by Ava Delany
She ignored the spasm and checked her i-com, despite the fact that it said you gotta read this every time she received a message. She crossed her legs, impatient for her friend’s response, but regretted the move the instant she’d done it. Todd’s eyes just about bugged out of his head as her knee length skirt skimmed up her thigh, his gaze glued to the exposed skin. She adjusted herself in the seat so her skirt covered the distracting patch of pink.
Putting a cool hand to her warm forehead, she hoped she wouldn’t flip. The out of body “visits” disturbed and tired her when she was alone. In public, she sometimes fell or stared ahead in a vacant fashion, which every so often caused people to call the paramedics.
If only he’d stop staring.
“You gotta read this.”
She slid open the i-com and read. Todd’s about 2 keel over. Lol.
Brie glanced out the large front window of the tiny shop where Mandy struggled to get up out of the driver seat. Mandy shut the door to her little red compact car, one hand on her swollen belly, and winked when she caught Brie’s eye.
“Thank you, Todd.” She swiped her card in the machine at her table, tipping him ten credits. “Can you get a hot chocolate for my friend? Keep the rest for the fine cleaning job.”
Braces showing, Todd nodded and ran back to the counter to get the order.
“You’re gonna kill that boy one day, you know.” Mandy crinkled her nose. “Can you die from your eyes bugging right out of your head?”
“Why is it I never can remember to wear jeans and turtlenecks to Perk Up?” Or at least wear dark glasses on days when she might flip.
“Maybe we’ll pick up a turtleneck when we go shopping today. No wait, the boy’s got it too bad.” Mandy shook her head. “You’d have to wear granny clothes to avoid getting his blood pumping. Even then he’d probably want some.”
“Ah, youth.” Brie glanced heavenward.
As Mandy squatted down into the chair across from Brie, Todd rushed back with the hot chocolate, sparing Mandy a single glance.
“You know, I heard eighteen-year-olds are stallions in the sack.”
“No. Mandy.” Brie lifted a brow, smirking. “Don’t you dare even suggest it.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Well don’t.”
“All right.” Mandy leaned back, rubbing a hand over her rounded belly. “But on a serious note, I do have a friend. Well, he’s a friend of Paul’s really. Anyhow, he’s perfect for you.” She grasped her cup, taking a sip.
Brie took advantage of the silence, not wanting to deal with Mandy’s matchmaking when a flip could be looming. “No, no. I don’t need to be set up.”
“He’s a real estate agent. Works a lot.”
“You’ve been the consummate matchmaker since you got knocked up, but I’m not looking to be matched. I’m doing just fine on my own. Now let’s stop talking about it and go get that turtleneck.”
Mandy’s voice turned singsong as she said, “Super hot. I mean really, when I first met him, I wished—just for a minute mind you—I wished I was single. What a butt he has on him.”
“Mandy!”
Mandy struggled to her feet. “Well, he does. Nicely rounded. He must work out too.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper as Brie stood. “He’s got a body that makes me wish he were a nudist.”
“Stop it, Mandy.” Brie fought her lip, which wanted to curl. “You are so bad.”
“Pregnancy hormones.” Mandy’s eyebrows waggled.
“Either way, bodies aren’t everything.” Especially not hers. The lingering smile melted as she held the door for Mandy. “My last boyfriend was pretty hot, but he was also vindictive, selfish, and not too bright. And he kept trying to tell me I was crazy for believing in the unusual and for being nice to people in general.”
A soft breeze cooled the unseasonal warmth of the day, but didn’t calm the flip-induced heat scorching Brie’s face.
“That’s why you need to give my friend a shot.” Mandy breathed out hard. “Look, you haven’t dated anyone since Tom. Not all men are like your ex. Heaven knows my Paul isn’t. You just have to get back on the horse—well, the stallion.”
Mandy didn’t understand what evils lurked in the dark. Brie desperately wanted a normal life with a handsome husband to kiss her every night and cherubic children to light up her days. As a woman, it was hard enough when one didn’t meet the social ideal, but all the rest of her problems made love a practical impossibility.
