by Ava Delany
Ian didn’t want to ask what sorts of things they might be. “Well, what have you experienced? Anything else important, with hindsight being twenty-twenty and everything?”
“Let’s see.”
For some time, she tapped her lips, not speaking, and Ian stared at the soft tendrils curving around her face. One gently caressed her neck when she tilted her head. It was as though her hair were trying to seduce him, calling his attention to the soft hollow at the base of her neck, her gently protruding collarbone, and the enticing mounds hidden beneath the modest square neckline of the t-shirt.
A moment later, when she sat forward, dropping her feet to the floor with a thump, Ian had forgotten what they’d been talking about. He adjusted in his seat, his jeans tighter than they had been only moments before. “What?”
“I said, I just realized something. All my flips have led me to this moment.” She covered her open mouth with her fingertips, which muffled her words. “I see the connections now.”
Ian dragged his gaze from the curve of her hip, where it strove to linger, and scooted to the far cushion. “What’s happening? What connections?”
She stared at him, eyes wide as if he’d sprouted another head. “You’re the one. They’ve all been about you. Well, you and the creature.”
“Me? But we met so recently.”
Brie shifted on the couch to face him directly, her arm resting on the back, her knee propped on the cushion. She touched a fingertip to the first finger of her other hand, counting off. “First was my brother. I always thought my first flip was about him. Poor Roge.”
“I couldn’t have anything to do with your brother’s death,” Ian said, a little alarmed at the association.
”But it wasn’t about Roge. It was about being outside to witness it. Someone…God, the Fates, I don’t know…whoever gave me this gift. They wanted me to see what was happening to the sky. The reports of it were sketchy, but a few people said they saw the sky open. You heard those reports, right?”
“Of course, who didn’t? They reminded us of it every three minutes until the scientists explained it away as the aurora effect.”
“Well, I saw it too. And I saw something come through. Something dark, which sucked the light from the very fissure it entered.”
Ian’s throat closed. A lump the size of a big rig parked there.
“Then a year or so later, when my mother died, I saw her reading a novel. She died in my flip, and I ran to her, but she was sleeping. A week later when she passed away, I remember seeing this novel about an editor who gets terrorized by an obsessed assistant.” She grasped the glass of tea and took a long drink.
He gave her a moment to compose herself. What an amazing and strong woman. Despite her current pause, her demeanor remained quizzical, for the most part, even in light of such painful memories. Ian couldn’t help but place a consoling hand on her back. He wished he could protect her. Take the memories and replace them with the puppy dogs and kisses girls were supposed to remember from their childhoods.
“Then I saw a boy through the eyes of my brother’s friend, Larry. The boy must have been seventeen or so at the time. Anyhow, he fell and broke his arm. When he fell, he turned bright blue and crackled…Larry thought he must’ve imagined it.”
Ian’s mouth dropped open. Larry? It couldn’t be. “Larry Medlock?”
She nodded and continued, “About a year ago, I found myself in the head of a man wandering around a book convention where authors were signing their works. The man had a heart attack when he reached the front of the line. And lately I’ve been flipping all the time. I’ve been seeing a woman named Andrea, and she’s reading a book about a man who’s terrorized by a shadow. I can’t recall the name, or who wrote it, but I remember the cover. I’d know it if I saw it.”
“Maybe you should look for it in your i-com. They should have it linked in.”
“It’s not. I thought it might be important, so I checked, but I couldn’t find it without the title.” Her brow furrowed and she stared at her fingers for a moment. “Wow, has it really only been a few days? It seems like years ago. Anyway, I need a real bookstore where I can browse the covers without knowing the title or author.”
“You can try the bookstore at the mall later because if it sounded so close to what was happening in real life, it could be connected. At this point, things are so far beyond coincidences it’s not funny.”
“It is connected. Everything is. You know, the Mayans predicted Dark Day.”
“Really?” Ian couldn’t recall much. His experiences on Dark Day wiped out all the other details surrounding it.
“Their calendar ended, and they predicted a big change…and they were right. Everything changed, at least for some people. It may not have looked like it, but you got your gift.” Brie held out an open palm toward his frantic mother. “She got her power, and I got mine. Plus, the sky opened and let this thing in. Whatever it is, I think it’s very real, and I’m wondering if we got our gifts because of it.”
“Okay, so how do we decide what all this means?”
“Let’s take this puzzle one piece at a time. Look, you were the boy I saw with Larry. The flip showed me your power so when I saw it, I could believe it. The books must have a meaning in all this too. Particularly when one book seems to be very close to what is happening to us right now.”
Ian glanced towards his mother as the world crumbled beneath his feet. It was Dark Day all over again. He clasped his hands together to hold on to reason. “You should definitely see if you can find the book.”
Brie nodded.
“When you’re done, whether you find it or not, you know you have to leave, right?”
She met his gaze and pushed a wayward tendril behind her ear. “You know I won’t, right?”
He should start a fight. Make her go with his mother where she would be safe. But truth be told, he feared for her safety when he wasn’t with her as much as when he was. Besides, if he were going to die, he wanted nothing more than to be with her for his final hours. The strength of that desire hit him.
