Page 13 of Forging Darkness

Why are these dreams dogging me? What do they mean? Are they premonitions, warnings? Or simply subconscious conjurings of an overactive and obsessive mind?

I sink my hands into my wet hair and fist the strands, wishing I could rip the meaning of my nighttime terrors out of my brain as easily as I could yank the hair from my scalp.

Releasing a breath, I let my arms drop to my sides. The water pounding my back scalds, but I don’t adjust the temperature. When my fingers prune, I finally set about washing myself.

Turning the water off, I shake my head, splashing droplets on the shower curtain. I grab a towel but wince when I catch an eye-full of myself in the cloudy mirror. I wipe away the condensation clinging to the glass surface. The circles under my eyes are dark enough to be shiners. The hollows of my cheeks are more pronounced, and I’m in need of a proper haircut. And when was the last time I even shaved? My regular five o’clock shadow is turning into a full beard.

“Haggard” is the word that comes to mind.

Leaving the bathroom, I snatch the clothes from the day before off the ground, sniffing my crumpled t-shirt. I yank my head back with a slight grimace, but shrug a beat later. Could be worse. Good thing I don’t want anyone coming near me anyway.

I tug on my ripe clothing and scan the room. My computer is here somewhere. I spot it on the tiny desk in the corner and next to it, the small flip phone I use for calls I don’t want tracked.

The impulse to punch in Emberly’s number rides me. Hard. My fingers twitch in anticipation.

I shouldn’t do it. I can’t do it. I called her less than a week ago and am still kicking myself over it. And I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I had to tell someone I’d finally spotted my prey, and the craving to have Emberly be that someone overwhelmed my better sensibilities.

The wooden chair groans in protest as I settle my oversized frame onto it. For all the noise it makes I half expect it to break in half just out of spite.

These dumps are getting old. If only I could use my platinum AMEX card rather than cash. I’d be living it up at the Four Seasons.

Okay, probably not. But I’d at least pick a hotel with decent Wi-Fi.

I open my computer, clicking to a piece of footage I’ve already watched over and over, hoping in vain I’ll catch a detail I missed before.

On the screen, a willowy, dark-haired figure pushes through glass doors. She struts forward, wearing a long wool coat that hits mid-thigh over dark, close-fitting clothing and a ridiculous set of heels that no one could fight in.

Even at nine years old, Silver had had a thing for shoes.

But this isn’t Silver, it’s a monster wearing her face. It is purely coincidental they have similar tastes.

Pausing under the awning, Silver waits for the valet to bring her car around.

“Where are you going?”

I’ve asked the screen the same question before, but never received an answer. This time is no different.

When her car arrives, she tips the valet and opens the driver’s side door. Right before she slips into the seat of a chrome-wrapped Lotus Evora, she pauses and tilts her head so she’s staring directly into the camera lens.

An oily smile slides onto her face as she blows a kiss. Sliding into her seat, she guns the engine and takes off.

There’s nothing subtle about that car or the look she shot me.

She’s luring me.

I know it. She knows it. And we both know I’m going to take the bait.

Slapping the lid of my computer shut, I crack my neck. Like a siren’s song, my gaze is dragged back to the crappy phone. A phantom breeze brushes my face, and I swear I can smell Emberly on it. I close my eyes, and as if it has a mind of its own, my hand grabs the phone and dials her number.

It’s easier to live with myself if I pretend I didn’t give the command.

The phone is pressed up against my ear before I even open my eyes. It rings twice, and I tell myself I’ll hang up when she answers. I only really need to check to make sure she’s all right. Hearing her utter a single word will be enough for me.

Yeah, right, Steel.

I don’t even believe my own lies anymore.

The phone rings for the fifth time, and I begin to get nervous. It’s never taken her this long to answer. Maybe this is the time something truly is wrong.

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