this. Neither did Cindy. Or any of them.”
“You don’t know that. It’s not for you to know. It’s for you to accept.”
“I don’t want to accept it.” That was the core issue. She was losing friends all over the place and she wasn’t ready to accept that. And underlying all that was the knowledge that she wasn’t ready to accept her own state.
A weird blankness filled the room.
Mimi gasped and poofed into the air without warning. Celina already knew what was wrong.
The cold creeping into her soul told her she had another visitor.
That’s easy to fix , came that horrid, smug voice. I’ve told you time and time again. Let me see.
Never. She rolled over, pulled the covers up over her shoulders, and blocked that hateful voice out of her head.
*
Stefan washed his hands, but the very effort of cleaning them was almost too much for his exhausted body. The painting was behind him. He didn’t bother looking. This painting had been an outlet for his frustration and nothing else. And it had done its job. Tension no longer rode his shoulders like a steel bar. He was physically tired but mentally calm. Now he’d take a quick glance at Brandt’s file and deliver answers in the morning. He picked up the file and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He dropped the file on his bed and headed to the shower. Feeling clean and refreshed, he collapsed on his bed and opened the file.
Five minutes later sleep was the last thing on his mind.
He reached for the phone and called Brandt. A sleepy voice answered. “He’s not here, Stefan.”
He glanced at the clock. It was six a.m. Damn, where had the night gone?
“Sam?” His voice gentled. This woman who’d gone through so much was a kindred spirit to Stefan’s soul. She was small, gentle, with an inner core of steel. She needed the steel to have survived the horror in her life. “I’m sorry, I thought I called his cell phone. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s all right,” she said, the smile in her voice warm and caring. “The dreams have been tough lately. I’m glad you pulled me out.”
“Brandt mentioned you were having trouble sleeping. What kind of dreams?” he asked, his voice surprisingly sharp. He immediately apologized. “Sorry, it’s been a long day and night. Something is happening but I can’t pinpoint what.”
“I’m just getting snippets myself. Not strong enough to see who or what, just lots of blood. But not any one scene. One time it’s a car accident – at least I think that’s what it was. Another time it seems to be a surgery happening. Then it’s a suicide. Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on. Tonight I felt as if my chest was so hot it was like it was on fire and I was gripping a steering wheel from a big truck.” She sighed. “It’s weird to connect to accidents or suicides. That’s so not me.”
“Maybe your skills are changing again,” he suggested, “now that you’re learning more control.”
“Great. Not.” She yawned again. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to sleep for a couple of hours, and it looks like I’m ready to try again.”
“Then do. I’ll call Brandt at the office.”
“Good night,” she murmured, then it sounded to Stefan as if she dropped the phone as she fell off to sleep.
He smiled. At least she’d sleep. Like himself, Sam often found sleep hard to come by. He redialed, getting Brandt this time.
“Thought you were going home.”
Brandt snapped in disgust, “I did and got called back in. Did you sleep?”
Stefan snorted and walked to his studio in the back. He flicked on the light and stared at the massive bloody heart in the middle of his canvas. “I painted a bloody valentine scene tonight when I came home from the hospital. I’m trying to figure out if this is related.”
“Why would it be?” Brandt asked. “I’m sure any shrink would have no trouble associating the painting to Celina being in an accident tonight.”
“Except I spoke with your lovely wife about
“You don’t know that. It’s not for you to know. It’s for you to accept.”
“I don’t want to accept it.” That was the core issue. She was losing friends all over the place and she wasn’t ready to accept that. And underlying all that was the knowledge that she wasn’t ready to accept her own state.
A weird blankness filled the room.
Mimi gasped and poofed into the air without warning. Celina already knew what was wrong.
The cold creeping into her soul told her she had another visitor.
That’s easy to fix , came that horrid, smug voice. I’ve told you time and time again. Let me see.
Never. She rolled over, pulled the covers up over her shoulders, and blocked that hateful voice out of her head.
*
Stefan washed his hands, but the very effort of cleaning them was almost too much for his exhausted body. The painting was behind him. He didn’t bother looking. This painting had been an outlet for his frustration and nothing else. And it had done its job. Tension no longer rode his shoulders like a steel bar. He was physically tired but mentally calm. Now he’d take a quick glance at Brandt’s file and deliver answers in the morning. He picked up the file and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He dropped the file on his bed and headed to the shower. Feeling clean and refreshed, he collapsed on his bed and opened the file.
Five minutes later sleep was the last thing on his mind.
He reached for the phone and called Brandt. A sleepy voice answered. “He’s not here, Stefan.”
He glanced at the clock. It was six a.m. Damn, where had the night gone?
“Sam?” His voice gentled. This woman who’d gone through so much was a kindred spirit to Stefan’s soul. She was small, gentle, with an inner core of steel. She needed the steel to have survived the horror in her life. “I’m sorry, I thought I called his cell phone. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s all right,” she said, the smile in her voice warm and caring. “The dreams have been tough lately. I’m glad you pulled me out.”
“Brandt mentioned you were having trouble sleeping. What kind of dreams?” he asked, his voice surprisingly sharp. He immediately apologized. “Sorry, it’s been a long day and night. Something is happening but I can’t pinpoint what.”
“I’m just getting snippets myself. Not strong enough to see who or what, just lots of blood. But not any one scene. One time it’s a car accident – at least I think that’s what it was. Another time it seems to be a surgery happening. Then it’s a suicide. Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on. Tonight I felt as if my chest was so hot it was like it was on fire and I was gripping a steering wheel from a big truck.” She sighed. “It’s weird to connect to accidents or suicides. That’s so not me.”
“Maybe your skills are changing again,” he suggested, “now that you’re learning more control.”
“Great. Not.” She yawned again. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to sleep for a couple of hours, and it looks like I’m ready to try again.”
“Then do. I’ll call Brandt at the office.”
“Good night,” she murmured, then it sounded to Stefan as if she dropped the phone as she fell off to sleep.
He smiled. At least she’d sleep. Like himself, Sam often found sleep hard to come by. He redialed, getting Brandt this time.
“Thought you were going home.”
Brandt snapped in disgust, “I did and got called back in. Did you sleep?”
Stefan snorted and walked to his studio in the back. He flicked on the light and stared at the massive bloody heart in the middle of his canvas. “I painted a bloody valentine scene tonight when I came home from the hospital. I’m trying to figure out if this is related.”
“Why would it be?” Brandt asked. “I’m sure any shrink would have no trouble associating the painting to Celina being in an accident tonight.”
“Except I spoke with your lovely wife about
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