting his head in surprise. She shrugged. "Okay, maybe I should have said I hoped it would..." Steven smiled. "Me too. Except I couldn't have imagined it being so good." Krista lifted up, resting on her left elbow. She kissed his cheek. "Me either," she whispered. The room was silent as the lovers rested on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs. For a while any thoughts of skinwalkers or Gary Marsdon were far from their minds. They were content to relax in their post coital embrace, oblivious to the outside world. After about fifteen minutes Krista said "How about a nice, hot shower?" Steven turned on his side and kissed her forehead. "That sounds good," he told her. The spray of the hot water was refreshing as it ran over their bodies. It washed away their mingled juices, as well as the remnants of tension from that afternoon. Steven nibbled at Krista's sensitive neck as he stood behind her, washing her soft back. Soon he felt his cock twitch and begin to rise. When she felt it pressed to her ass she craned her head around to give him a surprised grin. "Getting ready for some more?" she teased. "I'm already ready," he told her. Steven turned her away from the cascading water so she was facing the tiled wall of the bathroom. He held her flared hips and teased her lips with the swollen head of his cock. She braced her palms on the wall and leaned forward. Her wet hair and breasts swayed as she moved. He was more eager than earlier and when she felt his thick shaft enter her she moaned. Her soft voice echoed above the sound of the running water. "Fuck me hard, Steven," she said, pushing back towards him with her hips. Steven ran his soapy hands up her smooth body and cupped her pendulous breasts in his hands. He held onto them, gripping them hard as he began moving in and out of her tight pussy. Their moans and cries of pleasure filled the bathroom as he thrust his hips and pinched her nipples. When Krista came for the first time he knew he was getting close. He slid his hands down to her hips, holding them tight as he watched his shaft piston in and out of her. He was slapping against her firm ass with each thrust and it excited her. "Shove it in me... harder, Steven..." Krista's thick voice rose above the sound of the shower. Seconds later another orgasm hit her and she let out a throaty moan. Just before Steven released streams of thick cum, he pulled out of her. His seed splashed against the tub between them and was washed away. Once he had finished, he turned her around. He pulled her to him and they kissed as their fingers explored the now familiar curves and crevices of one another's bodies. "You're going to wear me out, but I love it," she said, then kissed him again. They stood under the water until it began to grow cool. Eventually they reluctantly broke their embrace and dried off. A fan whirred above them in the ceiling, but it was the only sound as they came down from their bliss. "You'll have to be getting home soon." Krista and Steven were lying on the bed, fully clothed and resting against the headboard when she spoke. Steven glanced at his watch. It was nine-thirty. He frowned, then nodded at her in agreement. "I'll drive you." Krista slid from his arms. She sat at the edge of the bed and pulled her boots on. "Thanks," he said. "I wish I didn't have to go though. Maybe tomorrow I can tell Mom and Dad that I'm stying at a friend's. That is... if you want me to." He gave her a nervous look. Krista was pulling her coat on and fishing her car keys from her purse. "Of course I want you to," she replied, giving him a wide grin. Krista was driving down Coburg Road when she heard the siren. She looked in her rear-view mirror and saw the flashing lights of a police car. "Shit," she hissed, looking at her speedometer. She pulled over, waiting for the car from the sheriff's department to stop behind her. When it sailed past, siren blaring, she let out a surprised grunt. "Must be on a doughnut run," she said with a laugh. But soon she heard more sirens. "Something's going on," Steven said. They exchanged worried glances, neither wanting to say what they suspected. Krista stayed parked near the sidewalk as another police car, then an ambulance rushed past. Once their lights and sirens faded in the distance she pulled out to the road again. "I'm going to follow them," she said. "It's probably just an accident," he replied. "Maybe, but after everything, don't you want to know?" Krista's hooded eyes met his. "Of course. Let's go see -- just to be sure," Steven replied. Krista followed the sounds of the sirens through Putnam Falls. Neither of them exchanged words. When Steven saw Sheriff Baird's cruiser cross Gibson Street and speed up Mason Avenue his stomach turned. "Oh shit," he muttered. In the distance they