The Winter People Read online

  This winter, the nights are about to get much darker…

  Salome Montgomery fears winter—the cold, the snow, the ice, but most of all, the frozen pond she fell through as a child. Haunted by the voices and images of the strange beings that pulled her to safety, she hasn’t forgotten their warning to “stay away.” For eleven years, she has avoided the winter woods, the pond, and the darkness that lurks nearby. But when failing health takes her grandparents to Arizona, she is left in charge of maintaining their estate. This includes the “special gifts” that must be left at the back of the property.

  Salome discovers she’s a key player in a world she’s tried for years to avoid. At the center of this world is the strange and beautiful Nevin, who she finds trespassing on her family’s property. Cursed with dark secrets and knowledge of the creatures in the woods, his interactions with Salome take her life in a new direction. A direction where she’ll have to decide between her longtime crush Colton, who could cure her fear of winter. Or Nevin who, along with an appointed bodyguard, Gareth, protects her from the darkness that swirls in the snowy backdrop. An evil that, given the chance, will kill her.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Winter

  Prologue

  Winter

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Spring

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Summer

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Autumn

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Winter

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Rebekah L. Purdy. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Edited by Robin Haseltine and Liz Pelletier

  Cover design by Frauke Spanuth & Kelley York

  Interior design by Jeremy Howland

  Print ISBN 978-1-62266-368-2

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-369-9

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition September 2014

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To my very own Brady Bunch: Tim, Devin, Alyssa, Kris, Barrett, Erin, and Chase

  Winter

  I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

  The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars

  Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

  Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

  Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

  Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,

  And men forgot their passions in the dread

  Of this their desolation; and all hearts

  Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:

  —Lord Byron

  PROLOGUE

  Winter had come again, and she lurked in the frozen crevices. Waiting. Hidden amongst the woodland, ready for the next game to begin. This would be the last chance we had to take back our lives.

  The frigid air nipped at my skin like tiny razor-sharp teeth. A constant reminder that I was at her mercy.

  The opening of the backdoor caught my attention, and I watched a blond head poke outside, followed by a bright pink coat.

  Voices drifted from the house. “You stay away from that pond, Salome. I mean it,” someone hollered. “And put a hat on.”

  “I’m not a baby, Mom. I’m six now,” Salome said, slamming the door shut. She giggled as snowflakes the size of quarters fell from the sky, landing on her outstretched hands.

  Salome jumped off the deck into a large snowdrift then raced into the main yard. She giggled again, spinning around in circles until she fell to the ground in a heap.

  “Is that her?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “Doris’s granddaughter—our last hope.”

  “I want to see.” One of the others clambered up beside me.

  The wind picked up, sending tiny tornadoes of snow whipping across the yard and between the trees. The gate at the far edge of the yard groaned open and shut. Salome leaped to her feet. A look of horror washed over her face as she stared at it. She knew as well as we did that no one was to open the gate. Ever.

  “Oh no.” Salome’s boots crunched across the yard as she hurried to latch it. I watched her take off her gloves then fasten the bolt in place. She jumped back as if something had spooked her.

  “Unlock it…” her voice called. “Let me in.”

  Salome shook her head and backed away, bumping into a large oak tree.

  “Get away from there,” I called. Fear gripped me while images of past failures swam through my mind.

  At the sound of my voice, Salome spun around, searching for me. But I ducked behind a nearby tree. She moved away from the fence and down the slope of the small hill. Her eyes fixed on the pond.

  What did she see?

  Her steps took her closer. “Cleo, kitty-kitty, get off the ice.” She inched nearer until she stood on the shore.

  Shielding my eyes with my hand, I stared out over the pond, but saw nothing except snow and ice.

  “Cleo, you’re being naughty. Mommy said stay off the ice.” Salome pushed forward.

  “Yes, that’s it,” the voice called to her.

  “No! Don’t listen. Get away from the pond,” I yelled.

  But it was too late. Salome raced onto the ice, slipping and sliding as she tried to maintain her balance. A loud crack reverberated through the woods. The ice broke beneath her, sending her plunging into the dark depths. I heard her gasp before she went under. She struggled to get a hold of the ice and pull herself up, but it kept breaking beneath her flailing arms.

  Terror ripped through me as I hurried to her. When I reached the
place she’d fallen through, a gaping hole stared back at me.

