And he had scoffed at her, mocked her, told everyone her fears. Now, he was challenging her with his goading gestures and flexing his stupid muscles. She shouldn't have come. She shouldn't have let Liz convince her that she belonged there. She shouldn’t want to wipe the smug grin from Jamie's handsome face. But she did.
She flexed her fingers. "Okay, one ball. But then we'll go? I have some things to take care of."
Liz nodded. "Done.”
"Fine." Riley held out her hand for the ball.
Liz dropped it into her palm. It connected to her flesh with a satisfying smack.
"Dunk his ass.”
Liz pushed Riley forward, shoving her to the front of the line. In the dunking booth, Jamie winked, mimed a weak flap of his wrist and mouthed, "Come on, baby."
Liz's elbow dug into her side. "Seriously, put him under."
Riley felt for the curve of seams and rotated her shoulder before drawing back. She envisioned Jamie falling and then tensed for the pitch. The ball ripped through the air, forcing the lever into its recess and jarring the whole booth. Jamie plunged under the cloudy tank, his arms thrashing at the water just as she pictured.
She felt a moment's elation at the sight, and then regret settled inside her. Seeing him submerged caused her own fear of the water to swell until she couldn't breathe. She hated that she couldn’t overcome it.
She drew a stunted breath. “Let’s go, Liz.”
But Liz was celebrating. She taunted Jamie and danced around in victory. “Who got his ass dunked by a girl? You, you creep!”
Jamie flipped them off and dragged himself back onto the seat.
Around her, the crowd had become a wall of gawking faces. Riley looked at Jamie struggling to right himself. Cheers and whistles drowned out whatever was coming from his sputtering mouth. Riley turned, ignoring the cat calls from the other boys, and stopped short under the stare of the stranger in front of her.
His eyes were almost all black. He smiled, and the foul odor of his breath strangled hers.
Riley moved away, walking to the left of Liz. She rubbed at her arms. Her senses were on high alert.
The man looked like he had come straight from one of her nightmares. Riley ran her hand over her face and forced the haunting pictures back into hiding. The last thing she needed right now was to get caught up in her fears. She needed a clearer head. One that didn’t see danger in the face of every stranger. She was just on edge. Tsura’s claims had rattled her and made her question everything she knew. She needed to sort out the truth. She needed her mom.
Beside her, Liz was reliving Riley's dunk. "That was the best part of the whole night. Aren't you glad I made you come? Everyone will be talking about it. You'll see Monday morning." Apparently, Liz had forgotten her fear of Tsura.
"Don't make a big deal of it. And I made you come this time."
“Potato, potato,” Liz shrugged. “I feel better already. But no more gypsies for me.”
Maybe she hadn’t quite let it go.
“Fine by me. You can do whatev— What is that?” Riley sniffed. "Do you smell salt?"
"Salt? What did you do in that tent? Smoke something? How do you even smell salt?"
She turned back to Liz."You know what I mean. Like the ocean."
"We're not even close to an ocean. Are you okay?" Liz was looking at her like she'd lost her mind.
Riley caught a glimpse of black and white and then blurs of shadow in her periphery.
The man was there behind Liz, smiling and stroking a large stuffed panda. A rush of panic stole over Riley. It raised the tiny hairs at her nape like tiny needles. She tugged at Liz's jacket and pulled her through the maze of people until they turned a sharp corner where two booths met.
Liz stumbled and punched Riley’s arm. "What the heck?”
“Shh.” Riley surveyed the crowd. Nothing. “I thought I saw something.”
“What?” Liz tried to peer out, and Riley pushed her back.
“A man.” Riley slowed her breathing, assuring herself it was her over-stimulated imagination and all that talk about being watched that made her think he was following her. But a quick glance back proved her wrong.
He was right behind them.
"We have to go."
"What’s wrong?"
Her adrenaline was pushing her to flee, but Riley tried to keep her voice normal. "The guy from the dunking booth is following us."
