The Tower (The Tarot Series Book 1)

by Rhylee Davidson

  Katrina musters up the strength she needs to make the one stop… the one visit…she thoroughly dreads. Running down the street and away from the party, she passes a vendor selling flowers. She stops, purchases a fragrant bouquet of red roses, and cuts across the park to the street where the cemetery is located. It’s getting dark, but she doesn’t care. She knows exactly where to go to locate the headstone she’s looking for. As she approaches the grave, a torrent of hot tears begins streaming down her face. She sits down and begins clearing the blanket of dried leaves, fallen twigs and wilting tributes that cover the small patch of earth that holds the grave of her beloved .

  Laying the bundle of roses over the cleared clump of grass, Katrina runs her hand over the engraved name on the tombstone and sobs…“Oh, Derrick.”

  Falling to her knees, Katrina is flooded with memories from that day two years ago. A knock at her door, two somber-looking men dressed in military garb, telling her how sorry they are to bring her such sad news that Captain Saunders is dead. His plane shot down on a mission over Afghanistan. Her legs no longer able to support her weight, she falls to the ground. The men picking her up off the ground as she sits there in disbelief, then placing her on the couch in the apartment as she screams, “It’s not true. It can’t be. I just spoke with him a few days ago. You must have it wrong. It has to be a mistake. We’re getting married in a few months!”

  Two weeks later, standing beside this very grave in a black dress, black shoes, and black coat, crying while the priest reads the eulogy. The weather is miserable, echoing her mood. It’s cold and damp, although she can’t feel it. A misty rain falls nonstop, mirroring the frequency of her tears. Damp leaves stick to her feet and gusty winds kick up causing the dark clouds to speed through the dreary sky. The feeling of snow is in the air. Friends, family, military personnel, and strange men in black suits wearing mirrored sunglasses hold their dark umbrellas over their heads as they line both sides of the coffin to pay their respects to the man she loves.

  A black shiny casket trimmed with silver hardware sits before her. An American flag draped over the top. Inside the closed casket, she knew, lay Derrick in his Air Force dress uniform. As the eulogy ends, two men with white gloved hands and dressed in military uniforms step up to the casket, remove the flag, fold it into the shape of a triangle, walk over to her, placing it in her hands, bowing their heads, and returning to their places.

  Mourners step up to the casket one by one, placing a single red rose at its head. Each takes a turn consoling her and expressing their sympathy, but she can’t hear what they’re saying. Their words are nothing more than buzzing in her head. Someone takes her hand, but she must be numb because she can’t feel it.

  It’s her turn to step up to the coffin. She looks down at her shaking hands. Somehow, a rose appears in her right hand, although she doesn’t remember anyone handing it to her, or picking it up. She lays it down and touches the top of the casket, running her hand over the black lacquer finish. She knows she should feel it, but she doesn’t. It’s like waving her fingers through the air — no feeling, no sensation. Needing to feel close to Derrick, she wraps her arms around the top of the casket and drapes her head and upper body over it.

  A commotion ensues, and people start grabbing at her while loud buzzing noises go off in her head. “Leave me alone!” she yells, wanting nothing more than to lift the lid and lay there beside him. She begs and pleads through broken sobs for them to let her go with him. “I can’t live without him. Derrick…Derrick please, take me with you. Don’t leave me here. I love you.”

  Someone drags her off the casket and whisks her away while Derrick is slowly lowered into the ground.

  Awareness sets in as Katrina wipes away the cobwebs of sad memories she just relived. Blinking, she realizes she’s been sitting there in the dark and cold for over an hour. As she slowly stands, she touches the dried tears on her cheeks and whispers, “I love you,” to the cold grave, then turns and heads out of the cemetery.

  Come on, I have to get out of my head and pull it together so I can head home and change before another of Dad’s all important dinner parties….oh yay!

