Page 122 of Visions of Darkness

Beckoning me forward and urging me into action.

At my approach, the door slid open, and I stepped into the chaotic energy that whipped and whirred. I started toward the restrooms,though the crackling against my flesh persuaded me to change course and drove me deeper into the store.

Mayhem suddenly broke out, and shouts sliced through the air as random people began to scramble toward the disturbance that I felt all the way to my spirit.

My heart jumped into my throat as terror pummeled through me, and I started to run, racing through the racks and following the commotion.

A crowd was gathered at the front of the dressing rooms, and I pushed through the people who were trying to get a peek at what was going down.

“Hey.” A middle-aged man scowled as I jostled past.

“My wife is in there,” I growled, knowing it was what would get me through, even though everyone parted once they shifted enough to look at me anyway.

But the only thing I could focus on was the girl who was crumpled in a ball on the floor just inside one of the dressing rooms.

“Aria,” I wheezed. I hurried the rest of the way to her and knelt at her side.

A woman was across from her, sitting on the floor with her back pressed to the wall, her face covered in a sheen of sweat, her arms shaking as she desperately held on to an infant who whimpered in her hold.

Awareness spun.

Sickness and fear and pride collided when I realized what Aria had done.

“Aria.” Slipping an arm under her back to support her, I brushed back a lock of hair matted to her forehead. My spirit cracked when I saw blood had begun to saturate the front of her shirt.

What the hell?

“Someone call an ambulance!” an attendant shouted.

“No, she’s fine,” I grunted. I prowled around my head to find a suitable excuse. “She just gets low blood sugar, and I need to get her something to eat.”

I scooped her into my arms, hoping no one would notice the pooling red on her chest. She hadn’t put her sweatshirt back on since she’d tried on the jacket, and the only thing that covered the trauma was the thin fabric of her tee.

“She’s fine,” I grated when someone tried to push up to check on her.

I prayed to God it was true, because this was something we hadn’t dealt with before. Something unfamiliar. Something I didn’t understand.

Our lives were already an impossibility.

But Aria?

She was beyond it all.

Rising high above.

Hope and light.

Her breaths were harsh and shallow, and her body was limp, even though I could feel her shaking at her core.

My gaze landed on the woman on the floor, who stared up at us.

Shocked.

Disoriented.

Confused.

A tear streaked down her cheek, and I could feel her confused gratitude soak the atmosphere.

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