Liz turned. "There's no one behind us, Riley. Well, no one and everyone. That's what makes this pub-lick. Gah, what are you doing?"
Riley made an abrupt turn and pulled Liz behind the tie-dye booth.
"I’m telling you, Liz. That creepy guy with the weird eyes is following us. Stay out of sight." Riley’s hand shook, and her numb fingers felt paralyzed as she dug for the phone.
Liz glanced at Riley’s shaking hands. "Who are you texting?"
“Our way out. Mom said she’d be right over when we were ready. We may have to go with her to the salon.”
"But we just got here, and I was just starting to recover and enjoy it again.” Liz looked back. “You think someone is following us?”
“Yes. I know it.”
Liz sighed and struggled to keep up. “I know you’ve been followed before, but this isn't New York."
Riley swallowed. No, it wasn't. If it were, her father would be there to save her again. But it wasn't. He wasn't. She felt tears threaten her eyes.
Liz must have seen them. She softened her voice. "It's no big deal. Guys follow pretty girls. It happens all the time with you, or haven't you noticed?"
“That’s a dangerous attitude, Liz. You know better than that.” Riley was a little irritated at Liz’s disregard. But she knew what Liz meant. She’d noticed. Certain people were drawn to her. Usually the type that followed without questioning why. Sheep. But this was different. This was everything her father had warned her of when he’d trained her. Someone out for the hunt.
Riley peered out from the space between the stalls, ignoring Liz's plea for her to calm down. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her skin, in her lungs, in the air compressing against her.
Her phone buzzed with her mother's reply and she let out the breath she was holding and turned to Liz. "Take off your coat."
"It’s cold."
"Just do it."
Liz stared at her for a second before removing her coat. “You really think someone's going to hurt you?”
Riley didn’t answer. She pulled her own sweater over her head and shoved it into a trash can before shoving her arms into the coat and tucking her red curls under the stiff hood. She cuffed the too-long sleeves and looked back out into the crowd. "Listen, I need you to go to the parking lot that way. Mom's waiting for us. She said she was two minutes away. Okay?"
"Okay, you're scaring me." Liz pointed a finger at Riley's face. "Your skin's gone way paler than usual."
"Good. Be scared. And scream for all you're worth if you see him."
"I don't even know what this supposed 'him' looks like." Liz looked bewildered.
Riley put her hands on Liz’s shoulders. "Go straight to the parking lot. Don't stop for anything. Do you hear me?"
Liz nodded. A slight tremor betrayed itself in her voice. "Riley?"
Riley squeezed her hand. "Tall, black eyes, yellowish skin. He's holding a panda."
Liz's lips moved like a school girl in recitation. She moved toward the opening.
"Wait." Riley ducked to the side, surreptitiously grabbing a tie-dyed hat from the booth's counter and handing it to Liz."Put this on. I swear it'll be okay. Just run to the parking lot. If someone touches you, beat the shit out of them and yell for all you’re worth. Go!"
Liz nodded and fled.
Riley leaned against the booth, calming herself, steeling herself to run. She rubbed the tiny trinity knot charm on her necklace and peered out to scan the swarm of people. Her hand fell to her side, her eyes locking on the stuffed panda, the man's jaundiced face, the crowd's unconscious
parting to let him pass.
He had found her.
His eyes stared straight through her there in the shadows.
There was a sudden flash across the sky like colored lightning. Riley felt the subsequent rumble move through her. Her spine tingled, and a clawing panic worked its way up her throat. She had to get away from him, out of the reach of his cold, black eyes.
Without thinking, she ducked into the stream of people running for cover from the coming storm and quickly slipped between two empty stalls to the campers and trailers beyond. She wove among the vendors' vehicles, her slight form bending at odd angles, dodging guide wires, snaking around cords strung from booths and tents. Her hair caught on a frayed cord and she winced, unable to stop her stubborn legs from propelling her onward. She looked back to see a strand of auburn flailing in the wind.