  As she’s crossing through the cemetery gates, a shiver slides down her spine and the sensation of being watched raises the hairs on the back of her neck. She turns…no one’s there.

  Shrugging her shoulders and turning around, she heads in the direction of her apartment. Walking briskly, she hears a footfall and glimpses movement out of the corner of her eye. Swinging around, she takes a defensive stance with fists to the ready. Listening closely for any sound or movement, or even a breath, she hears nothing but silence. She squints, trying to see through the dense darkness that seems to have come out of nowhere, and again, she can’t find anyone approaching. It must have been the wind blowing through the grass or a piece of paper fluttering by, but I could have sworn I saw something. Making the decision not to linger, she turns and begins walking at an accelerated pace while laughing at herself.

  “It must be my imagination running away with me again,” she mumbles.

  Her heart starts racing as that same feeling of being watched just will not go away. Feeling a warm breeze on the back of her neck, no…not a breeze, more like a breath on the back of her neck, she snaps her head around to see who or what is there.

  Nothing!

  Scanning the path behind her she finds…nobody!

  How is that possible?

  Breaking out in a cold sweat, she walks faster and faster. She takes her keys out of her purse, wipes her sweaty palms on her jacket, and places one key between each of the fingers on her right hand, ready to swing out and use them as a weapon.

  As her pace quickens, the sensation of being stalked by someone or something overtakes her. She just can’t shake the feeling that something is closing in on her with every step she takes. Too afraid now to turn around, Katrina takes off running as fast as she can. At the sight of her building, she dashes across the street, and darts between two parked cars into the safety of her doorman’s presence.

  Chapter Four

  It starts out as it always does, brisk movement and muffled voices. Gage Pantere strains his ears, trying to make sense of the voices and sounds around him. As usual, the voices were unfamiliar, the words indecipherable. He tries opening his eyes so he can look around and gain his bearings, but his eyes are covered with something that prevents him from opening them. He is trapped in darkness behind his own lids.

  His lips feel dry and cracked, his throat parched. Needing a drink, he tries to move his body to an upright position, but like there’s a slab of cement pressing down on him, he cannot move. His torso, head, arms, and legs are tethered to the bed where he lay. He has no range of motion…his body is tied down and useless to him.

  Panic takes over as he realizes he has no idea where he is, how he got here, or what is happening to him. His voice is a mere whisper and no one responds to his attempts to ask questions. He feels as if his mind is in a thick fog, and his body is buried in quicksand. After some time has passed, someone removes the bandage that holds his eyes closed. Blinking wildly, he tries to open them, giving them time to adjust to the extreme brightness of the white room he finds himself in. When he’s finally able to open them fully, he sees a shadow move, and his vision floods with a florescent green color that becomes fluid in front of his eyes. It’s like an acid trip…all of his senses flood with that strange green color moving and sliding as if inside of a lava lamp.

  Out of nowhere, his arm feels cold and he finds himself crying out in agony. His entire body is in such excruciating pain that it takes his breath away. His body’s frozen one moment and on fire the next. The heat is so intense he wants to run and jump into an icy pool to put out the flames, but he cannot move. Every muscle, bone, and sinew is uncontrollably expanding and contracting, pulling, and stretching beyond their limits. He feels as if his blood is boiling. He wants to scream out, he wants to die. But just before he’s about to pass out, the face
of an angel floods his vision and he awakens with a start, gasping to fill his lungs with air.

  Sitting straight up, he looks around. He is in his own bed, covered in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. He pushes himself to the edge of the bed and places his bare feet on the hard, cool floor. Running his damp fingers through his long, dark hair and pushing it out of his face, he stands, crosses the room, and switches on the bathroom light.

  Standing before the mirror, he can’t hide the haunted look he sees in that pair of bright green eyes peering back at him. Examining himself, he runs his hands over his face, his outstretched arms, down his chest, and along the length of his legs. Using his fingertips, he traces the dark tattoo etched over his rib cage. He is alive. There is no pain and his body looks and feels normal.

