“Holy great balls of fire! You did it!” Calamity exclaimed, prancing about. “You fucking did it! You put out the fire, Nina! I told you all those hours of hard work would pay off, Half-Breed!”
But Nina, so obviously not one for praise, stooped beside Poppy and planted a hand on her shoulder. “You okay? And what the fuck just happened? That damn aura again?”
She shook her head in astonishment as she lay on the floor, dazed. “It was that same pain again, and…I don’t know. But I do know what just disintegrated in my hand was a picture of Rick, Avis, and Yash at Littleton. Yash knew about Littleton?”
“Did you ask the British Boob about Yash being there? When did he disappear anyway?”
Marty helped Poppy sit back up with a grunt. Looking at Nina, she made a face. “No. I didn’t even think about it. I also didn’t ask my favorite warlock. Getting Rick to talk was like trying to pry open a can of beans with your fingers. What he did tell me was hard enough to get out of him, but if I’d pressed any harder? I can’t even imagine how withdrawn he’d become. He all but walked away from the conversation as though I should just leave things alone. I didn’t get every detail. I was so blown away by what he told me about his mother and father, I almost couldn’t speak. Stupidly, I left things alone. Because I thought I’d have more time to dig. But it’s no wonder he’s not all ‘yay, familiar’ after what he did share.”
Nina’s nostrils flared. “So the picture? Is this like some kind of nutty-ass sign? Why the hell is a picture bursting into flames? How does this tie into this dude Yash? Does it tie in at all?”
The moment she wondered the same was the moment she was reminded of the expression on Yash’s face. It had stuck her as pained. “You know, Yash didn’t look happy in that picture, and in every other picture, he’s either smiling or at the very least, looks peaceful. What about that picture made him so unhappy and why am I feeling this impending sense of doom?”
Wanda, who’d also raced to her side but had remained as quiet as she’d been through almost this entire journey, cocked her head. “Explain doom.”
“I’ve been feeling it for a while now. At first, it started with the idea Nina would leave me here alone—”
“It was just a joke, Tiny Dancer.”
Poppy held up a hand. “No, I know that. In fact, as part of this familiar bundle package, I intuitively knew you wouldn’t leave me on my own. I didn’t know I’m also intuitive until January explained, but when she did, it all made sense. But the doom thing began as early as that moment, and it’s just been building since. At my apartment, I felt it, too. Like something is wrong, but I don’t have the tools to figure it out. Then today when I woke up, I was overwhelmed by it, consumed by it. The thing is, I just don’t know what to do about it.”
“So this was going on before the aura thing?” Wanda inquired.
“Yes. Definitely yes.”
“And you didn’t tell us you were feeling this way, why?” Calamity asked.
She sighed, exasperated by this unexplainable rush of ugly fear. “Because how do you describe a feeling without proof there’s a reason for a feeling? Lots of people say I have a bad feeling. I just didn’t know with me it really meant something.” Leaning back on the bed, she winced at the pull on her abs.
They were still a bit sore from the other day, but this encounter hadn’t helped. Something shiny under the small dresser across from the bed caught her eye. Well, maybe shiny wasn’t the word she was looking for.
Sparkling was better, muted, but sparkling.
Getting on her knees, Poppy scooted to the dresser and slid her hand beneath, sweeping the floor until she knocked the item out the other side.
Eyeing it, she realized it was a crystal of some kind, a blue, prism-like crystal in the shape of a teardrop.
Wrapping her fingers around it, Poppy was instantly slammed back against the side of the bed.
“What the hell is going on?” Nina yelled as a scramble of feet thundered in Poppy’s ears.
But the chaos and the pain of the crash were vague and distant as the crystal grew warm in her hand and her eyes clouded, her vision becoming blurry. That crazy low rumble began in her ears again, pulsing, growing stronger.
The word Littleton popped up in front of her like a neon sign, flashing and blinking a furious rhythm just as the whispering began. “Littleton! Littleton! Littleton,” the ironically soothing voice hummed.
“Do you hear that?” she called out to the girls and Calamity.
“Hear what?” Marty yelped, her voice frantic.
“Rick, Rick, Rick!” the voice whispered, swirling in an ominous throb in her ears. Poppy jolted upward, throwing her hands over her ears to stop the maddening chant, tears forming in her eyes.
More flickering images flew in front of her, heinous images of death, pain so ugly, she had to close her eyes to block it out, and all the while, the words, “Littleton! Littleton! Littleton!” screeched through her brain.