Summer's End by Lisa Morton Read Free Book Online Page B

drugged theory.
    I walked, fast, to my front
door, got in, closed it behind me and checked all the locks, then collapsed
onto the couch. I’m not used to adrenaline rushes, and I was surprised to
realize I was shaking. My little tortoiseshell cat, Roxie, helped by sitting at
my ankles and mewing at me in gentle concern. The simple act of stroking her
warm back and feeling her purr beneath my touch calmed me. We sometimes forget
the power of the most common acts, don’t we? This ancient communion with
another species, something that has been part of human life for thousands of
years, was its own kind of magic, with a peculiar power to restore and heal.
    The phone rang, jarring me from
my brief peace. I got up, stepped around Roxie, and checked caller ID—it was
Ricky, calling from North Carolina.
    Hearing his voice was another
gift, but—after exchanging the usual greetings—his message was disturbing. “I
had the strangest thing happen tonight, and I knew you’d appreciate this.”
    The film had put their cast and
crew up in a nice hotel in downtown Wilmington. Ricky had a room on the fifth
floor, and we’d already joked about how they called the view from his window
“Cape Fear Riverfront.” It was too bad he wasn’t making a horror movie.
    “I had this nice dinner tonight
with a couple of guys from the crew—we found this little seafood place you’d
love—and then I came up to my room. I was just getting ready for bed when I
thought I heard something on the other side of the window, so I looked—and
there was some kind of strange face out there. I only got a glimpse of it
before it disappeared. It must have been one of the guys punking me, because
they know about you and Halloween—at least that’s all I can figure.”
    Cold rushed through me,
freezing me to the spot. “What did this face look like?”
    “Well, that was kind of the
giveaway: It looked like a jack-o’-lantern. I figure they probably picked up
one of those battery-operated things that are in all the stores right now and
lowered it down on a line. In fact, it was probably Dave from Effects—he’s been
teasing me all week.”
    A jack-o’-lantern. Of course.
It was so obvious, and yes I’d missed it—they looked too much like malevolent,
glowing jack-o’-lanterns for it to be sheer coincidence.
    “Hon…you there?”
    “Sorry. Long day. You’re not
going out again tonight, right?”
    “No. Why?”
    What could I say? That what
he’d seen hadn’t been a cheap Halloween prop; that he was being threatened by
otherworldly forces because of me? Because of something that an Irish
archaeologist in Los Angeles had unleashed? Something that pulverized the
well-ordered, rational world we both believed in…or at least, used to believe
in?
    And then there was his job—this
film was important to both of us. It was a good supporting role in a serious
movie, with a young writer/director who we liked and admired. And, frankly, the
money would make our lives much easier. If I told him now I was in trouble,
he’d leave the movie and come home. We couldn’t afford that…and frankly, I
wasn’t ready to involve him in this. There was only one person who could help,
and I would need to deal with him alone.
    “Just be careful.”
    “Are you okay?” He knew me too
well, and his warmth thawed the chill that had paralyzed me.
    “Yeah, I’m fine. Just another
long day.”
    We spent the rest of the call
talking about my signing, the interview I’d given today to a Montreal radio
station, a nice customer review that had gone up at Amazon for my book. We said
the things that parted lovers have said to each other, in letters, on phones,
in text messages, for centuries. Then we hung up.
    I checked the locks again,
risked a glance outside, and decided to try to sleep, even though I knew it was
unlikely. And if I did…would my dreams leave me more exhausted and unsettled in
the morning?

 
     
     
     
    October 29
     
     
    A strange whining sound from