Page 8 of Primal Hunger
He jumps, knocking his baseball cap off, and it takes a second for him to get his bearings. “What? What is it?”
“Look, quick.” I lean back for him to get a glimpse through the window, and his eyes grow wide.
“Oh, shit. What is that?”
“I don’t know.” I keep my voice low. “But I can’t get a clear picture of it.”
He glances down at the computer between us. “And it’s not showing up on the cameras. It’s probably too far north. Have you seen anything else?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I was thinking about getting closer—”
“No.” Tyler interjects, eyes widening even more. “Erin, that wasn’t part of the plan. We’re supposed to stay in the car, not go looking for it. Don’t go outside.”
I huff out a sigh and look back at the tree line, my gaze drawn toward the flickering light. It could be something set up by a local to ward off the monster, or it could be from the Grim to lure its next victim into the woods.
Either way, I’m desperate to get close enough to find out.
The fine hairs on my forearms prickle with awareness.
“You can stay in the car then,” I say, looping the neck strap of my camera over my head. “I won’t go far. I just want to know what it is, and there’s no way to find out by hiding here.”
“It’s a trap, Erin,” Tyler whispers harshly, pointing out the window toward the woods. “That’s probably bait, and you’re the prey walking right into the monster’s den.”
He’s panicked, his chest rising and falling harshly.
“I won’t go too far into the woods,” I assure him, not entirely sure if I believe the words I’m saying.
So far, there’s been no sign of the Grim, nothing to make me believe I’m in imminent danger.
Besides, the car won’t be far away. I can always run back if I see anything, but I won’t forgive myself if I don’t take this chance. If I don’t get out of the car and get close enough to photograph whatever the light source is.
“Erin,” Tyler says sharply as I reach for the door handle. “Don’t do it. Please. I’m begging you.”
But I’m not listening.
An invisible hook has caught behind my belly button, drawing me toward the trees. My curiosity is too potent to shake. This is a paranormal investigator’s dream come true, and I’m not going to miss out because I’m too afraid to get closer.
There are numerous stories about ghost lights in the woods, those strange floating orbs of light in the middle of wilderness with no source. Could this be one of those?
The stories come from all over the world and people from vastly different cultures. They all tell the tale of lights that are said to be evil or mischievous, luring unsuspecting people toward their doom.
My stomach settles, and my gut tells me this isn’t a typical ghost light.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, and before he can continue arguing, I push open the door and step out into the night.
Tyler doesn’t reach out to pull me back.
Despite being the middle of summer, there’s a chill clinging to the air that makes my skin crawl with goosebumps as I pause beside the car and scope out the area. There’s nothing amiss, no movement nearby, and no noise other than the racing pulse pounding in my ears.
I glance at Tyler a final time through the window, noting the conflicting look of disapproval and fear on his face, before turning toward the woods. A whisper of regret snakes through me, curling up my back, but I ignore it and slowly head toward the trees.
My hands shake, despite clinging to the camera around my neck, and my breaths stutter as I move quickly and quietly to the woods. I keep my eyes peeled, scouring the still landscape foranything suspicious, and my nerves calm the slightest bit when I again find nothing out of the ordinary.
I chew the corner of my mouth, thoughts spiraling as my feet move on autopilot.
Is there any merit to these rumors about the Grim?
Because so far, it seems like a lot of hype with nothing to show for it.
