Dead Spots
Author: Rhiannon Frater
Date: 2015-02-10 00:26:21+00:00
Keywords: Mystery; Thriller; Speculative Fiction; Fantasy; Paranormal; Adult; Supernatural; Fiction; Horror; Young Adult
Description: New horror from Rhiannon Frater: in the dead spots, dreams become reality, terror knows your name, and nightmares can kill The stillbirth of Mackenzie's son destroyed her marriage. Grieving, Mac reluctantly heads for her childhood home to seek refuge with her mother, who constantly reminds her of life's dangers. Driving across Texas, Mac swerves to avoid hitting a deer...and winds up in a dead spot, a frightening place that lies between the worlds of the living and the dead. If they can control their imaginations, people can literally bring their dreams to life—but most are besieged by fears a
Publisher: Macmillan

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Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

Dedicated with much love to Annie and Valentina.

Special thanks to my husband for his encouragement throughout the process of writing this novel.

Also eternal gratitude to Janet Rogers, Tim Kirk, Kody Boye, Alexia Purdy, Lori Parker, Erin Hayes, Emily Goodwin, and Amy Fournier for being such outstanding beta readers and helping me refine my vision.

CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Tor Books by Rhiannon Frater

About the Author

Copyright

PROLOGUE

The crib was full of hopes and dreams.

Standing at her husband’s side, Mackenzie Babin stared at the display of baby shower gifts: onesies covered in dinosaurs, cartoon animals, and trucks; soft mittens to keep the baby from scratching his delicate skin; miniature shoes in various styles; socks in many colors; and a variety of soft, plushy toys in bright hues.

Tucking a dark lock of hair behind one ear, Mackenzie cocked her head and grinned at her husband. “Impressive, huh?”

Leaning his elbows on the rail of the crib, Tanner replied in awe, “That’s some haul. Wow!”

The hour was late, and the last of the guests had just departed, leaving the couple to admire the beautiful and overwhelming display of the generosity of their family and friends. Instead of a regular baby shower, all their family, friends, and a few coworkers were invited to a big barbecue. Tanner relished hanging out over the pit cooking the meat and drinking beer with the men while Mackenzie enjoyed the baby shower games in the living room. It worked out well for both of them.

“We got everything on the list. I told you it wasn’t a lame idea to register for baby gifts.” Mackenzie teasingly jabbed her husband in the ribs.

“I thought after we nailed the friends and family for all those wedding gifts last year they’d be kinda scrimpy on the baby stuff. Boy, was I wrong. They came through in spades!”

“That’ll teach you to listen to me.”

“Oh, I listen, honey. I just forget that you’re way smarter than me.”

“And much prettier,” she said, poking at his vanity.

“Oh, no. I know I’m way prettier than you!”

The soft light from the Winnie-the-Pooh lamp highlighted Tanner’s razor-sharp cheekbones and finely shaped lips, features Mackenzie hoped her son would inherit from his father. Her husband’s strong bone structure and dark hair were attributes from his grandmother, a member of the Caddo Tribe. Like many in Louisiana, the Babin family was a mix of many ethnicities.

“Seriously, Mac, this makes the baby even more real. I mean, you’re as big as a house—”

“Hey!”

“—but this makes this whole parent thing feel even more legit. We’ve got stuff! Baby stuff!”

“You’re so drunk.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes, but his excitement pleased her.

“I had … uh … eight beers. I am a little toasty.” Tanner winked. “Just a little.”

“Right. Just a little my ass.”

“A proud pa-to-be has every right to get a bit plastered in celebration of his future son. And, boy, we’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Tanner. It’s wonderful.”

Just two years ago Mackenzie had been a lonely single woman wondering if she’d ever find love. Now she was blissfully in the honeymoon stage of her marriage and joyously awaiting her firstborn son. How had so much changed in just two short years?

Straightening, Tanner cuddled her close. His job as a construction worker made him lean and hard and she loved the way his body felt against hers. Of course, she was anything but lean. She was soft and round. At eight months pregnant, her baby bump was enormous under her pale pink dress. Right after their guests had departed after the baby shower, she had kicked off her flats to give her feet a rest. She felt as if every part of her body was swollen and puffy, but she didn’t care. It was all worth it to know that soon she would be holding her infant son in her arms.

Tanner affectionately kneaded her aching lower back with his strong calloused fingertips. One of the things Mackenzie loved about Tanner was his demonstrative nature. She’d grown up starved for physical attention, and he lavished her with it. Her husband couldn’t walk through a room without giving her a little kiss or a quick hug.

“I have to say, babe, this is awesome. I won’t have to worry about getting more overtime to afford buying stuff for our boy.”

“Well, you are spoiled rotten, you know. Favorite son and all that. Of course your family is going to spoil the baby, too!”

“Only son and youngest,” Tanner corrected, winking. He was the golden child of his family. His five older sisters adored him, and as far as his mother and father were concerned, he could do no wrong. It made him a little arrogant, but Mackenzie ignored this flaw. “Mom’s dying to get her hands on baby Joshua, and Pa is already planning fishing trips with him. All the sisters are lining up for babysitting duty. We’ve got it made when it comes to family.”

Since her father abandoned her mother when she was pregnant, Mackenzie didn’t know her father’s family, and relations with her mother’s were always strained. Mackenzie was glad her son would have Tanner’s family to love and support him while he grew up. A close-knit family was not something she’d experienced in her childhood.

Noticing her silence, Tanner added, “It’s a shame Estelle couldn’t make tonight.”

Tanner’s attempt to sound sincere failed miserably. Of course, he was also a little tipsy from all the beers he’d drank during the barbecue, so his usual determination to like Mackenzie’s very difficult mother was ebbing under the influence of alcohol. As soon as he’d met Estelle, they’d clashed. When Mackenzie had eloped with Tanner to Las Vegas, Estelle hadn’t spoken to her for nearly a month.

“It’s the obsessive-compulsive thing. You know how difficult it is for her to leave the ranch in someone else’s hands. She’s convinced something horrible will happen if she leaves.”

Mackenzie had anticipated her mother not traveling to Louisiana for her only child’s baby shower, but it still hurt to not have anyone from her side of the family in attendance. While some aspects of Estelle’s disorder made her horse ranch very successful, her paranoia had infused Mackenzie with a good dose of self-doubt and anxiety. Mackenzie vowed to not be the same kind of mother as Estelle. Her son wouldn’t be subject to constant fear and anxiety. He’d know love and stability.

“Too bad she doesn’t have it like that guy on that one show. A total neat freak.” It was difficult for Tanner to understand her dysfunctional childhood when his had been so great. Mackenzie gave him a lot of credit for trying to grasp the crippling power of her mother’s anxieties.

But he still had no idea.

“The neat freaks are much more entertaining to Hollywood. They ignore the hoarders and the people with extreme rituals,” Mackenzie said with a shrug.

“Like your mom doing that thing with the keys?” Tanner lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah, exactly.” One of her mother’s most irritating rituals was to lock and unlock the outside doors exactly three times before leaving home. She was also notorious for turning back halfway to her destination to make sure the front door was locked despite the repetition rite.

“At least you’re not like that! You’re all normal and shit. Just like me.” Tanner nuzzled her cheek lovingly. “Totally amazingly normal. That’s us. Married, having babies, building a life. Isn’t it freakin’ exciting?”

“Definitely. Without a doubt.” His exuberance amused and pleased her. It helped alleviate the tiny knot of anxiety that always haunted her.

“You know what else I’m excited about, Mac?” her husband asked, releasing her so he could bend over the rail.

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“This!” Tanner held up a small Dallas Cowboys outfit. “He’s wearing this home from the hospital. Show his allegiance right off the bat!”

“Honey, you’re in Louisiana. You’re going to get our kid lynched for not supporting the Saints.”

“Babe, how many times must I remind you that the Dallas Cowboys are America’s team? Besides, you’re Texan. Shouldn’t you be supporting your home state?”

“You know my mom bought that just to piss off your family, right?”

“And instead, she made me very happy. Ironic, huh?” Tanner kissed her one more time, then snatched up a plushy toy football from the gifts. Tossing it into the air, he pretended to run for a touchdown, ducking around Mackenzie and darting for the doorway. He made an extravagant show of crossing the threshold and dancing as he mimicked the sound of a cheering crowd.

Rubbing the tiny protrusion just below her rib cage, Mackenzie smiled contentedly. She was sure it was a little foot. “You know you’re crazy, right?”

“Crazy for you and baby Joshua.” Tanner tossed the football into the crib and snagged her wrist. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her lovingly. “I’ve got everything I ever wanted right here in my arms. My life is fuckin’ perfect.”

Guiding his hand to the raised bump on her belly, Mackenzie gazed tenderly at him. “I think it’s his foot.”

“That’s the moneymaker right there. When he’s a Cowboy, oh, yeah, that foot is gonna make his old man proud!”

“You know, he could end up being a baseball player.”

“Hush, woman! No cursing our future quarterback.” Kneeling before her, Tanner took her belly between his hands and pressed his lips against the softness of her dress. “Joshua, this is your old man. You don’t listen to your mama. You’re gonna be a football player like your pa was in high school. But don’t blow out your knee doing stupid shit like I did.”

“Words of wisdom to our infant son,” Mackenzie said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, skateboarding drunk isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’m not too sure how smart barbecuing drunk was tonight.”

“I only set that one patch of grass on fire,” Tanner said petulantly. “It was a small fire.”

Tanner liked to drink, but it didn’t bother Mackenzie. Tanner was not a mean drunk. When sober, he was friendly to everyone he met. When he had a few drinks in him, he was everyone’s best friend. Tanner’s mom always called him her overgrown boy, and it was a pretty accurate description. To Tanner, life was fun and full of friends. It was a refreshing difference from her mother’s dreary outlook on life. Until Tanner sauntered into her life, she’d been working at her mother’s ranch as a bookkeeper with very little social life. His charismatic grin and flirtatious manner had unnerved her at first, but she’d soon fallen hopelessly in love with him. He inspired her to believe in happy endings.

Tanner climbed to his feet, favoring his knee, and ambled over to the dresser. “I just love what Granny made for Joshua. This is awesome.” Tanner lightly touched the quilted cloth letters lined up on the dresser that spelled out the name Joshua. “Joshua Tanner Babin. That’s a damn good name.”

Mackenzie carefully rearranged the gifts in the crib, setting the football on the little outfit Tanner loved so much. “It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful boy.”

“I can’t wait for him to be here, Mac. Damn, I got chills just thinking about it. He’s going to be the best kid ever. Just you wait and see.” Tanner picked up the framed 3D/4D ultrasound photo. The face of their unborn son was amazingly vivid in the sepia and brown tones of the ultrasound image. “He’s definitely got my nose and your lips. I wonder if he’s got your pretty eyes.”

“Or yours.”

“He’s awesome. I can tell already. He’s got that Babin stubborn chin. He’s going to be a hell-raiser, but a mama’s boy all rolled into one just like me.”

Mackenzie gazed at her husband and sudden tears swelled in her eyes. Despite the euphoria of the night, a small niggling bit of fear shadowed her thoughts. It was her mother’s voice whispering in the back of her mind.

“Baby, don’t cry!”

“I can’t help it! I’m so happy! Everything is just so wonderful. I love you and Joshua so much! I never thought I would feel like this. I never thought my life would ever be this good. And it’s scaring me shitless!”

“Ignore your mother’s dire warnings of doom and gloom, Mac. We have a good life. You and me and Joshua are going to be the happiest damn family in the whole world. Nothing bad is gonna happen. I’m here. I’m going to protect you and Joshua from all the bad shit your mom is always going on about. I promise you.”

Snuggling into his arms, Mackenzie sighed with contentment. “I know, honey. I just … I’m so emotional. I guess it’s the hormones.”

Tanner planted kisses on top of her head and rubbed her back to console her. “Trust me, Mac. Everything is going to be okay. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Then believe me.”

“I do.”

Together they finished cleaning the remaining mess from the baby shower. Their family and friends had done most of the hard work, but they still had a few things to tidy up. As Tanner broke down all the boxes and stuffed the wrapping paper and bows in a trash bag, Mackenzie stacked the Hallmark cards adorned with storks and babies in one pile and put store gift cards in another to be sorted through later.

There was plenty of leftover food in the refrigerator, and a second trip out to the trash can removed the last of the dirty paper cups and plates. Feeling hungry and craving sugar, Mackenzie snagged a cupcake out of a Tupperware container. The chocolate and raspberry goodness was a godsend.

“Okay, this place almost looks back to normal,” Tanner said, studying the kitchen. “I’ll get the rest of it in the morning.”

“Thanks, honey,” Mackenzie said over a yawn.

“Babe, you’re wiped out. I can tell just looking at you. You go to bed and I’ll clean up the grill and stuff outside real quick. We don’t need to attract vermin.”

“You’re the best.”

“Of course I am,” Tanner said with a wink.

“I’m going to need help getting out of this dress.” Mackenzie flexed her swollen hands and grimaced. “The zipper is in the back.”

“I’ll never argue against getting you undressed,” Tanner teased.

“Oh, shut up. I’m a blimp.”

“A sexy blimp,” he assured her.

Rolling her eyes, Mackenzie left Tanner to his chores. In the bedroom, she slid out of her dress, and, too tired to shower, pulled on a soft nightgown. After her nightly routine of washing her face, brushing her teeth, and combing out her hair in the adjoining bathroom, she returned to the bedroom. On the bed stand, the yellow baby blanket she’d been painstakingly embroidering sat next to her cell phone. She just had one more flower to complete before the blanket was finished. It was her nightly ritual to work on the blanket before settling down to sleep while Tanner surfed the Web on his Notebook.

Checking her messages, she saw that most were from her mother and one was from her best friend, Erin. Mackenzie texted Erin that she’d call her the next day with full details of the party, but didn’t bother to respond to Estelle. The last thing she wanted to deal with was yet another lecture. Sometimes Mackenzie wondered if her mother thought her endless warnings were good parenting. Mackenzie could agree with her mother’s every edict until she was blue in the face, and still Estelle would continue her long-winded speeches. She doubted her mother would ever regard her as competent.

“I will talk to you tomorrow, Mom,” Mackenzie muttered, setting the phone aside.

Scooting into bed and picking up her embroidery hoop, she listened to the sounds of Tanner cleaning outside. The base of her spine pulsed with pain and her swollen fingers made stitching difficult, yet she kept to the task.

Exhaustion hit her like a two-ton truck a short time after, making her eyelids feel heavy. She’d have to finish the blanket another night. She had time. Joshua wouldn’t be born for yet another month.

“Tanner! I’m going to sleep now.”

Whenever one of them turned in early, the other spouse always came in for a hug and kiss. It was a Babin family tradition that Mackenzie was glad to carry on. It made her feel safe and wanted.

Her husband scooted in the door and over to the bed. Taking the blanket, he set it on the bed stand. “Almost done?”

“Just a little more.”

“It’s beautiful. He’ll love it.”

“I just can’t wait to hold him in my arms.”

Tanner rubbed her belly affectionately. “It’s all going to be good, baby doll. I promise.”

“I know.”

In his more somber moments, Tanner’s appearance took on a more mature look. It was reassuring to see the strong man beneath the boyish liveliness. She believed his words and knew he would do his best to take care of her and Joshua. “Love you,” Mackenzie whispered, her fingers tracing over the small bump she was sure was her child’s foot.

“I love you, babe. It’s all good. And getting better. Remember that.” Tanner kissed her lips one last time, then her belly. “’Night, Baby Joshua.”

As her eyes fluttered shut, Mackenzie watched Tanner retreat to the bedroom door, turn off the lamp, and quietly close the door. The angel nightlight on her bed stand gave off a warm, peaceful glow as she finally fell asleep feeling loved, protected, and blissfully happy.

It was her last moment of joy before she woke to a world of nightmares.

While she was sleeping peacefully in her bed, her baby’s foot slowly withdrew from the press of her fingers as Joshua’s little heart ceased to beat.

CHAPTER 1

Six Months Later

The crib was empty.

Mackenzie couldn’t tear her eyes from the spot where her child should have been playing with his toes and cooing at the Winnie-the-Pooh mobile rotating above his little head. Instead, the mobile was packed in a box along with all the clothes he would never wear, the toys he would never play with, and the soft, yellow baby blanket that he would never snuggle in. The crib and house were as vacant as her hollowed-out heart.

Feeling faint, she gripped the crib rail and clung to it for stability. This was it. The end of everything she had held dear. Today was the day she closed the door on the life she had shared with Tanner. It was time to build a new one alone.

“Mac?” Angie, her sister-in-law, called out. “Are you okay?”

Turning, Mackenzie saw Angie leaning against the doorjamb. Her pink blouse was sticking to her ample chest and full arms though the matching crop pants still looked crisp from ironing. Angie’s look was distinctly that of a mom. Mackenzie, meanwhile, was clad in tight jeans, her favorite high-heeled boots, and a pale blue silk T-shirt. Her lightweight navy blue leather jacket was set aside with her purse and keys for the cold weather that would soon be blowing into the area.

Knowing that a truthful answer was not what Angie wanted to hear, Mackenzie mutely nodded.

“The men from Goodwill are here, Mac.”

Mackenzie didn’t answer, not sure she could speak quite yet. It was so hard to remove all traces of Joshua from the house that should have been his home. Yet, the house was an empty shell now, devoid of everything that had once given it life. Her son had been born without once taking a breath or opening his eyes. Her husband and all his possessions were in another woman’s home now. All that was left was the remnants of her broken dreams.

“I know it’s hard, Mac,” Angie said sympathetically after an uncomfortable moment of silence. “But it’s time to let go.”

The ludicrousness of her sister-in-law’s comment hit her like a bad joke. Mackenzie had no other choice than to let go of her dead child, her empty house, and her soon-to-be ex-husband. There was nothing left to hold on to and keep her in Shreveport. Yet, she couldn’t verbalize these morose thoughts. Though she knew Angie sincerely cared about her and was attempting to be supportive, the truth was that Angie could never truly understand what Mackenzie was experiencing. It was a very lonely thought.

With a sigh, she made a point of releasing the rail and stepping away from the crib she’d long ago painted pale blue when the world still seemed perfect and full of hope.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Angie tilted her head, worried.

“I’m trying to be.” It wasn’t a lie. After months of surrendering to her grief, she was finally moving forward. It was a daunting endeavor, but she was determined to claw her way out of the black pit of depression she’d fallen into when the doctor had been unable to locate Joshua’s heartbeat.

Angie’s tawny hair stuck to her neck and cheeks as she shuffled into the room. Behind her were the men who had come to cart away all the objects from Joshua’s unlived life. The electricity was disconnected and though it was morning, the air was thick and humid inside the house. Sweat pooled between Mackenzie’s breasts and trickled down her back. Angie’s skin was beaded with moisture and she fanned herself with one pudgy hand. An early-autumn cold front was about to sweep into Shreveport and Mackenzie couldn’t wait for the break in the heat though she dreaded the thought of the storms. She’d never been able to shake her childhood fear of thunder.

“So everything, right?” The big black man with the silvery hair leaned over to pick up several boxes stacked against the wall.

Mackenzie found it hard to speak, so she nodded instead.

The younger of the duo, a tanned boy with lots of shaggy blond hair and freckles, snagged the high chair and a bag of baby clothes. He sauntered out of the room, his head bopping to the music pouring out of his earbuds.

Mackenzie fought the urge to follow and rip the items from his grip. Her eyes were throbbing, but thankfully tears didn’t fall. Angie rubbed her back, a consoling gesture that Mackenzie found annoying. It was the same thing Tanner always used to do to calm her. She used to love how tactile the Babin family was with each other, but now she just found it irritating.

The older man stared at the baby items, then studied Mackenzie’s expression. She could see him fitting all the pieces together and searching for words to say. At last he opted not to speak at all and picked up several boxes in his burly arms. With a slight nod, he carried his burden out the door. Mackenzie’s gaze followed, her heart breaking all over again.

“Maybe you should wait in another room,” Angie suggested.

With a sigh and a nod, Mackenzie acknowledged the wisdom of these words. She walked toward the door, hesitated, then snagged the unfinished yellow baby blanket from the top of a box before escaping to the empty kitchen. It had been foolish to believe she could give up the small thirty by forty inches of fabric that she had poured so much love and time into. That terrible day when she’d realized Joshua hadn’t moved in hours and the doctor instructed her to go into the clinic for an ultrasound, she’d left the blanket behind on the bed stand. Tanner had kept reassuring her that Joshua was just a deep sleeper like he was and not to worry. All the way to the clinic, she’d gently poked at the baby bump, willing him to wake up. The ultrasound had confirmed her worst fears and all that followed was a nightmare. She hadn’t seen the yellow blanket again until she had returned home with empty arms from the hospital a week later. A fresh rush of tears had spilled when she’d realized that Joshua had traveled to the funeral home wrapped in one of the generic baby blankets from the hospital.

Her notebook sat on the kitchen counter with the lid open. She’d been chatting on a forum for mothers of baby loss when Angie had arrived earlier. To speak with other women who’d experienced stillbirth had been a lifeline in the midst of the disintegration of her marriage, her mother’s endless lectures, the painful platitudes people spouted in the face of her grief, and the seemingly endless well of sorrow in her heart and soul. It was the encouragement and sympathy of women that Mackenzie had never met that had helped her finally crawl out of bed and put together the pieces of her shattered world. With a sigh, Mackenzie typed in a quick update, then turned off the computer. Private messages were delivered to her email, so she would be able to check them and respond from her phone. Already this morning there was a slew of messages wishing her a safe trip to Texas.

Shoving the small laptop into its sleeve, she listened to Angie’s voice drift through the house. Mackenzie wondered what Angie was saying to the men, but then shrugged it off. It didn’t matter. Soon she would be leaving behind the house, the city of Shreveport, and all her memories, both good and bad.

On the counter resting next to Angie’s purse was the divorce decree. Angie had been kind enough to bring it over for her final signature. Mackenzie couldn’t bear to see Tanner and Darla, his new girlfriend. It was a small world when it came to gossip. It hadn’t taken long for Mackenzie to hear about Darla’s pregnancy. She would never begrudge a woman the joy of motherhood, but the news had hurt. Tanner had definitely moved on with his life and it was time for her to do the same.

It was just so hard.

Picking up the pen Angie had left on top of the document, Mackenzie lightly touched the little flags marking the spots where she was supposed to sign. If only she could turn back the clock and somehow fix everything that had gone wrong. Failure weighed heavily on her shoulders as she began to scrawl her signature and initials. With each jot of the pen, she hoped that the tight knot inside her gut would vanish, but it didn’t. The enormity of the situation crushed her. All her hopes and dreams of a beautiful life with Tanner were abolished bit by bit with each swipe of the pen. When she signed the very last line and dated it, her handwriting was barely legible. Feeling overwhelmed, she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It was a trick her grief counselor had taught her. Gradually, her trembling hands stilled.

The noise of the truck pulling away from the house reached her ears. The finality of the sound brought tears to her eyes. Gruffly, she rubbed her eyelids with the heels of her hands. She was so damn sick of crying.

“Did you sign it?” Angie’s voice asked.

Wiping her damp hands on her jeans, Mackenzie nodded. “Yeah. All done. It’s over.”

“Mac, I want you to know that you’ll always be my sister in my heart.”

The comment was said sweetly, but it didn’t hold the weight of sincerity. Mackenzie could hear in Angie’s voice that she was tired and ready for Mackenzie to move on. In the last six months Mackenzie had learned a painful truth. Everyone had a limit on how long they’d allow a mother to grieve. The furniture store where she’d been a bookkeeper had the shortest limit. She’d only worked there for less than a year and hadn’t been particularly close to her coworkers, for she primarily worked alone in a back office. Physical complications from the birth had eaten her sick and vacation days since her maternity leave had been canceled due to Joshua’s death. Losing her job had only added to her feelings of worthlessness.

Tanner had been next. When she’d been unable to shake off her depression, he’d grown weary and distant. And then he was gone. With him followed the support of most of his family, friends, and coworkers, except for Angie. Mackenzie soon realized she hadn’t truly built a life with Tanner, but had merely become a part of his. Once he was gone, her world had become a very dark place indeed.

Mackenzie gestured toward the divorce decree. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

“Once Tanner makes up his mind, you can’t change it. I tried to talk him into giving it another shot with you, but…” Angie sighed.

“He met Darla.”

“Yeah.”

Tanner’s carefree and almost reckless way of careening through life enabled him to easily move on. As quickly as he fell in love, he also fell out of love.

“I just wish we could go back to the good times. Tanner and I were so happy together.” Mackenzie crossed her arms over her breasts, hugging herself. “Then Joshua died and Tanner just…”

“My brother doesn’t deal well with difficult emotional situations. He never has. Tanner likes to be happy and to have fun.”

“I should have tried harder to not be so depressed.” Mackenzie folded the divorce decree and laid it next to Angie’s purse. “I let Tanner down.”

Tanner had wept at her side when she’d delivered their dead child and over the tiny little coffin, but after the funeral he had shut off his emotions. Tanner had immediately tried to box up everything in the nursery and sell it. Mackenzie hadn’t been able to cope with that change and had fought him. Tanner had wanted her to get pregnant immediately, but she had been too sick physically and frozen with fear to even want to try. When she lay in bed sobbing, he had gotten up and slept on the sofa. If she was honest with herself, Tanner had emotionally abandoned her almost immediately. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel it was her fault. Her grief had driven him away.

“I love you, Mackenzie, but my brother can’t be the man you need him to be. You need to wise up and see that truth, honey. I know he’s hurting in his own way, but he can’t deal with what you’re going through. That’s why he left you. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses for him, and maybe I am, but in my heart I know the divorce is better for both of you.”

It was difficult for Mackenzie to accept that Angie was right. “I just don’t know how this all happened.” Mackenzie knew she sounded like a broken record, but couldn’t stop herself. “We were so happy and everything was perfect and then Joshua just died. How can the doctors not be able to tell me why he died? All those tests and no answers.”

“Sometimes babies just die, Mac. Joshua’s little heart just stopped and we don’t know why. Like Pastor Lufkin said, maybe Jesus just wanted another angel in heaven.”

“Then I wish Jesus would have made another damn angel instead of killing my baby,” Mackenzie snapped.

Immediately Mackenzie feared she had insulted her only remaining supporter in Shreveport. Maybe she should have tried harder to hide her pain, but it was so hard to maneuver through a life that should have contained her child. Even her body had been a constant reminder of her pregnancy. She had leaked milk for quite some time and her stomach was a road map of stretch marks from her baby bump. Yet, there was no baby to feed, or to hold.

“Now that you say that, I can see how that sounds wrong,” Angie said finally. “It really, really does sound just wrong.”

“Sometimes I feel like people don’t want me to mourn. That they want me to act like everything is just peachy keen.”

“People just don’t like the idea of dead babies,” Angie replied. “They don’t like talking about it all the time.”

Mackenzie pressed her lips together to prevent saying something she’d regret. What Angie didn’t understand is that people didn’t want her to talk about her dead son at all. It was as if they just wanted to pretend he had never existed.

“Your mama will be real happy to see you, I’m sure,” Angie said, attempting to change the subject.

Everyone always wanted to change the subject.

“Mom is determined to get me back on the road to health and happiness. I’m sure by the time I get home she’ll have a schedule ready for me. A list of do’s and don’ts. And plenty of barbed comments.”

“Your mama loves you. I’m sure she just wants to help you start a new life.”

“I suppose. I don’t know. I just have nowhere else to go.” Mackenzie was out of a job, nearly out of money, and had lost the circle of friends that had really been Tanner’s and had only been hers by default.

“Who knows,” Angie said with a sly smile, “maybe you’ll meet some handsome cowboy back in Kerrville.”

Forcing a smile, Mackenzie said, “I’m sure my mother is hoping for the same.”

“Oh, before I forget.” Angie reached into her big purse and pulled out an envelope.

Mackenzie flinched.

“I’m sorry, hon, but he doesn’t want them.”

Holding out her hand, Mackenzie reclaimed the photos she’d sent Tanner. After Joshua died, labor had been induced. It took nearly twenty hours to finally deliver him. Later, a nurse brought Joshua into her hospital room so she and Tanner could spend a few precious hours saying goodbye to their son. A volunteer photographer had arrived and taken photos of them holding Joshua. Joshua was so perfect Mackenzie irrationally hoped he’d awaken. Though she had been warned decomposition would become evident because Joshua was so tiny, it had been difficult to watch his tiny lips gradually darken. It was only after his lips turned black that she fully accepted he would not miraculously awaken.

Weeks later, she received beautiful black-and-white photos in the mail. The images had been touched up to remove the unseemly aspects of stillbirth such as the tears in Joshua’s delicate skin and his blackened lips. After Tanner had filed for divorce, per her request, the photographer had been kind enough to send her a second set. Now Tanner had returned the only photos of their son, another clear indication of him moving on.

“Did you want a photo of Joshua?” Mackenzie dared to ask though she knew the answer.

“I have him in my heart,” Angie said diplomatically.

Mackenzie hesitated, then nodded. “I had better be going. I have a long drive.”

“It’ll all work out. You’ll see,” Angie said, her smile a little forced.

Mackenzie collected the yellow blanket and her laptop before striding through the archway connecting the kitchen to the dining room and over to the built-in bookcase where she always kept her purse, keys, and sunglasses. She’d bought the huge Betsey Johnson tote with the intention of using it as a diaper bag, but now she used it as a purse. It was black and white striped with a big heart with ruffles and studs. After tucking the rolled-up blanket and laptop inside, she pulled out a small leather journal. It contained the lists that now ruled her life. When she’d been in her darkest, deepest despair, it was making a short list that had helped her start to claw her way out.

It had contained five lines:

1. Get out of bed.

2. Take a shower.

3. Get dressed.

4. Eat.

5. Don’t go back to bed.

The fifth entry had forced her to write yet another list to keep her from retreating to bed. That first list had been her first rung on a ladder back to life. Being a bookkeeper by trade, Mackenzie liked organization. The lists had brought order into the chaos that had destroyed her life.

With the pen she kept hooked to the cover, Mackenzie crossed out two lines: “Goodwill” and “sign divorce decree.”

Angie stepped into the dining room, waiting. “Do you have a list for when you get home?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a long one.” Mackenzie flicked the bright blue tab attached to that list. She was almost finished with the journal. Each page contained a crossed-off list. It would be nice one day to not depend so heavily on it.

“Add that handsome cowboy to it.” Angie gave her the famous Babin grin.

Angie’s desperation for her to move on was both reassuring and exasperating. Mackenzie stored away the journal and collected her things for the last time. It took all her willpower not to prowl through the empty house one more time. It was fruitless to do so. This life was over. Another waited in Texas. Taking a deep breath, she strolled out of the house, Angie close on her heels. The screen door banged shut behind them.

The symbols of her broken marriage were all around her: the FOR LEASE sign on the lawn, her old car filled with her possessions, the empty house behind her.

Time to let go.

“You are such a good person, Mac. One of the nicest, sweetest people I know,” Angie said as she trailed behind her to the old Ford Taurus sitting in the carport. “Life just … Sometimes things just don’t work out the way you think they should.” Angie made a face. “Why is it that everything I say to you sounds like the wrong thing?”

With a sad smile, Mackenzie enfolded Angie in her arms. “You always try to say the right things. I appreciate it.”

“But it doesn’t really help, does it?” Angie asked sadly, patting her back.

“It does help,” Mackenzie lied. “Thank you for everything, Angie.”

She drew away and handed Angie the house keys. One more thing off her list. Tanner would be the one to turn them in to the landlord. The lease had been under his name and he had been kind enough to let her stay until it ran out. At least he had been decent in that regard.

As Mackenzie unlocked her car door, she caught sight of her reflection. Dark chestnut hair framed a face that was a little too thin from not eating. For once her blue eyes weren’t rimmed with red from crying. Her lips were dry and chapped. When nervous, she licked her lips repetitively. Pressing them together, she tried not to swipe her tongue over them again. She opened the car door, tossed the purse across to the passenger seat, and donned her sunglasses.

“Mac, you be careful on the road. That storm coming in is awful fierce. Will you go see Joshua?”

Mackenzie nodded as she slid behind the steering wheel. It was hard not to look at the house and yearn for better times. She felt as though she was trapped in a whirlwind and it was taking all her strength to not fly apart.

“I’ll take him flowers every month like I promised. I’ll always tell him they’re from you.”

“I appreciate it.” Turning on the ignition, Mackenzie forced a smile onto her lips. “I’ll call you when I reach Kerrville.”

“I love you, girl! You’ll always be my sister!” Angie leaned in to kiss her quickly on the cheek.

“And you’ll always be mine,” Mackenzie promised even though she knew they would drift apart.

She pulled the car door closed and shifted into reverse. As the Taurus rolled down the driveway, Mackenzie returned Angie’s wave. The house with its pretty blue trim and big windows already felt like a distant dream.

CHAPTER 2

“Are you okay?”

It was a question Mackenzie was asked often nowadays. Sitting in her parked car with the phone to her ear while staring at the cemetery, she wondered if she could ever give a truthful positive answer. She hoped so.

“Mac?” Erin’s voice asked worriedly. She’d called to make sure Mackenzie was emotionally in a good space before her long journey back to Kerrville. It was a sweet gesture, but not unexpected. Her best friend had made a great effort to provide long-distance comfort during Mackenzie’s mourning.

“No, not fine. Not yet. I will be though.”

“That’s the spirit! One step at a time. I know you can do it. You’re stronger than you think you are. Don’t listen to your mother’s nagging. Just keep to your list.”

In the background, Erin’s baby was making slurping noises. Mackenzie smiled, delighted with the sound of Samantha’s cooing despite the slight sting it brought to her heart. The friends had been thrilled to find out they were pregnant at the same time. Erin’s daughter had been due a little after Joshua. They’d joked about arranging a marriage between the infants while sharing the ups and downs of pregnancy through phone calls, text messages, and long emails. It had been fun being on the journey together, but Erin finished the final leg alone.

“I’ve got my list made,” Mackenzie said. “It includes a trip to Vegas to visit you as soon as funds provide. I can’t wait to see my little goddaughter.”

“She’s getting so big! You’re going to be amazed. We’re almost back on our feet financially, so hopefully we’ll make it to Kerrville for the holidays. I really want you to meet her.”

Rubbing her brow with her fingertips, Mackenzie watched the darkening skyline with some trepidation. The cold front and the accompanying storm inched ever closer. “I can’t wait to see you. I won’t lie. I wish you still lived in Kerrville. I’m going to be lonely without you there.”

“Mac, you really need to join the church singles group. It’ll be a great way to reconnect and make friends,” Erin answered.

“Honestly, Erin, I’m not sure if I will be heading back to church.”

The horizon was darkening with each passing second. A pang of fear throbbed alongside her pulse. Thunder and lightning always put her on edge. There was a long beat of silence. It was hard for Erin to fathom how Mackenzie had lost her faith after the death of her child. However, Mackenzie found it difficult to comprehend how Erin didn’t understand.

“Well, you do what you need to do for yourself, hon,” Erin said at last.

“I will. I’ve got my lists, remember?” Mackenzie tried to sound upbeat, but her gaze was fastened to the gloomy horizon. “But I need to go. A storm is brewing and I still need to say goodbye to Joshua.”

“Okay, hon. Just give me a call if you need to talk. Love ya.”

“Love ya.”

Mackenzie killed the call and stared at the screen of her cell phone. On it was a picture of Erin grinning as she pressed her cherubic daughter’s cheek against her own. Samantha had Erin’s blue eyes and blond hair, but her father’s crooked smile. Erin had sent the photo selfie only after Mackenzie insisted. Her best friend was very cautious, always trying not to trigger her in any way. Mackenzie appreciated the consideration, but she didn’t want to be disconnected from her friend’s joy.

Mackenzie grabbed the tote bag she was using as her purse and the flowers she bought after leaving Angie. The specter of what could have been haunted her and its presence only grew stronger when she stepped out of the car. She’d never hear Joshua cry, see his smile, or hold him close and snap a picture to send to Erin.

The walk across the cemetery was peaceful, but it did not diminish the pain throbbing inside her heart. Strolling past old tombstones, Mackenzie headed toward the saddest corner of the cemetery dubbed the “baby graveyard.” Though she was the thinnest she’d ever been in her life, her legs felt thick and heavy and it was difficult to breathe the closer she drew to the small headstones with a single date engraved on their marble faces. The flowers clutched in her hand drooped in the growing heat of the day and sweat trailed along her neck making her brown hair damp.

Pausing at the delicate wrought iron fence that laced the tiny graveyard, she forced herself to take another deep breath to steady her nerves. Stone cherubs watched over tombstones engraved with hearts and teddy bears. Flowers and toys rested against the marble slabs of the newer graves, while older graves sat neglected among the weeds. Mackenzie pushed open the gate, her breathing sounding harsh and loud in the serene setting. A gush of air sent dry leaves skittering over the headstones and she cast a wary look over one shoulder. The massive storm was moving rapidly from the south end of the city. Curtains of rain were already falling from the thick, dark clouds. Her time with Joshua would be much shorter than she’d like. Winding through the graves adorned with wilting flowers, toys, and ribbons, she continued to take very deep breaths in an increasingly futile attempt to calm her nerves.

The flat marble stone with her baby boy’s name came into view beneath the thick, gnarled trees of a live oak. The teddy bear she had placed on the headstone during her last visit was listing in the grass and was a little battered by the elements. Kneeling next to the grave, she carefully cleaned off the marble with the bottom of her shirt and removed any bits of leaves or grass. Lovingly, she traced the engraving of the name of her dead son.

JOSHUA TANNER BABIN

It hurt to think of her baby nestled in satin and wood beneath the warm, moist ground. She’d never dreamed that a coffin could be so small. Her heart had physically ached when she’d chosen one to be Joshua’s resting place. It was wrong to place a baby in a coffin instead of a crib. So wrong.

The branches of the live oak tree creaked loudly overhead. As the storm neared, the last bit of sunshine faded to gray and the cemetery lost its peaceful aura. Laying the flowers on the headstone, Mackenzie leaned over and kissed the marble. It was soothingly cool against her chapped lips.

“Hey, Joshua, it’s Mama. Are you having fun up there in heaven with Grandma and Grandpa? I bet you play with the angels all the time.” Though she had lost her faith in God, she hoped that Joshua was somewhere safe and loved. A piece of her was certain that he was still watching over her, intangible, yet lingering. Another strong wind rattled the trees and sent dirt spiraling through the air. “I have to go back home to Texas, baby boy. Daddy and I didn’t know what to do without you. We’re going to make new lives now, but we’re not going to stop loving you. I’m going to be far away, but I’ll come when I can. Aunt Angie is going to put flowers on your grave for me every month.”

Lightning arced through the clouds and a few seconds later the boom of thunder echoed around Mackenzie, sending a needle of dread through her. For one brief, insane moment, Mackenzie worried that Joshua was afraid in his coffin under the ground.

Closing her eyes, she lifted her sweaty palm to her forehead. The dark wave of her sorrow was building behind the careful construct of self-control. It was difficult to kneel before her son’s grave and not wonder yet again why he had died. It ate at her that medical science couldn’t give her an answer. She often pondered if it would be easier to come to terms with Joshua’s death if there’d been a definitive cause. How could a baby just die? Even after the doctor had explained that the autopsy and tests results indicated no discernible cause of death and that Joshua had died from Sudden Antenatal Death Syndrome, it was her mother’s voice in her mind that drowned out the doctor’s assurances. She was still haunted by the first words her mother spoke to her after Tanner had called to tell Estelle of the baby’s passing.

“Mackenzie, what did you do wrong?”

All her life she had been terrified of thunder and an earthshattering boom broke through the last of her mental defenses, sweeping her away in a maelstrom of self-incrimination.

She had failed her son. Somehow she had killed him while she slept. If only she hadn’t slept on her back that night he might still be alive and she would still be living with Tanner in their lovely little home. Or maybe it had been the spicy barbecue she had eaten for dinner. Or maybe that damn cupcake …

Opening her eyes, Mackenzie rested both hands on her son’s grave. “Joshua, I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

Rocking back and forth, she struggled to banish the tormenting thoughts while the raging storm crept toward the cemetery. Mackenzie fumbled with her purse, searching for the bottle of the pills her doctor had prescribed for her anxiety attacks. He’d instructed her not to take them unless she was struggling to cope. She found his wording ironic since she struggled all the time, yet he had admonished her to use them sparingly. Her fingers trembled as she found the bottle. Estelle did not believe in medicating problems away. Mackenzie was supposed to buck up and deal. As she stared at the bottle of Xanax, her mother’s words again echoed in her mind.

“Mackenzie, what did you do wrong?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom.”

She pushed the bottle to the bottom of the purse.

Tossing a worried look at the approaching storm and the ragged lightning flashing in its depths, Mackenzie reluctantly accepted that it was time to leave. The darkness of the grave called to her, and, for one mad moment, she wanted to burrow into the earth and sleep forever with her baby. Pressing a few more kisses to the headstone, Mackenzie fought the wave of despair. Starting over meant being strong not only for herself, but for Joshua, too. She had to let him rest in peace.

The air currents churned, pulling at her hair.

Maybe it was a sign it was time to go.

“Bye-bye, baby boy,” she whispered, then hurried out of the baby graveyard while still strong enough to do so.

Hugging herself, she ducked her head against the gusting winds. The trek to the car was far longer than she remembered and she stole worried looks at the dark billowing clouds above. The rain was falling nearby and the air smelled of ozone, fresh earth, and decay.

Another crash of thunder startled her and she stumbled in her haste to make it to the safety of the car. Her imagination turned against her, transforming shadows into wraiths and bouquets left on graves into grasping fingers. Running the last few hundred feet to the car, she told herself it was to avoid the rain, but she knew it was a lie. Once she took refuge inside the car, she clutched the steering wheel and watched the sky open. Heavy drops splattered across the windshield.

“Time to move on,” she said, shoved the key into the ignition, and hesitated.

Once she left, her baby would remain in his eternal slumber in his tiny coffin while she lived on. The cruelty of that reality tore at her. If only she could hold him one last time.…

“Goodbye, baby,” she whispered, forcing her fingers to turn the key.

The engine roared to life. A flick of a switch and the headlights transformed the raindrops to falling diamonds. The beautiful sight enraptured her. Sometimes, when she was in her darkest place emotionally, something beautiful would happen, like a rainbow, a ladybug landing on her hand, or butterflies spinning past her bedroom window. She clung to these moments as gifts from Joshua. Maybe it was irrational, but she couldn’t help but hope they were signs from him.

The thunder broke overhead, destroying her reverie.

With a sigh, Mackenzie shifted gears and drove away.

*   *   *

The semi-truck barreled down the outside lane and passed the Taurus, spewing dirty rainwater over the hood and windshield. Mackenzie steadied the steering wheel as the car trembled in the wake of the big rig. Nervously licking her lips, she tried to concentrate on the heavy traffic flowing along the interstate.

Estelle’s voice was buried under the sound of another long-haul rig passing, but then flowed out of the Bluetooth headset clear as day. “… and make sure that you don’t stop at truck stops. Those are dangerous places. Truck drivers are hard up for women. You don’t need to be accosted. If you get too tired, do not pull over at a rest stop. Degenerates, homosexuals, and serial killers hang out there. Don’t let your tank go below half-full.…”

Mackenzie inhaled and then gradually let the breath slip through her lips in an attempt to remain calm. Estelle was in one of her tizzies. Mackenzie was not going to be able to get a word in for a few more minutes.

Interstate 20 was packed with large semi-trailer trucks heading toward Dallas–Fort Worth and Mackenzie’s nerves were getting the best of her. Already several trucks and cars had honked to urge her to go faster. She was hesitant to match the speed of the traffic, not sure her hands could keep her old car steady on the slick road.

“Mom,” Mackenzie said, trying to wedge her way into the conversation.

It was difficult to claw out of the pit of despair that had trapped Mackenzie for so long and Estelle’s admonishments were only feeding into her apprehension about the storm, leaving Joshua, and the long trip to Kerrville. The anxiety attack at the cemetery still had a fierce grip on her thoughts. The grief counselor had warned of setbacks, but she wanted to be stronger than she felt. Listening to her mother carry on with yet another paranoid lecture was not helping. It was difficult to function when the world felt full of unseen dangers. The kind of dangers that killed your baby in your belly …

“… and if you have to stay at a hotel, if the proprietor is an Arab, you leave. They’re all sleeper cell terrorists.…”

“Mom, I don’t think that all Arabs are terrorists,” she said over her mother.

Estelle ignored her and kept talking.

Mackenzie switched lanes to let a construction truck pass. The rain was beginning to fall again and the car tires slid slightly. Her knuckles were white from strain. The world around her seemed increasingly dangerous and threatening.

“… and just you remember to not go over the speed limit. Those highway patrolmen are all rapists.…”

“Mom, enough! Stop it! Okay?”

The exit sign to US-79 loomed on the side of the road and Mackenzie impulsively switched on her turn signal. The Taurus glided off the busy interstate onto the off-ramp.

“I’m just trying to help you, Mackenzie. I love you.” Hurt filled Estelle’s voice.

Mackenzie sighed, feeling the old familiar guilt. “I know, Mom. I just can’t deal with any more stress today, okay? I’m getting off the interstate and taking the back roads.”

“But there are rednecks and—”

“Mom, I need peace of mind! The traffic and weather is just a little more than I can cope with right now. You do remember I signed the divorce papers and that I’m leaving Joshua behind, right?”

“I lost Joshua, too! I never even got to hold him! If only you had—”

“Mom!”

“You’re barely twenty-six and already divorced, jobless, and homeless! How can I not worry about you? I’m your mother!” There was no way Estelle was going to let her daughter win this battle.

Relenting out of habit, Mackenzie said, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just frazzled and need to get out of this traffic.”

There was angry silence on the other side before Estelle finally replied, “You’re always so stubborn. Never listening to me! You should stay on the interstate.”

“Mom, I need a little more peace than this traffic is going to give me.”

“Fine! Call me in an hour.”

“I will.”

“I’m just looking after you because I love you.”

“I know, I just…” Mackenzie braked as she came to the intersection where she needed to turn onto US-79. “I have about a nine-hour trip ahead of me. I need to keep my head together.”

“Yes you do, Mackenzie,” Estelle said briskly. “Be careful.”

Killing the call, Mackenzie stared through the fogged windshield at the falling rain. “This day cannot get any worse.”

As lightning crackled through the black clouds overhead and thunder roared, Mackenzie drove along the narrow highway into the thick woods.

CHAPTER 3

The battered Ford sped along US-79,but Mackenzie felt safer now that she wasn’t in heavy traffic. For the last hour, she’d only seen a few other cars. The world streaming past her was filled with the lush green of the beautiful pine forests of East Texas. The road was a bit twisting at times, but she didn’t mind so much. The storm was now far behind and the sun peeked out through the tops of the trees.

There was absolutely no cell service in the area, but her GPS still worked. Estelle would have a fit when she didn’t call, but Mackenzie really didn’t feel like talking to anyone anyway, especially her disapproving mother. For a while she had driven in silence, but it was too easy to torture herself with either fond memories of good times, or the terrible remembrances of the bad. Finally, she’d popped The Dixie Chicks into the CD player and sang along with gusto. It helped alleviate the tightness in her chest, but her head still throbbed. The anxiety attack was finally lessening its hold on her battered mind.

As Mackenzie guided her car along the winding two-lane highway, she felt a spark of excitement emerging from the darkness within her. The shadow of the last few months still lurked, but she could feel hope beginning to seep in. Maybe somehow she could find a way back to her old self. Tanner always said he loved her smile and her laugh. Maybe one day soon she could smile and laugh again. Before Tanner she’d had a fairly good life, and she could have one again. Though it would be hard living with Estelle at first, she could probably find her own place within a few weeks’ time. With her bookkeeping experience, she could probably get a job fairly easily through her mother’s connections.

Mackenzie was driving around a wide curve when she saw three deer languidly walking across the asphalt. With a gasp, she hit the brake while spinning the wheel. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a clearing next to the road and aimed for it. The car skidded through grass, gravel, and dirt before coming to a hard stop before a dilapidated café.

Heart pounding, Mackenzie stared at the deer standing a few feet from the car. The larger one with beautiful graceful horns scrutinized her with enormous brown eyes. It took a sharp step toward the car, slightly tilting its head. Mackenzie froze, uncertain of what was happening. The smaller one gave a sudden start and the three creatures dashed into the forest, vanishing into the green.

Mackenzie shifted into park, listening to her wildly beating heart. She wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time, but sat in silence instead. The Dixie Chicks continued to sing, but the music and words seemed far away. The adrenaline rush left her feeling shaky and her hands on the steering wheel were visibly trembling.

She’d been damn lucky.

Images of alternative outcomes filled her mind’s eye. The car hitting the deer and one of them flying through the windshield to crush her. The car swerving into a tree and the engine block smashing into her. The car rolling into the trees and bursting into flames.

“A million ways to die,” her mother’s voice whispered in her mind.

But Mackenzie hadn’t died. She was still alive. Shaken up and a little scared, but she was alive.

On impulse, she thrust the car door open and climbed out. The Dixie Chicks continued to sing and the car engine ticked and grumbled. The faded, battered sign for the café listed to one side a few feet away. The car could have hit the sign and ruined a tire or worse.

“Stop it,” she chastised herself.

Estelle’s voice was always stronger when she was stressed.

The café sat in the overgrown clearing, valiantly surviving despite the encroachment of the forest. The parking lot was cracked and overrun with wild grass. At one time, the café had probably been a regular stop for the many travelers on the old highway before the interstate had been built. The faded painted advertisements on the side of the building appeared to be from the forties or fifties. A very old gas pump was rusted and partially hidden by weeds. Though most of the paint had been eaten away by time, Mackenzie could make out that the place had been called DOLLY’S CAFÉ.

If Tanner had been on this trip, he would’ve wanted to explore the café. He loved being adventurous and always encouraged Mackenzie to follow suit. He’d even convinced her to attend a ghost hunt in an old theater in the Texas Hill Country. They hadn’t seen anything paranormal, but Tanner had loved the experience. Maybe that was the big difference between them. Tanner would probably regard the café as something fun to explore while Mackenzie only saw the broken dreams of the owner and the cruelty of time.

Also, the café scared her.

It looked old and rickety. The newspaper and cardboard covering the windowpanes were peeling off the smudged glass. A few broken windows were boarded over. Yet, something about it called to her. Maybe she should take a peek inside just to confirm how ridiculous it was to be afraid.

Holding on to the car door, Mackenzie shifted her weight, ready to get into the car and continue on the long trip home. The Dixie Chicks started singing another song and the car’s engine caught for a second, then continued rumbling under the hood. She’d need gas soon. Plus, she was starting to get hungry. Exploring an old, broken-down café to prove something to herself was a waste of time.

The breeze whispering through the pine tree branches and the gentle song of birds should’ve been comforting sounds, but they set her even more on edge. The retreating anxiety began to swell again. This was exactly the sort of situation Estelle had warned about. According to her mother, there was no point taking unnecessary risks, yet Tanner had thought life was all about risks. Mackenzie had played it safe and had lost everything. Tanner was the one with a new life and a baby on the way.

“Dammit!”

Mackenzie leaned into the car, turned off the engine, yanked the keys out of the ignition, shoved them into her jeans, and hoisted her purse onto one shoulder. Slamming the door shut, she stalked toward the café feeling defiant, foolish, and terrified all at the same time. It was stupid to think that exploring a café was some sort of bold return to life, but it felt important to do something she wouldn’t regularly do without being persuaded. If she was really going to get on with her life, she had to be bold, fearless, and not allow herself to be tangled in her mother’s paranoid web.

The door was warped in its frame and rotten boards hung from rusted nails. It looked like someone had already explored it. She trampled the wild grass and weeds growing under one of the big windows that was covered in old, yellow newspaper, and peered in around the ragged edges.

The café interior was dark except for a few beams of light coming through the broken roof. To her surprise, tables and chairs were still inside. A few were toppled over, but a table or two still had menus resting on their surfaces.

“Okay, I explored.”

The front door creaked on its old hinges when the wind caught it.

While she was staring at the entrance, her back seized as chills washed along her spine.

“This is where you get killed if you go inside, Mackenzie.”

Her mother’s words in her mouth.

Tanner thought Mackenzie was silly whenever she spouted a million reasons not to do something. Mackenzie always argued she was pragmatic. Tanner insisted it was her mother’s programming stuck in her head.

“Aw, hell.” She sighed. “Time to toughen up.”

Stretching out her hand, she gripped the door handle and pushed on it.

The door opened.

Cautiously, Mackenzie stepped inside, the floorboards protesting her weight, but holding. The rusted spring on the door had enough life that the door partially popped into place before catching on the floor. The sliver of sunlight creeping through the small gap was reassuring.

Timidly, she moved deeper into the murk of the café. It smelled of rotting wood and mold. There was a slight twinge of something dead, probably some poor animal. The café had several booths and the stuffing was torn out of the seats. Dead leaves and dirt covered every surface. A tree grew partway through one wall, tearing a hole in the roof. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, breaking apart the gloom.

Mackenzie cautiously approached the long lunch counter, rubbing her clammy hands on her jeans. The old stools were missing. Curious, she leaned over it. There were huge holes in the floor, and it was obvious animals had found shelter in the shelves.

She imagined some rabid animal biting her and jerked away.

Her mother’s fears in her mind.

A noise from beyond the swinging door that opened into the kitchen startled her. She almost yelped but caught herself. Lowering the heavy tote bag to her side and clutching the straps so she could use it as a weapon, she started to retreat to the front door.

Again, there was a noise. This time it almost sounded like someone opening a refrigerator.

This is where the serial killer will get me, she thought.

Again, her mother’s words in her mind.

When had her mother’s voice taken up residence in her head? Or had it always been there and she hadn’t noticed how much until now? Or had her fears merely taken on her mother’s voice?

More noises from within the kitchen sent her heart racing. Creeping forward, Mackenzie mustered up her courage. It was just some poor animal looking for food and she was freaking out. Pushing the door open with one foot, she lifted the tote over her head.

Startlingly clean, the kitchen was devoid of the devastation of the rest of the café. A man in a suit and tie stood behind one counter holding a butter knife. He looked as startled as she felt. Probably in his late thirties, he was very handsome with dark wavy hair and vivid blue eyes. He instantly made her think of old-time movie stars like Rock Hudson and Cary Grant, or their modern equivalents like George Clooney and Clive Owen.

“Uh, hi,” she managed to say.

“Is the front door open?” the man asked abruptly, dropping the utensil. “Did you shut the door behind you?” In an explosion of movement, he propelled himself over the counter and rushed toward her.

Frightened, Mackenzie swung the tote purse, striking his face.

He yelped. “What are you doing? You can’t let the door close!” He shoved past her and ran across the café toward the entrance.

“I left it open in case…” Mackenzie’s voice faltered.

The café was no longer a derelict building. The booths were in pristine condition and the tables and chairs were arranged neatly. The lunch counter was bordered by stainless steel stools and napkin dispensers sat at intervals on its gleaming surface. A jukebox now sat where the tree had broken through the wall and the café was illuminated by lamps hanging from a restored ceiling.

Skidding into the door with a loud thump, the man let out a wail of despair. “It’s too late,” he rasped. “It’s too late. It’s closed.”

“I left it open,” Mackenzie protested weakly, staring in awe at the restored café. “I don’t understand. What happened? I mean … this place was wrecked. I saw it! But now…” She was going insane. That had to be it. She hadn’t been having an anxiety attack at the cemetery, but a psychotic break. “This is impossible!”

The man swiveled about and gazed at her wearily. “The door shut and now it’s too late for both of us.”

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie’s knees started to wobble and she reached out to the counter to steady herself.

“The door shut and now we’re both trapped.” The man rubbed his face with his hands, frustration in his actions and voice.

“Trapped? In the café?”

“No, darling,” the man answered sadly. “In the dead spot.”

CHAPTER 4

The jukebox abruptly sprang to life with Roy Orbison singing about a pretty woman. Mackenzie gasped, stumbled, and fell against a stool bolted to the floor next to the lunch counter.

Kicking his foot back, the man angrily struck the front door. The whack echoed through the room. Fumbling with her tote, Mackenzie scrounged at the bottom of it in a blind panic, not even certain what she was looking for. The stool beneath her was shiny red vinyl and chrome. It felt solid, but it had not existed just a few short minutes before. Mackenzie was certain of that fact.

The world no longer made sense. She had entered a ruined building, but now it was a quaint little café complete with the smells of cooking food.

“This isn’t possible,” she muttered.

Slowly turning around, the handsome man regarded her with sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but it is. We’re both trapped here now. The dead spot caught you.”

“You’re not making sense!” Short frantic shallow breaths left her feeling woozy. “You have to let me go!”

Sliding his fingers through his dark hair, the man gave her a frustrated look. “You need to calm down, lady. I’m not holding you here.” He opened the door and left it ajar. “See. It’s not locked. It just doesn’t open to the real world anymore.”

Struggling to make sense of the dramatic shift in reality, she continued her frantic search through her purse until her fingers closed over the pepper spray tucked into a pink leather soft case. It was a Christmas gift from Estelle. Tanner had thought it was hilarious, but now Mackenzie was grateful she could defend herself. Jerking it out of her purse, she flicked off the safety. “I can hit you from here, so don’t come any closer!”

Wearing a concerned expression, the man held out his hands in surrender. “I have no intention of hurting you. I’m not armed, so you can put that away.”

Estelle’s voice was a raging tornado inside her head. “I’m not an idiot! You’re bigger than me! So stay back!”

“I don’t hurt women.”

Mackenzie heard a thump behind her. Spinning around, she aimed the pepper spray at a woman with a huge blond beehive standing at a cash register. A name badge identified her as Candy.

“Are you eating in, or taking out?” the waitress asked.

Opening her mouth in a soundless scream, Mackenzie stumbled backward. Nearly falling over a table, she yelped when the man seated there caught her and set her upright.

“Ma’am, you’re looking a bit pale. Maybe you should sit down,” he suggested in a kindly Texan drawl.

Retreating from the customer, she saw that most of the booths and tables were now filled with a variety of people all gazing at her. She had to be having a psychotic break. This was impossible. The building had been derelict. There was no way it could be filled with customers.

“You’re not real!” she gasped. “You can’t be here! This … this place was empty!”

Mackenzie knocked into someone and screamed. A strong hand easily wrested the pepper spray from her trembling hand.

“I’ll take that,” the now familiar voice of the man in the gray suit said.

Twisting away from him, she clutched the strap of the tote, swinging it about defensively. “Don’t even try to hurt me!”

With a sigh, the man in the suit set the pepper spray on a table. “I have no desire to hurt you. There are worse things that will hurt you here, which is why I’m trying to help you before it’s too late.”

“You’re not making sense! None of this is making sense! Stay away! All of you!”

The handsome man stood between her and the front door. “I’m not going to hurt you. Please, just listen to what I have to say.” He moved as if to take hold of her arm.

Mackenzie fled through the kitchen door. The smell of cooking food filled her nostrils as she rushed past startled cooks. Shoving aside a busboy carrying dirty dishes, she ran for an exit on the opposite side of the room. Behind her dishes shattered, and startled cries competed with the sound of orders being called out by waitresses. Mackenzie hit the door at a full sprint, her hand gripping the knob, twisting and shoving. The door flew open and she tumbled down a short set of concrete steps, landing hard on her knees and hands. Somehow, she’d managed to hold on to the tote bag, but a few items scattered over the walkway. One of them was the yellow baby blanket still tucked in a roll. Scurrying forward, she snatched it up, wiped off the dirt, and shoved it back into the safety of her purse. Cramming everything else into the big bag, she fearfully glanced at the exit. A couple of cooks, their aprons stained with grease, blood, and sauces, peered out at her from the interior gloom.

Mackenzie hefted the tote onto her shoulder, got to her feet, and ran. The ground was uneven and her high-heeled boots snagged on roots and vines. Pressing her hand against the side of the building to keep her balance, Mackenzie checked behind her one last time before rounding the corner of the café.

No one was pursuing.

Her mind sifted through her jumbled incoherent thoughts, straining to make sense of what had just occurred. Could extreme stress cause hallucinations? It was the only answer that made sense.

The paint beneath her fingers was peeling and splinters poked her skin. The ragged, faded newspapers coated the windows and the structure appeared just as it had when she had arrived. The café’s return to its former state was strangely calming. Maybe she was coming out of her delusion. Focusing ahead, she could just make out the edge of the overgrown parking lot. A few more steps and she would be out in the open. A few more steps after that, she would be in her car and speeding away. Her ragged breathing and wobbly heels were an impediment, but she kept moving forward.

“It wasn’t real,” she mumbled, attempting to calm herself. “It wasn’t real.”

Hurrying out of the shadow of the building, she darted across the front of the café toward the spot where she’d left the car.

Mackenzie stumbled to a halt.

Heart harshly thudding in her chest, Mackenzie stared in shock at the empty parking lot. The Taurus was not in sight. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real!”

Terror gripped her in its crushing grasp, heightening her senses. The sounds of the forest amplified to an almost painful level while the brightness of the sunlight filtering through the trees nearly blinded her. Whirling about, she searched for the missing vehicle in the overgrown brush and dark woods. The wind wildly flipped her hair as she rotated in a circle, clicking the Unlock button on the car remote while listening for the chirp of the alarm.

“Please, please, please,” she chanted.

The murk dwelling in the woods might be hiding her car, but it couldn’t be blocking out the keyless remote, could it?

“It’s not here,” the man in the gray suit said from behind her. “It didn’t follow you into the dead spot.”

Mackenzie spun about, her dark tresses flailing against her face. The café was no longer leaning dangerously, or a sad reminder of glory days. It was freshly painted, the windows sparkling, and a neon sign over the door flashed the word OPEN.

“No,” she whispered. “No.”

Overcome, Mackenzie felt the strength go out of her limbs and she fell to her knees on the recently laid asphalt parking lot. The smell of tar mingled with the scent of pines and cooking food. Continuing to click the remote, Mackenzie stared through tear-filled eyes at the man cautiously walking toward her. It was hard to draw a full breath and her heart pounded so fiercely, it felt like it could shatter her rib cage. The man’s gray coat fluttered around him as he came closer.

“I know it is a lot to take in. I know. I’ve been where you are.” His voice was rich, deep, and comforting. “I know you’re afraid. I know that you feel like you’re going insane. I felt the same way.”

Mackenzie stared at the spot where her car had resided, willing it to appear. The area remained defiantly empty. The band of tension around her chest made it difficult to breathe. The world grew gray and dim around the edges of her vision. Her thumb persistently pressed against the button on the remote. “This isn’t happening.”

The suited man squatted before her, obstructing her view, forcing her to finally look at him. “It is happening.”

Gasping in short, quick breaths, she struggled to draw air into her oxygen-starved lungs.

“You need to breathe,” the man urged, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath.”

Wheezing loudly, she nodded, closing her eyes. Concentrating, she remembered the breathing techniques to calm her nerves. She inhaled through her nose and gradually exhaled through her mouth.

In, out, in, out …

Fresh air started to fill her lungs, calming her panic. Gradually, the tight coils in her back released and her neck unlocked from its rigid position. Her chest still felt tight and her heart still beat harshly, but she didn’t feel as though she was on the verge of passing out anymore.

The man in the gray suit remained next to her, his hand rubbing her shoulder gently. She considered knocking his hand away, but the gesture of sympathy was strangely comforting. She also appreciated his silence. No empty words, no empty promises, no empty reassurances.

Lowering one hand, she pressed her fingers against the ground. She could feel the rough texture of the asphalt and the heat it radiated. It felt real. Had her dreams ever felt so vivid?

“Am I going insane?”

“You’re not going insane. The world around you is insane, not you.”

“The café was abandoned. All boarded up!” Unshed tears caught in her lashes.

“Yes, I know. It’s a dead spot. A place where life once thrived. Once humanity moves on, a place like this becomes a dead spot.”

Mackenzie clenched the remote in her hand. She needed to find her car and drive away from here. Her thumb clicked the button again.

“That’s useless now. Your car is in the other world, not this one. The only things in this world are the objects abandoned by people over time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” he promised sincerely. “What’s your name?”

Mackenzie stared into his blue eyes hoping that he was just a hallucination of her tortured mind. Yet, she also wanted him to give her answers.

“Tell me your name first.” She clicked the button again.

“Grant. My name is Grant.”

“I’m Mackenzie.”

His hand plucked the key ring with the remote from her fingers. “Mackenzie, this won’t help you escape from here.”

Though he seemed pleasant enough, she didn’t trust him, figment of her imagination or not. “Grant, give me back my keys.”

With a sigh, he returned them.

“They’re useless here, Mackenzie.”

“So you say.” She kept clicking and hoping.

“I know you’re afraid. I know this feels…” Grant hesitated, rubbing his brow. “I know you feel crazy, but you’re not. I promise you. You’re not.”

“If I’m not insane, then what’s happening to me?” She wanted him to give her an answer that didn’t sound like a horror movie plot, but real and sensible even if he was just a delusion.

Tucking his hand under her elbow, he helped her stand. “You stumbled through a doorway into a dead spot and it closed behind you. Now you’re trapped just like me.”

Mackenzie found her balance, but she still felt light-headed and weak. “And what’s a dead spot?”

“Where we are.”

“That’s not an answer, Grant.”

“Yes, it is. I know you want all the details, but I’d like to have a nice meal while I share the information with you. Okay?” A charming smile flitted across his finely shaped lips. Again, he reminded her of a movie star from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Mackenzie strode to where her car had once stood and stared at the ground. What she expected to find she didn’t know, but there was no sign that her car had come to rest at that spot.

“No skid marks,” she said thoughtfully.

“Your car was never here,” Grant called after her.

“Right. It’s in the other world.”

Stepping into the middle of the road, she stared in one direction, then the other. She couldn’t remember a car passing by since her near collision with the deer. The road curved away from her in either direction, empty and foreboding.

Biting her bottom lip, she rubbed her temple. Her head was pounding from the stress. If she was in a delusion brought on by a mental breakdown, how could she fight her way out of it?

Grant wandered into her field of vision and thoughtfully stared into the woods. Now that he was in the sunlight she could see that his suit was a little threadbare and wrinkled. Though he gave the impression of being rather clean-cut and dignified, she noted his scuffed shoes.

Directing her attention to the restored café, Mackenzie muttered, “I’m definitely having a breakdown.”

“No, you’re not. You need to realize that and soon.”

“Why?”

“Because we have a very short time before you will see the true power of the dead spot. In fact, I suggest we take advantage of this interlude.” Grant laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and lightly pushed her toward the café. “I’m trying to help you, Mackenzie, because this place is dangerous.”

“The café?”

“No, this world.” Grant sighed wistfully. “I’m sorry to tell you that, but I have to be honest with you.”

“What’s going to happen?” The muscles along her spine twisted into painful knots.

“I don’t know,” Grant confessed. “But it’s never pleasant. At least, not pleasant for long. We should take advantage of the lull to talk about what’s happening to you. You do want to know what’s going on, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then let’s get something nice to eat, okay?”

If this was all some twisted dream, did it really matter if she went with him or not? At some point she’d have to wake up. The truth of the matter was that none of this could possibly be true.

“Okay,” she finally relented, then warily allowed him to guide her to the entrance of the café.

Beyond the doorway Mackenzie could see waitresses scurrying around, taking orders and chatting up smiling customers. Piping-hot food, delicious in appearance and smell, was hurried out to the tables by women in beehives and pink gingham dresses.

A fresh theory occurred to her and Mackenzie eagerly grasped at it. Maybe she was unconscious. Mackenzie raised a hand to her head to tug at her long hair in an attempt to wake herself. Her scalp protested, but the discomfort did not alter the landscape around her. She was locked into the mirage around her. “Maybe I was in a car accident. Maybe this is just a dream.”

“In some ways it is.”

“A dream?”

Grant didn’t answer, but stepped inside the café. He held out his hand to her, his blue eyes filled with worrying compassion. It was as if he knew something terrible was going to happen and he pitied her.

“What happens when I go inside?” Mackenzie asked warily. Her grip on the purse strap tightened.

“We eat a nice meal before this all fades away,” Grant answered.

“And when it fades away, what happens?” Mackenzie licked at her dry lips nervously.

“We run.”

CHAPTER 5

The cozy atmosphere inside the café was as unsettling as its ruined interior had been scant minutes before. Guardedly, Mackenzie studied the faces of the people tucked into the booths or around tables, eating and chatting. The voices of the customers mingled in a miasma of accents, some Texan, some not. Families, couples, workmen, and a giggling group of teenagers barely glanced her way.

Candy, the waitress with the big blond beehive, motioned toward an empty booth. “Take a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

Grant touched Mackenzie’s arm lightly, signaling for her to follow with the jerk of his head.

Remembering her phone, Mackenzie fished it out of her tote and stared at the screen. She still didn’t have any service.

“That won’t work here,” Grant said. “Really, we should eat now. I’m starving.”

Mackenzie ignored him. She approached the counter and waited for another waitress, this one with a huge Afro and gold eyeliner, to notice her.

“Can I help you?” the waitress asked, lifting a finely sculpted eyebrow. Her name tag read: DEVONA.

“Can I use your phone?”

Devona tilted her head, glancing toward Grant as a serpentine smile spread on her lips. “Of course you can!” She reached under the counter and pulled out an old black rotary phone. Plunking it down on the counter, she said, “Be our guest.”

Thick dust covered the phone and spiderwebs decorated the dial. The cord was twisted into a knot and covered in grime. Mackenzie lifted her eyes to see Devona watching with a coy smile on her face.

Becoming aware that the diners at the counter were also observing her, Mackenzie shifted on her feet uncomfortably. If she was having a breakdown, none of this was real. There was nothing to fear. Apprehensively, she reached toward the receiver to pluck it from its cradle.

“Don’t,” Grant said sharply, his hand covering hers. His blue eyes glowered at the waitress.

Devona tilted her chin upward, smirking.

“We should eat first.” Grant’s tone was almost angry, but his belligerence seemed squarely aimed at the pretty waitress watching Mackenzie with an intensity that was unsettling.

“I just want to call…” Mackenzie’s voice trailed off. Who did she want to call? Tanner? Estelle? 911? What would she even say? That she had gone insane and was trapped in a mirage?

“Just … let it go for now,” Grant urged.

Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand.

Devona’s smirk faded slightly, but then she shrugged. “I’ll leave it right here if you need it.”

Mackenzie uttered a subdued “thank you” and followed Grant to a booth. She hadn’t even been aware of the din of the café disappearing until the silence was broken. The jukebox restarted, Jim Morrison’s voice rising above the returning chatter. The rustle of many bodies turning away from observing her interaction with the waitress sent fresh shivers through her body. Gripping the tote ever more tightly, she trailed Grant, her gaze steadfastly resting on the spot between his shoulder blades. Dread flitted through her when she caught a few furtive glances from the people clustered around the tables.

Grant slid into the booth on the side where he’d be facing the door while Mackenzie sank onto the bench across from him. Her view was of big-pane glass windows bordered by pink gingham curtains, the jukebox, and a corner table where a lone customer sat waiting for her order. The young woman was probably around Mackenzie’s age, with gleaming blond hair that was brushed to perfection around a sweet face with slightly rounded cheeks and big brown eyes. The woman’s immaculate appearance—from her pink sweater to her white lace blouse and carefully manicured fingernails—resembled an ad in a magazine more than actual reality.

But then again Mackenzie’s grasp on reality had obviously faltered in the last fifteen minutes.

What if she was in the dilapidated café seated on a torn vinyl bench, its rotting stuffing filled with dead insects? What if the table was really strewn with dead leaves? What if there was no one actually sitting across from her? The barrage of terrifying thoughts produced a slight, frantic gasp from her lips and she covered her mouth with one hand.

“Don’t, Mackenzie,” Grant said firmly, yet kindly. “Hold on. Don’t break down.”

“I’m imagining you,” Mackenzie protested.

“No, you’re not.” Sliding his hand across the table, Grant clutched hers. “You’re not imagining me.” He squeezed her fingers until she cried out and tugged her hand away. “See. Could a hallucination do that?”

Rubbing her hand, she grimaced. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never lost my mind before.”

Mackenzie almost had on that awful day when she’d stood next to Joshua’s grave, her mind fragile, fractured, and ready to explode into a million shards. A scream had clawed its way from her soul to her mouth and only Tanner’s comforting arm around her shoulders had kept it silent. She felt that same madness starting to build within her and knew it was time to take back control of her mind. Resolved, she scrounged around in her purse. Withdrawing the bottle of Xanax, she fished one out and swallowed it dry. For a second, she wondered if it would work or if it was imaginary, but she forced the thought away. Her mind needed to believe the pill could make her better so she could regain control. Maybe then she would wake up, or shake free of the delusion.

“What did you take?” Grant asked, concerned.

“A pill for anxiety.”

Cocking his head, Grant scrutinized her. “Do you suffer from it a lot?”

Mackenzie hesitated, then nodded. “This year I have.”

“Just order lunch and don’t…” Grant wavered. “Just think about eating lunch and nothing else.”

Candy paused at their table. Her long fake eyelashes fluttered flirtatiously at Grant. “What can I get for you today?”

The menus were tucked behind a wire basket filled with condiments. Grant snagged two and handed Mackenzie one. The waitress remained paused over their table, pad and pen in hand.

“Uh…” Mackenzie was starved, but what would she end up eating? An acorn? Dirt? The food on the menu looked amazing and her stomach rumbled. “I will take … the chicken fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and fried okra. And a diet soda.”

“The same,” Grant said swiftly. “We’re in a hurry if you could make that a rush.”

Candy’s pink lips spread into an almost fiendish smile. “Of course, darling. Anything for you.” She strutted away on obscenely pink glittery high heels.

Mackenzie glanced toward the perfect blonde finishing her meal. Picking up the napkin on the table, the woman lightly patted her mouth and signaled for the waitress.

“Look away,” Grant directed, tapping his finger on the table to get her attention.

