This Blackened Night (6 page)

Would she ever know what the vision had meant? Maybe that one, small glimpse was all she would ever see of it. She rocked back on her heels. What to do next? She could continue searching, and likely Terrence would catch up to her later.

Or she could climb back into bed and he’d never know she’d been gone at all. Let alone what little she’d found.

Chapter 7

Was this a dream or a vision? Lori didn’t know. It built off her last vision, the same one she’d been replaying in her mind over and over again.

This time, she saw the scene in more detail. The structure that farmer-Lori stepped out of was a barn. The wood was rough, brown, and grainy. The door shut with a metal latch.

Farmer-Lori wore an ankle-length, off-white woolen dress. Lori couldn’t feel what her other self felt, but she imagined it would be scratchy. She would take leather or jeans any day, thank you very much. Ruffles couched the bottom of the dress, over what appeared to be wooden clogs. A high neckline brushed the bottom of her jaw, done up with neat little buttons marching down the dress front. The sleeves were slightly too short, ending above the wrist. A kerchief covered most of the other Lori’s hair. Only a few brown strands escaped. Lori focused on the small bottle clutched in the hands of her farmer-self. What was inside? Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell.

Terrence loomed from the shadows. He wore outdated clothing as well, but his was cut better to his form. Maybe a bit better material? He stood too deep in the shadows for her to tell. His eyes flashed in the darkness, reflecting the meager light, though they still seemed darker than usual. His mouth was agape, showing the tips of his sharp fangs.

Farmer-Lori tensed. Her lipstick-free mouth curled in distaste. She clutched the vial closer to her chest. Without turning around, she said, “I said leave me be, Devil. I’ll have no part of your deceit.” Although she spoke English, her voice was accented differently than Lori’s.

Terrence, cocky as ever, sidled closer. The moon illuminated his flawless features. Was this the past? Lori couldn’t imagine a future in which she would possibly dress like that.

Farmer-Lori turned. Aside from a flaring in her nostrils, her expression didn’t show so much as a hint of fear. “I know you for the devil you are.”

The smile spread across Terrence’s face. “If you know me for what I am, then you must know you haven’t got a prayer.”

The hand holding the vial began to shake. “I am a God-fearing woman!”

Lori nearly snorted. God-fearing? Must be in the far, far past.

Terrence grabbed hold of farmer-Lori. His fingers dug into her upper arms. “You must face the truth, my dear. You belong to me.”

* * * *

“Lori!”

Shuddering violently, Lori woke to the sound of her name being called. She opened her eyes. Terrence hovered above her, his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked, taking stock. Sweat coated the nape of her neck, plastering her hair against her skin. She took deep, even breaths. Slowly, her heartbeat returned to normal. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You were thrashing in your sleep. I thought you might choke yourself.” With those words, he gently eased the wadded sheets away from her neck.

Was this the same man she’d just dreamed of? The two were night and day. One harsh, demanding, and sure to get his way. The other considerate. And maybe a touch too persistent. Maybe her dream had been just that after all–and not a vision.

He lingered above her body, his face and torso only inches from hers and slowly closing in. His lips parted to reveal the tips of his fangs. Lori shivered as he traced the sensitive skin under her ear with his thumb. The rough pad sensitized her skin even further. He leaned closer. Their breaths mated, like she knew he longed to do with their bodies. For a second, she almost gave in.

Then she remembered what he’d done.

She rolled away. How could she have been tempted by the charms of a kidnapper and a murderer?

The carpet was scratchy under her bare feet. She kept her back turned as she rummaged for today’s clothes. Soon she’d need to visit a Laundromat. If there even was one in this shabby town.

With her arms full of clothes, a thought took her by surprise. How old was Terrence? Could he be old enough to make her dream a vision? She turned, clutching her garments to her chest.

Terrence lifted his gaze from where he’d clearly been staring at her ass. She narrowed her eyes. “Just how old are you, anyway?”

He laughed. His grin turned wicked as he strode forward.

Lori stifled the urge to back away.

When he stood less than a foot away, he purred, “Are you worried about the age difference, Lori my love? I promise you, nothing silly like age can come between us.”

With her arms occupied, she couldn’t cross them over her chest. Instead, she stiffened her stance as much as she could. “Answer the question.”

“I’ve survived two waves of the Black Death. Does that answer your question?”

While she wasn’t the best judge of historical periods, that definitely made him old enough to have starred in her vision. She’d guess the vision had occurred in the eighteenth or nineteenth century. The Bubonic Plague had occurred sometime in the 1300s, from what she could recall of her Medieval history class.

Had her dream been a vision? But if it was a vision, why had she been in it?

Chapter 8

Lori growled in frustration when Terrence refused to enter the bar again with her. What, did he fear they might serve him garlic bread?

After she’d showered and changed, he’d insisted on splitting up again, even though she’d invited him with her this time. But as soon as she’d started to seriously search, he’d changed his mind. So she was back to pretending to look until she could lose him. By all rights, she should be relieved he didn’t want to come inside with her. But it bugged her.

In their motel, he’d sent her longing glances. He’d flirted. But now that they searched for leads, he avoided her like she was diseased. Standing far back, in the shadows. Following behind instead of beside. She didn’t understand.