Dear God, he loved her.
They’d just met, even if it did seem like he’d known her forever. And after all he’d seen of her and the difficulties they’d been through, he couldn’t imagine another day without her.
How had this happened? He’d never let anyone close to him for fear they might discover his secret. This woman had slammed through his defenses and locked herself in his heart before he’d even known what was happening.
“Boy-o.” His mother’s voice sounded thin. “It’s done.”
Ian blinked then glanced up. Her pale face, framed by shaking hands, was dappled with different paint colors. As though she were some sort of street performer on the beach in Venice. Edvard Munch’s Scream rendered in flesh.
His mother had always been the embodiment of strength. She’d never, not even when he’d nearly killed his father, shown even the least bit of fear. She was his rock. And her expression terrified him.
Ian stood, Brie at his side, and they hurried to the canvas.
“Oh my God.” The words were out before he even realized he would speak them.
The canvas, filled with dark swirls and blackened at the edges, held the image of a man on the floor, covered in blood, face a pale mask. A dog stood protectively at his feet. A woman crouched by him, fingers entwined in his as light shot from his chest. A brunette holding a book, a man, face darkened by a hood, and a waitress, or perhaps a maid, floated in the dark swirls.
“No.” Brie backed away from the canvas, her face pale. “No. You’re dying…You’re dying there.” Her voice rose to near hysteria.
Ian grabbed her hand, pulling her close.
“Oh no, you’re not dying.” Brie looked frantically around the room as if the escape route hid behind some piece of furniture. “I’m not going to let you. You can’t go.”
He smiled. “Even my mother wouldn’t say—”
“I am saying it.” His mother
’s voice was a faded pastel imitation of what it had always been, as though she were in a dream. Her expression hardened as her voice did. Her words were like a hammer, pounding her point home. “You’re. Not. Going. And that’s final.”
He surveyed one pale face then the other. No doubt crossed his mind. Not even for an instant. He loved both these women. Still, Brie might be the one with the intuition, but even he could sense he must do this.
“This has to be done. This threat…” He pointed at the canvas. “This thing, whatever it is. I have to stop it. You and I are meant to stop it. Maybe no one else can. Besides, we don’t know if I’m dying here.”
Ian looked at his pale gray features and blood-covered limbs and tried to be optimistic. He could survive.
“I’ll tell you what. That’s obviously Buster, so if I don’t bring him, he can’t be standing over me, and this can’t happen, right?”
The women shared a concerned glance, then turned back to him, hesitant.
“You can’t,” his mother whispered.
“And when this thing comes after us? Or others die instead of us? What then?” Ian needed to say the words, harsh as they might be. Otherwise, his mother wouldn’t be able to live with his decision. “There has to be a reason we lost Dad. There has to be an explanation why we were forced to hide all these years. This is the purpose. If we don’t honor it now, then we went through it for nothing, and we’re just waiting to die. Which”—he pointed at the floating demon—”if this thing is real, will be soon.”
Brie lifted a hand to her mouth and slinked to the couch. She sagged onto the cushions and dropped her head into her hands. Ian turned toward his mother, who glanced from him to the canvas and back. A million emotions played over her face, none remaining more than a second. He wanted to say he wouldn’t go, and promise it would all be okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. She closed her mouth, her eyes watering, and finally, her shoulders slumped forward.
“What if I lose you?” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “A mother should never live longer than her child.” Her shoulders shook, and sobs broke from her chest like the harsh barks of a grieving dog.
Ian pulled her into his arms, holding her until the water stopped flowing and silence returned.
After a half an hour of packing, his mother drove off, Buster sitting in the passenger seat. He’d just turned toward the house where Brie waited, her face still a bit pale, but a smile on her lips, when he heard a screech of brakes. He glanced over his shoulder. Buster charged full speed for him. When the large dog slammed into him and knocked him over, he felt oddly like a character in a cartoon. Buster sat on his chest, licking his face, but not making any move to correct the situation, as if he simply couldn’t help himself. Ian shoved Buster to the side and stood, looking at the rear of his mother’s truck backing up the hill next to them.
He put Buster back into the seat next to his mother and she rolled up the window. Buster whined, and she started down the hill again. An instant later, Buster once again bounded in his direction.
“I’m sorry.” His mom leaned out the car window. “He pushed the control for the windows and jumped out before I got going.”
Buster was a smart dog, but sometimes he could be too clever for his own good.
“Why don’t I hang on to him, I have a feeling he’s going to keep running any chance he gets. Maybe he’ll stay with Paul.”
His mother’s eyes watered and her mouth opened. He leaned in the window and she held him for a long time, her arms tight around his chest.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Ian said as Brie’s soft hand slid into his and he stepped back, grateful for the contact. “I’ll keep him with me for now. Don’t worry. I’m sure I can get him to stay with Paul. He likes Paul.”
