I heard the lock turn from the outside. Of course Gabe had his own key. The deadbolt required a key on the inside, too, and I wondered where mine was. I usually put that and my handbag on the hall table. Routine, routine, routine. But there had been nothing usual since I left the office on Friday. After the attack Saturday…my keys could be anywhere.
I put away the leftovers, cleaned the dishes, crumpled our fortunes into the trash. Good things coming and Long life. Good fortunes. Gabe’s mouth had lazed into his wry smile when he’d read his about good things, but he hadn’t shared it at dinner. Right now, for me, that long life stretched out—empty.
After separating a few of the frozen cubes of Mom’s coffee to heat and transferring the rest to a plastic storage bag, I noted how full my refrigerator was. Not full, not yet, but it held a few basics. Eggs, bacon, cheese, milk, juice, beer, leftovers. Signs of life. I pulled over a chair and sat with the door open, staring at the brightly lit interior until my eyes grew dry from not blinking. William sat next to me, feigning equal interest in the gleaming white space.
“Just a couple of days ago,” I said to him, “I had work.” I petted his head, smoothing his ears. “It was all I had and my fridge was empty.” He pressed his head up against my hand. “Now, I have no job and look—” I gestured toward the metal and glass shelves. “Stuff. Like magic.”
William stood and sniffed the stuff, looked at me. I indicated the apartment with a wave of my arm. “And you. You’re big stuff. You fill up the rest of this space.” He wagged his tail. “I don’t know what it means…maybe nothing.”
I shut the door and poured my coffee. The Conqueror followed me to the living room and sat next to me on the couch.
“I’m not talking to myself, you know. That would be crazy. I’m talking to you. Which might be worse. Not sure.”
I lifted my cup to a picture of my mother on the mantle. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.” I felt a tear slip down my cheek. I nodded and took a drink. “Yes, you warned me.”
William wormed closer, and I wove my fingers deep into his coat.
“She warned me about all work and no play.” I set the cup on the table next to the couch and eyed the unopened bottle of Scotch from Friday night. “Tomorrow’s Monday, William.
He blinked his big, brown eyes at me. They were rimmed in black and had dark, fathomless pupils. I got the Scotch and added a generous dollop to my coffee.
“Tomorrow’s Monday,” I said again. “And I don’t know what it looks like.”
Painful pressure clutched my chest, stealing my breath. It grabbed my throat and pounded into my head to lodge behind my eyes. Years of unshed tears pressed forward. I didn’t want to let them out. Couldn’t stop them. They flowed.
Unbidden. Unwanted. Unstoppable.
After a while, my body went limp and light. I could float away. How nice it would be to go, to be untethered. A kindness. William put his heavy paw on my leg as if to hold me down, keep me here. I didn’t want that. Didn’t want to be anywhere. He licked moisture from my hand where it had dripped like ancient torture.
“Good boy,” I croaked. “Good boy.” I scratched his back, and his hind leg kicked into motion. That lurch of knowingness hit me again, that sense of deep connection, and I wondered about the dreams and everything Heather had said. Some part of me knew and expected and understood William at my core. He had been waiting for me and felt all the same things. He rolled over and presented his belly for a rub, and we both smiled as I obliged.
“You’re right,” I murmured. “That’s enough introspection for a lifetime, huh?” I leaned down and smushed my face into his ruff. He smelled of oatmeal shampoo and damp earth and still a little doggie. Just right.
A thump from the basement brought us both to our feet. Mr. Weinperth? I thought he’d closed things up hours ago. William stilled and looked at me.
“Let’s go find out,” I said.
He slid to the floor, and we went out the back. William the Conqueror took up a position at the top of the stone basement steps, sniffing the air with a low growl. He was a handsome devil. Whoever he’d been way back when, I understood how the priestess had fallen for him. As if I didn’t already know, it hit me that I loved this dog more than anything I had ever loved. Or anyone. This new and unexpected feeling filled me up and knocked me back a step at the same time.
“Mr. Weinperth?”
“Stephanie, that you?” He answered from within. “Sorry for the noise. Decided to go ahead and finish this birdhouse. I promised it to the kids at the Center.”
I heard the latches snap shut on a toolbox.
“Everything okay with you?” he asked.
If I indicated in the slightest I wasn’t okay, if the old soldier caught sight of my face, I’d be here all night listening to a lecture about mental resilience. And I lacked the mental resilience for that right then. “I’m fine. Have a good night.”
I left William to do his business, thinking I needed to put poop-scooping materials on my shopping list, and went back inside.
The apartment, which for years had mostly been merely a place to lay my head, felt homier with William in it. But without him glued to my side, it loomed large and hungry, like it could swallow me. I didn’t know how a dog could become so important in two-and-a-half days, but they had been odd days. I didn’t know how I could be so tired, either, and although the thought of a Monday morning without a million things to do scared the living crap out of me, the lure of a day off held distinct appeal. It was all the empty days after that worried me.
I settled myself back into the couch to flip through a five-year-old copy of Good Housekeeping and wait for William. I’d purposely kept Gabe at the periphery of my mind, but pieces of him kept startling me. His scent, the feel of his skin, how well we’d fit. Being with him had been the most natural and strangest thing I’d ever done. Did I want more? Well, of course I wanted more of that. But a relationship? I didn’t know which terrified me more—not having a job or having a man. Not just any man. The only man I had ever really cared about.