saw red and blue lights flashing. When they passed the former home of Mrs. Myra Lawton Steven knew for sure where the activity was. Krista slowed down. "They're at Brian's," he said dolefully. "He lives half a block away." The deputies had set up a barricade of yellow saw horses in the road, so Krista pulled over. "Do you want to go up there?" She turned and gave Steven a worried look. "We have to," he told her. Steven was out of the car and running up the street before she could answer him. She grabbed her purse and followed behind, breathing hard. Someone from the fire department had stopped Steven, preventing him from going any further. A police officer was standing at the open door to Deputy Gary Marsdon's house. Parked in the driveway was his cruiser with the logo from the sheriff's department on the driver's side door. Behind it was an ambulance, it's lights flashing. A paramedic was looking inside the police cruiser. As Krista approached Steven she saw him talking with a woman who looked two decades older than her. In her hand was a notebook. Krista thought she might be a reporter. Not wanting to intrude, or make herself seem suspicious, she lagged back, observing their conversation. Rain was beginning to gently fall and she zipped her coat up around her chin. After what seemed an eternity Steven turned from the woman and began to walk towards Krista. His hands were deep in the pockets of his jeans and his head was lowered. At first she thought she saw raindrops running down his flushed cheeks, but when he was less than a yard from her she realized they were tears. "Brian's dad shot himself," Steven said, then began to heave and sob. "What?" she exclaimed in disbelief, giving her head a shake. "About an hour ago... in his police car." Now Steven's breathing was laboured. "That was someone from The Putnam Falls Telegraph I was talking to; she told me. She said they found what they think are stab wounds on his shoulder, so they're wondering about that but..." Steven's voice halted and he gave Krista an ugly sneer. "Well, I guess you got what you wanted, huh?" he spat out. Krista never replied. She couldn't even meet his intense gaze. "Now you can finish your book, since you've got the ending you needed, Krista. I hope it sells a million fuckin' copies and makes you rich. But Brian and his little sister don't have a dad anymore and his mother is a widow." His sobbing had turned to cries of anguish and tears flooded his red cheeks. He folded his arms around himself, as if that was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His voice was full of venom and it wounded Krista. She began to plead. "No... Steven, please... you knew the truth... you knew what he was," she said. Krista gently placed her hand on his trembling shoulder. He shook it off and gave her a contemptuous glare. "I know you're upset, Steven, but..." Before Krista could continue he bolted from her, running through the rain down the street. She watched him turn right at Gibson Street. She considered chasing after him, but didn't think it would do any good. She sighed, feeling warm tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. ### Steven got up early the next morning. He had not slept the night before. When he had arrived home, still crying and drenched from the rain, his parents were sitting in the kitchen. Someone had called to deliver the sad news to them about Gary Marsdon and they were waiting for Steven. "I just came from there," was all he said after they finished speaking. "I'm going to bed now. I love you, Mom and Dad." The horrific events of the past week almost seemed a blur to Steven as he walked down to the kitchen that morning. His mother was at the table, eating breakfast and reading the newspaper. "I'm going to go for a walk," he told his mother. Mary Paxton reached out and held her son's hand. Her worried eyes met his. "Are you going to be okay, Honey? Do you want to talk about it?" Steven shook his head and slipped his hand from his mother's. "I'll be okay, Mom. I just need to go for a walk and think." Mary gave her son an understanding nod as she watched him pull his jacket on. Steven was breathless from running when he reached Coburg Road. But when he saw The Elms he sped up. A look of relief swept over his face when he saw Krista's car parked in front. He went inside and dashed up the stairs. When he gently rapped at number twelve his heart was still pounding, but now out of worry. When Krista opened the door and saw him standing there she gasped in surprise, then smiled. She reached out tentatively for his hands and tugged at his fingers. "I'm sorry," he said meekly, forcing a sheepish smile. Krista gave her head a slow shake. "No need to be. You were upset; it's understandable." "Can... can I come in?" he asked. "Of