He still flew on the high. Literally, now that he once again soared in his own dimension, free from the confines of being mortal.
He could live forever as energy. Here nothing could stop him. He was truly invincible.
Like a god!
He soared higher, reaching for the sky. It bathed his sight in a swirl of colors. Yellow clouds bled into orange and pinks ones. They swirled around a blue spot spiraling outward to look like a multicolored cornucopia. The emerald waves of grass roll beneath him.
The air rush around him, so cold at this height, it almost burned. He increased his own energy to compensate. He would allow nothing to ruin this high.
He pushed ahead, gliding over the nearest mountain. The tip of which brushed him as he passed. Capped with purple snow, it chilled him further.
He found this height exhilarating, but too cold. Amnon started to feel a little uncomfortable, even with his energy increased to compensate. Much longer at this altitude and he would end up frozen.
Deciding not to allow anything to ruin his high, he dove down into the valley. It welcomed him into its multicolored arms. Amnon landed in the grass, and the colors bled over him. Rich hues of the most vibrant blues and reds mixed as he moved between the flowers to create a purple paint which covered his being.
Somewhere deep within his mind, he knew this could not be real. The colors of his world, while brilliant enough to be from a painting, were not paint. They did not bleed, but with the human male’s emotions coursing through him, his mind created a wonderful hallucination, trying to trick him into believing the impossible sights before him.
If he’d been in his human form, he would have smiled at the sight.
He felt alive, exalted. Like the king of the world.
And really, why shouldn’t he be?
He would be a fabulous king. The first thing he would do . . . rescind First Law, so all his subjects could experience this type of ecstasy. The second thing . . .
His mind took only a minute to come up with the next item on his royal agenda. Destroy the Peacemaker.
And wouldn’t you know, but maybe he didn’t need to be king to do that. After all, when they fought in the human dimension he kicked Zane’s ass. He believed himself to be stronger, smarter, and much faster than the Peacemaker.
If he remembered correctly—and of course he did—he almost won their struggle. Why after a good feeding, like the one he indulged in tonight, he could take on Zane and easily win.
A plan started to form in the stalker’s mind. He would visit the woman.
Maggie was it?
Yes. He would visit Maggie. Her emotions were much easier to solicit than Foster’s. Unlike the male, the woman’s dreams tended to be relatively mild and meek, making them all the more horrific when he manipulated them into nightmares.
Amnon could almost taste her emotions now. He would induce the most horrific dream he could think of and feed. Gorge himself on her emotions until he could take no more. When the Peacemaker showed up to stop him—and he would, the stalker was sure of it—Amnon would kill him while in corporeal form.
He’d created the perfect plan. Nothing could go wrong.
Foster popped the tab of his beer can and guzzled the frothy liquid down in one long drink. It warmed his stomach when it settled there.
“The breakfast of champions,” he muttered to himself, removing a second beer from his fridge.
Taking the cold can with him to the living room, he sat down on his worn couch and turned on the morning news. He popped the top of the fresh beer and took a long draw. Man, it sure tasted good going down. The bubbling tingled all the way to the pit of his stomach. His stomach rumbled, obviously happy with his choice of breakfast, Foster decided, closing his eyes to savor the taste.
The sound of a woman’s voice opened his eyes. Oh, yeah, the TV was on. A little boob tube was exactly what he needed to make his morning ritual complete.
Foster took a swig of his beer and nearly spit the amber liquid across the room when an all too familiar face appeared on the screen.
“. . . We cannot falsify test results or eligibility paperwork. It would be unethical for the school to do so. Thank you. I have no further comment.”
There she was again. Why did the news always replay things from the night before? Couldn’t they come up with fresh news over night?
The strawberry-blonde’s image disappeared from the screen, replaced by the lead anchor. As the guy droned on about some deadly accident that shut down the interstate, Foster’s mind took him back to the nightmare he experienced last night.
The woman from the TV had been there.
With Evan.
She punished him. She must have thought he was a naughty boy.
She’s the naughty one. Punish her.
Evan had held him down while she burned his flesh with a cigarette.
The bitch!
He’d done nothing wrong, only walked into the cemetery, then they attacked him.
Foster took another sip of his beer.
They must die!
“Evan is already dead. I killed him,” Foster confessed to the voices in his head before taking another sip.
She isn’t.
“Isn’t what?”
Deeeeead!
“I shouldn’t kill her.”
You shhhhhould.
“No. It would be wrong.” He looked down at the can in his hand, and watched the tiny sweat beads dripping down the silver canister like tiny drops of blood down a shiny axe.
She isn’t real. She is just a character from TV . . . from your dreams.
“She hurt me.”
Yessssss. She deserves to die for what she did to you.
Maybe he should put her out of his misery. If she disappeared, she would not haunt his dreams.
Kill her. Be rid of her.
How could he find her? He took another swallow of his liquid breakfast.