Brie had seen so much since Roge’s death. Heart and gut wrenching things she would never forget. Her ex’s personality wasn’t the real reason she avoided men, nor was her weight. The flipping wasn’t exactly conducive to an honest and loving relationship. She’d been forced to tell one old boyfriend she was epileptic, and she hated building a relationship on lies. If only she could be honest without having to fear the consequences.
Seeming to take her silence as wavering, Mandy continued, “He has a well trained dog too. Cutest dog you’ve ever seen. I think he trained Buster himself.” She inclined her head as they walked, looking at Brie, eyebrow arched. “He makes good money.”
Brie opened the door to The Chic Boutique next to Perk Up. This was going to be a long afternoon.
“I know.” She picked up a polka dot halter and held it against her chest. “So did the last guy you set me up with. That was a real joke.”
Mandy wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You’ve always had a sixth sense about people, so talk to him. I know you’ll like him.”
Brie put the top back on the rack and they wandered off toward a row of dresses. She didn’t need her friend—or the odd tingling sensation, which had started to build—to remind her she had an uncanny intuition. She’d been that way since Dark Day. She just had to focus on something. A destination? A little focus and she would go the right way. Lost something? Concentrate and she would find it. Not sure about a person? Instinct would tell her if they were to be trusted.
But she refused to use it in matters of the heart or money. It seemed wrong to use it on a man, and it might skew what insight she received. She wouldn’t be able to trust it.
“Mandy —” Closing her eyes, Brie ignored the tingling, which intensified into a stabbing pain. Mandy put a hand on her arm, and Brie opened her eyes.
“He’s hot, smart, and gainfully employed. What more could you ask for? Don’t be picky.”
“Look, I’m sure he’s a very nice man,” Brie grasped a beautiful floral print dress, “but I’m not in the market.”
“Did you get married?”
Brie gave in to the impulse to roll her eyes and pulled the garment from the rack. “No, but—”
“Are you in a serious relationship now?”
Brie ignored the comment and held the material up to her chest. The dress had a narrow waist and an attractive bust. The cut would accentuate her best features and hide her worst ones. And it was so lovely.
“Good. Then I’ll buy this for you. It’ll be perfect for your first date with Ian.” Mandy grabbed it, holding out the flowing cloth.
“Stop.” Brie laughed when her friend took the dress, heading for the register.
Her vision went fuzzy, and she grabbed the clothing rack, holding tight as the world skewed. The top of the room warped, ceiling melding with floor, then it folded away like an ancient television set that had just been switched off.
She opened her eyes, though they no longer belonged to her…She was trapped once again, helpless in the mind of a stranger.
Andrea had just received Donald Kingsley’s latest novel and couldn’t wait to read it. Her ritual for reading her favorite author’s new work never varied. She curled up in the chair with a warm blanket, took a sip of her coffee, and wished she’d added more sugar. Too late now. Once she sat down with the book, she didn’t get up again until she’d finished the first chapter, because—though she knew it wasn’t true—in her mind this helped his book sales.
Brie couldn’t he
lp but wonder at the mundane moment as this stranger named Andrea examined the dark, snow-covered road on the cover. A man ran down the middle of it, arms flung out, eyes wide. Behind him, headlights shining, a shadowy car came after him. The snowy tracks seemed to swerve away behind the tires, showing the obvious chase. The title Cold Terror scrawled across the top in red, runny text, giving the impression of words inked in blood.
Andrea opened the book. Running a hand over the dust cover, she faithfully read the book’s description.
“Dean O`Connel is a normal man, with ordinary dreams who never expected to find himself being stalked by a shadowy figure that is anything but normal.
“Dean O’Connel is a man running for his life from a killer no one else can see.
“The police can’t help him. His friends and family can’t help him. No one can help him.
“He finds himself in the snowy hills, fleeing from the cold and turbid terror that follows.
“Can he survive?”