  Pushing the nightmare out of his mind, he jumps in the shower, allowing the cool water to beat down over his body, and washing the remnants of the terror away. Climbing back into bed, he lays there, watching the sun come up.

  The same nightmare has been plaguing his sleep for quite some time. He has no idea where it comes from or what it means. He assumes, like a child who is afraid of the monster under the bed, that over time, it will just go away. I mean, aren’t bad dreams supposed to be brought on by stress? In his line of work, stress is definitely a factor, so he chalks it up to job stress and chooses not to analyze it…

  Until two months ago.

  Standing in the airport in Tampa, Florida, returning from a job overseas, he looks up and sees her standing in line, waiting to board the flight he’s just disembarked.

  The angel from his nightmare is standing before him.

  He stops…frozen before her, just staring, with his carry-on in hand. She looks up from reading her book and stares back at him. That same face from his dream, with the pale full lips, large aquamarine eyes, dainty nose, high cheekbones, and beautiful, long, blonde, flowing hair looks back at him. She smiles and his breath catches. Is she real or is he hallucinating?

  He wants to ask her if she knows him, but he must have been holding his gaze too long, for she averts her eyes back to her book and takes a few steps towards the door to the gate. Before he can get his wits about him, the angel has boarded the plane and is gone.

  Who is she? He has to find out who she is and why she is plaguing his dreams. So, walking up to the ticket counter, he discovers she is on a nonstop flight from Tampa to New York. Taking down the flight number, he heads out of the airport to his car, and then home.

  Pulling out his laptop, he spends the next several days doing one of the things he does best. Tracking! He will track her down and find out everything about her, which is easy to do in his line of work.

  He starts by hacking into the airline’s passenger manifest for flight 949, then eliminating anyone who didn’t pick up the flight in Tampa, and all male passengers. From there he uses the government data base to pull social security numbers, tax records, birth certificates, driver’s license photos, passports, and any other private records he can find on the remaining passengers.

  Finally he discovers her name, Katrina Jameson. Her father, a state senator from New York. She dances ballet with a New York based company and lives on her own with her eight year old golden retriever, Max. She was engaged at one time, but her fiancé died in Afghanistan, flying missions for the Air Force. She hasn’t dated since.

  Apparently, when he saw her in the airport in Tampa, her company had just completed an engagement at the Sarasota Ballet and was returning home.

  When Gage is finished, he has a complete dossier on Katrina’s life. He knows everything about her, right down to her blood type. He knows who her family and friends are, her doctors and dentists, where she took swimming lessons, horseback riding lessons, ballet and piano lessons, and even where she went to school as a child. Every cold and injury she has ever had, boys she’s dated, cars she’s driven, and every address she’s ever lived at. She graduated from the Carnegie School of the Arts, majoring in dance and music.

  Still, he needs to know more. There was nothing in the information he gathered that gives him a clue as to why he was dreaming about her. According to the information he compiled, they’ve never met before and he definitely isn’t the type that goes to the ballet. Hell, they’ve never even been in the same city at the same time until he saw her in the airport in Tampa.

  What the hell is going on?

  How can he see her in such detail in his dreams?

  This woman doesn’t just resemble the angel that appears to him, she is the angel. Not one detail of her face, her skin, her bone structure, her eyes and lips is even slightly off from his dream.

  An urgent need overcomes him.

  I have to find her. And then what? What the hell am I going to do once I find her? I have no idea. All I know is…I have to try.

  He books the next flight to New York.

  Chapter Five

  Gage has been following Katrina around for weeks now. He’s even broken in and searched her apartment when she wasn’t home. Her dog, Max, is a great dog, but way too friendly. He definitely doesn’t have the temperament for protection, which makes it easy for Gage to spend the time he needs exploring her apartment and going through all of her belongings.

