Chapter Four

I dug out the key to Robert’s place, turned on the lights and went back outside to watch for Amber. Would she come? Much to my relief, she got off the bus and walked toward me. I gestured for her to come into the potter’s home of creativity. “Nice to see you. What name will I be using for you in the article?”

“Cameron Davis.”

“Thank you for coming, Miss Cameron.”

Her chin lifted. Advising her to use the name she always wished her mama gave her had been a good move.

Robert’s inviting reception area featured display pedestals with examples of his work under glass. Mounted photos of his pieces in homes and galleries, plus awards and magazine articles about him, decorated all the walls. Three small seating clusters offered a view of his considerable talent.

Amber gestured to a large green bowl with a frothy white dimensional rim and vines encircling it. “This is beautiful. Is it your work?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t even make a decent coaster in art class back in third grade. And all we had was Play-Doh. This is my friend Robert’s studio.”

I handed over one of his promotional flyers. I hoped these fantastic creations would help her open up to me, but so far, she wasn’t ready. Her feet pointed toward the door. I would have to tread carefully. Talk about the rituals would have to wait. If I broached the subject right away, the shy woman would clam up and most likely, leave.

The black hazy outline around her had thickened. It was also closer to her body than it had been earlier, as if wrapping her in a cocoon of impending death. That could not be a good sign.

My palms started tingling. Oh great. Not that too. Oh well, back to business. Focus on her. Focusing intently on her made it worse. Fantastic.

I slipped my smartpen and pad from my bag and pressed the button to record audio. Happily, no beep alerted an interviewee that anything had changed. Amber watched me out of the corner of her eye while walking around to look at pottery. Shallow breathing betrayed her anxiety. She still contemplated flight.

“Cameron, don’t you hate it when you watch the news after something awful happens and the reporter asks everyone how they feel or makes them relive the whole mess?”

A nervous laugh and a nod. Finally a quiet, “Yes.”

“Me too. It’s rude and awful. So I want to assure you that I’m not asking for the details of your break-up. I don’t want you to name any names. Is that okay?”

Amber nodded, smiled a little. “Yes.”

“If you share any of that, it’s by your own choice. I’m writing about your experiences with the book and Mandy Tippin. Not your ex. Understand?”

Another nod. Her shoulders relaxed. “Yes. Thank you.” She took a deep breath, turned to face me, and gave me her full attention. Feet now pointed toward me, not the door.

I had achieved that third little yes. One problem. The air stirred and charged with electric potential. Was my hair standing on end? I reached up to pat it. Thankfully, no. I looked at the window, expecting a freak squall. Nothing. No lightning. A light bulb near where Amber stood flickered, popped, and extinguished.

Twilight Zone music time. My hands stung so hard they hurt.

Looking at Amber unsettled me. Did that death haze just get even blacker and thicker? No, surely not. Must be the change in lighting.

Ignore it all and focus.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Amber pointed at the bulb.

“Me either.” Just a weird coincidence, right? Note to self: no more Koontz novels for the foreseeable future. “Okay, now that all the official bla-bla-bla is done, after you were dumped, did you get involved in Mandy Tippin’s online membership, or did you only read the book?”

Did that haze ripple again when I said Mandy Tippin? Surely not. I must have been imagining it.

“The women on the train this morning got dumped. I did the breaking up.”

“Really?”

“He hit me hard enough that…” She put a hand over her belly.

I nodded. She had miscarried a child. I knew what it was to be beaten, though never by a lover. Maybe she sensed it, and that’s why she opened up to me.

“He hit me often, and hard. But I loved him, so I put up with it a long time until that day.” She twisted a strand of hair. “He was mad at me for getting…” She looked around the room, as if someone else might hear. “…pregnant.”

Wow, she opened up quickly. What horrible pain and betrayal she had experienced. Talking about a book was trivial in comparison with this revelation. But I am a writer, not a counselor. I didn’t want to dive into all that pain, but I needed her to feel secure enough to continue. “And what happened after you left him?”

“I lost my job. I had missed three days of work because of the…being sick.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. Slumped shoulders heaved with a deep sigh. “I was so upset I couldn’t think straight. All I did was cry for days.”

Here was Amber’s one chance to get her story out, and I had given her security and anonymity. This was her catharsis. Go gently, Kass. Don’t mess this up for her.

“How did you put your life back together, Cameron?”

Her eyes refocused on me. “I haven’t. Not completely. But I started to think maybe if I couldn’t have someone who treated me right, I would be better off alone.” She pointed to the book. “Because of Mandy Tippin, I began to realize my soul is valuable.”