Her high school. Evan’s High.
Where else would she be but with Evan?
Rage raced through his blood making it boil. That bitch with her pretty little face and freckled nose, probably sat with Evan right now planning on how they would next punish him.
He tried to be a good boy, he really did, but sometimes the voices were just . . . right. Evan had tried to beat the crazy out of him. At least he said that some of the times he used a belt on Foster’s hide. Man, Evan’s thick belt stung something fierce. The bite of the leather had been almost worse than the bastard’s fists. Almost. Of course Evan’s favorite form of torture had been the cigarettes. Just like that woman used on him last night.
She hurt him. The voices were right. They said she deserved to die. Sometimes he just needed to listen to them.
Lissssten now.
Foster threw his beer can across the room at the TV. The can hit hard and bounced onto the floor, bleeding its contents onto his tattered rug.
Foster shrugged. Who cared? It would be just one more stain.
He pushed from the couch, the voices within cheering him on.
Chapter 18
Maggie sat in her office at school, staring sightlessly out the window. She’d become a local celebrity. Throughout the morning people stopped her to mention the press conference. The principal and the faculty praised her. The students teased her. Apparently fame earned her a page on one of the social networking sites. One of the girls said it was titled, “The No Comment Counselor” and someone had posted the video of her talking.
Nothing like being known as the No Comment Counselor. Now none of the kids would probably ever want to talk to her again.
Great. Just great. Yet another mess to ruin her life thanks to Mark and his fabulous ideas. That stupid lawyer wasn’t any better. Maggie felt sure Jenni
fer Lawler had been the one to decide she should be the spokesperson.
Maggie pushed from behind her desk and paced the room. Her feet quickly ate up the small amount of carpet.
Mark had messed up her life once again. It wasn’t enough he’d made her feel ugly and unwanted as a woman. He had to ruin her self-esteem about her job too.
She’d always loved her job as a guidance counselor. Working with the students to fix their problems and helping students who would otherwise not go to college get accepted was one of the highlights of her position with the District.
Now with her new celebrity, she doubted any student would seek her help.
The walls closed in. She needed some air. Needed to get out of here.
She grabbed her purse from the top drawer of her filing cabinet, slung the strap over her shoulder, and reached the door in two strides. Just turning the knob and opening the heavy door made things seem a little better.
Maggie took a deep breath and marched forward. Out of the guidance building and into the front office she trekked, heading straight for her principal’s administrative assistant.
Peggy looked up at her. The lines at the corners of her eyes deepened from the genuine smile on her aged face. “Hi, Maggie. I saw you on TV this morning. You did great.”
“Thanks.”
“So when do you get to be on TV again?”
“Never. I hope.” Maggie crossed her arms over her chest, watching as the elderly woman’s brown eyes widened in surprise.
“Never? But you looked like a natural. The TV really loves you.”
“Pbbbbbbbtttt!" She blew a very loud, juicy raspberry.
“You didn’t like being on TV?” Peggy asked, not bothering to keep the incredulousness from her tone. “I’d love to be on TV.”
“Great, then next time you can do it. I’m done. I hated it. I never want to be the spokesperson for the District ever again.”
“You sound upset,” Peggy observed, tapping the tip of her pencil on her desk.
Maggie blew out a heavy sigh. “Just tired and cranky.”
“You still not sleeping, hun?”
“No.”
“I’ve got a friend who swears by her sleeping pills. You ever try some?”
Her only respite from the nightmares came in the form of a pill. In fact, a bottle of them sat on the counter at home, but she didn’t like them.
“Yeah, but I’m not a fan. Too many people have incidents of sleep walking after taking them. Sleep driving, sleep working. I don’t even want to think about what might happen if I try to do my job asleep.”
Peggy chuckled. “I know what you mean. Working with teenagers keeps you on your toes. You have to be on top of your game.”
Maggie smiled. “Exactly. But you know, I think I’ll take the rest of the day off. I desperately need a mental health day.”
“Okay. I’ll debit your sick leave for the rest of today.”
“Thanks, Peggy.” Maggie turned to leave.
“Maggie?”
She turned back around to the administrative assistant at the sound of her name. “Uh-huh.”
“I hope things get better, dear.”
Maggie gave the woman a feeble smile. “Thanks. I’m sure they will.” They couldn’t get any worse.
“And try to get some sleep. Okay?”
“I will,” Maggie promised and headed outside, knowing that would most likely be a promise she’d break.
As Maggie sat in her assigned parking space, a dilapidated car with faded green paint pulled into their parking lot. The high school was located in an affluent area of their city. A Lexus or a BMW she would expect, but a green car so rusted through she could see the interior through the base of the driver’s door—seemed strange.
