Breathing a sigh of relief, Mia wearily unlocked the door to her studio apartment. She dragged herself in, closed and locked the door behind her, and took a moment to rest her eyes and lean her shoulder against the wooden frame.
She loved her apartment. Hardwood covered every inch of the floor, accented by large, beautiful throw rugs. She felt comfortable here—more comfortable than she felt anywhere else. It was one of the few places she didn’t feel like a complete freak. At home, she could be herself.
She walked to the window and pulled the curtains shut, letting darkness fill the room. Light was the last thing she wanted when she was in bed.
Her king-size canopy bed was centered on a large area rug. Sheer white swags flowed from the top and hung to tie at each post. Only a few pictures adorned the walls, and she didn’t have many knickknacks around. Previously owned items still had energies attached to them, and she didn’t need, or want, the distraction.
She fell on the bed, exhausted. As always, she hoped to get some much-needed rest, and yet, the peaceful sleep she’d hoped for never came.
Her mind drifted into a familiar dream. The rhythmic sound of drums beat in her head, drowning out the cries of a baby…
She was weightless, and the scene around her moved rapidly. As she gazed up, she saw the moon. Its glow began to transform into the man with the glowing eyes. Soon the events of her night took over, replaying within her dream. Art stepped in front of the man, and then everything faded except for Art.
Mia felt the heat from a fire as thick smoke filled the air and her senses. She searched for Art through its suffocating layers. Soon the crackle of the fire became louder, and the heat intensified. Through the haze in the distance, she found him. Fire covered his body, but he was alive. When she ran toward him, a wall of flames engulfed her, and the glowing eyes appeared once more.
Mia jolted awake, drenched in sweat. She hated these dreams—dreams she knew meant something—dreams she couldn’t tell anyone about without having the crazy label stamped on her forehead.
From her nightstand, she retrieved her journal and wrote down every detail she could recall. She was hoping to write more about the drums constantly beating, moving her forward toward something.
The recurring dreams started the eve of her twenty-seventh birthday and came every night after. She tried to inch the dream onward to find out more, but it often stopped at the same spot—with the moon bright in the sky, and the sound of a baby.
Who was the baby? And why was it crying?
Not wanting to get up and face the day, she snuggled into the blanket and stared at the ceiling. Her Siamese cat jumped onto the bed, kneading the pillow by her face. He lowered his head, butting it against hers as she scratched between his ears until he fell and flipped to his back.
“You hungry, baby?” Mia stretched along with the cat. Trying to get motivated, she sighed, cursing herself for being lazy. If she had gotten up earlier, she could have researched the strange aura from last night. Now she only had enough time to shower, eat, and feed the cat before going to work. She also needed to check on Art—she knew something was wrong.
***
Mia had barely made it into the gas station before Shannon gave her the run-down of what needed restocking and what was already on order.
“Which one of you messed with my surveillance system?” Stan yelled from the back office. They blankly stared at their short, cranky boss as he walked toward them.
“What’s the matter with the system, Stan?” Mia yelled back.
“The tape is missing. That’s what the matter is—which one of you messed with it? I’m docking your pay for the price of the tape if I don’t get it back,” he said, shaking a stubby finger. Not only was he a constant complainer, but he was also extremely cheap.
“No one messed with it, you miserable ass,” Shannon spat back, her face twisting in disgust.
“Then where’s my tape, Shannon?”
“The police came in after Mia left and took it.”
“Police? Why would the police want the surveillance tape?” His face turned a shade of puce before his eyebrows dipped into an angry ‘v.’
“Would someone mind telling me what happened in my own damned store? Seems like something I should know about, doesn’t it?”
Shannon looked at Mia, but she just rolled her eyes and walked toward the register, stashing her purse and coat on a shelf underneath.
“There was an… incident… here last night.” Shannon cocked her eyebrow and looked toward Mia.
