“No way,” Raisa said. “This is another excuse. I won’t let you escape this easily.”
“I’m not escaping,” I assured her. “I haven’t talked with my mother for over a week. It’ll take only a few minutes.”
“Then we’ll wait.” She stomped her foot on the carpeted floor.
“No, no.” I shook my head. “You guys should go and get us a nice table.”
“Nad, please.”
“Come on, Raisa.” Olivia pulled my roommate by her wrist. “You know we won’t be able to change her mind.”
Raisa sighed. “I know.” She glanced at me. “Find us when you get there.”
“I will.” I winked and blew a kiss, then gave my attention to my mother.
I was the oldest of four children—two girls and two boys—but we were supposed to be five. And that was why my mother called tonight.
“Ten years today,” she said.
“I know,” I whispered. How could I forget the main reason why I was letting go of my singing dream?
I had been the oops baby. My parents had just started going out when my mother got pregnant, but they’d decided to give marriage and parenting a try. To live with my father, my mother left her teaching job and moved to the farm where my father was an employee. Life on the farm wasn’t easy, especially since the agricultural crisis was getting worse. Our shack was small, simple, and cold, and huddled together with the other employees’’ houses—like old tenement houses we used to see pictures of in history books.
Being an only child, my mother dreamed of a huge family—though, in my opinion, poor families shouldn’t have more than one child. How are parents supposed to care and provide everything for their children?
I was eight when my mother got pregnant again. Once, I went to the doctor with her. A rare visit, as we had so little money. The doctor told my mom she wasn’t eating well, and the baby would be born underweight. What did he want us to do? The farm wasn’t doing well, and my father struggled to keep our plates full.
Troy was born weighing only three pounds. Soon after his birth, he began losing too much weight. Since she was malnourished, my mother’s milk wasn’t nutritious enough, the doctor said. We couldn’t afford baby formula. He died before he was six months old.
“I went to his grave this morning,” my mother said, yanking my thoughts from the past.
I wiped the tears away, thanking Raisa for her waterproof makeup.
“Yeah, Mom, that’s good.” I cleared my throat. The pain ate at me the way it did when he’d first died. She quickly changed the subject and filled me in on what my three siblings were up to. I listened, halfhearted, still remembering Ceris’s message from my vision, wondering if my vision world could be linked to the real world. At a pause in the conversation, I finally said, “Do you need anything? Want me to send more money?”
“Oh no, we’re getting by just fine. I still have a little from what you sent last time.” I heard a sharp breath intake. “I’m sorry you have to worry about us so much.”
“It’s okay.” I shifted on my seat. I didn’t like talking to her about this. Not so openly. “Listen. Raisa is waiting for me. Call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” She sounded disappointed. God, I hated making her sad.
We said goodbye and hung up. Twenty minutes after the start of our conversation, I was calling the cab company.
“One hour to get a taxi?” I asked the dispatcher, outraged.
“Or more, lady,” she said.
Huffing, I disconnected the call and twisted my hair with my finger, wondering what to do. I could stand at the sidewalk and try to holler down a taxi, hoping it was a proper one—there were several reports of people being kidnapped and abused by false taxi drivers. I could wait that hour—or more—for the company to send a cab. Or, I could run the six blocks to the club with my pepper spray in hand. A crazy idea that could get me in trouble.
But I had to know. I had to find out what Ceris wanted with me. She had been in my visions, and suddenly she popped into my real life, telling me to go to a real event. It sounded so crazy, so insane, that I had to know, I had to find out if I had finally lost it.
Or learn what she had to show me.
Chapter Five
I got my jacket and my purse from the closet, left my apartment, and marched toward the elevator, not believing what I was about to do. I felt the pull to look at the number eight painted on the wall, but resisted. I had a party to get to—a party a goddess told me to attend. No shiny numbers or lack of taxis would stop me from finding out what she wanted me to see.
