Page 26 of Inception

And not a moment too soon.

The taxi cab met us on desolate Edgewood Drive less than ten minutes later. Dominic insisted that he escort me all the way home even though he said he lived on the other side of town. I didn’t argue and did my best to hide my delight as I climbed into the back of the cab with him. When we arrived at my place, Dominic told the taxi driver to keep the meter running as he slid out of the car, gallantly carrying my purse before extending his hand out to me.

I didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Thanks again for your help tonight,” I said as he walked me up to the iron gates where I entered the four-digit security code my uncle had drilled into memory. “I’m glad you were there.” I shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn’t been at All Saints tonight to intervene on my behalf.

“As am I,” he smiled and then crossed his hands behind his back. “I hope to be of assistance to you again. Soon.”

I smiled at the undercurrent of his words. “I’m working again tomorrow night. There’s a good chance I may need some assistance then if you’re interested.”

He dipped his head once. “I’ll see what I can do.”

There was a moment of awkwardness just then as I stood there idle, unsure of what the proper goodbye was supposed to be. A hand shake? A hug? My heart sped up. A kiss?

I chased the thought away and ended the night with a simple smile before starting up the driveway.

“Jemma,” he called a few seconds later, his voice filling me up with exhilaration and causing my pulse to race.

He glided towards me, stopping just inches from where I stood. The anticipation overwhelming every cell in my body as I stood there, a captive member of his dark, entangling eyes.

This was it. He was going to make a move, I thought, bracing myself for a kiss.

“You forgot your purse,” he said as he pushed something into the pit of my stomach.

“Huh?” I looked down and saw my handbag. “Oh...thanks?”

“You bet,” he said, his lips coiled upwards as he took a step back, watching me with those eyes—those alluring, menacing eyes—and then stalked back to the taxicab.

I lingered for a moment, bemused at the exchange, before turning to make my trek up the long stretch of driveway, the sound of heavy steel gates creaking shut behind me.

That was...weird.

8. HEAD CASE

I woke up early the next morning, an elusive dream callously prying my eyes open before their time. I struggled to catch my breath as clips from my dream danced around my mind disjointedly, piecing themselves together in fragments.

The red sky was the first thing I remembered. It was the color of fresh blood. It poured over the desolate street, dusting everything in its crimson hue as I stood there alone, watching the strange firmament in wonder.

A figure moved in beside me. The midnight-black hair, the humming sensation in my body; I knew it was Trace even before I saw him. He took my hand in his and began talking to me—warning me about something that I inherently knew was important, but I couldn’t hear any of the words. There was no sound, only visions of his lips moving. His dimples pressing in and out, reaffirming the severity of what he was trying to tell me.

“I can’t hear what you’re saying,” I told him, shaking my head in frustration.

A raven called out above us, its voice echoing through the red sky before diving down to the ground beside me.

“Did you see that?” I asked Trace, but he was still staring forward, talking to himself in voiceless riddles.

I turned back to the raven and found Dominic kneeling in its place, the strange sky illuminating him in all the right ways. He stood up and reached out to me, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers, letting me know everything was going to be okay. But I knew it was a lie.

“What’s going on?” I asked them, but neither one responded. “Why won’t anyone answer me?”

“This isn’t their time,” said a small voice from behind.

I turned towards the sound; a little boy no more than eight or nine years old. His dark hair was parted to the side and his eyes were a familiar shade of gray.

“What does that mean?” I asked him, bending down to meet him where he stood. “Whose time is it?”

“Yours.”

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