  Without a second thought, I leaped in after her. It was cold. A familiarity I was all too comfortable with. Through the murk and darkness, I saw her small form sinking into the depths. Her pale blond hair fanned around her small body and, for a moment, I thought she was dead, until I saw her eyes open, looking right at me.

  The others swam around us, helping me push her back to the surface. We dragged her from the frigid waters and lay her atop the ice.

  “You shouldn’t have saved the girl. She’ll know you’ve helped her,” one of my companions said, his voice like wind chimes.

  I brushed the wet hair from Salome’s face. “I couldn’t let her die. She’s but a child.”

  “Mama.” She stared wildly around her.

  The wind howled in the background. Snowflakes swirled like someone had ripped open a pillow full of feathers.

  “Quiet child—you need to listen close.” My other companion grabbed Salome’s face in her hands. “You are not to step foot in these woods again or come near the pond. If you do, she’ll find you. Do you understand?”

  Her eyes wide, Salome nodded her head, teeth chattering.

  In the distance, the girl’s parents and grandparents called her name. As the snow’s intensity strengthened, we drifted into it, disappearing from sight, but lingering until help came.

  “She will likely grow into a beautiful girl,” I said, staring at her blue-gray eyes.

  “Beautiful and dangerous, Milord.”

  “Heed our warnings,” I whispered to Salome. “Stay away from here. And stay away from us.” With a wave of my hand, I distorted my features, twisting them with my magic until I knew all she saw was a hideous monster staring back at her.

  She screamed, and I knew she wouldn’t dare play outside her grandparents’ property again. At least, for her sake, I hoped not.

  Winter

  When coldness wraps this suffering clay,

  Ah! whither strays the immortal mind?

  It cannot die, it cannot stay,

  But leaves its darken’d dust behind.

  Then, unembodied, doth it trace

  By steps each planet’s heavenly way?

  Or fill at once the realms of space,

  A thing of eyes, that all survey?

  —Lord Byron

  CHAPTER ONE

  WINTER, ELEVEN YEARS LATER…

  “Come on in, Salome.” Grandma ushered me inside on Friday afternoon. She gave me a warm smile that crinkled the edges of the blue-gray eyes we shared and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Nasty stuff, Michigan in winter and this snow.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” My short drive over the icy two-track had been hell, only colder. Even now, I couldn’t get into the safety of the house quick enough.

  Grandma’s intense eyes focused on my face. “I’ve got a couple of things to finish up. Why don’t you go on into the living room with Grandpa?”

  She disappeared behind a concealed door into the hidden room. This was the first time I’d seen it unlocked since I was little. The scent of old books drifted from the room, and I took a step forward. When Grandma saw me trying to glimpse inside, she shut the door. I wondered as I always had why they’d never allowed me to go in there.

  With a frown, I ambled into the living room. “Hey Gramps. What’cha reading?”

  He held up an Arizona travel brochure. “Trying to see what’s in this blasted state,” he grumbled. “Damn doctors, sending me away from my home.”

  I flopped on the couch beside him and leaned my head on his shoulder. “Wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “Me too, pumpkin. But winter won’t last forever, and then we’ll be back. It’ll be summer before you know it, and you’ll be over here stealing my ice cream.”

  “I don’t steal your ice cream.” I laughed. “Grandma gives it to me.”

  “A bloody conspiracy. That woman is always giving away the good stuff.”

  “I heard that.” Grandma joined us in the living room. She had on a long gray coat, black boots, and carried a knotted walking stick that reminded me of a staff. She gestured for me to follow her toward the door.

  “I’m all set now. I’ll show you what you need to do.”

  I stood up, nice and slow, like my legs had forgotten how to work. Worry tightened like a noose around my neck.

  So much for therapy.

  God, I was such a freak. Most kids loved winter. It meant sledding, ice-skating, snow angels, and snowballs. Even the badass guys enjoyed whipping donuts in the school parking lot. But for me it meant nightmares of icy dark water and skeletal trees heavy with snow.

  Chills ran up my spine as I glanced toward the backyard. Eleven long years I’d heeded the warning that whispered around in my head and the hideous face that went with it. I’d stayed out of the woods and away from the pond. Eleven years of avoiding winter, or at least trying to. And now, I had no choice but to face it head on. At seventeen, you’d think I would’ve outgrown my fear of winter—of the voices I’d heard.

