The Awakening (28 page)

“Megan!”

“No!”

The darkness, real, imagined, fog . . . substance . . . was reaching around her.

“No!”

It was behind her . . .

It was before her.

The dark form before her was now . . .

Racing straight toward her, a thundercloud in sweeping ebony, coming down . . . down . . . nearly on top of her.

She spun to run the other way.

Yet there, in the blue-gray shadow of fog, was the figure that so nearly touched her . . . touched her with icy cold, fingerlike breath.

She spun again, and screamed.

The dark form before her sailed by. She heard the thud of a collision, or someone falling to the pavement. She cried out again, spinning around.

Almost immediately, the fog began to thin. She could see the hotel, so close in front of her now. She could see the first tree in its aligned spot in the parking lot.

A dark figure on the ground . . .

Rising.

Her breath caught, she backed away, ready to scream again, run pell-mell for that entrance which now loomed so close before her.

“Megan!”

Finn, breathless, his voice very deep, husky. It was him on the pavement. He was stumbling to his feet. “Megan, you're all right?”

“Finn!” She ran to him. The cape he had borrowed from Morwenna's shop was covered in dirt and dead autumn leaves. He rested his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His dark hair was wildly astray; a few leaves were caught in it as well. The instinct in her heart had taken over; she didn't even pause to reflect on the fact that he might have been really hurt. She threw herself at him, almost hysterical in her relief that he was alive and moving.

“Megan, Megan!” His fingers moved gently over her hair as he cradled her closer, just holding her. As last he pulled away, anxious to see her. She tentatively reached to his head, drawing away a leaf.

“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

“Fine. Well, bruised and a little embarrassed, since he got away. But otherwise . . . fine.”

“Finn,” she murmured, leaning close against the beating of his heart once again. “You're always there for me . . . even tonight. You were there for me.”

“I would die for you, Megan, and you know it,” he said gruffly.

“And that's incredible . . . we've fought so passionately, sometimes. And even when you came for me . . . I was afraid at first that I was walking on eggshells, because there are so many other places you could be . . . or people you could be with. And even when we first went back, I was so afraid; I didn't want to lose you again; I wondered if we could ever be as close again. And now . . . I didn't just walk out on you. Okay, I did, but it's because I believe that you don't know, that it's something in your dreams, or even in mine . . . I'm not making any sense. Except that now, things are so absurdly strange.”

“I know, Megan.”

“Even right now! This! Who—what was it?” she asked, searching behind him. Little mists of white fog still drifted around but not enough to impair her vision. The parking lot, other than the forlorn trees and a few cars, was empty. “There was someone, right? Something . . . so strange, the eyes I see in the darkness, but it was just a man, it had to have been. But I didn't see anyone clearly, not at all. Who . . . what . . .”

He shook his head with disgust. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Someone strong, powerful,” he said ruefully. He looked at her with green, Finn eyes. Eyes she knew well, had known for years. Loved. “I hadn't realized you had left,” he said. “So I hurried out . . . to make sure you got off okay. And . . . the fog was out. I couldn't see anything. I stumbled around looking for you, then heard your footsteps and your scream and tried to find you. And then . . .” He shrugged. “There you were, and there he was . . . her . . . whatever. No, had to be a he. Not even a heavy-weight women's wrestling champ could have been that strong. It was like tackling a brick wall.”

“Strong—and fast,” she murmured. “He's gone.”

“Yeah,” Finn said ruefully, staring out into the parking lot. He turned and looked at her. “This may be New England, but that fog is damned strange.”

She shrugged, unwilling to tell him that she thought so, too.

“Let's go in and report him.”

She frowned, balking at the suggestion. “Finn, what are we going to report?”

“That a guy nearly attacked you in the parking lot!”

“But . . . we don't even know what he looked like. I don't, at any rate.”

“That's not the point. They need to know that some freak is running after lone women in their parking lot.”

“But . . .”