Great quote. I put a star by it in my notes.

Did her haze ripple? I hoped my eyes weren’t bugging out of my head at the disconcerting sight. My heartbeat quickened. I refused to give in to any of this.

“Cameron, what about the online membership? Did you only read stories, or did you get involved with other members?”

“Have you been in there?”

“I haven’t had a chance yet, but I will.”

“The online church helped me realize that there are lots of women worse off than me.”

Online church. More and more interesting by the moment. I wished my hands would stop burning. And I could swear that haze rippled again. Nah, I decided it must be my hyperactive writer’s imagination.

Amber continued, “Have you been through a break-up?”

I didn’t want to talk about it, but I decided that if I could make everyone else pour out their sorrow, I ought to be forthcoming as well. “Not like you or the others from the train. I’m a widow. Randy and I were newlyweds. He died in combat.” I had managed to steer clear of this topic with everyone but Julie until today, when it had come up now for the third time. A message from God or the Universe? Maybe. But I thought my line was permanently disconnected.

“You’re so young to be a widow.”

“He went to serve in Afghanistan. I found out he was killed the same day I got a letter from him.” My voice shook.

She pointed to Miss Heartbreak on the cover. “Get involved. It will make a big difference for you.”

“You said the book helped you realize your soul has value. Would you be willing to say more about that?”

Her eyes lost focus. “The way Mandy writes, I got caught up in it. Instead of obsessing about my pain, I started obsessing about getting past it.”

Obsessing. Interesting word choice, plus she began to speak in a singsong manner that made her seem like she was in a hypnotic trance.

Obsessed. Rituals. Addicted. Trance. Online church.

The black haze around her writhed and undulated. Creepy. This time I couldn’t brush it aside. That just happened. I did not like it. Not one little tiny bit. It needed to stop. Right now. A placid thin haze was plenty weird all by itself. Back to work. Finish this interview and get on out of here

I took what I intended to be a calming breath. “You told me you are about to take your Freedom Journey. Now remember, this is all new to me, but I’m hoping maybe you’ll be willing to say where you’ll go and what you’ll do.”

“It is forbidden to reveal the nature of our journey.”

Oops. Maybe I would have known that if I’d had time to read this crazy book, but it wouldn’t stop me asking for the story. I decided to match her sing-song cadence. Might help her speak freely.

“How did you know it was time?”

“The Releasing Ritual opens the heart. At the right moment, it is time to let the past go and be free.”

That didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I decided that pressing too hard wouldn’t win me any answers. “How did you know you were ready?” I sing-songed.

“It is time to be free and move on. I am at peace. No more pain. No more suffering.”

Amber sounded more detached as her words swayed along.

I kept my voice low and matched her tone. “Do you travel away from home?”

“It is important to leave your everyday life behind. That is the only way to truly break free.”

This was getting creepier and creepier by the word. She sounded as if she were repeating lines given to her to say if questioned.

I asked, “How do you choose where to complete the ritual?”

“You go to a place where you will face your biggest fear.”

“And what is your biggest fear.”

“Drowning.”

“When shall you go?” I sang.

“Tomorrow.”

“And where shall you go?”

I would swear my hands were on fire. I looked at them. Nothing unusual. Then movement along the floor caught my eye. A black tendril from what surrounded Amber snaked toward me. I pointed at it. Golden light shot from my finger. I gasped. Did I really just do that? A puff of black smoke rose.

The scary chute retracted. Did she see all that?

I stared at my flame-shooting finger. This new development was bad. Colossally bad. So hideous it cried for a word that doesn’t yet exist to capture the sheer awfulness of it.

Amber answered, “I will go to Lake Gen—”

An inky wisp separated itself from the dark outline and entered her mouth. She gasped and jerked. Her previously unfocused gaze bored into me.

My hair stood on end. The black haze enveloped Amber, so inky I couldn’t see her through it. A pair of red eyes glowing like hot embers pierced through the blackness to stare at me. They sat where her eyes would be, but they did not belong to her.

My heart hammered. I wanted to bolt from the studio, but my feet had taken deep root in the floor. My mouth went desert dry. I felt like I was in one of those dreams where you can’t move, and you’re trying desperately to make even one little toe wiggle so you can break the spell. No, I do not accept any of this.

The foul red eyes narrowed and focused on me. I could not make my lungs pull in breath. How could I stop it? I yelled out a loud, ‘No’ inside my head. I called out for help, though I knew that no words made it out of my mouth, and no aid would come. Wisps of black reached for me, but this time I couldn’t move my hand to shoot blue flame like before.

