Read Online The Shuddering by Ania Ahlborn - Free Book Online Page B

snowbank, her legs stuck in the soft snow four feet below. Sucking in a steadying breath, she coiled the muscles of her legs and sprang forward, the front of her jacket kissing the iced-over surface of her escape route. Her gloved fingers curled into the ground as she crawled, kicking her legs in desperation, trying to find some leverage to get the rest of her body onto the same level as her torso and arms. Finally managing to get one knee up, she shoved herself forward. Overwhelmed with a rush of relief, she crawled out of the snow. She was going to make it.
    But her heart stopped when her foot caught on something behind her. She shot a look over her shoulder, as one of those things coiled a huge hand around her ankle—almost human save for the wide flat of its palm, three crooked fingers and a thumb clamping around her foot so viciously that she could feelthe pressure from inside her boot. She thrashed against its grip as she screamed, desperate to get away, but the more she fought it, the more it exposed those predatory teeth, the more she was convinced it was smiling as she fought. She pulled in a breath for another scream, but it soundlessly escaped her lungs when the creature yanked her backward, so quickly that the world became a pale blue blur. It pulled her back into the snowdrift.
    Back into the snow.

    Sneaking up behind her, Lauren rested her chin on Jane’s shoulder. Jane was standing at the step that separated the kitchen from the living room, holding a steaming mug of tea between her palms, pretending to watch The Thing while the dual ovens worked away beside her. The scent of roasted meat that coiled through the house only reminded Lauren how hungry she was, not having eaten since breakfast. But Jane’s seemingly steadfast interest in the TV didn’t fool Lauren for a second; Jane hated horror movies. April and Sawyer were sitting on the couch together, Sawyer’s arm looped around that dark-haired pixie’s shoulders.
    “Is watching movies about monsters stalking through an icy tundra while in an icy tundra kind of masochistic, or is it just me?” Lauren asked. Jane’s mouth quirked up in a halfhearted smirk, as though she had been wondering the same thing. “When’s dinner?” Lauren asked, turning toward the top oven. She cupped her hands against the oven’s glass door and peered inside.
    “About an hour,” Jane told her, her gaze still focused on the living room, hypnotized by the couple that sat less than ten yards away, seemingly happy as could be.
    “Is it weird?” Lauren asked, her words quiet enough to remain between only them.
    Jane finally turned away from the living room and stepped to the kitchen island.
    “A little, but it’s good.” She nodded as if affirming her own hushed words. “It clears things up, you know?”
    “How’s that?”
    Jane lifted her shoulders, letting them fall a moment later. “You stop thinking about it,” she said quietly, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure the others weren’t eavesdropping. “About the possibilities, you know? I guess it’s kind of nice to know that the cards are off the table.”
    Lauren nodded faintly. She admired Jane for her ability to stay positive, sure that if she were in Jane’s position, she’d avoid even looking at April, let alone occupying the same house with her. But that was Jane’s nature. She took the good and discarded the bad; she was nice to everybody, even if they didn’t deserve it, even if she secretly loathed their existence—though Jane would say that everyone deserved kindness and that she didn’t really hate anybody. Lauren supposed that sort of compassionate patience came with spending five days a week with a gaggle of kids. Once you could handle that, you could handle just about anything—even a waif of a girl who, in Lauren’s opinion, was trying to look way too French with her glossy jet-black hair and her flawless skin.
    “Well, you’re a stronger man than I,” Lauren told her,