“What self respecting dog would run from the man who gives him treats?” Tears rolled down his mother’s cheeks, but she smiled at him. “You call me every chance you get, boy-o.” Then she drove off, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
Ian waved, glad she hadn’t spoken the words they were all thinking. He might die soon, but at least his mother would be safe. Now if only he could figure out how to get Brie to agree to go home, and himself to let her. He didn’t want her hurt.
Brie stood silently as he lost himself in thoughts of her safety, the frightened stranger, the painting, and the state of his mental health. But could it be in his mind if his mother had painted it?
And what had she painted? No clear antagonist had presented itself in the painting, just random vague images. Even the creature wasn’t the central figure. What if he were the one who would cause the harm? What if the blood wasn’t his, but his victims?
It was just Brie and him now—and his demons of course. Real or imagined, they would find out soon. Whatever happened, he felt sure it would only be days before this thing found its resolution. Whether he’d be around to see it or not seemed to be the question of the day.
<><><>
Ian dropped Brie at the local bookstore, then picked up his i-com.
“Connect, Paul.”
The i-com rang. A click signaled the answer.
“Hey, what’s up, buddy?”
Paul sounded like his usual cheerful self, and Ian hoped, after seeing the boogeyman, almost running his mother down, and then seeing his mother’s painting, he could make himself sound the same way.
“Hey Paul, I made another date with Brie and I wanted to ask if you would watch Buster for a while?”
“So, Mandy finally got one right, eh?”
Ian tried to laugh in a natural way, but the sound squeaked out.
“Actually, yes. She’s interesting and funny too. I like her. Anyhow, we’re going out for a while, what do you say? Will you watch Buster?”
He hated to lie to his friend, even if it was only a partial lie, but he needed someone to take Buster.
“Yeah, I’ll take him.”
After a few mumbled words Ian barely heard, they said their goodbyes, and Ian shut off the i-com.
He checked the time. He’d have to pack quickly and return for Brie.
Ian didn’t know if taking her with him was smart or stupid. Was she safer with, or away from him? And was her safety really his reason for keeping her near?
Maybe he should start a fight. He should chase her off and make her leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to be without her. In such a short time, he’d found so much more than a friend, far more than a girlfriend, he’d found a soul mate. Whenever he saw her, his spirit screamed reincarnation must be true, because her soul was connected to his forever. And no matter what, in the next life they would find each other again.
Still, he really should chase her away. Keep her safe. Why couldn’t he stop being so selfish? Why couldn’t he let her go?
They were nearly back to his mother’s house when Buster curled against the car door, staring at him, and when at last he caught Ian’s eye he whined loudly.
Ian pulled the car into his mother’s driveway. “All right boy, I’ll take you for a walk.”
As Buster lumbered up the hill alongside the road, sniffing here and there, Ian followed, baggy in hand.
“Come on boy, get to it, we have a lot to do and the sun is setting,”
Ian glanced at the sunset, which would have made him stare in amazement at the numerous colors lighting the sky on a normal day. Amazement was the farthest thing in the world from what he felt now. A twinge of fear lingered in the back of his mind forcing him to peer around at the shadows. Buster found a patch of grass peeping out from the snow, and sniffed at it, intent on finding just the right spot.
“Buster!” Goosebumps crawled along Ian’s body, making him shiver. He rubbed his arms, the chill of the snowy evening cutting through his jacket.
Buster didn’t even look up at him. He just kept sniffing his way up the side of the hill. Ian gritted his teeth. Damn dog sure was taking his time. Then, all but hidden by the shadow, Buster let out a low growl. Ian turned to yell for Bus
ter, but his hackles were raised. He hadn’t noticed the dog’s rigid stance before in his urgency to return to the safety of the car. Buster barked at a spot somewhere up the hill; a loud, deep report, which made him sound like a pit bull on a bad day. At the very same instant, headlights turned on at the top of the steep hill.
Cold terror drained the energy from his limbs. Unnatural light filled the cab. The same glow as the BMW in the parking lot earlier. Darkness flooded the car, dark like the darkness in a children’s book, where the boogeyman slips out from the shadow of a closet door. Claws stretched out of the gloom, opening and closing over the steering wheel.
The engine roared its challenge—run or die.
Suddenly Ian couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
Buster tugged at his pant leg. When those eyes, the red-rimmed twin black holes, caught Ian’s attention, his paralysis left him in a whoosh of breath. Buster released his jeans seconds before he would have pulled Ian off his feet.
Ian turned, sprinted. His eyes darted from Buster to the demon car, which sat at the hilltop, roaring like a bull about to charge. The tires squealed.
“Oh shit!”
Ian ran. His shoe slid across a patch of ice. He windmilled his arms, and fell. Icy rocks tore at his jeans, slicing into his flesh. He scrambled to his feet.
Oh God, he couldn’t outrun it.
He glanced over his shoulder. The bright lights and illuminated grill made him think of a hyena, smiling at the chance to taste the flesh of its victim…Smiling—and laughing.
His heart slammed in his chest. Please, God, he couldn’t die now. What would happen to Brie?
He pumped his legs. They moved faster than he could control. At any moment he would tumble, the road coming up to meet him. The hard metal grill would shred through his calves.