  Her apartment is small but comfortable, and she keeps it neatly arranged and organized. Going through her closets, cabinets, drawers, and file cabinet doesn’t give him any new information about why she’s plaguing his nightmares.

  As he opens the armoire in her bedroom, he discovers what he could only classify as a shrine to her dead fiancé. Inside is a stack of framed pictures of Katrina and her fiancé, military medals, an American flag in the shape of a triangle, an engagement announcement cut out of the newspaper with a picture of the happy couple. A box of preprinted wedding announcements and a little blue velvet box with an engagement ring inside adorn the top shelf. Next to the ring box sits a funeral prayer card announcing his death.

  He closes the armoire doors and sits on her bed. Petting her golden retriever, he realizes the answers he’s seeking cannot be found here. He should go home and just put her out of his mind, but he can’t.

  The more he follows her, the more he finds out about her, the closer he feels to her. A feeling he definitely does not like. He can’t afford to have feelings for anyone or anything in his line of work. Getting up off the bed, he leaves the apartment.

  Checking his watch, he realizes Katrina is still on stage performing the final show of her ballet, so he waits for her in the shadows outside the stage door. When she finally appears, he follows her to the hotel where the ballet company is holding a party.

  Thinking it’s going to be a long night, Gage makes himself as comfortable as possible as he takes up an inconspicuous position across the street. Keeping an eye on all the possible exits, he’s surprised when she emerges early outside the hotel.

  Sensing something is wrong, his first instinct is to go to her, but before he can make that stupid move, she takes off running down the street. He cautiously follows. From this angle, he can tell she’s wiping away tears from her eyes. As if someone flipped a switch, he is angry and all he can think about is how he’d like to disembowel whoever it was that made her cry. He blinks in confusion and stops. Where did that come from? A few moments later he begins tailing her again.

  When she finally slows down, she stops in front of a street vendor and purchases a bouquet of roses. Curious, he follows her across the street and through the park. Using the shadows for cover, he makes sure to stay far enough behind so she doesn’t notice him.

  It’s dusk, yet without hesitation, she continues walking through the gates of the cemetery and the long rows of tombstones until she stops in front of one. Gage ducks behind the massive trunk of a maple tree, staying hidden in the shadows watching her.

  Kneeling down, Katrina clears debris from the grave before her and sits beside it. Her hands now visibly shaking, she holds out the bouquet of flowers and places it down on top of the blanket of gr
ass, then runs her fingers over the gravestone.

  Fascinated…he watches.

  She just sits there, in some sort a daze, totally unaware of her surroundings. Tears run down her cheeks, yet she doesn’t move to wipe them away.

  Gage moves in closer.

  The longer she sits there, the darker it gets. Gage tries to keep his emotions under control, but he can feel the rage and anger building inside him. How can she sit there in the dark without any concern for her safety? This is New York. Doesn’t she know anyone wanting to do her harm can just walk up behind her and in the state she’s in she won’t even have a chance to defend herself?!

  Why does he care? If she cares so little for her own safety, why should he? Shit, he doesn’t even know her. Angry with himself, he makes the decision to stay close and protect her until she regains some sense and leaves this place.

  After an hour passes, she shakily stands up, mumbles a few words, then turns to leave. He follows her.

  Like a lover, he can sense her emotions and he knows she is still upset. He follows along more closely than he did earlier. She must have sensed him, for she stops and spins around, listening and squinting into the darkness.

  Still as a statue, he becomes part of the darkness, there is no way she can see him.

  She begins moving again and again, he follows her. Each time she senses his presence, she spins around, ready to attack. Grinning, he blends back into the night.

  Gage senses Katrina’s fear and loneliness. The further she walks, the more he wants to soothe her. Without thinking, he walks up behind her, reaching out, ready to touch her. He wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and wipe away her tears. He breathes in her scent and realizes he can smell her fear increasing. She knows he’s there. Without a sound, he quickly retreats, blending into the night.