Her eyes tracked the vehicle, watching it pull up to the front of the large high school. A man got out, dressed in a pair of raggedy jeans and a jacket. The hood of his gray hoodie obscured much of his face, but she could see he sported a rough beard. It looked thick and heavier than the typical fashion, as though he couldn’t be bothered to keep the thing trimmed.
His clothes appeared soiled. His jeans caked with grime and what may have been grease. Whatever it was, it looked oily. His awkward gate made for unsure steps, as if he sported a limp leg.
Maggie started her engine when the man grabbed the handle of the door to the front office. He stopped and turned in response to the purr of her engine. His eyes locked with hers. They looked cold. Distant.
Vacant was really the best way to describe them, she decided. Unease crept up her spine, prickles of concern blanketed her skin.
Maggie put the car in reverse, and eased from her spot. As she drove away her eyes tried to find the man in her rear view mirror, but she could not see him. Like a phantom, he had disappeared from sight.
She turned and looked over her seat. His car still sat in front of the school, but where was he? Had he gone inside?
Of course. He must have gone inside the office once she pulled away. He probably only looked in her direction because he heard her car start. Maggie shook her head as she turned onto the road in front of the school grounds.
“You’re becoming paranoid, Maggie,” she chastised herself aloud. “I definitely need a little shopping therapy.”
And she knew just where to start.
Sixteen miles later, she stood in one of her favorite stores at the mall. The clothes in there were expensive. While she might not be able to buy them on her meager salary, they couldn’t stop her from trying a few on and fantasizing about owning them.
“Long time no see,” Maggie called to her friend, as Leigh joined her.
Really, it had only been about two weeks since she’d seen her friend, but sometimes fourteen days could feel like a lifetime.
“Hey, stranger. How ya been?”
Leigh embraced her in a strong hug. Friends since high school, Maggie counted on Leigh for support. Maggie called her first when things got rough because she knew her friend would be there.
“I’m fine, Leigh. How about you?”
“You don’t look fine. You look tired.”
The ladies entered the shop as Maggie spoke. “Yeah. What else is new?”
Leigh gave her a sympathetic nod, knowing all too well how the night terrors had plagued Maggie throughout her life. “So, I saw you on TV.”
A groan pushed from Maggie’s throat. “I don’t want to talk about it. Why do you think I needed a little shopping therapy?”
Leigh smiled, and held up a dress in each hand. “Well, I think these are just what the doctor ordered. Take two and call me when you’re ready.”
Maggie smiled as she took the dresses to the changing room. Good old Leigh. She could always count on her friend. When she called, Leigh had dropped everything to meet her on the spur of the moment. Not every company bigwig would clear her schedule for a friend, but Leigh did. While she dressed, Maggie contemplated how fortunate she was to have a friend like her.
“Leigh, I’m dressed,” she called, making her way to the full-length mirror next to the changing room.
“Look at you,” Leigh exclaimed. “You look beautiful.”
Maggie stood in front of three mirrors, turning from side-to-side to admire how the emerald sequin gown she wore hugged her curves. Smoothing her hands over her hips, she enjoyed the feel of the sparkly crystals under her fingers.
“The dark green of the gown complements your red hair,” a salesclerk informed her.
Maggie spun before the mirror, watching the way the strapless gown hung on her body. The material flowed around her legs when she twirled, dusting the floor. A jeweled detail gathered the emerald-colored material under her bosom to create an empire waist which emphasized her breasts. This designer gown made her look goo
d—even if she did say so herself.
“Nothing like couture to make a gal feel better about herself.” Maggie’s eyes briefly met Leigh’s in the mirror.
“I couldn’t agree more, Maggie.”
If only she went places that called for this type of a dress. An inelegant snort of incredulity left her throat. If only she could afford this type of a dress. Maybe her dream man would become real and buy it for her.
A smile took her face at the absurdity of the thought. Maggie knew Zane wasn’t real, but a girl could dream couldn’t she?
And what dreams she had been having lately! Her nightmares seemed to be gone, replaced by sensual dreams about that handsome Zane.
Her body warmed at the thought of him. Maggie watched her cheeks blush in the mirror when memories of the dream from the previous night flooded her mind’s eye.
In the dream, he had brought her pleasure unlike she’d ever experienced in the real world. She could still feel the water of the tub lapping over her skin in waves he created when he entered the tub to wash her. If only the dream hadn’t ended before they’d made love. She would bet good money he would have been fantastic in bed. Unfortunately, her alarm clock going off pulled her from the dream before she could find out. Such a shame.
Holy crap, she had it bad for a guy who wasn’t real.
“What’s the look for, Maggie?”
“Huh?” Maggie’s eyes met her friends in the mirror. Leigh sported a wide grin.
“What were you just now thinking?”
Images of the dream flashed in her mind’s eye bringing another blush to Maggie’s cheeks.
“Nothing.”
“My butt it was nothing. Look at your cheeks. You better fess up. I want to know what has you so hot and bothered, woman.”
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