Dark Daze (3 page)

Brie put the top back on the rack and they
wandered off toward a row of dresses. She didn’t need her friend—or
the odd tingling sensation, which had started to build—to remind
her she had an uncanny intuition. She’d been that way since Dark
Day. She just had to focus on something. A destination? A little
focus and she would go the right way. Lost something? Concentrate
and she would find it. Not sure about a person? Instinct would tell
her if they were to be trusted.

But she refused to use it in matters of the
heart or money. It seemed wrong to use it on a man, and it might
skew what insight she received. She wouldn’t be able to trust
it.

“Mandy —” Closing her eyes, Brie ignored the
tingling, which intensified into a stabbing pain. Mandy put a hand
on her arm, and Brie opened her eyes.

“He’s hot, smart, and gainfully employed.
What more could you ask for? Don’t be picky.”

“Look, I’m sure he’s a very nice man,” Brie
grasped a beautiful floral print dress, “but I’m not in the
market.”

“Did you get married?”

Brie gave in to the impulse to roll her eyes
and pulled the garment from the rack. “No, but—”

“Are you in a serious relationship now?”

Brie ignored the comment and held the
material up to her chest. The dress had a narrow waist and an
attractive bust. The cut would accentuate her best features and
hide her worst ones. And it was so lovely.

“Good. Then I’ll buy this for you. It’ll be
perfect for your first date with Ian.” Mandy grabbed it, holding
out the flowing cloth.

“Stop.” Brie laughed when her friend took the
dress, heading for the register.

Her vision went fuzzy, and she grabbed the
clothing rack, holding tight as the world skewed. The top of the
room warped, ceiling melding with floor, then it folded away like
an ancient television set that had just been switched off.

She opened her eyes, though they no longer
belonged to her…She was trapped once again, helpless in the mind of
a stranger.

Andrea had just received Donald Kingsley’s
latest novel and couldn’t wait to read it. Her ritual for reading
her favorite author’s new work never varied. She curled up in the
chair with a warm blanket, took a sip of her coffee, and wished
she’d added more sugar. Too late now. Once she sat down with the
book, she didn’t get up again until she’d finished the first
chapter, because—though she knew it wasn’t true—in her mind this
helped his book sales.

Brie couldn’t help but wonder at the mundane
moment as this stranger named Andrea examined the dark,
snow-covered road on the cover. A man ran down the middle of it,
arms flung out, eyes wide. Behind him, headlights shining, a
shadowy car came after him. The snowy tracks seemed to swerve away
behind the tires, showing the obvious chase. The title
Cold
Terror
scrawled across the top in red, runny text, giving the
impression of words inked in blood.

Andrea opened the book. Running a hand over
the dust cover, she faithfully read the book’s description.

“
Dean O`Connel is a normal man, with
ordinary dreams who never expected to find himself being stalked by
a shadowy figure that is anything but normal.

“
Dean O’Connel is a man running for his
life from a killer no one else can see.

“
The police can’t help him. His friends
and family can’t help him. No one can help him.

“
He finds himself in the snowy hills,
fleeing from the cold and turbid terror that follows.

“
Can he survive?”

A loud sniff came from outside.

Andrea looked toward the window. The darkness
seemed all-consuming, as though it sucked the light from the very
room in which she sat. She shook her head, then dutifully went back
to the book.

The woman’s strange rituals, various
superstitions, and idiosyncrasies didn’t annoy Brie so much as fill
her with an all too familiar sense of helplessness. Brie couldn’t
alert Andrea. She was a prisoner, unable to leave and unable to
help. Even if the woman died, Brie could only watch. Some people
called psychic phenomenon a “gift” but for Brie it was a curse.

Brie tried to scream, as she had so many
times in past slips, to draw the woman’s eyes back to the possible
threat. Didn’t the woman have any sense of danger? Had she been
able to, Brie would have struck Andrea to knock some sense into
her.

Something was at the window, and she was
powerless to give any aid.

Brie had discovered two things about her
visits
over the years. They weren’t about getting to know
the person, because she’d seen a boy fall once, and she still
didn’t know who he was. They weren’t about saving the person,
either. She’d seen her brother’s death, and it had been inevitable.
Some of them, like her mother’s death, happened before the event.
Others, like her brother’s happened during it. Through all the
years, she had never quite understood the purpose of the powers
she’d received on Dark Day. She only knew she hated them and the
weakness they forced upon her.

The light in the room seemed to dim. Andrea
glanced up to adjust the lamp. In the corner of the room, two deep
black eyes stared at her, so deep they swallowed the light of the
small bulb. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the room
was bright as ever.

“
Great job, Donald. I’m spooked, and I
haven’t even started reading yet.” Andrea laughed and returned to
the prologue. It gave a short visual of a good-natured man in his
early thirties, a brown dog, and a blooming career in real estate.
He volunteered at homeless shelters, helped little old ladies
across the street, and loved his mother. A little too sugary to be
real, but a nice concept.

She read, “Chapter One. The Terror.”

Brie’s head snapped forward and her world
jerked back into view.

“What the heck?” She looked up from her white
knuckled grip on the fixture, glad the paramedics were nowhere to
be seen.

The room still whirled around her. This had
been by far the strangest flip she’d experienced. Why was she shown
the woman’s rituals? Why the book? It seemed rather odd. And what
was with the darkness? Her flips must hint at tribulations to come.
Otherwise, why would she have them? Otherwise, all they were was
someone’s sick idea of a joke.

But she couldn’t let herself believe in a
supernatural monster. She’d never sleep again. No. She refused to
believe in disembodied eyes sucking the light from a room. “It must
have been overactive imagination.”