“Excuse me? I don’t care if you’re a figment of my imagination; don’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re a very exasperating woman,” Grant groused. “I wish you would just listen to me.”

The remark was similar to Estelle’s complaints about Mackenzie’s stubborn nature and she bristled. “Why should I listen to you?”

“Because I know what’s going on and you need me.” His earnest appearance reminded her of Tanner and appealed to her more than Mackenzie wanted to admit. As Grant fastened his blue eyes on her, she noted the thick fringe of lashes that added to their beauty. He was the sort of handsome you didn’t find much outside the silver screen, and it was a little disconcerting. “Mackenzie, I need you to pay attention to what I’m saying. We’re very short on time.”

“Why?” Mackenzie looked at him incredulously.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. Her mother would have had a fit. “Because all of this is your doing.”

“My epic breakdown,” Mackenzie sighed. “Gotcha.”

Lowering his voice, Grant said gently, “No, because the dead spots are traps. And like all traps, they have a lure. A lure is something the prey wants or needs. We both need food. We’re both hungry. That’s why this café reshaped itself. To lure us inside.”

“The dead spot?” Mackenzie couldn’t wrap her mind around what he was saying. It just sounded so bizarre. But then again the chances were very high that he was nothing more than an illusion her mind had created. What was the possibility of him making actual sense?

“Dead spots respond to the people they lure into their traps. They read our minds.”

“Dead spots are alive?” Mackenzie squinted at Grant, unsure of what he meant.

“To some degree, yes.”

“What are dead spots? I don’t get it.”

“They’re doorways into this world, but a little more than that. Sort of like the foyers of this world. The entry halls.”

“And this world is…?”

“The world between the living and the dead. A place where nightmares and dreams come true. So for now, you need to concentrate on just the food, Mackenzie. Nothing else. Don’t give it something to twist.”

“Twist how?”

Grant rubbed his brow and exhaled with frustration. “I’m trying to avoid provoking the dead spot, okay? I can’t say much more.”

“Everything you say makes absolutely no sense.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

As Grant slouched back in his seat, looking worried and a little defeated, she pulled out her cell phone again to check the service.

“Even in my delusions I can’t get decent reception.”

Candy set their ice-cold drinks on the table, then teetered away on her high heels to the table in the corner. Instead of handing over a bill, she wrote down a new order for the perfect blonde.

Mackenzie poked at the ice in the fizzing soda with a straw. “It looks real.” Timidly, she took a sip. The ice-cold carbonated drink washed over her tongue, sweet and refreshing. “Tastes real.”

Grant removed the straw from his glass and gulped down every last drop of the liquid.

“Whoa.” Mackenzie was impressed and slightly repulsed. It was very much something Tanner would do. He was a caffeine addict.

“It’s been a long time since I had a diet soda,” Grant confessed.

Lifting her hands, Mackenzie ran them over her skull. “Maybe I’m unconscious. Maybe I hit my head. Would I feel an injury in my dreams?”

Unrolling his silverware, Grant laid out the utensils and spread the napkin over his lap. “Mackenzie, even if you don’t believe me, humor me. Which means put aside all your theories and concentrate on the here and now. Okay?”

Mackenzie considered his words as she regarded her surroundings. Maybe he had a point. She apparently was stuck for the moment in whatever was happening to her. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew Joshua’s blanket and set it on the table so she could search through the rest of the contents.

“That’s beautiful,” Grant said with admiration, lightly touching the embroidered flowers.

“I made it for my son,” Mackenzie answered, continuing to shift the rest of the contents around in her purse.

“You’re a mother,” Grant said thoughtfully.

“Something like that.” Mackenzie found her journal and set it on the table while she rolled the blanket up into a tight spool. Once the blanket was tucked out of sight, she flipped her journal open to a fresh page.

With the attached pen, she wrote: “Stay calm.”

The simple act focused her mind.

Grant chuckled when he obviously read what she wrote.

“I like lists,” she said defensively.

“It’s a good start to a list,” he said with a grin.

Plates full of delicious food were set down on the table before them with a slight clatter.

Candy smiled at them. “Enjoy!”

When Mackenzie stashed away the journal, she noted that it barely shook in her hand. Acceptance of her present circumstances made it a little easier to cope. Certainly she would awaken at some point, but until then she would eat her fried chicken.

Cutting a bite-sized portion with her knife, she savored the smell wafting up from the white meat covered in a crunchy crust. The white gravy clung to the bit of food as she raised it to her mouth. She hesitated. Across from her Grant was hungrily devouring his food, cutting huge chunks out of his serving of chicken and shoving them into his mouth. Bravely, she pushed the food past her lips. The chicken was perfect: juicy, tender, and flavorful. The gravy was just a little spicy. Even if she was just imagining the food, it tasted amazing.

“Here are some fresh rolls,” Candy’s voice said.

“I love bread!” Grant grabbed one of the hot, flaky rolls, buttered it, and shoved it in his mouth. Chewing, he smiled, his cheeks bulging. He motioned for her to eat.

Mackenzie really didn’t need any urging. Tucking into her meal, she savored each bite.

In the corner, the blonde was devouring a huge burger and fries with great relish. Ketchup dripped onto her pink sweater, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Grant leaned forward, snagged Mackenzie’s chin with his fingers to bring her gaze back to him. “Just eat.”

“Hey!” Jerking her head away, she frowned.

With a wince, Grant gave her an apologetic look. “I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“Because we’re in a dead spot?”

“Yes.” Grant gave Candy a wary look as the waitress strolled past. “Exactly.”

Mackenzie’s eyes strayed toward the corner table again. The blonde’s hair was now mussed from her shoving her greasy hands through it to get it out of her face as she crammed half a hot dog into her mouth.

“What the hell…?”

“Stop looking,” Grant growled. He was eating as fast as he could. He smashed the last of his chicken and potatoes between two rolls and bit into the makeshift sandwich.

“But it’s just so weird,” Mackenzie answered, her eyes flicking back toward the woman.

The white blouse the gorging woman wore was now smeared with condiments and taco sauce. With greasy hands, she crammed two tacos into her mouth. Mackenzie stared in horror while the woman chased down the spicy food with great gulps of a milk shake. The blonde’s buttons popped off her blouse and flew across the café. No one else seemed to notice.

“Look away, Mackenzie. You’re making it worse.”

Forcing her gaze to her food, Mackenzie continued her meal, but the temptation to watch the gluttonous woman was too great. She stole another look.

The perfect blonde was definitely not perfect anymore. Her blouse was hanging open and her hair was a mess. Not even bothering with her utensils, she was eating huge handfuls of roast beef and potatoes. Her once slightly plump cheeks were now flabby and thick jowls were forming.

Mackenzie’s appetite left her and she shoved the plate away with one hand.

“You should eat more,” Grant urged.

“I can’t. I’m full.”

“You should still eat.”

“I’m full, Grant. Back off!” The words left her mouth a little more sharply than she would have liked even if he was a bit bossy. In the past she was the calm one in the face of her mother’s histrionics, but now she was the one on edge. Grant appeared to be sincerely trying to help her, but her usual Texan geniality was frayed by the events unfolding around her.

The now imperfect blonde motioned for the waitress again. Her face, hair, and hands glistened with grease. Her body was bulging underneath her clothes.

Wiping his mouth, Grant said, “You should eat now before it gets any worse.”

“I haven’t had much of an appetite in a while. Not since—”

A pang of sorrow pierced her. The visit to Joshua’s grave came to mind and the enormity of what she’d lost bore down on her. Tanner, Joshua, her home … all was lost. Now she was lost, too. Disconnected from reality and trapped.

“Don’t!”

“Don’t what?”

“Give it a purpose,” he replied sharply.

A bell over the front door jangled as another customer entered. Grant narrowed his eyes, gazing past her toward the newcomer. “What were you just thinking about?”

Mackenzie twisted the napkin in her hands. “It doesn’t matter.”

“This way please,” one of the waitresses said behind her.

Mackenzie knotted the napkin, struggling with the surge of sadness billowing through her. Was she in her car, slowly dying right now? Would she be joining her little one under the unforgiving darkness of the ground? What would Tanner say? Would he even care? Or would he just continue on with his new girlfriend as they waited for their baby?

“This is perfect! Thanks!”

Tanner’s voice.

Unsteady, Mackenzie looked up to see her ex-husband slide into a booth. A pregnant woman took the seat across from him, her face shielded by her thick brown hair. Tanner yanked two menus out from behind the wire basket on their table and slid one to the woman. Tapping his fingers, he studied the menu.

“Who is that?” Grant asked worriedly.

“Now I know I’m dead,” Mackenzie muttered. “This is hell.”

“Who is that?” Grant’s voice was insistent.

“Tanner,” Mackenzie answered miserably. “My ex-husband who left me after our baby died.”

“Damn.” Grant craned his neck, looking around the café anxiously. “We better get going. Nice time is over.”

Mackenzie watched Tanner take the pregnant woman’s hand and rub her fingers lovingly. The sweet look he once gave Mackenzie graced his face while he spoke to his girlfriend. He couldn’t have hurt Mackenzie more if he had stabbed her.

“Mackenzie, let’s go,” Grant said, standing.

Mackenzie gasped in horror.

Beyond Grant, the endlessly eating woman was in an even worse condition. Rolls of fat burst out from under her clothing and her face was smeared with food. The plates of food she had ordered were licked clean and scattered across the table, yet the woman was still eating. She tore great chunks of flesh out of her own chubby arm, hungrily devouring each bite. Blood splattered the table and pooled on the floor. No one else seemed to notice the woman cannibalizing herself. The customers continued to eat their meals while the jukebox played the first hit from Britney Spears.

Grant followed her gaze. “Okay, we definitely need to go now.” Standing, he grabbed her arm. “C’mon, Mackenzie.”

If not for him forcing her to her feet, she probably wouldn’t have been able to stand. Her knees felt weak, her stomach revolting against the food. In the booth behind the woman consuming her own arm, Tanner was laughing and chatting with his new girlfriend, oblivious of Mackenzie or the cannibal.

“Mackenzie, we need to go now!” Grant tugged on her arm.

Bone and muscle glistened in the light. The woman continued to devour herself, sucking the flesh off her fingers.

“I … I…” A scream was welling up from deep within Mackenzie.

Tanner started laughing at something that was said to him, shaking his head with amusement. Raising his head, he gave a short wave in her direction. Mackenzie’s fingers twitched as she fought back the reflex to wave back.

Candy stalked past toward Tanner’s table, ignoring the blood-soaked woman consuming her fingers. “Coming, darlin’.”

“We’re leaving now!”

Grant dragged Mackenzie about, her feet tripping her. The anxiety attack bloomed again, distorting her senses and crippling her mind and body. It was difficult for Mackenzie to move her limbs properly as her vision tunneled and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Stumbling, she clutched Grant’s arm with one hand, trying to keep herself upright.

“Hey, Mac!” Tanner’s voice called out.

“Don’t turn around,” Grant urged as he pulled her to the entrance.

“Mac!” Tanner called out again. “Hey, Mac! Over here!”

Unable to resist, Mackenzie stole a peek over her shoulder.

Tanner lounged in his seat staring straight at her, grinning slightly. He exuded boyish charm and swagger even while sitting. Pointing with one hand, he said, “Aren’t you forgetting your baby?”

Dark fingers of horror slid up through her body to grip her mind as Mackenzie’s eyes followed the line from the tip of Tanner’s finger to the old-fashioned baby carriage next to the table Mackenzie and Grant had just abandoned. It was baby blue with a curtain of gauzy tulle edged in white lace that extended from the hood to the edges of the bassinet.

Mackenzie’s body betrayed her, taking one step toward the carriage.

“Don’t,” Grant said sharply.

The wheels were smeared with mud and clumps of dirt clung to the white lace. A small, dark shape beneath the misty material shifted.

“Mac, you probably really should take the baby. I already got my own on the way!” Tanner called out, grinning.

Breath stuttering, hands shaking, stomach twisting, Mackenzie lurched in the direction of the carriage. The tiny figure beneath the tulle moved again. Contradictory, chaotic thoughts fought in her mind for dominance. Her arms ached to hold her baby. If she was enraptured by a delusion, then she could hold Joshua one last time, couldn’t she? But what if she drew back the fabric and found something twisted and grotesque?

Grant spun her about. “Don’t let it get to you!”

“I just want to hold him one last time!”

“It’s the dead spot!” Grant tugged her toward the entrance.

“Oh, ma’am?” It was the waitress behind the bar. She was holding the phone receiver. “It’s your mother on the line.”

Mackenzie stared at the black receiver. How could her mother know she was here? Clarity began to break through the maelstrom of confusion clouding her mind.

Devona held out the phone insistently, shaking it slightly. “C’mon … answer.”

Curiosity gripping her, Mackenzie twisted around in Grant’s grip and wrenched free.

“No, Mackenzie!”

Tilting her head, Devona grinned, waving the receiver.

Mackenzie took the now shiny and sleek receiver from the woman and cautiously pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Are you leaving your baby again, Mackenzie? Didn’t I raise you better than that? First you do something stupid and kill him before he’s even born, then you just up and leave Shreveport leaving him buried in the ground, then you have the chance to have him again and you just walk away. What kind of mother are you?”

It was Estelle’s voice. The inflection of every word was perfect. Though Mackenzie knew that her mother harbored in her soul the belief that Mackenzie had somehow brought about the death of her child, the cruelty in the words held a malevolence Estelle’s voice did not.

“It’s not her,” Mackenzie said, staring at the waitress, dumbfounded at the barrage of nasty comments pouring out of the phone.

“Mackenzie, don’t feed it.” Grant grabbed the phone from her hand and flung it at the waitress, who ducked out of the way.

The nasty words uttered in her mother’s voice filled her mind, making her reel. What sort of a mother was she, moving out of state to selfishly start a new life when Joshua was buried in the unyielding earth? A baby’s pitiful cry sounded, plaintive and hungry.

What if Joshua was in the carriage, hungry and alone, crying out for her?

Grant dragged her to the entrance, pushed the door open, and attempted to pull her outside.

“I can’t leave him!” Mackenzie exclaimed, her arms craving to feel her son in them one last time. “I can’t leave him!”

Twisting her wrists free of Grant’s hold, she pushed him outside, jerked the front door shut, and locked it. There was no way she was going to leave Joshua again.

Mackenzie whirled about and let out a frightened whimper.

The café was full of shadows and empty of life. Dry leaves and rotting boards crunched beneath her boot heels. There was no sign of any customers, a bustling waitstaff, Tanner, or the cannibal blonde. The baby carriage and the tiny form hidden within were nowhere to be seen. It looked exactly as it had when she had first entered. Abandoned, empty, filthy.

Shocked, Mackenzie stared at where she’d just had a meal. The table was broken and listing against the wall. The jukebox was gone and the music with it. The café once more smelled of decay, not food.

She’d finally snapped out of her fugue state. With a soft sob of relief, she pressed one hand to her chest. “It’s gone. Oh, thank God.”

The pink pepper spray sat on one of the nearby tables, and, heels thumping against the rotting floor, she hurried over and snatched it up.

“Hungry,” a voice rasped.

Twisting about, Mackenzie let out a terrified cry.

The once perfect blonde sat in her booth in the corner, holding out her skeleton arms. Flayed flesh and muscle dripped from her bones. Her face, neck, and chest were covered in bleeding scratches torn by her own fingers. Huge gaping wounds trickled blood over her flabby naked body.

“I’m so hungry!”

Appalled, Mackenzie stared, her body frozen.

Gripping the edge of the table with a skeletal hand, the blonde pulled her large body upright. Leaves skittered over the table as it wobbled, almost tipping over. Mackenzie watched in horror as a leaf fell into the blood spilling onto the floor and gradually disappeared beneath the surface. The squishy sound of the woman’s bare feet approaching pulled Mackenzie’s attention from the pool of blood. One hand flailing before her, the woman’s tongue lolled about in her torn mouth.

“Hungry, so hungry,” she whispered again.

Mackenzie gulped in a deep breath, the coppery smell of blood making her gag. The pepper spray in her hand was terribly insignificant in the face of such a gruesome creature.

Another table rattled as the woman struck it with her bare thigh, sending it toppling over with a loud crash. The noise jolted Mackenzie out of her paralysis and she held the pepper spray before her.

“Stay back!”

“Mackenzie!” Grant pounded on the front door. “What’s going on? Unlock the door! Let me in!”

“So hungry! I need to eat! I need to eat!” Tears slid over her meaty, torn cheeks and dripped bloody drops off her chin.

“Go away!”

“Feed me!” the woman cried out. “Feed me!”

The torn and mangled woman was almost upon her, but Mackenzie’s feet refused to budge. Her hand shook as she aimed at the face of the cannibal.

“I’ll hurt you,” Mackenzie threatened. “I’ll do it.”

A swipe of one skinless hand sent her scrambling backward. Mackenzie pushed aside broken chairs and fell against the dirty lunch counter.

The sobbing, bloody woman lashed out at Mackenzie again, trying to grab her. Mackenzie clutched the dirty, broken phone covered in spiderwebs and hurled it at the woman. It struck her bloody cheek, eliciting a gasp of pain.

“Stay away!”

“Feed me!”

Mackenzie waved the pepper spray, threatening the woman. She skirted around a broken table and backed toward the door.

“Feed me!”

The woman lunged forward again and Mackenzie pulled the pepper spray trigger. The stream struck the woman’s neck, not her face. As the hot spicy smell filled the café, Mackenzie flung an arm over her face and flew to the door. On the other side, Grant pounded on the door and rattled the handle. Rotating the lock, Mackenzie yanked the door open. Instantly, Grant dragged her out. Tripping over the stoop, she fell forward, collapsing onto the walkway. Rolling onto her back, Mackenzie raised her pepper spray, aiming at the bloody woman lurching out of the doorway. With one mangled arm, she sent Grant sprawling.

“Stay back!” Mackenzie yelled.

“Feed me!” the woman howled, falling to her knees, her skin-stripped hands grasping at Mackenzie’s legs.

Kicking violently, Mackenzie screamed wordlessly. Grant clambered to his feet and surged past the cannibal. Leaning down, he snagged Mackenzie’s arm and hauled her to her feet and away from the bloody woman.

“Stay back!” Grant ordered.

The woman’s eyes widened, then she let out an anguished howl, her skeleton hands covering her face. Wailing, she rocked back and forth on the ground, her blood-covered, flabby body shifting grotesquely on her frame.

“We need to get out of here,” Grant said firmly, pulling Mackenzie along beside him.

“I’m so hungry!” The desperate cry echoed in the clearing.

Mackenzie didn’t look back as she fled.

CHAPTER 6

The door listed on a broken hinge under a faded sign. Yellowed newspaper adorned the windows. The glittering facade had vanished, revealing the broken building beneath. There was no sign of the cannibal woman. By the time they’d reached the road, her cries had stopped and she’d vanished.

“We need to go,” Grant said.

“Why are you still here?” she asked finally. “Why didn’t you disappear with the others?”

“Because I’m not like the others. I’m not a dead spot creation and I’m not a wraith. I am trapped just like you.”

“That woman who was eating herself and all the others were … wraiths?”

“That’s what they’re called.”

“By who?”

“People who enter the dead spots. We really should go now.”

Mackenzie clutched the big tote bag tightly to her body, almost as if it were a shield between her and the man in the gray suit. “So when I went into the café to explore, I entered a dead spot.”

“Yes.”

“And the reason you yelled about the door when you first saw me is because…”

“If the door had remained open, we could have escaped. But it closed, so we’re trapped.”

Mackenzie reflected on Grant’s mad dash to the front entrance when she had first encountered him. “But I didn’t close the door.”

“They always close on their own. You just have to get there before it closes and traps you,” Grant answered with a slight shrug.

“What if we go back in, shut the door, and open it?”

“We’ll still be in the dead spot. A door can only be opened from the outside world. Sometimes it opens in one world, but not the other.”

“That’s stupid,” Mackenzie declared.

“It’s how it works,” Grant said, lifting his shoulders.

“Why should I listen to you? I’m probably imagining you.”

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, Grant sighed wearily, his broad shoulders slumping. “It would be easier if you just believed that all of this is real.”

Pressing her hand to her brow, Mackenzie stared toward the café. “It all started in there. It has to be the way out, too.”

“But it’s not. We need to get going.” Grant gestured toward the road. “We’ve hung around here far too long as it is.”

“Where will we go?”

“I’m not sure yet, but we really need to get moving.”

Strange, rasping birdcalls issued out of the surrounding woods. Uneasy, she suddenly had the uncanny impression that she was being watched. A quick check of the café revealed that it was still a ruined structure. The windows were papered and boarded up.

“Why?”

“Because the dead spot is going to start messing with us again if we don’t.”

“Like the baby carriage and the cannibal woman?”

“Yes.”

“Say no more. Let’s go.”

Walking briskly along the road, Mackenzie tried to resist the urge to rub her watering eyes. She had only caught a whiff of the pepper spray, but it had been enough to make her nose run and her throat burn. Head lowered to protect her smarting eyes from the wind, Mackenzie stared at the beautiful designs flitting across the road created by the sunlight filtering through the branches of the bordering pines. She kept the pepper spray canister in one hand, still unnerved by the earlier tussle with the gruesome woman.

“Aren’t you worried about cars?” Mackenzie asked after a few minutes.

“We’ll hear them if one comes this way,” Grant assured her. “Besides, cars are rare in the dead spots. People can’t make them run.”

Maybe the pill she had taken was working, or maybe it was just a placebo effect, but Mackenzie felt more calm than afraid now that she was away from the café. To actually be moving away from the building and the strange events that had occurred within was a great relief. Her head still throbbed, tendrils of discomfort still slinking up her neck to prod at her brain, but the knots between her shoulders were loosening.

“Thank you, by the way,” Mackenzie said after a few more minutes. “For trying to help me.”

“My people skills are a little rusty, so I probably haven’t been as sociable as I should be. I’ve been on my own for a while now.” He gave her a charmingly sheepish smile.

The clomping of her boot heels against the pavement matched the soft slap of his loafers. They walked side by side, Mackenzie gripping her pepper spray in one hand, her tote purse in the other. Grant appeared much more relaxed with his hands in his trouser pockets.

“Why have you been on your own?” Mackenzie wiped her wet cheekbones with the back of her hand. Her eyes weren’t stinging as much now.

Grant’s smile faded a bit. He glanced into the woods on either side as though determining if they were being watched or not. “Well, the person I was with … died.”

“How?” Mackenzie asked, aghast.

“Wraiths,” he answered.

“What exactly are wraiths?”

“The creatures that hunt us. Feed off our fear.”

“Like that woman back there?”

“Something like that.”

“How did the person die?” Mackenzie dared to ask, though dreading his answer.

“They gave in to their worst fear and died.” Grant’s voice was even, but he ducked his head so she couldn’t see his face clearly.

“I’m sorry,” Mackenzie whispered, understanding the loss of a loved one all too well.

“The dead spots and wraiths feed off of emotion. Strong emotions are best. Fear … they like us to fear.”

Mackenzie glanced warily into the forest. Nothing seemed amiss. Plants slightly swayed in the wind, birds sang, and the branches creaked in the canopy above.

“The one we were in was still sorting you out, so that’s why we had to flee,” Grant said, glancing her way.

“Why didn’t it attack using what you fear? Why me?”

“I’ve learned to control my fears over time. How to not let them get ahold of me. But you’re fresh, new, full of life. Untainted. It wanted to play with you.”

His words felt like tiny stabs into her psyche. Stopping in midstep, she shivered as a wave of anxiety flowed over her. She braced herself for the worst of the attack, but the anxiety began to ebb away. The Xanax was definitely working.

Grant turned to take hold of her shoulders. Stooping, he peered into her eyes. “Mackenzie, don’t start to panic.”

“I’m okay,” she said, smiling with relief. “I think the Xanax is kicking in.”

Grant studied her face for a second, then dropped his hands. “Good. Good. We need to find someplace to stay before nightfall. I think there’s an abandoned house a few miles up the road. Another dead spot.”

“Won’t that be bad?”

“No, no. That’s the other thing about dead spots. We can take control of them.”

Mackenzie rubbed her slightly aching head. “I’m getting confused.”

“When we get there, I’ll show you. We really do need to hurry. At night it’s always worse in this world. It’s when the sleepers begin to affect it.”

“Sleepers?”

“What sleepers dream materializes in this world. That’s why nightfall is always dangerous.”

“I want to wake up now,” she halfheartedly joked.

With sadness tinting his features, Grant slid an arm around her shoulders in a comforting motion that also enabled him to urge her forward. “I know you do. But you can’t. You’re in a different world now whether you want to accept that or not. It’s best that you do accept it. It’s safer.”

“This can’t be real,” Mackenzie grumbled.

“Let’s say it’s not. Let’s say it’s all in your head. You still should play by the rules that are established, right?”

Mackenzie licked her lips, pondering his words. What he said somewhat made sense. If her mind was imposing this fictional world upon her, maybe she had no choice but to accept it. “I don’t know.”

The rustling of the trees and the whisper of the wind should have been a comforting sound, but now it made her wary. Glancing into the forest, she frowned. The shade beneath the trees appeared thicker, gloomier. The sun’s position in the sky indicated it was midafternoon, but the world was gradually being leeched of light.

“Grant,” she said in a hushed and frightened tone.

“I see it. Just keep walking.” He dropped his arm from her shoulder and took her hand. Setting a much more brisk pace, he hurried her up the road.

A strange sound emanated from the forest. It almost sounded like the hoot of an owl, but raspier. Mackenzie caught a glimmer of red out of her peripheral vision and dared to peer into the woods. Bright red eyes, round and unblinking, stared at her from high in the tree branches.

“Something is watching us,” she said, pointing.

Grant shot a worried look in the direction she indicated, but didn’t answer. Instead, he broke into a run, tugging her along behind him. Mackenzie picked up her pace, trying not to stumble in her high-heeled boots while matching his speed. Clutching her pepper spray, she kept her gaze on the road ahead. The solo raspy hoot gave way to a chorus, the fluttering of wings whispering through the trees. Despite her determination not to give in to the temptation to take another look into the trees, she peeked anyway. Dozens of red orbs glimmered in the growing darkness.

“There’s more!”

“Stop looking at them!”

“What are they?”

“Just run, Mackenzie!” He sounded annoyed and afraid. “We’re almost to the turnoff.”

Shadows swarmed over the road, obscuring the sun. The loud flapping of wings overhead compelled her to duck her head as her hand slipped free from Grant’s.

“Keep running, Mackenzie!”

The ragged hoots reverberated around them, the red eyes glinting on both sides of the road. The bright afternoon sunlight vanished below a raucous whirlwind of dark wings and glowing red eyes swirling above their heads. Mackenzie caught glimpses of furry bodies, glowing eyes, and feathered wings.

Lungs aching, thighs burning, and her side forming a painful stitch, Mackenzie fought to keep up with Grant. The primal need to flee forced her onward. A dark shape abruptly darted past her face, wings brushing her skin, a claw raking her cheek. Crying out, she sprawled onto the road. She landed hard on her hands and knees, scraping her palms. The pepper spray tumbled out of her hand and into the high grasses edging the road. Her purse skidded across the surface, spilling its contents and scattering them across the asphalt. Mackenzie snatched up the yellow baby blanket, rolled it back up, and shoved it into her purse before grabbing up the rest of the items that had fallen out. A quick scan of the area revealed that the bottle of Xanax had rolled close to the end of the pavement.

“Mackenzie, come on!” Grant’s voice was muffled by the noise from above.

“I need to grab my pills!”

“Leave it!”

The fluttering of wings grew louder and she peered upward to see hundreds of small-winged creatures forming a spiral overhead. They moved so fast it was difficult to discern their actual appearance, but their bright, eerie red eyes and haunting calls felt distinctly threatening. Crawling rapidly forward, she reached for the bottle of Xanax.

There was a loud screech above her, and she threw up her arms to cover her head, anticipating an attack. Something soft brushed over her hands, then landed with a thump.

A small creature around two feet tall glared at her while it hopped toward the white bottle. Its face resembled an owl, but it had tall ears with tufts of black fur at the ends and a much longer, wickedly curved red beak. Its body was more like that of a bat, furry with leathery legs ending in long red talons. The wings were birdlike, black feathers with a hint of a red sheen.

Mackenzie cowered beneath the maelstrom of flapping wings, staring at the creature. There was a wrongness to it that bothered her. It bounced along the ground, its long tail fanning out aggressively behind it. As it neared the bottle Mackenzie realized what it wanted seconds before its clawed foot snatched it up.

“No!”

Lunging forward, Mackenzie swung the big purse at the animal. Its wings caught the air, pulling its body upward. The purse clipped its tail feathers and the bird screeched.

“Give that back!” She jumped at the creature, fingers grasping for the medication.

Something crashed into her shoulder blades, knocking her down. Crying out, she rolled away from her attacker and climbed to her knees. Two more of the strange birds hopped toward her, beaks darting forward menacingly. In the air, the thief joined the whirlwind of birds, still clutching the bottle of Xanax.

Climbing to her feet, Mackenzie kicked at the birds. They hissed, long forked tongues flicking out of their mouths. “What the hell are you?”

The two fiends daringly charged her, flapping their wings. Mackenzie again kicked at them, catching one of them and sending it hurtling into the brush. The remaining creature let out a low rasping growl, then jerked its head back twice. Its jaw unhinged, creating a gaping maw. It had not only a razor-sharp beak, but also hooked teeth in its expanded mouth.

“Shit.”

Mackenzie darted to one side, grabbing for the purse as the thing bounced after her. The second one popped back up and flew at her. Her boot heel snagged a rock, causing her foot to slip, and she crashed to the ground. The purse was inches away from her hand and she strained to grab it, while keeping an eye on the swiftly approaching predatory birds.

With a feral cry, Grant raced at the bird about to land on Mackenzie, a heavy stick raised over his head. The bird started, wings buffeting the air as it changed course and shot up to join the rest of its companions. The earthbound bird retreated, wings extended, its tongue flicking out of its grotesque mouth. Grant lunged, swinging at the creature’s head. It took to the air, flapping as it hovered. Grant whacked at it several times, but it dodged out of his range and toward Mackenzie.

Mackenzie seized the purse and the few items that still littered the ground. She snapped it shut and swung it menacingly at the gruesome bird. The bird’s red eyes glared as it dove at her. Crying out, Mackenzie ducked, raising the purse in self-defense. The bird landed on it, its heavy claws tearing into the sequined fabric. Mackenzie shrieked and shook the purse violently, aiming to shake it off.

“Mackenzie, let go of the purse!” Grant shouted.

He swung at the bird, but it dodged under his attack. The gaping mouth slashed at Mackenzie’s face and she let go of the purse straps, ducking away. Triumphantly, the bird flew a few feet away, clutching its prize. Grant ran toward it, but the bird skipped away out of range as its fierce beak darted through the opening. With a squawk, it snatched the baby blanket and tugged it out of the tote bag.

“No!” Mackenzie screamed. She ran toward the bird, just a few steps behind Grant.

The bird spread its wings and caught a wind gust, soaring over their heads.

“No! No!” Mackenzie leaped and managed to snag the edge of the blanket.

The bird screamed.

“There is no way in this hell I’m going to let you have it!” Mackenzie jerked violently on the blanket, digging her nails into the soft fabric.

“Mackenzie, we need to go now!” Grant frantically swung at the swarm of creatures that were dipping lower and lower overhead.

“It can’t have it! It’s Joshua’s!”

With another mighty pull, Mackenzie dragged the hissing bird out of the air. With a sharp kick, she sent the bird fluttering across the asphalt. Triumphantly, she clenched the blanket in one hand while reclaiming her purse.

“C’mon! There’s even more now!” Clutching his stick, Grant ran.

Mackenzie burst into a full sprint behind him. The glowering red eyes of the birds flashed red as they circled overhead, stirring up the wind. The drafts of air sent her hair flying around her face, threatening to obscure her vision.

Grant darted off the road and onto a dirt drive. Mackenzie followed, trying not to trip. The dirt was loose, soft, and hard to run through. Her heels kept sinking into the ground, making her stumble.

Ahead was an old ranch-style house. The boarded-up windows and overgrown yard told of its abandonment. Most of the roof had collapsed, leaving a gaping hole, and one corner of the house was blackened from fire.

Grant barreled up to the front door, shouldered it open, and disappeared inside. Mackenzie leaped onto the porch and followed him, glancing back one last time.

The tornado of black birds had dissipated as the creatures settled into the trees along the driveway, their red eyes watching until Grant slammed the door shut.

The interior of the house was in even worse condition than the outside had suggested. Mackenzie violently coughed as their footsteps disturbed the dirt and soot on the floor. Covering her mouth, Mackenzie followed Grant through the foyer into a large living area. The muted light streaming in through the broken windows revealed the scope of the damage inflicted on the house.

The walls were blackened, the floor was rotting, and half of the house was rubble. A heap of ruined furniture sat in the center of the living room covered in black mold and cobwebs. Graffiti decorated the walls, beer cans and cigarette butts littered the floor, and a pile of soiled mattresses was shoved up against a stone fireplace. Each step they took sent more motes of dirt whirling through the pale sunbeams.

“This place doesn’t seem very safe.”

“For now,” Grant answered, gingerly shoving some refuse out of his way with the toe of his loafer. He cautiously advanced through an archway into another room.

“I really don’t see it improving,” she called after him. Her skin was itching and she felt filthy just standing in the house.

The raspy hoots of the odd birds grew in volume outside. Cautiously, Mackenzie tiptoed across the scorched floor to a shattered window to peer out. The red eyes of the creatures filled the trees lining the long drive. She hated the evil birds with all her heart. The thought of the bird stealing the baby blanket she had so lovingly created made her furious. Maybe she was crazy for thinking so, but it felt like they had stolen or attempted to steal what they knew was most important to her. If she had to choose between Joshua’s blanket and the Xanax, she would pick the blanket. At least she had rescued it.

She ducked out of view and hurried after Grant.

“They’re still out there,” she said, stepping through the archway and into a narrow hallway that appeared to bisect the house. “Grant?”

“In here. I’m in the kitchen.”

The carpet was a mildewed mess. The walls were heavily damaged by smoke, water, and fire. Mackenzie kept her mouth covered, coughing low in her throat. She found the doorway to the kitchen and caught sight of Grant’s broad shoulders and dark hair as he stood in the center of the burned-out room. Arms crossed over his chest, he appeared to be studying the room.

“Wow. It looks like the fire started in here.”

“I think so, too.” Grant gestured toward the destroyed oven.

The floor was a melted mass of puckered linoleum that cracked under her feet. The cabinets were burned-out husks, and charred beams were all that remained of the ceiling. Mackenzie could see the sky through the holes in the roof. Thick clouds obscured the sun, making the room gloomy and foreboding. A single window was over the sink, and the only other door in the room hung crookedly from its bottom hinge. It opened to a pantry filled with charred boxes and jars.

“This is perfect,” Grant decided with satisfaction.

“Uh, are we seeing the same thing?”

Grant righted a blackened metal kitchen chair and set it next to the broken table. After testing its strength, he gingerly sat down. “We need to talk about the dead spots and you need to listen.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she sighed. “Grant, those things are still out there.”

“And that is why you need to listen to what I have to say, Mackenzie.” He rubbed his face wearily, and then combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m trying to help you because I have seen what a dead spot can do to people. What it did to people I cared deeply about. How it feeds off people, consumes them little by little, until they’re nothing more than a shadow of the person they once were.”

Maybe it was the earnestness of his words, or his pleading tone, or perhaps simply because he had just perfectly described how she had felt since Joshua died, but Mackenzie relented. “Okay. Talk to me about the dead spots.”

Grant loosened his tie and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt. With a haunted expression on his face, he began to speak. “Like I explained before, dead spots are locations that have been abandoned by humanity and time. Ruins of a world that once existed. These locations, scattered all over the world, sometimes contain doorways into the world between the living and the dead, the world of dreams and nightmares. The world we are now in. The dead spots connect this world to the real one.”

“And once you enter, if the door shuts behind you, you’re stuck, right?” Mackenzie leaned her hip against one of the sturdier looking counters.

“Exactly. Where we are right now—this house—is another dead spot like the café. In the world of the living, if someone opened the front door right now we might possibly escape. But people rarely go in to dead spots when people that are trapped, like you and I, are close enough to get out. And beyond that, the door opening in the world of the living has to open the door on this side for a true doorway between worlds to form. It doesn’t always happen.”

“Which is why you’re still trapped here?”

“I stayed in a dead spot for close to a year, waiting for the doorways to align. I could sometimes hear the living moving through the building. They sounded like ghosts.” Grant lowered his head, rubbing his chin anxiously. “I nearly went mad trying to find a way out.”

“That’s why you flipped out when you saw me, huh?”

“I thought maybe we could get out. But the door had shut.” Tapping the ruined table with one finger, he continued. “Let me ask you a question. Why do you think the café altered once you went inside?”

“’Cause the dead spot was messing with me?” Mackenzie felt awkward just saying the words.

“When you entered the café, what were you thinking about?” Grant met her gaze steadily. She had the impression he was trying to will her into coming to a specific conclusion.

“Uh … that I was stupid to go inside. That it was gross. Stuff like that I guess.” She scratched her elbow, feeling uneasy. She had been thinking much darker thoughts than that, but she didn’t feel the need to share with Grant. Even if Grant was a creation of her broken mind, she didn’t feel like divulging her innermost thoughts.

“Are you certain?” He looked dubious.

“I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

“Did you maybe wonder what the café had looked like in its heyday?”

“Actually, more along the lines of it having once been someone’s dream,” she confessed. Of course, that had only been a small part of what she had been thinking about when she had dared herself to enter the café.

“The dead spot responded to that thought.” Grant rested his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Uh, sure.”

“Why do you think I told you to concentrate on just eating lunch? I told you not to look at that woman for a reason. Not to think about negative things. Remember? So it wouldn’t twist things around you.”

“Yeah, but…” She licked her lips nervously. Tanner had appeared after she had thought about him, hadn’t he?

“Did the menu have all your favorite foods?”

Slowly, Mackenzie nodded. It had listed every one of her favorite diner foods.

“Was the jukebox playing some of your favorite songs?”

A growing wave of awe and terror threatened to crash down on her.

“The whole café was responding to your thoughts, Mackenzie. All of it. That’s why I wanted you to concentrate on just having a simple meal, because the dead spot was reshaping the world in response to what you were thinking.”

Mulling over his words, Mackenzie stared at the man before her. His handsome face was tired and his manner a little brisk, but he wasn’t unkind. There was something about him that made her want to trust him, maybe even believe him.

“If I was manipulating it, then why didn’t it give me back my car?”

“I was waiting for that question,” he said with a slight smile. “Only things that have been abandoned become part of this world.” Grant stood, stretched, and shrugged off his jacket. “Now this is where you may have a little trouble believing me.”

“No, no. I’m having trouble believing all of it.”

Mackenzie watched him hang the jacket over the back of the chair. “When a person first enters a dead spot, they are full of life. That energy is…” Grant searched for the words. “Um … I guess life-giving would be a way to state it. But the longer a person is in this world and gives in to its torments, the dimmer that life becomes, the less energy they have. And when it becomes depleted, it gets harder for it to be reenergized.”

“So it’s magic?” Mackenzie wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, but she thought of the café and felt uneasy.

“Somewhat. I guess we should start with something small.” Grant walked over to the pantry and scrutinized the blackened cans. He finally pulled one out, trying to read the remains of a label. “This is peaches.” He moved to Mackenzie’s side and plunked it into her hands. “I want you to think about how this can must have looked before the fire.”

Mackenzie squinted at him. “Why?”

“Just do it, Mackenzie.”

“Fine.” Staring at the can, Mackenzie could make out a little bit of the label. It was a brand her mother used in her delicious homemade cobbler.

The smell of cobbler suddenly cut through the nasty burnt reek of the house. Mackenzie’s eyes widened as Grant whipped about. They both stared at the oven, now a gleaming white appliance. Through the oven door, they could see cobbler bubbling away in a pan inside.

“What the hell?” Mackenzie gasped. Her gaze shot to the can in her hand. The label was fully restored and the can was shiny and new. Mackenzie dropped it.

“You’re doing that!” Grant exclaimed. “You’re manipulating the dead spot. Don’t stop, Mackenzie!”

“How? I don’t understand!”

“The cobbler is ready. What do you need to get it out?” Grant gripped her arms excitedly.

Mackenzie shifted her gaze to the countertop where a wire rack and pot holders waited on a clean surface. Lifting her eyes, she saw that the cabinets were restored. Tentatively, she opened one, revealing heavy stoneware plates. Her trembling fingers pulled the knob on a drawer and slid it open. Shiny silverware was inside.

“What’s good to drink with cobbler?” Grant asked, grinning with excitement.

“Milk,” she whispered.

Together they turned to see that the refrigerator door stood open revealing a frosty jug of milk.

“I like vanilla ice cream, too,” Mackenzie said in a meek voice.

Grant hurried over and pulled open the freezer. Icy mist embraced a gallon of vanilla ice cream.

Mackenzie covered her mouth with her hands, overwhelmed. Her mind began to race, imagining where they needed to sit down to eat. Before her eyes the table and chairs jerked upright and instantly transformed into chrome and plastic perfection. Raising her eyes, she witnessed the ceiling being restored, blocking out the blackened attic and dreary sky. Beneath her feet, the tiles bubbled, then flattened into a white-and-black checkerboard design.

The oven door released a hot plume of air as Grant claimed the cobbler, pot holders with a sunflower design protecting his hands.

Mackenzie staggered over to the restored kitchenette and fell onto a chair. Soft white cotton curtains fluttered over the sink, sunflowers decorating the black hem. Within a minute, there was no sign of the blight left by the fire that had consumed most of the house. The kitchen was exactly like the café now: a perfect, gleaming example of another era.

Grant set a bowl of cobbler in front of her. The steam rose off the pastry and melted the vanilla ice cream scooped on top. He handed her a spoon before darting away to grab two glasses and the milk. Looking through the doorway to the hallway, Mackenzie saw that it was still a blackened husk. The contrast between the burnt, rotting floor in the hall and the sparkling tiles of the kitchen was mesmerizing and terrifying.

Grant dropped into the chair where his jacket still hung and grinned. “You’re better at this than I ever hoped.” Looking relieved as well as thrilled, Grant tucked into his own bowl, ladling a huge bite into his mouth.

“How can this be?” She lifted the spoon and stared at her distorted reflection.

“You’re full of life. Full of the energy of the real world. You can restore dead spots, pluck out the energy of the things that once existed here, and make them a reality again. We’re eating a cobbler someone in this house once made. This is milk someone bought at the store. The chairs, the table, all of this, are restored to how they once were because of you.”

“That is why you wanted me to concentrate on just eating lunch. So that the food would become real.” Mackenzie stared at her cobbler as she broke the crust apart with the edge of her spoon.

“That’s true.”

Raising her eyes, she studied his face as he eagerly ate. “You needed me to make the food a reality.”

Grant’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth. He returned her stare, then gave her a slight nod.

“Can you do this?” She indicated the room with one finger.

Setting down his spoon, Grant chewed the food already in his mouth. At last, he shook his head. “Not like I once could. I’ve been in here too long. I’m drained of nearly all my life energy. The dead spots have eaten so much of me.”

“You need me then.”

He inclined his head. “Yes.”

Mackenzie dared to taste the cobbler. It was delicious. After swallowing, she settled back in the chair and stared at him. He continued to eat, but he seemed nervous, maybe a little shy.

“Your companion. You said they died. So we can die here, right?”

Grant let out a long breath before saying, “Yes.”

Mackenzie swept her tongue over her dry lips and hugged herself. “Okay. So the … what did you call them?”

“Wraiths.”

“The wraiths killed him. Her?”

Grant looked uncomfortable, but answered simply, “Her.”

“The wraiths killed her. So we could’ve died just now? Those things?”

“We all die here.”

Mackenzie narrowed her eyes. “You’re still alive.”

“But I’ve died, Mackenzie,” Grant answered grimly. “I have died too many times to count and in many different grisly ways.”

“I don’t understand.” Mackenzie snagged his hand and squeezed. “I can feel you. You’re not a ghost.”

“And not a delusion?” Grant gave her an amused smile.

Mackenzie was startled by his words and quickly withdrew her hand. She was horrified to realize her mind was slowly accepting what was happening as reality.

“That wasn’t fair. Sorry,” Grant said apologetically. “But it’s nice that you consider me to be real.”

“If you’re alive and … uh … real, then how could you have died all those times?” Mackenzie squinted at him. “Explain, please.”

Leaning forward on his elbows, Grant folded his hands and set his chin atop them. Meeting her inquisitive gaze, he said, “This is what I didn’t want to tell you yet, but I guess I need to. Mackenzie, if you die here, you come back. You just wake up in some random place with full memories of your demise and just a little less life spark than you had before.”

Mackenzie inhaled sharply. “Oh, God.”

“That’s why I wanted to get us to a different dead spot and teach you how to take control of it and manipulate your surroundings before nightfall. The dead spot where we were earlier was enjoying toying with you, but at some point it would have gotten hungry enough to want to feast off of your fears. And that is when it would have tried very, very hard to kill you.”

Mackenzie stared at the melting ice cream pooling around her piece of cobbler and poked the stoneware bowl with one finger. It felt solid. The outside was beaded with condensation and she could smell the sweet fragrance of the baked peaches. It all felt so frighteningly real, but how could it be?

She raised her gaze to regard Grant thoughtfully. His fingers slowly rotated his glass of milk, as he watched the frothy liquid. When she had first seen him, he had reminded her of an old movie star type, handsome and elegant. Something about him whispered that he was from another era. He looked like no one she had ever met, but maybe her mind had plucked him from an old movie she couldn’t remember.

“What is your full name?”

His blue eyes flicked in her direction. “Grant Beauregard. My family was from Georgia.”

“You don’t have an accent,” Mackenzie pointed out.

“That’s because I worked very hard to ditch it when I attended acting school in Los Angeles.”

“I knew it! You look like an old-school movie star!”

Grant gave her a long, suspicious look. “What does that mean?”

“I totally saw you in an old movie and put you into my dream.”

“I never made it into the movies. I had a few roles on television, but nothing more exciting than the person in the background. My biggest role was walking down a street in an episode of The Twilight Zone.” Grant sighed, his entire demeanor defeated. “I started selling appliances to make ends meet. I was on my way to a casting call for The Guiding Light when I walked into the wrong building. It was a dead spot. Abandoned recently, I guess. I was so determined to get the role, I dismissed the shabby exterior and stepped inside and…”

“The door shut,” Mackenzie finished.

“Yes.” Grant sipped the milk, then patted the white mustache away with a napkin.

“What year was that?”

“It was in 1959,” Grant answered. “What year are you from?”

Rubbing her lips together, Mackenzie fidgeted.

“The last person I met who entered a dead spot in front of me was from the year 2005.”

“I’m a little further on than that,” Mackenzie admitted. “But you don’t look like an old man, Grant.”

“We don’t age here, Mackenzie. Time really has no meaning. The sun rises and sets, but the seasons don’t change. At least not in the way the real world works. Each dead spot is surrounded by a season, but there is no real pattern to it. I’ve been all around this country and a dead spot in Pennsylvania could be in the depths of winter, but you travel a few miles and the next one is in the height of summer.”

Mackenzie absorbed this bit of information. “Okay, so we’re in the world of dreams and nightmares.”

“Right. And what you did here you can only do in the dead spots. Dead spots are the bridge between the world we came from and the world of nightmares and dreams. The dream world outside the dead spots is very dangerous for us. We cannot affect it like we can the dead spots where the energy is a lot more concentrated, but this world can read us, hunt us, hurt us. Whether we die in a dead spot or out in the world, it doesn’t matter. We always come back.”

“So if you always resurrect, why didn’t your female friend come back? What are you keeping from me?”

“If we die enough times, we eventually become a part of this world. A wraith. My companion…” Grant paused, struggling not to lose his composure. “My companion had been in the dead spots since before the turn of the century. I mean the previous century. I believe she said it was around 1891 when she entered. She taught me all she had learned about the dead spots, tried to keep me as safe as possible. You have to keep moving in this world. Always moving forward every day, or the area you’re in becomes the very essence of your nightmares. Eventually, she died one too many times. I waited for her for two days to return. But when she did…” Tilting his head back, Grant took a moment to regain control of his emotions. When they were in check, he said, “At first I thought it was a wraith emulating her, then I realized it was truly her.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mackenzie whispered, her heart breaking for him. She knew what it was like to lose someone dear far too intimately for her not to sympathize with his pain.

In silence, she finished her dessert. As Grant finished eating, she carried the dirty bowl to the sink. When she turned it on, the water flowed clear and lukewarm. She found some dish soap and a dishcloth and washed the bowl. The action came normally to her and it made her feel a bit more centered. Setting it in a wire dish rack to dry, she gazed out the small window. The bizarre birds were not in the trees lining the broken fence, but the murk dwelling in the woods just beyond the overgrown backyard was unsettling.

“They took my Xanax,” Mackenzie said aloud, though she hadn’t planned to. “It was on purpose, wasn’t it?”

“Why do you say that?” Grant asked around a mouthful of food.

“The pills help me fight anxiety attacks. I imagine this world and its dead spots want me anxious.” Dread filled her at the thought of having another episode and not having the option of popping a pill. She had to admit the Xanax had helped when she took it. Even now, listening to Grant’s horrific story, she was calmer than she should be.

“Maybe.” Grant joined her and gently nudged her aside in order to wash his things.

“But if the Xanax is working…” She was hesitant to finish the thought.

“Then maybe this is real, huh?”

Twisting her mouth into a grimace, she set her hands on her hips. “Placebo effect, maybe. I think I took the pill, so I’m calmer.”

“But if you’re in a coma, or having a nervous breakdown, isn’t that a bit too rational a thought?”

Mackenzie couldn’t think of a reply, so she opted for silence. The clinking noises the silverware made as it was being put away were joined by a more ominous thump beyond the kitchen.

“Did you hear that?”

Grant shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

She pivoted on her boot heel and started toward the open doorway. She walked to the edge of the tiled floor and stared into the darkened hall.

“Can those things get inside?” Mackenzie looked over at Grant.

“Yeah, they can if we don’t take precautions. I admit I’m hoping they wait until nightfall to try something again. That will give us time to restore the house and fortify.”

“I think we’re too late.”

Stepping into the hallway, Mackenzie moved her hand toward a light switch. The lights overhead flickered on as the walls shimmered to a dull yellow color. A dark green shag carpet flowed along the floor, vanquishing the dust, webs, and mold.

“The seventies,” Mackenzie groaned. “Ugh.”

Other than the archway to the living room and opening to the kitchen, four doors appeared at regular intervals along the hallway. Anything could be hiding in the rooms.

Grant stepped into the hall next to her and handed her a cast-iron frying pan. It was very heavy, but she liked the way it felt in her hand. He carried a butcher knife. The sight of it clutched in his fingers unnerved her, but if he had wanted to hurt her, he could have done so already.

Holding the pan like a baseball bat, she edged toward the archway. Again, there was a thump and it sounded as though it was coming from the living room. When she exchanged glances with Grant, he nodded, then moved ahead. The living room was just as vile as she remembered. Flinching, Mackenzie maneuvered around a pile of junk while Grant headed toward the windows. Scooting along the fireplace, Mackenzie leaned over to check the front door. She gasped when she saw it was ajar.

“The door is open!”

Grant sprinted past the piles of burnt furniture to the foyer. “Did you close it when we entered?”

“I don’t remember! I think so. Is it open to the real world?” Mackenzie stumbled toward him, hope filling her.

“No, no. No one came through from the real world.” Grant pushed the door all the way shut. “But something could be inside.”

“They could have easily come in through the busted windows though,” Mackenzie pointed out, waving toward them with the frying pan.

“That’s another weird quirk of this world,” Grant said, slightly grinning. “The wraiths must use doors.”

“Huh?”

“You know how vampires have to be invited in? Wraiths can only enter through doorways.” Grant tapped the door with his knuckles.

Mackenzie stared at him incredulously. “That seems … dumb.”

“Fix the door so the lock works, okay?”

“So I just think about what it needs to do…” Mackenzie reached out to the broken doorknob and lock, concentrating. A dull throb in the back of her head occurred just as the door was restored and a brand-new doorknob and shiny bolt lock appeared. “Ugh … that felt weird.”

“It’s because you probably added a little extra kick to the lock. Which is good. That’s added security,” Grant said. “Did your head hurt?”

“A little.” She rubbed the spot on the back of her head with her fingertips.

“You used up a lot of life energy restoring the kitchen. You better just restore the rooms we need then and the back door. You’re not used to being a shaper.”

“A what?”

“It’s what we call people who can reshape the dead spots. A shaper.” Grant flashed a very enchanting smile her way. “Let me guess. That’s lame, too?”

“A little weird,” Mackenzie responded. “So what rooms do we need?”

“Bathroom and bedroom.”

“You mean bedrooms.”

“Right.” Grant glanced out the front window. “I don’t see them anymore.”

“With my luck they’re inside.” Mackenzie wielded her frying pan like a sword. “But this should be able to handle them, huh?” It felt heavy in her sweaty hands.

“I can do it myself,” Grant offered.

Mackenzie stared at the frying pan wishing she were tougher, but she was tired, scared, and afraid that she was starting to believe this world was real. She also hated how much she was already depending on Grant and how much she needed to. Tanner was the one who always killed the ugly bugs in the house, or did the heavy lifting. He treated her like a princess and she had felt like one. But he wasn’t here now and Grant was. It would be so easy to sit back and let him explore the house alone. If she was in a coma, or losing her mind, or really trapped in a dead spot, she had to find herself again. She had to be strong.

“Lead the way,” Mackenzie said in a firm voice.

“Are you sure? You look very tired,” Grant said sympathetically.

Nodding, Mackenzie lifted the frying pan. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

Returning to the hallway, they trod along the fluffy green carpet, weapons raised. The first door was badly warped by the fire and the subsequent water damage. With the door already ajar, it was easy to see into the room. Tapping the door with his foot, Grant scooted it open farther. Nothing stirred within. The blackened remains of furniture were piled in the center of the room. On the left-hand side of the room, the closet doors had fallen from their hinges, exposing the emptiness within. The glass in the window was long gone and a cool breeze stirred up the smell of rotting wood and mold.

“We’ll use this room since it’s closer to the kitchen,” Grant decided. “Care to do your magic?”

Stepping into the room, Mackenzie stared at a pile of debris and wondered what types of furniture the pieces had come from. Unsure of how to summon the room into being without knowing exactly what it had been before, she knelt and touched what appeared to have once been a white post.

“What were you?” Mackenzie whispered.

Mackenzie gasped as a dull ache in the back of her head quickly transformed into a flash of pain. Dropping the frying pan, she gripped her head. The discomfort faded almost as suddenly as it had occurred, leaving her slightly dizzy. Raising her eyes, she shuddered.

The room was a nursery. A white crib was tucked against one wall under a pink canopy. The walls were pale blue and someone had painstakingly hand painted clouds, rainbows, and birds. A small twin bed was made up in one corner with a filmy pink comforter over it. A white bookcase was filled with dolls and children’s books and a pink ballerina stood on an old-fashioned dresser along with a jewelry box.

“Damn,” Grant muttered. “I didn’t realize it was a nursery. I’ll take this room.”

Mackenzie’s knees were shaking and she felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t even bear to look at the baby crib. “I hate this place,” she grumbled and brushed past Grant into the hallway.

The next room was a long, narrow bathroom with many cabinets and a long counter with a double sink. Mackenzie leaned against the doorframe and touched the counter, waiting for the pain to hit. It came again, faster and harder. The bathroom had an avocado tub and matching toilet. Heavy white shag rugs decorated a green-tiled floor. The counter had splashes of orange, yellow, and avocado in a haphazard design.

“Are you sure I can’t use my ‘shaping’ powers to redecorate?” Mackenzie asked, wincing.

Grant chuckled.

Mackenzie heaved her frying pan over one shoulder, ready to smack anything coming out of the next room. Grant advanced on the door, knife at the ready. This door was warped badly in the frame, and no matter how hard Grant pushed against it, it wouldn’t yield.

“Maybe that’s where the roof collapsed,” Mackenzie suggested.

“I think you’re right. That leaves us with this one.”

Turning, they faced the final doorway. Grant pushed on the door and it swung open on creaky hinges. It was a large room and in shambles. The roof had fallen and two of the walls had crumbled.

“I really don’t want to restore this room.” Mackenzie’s head was still throbbing and she felt bone weary all at once.

“You’re okay with sleeping in the nursery?”

Mackenzie stepped into the hallway and Grant closed the door to the final room. “No, I’m not. But I’m okay with sleeping in the hallway. There’s a linen closet in the bathroom, so I’m sure there is stuff in there I can use to make a bed.”

Grant studied the knife in his hand. “I guess I’ll put this back. We’re both just jumpy. The banging must have been the wind catching the front door.”

“Grant,” Mackenzie started in a hesitant voice.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for helping me. I do appreciate it. This is all very overwhelming, but I have to ask. Where do we go from here? Tomorrow?”

Grant fidgeted a little, and then sighed. “I think we need to get out of this high-activity area and head south. There’s a place we can hole up so I can teach you everything you need to know to survive here.”

“I want to get out, Grant, not just survive,” Mackenzie said, unwilling to give in to the thought of never being able to escape.

“I do, too. But you need to be able to handle this world until you do get out, right?” Grant lifted a wry eyebrow. “I’ll teach you everything I know, then you can decide what you want to do next. But we need to get away from this area. It’s stirred up because of you entering it. Okay?”

Mackenzie regarded him doubtfully.

“Once you have a handle on how to survive, I’ll help you find a way out. I promise.”

“Okay.”

Mackenzie trailed behind Grant to the kitchen. She set the frying pan in the sink while Grant returned the butcher knife to the knife block. Movement beyond the curtains caught her eye.

“Oh,” Mackenzie said. “There they are.”

The black-and-red birds had relocated to the backyard. Crammed close together, they sat upon the leaning fence and filled the trees on the edge of the woods. The many red eyes stared at Mackenzie, unblinking and predatory. A few fluttered their wings, while the hooting among them increased.

“I hate those things,” Mackenzie muttered.

Reaching up, she drew the curtains closed.

CHAPTER 7

Mackenzie’s makeshift bed wasn’t too uncomfortable. The restored linen cabinet in the bathroom had contained two sleeping bags, some pillows, soft cotton sheets, and three lightweight blankets. After a nice hot shower, Mackenzie had wrapped herself in a robe she found hanging on the back of the bathroom door and hand washed her clothing. Now her laundry hung in the kitchen and she was snuggled under the covers, attempting to make a new list. She was stuck after the first entry of “stay calm.”

The door to the nursery where Grant was sleeping was ajar, allowing a fresh breeze from the open window to drift through the hallway. Maybe she was just getting used to the burnt smell, but her nose and throat weren’t as irritated as before. She could hear Grant struggling to get comfortable on the twin bed. It creaked under his weight while he grumbled.

The evening had passed without another bizarre incident. Grant had made a simple dinner of sandwiches from the items Mackenzie had restored earlier and they’d washed it down with cold orange sodas. Afterward, she’d nursed her aching head with some herbal tea and aspirin while he kept her company by telling stories about old Hollywood. She’d made it clear to him that she was done talking about the dead spot and needed time to absorb all the information he’d divulged. The fact that she was dependent on a complete stranger to guide her was a bit disconcerting. Safe within the dead spot she’d secured, Grant was much more relaxed and engaging. No longer worried about an impending attack, he was obviously making an effort to befriend her. It was a gesture she appreciated since it was evident that they were now a team of sorts. When they’d retired for the evening, Mackenzie had been too tired to sleep.

Finally giving up, she tucked her journal away and pulled out her laptop. It booted despite the beating it had taken earlier in the day, but without being able to access the Internet, she turned it off. She missed her online support group and wondered if they were worried about her yet. Estelle was probably harassing every law enforcement agency in the country.

Storing away the notebook, she dug out her cell phone. She was surprised when she plugged it into the wall outlet and it immediately started to charge. That bit of normalcy was comforting and though she didn’t have 4G, wireless, or bars, being able to play her games and pull up the novel she had been reading on her ebook application was a solace to her fatigued mind.

Ever since Tanner had left, her nightly habit had been to lie on the bed reading until her eyes finally closed. It was the only way she could fall asleep. Sleeping pills made her drowsy, but she’d always awaken just before entering a deep slumber. Thoughts of Tanner and Joshua always seemed to yank her back into consciousness. Reading distracted her mind, allowing her to not think about her losses. It was rather amusing that she was now using the same ritual to ignore the fact she was in another world. Whether that world was one of her imagination she had yet to determine. Just as she had accepted Joshua dying and Tanner leaving her, she had to accept that the surrounding world was her new reality. Even if she was injured in a hospital or locked up in a psych ward, the events she was experiencing were not going to go away just because she wanted them to. For now she was stuck.

The cell phone screen radiance illuminated the length of the hallway, the darkened archway looming at the edge of her vision. It made her nervous, but her head had throbbed after transforming the bathroom. At one point, she had entertained the idea that the pain was from a head injury she’d received by crashing into the deer. That she was truly in a coma and had not avoided the accident after all. She had reluctantly pushed the thought away.

Lying on her bed, she fought the impulse to access the picture gallery on her phone. Her finger hovered over the screen while her thoughts fought an internal war. It would only bring her pain to look at the photos she had uploaded to her phone. Yet, she couldn’t help herself. This was the torment she always inflicted upon herself. It was almost as if she couldn’t stop picking at the wounds on her soul.

She tapped the icon.

The first photo was of her and Tanner at a rodeo. They looked sunburned under their cowboy hats and a little tipsy, but they made a beautiful couple. The next one was of their wedding. They were running down the path from the chapel, both looking over their shoulders while rose petals showered them. When she’d scrolled through all the photos on the CD the wedding photographer had given her, this had been her favorite image. It looked as if they were rushing together into a bright future.

With a sigh, Mackenzie swiped the screen again.

It was a 3D image of Joshua’s little face. He looked so sweet and peaceful, his tiny fists curled up under his chin.

Her finger paused over the screen.

Drawing in a deep breath, she scrolled to the next photo. In the image, Mackenzie was holding Joshua and staring into his still face with a heartbroken expression. Tanner’s arm rested around her shoulders, his cheek pressed against hers. It was a black-and-white photo, but Joshua’s dark lips in the photo could not be missed. The terrible memory of those tiny lips slowly turning black haunted her. The nurse had warned her and Tanner that babies decomposed much more quickly due to their size and that signs of it would appear as they held him. Mackenzie hadn’t cared. She just wanted a few precious hours holding Joshua before she would have to let him go forever. He’d felt so small in her arms, so delicate.

Why did she do this to herself? Why didn’t she just delete the photos and forget they existed?

Pressing the phone to her chest, she closed her eyes, feeling her heart thudding beneath her fingers. Tears drizzled from the corners of her eyelids and flowed into her hair.

The answer was simple. She had sworn she would never forget her son’s face. No matter what happened in her life, she would remember that he had been conceived out of a great love that simply could not endure past his death. People wanted her to move on by not remembering her tragedy. Their well-meaning advice to forget, not hold on to, the past and embrace a new way of life was like a dagger through her soul. Mackenzie couldn’t accept that advice. How could she abandon the memory of her child? She wanted to leave behind her guilt, regrets, and anger, but it was so hard when her mother’s voice hissed in her mind over and over again, laying the blame at her feet.

Her heart beating fast in her chest, anxiety rising to the surface, Mackenzie concentrated on her breathing exercises. Maybe she shouldn’t have risked looking at the photos while trapped in the nightmare world. The whole harrowing day had been one anxiety-inducing moment after another. The empty house, the Goodwill movers, the cemetery, and her trip out of Shreveport felt like another life. That realization was terrifying. Was she accepting the insanity of the dead spots that easily?

“I can beat this,” Mackenzie whispered, swiping her tongue over her lips. “I can be strong.”

Closing her eyes, she kept her breathing steady. She wondered if the Xanax was still in her system, but it really didn’t matter. From this point on she would have to weather the anxiety storms without her pills and find a way to cope on her own.

Surprisingly, sleep came sooner than she expected.

*   *   *

“Mac,” Tanner’s voice said, pushing its way insistently through her muddled dreams. “Mac, wake up!”

“I’m so sleepy,” she complained, trying to snuggle deeper under the blankets.

“Mac, the baby won’t stop crying. You gotta help me.”

Through the layers of thick fabric, she heard the plaintive wail of a newborn. Pushing aside the covers, she gazed up in confusion at Tanner. He crouched over her, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. It was his stressed look.

“The baby?”

“Yeah, the baby. Our baby!” He frowned at her. “First you’re sleeping in the hallway so you can be close to him and then you don’t wake up when he cries? What the hell, Mac?”

Shoving away the covers, she tried to waken fully, but her brain felt mushy. “I … uh…”

“He won’t take the bottle. He won’t stop crying. I think something’s wrong.” Tanner grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet.

Sweeping her dark hair back from her face, Mackenzie wobbled as she tried to focus. The world looked distorted.

Tanner tugged on her hand. “C’mon.”

Trying to press through the cloudiness in her brain, Mackenzie reached for the closed door of the nursery.

“No, Mac. Not in there. In the other room.”

“Other room?”

Tanner’s expression darkened with frustration. “What the hell, Mac? What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, allowing him to guide her through the hallway. Her toes sank into the deep pile of the shag carpet and she stared at it in confusion. “When did we get carpeting?”

“What’s up with you?” Tanner looked perplexed by her actions. “Seriously, Mac? What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing the back of her head. “I feel drugged.”

“It’s those pain pills. I told you not to take them. Stupid doctors.”

Tanner flung open the door. Inside was the nursery she had painstakingly decorated. Everything was in its place. A rocking chair sat in one corner and the quilted letters that spelled out Joshua’s name were neatly arranged on the dresser.

The baby’s cries grew louder. Mackenzie staggered toward the crib. Her legs felt leaden and she had trouble maneuvering. Tanner didn’t help her, but darted past her to stare into the crib.

“He just keeps crying and crying,” Tanner said, bending over the child and obscuring her view.

“Where’s the bottle?” Mackenzie asked, looking around the room.

“I got it right here.” Tanner held it up.

The outside of the bottle was smeared with dirt.

“You can’t give him that! It’s filthy!”

“He’s hungry, Mac! You just left him behind! He was afraid, hungry, and alone!”

“What?” Mackenzie ran her hands into her hair, memories beginning to surface. Her vision cleared and her equilibrium returned. “I didn’t leave him alone!”

“Yes, you did!” Tanner whirled on her, furious. “I had to dig him up, Mac! You just left him in the dark under all that dirt. I had to dig and dig.”

Gasping in horror, Mackenzie realized Tanner’s boots were caked in dirt and mud smeared his jeans and shirt.

“No, no!”

“I had to dig down to his coffin!” Tanner flung out one hand, pointing to a corner. A shovel leaned against the wall, encrusted with mud.

The baby’s cries were growing more insistent, angrier.

“No!” Mackenzie screamed. “No!”

“Now he’s hungry, and he’s not eating! You need to feed him!” Tanner lunged at her and snagged the edges of her bathrobe and tore it open. Roughly he grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed.

Mackenzie slapped him soundly, then shoved him away. His dirty hand left a smear on her skin. “Fuck you!”

“Can’t even breastfeed him like a decent mother! Leaving him in the ground! What kind of woman are you?”

“He’s dead!” Mackenzie screamed. “Joshua is dead!”

Tanner glowered at her, and then pointed a finger at her face. “You fucking killed our boy!”

The screams of the baby abruptly ceased.

“No,” Mackenzie whispered. “No.”

“You killed him,” Tanner hissed through clenched teeth, leaning forward so his angry face was a few inches from hers.

“They don’t know why he died!” Mackenzie wailed. “Please, Tanner.”

He shoved her with enough force to send her tumbling into the wall near the door with a resounding thump. “You stupid bitch. You killed him! Admit it!”

“No! No!”

The door banged open. Grant loomed in the doorway clad only in his trousers. His dark hair stuck up all over his head and he looked drowsy. “Mackenzie, don’t move!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Tanner shouted. “Are you fucking someone behind my back, Mac?”

Overwhelmed with confusion, her mind screaming in terror, Mackenzie cowered on the floor. Her eyes were riveted to the crib. The pale blue bumper with cartoon zoo animals cavorting happily along its surface hid the tiny form lying just beyond it.

“Mac, answer me!” Tanner advanced on her, but Grant quickly cut him off, raising the frying pan over his head. “You’re threatening me in my house?”

“Mackenzie, don’t pay attention to any of this! It’s the dead spot. He’s not Tanner. He’s a wraith!” Grant said, his voice strong and calm.

As she rocked herself, Mackenzie’s eyes swept over the room. It was her nursery. The one she had painstakingly decorated. Her gaze roamed over every inch of it. Every detail was perfect.

Yet, how could it be real?

Joshua was dead and Tanner had left her.

Memories of the day began to push through her terror, but it was difficult for her to grasp on to them and wrench away from the abyss of madness. As Tanner angrily confronted Grant, she flinched at the sound. It reminded her vividly of a night in an Austin bar when someone had copped a feel while brushing past her and Tanner had exploded in fury.

Yet, her attention was drawn past the two shouting men to the crib. Muddy footprints scuffed the wood floor and clumps of dirt and grass clung to the rail.

“You’re in my house half-naked and you’re getting in my face?” Tanner howled, the veins in his neck straining.

“Don’t pay attention to him, Mackenzie!”

“Don’t tell my wife what to do, asshole!”

Rolling to her knees, Mackenzie pulled the bathrobe closed over her nudity. Her stomach fluttering, a building wave of anxiety threatened to crash down on her. She struggled to her feet, scurried past the arguing men, and approached the crib.

“Mackenzie, don’t!” Grant attempted to catch her arm, but Tanner took advantage of the moment to punch him in the stomach. Grant doubled over with a groan.

“I have to see.” Her voice sounded distant, like a faded memory. The lumps of drying mud crumbled beneath her bare feet as she drew closer to the crib.

Behind her, Grant and Tanner wrestled, their grunts and cries of pain briefly drawing her attention from the baby bed. The men grappled on the floor, attempting to punch each other.

Mackenzie’s hand settled on the rail of the crib. A flash of Joshua’s innocent face filled her mind. His tiny lips slightly parted as they gradually became black.

“Don’t look, Mackenzie!” Grant yelled.

Swallowing hard, Mackenzie looked down.

A tiny white coffin rested on the Winnie-the-Pooh quilt. It was so small it broke her heart all over again. She had selected it because of the teddy bears and rabbits painted on the trim and the angel teddy bear on the lid. It was smeared with soil, but she could still make out the face and wings of the bear. It hurt to see the small coffin again, but it was almost a relief to know it was liberated from the claustrophobic press of the dark earth. Tenderly, she wiped away the muck from the surface with her fingertips.

Mackenzie felt possessed by another version of herself. One that wanted to open the lid and pluck out her baby so she could hold him one last time. The reasonable side of her mind tried to draw away her hands, but instead they settled on the latch.

Mackenzie was startled by the crash of two bodies slamming into the dresser, toppling the furniture onto its side. Looking over, she saw Tanner victoriously rise to his feet and brutally kick Grant in the ribs before whirling around to face Mackenzie.

“Open the coffin, babe. Get Joshua out so we can be a real family again.”

“No,” she whispered, fighting against the urge to obey him.

Tanner rushed her and caught her before she could dart away. Snagging her wrist, he spun her about, and pressed his long muscled body against hers. Staring into her eyes, he said, “Don’t you love me?”

It was hard to form words, let alone say them. “You’re … not … Tanner.”

Still holding her wrist, he used the other one to pull her robe open, his fingertips sliding over her hip in a familiar, possessive way. “Why would you say that?”

“Let go!” It was growing more difficult to breathe. The band of anxiety was constricting her chest.

“I think it’s time we get back to being a family, Mac. You may have fucked it up, but we can be together again.” Whirling her about in his arms, he bent her over the rail, his body pinning her painfully against it. His fingers tangled in her hair, pressing her head forward. “Open it.”

“No.” Mackenzie tried to push back against his body and away from the tiny coffin.

“Do it!”

“No!”

“Then we’ll do this the hard way.”

The mattress beneath the coffin disappeared, sending the coffin tumbling into a very deep grave. It landed in the soft, loamy earth far below with a thump. Mackenzie let out a sob of despair and fear. Tanner’s grip on her body tightened, then she was lifted over the rail and dropped into the grave. She landed beside the coffin, the air gushing out of her lungs, leaving her wheezing. The mud sucked at her hands and knees as she fought to climb to her feet. Nearby the tiny coffin was gradually sinking into the earth.

Fingers gripping the sides of the grave, Mackenzie pulled herself upright, her feet disappearing into the soggy ground. It dragged at her like quicksand.

“A decent mother would never leave her child alone in a grave.”

Craning her head, she saw Tanner smiling at her from above, his folded arms resting on the rail of the crib.

Clawing at the wall, she screamed wordlessly at Tanner.

He smirked.

There was movement behind Tanner, then she heard the metallic clang of the frying pan banging into the back of his head. Blood spurted around Tanner’s face like a halo before he slumped over the rail. Grant scrabbled at his shirt, trying to yank him back. Tanner grinned, grabbed the inside of the crib, and hauled himself into the grave. Mackenzie flattened herself against the side, Tanner’s body barely missing her.

“Shit!” Grant exclaimed from above, then he vanished from view.

“Grant! Help me!” Fear raked her mind. Her heart thundered in her ears. Panic overwhelmed her senses. “Help me, Grant! Get me out!”

A rapid look at the baby coffin revealed it was nearly submerged under the mud. Tears pricked her eyes, the temptation to rescue it wrestling with her desire to escape. The bottom of the grave was watery mud and already her legs were submerged to midcalf. Beside her, Tanner lay on his side, calmly sinking into the mire, laughing.

“See, Mac? We’re a family again.” With a feral grin, he grabbed her leg.

Mackenzie screamed in terror. “Grant!”

