right through her.
Shaking her head, Tess followed his seeking stare with her own. Wisps of memory from last night's tormenting dreams surfaced and merged with what she saw. With them came the gripping terror that had chased her from nightmare to nightmare. What the hell was happening here? She peered over her shoulder, her mind rebelling against the image her eyes presented.
Tori's front yard had vanished and in its place was a massive, roiling river that couldn't possibly be there. Rumbling like an avalanche, it surged from its banks and thundered madly through the spot where the house once stood. The wind howled and whipped the foamy current into a frenzy. Huge branches that looked as if they'd been ripped from trees hurled in its wake.
No . Even in her head, the word sounded puny. She was hallucinating. She had to be hallucinating.
Overhead, lightning snaked beneath the turbulent clouds, rending a hole that let loose a deluge of icy rain. It sheeted the skyline with a metallic hue. Then, like a special effect, a covered wagon pulled by a team of oxen appeared on the other side of the river. It lumbered towards her with a fatalistic pace.
"Oh my God." Tess's automatic step backwards sank her shoes deep into a hole filled with freezing water. Still, she couldn't take her eyes off the wagon as it came to a stop on the eastern shore of the river. Two women sat on the bench, a small boy sandwiched in between them.
Tess stared at them while somewhere in her head a frantic voice whispered, not real, not real, not real . She clenched her eyes tight, praying that when she opened them again she would be gone from here. Back in her car, maybe. Back in New York, in a world that made sense.
In the space of a moment, the man on the horse had arrived at the wagon and the rest of the world became a diaphanous fabric of colors and shapes that blended without meaning. Everything beyond the covered wagon seemed unreal and out of focus. But none of it was real. None of it was—
The younger woman on the wagon bench turned and caught Tess in a penetrating stare. She wasn't looking through Tess as the man had. The draw of her steady gaze pulled Tess forward as the sound of the river and pounding rain faded beneath the hammering of her heart. Tess wanted to scream, tried to scream. But her voice was sealed inside.
Not real, not real, not real, not real.
Then suddenly even the shout of confusion in Tess's head silenced as the moment unfurled like a banner that snapped in the wind. Tess recoiled at the rush of strange, overwhelming emotions that entwined with her own. She felt her identity slipping away and reached through the onslaught, desperate to hold onto herself. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't break free from the spell. She couldn't pull her gaze from the pale face or look away from the anguish in the other woman's eyes.
The rider called the woman's name again, his voice deep and compelling.
As one, Tess and the woman faced him.
Chapter Nine
Grant Weston was thinking of his father when the woman bolted into the road. His truck was old, the brakes worn and his reflexes shaky. He swerved, skidding across the damp mud and gravel and into a ditch. He had the indistinct impression of her body rolling to the other side of the road before he smacked his forehead on the steering wheel. Instantly, black and red patterns exploded behind his eyes.
"Goddammit." Pain followed the colors in a riot that convinced him his skull was split in two. He touched his head, expecting blood, relieved to find only a lump that promised to swell. He stumbled out of the truck, praying he hadn't hit her, whoever she was. He still couldn't figure out where she'd come from.
He saw her on the side of the road about twenty feet back from the truck. She was sprawled in the gravel, as unmoving as his father had been when he'd found him beneath the tractor. A feeling kin to vertigo dragged him to a halt. Christ almighty, was she dead?
What
Shaking her head, Tess followed his seeking stare with her own. Wisps of memory from last night's tormenting dreams surfaced and merged with what she saw. With them came the gripping terror that had chased her from nightmare to nightmare. What the hell was happening here? She peered over her shoulder, her mind rebelling against the image her eyes presented.
Tori's front yard had vanished and in its place was a massive, roiling river that couldn't possibly be there. Rumbling like an avalanche, it surged from its banks and thundered madly through the spot where the house once stood. The wind howled and whipped the foamy current into a frenzy. Huge branches that looked as if they'd been ripped from trees hurled in its wake.
No . Even in her head, the word sounded puny. She was hallucinating. She had to be hallucinating.
Overhead, lightning snaked beneath the turbulent clouds, rending a hole that let loose a deluge of icy rain. It sheeted the skyline with a metallic hue. Then, like a special effect, a covered wagon pulled by a team of oxen appeared on the other side of the river. It lumbered towards her with a fatalistic pace.
"Oh my God." Tess's automatic step backwards sank her shoes deep into a hole filled with freezing water. Still, she couldn't take her eyes off the wagon as it came to a stop on the eastern shore of the river. Two women sat on the bench, a small boy sandwiched in between them.
Tess stared at them while somewhere in her head a frantic voice whispered, not real, not real, not real . She clenched her eyes tight, praying that when she opened them again she would be gone from here. Back in her car, maybe. Back in New York, in a world that made sense.
In the space of a moment, the man on the horse had arrived at the wagon and the rest of the world became a diaphanous fabric of colors and shapes that blended without meaning. Everything beyond the covered wagon seemed unreal and out of focus. But none of it was real. None of it was—
The younger woman on the wagon bench turned and caught Tess in a penetrating stare. She wasn't looking through Tess as the man had. The draw of her steady gaze pulled Tess forward as the sound of the river and pounding rain faded beneath the hammering of her heart. Tess wanted to scream, tried to scream. But her voice was sealed inside.
Not real, not real, not real, not real.
Then suddenly even the shout of confusion in Tess's head silenced as the moment unfurled like a banner that snapped in the wind. Tess recoiled at the rush of strange, overwhelming emotions that entwined with her own. She felt her identity slipping away and reached through the onslaught, desperate to hold onto herself. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't break free from the spell. She couldn't pull her gaze from the pale face or look away from the anguish in the other woman's eyes.
The rider called the woman's name again, his voice deep and compelling.
As one, Tess and the woman faced him.
Chapter Nine
Grant Weston was thinking of his father when the woman bolted into the road. His truck was old, the brakes worn and his reflexes shaky. He swerved, skidding across the damp mud and gravel and into a ditch. He had the indistinct impression of her body rolling to the other side of the road before he smacked his forehead on the steering wheel. Instantly, black and red patterns exploded behind his eyes.
"Goddammit." Pain followed the colors in a riot that convinced him his skull was split in two. He touched his head, expecting blood, relieved to find only a lump that promised to swell. He stumbled out of the truck, praying he hadn't hit her, whoever she was. He still couldn't figure out where she'd come from.
He saw her on the side of the road about twenty feet back from the truck. She was sprawled in the gravel, as unmoving as his father had been when he'd found him beneath the tractor. A feeling kin to vertigo dragged him to a halt. Christ almighty, was she dead?
What
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