A loud sniff came from outside.
Andrea looked toward the window. The darkness seemed all-consuming, as though it sucked the light from the very room in which she sat. She shook her head, then dutifully went back to the book.
The woman’s strange rituals, various superstitions, and idiosyncrasies didn’t annoy Brie so much as fill her with an all too familiar sense of helplessness. Brie couldn’t alert Andrea. She was a prisoner, unable to leave and unable to help. Even if the woman died, Brie could only watch. Some people called psychic phenomenon a “gift” but for Brie it was a curse.
Brie tried to scream, as she had so many times in past slips, to draw the woman’s eyes back to the possible threat. Didn’t the woman have any sense of danger? Had she been able to, Brie would have struck Andrea to knock some sense into her.
Something was at the window, and she was powerless to give any aid.
Brie had discovered two things about her visits over the years. They weren’t about getting to know the person, because she’d seen a boy fall once, and she still didn’t know who he was. They weren’t about saving the person, either. She’d seen her brother’s death, and it had been inevitable. Some of them, like her mother’s death, happened before the event. Others, like her brother’s happened during it. Through all the years, she had never quite understood the purpose of the powers she’d received on Dark Day. She only knew she hated them and the weakness they forced upon her.
The light in the room seemed to dim. Andrea glanced up to adjust the lamp. In the corner of the room, two deep black eyes stared at her, so deep they swallowed the light of the small bulb. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the room was bright as ever.
“Great job, Donald. I’m spooked, and I haven’t even started reading yet.” Andrea laughed and returned to the prologue. It gave a short visual of a good-natured man in his early thirties, a brown dog, and a blooming career in real estate. He volunteered at homeless shelters, helped little old ladies across the street, and loved his mother. A little too sugary to be real, but a nice concept.
She read, “Chapter One. The Terror.”
Brie’s head snapped forward and her world jerked back into view.
“What the heck?” She looked up from her white knuckled grip on the fixture, glad the paramedics were nowhere to be seen.
The room still whirled around her. This had been by far the strangest flip she’d experienced. Why was she shown the woman’s rituals? Why the book? It seemed rather odd. And what was with the darkness? Her flips must hint at tribulations to come. Otherwise, why would she have them? Otherwise, all they were was someone’s sick idea of a joke.
But she couldn’t let herself believe in a supernatural monster. She’d never sleep again. No. She refused to believe in disembodied eyes sucking the light from a room. “It must have been overactive imagination.”
“What?” Mandy waddled up beside her.
“Huh? Oh, nothing important.”
“I have to say, I’m amazed you let me buy this for you.” Mandy pressed a bag into Brie’s hand. “I thought for sure you’d tackle me on the way to the register.”
“You should never tackle a pregnant woman.” The world slowed to a halt, and she fought not to show how freaked out she felt. “Though I should give you a swift kick in the butt.”
“So, you let me buy it…Does this mean you will go out with him?”
Brie put a palm to her throbbing temple. “You’re the bane of my existence, Mand, you know that right?”
“I knew you’d give in.” Mandy beamed at her and hooked her elbow in Brie’s. “You’re gonna love him. Really.”
Brie’s hand seemed to move of its own will. She bit her lip as it slid her i-com from her purse.
Chapter Two
Ian Connor turned into the parking spot in front of the pet store and pushed the ignition button. Buster, whom he’d named after Buster Keaton because of his ingenuity, and because he was just a funny dog, stared at the door release button before Ian even touched it.
Buster didn’t realize his status as an animal. He could open doors, even the sliding glass variety, if they weren’t locked. He turned on the treadmill, if he wanted to walk. And though Buster rarely ran off, he knew his mind, and if Buster decided he had to be somewhere else, he would keep running and nothing would stop him. But he always came home again.
Ian opened the door, and Buster bounded in one long jump over the driver seat and to the ground below.
The German Shepherd mutt excelled when it came to jumping. Buster sprang through the snow like a jackrabbit and would bound up the steepest slope like it was flat land. He could leap so high, and so far, Ian had toyed with the idea of entering him into a competition.
