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ALEX SWORE SHE HEARD the faint sound of knocking. It echoed strangely, the tapping distant and distorted, as if she were hearing it from underwater. She stirred, trying to ignore it. But an inexplicable sense of concern crawled within her and roused her from sleep. She lifted her head, rubbed her eyes groggily then opened them briefly. The world appeared fuzzy. And bright. Too bright. Bathed in white light that poured through the curtains of her small window, her entire room looked as if it had been coated in molten steel. The blinding glow disoriented her. She squinted against it and her eyes watered.
The knocking sounded again, louder. Clearer. And Carly’s voice called to her. “Alex? Are you awake?”
Alex swallowed. Her throat felt as though it was lined with sandpaper.
“It’s eleven thirty and you never sleep this late,” Carly continued.
Alex heard the concern in her sister’s voice. “Yeah, I’m awake.” She rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow. The movement caused a flare of intense pain to burn through her skull behind her eyes. She gripped her head in her hands, wondering what the hell was happening to her. A migraine maybe? That would explain her sensitivity to the light and the sensation that she was being stabbed through her eye sockets with hot pokers.
“Can I come in?” Carly asked from the other side of the door.
“Yeah, sure,” Alex replied as a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach.
Carly walked in. Chocolate-brown hair fell in panels around her heart-shaped face and framed her dark eyes. “Hey.” She smiled shyly, the dimple at the tip of her chin deepening. “I’m sorry I woke you but I was worried.” She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “I mean, it’s much later that you normally sleep in on your day off.” Shifting her weight from one leg to the next, Carly cleared her throat.
“I know. I can’t believe I slept in this late. It’s crazy.” Alex shook her head slowly, the movement, though painful, seemed to jar loose memories of the night before. Rushing back in flashes, she remembered the men from the diner. She remembered being attacked. Being shot. The blood.
“Were you up late?”
Alex could barely make out Carly’s words. Amplified but distorted, her question was muffled by the rush of blood behind Alex ears. The pounding of her heart in her chest that felt as though it would beat out from her ribcage at any given second. The world around her wavered in and out of focus, taking on a surreal, dreamlike quality. She’d been shot. She remembered seeing the gun. Hearing the blast. Feeling the pain. Pain unlike any she’d ever felt before in her life. She’d fought it. At the time, she’d fought mind, body and soul against what had happened, raging as if her very blood had come alive. She’d scratched and clawed to cling to life.
Memories had flooded her mind. Flickering like film on an old reel, clips of her life had flashed, evanescent bursts of color, laughter, tears, triumphs and failures had rushed at her in a flickering strobe.
Quickly, however, the light had dimmed. Thick silence had smothered all sound. Darkness had encroached at the edges of her vision, narrowing it until just a pinprick of light had been visible. And soon, the pinprick had faded to shadow. Every sight, every sound, every thought had faded. Her body had surrendered to a freefall. She’d felt herself falling backward, but not with fear. Instead she’d felt a comforting sense of security. Submerged in complete and utter blackness, utter stillness had cradled her in its warm, silent embrace. It had rocked her to oblivion.
“Alex! Hey, Alex!” she was vaguely aware of her sister calling out to her.
“Wh-what?” Alex asked absently.
“What’s going on with you? Are you alright?” A crease pleated the space between Carly’s brows.
Waves of questions lapped at the shores of Alex’s mind as panic began to mount. “How did I get here?” she asked. Her voice sounded distant and foreign, as if it were echoing from someone else.
“What?” Carly began wringing her hands, the crease on her forehead deepening. “What’re you talking about? You don’t remember coming home?”
Alex sat up and rubbed her temples. “Did you happen to see or hear me come home?” She hoped against hope her sister would say “yes” but deep down knew the answer she was about to hear.
“No, I was asleep.” Carly stared at her, worry plain on her face. “You’re scaring me, Alex.”
Swinging her legs over the bed as sweeping, lacy waves of anxiety prickled her skin, Alex squeezed her eyes shut. But when she opened them and pulled the covers from her body, the anxiety she’d felt seconds earlier quickly overwhelmed her until cold panic spread from her chest and dispersed through her body in an icy web.
Carly screamed. “Alex, oh my God!” She pointed to Alex’s dress.
She still wore her uniform. The dress was torn and a bullet hole had been blasted in the left side. Blood covered it, the coppery color as prominent as the stench.