She massaged her tender scalp and ran on toward the next line of booths.
Riley stopped short at the booth ending at the chain-link fence. She doubled back, eased along a long wall, fear eating at her, constricting her chest. She had to get a grip on herself. She was no good like this.
She peered out into the festival and leaned back against the booth. He wasn't there. But that didn't mean he was gone. She needed a weapon. Just in case she he was waiting.
She scanned the debris, hoping for forgotten tools, discarded equipment, anything that would serve her defense.
Her gaze rested on the only thing in sight. A loose nail jutting an inch from its mark. It was better than nothing. It would have to do.
Leveraging her foot against the wall, she worked the long, straight nail back and forth in the splintering wood. Drops of cold rain fell onto her skin like invisible daggers. They were sharp, and the cold lingered where they fell. Riley wiped at her stinging face and gritted her teeth.
The nail loosened but held. She looked back out into the festival. Nothing. She stared down at the nail.
Focus, breathe, imagine it happening. Her father's mantra came to her mind. For a moment she was back in one of his training sessions, back in her old life. She wrapped her sweaty hand in her shirttail and pulled. It gave slightly. She repositioned her foot and adjusted her grip before straining in a last, desperate heave.
It was free. She staggered backwards and struggled to regain her balance. She gripped the nail, holding it like a tiny knife, and readied herself to join the throng of festival-goers fleeing the storm.
Blend. Weave. Watch. Riley repeated the drill, moving quickly across the field to the parking lot. She could see her mom standing by the car. She waved wildly.
"What's your hurry?" The man was suddenly in front of her. She stopped abruptly and moved back.
He stepped forward, and Riley dropped her arms to a fighting position, trying to get around him. He moved with her, his gaze flitting, darting, anticipating her motions in a terrifying dance.
His thin smile sent another round of needles tap dancing over her skin.
"I have a prize for you here. Don't you want it?"
"No, thank you." Her voice wavered. They were circling the same muddy spot. Riley stopped, stepping to a grassy patch. He mirrored her move, his feet sinking in mud.
The muscles in her legs felt ready to snap.
He lifted the bear and she tensed.
He was standing close enough to touch her. The thought had her back tingling.
"I insist. You earned it, showing off like that at the dunking booth. A pretty girl like you is probably used to getting the prize."
He reached for one of the panda's button eyes. It snapped from the threads, and he lifted it to his face.
"I wouldn't want you to be disappointed."
Riley tightened her grip on the nail she still held in her moist palm and strained to keep away the dizziness sweeping over her.
She met his eyes. The whites had disappeared, overtaken with the expanding pupils. He smiled and pressed the bear toward her. "I want you to have it."
Riley stepped back and he followed. His hand brushed against her forearm just before his fingers dug into her muscle.
Her fear snapped at his touch, leaving a pulsing red anger behind. She raised her fist, kicking the stuffed animal to the ground, and plunged the nail into his hand with all her strength.
She felt the flesh of his hand give way and forced the nail farther in between the resistant bones. His scream blended with hers, and the crowd settled its collective eyes on her. Her hand was suddenly hot, burning. She pulled back, looked into the hollow nothingness where his eyes should be and realized the sockets were empty.
His other hand rose toward her, blindly groping.
Tsura! She called the woman’s name, whether aloud or in her mind, she didn’t know. Riley pivoted away, ducking, racing toward the parking lot.
Behind her the sound of crashing thunder vibrated until it ran up from the ground to her body with its force.
Fear fed her legs the same frenzied blood pounding at her temples, and she ran without seeing. Her chest heaved and her legs burned in resistance to the force of her footfalls. The man yelled out something foreign and threatening behind her. Then she heard Tsura’s voice in the thunder.
Run Riley!
Riley redoubled her efforts.
Another violet flash of lightning brought the sudden pounding of hard rain. It obscured her vision, creating a wall that distorted the landscape and confused her legs. Time seemed to condense into slow motion. She kept straight, pushing past her body’s resistance until her feet hit gravel. The orange cones that marked the parking spaces glinted in the dim light. She could see her mother just ahead running toward her with fear like a death mask on her face.