Shut your eyes. The prompting from whatever corner of my mind that wasn’t freaking out felt right, so I tried. They wouldn’t close. The tentacles inched closer and closer. I wanted to scream but couldn’t. Soon, the nasty critter would reach me. Then what?

The command to close my eyes sounded again in my mind. I had to win this battle. Refusing to be a victim of this nasty critter, I blocked the image of impending doom before me from my eyes and willed my lids to descend. Pulling Uncle Walt’s massive barn door shut against a windstorm felt easier than this Herculean task, but I did it, either in moments or minutes or hours. I did not know.

Closing my eyes broke the contact and helped me think. Back as a child during these encounters, I used to feel perfectly protected in a divine shield. Now, I latched onto that feeling like a drowning person clutches a life raft. My hands came together in a once familiar pose, ready to send ethereal flame. Golden light surrounded me, a barrier against all harm, I hoped. The power to breathe returned. I gulped fresh air.

Did something hiss just then? Must have been the radiator. I opened my eyes. Smoking black fingers retreated. I had no words of power other than what I was shouting inside my head, because nothing other than a useless squeak made it past my lips. You let her go, NOW.

Fiery red eyes gazed at me, studying me head to toe. Sinister laughter rang inside my head, followed by a tri-toned female voice, telling me, you are powerless.

The creature moved away from Amber, unthreatened, unhurried. It hovered, an amorphous darkness hanging in the dim-lit room. The death haze thinned to its former calm, weak outline around Amber.

A snap. The creature vanished. As a startling parting gift, its departure extinguished all the lights in the room and evidently the power in the building. You never notice that electronic hum of life in the modern world until it’s gone. Its absence hung in the air, filling it with an audible silence, though I know that’s a contradiction in terms.

Amber yelped. She shook so hard I thought she’d fall.

“Are you all right?” I dashed over to steady her.

She took in a sharp breath and grabbed hold of me. “That scared me.”

“It’s okay now.” I hoped. Amber felt cold and frail in my grasp. Had I, in all my bumbling and fear, managed to save her from the demon, or whatever it was? I seriously doubted it. That creature would come back. If not for her, then for me. Or for both. Perhaps I had injured it or somehow drained its power for the moment, but while I may have won the battle, surely I hadn’t won the war.

I should have done something other than have a panic attack and wish for rescue.

Amber’s breath shuddered in and out of her lungs. “Silly of me to be afraid of a power outage.”

Lights came back on and the comforting white noise of electrical life as usual returned. Amber jumped in surprise and fell into me.

“Nah, it was an emotional interview. I think Robert has tea. Now that the power’s on, let me make you some.” I didn’t want to send her out into the cold winter evening scared and shaky.

She peeled herself off me, ran fingers through her hair. “No. I better go now.” She struggled into her coat, grabbed her purse and bolted for the door.

“Wait. Let me walk you to the bus.” She didn’t wait. I hurried into my coat, collected my things, locked the door and chased after her. A woman traveling alone in a distressed state was never a good idea, especially in a big city.

Perhaps the cold air sobered her, because she stopped running and took control of herself. I trotted up to her and kept her pace. She said nothing more, but neither did she object to me accompanying her to the corner. I waited until she climbed aboard her bus.

I wished I had found a way to ask about her illness, if that’s what it was, but chances were I’d never see her again, unless we met by happenstance. I figured it must be cancer or something and wondered how long she might be alive. Huddling into my coat against the rapidly darkening day, I made my way to the subway station. Gusts of wind mirrored my mood.

A terrifying thought froze my guts. What if the dark outline wasn’t terminal illness? What if that was the mark of the entity whose attention I had caught when it reached out toward me? What if I could have saved her if only I hadn’t let my own doubts and fears rule my actions?

I failed her. But I didn’t know what I could have done to fix things. Everything was different when I was a kid. Words of power came to me then, but now, nothing. Not a word. Not a prayer. Not a sensation or guiding hand. Not knowing how to handle the situation haunted me most of all. What should I have done differently? A prayer? A word? Point my hands at her once I had the gold light around me?

Could I have freed Amber from the death haze? Was that dark outline because of an illness, or was it the evil influence? Could be either. I didn’t want to assume one way or another. Although I despised my “special gift,” I didn’t want anyone to be taken over by evil forces either. A little guidance, divine or otherwise, would have been nice.

