Night Visions (Night Series)
Read Night Visions (Night Series) Online
Authors: Elena Gray
NIGHT VISIONS
B
y Elena Gray
Praise for
Night Visions…
"Hold on tight! Elena Gray's fast paced prose and true to life characters will grab you by the heart and never let you go."
Author
"Night Visions is a perfect blend of lore and love that will keep you turning the pages. Ian and Sam's journey will make you laugh, sigh and shed a tear or two.
Author
"Insanely captivating. From page one I couldn't turn the pages fast enough. Extremely well written and one of the best books I've read this year."
Author
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To Cheryl,
My sister, my best friend
Kisses to heaven
PROLOGUE
A veil of smoke clouded her vision. The acrid smell choked her, burning a path to her lungs. She pushed herself to her feet, swaying as a sea of black swam in her head. Panic set in, her pulse began to race.
Where was she? How did she get here?
The only sound, her own labored breathing. She took a step forward, her arms outstretched blindly searching for a way out. Fear gripped her with icy talons.
Heart pounding, she stumbled, falling onto something firm, yet not quite solid. Her hands ran up and down the obstacle, stopping when cold lips
met her palm. A dead body. She screamed, scrambling backwards, her bare feet digging into the damp earth. Her thin white nightgown hitched around her thighs. The edge of a jagged rock scraped against her skin.
As the cool earth cradled her, she clamped her han
d over her mouth, smothering sobs. Afraid to make a sound, she peered around again. Someone could still be out there, lurking under the cover of smoke. She needed to remain low, out of their site.
Crawling on her hands and knees, she made contact with something sticky and wet. It couldn't be… Raising her hand from the ground, crimson covered her fingers. She recoiled in horror. Her stomach heaving as the rusty scent hit her nose. Bile clawed its way up her throat. She struggled to draw a breath.
Oh God! Someone help me!
A cyclone of questions spun around in her head.
What happened here? Why don't I remember anything? Who did this?
She had to run. Run for help. But where? She had no idea how she got there.
Pushing off the ground, she spun in circles searching for a way out. A light, a sound, anything to guide her.
Please help me!
In answer to her plea, the smoke began to shift as a gust of wind swept through. Her attention drawn to a form taking shape in the distance. Unable to stop herself, she took a step towards it, then another. Her body chilled as sweat trickled down her spine. A soft whisper begged her to turn and run.
Her bare feet stepped through cold, slick grass. Blood thrumm
ed in her ears. Instinct warned her to run, while an invisible force beckoned her forward.
The whispers in her head grew frantic. “Run, Run, Run!”
That's when she saw him, slumped against a tree, a steel beam protruding from his chest, blood bubbling out of his mouth.
Her scream shattered
the night.
CHAPTER 1
Most people
get to wake up to an alarm clock. But not Sam Cade. She had to be jolted awake by something wet and cold as it nudged her exposed calf. Cracking one eye open she peered at the clock. 6:30 on the dot.
She groaned and pulled the fluffy down blanket over her head, blocking out the early morning light that filtered through the shades.
Welcome back to the abnormal stuff she called life. Any second now the headache would start. But Ginger only had dog worries and they didn't wait for sanity.
“Go away Ginger," She croaked, snuggling deeper into the warmth of her bed. "Let me sleep another hour."
What time did I finally fall asleep last night? Three or four AM?
Whatever time it was, it didn't help with her sleep deprivation. The nightmares hadn't just become more frequent. They'd crossed over to her consciousness, making her relive each horrible detail in the morning. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. But the images burned into her memory. She needed to remember. Maybe then the tickle in her stom
ach would disappear. Too bad the memories moved just out of reach.
Ginger whined and tugged on the blanket. Sam shivered from her bare arms being exposed to the chill in the room. She yanked on the covers, trying to pull them back over her head. Would Ginger ever tire of this tug of war? She hadn't any other morning. Probably wouldn't, since she normally wo
n. The dog was ruthless over her morning run. Sam didn't know why she even bothered to try and sleep in.
Ginger placed her we
t nose against Sam's cold one, her breath warm on Sam's face. One slobbery lick on Sam's cheek forced a giggle past her lips. She wiped the moisture away as she pushed herself up.