What are you feeling, Stephanie?
I think…
FEELings.
Oh, right, FEELings.
Confusion. Fear. Crazy. Love. Calm.
The calmness worried me. Another item for my to-do list: call my therapist first thing. Monday began to have a shape. Jean would be so happy to hear that I was not only having feelings but also actually naming them. A true breakthrough. And all it had taken was getting laid off, getting a dog, getting messages from a previous life, getting attacked, and getting…some good sex. Really, really good sex. Yeah, I wanted more of that. Why Jean hadn’t suggested this approach before, I couldn’t imagine.
I dozed off daydreaming about going to the lake with Gabe.
Fire. Screaming. Smoke. Coughing.
The tunnel. I had forgotten. I must save my people. We move barrels and sacks, blinded by smoke and tears, barely able to draw breath. The ceiling is caving in. It is hot and the smoke is thick. I cover my nose and mouth and push the maidens through the opening. For the second time this night, I feel the old ones near. The mothers are next.
A crone takes my hand. Together, we stumble into the cool and silent darkness.
In the distance, barking. Insistent. I must save my people. Huh? I waved off the now familiar stench of smoke and blinked myself away from the fierce crackling of the fire, wondering what William was barking at now.
The lights flickered. William scrabbled frantically at the back door.
How long had I slept? Had I even been sleeping? Poor guy. We hadn’t been separated for more than a few minutes since Friday. And what was going on with the air conditioning? It was hot as—
The lights dimmed and went out.
William jumped up and down, pummeling the back window. I could hear his claws against the glass. He howled.
I stood, finally fully awake, and knew. The house was on fire.
Fear latched on to me with inexorable force. I stood there. Frozen. Smo
ke crept through the floorboards and around the basement door. That fierce crackling roared just beyond it.
This wasn’t a dream. …save my people.
Oh, God. Mrs. Spangler. Mr. Weinperth.
The basement door burst into flames blocking the stairs up and the back way out. Still, I stood. My mind was very clear. The front door was locked and I had no idea where my keys were, couldn’t go upstairs to look for them. Something propelled me through the dark toward the front anyway. I fell over a chair and landed hard on my hands and knees. My throat began to close, and I wasn’t sure if that high-pitched whine in my ears was my breathing or sirens.
Flames reached the ceiling. William’s voice reached me, hoarse with howling. I could almost make out a name being called—mine? At least he would be all right. I could try a window but my body wouldn’t move. I lay on the floor and closed my eyes, imagining clear water and fresh-mowed grass.
The air around me turned cool and a shimmering bubble of light pierced the smoky darkness. I felt my mother bend over me and put her palm along my cheek. I gulped air fresh as newly sliced cucumbers and smelled her perfume.
“Time to get up, baby girl,” she said and stroked my hair. “Get up, my girl.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position. Across from me in the dining room window hovered a luminous figure draped in white. She waved me toward her. I knew her. The priestess.
I began to crawl in that direction. The smoke was thick, the floor hot. The glowing light receded, and I coughed as the boiling smoke filled me again. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t the priestess.
The window shattered. William burst through. He rushed to my side and grabbed my shirt and dragged me the rest of the way. Outside, Mrs. Spangler in her white bathrobe.
“Come on,” she yelled in a commanding voice I’d never heard before.
Blindly, I hoisted myself over the sill and fell with the tinkling of glass shards on the concrete walk between my house and the neighbor’s. William dove down to me, nuzzling and nudging me with his wet nose, pushing me up and forward.
“Good boy.”
“Come on, Stephanie, we have to get away.”
“Mr. Weinperth—”
“William got him.” She put her arm around me, and we lurched toward the front yard. “He fell and got knocked out and dropped something that started this.”
We made it to the street where a few people hovered around Mr. Weinperth, holding a cloth to his head. Mrs. Spangler covered her mouth with her hand as flames licked out of the upstairs windows. Smoke rolled through her open front door.
William collapsed at my feet, and I dropped next to him, realizing his breathing didn’t sound right and there wasn’t much hair on his head. His shoulder had a raw spot and his nose was bleeding.
“You did it,” I told him. “You saved everyone.” I wasn’t sure whether these words came out of my mouth. My throat was raw and swollen. “You saved me.”
I glanced up at Mrs. Spangler but she only stared at our home as firemen began to pull hoses toward it.
“Oh, Blackie,” she sobbed.
William’s singed ears perked up. He looked from her to me and burst out of my arms before I could form the word, “No.”
I went after him. “William!”
He wove through the firemen, jumped a hose, and bolted up the front steps.
“William, no!”
A startled fireman caught me around the waist and dragged me back. “You can’t go in there.”
I fought him with all the strength I had left. “My dog—”
“Ma’am, you’re bleeding.” He held me with ease.
I fought him more. “Please—” He released me to a waiting EMT. I summoned the strength of the priestess and fought, but another person grabbed me, and another. I started for the house, only to be stopped again. They were too strong and it was too late. The Conqueror had disappeared.
“William!”
Something inside the house caved in with a loud whoosh. Hungry flames reached high into the night. Above them, an incandescent white light danced, then flew away to the stars.
Something inside me gave way, too, but there were no flames. Only a bitter chill. In my head, I screamed his name over and over and over.
In the cool darkness, there was only silence.
Chapter 11