Page 71 of The Beast's Heart

“When?”

“I don’t know. About half an hour ago?”

“Well, shit.” They throw the door open and the two of us head out into the cold.

The rain is coming down in sheets and the icy wind tears at our clothes. It’s so thick and loud that I can hardly see Ray in their pink parker mere feet away from me. How am I going to find Belle?

“I’ll check around the front.” Ray yells over the roar of it. “You check the cottage!”

The cottage. Angus’s cottage and the car out front. If Belle really wanted to escape me, of course that’s where he would have gone. I have to get to him first. He can’t drive in this.

It’s a fight just to move forward in the gale. My cheeks and nose go instantly numb and I shove my hands into my pockets to keep them from freezing. This isn’t just rain, it’s sleet. I duck my head and push towards the forest.

I follow the same route we took with the children on Spring Day. No gentle breeze and speckled sunlight now. Just icy mud, flying leaves and twigs, and whipping branches. Does Jonathan know the way to the cottage? Does he know where the path curves? To my knowledge, he’s never been there. And it would be so, so easy to get lost in this.

“Belle!”

Surely he didn’t come out this way. Surely he would have realized how dangerous it was. I can hardly see in front of my face. Twice, I nearly slip on the uneven, mulchy ground.

“Belle!”

But it would be worse if he tried to climb up the hill, if he tried to fight his way to signal. My stomach goes tight withsudden terror. The lake. A fall. Too many horrible endings to imagine.

“Jonathan!”

I fight my way through the trees, calling desperately. How long has he been out here?Please let him have found shelter. Please just let him be safe.

“Jonathan!”

And then I see it. His shirt. The one with the colorful birds and butterflies that he wore on our picnic. It’s lying in the mud.

30

JONATHAN

The entire world is the howling gray and branches slamming against each other. I stumble through the trees, my clothes soaked through, limbs numb with cold.Keep going.

When I flew from the house all I could think was to get away and to get away fast. My legs carried me out the door in a blind panic towards Angus’s cottage and the car. All I could think was that Zane was right all along, that it was Scottish prison or worse for me unless I escaped.

But the storm picked up as I hit the forest, and now I’m hopelessly lost.And blind.Thick rain against my glasses completely obscured my vision, so I tucked them into my pocket, but now my eyes sting as I squint into the gray.Keep going.

I slip and the ground comes up to meet me. I tumble—in mud, in stones, in leaves, down an embankment, over and over, until I thud against a large tree, neck snapping back, skull thumping. Pain lances down my neck and I pull myself inwards, dazed, trembling hard, teeth chattering together. My suitcase is gone. It was ripped out of my hand.

I need to keep going. I can’t stay here. I’ll freeze to death. I know I need to get up. But my limbs are uncooperative. I pushdown into the icy mud and try to get my feet under me. Slip. Try again. But my extremities are so cold I can’t feel whether I’m injured. I fall again and glass crunches in my pocket.

No! No, no, no…

My glasses are broken. The glass shattered, the frames twisted. I hug my knees to my chest and let out a helpless sound.

Something answers. Far off in the distance.

Is it my name? Or is it that same ghostly call I hear at night; the thing that could be nothing, could be Lloyd, could be me losing my mind?

Jonathan…

I manage to push off the ground and pull myself up against the tree trunk. The rough bark cuts into my palms, a vague sting against the cold.

Jonathan!

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