He laughed softly, but answered seriously. “Time isn’t something we can change. Even chaos has its limits.”
Sighing, I opened my eyes. “What time is it?”
“After six thirty,” he hedged. I flew out of bed, and his laugh followed me.
Grabbing my bag, I closed myself in the bathroom for five minutes. When I emerged, the house stood quiet. Leaving my bag and dress in my room, I grabbed my jacket from the front closet.
Outside the front door, I heard the scrape of a booted foot.
Smiling, I opened the door on a shocked Brian. His hair stood out wildly. The cold stained his nose, cheeks and ears red, but the rest of his skin looked sallow. His glassy eyes twitched and shifted trying to see everywhere all at once.
“Brian, are you…”
I didn’t finish my question as I caught sight of a dull black hand gun cut at sharp angles that he held so tightly in his hand it appeared to bite into his skin. Bile rose in my throat and a scream built in my lungs as I scrambled back from the door, never turning away from him.
“Where is he?” he demanded in a high-pitched, panicked voice.
The gun leveled with my chest, shaking violently. His finger twitched on the sensitive trigger. Time slowed. The gun jerked backward as the boom of it filled the room. Brian’s eyes rounded in horror as did mine. The scream that had stuck in my throat finally ripped free.
Morik abruptly appeared before me, facing me, his expression sad and set as he immediately spasmed. A fine mist showered me. Morik fell to his knees, a bloom of red spreading on his chest and then collapsed to the floor.
The doorway behind Morik stood empty. I closed my mouth to stop the screams and bolted for the door to close it. To keep Morik safe while I called… Who? How could I save him?
A sob escaped as I fumbled with the lock. My hands kept slipping. I wiped them on my pants, twice, and then successfully fastened the lock.
I spun around sparing a glance at Morik who’d rolled to his back. So much blood. I needed a towel to stop the bleeding.
“Tessss,” Morik attempted to gasp out my name.
It jolted me into action. I dashed for the towels, grabbing several and raced back to his side, falling to my knees to press all of them to his chest. Another sob escaped.
He raised a hand to touch my cheek. “I love you.” Nothing but silver swirled in his eyes.
I nodded and cried harder. On my knees, putting all my weight into it, I pressed hard trying to stop the bleeding. A pool of blood grew under him. Shit! He was shot in the back. I blubbered that I needed more towels and dashed back into the kitchen. How could I compress both areas?
Behind me, he let out an agonized breath. Slow and weak.
Moving quickly, I turned back to the entry and blinked. The place where he’d fallen, marked by his pool of blood, now lay empty. I walked toward the living room. He wasn’t on the couch. Confused, I turned back to stare at the congealing blood pool on the floor. No tracks leading away from his spot. The towels that I’d left on his chest lay in the blood.
I’d just heard him. He’d breathed.
My heart twisted painfully recalling the tortured breath and I fell to me knees. His last breath. I’d heard his last breath. He didn’t belong in my world. It only made sense that his body couldn’t remain to be discovered in the event of his death.
My racking sobs eased. Numbness spread starting in my chest working its way outward. I stood stiffly and walked to his phone.
Aunt Grace picked up on the second ring. “I need a ride home.” I didn’t sound like myself. The dead tone echoed oddly over the line.
“Tessa, is that you?”
I repeated my request and gave the address. She hung up immediately.
Staring at the door to avoid looking at the bloody pool, I noted a smear of pink marring its white surface far above the knob. About level with my head. I swiped at my face and looked at my hand. Gore coated it. Morik. My breath hitched and then steadied again.
Shambling forward, I unlocked the door and looked outside for any trace of Brian. The idea of him still outside when my ride arrived bothered me, for their safety, not my own.
He’d vanished. Like Morik.
I gently closed the door and sat on the couch. The rhythmic tick of the clock mesmerized me. I stared at the tiny black hands.
Someone tapped my face roughly. I blinked the hands back into focus. They’d moved several minutes. My mom’s face blocked the view.
“Tessa. Are you hurt?” she demanded tugging at my arms trying to determine for herself my state of well-being.
“Oh, mom…” It came out a strangled moan. The numbness that had protected me fled with her presence. Mom would understand. “He died. Brian shot him. It’s all my fault,” I ended with a sob. And it was. I shouldn’t have opened the door.