An unsettling feeling settled around him. Somewhere beyond those trees, Wax Saint was watching.
Chapter Eight
The Art of the Hunt
Snow continued to fall like ash all around him.
Funny how he always associated snow with fire though they were the complete opposite. But then wax and fire were his world. And they had been for a long time.
Sincehim.
His smile slipped a little when he thought ofhisidea of punishment.
“You have no power over me.” He chanted the words until the darkness subsided.
Up here on the mountain high above Hidden Lake, the world seemed so far removed from what lay beneath. He could barely see the beams of their flashlights on his ridge.
They wouldn’t find him here. What he had planned for them at the lake would soon take all their focus.
He smiled gleefully, anticipating her reaction.
They’d found his little present in the cabin by now. It would lead them to the prize in the lake. Would Ava understand it? He loved leaving his little clues and sending her on chases to try to capture him.
Everything she needed to figure out his puzzle was already there. He looked forward to seeing how long it would take her.
A song played through his mind. It had woven itself through his life since he was a small boy. Had become part of him. Through all the defining moments of his life that had made him what he was today.
He remembered it playing the first time their eyes met all those years ago, and he’d offered her his world. Only she’d rejected it.
His mouth thinned. She’d ruined his masterpiece and survived. Since then, every creation, every ritual, every message had been for her. He wanted her to know why he’d chosen her. And why her rejection would cost her life.
She might not realize it yet, but they shared something most people never understood. A craving for order born from chaos. She chased truth just as he pursued perfection.
He brushed snow from his coat. “You survived once,” he murmured. “Because I allowed it. But perfection...perfection demands completion.”
Below, a dog’s bark carried up his way. Her dog.
He laughed. Did she think that animal would protect her from him? Just the opposite. The K-9 would push harder until he brought her to him.
Every clue had a purpose. The wax, the locket, the messages were threads leading her to the heart of his design.
Because the lake wasn’t just a place, it was a memory. Birth. Death. The mirror of all things.
Soon she would understand.
The entrance to his sanctuary wouldn’t be visible to the naked eye. This mountain was pretty much unexplored by tourists. Only a few of the old timers would know the secrets buried beneath its surface.
A wall of ice hung low over the entrance hiding it from view. The ice would remain until summer. By then he’d be long gone. Completing the process here, he’d move on to more fertile grounds.
He slipped through the narrow opening, picked up the lantern from the icy ground, and slowly descended the narrow passage. The lantern’s light bounced off walls covered in ice. They shimmered like diamonds in the rough.
The cold grew more intense with his descent. A faint metallic scent of the iron ore that was once mined up here combined with his favorites: Wax and smoke.
The passage leveled and opened into a chamber made up of ice walls and vaulted ceilings. He breathed in the scent of candles lining the walls. He loved that scent. Their flames whipped around as if dancing in the breeze coming through the cracks in the ceiling above.
Another smile spread across his face. This was his sanctuary. He glanced around at the wax forms silhouetted by candles.
His creations. Some lifelike figures, some warped and distorted creations from his troubled past.