course." Krista pulled the door open and Steven followed her inside. He looked around the room. The top of the bureau was bare now and lying on the bed were Krista's two suitcases beside her purse. "I guess you're leaving..." he said. Krista tightened her lips and nodded. "I've done enough damage around here," she said. Steven held her by her forearms and drew her closer. He smiled into her eyes. "No... actually, you've probably saved lives by hunting him down. You've definitely changed my life for the better," he assured her. She let out a modest smile. "Somehow I doubt that," she said. He pulled her closer. Their lips met with tender familiarity. When she felt his hand cup her breast she began growing wet, but slipped from his embrace. "We can't start that now..." she said apologetically. Steven nodded, still holding her right hand. "Will I ever see you again?" Steven asked. He was sure he knew the answer already, but needed to hear her say it, just to prepare him. Hunting the Skinwalker Krista shrugged and rolled her pretty eyes. "Who knows...? Stranger things have happened," she said. Steven let out a rueful laugh. "Yeah... you ain't kiddin' about that." Krista put her jacket on, then hung her purse strap over her shoulder. She pushed her hair back over her shoulders and gave him a bittersweet smile. "Want to help me out to the car with my suitcases?" she asked. Steven nodded and trudged behind her down the stairs. He followed her out to her car and put the suitcases in the trunk. Then he turned to her. The sun was beginning to climb in the sky and it made her hair glisten. "I'm headed for Ohio," she said. "There have been reports of a statue of The Virgin Mary that cries tears of blood. After that, I'll be back home in Wisconsin -- hopefully for a long time. I'll email you to keep you updated. And if you want a copy of the book -- " "I do," he interjected. "Please." Steven gave her a warm, loving smile. Krista returned his smile, feeling a lump form in her throat. She wiped a tear from her eye and embraced Steven. They held one another tight for a few minutes before she forced her arms to go limp at her sides. They kissed, then he took a step back. Steven stood on the sidewalk, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. He watched Krista drive away. His cheeks were damp again, but it wasn't raining. ### Things slowly returned to normal, or close to it, in Putnam Falls. They always do. No matter how sure you are that they never will. But for Steven and others, especially the Marsdon family, things could never be the same. He began spending more time with Brian in an effort to help him adjust to life without his father. But in the back of his mind the truth haunted him. He knew it always would. As promised, Krista began a regular communication with Steven by email. She always ended her emails with "Love, Krista" and it never failed to make Steven smile. He laughed when he read her account of the weeping statue in Ohio. It had turned out to be part of a viral marketing campaign by independent film makers promoting an upcoming movie about demonic possession. Once that supposed miracle had been debunked, Krista had returned to Woodford Junction to complete her book on the skinwalker. One afternoon, just over a year later, Steven was at the fridge pouring a glass of Pepsi. He had just returned home from classes for the day when his mother called to him from the living room. "Steven, a parcel came for you this morning," she said. "I put it on your bed." "Thanks, Mom," he replied. Already a smile had formed on his face. Steven bolted up the stairs to his room. Lying on his pillow was a small cardboard box addressed to him. He picked it up and was elated to see the return address was from Woodford Junction. He tore open the box and found a book inside. It was Hunting the Skinwalker by Krista Cooper. Steven beamed a smile when he opened it to the flypage and read the dedication: For Steven, Without whom this book would not have been written. Below that, written in pencil, was Thank-you for everything. Love, Krista When he flipped the page and read the Acknowledgments his smile intensified. There, amongst the names of researchers and previous teachers of Krista's, was his own. He layed down on his bed and began reading. After spending an hour reading Krista's book Steven got up to go to the bathroom. Once he was finished he decided to send her an email telling her he'd received the book and loved what he had read so far. When he turned his computer on and connected to the Internet he discovered that there was already an email from her waiting in his inbox. His pulse quickened when he saw what she had written: Dear Steve, I think I deserve a little vacation. Can you recommend any places to stay in Putnam Falls? :-) Love, Krista