Wondrous Strange

flowers dost sleep…”

The rhyming finally tipped him off.

Her words had started to sound terribly familiar, and understanding descended upon Sonny like a hammer blow.

Oh, seven hells! He cursed himself, grinding his teeth. His friend Maddox would laugh himself sick if Sonny were to tell him about this. Which, of course, he wouldn’t! He glowered angrily at the girl, even though he now knew that she couldn’t see him.

Smiling her enchanting smile, she said, “And I will purge thy mortal grossness so that thou shalt like an airy spirit go!” Then she turned away, glancing coquettishly over her shoulder, seeming to beckon with her eyes.

Except it wasn’t really him she beckoned. Sonny felt a strange twinge of regret.

Then, quite abruptly, the girl stopped in her tracks, and her entire mood shifted. Clenching her fists, she whirled in a frustrated little dance. Sonny watched silently as the girl snatched up a sheaf of paper that had lain on the bench next to her bag. She slapped the words on the page, cursing. “Dammit dammit dammit! See? You see? You know the lines, idiot! Now why on earth couldn’t you do that at rehearsal? Why? Dammit!” She kicked angrily at the ground, stubbing her toe on a moss-covered rock. “Ow!”

Sonny let his breath out slowly, grimly amused.

A script. An actress.

The fact that this slightly ridiculous girl had actually made him think that perhaps she was-Sonny stopped short before even pursuing that avenue of thought. He was a Janus. He, more than anyone, should be able to tell the difference. Poised to leave, he turned back for one last second to watch the girl.

She hobbled over to a bench and sat down heavily. Without warning, she crumpled forward, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Sonny felt his jaw drop.

He should go. He should leave the pathetic creature to indulge her sorrow in private. Definitely, he should go…

Instead, Sonny glanced around, looking for something in the weathered remnants of the garden that he could make use of. He spotted a rosebush with one last, withered bloom. The petals clung to the flower head in a desiccated clump, and the leaves on the stem were brittle almost to the point of dust.

It would do nicely, he thought, plucking the flower. As he touched the blown rose, it quivered and shimmered beneath his fingertips, slowly regaining its color; the petals unfurled in a deep, creamy shade of peach, and the leaves turned a vibrant green once more. Sonny took a deep breath and stepped into the clearing.

“Excuse me…miss?”

The girl’s head snapped up, and a little cloud of glitter burst from her hair. Her hand flew toward her enormous shoulder bag, her arm disappearing up to the elbow into its depths.

Fool, Sonny thought silently, although he carefully kept it from showing on his face. If I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have done so easily by now.

There was a hint of fear in her eyes. But just a hint. That impressed him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He glanced at her purse. “Please. If you’re looking for mace, you don’t need to. I…I only wanted to give you this.” He held out the rose. “You looked as though you could use something… nice.”

The girl’s face changed from wariness to wonder.

“Wow,” she said softly. She reached for the flower, hesitantly, looking up at him. He took another careful step forward and placed the rose gently in her hand.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, gazing down at the perfect rose in her palm. The heady scent of the flower filled the little clearing with its perfume, and the girl inhaled deeply, her face softening into a smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

But by the time she looked back up, he was already gone.

III

Kelley looked around the clearing, astonished, but the mysterious-and good-looking-guy had vanished without a sound. She sat on the bench awhile longer, holding the rose and listening.

Nothing.

At last, gathering her stuff, she picked up one of the footpaths that would lead her out of the garden and toward Bethesda Terrace. It was time she headed home.

Maybe he’s still around here somewhere, she thought as she strolled leisurely. I should at least make an effort to find him. Thank him properly for trying to cheer me up. Kelley toyed with the tempting idea, playing with the green-amber pendant that hung from a silver chain around her neck. It was a gift from Aunt Emma-a four-leaf clover, for luck.

Unfortunately, though she kept her eyes peeled, it seemed that she was out of luck, at least where Handsome Stranger was concerned.

She sighed, remembering the way he had looked at her with those extraordinary silver-gray eyes. His face was regal. High cheekbones. Straight, firm mouth. Unsmiling, but not harsh-although Kelley had a sense that his expression could turn that way, easily.

“Oh, come on!” Kelley said aloud. “How ridiculous can you get? You saw the guy for all of twelve seconds!” Walking south, she skirted the edge of the Ramble until she got to the northern shore of the Lake, opposite the rocky outcropping of Hernshead.

Somehow, it had become dusk. Kelley had never really felt unsafe in Central Park-but on the other hand, she’d never gone traipsing about in it after dark. Nervously, she squinted up into a sky that had gone from deep blue to indigo with startling swiftness. It was eerily still in the park, she realized. Utterly silent. A thin veil of ground mist swirled, sweeping across the path in front of her. Kelley quickened her pace almost to a jog.

The surface of the Lake on her right was like a vast black pool of oil and so still that it reflected everything like a perfect mirror. She planned to skirt along the shore until she came to the eastern edge, near to where she could cross over and exit the park around Seventy-second Street. Then it was only about a ten-minute walk to home.

She hadn’t gotten very far when the sounds of screaming split the night air.

The raw noise shattered the stillness, chilling and horrific. Kelley froze, listening to the high-pitched cries. They sounded as if they were coming from the middle of the Lake.

“Hey!” Kelley called, frightened. “Hey! Do you need help?”

A cacophony of frantic splashing reached her ears as if in answer. Kelley started running toward the source of the sound. Mingling with the horrid screams that had first caught her attention was a deeper huffing sound, punctuated by the frenzied splashing-as though someone was flailing around in a panic. Drowning.

Make that something. Kelley stopped at the edge of the Lake, realizing with a start that there was a distinctly nonhuman quality to the noise. She squinted and could only just make out where the water in the middle of the Lake frothed white. Suddenly something rose from the center of the disturbance, bucking and rearing violently. Heart pounding, Kelley saw a horse’s head thrashing in the darkness.

The animal’s front hooves churned at the water, as though it was trying to climb the air. Then it sank deeper. The water closed over the drowning creature’s head again, choking off the sounds of its panicked whinnying. Kelley glanced around frantically.

“Help!” she called, but her voice sounded flat and small in the night. There wasn’t anyone around to hear her.

She turned back to the Lake desperately and saw the horse breach the surface again, floundering, losing strength.

The thought of an animal drowning while she stood there watching was more than Kelley could bear. She dropped her bag, shrugged out of her jacket, and kicked off her shoes. Then she dove into the Lake in a shallow arc.