The sludge was sucking her down faster. Joshua’s coffin vanished into the muck, bubbles rising up to the surface. Howling with laughter, Tanner gave into the grave, his lower half vanishing under the brown water.

“See, Mac? We can still be together!”

“Grant!” Panicked, Mackenzie raked her fingers along the sides of the grave, trying to find purchase to crawl her way out. “Help me!”

Above, Grant reappeared. “Mackenzie! Tie this around you!” He tied the end of the sheet to the rail, then heaved the cloth over into the grave. “I’ll pull you up!”

Mackenzie desperately grabbed the end and wrapped it around her body and under her arms before tying it with shaking hands. It had a big knot part of the way up, and she realized Grant had bound two sheets together. She hoped it would hold. The threat of being sucked into the grave had her in a frantic state. There was no way she could let the dead spot kill her. “Okay, I’m ready!”

Grant strained to haul her out, but the mud held her captive. Tanner’s slick fingers continued to dig into her skin. His body was buried up to his shoulders, but he was still howling with merriment. It was a sick parody of Tanner’s usually exuberant personality.

“Let go, Tanner!”

“Time for us to be a family, Mac!”

Clutching the makeshift rope tightly, Mackenzie gritted her teeth and with great effort dragged one foot out of the mud. Tanner tried to stop her, but she ruthlessly used his face as a stepping-stone and wrenched her other leg free of the quagmire. Gurgling, Tanner’s head disappeared under the muck, his fingers sliding off her ankle.

“Now, Grant!”

Free of the extra weight, Grant was finally able to tug her upward. Tanner’s fingers rose from the water mud and scrabbled at her feet, but Mackenzie kicked them away. His face red from exertion, Grant hoisted her up.

Daring to look below, Mackenzie saw no sign of Tanner or the baby coffin. Instead she saw the grave was closing in around her.

“Faster, Grant!” Her fingers clawed at the muddy walls, her feet trying to find purchase. “It’s closing!”

The muddy liquid was rising quickly, bubbling beneath her feet. Leaning over the crib rail and into the grave, Grant reached for her. The grave closed in around her feet, encasing them in cold, dark earth. Mackenzie propelled herself higher with all her strength and her hand clapped into Grant’s. With a triumphant cry, he tugged her aloft. The mud clung to her legs, but Grant dragged her over the rail and freed her from the trap.

Together, they tumbled to the floor.

Wheezing for air, Mackenzie crawled frantically across the room to the doorway. She reached the hall and rolled onto the green shag carpet, trembling violently. Still inside the mock nursery, Grant rose to his feet, grabbed the crib, and toppled it over. The mattress and bedding tumbled out. The area where the crib had stood was solid with no signs of the grave.

“It’s over.” Breathless, Grant staggered out of the room, stepped over her, then collapsed.

Mackenzie leaned in far enough to grab the bottom of the door and yank it shut. She grabbed the doorknob and concentrated. A sharp pain shot through her head, but she didn’t care. She heard the audible click of the lock.

“We screwed up,” Grant said in a breathless voice. “That was the room we couldn’t get into. I never thought that maybe they could get in through it.”

“It was destroyed. Not part of the house anymore, so it was a doorway, right?” Mackenzie fell over onto her side, her body shuddering. The anxiety attack had vanished in the wake of her terror. Now she felt keenly empty and exhausted.

Grant nodded, gulping in breaths of air. “Yes. Exactly.” Not looking directly at her, he tugged her bathrobe closed, covering her bare breasts.

Despite the trauma they had just endured, Mackenzie laughed.

“What?”

“You’re such a gentleman,” she said, feeling foolish and a bit crazed.

“I was raised in a different era,” Grant said, not really admitting to anything.

“Are we safe now?” Mackenzie asked, sobering.

“Secure the other room’s door, too.” Grant motioned to the other ruined room. “Just to make sure.”

Wincing at the anticipation of pain, Mackenzie climbed to her knees and took hold of the doorknob. The pain was more piercing and deeper, but it didn’t last as long.

“Now, we should be okay,” Grant decided.

Using the wall for support, Mackenzie worked her way up to a standing position. “That wasn’t Tanner.”

“And it wasn’t your baby in that coffin,” Grant added.

“But that room was the nursery I designed.”

“Plucked from your mind by the dead spot. It can shape itself into anything it wants.”

“But as a shaper, I can’t?”

Grant shook his head.

Mackenzie leaned heavily against the wall, her fingers rubbing the back of her head in soothing circles. “I felt like I was in a dream. I couldn’t focus. I was so confused at first.”

“This is the world of nightmares and dreams, Mackenzie. Don’t ever forget that.”

With a weary sigh, she pushed off the wall and walked on stiff legs to the bathroom. “I need a shower, but I’m leaving the door cracked. No peeking.”

“I’m a gentleman, remember.” Grant tilted his head upward and smiled wanly. His face was a bit battered. He would have a black eye in the morning.

“Grant, thank you,” Mackenzie said in a serious tone, tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you. I could have died.”

Without answering her, he took her hand briefly, squeezed it, then rested his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands through his hair. He looked as exhausted and emotionally drained as she did. His broad shoulders and muscled back were covered in bruises and scratches from the battle he had with the wraith impersonating Tanner, and the sight sent a wave of gratitude through her.

Realizing he needed a moment, too, Mackenzie flipped on the light in the bathroom and left the door slightly ajar. There was nothing hiding in the shower or behind the toilet, so she dropped her robe and stepped into the avocado green tub and turned on the water. Once the shower spray was hot, she allowed the tears to come, mingling with the water that flowed over her body caked with the mud of the open grave.

CHAPTER 8

Mackenzie woke with a start, her heart beating rapidly in her breast. Dragging the tangled sheets and blankets from her face, she let out a startled cry at the sight of the unfamiliar hallway. Sitting up, she pressed her back against the wall, gaping at her surroundings. After several long, agonizing moments of sheer confusion, she finally recalled the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“Damn,” she whispered. “Still here.”

When Mackenzie had finally fallen asleep after the attack by the dead spot, her last thought was that maybe when she woke up she’d be back safe and sound in her mother’s house in Kerrville. Instead, she was sitting on a twin mattress in a narrow hallway and clutching Joshua’s baby blanket in her hands. After she’d showered the night before, she had searched through all her possessions to make sure nothing had been taken. It had been a great relief to find the baby blanket still rolled up at the bottom of her purse. She’d slept with it tucked under the pillow not only to keep it close, but also as a talisman.

With the morning sun streaming in through the kitchen window and pooling on the floor of the hallway, the night felt far away and not so frightening. Her struggle with Tanner felt like a bad dream and a bit hazy. It was the memory of the tiny coffin that lingered in her mind, like a splinter she couldn’t extract.

Grant had dragged the mattress out of the nursery for her to sleep on and had taken over her makeshift bed. It was empty now, and she could hear the shower running behind the closed door of the bathroom.

Sitting with her legs crisscrossed, she combed her fingers through her hair. The tangles weren’t too bad and she lamented losing her brush out on the road. She would have to check the drawers in the bathroom to see if there was one in there.

The bathroom door opened, steam billowing out. Grant appeared rubbing his wet hair vigorously with a mustard yellow towel. Grant was still bare-chested and his bruises had set deeper into his skin, turning them purple and green. Though there was slight bruising around one eye, Mackenzie was relieved to see it wasn’t turning into a black eye.

“Good morning.”

“How’s the water?” she asked. “Any hot water left for me?”

“Maybe in another ten minutes. I had a terrible time getting the wrinkles out of my trousers.”

“Ah, you steamed them?”

“Now they’re damp.” He shrugged. “The woes of the dead spots.”

“Why don’t you get new clothes?”

“Clothes are hard to acquire here. I learned that right away. We can manipulate dead spots, but once we step into the nightmare world, what we have shaped becomes harder to maintain. That’s why cars don’t really help us much.”

“So if I found you a nice suit in a dead spot and made it nice again, once you leave the dead spot it … what? Falls apart?”

“Something like that.”

“That suit can’t be over fifty years old, can it?” Mackenzie looked doubtful. “Talk about vintage.”

“It cost me a lot of money and has served me well. I’ve had to mend it over the years. It’s easier to sustain the maintenance on it when I’m out of a dead spot than an entire outfit.” He disappeared back into the bathroom, emerging a few moments later buttoning his shirt.

Mackenzie stared at her cell phone lying beneath the wall socket where it was plugged. She knew it wouldn’t have any coverage, but she picked it up and checked anyway. No signal. With a sigh, she tucked the phone and the charger into her purse. Thoughtfully, she looked over at Grant. “Do you know about cell phones, computers, DVDs, and all that sort of stuff?”

Fixing his cuffs, Grant arched an amused eyebrow. “Of course. I’ve met many people from all different eras in here. Plus, some of the dead spots are more recent. I’ve seen some of your fancy new contraptions.” He winked.

“Where are those people now?”

Grant’s smirk vanished. He busied himself with dismantling the bed.

“Well? And why are you picking that up? When we leave, won’t it just go back to being all burned up?”

Dropping the bedding into a pile, Grant turned to face her. His face was shadowed by sorrow. “Mackenzie, if you listen to me, you won’t end up like the others.”

Climbing to her feet, she gazed into his eyes, searching for her answer. She felt uneasy with the pain she saw in his gaze. “They became wraiths.”

“Or shadows. Or they just kept moving in another direction than I did.”

“Shadows?”

“People who go crazy in here and … they’re dangerous, too.”

“I hate this place,” Mackenzie grumbled.

“You just need to accept the way it works and not let it consume you.”

Together they shoved the mattress into the nursery and flung the bedding in after it. They avoided the two rooms at the end of the hall completely. Mackenzie had no desire to see the mockery of the nursery she had painstakingly created for Joshua.

Her clothes were a little damp, but she put them on anyway after taking another shower and washing her hair. She was relieved to find a brush and on impulse tossed it into her purse. The shadows under her eyes looked like bruises and she used concealer to hide them and dotted her lips with tinted lip gloss. It made her reflection in the mirror appear not quite so ghostly.

When she entered the kitchen, she found Grant making pancakes and scrambled eggs. His jacket was neatly hanging on a hanger on the back of the pantry door, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up.

“You look better,” he decided after studying her appearance for a few seconds.

“You know what my grief counselor told me?”

“After your child died?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“She told me that the mind has a great capacity for adapting in a crisis. That even though I felt broken inside, eventually I would get better.”

Grant flipped a pancake and tilted his head, pondering the words. “Did you believe her?”

“No. Because I felt my heart break when Joshua died. Literally. I have never felt a pain so deep. I felt completely broken. I still do.” The tears in her eyes blurred her vision and she dabbed at the corners with her fingers. “But now I wonder if she was right. Maybe not about me getting over Joshua. I don’t know if I ever will. But all of this”—Mackenzie waved her hand—“feels real today. I think I actually believe in it. At least to some degree.”

Grant shoveled two pancakes and a heap of scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it to her. “Maybe the grief counselor was right about some things and wrong about others. I’m not a father, but I was once a son. I saw how my mother suffered when my brother died in Korea. That sort of pain is unbelievable in its power. I could feel the agony radiating out of her very pores. Even when she sat in total silence, not shedding a tear, I could feel it rolling off of her in waves. So though I don’t know how you must feel about your son, I understand to some degree.”

“Thank you,” Mackenzie said softly. It was a great relief to hear someone not condemn her for not shrugging off her mourning.

“This place is horrible, Mackenzie, but what you endured before you arrived here is far worse than anything this world will do to you.”

“I don’t know. It did a damn good job last night scaring the living hell out of me.” Mackenzie snagged the orange juice out of the refrigerator and slid into a chair at the breakfast table.

Grant served himself some food and followed Mackenzie to the table. “It was using your fears and your pain to hurt you again. It feasts on the terrors of your soul. What already exists within you. Remember that.”

Mackenzie shivered, not wanting to remember the events of the night before. “I don’t know how I can fight against it.”

“Don’t let it get to you.”

“It’s kind of hard when it’s re-creating the most painful event of my life.”

Grant pushed the syrup toward her. “Let’s just eat and not think about it anymore. We need to get moving soon.”

The food tasted quite good and she managed to eat most of the eggs and half the pancakes. The juice was sweet and she had two glasses. Finishing, she carried her plate and glass to the sink and started to wash them, then stopped.

“When we leave this dead spot, it just goes back to how it was. Like we weren’t even here, doesn’t it?” The thought made her sad for some strange reason.

“Just like in the real world. All those abandoned places, the ghost towns, falling apart.” Grant set his dishes in the sink. “We’re in the world between the living and the dead. Our passage through it leaves no reminders.”

“You really know how to cheer up a girl.”

Grant grinned. “I’m just telling you the truth because you deserve to know.”

Mackenzie gazed at him thoughtfully, her fingers lightly stroking her collarbone. It was far more pronounced than ever before, and she lamented her frailty. At least breakfast and dinner had been filling. She felt a little stronger physically today. Inside her head, she still felt wobbly. With all her heart, she hoped she would wake up in a hospital room, recovering from a car accident, and put this nightmare behind her. Yet, she couldn’t afford not to pay attention to what was happening to her in this peculiar world. Being plunged into an open grave and threatened with being buried alive with her dead child and ex-husband had not only terrified her, but also enraged her. The feel of the cold, wet mud sucking her down was something she would never forget though she wished she could. The terror that had filled her had left her drained. She hated that her weakness was her son’s death.

“Thank you,” she said at last. “Thank you for last night. You saved me. If not for you, Tanner would have killed me.”

“The dead spot,” Grant quietly corrected. “And you’re welcome.”

It was easy to see how everything from the night before was drawn from her fears. Tanner’s anger, the baby casket, the open grave, the earth swallowing her up: all were the fears of her anxiety-ridden mind. She visibly shuddered, realizing how close she had come to death.

“If I had died in the grave, I would have come back, right?”

“Yes.” Grant reclaimed his jacket and shrugged it on. He avoided looking directly at her and fussed with his cuffs.

“And I would have remembered all of it, right?”

“Yes. The pain of dying, the agony, all of it.”

“Then I’m not going to die.”

Grant lifted his eyes, peering at her through his lashes. “That’s exactly the right attitude to have.”

Mackenzie reclaimed her purse, pulled her hair up into a bun and secured it with a clip, and took a knife from the kitchen while Grant peered out all the doors and windows.

“The birds are gone, but that doesn’t mean anything. We keep moving. If I remember correctly, we should reach another dead spot in an hour. Until then we’re in the nightmare world,” Grant told her when they entered the foyer and paused before the front door.

“Where are we going?” Mackenzie asked, doubt beginning to darken her thoughts.

“South. We need to get away from this area.”

Mackenzie frowned, her fingers flexing on the handle of the kitchen knife she was still holding in her hand. “Maybe we should go back to the café just in case someone comes looking for me.” Mackenzie’s eyes widened as hope flared within her. “Oh, my God, Grant! They’re going to look for me there!”

“We can’t go back there. We have to keep moving,” Grant answered, dismissing the idea outright.

“But if they find my car in the parking lot of the café, they’ll search it! They’ll open the door! We have to go back! And wait!” Excitement bubbled up within her, shoving away her fears.

“We can’t, Mackenzie.” Grant cast a sharp look in her direction. “Don’t you remember what happened last night? The dead spots just don’t attack at night. The café yesterday showed that clearly. The dead spots will absorb more of your thoughts and create even more terrifying scenarios.”

“I secured this house. I can secure the café!” Mackenzie was annoyed by his argument, unable to understand how he could not see the brilliance of her plan. She was positive that a search party would go to the café. They would have to enter the building, which meant there was a good chance she could escape. “We have to go back now! What if they’re there right now?”

“We have to walk through the nightmare world where we were attacked yesterday! It’s not that easy, Mackenzie!”

“Why not?” She glared at him, one hand on her hip.

“Because this world is not like the one we came from! This world feasts on your thoughts, your dreams, and your nightmares. We have to keep moving so that it doesn’t have time to trap us.” From the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw, Grant reminded her vividly of Tanner when he was annoyed with her stubbornness.

“I have to risk it! I’m going back. I want out of here!” Mackenzie shoved past Grant and ripped open the door.

The sun was still climbing in the east and the morning air was fresh and cool. Clutching the strap of her purse with one hand and the knife in the other, Mackenzie stalked down the dirt drive. She could hear Grant pursuing her, grumbling under his breath, but she didn’t turn around. Her feet caught in the soft earth stirring memories of the muddy grave and sparking flashes of fear. Sucking in deep breaths of cool air, she tried to quell her apprehension. Wary, she swept her eyes back and forth, studying the woods lining the path. She was relieved when nothing unusual shifted among the branches.

When she reached the country road, she was pleased to see the area appeared clear of the strange birds. Heels clacking against the asphalt, she headed in the direction of the old café. Her stride was so brisk it was almost a light jog. Nervous excitement filled her. In her gut she knew she was on to something, that salvation could be closer than she ever imagined. Her mother would raise a stink and send the authorities looking for her. They would find her car at the café and search inside. To do that, they would have to open the door.

“Mackenzie, you need to think this through!”

“I am!” She was immensely grateful he had saved her the night before, but she had to follow her instincts.

“We’re out of the dead spot, Mackenzie. This is dangerous territory you cannot control,” he warned. “Look around you.”

Eyes pointed at the road, she refused. Her fingers tightened on the handle of the knife, but it felt odd now, bumpy. She lifted her hand and saw that the blade was now black and scorched, the plastic handle sporting huge bubbles that had formed when it had burned.

“Mackenzie, please,” Grant said, his voice filled with the raw fear that seeped through his tone.

Something drifted over the road in front of her. Mackenzie stumbled in surprise, then jerked around to see what had passed. It was a yellow balloon with the outline of a clown face in red paint. It bounced into the grass and continued into the line of trees.

“That’s not creepy,” she muttered before resuming her quick pace.

The wind rustled through the tall grass beside the road, the trees sighing in the breeze. The sound of her heels and the soft patter of Grant’s loafers seemed unusually loud. As she hurried along, her breath growing a little ragged from exertion, Mackenzie gradually realized that the world was virtually silent around her. The sounds of insects buzzing and birds chirping were strangely absent.

“Mackenzie, we’re making a mistake. You should never revisit a dead spot more than once in such a short period of time.”

She tightened her grip on the knife and continued walking. Once she reached the café, she would secure it and wait for the police to arrive in the real world and open the front door.

“Mackenzie! It’s waiting for you! Don’t you understand?” Grant broke into a slow run to catch up with her.

“I can’t stay here! Not after last night!” For a second she was lost in a flashback, the grave sucking her down, Tanner gripping her leg, then she was gasping for breath and staring at Grant’s concerned face. He held her steady, his hands warm against her upper arms. “Let me go, Grant.”

His grip did not relent. “Mackenzie, listen to me. It will attack when we get there. It knows you now.”

“I want to go home. You said you hung out in a dead spot trying to go home. I have the right to try the same thing!”

“It was hell when I did it! I died multiple times. It ate at me, Mackenzie! I don’t want that to happen to you!”

“I want this to be a dream! I want to wake up! And if it’s not, then I have to find a way out!”

The sound of her cell phone playing Britney Spears startled both of them.

“Oh, my God!” Mackenzie yanked free of his grip and pried open her purse, madly rummaging for her phone. It always ended up buried at the bottom even though she tried to make it a habit to place it in the sleeve sewn into the lining.

“Don’t answer it,” Grant urged her.

“Are you nuts?” Mackenzie gave him an incredulous look. Her fingers found the familiar shape and tugged it out. The phone continued to sing in her hand. “It’s my mom!” She slid her finger across the screen, answering it.

“Mackenzie…” Grant shook his head in despair, running his fingers through his hair.

“Mom!” Mackenzie cried out. “Mom, I’m here!”

The voice on the other end was distorted, almost completely devoured in a storm of static. Estelle’s desperate, frantic voice barely sliced through the noise.

“Mom, I can’t make out what you’re saying!”

“… where … you … hear … me … state trooper … car … are … you…”

“Mom, I’m near the café! I’m on my way there! Are the state troopers there?” Mackenzie rushed along the road, her purse banging against her back.

“… worried…”

“I can barely hear her, but I think she’s saying that state troopers found my car!” Mackenzie exclaimed, rushing ahead of Grant. “I think they’re at the café! The door has to be open if she can call me, right? I actually have bars! The door has to be open!”

“It’s a trick, Mackenzie!”

“… in café … your car … are … you…”

Mackenzie growled with frustration. She switched on the speaker and held out the phone as she ran, trying to find more bars. The one she had was a sliver. Estelle’s frantic voice burst out of the interference every few seconds, but was basically incomprehensible.

“It’s a trap, Mackenzie! It’s not real!” Grant grabbed her arm, pulling her about. “Listen to me.”

“No! My mom is getting through to me! That means the door is open!” Mackenzie cried out. “Don’t you see that?”

“It’s a trap! To feed off you! To frighten you! To lure you back and hurt you!” Grant’s face was red with anger.

Her mother’s voice was lost in the popping on the line. Drawing away from Grant, Mackenzie broke into a run toward the café. It was barely visible just beyond the last line of trees.

A flicker of movement on the side of the road caught her attention. A figure waded through the tall grasses dressed in a filmy black gown that clung like vapor to the tall grasses catching its hem. It held something in its emaciated arms, its head inclined to gaze upon it so that its long dark hair formed a curtain over its face. Mackenzie felt her heart speed up at the sight of the ghostly apparition.

“It’s starting!” Grant called out.

Mackenzie pressed the phone to her ear, the static a roar. “Mom! Don’t let them shut the door! I’m coming!”

Another figure exactly like the first stepped onto the road several yards ahead. Barefoot, it prowled deliberately toward her, its veil of dark hair obscuring its face and whatever it held in the crook of its skinny, pale arms. The road shuddered and cracked. Losing her balance, Mackenzie teetered on her heels. The creature moved purposefully toward her, its long dark robe drifting over the road like a black mist.

“What is it?” Mackenzie stared at the being with growing horror. “What is that thing?”

Grant grabbed Mackenzie’s arm and yanked her away from the being. Together they stumbled across the violently shaking road, the earth growling beneath them. The cracks deepened and took on the form of perfectly shaped rectangles. The land seized beneath their feet, the road tearing apart along the broken lines. The ground crumbled away, forming deep graves all around Grant and Mackenzie, leaving them precariously standing on a narrow beam of earth between two deep holes. The road was a ruin, the graves pockmarking the surface in every direction. She dared not look into the depths of the one before her.

The ground quieted, leaving the world silent. Even the static from the phone was gone.

“Grant?” Mackenzie breathed, her fingers clutching his wrist. Fear ate at her senses, darkening her vision around the edges. “What’s happening?”

“Just keep away from them,” Grant whispered.

Mackenzie’s eyes darted between the two figures before her. They had stilled during the earthquake and stood hunched over the graves. Slowly, the shrouded creatures turned toward her, their dark lank hair hanging limply over their features. Out of the woods more figures draped in shadows appeared, clutching small objects in their arms, their faces hidden by the shrouds of their hair. The emaciated figures with their hidden faces reminded her too much of herself the day Joshua had been buried. She had stood with her head tilted downward, her hair covering her face so she wouldn’t see the tiny casket being lowered into the dark grave. The figures clad in their gowns of wispy darkness were eerily silent. They skittered along the narrow edges of the graves, moving purposefully toward Mackenzie and Grant.

Grant leaped easily over the open grave to the shoulder. “Jump, Mackenzie!”

“Mom, please answer me! Mom! I’m going to the café! Tell them I’m going to the café!” Mackenzie shrieked into the phone clutched in her trembling fingers. She had to get out of this terrible place with its fearsome creatures. “Mom!”

There was no answer.

The silent black-garbed creatures continued to spill out of the woods, their gowns trailing behind them like dark smoke. Shifting her weight, she peeked at the grave next to her. It seemed to have no bottom, just an endless fall into darkness.

“Mackenzie!”

Grant’s voice snagged her attention, just as one of the creatures reached him. It gripped his arm with one long, white hand and lifted its head. Mackenzie caught a glimpse of a mouth fixed in a soundless scream, the lips drawn back from pearly white teeth. The creature’s hair fell away from the object in its arm. It was a rag doll with its lips painted black and its eyes sewn shut. Grant shoved the creature away and it stumbled toward a grave. Again it lifted its head, the black hair falling back to reveal a featureless face except for the horrific mouth caught in a silent scream.

A feathery touch to her arm made Mackenzie start. Twisting about, Mackenzie struggled to keep her balance. One of the creatures stood behind her, holding out a doll. Up close she could see the being was actually female. Its body was withered and nearly sexless except for small breasts that were barely visible beneath the constantly shifting dress made of shadows. Its bony hands were tipped with ragged, muddy fingernails that bit into the dirty fabric doll it held out to Mackenzie. The lips behind the curtain of hair drew back in a silent scream.

Mackenzie slapped the doll away, horrified at its visage. The black lips drawn on to the burlap were smeared and something moved beneath the thick thread that crisscrossed over the eyes.

“Hurry!” Grant called out. “Jump!”

Repulsion and fear bubbled inside of her. Mackenzie carefully took a step back, trying to keep squarely in the center of the narrow strip between the graves. The depth of the graves made her dizzy and wobbly on her feet. The creature before her continued to shove the doll toward Mackenzie, its head craned toward her to reveal its eyeless countenance.

Another approached from the opposite side, winding its way along the narrow ledges between the graves. It, too, held out its rag doll toward her, tipping its head so its screaming mouth was revealed. Mackenzie’s heel caught on the edge of one of the graves and she gasped as she lost her footing and fell toward the grave. Twisting in midair, she managed to land on her stomach on the bit of ground dividing two of the graves, her legs dangling over the darkness below. The silent mourners scampered along the edges of the graves toward her, moving faster now that she was in peril.

Hyperventilating, Mackenzie dug the knife into the ground and used it to steady herself while trying to kick one leg out to gain leverage. The screaming mourners crowded around her, holding out their rag dolls, their mouths twisting in spasms, though no sound issued from their throats.

Grant shoved the ones between him and Mackenzie out of the way, fighting to her side. Instead of falling, the mourners floated over the graves, clutching their heinous dolls to their breasts.

Mackenzie hooked one leg over the edge and pulled her body upward. A silent mourner leaned toward her, holding out its doll, tilting its head back and forth. Climbing to her knees, Mackenzie shrank away from the doll. It reeked of mold, dirt, and death. Beneath the rough fabric, something writhed.

Horrified, she dragged the knife out of the ground and thrust it toward the creatures. “Leave me alone!”

Grant hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her fully upright. Wrapping one arm around her waist, Grant shoved the mourners aside, the creatures drifting a few feet away before venturing close again. Mackenzie threatened the ones who drew too close with the knife clutched in her hand.

Arriving at the shoulder, they raced along through the wild grass bordering it. The graves filled the road in every direction and the silently screaming women trailed after Mackenzie and Grant. They were everywhere, their emaciated bodies hunched over their hideous dolls, their mouths gaping in despair.

Mackenzie ran in a full sprint behind Grant, her lungs burning, her heart thudding. Fear gave her energy and strength to keep moving when her side cramped and her knees ached. They didn’t stop running until they arrived at the long dirt drive to the house they had taken refuge in the night before.

Breathless, she grabbed Grant’s arm to pull him into the safety of the dead spot. “Please, I need to rest.”

“We can’t.” Grant’s eyes darted toward the house.

Mackenzie followed his gaze and cried out in frustration. Graves and silent mourners surrounded the house. There were so many the hems of their gowns melded into a dark mist that rolled along the ground. Reluctantly, Mackenzie pushed on, her hand holding her side. Tears dripped from her eyelashes and over her cheeks. She sobbed with anger and frustration, but terror kept her limbs moving. She didn’t want to know what lay beneath the cloth faces of the dolls, or see the anguished faces of the creatures that so poignantly reflected her own grief when she had laid her baby to rest.

Grant stretched his hand toward her and Mackenzie took it gratefully. Together, they ran from the dead spots and into the world of dreams and nightmares.

CHAPTER 9

The water tasted like a divine elixir. Mackenzie gulped it down and then poured the rest over her hot face. The water pump she had restored was in a dead spot near an old general store that was boarded up and left to rot. Grant had determined the building was abandoned too long to yield anything useful if restored, so they had skirted around it to the old pump located behind it. Mackenzie was grateful that Grant had remembered using it during his previous travels through the area. She felt like she was dying of thirst after running nearly two miles to escape the fearsome mourning creatures and their disturbing rag dolls.

Squatting behind the bushes and trees encircling the building, Mackenzie used her hand to scoop up the water and savored a long drink. They took turns working the pump so they could both get their fill.

Mackenzie rubbed her wet, cool hands over her neck and face while studying their surroundings through the foliage that hid them. All that remained of the town was a gas station, restaurant, garage, and city hall. OPEN signs were tucked into windows and the lawn around the civic building was freshly cut. The structures of the living stood devoid of any activity.

“So we can’t touch the other world at all?” Mackenzie tilted her head to gaze at Grant.

He shook his head, beads of water dotting his dark hair. “No. We can’t interact with objects, or people. It’s useless to even try. We’re ghosts to that world.”

“But we can see it?” That had surprised her. For some unknown reason, she had assumed that they would not be able to see the towns and cities of the living world. That apparently wasn’t the case at all.

“It’s like a snapshot of the other world. A photograph. We can see it, but not interact with it. We can’t see people, animals, or the moving vehicles of the other world either.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Who says this world has to make sense? It just is.” He shrugged dismissively. “You learn to adapt.”

Mackenzie scrutinized her surroundings thoughtfully. The more she studied the town, the more she realized it was nothing like the real world. Murky shadows moved along the sides of the buildings, probing every window and doorway. For a few mere seconds they would take on the shape of a person, or a ghastly creature, or even inanimate objects before dissolving into murky shapes again.

“Are those wraiths?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes, they are. They manifest the creations of people’s dreams and nightmares.” Grant finished with the pump and stared out at the town. “They’re constantly in flux until they find a mind that is projecting their fears.”

“Someone who is sleeping.”

Grant nodded. “Or drunk, high, or just plain crazy. Or until they find one of us. The unfortunates that stumbled into a dead spot.”

“How many are there of us? The trapped ones?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve traveled for months without finding another person. That was why I was so shocked to find you. But then again, you had just entered.”

Mackenzie tilted her head to gaze up at the massive buildings rising up over a farmhouse near the town. They resembled partially constructed skyscrapers from New York or Chicago. They leaned dangerously over the house. “What’s going on there?”

“That’s the manifestation of the fears of whoever lives there,” Grant answered, then pumped more water for her.

Mackenzie cupped her hands under the stream of water and sipped it from her palm while regarding the strange construct. “So they’re afraid of big cities?”

“Or maybe what a big city represents to them.” Grant continued to work the pump, using a kerchief to wipe off his face.

“So all of that is caused by someone in a dead spot?”

“Yes. My guess is it’s a shadow.”

“Someone who has gone crazy in here?”

“Exactly.”

“So we shouldn’t go up and just knock and say hello, huh?”

“Shadows are dangerous. They’re not completely drained of their life force like a wraith, but they’re insane. Maybe it’s their insanity that keeps them from becoming a wraith, but it also makes them a threat to people like us.”

Lightly running her tongue over her lips, Mackenzie focused on the general store next to her. “How long before this dead spot comes for us?”

“It’s watching and waiting right now. Trying to pluck from our minds how best to attack, or waiting for us to manipulate it into the dream of the past.” Grant had removed his jacket and he wiped at a dirty spot on his shirt with his moistened kerchief.

Mackenzie couldn’t help but smirk at his fruitless endeavor to stay tidy. Now that the adrenaline rush was over and the silent mourners were far away, she wanted to take a long nap. The ghastly creatures with their rag dolls had been a mockery of her pain. The anger that had filled her in the aftermath had produced a pounding headache and she felt a little light-headed.

The world was changing around them while she observed. A fire that didn’t burn raged along a tree line. Strange predatory birds flitted from the electric lines to buildings. Something that resembled a dinosaur prowled around a small house, pecking at the windows.

“I hate this place,” Mackenzie grumbled.

“This isn’t even the worst of it,” Grant responded with a wry smile upon his face.

“That’s not a comforting thought.”

“We should move on.” Grant collected his jacket from where he had hung it on a branch. His shirt was neater than Mackenzie’s muddy jeans and top. She had the terrible feeling she was not done running today, so she hadn’t bothered cleaning up. “We’ll head out of town on the back roads and avoid the main road completely. The area is stirred up even though it’s a small town.”

“Why is that?” Mackenzie picked up her knife and purse. She noted that the knife was back to pristine condition now that she was in a dead spot again.

“People who are not mentally well draw in the wraiths.” Grant glanced toward the towering half-formed skyscrapers. “I think that’s our culprit right there. The shadow.”

Standing, Mackenzie studied the tall buildings that reached bizarre heights, almost breaking through the clouds above. Unsettled by their odd appearance, she took a few steps back so that she was better hidden from the main street. There were dark shapes circling the skyscrapers, flying high above the ground. There was a dull throbbing in the air that was steadily growing. Mackenzie looked toward the street again. The wraiths were moving toward the skyscrapers, rising up to join the others swirling around the buildings.

“It’s building up to an event,” Grant decided. “We need to go before we get caught in it.”

“Is that why the air feels so weird?”

“Exactly.”

Ducking behind the trees, Mackenzie followed Grant through the underbrush toward the road they had traveled to enter the town.

“So a crazy person draws them all in and then what?”

“You’re about to find out.” Grant was moving faster now, ducking around branches and shoving through overgrown weeds.

A massive wave of heat slammed into Mackenzie, tossing her off her feet before a thunderous explosion ripped through the air. Mackenzie landed painfully on an outcropping of rocks and winced. Raising her head, she saw the skyscrapers on fire, raining debris on the small farmhouse. The dark shapes whirled faster and faster, fanning the flames higher and higher.

“It looks like the building in The Towering Inferno or 9/11,” Mackenzie grunted, climbing to her feet.

Huge fireballs blasted out of the windows and Mackenzie screamed, covering her face just before another shock wave hit them. Smoke, dust, and ash filled the air in a rolling wave that washed over them.

Grabbing her arm, Grant tugged her along. “We need to keep going. This place is very active.”

Mackenzie dodged around fallen branches and tried to avoid the more uneven patches of ground. Air sirens sounded while more explosions rocked the town and made the earth tremble. It was difficult to maneuver through the trees: the smoke, ash, and heat made it difficult to see or breathe.

“What the hell?” Mackenzie cried out.

“Just keep moving!” Grant called out. His tall body was a dark shape wading through the thick cloud of dark smoke.

They finally crashed through the last of the trees and darted onto the country road. To her surprise, the air was clear, refreshing, and slightly cool. The air sirens and explosions fell abruptly silent. Looking over her shoulder, Mackenzie was stunned to see the skyscrapers returned to their former appearance. The sky was clear and there wasn’t any sign of the thick billowing smoke. The sinister forms still circled the towers, careening wildly in an aerial dance. Mackenzie had the impression they were waiting for the explosions to begin again.

“What was that?” she demanded, rubbing the grit from her face with the edge of her shirt.

“That person’s fears manifested,” Grant answered in a neutral tone.

“That was insane! One person’s fears do that here?”

“I was told about what happened to New York and Washington. That sort of event will have a terrible effect on already sick minds. And that’s nothing compared to the nuclear explosions I witnessed near New York. Someone’s Cold War fears.” He wagged his head. “You don’t want to experience those.”

“This is insane!” Mackenzie exclaimed. “Simply … insane!”

“Since when do dreams, or nightmares, make any real sense?” Grant handed her his damp kerchief. “You have soot all over your face.”

With a weary sigh, she took the cloth and wiped at her face. She didn’t point out that Grant’s suit had taken yet another beating. His hair was covered in ash, and his shirt was far from white.

Handing it back, she hauled her purse over her shoulder and waved toward the road.

“Lead on, fearless leader.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Grant lifted his brows, amused.

“No, not really. But seriously, let’s get out of here before that happens again.”

Strolling alongside Grant, Mackenzie glanced toward the houses tucked into the woods. They looked like regular homes, but strangely stagnant. Grant was right. It was as though she were walking through a snapshot of this road. Everything appeared oddly flat and empty.

As she continued to peer at the houses through the dappled light, she realized that her assessment was not entirely correct. Strange creatures lurked in the murk dwelling beneath the trees and bushes. She couldn’t clearly make out what they were, but she doubted she truly wanted to discern their appearance.

“Don’t look at them too long. We don’t want any coming after us,” Grant warned her. “Wraiths are usually attached to just one location unless they become aware of one of us. Even the wraiths of the dead spots won’t follow us from one area to another.”

“But those … mourners followed us. They were at the house, too,” Mackenzie protested.

Grant shook his head. “All that energy you used to shape the house last night was manipulated by your fears today. You were afraid of the graves and the … uh … mourners, so that is what it created to feast off of you.”

Incredulous, Mackenzie shook her head.

Grant lightly touched the small of her back, a fleeting gesture she was sure he meant to be reassuring. “You’re doing okay so far, Mackenzie.”

“If you call being nearly buried alive by my ex-husband and haunted by a bunch of creepy women clutching dolls doing okay, I don’t like the sound of that. What do you consider doing badly?”

“Dying,” Grant answered simply.

“Not comforting.” Mackenzie frowned at him. “When can I go back to the café?”

“Not for a while.” Grant’s gaze constantly shifted to scrutinize their surroundings.

“How long? Because we’re getting farther away,” Mackenzie pointed out.

“Maybe a month or two.”

Mackenzie stopped short. “What?”

Grant sighed, his wide shoulders drooping. “Mackenzie—”

“I can’t stay here that long,” she protested. “I need to escape.”

Pivoting toward her, Grant wore a sardonic smile on his handsome face. “I’ve been saying that for sixty years.”

Mackenzie pressed her lips together, tears stinging her eyes. “Shit.”

“We should move south. We should get away from here and aim for the areas that are less populated. Until you gain total control of your emotions and learn how to deal properly with the dead spots and this world, we should try to keep moving.”

Swallowing her fear, Mackenzie lifted her chin. “Why are you helping me, Grant? You could save yourself a lot of grief by just going off and doing your own thing.” Truth was, she didn’t really want him to leave her. In the last twenty-four hours, she had grown to like him a little despite her initial misgivings. Maybe even consider him a possible friend. It irked her that she was dependent on him for survival in this strange horrible world, but she had to wonder why he was even putting up with her. “Isn’t being here with me putting you in danger, too?”

Grant tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and stared at the strange toadlike creatures moving around a trailer set back from the road. “I have two reasons. Both are selfish.”

“Okay. Spill them.”

“I need you to eat, drink water, find shelter. I’ve died so many times, Mackenzie, it’s difficult for me to be a shaper anymore.” Grant settled his gaze on her face and gave her a slight smile.

“So I’m convenient,” she said, feeling slightly hurt.

“And I’m lonely, Mackenzie. I have lost companions over the years for many different reasons. Sometimes we just decided to travel in opposite directions, but other times…” He shrugged.

“They became wraiths.”

“And shadows.” Grant shrugged again. “It’s also difficult to travel alone. I don’t want to die anymore. I don’t want to be one of those things. Having a companion means someone is watching my back.”

“I see,” she said in a thoughtful voice, and she did understand. If not for Grant, she was certain she would have already died at least once in this strange world.

“Is it so bad to want a friend?”

“No,” she said, truthfully. “Lord knows I’ve needed a friend the last few months.” Looking down at the knife in her hand, she saw it was deformed and scorched again. “If all of this is real, if I’m really trapped here, I’m glad that at least I found you. If not for you … Honestly, I don’t think I’d want to know what would have happened to me. I’m grateful that you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Grant said, his smile deepening. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I have to admit that the fact I was pretty much convinced you were a figment of my imagination is a major reason that I went along with you to begin with. But now—” Mackenzie gasped. A giant black wolf with glowing red eyes peered out at her from a window in the trailer. “Shit.”

“Let’s keep moving,” Grant said. He hesitated, and then held out his hand to her.

Though she had taken his hand before, this moment felt different from the others. Perhaps it was because she finally believed in the world around her and in his good intentions. She stared at his strong hand with its elegant fingers and carefully manicured fingernails.

“Grant!” Unexpected tears filled her eyes. “Grant, oh, God.” She touched the gold wedding band on his finger.

With a sigh of sadness, he lowered his hand. “She’s probably long gone by now, Mackenzie. We were newlyweds when I went to the audition. And that was a very long time ago.”

“Yet you’re wearing your ring,” Mackenzie said, holding up her own hand. She still wore her own band and engagement ring.

“Maybe we both just have a tough time letting go.” Grant glanced into the woods and sorrow filled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Mackenzie followed his gaze and let out a soft cry of surprise. A glowing, translucent form of a woman clothed in white hovered in the trees. Spirals of golden curls twisted in the breeze like a halo about her serene face and the silky petticoats of her dress writhed around her like tendrils of white fire. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and the only color on her seemingly tranquil form was a splotch of red blood spreading under her pale hands pressed just over her heart.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Mackenzie whispered, unable to look away.

“No,” Grant said in a pained tone. “It’s just a wraith.”

The floating woman remained motionless, blood dripping off her toes and into the detritus of the forest.

“Mackenzie.”

She forced herself to look away and focus on Grant. He again held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. Accepting that Grant was her best chance for survival and companionship in this terrible world, Mackenzie rested her hand in his palm and his fingers closed around it.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Grant walked steadfastly forward, not daring to take another look at the apparition of his wife. Mackenzie was not so strong-willed and cast a furtive glance at the creature.

The woman’s eyes were now open and watching her.

Mackenzie tightened her grip on Grant’s hand and hurried on, tearing her gaze from the bleeding woman hovering in the trees.

CHAPTER 10

“Do you hear that?” Mackenzie asked, hesitating in her stride.

A cry reverberated through the trees bordering the narrow lane.

Grant stopped, tilted his head, listened, then shrugged. “It’s a bird. Let’s keep moving.”

Straining to catch the sound again, Mackenzie ignored Grant. The sound was high-pitched, but it didn’t sound like an animal. A sliver of disquiet pierced her soul. “I think it’s a child, Grant. Listen.”

The screech came again, seeming closer.

“Grant, it’s a kid!” Mackenzie darted across the road toward the trees, but hesitated on the shoulder. Her companion reluctantly followed, clearly wanting to move on. The thick brush and gloom made it difficult to see into the woods. Doubt and fear nibbled at her burst of daring, and she reconsidered plunging into the forest to save the child. She opened her mouth to call out, but Grant clamped his hand over it.

“Mackenzie, it’s a trick. Ignore it.”

Yanking his hand away, she said, “How can you be sure?”

“Because we’re near a dead spot. It’s trying to lure you in, Mackenzie. You lost a son. Isn’t it convenient that you’d hear a child?”

Again she heard the wail, but it was difficult to ascertain where it was coming from as the sound reverberated around her. Anxiety bubbled in her chest making it hard to breathe again. She dragged air through her nose and exhaled through her lips to calm her nerves. “Damn,” Mackenzie muttered, recognizing the veracity of his words. “Are you sure?”

“It’s bait.” Grant lightly touched her shoulder. “Come on.”

It was difficult to ignore the keening echoing around her. It definitely sounded like a frightened child. There weren’t any words, just screams.

“God, Grant, how can you hear that and not want to go help?”

“You get used to it. You learn to stay away from traps. And it is a trap. Why do you think I’ve been guiding you around areas like this?”

For hours, they had been skirting around populated areas and dead spots. Though this realm resembled the one Mackenzie had unintentionally left, the farther they traveled the more evident it became that it was not an exact mirror image. The dreams and nightmares of the inhabitants of the real world significantly altered the landscape. Shadows slithered along the sides of roads shifting into nightmarish creatures. Disturbing, jagged constructs made of shadows rose up over towns, writhing with monsters of unimaginable terrors. Throughout the day she’d been discovering new fears. She’d never been particularly afraid of spiders, but the eight-legged creatures in this world were horrifying. Twisted, gnarled, giant spiders with many red eyes skittered along the utility pole wires, scaled walls, and perched on webs that dripped red viscous fluid. It had taken all of her willpower not to scream.

In spite of all she had seen, Mackenzie was still on her feet. That fact made her proud of herself. The anxiety attack from the morning had dissipated, but the niggling discomfort in the back of her mind warned her that it could flare alive again. She tried not to think about the open graves, or the scrawny creatures clutching their rag dolls.

Now she was faced with yet another potential terror. How could she ignore the child crying out nearby? What if there really was a child? But what if it was just a wraith attempting to bait her? Maybe it was the silent mourners luring her into the woods. Did she dare plunge into the forest to face the nightmare creatures?

“Are you sure, Grant? Absolutely positive?”

“Mackenzie, look around you.” Grant waved toward the east where an enormous tornado filled a quarter of the horizon. Its powerful, intimidating silhouette against the rest of the blue sky stirred the primal need to flee before such a terrible force of nature. It had been a part of the landscape for hours, never moving, never stopping. “Look at this world. It’s filled with the torments of people’s minds. You lost your child. It’s going to use him against you just like at the café and those women with the dolls.”

The cries started to diminish, as though the child were running away from the road and deeper into the woods. Guilt tore at Mackenzie. How could she ignore the screams of an innocent? Fingers flexing on the straps of her bag, she found it difficult not to rush into the trees. She couldn’t save Joshua, but she could save another child.

“Mackenzie, listen to me, please.”

Grant rested his hands on her upper arms and rotated her toward him. Instead of drawing away as he had previously, his touch remained. His palms were very warm against her skin and the sensation made her somewhat uncomfortable. It was a reminder of how long it had been since she’d been touched by a man. Uneasy with his closeness, she stepped out of his grasp.

“I am listening to you, Grant,” Mackenzie answered. “It’s just difficult to adjust to all this. Yesterday I was on the road to go home and start a new life. Today I’m walking to who knows where with a total stranger and seeing things that look like they’re out of horror movies. You’re asking me to ignore my very nature and not help a child screaming in a forest. You have to realize how hard that is, right?”

Pressing his lips together, Grant nodded. “Yes. I do. For a long time I made the mistake of trying to rescue people that were actually wraiths that dead spots were using to trap me. I had to break myself of the habit of rushing in.”

“But you saved me. Why?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to at first, but then I realized you weren’t a wraith. Your life force was just so … bright. I can’t explain it, but it feels like warmth from an oven on a cold day. I was so hungry that I decided to help you so I could get a meal. But then”—Grant lifted his eyes to the heavens, slightly cracking a smile—“you won me over with your scintillating personality.”

Mackenzie chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. She knew she had been anything but charming when they’d met. “You’re one of those white hats, huh?”

Grant arched an eyebrow.

“Those guys who have to ride in and save a damsel in distress like the old westerns?”

“You calling me John Wayne?”

“If the cowboy hat fits…”

With a grin, Grant pretended to tip a hat in her direction.

The wails from the forest were gone.

“They stopped.” Mackenzie stepped away from the forest, unnerved by the silence.

“You were distracted and the dead spot lost its connection to you. Which means we should move on now.” Grant held out his hand to her, an obvious offer of friendship and comfort.

Hesitating, Mackenzie pretended to fuss with adjusting the straps of her big purse while pondering the proffered gesture. Their growing relationship was based on mutual survival. He was a guide in the strange new world she was ensnared within and she was a provider of safety and food. Yet, Grant had also shown he was willing to fight to save her, and he’d shown compassion in a way she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. If she was honest about it, Grant listened and didn’t judge her, which was a far cry from almost everyone else in her life.

With a small smile, she slipped her fingers across his palm and clutched his hand.

“Friends?” Grant asked.

“Yeah. Friends. Besides, we’re kinda stuck with each other, huh?”

Walking onward, Grant gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We are. Plus, we need each other.”

The words struck deep into Mackenzie’s heart and tears flared. Her new friend had spoken the truth. It was good to feel needed again.

*   *   *

Hours later Mackenzie and Grant were close enough to the enormous stationary tornado to hear its ceaseless trainlike growl. The sound made her skin crawl. All her life she had feared thunderstorms, but she had never seen a twister. They were a rare occurrence in the area of Texas where she’d grown up.

“Has that always been here?” Mackenzie asked, waving at the howling beast.

“No, that’s new.” Grant shrugged dismissively. “But it’s not the only one. You should see Kansas.”

“I guess a lot of people are afraid of them. Tornados are scary as hell.” Staring at the funnel, Mackenzie inwardly shivered. It was little relief that it wasn’t moving for there weren’t any assurances it wouldn’t start chasing them.

“So is being caught in one. I don’t want to repeat that.” Grant leaned on the walking stick he’d made from a tree branch earlier. The gnarled staff made a good weapon if anything attacked. So far they’d been lucky. The wraiths they had encountered had remained tethered to their location and not pursued them.

“One caught you?” Mackenzie shuddered at the thought. She wiped her face with the hem of her shirt, wishing they had some water with them. She was overheated and thirsty.

“A person in our group was afraid of them and let down their guard one day. The tornado formed on top of us and we were caught. It broke us like dolls, impaled us with debris, and left us to die in a field. That was a terrible death.”

“Grant, that’s so awful! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s just the way it is sometimes. Let’s hope the rest of the day is uneventful.” He inclined his head toward the intersecting road. “Ready to move on?”

Nervously, she checked the tornado. It was still in the same spot, but the black clouds were spreading outward, lightning sizzling in their depths. The blue cloudless sky above was slowly giving way to the encroaching storm. A thrill of terror sidled through her and she licked her dry, cracked lips anxiously. She hoped her fears weren’t pulling the thunderclouds toward them. “Yeah, definitely. How much farther do we have before we hit another dead spot?”

“A few miles if I’m remembering correctly.” Grant had rolled up his shirtsleeves and draped his jacket over one shoulder. He still looked far too well dressed for hiking, but she could see now the places on his shirt and trousers he had patched up over time.

“How do we keep the tornado from attacking us?” Mackenzie strode alongside Grant, feeling apprehensive. She’d finally put the kitchen knife in a pocket in her purse, but it was where she could easily claim it. Of course, a knife was no defense against the looming storm.

“You’ll learn over time to guard your mind to keep the wraiths at bay. When we reach a dead spot, you need to start shaping it immediately, before the wraiths seize control. It’s a tug-of-war between us and them.”

The roar of the tornado coupled with the clashes of thunder sent prickles up and down her back. She rested her hand lightly on Grant’s shoulder for comfort. He didn’t seem to mind. The sky darkened and the gloom that wove between the trees in the surrounding woods grew darker and more ominous. The forest bordered the road, but there was a good twenty feet between the shoulder and the tree line. It made Mackenzie feel a little safer, though she knew anything could happen. The wicked black birds, the mourners, and the road of graves had revealed the world to be far more treacherous than she cared to think about.

The ache in her leg muscles was barely tolerable. After Joshua had died, she hadn’t done a single bit of exercise. Throughout her pregnancy she had maintained a strict walking schedule, but after the loss of her son she hadn’t wanted to do much other than lie in bed and sleep. It had been hard to function when the overwhelming depression made every aspect of her life difficult.

Mackenzie now recognized that her psyche had started to change when she had boxed up her possessions and loaded up her car to drive back to her childhood home. Though she was still angry, hurt, and sad, the process of boxing up her life had in effect allowed her to take a mental step forward in the healing process. She hadn’t actually been conscious of this reality until she had been driving to Kerrville. The desire to reclaim herself and create a new life had been a daring new thought in her mind and it had altered her. She felt the change even now. The Mackenzie of two days ago would not have been able to keep walking along the isolated country road with a complete stranger and deal with frightening situations. That version of herself would have given in to the need to hide somewhere, curl up, and wait for rescue, or to die. When she had pulled off the interstate and dared to take her own path back to Texas, she had made a choice that had changed everything in her life.

The peals of thunder rumbling along the horizon caused her to jump.

“It’s still far back. It just looks closer. Try not to think about it. Don’t give it any more energy,” Grant advised her.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to all this.”

“I’m tired of all this.” Grant gave her a wan smile. “But it’s nice to have a companion again.”

“I feel like I haven’t been very good company. First I accuse you of being a delusion, a phantom of my imagination, then I ignore all your advice and nearly end up in a grave … again. I’m a real pain in your ass.”

“At least you’ve moved on to at least entertaining the thought that what you are experiencing might be real.”

“That’s progress, huh?” She winced. “Or a major step back if this is all a delusion.”

“Don’t overthink it.”

Grant looped his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze and she rewarded him with a smile. The small gestures of reassurance were appreciated. The man she was traveling with was obviously a very tactile person, which was reminiscent of her ex-husband. It made her feel a little awkward whenever he touched her, but she was growing accustomed to it as she had with Tanner. Strangely, Mackenzie didn’t have a problem showing tenderness to others, but she struggled to accept it.

“You’re overthinking it,” Grant decided, chuckling as he observed her somber expression.

The terrifying roar of the tornado drew her attention again. “I just feel like this place is giving me a whole new list of things to be scared of.”

It was difficult to ignore the stationary mammoth funnel of swirling gray clouds. Lightning crackled along its edges and the debris caught in the fierce winds tumbled through the air, never falling to the earth below.

“It’s not moving,” Grant reminded her. “It’s someone else’s terror manifesting. Not yours.”

The words resonated within her. Her whole life she had carried her mother’s admonitions in her head like an endless looping tape. With Tanner’s encouragement, she’d managed to break free from a lot of the negativity imbedded in her psyche by her mother’s incessant paranoia, but when Joshua had died it had returned with force. Losing her baby and her husband seemed to be the fulfillment of all her mother’s dire portents. If Mackenzie was honest with herself, she had believed to some extent that the disintegration of her life with Tanner was punishment for leaving her mother. Now all around her were the manifestations of other people’s paranoia and she was starting to adopt them as her own. It was what she’d done her entire life.

Casting an inquisitive look her way, Grant lifted his eyebrows.

Mackenzie just smiled, not willing to divulge her internal revelations. Continuing her steady pace, she reached into her purse and lightly caressed the baby blanket with her fingertips before pulling out her journal. Though she continued to walk, she scribbled another line on her new list.

Don’t adopt other people’s fears.

Before Grant could lean over to see what she’d written, she snapped the journal shut and stored it away.

“You like lists, don’t you?”

“They keep me focused.”

The narrow lane they were on was nearing a crossroads. The endless walking was beginning to take a toll on her and Mackenzie was glad for a visual indicator that they were at least making some headway on their journey out of the area. The t-shaped intersection was a couple hundred yards away and a thicket of trees and overgrown bushes made an imposing green wall. It almost felt like they were in a maze.

A new low growling sound filled the air, freezing Mackenzie in her tracks. It took several seconds for her to realize it was the sound of a car engine. Grant caught her by the arm and flung her toward the brush on the side of the road. Losing her balance, she tumbled into the ditch filled with tall wild grass and bits of gravel. The grit bit into her palms when she tried to push herself upright, then she was knocked onto her side by Grant as he fell onto the ground next to her.

“What the hell, Grant?”

Covering her mouth, Grant settled on top of her in a protective manner. In a whisper he said into her ear, “We can’t travel by car. It’s something else.”

Vastly uncomfortable with the way Grant covered her body while pinning her to the ground, Mackenzie struggled to get free, but he held her down. A rock was digging into her stomach and the dry grass poked at her face.

“We’re in danger,” Grant hissed. “Stop moving!”

The roar of the car intensified as it approached from the direction they’d come from. Was something stalking them? The sharp squeal of tires and the reek of exhaust filled the air. There was a loud creak as a car door opened and a man’s voice called out.

“Anyone there?”

The claustrophobic press of Grant’s body made it difficult for Mackenzie not to squirm, but she remained still beneath him. The man calling out over the grumble of the car didn’t sound familiar and she realized that she had fully expected to hear Tanner. The vehicle sounded more like a sports car than Tanner’s truck, but she couldn’t see it since Grant covered her completely and the grass obscured her view.

“Hello? Anyone out there? I’m not one of them. I’m human.”

Grant fiercely wagged his head, his finger pressed to his lips.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’m human.” The stranger sounded a little aggravated, or maybe worried. “I know you’re scared. I can help you.”

Again, Grant gave a shake of his head. Dread bubbling up inside her, Mackenzie nodded in response and remained silent.

The stranger then lowered his voice, seemingly speaking to someone else.

Closing her eyes, Mackenzie shifted her hand so it slid inside her purse. The softness of the baby blanket beneath her fingers was inexplicably comforting. It reminded her that the worst thing she could ever have imagined had already happened. This new threat couldn’t hurt her any more than she already had been hurt.

As if in response to this revelation, the car door banged shut and the car shot away. The squeal of the brakes indicated its turn onto the country road ahead, and then it was gone.

With a grunt, Grant got up, reclaimed his walking stick, and crept through the grass to check the lane. Mackenzie rolled onto her back, gripping her bag to her chest. The journal and small laptop made it heavy, and her shoulder hurt from carrying it, but it was worth the discomfort. The few possessions she retained were her anchor to another world that still contained the promise of a new beginning. She had to hold on to that and push through this nightmare dimension.

“What was it, Grant?”

“Wraiths. Hunting.” Grant bent over and helped her back to her feet.

“They knew we were here, didn’t they?” After shoving the straps of her purse over her shoulder, Mackenzie wiped off the dirt, pollen, and bits of grass from her hair and clothes.

“You burn bright. Like I told you before.” Grant fussed with his own clothing, but kept an eye on the intersection ahead. “That’s why I covered you with my body.”

“To hide my brightness?”

“Exactly.”

“Did it work?”

“I hope so.”

“Why can’t I see this ‘brightness’ on myself?”

“Because you haven’t died enough to be infected by this world, Mackenzie. The more life you lose, the more you see it in others.”

Inhaling a sharp breath, Mackenzie said, “I see.” How many times had Grant died? Did he even keep count? The thought was disturbing.

“Let’s keep moving. The car went in the opposite direction we’re heading in.” Grant paused, then added, “Thanks for listening to me. I know that wasn’t comfortable.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me,” Mackenzie replied, shrugging. Even though she was his meal ticket and haven provider, Mackenzie did sense Grant was starting to care about her as a friend.

Cautiously, they walked along the edge of the lane, keeping an eye out for the mysterious car or any other potential attackers. When at last they reached the intersection, Mackenzie stared at the sign with frustration. Names overlapped each other in different fonts making it incredibly difficult to read.

“This sign makes no sense to me. I have no idea what it even says.”

“Town names, old road names, that sort of thing. The world has changed a lot since this sign went up. It reflects that.”

The world she had left behind was also changing and without her. That truth was not lost on her. Tanner was carving out a new life for himself with his pregnant girlfriend while she walked Texas back roads avoiding scary monsters. This was not the new life she’d imagined for herself.

“I should have known I’d find you out here with him,” Tanner’s voice said, startling her.

Whirling about, she was shocked to see him coasting along the asphalt on his motorcycle toward them. The rumble of the engine mingled with the deafening noise of the tornado and the thunderous booms. It gave the eerie impression of coming from the same source.

“Mackenzie, it’s not him,” Grant said, a warning in his voice.

“I know.”

Yet, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Boyishly handsome in his jeans, motorcycle boots, black T-shirt, and leather jacket, he elicited a throb of desire within her. Clenching her hands, she turned away from the vision of Tanner and walked in the direction Grant had chosen earlier. With all her mental strength, she tried not to believe in the wraith.

“Not going to say anything, Mac?” Tanner gunned the motorcycle so it pulled even with her. “You’re out here with him and you’re not going to explain yourself?”

Mackenzie refused to answer and followed Grant off the road into the tall grass. The motorcycle followed, but paced them on the shoulder.

“Mac, what’s up with you? Look at me. Talk to me!”

Tanner’s voice, his inflections, his words.

It was so very hard to ignore him.

“Mackenzie Babin, answer your husband!”

“Mom?” Mackenzie whirled about. Surprise hit her like a ton of bricks when she saw Estelle riding behind Tanner on his bike. Clad in the sexy jeans she favored and highly polished black cowboy boots with red and gold accents, Mackenzie’s mother glared at her. In her late forties, Estelle still had a lean figure honed from competitively riding horses and her face was barely lined even though she was always tan from her time spent in the sun. Her cornflower blue eyes were expertly made up and her lips shimmered in hues of pink that matched the tank top under her denim jacket. As always, Estelle’s golden-streaked auburn hair was blown out and heavily hair sprayed to perfection. Even the wind wasn’t ruffling it.

“We’ve been looking all over for you! Why did you abandon your car? Why are you out here walking with that man? Who is he?” Estelle demanded.

“Estelle, she’s plumb lost her mind,” Tanner said in a dark voice, glowering at Mackenzie. “I told you.”

Mackenzie could smell her mother’s flowery perfume and the hint of mint from the gum she chewed after smoking. “Mom, I—”

“Don’t pay attention to them,” Grant urged.

“Well?” Estelle asked, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

It was hard not to answer. The woman before her looked exactly like her mother. Smelled like her. Even exuded her strength and force of personality.

“Mackenzie, answer me! Didn’t I raise you properly? I told you over and over again not to be a damn fool and yet here you are in the middle of nowhere walking along a road with a complete stranger!”

“She’s lost it,” Tanner said grimly. His gloved hands tightened on the bars of his bike. “Totally lost it. Abandoning her car, not answering her phone, and now this?”

“Where do you think you’re going, Mackenzie?” Estelle’s voice cut through her like a knife, demanding that she answer. “How can you be so reckless? So thoughtless? Haven’t I taught you anything?”

Mackenzie locked her lips together, kept her head tilted downward, and fought the urge to defend herself to the beings on the motorcycle.

“Who is this guy, Mac? Why are you running off with him? You’ve been acting all crazy and suddenly you’re gone. Just left me and Joshua in the lurch. To do what? Run off with some hobo that doesn’t even have a car?” Tanner’s voice was a mixture of hurt and loathing.

“They’re not real,” Grant again reminded her.

“Mackenzie, answer him! What the hell is going on with you?” The click of cowboy boots landing on the road jerked Mackenzie’s attention toward Estelle. The older woman stalked toward her, both hands on her narrow hips. “Answer him, for God’s sake!”

“You’re not real!” Mackenzie shouted. “You’re not real!”

“What the hell?” Estelle couldn’t have looked more shocked if Mackenzie had slapped her.

“Just like that tornado, you’re not real!” Mackenzie pointed just as she realized the growling roar of the tornado was gone.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tanner asked, narrowing his eyes.

Mackenzie’s hand dropped as she stared at the spot where the tornado had been spinning just moments before. The storm was still crawling across the sky, but the vortex of high winds was nowhere to be seen. Her hands shook at her sides as her mind struggled to comprehend what was going on.

“Mackenzie, don’t listen to them. It’s all an illusion,” Grant said leaning toward her, his lips lightly brushing her ear.

“I tried calling you. I tried to tell you that the state troopers were at the café. That you needed to head back there. I thought maybe you had broken down and were lost. That you didn’t have any coverage, but then I find you just walking along the road as though nothing is wrong! And with a complete stranger!” Estelle looked at her incredulously. “What the hell, Mackenzie? What the hell?”

“Who is this freak anyway? Is he drugging you or something? Because you don’t look okay,” Tanner added.

“I lost my Xanax,” Mackenzie said in a weak voice, her mind a clutter of confusing thoughts.

“Are you having some sort of nervous breakdown?” Estelle stomped over, stopped short, and stared. “You look like shit. Who is this guy? Did he kidnap you?”

“Mom,” Mackenzie whispered. Was she having a breakdown? Were the terrible things she had encountered just illusions? Was Grant just keeping her confused for his own diabolical reasons?

“Stop talking to them. Ignore them,” Grant said, his hand clutching hers in an attempt to drag her away.

“Fuck you!” Tanner shouted, parking his bike and climbing off. “You and me, right now. Let’s settle this like men!”

“No!” Mackenzie darted at Tanner. “You leave him be!”

Tanner loomed before her, angry and frustrated, reminding her of the only true fight they’d ever had. It had taken place the night Tanner had left her for good. The night he’d tried to pack up the nursery and she had fought him. “Mac, talk to me. Tell me what the hell is going on with you. Are you leaving me?”

“How could you leave Joshua?” Estelle’s voice was pure ice. “What sort of mother are you?”

“Joshua’s dead,” Mackenzie sobbed. “You know that!”

Estelle’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? He’s with Angie right now!”

An evil form of hope swelled in Mackenzie’s heart. It was dark, dangerous, and sent her teetering at the edge of the abyss of madness. “Joshua’s alive?”

Clutching her hair tightly, Mackenzie shrank away from them. She remembered vividly Tanner leaving the house, slamming the door behind him, the roar of his motorcycle when he rode away, leaving her alone in a house full of broken dreams. This couldn’t be real—this terrible, yet wonderful reality where Joshua was alive, Tanner was still her husband, and Mackenzie was losing her mind and wandering the back roads of Texas.

“Just come home. We’ll get you to a doctor. Find out what’s wrong. You’re acting crazy, baby,” Tanner whispered, his voice sweet and wonderful in her ears.

“No, I remember you leaving. I remember Joshua’s tiny body in my arms. His lips were black and his little heart was still. And I remember the coffin, that beautiful little coffin being lowered into that awful grave. You’re not real! You’re not my mom and you’re not Tanner!” She latched on to the truth in her words, and mentally pulled away from the toxic hope they had tried to use against her.

“You’re fucking crazy!” Estelle screeched at her.

Mackenzie shoved the woman, knocking her back a few feet. Then she struck her again, sending Estelle sprawling to the ground. Tanner snatched Mackenzie from behind, lifting her feet off the ground.

“You’re coming home and taking care of our baby,” Tanner growled in her ear.

“Fuck you!” Mackenzie yanked the knife out of her purse and stabbed Tanner in the thigh.

With a gasp, he released her. “What the hell did you do that for?”

Mackenzie yanked the blade out of his flesh. Holding up the bloodied blade, she backed away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Estelle climbing to her feet.

“Grant?”

“I’m here,” he answered from just behind her.

“We need to keep going,” she said, thrusting the knife at Tanner.

Tanner’s face creased into a sneer. “You’re fucking nuts, Mac. You’re not suited to be a mama of any baby. You’re fucking insane!”

“This is why your baby died!” Estelle shouted.

“I thought you said he was with Angie!” A wild smile of triumph spread on her face. “You’re fucking wraiths! Liars!” She planted her foot against the side of the bike and shoved. It fell over in a slow arc. “You hate each other. You can’t stand each other. And my real mother would never get on a motorcycle! She called them death traps!”

The woman wearing her mother’s face screeched, the sound inhuman and painful. In a flash of movement, her mother’s form vanished into a writhing, twisting mass of darkness, then was gone.

“You, too!” Mackenzie thrust the knife at the form of her ex-husband. “Go away! I know what you are!”

The smirk on Tanner’s face was diabolical, but scarily familiar. The dangerous aspect of Tanner’s personality that he kept at bay was on prominent display on the face of his doppelganger. “I’ll be back for you, honey pie.” His body dissolved into darkness, then vanished.

As she dropped to her knees, the adrenaline left her in a rush. Shaking, Mackenzie laid the knife on the ground and forced herself to breathe.

Hesitantly, Grant squatted beside her, not speaking.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Mackenzie asked, fury in her voice.

“You had to deal with that yourself,” Grant answered somberly. His blue eyes were compassionate, yet sorrowful. “It was time for you to stand up to them.”

“I almost believed them. For a moment, I wanted it to be true.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to really believe that I was a fucking lunatic and that Joshua was safe with Angie.”

“I know, Mackenzie.” Grant didn’t make any moves to console her. He just watched.

The ridiculousness of it all elicited a crazed giggle and Mackenzie covered her mouth in embarrassment.

Grant smiled slightly.

Tears in her eyes, but laughter trying to wiggle its way out of her, Mackenzie slumped over onto the ground. Her eyes flicked toward the horizon where the tornado once more raged. She never thought she’d feel so relieved to see a deathly funnel. The bike was gone from the roadside, too.

“It’s trying to convince me I’m crazy, isn’t it?” Mackenzie watched Grant stretch out next to her. He nodded and she sighed. “What if they had sucked me in?”

“They would have kept the illusion alive long enough to push you over the edge.”

“Like the coffin in the crib,” Mackenzie whispered.

“Yes, like that.”

“Would you have tried to save me then?”

Grant bobbed his head once. “Yes. I would have stepped in if they had convinced you to believe in their lies. But I had faith that you would see what they really were.”

“Did you? Why?”

Grant hesitated, then rolled over so he could look into her eyes. “Because a pain as deep as yours may be your weakness in this world, but it can also be your strength. Your anchor to what is real.”

“You’re so sad, Grant,” she whispered. She could see it etched into his features and his posture. His eyes were haunted and forlorn.

“So are you,” he answered, shrugging.

“Will they be back?” She stared at the knife. There was no blood on the blade now.

“In time, but we should move on. That storm is heading our way.”

Mackenzie clambered to her feet and shoved the knife into her purse. Casting a worried look at the storm clouds, she could see it was darkening considerably, turning a grayish green that warned of killer winds and possibly hail. “Yeah. It looks bad.”

Together, they walked onto the road, Grant’s walking stick lightly tapping on the asphalt.

“Grant,” Mackenzie said after a few minutes of silence.

“Yes?”

“Next time they attack, you better hit them with that damn stick.”

He chuckled. “All right.”

“I’m okay with you wanting me to stand up to them and recognize what was going on, but no more tough love, okay? Just beat them senseless.”

“You got it.”

Mackenzie smiled and nudged him lightly with her shoulder in a playful manner. To her surprise, the anxiety attack that had been threatening was gone now. She felt a lot more clearheaded than she had in a long while. Weirdly, standing up to the wraiths and stripping them of their disguises had helped her banish her growing terror. When she had the opportunity she would need to add another line to her list.

Don’t give in to the madness.

She was feeling quite confident when she spotted the red balloon bouncing along the edge of the road. A sad clown face had been drawn on it, the yellow paint still wet in appearance. Swallowing hard, she felt her heart speed up at the sight of the merrily bouncing balloon. The wind caught it, spun it about, and it disappeared into the woods, but not before Mackenzie saw that a word had been written on the opposite side of the face.

It read: SOON.

CHAPTER 11

The hail beat on the roof of the small house and clanked against the windows. The high winds tore at the trees surrounding the structure, breaking off brittle branches, stripping leaves, and sending them spinning into the air. The rain sounded like a waterfall, pouring off the roof and porch. It was one of the worst storms Mackenzie had ever experienced and the deafening claps of thunder unsettled her.

The small house consisted of a living room, a kitchen, and a single bedroom with a bathroom added on in the back. From the design of the furniture and appliances, Mackenzie suspected it had been abandoned in the thirties or forties. Tucked into the small restored kitchen, Grant and Mackenzie sipped coffee and ate sandwiches made from ingredients in the revitalized refrigerator. This time she hadn’t experienced any pain like she had when she’d restored the other house. Mackenzie hoped it was a sign she was acclimating to her new ability and that the pain wouldn’t return.

Lightning flashed and the echoing thunder shook the windowpanes. Mackenzie gasped and almost choked on the cheese sandwich.

“Once the lightning passes, we should keep going,” Grant said after a long gulp from his glass of milk. “It’s a few more hours until nightfall and there should be a better place down the road.”

“You’re afraid the house is going to tip over, aren’t you?” Mackenzie had wondered the same thing. Even though she had restored it, the house wasn’t in very good condition.

“That and I think that we’re going to get hit harder next time.”

With a sigh Mackenzie set aside the rest of her sandwich. It didn’t actually surprise her that her victory would be so short-lived. It was unnerving to admit it, but her surroundings felt like a living, breathing entity that was constantly watching and assessing her while it waited to strike again. Resting her elbow on the table, she set her chin in her hand and plaintively stared at him.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure I can’t restore a gun or something? Maybe a bazooka. You know, something with the firepower to blow them away?”

Grant chuckled. “Though the thought is appealing, no we can’t.”

“I don’t like feeling defenseless.” She pushed her half-eaten sandwich away. “I hate feeling like I have no options.”

“If you trust me, Mackenzie, I can guide you. You can survive here. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“But you’re—” She stopped herself.

Grant’s blue eyes lifted to stare into hers. Within their depths, she saw his sorrow. In some ways it perfectly mirrored her own. Maybe that was why he seemed to understand her grief. “Yes, I’m a bit worn down. Battered. But I’m better now that you are here.” The smile that followed was heartfelt and kind.

Mackenzie returned the gesture, her hand lightly touching his.

The banging on the door in the rear of the small kitchen startled them.

“Please!” a voice screamed. “Please open up!”

Mackenzie fumbled with her purse, searching for her knife, while Grant seized his walking stick.

“Please! I know you’re in there! Please! Open up!” It was a female voice, young and terrified.

“Is it a wraith?”

“Most likely.” Grant inched toward the door.

“Please! Open the door! He’s coming for me! I can’t die again. Please! Please!” The frantic hammering shook the wooden door.

“Is she real? She sounds real.” Again, Mackenzie was torn between her desire to help and her own fears. The voice of the child screaming still haunted her even though she knew it had been part of a trap.

“Please,” the woman sobbed. “Please. I can’t take much more. I just can’t. I don’t want to die again.”

The soul-crushing pain in the woman’s voice sounded too much like her own after she’d lost her son and abolished Mackenzie’s doubts. The emotional rawness of the woman’s cries echoed as truth within Mackenzie. She darted past Grant to let the weeping woman in to their haven.

“Mackenzie, no!”

“I have to help.”

Mackenzie jerked open the door. On the stoop stood a young woman in a faded pink sundress, her blond hair darkened by the streams of rainwater running off from the tips. Her brown eyes were puffy from crying and her lips were blue from the cold.

“Please, he’ll kill me again. I can’t go through that again!” she wailed. “I just can’t!”

Mackenzie reached out, snagged her arm, and yanked her inside. With an irritated sound, Grant slammed the door shut and locked it. Violently trembling, the young woman sank into the chair Mackenzie scooted toward her as her wild eyes searched their faces. Grant laid his jacket gently over her shivering shoulders.

“Thank you! Thank you!” she whispered gratefully. “Thank you for letting me in.”

