by Indi Martin
Yelping, he leapt out of bed and stood naked, staring, unable to look away.
Melissa lay, exposed and unmoving, spread-eagled on the bed. Garish purple bruises were spreading under the pale skin of her neck, and Luke was suddenly aware of a painful spasm in his right hand, a cramp from so much pressure. He looked down his arm in slow horror, and then back at her face; her eyes were frozen wide, the whites visible all around the dilated pupil, and her face had become a rictus of pain, her last moments clearly written in the taut muscles.
Mechanically, Luke reached over her to retrieve his pants, afraid to breathe. It’s not like I’m gonna wake her up, came the thought, unbidden, and he sputtered a laugh before he could stop it, clapping his hands over his mouth in fear and horror to silence himself. He looked back at her face, still frozen, and hated himself more deeply than he thought possible. Angrily pulling his pants up, he ran a hand through his long, sticky hair and crouched instinctively, palms on the floor. What do I do? What the fuck do I do now? He raged through his mental index of movie and book plots, having no other frame of reference to deal with this situation. Mentally, he checked them off. Cover her. I should cover her up. Shut her eyes, maybe? He glanced back toward the bed, then quickly away. I can’t. I can’t. Hide the body? I can’t fucking touch her. Look what I did, Christ, fuck, I did that. He tried to breathe, letting his head fall forward and studying the carpet. I just… I need some air. I need some air.
Standing too quickly, he felt dizzy and leaned against the wall heavily. Her face danced in front of his blurred vision, and he shook his head and screwed his eyes shut against tears. Out, he commanded his legs to move. He reached for the door and slowly exited the room, stilted, feeling as though every action now were different than it had been. The simple act of walking seemed to take different brain commands, different muscles, it felt wrong. Breathing was heavier and alien. Everything seemed tinged red around the edges, as if some internal klaxon were flashing an alert.
“Hey,” he heard someone’s voice. Chris, his thoughts were sluggish. His eyes tracked upwards to the voice, and he saw that it was, indeed, Chris. He, Danny, and Nathan were sitting in the living room, and Chris was looking at him strangely. He both recognized and didn’t recognize the tall, bearded man looking quizzically in his direction, feeling clinical and detached. He knows, thought Luke. They all know. They heard me. They heard me kill her.
“Hey,” he answered, trying to sound nonchalant. Speaking. Speaking was also different, he noted. Luke managed the few steps to the nearest chair and sank in it, happy to be off his feet.
“Where’s Melissa?” asked Danny.
Luke searched his face for clues. No wink and chuckle, which is what he’d expect if Danny had heard him having sex. No lowered, suspicious voice. He opened his mouth to answer but found nothing to say.
“I think she’s in the bathroom,” murmured Nathan, still staring out the window.
Luke snapped his mouth shut and nodded. Sure, the bathroom, he thought to himself, resisting the urge to look back at the bedroom door and what lie beyond. Instead, he flung himself back against the chair, letting his head fall backwards and staring at the rafter beams. Do I tell them? he wondered. He had no illusions to the depth of their friendship, but doubted even he would help a friend hide a body, especially a girl’s body, especially after what happened to her. Maybe if I had a brother… I can’t tell them. Maybe if I move her. Maybe… his thoughts were clouded and half-formed and he bit the side of his mouth to keep from crying.
⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼
“Where’s Melissa?” asked Danny, strumming lightly on his guitar. Though he played bass in the band, he loved lead guitar just as much, and hated to fall out of practice. He fumbled on B7 and flinched at the off-key note. Scrunching his mouth up, he re-fingered B7 and played it a few times.
“I think she’s in the bathroom,” he heard Nathan mumble.
“Mmm,” muttered Danny, not really caring. He glanced at his fingers to inspect the playing callouses on the pads and noticed a tiny black hair wisping off of his index finger. He wiped his hand on his pants and re-inspected; still there. Irritated, he plucked at it with his other hand and let it fall to the ground.
Voices fell silent and Danny resumed his strumming to fill the void.
“I wish she’d hurry up,” muttered Chris from beside him, shifting uncomfortably.
“Go knock,” he answered absentmindedly, shifting into a newer song.
Chris murmured his assent and walked across the floor to the bathroom door. He heard Luke say something, and turned to look at him. Luke’s face was white, and he was watching Chris with concern.
“You alright?” gruffed Danny.
“Hey, you almost done? I gotta go!” shouted Chris, knocking on the door.
Luke flinched at every knock and gave no indication that he’d heard Danny’s question.
Danny opened his mouth to ask again, but felt something on his hand. Whipping it up, he saw three tiny black threads wisping off of his index finger. He made a sound of disgust and rubbed his fingertips roughly against the sofa, looking carefully to make sure they’d all been dislodged. He inspected his guitar strings closely to see where he was picking up the hairs, but saw nothing amiss.
