Wander Dust

by Michelle Warren



  WANDER DUST

  By Michelle Warren

  © 2011 by Michelle Preast, Michelle Warren.

  ISBN: 978-0-9846621-0-4

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: The Lady in Black

  Chapter 2: Transfixed

  Chapter 3: Disappear

  Chapter 4: Unexpected Move

  Chapter 5: Chicago

  Chapter 6: The Gang

  Chapter 7: My Stalker

  Chapter 8: Act of Idiocy

  Chapter 9: A Meeting

  Chapter 10: The Truth

  Chapter 11: Fireflies

  Chapter 12: A Tour

  Chapter 13: Impossible World

  Chapter 14: Extended Contemplation

  Chapter 15: Legends

  Chapter 16: Confrontation

  Chapter 17: The Academy

  Chapter 18: Tornado of Death

  Chapter 19: First Time

  Chapter 20: Angels

  Chapter 21: The Lecture

  Chapter 22: Relic Archives

  Chapter 23: The Relicutionist

  Chapter 24: Horseplay

  Chapter 25: Bridge of Sighs

  Chapter 26: Chasing Answers

  Chapter 27: Unexpected Return

  Chapter 28: Selfish

  Chapter 29: Meditation

  Chapter 30: Deepest Desires

  Chapter 31: A Compromise

  Chapter 32: Walking Shadows

  Chapter 33: Friends for Life

  Chapter 34: A Choice

  Chapter 35: A Painful Silence

  Chapter 36: A Secret

  Chapter 1: The Lady in Black

  Sixteen candles sparkle in front of me. Guests around the restaurant join in singing “Happy Birthday” with our waiter. As the end of the song climbs into a finale, I reposition myself in my chair, grab the table’s edge and lean in, preparing to inhale. Right before I blow, the air around me stirs, suffocating the flames. Each light sputters and then vanishes into darkness.

  Shocked, I jerk back in my seat, staring at the cake. No wish?

  Everyone breaks into rowdy applause. Perplexed, I glance around at the unfamiliar smiles and cheering faces. I realize, no one but me noticed the flames extinguishing on their own.

  This has to be a bad omen.

  There’s no way my dad, Ray, noticed the candles because he’s too busy flirting with Maddi, his über-annoying girlfriend. He probably hadn’t even bothered to sing, and I hadn’t bothered to check. With Maddi constantly at his side, he’s had even less time for me.

  I want to be jealous of Maddi, but mostly she just annoys me with her plastic looks and superficial personality. The first conversation the woman ever initiated with me was about lip gloss. Then she blew me away with her follow-up discussion about her collection of yard gnomes.

  Maddi lifts her hand and traces her long, fluorescent pink fingernail down Ray’s shoulder. Charmed by her attention, he giggles with his entire body. The movement causes his glasses to slip from his nose. He pushes the wire rims back up with a single finger. Then he spins and grabs her bronze hand, planting a sloppy kiss on the back.

  When he’s around Maddi, his rigid facade softens to an irritating mush. But when we’re alone, I only see his reserved side, the steel-layered version; the one that only notices me when I do something unacceptable—which in his eyes, is almost all the time.

  Disgusted, I look away from them and shake my head, hoping to dislodge the image of adult foreplay. The inappropriateness of this whole scenario isn’t something he’s caught on to quite yet.

  Returning to my isolation, I block them out and focus my attention on my cake. Slowly, I pluck off each candle, one by one, and lick the sugary globs of frosting off the ends.

  For the final candle, I drag the end through the cream cheese icing, revealing the red velvet cake underneath. When I flip the end of the candle toward my mouth, the wick’s flame suddenly flickers back to life. The small blaze burns my hand.

  Startled, I drop it. It lands in my lap and I jump up, pushing my seat away from the table. The burning candle tumbles off my skirt and drops to the floor. I stomp on the small flame, smothering it beneath my shoe.

  My heart pounds in my chest at the excitement, but I’m not hurt, just stunned. Without another thought, I pick up the pile of candles on my plate and drop them into my glass of water—just in case. The water splashes out of the glass, over the tabletop, and onto my skirt.

  When I look down at myself, I’m not only soaked, but I find a large singe mark on my hem. Great.

  Ray is too enthralled with Maddi’s flirting to have noticed my small dramatic event. If the flames had spread, engulfing me, would he have noticed? Of course not. If I’d set the fire myself, the answer would be yes. But in that event, I would have received a lengthy lecture, followed by yet another grounding. I huff in annoyance.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I announce, leaning onto the table.

  Neither responds. Neither flickers the slightest glance in my direction. I’m invisible to them. I roll my eyes and walk away.

  I weave through the tightly packed tables of the restaurant. Farther away, in another room, dance music blares. Behind flowing white curtains, beautiful, scantily dressed people dance around a bar, drinks clenched in their hands. This is Miami Beach after all. I’ve gotten used to everyone looking like models: the men, the women, all perfect, all tall. My small frame shrinks, just standing in their proximity.

  Through the undulating crowd, I lock eyes with a woman. Her cropped, jet-black hair frames her pale face, which instantly differentiates her among the tanned bodies. Her red lips contort into a frightening smile that sends uneasy chills racing down my spine.

  I scowl and look away.

  I push through the crowd and into a long, empty hall. I think I’m alone, but the sound of high heels clicks the tile behind me. This noise puts me on edge, and I turn to look, but no one is there. Strangely, the hall is empty.

  I shove open the door marked Damas and walk in. The creaky door swings shut, instantly muffling the dance music.

  At the sink, I run water over a paper towel and then repeatedly dab the wet brown blob to my skirt, trying to wipe away the blackened scorch mark. But the burned spot only crumbles into ash under my touch, leaving a gaping hole in the fabric. My favorite skirt is ruined.

