Mind Games

Work to do, he reminded himself, scales to balance.

Drawing the pistol, he started up the stairs.

* * *

The roll of thunder didn’t wake her, nor did the muffled pop of the gun firing. Trapped in the dream, Thea screamed and screamed. But like the rest, the scream stayed inside her head. She screamed, sobbed, helplessly watching until she finally ripped herself free.

In a flash of lightning, she sat shaking in bed, unable to draw enough breath to cry out. Forgetting she was nearly a teenager, she clawed her way out of bed. Her legs simply folded, so she dropped to the floor, dizzy, her stomach churning.

So cold her teeth began to chatter, she pushed herself up.

The floor seemed to tilt and rock like the deck of a boat caught in the storm that still raged outside.

She had to brace a hand on the wall as she walked to her grandmother’s room.

She wanted Grammie’s arms around her, Grammie’s hand stroking her hair, Grammie’s voice telling her it had been just a bad dream.

But when she reached the doorway of the bedroom, she saw Lucy sitting on the side of her bed. She heard her crying. She saw her shaking.

“Grammie. Grammie.”

For the rest of her life, she’d remember that moment, the exact instant their eyes met. Eyes of the same color and shape, eyes drenched with tears and shock and grief.

And the spark that flashed between them, so sharp, so bright, like the lightning.

And the instant that followed that spark, when she knew her parents were dead.

She spilled to the floor like water from a cup.

Then Lucy’s arms were around her. Lucy’s hand stroked her hair.

But she didn’t say the words because they would have been a lie.

“I saw—I saw—”

“Oh, God, Thea.” Lucy rocked her, rocked them both on the floor in the doorway. “Darling, my baby.”

She could hear Lucy’s breath hitching in and out, feel the wild gallop of her heart.

“I have to call the sheriff. You hold on to me now. You hold on tight. He’ll call the police up in Virginia so they can … they can check.”

“You saw it, too. You saw it, too. But—”

“Let me call now. Hold on to me.”

“I feel sick.”

“I know, I know.”

Because Thea’s head lolled, and the floor rocked, Lucy half carried her to the bed.

“Try to breathe slow. If you have to get sick, don’t you worry about it. Hold on to me, that’s my girl, breathe slow. The dizzy’ll pass.”

When they got to the bed, Lucy wrapped a throw around her. “Put your head between your knees, breathe slow. It’ll pass.”

She did what Lucy said while the room spun. And she heard her pick up the phone on the night table.

Her grandmother’s voice sounded strange, like she spoke inside a big, empty room where everything sounded hollow and echoed.