Mackenzie slid into the chair next to the woman who appeared genuinely terrified. It was difficult for Mackenzie to see the desperation in the stranger’s eyes and not be compelled to help. “I’m Mackenzie. That’s Grant. Who are you, hon?”

“Tildy,” the young woman answered in a distinct East Texas accent.

Grant busied himself making coffee while Mackenzie pushed the remaining half of her cheese sandwich toward Tildy.

Waves of fear were rolling off the woman, pulling at Mackenzie’s own anxieties. “Who’s after you?”

Tildy snatched up the sandwich and ate hungrily. Around large bites, she said, “The Clown. He’s why I got trapped in a dead spot. He follows me. Every time he kills me, he finds me so he can do it again.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“I sometimes get away for a few weeks, but then he finds me again.” Tildy rubbed her nose with her hand, wiping away snot and tears.

Mackenzie grabbed a towel off the nearby counter and handed it to her. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

Shoving her wet hair back over her shoulders, Tildy scrubbed her face with the towel and blew her nose again. After giving Grant a wary look while he prepared a pot of coffee, Tildy regarded Mackenzie with fearful eyes. “You’re real, right? I used to be able to tell, but I have trouble now. I get so riled up and nervous everything looks dark.”

“We’re real,” Mackenzie assured her. “We’re not wraiths.”

“Wraiths? You mean those black blobs that turn into monsters?” Tildy didn’t ask for permission, but drank the rest of Grant’s milk in one gulp.

“Yeah. Grant calls them wraiths. What the Clown is,” Mackenzie answered.

“Oh, no. The Clown ain’t no wraith, hon.” Tildy shook her head adamantly. “The Clown is a person. A real person. I know because he’s the asshole who kidnapped me when I was at the county fair in the real world. He knocked me out when I was walking to my car. When I came to he had me all tied up in the back of his van.”

Grant set a cup of coffee in front of Tildy and another sandwich. Tildy tore into the meal, gobbling it hungrily.

“So the Clown brought you into the dead spot?” Grant asked in a calm, soothing voice.

“Yeah. He … he dragged me into this old abandoned barn. And then it went really bat shit crazy.” Tears welled in her eyes as she gulped down the food with some difficulty. “That’s when the dead spot got us.”

“How do you know about the dead spots?” Grant watched the newcomer thoughtfully. Mackenzie had the impression he didn’t trust Tildy, but was at least willing to listen to her story.

“Honey, I have been in here long enough to know about the dead spots. The Clown killed me the night he trapped us here. I woke up in a field and took off running away from that damn barn. Along the way I ran into other people and a whole lot of monsters. I thought I was in hell at first, which made no sense because I’m a Baptist and was saved by Jesus. I learned about the dead spots from this old man in a truck. He set me straight after I asked him for a ride, but he said he couldn’t take me with him. I was too messed up already, he said. So I kept running, but the Clown found me. He always finds me.”

“Did you just escape him?” Mackenzie asked, her heart rapidly beating in her chest. The story was too horrible not to be true and it frightened her. Grant refilled the woman’s coffee cup and got up to make her yet another sandwich.

“You could say that,” Tildy said in a grim voice. “He killed me again today. I just woke up nearby. He’ll be looking for me.” Her reddened eyes were glossy with tears and Mackenzie reached out to take her dirty hand. “It doesn’t matter how far away I get. He always finds me. I know he kills others, but he has this special taste for me. He told me so.”

“Grant, this guy is a shadow, isn’t he?” Mackenzie noted the stiffness in Grant’s shoulders and his very controlled movements. She suspected he was upset that she was giving shelter to someone who was only going to put them in more danger.

“He’s a fuckin’ serial killer, that’s what he is,” Tildy spat out. “He loves it. He always makes it go so damn slow. He likes to take his time and enjoy it. The pain … the pain…”

“You don’t have to say any more.” Grant’s voice was kind, but firm. “We believe your story.”

Tildy sipped the hot coffee, rubbing her hands against the ceramic when she set it down on the table. “Thank you. Thank you for taking me in.”

Mackenzie felt a little faint and she uneasily scrutinized the rainfall outside the windows. She thought of the two balloons she had seen since arriving and wondered if they were connected to the Clown. If so, the word “soon” may have been a warning, a threat, or a promise. Or all three.

The quiet sobs of the woman broke Mackenzie’s heart. Leaning forward, she said, “We’ll protect you, Tildy. I promise.”

“You’re so good to take me in. Things aren’t always as they appear in this world, you know.” Tildy lowered her voice in a conspiratorial manner.

“Yes, I know. Trust me. I’ve seen things that…” Mackenzie was at a loss for words. She felt foolish for even comparing her ghastly encounters with the wraiths to the terrible violence Tildy had experienced.

Grant set another sandwich and cup of coffee in front of Tildy. “Here you go.”

“Oh, God. I’m so grateful! To both of you! It’s been so long since I had a real meal of any kind. The more I die the harder it’s getting to shape anything useful.”

“That’s the aftereffect of death in this world,” Grant answered in a gentle voice.

“Unlike the aftereffect in the real world. You know, staying dead.” Tildy shook her head in agitation. “I wish I would stay dead. I wish I would stay dead so it would all just stop!”

Not knowing what to say, Mackenzie clutched the other woman’s hands while Tildy wept. Grant left them alone, and Mackenzie heard the old sofa in the living room squeak and the rustle of paper.

“You’re so sweet to take me in,” Tildy managed to say after a few minutes.

“I’m just doing what I can.”

“You’re new here, right? You can do all of this still.” Tildy’s eyes darted over the room.

“Yeah. I’ve only been here a day.”

“A day?” Tildy gaped at her. “A day! Then you still don’t know how bad it can get.”

“Probably not, though what I’ve gone through already is…” Mackenzie stopped herself. “It’s nothing compared to what you’re going through.”

“You have a much better handle on all this than I’ve ever had,” Tildy said in awe. “Look at this place! And you have that man with you, too. I just … I can’t make anything like this happen for me. I just run. I just always run.”

“You’re doing what you can,” Mackenzie said, trying to console her.

“I want to make it to the dream palaces, but I know they won’t let me in.” Tildy sighed, her eyes gleaming wetly. “I’m ruined. Broken.”

Mackenzie wondered what a dream palace was, and was about to ask when a creak on the floor drew their attention to the doorway to the living room. Grant stood there, his expression inscrutable. “We need to go. The rain has let up. To keep ahead of the Clown, we best get moving.”

“You don’t think we should let her clean up? Maybe get warm?” Mackenzie glanced at the forlorn woman worriedly. Tildy looked so bedraggled and afraid.

“Not if this Clown is after her. It’s better for us to move on than stay here.” Grant gave her a pointed look, but Mackenzie wasn’t sure what it meant. He disappeared into the living room.

Turning to Tildy, she saw the woman staring after Grant with a look of longing on her face. “I suppose you don’t need to travel to a dream palace. You can make your own.”

“I don’t under—”

“Let’s go!” Grant called out.

Mackenzie pushed out her chair and stood to help Tildy up. The woman was still violently shivering and clutching Grant’s jacket with her thin hands.

“I’m sorry to put you out like this, Mackenzie, but I just can’t bear to die again. Not so soon.”

“I understand,” Mackenzie said soothingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you. There are three of us against one of him.” Mackenzie hoped that would be enough. She wasn’t sure what it would be like to battle a living being in this terrible world.

“It’s better odds than I usually have,” Tildy said, forcing a smile onto her face. She wasn’t a pretty girl, but her smile was sweet.

Wrapping one arm around the woman’s shoulders, Mackenzie guided her out of the kitchen and into the living room. Grant stood in the doorway staring out at the drive that led to the road. “It’s clear. I don’t see anyone. We better get going.”

Opening the door, Grant exited onto the porch, scrutinizing the area before motioning for them to follow. Their footsteps thumped over the porch. Stepping into the knee-high wet grass, Mackenzie listened to the soft patter of water drops falling from the trees lining the drive. It was a peaceful sound that belied the danger of their situation.

Tildy’s feet were caked in mud, the straps of her leather sandals frayed and stained. The mud sucked at her feet and made it difficult for her to walk. Tildy didn’t complain, but soldiered on, her thin arms crossed over her chest, her elbows and shoulders sticking out sharply against the fabric of Grant’s jacket. Witnessing Tildy’s discomfort, Mackenzie wished she could bring along the objects she restored in the dead spots.

The world around them was hushed. Even the roar of the tornado spinning on the horizon was strangely muted. There wasn’t a breeze, but the air was crisp against Mackenzie’s face. Huddled in Grant’s jacket, Tildy slogged along behind the tall man with Mackenzie a step behind her.

When they arrived at the road, Grant spent a good minute or two scrutinizing the woods. Mackenzie and Tildy clustered close together watching and waiting for him to speak.

“Are we heading up toward Nacogdoches?” Tildy finally asked.

“We should keep heading south,” Grant said at last. “There is too much activity to the north and east.”

“You said there is somewhere safe for us to stay, right?” Mackenzie’s fingers lightly touched the knife she had tucked into the side pocket of her purse. Its presence was reassuring.

“There’s a motel somewhere up ahead,” Grant answered.

“Near the old amusement park. I hate that place.” Tildy pulled the jacket lapels, shivering from either the cool dampness in the air, or fear.

“An amusement park?” Mackenzie appealed to Grant with her eyes. “We can’t. Isn’t that like the perfect place for him to haunt?”

“This is the only road that will lead us away from where we have seen the worst activity today. There are hardly any towns or houses in this direction.” Grant tapped his walking stick against the pavement, his brow furrowed, and his expression frustrated. “I just don’t see how we have a choice.”

“He’s right.” Tildy’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her dark eyes shifted about, surveying the dark woods and the ominous clouds above. “Besides, that asshole could be anywhere. Excuse my language.”

“Nothing to excuse.” Mackenzie withdrew the knife from her purse and stared at its scorched blade. Could she actually use it to defend herself and her companions against someone she knew was not a wraith? She hadn’t thought twice about attacking the wraith imitating Tanner, but could she use the knife against an actual human being? Even if he was a serial killer? Deep within herself she knew the answer was that she could. Recognizing that aspect of herself made her uneasy.

Tildy’s fingers fluttered against the collar of Grant’s jacket, her eyes darting back and forth between Mackenzie’s face and the knife. “It won’t stop him, you know.”

“It might.” Mackenzie noted Tildy’s discomfort and tucked it into the pocket in the purse again. The last thing she wanted to do was upset the shivering woman even more.

“The best plan is to keep moving, make it past the amusement park, and find that motel. You can shape it so that it’ll be secure.” Grant’s voice was firm, decisive, and edged with annoyance. “We’ve taken on an additional risk so we need to move fast and get there by nightfall.”

“I can go it alone, you know,” Tildy said, her gaze pinned to the bit of road beneath her feet. It was clear she did not want to leave them, but her hunched shoulders and cowed posture conveyed clearly that she expected them to reject her. “I know how bad it is here. You don’t need to add to your woes by taking on mine.”

Taking a small step toward the other woman, Mackenzie gently rested her hand on Tildy’s shoulder. Lifting her chocolate brown eyes, Tildy stared at her expectantly.

“Grant and I will help you. He’s been helping me since he found me and I’m going to help you. I can’t just abandon you.” Mackenzie shifted her eyes so she could view Grant over Tildy’s shoulder. He looked pained by her words.

Though it was clear Grant was upset about bringing Tildy with them, Mackenzie was certain he knew it was the right thing to do. No person should suffer at the hands of another. The need to protect Tildy battled with her own sense of self-preservation, yet how could she turn her back on someone in need? So many had turned their backs on her when she had needed them most.

With a reluctant sigh, Grant nodded his head. “It’s better to travel in a group, Tildy.”

“I can see you’re scared.” Tildy rubbed her nose, pivoting on one foot to focus her attention on Grant. “You and I know how bad it can be here. She doesn’t fully understand yet. She hasn’t died yet, has she?”

“No, and she won’t if I can help it.”

Grant’s vow created a warm glow of gratitude within Mackenzie.

Tears on her face, Tildy said, “I want your help. I do. I don’t want to face him alone again. But if you turn me away, I understand. I’ve been turned away many times.”

Grant tilted his head, regarding the frightened woman before him. “We have a long way to walk before nightfall. We’re wasting time.”

With that comment, Grant strode down the middle of the road at a brisk pace. Tildy smiled with relief and trudged along behind him. Mackenzie followed, not sure if they were doing the safe thing, but knowing they were doing the right thing. In the last few months she had often felt abandoned, alone, and very afraid. No, she hadn’t been at the horrific mercy of a clown serial killer, but she did know how it felt when the world no longer appeared to care if she existed. Tildy’s haunted eyes and fearful posture reminded her far too much of her own reflection in the mirror the last six months.

Mackenzie’s stomach was in knots and her knees felt weak. The buzzing wave of anxiety was building again and she feared it would wash over her. She wanted to believe she could fight off the serial killer, but she wasn’t sure. Months of neglect had taken its toll on her body. She wasn’t as strong as she had once been. Yet, her old strength of will was taking root and growing within her once again. For too long she’d been passive, allowing herself to be knocked about by the aftershocks of Joshua’s death. Upon reflection she could see that with each choice she had made, starting with the first one to get out of bed, she had been reclaiming her personal power. Even this most terrifying choice to help Tildy made her feel stronger.

The trio walked along the pockmarked road, splashing through the rainwater pooled in potholes and wide cracks in the asphalt. The lack of forest creatures scrounging around in the underbrush was disconcerting. The world felt strangely artificial, for even the hum of insects was absent. But, lost in her thoughts, Mackenzie was glad for the quiet.

After a mile, Mackenzie began to limp. The blisters forming on her heels, little toes, and the balls of her feet were starting to make it difficult to walk. The cute boots with the kitten heels had been an impulse buy after Tanner had left. She had fantasized about wearing them with supertight jeans and a sexy top to lure Tanner back into her arms, but instead they had sat in the box at the bottom of her closet until the night before she moved out. On impulse she had decided to wear them on her return journey to her hometown. Now she lamented that decision. If only she had worn more sensible sneakers or her cowboy boots.

“When we get to the hotel, I can check on your blisters,” Tildy offered, obviously noting Mackenzie’s increasing discomfort. “I know a little first aid from my time volunteering in a nursing home.”

“I’d really appreciate that.” Mackenzie smiled at the other woman with gratitude. She really did like Tildy. Her dark eyes seemed very earnest even if they were swollen and full of worry. It was pretty evident that she hadn’t been eating or sleeping well. The longer she studied Tildy, the clearer she saw the remains of the girl she once was. Beneath the puffy eyes and worry lines, she could see a pleasant-looking young woman in her twenties.

Tildy stared at her mud-caked feet and disintegrating sandals. “I didn’t make the wisest choice of shoes either. Though it’s not like we knew we were going to end up in this godforsaken place.”

“Life is full of unexpected events,” Grant said. He was several paces before them.

“Not the best thing to say in this world,” Mackenzie chided him.

Lifting one shoulder, Grant gave her a rueful smile. “Yes, but it’s the truth.”

CHAPTER 12

Exhaustion ate at Mackenzie while pain kept her alert. She dug a small bottle of Advil out of her purse and took three tablets when the agony in her feet became nearly unbearable. Swallowing them dry, Mackenzie was convinced one was stuck at the rear of her throat. She kept trying to dislodge it by coughing to no avail.

The sun occasionally peeked out from behind fluffy white clouds, but the thick cover was a godsend. Each time they plodded through a beam of direct sunlight, Mackenzie was convinced she was going to melt. The rays of the sun seared her exposed skin and made her jacket uncomfortably hot. Once the sun disappeared behind a cloud, the temperature dropped sharply. It wasn’t bitingly cold, but it was crisp and damp. The lack of breeze actually kept the temperature tolerable for Texas weather most of the time.

The stillness of the day was unnerving. The trees remained unmoving sentinels along the edge of the road throughout most of their journey. Sweat was pooling under her arms and beneath her breasts from the physical exertion. Grant’s white shirt was damp from perspiration and moisture beaded his upper lip and forehead. In contrast to Mackenzie and Grant, Tildy remained swathed in Grant’s suit jacket, shivering. Her lack of body fat probably made her susceptible to the cooler air, or maybe it was shock from all she had endured. Mackenzie felt for the other woman. She was so thin and fragile. They all reeked of body odor, but despite the lack of visible wounds, the scent of blood and death clung to Tildy.

The dark thoughts were a stark contrast to the beauty of the afternoon. If not for the gnawing fear in her gut, Mackenzie could fool herself into believing she was just out for a nice walk on a lovely day. Though the shadows in the woods were shrouded in an unnatural darkness, the travelers hadn’t seen anything peculiar since the stationary tornado had disappeared into the horizon.

“Sometimes it looks like the normal world, huh?” Tildy said, giving Mackenzie a shy smile.

“I was just thinking that,” Mackenzie admitted.

“I once was convinced I had made it out. For several hours everything was just so normal. No monsters, no weirdness. Just a beautiful spring day. I got all excited and headed home. I couldn’t wait to see my mother and father, my sisters and my brother. I even found a bike next to the side of the road and I made some good time.” The memory brought a sad smile to Tildy’s bluish lips. “When I reached my house, it looked just like I remembered.” As she lowered her eyes, tears caught in Tildy’s bottom lashes. “Then the Clown came and I knew I had been fooled.”

“I’m so sorry.” Mackenzie gave Tildy a quick side hug, careful not to upset her.

Tildy slightly flinched, but didn’t draw away. “Not much anyone can do about it, so no need to be sorry.”

“I guess I say sorry a lot.”

“My mama always said that people who apologize a lot want someone to apologize to them.”

The comment stung, but it held a kernel of truth. “You have a smart mama.”

Tildy’s face shadowed with deep sadness. “Yes. I do.”

“We’re getting closer to the amusement park.” Grant glanced at the two women, then gestured ahead toward a Ferris wheel peeking out over the treetops.

“Can we try cutting around it?” The strain in Tildy’s voice and the stiffness in her posture were clear indications of her fear.

Stopping in his tracks, Grant turned to face them, his one hand holding his walking stick at his side like a weapon. “If we go into the woods, it’s darker, harder to see what’s coming, more difficult to escape.”

“But we could hide easier, right?” Tildy’s fingers fumbled with the collar of the jacket, nervously tugging on it. Her eyes darted toward the hulk of metal. “Easier than being right in the open, right?”

“How many times did he find you when you hid?” Grant stared at Tildy steadily, waiting for an answer.

Mackenzie was annoyed at his tone, but understood his point. Pensively, she examined their surroundings. An enormous field filled with wild grasses was to the right and a fenced-in pasture to the left. There was a distinct absence of cows, or any other animals loitering in the open. Ahead the forest flowed to the shoulders of the road, covering the passage in a thick canopy. Beyond the trees the forlorn peak of a roller coaster rose beside the top of the Ferris wheel.

Rocking side to side, Tildy let his question linger in the air.

“Well?” Grant lifted his thick eyebrows.

Tildy cowered under his gaze, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.

“How big is this amusement park?” Mackenzie poked Grant in the shoulder, drawing his attention away from the skinny woman.

“We should be able to get past that dead spot fairly quickly if we don’t divert by heading into the woods and stick to the road.”

In a strangely matter-of-fact voice, Tildy said, “It’s not really big. It went out of business in the seventies. I remember I came here as a kid with my folks. It was a huge disappointment. I was hoping for something like Six Flags, but it was just a rinky-dink roller coaster, Ferris wheel, and kiddie rides.” Tildy shivered in Grant’s jacket. “He threw me from the top of the roller coaster once.”

“Is this his territory?” Mackenzie slid her hand into her purse, touching the knife for reassurance.

Tildy laughed bitterly. “Honey, this whole world is his territory. I once got as far as Kansas before he snatched me.”

“How long have you been in here?” Mackenzie took a good look at her companion. Her blond hair had dried into a feathered hairstyle that ended just above her shoulders; her dress and sandals had a retro look to them.

“1982. I was twenty. Well, I guess I still am.”

Sickened by the horror of Tildy’s circumstances, Mackenzie exclaimed, “You’ve been going through this for thirty years?”

“Is that how long it’s been in your world?” Tildy gawked at her, then wagged her head. “It doesn’t matter. This is all one long nightmare.”

“Time will eventually have no meaning for you,” Grant informed Mackenzie. “It just becomes something that used to matter long ago.”

“You two are not cheering me up,” Mackenzie grumbled.

“I’m sorry.” Tildy lightly touched Mackenzie’s hand, then slid her fingers around it. “I’m sorry for everything that is going to happen to you. I wish I could save you, but I can’t even save myself.”

Mackenzie clutched the woman’s hand. The sincerity in Tildy’s voice and manner touched her deeply. Tildy had experienced horrors that Mackenzie couldn’t even imagine, yet she was tenderhearted and kind.

Grant made a noise in his throat and looked away, clearly not pleased with the topic of conversation. While she had known him a very short period of time, Mackenzie could tell that Grant liked to remain focused on the objectives of his choosing. Though his eyes were haunted by loss and pain, he didn’t seem inclined to indulge in emotional displays. That had been apparent since she met him. Yet, he was also adept at giving her just enough encouragement and compassion to keep her from faltering.

“We need to keep moving.” Grant again started off down the road at a quick pace. From the set of Grant’s shoulders it was apparent he still wasn’t pleased with the situation.

Tildy gave Mackenzie a questioning look.

Mackenzie shrugged.

The road twisted away from the serene pasture and field, plunging through a thick gnarl of woods. The trees reached overhead, forming a roof of thick branches and leaves. Mackenzie thought it was rather like walking into a tunnel.

“The motel has a little restaurant attached. I could really go for a chicken-fried steak.” Tildy walked closer to Mackenzie, looking unsettled, but obviously trying to keep her mind off the Clown by chatting.

“I’m sure I can arrange that.” It was nice being able to help someone else. It had been a long time since Mackenzie had felt needed and now both Grant and Tildy were dependent on her to some degree.

A slight breeze ruffled the grass along the edge of the road and the canopy of branches looming overhead began to creak.

“And I’d really love a hot bath. The rooms have big tubs. I hate it when the tubs are so small you’re all folded up like an accordion,” Tildy rambled on, her voice rising in volume. Still clutching Mackenzie’s hand, her palm was sweaty and her ice-cold fingers were quivering.

The light tapping of Grant’s walking stick against the pavement ceased. Mackenzie looked at him sharply and saw that he was holding it in both hands, his gaze directed into the trees.

“… I like it when the beds are soft. Hard beds are just annoying.…” Tildy continued to chatter on, but her wide eyes and trembling hands spoke of her fear.

Mackenzie felt jittery, her body on high alert as her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. The oppressive wave of anxiety was rising, threatening to fall at any second. She drew the knife, the scorched, bubbled plastic handle biting into her palm.

Movement in the trees yanked her attention to the left. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers tightening around her weapon. The shadows were undulating, slipping from tree to tree. Bulbous forms hidden in darkness bobbed through the murk.

“Are those people?” Mackenzie whispered.

Grant gripped her arm and jerked her forward. “Keep moving.”

Ahead, the tunnel of trees gave way to a length of asphalt before the amusement park. Shrugging off Grant’s hold, Mackenzie raised her weapon, ready to fight. The shapes in the gloom were moving faster. The bouncing black shapes lurked just shy of the dappled sunlight.

“Run!” Grant ordered, breaking into a sprint.

The forest writhed, alive with unseen shadowy forms. Mackenzie’s blistered, bruised feet protested with every step as she fled. The wave of anxiety hit like a sledgehammer, robbing her of coherent thought. Ragged breaths dragged very little air into her already burning lungs and her heart thundered in her ears. The amusement park rose to their left opposite the parking lot to their right. They’d have to venture off the road to escape the dead spot and whatever was stalking them.

The group was almost to the end of the cover of trees when the bounding shapes exploded out of the forest. A cloud of brightly colored balloons trailing long silvery iridescent ribbons enveloped the three people. The swarm danced and bobbed around the humans, their long streamers sparkling in the sunlight. Twisting around in a circle, Mackenzie knocked away the bouncing forms with the knife. Beside her, Tildy whimpered while shoving through the sea of brightly colored orbs.

Mackenzie gasped when the long string of one of the inflated objects wrapped around her wrist. It tightened, biting into her flesh, then yanked her forward, causing her to nearly lose the knife. Tildy scurried forward, slapping the balloon away. The balloon bounded back, smacking Mackenzie’s face. The rubbery surface felt like it encapsulated concrete, not air, and her head swam. Another balloon collided with Mackenzie, knocking her onto her knees. The dangling iridescent streamers tangled in her hair and lashed her face and neck. Panicked, Mackenzie flailed at the balloons with the knife. The ribbon around her wrist tightened painfully, making her cry out.

“Give me the knife!” Tildy hunched over Mackenzie in an attempt to shield her from the assault while she scrabbled at Mackenzie’s wrist, attempting to unwind the ribbon.

Another blow to the head sent Mackenzie reeling. The bobbling balloons hit like they were filled with wet sand, not helium. Her vision spinning, Mackenzie relinquished the knife to Tildy. The rubbery surface of the balloons pressed against Mackenzie from all sides. Gripped with claustrophobia, she frantically slapped at the balloons assaulting her with her free hand. Meanwhile, Tildy sawed frantically at the peculiarly resilient ribbon wrapped around Mackenzie’s wrist. Somewhere nearby Mackenzie could hear Grant grunting while he fought his way through the onslaught.

The balloon holding her captive jerked upward, the ribbon digging into Mackenzie’s flesh and causing blood to well along the edges. The persistent thumping of the balloons against Tildy’s body knocked her about, but she kept hacking at the glittering ribbon.

Tears streamed along Tildy’s bruised and frightened face. “He’s here, Mackenzie. He’s here!”

“It’s the dead spot fucking with us, Tildy!” With a mighty shove, Mackenzie managed to get to her feet. Through the chaos of color, she caught a glimpse of Grant closing in on them, fighting his own battle. “Don’t give in to it!” Her edict sounded ridiculous even to her as the band of fear gripping her chest tightened even more.

“I’m trying. I am!” Another balloon hit Tildy in the face, blood splattering the rubber surface. Tildy bit her lip with determination and ignored her profusely bleeding nose. With one last swipe, she cut Mackenzie free. “Got it!” Tildy’s exclamation was triumphant. She fiercely stabbed at the yellow balloon that had held Mackenzie captive, but the blade simply skidded across the rubbery surface as it bobbed away.

“We need to get out of here!” Mackenzie grabbed Tildy’s forearm and aimed them in what she hoped was the direction of the parking lot.

It was difficult to see past the swirling shapes spinning and bouncing around them. Mackenzie held her hand before her face, trying to deflect the attacks away from her already battered face. Her head was throbbing, her wrist was smarting and still bleeding, and she was in a full panic. The rainbowlike tails of the balloons whipped against her exposed flesh, leaving painful tiny cuts. The balloons were everywhere, encompassing the women in a colorful, terrible swarm. The swarm continually butted the two women, nearly knocking them off their feet.

Tildy’s arm was abruptly wrenched free of Mackenzie’s grip.

“Mackenzie!” Tildy screeched.

Spinning about, Mackenzie gaped in horror. The balloons massed around Tildy, their streamers wrapping around her legs and arms. Like writhing tentacles, they captured Tildy in their glittering grip. Still clutching the knife, Tildy slashed at the ribbons, her face twisted in anguish and fear.

“Grant!” Mackenzie screamed. “Help us!”

Pummeling the balloons that blocked her way, Mackenzie fought through the dense cluster. Despite her own fear, Mackenzie was determined to save her new friend.

“Mackenzie!” Tildy shouted. “Just run!”

“I’m coming, Tildy!”

The blond woman’s arms were sharply yanked over her head as the swarm of balloons ascended. Caught in the web of their streamers, Tildy was lifted off the ground. The scream that burst from her lips sliced through Mackenzie. It was the cry of someone who knew she could not fight the inevitable. It reminded Mackenzie starkly of her own cry when she had been told Joshua’s heart was no longer beating.

With a cry of despair, Mackenzie watched the balloons hoist Tildy’s struggling body high into the air before coasting steadily toward the amusement park. A muddy sandal spun downward and landed at Mackenzie’s feet.

CHAPTER 13

“Grant!” Mackenzie shouted, twisting about, searching for him among the straggling balloons creeping upward.

Sweeping his walking stick in an arc, Grant deflected one final attack. The brightly colored balloons bobbed away from his wide sweeps before following the dense swarm carrying Tildy. Bruised and bleeding from the tiny cuts covering his face and hands, Grant arrived at her side and clasped her arm. “Are you okay?”

“They got her! We have to save her!” Mackenzie’s words tumbled out of her mouth in a mad rush. She could barely breathe and her heart felt like it was about to explode.

“We need to get out of here!” Grant started to drag her along the now empty road and past the abandoned amusement park.

“No! We have to save her!” Mackenzie stumbled, her blistered feet protesting every step. Wrenching free of Grant’s grip, she rushed toward the entrance. “Oh, God!”

Broken boards were heaped along the rotting wood fence adorned with clowns dancing, laughing, and performing acrobatic feats. The painted face of a grinning clown surrounded by masses of blue hair encompassed the entrance. Beneath the clown’s red nose, constructed out of a cluster of broken red lights, its mouth formed the opening to the park. Her heart stuttered in her chest. It was difficult to talk. Her throat was constricted with fear and her tongue felt heavy and dry in her mouth. Instinctively, she knew Tildy wasn’t just at the mercy of the dead spot, but that the Clown was in control of it.

“He’s here! He’s doing this!”

“It’s the dead spot, Mackenzie! We need to go now before it turns its attention to you. It snagged Tildy because her fear was strongest.” Grant again tried to drag her after him.

Mackenzie fought Grant, slapping away his hands. The resolve in his eyes only made her angrier, which helped slice through her fear. “I’m not leaving her! The Clown is here and he’s in control of the dead spot. The danger is him, not the dead spot anymore. I know it!”

“Leave her, Mackenzie,” Grant ordered, his tone biting.

“You saved me when you found me, remember? Why is she different?” Mackenzie winced with each step. A few of the blisters on the balls of her feet felt as though they had burst.

“She’s not as alive as you are. She’s nearly lost to this world, Mackenzie. She’s close to becoming a wraith. Look at her.”

Grant’s comment was chilling, not necessarily because of the impassive delivery, but because Mackenzie believed him. Above, Tildy’s thin, worn frame dangled from the balloons, looking like an odd scarecrow. Tildy being so close to becoming a wraith was all the more reason to save her.

“This is what the dead spots do. They eat you up, Mackenzie, until you are empty.”

The rushing waves of anxiety that had flooded the innermost parts of her soul and mind began to recede as Mackenzie accepted a terrible truth: she already felt dead. She had felt that way since the moment Joshua’s heartbeat couldn’t be found during the ultrasound. She felt as empty as the grave she feared. There was no one to save Joshua. No one to save her. They had fallen into that abyss together. If she could save someone else, it gave her hope that maybe she could be saved, too.

“I’m going to save her, Grant. You can’t stop me.”

Mackenzie stomped over to the stack of fallen planks. Picking one riddled with rusty nails, she hoisted it over one shoulder and headed toward the foreboding entrance. In the daunting gloom, she discerned two ticket booths standing like sentinels before the gate to the midway. The craziness of her situation hit her once again and she faltered. What could she do against a killer? Yet, how could she not try to help? She lifted her makeshift club higher and stalked forward.

She heard an exasperated sigh as Grant followed. Shivering, she slipped through the peeling, painted lips of the gruesome clown entrance. It was a little too symbolic of her being swallowed by the dead spot. Above, the cloud of balloons and their captive sailed over the ruins of the old midway rides, food vendor booths, and gaming alley. Weeds and grass sprouted through the cracked concrete and vines strangled benches and fences. The wind slithered through the foliage, rustling it lightly, creating soft whispers that set her even more on edge. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her swollen, pinched feet, she limped forward.

“Mackenzie, you need to reconsider,” Grant said.

Grant’s voice was close. A swift look over her shoulder revealed he was following in her wake. He held the walking stick like a sword ready for an attack. His disheveled appearance spoke of the battle he had already fought against the dead spot. His lip was cut and puffy from a blow to the mouth.

“Mackenzie, you need to save yourself.”

“I am,” Mackenzie answered.

Hobbling, she kept her eye on the balloon swarm. Each step moved her closer to the roller coaster, the wooden skeletal frame silhouetted against the gray sky above. The entrance to the ride came into view and Mackenzie stuttered to a stop. Breathing heavily, she pressed one hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding beneath her fingers. Grant joined her, slightly winded, and looking very ill at ease.

The rusted metal archway leaned slightly to one side, the elements having taken their toll. It was heavily laden with creeping vines and had been fashioned to look like the roller coaster track. A wood cutout of a clown joyously riding a roller coaster was attached to the frame and appeared freshly painted. The clown’s blue hair, red nose, and white outfit with massive blue frills at the throat and wrists glistened wetly in the murky daylight.

“See, Grant. I’m right. That’s him. He’s controlling the dead spot.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because there is no way the original design included Tildy strapped to the tracks.” The cartoon visage of a woman screaming while the clown riding the roller coaster barreled toward her looked exactly like Tildy.

Grant stared incredulously at the sign overhead, his lips slightly parted, speechless.

The midway curved and dipped downward beyond the entrance. The receding storm clouds cast a ghostly pall over the area and shadows dwelled under the wood frame of the old ride. Attached to the support beams were more cutout signs, cartoons of Tildy and the Clown depicted in scenes of terror. Evisceration, vivisection, rape, and other horrors were illustrated in bright colors, the execution playful and childish. Mackenzie felt her stomach heave and she covered her mouth with her free hand.

“We should go.”

Grant’s words made sense, but instead of retreating, Mackenzie took a hesitant step forward. The ghastly depictions of the Clown’s torture and murder of Tildy made it difficult to move. Ice was seeping into her blood, freezing her in place, seizing her brain, and making it difficult to draw a breath. Her fingers flexed, then tightened on her weapon.

“We can leave now.” Grant warily scrutinized the area. “We can leave now before he decides to turn his attention toward us.”

Shaking her head, Mackenzie forced herself to take a step. Her body felt cold and disassociated from the world around her. The anguished cries of the woman held aloft by the demonic balloons drew Mackenzie’s eyes upward. Tildy hung among the brightly colored ribbons, her mouth twisted in a cry of despair, her body swinging about wildly as the swarm descended toward the roller coaster.

It was then she saw the Clown. He stood on one of the higher slopes of the roller coaster watching the approach of his favorite victim. The entire amusement park was filled with the images of this particular clown. Slight in build, but tall in height, he was clad in a white satin jumpsuit with frills of blue satin at his neck, wrists, and ankles. Vibrant blue hair surrounded a face covered in white makeup. A garish downturned mouth was painted in bright red and the black diamonds around his eyes gave the impression of empty sockets. Unmoving, the Clown waited in silence.

A touch on her shoulder made her start. Grant gestured for her to be silent and follow him. Shaking her head, she swept her gaze along the tracks trying to ascertain how to climb to where the Clown stood. Near the station a maintenance stairway twisted upward to the higher tracks. The thought of climbing the narrow stairs was intimidating, but one look toward Tildy floating ever closer to the terrible clown was all the incentive she needed.

With determined but agonizing steps, Mackenzie advanced on the ramp leading to the station. The soft patter of Grant’s footsteps behind her was reassuring. After such a short time together, it was clear that he was dedicated to being at her side. While cutting across the barricades that used to keep the line of riders in order, Mackenzie kept an eye on the Clown and Tildy. She was almost to the bottom of the ramp to the station house when the Clown twisted his head in her direction. Lifting her chin, she stared at him defiantly. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought he was scrutinizing her, taking in her appearance and weapon. The air around her grew colder while they locked gazes, her teeth beginning to chatter. She was no longer certain that the darkness around his eyes was paint. A tangible, oily miasma of energy washed over her, and Mackenzie gripped the rail next to her to keep from falling.

The Clown extended one gloved hand toward Mackenzie, his head tilting to one side. It reminded Mackenzie vividly of a Roman emperor deciding the fate of a gladiator in the arena.

“We should go,” Grant said again, sounding more afraid than before.

Mackenzie felt transfixed by the Clown’s hollow stare. Gradually, the Clown twisted his hand at the wrist so that his palm faced upward. His fingers flicked at her, beckoning her to join him. The vice around her lungs constricted and the world tilted dangerously from the loss of oxygen. The Clown was death personified and she had a serious beef with death. She would not relent.

Adamantly shaking her head, Mackenzie lifted the board in a threatening motion.

The Clown lowered his hand.

The balloons sank toward the track, Tildy dangling limply in their grasp. She had ceased to struggle, apparently resigned to her fate. The Clown didn’t even glance at his captive. He merely seized her arm and towed his victim toward him. The balloons released their captive and Tildy slumped to the track, her dirty blond hair obscuring her face. The balloons dispersed, bouncing along the air drafts.

“It’s too late. He has her,” Grant hissed. “Mackenzie, give it up!”

“No, I can’t!” Eyes riveted to Tildy and the Clown, Mackenzie took a few unsteady steps toward the station. The Clown continued to watch her. His cocked head and glittering eyes reminded her of a predatory bird observing its prey before swooping down to snare it.

The movement of Tildy lifting her hand caught Mackenzie’s eye. Mackenzie glimpsed the flash of the blade clutched in Tildy’s fingers a second before the woman rose to her knees and shoved the knife into the Clown’s gut. He grunted as blood blossomed across the front of the white costume. Shocked, he grabbed Tildy by the hair in an attempt to toss her away, but Tildy’s arm pinwheeled as she plunged the knife into him over and over again.

“Oh, God,” was all Mackenzie managed to murmur. She was so stunned by the burst of violence from the frail woman it was difficult to process the scene. There was nothing Mackenzie and Grant could do but watch in silence.

The Clown seized Tildy by the throat, but she continued to stab him, the white fabric of the clown costume shredded and stained red. They staggered on the tracks, struggling for balance and dominance. Weakened by his wounds, the Clown stumbled, losing his footing. Seeing her opportunity, Tildy shoved him, driving him over the edge. The Clown didn’t release his grip on the fragile woman and together they hurtled to their deaths.

CHAPTER 14

Tildy lay dead, her brains and blood spattered around her head like a gory halo. The reek of death filled Mackenzie’s nostrils, the cloying coppery scent of blood mixing with the vile stink of refuse.

“It’s over. Let’s go.” Grant’s tone offered no consolation whatsoever. It was as if he was immune to the terrible sight just a few feet away.

Mackenzie nodded, understanding there was nothing more she could do. Perhaps from the moment she had met Tildy this had been the inevitable outcome.

Grant took her hand and pulled her from the gruesome scene. Mackenzie went with him willingly, too overcome to protest.

In a frantic rush, he guided her past the games, vendors, and kiddie rides dotting the midway. Mackenzie struggled to keep up, the pinch of his hand clutching her cold fingers cutting through the numbness of her mind. The pace Grant set was brutal on her tortured feet.

“He’s dead!” Mackenzie cried out, finally finding her voice. “It’s over! Slow down! You’re hurting me!”

“We have to keep moving, Mackenzie!”

“What does it matter now? They’re both dead!”

“The dead spot lost its focus, Mackenzie. Now it will focus on you!” Grant dragged her around a broken ice cream stand and toward the exit.

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in to her shocked, frightened mind. The deep open grave, the baby casket, and the horrific silent mourners flashed through her mind. “Oh, God!”

The ground broke apart around them, long-fingered hands bursting out of it. One lashed out at Mackenzie’s ankles as she passed. The clawed hands tipped with sharp broken fingernails rose up like weeds to scrabble at the concrete. One snagged the hem of Mackenzie’s jeans and jerked her back with surprising strength. With her free foot, she kicked at the mud-encrusted fingers until they released her.

Close by Grant smashed his walking stick down on the grasping hands, breaking digits and splintering the end of his weapon.

Mackenzie jumped around the spindly fingers reaching for her, hopscotching toward the exit. Kicking and swinging her makeshift mace at the clawed hands, she fought to escape. The world rocked around her dangerously, her vision dim, and she took a rasping breath, realizing she was forgetting to breathe in her panic. Everywhere she looked the long-fingered hands with their sharp nails were raking the ground, blindly seeking her out.

This was how Tildy must have felt, Mackenzie thought. Forever trapped, doomed, and unable to escape her inevitable death.

She leaped over a cluster of the rangy hands, crying out in agony when the last of her blisters broke. Limping, she struggled to escape another pair of the clutching fingers. Beating at the long, emaciated hands with her makeshift mace, she gritted her teeth, fighting the nausea brought on by the gray, dirty skin bursting under her assault, misting her boots with blood.

The exit was so close she could see the parking lot through the turnstile. Exhausted, she swung her club at the mud-encrusted hands. To her horror, the grasping fingers caught the weapon and jerked it free.

Rattled, Mackenzie tried to leap away, but a blow from the club across her shins sent her sprawling. Twisting around, Mackenzie watched in horror as the cement disintegrated into the shape of a grave and a figure emerged from the earth. Clods of dirt and concrete clung to its lank blond hair as it hoisted its upper body out of the ground.

“Run, Mackenzie!” Grant was already at the exit, his walking stick missing.

Crawling to her knees, Mackenzie scrabbled at the ground, struggling to stand. Her body wasn’t cooperating. Her limbs were slow to respond to her frantically screaming mind. She felt like she was in a horror movie where the heroine can’t seem to remain on her feet, constantly falling in her frantic haste to escape.

Finally, Mackenzie managed to rise and hobbled toward the exit where Grant waited.

“Why are you leaving me?”

Mackenzie startled to a stop at the voice. Trembling with adrenaline and fear, Mackenzie started to look behind her.

“Don’t look! Just run!” Grant ordered.

Blond hair hanging limply around her face, Tildy stood at the edge of the grave that had just opened. In one hand she held the knife with which she had killed the Clown and in the other she held the club that had been wrested from Mackenzie’s grip. There was no sign of the grievous wound that had ended her life, her body restored to how it had been before her last death. Fingers, long, dirty, and ending in broken nails, flexed around her weapons. Tears marked tracks through the dirt covering her face, but it was her eyes that sent Mackenzie’s world spinning.

Cold, sparkling, glasslike, and empty.

“Are you abandoning me after you promised to save me?” Tildy’s accented voice, once gentle and kind, was now markedly hard and cruel. There was a mocking tilt to her head and ferocity in her gaze. “After all your promises are you really leaving me here with my killer?”

“You’re a wraith,” Mackenzie sorrowfully whispered.

Tildy advanced with measured steps, swinging the weapons. The makeshift mace had been heavy in Mackenzie’s grip, but Tildy whirled it about as if it were weightless.

“I thought you said you’d help me escape? But now you’re trying to escape and leaving me here. You failed me, Mackenzie! You failed me like you failed Tanner, your mother, and sweet little Joshua.”

Each word felt like truth burning into her soul and exposing it as empty and black as Tildy’s eyes. The dark wave washed over Mackenzie, extinguishing resolve and replacing it with cold, unrelenting despair. It filled her completely, washing away her strength and her willpower. Tears blurred her vision as the utter bleakness of the situation destroyed her defense mechanisms and rendered her helpless in the face of such terror. She had failed to save Joshua. She had failed to save Tildy. She would fail to save herself. How had she been so foolish? She felt dead because she was going to die in this world and nothing could save her.

“It’s the dead spot, Mackenzie! Come here!”

Mackenzie heard Grant’s voice, yet she couldn’t move.

“All you ever do is fail, don’t you, Mackenzie?” Tildy was close enough to touch her now, but instead she tilted her head and gave Mackenzie a knowing, sly smile.

“I try not to,” Mackenzie muttered through trembling lips.

“But you always fail, don’t you?” Tildy sighed, shaking her head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Poor Mackenzie. Maybe it’s time for you to feel what it’s like to be betrayed and let down.” Tildy abruptly lifted the knife. It was renewed, the blade glittering dangerously. “Tell me how it feels to die.”

The gunshot startled Mackenzie. It echoed throughout the amusement park and balloons erupted from the trees like a flock of startled birds. With half her face blown away, Tildy fell over onto the concrete, the knife and board falling from her fingers.

Grant’s hand closing on her arm startled her. Her cry of surprise died in her throat at the sight of his face. He was terrified. Tugging her about, he forcibly dragged her through the turnstile.

“The balloons,” was all Grant said as they fled.

The thumping noise of the balloons re-forming into a cloud drove her forward. More shots sounded. Daring to look back, Mackenzie saw the flock of balloons scatter beneath the gunfire. More blasts destroyed one whole section of the group and bits of colored rubber and ribbon floated to the ground. The balloons swarmed toward the trees located near the exit of the amusement park. Mackenzie caught sight of a tall man in a leather jacket for a second before the balloons descended on him.

“Run!” the stranger shouted after them. “Run!”

Mackenzie started to turn back, her gut telling her to help the man who had saved her, but Grant tensed his hold and barreled forward. Tripping over her feet, Mackenzie was forced to follow.

When they reached the edge of the parking lot, Grant dragged her into the woods in spite of her protests.

“We should help him!” Mackenzie cried out.

Grant shushed her with a sharp look. “We’re being followed. Keep quiet.”

Still reeling from all that had just occurred, Mackenzie acquiesced.

In silence, they hurried away from the dead spot and the horrors it had unleashed. It was difficult to make progress maneuvering over uneven ground and pushing through underbrush, but Grant kept her moving whenever she faltered. The amusement park gradually disappeared behind the trees and Grant finally let them stop for a rest. Lips pressed together and brow furrowed, he scrutinized their surroundings. Mackenzie wondered if they were lost. She was tempted to lie down on a pile of dead leaves between the gnarled roots of a tree, but instead leaned against it, bone weary and emotionally wasted.

“Is it okay to talk now?” she whispered.

Grant responded with a brief dip of his head.

“Why did we leave that guy back there? The one who saved me?”

“He’s dangerous. If you ever see him again, you need to tell me immediately.” Grant was disheveled, his clothes a wreck. It felt odd to see him without his suit jacket. Tildy had been wearing it when she’d been abducted by the balloons. “Don’t talk to him, or get near him.”

“Why?”

Grant looked truly frightened. More than he ever had before. “He’s a very dangerous human who hunts other humans that are trapped here.”

“A shadow?”

“Worse.” Grant shivered. “Much worse.”

“What’s worse?”

“He can see how wraiths see. He can see what this world really looks like. That’s how he finds the humans he hunts.”

“Their brightness?”

Grant gave her a short nod. “Exactly.”

“Like how you see me?” Mackenzie rubbed her temple, confusion filling her.

“No. No,” Grant assured her. “To me you just stand out more sharply. Like a full-color image in a sepia photograph. He can see you like a flame in the dark. That’s how wraiths see us.”

“Then why did he save me?” Mackenzie struggled to wrap her mind around all that was happening. Everything was so complicated and dangerous.

“So he could kill you himself. He’s probably tracking us right now. Or at least trying to.” Grant studied the woods thoughtfully. “We’ll stay off the road and head west in a straight line. There is an abandoned ranch that way. It’s far off the main road.”

“How do you know this?”

Grant gave her an exasperated look.

“Oh, yeah. Fifty years trapped in here.”

“Exactly.”

“But who is he? Do you know him?”

“It’s not important, Mackenzie. Just stay away from him. Please. Just stay away.”

Exhaustion ate at her. It frustrated her that she had started to feel stronger earlier, but now she felt completely drained and completely disconnected from her own body, mind, and reality. It was as if the real Mackenzie was floating somewhere in the ether. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift in the darkness, not really thinking, but merely existing. Too much had happened in too short a time for her to entirely process. It felt like a hundred years had passed since she had floundered into the dead spot.

“You’re so pale,” Grant said worriedly, pressing a warm palm to her forehead. “The dead spot took a big bite out of you back there.”

Tildy’s words earlier during their confrontation had awakened within her the dangerous abyss of dark emotions. Upon reflection, Mackenzie realized she had fallen completely for the bait. “She riled me up so it could feed on me, didn’t she?”

With a weary look, Grant dropped his hand. “Yes. And it did.”

“Dammit. This place keeps using Joshua against me.”

“Yes, it will continue to.” Grant regarded her thoughtfully. “Give me your purse. I’ll carry it.”

Mackenzie handed it over. The straps had already left a deep groove in one shoulder. She was tempted to discard her small laptop to make it lighter. “Thanks.”

Grant claimed her purse and slung it over one arm. “Now you.”

“Huh?”

Taking ahold of her arm, he pivoted into her, crouched, then tugged her downward so she draped over his back. Grant wrapped one arm around her legs and held on to her arm as he stood with her sprawled across his broad shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“Hey!”

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing. This is the best way to carry someone.”

Without giving her a chance to protest, he started to trudge through the woods. It was a little uncomfortable lying across his shoulders, but her aching body and throbbing feet were grateful.

“I don’t need to be saved,” she mumbled into his arm.

“Yes, you do. Now let me save you,” Grant retorted.

Tears blinded her instantly, her throat tightening, when she thought of how she had tried and failed to save Tildy. Her whole life she’d waited for someone to come save her. That was probably why she had fallen so hard for Tanner. He swept into her life and turned it upside down, freeing her from her mother’s domination. Since Joshua’s death she’d been waiting for someone to somehow save her from the deep-rooted depression that had engulfed her, but no one had. Now she was exhausted both physically and mentally. Maybe it was time for someone new to save her. She swallowed the protest on the tip of her tongue and closed her eyes.

Maybe one day she’d be strong enough to save herself.

CHAPTER 15

Mackenzie must have dozed because her next coherent thought was that Grant really needed a shower. Sweat saturated his shirt and dripped off the ends of his hair. Every inch of her body hurt and her feet felt numb. One of her arms was asleep and felt like a deadweight. Lifting her head, Mackenzie surveyed their surroundings, which were surprisingly peaceful and normal in appearance. Grant was carrying her through a field of waist-high grasses and insects hummed soothingly around them. The storm clouds were gone. It was late afternoon, so the sky was turning lavender and pink on the horizon. A farmhouse rose up directly before them. The roof had fallen in to the structure and stuck up like splinters, and the clapboards were gray with time. The porch leaned heavily to one side and broken glass sparkled on the ground beneath hollow windows. The weathered posts of a fallen fence encircled the property resembling rotting teeth and a wrought iron gate rested in the overgrown grass. There were no signs of the balloon swarm, the odd red-eyed owl creatures, or the silent mourners. The ground around them was undisturbed by creeping hands and Tildy didn’t stand hollow-eyed and smirking anywhere in the vicinity.

“That’s probably going to make my head hurt,” Mackenzie muttered.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Grant said in a good-natured tone.

“So the psycho didn’t catch up with us, I take it?”

“We gave him the slip.” Grant sounded immensely satisfied with this accomplishment.

“I think I can walk now. My feet are numb. Besides, you must be exhausted.”

“I’m okay. It’s only been a half hour since you fell asleep.”

“Who are you? Superman?”

Chuckling, Grant kept strolling toward the house. “You’re not that heavy. Besides, I carried heavier people off battlefields. You need to preserve your strength to shape the farmhouse.”

She wondered if she’d get another headache. Restoring the small house earlier had not adversely affected her, but the amusement park dead spot had taken a big sip of her energy. Also, it was really uncomfortable being carried like a bag of seed slung over both of Grant’s shoulders.

“Please, Grant. Put me down.”

“If you insist.”

Once he set her down, she shakily found her balance and reclaimed her purse from him. Her feet throbbed in her boots, but the pain had yet to hit fully. She wished the rest of her felt numb. Fear pricked at her and the sense of loss was acute in the aftermath of the events at the amusement park. She’d invested her heart and soul into saving Tildy, and seeing her transform into a wraith had gutted her. From her experiences with her online support community, she knew that helping others was a way to heal, but that wasn’t the only reason she’d wanted to help Tildy. The other woman had reminded Mackenzie of herself. They were both shadows of the women they had once been. Mackenzie wasn’t even sure who she was anymore, but she knew without a doubt she did not want to end up like Tildy.

“Don’t be afraid. You can do this, Mackenzie.”

Grant rested a hand on the small of her back, applied gentle pressure to prod her forward, and guided her toward the farmhouse. Maybe it was because her mental defenses were so battered, but Mackenzie felt it when she passed over the barrier into the dead spot. Her skin crawled with a cold static feeling for just a second. Curious, she stared at the house and wondered what it had looked like before it had fallen apart. Instantly the splintered, gray boards smoothed out and turned a pale white while the roof rose up and wove itself back together, black tar and shingles rolling into place. The glass flew up into the empty windows, fitting together like puzzle pieces to form a smooth surface. The shutters straightened and turned a deep blue while the porch leveled and a porch swing flew up to hang from heavy iron chains. The front door righted itself and turned white.

The pain hit immediately, right behind her eyes, making her head spin. She braced herself against Grant, pressing her eyelids closed, hoping the world would stop whirling about. After a few seconds the stabbing sensation ended and her equilibrium returned.

“Ta-da,” she said, her voice slightly cracking.

“You’re amazing!” Grant gazed at her in awe. “But that hurt, didn’t it? That dead spot really got you. Let’s get you inside. You’re not looking well at all.”

Grant wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her walk the last few hundred yards to the house. Each step did its part in reawakening her feet and by the time they reached the porch she could hardly rest her weight on them.

The porch creaked when they stepped onto it, but it felt sturdy enough. The front door opened easily onto a long hall decorated sparsely but nicely with antique photos on the wall and an old Persian runner.

“You shaped the inside, too! I’ve never seen anyone do this before!”

How was she supposed to answer him? Mackenzie had no idea how she was doing any of it. It was as if she were Harry Potter and had no idea what she was really supposed to do.

A parlor was through one doorway, a dining room through the opposite one. A staircase led up to a higher floor. A small office farther down the hall was decorated in paintings of farming scenes and old almanacs. The kitchen spanned the back of the house and was filled with very old appliances, though, surprisingly, a coffeemaker and microwave sat on a hutch.

Falling into a chair, Mackenzie propped her feet on another seat, grimacing. She dreaded taking off her boots and discovering the true damage from their trek.

The smell of coffee permeated the room and the microwave dinged. Mackenzie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Did I do that? Or you?”

Grant busied himself getting a cup of coffee for both of them, pulling mugs off a shelf over the hutch. “Does it matter?”

“Not really.”

Grant opened the microwave to reveal a bowl of chili sitting next to corn bread wrapped in a paper towel. Leaning her elbow on the table, Mackenzie forced herself to relax while Grant laid out the food, poured water for both of them, and set the table. By the time he was done, she had a serving of the chili, buttered corn bread, coffee, and water all served on someone’s chipped family china.

In silence, they tucked into their meal. At first she wasn’t too keen on drinking the hot coffee, but it cleared her coated throat and made her feel a bit more alert. The hot chili also revived her to some degree and the corn bread had bits of jalapeño in it which stung her tongue in a pleasant way. The kitchen had a comforting aura and it made her wonder what the people had been like who had lived here.

“Do you need more, dear?”

They both started as a woman dressed in a flowered dress entered the kitchen. She had red hair streaked with white hair and it was drawn into a long braid down her back.

“I … uh…” Mackenzie looked at Grant for guidance, but he was staring at the woman in shock.

“I have some apple pie and ice cream for dessert,” the woman continued. She cleared the table and set the dishes in the deep sink under the window.

“Who are you?” Mackenzie finally managed to ask.

“Loretta Thompson. I live here.” She gave Mackenzie a knowing smile and set about serving slices of pie topped with ice cream. “Since Wilbur died, I’m on my own. I don’t get many visitors nowadays.”

“You made her,” Grant whispered under his breath, his eyes wide. “You made her!”

“No, I didn’t!” Mackenzie protested.

Loretta set the desserts before them. “I’ll get the guest room ready for you while you finish up. You both look like you need a good bath and a comfy bed.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Mackenzie dared to ask. “I hurt my feet walking in my boots.”

“Of course! Let me just get that for you right now,” Loretta answered in her Texas twang and gave her a big smile.

Unnerved, Grant watched Loretta step out of the kitchen and into the hall. They could hear her footsteps receding.

“We need to go,” Grant said shortly.

“Why?”

“You made her, Mackenzie! You shaped her like you did this house.”

“She’s so nice though! And if she’s the memory of someone who lived here and I created her, why would she harm us? I just want us to have a safe place to relax right now,” Mackenzie answered, perplexed by Grant’s worries. “You’re not making sense.”

“This is very different from the dead spots forming Tanner, or wraiths taking on the forms of people from your mind. Loretta is actually formed from the dead spot’s own memory.”

“I took control of the dead spot when we entered it,” she said hesitantly, sorting out her thoughts as she spoke. “So, if I have control of it and I want a safe haven, then that’s what the dead spot shaped itself to be, right?”

“Exactly,” Loretta said from the doorway. She carried a big plastic box with a red cross on it. “The dead spot remembers everything this house used to be and my life in it. So it re-created it because you wanted it to be this way. The dead spot just wants to commune with you.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Grant said sharply.

Loretta gave him a bright smile. “Worried?”

Grant looked away, his hands clenched on top of the table.

Loretta set the first aid kit on the table and popped it open. “We need to get these shoes off.”

“Loretta, are you the dead spot?” Mackenzie asked, excited at the prospect of somehow communicating with the energies of this world.

“No, no. Just a figment of a memory.”

“But you know things,” Mackenzie pointed out.

Loretta gently worked the zipper on the side of one of Mackenzie’s boots. “Yes, I know what you both know.”

“So you’re telling me what Grant knows?”

“Some of what he knows,” Loretta admitted. She gave him a furtive look. “But I can’t see everything.”

“So dead spots want shapers to shape them?”

“Dead spots want to feel alive again. To feed on the energy of the living.”

“The headaches come from them feeding, don’t they?”

Loretta nodded.

“She’s a memory.” Grant bent toward Mackenzie, imploring her with his eyes. “She has limited understanding of this world.”

“That’s true,” Loretta admitted. Freeing both of Mackenzie’s feet from her boots and socks, Loretta set about treating the leaking blisters. Her touch was gentle and careful.

“So when I restore something, the dead spot is basically eating a piece of me.” Everything in this world was monstrous.

“A little nibble,” Loretta assured her with a big smile.

“Or a big one like when that one dead spot created Tanner to torment you,” Grant added.

“Or did I make Tanner back at the house we stayed in last night?” Mackenzie stared at Grant intently. The thought terrified her. What if she was creating her own hell?

“I don’t know,” Grant answered.

“Did Tildy make the Clown up? Or was he real? Or did I make him?” Had her own fears created the perfect killing ground to snag Tildy?

Grant lowered his head, his fingers sliding through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“What do you know, Grant?”

“That I’m trying to protect you, Mackenzie! I’m trying to keep you safe and to keep you away from people and things that will hurt you! But you keep fighting me! Over and over again!” He slammed his hand on the table, making it jump.

Loretta ignored him, applying bandages to the balls of Mackenzie’s feet and the backs of her ankles.

“That’s not true!”

“It’s very true, Mackenzie! I warn you and you don’t listen. When I saw Tildy I knew she was on the verge of becoming a wraith. I even told you that when you wanted to save her from the Clown. But did you listen? No! And now that wraith is going to be hunting you just like the ones who took on the forms of Tanner and your mother earlier today. I’ve told you over and over again to listen to me. I have lived here long enough to know how to survive!” Grant looked up at her, his eyes blazing. “I want to help you, but you fight me. It makes no sense to me! You look like a lost doe, but then this angry mountain lion comes roaring out. Things go wrong, and then the doe is back, just as lost as before and usually wounded.”

Grant’s words shocked her into silence. Mackenzie was well aware of the fact that she was broken into pieces and wanted nothing more than to be whole again, but no one ever seemed to understand that truth. When she was a little girl, her mother had instilled fear of the world inside of her, and then scoffed when Mackenzie needed her most. Estelle always blamed Mackenzie for every misstep her daughter took in life, never allowing her to forget her many mistakes. Her mother had a list in her head that she could rattle off at a moment’s notice, even reiterating things Mackenzie had done as a small child that she had no memory of doing. For a while embracing her anger had been the only way Mackenzie could find her voice or fight back. Even Tanner said she was as sweet as pie as long as she wasn’t angry. In this new world, it was anger that helped her fight fear. Anger had helped her stand up to the wraiths that had taken on the forms of her ex-husband and mother and given her the fuel to charge in to the amusement park. She was actually happy to feel anger after only feeling despair for so long.

“Mackenzie, if you would listen to me, let me guide you, let me protect you, surviving in this world would be so much easier. Trust in me. Believe in me. Let me save you.”

Was he right? Mackenzie reflected on the day. Her determination to go to the café had resulted in her attack by the mourners. Her insistence on saving Tildy had resulted in Tildy’s death and new incarnation as a wraith.

“I don’t like to be told what to do,” Mackenzie confessed.

Loretta sat in silence, tucking away the bandages and ointments in the first aid kit.

Grant sat back, watching her, waiting for her to continue.

“My whole life people have told me what to do, how to behave, what to fear, what to love. It wasn’t until I met Tanner that I actually felt I had a say in my life. I chose him. I chose to be his wife and to have his child. I was really happy with those choices. And then it all went wrong. I messed up somehow and Joshua died and Tanner … left.” Mackenzie stared at her bandaged toes, not really wanting to see the pity in Grant’s eyes. “Then everyone started to tell me what to do again. My mother, my friends, my in-laws … Tanner. Do this. Do that. I didn’t even get a choice to stay in my house after I lost my job. I just—” Mackenzie faltered. “I’m tired of people telling me what to do.”

“I understand, Mackenzie. I do. But I need you to listen to me. To obey me—”

She bristled instantly, but he continued.

“—when I tell you there is danger. I don’t want you to become what Tildy was. Or what she is now. I can take care of you if you let me. I know what is going on in this world. You’re still learning. Trust me, Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie closed her eyes and rested her head on her hand, her elbow pressing into the top of the table. She was being foolish and hardheaded, just like her mother always accused her of being. Slowly, she nodded her head. “Okay.”

The silence that answered her surrender prompted her to open her eyes. Loretta was gone.

“Where—”

“She vanished when you agreed to let me take care of you,” Grant answered.

“Oh.” Mackenzie slumped in her chair, unnerved by her capitulation.

Grant slowly closed the first aid kit, popping the latches in place. “We need to get cleaned up and rest.”

Wincing, Mackenzie set her feet on the floor.

“No, no. I’ll carry you,” Grant said, standing.

She started to protest, but stopped herself. Her feet hurt too much for her to endure climbing up the stairs.

Swinging her up into his arms, Grant carried her to the second floor.

CHAPTER 16

There were gigantic creatures beyond the walls of the upstairs bedroom. Curled up against the wrought iron headboard of the bed, she huddled under the covers listening to the booming thumps of something very big passing by the house. In the distance eerie high screeches sent shivers racing along her spinal cord. Nervously chewing on her thumbnail, Mackenzie fervently wished that the creatures would ignore the farmhouse and continue on their way. She could hear them wandering through the fields and woods around the house. The loud fluttering of wings filled the night and she worriedly stared at the window on the far side of the room. The curtains were drawn and she had earlier shoved a dresser in front of it. The soft luminescent light cast by the lamp beside the bed played along the edge of a butcher knife she had brought up from the kitchen. The presence of the knife was no longer comforting as the noises increased. Regardless of Grant’s assurances that they were safe in the dead spot she had fashioned as a safe haven, Mackenzie was still afraid.

After a long nap, Mackenzie had taken a long bath, redressed her sore feet, and brushed out her damp hair. Soon after she’d started to hear bizarre noises. She’d crept to the bedroom window and peeked out, afraid of what she might see in the fading light of the day. In the field behind the barn, balloons were tethered to a tattered scarecrow. Her hysterics had brought Grant running and instigated an hour of moving furniture in front of windows and barricading the doors.

Grant had finally started to lighten up after they’d secured the house and had another small meal. Mackenzie had been surprised to find that the television worked and they had ended up watching shows from the early eighties. It was strange watching what appeared to be a live broadcast, full of local commercials, breaking news, and trailers for movies Mackenzie had long forgotten about.

Now she regretted telling him she wanted to sleep alone after they’d decided to go upstairs. They could’ve easily dragged another mattress into the room, but she had felt vulnerable after relenting to his insistence that she allow him to take charge of their survival. She needed some time alone to sort out her thoughts and get her bearings after admitting some uncomfortable truths about herself in the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t difficult to realize her spurts of defiant anger were definitely tied to her difficult interaction with her very paranoid mother.

Grant hadn’t been too pleased with the idea, but he’d finally relented. She hadn’t been surprised when he’d set up a bed for himself right outside the bedroom door. The fact that he wanted to protect her was rather touching and it made her feel safe. It was an added comfort that he had armed himself with a rifle he had found earlier in the downstairs office.

Another loud crash sounded, this time much closer. The noise continued, building in volume. A low rumble was accompanied by a sharp resounding crack. Sliding out of bed, she set her heavily padded feet on the floor and ventured to the window. The din quieted outside and with a trembling hand she tugged at the edge of the curtain to peer outside.

In the glow of the waning moon, the barn lay in ruins. The remains of the rafters poked out of the wreckage. The thick planks were snapped in half, their ends splintered. Whatever had destroyed the building had to be nearby, yet she saw nothing lurking in the dark. She couldn’t imagine what could have done such damage.

A loud bellow made her jump, the fabric of the curtain slipping from her fingers. Hobbling to the bed, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm her frantic heart. All night she had been struggling to fight off a crippling anxiety attack. She knew it would eventually take her into its depths, but she was determined to fight it as long as possible.

“Mackenzie,” Grant’s voice said at the door. “Are you awake?”

“Duh!” Mackenzie grabbed the rail at the end of the bed and pulled herself around it onto the mattress. “Godzilla is busting stuff up out there.”

A low chuckle of amusement on the other side of the door made her smile. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She was clad in a faded flowered nightgown, several layers of socks, and a bathrobe that had belonged to Loretta. It felt odd to be wearing someone else’s clothes, but her own attire had needed a good wash. She was shivering despite the warmth of the blankets and another howl in the distance had her scrambling to get under the covers.

The door creaked open and Grant peered in around the edge of it. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s a very active night.” He’d found an enormous pair of men’s pajamas and a robe to wear. He was virtually drowning in it. Loretta’s husband had evidently been a big guy.

An earsplitting shriek made Mackenzie wince. “Any idea why it’s this bad? It wasn’t this way last night.”

“It’s nighttime in the real world. People are having nightmares. There’s a large town nearby. This could be overflow from there. Or there could be people near us that are manifesting the creatures.” Grant slipped over to the window. He, too, peered out. “The barn is outside this dead spot, in case you were wondering.”

“That’s a comfort,” Mackenzie lied. “So the people who might be near us would be like us, right?”

Grant inclined his head, dropping the edge of the curtain.

“It can’t be Tildy,” she said, her sorrow feeding the dark wave.

“No, it can’t be. Though she could be out there.” Grant leaned against the dresser, his arms crossed.

The creaking and cracking of trees being torn asunder before tumbling to the ground startled both of them. The cries and growls of nightmare creatures filled Mackenzie with dread. She yanked the covers up to her chin and listened to the battle. Grant, too, was silent, his expression pensive.

“They’re outside the dead spot,” Grant said after a half minute of scrutinizing the noises of the fighting beasts.

For a little while that night, Mackenzie had enjoyed the serenity of the farmhouse and had toyed with the idea of staying another day. Now she couldn’t wait to be away from this area and its dreadful inhabitants.

“It sounds like some kid has a bad dinosaur obsession,” she observed.

“Or dragons. I’ve seen plenty of those.”

“Not helping.”

A thunderous roar sent the window vibrating and the walls shaking.

Mackenzie gave out a startled yelp.

“Mackenzie, don’t give in to your fear. It’s outside the dead spot. You created a safe haven here. We’re safe. Believe me.”

“Grant, telling someone not to give in to their fear is like throwing gasoline on a fire. I’m already scared shitless and when you say that I only get more freaked out!”

“Well, you shouldn’t!”

“But I do because it’s pretty damn clear that it’s my responsibility to keep those things out of this so-called safe haven!” Her stomach was roiling and she felt nauseous.

“Listen.”

“What?”

“It’s quiet now.” Grant smiled with satisfaction. “See?”

“See what? That one big dinosaur or dragon killed the other one?” Mackenzie’s head was throbbing and she wished she could fall asleep. Maybe then she wouldn’t be tortured by the raucous noise outside and not be tormented with images of what could be causing it.

His expression softening, Grant approached the bed and stretched out a hand to touch her forehead gently. “I think you’re a little feverish.”

Tucking a stack of pillows under her, Mackenzie sighed. “It was a rough day. Everything hurts. My feet, my back, my legs. My neck is killing me.”

With a very light touch, Grant rested his hand on her shoulder. “You’re very tense.”

“Do you blame me?”

His hand was very warm against her skin in a soothing way. “Let me give you a neck rub, Mackenzie. You’re too knotted up to sleep comfortably and you need your rest.” His voice was neutral.

Looking over her shoulder at him, she saw concern filling his features. If he was coming on to her, it was so low key it was impossible to detect. Her mother’s voice in her head screamed that he was trying to have sex with her, but Mackenzie ignored it. Finally she said, “That would be nice.”

Sliding onto the bed next to her, Grant rubbed her sore shoulders and neck. It felt wonderful and her eyes closed contentedly. During her pregnancy Tanner had often given her neck rubs to release the tension that always built there. The thought of her ex-husband made her body ache. She missed him with all her heart. Not the cold, closed-off person he had been at the end, but the warm, sweet man she had married.

An explosion of growls and howls filled the night. Mackenzie jerked upright, her heart thundering in her chest. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she clutched a pillow tightly while Grant rubbed her back to comfort her.

“How can we be safe?” Mackenzie whispered. “When there are things out there?”

“We are,” Grant promised her. “We’re in your safe haven.” He gently swept her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

The act was too intimate. It made Mackenzie suddenly all too aware of the warmth of Grant’s body and the strength of his elegant hands against her skin while he massaged the bunched muscles in her shoulders. Holding her pillows tightly, she lay on her side facing away from him.

“Do you want me to stop?” His hands lifted, leaving her skin tingling.

Shaking her head, she said, “No. It’s helping.”

It wasn’t Grant’s fault that it had been months since she had last felt a man’s hands on her body. She hadn’t felt the desire to find someone new after Tanner left. Not until this moment did she realize how starved she’d become for physical touch. Her nipples were tightened into almost painful nubs and her sex was throbbing. Grant was a very handsome man in a Golden Age of Hollywood sort of way, but she hadn’t been attracted to him until this moment. Even if her body was responding in a sexual way to his shoulder and neck massage, Mackenzie wasn’t about to act on it. She barely knew Grant and she had never been one for one-night stands.

The howls and cries of the nightmare creatures continued to make her start, but Grant’s gentle ministrations gradually calmed her. The painful knots in her shoulders and neck finally unlocked. She felt drugged with the endorphins swirling through her system and she pressed her thighs together to fight the sudden urge to invite Grant into her bed.

Grant’s hands relaxed on her shoulders, then slid away. He remained next to her, not moving, her back pressed against his thigh.

“I could sleep in here if it makes you more comfortable,” he said, his voice nonchalant.

Opening her eyes, she stared at her hand resting on the pillow. It was devoid of her wedding band and engagement ring. She had taken them off to shower, but hadn’t returned them to her finger. Instead, she had placed them in her purse. Maybe Grant had taken it as a sign. After several long moments of panicked indecision, Mackenzie shook her head. “I’ll be okay.”

“All right,” Grant answered.

The bedsprings squeaked when he slid off the bed and Mackenzie closed her eyes, fighting the urge to ask him to stay.

“I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, just call out,” Grant said, his footsteps soft against the old worn carpet on the floor. “I’m right outside the door.”

“Okay.” Mackenzie kept her back facing him and closed her eyes, feigning drowsiness.

It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that she sighed and covered her face with her hands. After everything that she had been going through, she didn’t need to complicate her life further. Her emotions were in turmoil as it was. How her mind was not fractured to pieces after the last few months was astounding, but after the last twenty-four hours she was surprised she was even coherent. Maybe her grief counselor was right. The human mind was far more resilient than people realized.

The whole day felt like a terrible nightmare, unreal in every way. Yet, her body bore the wounds of the struggle against the balloons and their long trek during the day. Fine little scratches covered her face, neck, and hands while her wrist still smarted from the deeper cut inflicted by the ribbon that had snagged her. The world of nightmares and dreams, as Grant called it, was terrifying.

Banishing thoughts of Joshua, Tanner, Estelle, and Tildy from her mind, she concentrated on counting backward from one hundred. The world beyond the house was quieter. Only the rush of the wind and the melodic creak of the tree branches swaying in the front yard reached her ears. As she neared the fifties in her countdown, her eyes began to droop, her body sinking deeper into the mattress. She had just muttered the first number in the forties when sleep caught her.

She stirred again when she felt the bed tip downward on one side. Opening her eyes, she saw that the lamp was off and that the room was shrouded in darkness. Muddled by sleep, she wondered why her nightlight wasn’t illuminating her bedroom. She hated waking in the dark. A warm, strong hand slid seductively over her neck to cradle her face and a gentle kiss was pressed to her shoulder.

“You look so pretty when you sleep,” Tanner whispered.

“Am I sleeping?”

“Yeah, you are, baby.” His Louisiana accent purred against her skin as he kissed her neck. “You smell so good.”

It was difficult to focus and her eyelids kept fluttering closed. Sleep kept pulling at her mind, drawing her into the darkness. It slowly registered that she wasn’t back in her bedroom in Shreveport, but in the farmhouse in the dead spot. It was difficult to hold focus when Tanner was nuzzling her ear and running his hand slowly up her belly to caress her breasts.

“I’m dreaming,” she sighed.

“Is it a good dream?” Tanner playfully bit her ear.

“Oh, yes.” Her heart yearned for Tanner and her body craved him. Every fiber of her being sang for him. How had everything gone so wrong when they had been so right?