Ian walked into the pet store and Buster darted past him, straight to Ian’s best friend, and the owner of Pet World, who tossed him a treat.
“Hey Buster.” Paul patted the dog’s head then glanced up, pushing unruly dark bangs out of his eyes. “How are you, Ian? How’s work?”
“Everything’s great.”
“How was the date last weekend?”
“Very, very wrong for me.” Ian grimaced. “Don’t ever set me up again.”
Paul laughed, a deep belly laugh. “I guessed she wasn’t right for you.”
“You can say that again.” Ian wanted to find a woman. He really did. For him though, alone was better.
“She’s hot though, isn’t she?”
Ian smiled. “Oh yeah, almost melted my pants off, but nothing upstairs. Sorry man, I prefer a little brains in my woman. Either way, I think I’m destined to be alone.” There was less chance of being caught and far less to lose if he stayed on his own. Besides, it would be nearly impossible to find someone who would understand what he’d done—what he’d become. The right woman for him couldn’t possibly exist, could she?
Paul shook his head and tugged the usual bag of dog food from the shelf and the treats he always included for Buster. “Sometimes I don’t understand you, Ian. You just don’t make sense.”
“Yeah, well.” Ian shrugged, but Buster distracted him before he could continue. A huge doggy smile split his face as he careened around the counter chasing a fly, which buzzed through the shop.
The sound of the bell drew Ian’s attention. A family entered and went straight to the over-sized fish tanks along the wall. Buster trotted over to sit by Ian’s side, glancing forlornly at the fly buzzing nearby, like a child looking at a fun playmate from whom he was restricted. Buster had taken so well to his training, Ian had often wished there were doggy IQ tests. Buster would have topped the charts.
“It’s okay, boy.” Paul gave the dog another treat.
“Well, Ian. I do have another single friend who may not have the body Gina had, but she is getting her Masters in Psychology. Is that smart enough for you?”
“Oh no.” No more women to let down gently. He couldn’t do it again. He didn’t have the heart. “Didn’t I just tell you not to set me up anymore?”
“Yeah, but you know Mandy. Since she got preggers, she can’t handle having any single friends.” His voice took on a robotic tone. His arms rose as though he were a robot in an old fifties movie and his eyes stared blankly ahead. “All must join us. All must marry. Procreate.” His head twitched back and forth, as he repeated the last word. “Procreate.”
“Dork.” Ian laughed so hard, the family, who’d been fascinated by the puffer fish, turned to gape at them as if they were insane. He coughed as the mother herded her children in the other direction.
“Mandy’s out with her now. She’s probably working on her as we speak, and if I don’t get you on board, I may not hear the end of it until she gives birth next month. Maybe not even then.”
“All right, I’ll take her number, but no promises. If I’m feeling masochistic enough maybe I’ll use it next week some time.”
His i-com rang. He tugged it out of his pocket and pushed the talk button, putting an end to the Jamaican island rhythms emanating from the speaker.
“Hello?” A female voice he’d never heard before came from his ear bud.
“Hello?” She hesitated a second. “Is this Ian?”
“You’ve got me. How can I help you?”
“Well, I…uh…I’m Brie, a friend of Mandy and Paul.” She started talking faster. “Mandy has been asking me for hours if I would call and talk to you. She says she won’t stop until we talk, so I thought I would call you before she decides to move in. I hope you don’t find this too forward, but we do live in modern times, after all.”
Ian stared at his i-com, and suddenly he wished he’d pushed video to put a face to the voice. He’d never had a woman talk to him like this. She had guts, calling him to ask him out. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. He laughed.
Paul pantomimed holding an i-com to his ear and pointed to it. Is that her? he mouthed. Ian turned away from him.
“So, did you want to go to dinner sometime?” Her voice, though feminine, was deep and smooth like honey. “Since I was modern enough to ask, I suppose I’ll treat as well. So, how about it?”
