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Prologue
His mask made of bone said it all. He was a beast incarnate. Primal. Untamed and merciless. And I knew one thing.
Run.
These were the rules of the sinister game. I’d run, he’d chase, and then when he caught me, he could do with me whatever he chose. But facing it head on…
Staring at the man in the stag mask head on…
Though he was a man simply in costume, there was nothing less animalistic in how he presented himself. I knew this was part of The Hunt. I knew this was the ritual. Every weekend after the Harvest Moon, submission was the only currency, and my hunter’s desires were the rule of law. But actually seeing it. Actually feeling it…
Run.
This was part of the primal play. Raw. Sadistic. Depraved. Thirsty. We were nothing more than Heathens.
And I only had one person to blame. Me. I put the red light bulb over the door of my front porch. I invited the darkness onto my property. I consented to this. I agreed…
But what if I changed my mind? What if I made a mistake?
Too late.
Run.
Chapter 1
Locke
The smell of death and tears is a stench one can never forget.
The scent of funerals.
An odor you can’t wash away.
Butthisfuneral was different. There were no tears.
Not because we weren’t ripped to shreds as we said goodbye to Gabriel Brooks, but because the men and women in this room lacked the ability to cry, to feel, to express anything but hardness.
Medusa had inflicted her curse on our souls years ago.
The curse of stone.
Even Gabriel’s only daughter stood next to the intricate urn without even the slightest speck of moisture in her darkened eyes.
I approached her, my heart heavy with sympathy for her loss. “I’m sorry, Storee.” I took her hand in mine. “He didn’t deserve to go like this.”
Her eyes flickered toward me, and I could see the pain and anger simmering beneath the surface. “Deserve? Isn’t this how he was destined to die? You can’t be a criminal, a thief, a hustler and expect to live to be an old man, right?”
I was taken aback by her words. But then again, I shouldn’t have been. Storee Brooks was a young woman who always spoke her mind. Although she barely reached my shoulder in height, her dark, wild curls gave away just how spirited and fiery she could be.
Untamed.
She glanced at the people milling about, whispering and watching. “I’m sure many in this room believe he got what was coming to him.”
I shook my head and squeezed her hand. “Not here. Everyone who came today is mourning the man. He’s a local of Heathens Hollow. One of ours. And everyone on the island is paying their respects to that fact. His spilled blood is theirs. Just as your grief is.”
And I spoke the truth. Living in a small town, it always seemed like there was only one way to truly leave Heathens Hollow, and that was by ash being tossed to the sea foam crashing on the jagged rocks that surrounded the island. Small towns, especially this town, had a way of holding their residents close. Though the island’s grip could strangle, it also embraced during times like this.
Gabriel was my best friend, an honorary brother. Part of me died the day he did. Everything inside me was shattered, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover. And I also knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Yes, Gabriel had enemies, but he also had many friends.