“What kind of incident?” Noticing the way Shannon kept staring at her, Stan’s focus went to her as well. “Is there something you want to tell us, Mia?” He crossed his arms and waited.
“No, it was… nothing. And it won’t cost you any money, Stan,” she said in a childish manner.
“Well good! If it does, it’ll come out of your pay! The next time the police come to my store, I had better know about it. They’d better bring my tape back. Shannon, clock out! You’re five minutes past your shift, and I’m not paying you to sit here and chit-chat.” He grumbled under his breath as he walked back to his office.
“That man really needs a good blowjob,” Shannon said, grabbing her belongings. “I guess if you want to tell me what happened, Mia, you will. Till then, I ain’t gonna bother you about it,”
“Really, it was nothing, but thanks for your concern.” Mia turned away and started counting the cigarettes on the rack. It was the only inventory they took the entire night. Stan was paranoid about people stealing them. Thank God he didn’t ask them to count the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, or Mia would be in trouble.
Several times throughout her shift, she checked the clock. It was odd—normally several regulars stopped by. But not tonight. The night was dead, not even the cops had shown up.
At two-fifteen, she counted eight candy wrappers and one twenty ounce soda that had fallen prey to her. At three, she gave in. Art, who usually came in a few times a night, still hadn’t shown. If her vision was right, she knew something would happen to him sooner or later. She only hoped she wasn’t too late.
Mia stepped from behind the counter and hung the “Back in Thirty Minutes” sign before locking the door. Luckily for her, the police hadn’t been there yet, and the surveillance tape was still in their possession, so Stan wouldn’t find out. If he did, she’d definitely lose her job.
A few minutes later, she was in her car and on the road. It wasn’t far to Art’s place, and within moments she’d pulled into a wooded area just off a long footpath. She immediately smelled the smoke when she opened her car door.
Her psyche started to twitch, unease swirling in the pit of her stomach as her pulse raced. She knew exactly what she was going to find. She’d already seen it.
Racing from the car down the dirt pathway and toward the smoke, she saw a faint light. It appeared through the mass of tiny pine trees ahead of her. She should get back in the car and run away like she usually did, but something urged her forward into the thick trees.
She came to a clearing. Her eyes darted around, catching her surroundings. The smoke was too intense—it burned her eyes and throat. She put her hand up to cover her nose when the smell overwhelmed her. That was when her eyes landed on what had made the flames—Art’s body.
He had the appearance of an overcooked marshmallow, scorched clothes hanging from his small, lanky frame. And though his ruptured skin was charred beyond recognition, she knew it was him.
Close beside him was the cardboard structure he slept beneath, a few sheets tied to it as makeshift curtains. How did the fire stay in this little area? She looked around, trying to find signs of charred trees anywhere else. Nothing. It didn’t make sense. Tears pooled in her eyes. She was too late to save him.
“Excuse me.”
Startled by the deep voice behind her, she jerked into a whirl. A figure stood in a spot that had been empty a moment ago. Her hand went to her chest, and she took a defensive stance.
“What are you doing here?” the figure asked.
A strange inflection danced in the voice, and it made her ears tingle. It was calm and soothing with a massive amount of energy flowing from it, carrying strength and power. She instantly felt pulled to it. She tried to focus on the man’s face, but the smoke burned her eyes, and it was too dark. The only thing she could clearly make out was the shiny badge reflecting light from a few remaining flames.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass on your crime scene.”
“Thank you, but this isn’t a crime scene. It seems to be an accident.”
“I hardly think it was an accident, officer.”
“Why would you say that?”
“The fire, the way it was contained.” Disappointed in herself for not finding Art in time, she let her anger surface. “Have you identified that man?”
“Do you think you know him?” He stared at her.
“Yes, I know him. His name is Art.” She wanted him to confirm what she had already known, but, more importantly, she longed to hear his voice again. For some odd reason, it calmed her. Why is he staring at me like I have two heads though, like he’s trying to unlock a secret code?
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that until we notify his next of kin.”
