Authors: Mary Lou George
He didn’t give up and pleaded with her. “You misunderstand me, Holly. I wanted…I
want
you just as much…oh hell…more than you want me. I took things too far, too soon. Please don’t take offense, none was meant.”
She stared at him unwilling to let go of her anger for the moment. It was an emotion she could handle much better than hurt, but finally her better judgment won out. She sighed and said, “Okay, I won’t kick you out…just yet…but you’re going to have to say or do something right now to make me feel better.”
He smiled. Relief sounded in the tone of his voice. “I appreciate your honesty. I won’t even bother to sweet talk you. You’re too bright for that, so I’ll be as honest with you as I can.” She narrowed her eyes and he took a deep breath. He said, “Just now, here, on that couch, I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my entire life. One day you’ll understand just how much that really means. But for now, please trust me.”
She sighed, frustration warmed her breath. “Well, now I’m totally confused. I don’t ever offer myself lightly, but you got to me, and for once in my life, I went with it and let myself respond naturally. It was a mistake obviously.” She narrowed her eyes and punctuated her point with a wave of her hand. “Next time it won’t be so easy. You trust
me
on that one, mister.”
He nodded with acceptance. “I understand. I’m willing to take my punishment. I deserve it.” He smiled at her hopefully.
Still she didn’t smile, but finally after a few moments, the edges of her mouth turned up despite her better judgment and she reluctantly grinned.
Holly tapped her left hand on her knee. “I will demand an explanation soon.”
He nodded. “Got it. And I’ll give you one soon too.” He looked down at her hand as it continued to beat a tattoo against her leg. “Are you okay?”
She frowned at the offending hand and then met his eyes warily. She said, “I’m a southpaw, it always itches and tingles just before I slip into automatic drawing mode.” She walked away from him grabbing a sketch pad from her desk. She deliberately ignored the colored pencils in favor of an HB. “Congratulations, Stryker, you’re about to enter the Twilight Zone.”
“What should I do?”
Dropping down onto the sofa, she rolled her eyes at him. She still hadn’t completely forgiven him for rejecting her. In a sarcastic voice she said, “Why don’t you bake a ham?”
“I would if it would help,” he said seriously.
His tone and the look on his face broke the tension and Holly laughed softly almost forgiving him. “That’s okay. There’s nothing for you to do but wait. When it’s done I might like a drink of water. Think you can handle that?”
“I hope so. Bottled or tap? Room temperature or cold? With ice?”
“Surprise me.”
He grinned at her. “
That
I can do.”
Her eyes smiled at him then went blank and glazed over. She could no longer see him and retreated into her mind while another part of her brain took over. She submitted to it completely.
As always, Holly was unaware of time passing. At last, her pencil stopped. Dragging herself out of the trance, she blinked and looked at Stryker as he sat close by frowning down at her. Puzzled, she tilted her head. Her gaze followed his and rested on the drawing that sat in front of her.
Stryker pushed a glass of ice water towards her and without taking her eyes off the sketchpad she took a long drink. Brain freeze ended her silence. She winced and lifted the heel of her right hand to her forehead.
She cried, “Ah, too cold, too fast…hurts.”
He reached out to her. She gave him a one eyed, quelling look. “And just what do you think you’re going to do? Can you cure brain freeze? I can’t wait to tell the kids.”
Stryker shook his head. “No, but you were in pain and I wanted to take it away.”
His sincere words and his look of genuine concern silenced her and she finally forgave him for everything for anything. A grateful smile split her face as she looked at him. He returned the favor, looking much relieved.
She glanced back down at her drawing and her smile froze then disappeared entirely. Again, it was a grizzly sight. Even in pencil lead the sketch looked tragic. Holly ran her finger over the paper and frowned.
As usual, her technique was flawless. The subject matter however, left something to be desired. A battered and twisted body rested against the steering wheel of a car. The angle of the head obscured identification, but ensured the viewer that the driver was indeed, dead. Dressed in blood-soaked t-shirt and jeans, its shape suggested a young woman. Obviously, the car had gone off a cliff. It sat at an impossible angle amidst the rocks. The damage to the car and the bizarre position of the body was chilling. No one could have walked away from such an accident.
She pushed the drawing away from her with irritation. “Great, this one is even more ambiguous than the last. We can’t see the person’s face.”
Stryker put up a hand. His face was white under his golden tan as he stood up. He shook his head and said, “Maybe we don’t need to see the person’s face, Holly. I think I recognize the car.”
Surprised, she moved to stand behind Stryker as he looked at her picture. “You know this car?”
He nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
“How? I didn’t draw the license plate and it looks pretty much like any other sedan on the market these days…after it’s plummeted over a cliff.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. Look at these.” He pointed.
She gasped. “What? Empty pop cans? How does that help identify the car? This is familiar to you?”