Dimly, he heard Chris open the bathroom door. “Oh, hey, she’s not even in here,” he said, relieved, closing the door behind him.
“Probably went to bed,” replied Danny, still picking at pieces of his guitar to make sure it was clean. “Other door goes to the bedroom,” he said, referring to the second door in the bathroom.
“She, uh,” croaked Luke. “She must have gone in after I came out, then.”
“Maybe you should check on her,” suggested Nathan.
Danny gave up trying to find anything on his guitar and placed it back in its case with a sigh. “Yeah, go do that. I’m gonna get some shut eye,” he announced. “I call the big bed tonight.” The second bedroom had a full size bed, a tiny twin, and they’d made up a third pallet on the floor, since so far Luke had ended up on the couch every night.
“Maybe we should all just stay out here, together, for tonight?” offered Chris as he walked out of the bathroom, the sound of rushing water wafting out behind him.
“Afraid the boogeyman’s gonna get me?” scoffed Danny as he snapped the case shut and slid it beside the couch.
⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼
“Kinda, yes,” answered Chris without missing a beat. “Just because you all are acting like there’s nothing wrong, doesn’t mean there isn’t. I think it’s best if we all stay together.”
“If Melissa can go to bed, so can I,” Danny retorted, standing up and walking through the left bedroom door without waiting for a response.
Chris sniffed. “Fine!” he yelled through the door. “If you don’t care, why should I?” Irritated, he turned toward Luke. “You really should go get Melissa, though, I think we should all hang out in here tonight. Together. Sorry if that screws up any plans you might have had, but as I’m apparently the only fucking sane human here, well, you know.” Chris was pleased to see that he finally had both Luke and Nathan’s full attention.
“Um,” said Luke.
“I can go get her if you want,” he replied, winking at Luke and reaching for the doorknob to their bedroom.
“NO!” yelped Luke, leaping out of his chair and pushing him aside. He put his back to the door, eyeing Chris defensively, and let himself slowly in the door, shutting it behind him.
“Dude, I was kidding,” said Chris, taken aback by Luke’s overreaction. “I’m not gonna steal your chick, but come back out here with her, freak!”
“Weird,” observed Nathan, who hadn’t moved from his chair.
“You’re one to talk,” muttered Chris, who perched on the edge of the chair and waited for either door to open.
11
“You are getting much better at this,” Victor said, approvingly.
The compliment made Gina blush, and she smiled at
herself. Look at that, she said to herself. I am still a woman underneath this detective’s exterior. She allowed herself to hold Vincent’s gaze, sending fluttering wings through her stomach. Now that she’d decided to enjoy the harmless feelings, it was easier for her to see them, even manipulate them.
“I caught some of that, you know,” he said, frowning slightly.
Her flush deepened. “Oh,” she replied simply. Sorry, she projected. It’s been a while.
A while since…? he sent, but her responses of several choice images made him blink. Oh. I… see.
She sent a few more for good measure, enjoying the look of confusion and mild discomfort on his face.
I think you should stop using the talisman, he sent gently.
“What?” she cried. “Why?”
“I just… think you’re ready to sleep without it,” he answered carefully, appearing to craft his words before speaking them.
She started to protest, but stopped and took a deep breath, pondering the ramifications mentally. She kept their circuit open, knowing he could see her concerns vividly. “What if I’m not?” she asked after a moment.
He nodded and cut off their mental contact. “I am worried about that, Gina. But I am considerably more worried about you having extended contact with the talisman. I should not have given it to you in the first place, but I was very concerned about you.” Victor dropped his eyes and shook his head. “It was a weakness.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Concern over me is a weakness?” she scoffed. “I think it’s hardly a character flaw.”
He set his jaw and looked thoughtfully at her. “I don’t mean that quite how it sounded. The talisman was a shortcut. It was too easy to give it to you instead of working through the dreams with barriers. I thought it would buy us time, but I think it has made things worse.”
“Says who?” she answered, surprised. “I feel great. I’ve slept wonderfully. I don’t have those awful nightmares anymore…”
“No, they have been replaced by visions of the beast shadows flitting at the edge of your bed,” he replied. “That is not better.”
“They don’t scare me, not really,” she replied, dreading the idea of a return to her sleepless nights. “I’m never afraid of them, I just see them. But the amulet protects me in those dreams, I can see it glowing. They stay away from the glow.”
Victor considered this. “First, they should scare you. If you knew what I suspect they might be, they would scare you worse than the nightmares you were having. Second, I believe the talisman is not keeping them away; I believe it is drawing them to you.” Gina opened her mouth to argue, but he pressed on. “If they are what I think they may be, then right now they only see the talisman. If they see you, ever really notice you, then we are in a great deal of trouble.”
“They’re just shadows,” she replied petulantly, after it was clear he was done speaking. “They flit about at the edges of the room, then they go away.”