“But what, Megan?” he asked impatiently. “Do you want it to happen to someone else?”

“No, of course not.”

He was already heading back in. The Conant Room was empty except for the last of the serving and cleanup crews and a few people at the bar, most of whom who had been in costume, and were now halfway stripped down. Finn walked ahead of her; she followed on his heels. She wondered how she was going to begin to explain that she hadn't really gotten a close look at someone who had almost touched her, and that he had disappeared in seconds flat. She hadn't even known which way he was coming, when Finn had flown by her. And after that, all she had seen was . . .

Finn.

A niggling suspicion crept to her throat, one she refused to accept, entertain, even acknowledge . . .

But it was there, haunting her mind, and she couldn't shut it off.

Had it been him chasing her all along, unnerving her, calling her name in that eerie voice in the fog, and all to . . .

Come to her rescue? Make her realize she needed him. Was that why he had been so cavalier all night—his plan had been in motion?

No. She didn't believe it for a second. Finn was never devious. He could be obstinate, stubborn, and fiercely determined; he could even plow his way in somewhere when it was a place or situation where he really wanted to be. But he wasn't devious.

And still . . .

“Theo, there was someone out in the parking lot. Megan was nearly attacked.” Finn turned back to Megan, drawing her toward a man sitting at the bar. He was the one who had been wearing the monk's cape and half mask, she saw, as the mask was now next to him on the bar. “You remember—Officer Theo Martin. We met last night during that ruckus up here with good old Marty.”

“Yes, of course, I remember you, and thank you so much again for your help,” Megan said, accepting the hand he offered her.

“Not a problem. So, what's this? You were attacked in the parking lot?”

“Not exactly.” She hesitated. “Finn was there. He . . . tackled whoever it was, and they took off.”

“Really took off. Into thin air,” Finn said ruefully.

“Adam, have you heard any of this?” Theo said, looking at Megan, but speaking loudly to be heard from his rear.

Adam, the bald bouncer emerged from where he had evidently been stacking liquor bottles below the bar. He was frowning.

“Did he . . . get a hold of you in any way?” Adam demanded.

“No . . . no. Nothing really happened. But Finn thought it was important that we tell you—rather than take a chance that someone else might be attacked.”

“We've received some scoop on the girl found in Boston,” Theo murmured, still watching Megan. “I didn't say that to frighten you, but all nearby areas have been alerted to what little information they have.”

“We've got to get someone out in the parking lot, then,” Adam said firmly. “Whether Sam wants to spend any more money or not.”

“Hey, he's been raking it in all week; he's had to turn dozens of people away,” Theo said. “There are plenty of guys at the station that would be happy to take some off-duty work. Cops can usually use some side work.”

“Tartan will have to get on it, whether he likes it or not.”

“Megan, Finn, do you all want to come down to the station and file a report?”

Megan glanced at Finn. “Not really . . . because it was all so fast, there's nothing to report. I can't give anything that even resembles a description, and
I . . . I
was never really touched.”
It had felt as if she had been . . . almost. But that hadn't been real, it had just been that she could feel heat, and breath . . . something hovering so very close.
She shook her head firmly. “I don't want to file a report. The only good any of it can do is if someone can convince Sam Tartan that he has to have some security out in the parking lot.”

Theo Martin was observing her intensely. “Well, I think we should put the force on alert as well. I mean, who knows, maybe a drunk was just staggering around out there. But with what happened in Boston . . . still, you don't have to fill out a report, Megan. I'll see to it that everyone is aware that we've got to watch out. It's tough. Halloween season. Everyone is dressed as a monster. Hey, even little kids! What happened to adorable little girls dressing up as princesses? Now, they all want to be Elvira or lady vampires. I ran into a kid today covered in old white bandages with enough red makeup on them to make him look like a bloodbath. I asked him what he was, and he told me he was an accident victim. I mean, is that fun?” Theo said with disgust.

“Monsters are big,” Finn murmured in agreement. “And guys, thanks. We're going to take off now. And Adam, if you need help convincing Tartan, let me know.”

