Cally’s van was gone from my driveway, and the lights were out when Ben dropped me off. I had called Felicity from his cell phone shortly after the evidence technicians arrived on the scene and let her know that I was still in one piece. While that fact had been a relief to her, the news was still clouded by bitter disappointment at our having arrived too late to rescue the little girl and apprehend Roger. Before saying goodbye, I reminded her that there was still time before the full moon and that we weren’t giving up. When I pressed the glowing END button on the face of the phone, I lingered, momentarily lost in thought as I wondered to myself if that small amount of time was going to be enough.
The dogs stirred instantly when I entered the house, doing exactly what they perceived as their canine duty by checking to be sure I wasn’t some unfamiliar intruder. As soon as they had satisfied themselves as to my identity via cold-nosed, doggish snuffling, they both wandered sleepily back to their beds, wagging their tails with lazy contentment.
Two of our three feline residents, Dickens and Salinger, were in the middle of one of their many nocturnal wrestling matches. My intrusion into what they had declared to be their ring served as sufficient enough surprise to bring them instantly apart. Looking for all the world like two furry, mismatched bookends, they absently licked their paws and peered up at me as if to say “What? We weren’t doing anything.”
I kicked off my shoes then made my way softly into the bedroom. My wife was sound asleep, curled in the center of our bed, tightly hugging my pillow. I thought of crawling in as well, but she looked too peaceful, and I feared I would wake her. Besides, even though it was rapidly approaching two in the morning, I wasn’t actually sleepy. I had far too much on my mind to relax at the moment, and my earlier headache still plagued me in the form of a dull throb running down the back of my neck. Gently, I pulled the sheets up over her shoulders then quietly padded back through the house.
The wall clock rang out its familiar double chime in proclamation of the hour as I stretched out on the couch. If I were ever going to relax, I would have to clear away some of the annoying debris that had collected in my mind over the past few days. Of course, after the infusion of adrenalin I had received earlier this evening, my guess was that such a task would be next to impossible, at least for the time being.
Dickens jumped stealthily up to the arm of the couch nearest my head and announced himself with a throaty feline trill before crawling determinedly around me. After a false start or two, he stretched across my chest and proceeded to purr himself to sleep. He remained there undisturbed, even when I slowly stretched and yawned. My eyes seemed to almost itch, and my eyelids felt oddly heavy as I let out a long-winded sigh. As they slowly closed, I reminded myself that I wasn’t sleepy. I wasn’t sleepy at all.
“ Hey, Mister.” A little strawberry-blonde girl, wrapped in a white lace dress, was tugging at me. “Hey, mister, wake up.”
Falling.
Darkness.
Light.
Darkness.
“ Wake up, Mister!” her tiny voice more urgent now. “It’s almost time. We’re going to miss it.”
“ Miss what?” I try to ask.
I can see my words, but I can’t hear them. They visibly leave my mouth in a rush and shoot skyward like helium-filled balloons. I watch them as they disappear into the darkness. When I turn my gaze back downward, the little girl is staring up at me urgently.
“ We have to go now!” she exclaims, pulling on my hand. “Now!”
I’m running.
I can hear my footfalls on thin carpeting. My heart is pounding behind my ribs. My breaths are deep and labored, and the cold air stings my throat and lungs. I don’t know if I’m running from or running to. The little strawberry-blonde girl is nowhere to be seen.
I’m running.
I’m sitting.
“ I told you,” the little girl says to me. “We almost missed it.”
I turn to face her. I don’t know where she came from. I vaguely remember that she was gone, but I don’t know why. I feel that she has been there all along.
“ I have to go soon,” she says and points at a spot far above my head. “My turn is next.”
I look up and see a large round disk, mottled white and grey. The moon. It lacks fullness by only a thin sliver along the edge. I lower my eyes back to her.
The little girl is no longer little. She is a full-grown woman. She is Ariel Tanner, dressed in white lace and surrounded by a dimly glowing aura of milky light. She is kneeling next to me, holding my hand and smiling.
“ She doesn’t understand,” Ariel tells me. “You will have to explain it to her.”
“ Explain what?” I ask. My own words meet my ears as a mirror image of themselves, echoing softly “? tahw nialpxe.”
She places two fingers across my lips to hush me and shakes her head. Her soft hair billows weightlessly, the aura dancing in perfect unison with each individual strand. “You have to stop him, Rowan. It’s all up to you now. Only you can save her.”
She lowers her fingers from my lips and stretches forward then lightly kisses my cheek. As she pulls away, she smiles shyly at me.
Her eyes widen with surprise, and the shy smile drains away. Her lips form a mute frown as a glossy patch of vermilion appears on her bosom, spreading like oil across the white lace.
“ Why, Rowan, why?” she mouths as she falls away from me into nothingness.
I reach for her, but she is gone.
Darkness.
Light.
Darkness.
Falling.
Falling upward into the light.
Another nightmare?” Felicity was sitting next to me on the edge of the sofa when I awoke from the fitful slumber.
“Yeah,” I answered, “like that’s a surprise, huh?”
“Anything in it that might help?”
“I dunno,” I returned lethargically as I pulled myself upright. “It mainly just told me that we were running out of time, as if I needed a reminder.”
She moved out of my way as I swung my legs around and allowed my feet to drop to the floor.
“Want some coffee?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure. What time is it anyway?”
“Almost noon,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. “I figured you didn’t get in till late, so I let you sleep.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I think.”
“Ben called earlier.” She returned with a mug of hot coffee and handed it to me. “He said to tell you thanks.”
“For what?” I queried and took a sip of the hot liquid, letting it burn the sleep from my throat.
“For all your help,” she answered. “They caught Roger early this morning. He came back to the house, and they were waiting for him.”
I stared back at her incredulously, almost dropping the steaming mug. “He what? What about the little girl?”
“She’s fine. Not a scratch on her. She’s already been reunited with her parents.”
I couldn’t believe it. After everything we had been through, Roger had walked right back into the hands of the police. I suppose I should have been thankful, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of sync. A sense of foreboding that made me believe that something was terribly wrong.
“I need to go talk to Ben,” I announced and began searching about for my shoes.
“Slow down,” Felicity insisted. “Don’t you think you’d better take a shower first? No offense, but you look pretty rough.”
She was right. The activities of the night before, combined with eight hours on our living room sofa, had to have taken their toll on my appearance.
“Yeah, okay,” I agreed. “But do me a favor will’ya? Call Ben and tell him I’m coming down to see him.”
“Sure. No problem.” She pecked me quickly on the cheek. “Now go get cleaned up.”
I left her dialing the phone and tossed my clothes haphazardly into the hamper as I stripped. The sun was coming in brightly through the window, eliminating the need for artificial light, so I just kicked on the exhaust fan and climbed into the shower.
With a quick turn of the porcelain handles, I started the water flowing and adjusted the temperature to my liking. I turned to allow it to flow down my back and held my eyes closed, willing away the remaining tension in hopes of at least a few moments relaxation. It was then that something Felicity had just said struck me as odd. She asked me if the nightmare had contained anything that might help, yet she already knew that Ben had called. She knew that Roger had already been captured. I started to call out to her in search of an explanation.
When I opened my eyes, I was looking directly at the back wall. Across the normally pristine white tiles, dark crimson strokes inscribed-