Those glowing eyes had fixed on me, and I knew my life was about to get more terrifying and confusing.

Because now, the enemy knew exactly who I was.

Too many conflicting thoughts and feelings battled for my attention as I rode the train home. Exhaustion from last night’s fitful sleep made my mind feel muddled. Every time the doors opened and new passengers boarded, I wondered whether the owner of those evil eyes would find a hapless victim to borrow. I reminded myself to keep my mind alert, think of something else.

I needed something mentally engaging. The article. I could plan out the article I would write. I went back over the conversations with Amber and the other women, noting the better quotes. The element of addiction really caught my interest. So did Amber’s trance-like state. Could written words hypnotize a person? I didn’t know the woman, after all. Maybe that’s just how she acted all the time?

No, that was not possible. Well, not likely. The peacefulness Amber displayed didn’t match the serenity of various people I had met in school or since moving to Chicago, like the yogi or the contemplative order nun or the people who meditated regularly. Something felt wrong about her apparent calm. Right now I couldn’t place it, but someone who was truly at peace inside did not come across in the same way.

Resignation. That’s what it was. Amber didn’t act like she was at one with her world or her God or whatever. She came across as passive.

I reminded myself to stick to the facts I could observe, prove and quantify. I set aside thoughts of Amber to consider various other events of the day, like Russell.

Another weird hiccup in the day’s events, Russell Higgins. The mostly pleasant encounter disturbed me. Our easy conversation melted away the years. What was my problem? Russ was definitely interested in me. I could feel it. I could still feel the delicious sensation of his kiss warm on my lips.

Part of me felt naughty for the sparks between us, but I reminded myself that Randy had died. He was not just away on a very long vacation. I love him, but since he’s gone, I can never have a family with him. He would never expect or want me to remain alone for the rest of my life.

Through someone’s headphones I heard our wedding song, “I Hope You Dance.” As part of our marriage vows, we committed to take chances and truly live. A smile. A few tears, I hoped maybe Randy reached out to assure me. Maybe it was all right to be open to a relationship. No, definitely it was all right. I officially gave myself permission to love another man, whomever he might turn out to be.

Having settled that nagging line of thought, my mind wandered to less pleasant events. Why had I felt so afraid in Robert’s studio? Anyone would be spooked, but why had fear paralyzed me?

I took off my gloves and stared at my palms, but they looked the same as always. What had I expected? A mark? A pattern? They looked like nothing more than plain ordinary hands. Or not. Who else pointed and sent a beam of light out of their fingertip? Why was life turning into a science fiction movie—no, a horror movie? What was I supposed to do with this new piece of information? Would Amber recover, or would she die?

So many uncertainties roiled within my mind. Pa used to smack me for asking too many questions. Good thing he wasn’t here, or he’d beat me senseless.

The canned voice announced the next stop and passengers shuffled on and off the train. The cold blast of air made me shrink into the depths of my jacket in search of shelter. Desire to sleep and the thousand-and-one questions fought for attention. I stood up for a moment just to get my blood moving and help me keep awake. The doors whooshed shut and the train lurched into motion. I watched the reflected lights of homes and businesses float by as it rocked and roared on its way through the dark. Nobody talked. Nobody so much as coughed. Strange.

I would swear I saw those eyes appear among the lights. But no, that must be my imagination running wild after the scare. How could disembodied eyes watch me inside a moving vehicle?

Weariness redoubled its efforts to make me fall asleep. The hypnotic movement lulled me into a dreamlike state. I had to fight it. Something told me that now was an especially bad time to drowse. Maybe reading would help. I reached into my bag and felt the broken hearts book. That would be too taxing, and after my eerie experience with Amber, I wasn’t ready to open it. Not here. Not now.

I pulled my novel out of my bag and opened it to the slip of paper that served as a bookmark. After a few minutes I put it back into my bag. I couldn’t concentrate, and I felt more sluggish as the minutes passed.

Did I see those eyes again, reflected in the window? I could swear I saw two red orbs among the city lights. Time to get up and move. My imagination was clearly getting out of control.

My cell phone rang, startling me into alertness. “Hi, Julie.”

“Are you close to home?”

“Just a few stops away.” I didn’t want to broadcast specifics to the passengers. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t waiting for a chance to cause trouble.

“I’ll wait here on the platform for you then.”

“Great.” Lesson number one of living in the big city: When walking home at night, try to go with a buddy. This didn’t always work out, but Julie and I helped each other out whenever possible.

