visions; it lacked clarity. And she knew the girl was her.
She slapped up the visor, her heart thumping. This had never
happened before; never. Now she had some idea of the emotions people felt, on
the rare occasions she had trusted them enough to warn them. A hopeless sense
that something was coming and it wasn’t good, and you had to just hope like
hell you could survive it.
Eve turned the key and started up the Chevy. She cast one
more look around, saw nothing, and headed out into the traffic. Time to go
home. What she needed was a dose of her father’s solid practicality.
***
She was barely halfway into the driveway when the sense of
dread returned, thudding into her chest like a physical punch. Eve
instinctively hit the brakes, and sat gripping the wheel of her car, staring at
the pleasant little white cottage in front of her. The house she’d lived in all
her life. The house her fatherhad lived in for most of his life.
Why was she afraid to go in?
She sent out a feeler, and instantly set aside her first
concern: that something had happened to her father. No, that wasn’t it. He was
in there, and he was okay.
But something was wrong.
Eve glanced from side to side. The big oak tree that shaded
the concrete car pad was the same as always. Nothing sinister lurked behind the
sturdy trunk, or in the leafy branches. The mailbox gleamed in the early
afternoon sun.
All was quiet.
She turned off the ignition, and stepped out of the car.
Whatever awaited her, she couldn’t run away from it. She knew that as surely as
she knew her own name.
The door opened just as she reached it, and her father stood
there in his soft old Levis and a familiar butter yellow golf shirt. He looked
at her, his grey eyes full of pain, weariness in every line of his face. He
looked ten years older than he had when she left that morning. He reached out
and drew her to him with his work-roughened hands, and hugged her tightly.
The fear intensified. “Dad…?”
From behind him, a voice spoke. “Hello, Eve.”
Eve went stock still. The voice was deep and resonant, and
hinted of deep, secret places in the world and limitless skies. It slid into
her mind like honey, yet she was bone-chillingly afraid of what it might bring
into her life.
It didn’t sound like the voice of a stranger. On some
soul-deep level she knew this man.
Eve gently eased her father away, first making eye contact
and patting his face reassuringly, and only then looked past him to the man
standing in the entrance to the living room.
Warrior . His massive body was clad in deceptively
simple dark clothing; a short-sleeved black tee-shirt that strained over his
slab of a chest, and black cargo pants. She knew those clothes concealed
weapons; she sensed steel in three different places on his body. Blades… and
other weapons she didn’t have a name for.
He stared right back at her, his gaze skimming her body and
then meeting her eyes with an unblinking stare. Black eyebrows arched over
moss-green eyes in a face that looked like it had been sculpted with the blade
of an ax. His dark hair was carelessly tied back with a leather thong. Scary.
“Come in,” he said, gesturing to the sitting room, for all
the world as though heowned the house. “We have a lot to discuss.”
Eve took a deep breath. She had never been one to deny
reality. Both her ability to peek into the future and her work with accident
victims had taught her that nobody ever knew what lay around the corner. Not
one of those shattered bodies ever expected calamity to befall them.
Her future had come to meet her. Or her past had caught up
with her. Or both.
“Eve, I’m so sorry,” said her father, touching her arm. “I
never wanted –“
“It’s okay, Dad. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” She gave their
visitor a sharp nod and walked around him into the living room, taking a seat
on the comfortable old leather settee. Absently, her hand caressed the plump
cushion beside her while she narrowed
She slapped up the visor, her heart thumping. This had never
happened before; never. Now she had some idea of the emotions people felt, on
the rare occasions she had trusted them enough to warn them. A hopeless sense
that something was coming and it wasn’t good, and you had to just hope like
hell you could survive it.
Eve turned the key and started up the Chevy. She cast one
more look around, saw nothing, and headed out into the traffic. Time to go
home. What she needed was a dose of her father’s solid practicality.
***
She was barely halfway into the driveway when the sense of
dread returned, thudding into her chest like a physical punch. Eve
instinctively hit the brakes, and sat gripping the wheel of her car, staring at
the pleasant little white cottage in front of her. The house she’d lived in all
her life. The house her fatherhad lived in for most of his life.
Why was she afraid to go in?
She sent out a feeler, and instantly set aside her first
concern: that something had happened to her father. No, that wasn’t it. He was
in there, and he was okay.
But something was wrong.
Eve glanced from side to side. The big oak tree that shaded
the concrete car pad was the same as always. Nothing sinister lurked behind the
sturdy trunk, or in the leafy branches. The mailbox gleamed in the early
afternoon sun.
All was quiet.
She turned off the ignition, and stepped out of the car.
Whatever awaited her, she couldn’t run away from it. She knew that as surely as
she knew her own name.
The door opened just as she reached it, and her father stood
there in his soft old Levis and a familiar butter yellow golf shirt. He looked
at her, his grey eyes full of pain, weariness in every line of his face. He
looked ten years older than he had when she left that morning. He reached out
and drew her to him with his work-roughened hands, and hugged her tightly.
The fear intensified. “Dad…?”
From behind him, a voice spoke. “Hello, Eve.”
Eve went stock still. The voice was deep and resonant, and
hinted of deep, secret places in the world and limitless skies. It slid into
her mind like honey, yet she was bone-chillingly afraid of what it might bring
into her life.
It didn’t sound like the voice of a stranger. On some
soul-deep level she knew this man.
Eve gently eased her father away, first making eye contact
and patting his face reassuringly, and only then looked past him to the man
standing in the entrance to the living room.
Warrior . His massive body was clad in deceptively
simple dark clothing; a short-sleeved black tee-shirt that strained over his
slab of a chest, and black cargo pants. She knew those clothes concealed
weapons; she sensed steel in three different places on his body. Blades… and
other weapons she didn’t have a name for.
He stared right back at her, his gaze skimming her body and
then meeting her eyes with an unblinking stare. Black eyebrows arched over
moss-green eyes in a face that looked like it had been sculpted with the blade
of an ax. His dark hair was carelessly tied back with a leather thong. Scary.
“Come in,” he said, gesturing to the sitting room, for all
the world as though heowned the house. “We have a lot to discuss.”
Eve took a deep breath. She had never been one to deny
reality. Both her ability to peek into the future and her work with accident
victims had taught her that nobody ever knew what lay around the corner. Not
one of those shattered bodies ever expected calamity to befall them.
Her future had come to meet her. Or her past had caught up
with her. Or both.
“Eve, I’m so sorry,” said her father, touching her arm. “I
never wanted –“
“It’s okay, Dad. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” She gave their
visitor a sharp nod and walked around him into the living room, taking a seat
on the comfortable old leather settee. Absently, her hand caressed the plump
cushion beside her while she narrowed
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