Mia’s expression fell. She went there to find Art, was too late, saw this horrible scene, and now Mr. By-The-Book couldn’t confirm the identity of the dead man. Shaking her head, she let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, isn’t that just wonderful. I have to go.”
“No, what you have to do is explain to me what you’re doing out here, in the woods, with a dead man.”
“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of people telling me what to do in the past few days! Excuse me.” She pushed past him, her anger rising. She should have listened to her dream and gone with her instinct. Who knows—maybe she could’ve saved Art. Discouraged, she knew she had to leave this scene behind her. Fast. Her pace quickened. Soon her strides became long, and she ran.
Minutes later, she was in her car and hitting the gas. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes, and she tilted the rearview mirror to wipe them away. Damn. Blue lights. Sighing, she pulled over, taking deep breaths as she teetered on the edge of a meltdown.
The streetlights illuminated the area, giving it a picturesque glow. Despite what had happened to Art, it was a beautiful night. The moon hung bright, and the stars covered the sky, their light dimmed only by a thin veil of smog.
She watched the officer dismount his motorcycle and remove his helmet. His thick, dark brown hair almost looked black as it shimmered in the light. Mia had an instant urge to run her fingers through it.
He walked toward the car with smooth strides. With the window down, she could hear the sound of his boots on the asphalt, clicking along as he walked. The air thinned as he came closer. From the moment he’d taken off his helmet, Mia had felt his eyes on her.
She stared at the boots traveling up his legs to hug the top of his calves. His pants were tucked inside and clung to his thighs, accentuating his muscles. His gun belt and the leather strap that ran diagonally across his chest, shined with a polished glow.
As he approached her window, nerves circled in her stomach. She kept her eyes forward, hands on the steering wheel.
“May I see your license, please?” His voice was smooth and sounded familiar.
“Yes, sir,” Mia said as she leaned over the passenger seat and fumbled with her purse. A second later, she produced her license.
“What’s your name?”
“Mia.” She raised an eyebrow and wondered why he’d ask for her name when he had her license in his hand.
“Let’s try this again. What is your name?” The authority in his voice deepened.
“I said, Mia. It’s right there in your hands,” she said with more attitude than she’d intended.
His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as they locked with hers. “Step out of the car, please.” He opened the door, leaving his hand to rest on the top.
She grazed his arm as she slid out, causing instant bumps to travel over her body. She tried to mentally shake the feeling by resting against the car. As she leaned back, she lifted her gaze slowly from his boots to his eyes, not missing an inch. Oh. My. God. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.
Her eyes moved over his strong, chiseled face and a set of full lips made for kissing. He looked at her, his intense stare framed by thick, long lashes. Her gaze locked with his, and she lost herself in their deep brown abyss.
“I want you to tell me your name again, and this time, your real name.” His voice calmly swept over her.
She dropped her eyes before she embarrassed herself by drooling, and suddenly remembered her real name was on her license. “I-I forgot my real name was on my license. I’m sorry. I don’t go by that name.”
“Do you hate it so much that you can’t even say it?”
“It’s Miakoda, and yes, I hate it.” She lifted her eyes back to his, and then wondered how many people looked at him every day and never realized he had a tiny black spec mixed with the gorgeous brown.
He stepped forward. “It’s a shame to hate such a beautiful name.” His eyes caressed her face.
“Well, I’ve never met anyone who thought it was beautiful. Everyone thinks my parents were either drunk or high when they named me.”
“It is beautiful and a powerful name. Do you know what it means?”
Of course she did. Who gets a fucked-up name like that and doesn’t research it? She shook her head “no.”
He leaned forward slightly, as if he had a secret to tell. His closeness seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air, and she breathed deeply as his scent wrapped around her. Resting his hand on the car, he leaned into her. “Miakoda means ‘power of the moon.’”
His voice was perfect, seductive, and it drew her right in. When her name poured over his lips, she fell in love with it. It had never sounded so beautiful—sexy, even. It was arousing.
