Winterwood by JG Faherty Page A

wind died away, leaving the five of them alone on the road.
    â€œIs it over?” Paul lifted his head.
    Anders let out a heavy sigh. “Yes. The Hunt won’t be returning tonight.”
    â€œCan we go home now?” Jake asked.
    â€œWe sure can.” Paul ruffled his son’s hair, then winced.
    â€œYou’re hurt,” Anna said, taking his arm and pulling back the torn sections of sleeve to reveal a long, deep gash that still bled heavily. Blood stained his pants as well where the Yule Lad had bitten him.
    â€œGonna be tough explaining this to a doctor,” Paul said. His face didn’t mirror the humor in his words. In fact, Anders thought, he looked about ready to faint.
    â€œKeep him steady,” he told Anna. “Let’s get him home.”
    Anders took Jake’s and Nick’s hands and started walking, his mind already on what the morning would bring. The boys—and their parents—would be changed greatly by the events of the night. Would Anna forgive him for everything that happened? Or would she blame him for all the boys’ problems down the road too?
    Did he deserve that blame?
    I did what I promised. I brought them home alive. Whatever happens—
    A long, rumbling growl echoed through the streets. Anders looked back, expecting to find a truck or plow heading toward them.
    Instead, he saw a large shadow slide between two houses across the road. A bloodcurdling wail followed a moment later. No. Not here.
    â€œRun,” he told the boys, letting go of their hands.
    â€œGrandpa?” Nick looked up at him, his eyes wide.
    â€œRun. All of you. Run!”
    Anders swatted Jake in the rear and he let out a yelp.
    â€œNow! It’s the Jólaköttur.”
    Anna pushed Paul forward. “Listen to him!”
    â€œWhat?” He looked around.
    â€œThe Yule Cat.” As if in response to its name, the angry yowling pierced the night again.
    â€œTake Nick.” She grabbed Jake in her arms and started to run. Paul lifted Nick and followed.
    â€œGrandpa,” Jake shouted. Anna stopped and glanced back.
    â€œGo on,” Anders said, waving for her to keep moving. “I’ll lead it a different way and meet you at the house.”
    Anna appeared ready to argue but then nodded and dashed after her husband.
    Anders turned his attention back to where he’d seen the shadow. Where had it gone?
    The cat leaped out from behind a garage, larger than the car in the driveway, larger than Anders remembered it. Six feet tall at the shoulder, decked out in the gray and brown of a common tabby, mouth open to show teeth capable of tearing a man in half. It covered the length of the driveway in one bound and hit the road at full speed, heading towards the street Anna and the others had taken.
    â€œOver here, katze! Remember me? I’m the one you want.” Anders waved his arms. “Come finish what you started.”
    The cat skidded to a stop and sniffed the air. It turned its head, pinning Anders with eyes that glowed like alien gemstones. It lowered the front half of its body. Anders saw the tail twitching back and forth, the muscles tensing in its forequarter.
    Anders took off down the road, his heart already thumping too hard. Please, not now. Not until they’re safe. The roar of the Yule Cat shook the air and Anders was transported back in time, no longer running down a Pennsylvania street but a cobblestone road in a German village, a young boy sprinting for his life while the demon cat killed his friends.
    For the first time in many years, Anders remembered what it meant to truly be alive, to experience the world with every fiber of his being. The burn of subzero air in his lungs, the crackle of mucous freezing inside his nose. His legs screaming with every stride but nowhere near ready to give up. His pulse pounding in his temples, a liquid drum that drowned out all other sounds except the howling of the beast bearing down on him.