“Tartan can pay, and he should, but don't worry, Finn,” Theo said. “If he doesn't fork up the dough, we'll slip someone out here anyway. No one tell him that, though!”

“Not a chance,” Megan said.

“Hey, Megan, just be glad you got yourself a wire-muscled blackbelt there, huh?” Adam said. “He can keep down the drunks, the tough guys, and even the things that go bump in the night.”

She forced a smile. “Right.”

They exited the hotel together.

Once outside, they both stopped. The fog was gone. The moon was huge, flooding the parking lot with light.

“I'll walk you to . . . your car. Or whoever's car it is,” Finn said. “Aunt Martha's, I take it. You're staying with her, right?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. His eyes were on her. Green. Framed by the dark lashes and defined, cleanly arched brows. That she might have suspected him of staging a rescue suddenly filled her with shame. This was the man she knew, loved. Was terrified of losing. How long would he keep patience with her?

And yet that morning . . .

She had been certain she had been about to die.

“I thought I should go to Aunt Martha's because . . . well, she's so sensible. I know that you suspect Morwenna and Joseph of trying to put a wedge between us. And you're wrong; Morwenna likes you a lot, and you seem to get along fine with Joseph.”
And now, look at you and Sara!
she almost added. “Anyway, I just didn't want to . . . well, to feed into any of your thoughts on Wiccans, so I went to Aunt Martha's. But . . . you knew, I guess.”

He shrugged. “You weren't with Morwenna, so I assumed you went to Martha's, yes.”

“Finn,” she murmured. “I didn't walk out. All right, I did walk out, but not like before. I just don't understand what's going on, and I actually left because I do love you, and I'm not angry, or jealous, or anything else . . . just afraid.”

“It's all right. I understand.”

“You do? Really?”

“Yes.”

She stood awkwardly for a moment, then smiled slowly. “In a way, that makes it even harder. Don't be too nice—not when I'm feeling a little like a jerk. At least, it's just two days until Halloween. Then we're out of here. And if the dreams continue, for either of us, we're rushing straight to a psychoanalyst!”

“Go on, get into your car. I'll follow you out to Aunt Martha's.”

“You don't have to—”

“Yes, I do.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“And don't worry; I'm not staying. I actually have something of a promise to fulfill this evening.”

“Oh? Anything I should know about?” she asked. A tickle of jealousy found root in her heart.
Was she falling for something incredibly stupid right now? Was his appointment with Sara, or even the blatantly head-over-heels Gayle Sawyer?

“A promise—and an investigation,” he said, grimacing ruefully.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw the kids earlier this evening, and they were alarmed by something they found old Fallon doing.”

“Really? What?”

“Cooking up spells in a pot, or something like that. Anyway, I intend to snoop around the house during the wee hours.”

“Finn . . . should you be doing that?”

“Definitely. What if the old fellow does think that he can cook up some evil for Halloween? He could be dangerous, and there are those two children in the house.”

“Finn, you've got to be careful,” she warned uneasily. “Fallon doesn't like you to begin with.”

“Guess what? I'm not so fond of him.”

“But still . . .”

“Don't worry about it. If I come across him doing anything weird, I'll simply ask him what he's up to. Maybe he has some perfectly rational explanation for whatever it is.”

“Why didn't the kids go to their parents?”

“They did.”

“And?”

“They're kids—they got in trouble for sneaking around at night.”

Megan hesitated. “Maybe I should go back with you. You're kind of like a big kid sometimes. I may have to keep you out of trouble.”

He shook his head, observing her gravely. “Megan, you haven't even told me what I did—or supposedly did.”

“Finn, there was no supposed. You nearly strangled me. You woke in the night like a sex-starved ex-con, and then . . . at the end . . . nearly strangled me.”

He stared back at her, spine rigid, jaw hard, eyes almost as shadowy as the strange blue fog that too often came at night.