“Why do you keep staring at me like that?”
“Like what?” He flicked his gaze over her.
“Like you’re confused and I don’t know—hungry.”
“There’s something about you, beyond your beauty.” His forehead wrinkled. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
Her lips parted, and her nipples tightened as they pressed against her shirt. His eyes darted to her breasts. Oh, God, he knows. How does he know?
When he slid his gaze back to hers, he seemed just as enthralled as she was. Her body began to bow into his as if he willed it forward.
Suddenly, he straightened and took a step back. The instant connection, she was sure they’d both felt, left him looking bewildered. He seemed to harden himself, shaking it off and snapped back into cop mode.
“Mia, why did you run from me when I asked you what you were doing back in the woods?”
“I thought I recognized your voice… I’m sorry for running from you, but Art was kind of a friend.”
“I’m sorry about your friend, but that doesn’t explain why you ran from me.” He was staring at her like that again.
“You said it wasn’t a crime, but an accident, and that upset me.” She raised her eyes to his so he’d know she was serious. “Art’s death was no accident. Someone killed him. I think I know who it was.”
“Would you like to tell me how you know this?”
“No, you’re just going to laugh at me, or think I’m nuts, like the two officers last night.” She looked away, embarrassed by what she knew she’d have to tell him, and knowing once she did, he’d never look at her like this again.
“Do you work at Stan’s gas station down the street?”
“Yes. How do you know that?”
“I was supposed to meet you earlier, but the call came in about your friend Art. I had to handle it first.”
He leaned forward and opened her car door, the air between them charged with electricity. Their attention was drawn to the streetlight as it flickered. His suspicious eyes darted back to hers. “Let’s get you back to work. We can talk more inside.”
“Okay,” Mia readily agreed. Though, she probably would’ve done the same thing if he’d said, “Let’s go rob a bank together.”
She struggled to keep her eyes forward as she continuously shifted her view to the mirrors, watching him. He stopped talking into his shoulder mic, and then suddenly he was at her window. “Mia. Wait. I’m sorry. I’m needed back at the scene with your friend’s body. I’ll come back tomorrow to take your statement.”
“Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mia watched him as he made the U-turn. He looked magnificent, strong, powerful. Yummy. Disappointment washed over her as he vanished from her sight.
She pulled into the station and parked. Looking around the lot, she found it empty. Just like me, she thought as she went back inside to finish her double shift. Feeling lonelier than she had before, she pulled out the cleaning supplies from the back office to keep her busy. How could she feel this way about someone she doesn’t know? Was she that hard up? Maybe five years had been too long?
Overtired and slaphappy, Mia’s eyelids grew heavy as she placed the mop against the counter, the inviting smell of coffee calling to her. Taking a sip, she leaned back, letting her eyes wander. Damn. Shannon never cleans anything. After wiping her finger over the top of the filthy soda fountain, she shook her head in disgust and began sponging it down. As her foot bumped the garbage can underneath, her gaze fell upon a piece of trash beside it. Mia reached down and grabbed the red object. She froze. Chills raced through her arms and legs and crept up her spine. Art. It was Art’s pack of Marlboro Reds.
She inched the pack open. Five cigarettes and a rolled up piece of paper stared back at her. Thinking it may be a clue from last night, she pulled the paper out. Engulfed by a massive wave of negative energy, the visions swarmed her, and she dropped to her knees.
Slowly, an arm comes into view as someone hands Art the Marlboros. His face. I need to see his face...
Beep…
The ‘gas pump in use’ alert yanked her from the trance.
Her mouth watered, and she fought the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as nausea took form. Failing miserably, she grabbed the trashcan and vomited. What was happening to her? Her visions had never been this strong. Her sensitivity to things had increased, too, in the last couple of months, and she wasn’t sure how to handle them.
Mia shoved the rolled up paper and pack of Reds into her pocket and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Thankful for pay-at-the-pump customers, she watched the car drive away.