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A hint of gold, a touch of red, a blush of purple.
She mixed paints, worked in small dabs, minute brushstrokes to slowly build that light.
When her fingers cramped, she set down the brush, stepped back. Flexing her fingers, she studied the result.
Good, she thought. Pretty damn good.
Still flexing her fingers, she stepped out to walk down to the bathroom. She’d go back, take another fresh look. Maybe put in a little more time. Her contracted work was right on schedule, so if she spent another hour or so on the painting, she could sleep in a bit in the morning.
Too bad the world wasn’t geared for night owls, she thought as she relieved her bladder.
Humming to herself, she washed her hands, and glanced in the mirror over the sink.
Hester Dobbs stood behind her.
Throwing up her hands in defense, Cleo whirled. Though the air had chilled, no one stood there. One hand over her pounding heart, she pressed her back to the wall.
“I saw you.” Sonya’s sketch had been on the mark with the wild black hair, the fierce dark eyes, the sharp chin, full mouth. “I saw you.”
Maybe her voice shook, just a little, but she squared her shoulders. “And you can fuck right off.”
Water exploded out of the tub faucet. Eyes wide, she watched the hot water knob on the sink turn, and water pour into the bowl. When she tried to turn it off, she had to snatch her fingers away, as the metal burned.
She grabbed a towel to protect her hand, but the knob wouldn’t budge. As steam filled the room, something pounded at the door.
As she looked around frantically for a weapon, she saw something written in the mist of the mirror.
leave or die
In the steam-drenched room, the air turned to ice.
At her desk, Sonya heard nothing as she prepared to shut down for the night. While she saved the evening’s work, Yoda stirred under the desk.
And growled.
Scooting back, she reached for him. “What is it, baby?”
In the hearth, the low, simmering fire rose to a roar. Upstairs, the wall screen erupted with the sound of a woman screaming.
The library’s pocket doors slammed shut; the lights went off.
The light from the fire glowed red and eerie, smearing the shadows, burning against the glass of the windows until the room she loved became a hellscape.
Through the screams and the dog’s wild barks, she heard pounding that had the chandelier swaying like a pendulum.
Third floor, she thought. Cleo.
She ran to the doors, tried to drag them open. She managed an inch before they slammed shut again.
“Come on, come on!”
Straining, she widened the opening. Yoda wiggled through before it slammed shut again.
“No, no! Yoda, wait! Goddamn it, don’t you hurt my dog, you bitch!”
Mustering every ounce of strength, fear, fury, she pulled the door apart enough to squeeze through. Calling for Cleo, she ran for the third floor.
Cleo, Yoda bundled in her arms, sprinted down the hallway.