  Irritated, I launch the balled-up paper towel into a wastebasket. Of course, I miss. After I retrieve it from the floor and try again with better success, I turn my attention to a mirror. Two loose strands of hair have escaped my bobby pin. One strand is dyed purple. Not surprisingly, Ray hasn’t noticed. I wonder when he will and how long he will ground me when he does. At least, eventually, it will make him see me.

  The bathroom door crashes open, knocki
ng me out of my personal pity party. Two girls, drunk, fall into the room laughing. They hold each other up as they wobble across the room and smash into a stall.

  Deciding nothing more can be done with my skirt, I turn to leave. The lady with red lips stands, guarding the exit. She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a curious expression.

  Even though she makes me nervous, I don’t look away. I know that it’s a sign of weakness, and I’m not weak. At least, I pretend not to be. So I stare back, giving her the expression of defiance I normally reserve for Ray.

  Under the flickering lights, her black patent leather jumpsuit shines. It covers everything but her shoulders and long arms. She drops her hands to her sides and steps forward aggressively as though she might hurt me.

  Panicked, I step back, trip over the trash can, and stumble into the wall. I look away to catch myself, but when I look forward again, she’s gone, completely disappeared.

  Confused, I spin in a circle looking for her, but only the two drunken girls remain. They giggle in their closed stall. One bangs against the dividers, and drops her clutch on the floor. A hand appears and scoops up the purse, and they continue laughing.

  Where is she? Am I crazy?

  I run for the door and shove it open. On the other side, the music and chaos hit me again. I wind my way back to my table, nudging past dancing models, all the while nervously looking over my shoulder for the Lady in Black, but she never reappears.

  Maddi might as well be sitting on Ray’s lap when I return. She kisses his ear and flips his dirty-blond hair, combing it over his bald spot with her fingers. Then she rubs his chest, pawing him like a piece of meat.

  I throw myself back into my chair, wishing my friend Beth were here. At least she would have distracted me from Ray and Maddi’s grope-fest.

  “She’s back!” Ray exclaims from across the table, gesturing toward me.

  You’re back. I force a smile.

  “Sera, did I ever tell you about my collection of holiday hats for Mr. Whiskers,” Maddi asks in her high-pitched, baby voice.

  “Yes, I believe you have,” I reply. A few hundred times.

  This doesn’t stop her from detaching from Ray and pulling her massive, sparkling handbag from the floor. She rummages through the contents, piling the entire inventory of a pharmacy on the dinner table. Finally, a rhinestone-encrusted phone appears in her hand. Her pink claws scratch at the glass buttons, searching for a photo of her cat.

  “Look how cute!” She holds up her phone, wiggling it around, making it impossible to focus on the photo of the costumed animal. An orange blur is all I can make out.

  “Nice,” I say through gritted teeth.

  My gaze falls to the cake. They cut it without me, and a large portion is now missing. My lips turn down. Across the table, Maddi turns and feeds Ray a small chunk. A puff of icing sticks to his lips. She playfully kisses it off and they giggle, noses touching.

  Please, someone, make this night end! My fingers grip the sides of my chair. I want to lash out. I look for the cake candles, this time seriously, halfway, sorta, contemplating setting something on fire. The tablecloth? Myself? Anything that will get me out of here will do.

  The thought is quickly replaced with another—disbelief.

  The candles submerged in my ice water glow, blazing with flames. I lean in and squint to focus on them because I can’t believe my eyes. Fire flickers from their wicks under water. Fire under water! Smoke breaks through the water’s surface and rises above our table, coiling gracefully through the air.

  My eyes quickly scan the room to see if anyone else notices. That’s when I spot her again—the Lady in Black. She sits perched on a bar stool, watching me. She tosses back her head, laughing as though she has something to do with the inexplicable flames. I blink a few times to make sure I really see her. Five blinks later and she’s still there. Staring.

  Who is she? And who does she think she is? I grimace. It’s as though she’s trying to scare me. Test me. Annoy me. What bravado I have kicks in, and I intensify the confrontation with an equally menacing stare.

  One sculpted eyebrow lifts. The Lady in Black seems intrigued by my response. She slides off her bar stool and saunters toward me. Immediately, the crowd parts away from her, dancing out of her evil path.

  When her onyx eyes lock on mine, a vile sensation overcomes me. Golden flames erupt within her eyes, instantaneously igniting matching, excruciating flames within in my own mind. Our eyes, our minds are now somehow bolted together, and I don’t know how it’s possible. When the fire intensifies, throbbing, burning, and racing through my thoughts, I want to hurl my body into the nearby fountain to extinguish the fire, just like I did with the candles. But I’m mysteriously paralyzed—frozen in hell.

  The flames sear, crackle, and torment until they’ve reached what they’ve come for. A vague notion tells me they’re intended to obtain information. A secret. But what it is or if the Lady in Black will find it, I can’t tell.

  Sparking blazes provoke my memories further, asking them to dance to life, and I try to scream. Help me! But my internal emotions do not mirror my face, which is smooth and lifeless. Inches away, Ray and Maddi sit flirting. They’re utterly ignorant to my suffering. I realize I’m on fire, impossibly burning from the inside out, but Ray still doesn’t notice.

  The Lady in Black pauses and cocks her head. Her red lips roll into a malicious smile.

  I fight harder to untangle myself from her snare, wrestling for freedom. I want to get away before the fire and pain devour me, but when I mentally tug away from her, the strain leaves me nauseous and faint. Black dots multiply until they consume my sight. My body temperature plummets and, finally, I black out.