Page 8 of Beneath the Watching

The realistic dream never returned. Al and I fell back into our routine, with him at the office or out in our living room. We hadn’t been back to the casino where I would have hoped to run into Stefan again. Instead, Al came home at night to the dinners I prepared and then we’d settle down in the living room watchingCSIreruns or a sitcom on stream.

I spent my days cleaning our home while listening to meditation videos I’d found online and experimenting with baking different kinds of bread. The music I put on reminded me of the vivid dream and spending my time in the kitchen got me out of my head.

Kinda.

Currently, I was altering a banana bread recipe, substituting the over-ripe fruit with jars of green bean baby food. It’d worked with sweet potatoes, so maybe it would with a green vegetable? It was unexpected and maybe adventurous. The urge to mix things up by doing something different couldn’t be ignored and I’d found just the thing to keep me focused.

Maybe I could find a job in one of those cute little artisan bakeries that lined Boston’s side streets? It was something to give serious consideration to if I could ever stop playing with uniquely odd and quirky flavors. To be honest, I don’t think I could’ve if I tried. I was having too much fun trying to see what I’d come up with next.

“What is that smell?” Al entered the kitchen just as I pulled a discolored loaf from the oven. He threw his laptop bag on the counter and pulled off his long coat, laying it over the back of a chair.

Setting the pan on a cooling rack, I said, “Green bean bread.”

Al wrinkled his nose and came around the counter. Steam from the loaf forced his head back. “Looks weird, smells good. But also, not good.” He gave my bread another suspicious glance and shook his head.

“I never thought of cinnamon and green beans going together but people cook them with lemons and almonds, so...” Al gave me side-eye before trying to be funny and backing away slowly with his hands up.

My creation had to cool down before I’d find out if it tasted better than it looked. I grabbed my phone, ignoring Al’s theatrics, and started Googling whether I could rush the process by sticking the container in the fridge. I wasn’t sure whether the composition of my loaf could withstand a sudden cooldown and didn’t want to ruin it.

“Are you going to get ready?” There was a get-together tonight, a party because of a deal Al and his friends at work had closed and I’d gotten carried away in the kitchen longer than I’d planned and forgotten all about it.

I nodded, shutting off the oven before pushing my experimental creation closer to the center of the counter. Al strode away scratching his beard, and all I could think about was whether my grumpy, glowing rescuer would be there tonight.

3

MABEL

The massive,gothic mansion was situated right beside the ocean, a multi-story pile of bricks and unfettered wealth. It was an imposing building straight out of a dark fantasy novel, reeking of mystery and adventure with its towers and peaks. It wouldn’t have been surprising if shape-shifting ravens were lurking about or if poisonous apples grew on trees in the garden.

The property had fascinated me and my friends when we were younger, and we’d drive by just to make up stories of what could be occurring behind the closed doors. It was hard to believe I’d finally be finding out and get to explore.

Al drove us up the long, pebbled driveway, seagulls swooping and diving overhead with deep blue water sparkling in the near distance. After we turned the car over to a glove-wearing parking attendant, we entered the foreboding structure.

My boyfriend wandered off quickly, squeezing my hand and sending me a generic smile before he left my side. He lifted his phone to his ear, his bristly hair sticking out over the device’s edge like he had a brush attached to the side of his head, leaving me to wander and wish he’d get a haircut. He disappeared into the crowd, swallowed up by a sea of silk and bowties.

The first thing I noticed about the home’s interior were the gargoyles everywhere. Black and gray statues of fantastical beasts stood sentry in corners, on shelves, and in the middle of the hall, appearing to observe passersby. They were well-made, carved with intricate details and gave the impression they could come to life at any moment.

“Oh my god, there you are,” Madison exclaimed, interrupting me as she rushed over. She looped her arm with mine. “Creepy decorations, right?” I nodded in answer. “Kiara came with me,” she said. She was in an especially cheerful mood, her excitement threatening to rub off on me if I wasn’t careful. She was overwhelmingly happy and I wasn’t done checking out the foyer.

We walked out onto a large expanse that looked over the ocean. We were at a significant elevation, large rocks bordering the edge of a cliff several yards away from the patio we’d entered. Couches were arranged around firepits, and groups of people had settled on them, drinking, talking, and laughing.

I listened to the conversation around me, while relaxing with my friends. I waved at Kiara, who seemed spaced-out. She had been through a lot of hard things in life, having lost her parents and then a violent boyfriend in a house fire. The experiences had understandably changed her. She was now emotionally unstable and prone to over-indulging, which likely accounted for the dazed look on her face.

She’d never said a word about the vision of the snow that evening in the abandoned house and I had to wonder if that night added to her already fragile state. I watched as she grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. “Go big or go home, Kiara.” I heard Madison’s boyfriend say to her, laughing.

If I’d said anything, would it have helped her or hurt her? I bit my lip and glanced down at my lap. It almost felt traitorous, having seemingly physically gone to the place and not letting herknow. The compulsion to tell her was immense but I didn’t, not wanting to add to her angst.

Al started playing with Madison’s hair, pulling on her carefully spiraled curls, and making childish noises as she giggled. I let out a deep breath while James chided them.

An awareness trickled across my skin, the ghost of a touch across my shoulder blades. Slowly, I turned my head and then swung back around. Stefan was eyeing me, seated on a couch behind us, across from one of the firepits. He was outfitted in all black, possibly even his socks, causing me to consider if everything else underneath was the same deep shade. My heart rate increased at the illicit thought while I fought against the memory of him stroking my cheek.

When I looked up, the man Kiara had disappeared with the other night was standing directly behind her, touching her. Levon kissed the top of her head while narrowing his eyes at me with a knowing gaze.

What he thought he knew; I had no idea. I suspected he’d realized I’d noticed his eyes. Stefan had said some strange things to me, before, that implied I could “see” something. That had to have been what he meant. I glanced away; the tiny glow of his irises was too much for me to handle and too disconcerting because no one else noticed. Everyone was acting like the phenomenon was an ordinary occurrence and I had to guess no one else could see it or the party would’ve turned into utter chaos.

Logically, I should’ve been freaking out, but I also knew it would do no good. It wasn’t like anyone would believe me.

Several of the men, including Levon, finally strolled away. “What was that about?” I asked Kiara.

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