Somewhere in the murk her mother’s voice was screaming at her to wake up, but it was so deliciously nice to feel Tanner’s hands skimming over her body and his fuzzy cheek scratching against her jaw as he kissed her neck. She didn’t want to lose this dream and fall into another one. She moved her head so her lips met his, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“Miss me, baby?” Tanner licked her lips seductively.

“So much,” she answered. The familiar hardness of his body, honed by hours of hard labor, pressed against hers, making her burn for him. A piece of her felt guilt for indulging in her sexual desire for her ex, but it was just a dream. There couldn’t be any harm in it. Her newly awakened body craved to be touched again, and Tanner had always made her feel so deliciously alive.

Clinging to Tanner and the dream, Mackenzie’s fingers traced along the side of his body. Deeper layers of sleep kept drowning her for a moment in blackness, before she fought her way back to Tanner’s passionate lovemaking. She struggled to retain the dream, fighting against her sleeping mind’s inclination to drift.

Sometimes the dream felt vividly real, the warmth of Tanner’s hands scorching hot against her flesh when he undressed her. Other times, it was as if she were grasping at a ghost, clutching at empty air. Yet throughout it all, her body cried for release.

Twining her legs around Tanner’s, her fingers buried in his hair, and her lips devouring his, she clung to him as her mind again began to wander, ready to leave this dream for another.

“Don’t leave me,” she whimpered. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Grant’s voice whispered.

“What?” Mackenzie shoved upward, pushing away the man who had been so ardently kissing her.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Tanner asked.

The dream suddenly felt quite vivid. Mackenzie felt the heaviness of Tanner’s erection against her thigh and the roughness of his fingers when he touched her cheek.

“Tanner?”

Grinning, he kissed her. “Of course. Who else would it be? I’m the guy that always makes you scream.” He playfully bit her neck.

Relief mingling with desire, Mackenzie surrendered to the fantasy fully, relishing the deliciousness of her imaginary lover.

While he was brushing his rough fingertips against her cheek, Tanner’s voice was sexy and low as he said, “I know you’ve been so lonely. So afraid. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Those were the words she longed to hear, and even though she knew she was sleeping, they alleviated the empty ache inside of her. Tanner shifted, his leg nudging hers open wider so the tip of his cock lightly pushed at her.

“Let me in, baby,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “Let me in.”

The dream began to collapse around her, growing hazy and without mass. All she felt was his hands on her face, his forehead pressed against hers, and him lightly pressing at the folds of her vagina. Black veils of slumber wrapped around her, drawing her away from Tanner.

“Mackenzie, let me in,” Tanner whispered urgently. “Before it’s too late. Let me in.”

In the cavern of her fears, her mother’s voice was screaming at her to wake up. Her mother had always hated Tanner. Always hated Mackenzie’s happiness.

Tanner’s body was beginning to dissolve like vapor.

“No, no, please. Be with me!” she cried out.

The fervent kiss matched the urgency of him entering her. Wrapped in darkness and mist, Mackenzie clutched Tanner to her as he thrust desperately into her. The kiss grew hungrier, full of need. His teeth dragged at her tongue and lips, and his hands gripped her shoulders painfully. It suddenly felt all wrong. The rhythm was all wrong, the fullness she felt too wide, too deep. His shoulders were too broad, his chest too hairy. The hair clutched in her fingers was too curly and thick.

As he came hard inside of her, filling her, she whispered in despair, “Grant.”

Then the fantasy vanished as her mind was finally swallowed into the cold darkness of a dreamless slumber.

CHAPTER 17

It was screams that awakened Mackenzie.

At first she thought another nightmare beast was howling outside, but then words unfurled out of the hysterical screams and shouts. Groggy, she was uncertain if she had been asleep for hours or mere minutes. The thick blackness filling the room indicated it was still night. As she flipped on the lamp, the light shoved back the dark.

Fumbling her way out of the bed, she was startled at the soreness between her legs. Shoving back the bedclothes, she saw her nightgown bunched around her waist leaving her crotch area bare. She had washed her own clothes downstairs and hadn’t been able to bring herself to wear the underwear she had found in the dresser so had opted to go without. She remembered distinctly falling asleep alone and that she had not invited Grant into bed with her, but the tenderness of her sex frightened her. As she stared in confusion at her exposed flesh, the memory of the dream flashed to life in her mind. Dread mingled with her bewilderment. Why had Grant taken Tanner’s place? Though his massage had aroused her, she didn’t actually want to have sex with him. So why had she dreamed about it?

Feeling oddly violated, she pulled the nightgown over her legs.

“It didn’t really happen,” she muttered in an attempt to reassure herself. Maybe in her sleep she had touched herself when she had been dreaming.

The shouts and cries from outside grew louder, pulling her attention from her disturbing thoughts. “Grant!” she called out, feeling awkward saying his name. “Do you hear that?”

The bedroom door banged open. Grant stood in the hallway clutching the rifle. His hair was mussed and his eyes still looked hooded from sleep. She couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder if his body would feel like it had at the end of her bizarre dream. “Mackenzie, are you okay?”

“Yes, I hear voices outside though.”

“There are people outside,” he briskly answered. “But are you okay? You look upset.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Are you sure they’re real?”

“I saw them coming up the road when I looked out the window,” Grant answered.

Shaking her head in an effort to fully wake up, Mackenzie said, “How do you know they’re real?”

“One of them still burns bright like you do. I’m heading downstairs.” Grant vanished out of sight, his bathrobe swirling behind him.

On throbbing, painful feet, Mackenzie grabbed the big butcher knife off the bed stand and followed. The unease she felt from her dream clung to her. Nothing in Grant’s manner indicated that what she had experienced was anything other than her sleeping mind spinning a peculiar fantasy. In fact, Grant’s demeanor was all business while he hurried down the last steps to the front door and set about dismantling the barricade they had created out of chairs and a table.

It was difficult not to think of the dream when she looked at him. She could still feel his curls clenched between her fingers and his heavy body riding hers. It may have just been her imagination, but she could not discount the reality that she was in a dead spot and that something odd could have happened.

The shouts and screams grew louder and another sound, deep and growling, was added to the cacophony. It sent Mackenzie’s heart racing again. Gingerly, she padded down the stairs to help Grant.

“Grant, are you sure we should let them in?”

“They’re like us and need our help or else they’ll end up dead.” His handsome face was solemn and worried. There was no indication of him even being interested in her other than having her help him move the furniture.

“Like Tildy.” The agony of Tildy’s death tinted her tone.

Grant hesitated. “Tildy was almost gone when she found us. She was dangerous to us. These people won’t be.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m sure. Trust me. Like I said, one of them burns brighter.”

“You can see that? Really?”

Tossing her a frustrated look, Grant finished scooting the table aside and started unlocking the many bolts on the door. This time he didn’t answer, but concentrated on his task. Mackenzie bit her lip and took a few steps to one side so that he could open the door. She remembered her promise to let him lead because he understood this world better than she did. It wasn’t easy though. It upset her that she felt ill at ease with him, yet craved his approval. She found herself yearning for the slightest indication that he wasn’t upset with her.

Whipping open the door, Grant bounded onto the porch, his rifle at the ready. Mackenzie stepped into the parlor and moved to one of the front windows. She lifted her hand and drew back the curtain to see five people running toward the house. A long-legged young woman in a cheerleader uniform ran ahead of the others while dragging a much shorter woman by the hand. Three men ran behind them, armed with hunting rifles. A creature the size of an elephant with fiery red eyes and glinting razor claws pursued them. It appeared to be shaped out of black mist and it was closing in, its feet tearing up the ground with each lope.

Reaching the yard, the cheerleader shoved open the gate and raced up the walkway. The woman with her lost her footing and sprawled across the ground with a cry. The teenager turned to help her. Grant hurried out, pushed the teenager toward the house, and leaned over the fallen woman. The girl hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave the other female behind. The pursuing creature roared and that was enough to prompt the teen girl to lunge toward the house.

Mackenzie hurried out of the parlor to the entry hall just in time to see the girl leap into the house. Her dark skin shimmered with sweat and her French-braided hair glistened with moisture. Grant half-carried the second woman through the door. The smaller woman was gasping for breath and sobbing. The teenager darted forward and claimed her from Grant.

“I’ve got you, Grace!”

The second woman was probably in her early thirties, but she clung to the teenager like a frightened child. “It’s scary, Dawn!”

“Come in here,” Mackenzie said, waving toward the parlor.

Dawn helped the overwhelmed woman into the room, tossing Mackenzie a grateful look. The bark of the rifles firing was followed by a great roar. The clatter of footsteps heralded the arrival of the last of the party and Grant banged the door shut as soon as the three men cleared the stoop.

“Holy shit!” The youngest of the men looked to be a few years younger than Mackenzie, in his early twenties, and was still wearing a pizza delivery uniform. His blond hair was cut close to his head and his body was lean and lightly muscled. He was rather plain-faced, but he was a bit charming when he grinned with euphoria. “We kicked that fucker’s ass!”

One of the other men threw him an annoyed look. “Language, Brian!” It sounded like he chastised the younger man quite often from the exasperated inflection of his voice. He was shorter than the other two, probably in his late thirties. His skin was deeply tanned and his light brown hair shimmered with strands bleached by the sun. He reminded her a little of one of her teachers in the sixth grade. His rolled-up sleeves and khakis rounded out the teacher look.

“Let it go, Ted,” the last member of their party said between gasps for breath. He was probably the oldest, in his late forties, with skin darker than the cheerleader’s and light brown eyes. He, too, wore khakis and a polo shirt drenched in perspiration.

“Fine,” Ted answered, obviously too tired to argue. He looked around the parlor at his crew, then the people who had let them into the house. “Thanks for taking us in.”

“It’s not a problem,” Grant assured him.

Brian hurried over to where Dawn was comforting Grace. “You okay, Dawn?”

“I’m fine. Grace is just winded.”

The young man lightly touched Dawn’s cheek in a sweet gesture, but Dawn was concentrating on the slightly wheezing woman, rubbing her back to console her, and seemed not to take notice. It was fairly clear there was a bad case of unrequited love happening between the two. Brian awkwardly lingered at Dawn’s side while the teenager calmed the older woman down.

“When I saw the porch light I couldn’t believe it. This house is always messed up when we’re in this area,” Ted said. “It was like seeing the Red Sea part. We were aiming for a hotel in the area, but got cut off by that thing. We thought we’d given it the slip by cutting this way, but then it got a whiff of us again just a half mile down the road. We were hoping to shape this dead spot and hunker down for the rest of the night. It was a great relief to see it already restored. We’re exhausted. Anyway, I guess I should introduce our motley crew. I’m Ted, the pizza boy is Brian, the cheerleader is Dawn, the lady in pink is Grace, and this slacker is Jared.”

The other man scoffed at his friend. “If anyone is a slacker, it’s you, my brother.”

Ted smirked, lightly clapping Jared on the shoulder. “We all know better.”

“I’m Mackenzie. This is Grant,” she said, her fingers lightly playing with her bathrobe belt. She felt awkward in the presence of the newcomers. After her experience with Tildy she wasn’t sure how she should even interact with other people anymore. The additional stress of her strangely erotic dream that ended with Grant in her bed wasn’t helping matters either. She wasn’t sure it was her exhaustion or the anxieties connected to the events of the day, but she felt off-kilter.

Grant shook the hands of the newcomers. “It’s not an issue. I’m just glad we’re here.”

“Seriously, man, thanks for letting us in,” Ted said earnestly. “That thing has been hunting us since this morning. It nearly had us a few times.”

“It’s no trouble.” Grant gave them his kindest, most charming smile. Something about it made Mackenzie flush.

Outside, the creature howled in anger. Sweeping the curtain aside, she saw it was pacing before the house. “What is it?” Mackenzie asked. The smoky edges of the creature swirled in agitation and it was difficult to discern its true form.

“Fear manifested,” Jared answered. He joined her at the window and watched the thing prowling around the edges of the fence.

“Did one of you—” Mackenzie faltered.

“Maybe.” He glanced significantly at the two women huddled on the couch. “Maybe.”

“Don’t start on that again,” Brian said with annoyance. “We’re in the fucking world of dreams and nightmares and yeah, Ted, I know, language.”

Mackenzie stepped away from the window and sat on the edge of a heavy mesquite end table. She adjusted her robe and looked toward Grant. He was rebuilding the barricade with Ted’s help.

“We’ve had a rough day and these people were kind enough to take us in. Let’s not bring our troubles into their safe haven.” Ted was obviously the group’s leader.

“Not safe haven. Dream castle,” Grace whispered, lifting her head. “They’re called dream castles, right? I want to go to one. They’re pretty, right?”

Mackenzie peered at the woman curiously. Her voice sounded childlike and slightly confused. Grace’s dark curly hair was very short and her skin was tanned, but it was hard to determine if it was from the sun. She had the sort of features that could be from a variety of ethnic groups and there was nothing particularly distinctive about her. As she was dressed simply in jeans, a pink Hello Kitty T-shirt, and sneakers, there was a disconnect between her clothing and her physical appearance.

“I’m sure the dream castles are very pretty, Grace,” Dawn said, her delicate fingers squeezing the woman’s hands. From the tilt of her head, to the kindness in her face, to the elegant way she held herself, she gave the impression of a very well-mannered young woman.

“Do you think they’re pink?” Grace wondered.

“I’m sure some of them are,” Dawn replied, smiling.

“Can we make one?”

Dawn’s smile faded slightly, and then she ramped it back up to full. “Maybe one day.”

“Fat chance,” Jared grumbled.

“Would you like something to eat?” Grant asked, obviously trying to break the growing aura of hostility in the room.

“I want a grilled cheese! Or peanut butter and butter with no crusts!” Grace gripped the arm of the sofa, staring at Mackenzie anxiously. “Can I have that?”

“I think we can find something.” Mackenzie cast a questioning look at Ted, who merely sighed.

“She’s a little special.” Dawn gently combed her long fingers through the other woman’s thick curls. “Aren’t you, Grace?”

“My mom says I’m special. That is why I go to the special school on the special bus,” Grace said triumphantly.

“Exactly!” Dawn patted Grace’s head, then stood up. “I’m going to go find us some food. You sit right there.”

“Oh, television!” Grace snatched the remote and turned it on.

The noise from a commercial about feminine hygiene subdued the growls coming from the creature outside.

“Dawn, stay with Grace. I’ll get something for you,” Ted said, motioning for her to sit. “She needs you.”

“Thanks, Ted,” Dawn said, gratefully.

“I could definitely do with some food. And a beer, if you have some.” Jared pushed a chair that had been used in the barricade into the parlor and sat down heavily. “I think my legs are going to fall off. Will you glue them back on, brother?”

Ted grinned. “After I glue on my own. Grant, Mackenzie, is there a bathroom we can use to clean up? We’ve been running for our lives all day.”

“Sure thing. There is one at the top of the stairs.” Grant motioned with one hand. “Please, be our guest.”

Mackenzie arched an eyebrow at him.

Ted saw it and misread the gesture. “If we’re putting you out—”

“No, no!” Mackenzie felt her skin flush in embarrassment. “We just had a bad experience with someone recently and I just thought Grant wouldn’t let anyone else get close to us after she turned into a wraith.”

“Ouch. A wraith!” Ted shivered visibly. “Those are messed up. We had one of our own go that way. I can see why you might be nervous about us joining you.”

“I think Mackenzie assumed I would keep us hidden away,” Grant said, winking at her playfully.

The gesture sent shivers of delight through her and she felt strangely vulnerable beneath his gaze. It was disconcerting, but she was still glad that things seemed fine between them. Rolling her eyes, Mackenzie joined in with his teasing. “Sort of.”

“I know it’s risky every time you join up with people.” Ted glanced at his group that was getting comfortable in front of the television. “It’s always dangerous.”

“The woman Mackenzie took in was on the verge of turning.” Grant gently rested his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her lightly. “I could see it in her eyes, but Mackenzie couldn’t. Mackenzie is new. She just arrived.”

“Wow.” Ted studied her thoughtfully. “Wow. Then you did all this by yourself?” He indicated their surroundings. “It didn’t take both of you?”

“She took full control of the dead spot just before we arrived earlier today.” Grant gave her a proud look.

Again, Mackenzie experienced a rush of pleasure that made her uneasy. What was wrong with her? Why was the dream affecting her this way?

“So this isn’t a real safe haven?” Ted appeared a little disappointed.

“It’s temporary, but real. She can hold it,” Grant assured him.

Their wording confused Mackenzie a little, but she didn’t want to expose her naiveté in front of the others.

“That creature isn’t getting in. It would have already if the defenses were weak.” Jared had obviously been listening. “Even if we … have an issue.”

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asked.

The tension in the room was building again. Brian, seated with Dawn and Grace, looked sharply at Jared.

“Nothing,” Jared said, shrugging.

“How about that food?” Ted asked in a deliberately vivacious voice. “I’m so hungry I could eat that monster outside.”

CHAPTER 18

After Ted dispatched Brian to take a shower and left the rest of his group watching television, he joined Mackenzie and Grant in the kitchen. He thoroughly washed his hands and face at the sink while Grant pulled out sandwich makings from the refrigerator and Mackenzie gathered plates and glasses.

“I can’t thank you enough for taking us in.” Ted dried off with a towel he found under the sink. The redness in his cheeks from physical exertion was fading and he looked a bit more relaxed now that he was away from the others.

“I’m glad we did,” Mackenzie assured him though she wasn’t really certain anymore. After hearing the odd exchanges and witnessing the knowing looks among the newcomers, she wondered about the dynamics of the group.

Ted threw the towel in the laundry bin near the washing machine and dryer tucked into an alcove. With a sigh, he said, “I know you noticed the tension among us. It’s difficult right now. We’ve been experiencing a lot of attacks. Almost nonstop. Every place where we seek shelter ends up compromised. It’s been growing steadily worse. Jared and I think Grace is causing it. She’s simpleminded. She doesn’t understand what’s really happening. When we originally joined up with Brian, Dawn, and Grace, it was fine. In fact, things were really a lot better for us for a while. We’ve been traveling together for some time. But now”—Ted set his hands on his waist and exhaled slowly—“we’ve lost some of our ability to manipulate the dead spots.”

“You’ve been dying.” Mackenzie glanced at Grant with concern, but he either ignored her or didn’t see her as he set about making sandwiches.

“Yeah. A bit more than I would like. Well, not that I’d want to die at all. It’s getting harder for us even as a group to keep a dead spot under control. At first we all thought it was because we’re losing our life spark. But Jared and I now think Grace is poking holes in our defenses.”

“Can she do that here?” Mackenzie was aghast at the thought. There were so many monsters outside.

“You have it under control,” Grant said firmly, finally looking at her. “All night there have been things roaming around and you have kept us safe. Even if Grace tries to bring one in, I don’t think she can. And honestly, I don’t think she’s doing it.”

Ted gave Grant a sharp look. “Oh?”

“I’ve been in here nearly sixty years. If you’re all pooling your energy to secure a place and you have doubts about your companions, things are going to get in. Because that’s what you fear. Don’t you understand?” Grant met Ted’s gaze for a long moment, then returned to slathering peanut butter on a slice of bread.

“I understand what you’re saying, but you haven’t been going through the troubles we have,” Ted said defensively.

“She’s not doing it,” Dawn said from the doorway. Her heart-shaped face wore a dour expression, and her pointed chin was set defiantly. “She’s not doing it. I don’t know how many times Brian and I have to tell you that.”

“Dawn, you know how much I care about you and Brian. Grace is a harder pill to swallow at times, but I do care about her, too.”

“You want to leave her alone! How is that caring about her?” Dawn set her hands on her hips and glowered.

Ted stared at the girl, obviously unsure how to respond.

“I thought so.” Dawn joined Grant at the counter. “If you give me Grace’s sandwich, I’ll take it to her. She’s really into the movie she’s watching.”

Grant carefully sliced off the crusts and laid two sandwiches on a plate. “Peanut butter and butter with no crusts per her order. I’ll make her a grilled cheese if this doesn’t fill her up.”

A sweet smile settled on Dawn’s lips. “You’re a nice man.”

Grant shrugged. “I try.”

Mackenzie opened the refrigerator, grabbed the milk jug, and poured some frothy liquid into a glass. She handed it to Dawn. “Here you go. She does like milk, right?”

“She loves it. If it was chocolate milk, she’d love it even more.”

“I’ll look for some chocolate mix.” Once the teenager was gone, Mackenzie focused on Ted. “You’d really turn Grace out?” Maybe she had misread the man’s comment. The whole scenario made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine Grace wandering alone through the world looking for pink dream castles while monsters stalked her.

Ted rested his hip against the sink, his arms folded over his chest. He averted his eyes, but his voice was sincerely tortured when he answered. “Yes.”

“Has Grace died?” Grant asked pointedly.

Ted shook his head. “No, no. Dawn and Brian always keep her safe. We’ve been dying protecting her.”

There were heavy footfalls in the hall, then Jared entered the kitchen. “Dawn came back mad. I guess you told them about Grace?”

Ted nodded. “I thought they should know since this isn’t a permanent safe haven.”

“They won’t get in,” Grant said confidently. “Mackenzie is fresh to this world. Strong. And I’ve been in here long enough to know that Grace is probably not your problem. Your fears are.”

Jared wagged his head, agitated. “You don’t know what we’ve been through.”

“Yes, I do.” Grant handed over several sandwiches to Ted and Jared. “I’ve been in here a long time and I traveled with someone who was in here even longer. How long have you been here?”

“2005,” they chorused.

“We were on a field trip with our classes,” Ted started.

“We stopped in a ghost town in Arizona for a picnic,” Jared continued. “We got it into our heads that it would be fun to check out one of the old buildings.”

“It went really, really wrong. We ended up in a dead spot. Like a dumb-ass, I died right away. I got shot by a cowboy.” Ted flinched before biting into his sandwich.

“And the rest of your group?” Mackenzie pointed to the milk jug and poured them glasses when they both nodded in the affirmative.

“Dawn is from 1998. Brian is from 2000. Grace came over last year.” Jared gratefully took the serving of milk when Mackenzie handed it to him. “Things were fine at first. We felt like a family.”

“Then it went really wrong.” Ted tore hungrily into his sandwich.

“Dawn seems so unaffected by it all. She doesn’t seem afraid. Just protective of Grace,” Mackenzie decided, a little in awe of the younger woman.

“That girl is made of steel. She’s the sweetest, nicest kid, but she will break your spine if she has to,” Jared said, admiration in his voice. “She reminds me of my little sister.”

Grant passed Mackenzie a sandwich. She was worried it was a peanut butter and butter sandwich until she saw the jelly oozing around the edges. She gratefully smiled at him and his lips turned up at the corner. It was foolish to believe a dream could affect her so deeply, but she felt as though they were closer now. Realizing how ludicrous that was, she shoved the uncomfortable thought away. Sitting at the kitchen table, she poured herself a glass of milk and nibbled on the edge of her sandwich.

“That’s the thing about this world,” Ted said gravely. “You have to be strong, or it eats you alive.”

“Hell, it will eat you alive even if you are strong,” Jared pointed out. “You’re one of the toughest people I know and it’s done plenty to you.”

Ted slumped into a chair. “A tender heart can get you killed.”

The words struck a nerve. Mackenzie tilted her head to watch Grant at the kitchen counter. He was screwing the lids back on the jars and a large pile of sandwiches sat on a plate next to him. She saw the tightening of his shoulders and his spine straightening. While the other men ate, Grant stored away the food items, then set the plate of sandwiches on the table, leaving servings aside for Brian and Dawn.

“I have no regrets helping Mackenzie,” Grant said at last, his eyes meeting hers in a steady gaze. “Or taking you in tonight.”

“For which we are very grateful,” Jared said around a mouthful of food.

Ted sighed. “It’s difficult to do the Christian thing in here.”

“This is hell after all.” Jared cast a defiant look in Ted’s direction.

Ted appeared vexed by the comment. “You know I don’t believe that.”

“Just because you were a deacon in your church doesn’t mean you have an automatic ticket to heaven, my brother.” Jared smirked, obviously needling Ted.

“Ah, shut up.”

Mackenzie liked the camaraderie between the two men. They were obviously good friends, but their presence in the kitchen while the other three remained elsewhere in the house showed a clear schism in the group.

Brian appeared with his hair wet, wrapped in one of the big robes from the linen closet in the bathroom. His clothes were tucked under one arm. “Mind if I do laundry?”

“I think all of us should do that,” Ted answered. “Toss it in the washer and once the last of us is done in the shower, we’ll run it.”

“Okay.” Brian did as he was told before claiming two of the plates and the glasses of milk. Balancing the load on his arms, he carefully plodded through the hallway to the living room.

“Are you going to split up?” Grant asked, cutting through the silence that lingered after Brian departed.

Ted rotated his empty plate in a slow circle with his fingertips while Jared ate another sandwich. After a few seconds of Ted remaining silent, Jared answered with the nod of his head.

“But you haven’t told the others?” Mackenzie could see the guilt in their faces.

“I don’t want to lose my soul in here,” Ted said finally. “The longer we stay with Grace, the more likely that’s going to happen. I don’t want to be a wraith.”

“When will you do it?” Mackenzie set her partially eaten sandwich on the plate, the desire to eat leaving her. She could understand both sides of the argument and sympathized with each.

Ted and Jared glanced at each other, then Jared said, “We planned to leave today, but things went really wrong.”

“So probably tomorrow.” Ted took the dirty plates to the sink, obviously uncomfortable with the confession.

“When will you tell them?” There was an odd sound in Grant’s voice that Mackenzie could not decipher.

“Tomorrow morning.” Jared snagged more sandwiches. “This isn’t easy, you know.”

“I wish they would see it and come with us.” The agony of the decision the two friends had come to was written all over Ted’s face.

“And leave Grace behind?” Mackenzie cast a worried look at the hallway, afraid the others would overhear.

“She’s a liability in this world,” Jared said simply. “I wish we could just find a nice dream castle for her to live her life in, but she’d ruin it.”

“You keep mentioning dream castles and safe havens. Tildy mentioned a dream palace. What are they?” Mackenzie pushed her plate away, half her sandwich uneaten.

Without a word, Grant slid the plate right back to her. Frowning at him, she gave in, picking up the sandwich and nibbling on the corner.

“It’s a dead spot that someone has taken control of completely,” Jared said around a mouthful of a new sandwich. “And not just restoring it to how it looked in the other world. We’re talking a complete alteration to fit the shaper’s will.”

Ted returned to the table and reclaimed his chair. “We did see one that looked like a big pink castle. Massive and extremely detailed. It belonged to a young teenage girl out near the Houston area.”

“It even had unicorns.” Jared smirked.

“I thought you said I couldn’t do that.” Mackenzie twisted about on her chair to stare at Grant. “You said I can only restore dead spots to what they once were.”

“Right now that is all you can do. I didn’t want to add pressure. Dream constructs are not easy to create or maintain at first. The longer the shaper believes in it, the stronger it becomes.” Grant’s blue eyes implored her to understand. “I have been trying to gently guide you in this world. I’m trying not to overwhelm you.”

Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“There are dream palaces and nightmare palaces. The person who takes control decides which it will be.” Jared nodded to Ted. “Remember that Star Wars one?”

“That one was weird.” Ted grimaced. “All the women were Leia in a slave outfit and the shaper had them on leashes.”

“So why haven’t you made one?” Mackenzie asked the men at the table.

“Not strong enough, sorry to say,” Ted replied. “Once you die in this world, you’re tainted. It gets harder to be a shaper after each death.”

“We’ve lost too much of our life spark.” Jared’s smile completely vanished and he studiously wiped off his plate with the crust of his bread, mopping up the last of the drops of jelly. “We’ve maintained safe havens for certain lengths of time, but to establish a permanent dream palace is something we haven’t been able to do. Even with all of us trying.”

“Though you may be able to do it,” Ted pointed out. “You haven’t died yet. You’re strong enough to fix this house, so you might be able to create a safe place for yourself and Grant. But, you won’t be able to take in people like us. Outsiders can compromise dream palaces. Though we’re very grateful you took us in tonight, the reality is that if you ever build a dream palace, you can’t let us in.”

It all made sense in a horrible way. It even explained Grant’s paranoia about Tildy. He had recognized how close she was to her final death and transformation into a wraith. She had to wonder why Grant had allowed the others into the farmhouse though. It seemed out of character somehow, but she would have to wait to ask him until they had a moment alone.

Footsteps in the hallway alerted the group in the kitchen to the approach of the others. Dawn and Grace entered with their empty plates and glasses. Dawn gave them all a speculative look, but Grace promptly walked over to the kitchen windows, peeled back the curtains, and peered out. The dishes clinked together when Dawn set them inside the sink and turned on the faucet. It was a strangely comforting sound. Mackenzie scooted her chair away from the table, shielded the remains of her sandwich from Grant’s watchful gaze, and joined Dawn. The young woman scrubbed away at the dishes, the foaming, hot water billowing up around her wrists.

“I can get that for you,” Dawn offered, extending a hand covered in soapy suds.

“Thanks.” Mackenzie handed her the plate, then awkwardly watched the younger woman, trying to think of a way to start a conversation. The kitchen was horribly quiet now that Grace had joined them. She was giggling at the window, obviously amused by something outside.

“Dawn, do you want to take your shower next?” Ted asked.

“Sure. I’ll take Grace with me and get her cleaned up, too.”

“I don’t want to go in the water!” Grace whipped about, her face darkening. “That nasty shark will get me!”

“I already told you that sharks are in the ocean, not in bathtubs,” Dawn answered calmly and with great patience.

“What got her stirred up?” Jared asked wearily.

“Brian is watching Jaws.” Dawn’s brow furrowed. “He’s being a dipshit because I was paying more attention to her.”

“He knows better!” Ted shot to his feet and scooted around the table.

Mackenzie shivered. The mere thought of sharks was enough to make her flinch. Jaws had traumatized her as a kid. She’d just been getting over her fear of sharks when she had visited her cousins in Galveston. They had spent an awesome day swimming and having fun in the high waves and bright sunlight. A day later her uncle had shown the kids an aerial photograph that had been taken while they had been at the beach. The sleek, frightening forms of sharks had been terrifyingly close to them, though no one had ever seen the predators. That was the last time Mackenzie ventured into the ocean.

“I told him to turn it off, but he says it’s his favorite movie,” Dawn grumbled. “It got Grace all riled up.”

Jared followed Ted out of the room while Grant sat in silence eating his sandwich.

“The big fish was eating people,” Grace whispered to Mackenzie. “I don’t like it. It’s not nice like my goldfish at home.”

“It’s just a movie. The shark was fake.” It was exactly what her mother had told Mackenzie every time she tried to cajole Mackenzie into the water on their vacations.

Grace regarded her with skepticism.

“You can take a shower instead of a bath.” Dawn finished washing the dishes and setting them in the drainer. “Is that fine?”

Scrunching up her face, Grace pondered the question before giving a short nod.

Smiling with relief, Dawn wiped her hands on a towel and extended her hand toward Grace. “Good. Now let’s go get cleaned up so we can go to sleep in a nice comfy bed.”

Raised voices in the living room made Dawn pause. Mackenzie could see the indecision in her expression. Should she hurry Grace past the quarreling men, or wait it out and risk Grace rebelling?

“C’mon. Let’s go get cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to see the shark!”

“If the TV is on, just close your eyes and I’ll guide you, okay?”

Mackenzie was touched by Dawn’s sweetness, but it also made her a little anxious. Mackenzie could see her own need to help others reflected in Dawn. She wondered if Dawn would end up witnessing Grace’s death just as Mackenzie had watched Tildy die.

Worry wrinkled Grace’s forehead and she chewed on her bottom lip, but she nodded. “Okay.”

Dawn planted a cheery, but not very convincing smile on her face. “A nice shower will make you feel better. I promise. Grant, the bathroom is at the top of the stairs, right?”

“Yes, it is. Let me show you where it is.” Grant joined them near the hallway entrance. Grace reached out and grabbed his hand, smiling up at him rapturously. Mackenzie felt a small spark of jealousy, but mostly was amused by Grace’s blatant, but childish flirtatious smile.

“I’ll be just a moment,” Grant said to Mackenzie before leading the two women out of the kitchen.

Leaning back against the counter, Mackenzie rubbed her throbbing temple. Exhaustion and pain were keeping her anxiety in check, but she could feel it pooling in the depths of her mind. The arguing voices were getting louder and it wasn’t helping her headache at all. She considered walking into the living room to turn off the television and tell them all to shut up, but she didn’t really want to see any piece of the famous shark movie. She scurried up the hall to the base of the stairs, averting her eyes from the television as she grabbed the newel post, swung about, and hurried up the steps. The haunting, terrifying music from John Williams’s score followed in her wake.

“I like this movie! I can’t just ignore what I like because this fucking place might do something twisted with it!” Brian’s voice sounded from below.

“We can’t take risks, Brian! Especially with Grace around!” Ted sounded desperate and afraid.

“Grace isn’t doing it!”

“Turn the damn TV off!” Jared shouted. “Give me the remote!”

Mackenzie reached the second floor and scooted past Dawn and Grace, who were watching Grant explain where everything was located for their showers. She glanced into the bathroom long enough to see Grant gazing after her worriedly.

“Are you sure sharks can’t get through the pipes?” Grace asked doubtfully.

Mackenzie just wanted to lie down and sort out her thoughts. The dream had shaken her and the new arrivals had brought a fresh set of problems. Retiring to the bedroom, Mackenzie sprawled across the bed. She could still hear the men downstairs arguing and Grace plying Grant with questions. Laying her hand over her eyes, she tried to block out the voices. She needed to think and the noise was distracting her.

Then she heard something that made her heart stutter and her body tense.

“Do you think the Clown will come in and do tricks for us tonight?” Grace’s voice asked loudly from the hallway. “I really like his blue hair.”

CHAPTER 19

The Clown stood silent and still in the open field, a cloud of balloons hovering, stationary, around him. The flowing iridescent ribbons dangling from the balloons danced in the breeze, the only movement other than the swaying grass. It was difficult to catch her breath. Her chest felt like it was being gradually squeezed by a vice. The sensation dramatically increased when Tildy strode around the corner of the house and tilted her head to gaze up at the window. The emaciated woman’s cold, dead eyes glinted and her lips spread into a feral smile. As she lifted one hand, her long, clawlike fingers waved.

Gasping, Mackenzie swiveled away from the window, crashing into Grant. She hadn’t heard him enter the room and when his hands closed around her upper arms, she attempted to shove him away. “Don’t touch me!”

“It’s me, Mackenzie,” Grant said, managing to hold on to her despite her attempts to wrench free.

“The Clown! Tildy!” Mackenzie pointed toward the window. “They’re out there!”

“Mackenzie, they can’t get in,” Grant said in a fierce voice, slightly shaking her. “You have control!”

“What if she lets them in? What if Ted and Jared are right? What if Grace lets them in and they—” The edges of her vision were blurring. Breathless, she sagged against Grant.

“Mackenzie, you need to stop being hysterical,” he whispered in her ear. “Calm down.”

“You don’t understand … I’m not sure I’m strong enough to keep them out,” Mackenzie whispered in a raspy voice. If she couldn’t even protect the child that had been growing inside of her, how could she keep out the monsters and protect the people taking refuge in the house? “Grant, I don’t want to be the reason other people die. I already lost Tildy today.” Finding it difficult to stand, she took a step toward the bed, but her knees buckled. Grant caught her, lifted her up into his arms, and carried her to the bed.

Tucking a pillow under her head, Grant leaned over her. His voice was firm, but calming. “You’re in control. They can’t get in unless you let them in.”

His face shrouded in shadows, Grant pressed his lips to her forehead. The intimacy of the gesture sent shivers through her body, and she closed her eyes. The gentle touch of his fingers stroking her hair gradually diminished the chaos in her mind. Tanner had often comforted her in the exact same way in the past. He’d always known how to calm her and make her feel protected from the troubles of the world. It was too easy to imagine he was here with her, holding her, keeping her safe.

Like her earlier dream, Tanner’s ghostly presence dissolved into Grant. His body was sturdier, heavier, and more muscular than Tanner’s. His fingers were soft, not roughened by hard labor. He smelled like lavender and soap, not the open air and fresh earth. It felt terribly wrong to feel another man touching her, comforting her, and arousing her.

Opening her eyes, she saw desire in Grant’s gaze. His fingertips glided over the edge of her chin and his lips hovered close to hers. Though her rational mind screamed for her not to give in to her body’s growing arousal and her need to be comforted, she didn’t move to resist him. In fact, it was as if she couldn’t muster the energy to refuse him.

An eerie stillness filled her as he caressed her face and laid gentle kisses on her lips. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t deny his touch. The seductive languor of the earlier dream ate at her defenses. Was it so terrible to give in? To crave a moment of comfort? Grant’s hand on her hip sent tremors of desire mixed with anxiety through her. Could she let someone touch her like Tanner had? Could she let Grant in to her body and possibly her heart? She felt split in half. One piece was dying to surrender to the man that found her desirable, while another part of her mind remained unmoved and separate from the growing passion between them, rummaging worriedly through all that had transpired in the last day. It was difficult to let go of her fears.

“What about the Clown? Grace liked the Clown,” Mackenzie whispered against Grant’s kiss.

“Mackenzie, if the monsters enter it’s because you let them in.” Covering her mouth with his as if to silence her, he deepened the kiss as his tongue seductively flicked hers.

A comment one of the newcomers had said swirled up from the dying embers of the raging fire of anxiety that was slowly being replaced by the cool, calming waves of Grant’s touch. Struggling to grasp it, she turned her face away from Grant, and his lips slid downward to nip the curve of her throat. A surge of panic ripped through her the second her mind ascertained what was bothering her.

“She never dies!” Pushing him off, she stared at Grant in horror. “Grace never dies because she’s not one of us!”

“Mackenzie, you’re panicking. Just relax.”

“No!” Mackenzie pushed his hands away, struggling to escape the covers of the bed that suddenly seemed determined to wrap around her ankles and keep her trapped.

“You’re not making sense, Mackenzie!”

“Yes, I am! It all makes sense! She doesn’t die because she’s a wraith! She’s the one in control. Don’t you see? The group let her in and that’s why they’re never safe. We’re not safe!” Mackenzie finally broke free of the sheets and comforter and launched herself out of the bed. Pounding across the room to the bedroom door, ignoring the pain throbbing in her swollen feet, she felt anger and fear washing away the vestiges of desire. Twisting the doorknob, she jerked the door open and startled Brian. He’d been walking past the doorway.

“Where’s Grace?” Mackenzie demanded.

“Downstairs with Dawn. They’re putting their clothes in the washer,” Brian answered a tad warily. He studied her flushed face. “What’s up with you?”

“Grace! It’s Grace,” Mackenzie said in a low voice.

“Oh, shit. Not you, too!” Rolling his eyes, Brian shook his head and took a step away from her.

Mackenzie grabbed his arm and yanked him about. His annoyance only made her angrier. “She’s a wraith, Brian. That’s why she never dies. That’s why you can’t form safe havens. You’re letting in the thing you want to keep out!” Mackenzie stared into the boy’s eyes, trying to communicate the truth of her statement. She knew without a doubt she was right.

“No, she’s not.” Anger sparked in his eyes, but his tone lacked conviction. “You’re wrong. That’s … that’s … stupid.”

“You know!” Mackenzie gaped at him in disbelief, yet she could see it clearly stamped on his features. “You know she’s a wraith.”

The young man’s jaw tightened, his mouth twisting nervously. His gaze darted toward Grant, who lingered just behind Mackenzie in the bedroom. “Grant, tell her she doesn’t understand.”

Grant remained silent, his hand gently coming to rest on Mackenzie’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure if he meant it as a sign of solidarity or to possibly hold her in place.

“No, Brian, I don’t understand! Why didn’t you tell the others? Why have you been defending her?” Mackenzie grabbed his wrist tightly, but he jerked away.

“Let go of me, bitch!”

“Brian, she’s killing you and the others over and over again,” Mackenzie said.

“She doesn’t hurt Dawn! The other things do sometimes, but Grace leaves Dawn alone,” Brian hissed.

“But you and the others die because of Grace!”

“Brian, you’ve been feeding a wraith.” Grant’s voice was clipped and hushed, obviously trying to keep the conversation from the people below.

“I didn’t know at first, but I figured it out, okay? A few weeks ago, I figured it out. We have a deal now. She doesn’t hurt Dawn.” Brian’s eyes glimmered with tears. “As long as I feed her, she won’t hurt Dawn.”

“You’re feeding her yourself and the others.” The horror that filled Mackenzie was overwhelming. The atmosphere altered around her, becoming more ominous and foreboding. “And us. You’re feeding her us!”

Brian’s face darkened. “You had to fuck it up, didn’t you? Maybe she would have gone easy on you since she was glutted earlier, but you had to go and fuck it up.” The fury in his lowered voice was terrifying. “What happens next is your fault!”

“You’re doing this so Dawn will stay with you. You’re using Grace to keep her with you! Don’t you realize what will happen if you keep sacrificing yourself? You’ll turn into a wraith!” It all made terrible sense to Mackenzie’s broken heart. She understood the terrible things a person would do to try to keep the person they loved with them. How many times had she begged Tanner to stay? How many times had she tried to bargain with God to work a miracle and restore her baby and Tanner?

“At least then I can control this world. I can protect Dawn even better if I’m a wraith. I’ll guard her and protect her when I finally become one.” Brian shifted his gaze to Grant. “You know how it is. How it is to want to protect the one you love at all costs.”

“We need to get Grace out of here!” Mackenzie exclaimed. “Now.”

Shaking free of Grant’s grip, Mackenzie rushed through the hallway to the top of the stairs. Thumping footsteps in her wake made her scurry down the stairs faster than she should have. Her battered foot slipped on the steps and she fell hard on her right hip. The pain was jarring and she let out an agonized cry.

At the top of the stairs Grant and Brian struggled, their voices rising. The argument was background noise to Mackenzie’s wildly beating heart. The front door was shrouded in shadows and the barricade appeared horribly flimsy in the light of the revelation about Grace’s nature.

“Mac?” Ted’s voice sounded below. She peered through the slats of the banister to see him standing in the hallway below staring at her with concern. “Did you fall?”

“It’s Grace,” Mackenzie said through teeth gritted with pain. She rubbed her hip with trembling fingers, trying to work out the painful knot. “She’s a wraith.”

“What?” Ted’s eyes widened.

“She’s a wraith. Brian has a deal with her—”

“Telling stories isn’t nice.” Grace stepped out of the living room, an icy glass of chocolate milk grasped in her small hand. She was dressed in pink sweats that she had borrowed from the former homeowner’s closet.

“I know what you are,” Mackenzie said boldly. Holding on to the banister, she heaved herself upward, balancing herself carefully on her good leg.

Behind Grace, Dawn appeared, her brow crinkled with distaste. “Don’t you start, too.”

“She’s a wraith, Dawn. Brian made a deal with her to spare you.”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve died, too!”

Ted nodded reluctantly in agreement. “That’s true. Dawn has died a few times. I know because I tried to save her.”

“How about in the last few weeks? Has she been dying less? Maybe Brian more? Because he wants to be what Grace is so he can keep Dawn.”

“He can’t have her! She’s mine,” Grace said, licking her milk mustache. “Dawn belongs to me.”

Taking a sharp step to one side, Dawn swiveled about to look at Grace. “What did you say?”

“You’re mine,” Grace answered sweetly. “You’re my best friend.”

Uncertainty flitted over Dawn’s face. “Is that what you really meant?”

Grace slurped her milk, giggling.

“Mackenzie doesn’t know what she’s talking about!” Brian violently shoved Grant aside and rushed down the stairs.

“I think she does!” Ted darted onto the steps to head off Brian. Wedging his body between Mackenzie and Brian, Ted stared into the eyes of his companion. “You knew Grace is a wraith and you didn’t say anything because you know that Dawn will stick with her if the group splits. Then you’d have her all to yourself!”

“That’s not how it is!” Spittle flew from Brian’s lips and his face was a deep crimson. “I didn’t know at first! I just figured it out!”

Jared appeared at the top of the stairs wrapped in towels, soapsuds still clinging to his arms and upper body. “What the hell is going on?”

“Grace is a wraith and Brian knew about it!” Ted’s voice was sharp and violence loomed in his eyes.

“Mutha fucker,” Jared growled.

Ted didn’t correct his language. “Did you want the group to split? Were Jared and I maybe getting too close to the truth? Were you afraid Dawn would come with us and not you if she knew what you’ve been doing?”

Brian glowered at the man on the step below him, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not answering your bullshit questions. Who the hell made you the boss anyway?”

Holding on to the rail, Mackenzie locked gazes with Grace, who continued to happily slurp her chocolate milk. Dawn lifted her face to watch the argument on the stairs while gradually easing around Grace. Smirking, Grace finished the milk. Still locking eyes with Mackenzie, she held out her empty glass.

“Could you get me more? I’m hungry,” Grace said. Her eyes were completely black, flat, and sharklike.

Fear poured into Mackenzie like ice water. It filled her up, drowning her in its frigid depths. Trembling violently, she could barely stand. The arguing men on the stairs were foolishly ignoring the dangerous creature below them. Jared’s voice increased several volumes while Grant’s neutral tones urged calm.

“I will not calm down!” Jared shouted. “This fuckin’ moron knew all along—”

Grace extended her hand, her eyes firmly on Mackenzie, and deliberately unfurled her fingers.

“Dawn,” Mackenzie said, her voice cracking. “Run!”

The glass shattered on the floor.

As she dove for the stairs, Dawn’s wide eyes reflected Mackenzie’s own terror.

“Mine!” Grace roared. Her small frame leaped into action, her arms locking around Dawn’s waist, driving her brutally onto the staircase.

Scrabbling at the steps, Dawn attempted to crawl out from under the smaller woman. “Help me!”

Mackenzie managed to snag the teenager’s hand and tried to pull her free.

“She’s mine!” Grace screeched.

Terror filled Dawn’s eyes when Grace tore her from Mackenzie’s grasp. Grace flipped the screaming girl over and buried her face in her chest.

“No, Grace!” Brian shrieked. “No!”

Ted wrapped one arm around Mackenzie’s waist, swiveled around, and thrust her in Grant’s direction as Brian bolted past them. Dawn’s shrieks and Grace’s inhuman growls sent Mackenzie scrambling, her battered feet and bruised hip protesting every step.

“Barricade the top of the stairs!” Grant shouted.

“We can’t leave them with her!” Jared protested.

Below, Ted’s shouts mingled with Brian’s cries of despair. As Mackenzie neared the top of the stairs, she realized she didn’t hear Dawn screaming anymore. Unable to stop herself, Mackenzie dared to peek. Dawn lay lifeless on the stairs, her throat and chest a bloody ruin. Brian sobbed over her body while Ted fought with Grace. The small woman was drenched in blood, her mouth a gaping maw filled with shark teeth. Lunging forward, she snapped at Ted’s face.

Mackenzie felt a scream building up from deep within her, but it strangled in her throat. Grace’s fearsome mouth closed on Ted’s throat and a geyser of blood rained on Brian. With a swift jerk of her head, Grace ripped Ted’s head from his shoulders. Sobbing, Brian rocked Dawn’s body, his face buried in her hair. Though he seemed to be speaking words, they were jumbled and drowned out by Jared’s cries. Tearing past Mackenzie, Jared launched himself over the railing toward Grace. Appearing more inhuman than ever, the shark-eyed woman whipped her head to one side, hurtling Ted’s head into the living room.

“Mackenzie!”

Grant’s voice compelled her into motion. Flinching with each step, Mackenzie hurried to mount the last steps.

“You’re all mine!” Grace screeched. “Not his, mine!”

The sound of cracking timbers and splintering wood was the only warning, then the roof sheared off and flew away. Dust filled the roaring wind that howled into the broken house as the staircase lurched, the walls shook, and Mackenzie crashed onto the top of the staircase. Crawling up the last steps, she rolled onto the second floor. Grant helped her to her feet and together they fled through the long hallway. The wind churning through the house battered them against the walls and tripped them onto the floor. Through the gaping space above them, Mackenzie briefly caught glimpses of the cloudy night and full moon, but something black as obsidian and moving on many legs obscured her view.

“Help me!” Brian cried out, his voice barely discernible over the roar of the wind that washed over them like raging water.

Mackenzie glanced over her shoulder and saw his blood-soaked figure crest the stairs. His agonized expression and fear-filled eyes almost made her feel sorry for him, but then she remembered that he was the cause of all the destruction around her. Grant flung Mackenzie against the wall and pressed his body over hers seconds before an enormous wickedly barbed armored claw slashed through the hallway and speared Brian through the chest. His face slackened with shock and pain, and then he was hoisted into the night sky.

“Where do we go?” Mackenzie screamed over the furor.

Grant jerked a door open and gruffly flung her into a closet filled with blankets and pillows. The ceiling was still intact, giving the space a tomblike aura.

Grant cradled her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely. “I won’t let her have you! You don’t belong to her!” Releasing Mackenzie, Grant banged the door shut, leaving her in absolute darkness.

When the knob wouldn’t budge, Mackenzie beat her hands on the door. The inky blackness of the closet enshrouded Mackenzie. There was no light and her fingers clawed at the lock, trying to find a way out. Though the sounds from outside terrified her, the thought of being trapped in a collapsing house was even more frightening. “Let me out!”

The door opened revealing Loretta in a nightgown and robe that matched the ones Mackenzie was wearing. Without a word, Loretta extended her hand and Mackenzie gripped it gratefully. Together, the women scurried along the bucking hallway, avoiding the debris flying through the air. The woman created from the memory of the house guided Mackenzie through a smaller hall and to a narrow door. Pulling it open, Loretta dragged Mackenzie inside. A very narrow staircase led downstairs.

“Where does it go?” Mackenzie asked.

“The kitchen,” Loretta answered.

The house shuddered again. An excruciatingly high screech sent flashes of pain through Mackenzie’s head. The former homeowner tugged on Mackenzie’s hand, urging her to follow her down the steep and narrow stairway. Grimacing, Mackenzie complied. She had no other choice than to run away before Grace and the creatures she had summoned ripped the house apart.

The staircase opened into the back of the pantry. The door was cracked and hung from a single hinge. Beyond the doorway, the kitchen was littered with broken dishes and collapsed cabinets. The breakfast table and chairs were scattered across the floor. Water spewed out of broken pipes and the socks Mackenzie was wearing were instantly soaked with water.

“Get out of the house and run out of the dead spot. It’s going to be dangerous out in the nightmare world, but it’s worse inside the dead spot with the wraith controlling it,” Loretta said, hauling Mackenzie to the rear door. She grabbed a carving knife off the floor and handed it to Mackenzie. “Just keep running until you find another dead spot. Secure it and don’t let anyone in.”

“Loretta, I can’t just leave you—”

“I’m not real,” Loretta said firmly. “I’m just a memory.”

“Grant is fighting Grace. He needs me—”

Wrenching open the door to the outside, Loretta adamantly shook her head. “You need to go now!”

The floor violently shook beneath Mackenzie’s feet and the windows exploded, littering the room with shards of glass. Taking hold of Mackenzie’s shoulders, Loretta shoved her onto the porch.

Clenching the knife, Mackenzie hurried down the steps to the backyard. Her wet socks and bandages squelched into the damp earth and she winced. She stole one last look at the house as she hurried away and saw Loretta standing in the doorway watching her. Seconds later, the house shuddered and collapsed, returning to the same state she had found it in hours before.

Half-limping, half-running, Mackenzie hurried through the backyard, crawled over a broken fence, and headed toward the trees in the distance. The howl of the wind accompanied the growl of a great beast, sending Mackenzie’s heart into spasms. Pressing one hand to her chest, she concentrated on her breathing. She felt dizzy and faint, but she refused to pass out.

If not for the moonlight sifting through the clouds above, Mackenzie never would have seen the hole punched deep into the earth. She barely caught herself in time to avoid falling into the darkness below. Skirting around it, she felt the ground tremble. Again a creature let out a great screech and the shadows swiftly swarming against the glow of the moon drew her attention upward.

A spiderlike creature many stories tall and suspended on countless limbs blotted out the radiant orb as it lumbered across the terrain. Its legs, adorned with barbed hooks, perforated the ground, leaving holes much like the one she had almost fallen in to. Smaller legs, tipped in pinchers, snapped at the flock of batlike owls teeming around its head. Mackenzie thought she saw a human figure clutched in one of those pinchers and she thought of Grant. Where was he? Did Grace kill him? She felt utterly lost without him, yet she had no choice but to run.

The creature thundering over her head did not appear to have seen her and she resumed her frenzied trek to the tree line. Every step was increasingly agonizing and she virtually had to drag her right leg as she hobbled resolutely on. The knife in her hand was a reassuring weight, but against a creature like Grace she doubted she would come out alive. Tears of fear and despair were cold against her flushed skin. She didn’t want to die like the others had. The smell of death clung to her skin and filled her nostrils. The hot coppery smell of Ted’s lifeblood would forever haunt her. In the amusement park she had almost given in to death. Maybe it was because she had felt dead already, but now she felt agonizingly alive and wanted to stay that way.

The pine trees rose before her like a dark mountain range. Though it was foolish for her to consider them a safe haven, she lied to herself that she would find safety in the gloom.

“Mackenzie!”

It sounded like Grant, far away and desperate to find her.

The edge of the woods was only twenty feet away now. She was out of the dead spot. If she could perhaps hide until daylight, she could find her way to a new dead spot she could take control of and secure.

“Mackenzie!”

She hesitated, unsure if she should make her presence known, but Grant sounded winded and frightened.

“Mackenzie!”

“Here!” The second the words left her lips, she panicked. Maybe Grant now knew where she was, but so did the other things in the night. She raked her gaze over the field, seeking out Grant’s form.

“Mackenzie!” The voice no longer sounded like Grant.

She shuddered, terror enveloping her. “Tildy,” she whispered.

Pivoting on her good leg, she saw Tildy standing directly behind her. The flat blackness of her eyes stole Mackenzie’s breath away.

Tildy smirked. “You’re so easy to find. Almost not worth the trouble.”

Without thinking, Mackenzie plunged the carving knife into Tildy’s chest. The wraith gasped in shock, then her face clouded with fury. Tildy lunged forward, her clawed hands shoving Mackenzie off her feet. Instead of crashing to the ground, Mackenzie felt herself falling. As she thrust out her hands to stop her descent, her fingers dug into moist soft earth. It was then she realized she was falling into a grave.

“No!”

She slammed into the muddy bottom of the grave, the air knocked out of her lungs. Gasping for breath, she tried to roll onto her knees. Hands erupted from the mud, gripping her arms and legs. Unable to scream, her lungs constricting, Mackenzie thrashed about trying to break free. The clawed hands clamped over her hips and shoulders, drawing her into the mud.

The anxiety attack hit her like a ton of bricks, stealing her reason, stealing her breath, and hurtling her into a full-blown panic. Wheezing, unable to cry out for help, she fought to break free from the iron grip of the dirty fingers holding her. From the walls of the grave the silent mourners emerged, their arms empty of their terrible dolls, but their faces still frozen in a noiseless scream. Writhing against her captors, Mackenzie watched in terror as the creatures gathered over her, blocking out the last bit of moonlight trickling into the grave.

One of them straddled her chest and reached down with its long, bony arms. Its hands covering her face, the mourner thrust Mackenzie’s head into the mud.

The soggy, foamy dirt filled her ears, mouth, nose, and eyes. The chalky taste of earth gagged her and she flailed, striving to break free. Struggling for breath, she only dragged mud into her lungs. The roar of the blood racing through her body filled her ears and the pain in her chest became unbearable. When she opened her eyes, they only stung and burned from the mud and filled her vision with darkness.

It was then that Mackenzie knew she was going to die.

As death laid its agonizing claim on her and dragged her into the mire, Mackenzie’s last thoughts were that dying wouldn’t bring her peace or release.

CHAPTER 20

The sounds of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves lured her out of her deep slumber. Eyelids fluttering, she was temporarily blinded by light. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, she slowly opened them to see the thick gray clouds of an overcast sky. The jagged tops of trees edged her vision, and a gentle breeze brushed over her face to play in her hair.

Somewhere in her mind, she anticipated pain, but instead she felt relaxed, warm, and even buoyant. There wasn’t a single uncomfortable twinge in her body. Stretching her arms over her head, she flexed her feet inside of her leather boots and felt the belt tucked into the loops of her jeans rub against her hip bones. Slightly tilting her head, she saw that she was lying in a meadow. The day had a placid, dreamy feel. The tall green pines were untouched by the change of the season, but the tawny color of the grass spoke of autumn and a few trees were capped with red and orange leaves.

“Where am I?” she wondered aloud.

Her legs dangled, brushing the grass beneath her, and her hands rested in the tangle of her floating hair. She loved the sensation of drifting on warm waters.

“That’s not right,” she said, frowning. She wasn’t in water.

Rolling over, she gave out a startled gasp when her body swiveled completely about and she ended up facing the tops of the swaying grass. She wasn’t lying in a meadow, but hovering a few feet above it. Suspended in the air, she floated in the crisp soothing breeze, the sensation strange, yet exhilarating.

“I’m dreaming,” she decided.

No, that wasn’t right.

“I’m trapped in the dream world,” she amended.

Then the last twenty-four hours crashed into her conscious mind like a sledgehammer, shattering her solemnity. The full awakening of her mind sent her plummeting to the ground with a painful thump.

The smell of fresh earth after a gentle rain made her gag. She vividly remembered the sensation of mud filling her mouth and throat. Clambering upright, she stood in the center of the meadow. Fresh, wonderful air filled her lungs. The rush of oxygen to her brain made her a little dizzy, but it felt amazing to be able to take a breath. She was alive again. Mackenzie wasn’t certain if she was relieved or not. In the moments before her death, she had yearned to awaken in heaven with Joshua in her arms. Now standing alone in an empty field, she felt the pang of her loss keenly. She was alone again in a world filled with nightmares.

A quick inventory of her apparel revealed she was clad in the same clothing she had been wearing when she entered the dead spot. Even her purse was lying on the ground nearby. The painful blisters that had covered her feet seemed to be gone, and the ugly knot between her shoulders was blissfully missing. Touching her hair, face, and neck, she noted the lack of mud. It occurred to her that despite Tildy’s claims of being killed and resurrected recently, she hadn’t borne any marks of death.

“It’s like I didn’t even drown in a muddy grave,” she muttered.

Picking up her purse, she studied the meadow and the trees. It appeared she was nowhere near the old farmhouse. Even the trees were different, with more oak and cedar than pines. Mackenzie hoped she had resurrected far away from Grace and Tildy. She felt a pang of remorse when she thought of Grant. Obviously, he had tried to save her, but failed. Now she had no idea where he was in this terrible world, but maybe they would find each other eventually. She missed him, but she suspected he missed her more. His last kiss had been filled with passion and need. The thought of it made her flush and feel uncomfortable. Shoving those thoughts away, she concentrated on what she needed to do now.

Mackenzie rummaged through her purse. It was a relief to see Joshua’s blanket still rolled up at the bottom. Out of habit, she checked her cell phone. It was nearly out of battery and there was no service. For a moment, she’d hoped she was back in the real world but realized that was foolish. Everyone else who died in a dead spot resurrected in the world of dreams and nightmares.

With a sigh, she looked in both directions. What she had missed before was that there were dark shapes hidden in the tall grasses to her right. Her heart sped up at the thought of monsters lurking in the meadow, but then she realized the forms were boxy in appearance. Taking a few steps toward them, she caught sight of the elegant gothic spires of a wrought iron fence listing in the grass.

“A graveyard,” she said. “Shit.”

Mackenzie’s first inclination was to be scared, but then she realized that a graveyard would have to be near a road. She’d have to walk through the graveyard to find it, but the overwhelming fear she would have experienced before was now a low hum. Maybe it was flippant to think such a thing, but she really couldn’t see how her situation could worsen. What she had feared would happen had happened. She had died in the most horrible way imaginable, but she was alive again. The memory made her shudder, but also feel strangely triumphant.

Shifting her purse onto one shoulder, she started across the old, abandoned graveyard. Many of the headstones were broken, or overwhelmed by weeds. Some graves had sunk deep into the earth, the inscriptions barely visible. Others were rubbed bare by the elements. The atmosphere of the cemetery was peacefully gloomy. It wasn’t scary, but rather sad. Mackenzie hesitated near an angel that had long ago lost its features. Reaching out, she patted the angel’s cheek. She hadn’t consciously recognized she was in a dead spot, but her touch restored the monument to its full glory. The upraised eyes of the angel rose out of the worn stone to beseech the heavens. The dainty lips, solemn in their repose, regained definition.

“Much better,” Mackenzie whispered in awe.

The restored angel was beautiful. Her wings were skillfully carved and she looked as though she were ready to take flight to heaven, carrying the souls of the dead in her elegantly poised arms.

The cry of a child forced Mackenzie out of her reverie. For a moment, she thought she had perhaps imagined the sound, but then it came again, desperate and afraid. It reminded her of the cries she had heard the day before. Scrutinizing the area, Mackenzie sought out the source of the frantic calls for help. Yesterday Grant had convinced her that the screams had been a trap, but he’d been wrong about Grace and she had been right. Now that she was on her own, she was going to have to trust her instincts. She had counted on others for too long to save her. It was time for her to save herself. If it was a trap, she would fight back. But if it wasn’t, there was a child in need.

Breaking into a run, she headed in the direction of the cries.

A line of trees separated one portion of the cemetery from another section that was heavily overgrown with brambles. There were very few headstones in this area. Most graves were marked with slabs of concrete that were cracked and covered in a thick layer of green mold. The ground gently sloped downward to a wide expanse of land filled with more opulent monuments surrounding a dank, dark pond. Wisps of water vapor slid over the ground, ghostly in appearance.

Another cry rang out. Scanning the graveyard, Mackenzie finally saw a little boy scampering among the obelisks and weeping angels. Casting frightened looks over his shoulder, he darted between the markers, taking cover from something Mackenzie couldn’t see.

Running was difficult due to her heels, but she managed to reach the area where the little boy was hiding just before she caught the scent of death. It was pungent and revolting. Nervously inspecting the area, she covered her nose with one hand.

“Watch out!” the little boy shouted.

Mackenzie glimpsed a dark shape out of the corner of her eye and she instinctively swung her purse at it. Her heavy purse smacked into the gray face of a man lunging out from behind a tall tombstone. Knocked off balance, he windmilled his arms, attempting to stay on his feet. His white hair, chalky face, and frayed suit seemed curiously familiar.

Retreating from the uncoordinated man, Mackenzie caught sight of the child crouching behind a large double tombstone.

“Lady, you need to hide!”

Mackenzie ducked and scooted behind the gravestone topped by a flying eagle. The little boy had an unruly cowlick of dark blond hair, freckles, and big brown eyes. Dressed in jeans, PF Flyers sneakers, and a blue-and-red-striped T-shirt, the boy stared fearfully over the top of the cement marker at the ghastly creature.

“He’s a dead man who wants to kill me,” the boy whispered. He was probably around six or seven years old and still had a hint of baby fat in his face and body.

Mackenzie dared to take a peek and truly studied the awkwardly shambling man. He stood out starkly in the graveyard, his body and clothing varying shades of black and white. Slowly, it dawned on Mackenzie why he seemed familiar.

“Night of the Living Dead,” she whispered to the boy. “It’s the zombie from the first scene in the movie.”

“Zombie?” The term was obviously foreign to his tongue.

“Yeah. The zombie who goes after Barbara and Johnny in the first scene.”

“My name is Johnny,” the boy whispered, his eyes widening. “That monster wants to bash my brains out just like the guy he killed in the movie.”

Mackenzie fit all the pieces together and understood what was going on. Johnny had manifested the monster out of the classic zombie movie, and now it pursued him. That’s why the creature was in black and white. “Well, he’s not going to,” Mackenzie said firmly.

Johnny’s eyes welled with tears. “He has before.”

“Well, not this time.” Mackenzie stood and watched the zombie searching behind some gravestones nearby. “Stay here.”

She had watched Night of the Living Dead every Halloween with Tanner. She knew that this particular zombie was the fastest and meanest of the lot. The thought of it killing the little boy hiding behind the headstone infuriated her. It was awful enough that she was being terrorized by her fears, but the thought of an innocent child enduring this world spurred her into action. She’d already died once in this world, and she felt strangely emboldened by that fact. The one thing her death had taught her was that she was not going to run away again. If she was going to die, she was going to die fighting.

She stooped over and plucked a piece of a shattered gravestone off the ground. It weighed a good five pounds and she clutched it with both hands.

“Hey! Asshole!” she shouted.

The zombie stopped its search and rested its eyes on her.

“Come get me!”

Fear sped up her heart, but Mackenzie stood her ground. The zombie darted toward her with its stiff-legged gait. Its teeth were bared, its hand clawed, but she had already seen far worse the night before. It was almost upon her when she tackled it. They crashed onto the ground with Mackenzie on top. The zombie’s hands flailed at her, trying to find purchase on her leather jacket. Raising the heavy stone over her head, she gritted her teeth.

“So done with this crap!” she exclaimed.

Smashing the piece of tombstone onto the zombie’s head, she felt the sickening crunch of bone as his skull shattered. Black blood splattered her arms and chest, but she ignored the reek of the corpse and bashed in the creature’s face. She kept hitting it until it finally lay still beneath her, its head a flattened mess of white bone and black flesh and blood. Even in death, it was still caught in plain black and white.

“It’s dead!” Mackenzie called out to the little boy. “Johnny, it’s dead.”

Standing, she discarded the blood-caked lump of stone and walked to the pond. The dark water lapped against the edge, a tranquil sound that was a vivid disparity to the brutality of the event that had just occurred. She rubbed the black blood from her hands, her skin very white beneath the water. Using some napkins from the bottom of her purse, Mackenzie wiped off the blood from her jacket and face. She wet the napkins and kept blotting her clothing and skin, waiting for the little boy to join her.

“You mushed his head!” Johnny called out.

She looked over to see him standing over the corpse. “Yeah. I did.”

“Cool.” Johnny smiled and prodded the body with the toe of his sneaker.

Mackenzie had to admit he was right. It was pretty cool. There was no buzzing anxiety filling her, making her head swim and her body heavy. She felt strong and competent, even heroic. Johnny squatted at her side, his grubby fingers raking at the damp earth.

“You’re like Wonder Woman before she got lame in the comics,” he decided.

Mackenzie laughed, giddy at her victory. “Thanks. I felt like Wonder Woman.”

“Why did you call him a zombie?” Johnny picked up a small twig and flung it into the pond.

“That’s the name of the monsters like him.”

Frowning, Johnny picked up a red leaf and sent it sailing across the pond. After a few seconds, water lapped over the edge and submerged it. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, in the second movie they’re called zombies.”

“Second movie?” Johnny tilted his head. “There’s a second movie?”

Studying the boy’s attire and hairstyle, Mackenzie realized her mistake. The little boy was from an earlier time period. “What year were you born?”

“1962.”

“And when did you see Night of the Living Dead?”

“When it was at the drive-thru. My brother took me. That was a couple of weeks before I…” He hesitated, his small mouth twisting nervously.

“Before you ended up in here?”

As he nodded, the little boy’s eyes welled with tears. “I should have listened to Mama. She always said not to go into the old haunted Weller House. She said bad things would happen and she was right.”

“You went into the Weller House, and it brought you here, didn’t it?”

“Me and my brother. But he’s gone now. He’s … bad now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Johnny shrugged his small shoulders and made another makeshift boat out of a twig and leaf. He sent it sailing across the pond. This one had better luck than the first leaf and stayed afloat.

“How long have you been alone?”

“I just woke up. I died again.” Rubbing his nose, Johnny looked sadly grim. “I didn’t listen to Lucas and I ran outside.”

“Is Lucas your brother?” Mackenzie found some hand sanitizer in her purse and rubbed it on her face, neck, and hands.

“No. He’s my new friend. I was running from the wolfman and Lucas found me. He shot the wolfman with a big gun. He had silver bullets so the wolfman stayed dead.”

Putting away the hand sanitizer in her purse, Mackenzie pondered what Grant had told her about the man with the leather jacket. Why hadn’t she questioned him more closely? It made her uneasy that she had just accepted what Grant had said. The man had saved her. “So you liked Lucas? He was nice to you?”

“Uh-huh. He made me hamburgers and French fries. We even got root beer floats. And he had a car. I liked the car.”

“A car?” Mackenzie lifted her eyebrows, more confused than ever. Immediately her thoughts drifted to the car that had frightened Grant. Again, she had believed him when he’d said that humans trapped in the dead spots couldn’t control vehicles. Was Lucas maybe a wraith deceiving the child? “How long were you with Lucas?”

“I think two weeks. Yesterday was scary though. We were almost killed by balloons.”

Mackenzie gaped at the boy. “Near an amusement park?”

“Yeah. Lucas saw some people going inside and he said it was a bad place. He tried to save them, but the balloons almost got him. I stayed in the car, but I saw them. I didn’t know balloons could be monsters. That boat sank, too.” His small, chubby fingers began constructing a new boat out of two red leaves and bits of twigs.

Startled, Mackenzie remembered the man who saved her from Tildy the first time. Grant had told her he was a killer. That declaration really hadn’t made sense to her then and didn’t ring true now. Why would a murderer save her? Uneasy, she asked, “Does Lucas wear a leather jacket?”

“Uh-huh. He has pictures on his arms and earrings.” Johnny made a face. “It’s kinda weird, but he’s nice.”

It was difficult to reconcile what Johnny was telling her with what Grant had insisted was true about the mysterious man in the leather jacket. Grant had seemed completely terrified of him, but Johnny obviously had trusted him as a protector.

“How did you die? Didn’t Lucas take care of you?”

“When we were getting food last night, the dead people came. The … zombos?”

“Zombies,” Mackenzie corrected.

“Yeah. They were getting in the house and Lucas made me hide in the closet and told me to stay there until he was done killing them. But I got scared. I heard my brother calling me, trying to find me in the house. So I ran outside and…” Johnny fell quiet as he set his new boat adrift on the gentle waves of the pond.

“You don’t have to tell me. I died last night, too. I ran outside when the house where I was staying fell apart.”

“Did the zombies get you, too?”

“No.” Mackenzie hesitated, remembering Tildy’s empty eyes and smirking lips. “Well, kinda. A different zombie.”

“I don’t like dying. It hurts so much.”

“I don’t like it either.” Mackenzie had to fight the urge to hug the little boy. He was such a solemn little creature with his haunted eyes and baby cheeks. Rising, Mackenzie stared across the graveyard, searching for the road she knew had to be close by.

“This is a bad place,” Johnny said in a disgruntled tone.

“I know,” Mackenzie said sadly.

“It was nice when my brother and I first got here. We lived in a dream palace with some other kids for a long time. It was kinda cool. Then one day, the bad stuff got in.”

Mackenzie flashed on Grace’s gruesome visage when she had bit off Ted’s head. “Yeah, I know how that can be. After that what did you do?”

“Ricky took care of me. He was sixteen. We tried to go home, but it didn’t work. One time we went to Disneyland, but it was scary there. He always tried to keep me safe, but they killed him a lot. They killed him until he … Ricky is a monster now.”

Again, she fought the urge to hug the child. Johnny watched his leaf sailboat cruise the pond with a somber expression stamped on his features.

“Were you alone a long time before Lucas found you?”

Johnny nodded. “Yeah. I think it was a month. Or maybe longer. I don’t know. I hid a lot. Are you alone?”

“A friend was with me, but we got separated when I died. I don’t know where he is now.” Mackenzie folded her arms over her chest and nudged a stone with her foot. It was uncomfortable talking to the child about such dark subjects, but he had already endured far worse than she had.

“Are you going to go find him?” Johnny inclined his head to look at her, slightly squinting in the daylight.

“I want to find a road and try to figure out where I am. I know where he was headed, so maybe we can find him.”

“Can I come with you?”

Mackenzie looked at him in surprise. “Of course! I wouldn’t leave you here.”

“Other people didn’t want me. They said I have a bad imagination.”

“I have a bad imagination, too. Trust me.”

“Maybe we can find Lucas. He has a nice car.”

“I didn’t think people could have cars in this world.”

“He does. It’s cool. It’s black and has red seats.”

Mackenzie spotted a thin line of asphalt at the far corner of the graveyard near a copse of trees and a single-story building made of pink granite.

“What are you afraid of?” Johnny asked timidly.

The question brought myriad images into her head, from the ridiculous fears her mother had imposed on her growing up to the image of Grace’s shark mouth. “A lot of things.” She squatted beside the boy and stared out over the dark water of the small pond. It was such a tranquil setting with the little boat skimming along its surface. “I found the road out of here. I want you to come with me, okay?”

Offering her hand, she waited to see if he would take it. She dismissed her mother’s nagging voice chiding her about taking on more than she could deal with, and Grant’s voice admonishing her for taking in yet another stray person. The boy needed her and, strangely, she needed him, too. She didn’t want to be alone and her instincts were to take care of the child. His small hand settled into her palm and her fingers closed over it.

“The boat is going to make it to the other side,” Johnny said, a smile gracing his face.

Mackenzie watched the little leaf boat accelerating toward the far end of the pond. It left small ripples in its wake. The shark burst out of the water, breaching like a whale, its white underbelly glistening in the muted sunlight. The tiny boat disappeared when its huge body crashed into the dark waves.

Johnny’s screams broke her out of her shocked state and Mackenzie jerked him from the water’s edge. Gasping for air, she stared in shock at the churning water. The shark had been a Great White. Its length had to be at least half of the pond. It was impossible for it to exist within such a confined space, but then again, this was the world of the impossible.

“It’s okay. It can’t reach us,” Mackenzie said confidently, but took a few more steps away from the edge. “It can’t leave the water.”

The dorsal fin broke the surface, the huge white shape barely visible beneath the water.

“I want to go,” Johnny said.

“Me, too.” Mackenzie firmly held his hand, guiding him away from the pond.

Mackenzie couldn’t help but steal looks at the giant fin slicing through the water. It made her stomach clench to see it so close, but she kept reminding herself that it was trapped in the pond. Yet, the terror it inspired in her made her walk faster and she hurried Johnny along.

