Love & Curses(16)

In a blur, he skittered on top of her, his face so close she could easily make out the rotting flesh and oozing pustules in the gloom. Releasing the rag, he slipped his icy hands around her neck and squeezed. “Nothing personal, Calista. Your aunt should have known better than to mess with a darker, stronger power. Someone has to pay, and you’re it.”

“No!” She gagged and bolted upright, jarring herself awake. She pressed her fingers against her throat, unnerved to find the skin cold beneath her touch. Still foggy from the nightmare, she frowned and inhaled a deep calming breath. Instead, she coughed, and her eyes burned. What the…?

Squinting, she glanced around. Even in the darkness, she could tell the room was filled with dense smoke.

She reached over to switch on the bedside lamp.

Click.

Nothing.

Tamping down the panic clawing at her chest, she dug around in the comforter for her cell phone and, finding it, crawled to the far side of her bed. She slid off the mattress, sank to the floor on her hands and knees.

Heart pounding, she tried her phone. No service. This is crazy. She always had service in her house.

The smoke billowed and thickened. Her eyes burned. She struggled to get a full breath but couldn’t without coughing. The room seemed to tilt and spin.

Calista threw herself to the carpet, searching for a pocket of decent air. Unable to find one, she crawled across the floor. Dear God, just let me get outside before I pass out.

Feeling her way with her hands, she came to what should have been her open bedroom door.

Shut? The door is shut?

Her pulse hammered. Her mind raced. She’d left it open. She was certain, without a doubt her bedroom door had been open before she’d lain down. She never closed it. Even as a child, she’d always needed to have it open.

Pushing to her knees, she twisted the knob and yanked, but the door refused to open. Fear consumed her, and sobbing, Calista jerked the knob again and again.

The window.

Returning to the floor, she crawled past her bed. Smoke burned her lungs, her eyes. A jagged bout of coughs racked her body, stealing even more air. Her fingers skimmed over the carpet until she found the baseboards. She slid her hands up the wall, reaching…reaching….

Her fingertips touched cold glass.

Closed. The window was closed. Closed.

Wait, hadn’t she left it open to listen for Andy coming home when she’d gone to bed? She tried to shove the frame up, but it wouldn’t budge. Stretching higher, she twisted the lock and tried again but to no avail. The damn thing wouldn’t open. Balling her hand, she slammed her fist against the window in a desperate attempt to break through to fresh air.

Tired. I just…can’t….

She slapped at the glass in vain, and her palm slid down to the sill. She collapsed to the floor, a whimper escaping her lips. This couldn’t be how she died. What about all the things she wanted to do with her life? Being a lawyer, a wife, a mother.

What about…Andy?





Chapter Eight



Andy shuffled up the walk to his house, every muscle in his body on fire from the long, arduous day at the restaurant. His head pounded despite the handfuls of ibuprofen he’d tossed back all day long. All else aside, what he wanted—no, scratch that—what he needed was to see Calista, to tell her how much he loved her and hoped she would be part of his life.

He’d made several attempts during the day and night to call her, but whether his cell service had been down or some unforeseen emergency distracted him, he’d been thwarted at every attempt. It was as if some higher power out there was trying to keep him from her.

He glanced at his watch in the dim glow of his back porch light. Twelve twenty. The urge to wake her just to see her sleepy, whiskey-colored eyes consumed him. To caress her supple skin, to taste her sweet mouth…. Images of Calista, pliant in his arms, her dark hair fanned over the couch cushion as he took her filled his mind. Damn, she’d been all he’d dreamed and more. His body reacted to his erotic thoughts. The idea of another intimate encounter with her overpowered him, and an instant erection jammed against his zipper, demanding he pursue her.

Pausing on his patio, he turned and looked across from his yard to hers. Shadows pooled beneath the brooding oaks, but enough moonlight illuminated the well-worn trail he’d created during the last eighteen months. Heck, the worst she could do was not answer the doorbell.

While he crossed the path to her home, a whiff of smoke hit him. Not the slick, greasy scent that had permeated his clothes and continued to linger since the kitchen fire. No, this smelled of wood. Shifting his gaze higher, he scrutinized her house but detected nothing out of the ordinary. Still his skin crawled, and an unshakable sense of doom settled over him.