* * * * *
Brian raced down 495, scanning the shoulder for Abby’s willowy frame, while his father’s words reverberated through his mind: She’s dangerous, Brian. She’s one of them. And even as he searched the road for her face, her parted lips, the eyes that he loved, he couldn’t stop wondering if it had all been a lie, if he should keep driving and never look back.
But you just left her there, Brian thought. You left her on the side of the road like a dog. Only, she’d made him do it, hadn’t she? She had practically leaped out of the car. And she’d done it for him, to save his life.
Brian’s eyes stayed locked on the road’s shoulder, as an orange Mini Cooper crept onto his tail, the driver honking furiously and giving him the finger. “So pass me,” growled Brian, glaring at the man. But when he looked back he saw the long line of cars stacked up behind him. Brian glanced down and checked his speedometer. He was doing thirty on the freeway. No wonder the guy behind him was pissed.
Brian got the Camry cruising at a respectable speed, but he still couldn’t get himself to focus on the road. Find her, he thought. Take her home. Then his chest began to constrict. It was hard to breathe. Did something happen? he wondered. Did someone pick her up? A terrible image flashed through his mind. It was Abby in a Semi with some psychotic pervert, a knife at her throat, unable to get away.
Please, he thought. She’s a freaking mermaid; no one can touch her. Least of all some sex-crazed trucker. He swallowed hard and cracked the window, letting the cool air refresh his mind. Calm down, thought Brian. She’ll find you if she wants to. And then raw panic swept through him again. Because what if she’d decided she didn’t need him? Maybe that was the real reason she’d jumped out of the car.
No, he thought, she needed the info from your dad. But he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Because, really, he hadn’t found out anything at all. At least, if his dad was right, it was nothing she didn’t already know.
Don’t be stupid, thought Brian. She wouldn’t do that to you. But the truth was, he had no idea what she’d do. “Stop it,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Come on Abby, find me now.”
Then he felt it, a presence in the car, like his prayers had been answered, though no one was there. And yet he knew someone was sitting in the passenger’s seat. He could feel it. Someone was watching him.
“Brian.” The voice was in his mind. It was Abby’s voice, yet something was off. There was a strange undertone he’d never noticed before.
“Brian.”
He winced and crunched down on his tongue. The voice had changed. Now it sounded right. “Abby? Where are you? What’s going go on?” It was just like when he’d heard her outside the prison, only that time he’d assumed it was all in his head. After all, he’d been committed, hadn’t he? Who was to say he wasn’t losing it it now?
“Baby, you’re not.” A hand touched his cheek. Cool and smooth, it slid down his neck as a shiver broke out at the base of his spine. Only when he glanced over, the seat beside him was empty. He was alone, and yet he could smell her breath: smooth and sweet and cool as the sea.
“Brian, listen,” she whispered in his head. “We don’t have much time, not anymore. The killer is coming, he’s searching for me. I can feel him in the water; I can sense him on the land. If you want to find me, then close your eyes. If you want to help me, I’ll guide your there.”
“Close my eyes?” hissed Brian, aware that he was talking to himself. But if this was a figment of his imagination, a desperate plea from his ruined mind, then he really should be locked up with his dad. Sign the papers and throw away the keys. He was going insane. His insides went to mush.
“Please,” whispered Abby, or at least he thought it was her. Then an invisible hand slid over his thigh, and a shiver shot up his leg: pleasure mixed with something else.
“Come on, baby,” she crooned. “Close your eyes, and I’ll show you were to go. Come on Brian, I’ll take you to me.”
“But where are you?” he asked, as the traffic sped by. Already horns were honking again. He was going too slowly. He had to stop.
Brian flicked on his blinker, about to pull over to the side, when an electric jolt shot through his chest.
“Don’t pull over,” barked Abby, and his throat went tight. What was she doing? Did she want him to die?
“You have to speed up and close your eyes. It’s the only way to find me now.”
“But I can’t,” whimpered Brian. Then her mouth was on his throat, full lips parted, tongue tasting his skin. It felt so good, but he tried to ignore it. It was only a distraction; he had to think. “It’s suicide Abby. I can’t do this now.”
“Do it,” she said, her voice cold and hard. Suddenly, the good feeling was gone, and he could feel her fingers, like ice on his skin, forcing his lids down over his eyes. “Do it for me. Do it for your beloved!”
“Stop,” shrieked Brian. He couldn’t see. The world was a blur of orange and red. Only behind his closed lids he could see her face: long dark hair, eyes glowing like the sea, and a bewitching grin etched across her lips. A grin that meant he was about to die.
“No,” howled Brian, as the car started to spin. It was moving so fast that his head snapped against his seat. “Stop! Wait! You’re killing me!” He twisted the wheel, trying to straighten himself out. Driving blind, he focused his mind and tried to force her presence away. “Let me go,” he screamed, and he heard a sharp cry. Then an anguished wail reverberated through him, as a dark jolt of guilt seared his heart.
“How?” Abby moaned. Brian eyes snapped open just in time to see the guard rail speeding toward him.
“Wait,” he cried, as the sky split open, and the bright world around him snapped to black.
Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy) Page 20