Delaney's Shadow by Ingrid Weaver Read Free Book Online Page B

beside the house hid the stars. There was nothing to wake her up or to guide her back.
    So she hurtled forward, through the cold and liquid scene, until the pale gray path turned shiny, then white, then fireball red, and suddenly she wasn’t moving anymore because she was outside, freezing and burning and helpless to block out those sounds.
    Metal screeched as it buckled. It moaned and cried like a living thing. Glass sang when it burst, a high-pitched pulse that stung the scalp behind her ears. Fire laughed and cackled as it ate flesh. Bones crunched like stalks of fresh celery.
    Delaney pressed her face to her knees. The sheet beneath her was damp from sweat. So was her skin. Slick and hot like the blood that ran from her hands.
    No. Please, no. Not again. No more.
    The worst noise was yet to come, the heart-rending sound of a man screaming.
    Stanford.
    He was dying.
    Again.
    She tried to move, but her legs wouldn’t work. Something held them down. Strands of seaweed curled around her ankles like slimy fingers. She tried to free herself but she couldn’t get any air even though she could feel the bubbles brushing past her lips as they rose through the water.
    Delaney was dying, too. Through the hell of her nightmare, that certainty reached her consciousness. Her mind cried out in desperation.
    No! Not again . Please!
    Someone settled on the bed beside her. She could feel the mattress dip with his weight and sensed that she was no longer alone.
    Yes, oh yes ! He’d come back. He couldn’t be dead if he was here with her. Delaney moved toward the presence that she felt and spread her fingers to capture the warmth that flowed from his body.
    Odd, though, that the place where Stanford was lying didn’t smell of lime aftershave. It smelled of sunshine and fresh air and . . . turpentine.

     
    MAX SURFACED SLOWLY. HIS MIND WAS AS LAX AS HIS BODY, and both were urging him to sink back into sleep. His dreams, on the rare occasions when he did dream, were merely random firings of his synapses, kaleidoscope patterns behind his closed eyelids with no purpose and little form. His subconscious got sufficient exercise while he was awake and painting, so he usually slept like the dead.
    But this dream was prodding him forward, refusing to let him rest. It encompassed his senses as well as his mind. He was positive he was no longer alone. He was just as sure there was no one else in his bedroom, because he’d never yet allowed a woman to spend the night. But there was a presence in his bed, an unmistakably female one.
    Max felt no alarm at first. Having the woman here seemed right somehow. He could sense her weight on the mattress beside him and felt the warmth of her breath on his neck. He turned his head, and her hair tickled his chin. She smelled sweet, like roses.
    Like Deedee.
    Max’s eyes drifted open.
    The dream didn’t fade. Neither did the sensation of the woman’s presence. He swept his arm across the bed beside him. There was nothing in the space, and yet he could feel a resistance, as if the air was thickening . . .
    His pulse picked up. He looked around. The bed was cloaked in shadows. So was the entire room. The only illumination came from an orange glow that seemed to float in the corner. It was centered between a bookshelf and a potted plant.
    He had no bookshelf in his bedroom. He kept no houseplants. His bed didn’t have wooden bedposts, either. What the hell . . .
    The glow shimmered in midair, appearing to come from a dimension that wasn’t bounded by distance. He began to hear noises now. Crunching metal. It sounded like something was crashing over and over inside that light.
    The woman beside him pressed closer, as if he could protect her, just as Deedee used to . . .
    Finally, the pattern of what was happening registered in his brain. The last traces of sleep fled.
    Hell, this was no illusion. Deedee had returned, but instead of crashing his painting, she’d stolen into his sleep.
    Max sat up fast,