Downstairs, Paul was on duty. The concierge stood up when I walked past him on my way to the door. “Miss Sterling, are you waiting for a cab?”
“No, my friend is coming to pick me up,” I lied, flashing him a false smile I hoped was convincing enough. I had my hand inside my purse, clutching my can of pepper spray. “She called and is already coming around the corner.”
“Would you mind waiting inside?” He looked anxious with his brow creased.
“That’s okay. I can see her from here.” I left before he could say anything else.
I looked both ways. Nobody outside, good or bad. I darted away.
I hadn’t run a full block when I couldn’t take the grip of the high-heeled pumps slaughtering my feet. I cursed and tried to ignore my shoes, but the pain was too much. I halted, stashed the pepper spray inside my purse, and took off the shoes to find a newly formed blister and a bloody scratch on my left Achilles tendon. Damned heels!
The flapping of wings froze me in place. The beats in my chest accelerated. Shit. I stopped without thinking about the consequences, and now bats hovered nearby. Why did they always come for me? As far as I knew, they didn’t attack every single person they saw when flying around, but they did attack me whenever there was an opportunity.
I scanned the area, trying to find some people, even foul-looking ones, with whom I could mingle and mislead the bats. Nobody. The streets were deserted. When were New York’s streets ever deserted?
I didn’t know whether to remain frozen and hope the bats confused me with a statue, retreat to a doorway and hide, or run back to my building. Even if I hid, they would find me. I decided for the third option and bolted.
The flapping noise increased. Oh no, now there was more than one. Another bad decision. I glanced over my shoulder to see how many there were and gasped. My legs wobbled and collapsed. I fell onto my back to the paved ground, fear choking my throat. There were no less than seven bats coming for me!
They were hideous and nasty, as large as a person. Their bony bodies were covered by a viscous gray skin, countless teeth bared and sharp, and wings large and bristly.
I cringed, unable to scream. Four of the bats landed before me and hobbled closer. Their talons scratched against the concrete surface of the sidewalk, making a dreadful screeching sound. Their fetid stench, of slobber and decay and rotting flesh, reached me and I fought the urge to puke.
I crawled a few feet away and watched in horror as three other bats landed behind me, blocking my only escape route. I was surrounded.
I recalled my pepper spray inside my purse. I had it for muggers and robbers, but my weapon had saved me from these creatures before. Of course, pepper spray hadn’t hurt the bats, just bought me some distraction so I could run away, and I had never been attacked by more than two bats at once, but it was worth a try.
With trembling hands, I reached inside my purse. But, as my fingers stroked the can, a bat lunged at me. Yelling, I covered my head with my arms. The animal clawed, tearing into my body.
I tried to roll over and crawl somewhere, anywhere, but was pushed down by a potent blow. I hit the concrete, hard, and gasped as the air flew out of me.
Tears brimmed in my eyes. I struggled to hash out a new plan. Nothing. My mind was blank.
I raised my head and looked over. Two more bats glided up to me. I could see in their crimson eyes they were done playing. This time, they
would strike for real. There was nothing I could do. I held my breath and braced myself, feeling a slow tear trickle down my face.
Their talons scratched my already torn jacket. I waited, wondering if I’d die or be injured for life.
Then … Nothing.
My eyes shot open. Was I having one of my hallucinations? Were the bats really retreating? I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The bats withdrew, their wings folded behind them, but they seemed to be recoiling from something—or someone. I turned around and saw the back of a tall man. He stood about ten feet from me, his head held high as if a defiant attitude would send the bats away. The odd part was—it did. The bats avoided looking at him as they slowly retreated. Seconds later, the creatures unfurled their gargantuan wings and flew away.
I gaped at the back of the mysterious man.
When the bats were gone, the guy pivoted and stared at me. I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but he looked menacing and I wasn’t sure I was better with him or the bats.
Without taking his gaze from mine, he stepped forward.
I clambered back.
He stopped.
