Amnon’s hands hit at Zane’s body, searching for a soft spot of flesh. The blows were strong, brutal. Much more so than Zane expected. Pain pulsed through him, but he pushed it ruthlessly away. Amnon’s strength must have been fed by the negative emotions of the woman, who still lay thrashing about on the bed.
Zane’s eyes left his opponent for a moment to look at the female. He spared her only a moment’s glance. Once assured she still slept and lay unaware of the battle taking place in her bedroom, his gaze returned to his adversary.
She was a distraction he did not need. Not when his hands were wrapped around the neck of his enemy. Any distraction in battle could get you killed. It was a lesson he had taught to several of his kind, just before he gave them their final peace.
Amnon shifted under Zane’s weight, planted his heels into the floor and pushed his hips up. Suddenly Zane found himself bucked from his opponent and heading for a face-plant on the floor. He let go of Amnon’s neck and threw his hands out to catch himself.
Amnon used the momentum to thrust Zane off of his body. The stalker jumped to his feet just as Zane tucked into a ball and rolled.
The warrior landed on the balls of his feet, and pivoted to track his target, but Amnon made for the vanity. He was going to port. In their vast dimension, Amnon could easily hide. It would be impossible for Zane to find him. Though tainted by his addiction, he was not stupid. The Dream Stalker would know how to avoid Zane and cover his energy.
Zane pushed off on the soft carpet, his back foot sliding as it struggled to find purchase. Thrown off balance, he stumbled forward. His hand reached out to clutch a bit of cloth from Amnon’s shirt, but all he grasped was air.
The mirror swirled to life, and the warrior watched Amnon go through, his physical form disintegrating before Zane’s eyes. The mirror changed back to reflective glass in a blink of an eye.
A sting of vile curses left Zane’s lips. He’d underestimated his opponent and it resulted in his escape.
“It won’t happen again,” Zane vowed to himself.
The sound of smooth skin against cotton sheets drew his attention away from the mirror. His eyes fixed on the woman lying in the bed.
Her connection to Amnon had been severed the moment he went through the portal. The human, finally free of her nightmare, awakened and turned her head in his direction.
She must not see him. He needed to escape before she fully awakened. Zane raced across the room and touched the mirror with his finger, instantly opening the connection with his world. He allowed the pull of his home to draw him in, shedding his human form to escape before the woman’s sleep-laden eyes.
Chapter 5
Maggie pushed herself into a seated position on her bed with one hand while the other pushed her matted hair away from her face. Trying to clear her fuzzy vision, she blinked once, twice. After taking several deep breaths, she willed her beating heart to calm.
Her muscles felt achy, like she’d just been through an extensive workout at the gym. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand and looked down to find her sheets in a crumpled pile at the end of her bed. She had been having another nightmare and from the way her muscles ached, she must have been acting it out in her sleep. Not the first time she awoke from a bad dream to find her body sore, and Maggie knew it wouldn’t be the last.
She didn’t remember a time without the nightmares. Friends and boyfriends had come and gone. Her home address changed several times in her thirty-three years, but the bad dreams followed her always. And tonight had been no different.
First, someone who looked like a strung-out version of the actor who played the title role in the latest superhero movie had attacked her in her dreams. She caught a glimpse of the man when she fell into the pit from Hell. Then, when she finally escaped her nightmare, she awoke to find a handsome man in her room. In the blink of her eyes, the man disappeared from her bedroom . . . by crawling into her mirror.
Oh yeah. She was losing it.
Maybe there was something to the warning that people needed a certain amount of sleep each night or they would go crazy. She definitely suffered from sleep deprivation and it seemed she was starting to see things—like men disappearing before her eyes.
She gave an inelegant snort and flopped back down on her bed, throwing an arm over her face. Too bad she couldn’t take the day off and try to catch up on her sleep. Nope, she must get up in—Maggie glanced over at her alarm clock—in less than an hour.
She moaned. No use in trying to go back to sleep now. By the time her mind settled down, the alarm would go off. Better to get up and have a few extra cups of coffee with the additional minutes than waste them trying to sleep.
Maggie yawned and rolled out of bed, sticky and sweaty thanks to the nightmare. She pulled her gown away from her moist skin. She needed a shower, but a cup of coffee was the first order of business. Thanks to her early wake up time, she’d have plenty of time for a shower later.
She stumbled out of the bedroom and into her tiny kitchen. Small and efficient, a few Formica cabinets held her pans and dinnerware. Stainless steel appliances gave it a competent look. A small square table with four chairs sat off to one side. One of the few items in the home she had not purchased herself, the set had been a gift from her parents when she moved into her first apartment.
Her bare feet smacked against the linoleum as Maggie crossed the kitchen to reach her caffeine angel. A push of a button brought the coffee maker to life. As it made its usual gurgling noises, the delicious aroma of fresh-ground beans tickled her nose, making her mouth water. Instantly, Maggie’s mood brightened in anticipation.