“It’s so big.”

“It’s a Great White. Like in Jaws.”

“What’s jaws?”

“Uh, a movie about a shark.” Mackenzie forced herself not to look at the pond, but to focus on getting to the road.

“I don’t think I would like it.” Slightly dragging his feet, the boy kept staring over his shoulder, trusting Mackenzie to guide him.

“It’s a very scary movie. Look, there’s the road. We’ll be there soon.” She pointed toward their destination while looking down at Johnny, who finally turned his attention forward.

“Lady,” the boy said, his voice hushed.

“My name is Mackenzie.”

“There’s a wraith!” Johnny pointed, fear etched onto his face.

Near the road, a dark figure stood waiting for them.

CHAPTER 21

Stooping, Mackenzie grabbed another heavy chunk of a broken headstone. Johnny followed suit, still clutching her hand while he leaned over to pluck a baseball-sized piece from the ground. Determination was etched on his innocent face from the furrows between his eyebrows to his lips pressed into a tight line. His bravery touched Mackenzie.

The tall shape didn’t move. It was backlit by the sun making it difficult to make out the facial features. From the way its head kept sweeping back and forth it appeared to be scrutinizing the graveyard. Mackenzie ducked behind several bushes. Johnny crouched beside her.

“Can we kill it, Macky?”

Mackenzie almost corrected his new nickname for her, but thought better of it. Her mother had never allowed anyone to use nicknames for her when she was growing up. Tanner had gleefully called her Mac just to upset her picky mother. Let Johnny call her what he wanted. It wasn’t going to hurt either one of them. “No. We’re going to try to avoid it. Maybe we can sneak around it.”

Watching the figure through the leaves of the bushes, Mackenzie experienced a twinge of recognition. Narrowing her eyes, she studied the form. For a moment she thought it was Tanner, but then she realized the shoulders were too broad.

“Grant!” she exclaimed. “It’s Grant!”

“Macky, that’s not your friend. That’s a bad guy,” Johnny said somberly.

“No, it’s my friend,” Mackenzie assured him, grinning.

Johnny shook his head adamantly, trying to keep her next to him by tugging on her hand when she started to stand. “Don’t! Don’t!”

“It’s okay, Johnny. I promise. He’s my friend.” Waving happily, she stepped into clear view. “Grant!”

“Mackenzie!” His voice floated through the air. He burst into motion, running toward her. His suit jacket flapped around him like wings and he quickly closed the space between them. Snatching her in his arms, he whirled her around, his face buried in her neck. “I found you!”

Mackenzie laughed with relief. “I can’t believe you found me!”

“It was blind luck. I woke up nearby.”

Wincing, Mackenzie said, “You died, too?”

Grant nodded grimly. “I did. But at least I got my jacket back.”

Johnny dared to stand and grab Mackenzie’s hand. “I want to go now.”

Grant abruptly let go of Mackenzie at the sound of the child’s voice and stared in surprise at the boy at her side. “What’s this?”

Johnny’s fingers painfully clung to Mackenzie’s hand, his small body slanting away from her, trying to pull her away. “Macky, I want to go!”

Witnessing the none-too-happy expression on Grant’s face, Mackenzie regarded him in confusion. “This is my new friend. His name is Johnny.”

“Mackenzie, how could you?” Grant asked incredulously. Sweeping his hand through his hair, he paced in front of her, obviously frustrated.

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie scooted a little closer to Johnny, the joy of her reunion with Grant vanishing under the onslaught of his withering glare at the boy.

“Macky,” Johnny whispered. “I want to go. I don’t like him!”

“Macky?” Grant shook his head, laughing bitterly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mackenzie demanded. “Why are you acting like this?”

“The boy’s a wraith!” Grant pointed an accusing finger at the child.

“No, you are!” Johnny yelled back. “You’re bad!”

“He’s obviously taken advantage of the fact that you’re mourning your dead baby boy to get his hooks into you! After what happened last night with Grace, how could you do this again? Didn’t you learn from Tildy?” Grant stared at Mackenzie with a heartbroken expression on his face, his hands settling on her shoulders. “You died once already, Mackenzie, because of these things. The thought of you dying because I took in that group kills me inside. I should have never risked your life with them, or allowed you to take in Tildy.”

Everything about Grant’s demeanor and words was painted with fear and affection. The softness in his eyes and the anxious tone of his voice affected her. For just a second, she wanted to console him and apologize for taking in Johnny, but then she looked at the scared boy at her side and shoved those thoughts away.

“We both made mistakes, Grant. Yesterday was … awful. Last night was worse. But I’m not going to turn my back on a little boy!”

“That’s why it’s disguised like a child! To lure you in! Mackenzie, when I died last night all I could think of was that I had failed you. The second I was alive again today, I started searching for you. My every thought has been about you. I’m not going to let anything or anyone close to you again. You and I need to stay on our own.”

“He’s just a little boy!”

“Isn’t that convenient? A little boy? Who calls you Macky? He might as well call you Mommy!” Grant flung up his hands.

“You’re the bad thing! Not me!” Johnny shouted, tears sparkling in his eyes. He tugged on Mackenzie’s hand again. “I want to go!”

“Don’t you dare throw my dead son in my face! I know Johnny is not Joshua.”

“Even their names are similar!”

“He’s not a wraith! I saved him from a zombie! He’s just a scared little boy!” Mackenzie stepped protectively in front of Johnny. “He’s coming with us.”

Vexed, Grant didn’t answer her. He stalked a few feet to the left, stopped, rested his hands on his hips, and stared out over the graveyard with his back to them.

“I want to go, Macky,” Johnny whispered. “He’s not looking at us. We can run away.”

“He’s just scared, Johnny.” Mackenzie dropped to her knees to gaze into the little boy’s face. Tears dotted his long lashes and she gently wiped them away with her fingertips. “He’s scared because of all the bad things that happened to us last night.”

Johnny shook his head adamantly. “No. He’s bad.”

It was plain to see that Grant had developed deep feelings for her in a very short time. It made her uncomfortable, yet she could understand how absolutely lonely he must have been until he stumbled upon her. She could see how feelings could develop at a much speedier pace in this world. Already she felt attached to the little boy standing at her side. She barely knew him, but her instinct was to protect him. She couldn’t slight Grant for feeling the same way toward her. Though she didn’t have romantic feelings toward Grant and was very confused after the dream she’d experienced, she did have to acknowledge she wanted him at her side. The way he cared for her made her feel safe, though it irritated her at times.

Finally turning around, Grant threw out his arms in surrender. “Fine. We’ll take him with us.” Gesturing toward the building, he said, “There’s shelter over there.”

“How about a car?”

“A car?” Grant lifted his eyebrows.

“Yeah. A car. Johnny said he met a man that had a car. You said it was hard to keep one working outside the dead spots, but I want to try.” Mackenzie raised her chin, feeling a little defiant. She didn’t like being told what she could or could not do.

Grant lifted an eyebrow. “You want a car because the little boy told you someone else had one?”

“It’s a nice car,” Johnny mumbled.

“Yes. I would much rather try to drive to wherever we are going next than end up with my feet a blistered, bloody mess like yesterday. It’s embarrassing that you had to carry me.”

“I didn’t mind carrying you, Mackenzie,” Grant replied.

“Plus, Johnny will get tired if we have to walk and we’ll have to carry him.” She deliberately didn’t tell Grant that Johnny had been with the mysterious man in the leather jacket. It was best to leave Lucas out of it, or else Grant would insist on leaving Johnny behind. Mackenzie wasn’t sure what the true story around Lucas actually was, but she didn’t want to risk giving Grant more ammunition against Johnny. Mackenzie was certain the little boy was not a wraith. She trusted her instincts on the matter. After all, she was the one who had figured out Grace’s true nature. Maybe it had been a fallacy on her part to just believe everything Grant had told her. It was possible that he didn’t know everything, or had a skewed perception after everything he had endured. He had been adamant about Grace and had been wrong.

Resting his hands on his hips, Grant sighed before motioning toward the building. “You might not be strong enough to maintain a car, Mackenzie. It’s very difficult to do. I’m worried you’ll drain yourself.”

“Let me try.” Mackenzie wasn’t about to budge in her determination to at least attempt to get a car in working condition. It might be difficult to sustain the vehicle outside a dead spot, but she wanted to at least see if she could.

“Fine! There is a hearse parked behind the funeral home.”

“That’s the funeral home?” Mackenzie balked at the thought of entering the building. It seemed foolish in light of all she had endured, but it made her uneasy.

“Some rural communities had the funeral home connected to the cemeteries. It made it much easier on the families. I’ll go into the building and find the key. You restore the car.” Now that Grant was resigned to Johnny coming along his irritation was dwindling. “Sound like a plan?”

Mackenzie nodded. “Sounds good.” Her palm felt sweaty against Johnny’s fingers. She hated to admit her own squeamishness about the funeral home.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the dorsal fin of the Great White still slicing through the dark water of the pond and the dead body of the zombie. Was it really just two days ago that she had left Shreveport for Kerrville? It seemed like an eternity had passed. How quickly her mind had acclimated to her new reality. It was rather frightening. The thought of zombies stumbling around graveyards and Great Whites loitering in a pond should make her laugh or question her sanity, but now they seemed rather normal. Again, the thought that perhaps she was in a coma or having a mental breakdown drifted into her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She had to concentrate on dealing with the here and now.

“The shark’s still there,”Johnny said in a frightened voice. “Why isn’t it going away?”

Grant looked toward the pond and the dorsal fin. He didn’t look very surprised by what he saw. Instead, he sighed. “Because it frightened Mackenzie,” Grant answered simply. “Let’s get a move on. No use standing around here.”

The funeral home was constructed out of quarry stone, so its walls were still standing. The roof had given way over time. Vines crept up the walls and wrapped around the termite-ridden posts of the portico. The long narrow stained-glass windows had gaping holes in the colored glass. An aura of sadness and desolation clung to the building. A well of sympathy swelled inside of Mackenzie for all the families who had sat in the chapel of the building saying farewell to loved ones. Yet, the darkness looming beyond the windows and gaping front doors gave her pause.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Johnny decided.

“I’m going in. You can go with Mackenzie and try to get the car started.” Grant pushed the front doors open completely and peered inside. “Mackenzie, do you mind fixing it? It’ll make it easier for me to find the keys.”

A pang of doubt filled her when she realized the funeral home had not reacted like the farmhouse had the day before. She had completely restored the farmhouse without even giving it much thought. Dying had significantly lowered her ability to shape the dead spots just like Grant had warned. Placing a hand on a post, she concentrated. She felt an inward strain, like a rubber band being drawn taut, then the sudden release as the building transformed before her eyes.

Grant peeked inside, flipped on a switch, and a hallway adorned with a red carpet and simple chandelier filled with light. “Perfect. I’ll meet you in the carport.”

“That was so cool,” Johnny whispered, grinning.

“It’s like magic, right?”

“It is magic.”

“I feel like Harry Potter right now,” Mackenzie joked, walking along the restored walkway that led to the rear of the building.

“Who’s that?”

Mackenzie hesitated, looking at the boy sadly. She kept forgetting that technically he was older than her. “Well, he’s a little boy with magic powers in a book from my time.”

“That sounds like a cool book.”

“It is.”

The hearse was parked in the restored carport, but was a rusted hunk of metal with flat tires, shattered windows, a missing hood, and no engine. The hearse appeared to have been pale blue and its shredded curtains may have been cream colored.

“I think this is definitely from the seventies from the color,” Mackenzie decided with a shiver. “That decade was messed up.”

“You can fix it though.” Johnny gave her a confident smile.

She was glad he had faith in her abilities. After restoring the funeral home she felt a little light-headed, but she wasn’t experiencing a headache yet. She had a feeling the restoration of the car might provoke one.

Johnny set his hand on the car. “I’ll help you.”

“Why, thank you. That’s very kind.” Mackenzie set her hand next to his and again felt something inside of her straining, building, then finally releasing. This time the sharp jagged pain behind her left eye didn’t surprise her. She gasped slightly, pressing her hand to her brow, her vision abruptly dimming.

“Macky?”

“I’m okay,” Mackenzie answered quickly. The stabbing pain dissipated slowly into a more manageable throbbing headache. Clenching her eyes shut, she waited a few seconds before checking to see if her vision was restored.

The Buick hearse sat before them perfectly polished, the chrome edging the windows and the headlights catching the light. The ivory curtains were fully restored and the lightly tinted windows reflected her and the little boy.

“I knew you could do it,” Johnny said proudly, patting the car’s restored hood.

“Let’s hope it turns on and actually runs.” She fished her Advil out of her purse and swallowed two of them dry.

“Did it make your head hurt?” Johnny cocked his head, studying her thoughtfully. “It used to make my brother’s head hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.” Trying the passenger door, she found it locked.

Johnny cupped his hands and pressed his forehead to the dark tinted windows in the back of the hearse attempting to see through the crack in the privacy curtains. “There’s no coffin. And it’s not as nice as Lucas’s car.”

“Johnny, don’t mention Lucas to Grant, okay?”

“Why?” There was a plaintive note in his voice.

“Because Grant doesn’t like Lucas. He thinks he’s a bad man.”

“That’s because Grant is a bad man.” Johnny gave her a sour look, his small shoulders hunched. “We should run away from him.”

Unnerved by the boy’s adamant viewpoint on the subject of Grant, Mackenzie sighed. Distrust of people made complete sense in this bizarre world where a stranger could be a friend, killer, or wraith. If not for Grant, she wouldn’t have survived through the first day. She shuddered at the memory of the woman in the café. What had she been? To be upset at Johnny for his misgivings was unsympathetic to all he had suffered.

“Grant is my friend,” Mackenzie said at last. “I know you don’t trust him, but I do.”

“You shouldn’t.” The seriousness in the little boy’s look was disquieting.

“Okay, I found the keys,” Grant said as he emerged from the building. He held up the key chain with a white rabbit’s foot dangling on one end and a big car key on the other. His gait paused when he saw the restored vehicle. “That’s impressive. It might actually work.”

Johnny edged closer to Mackenzie and grabbed her hand. His dark brown eyes regarded Grant suspiciously. Either not taking note of the little boy’s look, or not caring, Grant walked around to the driver’s side and unlocked it.

“Well, at least we know the key is for this car,” he said, grinning.

The smile alleviated a lot of the stress Mackenzie hadn’t even realized was building inside of her. Returning the smile, she waited for Grant to slide behind the driver’s seat and unlock the passenger door and the one directly behind it.

“Kids ride in the back,” Grant said firmly. His eyes locked with Johnny’s for a second. With his bottom lip jutting out defiantly, Johnny clung to Mackenzie.

“It’ll be more comfortable in the back,” Mackenzie said encouragingly.

“Fine.” Johnny scooted into the rear seat, his wary expression not altering.

“Fingers crossed it starts,” Mackenzie said, closing the door.

Johnny slid the curtain open and made a show of crossing his fingers.

The interior of the car was all faux wood, chrome, and cream leather. She slid inside, tucked the purse at her feet, and belted herself in. “Love the décor, huh?”

“I think the whole idea was to move away from the dourness of mourning,” Grant observed.

Having experienced a funeral recently, Mackenzie understood the sentiment, but it fell short in her opinion. There was comfort in the long-held traditions of mourning. The black hearse, the black funeral attire, and the solemnity of the service felt like reverences to not only the deceased loved one, but also the grieving survivors. It was hard to sit in the hearse and not think of Joshua.

“Shall we try it?” Grant made a big show of pushing the key into the ignition.

Nodding, Mackenzie rested her hand on the dashboard. She wasn’t sure if the car needed a little push to start, but she was ready to do her so-called magic.

Twisting the key, Grant pumped the gas. The vehicle roared to life in an instant. Mackenzie shot Johnny a grin over her shoulder and he gave her the thumbs-up. Grant shifted gears and reversed the car out of the carport. The engine purred smoothly while the tires kicked up bits of gravel.

“So far so good.” Grant lightly touched Mackenzie’s arm. “You did a good job.”

The hearse slowly rolled up the drive behind the restored building to the parking area that was enclosed by an overgrown hedge. An old wood gate loitered in the tall grass blocking their way.

“I’ll get out and move it,” Grant said, parking the car.

“Need my help?”

Grant gave the gate a quick study, then shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”

The car door shut with a slight bang.

“We could go without him,” Johnny said grumpily.

Mackenzie watched Grant pull away vines and branches from the gate, then start to drag it open. “He’s a very nice man.”

“He’s not a man. He’s like that zombie. A monster.” Johnny scooted along the backseat and pressed his face to the window. “Just like that guy.” He tapped the glass, indicating the zombie lying among the graves.

Not having had a ton of experience with small kids since her days as a babysitter in her teens, Mackenzie felt frustrated at her inability to calm the tension between the little boy and Grant. They were both acting like petulant children when it came to each other and it was annoying.

Glancing out the windshield, she saw that Grant was almost done. Maybe once they were on the road things would settle down.

“Macky, the shark is still there. I can see it.”

Craning her head, Mackenzie caught a glimpse of the dorsal fin circling the pond. “Well, it’s stuck there.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Me neither.”

Grant finished shoving open the old wood gate and kicked some dead branches off the road. Mackenzie was glad that they were finally leaving. Despite her earlier calm, she felt the familiar annoying buzz along her nerves.

“Macky!” Johnny wailed. “It’s coming!”

“What?” Mackenzie darted a look at the boy. The child was utterly terrified.

“The shark! It’s coming!”

Whipping about, Mackenzie immediately saw the source of the boy’s ashen complexion. The dorsal fin no longer cut through the dark waters of the pond. Instead, it was slicing through the ground, tossing up clumps of dirt and rock. It was headed straight for them.

CHAPTER 22

The impossibility of what she was witnessing froze Mackenzie in place. Her mind was unable to adjust to the terrifying sight of the tall dorsal fin slicing through the earth as though it were water. The sharp tip of its tail shimmied back and forth, propelling the creature toward the hearse.

“It’s coming!” Johnny shouted again. “It’s coming!”

A strangled cry of fear burst out of her lips. “Grant!”

The windows were rolled up and he didn’t appear to hear her. She flung the door open and screamed his name again. This time, he heard her and turned about with a quizzical look.

“Get in the car!” Mackenzie shouted. Her heart was beating so rapidly, she could have sworn it was pounding against her sternum. “There’s a shark!”

Confusion molded onto his features, Grant hurried to the car. Mackenzie was relieved that he had lived long enough with the bizarre nature of this world to not question her. She ducked back into the car, slammed the door shut, and pulled on her seat belt.

Johnny’s fingers clawed at her shoulder. “Macky, it’s coming!”

Grant caught sight of the massive dorsal fin and tail right as he reached the driver’s side door. Horrified, he flung himself onto the hood just as the dorsal fin swooped into the ground and vanished.

“Get in!” Mackenzie screamed at him through the windshield.

The car rocked violently. The seat belt pinched her chest, pinning her to the seat. Behind her Johnny whimpered. Grant held on to the car, legs and arms spread wide to brace himself. The dorsal fin smacked the side mirror on the passenger side. Again the car was jostled as the huge shark slid past it.

“It’s circling!” Mackenzie gasped, her fingers unfastening the seat belt. “It’s circling!”

“What does that mean, Macky?”

“It’s what they do to prey!”

Diving across the seat, she swiftly cranked the lever, manually rolling down the driver’s side window. Grant saw what she was doing and pulled his body closer to the windshield. The enormous dorsal fin rose menacingly among the tombstones a couple hundred feet away. The fin was equal in height to quite a few of the headstones. Mackenzie felt her stomach drop: it was now bigger than it had been in the pond.

Finished opening the window, Mackenzie scooted into her seat while Grant slid to the side of the hood and swung his legs into the window. Holding on to the edge of the roof, he maneuvered his tall frame into the car.

“Hurry!” Mackenzie urged. She was unable to look away from the shark fin bearing down on the hearse. It was only a matter of seconds before the beast reached them. “Grant! Get in!”

Grant was too tall to climb in easily and he had to slant his upper body outward so he could completely fold his body inside. Behind his frantic motions, Mackenzie saw the shark head rise up from the dirt, its black shiny eyes coming into view.

“Grant!”

She dug her fingers into his shirt and heaved him into the car. His body buckled, pulling his upper half into the hearse seconds before the shark lunged out of the ground. The shark rose up, mouth gaping wide, attempting to snag Grant. Grant threw himself backward, falling into Mackenzie.

Shoving her body against the door, Mackenzie screamed in terror. The shark’s mouth was massive and filled with row upon row of razor-sharp jagged teeth that were marred with dirt and bits of grass. The metal protested with a loud screech as the teeth dragged along the surface of the door before the shark vanished under the earth.

“Go! Go! Go!” Mackenzie shouted.

Johnny had yet to stop screaming.

Shaking violently, Grant settled into his seat, slid the car into gear, and shoved his foot on the accelerator. The hearse rolled forward and out of the cemetery gates. The road was narrow and not well maintained. There were huge potholes and the edges were crumbling. A mix of oak, pecan, and hackberry trees lined the road along with overgrown bushes. The cemetery was visible through the trunks of the trees to one side and a wide-open field was on the other.

“Are we out of the dead spot?” Mackenzie asked. It was difficult to talk. Between screaming and holding her breath in fear, she was a little winded.

“Not yet,” Grant answered tersely, checking his mirrors.

“Can it follow us?”

Grant didn’t answer, the hearse continuing to accelerate.

“Grant! Can it follow us?”

She was answered by the car jolting hard to the right. Having forgotten to refasten her seat belt, she was tossed into Grant, making him tug on the steering wheel. The hearse clipped the bushes along the side of the road, but Grant quickly recovered. With frantic, shaking hands, Mackenzie buckled her seat belt while Grant secured his.

“Johnny, put on your seat belt!” Mackenzie ordered.

The little boy was still screaming.

Twisting around, she saw he was on his knees, gripping the headrest on the rear seat while he watched the giant dorsal fin following the hearse. The dark gray triangular shape slid alongside the car, towering and majestic in its horrific reality.

“Johnny, put on your seat belt!”

The fin edged closer to the hearse. Mackenzie tried to stretch her arm over the back of the seat to grab Johnny, but she couldn’t quite touch him. The shark hit the car again, sending it careening across the road. Grant fought the wheel, struggling to direct the car away from the trees. Johnny toppled over, landing on the floor of the car. The hearse fishtailed for a few seconds before Grant recovered control.

Sobbing, Johnny cowered on the floor. “Make it go away!”

“Get your seat belt on, Johnny,” Mackenzie ordered as she shaped one into existence for the boy to wear. The silvery fin rose up behind the hearse again. “Get on the seat and put it on! Now!”

“He’s doing this,” Grant growled through gritted teeth, his eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror.

Shooting Grant a disapproving look, Mackenzie unlatched her seat belt and leaned over the back of the seat to grab Johnny.

“I’m not doing it,” Johnny sobbed. “I’m not.”

Her gaze kept shifting to the dorsal fin. It glided through the asphalt as though it were water. It even left a long furrow in the road in its wake. The shark skimmed along the surface, its snout churning up the blacktop and dirt layers beneath it. The flat black eyes were visible again and Mackenzie had the eerie feeling of being watched. It was about ten feet behind the hearse and gaining speed.

Snagging Johnny under his arm, she heaved him upward. The seat was shoved into her diaphragm making it hard to breathe, but she was determined to get the little boy secured. Overcome with fear, Johnny wept, his huge sobs wracking his body.

“I don’t want it to eat me!” he wailed.

“It won’t!” Mackenzie’s fingers shook, making it difficult to secure the buckle at Johnny’s waist.

“Mackenzie, it’s about to hit us! Get into your seat!” Grant’s voice was a growl of frustration.

Another quick look revealed that the shark was directly behind the car now, its massive dorsal and tail fins rising above the roof of the hearse.

The shark was even bigger than before, its massive maw opening to close on the back of the hearse.

Mackenzie was so terrified she couldn’t even make a sound. The buckle clicked, locking, just before the shark struck.

The jaws snapped shut, catching the end of the hearse. The window shattered, showering them with glass. Metal groaned as the roof bent inward. The car came to an abrupt stop, momentum propelling Mackenzie into the rear seat headfirst. She landed painfully on the floor, her body flipping over her head to smash into the seat and Johnny. Disoriented, she tried to right herself.

Johnny was beyond sobbing or screaming now. Panic filled his tiny face. He grabbed her arm, helping her up. The scent of urine filled the car along with the smell of dead fish and burning rubber. The wheels squealed, and the engine roared. The vehicle was held captive by the giant shark. As it shook its head violently, the people inside the car were jostled about, and Mackenzie’s head slammed against the window. Her vision swam for a second. The metal frame gave another terrible groan. The ceiling over the spot where coffins once rested collapsed further.

The shark gnawed on the hearse, its huge body thrashing. Mackenzie attempted to regain her balance, but it was nearly impossible. From the front seat Grant was swearing and grunting with anger. Still locked in place by his seat belt, Johnny pawed at her, whimpering, desperate for her to hold him. She knelt on the floor beside him, her arms locked around his small frame. She could not help but gaze at the monstrosity holding the car captive.

If only the massive mouth that filled her vision belonged to an animatronic shark, its teeth foam rubber, and its black predatory eyes simple plastic. She could see past its sharp teeth into its throat and see its gills flexing. She did not want to end up in that mouth.

“Grant, we need to go!” she called out.

“I know that! But we can’t! The boy made the shark! It won’t let us go!”

Johnny shook his head violently. “No, no.”

The shark abruptly released the hearse, and slid back underground. The wheels caught and the hearse limped forward. The steady thumping and jarring ride spoke of the two ruined rear tires. When Grant accelerated the rims threw up sparks.

“Mackenzie, it’s the boy! You have to face the truth! He’s a wraith and he’s feeding off you and me!”

“Shut up, Grant!” Mackenzie shouted. “I have to concentrate!”

Gripping the edge of the leather seat, Mackenzie closed her eyes and poured her will into the car. She imagined it repaired, the wheels in perfect condition and the ceiling intact. A dagger of ice sliced through her brain, but she felt the car lurch forward as the restored tires caught the road. Opening her eyes, she grimly smiled. She couldn’t fight the shark, but she could keep the car running.

“Keep driving, Grant. I’ll keep it maintained.”

“I know you don’t want to accept this, but the boy is a wraith, Mackenzie! He’s the one doing this. We need to oust him so the shark will retreat!”

“I don’t believe that! Not for a second.” She leaned forward, peering at Grant’s profile. Fear and anger dulled his features and made him unattractive. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with strain. “Stop saying it! He’s scared to death back here! And so am I!”

“He’s feeding off of you! You’re allowing this to happen! Why won’t you listen to me? We made an agreement that you would obey me!” Grant struck the steering wheel angrily. “Dammit, Mackenzie, I’m trying to save you!”

The little boy sitting in a pool of his own urine, clinging to her arm with all his might, stared at her with the biggest, darkest eyes she had ever seen. Quakes of fear rippled through his small frame and his eyes were glossy with terror.

“And I’m trying to save all of us,” Mackenzie snarled in return. She created a seat belt and buckled herself into the seat next to the little boy and let him lay claim to her right arm. She pressed her left hand to the seat and fought against her own fears. Grant’s declarations were a godsend in a way. His words were making her angry, therefore freeing her from the paralyzing anxiety.

The hearse rushed along the road at full speed, Grant expertly avoiding the bigger holes in the road. Mackenzie kept a watch for the shark, craning her head, studying the terrain. Maybe they had passed out of range of the massive creature.

The shark surfaced beside the vehicle and swerved, ramming it. The force sent them sliding across the road and into a thicket of bushes. The car plowed through the foliage, the bumpy ride tossing Mackenzie around and slamming her into the door beside her. She kept her hand firmly against the seat, willing the car to mend. Grant jerked the car onto the road and the hearse raced onward.

The shark continued this tactic. It would disappear beneath the ground only to reappear alongside the car before butting it with its head, sending the vehicle spiraling. Keeping the hearse drivable was sapping Mackenzie’s strength and giving her a head-splitting headache, but she resolutely continued restoring the hearse.

“Mackenzie, we can’t take much more of this!” Grant exclaimed, fighting the wheel. The shark struck again, pushing them into the field. The hearse’s wheels churned up the soft earth, struggling to find purchase while the shark circled.

“Hurry!” Mackenzie urged him.

“I’m trying!” Grant reversed the car, trying to get the wheels to grip the ground.

“It’s coming,” Johnny whispered hoarsely. “It’s coming.”

The Great White swam through the field toward them, its head lifting. From the angle it was approaching, if it managed to bite the car, it would trap Johnny under its jaws.

“Grant!” Mackenzie yanked on Johnny’s seat belt. “Grant, move this car!”

“Let it have him!” Grant shouted at her. “He’s the wraith controlling it! It won’t kill him and we’ll be free of the boy’s power.”

“No!” Mackenzie yanked Johnny out of his seat, hauled him into her arms, and huddled against the car door. She was tempted to climb out of the car and run for it, but she knew instinctively they would never make it.

The hearse sluggishly crawled out of the field.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Mackenzie ignored Johnny’s wet bottom and the snot covering his face. She held him protectively, fearing the strike that would put her close to the jaws of the great shark.

The ground near the road was firmer, and the hearse rolled onto the road just as the shark rose up. Grant whipped the wheel about, spinning the car so the shark’s teeth scraped the tailgate, ripping it clean off. Recovering control, Grant U-turned as the shark vanished, the car bouncing over the broken asphalt left behind by its passing.

Mackenzie didn’t bother to repair the tailgate. Johnny stared at her with glazed eyes, his fingers gripping the collar of her jacket. “I won’t leave you,” she promised. A tidal wave of emotion swept over her. She had broken her unspoken promise to Joshua to always protect him and keep him safe. He had died and she had left him alone, buried in his tiny coffin. The boy in her arms was not her son, but he was innocent and alone just like Joshua. She didn’t care what Grant said or thought. In her heart, she knew that the little boy in her arms needed her.

“We can’t keep this up, Mackenzie,” Grant said in a lower, more controlled tone. “You can’t keep the car running forever. The shark is going to get us if we don’t get rid of the wraith.”

“He’s a little boy, Grant.” Her voice sounded ragged and tired. The stabbing pain ripping through her head was not diminishing but growing.

“Please, Mackenzie. You sound so weak. You can’t keep this up. The shark won’t hurt him. I can pull over and we can leave him. He’s using your dead son against you, trying to get your sympathy. Please, see the truth.”

“Keep going!” Mackenzie ordered. “Just keep going.”

“How much longer can you continue, Mackenzie?” Grant said pointedly. “How long?”

“As long as I have to!”

The road ahead was lined with trees, making their passing a lot more treacherous. She wondered if the shark would grow tired of the chase. It wasn’t a real creature, so she realized this was most likely a fallacy. Her eyes throbbed and her head pounded and all she wanted to do was find a safe place to lie down.

When the great shark rose out of the road before them, it was even larger than before. Grant slammed on the brakes, the wheels screeching, but the hearse could not avoid smashing into the maw of the shark. Its teeth drove through the hood, crushing it. Its large snout shattered the windshield. Shaking its head, the shark demolished the front end of the car, destroying the engine and ripping it clear off the chassis.

“Grant!” Mackenzie screamed in terror.

With frantic movements, Grant tore off his seat belt and climbed into the rear seat. Clearly shaken, he swept his dark hair back from his face.

“I’ll fix the car,” Mackenzie said, closing her eyes. Agonizing shards of pain ripped through her head.

“It’s finished. Just throw the boy out. It’s the only way to save ourselves,” Grant urged her. “He’s not real, Mackenzie! Think about it. It’s a little boy with a name similar to your son. He’s conveniently where you awaken and then all of this happens. It’s too much of a coincidence!”

“You’re a bad man,” Johnny mumbled. “A very bad man.”

“Let me do it. I can see you’re attached to him despite what’s going on. Give him to me.” Grant held out his arms.

“No. I can’t believe you’d ask me to do such a thing!”

“He’s not real!”

The shark struck again. This time its teeth punctured the roof above the front seat. Its jaws started to close, crushing the car. Mackenzie threw Johnny over the seat into the very back and wrenched off her seat belt. She felt Grant helping her over before he flopped over behind her. Grant howled in pain as one of the huge teeth raked his leg. The shark tooth had ripped through the fabric of Grant’s trousers and slashed his flesh. The cut wasn’t very deep, but it was bleeding profusely.

The shark sank into the ground, dragging the car with it. The hearse tilted dangerously. The three people were crushed together against the rear seat. Below them the car was a twist of metal in the mouth of the shark.

With her feet planted against the back of the seat, Mackenzie slid up the car floor and strained for the handle to the rear door. Her fingers scrabbled at it, but she couldn’t find purchase. Johnny clung to her waist, his face buried in her stomach. It was growing increasingly difficult to keep her balance, let alone climb. Soon the vehicle would be completely upright, and they would easily fall into the waiting mouth below.

Grant’s hand closed on Johnny’s arm. “I’ll do it, Mackenzie. Just let go of him. Let me save us!”

“No!” Mackenzie shouted, daring to look below her. The shark’s mouth waited for them. She strained to reach the latch, her feet sinking into the seat’s back. Her fingertips kept touching the lever, but she couldn’t get a grip on it.

“We’re going to die because of him!” Grant shouted, tugging on the little boy.

“I won’t let you kill him!”

“Mackenzie, let me save you,” Grant said, his voice fading. His ashen face and dimming eyes spoke of his impending death. He was swiftly bleeding out.

“No! Not like that!”

At her feet, the pool of blood around Grant continued to grow, the white leather covered in bright red. It dripped over the edge of the seat to spot the teeth and throat of the beast dragging the hearse beneath the ground. The windows cracked and split around them, dirt beginning to pour into the dwindling interior of the car.

Horror filled her as Mackenzie realized she was once again going to be buried alive.

CHAPTER 23

The stench of the shark and the sound of grinding metal filled the space around her. In spite of her stark terror, Mackenzie refused to give in to what appeared to be an inevitable fate. Her fingers closed on the latch, and she victoriously pulled it, feeling the mechanism release. Then, to her dismay, she realized she did not have enough leverage to shove the door open.

The car shuddered again and sank deeper into the ground. The shark’s jaws continued to close, slowly compressing the front of the hearse. Grant let out a moan of pain, and she saw he was frighteningly close to the sharp teeth.

Pushing upward with the tips of her fingers, she only managed to open the door another inch.

Johnny’s fingers squashed painfully into her waist and she felt his tear-soaked face pressing harder into her stomach. Desperate, angry, and determined, Mackenzie rose to her toes and thrust upward with all her strength.

The door swung open.

Blinking in surprise, she saw a man standing over them, the afternoon sun behind him. He was clad in a leather jacket, jeans, and heavy Doc Martens.

“Hand me the boy,” the man briskly commanded.

“Lucas?” Johnny whimpered, lifting his face.

The car sank another foot into the ground.

“I’m here, little buddy. Lady, hurry up and hand me the boy!” Lucas knelt, holding out his hands for Johnny.

Mackenzie didn’t hesitate. She kicked Grant’s hand to free Johnny from his grip and shoved the little boy into the hands of their savior. Lucas hoisted Johnny out of the vehicle and set the boy beside him. Reaching into the sinking car, Lucas grabbed Mackenzie’s hand and started to drag her free.

“Wait! Grant first!” Mackenzie protested.

Grant’s hand wrapped around her ankle with a vicelike grip. “Don’t go with him!”

“Let her go, asshole!” Lucas shouted.

“Grant, we’re getting out! Give me your hand!” She bent toward him, hoping he would accept her help and get to his feet before it was too late.

“Don’t go with him! He’ll destroy you!” Grant yanked harder.

“Let me go, Grant, we’ll get you out, too!”

“I’ll protect you, Mackenzie.” Grant’s fingers dug into her flesh. His face was a mask of fury, his eyes blazing with fear, hate, and desire. “He’ll hurt you! I can’t let that happen.”

“Let us get you out, Grant! Give me your hand!”

“He’s a wraith! He stays behind,” Lucas said shortly, drawing a pistol from his belt.

“No! He’s like us!” Mackenzie protested.

“No, he’s not. He’s a wraith.” Lucas fired two shots past Mackenzie’s head into Grant’s chest. Instantly the grip on her ankle released. With a grunt, Lucas jerked her out of the car mere seconds before it slid beneath the blacktop and dragged her from the massive pothole left by the disappearing hearse.

Enraged, Mackenzie kicked and punched Lucas, breaking free from him. “You murdered him!”

“He’s a wraith! They don’t count.” Lucas flipped the safety on his weapon and tucked it into the holster at his waist. His appearance was intense with keen blue eyes, a narrow nose, and sharp cheekbones. It was a strong face that was also a little scary.

Mackenzie was furious. “No, he’s not! He was my friend and he was helping us!”

“He wanted to feed me to the shark,” Johnny whispered to Lucas.

“Yeah, sounds like a stellar guy.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

Mackenzie hated how easily Grant had been wiped from her existence. One second, he had been with her and the next, he was gone. She felt abandoned, afraid, and confused. Her only solace was the knowledge that Grant would return to life. But where? Tears coursing along the curve of her cheek, Mackenzie stared at where the car had vanished into the road. “He thought Johnny was a wraith. He was just scared!”

Lucas shook his head. “No, he wasn’t, lady. He’s a wraith. You may not be able to see it, but I can. I’m a seer. I see the truth about this world. I can see what things really are.”

A chill swept down Mackenzie’s spine as she became aware of the black car idling nearby. It was a Mustang from the sixties by the look of it, with a shiny black paint job and red interior. “You see the world like the wraiths do?” Had Lucas been the person driving the car that had stopped as she hid in the ditch with Grant?

“Yeah. When I want to.”

Grant had said the man in the car wanted to kill them. “You killed him.” Mackenzie edged toward Johnny. She was unarmed, but maybe they could lose Lucas if they ran into the trees.

“The shark was going to eat me!” Johnny said with a frown. “Lucas saved us! That man was bad!”

Pressing her hand to her head, Mackenzie fought through the tumult of emotions, straining to reach the truth. “No, Grant has been saving me since he found me.”

Lucas regarded Mackenzie with frustration. “Your friend made that shark. Your friend wanted to feed Johnny to it. Your friend sounds like a real dickhead.” Giving her a dismissive look, he knelt beside Johnny and touched the boy’s cheek. “You’re okay, little buddy. The shark is gone.”

“Macky didn’t let him kill me,” Johnny said, sniffling, but clearly defending her.

“Macky?” Lucas tilted his head to look at her. “Macky?”

“Mackenzie,” she curtly corrected.

“Mac, huh?”

“Mackenzie,” she amended.

“Mac is a solid name.” Lucas gave her an approving nod, ignoring her correction. “I like people with good solid names. Like Johnny here. He has a great name. Reminds me of Johnny Cash. The Man in Black.”

Struggling to make sense of the events of the day, Mackenzie studied the man who had saved them. Whereas Grant looked cultured and sophisticated, Lucas looked a bit dangerous. His hair was shorn short, his face was a little scruffy, and there was an edge to him that she found disquieting. Yet, Johnny appeared to adore him and Lucas was quite gentle with the child.

“I told her that Grant was bad, but she’s new,” Johnny said to Lucas in a somber voice.

“Yeah. She’s still learning.”

“You don’t know Grant. He was afraid Johnny was a wraith.”

“No, he wanted you to himself. If this Grant guy has been in here for any length of time, he could clearly see that Johnny isn’t a wraith, just like Johnny could see Grant is a wraith. Wraiths have dark auras, just like the living have brighter ones. You die enough in here, you’ll see what I’m talking about.” Lucas openly swept his gaze over her physique. “You’re pretty, young, and sparkling with life. You were his perfect victim. Your friend is what I call an incubus wraith. He wanted to keep you to himself. Those types don’t only feed off your fears, but off your love and desire. They’re all about sex.”

The dream from the night before drifted through her thoughts. Mackenzie felt a twinge of fear and guilt when she briefly considered he might be right.

“I peed myself,” Johnny confessed with a sigh. “That man and his shark scared me and I peed.”

Lucas gave the boy a tweak on the cheek. “That’s no big thing. A shark is pretty damn scary. Here, give me your hands.”

Johnny obeyed.

“Now, repeat after me: no more wet pants.”

Johnny giggled. “That’s stupid.”

“Just do it.”

Flushing red with embarrassment, Johnny whispered, “No more wet pants.”

Lucas mimicked Johnny’s awed face a second later, widening his eyes and forming his mouth into an O. “See? Just like that! No more wet pants.”

Johnny patted his behind. “Yep. All dry.”

“No we can get out of here and far away from that jerkoff,” Lucas said, hugging Johnny.

The scene was surprisingly sweet. She didn’t expect someone who looked like Lucas to be so at ease with Johnny. She was fairly certain that Lucas was the man who had pulled over on the side of the road the day before and who had also rescued her from Tildy. Her instincts told her that Johnny was not a wraith, therefore she wasn’t about to run off and leave the child with Lucas. She had to protect Johnny.

“The shark could never catch us in that car.” Johnny was obviously rebounding from the terrifying episode.

“How did you find us, Lucas?” Mackenzie’s tone was brisk, her anger still boiling.

“Like I said, I’m a seer. I saw a major disruption in this area. I’ve been looking for Johnny, so I drove over and saw the shark taking out the hearse. I didn’t know Johnny was in there though. Or you. I just saw that someone real was inside.”

“Like the Lone Ranger. Rescuing people,” Johnny said with an affectionate grin.

“Something like that,” Lucas said, sadness in his eyes. “I lost Johnny last night, so I’m glad I found him again. I was worried about him being on his own. I’m glad he found you.”

Johnny looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry I didn’t obey.”

“Me, too,” Lucas said somberly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“I woke up in a graveyard. It was scary. Macky killed a zombie in the graveyard. The bad one from Night of the Living Dead. She bashed his head in with a big rock.” Johnny smiled at Mackenzie proudly.

Standing, Lucas studied her a bit more thoughtfully. “Pretty and badass. I’m impressed.”

Mackenzie ignored him, her eyes shifting to where Grant had vanished along with the shark and the car. “Where is he now? Where will he come back?”

“He’s a wraith. He can show up anywhere he wants.” Lucas ushered Johnny toward the car. “But I suggest we leave before he recovers and decides to get territorial again. You know, beyond the whole shark thing.”

“Are you sure he’s a wraith?” If Grant was a wraith then everything she had endured became even more heinous.

“I can see it. The same way I can still see the remnants of his energy covering your eyes and seeping into your heart. He’s kept you afraid since he found you, hasn’t he? Consoled you in the bad times? Made you depend on him? Maybe made you feel like he needed you?” Lucas hesitated. “I’m sorry, Mac. I am. But you’re damn lucky his jealousy streak got the best of him when you took in Johnny and that his possessiveness literally bit him in the ass. You’ve escaped him. Now we need to get the hell out of here.”

Unease and anger were a volatile mix inside of Mackenzie. She wanted to defend Grant, but the words felt empty. Her mind gathered together all her memories from the last few days. Moments when Grant had been possessive, overly affectionate, and even seductive. The dream from the night before haunted her. If Lucas was right, it had been no simple sex dream. It had been something more insidious. She could still remember the heaviness of Grant’s body and the thickness of his cock inside her. Feelings of violation and disgust filled her. Overwhelmed, she ran to the side of the road and gagged.

“Macky?”

“Johnny, get in the car,” Lucas ordered.

Mackenzie retched. Her stomach was empty, so it was merely liquid. Nausea made her head swim and she felt a scream building within her. The crunch of Lucas’s boots on the road announced his approach.

“Mac, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so flippant.” There was an unexpected gentleness to his tone. “I understand how difficult this must be for you. Especially if you have feelings for him.”

“He was my friend,” Mackenzie answered. “That’s all.”

“I know you want to believe he’s not a wraith, but I can see the truth of this world and its inhabitants. I can see that you’ve died only once in this world. I can see that Johnny has died ten times.” Squatting next to her, Lucas gazed solemnly at her. “I’m sorry about Grant. I really am. Were you with him long?”

“I’ve only been with him two days. He found me right after I came through a dead spot.” Mackenzie felt scared, vulnerable, and somehow guilty. “He helped me out. Showed me how things work here.”

“It’s what they do. They friend you, seduce you, pull you into their web, then slowly drain the life out of you until you’re what they are.”

Tears blinded her and Mackenzie angrily wiped them away. “He made me feel safer. Protected.”

Lucas nodded. “I know.”

Mackenzie felt sickened at the thought of being deceived by something as horrible as Grace. She still remembered the hideous sharklike mouth and wondered if Grant had one, too. “Maybe it wasn’t Grant today. Maybe it was another wraith pretending to be him.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I want to.” Though Mackenzie didn’t want to fully embrace the truth, she suspected Lucas was right. It all fit together too perfectly. Grant’s annoyance at her taking in Tildy and Johnny spoke volumes. He’d been adamant that she stay away from Lucas, a man who had actually saved her. Grant had attempted to isolate her.

“But you don’t, do you?”

Mackenzie didn’t answer. She attempted to stand, but wobbled. Lucas cupped her elbow and lifted her to her feet. The adrenaline rush was gone and she felt weakened in the aftermath. Dropping his hand, he stepped back, giving her space. In the car Johnny watched from the backseat.

“Let’s get out of here. This area is still flaring up. I think lover-boy may be on his way back.”

“If he’s coming back, maybe it’s because he’s returning to life like I did. Maybe you’re wrong.…”

Lucas shot her a look that was both irritated and sympathetic.

Though a part of her wanted to stay and wait for Grant to reappear so she could find out the truth, she knew that idea was foolhardy. All that Lucas had said cast a new light on everything she’d experienced and revealed some ugly truths she hated accepting. If not for the dream, maybe she wouldn’t believe Lucas, but she could still remember it vividly. If Grant really was a wraith, their best chance for survival at the moment was to go with their rescuer. Maybe it was unwise, but Lucas’s camaraderie with the boy had softened her anger at him. She really had no choice but to go with Lucas since Johnny was already in the car and waiting.

Together they walked toward the car, their boot heels thudding against the asphalt. The overcast sky and late-afternoon sun gave their surroundings a dreary appearance. The light breeze was cool and gentle against her heated face, and she was glad she was wearing her jacket. She had lost her purse in the hearse, and the loss felt momentous. Joshua’s blanket and her book of lists were gone now.

Lucas opened the passenger door before darting around the front of the car to slide behind the steering wheel. The car doors banged shut once they were seated and the engine fiercely roared. Lucas shifted gears and punched the accelerator. The car shimmied slightly on the loose dirt and gravel tossed up from the wheels. They caught traction and the car sped past the place where the hearse and Grant had vanished.

“I told you this car is cool,” Johnny said, grinning. The gaps in his teeth were endearing, speaking of his transition from being a small child to a young adolescent.

“It really is,” Mackenzie agreed.

“I made it myself. From memory. Not bad, huh?” Lucas patted the dashboard proudly.

Mackenzie stared at her dirty hands, slowly running the edge of her thumbnail under her other fingernails to clean them. It made her uncomfortable that she was wondering if all Grant had told her was even true. “So the car is like a dream palace?”

“This whole world is the place of dreams and nightmares made manifest. And just like your dreams, this world can be anything you want it to be. Most of it is pretty mundane because most people are not that imaginative, but there are some places that are completely awe-inspiring.” Lucas proudly rubbed the steering wheel. “This is my dream. A 1964½ Mustang. The first ever made. When I was a kid I studied manuals about this baby and clipped pictures out of magazines. I even went to a classic car show when I was ten just to see one.”

“This is the coolest car ever!”

“Absolutely!” Lucas agreed.

Mackenzie studied the interior of the car, impressed by its aesthetic. “So you did this from memory?”

“Yep. Not bad, huh?”

“It’s really amazing, honestly.” She noticed several maps folded on the backseat marked with different colors of highlighters and snagged them. Shuffling through them, she noticed neat lines of notes written in pen. “What’s this?”

“I’m looking for a way out,” Lucas answered. “That’s about a year of work right there.”

Mackenzie read a few of the notations. They included names of people, dates, building descriptions, and even addresses. Flipping through them, she noticed one notation in Arizona. The names Jared and Ted were written in neat script.

“You met Ted and Jared,” she said in an awed voice.

“Yeah, about a year ago near El Paso. Cool guys. They were heading toward the East Coast. You know them?”

“I met them last night. They took shelter with me and Grant. There were other people with them.” Mackenzie hesitated, her tongue moistening her lips. “I figured out that one of the women was a wraith. It all went to hell, and I died.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough. And terrifying.”

“I definitely don’t want to do it again.” Mackenzie studied the maps closely. “These notations. What do they mean?”

“They’re locations where people entered a dead spot.” Lucas tapped the note she had been looking at. “It’s the names of the people I interviewed, where they entered, and the date. I’ve been looking for a pattern.”

Mackenzie flipped through more maps and found one of Los Angeles. There were plenty of entries around it, but none were Grant’s name. “Have you found one?”

His smile fading slightly, Lucas shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve resorted to traveling from one dead spot to the next hoping that the doors to both worlds are open. But, if there is a pattern, I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“If we get out, then I can go home,” Johnny said. “My mom is going to be so sore at me.”

Lucas and Mackenzie exchanged looks. Lucas wagged his head no. “Hey, buddy. Do you like chocolate?”

“Uh-huh!”

Lucas fished a candy bar out of the pocket of his leather jacket and handed it to the kid. Without asking, he handed one to Mackenzie, too.

Ravenous, she didn’t think twice about tearing open the wrapper and consuming it.

“Try not to get chocolate on the seats,” Lucas said, grinning.

“I won’t!” Johnny cried.

“I meant Mac. She’s like a chocolate monster up here.”

In spite of everything, Mackenzie smiled. “Gee, thanks.”

“I love chocolate. And hamburgers. And hot dogs,” Johnny informed them. “And milk shakes.”

Finishing the candy, Mackenzie crumpled the wrapper. Lucas extended his hand and she dropped it into his palm. He closed his hand and when he unfurled his fingers, a fresh new candy bar rested upon it. He tossed it at her and she caught it.

“Wow.” She was stunned.

Lucas smirked. “In this world, anything is possible.”

Again, she realized Grant had not told her the truth. Cars could run in this world and a dead spot wasn’t required to shape things.

“Where are we going? I don’t want to go back to the house with the zombies!” Johnny called out from his perch in the backseat.

“No worries, little buddy. We’re going to a motel. It even has a restaurant. We can have hamburgers or pizza, or whatever you want.”

Returning to the maps, Mackenzie was awed by how many names were scrawled on them. Around a few dead spots, multiple names were written. “Some spots are more active, huh?”

“High-population areas.”

Searching for the area where she had entered, she was disappointed to see it was empty. “I came in here.” She tapped the map.

“When we get to the motel, we’ll add your info.”

“I already told him about the scary house that made me come here.” Johnny’s voice was somber. “I miss my brother.”

“I know, Johnny.” Lucas’s face shadowed with sorrow. “I miss people, too.”

“Me, too,” Mackenzie agreed.

Glancing at the side mirror, Mackenzie saw the road unspooling behind them, empty of sharks, cars, or anything other than asphalt.

CHAPTER 24

The motel ended up being the old-fashioned type with individual bungalows for visitors. Mackenzie was relieved when Lucas fixed one of the small buildings with the snap of his fingers, much to Johnny’s delight, and escorted them inside. Mackenzie’s head was still throbbing from restoring the hearse and the thought of rebuilding anything made her wince.

Two full-size beds covered in comforters sporting a distinctly western look stood side by side beneath paintings of Native Americans hunting on the open plains and cowboys riding along caravans. A shallow nook held a small table and two chairs.

“Not the fanciest place, but it’ll do.” Lucas smiled with satisfaction.

“I like it. It has cowboys and Indians,” Johnny said with satisfaction.

A black-and-white television sat on the dresser, but Lucas touched it and turned it into a flat screen.

“Now it’s fancy,” Mackenzie said, winking at Johnny.

“I like to show off,” Lucas admitted.

“It looks like it’s from a spaceship.” Johnny touched the screen in awe. “I like it.”

Lucas studied the room. “If I remember correctly there is a rollaway bed in one of the other units. I can drag that in here for you, little buddy.”

“Why not make one?” Mackenzie asked.

“It’s not worth spending the energy on something that already exists,” Lucas answered with a shrug. “Less drain on restoring than making.”

Flopping onto a bed, Mackenzie stared at the ceiling. Her mind felt like a wasteland, empty and devoid of life. It was as if all the emotions surrounding the revelations of the day had sapped her energy. Though Mackenzie was increasingly at ease with Lucas, she was also still shaken. Upon reflection Mackenzie had to admit that Grant had been very controlling. Lucas, meanwhile, seemed much more interested in entertaining the little boy and making sure they were comfortable and safe than bossing Mackenzie around.

“Johnny, I think you and I should go get some food from the café and let Mac freshen up.”

A door opened nearby and she could hear Lucas shuffling about. “Okay, the bathroom is set up, Mac.”

Turning her head, she saw Lucas setting fresh towels and Hello Kitty pajamas on the end of the bed.

“Did you make those?” She propped herself on her elbows and regarded him skeptically.

“Not a Hello Kitty fan, huh?”

She rolled her eyes.

Touching the tank top and drawstring pants set, Lucas said, “How about My Little Pony?”

Mackenzie lifted an eyebrow.

“Ah, I get it. You’re a Disney Princess girl.”

“I think I’m going to punch you in the face,” Mackenzie said, but she felt a smile creeping onto her lips.

“Wonder Woman! She’s Wonder Woman!” Johnny bounced on the bed enthusiastically.

The pajamas shifted in appearance. The pants were now blue with stars and the tank top was red with the golden eagle. Mackenzie thought the set looked cute.

“How’s that?”

Mackenzie snagged the pajamas and looked at the label. “Ha. Ha.”

The label read: DEAD SPOT DESIGNS.

Her smile appeared to satisfy Lucas. “Okay, Mac, we’re getting food. What do you want?”

“Hot dogs! Hamburgers!” Johnny said, continuing to jump on the bed.

“Pizza. Extra pepperoni.” She was incredibly hungry.

“Okay. We’re on it.” Lucas snagged Johnny by the arm and swung him onto his back. The little boy hung on, excited to be on a new adventure. “Ready, little buddy?”

“Hi-ho, Silver, away!”

“I take that as a yes.” Lucas playfully galloped to the door, opened it, and disappeared outside.

The door shut behind them, the room feeling quite empty without all the boyish energy filling it. Gathering the things Lucas had made, Mackenzie entered the small bathroom and was surprised to find the bath running. Bubbles foamed on the surface and the sweet smell of lavender filled the room. Sliding off her clothes, she gratefully sank into the hot water. Flashes of the shark flitted through her mind, but she closed them off. She wanted to soak in the bubbles and not think of anything. The small white bathroom was a sanctuary from the insanity of the last few days and the hot sudsy water relaxed her aching body.

Even though she was determined not to think of Grant, her mind drifted over their journey. Lucas’s assertions about Grant made a terrible sort of sense. Hot tears dripped into the slowly cooling bathwater. If Lucas was right, this world had taken much more from her than she had originally realized.

Yet, it had given her something unexpected. She was beginning to understand she was much stronger than she’d given herself credit for. Grant hadn’t been able to completely take control of her, though he’d tried. Upon reflection it was clear how hard he’d tried to make her dependent on him and isolate her. If Grant was an incubus wraith and wanted her to himself, he must have been furious over Tildy. He’d known Grace was a wraith and allowed her into their haven with a purpose. Most likely he wanted her to be terrified of ever taking in other people again. No wonder he’d been so irate when he’d found her with Johnny.

Her emotions surrounding Grant bubbled beneath the layer of her exhaustion and she didn’t want to give them attention until she felt ready to deal with the fallout. Again, she’d been stung by betrayal by a knight in shining armor. First Tanner and now Grant. It was time to stop waiting to be rescued and do it herself. How she was going to do that exactly she wasn’t quite sure yet.

Mackenzie was glad for the time alone, but when Lucas returned with Johnny in his wake, their arms filled with all sorts of fabulous fast food, she was happy to see them.

“You look like Wonder Woman!” Johnny exclaimed as she slid onto a chair next to the table.

“I just need a magic lasso and a tiara.” Mackenzie gave him a wide grin, delighted to see the boy enjoying himself.

“Make it for her, Lucas!”

“Later. First we eat! Ta-da!” Lucas flipped open the pizza box to reveal a piping hot pizza pie made to her order. He set a beer on the table, popped the top, and slid it over to her.

“A feast for kings and queens!” Mackenzie inhaled deeply, the scent making her even hungrier. It was the first time in months she had actually craved food.

“For cowboys, too! I got a hot dog with extra onions,” Johnny informed her, showing off the foot-long monstrosity covered in onions, chili, and mustard.

“Wow. A kid who likes onions. I didn’t think those existed.” Mackenzie snagged a piece of pizza and bit off the end.

Johnny giggled and made a mess eating the hot dog, smearing chili all over his face, much to her amusement. Though she’d just met the little boy, he had a firm hold of her heartstrings. A bit of guilt niggled at her, but she didn’t allow it to take root. Johnny needed her, and taking care of him fulfilled a yearning inside her.

The conversation while they ate was lighthearted and steered away from the earlier traumatic events. Lucas and Johnny discussed the Lone Ranger and comic book heroes. Mackenzie ate heartily enjoying the banter and feeling more relaxed than she had in ages. The illusion of a happy family meal was both painful and consoling. She would never experience it with Joshua and Tanner, but she recognized that the future had yet to be written. Once she escaped the dead spots, there was still hope for a better life. She wouldn’t even allow herself to consider not escaping, or despair would drown her again.

Later, after Johnny took a bath, he sat on one of the beds wearing pajamas and a robe that Lucas created watching the old black-and-white episodes of The Lone Ranger. While Johnny was occupied with his favorite television show, Mackenzie and Lucas sat side by side to review the maps Lucas had collected and discuss his observations.

“So each time I run into a real person, I try to talk to them about the dead spot they entered and get the details. Not everyone wants to talk to me, but they often do. Especially if I help them out in some way.”

“With your magic powers,” Mackenzie said with a slight smile.

Lucas chuckled. “Something like that.”

“You stopped on a country road yesterday looking for someone, didn’t you?” It had been a question that was on the tip of her tongue for the last hour. She needed to know the truth.

Regarding her solemnly, he nodded. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I heard the car and Grant pushed me into the ditch.”

“And covered you with his body?”

Mackenzie found it difficult to answer, her throat suddenly constricting with emotion.

“Johnny and I were cruising through the area when I saw the brightness of a living person. We pulled over, but I couldn’t find it. It had just vanished. There was a lot of activity in the area, so it was hard to see clearly. I must have missed Grant’s form in all the muck.”

“He said you were a killer.”

Lucas snorted. “Yeah. Right. He would.”

If she hadn’t listened to Grant, what would have happened? Would Grant have revealed himself earlier?

“Mac … you okay?”

“I just wonder what would have happened if I’d pushed him off me. Would I still have died?” Though her death had been terrible, her thoughts drifted to the dream. Had Grant seduced her in her sleep because he was afraid of someone else taking her away?

“It’s always dangerous here.”

“Grant let people into our haven last night. One of them was a wraith. He would have known that, right?”

Lucas nodded.

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, I can only guess, but I suppose so you’d be so traumatized by what went down that you’d be afraid of others and stick with only him.”

“He let me die,” Mackenzie muttered, anger burning in her gut.

Lucas leaned toward her, his gaze filled with compassion. “Yeah. He was at the graveyard waiting for you.”

“But I wasn’t alone. I had Johnny with me. That must have really fucked up his plans.”

“And so he brought the shark.”

Sorting through all she’d suffered since entering the dead spot, Mackenzie could see now how much Grant had been manipulating the world around her to keep her afraid. Maybe he’d even clouded her mind. Away from him, her thoughts felt much clearer and she finally felt able to obtain an emotional balance she couldn’t before.

Tapping the maps with a fingertip, Mackenzie decided to change the subject. “Are there a lot of us?”

“Well, yes and no. We don’t age in here, so there are people from centuries ago wandering about. But a lot of us also end up wraiths. Also, the conditions have to be just right for someone to enter the dead spots, so we’re not as numerous as you’d think.”

“Grant said the door has to be open in both worlds.”

“There’s more to it, or otherwise people would be stumbling in here more often. Maybe it’s an emotional thing, or being a certain frame of mind that allows you to slip through.” Lucas lifted a shoulder. “Or none of the above. I don’t know. Most likely no one knows.”

“So once the people you meet give you their information, you just keep going?” Mackenzie couldn’t resist asking. She’d been wondering what Lucas intended to do with her and Johnny. He was a man on a mission and she wasn’t sure he’d want to be bogged down.

“I’ve traveled with a few people, but they often get tired of the quest and bail. It can get really disheartening when you keep coming up empty. People want immediate results. When that doesn’t happen, they move on. A lot of times they often decide just to go home.”

“Go home?”

“Ever wonder about ghosts? They’re trapped people like us haunting their old homes, hoping to somehow reach the real world.”

“That’s a creepy thought.”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Sadly, yeah.” Mackenzie pointed to a bright pink spot on one of the maps. “So what’s that?”

“A dream palace. I mark those in pink. That particular dream palace belongs to a teenage girl with a princess obsession. At some point, someone coined the name dream palace for impenetrable havens, and everyone stuck in here learns it eventually just like they do the other terms.”

“‘Wraiths,’ ‘shadows,’ ‘dead spots,’ ‘shapers,’ ‘seers,’ ‘havens’…”

“Exactly. Kinda like learning a new language, huh? Did Grant tell you about the dream palaces?” Lucas cocked his head, staring at her curiously.

“No. Not deliberately. A woman I met mentioned the dream palaces before she … died.” Mackenzie hesitated. It hurt to think of Tildy. “Last night Ted also said something about them before the wraith that was traveling with his group tore off his head.”

“Tore off his head?”

Mackenzie slightly shrugged. “Yeah.”

“And you’ve only been in here three days?” Lucas raised both his eyebrows.

“Have I had it easy? Or really rough?” She almost dreaded the answer.

“I’d say you’ve had a very intense induction. Then again, a wraith found you right away. He got really lucky. You, on the other hand, not so lucky.”

Mackenzie crossed her legs, uncomfortable with the sting between her thighs at the thought of Grant. Lucas’s speculative gaze made her uneasy. She felt as though he could peer into her thoughts and see her discomfort. Returning his attention to the maps, he pointed at one pink circle.

“Anyway, this dream palace is where my friend Seth lives quite happily with the apparition of his dead wife that he created. They’re a really sweet couple.”

“Dead wife?”

“Yeah. He created an apparition of Rosita. He missed her.”

Mackenzie could understand how terrible loss could be. Immediately she thought of how wonderful it would be to hold a living Joshua in her arms while Tanner doted on both of them. Uneasy, she pushed the thought away. It felt like madness.

“Seth lets me stay there when I pass by. He doesn’t often let people in, but he knows about me.”

“That you’re a seer?”

“That and also the fact that I’m pretty much immune to this world.”

“Why is that?”

With a grin that flashed his perfectly white teeth, Lucas said, “Because I’m not afraid of anything.”

“I call bullshit.” Mackenzie gave him a doubtful look.

“No, honestly. My whole life I’ve not been afraid of anything. Instead, I get curious. I want to know what’s the truth of the situation.”

“So you weren’t afraid of the giant shark?”

“That giant shark was the manifestation of a wraith.” Lucas gave her a jaunty smirk.

“It still could eat you,” Mackenzie pointed out.

“True. But I would rather figure out how to make sure it doesn’t.”

“You’re weird.” The teasing words slipped out easily. The peaceful aura of the motel room was soothing and she was more relaxed than she’d been in months.

“I’m from Austin. What can I say?”

“‘Keep Austin Weird,’ huh?”

“I had that bumper sticker and the T-shirt.” He winked at her.

“If you’re from Austin, I guess that explains all the ink.” Mackenzie had noted the ornate tattoos covering both of his arms and peeking out from beneath the collar of his black T-shirt when he had taken off his leather jacket. “So were you a tattoo artist or something?”

“I was the owner of a mechanic shop,” Lucas answered.

“That explains the car.”

“The car is awesome, isn’t it?”

Mackenzie chuckled while nodding her head. “Yes, it is. It suits your whole bad-boy look.”

“I’m so not a bad boy,” Lucas assured her. “I’m one of the good guys. I just look bad.”

“So, bad boy, how did you end up here? In this world?”

“Want the full story? Or the short one?”

Craving to know Lucas a bit better since her life was now entangled with his, Mackenzie said, “The full story.”

“Well, I opened my own business in Austin after I graduated from the University of Texas and did what I loved most, which is work on cars. I also competed in the amateur dirt bike circuit, drank way too much beer on weekends, dated lots of awesome women, took my mom to church on Sundays, and baked really good macaroni and cheese from scratch. Then the woman I thought I was going to marry broke up with me, told me she was pregnant with someone else’s kid, and moved in with my best friend. So I left my business in the care of my office manager and hit the road as a roadie for an up-and-coming Austin rock band.”

“That sounds incredibly dramatic.”

“It really was. I figured I was unmarried, in my early thirties, reasonably good-looking, so why not?” Lucas spread out his arms dramatically.

Mackenzie laughed despite the seriousness of his story.

“You don’t think I’m good-looking?” Lucas feigned hurt.

“You’re okay,” she said, feeling a bit shy all at once.

“Nah. I’m good-looking. Right, Johnny?”

Johnny shrugged. “You look like James Dean. Mom says James Dean was handsome before he died.”

“See? I’m good-looking.”

“I think you’re full of yourself.” Mackenzie was beginning to like Lucas and not just for how he was with Johnny. He was imposing at first, but his manner was very warm and light. Feeling at ease in his presence was surprising, but also welcome. It was nice not to feel tied up in knots.

“That’s true, too.” Lucas flipped a map over and pointed to a big red mark. “I entered there.”

“New Orleans?”

“I was pretty drunk, looking for a place to pee, and I stepped into the doorway of an abandoned building.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Yeah. Where did you enter?” Lucas picked up a pen and pulled the map of Texas toward him.

It was unexpectedly easy to share her story with Lucas. She even backtracked enough to explain the death of Joshua and Tanner leaving. When tears sprang into her eyes, Lucas lightly pressed her hand with his, but almost immediately withdrew it. She tried to keep her tone low to keep the more gruesome details from Johnny, but the little boy was completely engrossed in his television show. He obviously didn’t care about the adult conversation.

“So Grant ran for the door of the café the moment he saw you?”

“Yeah. He said not to let it shut.” Combing her fingers through her drying hair, she replayed the scene in her head. She remembered how Grant had slammed his hands against the door in anguish. “He was very upset when he found it was closed. He banged on it.”

“Are you sure he didn’t actually close it to trap you?”

Mackenzie licked her lips. Doubt ate at her, and she squirmed in her chair. “He seemed genuinely upset.”

“Then what happened?”

The more details she related to Lucas, the more difficult it became to believe that so much had happened in such a short period of time. It felt like an eternity since she had entered the dead spot and found herself trapped, yet it was only three full days.

“So when you were heading back to the café, you thought you got some cell phone reception?” Lucas gazed at her steadily, his expression unreadable.

Mackenzie nodded. “Yes. I thought it was my mother telling me the police were at the café. But I never found out because of the attack.”

“Shit,” Lucas grunted, shaking his head. “That fucker.”

“What is it?”

“I think you’re right. You did get reception because the damn door was open! The police probably really were looking for you right then. If you’d made it to the café there’s a good chance you would’ve gotten out, but he stopped you.”

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, and Mackenzie pressed her hand to her brow. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

She expected Lucas to protest, but instead he nodded. “Yeah, we should all get some sleep. We can continue tomorrow before we get on the road to the next dead spot.”

“Do you still want us with you?”

With a shrug, Lucas said, “Sure. Why not? The kid’s cool. You’re pretty smart and tough. You want out of here, too, right?”

“Absolutely!”

“Then I say we keep going as a team. If you want to come along, that is.”

Scooting her chair from the table, Mackenzie said, “I want out of here. I’ll come with you. I’m sure Johnny will, too. He loves the car.”

“The car is cool,” Johnny agreed with a grin.

Lucas looked prideful and satisfied with this assessment of his vehicle. “Yeah, it is.”

“Can you make me Silver?” Johnny pointed at the show.

Lucas slid to his feet and yawned. “Why would you want a horse when you can ride in my car?”

“Can I drive your car?”

“When you’re sixteen.”

Johnny frowned. “I never get to do the cool stuff.”

Mackenzie was tempted to point out that Johnny was technically older than both of the adults in the room, but realized it might upset the little boy. Johnny reluctantly turned off The Lone Ranger and crawled onto the rollaway bed Lucas had found in another unit and restored earlier. Mackenzie tucked him in and lightly drew her fingers over the covers. She hadn’t been consciously thinking about Joshua’s blanket, but the comforter transformed into a larger version of it, complete with the embroidered “J” in one corner.

Johnny ran his hand over the softness. “I like this.”

Tears in her eyes, but a refreshing happiness in her heart, Mackenzie said, “I’m glad. I made one for my little boy, too.”

“The one that died?”

She should have known he was listening to her conversation with Lucas. Kids were good eavesdroppers. “Yes, the one that died.”

Tracing a flower, Johnny looked somber. “I died.”

“I know, but you’re back now.”

“Can your baby come back, too?”

The question was too close for comfort. “No. No. He died in the other world.”

“So he’s in heaven.”

“I think so.”

“Then I can have his blanket and it’s okay.”

Mackenzie dragged one finger over some of the embroidery. The flowers transformed into horseshoes and cactuses. “It’s your blanket now, Johnny.”

With a smile, Johnny said, “Thanks, Macky.”

Hugging the child and kissing his cheek, Mackenzie fought to keep her tears contained. She’d never tuck Joshua into bed at night, but she could make sure Johnny was safe in this bizarre world. “Goodnight, Johnny.”

Once she retired to her bed, Lucas spent a few minutes with the boy, talking in a voice too low for Mackenzie to make out words. She could hear Johnny giggling and it was a comforting sound.

Settled under the covers, Mackenzie couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed since the night before. Instead of sharing quiet moments with Grant, she was with a strange man with tattoos and a little boy with a Lone Ranger obsession.

Despite her best efforts, her mind drifted back to the dream she had experienced before the world had gone to hell. Had it been just a dream? Or something much more insidious?

Sleep eventually claimed her, but until she finally drifted off, Mackenzie wept in silence.

CHAPTER 25

“Mackenzie.”

Drawn from her hazy dreams, Mackenzie gradually opened her eyes. A halo of blue light seeped around the edges of the curtains covering the motel windows. The eerie illumination gave the room a hazy, surreal atmosphere.

“Mackenzie!” a voice called out again, hushed, yet urgent.

Flipping off the covers, Mackenzie sat up in bed and blinked the sleep from her eyes. On the rollaway bed, Johnny slept on his stomach, the yellow blanket bunched at his feet, his mouth open and slightly drooling. Across from her Lucas was spread-eagled on the other bed, fully clothed and snoring.

If neither one of them was awake and calling her …

Mackenzie pivoted toward the window. Cautiously, she tip-toed to the front of the room and peeled back the edge of the curtain.

Outside, Grant stood away from the edge of the bungalow’s small porch. His dark curly hair looked glossy and very black in the moonlight and his gray suit was immaculate on his tall, muscular frame. In his hands he clutched her purse. Spotting her in the window, he called out to her again, a smile upon his lips.

Nervous flutters in her tummy and the anxious trembling of her hands said it all. She was afraid of Grant now. Though a small piece of her still clung to the hope that he was not the incubus wraith Lucas had described, she felt fear crawling out of her soul to strangle her.

“Mackenzie!” Grant called out again.

Clenching her hands, she steeled herself. She would not shirk from Grant or any other monster. If this was the world of dreams and nightmares and she was a shaper, she could and would defend herself. She was sick and tired of feeling like a victim. It was time for her to stand up for herself. Seizing hold of the doorknob, she opened the door and scooted outside.

The boards were smooth and cool beneath her bare feet and the wind chilled her as it lashed her body and whipped her hair about her face.

“You look so beautiful,” Grant said in awe.

“How did you find me?” she asked boldly, trying not to give in to her wilder emotions, but to remain calm and resolved.

Grant stepped closer, but his loafers remained firmly on the ground a few feet beyond the edge of the revitalized bungalow’s porch. “The car.” He motioned to Lucas’s fancy car gleaming in the moonlight. “I saw it from the road.”

“We’re miles away from where the shark killed you, Grant.” Mackenzie’s voice was more accusatory than she had planned it to be, but she was hurt and angry. Maybe she had cared more for him than she had realized. Seeing him now it was difficult to believe he was a wraith. Maybe she had put all the pieces together wrong. Hadn’t she seen his sorrow and pain throughout their short journey? His loneliness and compassion? “How did you find me?”

“Maybe my final thoughts of you before I died drew me here. I resurrected just a short distance away.” He held out her purse. “When I awoke I had this in my hands. In my final moments, I used what was left of my spark to bring it with me when I returned. I know it’s important to you.”

Mackenzie stared at the purse with longing. It held Joshua’s little blanket, his photos, and her journal. She was tempted, but Grant was far enough from the porch that she would have to step off to claim it. She wasn’t certain, but she suspected there was an invisible boundary around the restored bungalow that she should not cross.

“Please, take it. I know the importance of what’s inside.”

Running her hands through her hair, Mackenzie fought to clear her thoughts. “You found me at the cemetery, too.” The rest of the pieces were falling together faster now, the puzzle picture becoming clearer. “No one else who died that night was there. Just you and me.”

Grant stared into her eyes with an earnest expression. “Mackenzie, I love you. I know that hearing that sounds ridiculous, but in this world, every good thing I discover is worth cherishing. You’re a wonderful, beautiful woman. I want to protect you and keep you far from the monsters of this world. I have always been the kind of man who knows what he wants and needs when he sees it. I look at you and I know I need you. I want you.” Taking a small step closer, he lingered at the base of the stairs.

