Blood Dreams

Usually nothing was, though once she had discovered a raccoon on her deck, raiding her bird feeder. The pepper spray hadn't been necessary on that occasion, since the creature had been as wary of her as she was of it, and fled.

Her father kept saying he didn't like it that her apartment was on the ground floor of the complex, and Marie was on the waiting list for a larger apartment on an upper floor, but she'd never felt particularly vulnerable where she was. There were good locks on the doors, and while the complex was on the outskirts of town, it was still a safe, well-lit area.

Which was doubly a good thing right now, since her old car was in the shop, hopefully being fixed, and she had to walk from her job at the small restaurant several blocks away. If she couldn't get a ride, at least.

On Wednesday night, no ride was available. And a private party celebrating an upcoming wedding had stayed late, which meant it was later than usual when Marie helped close up and set off on foot toward home.

She wasn't nervous.

At first.

It hadn't really cooled off much in early October, but the summer had been brutally hot and too dry, so, in defeat, a lot of the trees had simply dropped dead brown leaves without the customary colorful show first. During the daytime, the dead leaves everywhere were a depressing sight; at night, with a fitful breeze, it was a bit creepy.

The leaves rustled and whispered as the air currents caught them and slid them along the sidewalk and against the buildings Marie walked past. It was as though a small crowd of people followed her, just out of sight, and whispered among themselves, keeping their secrets.

Now that was a fanciful thought, Marie decided. And why was she thinking such absurd things?

She realized her hand had crept up to the nape of her neck, and she could literally feel the fine hairs there standing straight out.

Her common sense gave her obviously overactive imagination a stern talking-to, and Marie stopped on the sidewalk, turning slowly to study her surroundings. Nothing at all unusual met her gaze.

The breeze died down just then, so the whispering leaves were stilled and silenced. The sidewalk was well lit, as it was all the way to her apartment complex.

A car passed her, then another going in the opposite direction.

An ordinary night in Venture.

See? There's nothing wrong. Just your imagina-

In the moment of absolute silence, after the car passed and before the breeze stirred up again, Marie heard something. A very distinctive sound she recognized.

The click and whir of a camera.

Not the digital cameras so prevalent these days, but the old-fashioned kind that used film and different shutter speeds according to the light, and-

She heard it again. Her mouth went dry, and she could feel her heart begin to thud against her ribs.

Without wasting another second, Marie continued on her way home, one hand diving into her shoulder bag and closing around the slightly reassuring can of pepper spray, while the other fumbled with the keys she was already holding to find the big whistle on the key chain. She walked briskly, head up, just the way her father had taught her.

'Don't look like a victim, Marie. Walk like you're going somewhere, but make sure your eyes keep moving, keep scanning the area. And listen to your instincts. If they tell you to run, you run like hell. If they tell you to yell, then you yell your head off. Use the whistle. Don't be afraid of being embarrassed if it turns out to be nothing. Embarrassment isn't permanent. Being dead is.'

A truth he, as a doctor, certainly knew.

Marie brought the whistle halfway up to her lips but no farther. Because as suddenly as the fear had gripped her, it let her go. She felt no sense of menace, no threat, no anxiety. Still, she didn't slow her brisk pace or cease scanning her surroundings continually.

And she didn't relax even a bit until she was inside her apartment, the timer-activated lights welcoming and the door triple-locked behind her.

She didn't truly relax until she had gone methodically through her apartment, checking every window and door, every closet. Even under her bed and inside the bathtub and shower.

Only then did she sink down on the foot of her bed with a shaky sigh, relaxing her death grip on the pepper spray and whistle.

That's when she saw the necklace lying on her dresser.

* * * *

It was the nightmare brought to life, Dani thought.

The vision.

The smell of blood turned her stomach, the thick, acrid smoke burned her eyes, and what had been for so long a wispy, dreamlike memory now was jarring, throat-clogging reality. For just an instant she was paralyzed.

It was all coming true.

Despite everything she had done, everything she had tried to do, despite all the warnings, once again it was all-

Wait. This isn't-

'Dani?' Hollis appeared at her side, seemingly out of the smoke, gun drawn, blue eyes sharp even squinted against the stench. 'Where is it?'

'I-I can't. I mean, I don't think I can-' Why do I feel so confused? I've been here before. I've done this before. So why does it all feel… different?

'Dani, you're all we've got. You're all they've got. Do you understand that?'

Dani said, 'If somebody had just listened to me when it mattered-'

But they did listen. I know they did.

I remember that much.

Don't I?

'Stop looking back. There's no sense in it. Now is all that counts. Which way, Dani?'

Impossible as it was, Dani had to force herself to concentrate on the stench of blood she knew none of the others could smell. A blood trail that was all they had to guide them. She nearly gagged, then pointed. 'That way. Toward the back. But…'

'But what?'

'Down. Lower. There's a basement level.'

'It isn't on the blueprints.'

'I know.'

I told yon all this before. Didn't I?

Didn't I?

'Bad place to get trapped in a burning building,' Hollis noted. 'The roof could fall in on us. Easily.'

Bishop appeared out of the smoke as suddenly as Hollis had, weapon in hand, his face stone, eyes haunted. 'We have to hurry.'

'Yeah,' Hollis replied, 'we get that. Burning building. Maniacal killer. Good seriously outnumbered by evil. Bad situation.' Her words and tone were flippant, but her gaze on his face was anything but, intent and measuring.

'You forgot potential victim in maniacal killer's hands,' her boss said, not even trying to match her tone.

'Never. Dani, did you see the basement, or are you feeling it?'

Feeling? Wait. That's not the way my abilities work. I just dream things. I'm not clairvoyant.

Paris is.

Paris …