With the coffee brewing, she cleaned up the remaining dishes from the previous night’s snack. “Maybe I should stop eating before bed,” she murmured to herself.
“Perhaps it was an undigested bit of beef or an underdone potato. There may be more gravy than grave about my nightmare,” she pronounced, giving her own personal spin on the Dickens quote.
Maybe there actually was something to the saying. She had eaten before bed far too much lately. She might want to reconsider doing that. Tonight, she decided, she would not eat after seven.
Not waiting for the coffee pot to complete its cycle, she pulled the pot from the heating element and poured herself a cup. The appealing fragrance wafted up to delight her nose. Cradling the mug between her hands, she could almost feel the caffeine taking effect, just from the smell.
She let the full flavor settle on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. The warm, rich taste slid down her throat to warm her from the inside out. Her tummy gurgled its approval and a deep sigh left her throat before she turned to leave the kitchen.
Making her way to the living room, she plopped down on her recliner. With a click of the remote, her TV filled the room with light and sound. The newscaster droned on about the events of the previous evening as she took another delectable sip of her coffee. The cup still cradled between her hands, Maggie settled back on the couch to catch up on the latest news.
“. . . and so the suspects were taken to jail and booked,” the news anchor informed her. “Now to you, Connie.”
A perky little blonde appeared on screen.
She was far too energetic for this time of the morning for Maggie’s tastes. The guidance counselor grabbed the remote to change the channel, but the information from the pretty correspondence’s mouth stayed her finger over the button.
“. . . Officials from the school district have no comment at this time, stating it is an ongoing case. However, this reporter has learned the School District brought in a top rate attorney to litigate the lawsuit. Your tax dollars hard at work, ladies and gentleman. Back to you in the studio, Jim.”
With Jim’s voice droning on in the background, Maggie’s temper fumed. She should have suspected the media wou
ld put a negative spin on the litigation. Of course they hadn’t mentioned how ridiculous the claims of the parents were. Instead they’d focused on how much the District spent to fight this ludicrous lawsuit.
The media was a powerful thing. It won elections, convicted people in the court of public opinion and Maggie knew just how judgmental they could be. They swayed public opinion with a single broadcast by presenting just one side of a story.
She'd done everything right in regards to the young man at her high school. The school had gone by the book for the student. He performed well at school.
They couldn’t do what the parents asked—make him eligible for special education—when he didn’t meet the criteria. It would be lying and Maggie had too many scruples to do that. But did the report mention any of that?
No.
The news broadcast made the District look bad. Mark wouldn’t like this. Hopefully he missed the newscast.
Maggie changed the channel. Her heart dropped to her toes when she realized this station too discussed the pending case. Just like the previous one, the newscaster only presented the family’s side of the issue. Turning to a third station, she discovered in record time that the family had gotten to all three of the major stations in the viewing area.
No way Mark would miss this much coverage. He and the pretty lawyer he hired would need to do some PR for the District. Their side of the story needed to be told.
After taking the last sip of her coffee, Maggie put the emptied cup down on the coffee table. She yawned, not bothering to hide it behind her hand as her arms stretched overhead. She needed that shower now. It would give her a chance to calm down and she could try to wash away the dread sinking into her bones.
An hour and fifteen minutes later she walked into her office at school. The sight of the flashing red light on her phone indicated a voicemail waited for her. Dread filled her. Sliding into the chair behind her desk, she punched in the code to retrieve her message.
Correction, messages, she thought when the automated voice told her she’d missed two calls. She twisted the cord around her finger as the first one played.
“Ms. O’Connell. This is Ms. Lawler. I need to speak to you. Please call me at . . .” Maggie jotted down the number and listened for the next message.
“Maggie, it’s Mark. Call me.”
She noted the grim tone in his voice. It was difficult to tell from such a brief message. Was he upset? Would she get the polite Mark or the jerky Mark today? She never knew which side of his personality would emerge when they were together. Sometimes, like the last time they met, he was pleasant enough. But at other times, he could be moody and impossible to get along with.
Her ex hadn’t left a number—didn’t need to. She still knew his numbers by heart, even if she hated to admit it.
She took a deep breath and punched in the number to Mark’s office. His secretary answered. “Good morning, Mr. Carver’s office.”
“Hi Liz, it’s Maggie.”
“Oh hi, Maggie. How are you?”
Stressed out. Exhausted. Worried. “Fine. And you?”
“Just fine. What can I do for you?”
Maggie pulled a pen from her pencil container on her desk and tapped the end of it on a stack of papers that needed her attention. “Mark asked me to call him.”
“He’s with the attorney just now. I’ll leave him a message.”
Maggie’s leg bounced with nervous energy under her desk. “I think you better check with him first. I have a feeling they are probably discussing the reason he asked me to call.”