“You don’t know me!” Mackenzie protested, but she felt unsure of his motives now that he had spoken in his defense. Confusion began to muddle her thoughts, making the puzzle pieces in her mind start to disconnect and scatter.

“I know you’re a woman who has lost too much and deserves good things. Not this death and destruction, but a dream palace filled with love. I can’t make one for you, but I can help you create one. We can live in it together, Mackenzie. We can be happy.” Grant’s eyes shimmered in the moonlight. The passion in his voice stirred within her the need to be loved and wanted. “I can help you be safe in this world. We can find a way to be happy. I know you want a child again. That little boy wraith and his minion wouldn’t have been able to take you from me if you didn’t want to be a mother so badly. We can have a child, Mackenzie. I have always wanted to be a father. We can create a perfect life in this world.”

Mackenzie’s hand closed around the porch railing to steady herself. Grant’s words painted a beautiful picture that she craved. She missed the unity, love, and beauty of the first year of her marriage to Tanner. The dream of a blissful life was alluring.

“Grant, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me truthfully.”

“Always,” he said, his voice rich with yearning.

“When I went to sleep the other night, did you come to me while I slept? Did you…” The words clogged her throat.

“Did I what?” His eyes did not stray from her face.

The memory of the dream both aroused and sickened her. “I was dreaming about Tanner making love to me, but it was all wrong in the end. It felt different and…”

“Are you asking me if I made love to you?” Grant tilted his head, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“No, I’m asking you if you raped me,” Mackenzie finally managed to say.

Grant extended his hand and lightly brushed the air over her fingers where they rested against the rail. Her skin bubbled with gooseflesh. “I would never do anything against your will. You let me in, remember?”

Mackenzie, let me in. Before it’s too late. Let me in, Tanner had whispered in the dream.

Horror filled Mackenzie. “Oh, my God!”

“You need me like I need you. Think of all the times I saved you.”

“You tricked me!” Mackenzie shouted.

“No, Mackenzie, we made love,” Grant replied. “You knew it was me, didn’t you?”

There had been moments when the dream had seemed wrong, when Tanner had blurred into Grant. Had she known? Mackenzie’s thoughts again devolved into chaos.

“Always playing the goddamn hero, aren’t we, Grant? Trying to be all heroic so the damsel in distress falls for you? You’re a fucking waste of space,” Tanner’s voice said cruelly. He sauntered out of the night and glared at Grant.

Mackenzie stepped away from the rail, frightened by Tanner’s appearance. Every time he appeared things tended to go horribly wrong.

“Go away!” Grant ordered. “You’re not wanted here. You’re an illusion.”

“Oh, I’m a little bit more than that, aren’t I, Mac?” Tanner was clad in jeans and a tight T-shirt. His muscled arms crossed over his chest as he stood with his feet set apart. “I’m what she believes me to be. And right now, she believes that I can see through your fucking bullshit lies. You just want to get into her pants. You’re a sad, lonely, pathetic pansy.”

“Go away!” Mackenzie said sharply to Tanner. “The real Tanner was an idiot, but not cruel. You’re not real.”

“And he is?” Tanner pointed accusingly at Grant.

“I don’t know,” Mackenzie confessed, pressing a hand to her chest in confusion. “I don’t know.”

“This is what you get for not paying attention to your mother’s guidance, you know. This is all the shit I tried to protect you from all your life.” This time it was her mother, Estelle, who strode out of the darkness. Dressed in tight jeans, a pink sequined top, and her favorite cowboy boots, Mackenzie’s mother looked beautiful and severe. “When your daddy left me high and dry, I did everything in my power to keep you safe. To keep you from being hurt like I was. And what did you do?” With a mocking laugh, her mother flung out her arms. “You ended up here.”

“And now she has this asshole in love with her, begging her to be his princess in his dream castle. Is the castle pink, Nancy-boy?” Tanner snorted.

Estelle rolled her eyes. “When I think of all the time I wasted trying to bring you up right.…”

“You’re not my mother!”

“Ignore them,” Grant said urgently. “They can’t enter the bungalow. They’re trying to tap in to your fears so they can tear down your defenses.”

“It’s not going to work,” Lucas said, slipping out the door. “She’s not the one who shaped this bungalow. I did.”

The apparitions grew silent and eerily still. Grant lowered his head, his fingers playing with the strap of Mackenzie’s purse.

Lucas set his elbows on the railing and leaned toward Grant. “It was a good try though, Grant. Dredging up apparitions to attack you while you play the wounded party.”

Mackenzie shivered, her gaze shifting to Lucas. “He’s doing it?”

The phantasms of her mother and Tanner remained unmoving, their eyes not even blinking. Grant gently ran the strap of the purse through his hands, rocking the bag.

“He’s controlling them. It’s a setup.”

“You’re cleverer than I thought,” Grant said at last. “Constructing these replicas and pretending they’re mine so you can keep her in your power.”

Lucas guffawed. “Are you really going to play that game?”

“You’re the one playing a game with the woman I care for,” Grant said sharply.

“Oh, no, Grant. I got your number. I know the games you play and what you want from her. I see your mark on her and what it’s doing.” Lucas glanced over his shoulder at Mackenzie. “Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to manipulate you. Muddle your mind.”

“I have done nothing but protect her since she stumbled into a dead spot. I made sure she knew how to feed herself, protect herself, and guard against creatures like you,” Grant answered defensively. “I never dreamed a wraith would use the guise of a child to appeal to the shattered heart of a mother.”

“Damn, you’re good. Are you believing any of this, Mac?”

“Her name is Mackenzie,” Grant said tersely.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she found it hard to take a breath. “When Lucas saved me at the amusement park, you said he was dangerous. That he hunts humans and kills them.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she took a step forward, her hands rounded into fists.

“That was you?” Lucas looked at her in surprise.

“Yeah. That was me. You saved me and afterward Grant told me that you were dangerous.”

“He is,” Grant said simply. “Look what he’s done to us.”

“Grant, what did you do to me?” Mackenzie shouted, losing her temper. “You’re not giving me answers!”

“All you need to know is that I love you, and he is ruining everything that was building between us!” Grant yelled in response. “Why can’t you see that?”

Lucas stared at Grant evenly, rubbing his hands together slowly. “Should I show her what you are, Grant? I am a seer. That’s why you fear me, isn’t it?”

Grant didn’t answer. His eyes flicked toward Mackenzie, appealing silently.

Lucas turned about, inclined his head toward her, and whispered, “Do you want to see what he is?”

“You can show me?” Mackenzie met his worried gaze, seeking out the truth.

“Yes. But you’ll also see what this world is really like, too,” he warned her.

“Mackenzie, don’t listen to him,” Grant said sharply.

“She’s a dumb-ass bitch. That’s why the baby died,” Tanner grunted.

“She never listens to sense,” Estelle added.

Mackenzie ignored them. The apparitions no longer even sounded like Tanner and Estelle, but terrible facsimiles. She nodded to Lucas.

“This is going to be shocking,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Mackenzie, please, come to me! Don’t let him blind you with illusions and lies!” Grant’s body was tense, but he was obviously held back by an invisible force.

Lucas gently pressed his hand to her forehead and whispered in her ear, “See the reality of this world.”

Their surroundings exploded into myriad colors and shapes. Purples, blues, reds, and silvery fire swirled together in the sky. Massive plumes of pink and yellow filled the horizon. Rainbows of many colors shimmered above, and the trees vibrated with energy that sparkled in a variety of green hues. The wind sounded like whispers, the air smelled like ozone, and the world itself sang with sounds that vibrated through her soul. Even though their surroundings were filled with color, it was tainted with a miasma of black swaths that pulsed and seeped into everything.

“Oh, God,” Mackenzie whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

Finally, she shifted her gaze to rest upon Tanner, her mother, and Grant. Tanner and Estelle were black human-shaped blotches, their jagged edges constantly whirring like chainsaw blades. Grant stood in sharp contrast, appearing like he always did, except his eyes and mouth were black blots. It was as if someone had taken a photograph and smudged out his eyes and mouth.

Fearfully, she looked toward the man standing next to her, terrified at what she would see. To her relief, both the bungalow behind him and Lucas looked exactly the same. In fact, they looked oddly out of place in the fantastical world around them, like photo cutouts set against a surrealistic painting. A bright halo of light edged Lucas’s form and she finally understood what she must look like to the wraiths.

“What he’s showing you is a lie,” a distorted version of Grant’s voice growled. “It’s all a lie.”

Studying herself, Mackenzie saw that she, too, had the same oddly hyper-realistic appearance as Lucas and the glowing halo, but there was a red mark slashed over her left breast and a black, writhing murky haze covered her chest above her heart.

“Lucas, what is it?” she cried out in fear.

“The red mark is your death. The other cloudy thing…” Lucas hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “That’s Grant’s mark. He left it on you when you were … uh … intimate.”

Mackenzie slapped Lucas’s hand away and surged forward. He barely caught her arm before she launched herself off the porch at Grant. The world looked vividly real again, but she knew it was all a lie. Grant’s soulful eyes and kind words were all lies.

“You fucking asshole!” she screamed at him. “You fucking invaded my dream and my body!”

Lucas hauled her from the end of the porch. Grant stood silently watching, impassive and unmoving. The mirages of Tanner and her mother vanished into a swirl of inky blackness.

“She’s mine. She has my mark. I will reclaim her.”

The words dripped with ice and hate.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Mackenzie felt crazed with the fury enveloping her.

“Mac, calm down!” Lucas ordered. “We’ll find a way to remove it!”

Choking on her words, Mackenzie stopped fighting Lucas. Grant watched with fierce, smoldering eyes. In that moment, she feared him more than anything else she had experienced so far.

“Take it off me, Grant!”

“No, you’re mine.”

“We’ll find a way to get it off,” Lucas vowed.

“Do you think that will stop me?” Grant sneered.

“No, but I won’t let you hurt her again,” Lucas responded.

“She’s mine!” Grant’s face twisted into an ugly mask, his fury tangible.

“You know what I love about wraiths?” Lucas asked.

Grant didn’t respond, but stared at Mackenzie with a desire that terrified her.

“When you take on human shape, I can kill you.” Lucas drew his gun and fired four shots into Grant’s chest. The wraith collapsed, blood staining his pressed white dress shirt. With a final gasp, the creature that had worn the guise of a friend died and dissolved into black mist.

“He raped me,” Mackenzie said, the words foul and horrible on her tongue. “I was dreaming and he raped me.”

Lucas swiveled toward her, the gun still clutched in his hand. “I promise he won’t touch you again, Mac. But we have to go now before he re-forms and heads back here with friends.”

Nodding, Mackenzie turned toward the door. “I’ll get Johnny.”

“Mac,” Lucas said in a softer, gentler tone.

She hesitated, her hand on the doorknob.

“I meant what I said. He won’t touch you again. I promise it. I’ll protect you.”

Mackenzie shook her head dismally, her long hair falling around her face. “No, Lucas. I don’t want that. I want to protect myself. I want you to teach me everything you know about this place. I want you to teach me to shape things out of thin air like you do. I want you to show me how to kill that fucker. I don’t want you to be my knight in shining armor. I want to save myself.” She meant every word. She was tired of being a victim.

Lucas stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “You got it. Absolutely.”

“Good.” She opened the door and saw Johnny standing near the door with a worried expression on his small face.

“Is the bad man gone now?” he asked.

“Yes, he is. Let’s get on the road,” Mackenzie said.

CHAPTER 26

The refreshing early-morning breeze wafted through the crack at the top of the driver’s side window ruffling Mackenzie’s hair and drawing her out of a light doze. Running her hand over her mussed hair, she stretched in the backseat, which was a little awkward since there wasn’t much room. Johnny was curled against her, his head resting on her lap, buried beneath the pale yellow blanket Mackenzie had made for him. The car rumbled beneath her, a comforting sensation for it meant they were putting many miles between them and where Grant had last manifested. When they’d fled the bungalow, they had decided to travel toward San Antonio, then follow I-37 into South Texas. Grant had planned to take a path that would have taken Mackenzie and him south of Houston toward Corpus Christi, so it seemed only wise to avoid that area.

“Where are we?” Mackenzie asked, cocking her head to look out the windows.

“We’re on 1604, heading southwest. Circling San Antonio right now,” Lucas answered. He sipped hot coffee and the silver rings on his hand glittered as he lifted the cup to his lips. “How you doing?”

Mackenzie could see Lucas’s eyes checking the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of her. “I’m okay considering.” Her fingers lightly combed through Johnny’s dark blond hair. His small frame resting against hers was decidedly soothing.

“I didn’t realize he had … you know … uh … most of the time people just fall for the seduction.” Lucas shifted in his seat, obviously feeling awkward.

“Would it have mattered if he’d seduced me? It still would have been a lie. He’d still be a monster deceiving me. It would’ve been coercion of another kind.” Mackenzie’s voice sounded more tired than agitated. She had spent too much of the night thinking about Grant’s deception and the grievous acts he had committed against her.

“Yeah, you’re right. Totally right. I just feel…” Lucas tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I just wish I had chased after you and Grant after I shot that psycho that was trying to kill you at the amusement park. I saw the balloons and knew they were bad news. I caught a glimpse of your struggle and managed to get a clear shot of the wraith. By the time I fought off the balloons and made it back to Johnny in the car, I’d lost you and Grant. I had two chances to get you away from Grant and I failed. It makes me feel a bit like shit. My mother raised me to always respect women and protect them from assholes. It’s been ingrained in me since childhood. I guess I feel the need to apologize to you.”

Tilting forward, she lightly touched his arm. The leather jacket was buttery soft beneath her hand. “I want to concentrate on getting out of this world, okay? I’m not mad at you, or upset. I appreciate you saving me and Johnny from Grant’s shark and for shooting him last night. You’re not responsible for what Grant did. Neither am I,” she added after a thought.

“I just want you to know that I wish he hadn’t done that to you.”

“Thanks, Lucas. I just don’t want to think about it right now. I just want to concentrate on getting away from him and getting out of here.”

Lucas briefly touched her hand with his gloved one. “You’re a tough chica, Mac.”

“Well, I am a Texan.”

That made Lucas grin. “And you don’t mess with Texan women if you’re smart.”

The Mustang was the only car on the long stretch, but occasionally murky creatures scampered along the edges of the road or lurked in copses of mesquite trees.

“You know, Lucas, he was afraid of you the second he saw you. He told me you were a human who hunted and killed people like me. I probably would have run away from you.”

“I don’t blame you. Not really. People assume things when you look like me.”

Mackenzie rested her head on the back of the passenger seat, gazing at Lucas while he drove. She now wondered how she had ever thought he was intimidating or frightening. Yes, he had tattoos, his ears were pierced, and he had a strong face, but beneath it all he was one of the kindest people she had ever met. Everything about Grant had been rather elegant and charming. He’d come across as strong and dependable, yet in the end, he was the one she needed to fear.

“Mac, you’re staring.”

“I was just thinking that you fit the description perfectly of the type of person my mother taught me to avoid. She would have thought Grant was amazing, but he’s the monster.”

“Want me to blow your mind a little more?”

“Sure.”

Lucas pushed up the sleeve on his jacket. “See this?”

“Romans 8:28?” Mackenzie read the tattoo inscription aloud.

“‘All things work together for those who love God.’ It’s the verse I live by. It keeps me going and makes me not afraid.”

Mackenzie lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a Christian?”

“I define myself as a Christ follower. I like his teachings. The whole be-good-to-your-fellow-man thing.”

“I thought Austin was the ‘bastion of heathens,’” Mackenzie said, quoting her mother.

“Everyone thinks that, but we’ve still got some Bible thumping going on in the city limits.”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Mackenzie confessed. “I was a Baptist, but after Joshua died I stopped believing in a lot of things. The whole God thing makes me uneasy, I guess. If God exists, I don’t think I like him or her much.” Mackenzie shrugged slightly.

“If God exists, I’m sure he or she understands.”

Tears blinded her and she wiped them away with some agitation. “I’m tired of being unsure of things and being afraid. Of losing what is important to me.”

Lucas didn’t give her a rote pandering response, or sympathetic look. Instead he pulled his firearm from its holster and handed it over.

“What’s this?”

“If anything comes along and tries to take something you care about, shoot it.”

Laughter erupted from her, unexpected and refreshing. Holding the weapon, she ran her fingers over its cold metal surface. “Nice.”

“You know how to use it, right?”

“Mom and I used to shoot every Sunday evening.”

“A good ol’ Texas girl. Where from exactly?”

“Kerrville, Texas. My mom owns a ranch there.”

“Then we’re close to home, huh?”

It was painful to admit, but Mackenzie wasn’t really sure she had a home anymore.

Mackenzie made sure the safety was on before tucking the gun into her purse. Lucas had recovered it after Grant died. Tugging out Joshua’s rolled-up blanket, she placed it under Johnny’s head for a pillow. Careful not to disturb the sleeping child, she scooted into the front of the car, plopping into the passenger seat. She lugged her purse after her and set it on the floor. Before leaving the motel, she had discarded the laptop, so it was much lighter.

The rising sun flooded the sky with pinks and purples as the night was vanquished for yet another day. A light mist drifted over the road and the scene outside the car windows was serene.

“Lucas, do you always see the world like you showed me last night?”

“Luckily, I can switch it off and on, but when I first got here, that’s all I could see for the first day. It was pretty overwhelming. I found a place to hide and tried to figure out what was going on. It was like landing in a really screwed-up version of Oz. When I woke up the next day, everything appeared normal again. Throughout the day I kept seeing flickers of the reality of this world. I finally learned to use it at will.”

“Why are you a seer and not me?”

“I have no clue. It’s been suggested that it’s because I’m not afraid of anything. Seth and I have that in common. So maybe that’s right.”

“What you can see is beautiful, but terrifying.” She purposefully banished the image of Grant’s true face from her mind.

“It’s rough to get used to at first and I had to figure out what certain things meant. Differentiating between wraiths and apparitions was a little tough at first.”

“‘Apparitions’? That’s a new one. You used it last night.”

“Apparitions are made by wraiths and the nightmare realm based on your fears.”

“Those aren’t wraiths?”

“Wraiths are people who have totally lost themselves to this world. Like Grant. Their life spark is gone.”

“And shadows are people who are crazy?”

“That’s one of the terms for them. People make up their own words for them until they’re corrected by someone else.”

Mackenzie pressed a hand to her torso. “The mark he put on me … Can you get it off?”

“I’m not sure. Though I have talked to a lot of others trapped here, I still don’t know it all. I keep notes, but sometimes what I’m told is contradictory. But we’ll find a way. My friend Seth may be able to help us.”

She nodded, swallowing nervously.

“So you want a shaper lesson?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah. Teach me.”

“First off, normal rules don’t apply here. Most humans trapped here try to enforce the rules of our world in this one. That’s why things are pretty boring.”

“Right, boring. Sure.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “Did you forget the whole shark-swimming-through-the-ground thing?”

“Well, look around right now. Most of the world looks exactly like ours. Except that way. Cities are always messed up. I’ve seen everything from terrorist attacks to people going naked to work.” He gestured to the horizon dotted with a few dream constructs. Burning buildings, terrifying castles, and what appeared to be a flock of huge bats were in the distance. “Three things affect this world: sleepers, shapers, and wraiths. Dead spots are nodes of concentrated energy and somewhat sentient, like wraiths. Shapers and wraiths can both manipulate them. Dead spots are pretty neutral unless they’ve been seriously corrupted by wraiths. Did Grant tell you any of that?”

“To some degree. He definitely told me I couldn’t shape outside a dead spot and that I was powerless out here.” Mackenzie felt vastly uncomfortable talking about Grant. The image of how he had violently slammed into the café door kept replaying in her mind. She now realized he’d been pretending to be upset that the door was closed when he had actually trapped her inside the dead spot. The rage she felt at the thought slithered through her like molten lava.

“Well, that was so you’d feel dependent on him, handicap yourself, and he could gain power over you. So the first thing you have to tell yourself is that you can do whatever you want.”

“I have to admit I find that very appealing.”

“It’s like magic. Kinda fun. So my theory is that the reason this world has the mask of our world is because those trapped inside it have made it this way. When the dreamers start affecting it, things get crazy.”

“Most of the bad things I experienced happened during the day.”

“You were with a wraith. He was stirring up as much activity as he could to keep you afraid and depending on him.”

“Okay, that makes perfect sense. Now I really want to shoot him with a bazooka.”

“You could actually do that. Because, remember, this world fashions itself to the will of the dreamers, or in our case, the shapers.” Lucas flashed a grin in her direction before raising his hand. “I need sunglasses.” The air shimmered briefly before a pair of aviator glasses appeared in his grip.

“It hurts when I shape. Does it hurt you?”

“Part of that may have been Grant eating bits of you. But it does take some practice. Try shaping something you really want right now.”

For one sharp, crazed moment, she thought of Joshua.

“Start simple. With something you used every day,” Lucas suggested.

Licking her lips nervously, Mackenzie finally settled on summoning a diet soda. She had one every morning. In her mind she saw the drink in her hand, the shape and the color of the can, the condensation clinging to the aluminum, and the sound of it fizzing in the container. A little yelp of surprise slipped from her when she felt the can solidify in her grip.

“See? Piece of cake.” Lucas gave her an approving smile.

“Great. Now I want cake.”

“And you can make that, too.”

“I just don’t understand how the food and drinks or really any of this works? Are we real anymore?” Mackenzie stared at the can of soda thoughtfully. “If we’re trapped in this world, are we made of the same stuff we were in the real world? Or are we now the stuff of dreams?”

From the tension in his jaw, Mackenzie realized she’d hit on something that bothered Lucas, too. He drove in silence for a few long beats, then finally shrugged. “Does it matter? We’re obviously alive in some form. If we got in here, we have to be able to get out, right? These doorways can’t just go one way.”

“But what if they do?”

“I can’t let myself think that way,” Lucas admitted. “I’m going to find a way out for all of us. We’re not going to stay in this world filled with things like Grant.” He looked over his shoulder at Johnny. “He’s already been in here too long. His family is already destroyed.”

Mackenzie peeked into the backseat at the sleeping child. “If we get out, what happens to him?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out,” Lucas vowed.

Gently tucking the bigger blanket around Johnny’s feet, Mackenzie smiled slightly. “I believe you will. You’re a good guy.”

“I am, but I can be scary, too.”

“Maybe we need to be a little scary to survive in this world.”

Once she had a clear idea of how to fashion things into being, it became easier. She was even able to alter the heels of her boots so they were much lower and more comfortable.

Flat, lifeless, and empty, the landscape was eerie. Mackenzie caught a few glimpses of creatures lurking in the shadows, but as the sun climbed higher the more bizarre creatures and constructs disappeared. Within the hour they were speeding along an empty interstate under a bright, sunny sky. The marked difference in the atmosphere today in comparison to her travels with Grant was startling. Now she could see how much Grant had made the world dangerous and terrifying to keep her close to him.

Johnny woke up with a loud yawn and asked for a glass of water. When Mackenzie produced it out of thin air, he was thrilled. A bowl of cereal and cornflakes with bananas followed and the little boy crunched happily on his breakfast while staring out at the countryside.

“We’ve got a little over an hour still to George West. I have some dead spots to check out there.”

“That sounds fine,” Mackenzie said, sipping her soda.

“You sound off. What’s bothering you?”

“Heading away from the café feels wrong. I guess I thought I could find my way home through there and that idea hasn’t quite died yet,” Mackenzie confessed.

“Your best chance to make it back through that door was when Grant stopped you.” Lucas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But if you feel we should go back, we could give it a try.”

“Grant might be waiting for us.” Mackenzie squirmed in her seat, trying to get comfortable. For a second, out the window, she glimpsed several women dressed in flowing white dresses, then they were gone. The vision made her shiver, unsure of what it meant.

“I’m bored. Can I have toys?” Johnny asked.

“Of course! What do you want?” Mackenzie asked.

For the next hour, she amused Johnny by making toy cowboys. She tried to explain that the Indians were really Native Americans and the true history of the Old West, much to Lucas’s amusement.

“He’s just reenacting the episodes from the show, Mac. Next thing you know he’ll have them fighting dinosaurs.”

“Nope. Zombies. I don’t like them. The cowboys need to kill them.” Johnny ran Silver along the backseat, a grim air about him.

Mackenzie let out a startled gasp when the terrain around the car abruptly altered. Instead of flat ranchlands full of mesquite trees, it transformed into an endless black-and-white graveyard filled with the shambling undead. The highway melted into a narrow path that sliced through the cemetery. Lucas reluctantly brought the car to a full stop.

“Hey, Johnny. You don’t need to stop playing or anything,” Lucas said in an even, calm voice, “but could you not think about zombies right now? Think about cowboys and the Lone Ranger, okay?”

The little boy didn’t even look out the windows as he played. His bottom lip was slightly trembling. “I was just remembering how that one always tries to bash my head.”

The first zombie from Night of the Living Dead ambled out from among the gravestones, clutching a piece of a tombstone in its hand. Mackenzie spotted it and quickly fished the gun out of her purse.

“Johnny,” Mackenzie said in a very gentle voice. “Why don’t you think about good things? I don’t want to remember the bad things from yesterday.”

The cemetery shimmered, briefly replaced by the Texas landscape, then returned to grainy black and white. The zombies continued to trudge toward the car, their blank, lifeless faces making Mackenzie shudder. It was only a matter of seconds before the first zombie from the movie would be upon them.

“Yesterday was scary.” Johnny stared at his toys with a sorrowful expression on his face. “I was scared.”

“But today we’re with Lucas in this cool car. We’re far away from the bad things, right?” Mackenzie lightly touched his cheek with her fingers, hoping he wouldn’t look out the windows.

A smile brightening his features, Johnny ran his hand affectionately over the seat. “I like this car. It goes real fast.”

“So fast the bad monsters can’t get us, right?” Lucas discreetly shaped a new firearm as the undead lumbered closer.

“Yeah. They’d never catch us! We’d go faster than Silver!” Johnny held up his toy horse for Mackenzie to view. “Silver does go very, very fast. Superfast.”

Through the rearview window Mackenzie saw the cemetery vanish, replaced by the highway and the shimmering heat hovering over the asphalt. With a smile, she petted the toy horse. “He really does go very, very fast, doesn’t he? The zombies would never catch him.”

Exhaling with relief, Lucas shifted gears, and the Mustang rode on.

CHAPTER 27

The sun was blazing in the sky, but the harsh wind was cold. Mackenzie shivered in her lightweight leather jacket and considered creating another layer of lining for it. She leaned against the car waiting for Lucas to return while she watched for any sign of wraith activity. In the backseat of the Mustang, Johnny continued to play with his toys, content to stay inside the warm vehicle while Lucas explored the dead spot that had once been an elementary school. Mackenzie had wanted to join the search, but Johnny had refused to get out of the car. She couldn’t blame him. They had already visited five dead spots since passing through George West. After their last trek through an abandoned restaurant, Johnny had declared he was done for the day.

She wished she could remove the mark Grant had inflicted on her. Lucas had nixed the idea of trying to remove it after the manifestation of the graveyard and the zombies. Lucas was still not sure he could remove it, and they were both worried that tampering with the mark might draw the attention of other wraiths. Even though they were in a more sparsely populated area of Texas, there had been more activity than anticipated. Lucas was clever, but he hadn’t considered how much an imaginative seven-year-old would affect the fabric of their reality. Johnny wasn’t the only person to blame though. Mackenzie knew her own fears were feeding into the world around them. Though she hadn’t seen any of the manifestations that had haunted her while she had traveled with Grant, she continued to catch glimpses of several women in white wandering among the cactus and mesquite trees. Though they reminded her of the apparition of Grant’s wife, they were of different races and ages. She wasn’t sure if they were connected to her, or Grant, but something about them terrified her.

A noise drew her attention to the elementary school. It was so overrun with the local wild vegetation it was difficult to see the building. The cinder blocks were crumbling and brush and scrub trees poked out through cracked walls and windows. The roof was long gone, and she could see sunlight filling the rooms through the broken openings in the façade.

“Doors are shut,” Lucas said, stepping gingerly over some cactus. “Another dead end.”

“It’s hard to think people in the real world even dare enter this place.”

“Desperate people do desperate things. Drug addicts, runaway kids, and the homeless are the people we’re pinning our hopes on, you know.”

“Not the most comforting thought.”

Lucas patted her arm before leaning over the hood and spreading out his map. “This town has a few more places to check out.”

Mackenzie thoughtfully studied the long swatch of highway cutting through the Texas town while Lucas updated his notes. The town had a strong Spanish architectural influence, but most of the red-tiled buildings were falling to ruin. Because of the cluster of dead spots in the town, there were plenty of wispy black forms lurking in the shadows of the buildings. The sight of them made Mackenzie uneasy though none had focused on them so far.

“It’s almost a ghost town, isn’t it, Lucas?” The harsh grainy wind whipped her hair around her face and she started braiding it to keep it out of her face.

“It gets worse every time I come through here,” Lucas agreed. “Small towns dry up when the primary job provider dies. Down south, the dead spots are disappearing though. New oil wells are providing jobs and drawing in other businesses.”

“So we’re not going all the way down to the border?”

“I think we’ll keep to the west side of King Ranch, then head toward El Paso.” Lucas tapped on the map where the biggest ranch in Texas sat, then drew his finger along a path dotted with dead spots.

“What about the Hill Country?”

“It has spots of massive activity that are incredibly treacherous. When I showed you the reality of this world, did you see what looked like big clouds of smoke on the horizon?”

“Yeah, I did. They were kind of pretty.”

“Those are the high-activity areas. They give off a lot of energy, which naturally pulls wraiths into the area.” Lucas pointed to several regions on his map.

“So what causes it?”

“I would say population, but San Antonio doesn’t burn quite as hot as parts of the Hill Country, so I’m not really sure. I do know that I avoid those areas. I don’t feel like dying.”

“Have you died in here?” Mackenzie felt nervous asking the question. It felt like such a personal question. She glanced at him and saw her face reflected in his sunglasses. She was surprised to see how much more alive she looked, not like a shell-shocked war victim.

“Nope. I haven’t. I feel a little guilty about that considering what you and Johnny have been through, but I’ve managed to avoid it.”

“You’re lucky.” Mackenzie returned to scanning the long narrow strip of old buildings. She didn’t want to think about her death. The taste of the cold clammy mud and the terrible burning in her lungs were things she just didn’t want to dwell on.

Johnny tapped on the window. “I need to potty.”

With an amused smile, Lucas opened the door to let the little guy out. “I’ll take him over behind the bushes.”

“I’ll be right here,” Mackenzie promised.

“Keep an eye out. Things are calm right now, but—”

“I know. You be careful, too.”

She watched Lucas and Johnny trudge through the bushes to a discreet spot. A little white cowboy hat was perched on Johnny’s head by the time they rounded the corner. It was pretty clear that Lucas enjoyed indulging the kid’s every whim. Mackenzie found it endearing, but also it caused a tiny bit of pain when she wondered if Tanner would have behaved the same way with Joshua. It made her a little uncomfortable to play caretaker to Johnny in light of the fact she was never able to do so for her own son. Twinges of guilt struck when she was interacting with Johnny. Knowing that she could shape anything she wanted added another element of unease. The temptation to create Joshua and pretend he’d never died was dangerous.

Movement caught her attention and she turned to see a woman dressed in a flowing white gown disappear behind the house across the street. Reaching into her purse, she drew out the firearm. Another woman flickered into view briefly in the window of a burned-out store, then vanished. Mackenzie felt her heart speed up. She had yet to mention the women to Lucas, but she realized how foolhardy that was. The first woman reappeared in broad sunlight, hovering across the road. Mackenzie gasped in recognition. It was the same apparition she had seen after Grant had spoken about his wife. The white gown billowed in the wind and her long blond hair rippled like golden waves. The hands pressed against her breast were covered in blood and she stared at Mackenzie with tender sadness.

“Who are you?” Mackenzie took a step forward.

The woman winked out of existence, leaving the spot where she had stood empty with no sign she had ever been there.

“It’s just a ghost!” a voice called out.

Startled, Mackenzie spun about to see an old man walking up the street toward her. The first dog she had seen since entering the dead spot walked at his side. It was a mutt with a silky black-and-white coat and a ruff of thick fur around its face. Its owner was a tall man with a receding hairline and a little bit of a belly. His old-fashioned attire reminded her of Grant: dark trousers and a white button-up shirt under a cardigan. Noticing the gun, he raised a hand and came to a standstill. The dog yawned and stared at her curiously.

“I’m not a wraith, so if you put that down I would sincerely appreciate it.”

“I have no idea who or what you are, so I’m not putting the gun down,” Mackenzie answered defensively.

“That’s fair, I suppose.” He glanced at the car. “Where’s Lucas?”

“You know Lucas?” Something that Lucas had told her stirred in her mind. “Are you Seth?”

“Oh, he talked about me, I see,” Seth said with a grin. “Yes, I’m Seth. I live up the road with Rosita, my wife.”

Lowering the gun, but not stashing it away, Mackenzie studied the man who had created his own dream palace complete with a replica of his wife. There was a pleasant aura about him that was surprising considering the world he inhabited.

“I’m Mackenzie. Lucas is taking a bathroom break with Johnny.”

“Johnny? Seems much has changed since I last saw Lucas.” Seth pulled a kerchief from his pocket and patted his sweating brow. “Sun is fierce even if the wind is chill.”

“Hey, Seth!” Lucas walked into view with Johnny perched on his shoulders. “This is a surprise.”

“I saw your car go by earlier from my upstairs window. When you didn’t come to the house I decided to take a walk with Betsey.” Seth extended his hand and the men shook hands and briefly embraced. Craning his head to look at Johnny, Seth said, “So this is the mysterious Johnny. A lawman, I see by the badge and the white hat.”

“I’m the Lone Ranger,” Johnny informed him.

“Does that make you Silver?” Mackenzie asked Lucas.

Lucas playfully whinnied in response.

“I see you picked up new friends on your travels. What happened to Martin?”

“He decided to head back to Detroit and stake out his old house in hopes of someone eventually showing up.” Lucas swung Johnny off his shoulders and leaned over to pet the dog. “This is Mackenzie and Johnny, Seth. This is Seth, Mac. He’s a great friend and an all-around good guy. He’s also one of the most powerful shapers and seers in this world.”

Recognizing that Lucas didn’t seem alarmed or worried, Mackenzie finally put the firearm away. The situation with Grant had her paranoid, but she trusted that Lucas could spot a wraith impersonator. She shook hands with Seth briefly, before taking a few steps back. It was difficult not to feel uneasy after all she had endured.

“You’re a good dog, aren’t you, Betsey?” Lucas said, playing with the dog. She returned his affection by licking his face with great enthusiasm.

“Is it real?” Mackenzie asked.

“She came in with me,” Seth answered. “We were on a walk and we took a scenic route right into a dead spot. She’s been here with me since 1957.”

Mackenzie widened her eyes slightly. “I didn’t think about animals stumbling into a dead spot.”

“They do more often than we do. They are just much better at adapting and hiding. I once saw a pack of feral Chihuahuas chasing after a rabbit. That was a sight to see.” Seth tilted his head, studying Mackenzie, then Johnny. “You’re new here, Mackenzie.”

“This is my fourth day inside.”

“You’re doing okay so far except for that death and the mark.” Seth took a step toward her, scrutinizing the mark that Mackenzie was glad she couldn’t see. The memory of how it had appeared when Lucas had opened her eyes made her shiver.

Johnny and Lucas continued to play with Betsey, Johnny giggling with delight over the dog’s antics. Mackenzie saw Lucas discreetly watching Seth.

“Looks like a lover-boy mark,” Seth said finally, shaking his head.

“Lover-boy?” Mackenzie arched her eyebrows.

“What he calls an incubus wraith,” Lucas explained.

“How did you manage to get away?” Seth regarded her with awe. “That’s no easy feat.”

“I died. Then I found Johnny. Grant—the wraith—found us soon after. He tried to get rid of Johnny, but Lucas showed up in time. We escaped together.” Mackenzie didn’t want to go into any details. She was still struggling to come to terms with Grant’s true nature and intentions.

“Remarkable,” Seth said, impressed. “So I take it you’re in town looking for a way out?”

“Not stopping until I find one,” Lucas said. He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. Johnny continued to play with Betsey, the dog and boy obviously enamored with each other.

“You’re a stubborn man.” Seth’s expression was a combination of amusement and annoyance.

“You know I am.”

“I suppose you can stay the night at my house. Rosita will enjoy the company. We haven’t had anyone over since her folks visited last month.”

Mackenzie arched her eyebrows at the comment, but Lucas’s swift look in her direction silenced her.

“Are you sure, Seth? We don’t want to impose.” Lucas shifted on his feet and gestured toward the thick shadows dwelling under a tree.

“The mark is a concern, but one night should be fine. The same with the boy. But because of the mark I can’t let you stay longer than that.”

“We don’t want to intrude,” Mackenzie said, not even sure if she wanted to stay in the dream palace of a man who lived with an apparition of his dead wife.

“I can handle one night,” Seth assured her with a smile. “I’m old and powerful. But I don’t like taking risks with Rosita, so you’ll have to go tomorrow.”

“That’s very generous of you.” Lucas stepped toward Mackenzie, appealing with his eyes for her to agree.

Mackenzie flicked her gaze toward the slinking shadows in the doorway of a hardware store and sighed. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“Johnny, how would you like to walk with me and Betsey back to my house?”

“Can I hold the leash?” Johnny asked excitedly.

Seth handed it over, smiling warmly. “Of course.”

Lucas rested his hand on Mackenzie’s arm, preventing her from protesting. “Seth, that’s kind of you. He couldn’t be in better hands. Johnny, I’m going to drive Mac over to the house and meet you there, okay?”

Completely enthralled by the dog, Johnny said, “Okay!” and promptly turned all his attention to Betsey.

Seth gave the other two adults a knowing smile. “Kids and dogs. The attraction is instant.”

Panic rose inside of Mackenzie as she watched the older man and the little boy walk up the sidewalk with the dog trotting along before them. She took a step to follow, but Lucas caught her arm.

“You and I need to talk away from Johnny. This is our moment, okay?”

“But—”

“Johnny is safer with Seth than he is with us, Mac. I promise.”

Relenting, she turned to face Lucas. “You better be right.”

“I know I am. Trust me.” Lucas gave her arm a light squeeze, then opened the passenger door for her.

“For some stupid reason, I do,” Mackenzie grumbled, sliding into the car.

Once Lucas was inside the car he didn’t start the engine, but twisted in his seat to look at her. “I wasn’t planning for us to stay with Seth. In fact, I kind of thought he wouldn’t take us in at all because you and Johnny are with me. I’m really surprised by his generosity, but glad at the same time. You need the rest and so do I. But there are a few things I feel I need to talk to you about when it comes to Seth.”

“Other than he lives with the apparition of his dead wife?”

“See? That condescending tone is what I’m worried about. Seth is a great guy. He really is.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little creepy?” Mackenzie lifted an eyebrow.

Lucas rubbed his face with frustration. “Mac…”

“What?”

“Grant taught you to mistrust people by terrorizing you and pulling hell down on you to keep you under his control. But not everything in this world is bad. Seth has made his own version of heaven. He really loved his wife and when he realized he could have her again—”

“That’s the thing, Lucas!” Mackenzie felt tears suddenly spark in her eyes. “Ever since I found out that I can make my own dream palace, don’t you think I’ve thought about making an apparition of my dead son? I never saw his eyes, Lucas. Never! I would love to hold him in my arms and see him breathing, smiling, and looking up at me! But every time my mind goes in that direction, I know insanity lies that way.” The words poured out of her mouth, giving voice to her darkest, most terrifying thoughts. “I could just lock myself away in a dream palace with Tanner and Joshua and make it all okay. Invest in the dream and live in my fucking insanity. I won’t do it. I won’t!”

Lucas regarded her solemnly, and then gave her the briefest nod of his head. “You have a legitimate point. I even agree with you. But Seth is not you, or me. He found his happiness here.”

A bitter laugh erupted from Mackenzie’s lips. “I just poured out my deepest, darkest, craziest thought, and you just shrugged it off.”

“You’re afraid that you’re going to go crazy with grief, Mackenzie. That you’re going to do something insane. That’s fear talking. I’m not going to give power to it because the woman I see in front of me is far more than the sum total of her fears. Do you want my pity? Is that what you’re asking for?”

Shocked by his words, Mackenzie lifted her face to stare at him. “No.”

“Good. Because I will give you my sympathy and my friendship. I will watch your back because I know you’ll watch mine. I’ve watched you with Johnny, Mac. You have a tender, giving heart. I’ve also seen you fight against terrors that would reduce others to weeping heaps of crazy.” Lucas gave her a fierce look. “I won’t say I’m sorry for your son’s death because I didn’t cause it, but I can tell you that I feel great sorrow at the thought of you losing a child. I wish it hadn’t happened to you. I won’t chastise you for being depressed or angry that he died, but I’m also not going to invest any energy in letting you flog yourself with senseless fears and regrets.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Mackenzie stared out the window at the long stretch of road and the silent town bordering it.

“Do you want to escape this world?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then we’ll keep going until we find a way out. But tonight we’re going to stay with a really nice guy who chose to stay here because this is the only way he can hold on to the only person he ever loved. I won’t judge him for that.” The keys jingled in his hand and he turned the car on. “I’m just asking you to do the same.”

“You don’t pull punches, do you?” Mackenzie felt a little battered by his lecture, but also knew he was right. He had reached through most of the white noise that always seemed to be buzzing in her head to make a very valid point.

“No, not really. I just think Grant did a good job manipulating you into a state of constant fear and anxiety, and you need to shake it off.”

Reflecting on all that had occurred since she had entered the dead spot, Mackenzie could now clearly see everything Grant had done to make her leery of everyone but him. It must have been a huge shock for him to find her with Johnny after he had carefully orchestrated her death to make her even more dependent on him.

“What do incubus wraiths do? The full story. Seth seemed surprised I escaped Grant.” Mackenzie wiped away the last of her tears and tried to focus on gaining clarity on what had happened.

Lucas shifted gears and the car rolled away from the curb. “Seth told me that the wraiths find someone to latch on to. They manipulate the person into falling in love with them and make their victim completely dependent on them. The wraith then has the person create a dream palace for just the two of them. Then the wraith basically keeps the person trapped by having constant attacks on the haven from the outside. They feast off their victim through fear and love. Eventually, their victim just … fades away.”

“They become a wraith?”

“Seth told me that they sometimes become wraiths, but other times they’re so consumed they become ghosts. Just memories of the people they once were.”

“Oh, my God!” Mackenzie gasped.

Lucas drove carefully through the town streets, slowly doubling back to Seth’s home. “What is it?”

“I’ve been seeing ghostly women all day today. At first it was just quick glimpses, but one of them lingered much longer than the rest. I saw her before when Grant told me about his dead wife.”

“Shit.” Lucas looked grim, but not afraid. “We’ll talk to Seth then. Find out what he knows. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Grant can find me because of the mark, can’t he?”

“Yeah, but we’re far from where he is, and I’m hoping his abilities are limited.”

Mackenzie tugged on the end of her braided hair nervously. “I hate this.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Lucas assured her.

“I hope so. I have a bad feeling Grant is coming for me.”

CHAPTER 28

There were a few pleasant surprises for Mackenzie that evening when they arrived at the house to find Seth and Johnny just reaching the front gate.

First, the house was a beautiful old Queen Anne Victorian with a wraparound porch, stained-glassed windows, and high peaked roofs painted in pale gray with red trim.

Second, Seth appeared as a young man in his dream palace. The years peeled off him once he stepped onto the property, much to Mackenzie’s surprise. It was an impressive display of his ability to manipulate the dead spot he controlled.

And finally, when they entered the house and Seth introduced them to his wife, Rosita was not the strange apparition Mackenzie had feared she would be. Much like Loretta, Rosita seemed like an actual person. Unlike Loretta, Rosetta was not the memory of a dead spot, but an apparition created by a man who had worshiped his wife. She was a lovely, petite woman with dark hair and eyes, though she was almost too unrealistically pretty since she had been constructed from the loving memories. Though she was charming and kind, there was something eerily too perfect about Rosita. She supposed Seth had created a new idealized wife for himself and wondered what the real Rosita had been like.

“That’s our wedding day,” Seth pointed out when they entered the parlor during the tour through the house. The wedding portrait hung above the fireplace. The young couple was dressed in the attire of the roaring twenties and the black-and-white photo had been hand painted, giving it a strangely surreal look.

“You look very happy,” Mackenzie said truthfully. She marveled at the heavy lace veil and stylish bob that Rosita wore. She wanted to ask when his bride had died, but refrained. Obviously, the real Rosita had died relatively young if they had married in the twenties and Seth had entered the dead spot a widower in the fifties.

“We are,” Seth said with a blissful look on his face. “We are.”

Exchanging looks with Lucas, Mackenzie was glad they’d spoken earlier about the situation. Though the house was beautiful, Rosita pleasant, and the atmosphere quite homey and peaceful, it gave Mackenzie the impression of being a set for a film or a play. There was a falseness to it that was a little unnerving.

Later, after Seth was finished showing them through his impressive dream palace, Johnny played happily in the backyard, while Seth, Lucas, and Mackenzie sat on the porch examining Lucas’s maps and discussing his notes. Mackenzie had offered to assist Rosita with dinner, but she had waved Mackenzie and Lucas away when they had ventured into the kitchen to help.

The sun’s trek across the sky was coming to an end and the pecan trees that bordered the backyard of the big house were silhouetted against a vibrant sky of purple, orange, and red. It was beautiful to behold and a comforting end to a long day.

Exhausted, the little boy and dog lay side by side on the green lawn sharing the sort of moment only children and their furry companions seem to be able to enjoy. It had been very pleasant to see Johnny happy.

The wicker chair Mackenzie was curled up in was quite comfortable and she soon found herself dozing off. Forcing herself awake, she returned her attention to the conversation at hand and reclaimed her beer from the table beside her.

“If the wraith is after her, you will need to avoid the areas with high activity. It’s much easier for wraiths to track their prey in those places,” Seth was saying.

Mackenzie almost wished she had kept dozing.

“Then we’ll keep to the route we planned out,” Lucas decided.

“I did meet a few people a week or so ago that came through a new dead spot near Laredo. I wrote down their information for you. I can get that for you later,” Seth said, sipping a cold beer.

“I’d appreciate that. Mackenzie and I want to keep moving to prevent Grant from catching up to us.”

“Grant?” Seth raised his eyebrows. “The wraith’s name is Grant?”

Mackenzie felt her blood chill in her veins. “You know him?”

“The name definitely rings a bell. Let me check my journals.” Seth slid out of his chair and entered the house, the screen door snapping shut behind him.

“See, not so bad, huh?” Lucas winked at her and propped his feet up on the porch rail, tilting his chair back.

“Is this the ‘I told you so’ moment?” Mackenzie rolled her eyes.

“It’s not all death and mayhem all the time,” Lucas continued, ignoring her sarcasm. “It can be nice moments just like this. A cold beer, a beautiful sunset, and a kid and a dog passed out on the lawn.”

“Your point is made,” Mackenzie said, raising her beer. She had to admit Lucas had been right about them staying with Seth. It was a respite from all they’d gone through. Maybe she was being too judgmental, a trait learned from her mother. In the end, who was she to judge Seth, if he was happy?

Lucas tapped his beer against hers. “I live for moments like these. The quiet, peaceful times when the monsters aren’t visible and I can just pretend that it’s all okay.”

“Are all the dream palaces like this? This peaceful?”

“I’ve only been in a few, but yeah. They’re whatever the person wills it to be. So it consists of whatever it takes to make them feel safe and secure. Of course, their idea of an ideal life may not be yours or mine. I personally don’t want to live in a pink castle with unicorns.”

Mackenzie giggled. “That dream palace seems to be famous.”

“It’s pretty epic.”

“So what would your dream palace be like? If you made one?”

“Probably like this. A nice house, a big yard. I’d need a mechanic shop to tinker around in.”

“Even though you could just shape things into being?”

“Eh, being a shaper is such a cheat. There’s no joy in the creation.” Gazing out at the vast backyard, Lucas said, “I don’t think I could be happy creating a dream palace. I want the real thing. The reality of a life lived fully. The whole shebang. Wife, kids, work, barbecues on the weekends, a dog.…”

Mackenzie understood exactly what he was saying. “It feels like we’re in a dream.”

“His dream,” Lucas agreed. “One that doesn’t fit us just right.”

The screen door creaked open and the youthful version of Seth appeared with a black journal in his hands. Sweeping his cowlick back from his face, he returned to his chair and settled onto it. “So, I checked one of my old journals. I keep track of everyone I meet, pretty much like you do, Lucas.”

Mackenzie leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her beer dangling from her fingers. “And you found Grant?”

“I found a guy named Grant that came through here long ago. He was with a gal named Adele. They asked for shelter, but I turned them down.”

“Why?” Mackenzie suspected she already knew the answer, but needed to hear it.

Seth leaned over the journal, reading carefully before answering. “The woman was a wraith. A lover-girl. She had her hooks in him deep. He was smitten with her. I managed to speak to him alone for just a minute or two, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He was looking for a way out and heard rumors of an exit in this area.”

“Rumors? How could there be rumors? If you find an exit and go through it, wouldn’t that mean no one on this end ever hears from you again?” Mackenzie gave them both a doubtful look. “Right?”

“There are always rumors,” Seth answered. Despite his wearing the face of a much younger man, his voice was still filled with the heaviness of a long life. “Sometimes rumors start because someone headed toward one area of the country and was never seen again. People assume they got out. They don’t consider that person may have ended up a ghost or wraith.”

“Are there a lot of us?” Mackenzie was sure there had to be quite a few considering she had met seven other survivors since her arrival, but they had seen none that day.

“There are a lot up north where the economy was hit really hard. People tend to head to the bigger cities, too, even though they’re very dangerous,” Lucas answered. “New York is a nightmare. Nuclear bombs, terrorist attacks, aliens … you name it. I didn’t even try to get close once I saw the big mushroom clouds going off one after the other.”

Mackenzie leaned across the table and lightly touched the journal while gazing into Seth’s eyes. “Did the Grant you met have dark curly hair, blue eyes, really broad shoulders, and look a bit like a movie star from the old days?”

“Honey, I am from the old days.” Seth chuckled. “But yes, now that I have my memory jarred, that’s what he looked like. Nice fellow, too. According to my notes he’d just met Adele. He talked about finding a way out, said he had a wife, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the wraith.”

“So, Adele made him into what she is and then what?” Mackenzie felt sick talking about it, but had to know.

“Well, from what I’ve gathered, if a wraith doesn’t get too greedy, they make another one just like them. But lover-boys and -gals, they tend to suck people dry of every spark of life and leave them empty. If this Grant is the wraith that marked you, Adele may have found fresher prey and abandoned him. Wraiths will work together to hunt people, but the lover-boys and -gals often go it alone unless they’re really desperate.”

“I’m seeing ghostly women.” Mackenzie quickly explained about the blond apparition with the bleeding chest wound and the other women she’d seen throughout the day. “Why am I seeing them?”

“Sounds like the blond one is a harbinger to me,” Seth decided, slightly frowning. “I’m going to guess she is one of Grant’s victims and she’s trying to warn you. The other women may be following in her wake. Which means he had more than one victim.”

“He said it was his wife,” Mackenzie muttered.

“He’s a liar,” Lucas reminded her.

Shivering, Mackenzie sat back and swallowed the rest of the beer. Real or not, it left her buzzing.

Seth shut his journal and set his arms on the table, his expression thoughtful. “I met a girl long ago. On the verge of becoming a wraith. Beautiful girl, too. Maybe seventeen years old. She wanted shelter, but I couldn’t give it to her. It was too dangerous for me. It hurt to send her away. Before she left, she told me that the lover-boy who had drained her nearly out of existence had left her for another girl. She was looking for him. Desperate to find him. She loved him completely. Even after he had stolen almost all her life essence, she still craved him. Loved him. She said he had told her he loved her, needed her, and swore to protect her. Yet, he had moved on the second he found a fresh young woman who had fallen astray of a dead spot.”

Shaping another beer, Mackenzie cracked it open and took a deep swallow. “What happened to her?”

“Don’t know. She moved on. I suspect she became a wraith. Or maybe she found him and he took the last of her life. She might be a ghost now. Of course, what I’d really like to believe is that she found a way out.” Seth stared somberly at the journal. “I like to believe in happy endings.”

“The mark that Grant put on me, Seth … can you take it off?” It was a question she’d been dreading asking, for she feared she already knew the answer.

With a sorrowful sigh, Seth shook his head. “No, I don’t how. Honestly, the people I’ve met who had a mark didn’t even know they had it, so it’s not like they were trying to get rid of it. I realized over time that all the victims of the lovers always have that same mark. I told Lucas I believe it’s how the lovers always track down their victims. But how to get rid of it? No clue. Maybe if you can make a dream palace, secure it real tight, you can keep him out. Or you may just have to keep on the run and keep killing him.”

Mackenzie bit her bottom lip, nodding. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“So we get out of here and we don’t have to worry about it,” Lucas said in a firm tone.

“Dinner is almost ready. Can you get the boy cleaned up, Mackenzie?” Rosita called out from behind the screen door.

“Sure. I’ll get Johnny.”

Abandoning her half-empty beer for Lucas to finish off, she hurried across the porch and out into the yard. Johnny was fast asleep, his lips parted slightly as he snored. The dog slept beside him, curled with her tail over her nose. It took a little bit of work to wake him enough to get him on his feet. The little boy stumbled like a drunken sailor, much to Mackenzie’s amusement. When they slipped inside the house, Lucas and Seth were still chatting.

Once the child was more alert, Johnny banished her from the bathroom so he could wash up and get ready to eat. His toothless smile and giggling made her grin when he pushed her out the door.

“I need privacy!” he said firmly.

“Fine! Fine … I’ll be downstairs.”

Mackenzie smirked when Johnny slammed the door shut. Returning downstairs, she could hear Lucas and Seth still talking outside. Their voices wafted in through the open windows in the dining room.

“… you have a chance here, Lucas. Don’t throw it away,” Seth was saying.

“It’s not like that with me and Mackenzie. We just barely met. I like her a lot. She’s my friend. I trust her, but I’m not going to build a dream palace and lock myself away with her and Johnny.”

“How long will you waste time looking for a way out instead of making a life here?” Seth asked pointedly.

“It’s not wasting time. I’ll find a way out, Seth.”

Mackenzie felt awkward listening in, yet she couldn’t help herself. Her head was still buzzing from the beer and curiosity got the best of her.

“You haven’t died yet. You can build a dream palace and she’s still strong enough to help you hold it. Even if she does have the mark, maybe you can keep him out.”

“That’s not on the table with us. We want to get out of here.”

“What about Johnny? That little boy still has a chance to be happy. He’s still full of innocence and life. He doesn’t have a mark despite all his deaths. There’s no wraith after him. If you don’t want to create a safe place for the boy, I’m offering to take him in.”

Lucas took a long time in responding. “If Johnny wanted to stay with you, I would respect that. Trust me. I don’t want to put him in any more danger.”

“What about Mackenzie, Lucas? She deserves better than traveling through the nightmares of others.”

“Mackenzie and I know we want out. Frankly, Seth, none of my former companions have her toughness. Have you looked at her yet as a seer? She’s raw energy. Pure strength. Hell, she doesn’t even need me. She could easily take care of herself and the boy. I’m lucky she wants me along.”

Lifting her hands to her swimming head, Mackenzie found it difficult to accept Lucas’s description of her. For so long, she had felt empty and lifeless, yet she had to admit she did feel more alive these last few days than she had in a long time.

“Listen to yourself, Lucas. You really like this girl. This is your chance for happiness. Make a life with her and the boy,” Seth said insistently.

“Can you help me set the table?” Rosita stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “The biscuits are almost ready and I don’t want them to burn.”

“Of course!” Mackenzie felt herself blushing, embarrassed about being caught eavesdropping. Hurrying into the kitchen, she washed her hands and helped Rosita.

Dinner was delicious and the conversation was light. The heavier topics of the day were banished, and Seth spent a good amount of time talking to Johnny about their mutual love of the Old West. Lucas joined in the conversation, but his lightheartedness seemed a bit artificial. A few times she caught him watching Johnny with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

As for Mackenzie, she regarded the scene around her with a detached sense of reality. Knowing that the pretty young woman at the end of the table was a creation of a heartbroken husband wearing the guise of a young man and that the house around her was a construct of someone’s dreams was a reminder of the temptation to hide away in a dream palace with an idealized version of Tanner and their baby. Six months ago she would have immediately created one.

The rest of the evening was spent on the porch enjoying the fireflies zooming through the night. Johnny played with his toys until he fell asleep on the lawn again. Rosita carried him upstairs to bed, leaving Mackenzie to ponder all she had learned. Seth and Lucas chatted about cars while she stared up at the stars and wondered if the world of dreams and nightmares hovered in a universe as vast as the one the real world existed within.

“Does time have real meaning here?” she asked, interrupting them.

“What do you mean?” Seth asked.

“None of us age. We don’t grow older, or mature. We just remain stagnant day to day unless we die and come back renewed. So do these days match the days on the other side? If we get out of here, will the same amount of days have passed? Or will it be a hundred years in the future there? Will we suddenly age and turn to dust? Are we even real anymore?”

Seth’s mouth dropped open while Lucas just chuckled.

Mackenzie arched an eyebrow at Lucas. “What’s so funny?”

“Does it matter?” Lucas asked.

She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“If we escape this world and return to the world of the living and suddenly drop dead, does it matter? Would you rather stay here and possibly die over and over again, or take the risk?” Lucas shrugged his shoulders, his foot resting on the porch railing, rocking back and forth in his chair. “As for if we’re real anymore or not, who knows? We can’t know any of those answers, can we? It’s not like someone has left this world and come back to give us all the juicy details. Hell, when I get out, I will never enter another abandoned building so long as I live.”

“But she has a point, Lucas. What if this is your world now? You’re almost a god here. You can have anything you want,” Seth said vehemently. “Can’t you see that?”

“I want something that’s real, Seth. I will never judge you for the choice you have made, but I want reality. Even if it’s hard, sweaty, and annoying.” Lucas glanced over at Mackenzie. “What do you want?”

How easy it would be to try to make a dream palace full of all the things she ever wanted. She could even take Johnny with her. She could have Tanner in her bed, Joshua in her arms, and Johnny playing in her backyard. But it wouldn’t be real. It could never contain the satisfaction that would come with the trials of a life fully lived and realized. She didn’t want to re-create the past, but find a future.

Seth gazed at her hopefully, and she realized he wanted her to convince Lucas to stay. He obviously liked Lucas and seemed to be growing fond of her and Johnny. It was clear from what she had overheard that Seth wanted Lucas to create a life with her and the little boy.

“I want what’s real,” Mackenzie said at last, vocalizing the truth she had discovered within herself. “No lies. No fake faces. I want what’s real.”

Seth lowered his head sorrowfully, letting out a soft sigh.

Lucas grinned at her, obviously pleased.

Clinking her beer against Lucas’s, she finally let go of her past.

CHAPTER 29

The sun wasn’t even up when Mackenzie awoke. She had slept soundly and without dreams for most of the night, so she was surprised to find herself opening her eyes at such an early hour. Sliding out of the comfortable four-poster bed, she checked on Johnny sleeping on a cot on the far side of the guest bedroom. He was still deeply asleep, his arm hanging off the side of the cot so his hand could rest in the soft coat of the dog sleeping on the floor. Earlier, Mackenzie had let Betsey into the room after the dog kept whining at the door.

With a slight yawn, she pulled on a robe and walked to the windows to peer out at the quiet town. Massive shapes slithered through the darkness, but somehow they didn’t seem so threatening from within the dream palace. She trusted Seth’s ability to maintain his safe haven after witnessing his ability to keep his visage of youth, his home, and the apparition of his wife. None of the nasty nightmare creatures even dared get close to the house. It was impressive to see.

A flicker of white caught her eye just on the other side of the hedge. A dark-haired woman dressed in a white gown floated serenely above the ground, her hands cupped to her bleeding chest. The sight sent a fresh sliver of fear through Mackenzie’s heart. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on dismissing her fear. She now understood what the bleeding chest meant. It was the place where Grant had placed his mark on the other women. Pressing her fingers to the location of her own mark, a flash of fresh anger burned through her. Even if Grant was searching for her, she would not be afraid. She’d face him and defeat him. There was no way she would ever allow him to possess her and destroy her. Opening her eyes, she saw that the woman was gone.

A gentle knock summoned her to the door. Opening it a crack, she was surprised to see Lucas, fully dressed, his hand resting against the doorjamb, gazing at her with a distressed look on his face.

“What is it?” she asked worriedly.

“Can we talk?”

Mackenzie nodded, slipped into the hallway, and gently shut the door behind her. Lucas leaned toward her and said softly, “I’m thinking maybe it’s best if we leave Johnny here.”

“What?” She covered her mouth, realizing that her surprise had elicited a much louder response than she had planned. She hoped she hadn’t waked anyone else.

“Between what you said and something Seth said to me, I wonder if we should let him stay. What if time is messed up, like you said? Or what if we’re no longer real to our old world? What if we do end up instantly dying when we reach the other side? And if we survive, Johnny has nowhere to go once we get out. He’s been here a very long time, and his parents may be gone by now. If they’re not, how do we explain that he’s still a little boy and his brother is still missing?” Lucas rubbed his brow with irritation. “I’ve been up most of the night thinking about it.”

Mackenzie frowned, anger filling her. She had not expected Lucas to doubt himself or their plans. “Are you just trying to abandon him? I already went through this with Grant!”

“No, no. Never! But I am starting to wonder if he’s better off here with Seth and Rosita. This dream palace is stable. It’s been here for decades. You saw how happy he was playing with Betsey today. On the road, he’s going to be faced with the monsters he fears. And if we get out…”

Mackenzie saw the worry in Lucas’s expression and it tugged at her heartstrings. Unlike Grant, who had wanted to eliminate Johnny so he could keep Mackenzie to himself, Lucas was sincerely worried about the little boy. She gently placed a hand on Lucas’s cheek and gazed into his eyes. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I don’t want to ruin a kid’s life, Mac. You’re an adult. You can make choices for yourself with a clear head. He’s a little boy.” Lucas laid his hand over hers and leaned into it, obviously needing some comfort.

The door behind them swung open and Johnny peered out with a flushed face and clenched jaw. “I’m not some dumb little kid,” he said in a furious voice, tears welling in his eyes. “I know that my mommy and daddy are old now or dead. I know it’s been a long time. I like to pretend that I can go home, but I know I can’t.” The tears burst, sliding over his freckled cheeks. “I’m not dumb, Lucas. I know!”

Mackenzie fell to her knees and Johnny threw himself into her arms. Holding him close, she patted his back while he sobbed. Her heart filled with affection for him and she snuggled him close.

“Don’t leave me behind! Don’t leave me!” Johnny cried out.

“If you stay here you’ll have a good home, Johnny,” Lucas said, his fingers gently raking through the boy’s hair. “I don’t want to put you through any more grief.”

Lifting his head, Johnny said, “I don’t want to stay here. I want to be with you and Macky. Even if we’re not real anymore, I don’t care. I want to stay with you! Macky kills the bad zombie when he tries to bash my head, and you have the fastest car!”

After pressing a kiss to his warm forehead, Mackenzie wiped the boy’s tears away with the hem of her robe. “I won’t make you stay here, Johnny. And Lucas won’t either, will you?” She gave Lucas a sharp, warning look.

Crouching, Lucas rested his hand on Johnny’s slender shoulder. “No, I won’t make you stay. I just thought maybe it would be better for you. There’s so much I don’t know and we might escape only to—”

“Disappear?” Johnny asked. “My brother told me if we went back to the old world we would disappear because we’re not real anymore.”

Fear clogged her throat, but Mackenzie refused to give in to it anymore. “I don’t want to live my life always running away from monsters. Even if it means disappearing if I escape. But that’s my choice. You have to choose for yourself.”

Lucas stared at the boy, warmth in his eyes. “Whatever you decide, little buddy, is what we’ll do.”

“I want to go. I want to get out. Maybe if we disappear we’ll go to the real heaven, right?” Johnny stared at Lucas hopefully. “We won’t just die and come back again like we do here. We’ll go to the real heaven?”

Mackenzie bit her bottom lip and deferred to Lucas. Her belief system was shattered, and she didn’t have any real answers, but Lucas did believe in a higher power.

Lucas nodded firmly. “I believe that if we were to die trying to go back, that yes, we would go to a better place than this.”

“I don’t want to stay here anymore. I don’t want to die anymore. I don’t want to see the bad thing that hurt Macky, or my brother ’cause he tries to hurt me, or the zombie because he bashes my head. Please, Lucas, don’t leave me!”

Unexpectedly, tears filled Lucas’s eyes as he nodded. “Then I won’t. We’ll leave together.”

Johnny flung himself into Lucas’s arms and they clung to each other. Standing, Mackenzie walked to the window and looked into the street below, allowing them to have their moment. She fought her own tears, trying not to think of Joshua and Tanner. It was easy to see that Lucas and Johnny had formed a strong bond that reminded her vividly of the father and son relationship she had dreamed of for Tanner and Joshua. Her own motherly role to the boy was complicated emotionally. At times, she wondered how Joshua would have behaved at Johnny’s age and those moments hurt. Yet, she was forming a bond with the boy and growing to love him. At first, she’d just wanted to protect him because he was an innocent, but now she cared for him because he was an amazing little person.

Outside the window, the early rays of dawn brushed the horizon in pale blue. In the drive below, the Mustang sat ready for their trip. Soon they would be far away from the safety of the dream palace and traveling through the world of dreams and nightmares. To her amazement, she realized she was not afraid.

Unable to sleep, they readied for the day. Lucas lingered in the guest bedroom spending time with Johnny while Mackenzie bathed and dressed. It was an oddly familial scene with the tattooed man and little boy playing with the dog. It again gave Mackenzie pause and a sliver of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts. Estelle had infected her with paranoia, and Grant had played off her fears. She refused to allow herself to even wonder if Grant’s warning about Johnny and Lucas was true. She was safe and far away from the creature that would have stolen her life away.

Later, after a rich, very filling breakfast of waffles, bacon, eggs, and lots of coffee, it was time to return to the road and continue their quest. On the front porch, Mackenzie gave Rosita a slight hug before shaking hands with Seth.

“You sure you won’t reconsider, Mackenzie?” Seth’s young, gentle face held a sorrowful cast to it. It was a far cry from the completely blissful look he had worn the day before.

“Don’t worry about us, Seth. You have your life here. We just need to find our own way.”

“Johnny is welcome to stay here while you try to find a new place,” Rosita said, smiling.

“Thank you for your offer, but we’ll keep him with us,” Lucas answered, his arms looped around Johnny. The little boy looked much happier and content in spite of his earlier emotional farewell with Betsey before breakfast.

“Lucas, it’s always good to see you. I wish you would reconsider. There are several places here in town that you could shape into your own dream palace,” Seth said as he clasped hands with Lucas.

“Oh, yes,” Rosita said, smiling. “It would be nice to have you as neighbors.”

“We’re not ready to settle down yet, Rosita.” Lucas gently squeezed the hand she proffered.

“Well, whenever you’re in town again, please come by and visit. Seth and I love to have company.”

Seth slid his arm around his wife and smiled at her proudly. “It’s always good to see friends, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes! Please come back.”

“Thank you again,” Lucas said, stepping onto the lawn and snagging Mackenzie’s arm.

Making a show of waving goodbye, the three of them hurried to the car, ready to be on their way.

“See you next time!” Seth called out.

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time!” Lucas shouted back.

Seth nodded while his wife kept smiling and waving.

Once they were all settled into the Mustang, Lucas gunned the engine and tore out of town. Mackenzie held on to the dashboard for dear life, but the boys were in high spirits. As the car accelerated to top speeds, Lucas and Johnny whooped it up.

“Faster!” Johnny shouted.

“You do realize you’re far exceeding the speed limit?” Mackenzie braced herself as they took a turn far faster than she would have ever dared.

“You do realize we’re the only car on the road?” Lucas shot back, grinning. “I have a tank of gas that is perpetually full and miles to cover. I say we can ride like bats out of hell for a little while.”

“And what if something jumps into the road?”

“I’ll go around it. I have mad driving skills.”

“God, you’re annoying.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes.

“He’s not God,” Johnny said, laughing. “He’s Lucas.”

*   *   *

The South Texas terrain was flat and full of scrub brush, mesquite trees, and cactus. By midmorning, the sun was blazing in the sky, and the wind was hot as a furnace. It may have been fall in other parts of the world of dreams and nightmares, but it was solidly summer at every dead spot they stopped at that morning. Johnny tagged along at every stop, determined not to be left behind. Wearing his cowboy hat and clutching his toys, he kept close to the adults.

At the seventh dead spot, an abandoned trailer, Mackenzie stared worriedly at the front entrance. The door had completely come off and lay on the ground. “If the door doesn’t exist on this end, do you think it can still open?”

“I have no clue,” Lucas answered. He boldly climbed up to the entrance and stood in the gaping opening. Balancing carefully on the edge, he peered down at Mackenzie. “I would think probably not. This place feels like it has a slow leak. I actually think this dead spot might be dying. It feels and looks all wrong.”

“Cross it off?” Mackenzie asked.

“Yeah. No sense wasting time coming here again.” Lucas jumped to the ground and rejoined them.

Mackenzie marked through the dead spot with a red marker and scrawled DOA. The blistering wind made it difficult to fold up the map. She floundered for a few seconds, and then finally got it under control. Tucking the map under her arm, she straightened her sunglasses as she surveyed the terrain. It was barren and not very attractive. It looked rather postapocalyptic. It also felt strangely empty now that they were so far away from the various towns in the area.

Mackenzie felt oddly detached from her surroundings as her mind began to whirl crazily. She felt as though she were missing something, and it nagged at her. One thought pushed its way out of the maelstrom and she snatched onto it. “Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“Show me what it looks like, please?”

“Sure.”

Mackenzie steeled herself for the moment the façade fell away to reveal the true world. Lucas pressed his hand to her forehead, and again, she was overwhelmed by the vibrant and terrifying true face of the world of dreams and nightmares. The desert landscape was transformed into a cacophony of colors, the wide horizon filled with plumes of sparkling energy and flashes of vivid white light. Resting against Lucas for support, she pressed her hand over his, forcing herself to adapt to the blinding beauty of the world around her. The dead spot was a murky ink blot against the terrain, but she could see it was sickly from its pallor and weak vibrations. The surrounding area was devoid of the massive sparkling pulses she had seen before.

“That’s enough,” Lucas said, pulling his hand away.

Dizzy with the abrupt transformation of her surroundings, Mackenzie gripped his arm while she steadied herself. Her eyes were still spotty, trying to readjust, tracers sliding across her vision. “I saw what I needed to.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re doing this wrong,” she answered. Her mind had clamped on to an idea and she quickly explored it, her excitement growing.

“Uh, how?” Lucas cocked his head, staring at her curiously.

Johnny mimicked his action. “Yeah, how?”

“This area is too dead! Even the dead spot is dying. There isn’t enough energy to sustain it.”

“That’s pretty obvious, Mac,” Lucas said, not understanding what she was trying to say.

Feverishly, her mind gripped on to tiny details she had originally overlooked, constructing a new view of the world around her. “Something Seth said about wraiths is the key,” Mackenzie said excitedly. “They feed off of life energy. You even said that dead spots are somewhat sentient. They, too, feed off of us, by eating chunks of our energy when we shape things, right?”

“Yeah,” Lucas said thoughtfully.

“You’ve been going to each dead spot because if we got in, there has to be a way out. But I think you’re looking in the wrong dead spots.” Breaking into a run, she raced toward the car with Lucas and Johnny right behind her. Once at the Mustang, she climbed into the vehicle and grabbed Lucas’s maps. “We’ve been concentrating on places where activity is lower for safety reasons. Right?”

Lucas nodded, watching her flip through the maps. “Exactly.”

Mackenzie scanned over the maps, seeing the pattern forming before her eyes. “You talked about the cities having lots of dead spots like Detroit because of the economy. We assumed that because there are more abandoned places that must be why there are more people coming through in those areas. But what if that’s not it? What if the dead spots are opening up their doorways to feed? The areas with the most activity are where the dead spots have access to the human population, therefore a chance to snare one of us! This dead spot is dying because it’s in an area where it can’t trap anyone. Who’s going to even dare go in there? How many people actually travel this road in the real world?”

“Mac, I think you’ve got it,” Lucas said, understanding blooming in his eyes. “I was assuming that all the dead spots were the same. That they just randomly open when a human stumbles into them.”

“What if it’s more than that? What if the dead spots are manipulating our world? Laying out traps?” Mackenzie thought of the weird behavior of the deer that caused her accident. They had not bolted until after she had gotten out of the car. Upon reflection, she realized the deer should have darted away after she’d nearly hit them. “They’re making bridges to the outside to pull us in. They need us to survive. Once humanity abandons an area and the dead spot forms, they’re starving! All that life energy has been taken from them and they need us!”

“The dead spots hunt us.” Lucas stared at her in awe. “Shit, I think you’re right.”

“Did we find a way out?” Johnny asked eagerly.

“Maybe.” Lucas squatted just inside the open door and studied the maps with Mackenzie. “I think Mackenzie figured it out.”

“Do you see it?” she asked. Her fingers trembled against the paper.

“Most of us enter along major highways, trucking routes, and in cities.” Lucas grinned. “Which matches the high activity of wraiths in those areas. I mean, I saw it, but I thought the reason for the high activity was because of the population. More people, more dreamers.”

“I think the activity is because wraiths are swarming to the dead spots that are luring people in. Grant was in a dead spot waiting for it to snare a victim.”

“It definitely looks like those dead spots are bringing in more people, and the wraiths must be latching on to them when they enter.” Lucas ran his hands over his face. “I was doing this all wrong. I was thinking of all the dead spots as being equal. That each one was a possible way out.”