A man stinking of beer and cigarettes sat down next to me. Terrific. I put on the tough city girl face I had learned from a native in case anyone bothered me, which this fella did.

“Hey baby, what’re you doing tonight?” He breathed cheap beer breath onto me.

I made no answer but got up and passed by him, planning to get off and await the next train. He grabbed my rear. Spinning around, I clopped him in the head with my bag.

Between stops I had no escape, so I scuttled away as quickly as I could. This far north, there were a lot of empty seats, so I took one facing sideways with a full view of the rest of the car.

He came and sat next to me. I unclipped the pepper spray from the strap of my bag and yelled as loud as I could, “Get away from me you smelly tramp!”

“Shut up, missy,” he growled back, leaning into me.

“I am not your missy.” I pointed the spray at him. “Get away or I’ll spray.”

He laughed. “Nah, you won’t do that to me.”

Nearby passengers hurried to the other side of the car to avoid the throat-clogging, eye-stinging pepper, and any further involvement in this little scene. “Try me.” I pushed him away, pulled my hat down over my eyes and blasted him full in the face at close range. He bent down in agony, wailing. My knee and his forehead met. Crunch.

He cussed and bellowed.

I hurtled toward the door, ready to pounce as soon as it opened. “Serves you right.”

Passengers applauded. Two men grabbed the drunk. After I had already dealt with the problem. Thank you for your timely intervention.

The train came to my stop and I slipped through the doors before they even opened all the way. All I wanted to do was get home. I practically ran into Julie in my haste.

“Come on.” I grabbed her arm and hustled down the stairs onto the street without looking back.

“Did something happen on the train?” Julie asked.

I rolled my eyes. “I’d say so.”

On the way home, I kept looking over my shoulder. Was someone watching me, or had the awful day simply spooked me? Probably the latter. And considering all that happened in the last twenty-four hours, who could blame me?

“You’re jumpy tonight,” Julie observed.

“Ding, ding, ding. You win the prize. It’s been a Day.” I wasn’t about to tell my roommate about the scene at Robert’s. Not the weird part anyway. “This drunken human smokestack grabbed my behind and got in my face on the train.”

She grabbed my arm. “What did you do?”

“I peppered him and knocked him down.”

“That’s my girl!”

I tapped the weapon. “One of the women at the paper gave me this as a Welcome to Chicago present.” The little sprayer clipped onto a belt or bag, easy to access. “First time I’ve used it. Good thing she told me to be sure to get out of the way.”

“His eyes are probably still burning.”

I started laughing, perhaps a little hysterically. “Everyone else in the car ran to the other side. I guess the stuff hangs around in the air for a while.”

We climbed the stairs to our apartment and shrugged out of our winter gear.

“It’s a good night for some of your fabulous popcorn,” Julie announced.

“When doesn’t it sound good?”

“Yours is special. Best ever.”

I set out the Orville Redenbacher corn, butter, salt, and heated the pan.

“There’s nothing magical about popping corn.”

“There is when you do it. Must be the oil or something.”

I tossed a glob of bacon fat into the hot pan. “Olivia at the paper says I should learn to take a compliment, so I’ll just say, ‘thank you.’”

She grabbed napkins and parked at the table, awaiting the fluffy snack. “You up for a girl’s night, or do you have big plans?”

“Plans? No.”

“We lead a boring life.”

“Do you want to be in this article I’m writing about Healing Your Broken Heart? I could give you a false name if you want.”

“Wow, I’ve never had my name in print. That could be interesting.” She thrummed her fingers, clearly impatient for the snack. “Do I get to dish up dirt on my ex?”

“I’m not writing about the men. Besides, having a broken heart isn’t only for women who hooked up with bad boyfriends. Maybe a few guys have read this book.”

Julie snorted. “Not likely, but I take your point.”

I seasoned our popcorn and set it on the kitchen table between us. We munched in companionable silence for a while.

“Hey Julie, one of the women I interviewed today started to say where she was taking her Freedom Journey.”

“Really? It’s amazing that she told you, because that’s supposed to be a deep dark secret.”

“You mean the author instructs women to go off on a trip and not tell a soul where they’ll be?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t that seem like a bad idea to you?”

She stopped just short of putting popcorn into her mouth and cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a country girl, but if you’re taking a trip, you should let at least one person know where you’ll be.”

Julie shook her head. “It’s part of letting go.”

“If something happened, wouldn’t you want one or two people to know where to look?”

She swigged her drink and chewed, probably on my words as well as the popcorn. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Are you planning to take a Freedom Journey?” Please say no.