“What?” Mandy waddled up beside her.

“Huh? Oh, nothing important.”

“I have to say, I’m amazed you let me buy
this for you.” Mandy pressed a bag into Brie’s hand. “I thought for
sure you’d tackle me on the way to the register.”

“You should never tackle a pregnant woman.”
The world slowed to a halt, and she fought not to show how freaked
out she felt. “Though I should give you a swift kick in the
butt.”

“So, you let me buy it…Does this mean you
will go out with him?”

Brie put a palm to her throbbing temple.
“You’re the bane of my existence, Mand, you know that right?”

“I knew you’d give in.” Mandy beamed at her
and hooked her elbow in Brie’s. “You’re gonna love him.
Really.”

Brie’s hand seemed to move of its own will.
She bit her lip as it slid her i-com from her purse.

Ian Connor turned into the parking spot in
front of the pet store and pushed the ignition button. Buster, whom
he’d named after Buster Keaton because of his ingenuity, and
because he was just a funny dog, stared at the door release button
before Ian even touched it.

Buster didn’t realize his status as an
animal. He could open doors, even the sliding glass variety, if
they weren’t locked. He turned on the treadmill, if he wanted to
walk. And though Buster rarely ran off, he knew his mind, and if
Buster decided he had to be somewhere else, he would keep running
and nothing would stop him. But he always came home again.

Ian opened the door, and Buster bounded in
one long jump over the driver seat and to the ground below.

The German Shepherd mutt excelled when it
came to jumping. Buster sprang through the snow like a jackrabbit
and would bound up the steepest slope like it was flat land. He
could leap so high, and so far, Ian had toyed with the idea of
entering him into a competition.

Ian walked into the pet store and Buster
darted past him, straight to Ian’s best friend, and the owner of
Pet World, who tossed him a treat.

“Hey Buster.” Paul patted the dog’s head then
glanced up, pushing unruly dark bangs out of his eyes. “How are
you, Ian? How’s work?”

“Everything’s great.”

“How was the date last weekend?”

“Very, very wrong for me.” Ian grimaced.
“Don’t ever set me up again.”

Paul laughed, a deep belly laugh. “I guessed
she wasn’t right for you.”

“You can say that again.” Ian wanted to find
a woman. He really did. For him though, alone was better.

“She’s hot though, isn’t she?”

Ian smiled. “Oh yeah, almost melted my pants
off, but nothing upstairs. Sorry man, I prefer a little brains in
my woman. Either way, I think I’m destined to be alone.” There was
less chance of being caught and far less to lose if he stayed on
his own. Besides, it would be nearly impossible to find someone who
would understand what he’d done—what he’d become. The right woman
for him couldn’t possibly exist, could she?

Paul shook his head and tugged the usual bag
of dog food from the shelf and the treats he always included for
Buster. “Sometimes I don’t understand you, Ian. You just don’t make
sense.”

“Yeah, well.” Ian shrugged, but Buster
distracted him before he could continue. A huge doggy smile split
his face as he careened around the counter chasing a fly, which
buzzed through the shop.

The sound of the bell drew Ian’s attention. A
family entered and went straight to the over-sized fish tanks along
the wall. Buster trotted over to sit by Ian’s side, glancing
forlornly at the fly buzzing nearby, like a child looking at a fun
playmate from whom he was restricted. Buster had taken so well to
his training, Ian had often wished there were doggy IQ tests.
Buster would have topped the charts.

“It’s okay, boy.” Paul gave the dog another
treat.

“Well, Ian. I do have another single friend
who may not have the body Gina had, but she is getting her Masters
in Psychology. Is
that
smart enough for you?”

“Oh no.” No more women to let down gently. He
couldn’t do it again. He didn’t have the heart. “Didn’t I just tell
you not to set me up anymore?”

“Yeah, but you know Mandy. Since she got
preggers, she can’t handle having any single friends.” His voice
took on a robotic tone. His arms rose as though he were a robot in
an old fifties movie and his eyes stared blankly ahead. “All must
join us. All must marry. Procreate.” His head twitched back and
forth, as he repeated the last word. “Procreate.”

“Dork.” Ian laughed so hard, the family,
who’d been fascinated by the puffer fish, turned to gape at them as
if they were insane. He coughed as the mother herded her children
in the other direction.

“Mandy’s out with her now. She’s probably
working on her as we speak, and if I don’t get you on board, I may
not hear the end of it until she gives birth next month. Maybe not
even then.”

“All right, I’ll take her number, but no
promises. If I’m feeling masochistic enough maybe I’ll use it next
week some time.”

His i-com rang. He tugged it out of his
pocket and pushed the talk button, putting an end to the Jamaican
island rhythms emanating from the speaker.

“Hello?” A female voice he’d never heard
before came from his ear bud.

“Hello?” She hesitated a second. “Is this
Ian?”

“You’ve got me. How can I help you?”

“Well, I…uh…I’m Brie, a friend of Mandy and
Paul.” She started talking faster. “Mandy has been asking me for
hours if I would call and talk to you. She says she won’t stop
until we talk, so I thought I would call you before she decides to
move in. I hope you don’t find this too forward, but we do live in
modern times, after all.”

Ian stared at his i-com, and suddenly he
wished he’d pushed video to put a face to the voice. He’d never had
a woman talk to him like this. She had guts, calling him to ask him
out. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. He
laughed.

Paul pantomimed holding an i-com to his ear
and pointed to it
. Is that her?
he mouthed. Ian turned away
from him.

“So, did you want to go to dinner sometime?”
Her voice, though feminine, was deep and smooth like honey. “Since
I was modern enough to ask, I suppose I’ll treat as well. So, how
about it?”