“I don’t think they all are.” Mackenzie gazed at the map seeing the same pattern forming. Lucas had marked all the dangerous high-activity areas on the map and always traveled around them. Yet, those were the ones with the most notations. It was easy to just assume that because of the higher population there was a more likely chance of someone stumbling into a dead spot, but Mackenzie was now convinced those dead spots were just able to trap humans more efficiently and were therefore stronger. “I don’t think we even need to wait for a door to actually be opened by a human, Lucas. I think the truth is that the dead spots open themselves when they sense possible prey.”

“I’m thinking you’re right. The common lore among the people trapped in here is that the door has to be opened by someone on the other side, but what if the dead spots do it themselves? How can we know what’s the truth? No one has left and come back in. I do know both doors definitely need to be open at the same time to allow entry. I’ve seen that myself.”

“Right, but it has to be more than just the two doors being open. It’s about the dead spots rolling out the welcome mat, creating a link. Maybe they’re drawn to a particular type of person and that’s when they open. Maybe that’s why not everyone disappears when they enter an abandoned building. I don’t know. But if we can manipulate the dead spots, shouldn’t we be able to link the two doors ourselves?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“We need to find a location where we know the door will open on the other side and then force our way out. Where is the area of the Hill Country where you said it’s bad?” Mackenzie handed him the map. She was shaking so hard from the adrenaline rush she could barely hold it anymore.

“Right here. Trosclair. It’s actually a good-sized town.” Lucas pointed to a spot on the map that was surrounded by notations.

“It’s not the town,” Mackenzie said, her voice dropping in awe. “It’s the theater!”

“Huh?”

“Trosclair was an oil boom town. They built a ton of fancy buildings to entertain all the oil barons and employees flocking to the area. There was this massive hotel that they knocked down in the early eighties. See, most of your interviewees date back to before the hotel was knocked down, but there is another building there that is very famous for being haunted. It’s a massive theater where they had all sorts of famous people perform in the vaudeville days.” Mackenzie could picture the building in her mind. It was a gorgeous gothic building that was heavily influenced by the Bavarian pioneers that settled the area.

“And you know this how?”

“Tanner was into having day trips and adventures. He wanted to go on a ghost tour, and we went to this theater when we were still living in Kerrville. It’s abandoned and completely creepy. The only people who go in there now are the ghost tours. They happen every two weeks and you have to reserve in advance. Those tours have been going on for years. It’s a huge draw to the area.” Mackenzie stared into Lucas’s eyes, her vision blurring with tears. “If we can get both doors open at the same time, can’t we get out?”

“Oh, God, Mackenzie!”

Lucas dragged her out of the car and into his arms in a crushing embrace. She clung to him, weeping into his shoulder. Not to be left out, Johnny wrapped his arms around both of them.

“You found the way out,” Lucas whispered in her ear. “You found it!”

Trembling with happiness, Mackenzie clung to him and Johnny. Without a doubt, she knew she had found their way out, but it was not going to be as simple as they wished. To get out, they would have to risk entering a very dangerous territory where wraiths were actively hunting for prey.

Lucas pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and released her. “We know where we need to go. Any chance you have any idea when the next tour will happen?”

Sliding onto the seat, Mackenzie snatched her purse from behind the driver’s seat and looked for her phone. She had remembered to charge it the night before, and she hoped it would still work. “I keep everything in my Google calendar. We went a year ago, so I’ll have the date we went on the tour and we can figure it out from there. A little math should give us a date. As long as this world runs alongside the other like we assume it does.”

“I don’t like math,” Johnny said, making a face.

“Me neither,” Lucas agreed.

“Wusses.” Snagging one of Lucas’s pens, Mackenzie fished her journal out of her purse. Flipping it open, she realized the list she had started when she entered had never been updated. She took it as a very good sign. With a wry smile, she flipped to a new blank page and scribbled numbers. Johnny leaned against her while Lucas remained crouched beside them. It took her a few minutes to find the date of the ghost tour, then extrapolate the next possible date. “Okay, if I figured this out correctly, it’s tomorrow!”

“We can be there well in advance, but that’s a very dangerous area. There are a ton of wraiths and it’s … crazy. Incredibly dangerous. If any of us die, we won’t know where we might resurrect. We’re risking getting separated.” Lucas rubbed his chin.

“Is there a place with low activity where we can hole up?” Mackenzie asked. “Somewhere near Trosclair, but not too close?”

Lucas frowned, rubbing his furrowed brow. “Let me think.”

“Macky!” Johnny gasped, his fingers digging into her side. “He’s here!”

The black-and-white zombie staggered across the dusty street toward them.

Lucas jerked to his feet, his hand swiftly moving toward his holster.

“I got it,” Mackenzie said confidently, sliding past Lucas and stalking toward the zombie. “Besides, I need the practice.”

Lifting her hand, Mackenzie imagined her mother’s old sawed-off shotgun. It materialized in her hand, primed and ready to fire. The zombie didn’t pay any heed to the weapon or her. Its dead gaze rested squarely on Johnny cowering next to Lucas. It was a few feet away from her when Mackenzie fired into its face. The zombie jerked and fell to the ground. Imagining a baseball bat, Mackenzie felt the shotgun transforming. She raised the bat over her head.

“So sick of this bullshit,” she growled, punctuating each word with a swing of the bat, pulverizing the zombie’s head.

When she was done and the zombie was dead, she tossed away the bat. It dissipated before it hit the ground.

Turning she saw Lucas holding Johnny in his arms, both of them staring at her in awe.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” she said, blushing slightly, but feeling rather proud of herself. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I told you,” Johnny said to Lucas. “She’s Wonder Woman.”

CHAPTER 30

“I never dreamed it was this bad,” Mackenzie said in sad awe.

Lucas and Mackenzie stood next to the Mustang staring over the wide pasture between the road and the ranch-style home of Mackenzie’s mother. The ranch looked strangely empty with the horses, trainers, and students absent from the corrals.

The area around the house was another story.

It was swarming with nightmarish monsters that kept playing out hellish scenarios. Though Johnny had already seen his fair share of horrors, she had ordered him back into the car. He didn’t have to see her mother’s fears played out in vivid detail. Her mother’s nightmares featured hellish acts upon different incarnations of Mackenzie at every age. Apparitions killed Mackenzie in every vile way imaginable. In one scenario, her car crashed into a truck over and over again. In another repeating image, Mackenzie was dragged off by men with axes.

“I’m speechless,” Lucas said, disgust in his voice.

“She must be sleeping for it to be like this. Maybe they sedated her. I’m sure she’s freaking out about my disappearance,” Mackenzie said, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Look away,” Lucas said. “Just look away. She’s mentally ill. It’s obvious.”

Mackenzie forced herself to face Lucas. He looked sickened by the display below.

“I know mothers worry, but this seems so extreme,” she whispered, her stomach knotting.

“Disturbing. Rather sick.”

Shivering, she looked toward the descending sun. They had decided to drive into the Hill Country and take refuge in an old bed-and-breakfast dead spot. They’d be on the outer edges of the activity and able to make it to the theater in good time to hopefully meet up with the ghost tour. Even though there was the possibility of seeing her mother again very soon, she’d had the inexplicable urge to stop by the horse ranch. Mackenzie now regretted doing so. Having a clear view into her mother’s paranoid mind was not comforting at all, yet it made her realize how far removed she was from Estelle’s version of reality. None of the manifestations were grounded in truth. Staring at the ranch, Mackenzie knew that her future didn’t lie there even if she got out of the dead spot.

“We should go,” she said.

Lucas agreed, somberly nodding his head. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of this growing up. It couldn’t have been easy.”

Mackenzie hesitated, glancing back at the house one more time. “No, it wasn’t. But those are her fears, not mine.”

Giving her a small smile, Lucas said, “Exactly. You’re stronger than her.”

“Yes, I am.” Mackenzie caught Johnny trying to sneak a peek, and placed her hand over the window. “None of that.”

“That’s not as scary as the shark,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, then, don’t look.” Mackenzie climbed into the car and pulled the seat belt on. It took all her willpower not to look again at the terrible ways her mother imagined her being killed, raped, and beaten. The shark had been terrifying, but seeing her mother’s fears manifested was chilling in a different way. She’d always considered her mother’s paranoia to be born of love, but now she saw it was grounded in Estelle’s illness.

In silence, Lucas slid behind the wheel, turned on the car, shifted gears, and the Mustang roared along the winding road.

“Where are we?” Johnny asked.

“Close to Fredericksburg now,” Lucas answered.

“Is that where we’re going?” Johnny was slouched in the rear, his shoeless feet propped up on the back of Mackenzie’s seat.

“Yep. There’s basically no dead spots in the city limits, so it’s perfect,” Mackenzie said, reaching back to tickle his feet.

Giggling, Johnny flexed his toes under his socks. “I want to be there already.”

“Me, too, Johnny. Me, too.” Mackenzie was tired of the road and ready for a nice evening. The sun would soon drop behind the high hills and she wanted to be at their destination before darkness claimed the world.

The revitalization of Fredericksburg, Texas, had been so successful there were hardly any derelict buildings in the area. The only one was a bed-and-breakfast that had burned on the outskirts of town that had yet to be renovated. Lucas had stayed there twice in the last few months. It seemed like the best place for them to seek shelter without them being too close to the hub of massive activity to the north.

Each small town they’d passed through on their way to Kerrville had looked like a postcard someone had sent while on vacation. Flat, lifeless, and empty, the towns were eerie. Now they were speeding along the winding highway that connected Kerrville and Fredericksburg and the farms and houses set off from the road looked like overgrown dollhouses. Mackenzie caught a few glimpses of creatures lurking in the shadows of the trees, but as the sun continued its downward descent, more bizarre creatures and dream constructs began to appear.

“That’s creepy,” Lucas muttered.

A massive destroyer floated over a house on a hill. It was burning, explosions ripping through the hull while fiery figures leaped from the decks into the churning dark mist below.

“A lot of veterans are in the area,” Mackenzie said, the sight chilling her.

“Are we there yet?” Johnny asked in a weary, overly dramatic voice.

Lucas chuckled, winking at Mackenzie. “Ah, our parents are now avenged.”

“Classic kid line,” Mackenzie agreed.

“But are we there yet?” Johnny persisted.

“Just about to hit the city limits,” Lucas answered. He finally removed his sunglasses and tossed them onto the dashboard. The sun glimmered on the horizon, but the world was now muted in shades of gray and purple.

German settlers had founded Fredericksburg in the 1800s. It was a major tourist attraction due to its restored downtown area loaded with amazing shops, cultural museums, the rich German pioneer history, and the National Museum of the Pacific War. It was always so vibrant with life that Mackenzie dreaded seeing it dead and silent in this world.

When the Mustang finally cruised down the Hauptstrasse, the official title for Fredericksburg’s main street, Mackenzie shivered at the stillness. Though banners and signs announced Oktoberfest, the sidewalks were devoid of life. Cars were parked along the street, but the roads were quiet and empty.

“This looks like my hometown,” Johnny decided. He pressed his nose to the window to stare out at the muted tranquility.

“It’s like the perfect snapshot of small-town America,” Lucas said.

The roar of a plane engine startled them seconds before a Japanese Zero swooped out of the twilight sky, closely followed by another plane.

“Fuck me! A P-38 Lightning!” Lucas slammed on the brakes, shifted into park, and they all clambered out of the car.

“Wow,” Mackenzie breathed.

The sky on the south end of town was filled with an aerial battle. Allied planes and Japanese Zeros clashed in a massive display of firepower. Explosions rocked the skies, and debris rained on the still town. Sirens and screams drifted through the smoke.

Johnny clung to Mackenzie’s side, staring in awe at the dogfight. “Who’s winning?”

Lucas leaned against his car, his face lifted to watch an American bomber’s fiery descent. “No one. It’s an endless loop. This is someone’s memory, playing over and over again as they sleep.”

Mackenzie realized he was right. She began to spot the areas of the battle that were repeating at regular intervals. “It’s horrible.”

“This was someone’s reality once.” Lucas folded his arms over his chest and watched, enraptured.

“But the sun isn’t even all the way down. Why are they dreaming?” Johnny protested.

“Because old people like to go to bed superearly. Remember Luby’s? That place we ate where they had blue Jell-O? It’s always swarmed at four o’clock by the elderly. They’re eating dinner so they can get home, watch the news, and tuck in,” Lucas explained.

“I like blue Jell-O,” Johnny said.

“Kind of a stereotype, don’t you think?” Mackenzie found it difficult to look away from the planes whirling about overhead.

“Well, both sets of my grandparents are all about early to bed, early to rise.”

“I want to stay up all night! That would be so cool!”

“Well, I want to get some dinner and relax before I go to bed and sleep all night. Get in the car. Both of you.” She shoved the reluctant kid into the backseat and gestured at Lucas.

“Awww,” Johnny protested. “It looks cool.”

“I’m with him,” Lucas said, playfully pouting.

“I don’t want to be out after the sun is all the way down, okay?” Mackenzie gave them both a stern look as she buckled her seat belt.

“She’s just no fun.” Lucas leaned into the backseat to make sure Johnny was buckled in properly.

“She’s like a mom,” Johnny grumbled.

The comment both wounded and elated Mackenzie.

“Yeah! No fun.” Lucas jabbed her with his elbow.

“I’m going to ground both of you. What do you think of that?”

Lucas winked at Johnny. “Sounds just like a mom.”

It was a relief when they reached their destination, and Lucas restored the burned-out remains of the bed-and-breakfast. It was a large rustic cabin with a big porch complete with a swing and heavy shutters over the windows. Inside, it was decorated in a combination of rustic furniture and more modern leather couches. There were two suites, a kitchen, dining room, and large living room with a flat-screen television hidden behind a panel in the wall. Johnny was enraptured with the paintings of the pioneers who had settled in the area and an old saddle that sat above the fireplace. Mackenzie was just glad to find shelter before the dreamers of the nearby town unleashed their nightmarish fears upon the world in the form of terrible beasts.

After some discussion, it was decided that Johnny would sleep in one suite with Lucas while Mackenzie took the other one. The small sofas in both suites opened into beds. The tension and excitement of the day had worn Mackenzie down and she felt utterly exhausted. It was difficult to keep her eyes open, and she found herself snoozing on the sofa while Lucas and Johnny noisily made macaroni and cheese and a zesty meatloaf. During dinner, she tried to concentrate on the conversation, but her thoughts kept drifting. Maybe it was seeing her mother’s fears realized, or her glimpses of the women in white throughout the day, but she kept thinking about Grant. To make matters worse, the memory of her dream made her feel angry, violated, and yet aroused all over again.

Lucas’s hand settling on her wrist startled her. “Mac, you look exhausted. You should go to bed.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, not sure if she had actually dozed off.

“I’m going to introduce Johnny to the joys of modern gaming so he’s ready when we get back to the real world. I’ve got it covered, so you go to sleep.”

Shoveling a massive spoonful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth, Johnny nodded. “He’s got it covered.”

“Hey, no talking with food in your mouth,” Mackenzie chided him.

Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, go get some rest.” Lucas gave her arm an encouraging squeeze, then poured more sweet tea into his glass and Johnny’s. “Now where were we, Johnny?”

“Mario and turtles.”

“Right! Now, the trick about that game is…”

Their voices melded into white noise as Mackenzie sleepily dragged herself to her room. She had left the light on next to the bed and the covers turned down. Too tired to even shower, she flopped onto the bed, embraced the thick pillows, and fell asleep.

Much to her dismay, her dreams were filled with Grant calling her name as she fled with Johnny through crumbling houses, haunted graveyards, and burning buildings. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she thought she had finally freed herself from the nightmares.

Groggily, she remembered leaving the lamp on, but the room was completely filled with darkness. The bed tilted down beside her and she whimpered, terrified that she was trapped in yet another dream where Grant would once again rape her. Rubbing her face with one hand, she started to roll onto her side desperate to wake up and escape the unfurling nightmare. A heavy weight bore down on her, trapping her against the mattress.

“Shhh,” a voice whispered.

Something cold and sharp rested against her throat. The body over her was heavy, but narrow. A bony knee pressed into her chest, pushing the air out of her lungs and making it hard to breathe. Fear bubbled inside of her when she realized she was not dreaming. Someone was in the room holding her at knifepoint, and that person had to have somehow slipped into the dream palace Lucas had created. It was getting harder to breathe and spots began to fill her eyesight. She strained to see who was above her, but there was no light in the room at all.

“I want to play with you,” the voice whispered. “You ruined my other plaything, so now it’s your turn. Your pretty beacon in the sky led me straight to you. You burn so bright, you know.”

The Clown was a seer and he’d found her.

The knife against her throat pressed into her flesh. At first, she didn’t think he had cut her, but then she felt the warmth of her blood trickling over her skin. A second later the piercing agony of the shallow wound sent her reeling. Images of her mother’s worst fears filled her mind and she fought to gain control of her quickly escalating terror.

Dragging her off the bed, the Clown kept Mackenzie locked against his body with one arm tucked under her breasts while he held the knife under her chin.

“Don’t try anything, my glowing little bitch. I will slice off your pretty head and gut you before you’re done screaming. Then I’ll go slice up that little runt and your new boy toy.”

Mackenzie struggled to keep her feet under her to prevent the knife from sliding deeper into her neck. Her fingers gripped the Clown’s wrist, trying in vain to pull it away. He kicked apart the long thick curtains revealing the open window. Displaying how experienced he was in abductions, he easily stepped out of the window first, then dragged her out after him, the knife never wavering from her throat.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was going to kill her and that he was going to make it as agonizing as possible. She had seen his cold, dead eyes at the amusement park and understood that he was far worse than any wraith. He was a human that chose to be a monster. Unable to draw in a full breath, her lungs begged for air and her head swam.

Dying now would ruin all their plans and throw her back into the world alone. If she died, where would she return? How would she find Lucas and Johnny? Fighting panic, she tried to concentrate on how she could escape.

As he carried her away from the house, the Clown’s heavy breathing sent shivers through her. It was obvious he was breathless with exertion and arousal. His disgustingly hard penis kept poking her back. Though fear kept threatening to drown her, the mere thought of being sexually assaulted again ignited a white-hot rage that filled her and burned away all other emotions.

Finally able to catch her breath, Mackenzie whispered, “Fuck you.”

The Clown twirled her about and shoved her against a tree trunk. The pale moonlight shimmered on the white satin of his suit. His eyes were orbs of dark mass, empty and without light in his painted white face. Tufts of blue hair sprung up around his narrow face.

When he spoke, his mouth barely moved, but she could see the redness of his mouth and gums. “I’m going to fuck you in your own blood, my pretty glowing firefly.”

“You forget,” Mackenzie said, her lips turning up in a cruel smile. “I’m not afraid of clowns.” In her mind she visualized the weapon she needed against the clown, then unleashed it into the nightmare world, ignoring the pain ripping through her skull.

The zombie grabbed the Clown from behind and wrestled him from Mackenzie. Startled, the Clown flailed, straining to break free of the zombie, waving his knife ineffectually through the empty air. The black-and-white creature flung the Clown to the ground and fell on top of him. Growling, the zombie strangled the serial killer with one hand while its other strained to reach a heavy rock a few feet away. Stabbing at the dead man, the Clown gurgled, struggling to breathe.

Mackenzie pressed her hand to her throat, the warm, wet blood slipping over her fingers. She stumbled toward the bed-and-breakfast, leaving the Clown to his fate. The thick wet gurgling of the Clown strangling was morbidly reassuring. The zombie growled, and Mackenzie heard the sound of a heavy object impacting against something meaty and soft. She turned, expecting to see the zombie bludgeoning the Clown to death. Instead, Tildy stood over the zombie clutching the makeshift club Mackenzie had made at the amusement park. The zombie raised its hand to ward off the next blow, but Tildy smashed in its head.

The Clown rolled over onto his hands and knees, retching loudly.

“Tildy,” Mackenzie breathed.

“Mackenzie, how are you? Was this yours?” Tildy pointed to the zombie. “So sorry I had to break him, but I can’t have you ruining my fun, can I?”

“Leave me alone,” Mackenzie said, her tone threatening. She willed a shotgun into being and raised it, aiming it at Tildy’s chest.

“Oh, my!” Tildy raised her hands to her face, which wore a mocking fearful look. “A big gun!”

“Stay back!”

Tildy rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. Really?”

Tildy looked different from before. Her body was fuller and her feathered hair wasn’t strawlike from malnourishment. Dressed in a white sundress and knee-high white boots, she looked stronger than she had a few days ago.

“I know how to defend myself now! I won’t let you kill me again!”

“I don’t have any interest in you anymore. I killed you once. It was fun, but it just doesn’t get me off like killing him does.” With disturbingly swift movements, Tildy hoisted the Clown off the ground, holding him by one hand.

The Clown kicked and punched her, his face twisted in dread and loathing.

“Now, killing him is a lot more enjoyable. We’re busy re-creating all my deaths, but now he gets to play the victim, and I get to play the serial killer.” Tildy grinned fiendishly. “We’re up to the death where I get to chainsaw his arms and legs off. It’s going to be really, really fun. I can’t wait to gobble up all that delicious pain and fear. I might even fuck him as he dies. That’s always entertaining, isn’t it, Mr. Clown?”

The Clown’s strangled screams disturbed Mackenzie, but she didn’t dare look away. She didn’t want to give Tildy any opportunity to attack. Keeping her eyes on the wraith, she slid through the open window. “Go away, Tildy. Play your sick games far away from here.”

Tildy just smirked.

Mackenzie placed her hand on the window, ready to shut it, when Tildy said, “Grant’s coming, you know. He couldn’t find you until this little seer led us to you.”

Fear twisted in Mackenzie’s gut, but she refused to look away from the female wraith.

“Grant misses you. He said you were so delicious. So full of pain, despair, loneliness, and fear. Every little sip he took from you was ambrosia, he said. And when he asked you to let him in, you just spread your skinny white thighs for him and let his big ol’ cock in without any resistance so he could mark you.” Tildy smirked. “You’re such a whore. Are you fucking the tattoo guy yet?”

Mackenzie slammed the window shut and jerked the curtains closed. She knew she wasn’t alone in the room when the lamp turned on and the darkness vanished.

Outside, the Clown screamed in pain.

“Mac,” Lucas said in a gentle tone. “Mac, are you okay? I heard noises and saw you come in the window.”

Facing him, she nodded.

“Oh, God! Your throat!” Lucas formed a towel in his hand and rushed to her side. Pressing it against her wound, he guided her to the sofa tucked against the wall.

Unshed tears stung her eyes, but Mackenzie didn’t want to let them fall. Tildy’s words had wounded her more than the knife wound.

“It hurts,” she whispered. Everything in the world hurt so much.

“You can heal yourself. Just concentrate.”

Lucas attempted to staunch the bleeding. Again she was tempted to push him away. His touch made her skin crawl, but she forcibly reminded herself that he was not Grant or the Clown.

“Mac, you’re bleeding really badly. He didn’t hit your arteries, but you can bleed out. If you die, I don’t know how long it will take us to find you. You’ll be alone out there. Please, concentrate on healing yourself. I can’t do it for you. It’s your body, your will.” Lucas pressed his lips to her temple and she felt his tears on her skin.

Nodding, she closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do at first, but then the image of her sliced throat filled her mind’s eye, and she imagined the wound being erased by the giant pink eraser she used in grade school. Gradually, the pain eased until it was gone.

Lucas sighed with relief. Tossing the bloodied towel away, he drew her into his arms. Again, she almost resisted, but she forced herself to relax against his chest. Lucas had never shown any inclination to hurt her and the tenderness in his eyes spoke volumes. He truly cared for her.

“We’ve come this far. We can’t lose each other, Mac.…”

“But we might. Tomorrow things will be much worse.”

“We’re going to fight back, Mac. We’re going to make it to the doorway and get out of here. No one else is going to hurt you and Johnny.”

Grant, Tildy, the Clown, and all the terrible creatures she had witnessed flashed through her weary and frightened mind. How could they fight against so much evil? “Grant’s coming.”

“And we’re leaving.”

“I won’t let him touch me again,” Mackenzie vowed. “I won’t let anything hurt you or Johnny. I’ll fight anything that tries to stop us.” Fear dissipated into resolve. She hadn’t been able to save Joshua, but she had the power and the ability to save herself and her companions.

“And we’ll fight for you, too.”

“If we escape—”

“When we escape.”

“When we escape, what happens then?” The thought of losing Johnny and Lucas pierced her with unexpected sorrow. Would they all just go their separate ways? What about Johnny?

“I’ll get ahold of my brother. He’ll come get us. It’ll be hell explaining all of this to him, but he’s a good guy. He’ll help us even if he thinks we’re batshit crazy. We’ll head back to Austin. You can call your mom from there.” Lucas’s fingers gently combed through her hair, the motion unexpectedly relaxing. “If you want … you know … to come with me.”

Mackenzie raised her head to look at Lucas. Hope and fear intermingled in his gaze. “I can’t go to the ranch after what I saw.”

A relieved smile flitted across his lips. “Cool.”

“And Johnny? His family may be long gone. How do we even start to help him?”

Shrugging, Lucas rested his hand on her cheek, his thumb rubbing it lightly. “Well, we’ll keep him away from Child Protective Services. We’ll handle it on our own. We may have to get a little shady to keep him with us, but there is no way in hell that little guy is going anywhere close to a foster home. I’ll move to Mexico to avoid CPS if I have to.”

For some weird reason, that made Mackenzie giggle.

“What?”

“You sound like a dad.”

Lucas considered her comment, then chuckled. “Yeah, well, God brought him into my life for a reason. I’m not going to let Johnny down.”

“Has it only been three days since I found him in the graveyard?” Mackenzie’s mind reeled at the thought. She had spent two days with Grant and the last few with Johnny and Lucas. Five days in total since she stepped into the café. Yet it seemed like so much longer. It was now unimaginable that she could live her life without the presence of the precious little boy and tattooed man.

“It feels longer, huh? It makes me wonder how time really works here.” Lucas shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I want to remain a part of Johnny’s life,” Mackenzie said firmly.

“Of course you will be! He loves you!”

Tears in her eyes, Mackenzie said, “I love him, too. He’s not a replacement for Joshua, you know. He’s just a piece of my heart now.”

“Just like you’re a piece of his. Mac, don’t you see how much we both care about you? I wouldn’t be too happy if you went off to Kerrville. I’d miss you.”

Clutching his T-shirt, Mackenzie let out a sob that had been building in her throat. “Lucas, I’m taking my stand. I want to build a new life with both of you in it. I don’t know exactly what that entails, but I do. I’ll get a bookkeeper job and an apartment—”

“No lists, Mac,” Lucas whispered, his voice weighted with emotion. “Just flow with it. We’ll figure it out.”

“You saw the lists?”

“Yeah. I saw the journal briefly.”

“It was my ladder out of the pit of depression. It was the only way to keep moving forward, to keep living.”

“And now?”

Reflecting on the last few days, Mackenzie acknowledged that she’d lost all of the support systems that had kept her functioning: her journal, her online support group, her Xanax, and even Joshua’s blanket. “I have myself.”

“Yeah, you do.” Lucas gave her a drowsy look of pride. The exhaustion from their trip was clearly affecting him.

Daring to press her palm to his scruffy jaw, she gazed steadily into his eyes. “I’d miss you, too.”

Gathering her into his arms, Lucas held her close, his cheek pressed against hers. “We’ll go with the flow, Mac, right?”

Already her heart had opened so wide to let Johnny in and Lucas stood on the threshold. Could she let him in, too? She suspected the answer was yes. “We’ll figure it out.”

Lucas planted a long, firm kiss on her cheek. It was the sweetest of promises. Drawing away, he leaned his head on the back of the sofa. “Mind if I crash here?”

“Not at all.” Closing her eyes, she lay against his chest, releasing her fear, her pain, and her sorrow until nothing was left but a peaceful emptiness.

At some point, they both dozed off. Mackenzie woke when Johnny crawled next to her, dragging Joshua’s blanket and the larger one she’d made him. Curling against her side, he closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. Mackenzie draped her arm over him, sighing contentedly. Stroking his hair, Mackenzie kissed his brow. Love filled her heart for the little guy, and she accepted the guilt that came with it. Joshua would always be in her heart, but it was time to let others in.

The steady rising and falling of Lucas’s chest as he slept slowly lulled Mackenzie back to sleep.

There were no more nightmares.

CHAPTER 31

The Mustang rumbled at the top of the mountain, the engine ticking. In the driver’s seat, Lucas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Beside him in the passenger seat, Mackenzie swung her purse over her head and mentally prepared herself. Between them, Johnny leaned forward from the backseat, his big dark eyes wide with awe.

“Wow,” Johnny said at last.

In the valley below, the town of Trosclair, Texas, was spread out in all its rustic, charming beauty just beyond a bridge that spanned a rapidly rushing river. Oaks and cedar trees bordered the road, their branches swaying violently. The hills were steep with patches of their face stripped bare by rock slides exposing the chalky-colored stone beneath. Though these elements appeared normal and almost idyllic, they were overlaid with a nightmarish layer of sheer chaos.

Above the valley a massive wall of thick, dark churning clouds filled the sky, blotting out the sun and plunging the town into a perpetual dusk. Great swarms of red-eyed birds swirled beneath the greenish gray storm. Enormous creatures made of darkness and nightmares perched on the buildings of the town. Fires raged, the earth shook, and lightning filled the sky with flashes of light while thunder rolled endlessly.

“Wow,” Johnny said again.

“We can come back in two weeks.” Lucas glanced at Mackenzie. “Or maybe try another way out.”

Shaking her head, Mackenzie said, “We know there’s a tour in an hour. We need to get to the theater. If we chicken out, we’ll talk ourselves out of trying now that we’ve seen it.”

With a solemn nod, Lucas agreed. “Okay, so…”

Johnny patted his shoulder. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

Lucas laughed, the sound slightly bitter. “I think this is the first time I’ve been afraid—truly afraid—since I arrived in this world.”

“It’s a good time to be afraid,” Mackenzie said, with a slight laugh. It sounded slightly hysterical.

“The ironic thing is that I’m on the cusp of getting the hell outta here because of you, and yet you’re the reason I’m afraid, Mackenzie.” Lucas angled himself in his seat to look at both of them. “You two are my family now. I love you both, and I want all of us to get out of here today. It’s going to be rough once we hit that town and those wraiths come after us. We’re going to need to stick together and fight our way through. None of us can afford to die. We’ll lose each other if we do.” Lucas ruffled Johnny’s hair. “Keep close, little buddy.”

“I will,” Johnny said solemnly. “I promise.”

Mackenzie tilted her head to rub her cheek against Lucas’s hand as he touched her. She felt the sweet pang of sorrow and hope in her heart. If she lost either one of them today, she didn’t know if she could force herself to escape alone. She couldn’t imagine leaving without them. The last night had solidified her connection to them. Mackenzie had woken that morning with Johnny tucked into her side and Lucas tenderly stroking her hair. It had been a perfectly serene moment, and it wasn’t until an hour later that she realized she had not thought of Joshua and Tanner, nor felt as though she had betrayed them. In spite of all the horrors inflicted upon her since she stumbled through the dead spot, she’d found her strength and mended bits of her heart. It was still bruised and hurting, but there was now a special place in it for Johnny and Lucas.

“Ready to be Wonder Woman?” Lucas asked, his eyes shimmering.

“You ready to be Superman?”

“I’m the Lone Ranger!” Johnny piped up.

Their laughter broke a little of the tension in the car. Lucas leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to her brow. She rested her hands against his neck, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeat, her tears falling freely. Johnny leaned over to hug both of them, pressing a sloppy kiss to their cheeks.

“We’ll get out,” Lucas swore, resting his brow against hers. “We will. Together.”

Mackenzie nodded. “Of course. We’re a trio of badasses.” She kissed Johnny’s soft cheek. “Sit back, Lone Ranger, and buckle up.”

Johnny flopped into the backseat to obey.

Leaning forward, Mackenzie dared to press a light kiss to the corner of Lucas’s lips. His fingers traced along her wet cheek and he looked into her eyes for a long moment. No words needed to be spoken between them. Whatever was growing between them was fresh, new, and unknown. If they escaped, they would find out if it was just friendship born in the time of tribulation, or something deeper. It was a very cleansing feeling to realize that she was willing to find out. Mackenzie blushed and sat back in her seat.

“Here we go.” Lucas swiftly switched gears and the Mustang roared forward.

For the first five minutes, their journey into the valley was relatively uneventful despite the terrifying storm, lightning, and trembling earth. Though the trees writhed and cracked as they passed, none fell despite the massive wind gusts that kept Lucas fighting for control of the car. Mackenzie watched in awe as creatures with wingspans larger than jetliners swooped over the town and explosions ripped through the mirage of a tall building towering over the town.

The Mustang rolled around a curve, and the bridge came into view. It was an arched bridge made out of quarry stone with low barriers lining the sides topped with metal rails. The water rushing below splashed over the abutments and swirled downstream. The town started just after the bridge and thick murky smog slithered through the streets. Lucas slowed the rumbling vehicle to a stop and studied the passage through the thick veil of rain.

“Do you feel that?” Mackenzie’s skin was covered in goose pimples. The air was vibrating with energy and somehow she could decipher what it meant.

“Yeah.” Lucas took a deep breath. “I feel it.”

Johnny was silent, but Mackenzie felt his small hand settle on her arm.

“Whatever that energy is, it will attack us on the bridge.” She felt it to the core of her being that they were being stalked and watched and soon the predator would strike.

“Old legends speak of water as a barrier. When we pass over the bridge, we’ll be passing into a new territory.”

“They’re going to try to keep us from escaping, you know.”

“Yeah.” Lucas reversed the car, craning his head so he could look out the rear window. He brought the car to a stop farther up the road and faced forward. “So let’s go as fast as we can and see if they can catch us.”

“Johnny, sit back and close your eyes!” Mackenzie ordered. She felt his hand slip free of her arm as he obeyed.

Revving the motor, Lucas gripped the steering wheel tightly in his gloved hand. His jaw setting into a strong line of steely resolve, he slammed the car into gear and punched the accelerator. The Mustang growled, speeding down the hill, water curving out in an arc from its tires.

Mackenzie kept her eyes pinned to the approaching bridge, mentally steeling herself for whatever attacked.

The car sloshed through the water slithering over the road and onto the bridge that consisted of three arches. The bordering rails sticking out of the barricades drew to a peak at the end of each arch. The dark water topped with white foam filled Mackenzie’s peripheral vision, but she kept staring straight ahead.

They passed the first marker. One arch down.

Lucas kept accelerating, teeth clenched. The car was filled with silence while the storm raged outside.

The car sped past the second marker.

One more arch to go.

The town loomed closer. The year before, Mackenzie had taken this same route with Tanner, and the familiar buildings were a welcome sight.

“Almost there,” Lucas grunted.

“Macky!” Johnny screamed.

A water spout struck the bridge and instantly engulfed the Mustang in its whirling winds. The tires left the road and the car spun about within the funnel. Torrents of water battered the windows, obscuring their view, and Mackenzie gripped Lucas’s arm in fright. The centrifugal force pinned her into the seat and she felt like she was going to retch. The Mustang hit the barricade with a metallic crunch and was tossed over the rail by the high winds.

The sensation of freefalling disoriented her and she futilely attempted to brace herself for impact. Her purse dinged around the interior of the car, striking her in the face seconds before the car splashed into the river. The Mustang rolled, knocking them about, before settling upside down in the dark murky water.

“We need to get out,” Lucas said, unbuckling himself. He fell onto the roof and crawled to the backseat.

Mackenzie’s numb fingers found the release of her seat belt and yanked it. She landed on her face and hands. The contents of her purse were scattered around her, and she saw Joshua’s blanket floating against the rear window. Only blackness dwelled beyond the glass. She strained to reach the blanket, but realized their time was swiftly running out. Water was seeping into the car, sloshing around her body. With a pang of sorrow, she realized it was time to let it go. They needed to get out of the car. Mackenzie crawled under the passenger seat to where Lucas was struggling to free Johnny. The little boy was hysterical and grabbing onto Lucas, making it difficult for him to get him free of the seat belt.

“Mac, help me!”

Mackenzie and Lucas shuffled around so she could take hold of the little boy and lift him. Johnny clutched her jacket and hair, whimpering in terror. Lucas finally freed him and the boy fell into their arms.

Lucas splashed through the swiftly rising cold water to the driver’s door. “We’re going to have to take a big breath, okay? Johnny, are you listening?”

“Yes!” the boy wailed.

“A big breath, then we’re going to swim out of the car and go up. Okay? I want you to hold on to my neck and don’t let go.” Lucas hauled the boy toward him through the foot of murky water. “Mac, are you okay?”

Nodding, she bravely fought against thoughts of drowning in the muddy grave.

“Stay right behind me. Hold on to my belt, okay?”

Again, she nodded.

Lucas studied her face, anxiety etched in his face. “We can do this.”

“We are going to do this,” she answered.

Gripping the crank for the window, Lucas placed his other hand over the little boy’s arms, which were around his neck. “Hold on.” He started rolling up the window swiftly, the muscles in his arms bulging. Water poured under the lifting glass, filling the interior of the car.

Tucking her fingers around Lucas’s belt, Mackenzie fought against her growing terror as the water rose around her steadily. When the window was finally fully open, the last few inches of air were speedily swallowed up. With a choking sob, she took one last breath before water filled her nose and blinded her.

Lucas launched himself out the window, Johnny clinging to his shoulders. Mackenzie swam out behind them, her fingers tucked around Lucas’s belt. She kicked furiously with her feet, freeing herself from the confines of the submerged car. The water roiled around them, tossing them about.

In his haste to get to the surface, Lucas accidentally kicked Mackenzie, knocking her free. Tearing at the water with her arms and legs, Mackenzie swam through the churning waves. The powerful currents tore at her clothes and hair, but she kept fighting despite the burning in her lungs. Her body screamed for oxygen, and confusion swept over her. Terrified she was swimming downward and not toward the surface, she screamed into the water. Through the panic saturating her mind, Mackenzie realized what she needed. A life preserver formed in one of her hands and swiftly tugged her upward. Seconds later, her head broke free of the surface. Gasping for air, she was carried along by the foaming waves.

“Lucas!” she screamed.

Rain battered her and lightning struck at the trees bordering the river. Thunder boomed, drowning out her screams. Her feet tangled in debris lining the bottom and she furiously fought to free herself before she was tugged under. To her shock, her foot hit the riverbed. Digging in her heels, she half-swam, half-climbed out of the water, dragging herself up into the trees.

“Lucas! Johnny!”

“Macky!” Johnny’s voice shouted from farther downstream.

Grabbing branches to heave her body up the incline, Mackenzie crawled toward the road above her. “Johnny! Where are you?”

“Macky!”

The trees rustled around her. With a growing sense of dread, Mackenzie continued to ascend. Johnny’s faint cries grew more frantic, spurring her forward. Her hand closed over a branch and she hauled herself upward. A black bird landed next to her fingers, its red eyes glowing. It let out a strange raspy hoot, then pecked viciously at her fingers with its curved beak.

Instead of drawing her hand back, she gripped the bird by its scrawny neck. Rage filled her as its bat wings battered her and the bird’s maw opened wide exposing serrated teeth. Willing the creature to die, she felt a sick sense of pleasure when it burst into flames. She hurled it into the raging river, its burning body instantly consumed in the dark water.

Relieved, she pulled herself over the barricade and onto the sidewalk. The road ran parallel to the river. Businesses lined it for a block before houses took over for one more. Immediately past the last line of houses was the edge of a park. It was there that Mackenzie saw Johnny’s tiny form trying to evade his grainy black-and-white zombie tormentor.

Summoning a shotgun, Mackenzie broke into a sprint. Her boots were filled with water, making it difficult, but she hurtled toward the boy at top speed.

“Run, Johnny!” She was too far away to even attempt to shoot the zombie.

The little boy was so worried about evading the monster he didn’t see a small cluster of short bushes until he tumbled into them. The zombie grabbed Johnny’s collar, jerked him out of the foliage, and threw him to the ground. It then instantly fell on top of him, pinning the boy while it stretched out its hand to grab a big stone that materialized beside them.

“Macky, he’s going to bash my head!”

“He’s not real, Johnny! He’s not real! He’s an apparition! He’s your fear!” Mackenzie dashed toward the struggling figures that were partially obscured by the bushes. If Johnny died, she had no idea where he would reappear. The thought spurred her on even as she felt her stamina waning. “He’s not real!”

Johnny struggled beneath the zombie. The black-and-white monster finally grasped the heavy stone and lifted it into the air. Skidding to a stop, Mackenzie raised her shotgun. She was too far away for a clean shot and in a panic she ran forward.

“Johnny, he’s not real!” she shouted. “He’s not real!”

If Grant had told her one truthful thing, she hoped it was that their fears gave form to the monsters. Maybe if Johnny stripped its form away, he could save himself.

“Don’t believe in it! It’s not real!”

“You’re not real!” Johnny shouted, picking up on her words. “You’re not real!”

The zombie teetered over the boy, the rock in its upraised hand.

“You’re not real!” Johnny managed to get his legs between his body and the zombie and thrust mightily, shoving the creature away.

It fell over, dropping the rock. Johnny climbed to his feet, snagged the rock in his hands, and screamed at the zombie. “You’re nothing but a stupid nightmare! You’re not real! You’re stupid!” He flung the rock at the zombie’s head.

The black-and-white monster vanished in a swirl of inky mist.

Gasping with relief, Mackenzie tossed the shotgun away. Her side aching, she jogged the last few hundred feet through the cold rain to the little boy. Johnny screamed a rage-filled cry and kicked the rock away before tossing himself into her arms. She swung him up onto her hip and hugged him close.

“Where’s Lucas, Johnny?” She twirled about searching for him.

“The shark came, Macky. Lucas pushed me out of the water and told me to run.”

“No! No!” Mackenzie clenched her eyes tightly, pressing her face against Johnny’s neck. Sickened by the thought of Lucas dying, she clutched Johnny tighter, terrified she’d lose him, too.

“Can we go find Lucas now? I’m cold. Can he make the car again?”

Opening her eyes, Mackenzie saw the women in white floating along the edge of the water. Their gossamer gowns and hair were whipped about by the wind. Instinctively, she knew that they were warning her that Grant was near. The shark had been Grant’s creation and she feared that he had managed to kill Lucas.

Remembering her vow to Lucas, she set the boy on his feet and said, “We need to go now. Lucas will find us.”

Walking briskly across the park, Mackenzie set them in the direction of the old haunted theater. Tremors rippled through the ground and pushed up tufts of earth. Wide cracks crisscrossed the lawn, breaking apart the sidewalks and fountains.

“Macky!”

“It’s okay! Don’t be afraid.” It was clear that the wraiths were making their move. Fighting back her own fear, Mackenzie tugged Johnny through the park.

A long, scraggly arm burst out of the earth a few feet away. A bowed head covered in dark hair rose from the dirt followed by another long arm. The mourner pulled her torso out of the ground, lifting her face in a silent scream.

Mackenzie dropped Johnny’s hand, rushed the mourner, and kicked her in the face. The mourner scrabbled at Mackenzie’s leg, trying to trip her and drag her down. “Not this time, bitch.” Summoning a hatchet, Mackenzie lifted it over her head and buried it in the creature’s head. The mourner collapsed, melting into the ground.

Mackenzie could feel the nightmare creatures advancing on them. Her skin was crawling with the sensation. Reclaiming Johnny’s hand, she towed him along behind her. Their best chance to find Lucas if he had managed to survive the shark was to head to the theater and hope he’d meet them there.

“The wolfman!” Johnny screamed. “Macky! The wolfman!”

The creature romped toward them, snarling, its fangs dripping thick saliva. It looked fake and hokey to Mackenzie, but Johnny was virtually climbing up her side in fear. It, too, was in black and white, except for its glowing red eyes.

“Do you know what kills werewolves, Johnny?” she asked loudly as the creature barreled toward them.

“Silver bullets!”

She willed a gun into existence and fired into the snarling wolf face. “Exactly.”

The wolfman vanished in a cloud of black mist.

Lightning sizzled around them, setting trees ablaze and sending Mackenzie and Johnny sprawling to the ground. Thunder exploded so loudly overhead that Mackenzie’s ears rang. It was clear that everything she and Johnny feared was manifesting in an attempt to either drive them away or kill them. Black-and-white zombies, wolfmen, vampires in cloaks, and various Frankenstein monsters lurched out from behind the trees while deep graves unfurled in their path unleashing the silent mourners clutching their disturbing rag dolls. Mackenzie barely dodged the creatures, maneuvering to the best of her ability around the graves pitting the ground around her.

Together, the two of them scurried through the rain, dodging the lightning crackling through the air. Holding her hand over her head, Mackenzie willed a barrier to form. If she could make one of the predatory birds burst into flames, maybe she could form a shield against the lightning.

Desperation and anger spurred her to action. She had created Johnny’s zombie to fight off the Clown before, so maybe she could do something similar. Picking up Johnny, she dashed into the street and closed her eyes.

“Macky, they’re coming!”

It was difficult to concentrate knowing that creatures from their deepest fears were advancing, but Mackenzie knew she couldn’t fail Johnny or herself. The agony that ripped through her brain sent her reeling, but she felt something within her give way and the air around her thickened with energy before exploding outward.

“Wow, Macky!”

Though her vision was blurred when she opened her eyes, she saw black-armored men and women and SWAT vehicles lining the road. One of the officers ran over to guide them behind the barricade.

“Ma’am, come this way,” he said, rushing them along.

Sharp pops of gunfire exploded once they were safely behind the cars. The silent mourners and zombies jerked about as bullets riddled them, their bodies tumbling to the ground. The sound made Mackenzie’s head throb even more violently and spots swam in her eyesight. The officer returned to the front lines, firing his weapon at the creatures with eyeless faces clad in misty black dresses and the black-and-white dead cannibals from an old horror movie.

Fleeing up the road toward the old theater, Mackenzie cast wary looks around them. They appeared to have escaped the worst of the onslaught so far. “Don’t be afraid,” she urged Johnny. “We’re almost there.”

“But where’s Lucas?”

“Maybe he’ll meet us at the theater.” Mackenzie darted around a corner and stopped in her tracks. Beasts made of smoke, sharp fangs, razor claws, and red eyes prowled along the streets. Their shoulders were as tall as the two-story buildings lining the main street and the ground trembled beneath their massive paws.

“I don’t like those!” Johnny exclaimed.

Mackenzie ducked into the recessed entrance of a department store and crouched down, pulling Johnny into her arms. Shivering from the cold and the rain, they huddled together watching the fearsome beasts roving the street, their claws shredding the asphalt.

“What are we going to do?” Johnny’s voice was small and frightened. His cherubic face was pale and his lips were tinged with blue.

“Don’t be afraid. We’re going to find a way out of here,” Mackenzie promised.

The painful pulsing in her head was not diminishing, and she wondered if she could concoct something that would deflect the giant creatures. The mere thought sent another stab of icy pain through her brain.

“I found you. Finally,” a voice whispered.

CHAPTER 32

Startled, Mackenzie saw a man slide around the corner and into the entrance. For a second, she feared it was Grant, but then Johnny flung himself into the newcomer’s arms and she realized it was Lucas.

“Johnny said there was a shark,” she gasped, relief flooding her when he embraced her.

“There was. A big one. I pushed Johnny out of the water so I could deal with it.” Lucas looked very pleased with himself.

“What did you do?” Johnny asked.

Lucas tweaked the little boy’s nose playfully. “Everything in here is made of dream stuff, remember?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I made him into a goldfish.”

“And then what?”

“I ate him!”

Again Mackenzie marveled at how Lucas could make the little boy laugh in the face of such horrific manifestations. Even she giggled a little. Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, “I actually had a bit of a battle with it and had to do some major healing. That’s why it took me so long to get here.”

Alarmed, she gazed into his blue eyes and saw that he was speaking the truth. “Did you—?”

He shook his head. “Close, but no cigar.” Directing his attention to Johnny, he said, “That goldfish gave me a lot of indigestion though. Don’t eat goldfish raw. They’re not very good.”

“You’re silly,” Johnny informed Lucas, snuggled into his side.

A great roar from above rattled the glass around them. Johnny gasped and buried his face in Lucas’s chest. Mackenzie wrapped her arms around her legs, trying to press herself into the corner by the door. One of the creatures patrolling the street lumbered past the area where they were huddled. Lucas shielded Mackenzie and Johnny with his body, his arms wrapped around them. The ground quavered and the air turned to ice in the wake of the monster.

“It’s looking for us,” Mackenzie whispered.

“I have a feeling Tildy may have let the cat out of the bag that we’re in the area.”

Huddled together, they waited until the creature was farther up the street before daring to scrutinize the area. There were no signs of the zombies, but the sky was filled with swarms of red-eyed birds. The fires up the street raged in fiery glory, consuming the ghostly hotel and the buildings around it. A block beyond that, the theater sat in its majestic, yet ruined splendor.

“How are we going to make it, Lucas?” Mackenzie whispered.

Pressing his lips together, Lucas pulled her into the shadows and to Johnny’s side. “I’ll create a diversion. You and Johnny make a break for that alley over there.”

“No, absolutely not. We agreed we’re leaving together,” Mackenzie protested.

Resting his hand gently on her waist, Lucas met her steady, angry gaze with a slightly amused one. “Remember when I said I was afraid? My fear is you and Johnny not escaping. I’m going to make damn sure you do.”

“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for us,” Mackenzie said firmly. “There has to be a way to…” She faltered as an idea formed in her thoughts. “You said we need a diversion, right?”

“Yeah?” Lucas said warily. “Mac, what are you thinking?”

“Don’t let me fall,” she said, gripping his jacket.

The pain this time was unbearable. It burned through her brain like white fire, consuming her whole. She felt herself fall forward, Lucas’s arms enfolding her. Darkness surrounded her, cold and unyielding.

“Mackenzie!” Lucas gasped. “What did you do?”

Though she couldn’t see, nor barely breathe, Mackenzie knew that she had succeeded. She could feel the entities she had created nearby. They were mere wisps masked in the image of Lucas, Johnny, and herself. Each one was infused with the need to run in the opposite direction of the theater, drawing away the creatures that hunted for the escaping humans.

Lifting her into his arms, Lucas cradled her against him. “Mackenzie, what did you do?”

Gradually, Mackenzie’s eyesight returned, speckles of light flashing brightly, then slowly dissolving into a murky picture that was slightly out of focus. Fresh air filled her lungs, and the searing agony in her head receded slightly. She heard the footfalls of the three doppelgangers running down the street, urging each other forward. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she continued to feed her own essence into them, making them more solid, real, and human. One of the creatures roared when it spotted the three figures racing away from it.

Through blurry eyes, Mackenzie watched her three creations run past the store. The apparitions perfectly resembled the trio. The doppelganger of Lucas carried the mock Johnny on his back, his arm locked around the fake Mackenzie’s waist, guiding her forward. They were only visible for a few seconds, then they were gone. It didn’t take too long before the beast scuttled past the store in pursuit.

“We don’t have much time,” Mackenzie said. She was still connected to her creations and knew that they would not last much longer. “Put me down, Lucas.”

He reluctantly obeyed. “Can you run?”

“I’m having trouble seeing, but I’ll hold on to you. You carry Johnny,” Mackenzie answered.

Scrambling onto Lucas’s back, Johnny clung to him. “I’m scared.”

“Me, too,” Lucas answered truthfully. Taking Mackenzie’s hand, he squeezed it. “Let’s go.”

Following Lucas onto the sidewalk, Mackenzie continued to blink rapidly, trying to clear her vision. Lucas guided them past some cars and into the street. The massive sentinels were still in pursuit of the doppelgangers, buying them some time. Even the nasty red-eyed birds were swarming after the decoys.

The sound of their footsteps slapping against the pavement was drowned out by the screams of the creatures. Mackenzie felt one of her apparitions vanish, but she wasn’t sure which one. Lucas dragged her into the side street, then swerved into the mouth of the alley. Again, the monsters howled. Mackenzie felt the last of her creations dissolve into nothing.

Gasping, she clung to Lucas, her vision clearing.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly.

“Much better. But the ruse is up. They know what I did.”

“Then we better run.”

Pounding up the alley, they headed toward the theater. Mackenzie could feel the power of the dead spot even from a block away. Maybe she was growing stronger, or more aware of her own abilities, but she could almost see the massive blot of darkness that consumed the building, writhing, tentacles flashing outward, grasping hungrily. The thought of entering such a place terrified her, but she knew they no longer had a choice. They had to escape, or they were going to die and be rebirthed possibly far apart from each other. The thought of losing Lucas and Johnny induced crippling anxiety, so Mackenzie focused on only surviving each step they took toward their destination.

Crossing the bisecting road to the next length of alley was their next obstacle. Drained, Mackenzie knew she couldn’t create any more diversions and she wasn’t certain if Lucas could after healing from the grievous wounds inflicted by the shark.

They stuttered to a stop beside a collection of trash bins. Lucas handed Johnny to Mackenzie before taking a cautious step to the lip of the alley to look up and down the road. The alley across from them appeared clear, but the dark recesses of the back entrances made Mackenzie nervous.

“Okay, nothing is roaming around, so we need to run for it. Head for the back of the theater,” Lucas said. “You take Johnny and run ahead. I’ll follow.”

Placing his hand on her shoulder, he nudged her forward, still watching the road. “Go now!”

Together, Mackenzie and Johnny sprinted across the road to the next alleyway. The thunderous cries of the monsters mingled with the raspy hooting of the swarm of birds. It was clear to her that the creatures knew where they were and were swiftly approaching. They splashed through the rain puddles dotting the alley, scooted past Dumpsters, and aimed for the loading dock at the back of the theater. The sound of Lucas’s footfalls was reassuring. Miraculously, they were all still together. Bounding up the cement stairs to a door that read PERFORMER ENTRANCE in faded red lettering, Mackenzie felt the ominous sensation of the dead spot reaching out to her. Her hand hesitated, hovering over the knob.

“Lucas,” she muttered.

“I feel it, too.”

“I can’t take control of it.”

“Neither can I. It doesn’t want us to get out.”

“I’m scared,” Johnny whispered. “Really scared!”

The door creaked open of its own volition.

“That’s not good, is it?” Mackenzie swallowed the heavy lump in her throat and hoped her heart wouldn’t suddenly explode from fear.

“I’ll go first,” Lucas said, brushing past her. Cautiously, he took a step into the darkness dwelling beyond the doorway. “It looks clear.”

“Is it the true doorway? The way out?” Mackenzie said hopefully.

“No, it’s still the dead spot.”

Lucas pulled a flashlight from the air. He gasped in pain, staggered, and fell against the wall, clutching his head.

“Lucas!”

“I’m okay, Mac. Just … weak.” He flicked on the light and directed the beam down the hallway. It appeared empty, yet foreboding. “Let’s get moving.”

Holding Johnny’s hand, Mackenzie followed Lucas down the corridor, noting that a gun had appeared in his other hand. Feeling nervous, she summoned a baseball bat and was relieved to feel its heavy weight form in her hand, but another spike slammed through her head. The dead spot greedily sucked up the bit of life essence she had used, and she mentally shoved its searching tendrils away from her. None of the other dead spots had felt this aware or powerful.

Though the dressing room doors were open, they revealed empty spaces devoid of any nightmarish creatures. They had already discussed their path through the theater based off of Mackenzie’s memories and anticipated being under attack once they entered the dead spot. The absence of the apparitions was unnerving.

Grouped closely, they emerged into the wings of the stage and hurried through the one on the right. Nearing the heavy curtains over a doorway that opened to the audience, Lucas craned his head, studying every little possible hiding space. Nothing appeared. “This feels all wrong,” he muttered.

“It’s still waiting though. Watching,” Mackenzie answered. She could feel the inky presence of the dead spot flowing around her.

“The tour comes through the front doors, so that’s where we’ll go.” Lucas hesitated near the exit to the main theater. “Whatever happens, just keep heading toward the front door.”

Mackenzie and Johnny both nodded. Mackenzie tightened her grip on the bat and stepped closer to Lucas. They were both stalling, mentally preparing for whatever came next.

A glimmer of light caught Mackenzie’s eye. Glancing to her right, she saw that the stage was filled with the women in white. Their floating hair and delicate dresses glowed in the darkness, their hands pressed to their bleeding bosoms. There had to be a dozen of the women of varying ethnicities and races, but all beautiful and young.

Lashing out, she grabbed the sleeve of Lucas’s jacket. “He’s here!”

At the sound of Mackenzie’s voice, the eyes of the women in white opened, their gaze settling on her.

“What?” Lucas cast a startled look toward the ghostly women. “Shit!”

Grant emerged from the darkness tucked into the folds of the heavy theater curtains. His eyes were black, glittering, and cold. Mackenzie only caught a glimpse of him before he snatched Johnny from her grip and brutally hurled him into the wall. Johnny collapsed to the ground, his face covered in blood.

“No!” Swinging the bat, Mackenzie miscalculated the arc and missed Grant completely. He snatched the weapon out of her hands and swung it fiercely into her stomach, knocking her to the ground.

Lucas raised his weapon and aimed it at the wraith. Instead of firing, he let out a startled gasp and dropped to his knees. A knife protruded from his back. It had a melted plastic handle and scorched blade.

“Tildy!” Mackenzie exclaimed, recognizing the knife.

Shoving open the red curtain that opened to the house, Tildy smiled cruelly. Behind her, the mutilated remains of the Clown were scattered across the floor. It appeared she had been having “fun” before they arrived. Tildy leaned over to reclaim her weapon and kick away Lucas’s gun. Her blond hair was a golden halo and her once emaciated frame was nicely filled out. Dressed in a black halter-top dress and high heels, she slowly licked Lucas’s blood off the blade.

“So delicious. Even better than my favorite blue-haired meal.” She glanced at the bloody chunks of the Clown. “He died a little too soon this time.”

Mackenzie was trapped between the two wraiths. Johnny was motionless on the floor.

Beside her, Lucas slowly toppled over on his side.

Mackenzie touched Lucas’s hand. “Heal yourself,” she urged.

“Mac, don’t worry about me. Get Johnny out.”

“That shark really took a lot out of you, didn’t it, my old friend?” Grant said mockingly. “All worn out, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Lucas grunted.

“I’d rather fuck Mackenzie. Though watching your brave struggle against the shark was inspiring. How’s the leg? All grown back?” Grant’s smile was feral. Seizing Mackenzie’s arm, Grant dragged her to her feet and aggressively pulled her against his body. “I missed you so much. I forgive you for leaving me. I know he deceived you, twisted your mind, and poisoned you against me.” The charming smile returned to his handsome face as he gazed at her. His eyes had returned to beautiful blue orbs, but Mackenzie knew what he truly was. “You’re so lovely. So lovely. So full of life. I love you so much.”

“Fuck you,” Mackenzie retorted.

“I want you to. Again. Like before. When I placed my mark on you,” Grant said seductively.

“Grant, you’ve got yours, I have mine. I always wanted two men. I hope my clown doesn’t mind a little competition,” Tildy said with a wicked grin. She snagged Lucas by the ankle and dragged him through the doorway. A thick swath of blood stained the floor in his wake.

“She’s such a passionate killer. I like her much better now,” Grant said while rubbing his lips along Mackenzie’s cheek. He lifted the bat and gazed at it thoughtfully. “I think I’ll bash the little bastard’s head in to make sure he’s dead, and then we can go somewhere more private.”

“Leave Johnny alone,” Mackenzie snarled.

“That little rat ruined it all, you know. All my delicately laid out plans to frighten you into hiding away with me where we could make love endlessly.” Grant glared at the little boy. To Mackenzie’s great relief, she saw Johnny was stirring. “But you had to come along, didn’t you? I had her right where I wanted her, completely terrified of everyone and everything, and then there you are. A little boy for her to take in and take care of. Not in the plans, junior. Not in the plans.” Raising the bat over his head, Grant smiled joyously. Tapping Johnny in the ribs with his foot, he said, “C’mon. Wake up. I want you to feel it when I beat you into so much jelly.”

It was the moment she had been waiting for since she had swung and missed hitting the wraith. Grant’s attention was diverted and it was her time to act. She raised her hand as a massive gun formed in it. It was a weapon of dreams, not reality. It was the closest thing she could imagine to a handheld bazooka. The massive barrel pressed against the base of Grant’s skull.

“You can’t do it,” he said in a confident voice. “I marked you. You can’t defy me. You belong to me.”

“I belong to me,” Mackenzie corrected.

She fired, his head pulverizing in a blinding explosion that knocked her flat. Her arm felt broken and the acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the air. Grant’s headless body fell to the floor. Mackenzie gagged and she gripped her throat with both hands, choking. Something thick and oily was caught in her throat. Hacking, she struggled to breathe. Johnny crawled to her side and began whacking his small hand against her back.

“Don’t die! Don’t die!”

A fierce, painful wracking cough dislodged the obstruction and a tendril of putrid darkness flopped onto the floor. Mackenzie kicked at it, but it vaporized into a mist that disappeared along with the remains of Grant. Instinctively, she knew the mark was gone. Perhaps it was her defiance that had finally broken his hold.

“We need to save Lucas, Macky,” Johnny said urgently.

“I know.”

Mackenzie dragged herself to her feet and glanced toward the stage. It was empty. The ghostly women were gone. Picking up the massive gun she’d created, she shoved open the curtains and stepped into the cavernous main area of the theater. Lucas sat in a chair in the front row, hunched over in pain. Blood was dripping from his fingertips onto the red carpet. Behind him Tildy leisurely shoved the knife blade into his back, obviously taking immense pleasure in prolonging his suffering.

“Oh, did you kill Grant already? I really thought he’d last longer. He’s terrible at underestimating women. He thinks we’re stupid little things. But we’re not, are we, Mackenzie? We’re not so meek at all.” With a feral grin, Tildy yanked the knife out of Lucas’s back and moved to drag the blade across his throat.

Mackenzie shot Tildy in the chest, knocking her off her feet and into the seats. “Not at all.”

Lucas struggled to stand, his hand pressed to his throat where the blade had nicked him. Running to him, Mackenzie caught him before he could fall.

“Nice save all around,” Lucas said weakly.

“Don’t you know? I’m Wonder Woman,” Mackenzie said, trying to joke. His blood was slick and warm on her hands and she tried not to think of how bad his injuries might be. Once out of the dead spot, would he heal? Or would he carry his stab wounds with him?

Lucas chortled briefly before it devolved into a wet, raspy cough. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What if your wounds—”

“Let’s go, Mac,” Lucas said, touching her cheek with his red-tinged fingers.

Nodding, she slid her arm around him, helping him walk up the long, steep aisle to the doors that opened to the theater foyer. Johnny walked with them, attempting to help Lucas keep moving. Each step became more difficult as the air around them grew heavier. It was hard to breathe, and Mackenzie felt as though they were forcing their way through an invisible barrier. Again, she felt the dead spot trying to grasp on to her, and she had barely enough strength to knock its tentacle away. In this world, she had power that the creatures of nightmares craved to feast upon, but she was weary of it.

“Almost there,” she said encouragingly, though she sounded winded and weak.

Lucas leaned heavily against her, barely able to move his legs. Johnny clutched him, staring up at his face worriedly.

“We’re almost there, Lucas. Almost there,” he promised.

“There’s not much more they can do to us, huh?” Lucas joked.

Together, they stepped into the foyer.

The deafening roar of a train filled the air. A sob escaped Mackenzie’s lips when she realized what it was seconds before the tornado shredded the roof. The stage of the theater disintegrated, devoured by the twister. The red curtains flapped away into the hellish center of the spinning funnel. The red velvet chairs were smashed into the walls like toys being flung about by a joyous baby.

Though they shouted at each other to hurry, they couldn’t hear each other over the howling winds. Mackenzie felt her ears popping from the pressure. The high winds tore at her hair and clothing as the theater continued to be torn apart behind them. The suction of the great beast slashed at them, trying to lift them off the ground and into its hellish maw.

Mackenzie remembered Grant’s story about his death by a tornado and held tightly to Lucas and Johnny, refusing to believe they could meet such a fate. But as her feet left the ground, she knew they had failed.

Then the world grew silent.

Her feet settled back on the ground.

Even though the foyer was disintegrating around them, the three people stood in a perfect bubble of tranquility. The heavy doors to the outside stood before them even though the walls around it were torn asunder. Suddenly, Mackenzie understood that Lucas hadn’t been too weak to heal himself. He had been reserving the last of his strength to secure them safe passage to the real world.

“Go, Mackenzie.” Lucas slumped to the tiled floor. “Take Johnny and go.”

“Come with me!” she cried out, kneeling beside him.

“I have to hold the storm back and keep the door intact,” he answered. “I have to make sure you get through.”

Shaking her head, she took his hand. “No more dying today, okay? We go together.”

“Please, Lucas, let’s go,” Johnny said, tugging on Lucas’s jacket sleeve.

“It’s just five more feet and we’re out!” Mackenzie exclaimed.

“I don’t know if I’ll—” Lucas stopped himself. “Fuck it. If I’m going to die, it’s going to be a real death.”

“Don’t say that!” Mackenzie protested.

Shaking his head, Lucas forced himself to his feet. “No … no … I’ll never get this shot again, and we all know it. They’ll never let another one of us get this close to an exit. Let’s go.”

Clinging to one another, the three of them took the final steps to the door. Outside the pocket of safety Lucas had formed, the angry, gray winds carried the debris up into the funnel rotating above them. Through the crack in the door, Mackenzie could see a twilight sky. Tears of happiness filled her eyes. Reaching out, she set her hand on the handle.

“Macky,” Johnny said softly. “What if I’m not real?”

“We’re all real,” Lucas assured him.

“Let’s go home,” Mackenzie said.

She stepped through the door.

EPILOGUE

The first thing Mackenzie noticed was the smell of mold and dry rot mingling with the scent of fresh rain. She stood in the doorway of the old theater staring down at the weed-ridden driveway that curved up to the portico. The sun was hidden behind clouds, but the gold-and-pink glow on the horizon revealed the path of its descent. Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were free of blood, dirt, and gore. They were clean and spotless. Her purse hung over her shoulder, a familiar heavy weight.

“We did it! Lucas, Johnny, we’re out!”

The second thing she noticed was that she was alone.

The crushing agony of loss overwhelmed any joy her possible escape had briefly brought.

“Johnny! Lucas!”

Had she truly made it out? Panic building, she attempted to shape a candy bar, but failed. When she realized her failure didn’t mean she had escaped the nightmare world, she swore under her breath. Her energy reserves had been exhausted while attempting to break free and it would take time to refresh. How could she be certain she was out?

With trembling fingers she fished the cell phone out of her purse, but there weren’t any bars.

“Johnny! Lucas! Can you hear me?”

Her voice echoed through the ruined theater, but there was no answer.

Was she free at last, but alone? Had Lucas and Johnny been mere apparitions born of her loneliness?

Stifling a sob of despair, Mackenzie sank onto the stairs. “No, no. They were real. They were real,” she whispered, burying her face in her arms. The thought of losing them was unbearable. They had to escape with her.

“Macky? Am I real? Can you see me?”

“Johnny!”

Looking up, she saw the little boy standing just outside the entrance staring at their surroundings with fear and hope. Dressed in old jeans, a stained brown T-shirt, and battered sneakers, he took a wobbly step toward her. Snatching him up, she crushed him against her.

“Johnny, you’re free!”

His small arms wrapped around her neck and he kissed her cheek. “Don’t cry, Macky. You’re real, too.”

Laughing through her tears, Mackenzie smiled at him joyfully. “I am! And so are you!”

Yet their happiness was short-lived as they both stared at the open doorway to the theater.

“Lucas came with you, right, Johnny?” Again, the band of fear tightened around her heart.

“I followed you, and he said he was right behind me.” Johnny fidgeted, tears in his eyes. “Macky, he didn’t die, right?”

“Of course not! He’s tough. You know that.”

Johnny nodded, his tiny face pinched with worry.

Licking her lips nervously, Mackenzie stared at the entrance, willing Lucas to appear. It remained frighteningly vacant. Johnny wrapped his fingers around hers and watched with wide eyes.

“Macky, he was real, right?”

Mackenzie nodded, unable to accept the possibility that Lucas had been anything other than another human that had been trapped by the dead spots. “Of course, he was real. He’s coming.”

The seconds ticked away, but the doorway remained woefully empty. At last, Mackenzie took a step toward it, silently praying to a deity she wasn’t even sure she believed in that Lucas would appear.

There was the sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor, then a figure emerged from the murk lingering just beyond the entrance. Quick little fearful thoughts flitted through her mind. What if it was just the tour guide? What if Grant had somehow followed? What if she wasn’t out of the dead spot? She took a step toward the door and stopped, remembering the possibility of the dead spots luring people into their traps.

Stepping into the waning light, Lucas scrutinized the area with an intense expression upon his face. He was clad in black jeans, a tight band T-shirt for a group she had never heard of, and heavy boots. All his terrible wounds were gone. He looked odd without his leather jacket, but his colorful tattoos were a welcome sight.

Stunned, he dragged his eyes away from their surroundings to look at Mackenzie and Johnny. “Are we out?”

“Oh, thank God!” Mackenzie flung her arms around his neck. “I was terrified we’d lost you!”

Kissing her lips long and hard, he gathered her close. Mackenzie didn’t shy away, but returned the gesture that was full of relief and hope.

Still holding on to her, Lucas lifted Johnny up with one arm and set him on his hip. When the boy kissed his cheek, Lucas beamed at him and returned it. “I thought I was too weak to make it out, but I made it!”

Johnny clung to Lucas and his small fingers closed around Mackenzie’s hand resting against Lucas’s chest. “I was scared.”

“Me, too,” Mackenzie confessed, but the relief that filled her dissolved all her fears.

“So,” Lucas said, eyes lifted to the overcast sky above, “do you think we’re out?”

Mackenzie nestled into Lucas’s side, her hand holding Johnny’s. As she gazed at their faces, her heart didn’t feel so tattered anymore. Hope filled in the dark places and chased away the fears. She was uncertain of many things in that moment, but not of the most important thing of all.

At last she said, “We’re what’s real and we’re together.”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, nodding his head adamantly.

Lucas cocked his head to gaze into Mackenzie’s eyes. “And we want what’s real, right?”

“It doesn’t matter which world we’re in as long as we’re together. It’s not the world that defines us, but who we are. We can make our own dream palace anywhere.”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Absolutely.”

Setting Johnny down on the ground, Lucas took one hand while Mackenzie took the other. They stood at the top of the steps gazing at the empty road beyond the driveway.

“What now?” Johnny asked.

Mackenzie exchanged glances with Lucas. The warmth in his eyes made her blush and brought a smile to her lips.

“Yeah, Mac, what now?”

With confidence and wonder filling her heart, Mackenzie said, “We make a new life.”

The trio bounded down the stairs and strode toward the world beyond the theater.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Inspired by a terrifying nightmare, Dead Spots is rooted in events that transpired in my own life.

In 2010, I had just moved to a new house, and my zombie trilogy, As The World Dies, was out for submission with major publishers. It was a fun yet stressful time. I started feeling a bit under the weather but attributed this to nerves until I woke from a nap one afternoon to discover I was in a pool of blood. Horrified, I realized I was in the midst of a miscarriage. It would take months to recover physically and emotionally.

A week later, a dear friend lost her daughter to stillbirth. The baby was one week from her due date when her heart stopped. An autopsy on the baby and extensive testing on my friend revealed that like 60 percent of all stillbirths, there was no discernible cause of death. The baby had simply died in the womb while my friend was taking a nap on her sofa.

It was in the midst of these tragedies that I dreamed of Mackenzie and the dead spots. I was immediately enraptured with the idea of entering a world where our nightmares are made manifest. I often tell people I write about what I fear. I like stepping up to the precipice and gazing down to see how far I might fall. I once heard that the fear of heights is really the fear of jumping.

I’m prone to jumping.

Enthralled with the idea, I posted on Facebook and asked my fans what they fear most. I was stunned not only by the long list that soon filled my wall but also by how common some of those fears are. The concept behind Dead Spots began to evolve, and I grew increasingly excited about the story. But one aspect of my dream haunted me. Mackenzie, like me, my friend, and so many other women, had experienced the awfulness of baby loss.

Diving into a world infested with the manifestations of people’s fears was difficult enough, but also taking on a very complicated character dealing with stillbirth was daunting. Whereas Jenni’s loss in The First Days is the result of a zombie, a creature of make-believe, Mackenzie’s loss is a true-life experience for many women. The challenge of writing about a woman suffering through the worst event imaginable for expectant mothers was to keep Mackenzie’s loss anchored in reality while taking her into the realm of the fantastical.

Sudden Antenatal Death Syndrome (stillbirth with no cause) claims an estimated twenty-six thousand to thirty thousand babies a year. In an attempt to find my own healing in the aftermath of my miscarriage, I spent hours reading the blogs of women who had suffered baby loss. It’s their voices that carried me through the difficult parts of this book. I also owe a debt of thanks to a nurse who cared for women who suffered stillbirth and verified some of the more heartbreaking aspects of my research.

Above all, I am grateful to my dear friend who spoke to me candidly about her loss and the aftermath. Witnessing her struggle to move on from the death of her beloved daughter and embrace life once again with grit, tears, and passion encouraged me to write about Mackenzie and her journey into the realm of nightmares and reminded me that in the darkness the human spirit shines bright.

TOR BOOKS BY RHIANNON FRATER

AS THE WORLD DIES

The First Days

Fighting to Survive

Siege

Dead Spots

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rhiannon Frater lives in Texas. She is the author of The First Days, Fighting to Survive, and Siege, all published by Tor Books, as well as numerous self-published novels. Frater is one of the hosts of Z Cast, a podcast devoted to the Syfy series, Z Nation. Well-loved in the blogosphere, Frater is active in the goth and horror fiction communities and on the convention circuit.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

DEAD SPOTS

Copyright © 2015 by Rhiannon Frater

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Trevillion Images

Cover design by FORT

A Tor Book

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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 978-0-7653-3715-3 (trade paperback)

ISBN 978-1-4668-3124-7 (e-book)

e-ISBN 9781466831247

First Edition: February 2015