Stunned to find herself totally alone, Quinn's eyes searched frantically for the figure she had unquestioningly followed, but there was neither form nor shadow to be found in the endless white landscape that surrounded her. The figure that had guided her had vanished without a trace.
"Elizabeth!" She screamed, but not even an echo returned. More frightened than she had ever been in her life, she desperately scanned the white for the shape of the woman in the blanket.
What in the name of heaven had come over her, that she had gotten out of the car in a blinding blizzard to follow a... a what? A spirit? Who in their right mind would leave certain shelter, guided only by something or someone who may not even exist, to venture into a world where nothing was certain but snow and wind?
Looking over her shoulder, Quinn sought her car, but knew, even as she squinted into the wind, that she would not find it. She was too turned around to know from which direction she had come, and in the storm, the white car had totally disappeared.
She had, she realized, two simple choices. She could remain where she was, where she would most certainly freeze to death on the spot, or she could search for shelter. Cursing her stupidity for giving credence to what was, after all, merely family legend, she lifted her right foot over the high snow, and fell face forward onto the wooden steps of Jed McKenzie's cabin. "Thank you, Grandmother," she half laughed, half sobbed through a mouthful of snow as she pulled herself up. Her legs heavy with fatigue, she climbed the other three steps and crossed the porch to the front door. She tapped lightly, then looked through the windows. There did not appear to be anyone there. Turning the door handle, she pushed slightly, and was surprised to find it swing open quietly.
"Hello?" she called into the unlit room that opened up before her. "Val?"
When no one answered, Quinn closed the door against the storm and stepped inside. A big deep fireplace of native stone ran along one wall, and it was there that she automatically headed. Glowing embers in the firebox gave testimony that someone had been there recently enough to have had a fire going.
Val must have headed into town not knowing about the storm, Quinn thought. I'm sure she won't mind if I wait here till it passes.
Shivering and cold clear through to the bone, Quinn stacked several logs and fanned the embers until the warm glow began to grow and the flames came alive to warm her. As her hands began to thaw, she removed the gloves and held her hands up close to the fire. The warmth felt so good. She had thought she would never be warm again. She rummaged in her bag for her phone, and punched in the numbers with fingers that were still stiff and stinging with cold. When the answering machine picked up, she left the message she knew her family would need to hear, that she was safe and warm and out of the storm.
Sitting on a low stool, Quinn removed her boots and wet socks. Her jacket came next, and she hung it on a hook she found inside the front door. She stacked another few logs, on the fire, then wrapped herself in the two afghans that she found, one on each end of the sofa. Having fought her way through a piercing wind, she was as exhausted as any soldier fresh from battle. Shivering with the lingering cold, she snuggled down into the cushions and closed her eyes. That she was trespassing into a quiet cabin in the woods made her feel a little like Goldilocks, and her last conscious thought was of looking for something to drink, something not too hot, not too cold. And she would, as soon as she slept off the cold.
Chapter Five
Quinn's deep sleep and vague dreams were interrupted by a foreign tugging somewhere in the area of her feet She tried first to kick it away, then to turn over, but somehow, she could not, and her groggy mind struggled to move against something that seemed to hold her. A panic crept over her, and through the dense fog of sleep, she heard voices, deep and gravelly whispers in the near-darkened room. Forcing her eyes to open, she saw two small figures --dwarfs or demons, very possibly both--watching her, their arms folded across their chests in a gesture of gleeful satisfaction. She tried to sit up, but could not.
She had to be dreaming.
Attempting to speak, Quinn found that something thick and soft filled her mouth, which was now desert dry. She started to gag, her throat constricting against the presence of the alien thing that stuck to the sides and the roof of her mouth. She began to choke, and the two dwarflike creatures jumped back in surprise.
"What are you two doing?" a male voice asked from somewhere in the dark.
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows and leaned over the back of the sofa to peer down at her.
"Look what we caught!" one of the gravel-voiced demon-dwarfs answered with obvious pride.
Cale's breath caught in his throat, and for a long minute, he thought he must be dreaming. His heart pounding in his chest, he leaned closer, not trusting his eyes. Even in the dim light, he knew her.
Miracle of miracles. It was her. Here. In his cabin.
Quinn.
Twelve and a half years late.
"Well, then," he said, forcing a nonchalance he did not feel. "Look who stopped by to say 'hey.'"
She glared up at him, her auburn hair spread around her head like a soft fog.
Yep. Those were her eyes, all right. Big and green and throwing off sparks when she was angry. Just like now.
"Mmphfmprhm." She seemed to be speaking directly to him. Through her teeth.
Frowning, Cale leaned forward to take a closer look. Something white protruded from her mouth.
"What in the... ?" He tugged at the white thing until her mouth released it, then held up the small white sock and asked with studied patience and practiced composure, "Whose is this?"