Free The Shuddering by Ania Ahlborn Page A

it?”
    “She’s not near the house,” Jane told him. “She’s out there chasing deer.”
    “So?”
    “Seriously?” Jane’s tone went edgy, and Lauren blinked up at her from the garage in surprise. It was rare to see Jane annoyed, but Lauren supposed that if anyone could push her, it was her brother.
    “I’ll go find her,” Lauren announced, trying to alleviate some of the tension. “Janey’s making a five-course meal up there. I just need to grab my coat.”
    “Don’t be a jerk,” Jane said from atop the stairs, her gaze still dead set on Ryan.
    “What?” He looked perplexed, unsure of what she wanted from him.
    “Do not make Ren go out there on her own.”
    “It’s okay,” Lauren insisted. “I don’t mind.”
    Lauren slid a finger across the bottom of her board thoughtfully, fresh wax warming her fingertip. She tried to make out the whispered melody from the buds hanging around Ryan’s neck. It sounded twangy, Jack White or the White Stripes or the Raconteurs. She looked up when the tone of Oona’s bark shifted into something more serious. Ryan straightened, his attention wavering from his sister.
    “Would you go get her?” Jane asked, irritation dancing around the edge of her words. “It’s driving me crazy.”
    Ryan’s face twisted in concern as the bark grew more frantic. “What the hell?” Stepping over to the cheap pine staircase, he pressed a button on the wall. The garage door whined as it rolled up, cold air unspooling across the bare floor, instantly turning the room into a freezer. Lauren coiled her arms around herself and followed Ryan outside, wincing against the wind. Ryan stood in the chill, seemingly unfazed by the cold as Oona wentcrazy somewhere. “Oona!” He yelled the name into the trees, and for a moment the barking ceased. But the silence wasn’t reassuring. When Oona didn’t appear a few seconds later, Ryan marched past the driveway toward the steep slope of the road. Lauren shot back a look to a now obviously concerned Jane.
    “Goddamnit,” Jane snapped, then pivoted on her socked feet and rushed through the door behind her back into the house.
    “Oona!” Ryan’s voice was carried in the wrong direction by the wind. Lauren pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her hair and braced herself and walked farther into the bitter cold, her bare fingers clamping the hood closed beneath her chin as storm clouds swirled overhead. She wondered whether the dog could even hear him—Oona could be a mile away and they would still be able to hear her, but Ryan’s call would never make it far enough to reach her ears, carried upon the cutting gale. Lauren’s stomach twisted at the idea of it—their first official day at the cabin and Oona was missing.
    Ryan was a quarter of the way down the road when Lauren saw a streak of black and white bound from the trees. She sighed with relief as Oona bolted up the road toward her owner, Ryan crouching down to greet her. But she’d spooked him, and instead of welcoming her home with a ruffle of fur, he grabbed her collar and gave her a stern “no.” Releasing her a second later, he pointed toward the cabin, barking an order as Oona ran past Lauren and skidded into the garage, her tail between her legs.
    Lauren had grown up surrounded by dogs; a lazy yellow Lab was waiting for her back in Phoenix. But it didn’t take an expert to see that Oona was scared, and it wasn’t because she’d just been scolded. When Lauren crouched down and took one of the husky’s ears between her finger and thumb, a whine rumbled deep within Oona’s throat, those stunning blue eyes searching for understanding.
    “What is it, girl?” Lauren whispered, soothing the animal by pushing her fingers through Oona’s fur.
    There was something out there. Oona had seen it.
    Jane clasped her hands together as she looked at the table. There were five place settings: two on each side and one at the head, each setting identical to the one beside it—square