“It’s okay,” he said. His voice was strong and sure and entrancing. He had an accent, something between Arabic and French I couldn’t identify. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I scrambled to my feet and almost fell over, nauseated. I didn’t though, because the mysterious guy caught me. His strong hands gripped my elbows.
Until then, I had not felt any pain, but his palm was wrapped around one of the wounds. “Ouch!” I pulled away and bent my elbow to get a better look.
“Let me see,” he said, gently taking my arm and slipping off my jacket sleeve. “It’s not too bad. Did they hurt you somewhere else?”
His deep, dark eyes bored into mine, and my breath caught. Unkempt jet-black hair framed the rough edges of his fair face, and broad shoulders were bracketed by his leather biker jacket. Despite looking frightening, he was gorgeous.
I wasn’t sure what was happening. Why I was letting this guy help me and even strip off my coat? I could barely reason, but I ended up nodding. “My back.”
As if he were an old friend, the guy turned me around and removed the rest of my jacket. I shivered, both from the cold and from knowing his intense gaze scrutinized my bare skin.
“Hmm. These gashes are a little worse, but nothing some rest and care won’t fix.”
Self-conscious, I put my ragged jacket back on, tightening it around myself, and turned to face him. “How did you get the bats to back off?”
His eyes narrowed. I guess he hadn’t expected my question. “I’m not sure.”
“How come you don’t know?” I almost shouted, irritated with his calm stance. Who the hell was this stranger? And how the hell was it he couldn’t figure out how he’d saved me? “You just came over and those bats fled. They were scared of you!”
“I don’t know why they keep their distance from me, but that’s been happening lately.” He extended his hand. “I’m Micah. And you are?”
I was surprised by his honesty; I guess he had no reason to lie. I frowned at his hand, not sure I should take it. But then again, he had saved my life.
“Nadine.” I took his—Micah’s—hand, and cold clutched my skin where it contacted his. I quickly pulled my hand back.
His eyes were wide. “You felt that too?” At my nod, he whispered, “That’s odd.” He stared at his hand as if it had been contaminated by my touch.
Hmm, perhaps my hand had been contaminated too. But by what? What had been that cold jolt? My adrenaline finally settling down? I looked up at the sky again. No bats. That was something. But it was still dangerous outside, and this guy was a stranger. Who knew what he was up to?
I twined a strand of hair around my finger. “I should get going.” I retreated a few steps, fighting to stay upright against the pain. “Uh, thanks.”
“Wait.” Micah came up to me again. “You shouldn’t be outside alone. Those bats seemed to like you.” The corner of his lips twitched, as if the situation were funny. I glared at him and he grew serious again. “I can give you a ride.”
“That’s not necessary.” I resumed walking, but a jolt of pain ricocheted through my back and arms. I winced and tripped, almost collapsing.
“Come on.” He grabbed my wrist. “If you don’t want to fall or get attacked again, it’s important I give you a ride.”
“All right,” I mumbled, hating myself for accepting his offer.
“Over here.” Still holding onto me, he walked to the other side of the street, where a black and red Harley Davidson was parked.
“That’s your ride?” I gaped. Wow. The motorcycle was stunning. I had never seen a Harley before, other than in pictures. There weren’t many bikes around since it was easy to get robbed or attacked when riding one. And Harleys were rare.
He offered me a grin. “Nice, uh? It’s my baby.” Without releasing my wrist, he put his other hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me forward. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
If he hadn’t assisted me, I wouldn’t have been able to cross the street. Each step sent painful jolts through my back. I winced, then squeezed his arm, which I only realized I held after I dug my nails into his jacket. He let out a chuckle.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, conscious of the heat growing in my cheeks. I loosened my grip, but didn’t let go.
“No problem.”
He hopped on his bike and helped me sit behind him. I avoided looking at his looming body and crossed my arms as if it were forbidden to touch him.
