seemed to come naturally to me. Maybe starting small like this would help. I took a few deep breaths, in and out, to center myself, focusing on grounding here in this place, then allowing my inner self to drift out, to follow the manager’s path. In, out, in the bathroom. In, out, down the hall.
He let out a muttered oath. I heard him ranting to himself, but it was as though his voice existed on another dimensional plane: faint, faraway, thready. What was he angry about? What was he saying? Did it even matter?
I felt an odd sensation, almost a perceivable shift of sorts, as though I had moved but my body itself had remained in place. Was it working? I tried not to let my excitement knock me out of the sensation, tried to remain centered and not try too hard with my focus. It might have worked, too, if a faint, secretive click hadn’t sneaked its way into my conscious mind. It was the secretive sense of it that caught my attention and jarred me out of my meditative state and back into my head. I reeled my energies in and let my eyelids flutter open.
Just in time to see the closet door next to me start to open, no more than a crack of darkness around it.
Chapter 4
At first I wasn’t sure that I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. My eyes opened wider, and I blinked to clear them, in case the lingering mists of third-eye vision were still affecting me. The door opened a little bit more, a fraction at a time, stopping at about an inch. I turned my head in that direction, my eyes now in hyperfocus on the thick line of black space between the door and the door frame. My heart started beating faster, tripping over itself. All of a sudden, Hollister’s claims rang in my ears. Sounds. Things moving. I knew, there and then, it wasn’t just settling. And I knew there was something in that closet.
But some thing turned out to be some one .
Just as I found myself turning my body on crutches in that direction and reaching for the door, I was forced to take a step backward when a small form launched from the closet and rushed headlong past me. One of my crutches went flying when the shape scrambled for forward momentum. The other crutch jammed hard into my underarm as I lost my balance and fell back against the front door.
The figure stopped on a heartbeat as the realization of what had just happened struck her. Because it was a her. The girl turned back toward me in one freeze-framed moment. Wide green eyes, peering out from beneath the low brim of a cap, locked with mine before she turned again and in the next instant was out the door, zipping away in a flash of jeans and a sassy pair of purple Chuck Ts.
By the time Locke responded to the metallic clatter of my crutch crashing against the door frame and came lumbering out from the nether regions of the apartment, the girl was long gone. I was carefully balancing myself to lean down and pick up the wayward crutch.
“What was that?” he demanded, turning his head wildly this way and that. “Oh. Your crutch.”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. That, and a girl in the closet. Nice feature, I guess,” I quipped, “although if your tenants are in fact mostly women, as you’ve said, I would think someone of the male persuasion might be a better selling point.”
“A gi—” His brow rose and fell like the swell and ebb of the ocean, ending in a crescendo of aggravation that caused him to push past me, nearly knocking me off my feet again. Unlike the girl, the manager didn’t stop. He continued lumbering down the interior pass-through toward the parking lot. I heard his pounding feet stop a short distance away and could picture him searching to and fro.
I straightened up again and got my crutches beneath me, moving out of the way of the door so I couldn’t possibly get trampled again. Locke was gone only a short time before he came tramping back through the door with his bearlike, side-to-side shuffling gait, his breath coming in uncomfortable puffs and a gleam of perspiration
He let out a muttered oath. I heard him ranting to himself, but it was as though his voice existed on another dimensional plane: faint, faraway, thready. What was he angry about? What was he saying? Did it even matter?
I felt an odd sensation, almost a perceivable shift of sorts, as though I had moved but my body itself had remained in place. Was it working? I tried not to let my excitement knock me out of the sensation, tried to remain centered and not try too hard with my focus. It might have worked, too, if a faint, secretive click hadn’t sneaked its way into my conscious mind. It was the secretive sense of it that caught my attention and jarred me out of my meditative state and back into my head. I reeled my energies in and let my eyelids flutter open.
Just in time to see the closet door next to me start to open, no more than a crack of darkness around it.
Chapter 4
At first I wasn’t sure that I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. My eyes opened wider, and I blinked to clear them, in case the lingering mists of third-eye vision were still affecting me. The door opened a little bit more, a fraction at a time, stopping at about an inch. I turned my head in that direction, my eyes now in hyperfocus on the thick line of black space between the door and the door frame. My heart started beating faster, tripping over itself. All of a sudden, Hollister’s claims rang in my ears. Sounds. Things moving. I knew, there and then, it wasn’t just settling. And I knew there was something in that closet.
But some thing turned out to be some one .
Just as I found myself turning my body on crutches in that direction and reaching for the door, I was forced to take a step backward when a small form launched from the closet and rushed headlong past me. One of my crutches went flying when the shape scrambled for forward momentum. The other crutch jammed hard into my underarm as I lost my balance and fell back against the front door.
The figure stopped on a heartbeat as the realization of what had just happened struck her. Because it was a her. The girl turned back toward me in one freeze-framed moment. Wide green eyes, peering out from beneath the low brim of a cap, locked with mine before she turned again and in the next instant was out the door, zipping away in a flash of jeans and a sassy pair of purple Chuck Ts.
By the time Locke responded to the metallic clatter of my crutch crashing against the door frame and came lumbering out from the nether regions of the apartment, the girl was long gone. I was carefully balancing myself to lean down and pick up the wayward crutch.
“What was that?” he demanded, turning his head wildly this way and that. “Oh. Your crutch.”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. That, and a girl in the closet. Nice feature, I guess,” I quipped, “although if your tenants are in fact mostly women, as you’ve said, I would think someone of the male persuasion might be a better selling point.”
“A gi—” His brow rose and fell like the swell and ebb of the ocean, ending in a crescendo of aggravation that caused him to push past me, nearly knocking me off my feet again. Unlike the girl, the manager didn’t stop. He continued lumbering down the interior pass-through toward the parking lot. I heard his pounding feet stop a short distance away and could picture him searching to and fro.
I straightened up again and got my crutches beneath me, moving out of the way of the door so I couldn’t possibly get trampled again. Locke was gone only a short time before he came tramping back through the door with his bearlike, side-to-side shuffling gait, his breath coming in uncomfortable puffs and a gleam of perspiration
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