“Are you okay?” Carly’s trembling hands gripped her shoulders.
“I-I think so,” Alex answered and immediately began peeling the dress from her body. Fabric stiffened from dried blood resisted her efforts at first but then gave way when she tugged at the tear, ripping it the rest of the way with strength she didn’t know she possessed.
Not concerned in the least that she sat in front of her sister in just her bra and underwear, urgency took precedence over modesty. Drawing her hands close to her body, the memory of the night before swirled through her brain like snow dancing on an icy breeze. In her mind’s eye, she saw the flare from the muzzle of the gun, the bullet speeding toward her, as if in slow motion. And then pain had followed. Blinding, searing white-hot pain, had exploded against her chest. Her lungs had collapsed on themselves.
Chest heaving breaths labored by panic, her fingertips flew to where a craterous wound should’ve been. She felt nothing. Just the smoothness of her skin yet still half expected to see the pads of her fingers stained crimson when she chanced a peek at them. Alex placed her hand directly over the spot where the bullet hole had been in her uniform dress. She flattened her palm there and once again was shocked when she retrieved it and saw that her hand was devoid of blood.
“I’m fine,” Alex said, looking at her sister with wide-eyed wonder as laughter effervesced within her, bubbling from her lips. “I’m fine, I promise.” She wrapped her covers around her torso and pulled her sister toward her. She hugged Carly tightly. She could feel her sister shaking and realized she needed to come up with something. Fast. She didn’t like lying. Ever. Least of all to Carly. But she couldn’t explain all that had happened to herself, much less her sister. Holding her sister at arm’s length from her, she said, “I’m sorry I’m so groggy and out of it this morning. It was a crazy night and I feel like crap.”
Carly sniffled and held tears at bay.
“Lou cut himself last night,” she lied. “Bad,” she added for good measure.
“Is he okay? That’s a lot of blood.” Carly pointed to the ruined uniform that was rolled into a ball beside Alex.
“He cut his hand wide open. He needed stitches.” Alex, still blinded and distracted by the bright light flooding into her room, stood and closed the blinds. She drew the curtains, too. The room was substantially darker and within moments, she felt a bit better. She threw on a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants that had been flung atop her dresser then sat back down beside Carly. All of the movement left Alex feeling drained and lightheaded, but she continued in spite of feeling terrible. “You know how Lou is.” Alex rolled her eyes and forced a smile, hoping her sister was buying her story. Carly nodded. “He insisted he was fine and wanted to keep working. But the cut was really bad. Bleeding all over the place. That’s why I have blood all over my uniform. So after a lot of arguing, Lisa, Meredith and I finally convinced him to go to the hospital.”
“Oh, gosh, I hope he’s okay. What did he say when he got home from the hospital? I know you guys have that text-each-other policy at work. How many stitches did he need? Will he be able to work with them? Which hand was it?” Carly peppered her with questions.
“I don’t know,” Alex replied with a noncommittal shrug. The fact that she’d never texted Lou when she’d gotten home would be a point of contention. She always had in the past. Lou would worry. Especially after the night she’d had. Apparently, every worry he’d ever entertained was justified.
“He never called or texted you?” Carly’s eyes rounded.
Alex shook her head. Doing so made her skull throb in time with her heartbeat. “But I’ll call him later for sure.” She’d have to text him at the very least, to let him know she was okay. Even though, in truth, she didn’t know if she was okay.
Carly looked at Alex, studying her face. “You look a little pale.”
“You mean paler than my normal nearly-transparent complexion?” She attempted self-effacing humor, but even that was an effort. She felt run down, achy everywhere yet nowhere specifically. Carly arched an eyebrow at her. “I feel like I’ve been beaten like a piñata,” Alex admitted finally.
“Do you think it’s the flu?” Carly’s brow furrowed.
Alex shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You come in contact with so many people and you didn’t get your shot this year, right?” Her sister folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head to one side.
“No. I didn’t.” Alex lowered her head, suddenly sheepish.
“Alex,” Carly sighed. “You need to go to the walk-in place in Fishkill, and find out if you have the flu. It’s deadly this year, you know. I saw on the news that it’s killed six people already!”