  “Salome.” Grandma grabbed my mittened hand in hers. With a gentle tug, she led me forward. “I’m sorry we couldn’t afford a caretaker. I know how hard this is for you. But with your mom on crutches and your dad on the road driving his truck, we had no one else to ask. No one we could trust to take care of things.”

  “It’s okay,” I lied. If Mom hadn’t gotten hurt then I wouldn’t have to do this. She could’ve handled it, and I’d just stay inside where it was safe.

  Gusts of wind billowed into the house as she threw open the door. Snowdrifts covered the stairs, deck, and path looking like small mountains. In the distance, I saw the gazebo my grandpa had built a couple summers ago. It, too, was coated in white like a frosted cupcake.

  My eyes drifted to the pond. No ice yet, but it was only a matter of time. The water rippled, lapping against the shore and dock, the breeze tracing invisible fingers over the surface.

  Grandma led me toward the burgundy-colored shed. Producing a key from her pocket, she released my hand and unlocked the door.

  “This is where I keep most of the supplies.” She gestured to the large bags of seed. Small trinkets and gadgets I’d never seen before littered the shelves. Water jugs, animal food, shovels, rakes, and piles of sticks took up close to every inch of space in the shed.

  Turning to Grandma, I slid my hat out of my face. “You’ve got a ton of stuff in here.”

  Her gaze became serious as she produced a list for me. “Yes, and it’s all needed. You’ve got the seed to feed the squirrels and birds with. There’s some feed to put out for the deer and the other—um, animals.” As Grandma peered away from me, I caught a nervous glint in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing child. You just listen closely, okay?”

  I shrugged. That’s why I was there.

  “Every day you need to check the food and water supply for the feeders. After you’ve finished, you’ll take one of these trinkets and place it in the trunk of the oak tree, near the pond.” She pointed to the shelves of jewelry, silverware, bits of string, and shoes. There were old watches, scarves, cups, plates, and even picture frames.

  Maybe Grandma lost her mind? Who put things in a tree? Seriously?

  “Why do we have to leave stuff out here?” The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

  She stared in the distance. “Our family has always done it. Call it superstition or what have you—but we’ve done it forever and need to continue to do so. Don’t forget.”

  Not quite the answer I was looking for. If anything, it put me more on edge—as if I needed more things to freak out about right now. “Okay, so feed the animals, put things in the tree, what else?”

  “Most importantly, you must make sure the back gate stays locked. Once a week, take a couple pieces of this rowan wood and entwine it in the fence.” Grandma bent down and picked three twigs from the pile.

  My grandparents had several acres of lan
d, all of which were fenced off from the rest of the forest, and they were adamant about keeping the gates secure. Private property signs were posted along the perimeter to ward off any unwanted guests. Like they were scared someone might actually drive all the way out here just to snoop around or steal something. Somehow though, it felt safer on this side of the fence, other than the pond, of course, which unfortunately sat right down the path from the house.

  “Go ahead and grab a bag of food and come with me.”

  Picking up a partial sack of seed, I stumbled after her. We came to the first feeder, which was close to the house. I emptied some of the contents into the container, and then on we went. I filled four dishes, until we ventured toward the pond.

  My mouth went dry, my grip tightened on the containers. A scream lodged in my throat as I remembered the cold dark depths. How my lungs burned for air. The voices and the glowing beings in the water as I fell deeper and deeper. Beings that I knew now were just a hallucination, but still held power over me as though they were real. I could almost feel the bitter bite of the ice on my back as I lay on top of the frozen pond.

  Grandma stopped walking and whirled around. “Salome, it’s okay. You’re safe.” She covered the distance between us and clutched my shoulders.

  I let her pull me into her arms. Her hug warmed me and her soothing murmurs calmed me as tears slipped down my face.

  “S-sorry. I haven’t been out here in the winter since…”

  Grandma kissed my forehead. “I know. But you’re strong. The sooner you get this part behind you, the sooner you’ll be able to move on with your life.”

  My body trembled, but I continued to follow Grandma to the last feeder.

  “I see her. She’s back. After all this time, she’s come back.”

  I spun around, glancing over the yard. Who said that? My hat fell from my head when a low hanging branch caught hold of it and knocked it from my head. My hair blew about my face, like small snapping whips.

  “She’s beautiful.”