“Okay. Hold on, I’ll check with him.”
Maggie waited, listening to the music play on the phone. Just as she started to hum along, the sound of Mark’s voice cut off the music mid-song. “Maggie?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I need you in my office, now.”
“But I have–” The sound of her boss’s voice cut off her protest.
“Now, Maggie.”
“Yes, sir.” Maggie did not keep the sarcastic tone from her voice. “It’s not like I have anything to do today. The kids who are scheduled to see me and the paperwork I need to complete can all wait. I’ll have my imaginary secretary cancel all my appointments and I’ll rush on over.”
“You do that,” Mark commanded, disconnecting their call.
Maggie muttered to herself about her boss being an ass as she walked out her office door.
Chapter 6
When she arrived at the school board office twenty minutes later, Maggie marched through the halls with purposeful strides, anger festering as she made her way through the maze of cubicles.
Expecting to be greeted by his secretary, Liz, Maggie’s brows lifted in surprised when she found an empty desk. Must be off making copies, she assumed, and she made her way to the door of Mark’s office. It was closed, but not locked Maggie discoverd when she turned the knob and let herself in unannounced.
Mark looked awful cozy. He sat on the edge of his desk, his legs stretched out in front of him on either side of the chair in which Jennifer Lawler sat. The two of them shared a chuckle and Maggie couldn’t help but wonder what they laughed about.
She cleared her throat, drawing the couple’s attention. In unison, their heads turned her way and Mark had the good sense to look embarrassed. He straightened and dodged behind his desk. If Maggie hadn’t been suspicious of hanky panky between the two of them before, she knew it to be true now. Apparently, her ex hadn’t learned it wasn’t good to mix business with pleasure.
“Maggie, you got here quicker than I expected.”
“Obviously, Mark.” Maggie let the door close behind her.
Mark gestured at the vacant chair in front of his desk with the wave of his hand. “Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand.” Actually, she’d rather leave.
“This is going to take a while. Sit.” The tone in his voice brooked no argument.
That couldn’t be a good sign, Maggie decided, when she took a seat. She crossed her legs, noticing her black heels looked rather old and matronly compared to the lawyer’s red stiletto pumps.
“Ms. O’Connell,” the lawyer began, “I don’t know if you have seen the news today or not.”
“If you are referring to the coverage of the suit, I’ve seen it.” All three times.
Mark rolled the sleeves of his salmon-colored dress shirt up and loosened his tie. “So you heard the news is only telling one side of the story.”
Maggie nodded. “They claimed the District had no comment.”
“We can’t allow that to continue, can we, Mark.” Jennifer said.
“We most certainly cannot. The District’s side must be shared. Don’t you agree, Maggie?”
Maggie shifted uncomfortably under Mark’s gaze. “I think we should be able to tell our side.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Mark leaned forward, and rested his bare forearms on his desk. “Jennifer and I were just discussing we should hold a press conference to get our side of things out there for the public.”
The lawyer shifted her legs, crossing them at the ankles demurely. “I can prepare a statement,” she offered.
Mark nodded his head vigorously in agreement. “It needs to be something good, something that will put the public on our side.”
“But we can’t give away the defense I plan on presenting. We wouldn’t want to give the parent’s attorney an advantage.”
“We need to contact the press soon . . .”
The sound of Mark’s voice faded into the background as Maggie’s mind drifted from the conversation. Obviously they didn’t need her to participate. They pitched the conversation back and forth like two baseball players warming up before a game. He’d speak, she’d speak, each murmured excitedly as the ideas flowed.
When a delivery boy brought lunch, Maggie hoped she might get a reprieve and be able to go back to her school to get some work done.
“I guess we’re done. I’ll leave.”
“Hold on,” Mark said, taking two salads out of the paper delivery bag. He handed one to Jennifer and pushed the other across his desk in Maggie’s direction. “Here, I ordered for all of us. We’re not done.”
Maggie took the garden salad with balsamic dressing—Mark’s favorite, not hers. Why did that not surprised her.
Jennifer opened the container for her salad. “My favorite.”
Again Maggie found herself not surprised.
She choked down her salad as Jennifer and Mark continued discussing strategy for both the lawsuit and the press conference. It wasn’t until they began to discuss who might be the District spokesperson that Maggie joined the conversation.
“Mark, will you be giving the statement to the press?” Maggie inquired before she took another bite of salad.
“I thought you would be the perfect person to give it.”
Lettuce flew from her mouth at the shock. “You can’t be serious,” Maggie informed him, wiping the half-chewed lettuce off her ex’s desk.
Jennifer turned her way. “But you must. You represent the school. You were the one who attended all the meetings. You are the face of the school as its guidance counselor.”
“Find another face.” Maggie wiped her mouth with her napkin and threw away the remainder of her salad, suddenly finding her appetite gone.
Weaver of Dreams Page 4