Alex wanted to tell her sister that customers at Stavro’s were deadlier than any flu strain. And that death had already claimed her last night. But her sister was worried enough already. Hell, Alex was worried right along with her. Nothing felt right. Nothing at all. Up was down. Down was up. She felt like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole and was having tea with the Mad Hatter. She’d been shot. She’d died! Yet here she sat, conversing with her sister. It didn’t make sense. Not one bit.
Breathing hitching and heartbeat ratcheting up several notches, Alex smiled at Carly, certain she looked insane. Perhaps she was. Perhaps all that she remembered was nothing more than psychosis, a complete and utter loss of touch on her part with reality. “I will. I’ll get tested for the flu if I still feel this way tomorrow,” Alex promised.
“Tomorrow?” Carly’s eyes pleaded for her to go immediately.
“Yes, tomorrow,” Alex said, her voice calm and in stark contrast to how she felt inside. “I don’t have a runny nose or feel feverish. I just feel rundown. Kind of beat up.”
Carly took her lower lip between her teeth. Though she was tall for her age and lanky, she looked younger than her age. She also looked worried sick.
“What is it?” Alex softened her tone and asked.
Carly lowered her hands to her lap and stared at them. “It’s just that,” she started then frowned. “It’s just that I don’t want to lose you.”
“Lose me?” It was a struggle for Alex to look at her sister incredulously. After all, as far as Alex knew, she’d been lost last night.
“Yes, lose you.” Carly blinked several times and sniffled before the first of several tears escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks. “You’re all I have,” she whispered.
Alex was about to say, “What’re you talking about? You have mom,” but the words died in her throat. Carly didn’t have their mom. Alex never had their mom. No one did. Laurie Lockhart, though not an essentially bad person, was a selfish person, which made her a bad parent. An absent parent. A critical parent. A parent who made terrible decisions. In Alex’s opinion, a person as selfish as her mother should not have been a parent. But she was Alex’s only parent. The same was true for Carly.
“I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not because of the flu or anything else. I promise.” Alex looked directly into her sister’s eyes. “You hear me?” Carly nodded and swiped away tears with her fingertips. “You’re stuck with me forever.” She forced her tone to change on the word “forever”, lending it a gravelly tone befitting a witch.
“Good. That makes me happy.” Carly’s expression brightened.
“Good.” Alex winked. “That’s what I like to hear,”
Carly reached out to her and hugged her. “Love you,” she said.
“Love you more,” Alex replied.
As Carly pulled back and was about to stand, she said, “Oh Alex, what are you going to do about your date tonight?” Carly reminded her of her date with Brandon. It was tonight. Carly was right.
“Ugh, I don’t know.” Alex gripped her head in both hands. Moving hurt. The thought of getting up, showering and getting dressed then going out seemed inconceivable. “I guess I’ll relax a bit, maybe go back to sleep and see how I feel when I wake up?”
“I don’t know.” Carly shook her head slowly. “You seem really sick. I’ve never seen you like this. You should probably cancel.”
She probably would. “I’ll see how I feel in a few hours. I’d hate to cancel, but there’s no way I can go out feeling like this.” The last part of the sentence slipped out. Carly’s expression immediately tensed. Alex had to correct it and smooth things over. “As tired as I am, I’d fall asleep at the table.” She laughed. It sounded hollow but it took tremendous effort. “Working all evening was hard. And did I mention it was just me and Meredith last night? And that we were crazy busy?”
Carly shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”
“It was nuts. And it was like a parade of people who’d drank too much, too. College kids mostly. People on dates or stopping off to eat before they moved on to the second half of their night.” Alex laughed mirthlessly, leaving out the two men who’d attacked her but feeling the memory strike through her again like a bolt of lightning. “It was just another shift in paradise.” She flashed her sister a smile and a thumbs up.
Carly considered her words. After a few moments, she said softly, “Alex, maybe you’re doing too much. Maybe you have exhaustion. Celebrities go into rehab all the time for exhaustion. I see it online all the time.”
While Alex was sure “exhaustion” was celebrity code for drugs, alcohol or nervous breakdown at times, she wasn’t about to tell Carly. After all, her sister was helping her argument. Carly was convincing herself for Alex.
“Maybe you’re right,” Alex said. She lifted her legs back onto the bed and covered them with her comforter. “Maybe I have exhaustion. Rest will help.”