“Okay, okay, I'm awake. You're lucky I love you,” she cooed as she ruffled Ginger's thick brown and gray fur.
If it wasn't for Ginger laying next to her at night, Sam would probably be in a padded room. It didn't matter how deep the nightmare. Ginger would bark or lick her face until Sam escaped. Ginger was the light that guided her out of the darkness.
“It's easy
for you to get up in this cold. You have a built in coat.”
Sam placed both hands on either side of Ginger's muzzle, staring into her chocolate colored eyes. It amazed her how much unconditional love a dog could give so freely. Placing a kiss on top of her head, Sam embraced her,
comforted by the feel of Ginger's warm fur against her cheek. Ginger gave her another lick in response.
“What would I do without you Gin? Sleep the day away? Become fat and lazy in this big old house?”
Ginger rested her head in Sam's lap and whined again.
“I know, enough talking," Sam chuckled, running her finger back and forth along Ginger's back a final time. "Let me finish getting ready and we'll go for our run. Okay girl?”
Swinging her legs off the bed, Sam stretched her arms over her head, feeling relief in her taut muscles. Why did it feel like a freight train ran over her?
This was going to be the start of a long day.
She resisted the urge to dive back under the covers. Instead, she walked toward the bathroom, wiping the grit from her eyes.
A
s Sam crossed the threshold, a steady buzzing began in her head. The tempo increased with every step she took. Her body immediately tensed. She placed her fingers on her temples and focused her thoughts inward.
“Quiet! It's too early to start chattering.”
After six years, she should be used to the sounds. Always there, like an unwanted visitor, waiting in the background. A constant lingering static. Conversations with indiscernible words. Eventually she was able to block them out, but every now and then the voices would resurface. Rubbing her temples, she inhaled through her nose and out through her mouth, until the noise retreated in defeat.
Ginger whimpered as she rubbed up against Sam's pajama clad leg. Her wet nose gently nuzzled the back of Sam's hand. She glanced down and tousled Ginger's fur.
“It's okay Gin. They're gone.”
Sam took a moment to clear her head as she leaned her hip against the cool granite sink, waiting for the room to stop spinning. At least she was able to keep her feet under her. The days of waking up on the cold tile floor, far behind her.
Pushing away from the sink, she pivoted on her heel. As she stared at her reflection she cringed. Her dark brown hair stood on end, a crease lined her cheek from her pillow, and black smudges framed her dark brown eyes.
“Real attractive Sam,” she sighed as she reached for her toothbrush and applied the toothpaste.
These nightmares have to stop. If they continue I'll not only feel like a zombie, but will look like one too. And at the moment the resemblance isn't far off.
With a mouthful of toothpaste she glanced at Ginger, her tail thumping against the floor in sync with the swish of her brushing.
“Aw wight am huwin,” she mumbled as toothpaste dribbled down her chin. She quickly scrubbed her face and took one last look in the mirror.
Maybe it was time for a nice
, long vacation. Somewhere tropical, with fruity drinks adorned with those cute little umbrellas.
Making her way back into the bedroom with a renewed attitude, she pulled her hair
up into a high ponytail. Humming a tune, she searched through her drawers for a pair of shorts, grabbed her brother Jason's Aerosmith t-shirt off the overstuffed chair and swiped some socks off the floor.
Her poor, neat room. It still hadn't recovered from the mess she made
last week when she misplaced her treasured necklace. She eyed the clothes spilling out of the drawers. Then the contents of her jewelry box. It lay on its side with necklaces and earrings spread across her dresser.
Even a pair of underwear dangled from her floor lamp.
The mess was worth it.
She
rubbed the pendant resting against her chest, picturing that day as if it were yesterday. Ian, her confidante, hero, best friend, had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday. She still remembered the way her heart ceased beating the moment she opened the tiny blue box. Even the way time seemed suspended when she untucked the delicate, white tissue paper. Seeing the breathtaking silver Celtic knot necklace.
But nothing haunted her memories as much as the moment Ian clasped it around her neck, the warm caress of his fingers setting her blood on fire. His words still stole her breath when he explained how each intricate weave of silver mirrored their intertwined souls. He had always told her he loved her, but never crossed the line of friendship.