“Not yet, but yes. I will know when the time is right for it.”

“How will you know? What will your ‘it’s time’ sign be?”

“I’ll feel a sense of completion with the pain and be ready to let it go.”

“And when you go, what do you do?”

She played with popcorn in the bowl and fidgeted in her chair, which was unlike her. “You get totally away from your normal life.”

My palms itched, and my suspicion rose another few notches. I didn’t see a black haze around Julie, but something hovered just over her right shoulder. It was a spinning whitish blob, like a cloud. When did that arrive? Was I so tired I didn’t notice? That thing wasn’t supposed to be there. But I was overwrought. It could have been a floater in my gritty eyeball. I blinked a couple times. Still there. Nothing nasty-feeling, but hanging out by Julie. Bloblet didn’t have eyes, yet I felt watched. Probably a paranoia hangover.

Julie looked over her shoulder, following my gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just tired and lost in thought.”

Whatever you are, get on out of here now. I have just told a speck of nothing to leave. How crazy was I? Way more than enough creepy the last couple days. For now, I elected to unravel the more mundane mysteries that didn’t involve me tangling with demons.

I rubbed my tired, wind-whipped eyes. The blob left. No blob. So either it was an eye floater, or it decided to leave on its own. I doubt my thoughts had anything to do with it.

“Hey, Jules, I haven’t had a chance to Google this yet, so maybe you can answer a quick question for me. Is there a lake near here that starts out, Lake Gen?”

“Lake Geneva.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s nice there, but it’s the kind of place your grandparents go on vacation. Why do you ask?”

Now she was back to eating popcorn and acting like her usual self. Interesting. I omitted one tiny detail when I answered. “I overheard it in passing. Some noise drowned out the end of the word.” Yeah, psychic noise from the bowels of hell or somewhere nearly as disturbing. “I’m new here and wondered where it might be.”

“And you’re a busybody.” Julie picked up the bowl and headed for the couch.

“That too. Anything good for you today?”

“Muffin day at work is about as much excitement as I got. You?”

“I had a fun encounter.” I sat beside her and reached in for another handful of popcorn.

“Ooh, do tell. It must be good. You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“Sure, you just keep telling yourself that.”

“Met an FBI agent today.”

“I’ve never known anybody who worked for the government. You meet the coolest people.”

“You’ve met the mail carrier, haven’t you?”

She cocked her head. “Uh, yeah.”

“Well since you’ve met Jayne, you’ve met someone who works for the government.”

She swatted me. “You know what I meant. Someone with an interesting job.”

“I’m sure it’s not as cool as it sounds to you.”

“Do you have a picture?”

I laughed. “I took my first selfie ever this afternoon. Or is that a withie when you’re with someone?”

“An ussie.”

“Makes sense.” I showed her the picture, knowing Russ had the mirror image of it on his phone.

“Yum, yum.”

“Oh yeah.” My face heated. I’m sure my blush deepened a few shades.

“Where did you take this?”

“Outside Lou Mitchell’s.”

Julie studied the photo in minute detail. “He’s clearly into you.” She used her fingers to zoom in on him. “Did you pick up this random guy on the train or something?”

My mouth fell open. “Oh heavens, no.”

“You look like a carnival game. If you hang your mouth open like that again, I’m gonna throw popcorn into it and see if I can win the prize.”

I swatted her with the leopard print toss pillow.

She leaned toward me. “Fess up. Who is he and how did you meet?”

“We grew up together. I have a funny story from when he was about nine.”

She clapped her hands. “Dish up the dirt.”

“He wanted to live in a big city so much that one time he put some clothes into a trash bag and started walking toward Little Rock to see his grandparents.”

Julie laughed. “That’s not exactly a huge city.”

“No, but it’s bigger than Burvil.”

“Where?”

“It’s really Berryville, but the locals all say ‘Burvil.’”

“That’s weird.”

“This from a native Chicagoan who calls hot dogs ‘hat dogs.’ You city folk talk funny.”

I felt as if someone were watching us through the window. I turned to see glowing red eyes hanging in the dark, attached to absolutely nothing, outside the window. Julie apparently did not notice anything. No surprise there. I’d never met anyone who saw what I did.

“What are you looking at?” She turned, shook her head.

“I thought I saw something out the window.”

“Probably just a tree branch bouncing in the wind, or maybe a bird flying past the street light. Not much else it could be up this high.”

“Must have been.” No, it was a pair of eyes glowing like smoldering embers, glaring straight at me.