Cabin Fever - An Erotic Novel

Chapter 46 - We meet again, at last (FINAL EDIT)

I went back to the kitchen. Time to put the meat in the frying pan.

When I got upstairs, I saw one of the sliding doors was slightly ajar. The one leading out the back. I could not remember opening it. Then again, I couldn't remember if it was closed or not to begin with. I went and had a quick look, but there was no one there. There was, however, some snow on the floor of the utility room, slowly melting on granite tiles. The room was chilly, the snow nearly melted. Whoever had dragged it inside must have come this way a while ago. While I was downstairs, checking on the kids.

I checked the back door. It was unlocked, all right. Outside, the snow showed signs of having been disturbed. I turned on the outdoor light. There were fucking wolf tracks in the snow. Of course. I shut the door and locked it behind me.

"Greg ..." Bella's bastard was back to finish the job. He sure as shit hadn't come back to sing me lullabies. Well, he'd already blundered into my den. I knew he was here, and he didn't know that I knew. Time to turn the tables, time to finish him. Now, where had that axe gone to?

And there is was. The axe. In my fucking hand, as if by fucking magic.

I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself. The cold stung my lungs as I inhaled freezing air. I exhaled. A cloud of frost formed as the moisture in my breath turned into miniature ice crystals. I was standing in the utility room, indoors, the door closed, and it was twenty below. At least twenty below.

I looked at the axe again, panic threatening to overcome me. It was the same axe Greg had tried to kill me with, but the handle was made of black ice, and the head had turned to solid silver. Around my feet, the little puddles of water had turned to ice, and frost roses were forming on everything. On the granite tiles. On the walls. On the cardboard boxes.

There was no denying it: I'd wanted an axe to kill a werewolf with, and I had conjured one out of thin air. I really was a warlock.

I threw the damn thing away from me without thinking. As soon as it left my hand, it turned into a cloud of tiny ice shards – and was gone.

"Fuck!" I spat. "Fuck!" "Fuck!" "FUCK!"

Greg was here. He'd come through this room not long ago. Where was the fucker now? Waiting to ambush me? I moved cautiously back to the living room. The smell of my expert cooking was filling the room. I really was quite hungry. And in need of another glass of wine.

This sneaking about accomplished nothing. Let the mangy dog come. I'd deal with the old man when he finally showed his cowardly snout. Didn't need no axe to take him down. He was old and slow, no match for me.

Kitchen again. Three fine tenderloins, all prepped and ready. Shame to waste any, so I got my pans ready. Had that second glass of wine – chef's prerogative. Checked the sweet potato chips. Coming along nicely, now that the oven was hot.

After some sizzling, some shaking, some stirring, and some boiling, the meal was ready. I'd planned to do a home-made béarnaise to impress the youngsters, but now that they slept I didn't bother. Instead, I boiled out the pans, and with a little help of some cream and ground pepper, I made a little gravy out of that.

I had already set the dining table for three. I saw no reason to bother removing the excess cutlery. Hell, maybe Greg would like some steak before I ended him? A last meal?

Why the hell not? We'd eat, chat a little about the benefits of fucking Bella and the joys of cabin life, and then I'd break his back across my knee, skin him alive with a steak knife, and wear his pelt as a cloak. Better than dining in solitude. And a fitting end to the old wolf.

I went into the living room to light the candles while the meat rested, and the gravy thickened.

And there she was, Abbie, the love of my life, standing at to base of the stairs, all dressed up.

She was in black like Indiana had been, but where India was dark, Abbie was fair. And where India was beautiful, Abbie was radiant. This is no other word for it. She shone, like a full moon and a million stars beside it, wrapped up by the wild northern lights.

My heart skipped a beat. I could not move, could not speak.

All I could do was look.

Love. For the first time in my miserable life, I knew the meaning of love.

I knew love. And I knew despair.

This love, the one that could redeem my black and lonely heart, it was a love I could never have. I had no right to it. For me to touch her was to ruin it. The love would be fouled by the darkness that was me.

"Abbie..." I began. That's when I saw him, standing behind Abbie on the stairs, all suited up in a fine gray suit, bold as brass. Greg.

I wanted to shout at Abbie, tell her to get away. I wanted to run forward and put an end to the treacherous dog. I could not. Abbie seemed oblivious to Greg's true nature – and I sure as shit didn't want her to catch on to me.

Besides, it made sense in a very twisted sort of way. I had set the table for three, made ready the stage, so to speak. Now the actors had arrived. Let us, therefore, act out the last chapter of this strange play.

"...and Greg," I put on my falsest, most winning smile. "I have been waiting for you two all evening, feared I might have to dine alone, but here you are, at long last." I took a few steps towards Abbie.

Greg didn't like that. I stopped. There was a connection between them. Greg wanted to protect Abbie from me. How very odd.

"You look absolutely stunning, my dear. Never anyone more radiant than you. You always take my breath away."

"Hi, Felix," she said. "Surprise." She smiled, and the world became a better place for it.

"Greg. So good to see you again, old friend." He was nothing of the sort. I'd as soon stab him to death as talk to him. "Would you pour the wine? It's in the kitchen. Bring both bottles. I'm afraid I'm already halfway through the first."

Greg looked at Abbie for confirmation. She gave him a little nod, and he shuffled towards the kitchen. Not only did he want to protect her, but she was in charge. What was going on here?

"You made it!" I exclaimed and took her hands in mine, kissed her lightly on the cheek. I wanted to kiss her for real, had wanted for years, but could not bring myself to do that to her. She was too precious to be fouled by a mouth such as mine. "I was so sad when Bella told me you weren't coming. But you came! What happened? And Greg, that mangy old dog – where did you find him?"

"In the woods," came the reply. Greg was back with the wine bottles, one in each hand. I reluctantly let go of Abbie. "I had just dropped off Bella and was heading back when the snowmobile, the other snowmobile, got stuck."

There was no 'other' snowmobile, only the one Harry and India had used. Greg was putting on a show for Abbie's benefit. Best I play along.

"Had to track back on foot," Greg continued. "That's when I more or less crashed into this lovely girl out on skis, with a party dress and heels in her pack, would you believe."

"Strange things sometimes happen to ordinary people," I replied.