“Try to remember what they look like,” he instructed. “I’ve seen glimpses in your mind before, but you slide past them, like you don’t want to see. Try harder.”
Gina didn’t much care for his tone, or the insinuation behind it, but did as he asked. She dropped the barriers she’d built between them and thought back to those nights, watching the tight corners between her objects fill first with smoke, and then with something in the smoke, or solidifying out of it. Her eye did flick across them, even in the recollections, but she did her best to focus on the scant glances she’d filed away. Long, lean beasts, only a leg here or a back there, the side of a horrible head. They looked like something between a great cat and a deformed person, which surprised her, as she remembered them being more like wolves. She shuddered, and pushed the images away. “Fine. Yes, they’re scary.”
Victor held out his hand expectantly.
With a sigh, Gina fished the talisman out of her pocket and held it in her palm, studying it. The five-branched tree symbol was warm to the touch, and she stroked it with her finger, saddened to see it go. “I don’t like this,” she pressed, placing the amulet gingerly into Victor’s hand and pausing before completely letting it go.
Quickly, Victor wrapped the talisman in white linen cloth and slid it into his desk. “I know,” he replied. Once that was done, he came back around the desk and sat next to her, their thighs almost touching. “I have an idea how to keep you safe without it,” he said softly.
Heartbeat quickening, Gina tried to shove down her body’s reactions to pay attention to what he was saying. “The barriers, I know,” she said. “But what if they don’t work?”
“Gina,” he replied calmly, and to her surprise, he placed a hand on her thigh and brought his face close to hers. Disconnectedly, Gina wondered what happened to her body’s previous reactions to him - namely, to run away. “If you will allow it, I will watch over your sleep,” he offered.
She blinked. “What?”
“Just for tonight,” he amended quickly. “Or a few nights if you are still afraid. It is up to you.” He sent an image of him, literally, watching her sleep.
She stifled a laugh. “Just… watch me sleep,” she repeated.
He nodded. “I will maintain a light connection. Just enough to feel an adrenaline rush or excessive fear,” he explained.
“What about your sleep?” she asked, too conscious of his nearness.
“I do not require it,” he responded simply.
Gina sized up the situation and furrowed her brow. “I thought you were all about distance,” she started. “You barely wanted to call me by my first name, and now you’re offering to spend one or several nights with me, in my bed, watching me sleep. Is that about right?”
“I do not have to be in your bed,” he replied. “Just near you.”
“Ah,” she answered, and could think of nothing else to say.
She saw his hand come up and felt his fingers brush against her jaw, sending shocks of energy down her spine. “You are… special to me. I have enjoyed working with you,” he stated matter-of-factly, then withdrew from the seat and walked back to his desk, perching on the edge. “What time would you like me to arrive?”
Flummoxed, she searched for a response. “I didn’t say yes, creep,” she replied, but she was laughing at the absurdity of the situation and couldn’t pull it off convincingly.
He remained silent, awaiting a response to his query, but he did smile.
“I guess ten,” she answered.
“Then ten o’clock it is,” he replied happily. “I will arrive then. Good day, Ms. Gina.”
Still blinking in confusion, Gina gathered her bag and walked out of his lab.
12
Morgan Snyder rubbed his temples and reached for his bottle of water. He had a dull headache from staring at his computer screen for so many hours in a row, but he didn’t want to give up; he had a gut feeling he was close to something. His searches on the scant bits of information he’d gleaned from his conversation with Harwood had started out completely useless, but here and there he’d caught glimpses of things that could mean something. Lucid dreaming, astral travel. Maybe. Possibly. He sighed.
“Burning the midnight oil, I see?”
Morgan swiveled his chair in surprise to see Charlie walking through the door. “Mmm,” he grunted in response. He glanced back at his screen and groaned inwardly; it was nearing two in the morning. He hadn’t realized it had been quite so long. “The after-midnight oil, I guess,” he added. “What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she frowned. “Thought I’d come back and follow up on something that caught my eye this afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you just use your laptop?” inquired Morgan, genuinely curious.
Charlie arched one eyebrow. “Don’t appreciate my company, huh?”
Morgan shrugged, suddenly very tired. He didn’t have the energy to spar with any women tonight.
“Well,” she huffed at his lack of response. “If I can’t sleep, I get out of
the bedroom, or out of the house. I don’t want my place being associated with work. I work here. I rest there.” She shrugged. “You can’t sleep either?”
“Haven’t been to bed yet,” he grumbled. He chugged the rest of his water and began shutting down his computer.
“I didn’t mean to run you off,” replied Charlie, setting her stuff down and flicking on her computer. “Besides, while you’re here, take a look at this.” She waited patiently until her desktop was fully loaded before clicking into her saved links. “I saw this earlier, thought it was a hoax, or viral marketing, or something. It probably still is, but I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I wanted to come take another look. You can help.”