But she wasn’t going to put up with his frosty silence night after night. She reached forward to grab his hand, thinking to drag him into the bar.

A vision assaulted her. The same one she’d dreamed only hours before.

Lori exited from the barn clutching a vial. Without turning around, she spat, “I said leave me be, Devil. I’ll have no part of your deceit.” When Terrence separated from the shadows, she turned, mouth tense. “I know you for the devil you are.”

The vision ended there, before Lori could properly discern the time period or anything else of use. When she blinked, her sight returned.

Terrence wrenched himself from her grasp, turning away. He seemed to know she’d seen something. Why else would he pull away? He’d been doing whatever he could to get nearer when they’d been alone in the motel room. But how much about her vision did he know? Just that she’d had one, or did he suspect what she’d seen? She needed to see his face clearly. But he hadn’t come into the light all evening.

She swiveled her hips and sidled closer, sure of one tactic he wouldn’t be able to resist. Reaching out, she ran her hands over the arm of his jacket to his shoulder and readied herself for a kiss.

Terrence turned completely away from her. She stared, agape, at his back. A small moon crescent was inked on his neck. Funny how she’d never noticed it before. But then again, most of the time she was face to face with him, or fending off his advances.

Curling her fists, she backed away. “Whatever. I’ll go in by myself.”

She was not disappointed at the lack of a kiss. Or so she told herself.

She welcomed the babble of slurred voices as she entered the bar. This time the faint reek of vomit accompanied it. Apparently, someone had overindulged even at this relatively early time in the evening. Thankfully, she wouldn’t be staying here long. This was only a ploy to lose Terrence.

A quick glance behind confirmed that he hadn’t followed her into the bar. Good. Making as little eye contact as possible, she wove her way through the throng and slipped into the kitchen. The two employees eyed her warily. One reached forward. She sidestepped and bolted out the back door.

“Miss–”

Ignoring the call, she barreled down the alley in a direction away from the front. With any luck, it would take Terrence a long while before he realized she wasn’t inside.

A light shone ahead from a larger road. She screeched to a halt at the entrance. How… Terrence stood in front of her, but he wasn’t alone.

He stood in profile, talking to the detective from earlier. Maybe he hadn’t seen her yet. Slowly, she backed to the wall, hoping the shadows provided enough cover.

“Go back, mainlander. You’re sticking your nose in places you don’t belong.”

Unfazed, the detective smiled. “You mean the deaths of the officer and the woman? You wouldn’t be responsible for those, would you?”

Terrence snarled. “Wouldn’t you like to know? If you want to maintain your complacent existence, heed my words.” With one last glare, Terrence turned on his heel and walked off. Lori could almost visualize a Dracula-like cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

The detective stood still. His fingers caressed his waistband, like he wished to draw his gun.

It won’t do any good.
While Lori didn’t know that for sure, if Terrence could revive from a stake to the chest, a simple gunshot wound didn’t seem like it would be much of a deterrent. Lori thought about telling the detective about her suspicions. About what he was really up against. But she didn’t. Instead, she stood frozen, long after he’d walked away.

Even though it wasn’t yet midnight, she trudged back to the motel in silence. When she entered her room, she found Terrence seated at the rickety table with a journal in hand. She hadn’t found that in the room. He must keep it on him.

He glanced up and smiled. “Great, Lori. I think I might have something. I’ve been looking into this new detective and I think he might be on the right track.”

Clearly, he was, or Terrence wouldn’t have felt the need to warn him away.

Absently, he beckoned her closer. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

She stepped closer, but kept a wary distance between their bodies. Just what was he planning on showing her? Why would he confess a potentially true lead when he’d gone out of his way to stop the detective? It didn’t make sense. Not much about Terrence did, these days.

She leaned over to glimpse what was written in the journal. It looked to be a rough sketch of a map of the town. It wasn’t half bad. She’d had no idea Terrence could draw. She glanced up at him between her lashes.

He was staring at her chest. He reached forward, curling his hand around her waist to drag her closer.

Lori shoved out of his grasp. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” A throb started at her temples. She smoothed it with one hand, never taking her eyes off Terrence.

He shut the book with a snap, levering himself out of the chair. He took his time rising, his sinuous muscles stretching one by one. They tightened his t-shirt across his chest. How many different clothes had he brought on his journey? He seemed to change two or three times a night. She shook her head to keep from staring.

“Make up your mind. Do you want me or don’t you?”

Why did I say that?
Close proximity to him was affecting her ability to think. Even if he said yes, she didn’t want him. The friend and lover he’d been to her in the past couldn’t erase the heinous crimes he’d committed. And, in fact, continued to commit.

Hurt flashed across his face. He stepped closer. “Of course I want you, Lori. Never doubt that.”

She should leave it at that. But her big mouth continued to flap, spilling out every last drop of disappointment she felt while on the hunt. Even though she continued to rebuff him, she took for granted that he would always want her. Whether she encouraged him or not.

“Really?” She rubbed her head. “Then why do you keep pushing me away while we’re out searching for leads? Are you so afraid of public displays of affection you won’t even walk near me anymore, let alone touch me? I promise, I don’t bathe in holy water.”