Carly, taking Alex’s hints, stood. “Good. Get some sleep. You don’t sleep nearly enough and it’s probably catching up with you.”
“Probably.” Alex flopped backward, allowing her head to fall into her pillow.
“I’ll Google how much sleep a person your age needs each night and when you wake up we can talk about it, okay.”
Alex said, “Are you handling me? It feels like I’m being handled by a ten-year-old kid.”
“Yes, you are.” Carly giggled, her eyes shining like polished onyx. “You watch out for me all the time. Now I’m going to watch out for you.”
“Yes, boss,” Alex obliged with a smirk.
Carly pursed her lips and tapped her index finger to them. “Boss...I like the sound of that.” She snapped the fingers on her right hand. The sound echoed like a gong in Alex’s ears but she did her best to conceal it. “Go with it! Boss Carly works for me!” she said loudly.
“You got it,” Alex agreed and watched as Carly slowly closed the door, an impish smile rounding her cheeks.
With her sister gone, Alex rolled over. Drawing her knees to her chest, she curled into a ball on her side. She grimaced, finally free to express how she felt without fear of upsetting the person she loved most in this world. “What the heck is happening to me?” she mumbled to herself. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the still too-bright light filtering in through her blinds and curtains. But it was no use. She tossed and turned for an hour before giving up.
Forcing herself out of bed, a whimper, trapped in her throat, begged for release. Her face contorted. She allowed her head to sag, and felt the first pang of despair settle deep in her chest. The light tormented her. Alex searched her room, desperate for relief, for a reprieve from the shafts of light beaming in and searing her retinas when suddenly eyes landed on her closet.
Drawn as if pulled by a magnetic force field, she staggered toward it. She opened the door and stepped inside, settling atop an old comforter that smelled of mothballs. She curled her upper body and hugged her knees to her chest while lying on her side, just as she had in bed, but this was better, so much better. Closing the closet door, only a thin jet of anemic light glowed around it. Finally, she was able to rest, to close her eyes and feel safe in the confines of darkness. Before long, she felt every muscle in her body relax, and the memory of what had happened after being held in a warm dark embrace of oblivion came back to her with startling clarity.
Heat had engulfed her suddenly in an explosion of sifting colors. Reds had melded into gold and green into blues. All that she’d seen had been suddenly alive and vivid. Her heart had pounded in her chest as the dizzying array of shifting light had brightened until finally it had been the purest, most intense white light she’d ever seen. Though it had been intense, she had been unbothered by it as she would be now. She had not squinted and had not dared to look away. Instead, she’d peered straight into it without pain, without fear. And from a primal place, inherent and profound, she’d been drawn to it.
Rich, pale rays had extended, stretching fair fingers, searching for her, reaching for her. The warmth had been all-encompassing, a dramatic contrast to the bitter January night she’d left behind. The light, so crystal-clear and inviting, had summoned her, imparting her with a sense of peace and happiness so complete, so filling, tears had glazed her eyes. She’d never wanted anything more than to be closer to the light, to be part of it.
She’d moved toward it, gliding effortlessly. The nearer she’d gotten, the more bound to it she’d felt, as if a force greater than herself had been compelling her. Every cell in her body had been warmed by it, pulled to it as though it had been magnetic fire, heating her and attracting her simultaneously. And while the urge to run toward it had beckoned, she hadn’t. Inexplicably, the force of the light hadn’t allowed it. She’d only been able to continue at the same pace she’d maintained, a point that had driven her to the brink of madness, for she’d been consumed by the light, possessed by it. But each step she’d taken had brought her that much closer.
Alex had nearly reached the light, when a face had appeared before her, blocking her. Hair as black as night and eyes of liquid silver, his face had been unmistakable. Greyson Black.
Greyson Black.
Greyson Black had been with her last night. He’d been there when she’d died and he’d been there when life had returned to her. Nebulous puzzle pieces floated into place as a timeline for the events of the night before took shape. Her memories were crystal clear. Lucid. But were they real? Her mind struggled to reconcile all that had happened. The worry that she was having a breakdown of some sort or experiencing psychosis niggled at her brain. Fear that she’d been drugged remained, as well. Her mind was inundated with too many thoughts to process at once. She needed to rest. She would sleep. And when she woke, she had to find Greyson Black. In the cavernous hollows of her being, she knew Greyson held answers to many, if not all, of her questions.