Behind her, a mingling of caws called. Riley tried to resist the urge to look back, but her neck turned. All she could see was the mostly empty field, dotted with a few umbrellas and hooded figures, but the man was gone. Where he had stood, a stuffed panda lay on the saturated ground. Beside it, Tsura stood over a black mass of ravens. They shrieked and took flight, revealing a prostrate dog at Tsura’s feet. The dog lifted its bloodied head in a wail that reached her marrow— then both were gone.
Riley shivered, her fear still pulsing, blistering, urging her into her mother’s arms.
“Riley!”
She felt her mother’s hand touch her arm, the same place the man had gripped. A hysterical laugh escaped her raw throat. Tears fell down her face, mingling with the rain. She blinked them back, and a flash of blue shot across her vision. For a moment the world was shadow again. She stumbled, held up by her mother, and fought against the overwhelming urge to give in to the dizziness.
"Riley!" Her mother's voice jolted her.
She whipped around toward the sound.
"Hold on, baby. Listen to me. I've got you."
The darkness fled, but the brilliant blue remained, blurred around the image of her mother. Riley tried to focus her eyes, but someone was shaking her, commanding her to speak. The words would not come. She looked down at her shaking hand, fisted so hard she couldn't feel her fingers.
Her mother's eyes followed.
Riley willed her hand to open.
Dark lines had crusted from palm to wrist, and there was a further spattering of his blood tattooed up her forearm. Her mother's eyes met hers.
"What happened?"
Her only answer was an incomprehensible shriek that tore from her very core. Her whole body shook, and the bloody and twisted nail seemed to writhe with her. Riley stared, mesmerized. A vibrating spectrum of colors shot from her hand, and the dizziness returned.
This time, she didn't fight it.
5
Riley woke to the sweet-acrid burn of scented candles. She pushed herself upright. Her right hand took her weight, and she winced against the shards of pain cutting into her wrist.
She was foggy with the dream that replayed itself over and over. She could still see the tortured mural of faces in the stone wall, feel the granite hands grasping at her. Even awake, her spine tingled
at the memory of flesh becoming shifting sand and stone.
It was a struggle to focus. There was a rustle at her window.
“Mom.”
"I thought you might need to get up." Her mom turned. The row of candles on the sill swayed with her movement. They flickered against her mom’s pale face, highlighting the dark under her eyes and the frown at her lips. "You were whimpering again."
Riley cringed. A flash of the man’s face had her in its fearful grip.
“Reliving it?”
She nodded and her mom clutched her chest. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Her mother's face was drawn in a pinched expression of worry and fear. Riley felt her own anxiety grow. Gillian Walsh never worried. Not when Riley had pneumonia during New York's last blizzard. Not when she had to take on a second shift. Not even when her husband hadn't shown up at their new house. She'd done what she'd always done. Light some candles in prayer, deal, and wait. But now she looked almost beaten.
Her mom’s fingertips lingered over the flames briefly, and then she dusted her hands and sat at the foot of the bed."Are you truly okay? Things like this… they’re traumatic. They... linger."
Riley felt the need to reassure her.
"I'm fine." Her throat felt like it had been burned. She swallowed, amazed at the rasp of her voice. "What time is it?"
"Just past six. And saying you're fine doesn't make it so."
Her mom got up and blew out the candles, raising the window to let the smoke pass out into the dark. "You slept the day away, but I didn't want you to miss your birthday dinner or the little trick or treaters."
Riley sagged against her cushioned headboard, her body weak and heavy. "What was in that so-called tonic?"
"Oh, chamomile, sage, a few other herbs. It'll wear off soon. You hungry?"
"No." Her stomach rumbled a denial. "Yeah, a little, I guess."
"I got your favorite. Pizza, New York style, and cake."
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 239