From over his shoulder, Micah glanced at me and laughed. It was one perfect sound.
“What?” I snapped, tightening my arms over my chest.
“I won’t bite,” he joked.
I had no intention of moving until he reached behind his back, grabbed my arms, and put them around his waist, pointedly resting my hands over his rigid abdomen. I had a hard time controlling my breathing since his sweet scent was intoxicating, or controlling the impulse to run my fingers over his lean muscles, or the urge to scoot closer.
He turned the Harley on, and it revved to life. “Where do you live?”
“At the next block.” I pointed behind us. “A white and blue building near the corner.”
“You were attacked one block from your home?” He sounded amused. I remained quiet. At least he wasn’t accelerating and I didn’t have to hang on tighter. “Boy, those bats must love you.”
“Shut up,” I snapped, then felt my cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment.
“Sorry.” He suppressed a chuckle. It only irritated me more. He drove the bike over to my building and brought it to a stop in front of the main door. “Is it here?”
“Yes.” I released him and got off the bike, but I had to lean against him when nausea and pain assaulted me.
He tugged me to him. “If you weren’t in such a rush to get rid of me, I would have helped you.”
I grunted and let him guide me to the door. I used the biometric lock, but Paul had already seen me and rushed up.
“Miss Sterling, what happened?” He glanced from me to Micah to my torn jacket.
“Bats,” Micah answered for me.
“Again?” Paul asked. I struggled to free myself from Micah and let the concierge help me.
Micah glanced down at me. “Again?”
“I guess bats like her,” Paul said. He chuckled and Micah grinned. I glared at them. “Sorry.” He straightened and took me from Micah, hooking my arm over his shoulders to steady me. “I’d better get you to your apartment.”
I turned to Micah. “Thanks again.”
“Yes. Good night.” He bowed and smiled, making my pulse faster. Then, he turned and strode out the door.
After the concierge helped me to my apartment and left me alone, I took a warm shower and sat down to clean my wounds. I had scratches on my back and arms and a purple bruise on my belly.
Because of the previ
ous bat attacks I had experienced, I kept rabies vaccine in my medicine cabinet—it wasn’t something that pharmacies sold over the counter, but being in the pre-health program facilitated a few perks. I gave myself a shot and took three ibuprofen pills for pain.
I was leaving the bathroom when I caught my reflection in the foggy mirror. In front of the glass, I brushed my long, light-brown hair—it was the feature I liked most about me. I smiled, remembering how Victor liked my hair too.
That was when I recalled the reason I had gone out on the streets in the first place.
The brush hit the floor, producing a loud thud. Holy hell! Because of the bat attack, I’d ended up not going to the club and finding out what Ceris wanted to show me.
Worse, I drooled over Micah and forgot about Victor.
My heart sank, and I was unable to shake the feeling I’d cheated on him.
Chapter Six
Raisa wanted to beat me after she got home from the club at three in the morning, but when I showed her my wounds, she grew worried and yelled, saying I was the most stupid person alive—and I had to agree with her—and that she would never leave me behind again.
On Sunday, I slept almost all day. Raisa and Olivia checked on me several times. Then on Monday, I got up early to go to work before my first day of summer classes. I had to take two ibuprofen pills to be able to stand. I just wanted to get through the day without remembering the bat attack and feeling sick to my stomach. I purposefully avoided Raisa, and slipped out of the apartment without her or Olivia noticing. I’d had enough of my roommate’s lectures.
Cheryl strolled into the coffee shop fifteen minutes before the end of my shift. I smiled at her, admiring her beauty and elegance. Every time I looked at her, a good feeling—like a sense of familiarity and completion—filled my chest. It was a shame her frequent trips out of town for work limited our conversations and time together. I felt lost and alone whenever she was gone.
All the tables were taken, mostly by students, so she sat on a tall stool at the counter.
Without having to ask, I handed her what I knew she wanted: a tall espresso and a chocolate cupcake.
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