Page 63 of Fire and Bones

A shaft of light appears on the horizon, then separates into two beams.

A car. Approaching fast.

Spray plumes up from the vehicle’s wheels, sending an object drifting out of the culvert.

A woman, floating, eyes wide open, the ripples around her tinted blood red.

I backpedal to get away from the corpse.

My feet are caught.

I pinwheel.

Throw my arms out, desperate to regain my balance. To grasp whatever I can.

My eyes flew open.

My pulse was racing. My tee and hairline were soaked with sweat.

I lay still a moment, fingers death-gripping the quilt.

Mind struggling for clarity.

Only a dream, one sleep-drugged cluster of neurons reassured.

You’re fine, their snappy-happy colleagues added.

My language center was far less subtle.

WTF?

No sector of my brain was enthused about a return to dreamland.

The last time I checked my phone said 4:21 a.m.

Again, I awoke to a gloomy sky and the soft patter of rain.

Did the sun ever show itself in DC?

I realized I’d been roused by my latest grating ringtone.

My phone’s screen now reported an astonishing 9:42 a.m. And that the caller was Katy.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom. Uh… brace yourself. You won’t like what I have to say.”

“Hit me.” Heart knotting in my chest.

“When I checked the Annex as you’d asked, I found that your icemaker had malfunctioned and flooded your kitchen and parlor.”

“Sonofabitch! I can be there—”

“Do not come home. I’ve called a plumber, a floor guy, and the insurance company. The water’s off and there are big-ass fans going full boogey in there. They plan to refinish the hardwoods as soon as the moisture level drops enough.”

“Thank you so much. But shouldn’t I—”

“Stay where you are. The place won’t be livable for at least a week. Maybe longer.”