“Yes. I know someone who drinks this brand of soft drink and she has a tendency to toss the empties on the floor of her car when she’s done. I know the cans would have shifted during the fall, but they’re in that car. You drew them perfectly. She crushes them just like that.”
“Okay, I believe you, but tell me, who is it?”
His voice was barely above a whisper when he said the name. “
Lydia
Baldwin
.”
Holly shook her head. “I’ve never heard of her. Besides you, is there any connection between Irene and
Lydia
?”
He looked at her, a world of sadness and regret in his eyes. He paused. She frowned at him impatiently she couldn’t help but push for an answer to her question. His reaction was scaring her. “What? Tell me.”
“
Lydia
can scry,” he said flatly.
He said it like it should mean something to her, but it didn’t. Puzzled, she asked, “Scry? What is that…and why do you look so ominous?”
“It’s amazing how little you know about these things.”
“It’s amazing how
much
you know about these things,” she countered.
He smiled wryly and explained. “Scrying is a form of clairvoyance or divination.
Lydia
can call up psychic images by gazing into a black mirror.”
“She’s a fortune teller?”
“After a fashion, I guess you could call her that. She doesn’t make a living at it though.”
Intrigued, she asked, “So how does it work?”
“It’s a triggering process. The scryer sits inside a circle and holds the black mirror in black velvet cloth. The room has to be dark and candlelit, but none of the flames can reflect in the mirror.” His tone was earnest, as if willing her to understand. “At first all that can be seen is an empty featureless pool in space. But for the experienced scryer, and
Lydia
is one, the pool becomes milky then clears and images can be seen.”
“Images of the future?”
He inclined his golden head. “The future, the present, the past.
Lydia
will one day see the future and the next the past. She has no control over that.”
“Psychic abilities. That’s one hell of a connection, Stryker.”
He nodded and looked pensive. He stayed silent. Holly didn’t.
She said, “We have to warn
Lydia
about this.”
“Yes and as soon as possible. I’ll call her first before we head over there.”
She smiled, pleased he understood and accepted the fact that she was in on this.
Stryker used his BlackBerry to call his friend. Holly heard only his side of the conversation.
“
Lydia
, it’s Stryker. I’m coming over with a friend. Don’t go anywhere…good…see you very soon.” He ended the conversation.
“That was abrupt,” Holly said.
He closed her sketch pad and tucked it under his arm. “I didn’t want to mince words. Let’s go now.” He took her elbow gently and escorted her to his car.
Once she was safely strapped in, he closed the passenger door and walked around the vehicle to the driver’s side. Once again, Holly admired the way he moved. He never seemed to be in a rush, but he sure as hell got places quickly. He was amazingly cool and smooth on the surface, but Holly knew underneath there was molten heat. She sighed and leaned back on the leather seat. He’d parked under a huge maple tree, so the interior was blessedly cool compared to the humidity hammering at them from the outside.
“
Lydia
’s place is about fifteen minutes away.” He pulled out of the driveway and spared a quick glance at Holly. He said, “Do you mind if I drive fast?”
“Knock yourself out.” She gasped, horrified at her poor choice of words, “Well, not literally…what I meant to say was…choose your speed. I’m not lead footed, but Avery drives fast so I’m used to pulling a few ‘g’s’.”
He pressed his foot to the accelerator. They took off like a shot. He handled the car like he did everything else, effortlessly and with great skill.
She leaned back and tried to calm her nerves. Turning toward him, she asked, “What will you tell
Lydia
about why I’m with you?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the road when he answered her. “She won’t ask but I’ll tell her that you did the drawing.”
Surprised, she said, “Are you going to show her my sketch?”
He nodded. “Yes, I have every intention of telling
Lydia
everything. She deserves it if her life is in danger. At the very least, she can get the car checked out by a mechanic to make sure it’s safe.”
Holly laughed. “I guess seeing as how she stares into a black mirror, whatever that is, and tells the future,
Lydia
has an open mind.”
“A black mirror is a piece of clock glass,
Lydia
’s is about five inches in diameter. The convex side of the disk is painted with several coats of black to make it opaque but shiny.” He sounded a little didactic and Holly grinned.
“Thanks, Professor Dumbledore.” She teased him.
He took his eyes off the road for a brief second. “Sorry, I guess I deserved that.”
“Not really,” she conceded. “It’s just that I know nothing of this sort of thing despite the fantasy books I’ve read or illustrated. They’re not rooted in reality. This stuff sounds frighteningly real.”
He shook his head. “There is so much to know.”
“I can appreciate that. I want you to teach me.” She turned in her seat trying to gage his reaction. There was none. He kept driving.
Finally, he said, “It would be my pleasure to teach you whatever I can, Holly.”
He grinned wolfishly at her and she noted the double meaning in his words, but before she could respond, he pulled the car into a narrow driveway and said. “We’re here. I’ll get your door.”