The Beholder Page 3

  Matt kept darting glances at the stranger. “He’s not watching,” he told them. Debbie took the opportunity to turn and take a look, but most of the man’s face was hidden from view by his long blond hair.

  “I want to go now,” she told them.

  In that moment, the stranger rose, paid for his untouched drink, and made for the exit.

  After he’d left, Matt exhaled. “Maybe I am being paranoid.”

  “I really hope so,” Debbie said, smiling weakly.

  Jason jumped to his feet, nausea replaced by an urgency of a different kind. “I have to go, guys.” At last he had some kind of connection to the horrible dreams, and he was determined to follow that lead. “I’ll explain later. See you tomorrow.”

  Before Matt or Debbie could say a word, Jason strode hastily towards the exit.

  Chapter 5

  Two men stood outside McAlester’s, a pregnant silence stretched between them. The streets were quiet, and the normally crowded sidewalks were strangely empty. The older man’s patent leather shoes tapped the sidewalk nervously, while the other man, wrapped in a long black coat, stared hard at the sky, his blond hair spilling over his shoulders.

  “Your appearance unnerved them,” the middle-aged man said. “Now that you’ve seen them, what do you say?”

  Some time passed before the younger one exhaled through his long, straight nose. “Extraordinary. I’ve never seen Auras like those. Emily will be nonplussed when she sees. Stupendous things are about to happen.”

  “I believe you are right,” the middle-aged man said, smiling grimly. “I was lucky to have bumped into them.”

  “You sure were. They haven’t been to your restaurant in a while, have they?”

  William McAlester shook his head, and the blond man nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s time to act, I suppose. Oh, before I forget,” he said, setting the high collar of his black cloak straight. “I’m not going to use the car, so you’ll have to look after it.”

  William nodded, and the stranger crossed the street, his shadow sliding among streetlamps and searchlights. Without a sound, he disappeared into a dark alley on the other side.

  ***

  Jason burst out the front door of McAlester’s, scanning the street for William. But William had disappeared, and when Jason called his cell phone, no one answered.

  The doorman was watching, so Jason decided to ask him instead. “I was wondering who that strange-looking guy was. He looked familiar, you know? The guy talking with William.”

  “Strange-looking?”

  “Yeah. He was wearing a long black cloak with a high collar, and he had long blond hair.”

  The doorman shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anyone matching that description being in the building today.”

  Jason was still mulling it over as he drove home alone. He had not bothered going back for Matt, knowing that Debbie would give him a lift, and maybe the two of them might even get their act together. When Jason finally parked in his garage and turned off the car, dead silence echoed through the place. He glanced at his watch—it showed 11:47 p.m.—then leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, needing to just sit and breathe for a few moments.

  Who was the stranger? Why had his appearance caused so much physical pain to rip through Jason? The sensation had been the same as what he’d experienced in the nightmares and visions, so how was the black-coated man connected to those? None of the pieces fit together. It was like someone had thrown fragments of different puzzles into the same box and nothing matched. The more pieces appeared, the more confused Jason felt.

  His stomach knotted with trepidation, Jason entered his apartment and locked the door behind him. After today’s events, anything was possible, and he half expected to find the room in a mess, furniture turned upside down, everything rummaged through. He took a deep breath, flipped the light switch on, then relaxed. All was in its place.

  He dropped his keys into the bowl on the coffee table and started opening his mail. Then straightened at the sight of a sealed white envelope lying beside a pile of magazines and newspapers. Two words had been neatly inscribed on it: To Jason.

  Someone had been in his apartment. Jason’s stomach dropped. Could they still be there? Moving as quietly as he could, Jason checked the kitchen, then his bedroom. No one there. He returned to the coffee table and picked up the envelope.

  On the back it bore a seal: W and T superimposed and embellished with an ornate pattern. Jason had never seen the image before, but it appeared to be an ex libris, the seal of the sender. Inside the envelope he found a sheet of paper folded in two, bearing the same image. He unfolded the sheet and started reading.

  Do not try to look for them.

  This may endanger both you and your friends.

  Come to Dave and Buster’s at Times Square tomorrow at 2:23 p.m.

  No name. Nothing else. Just the brief message and the WT seal.

  Do not try to look for them? Like he was going to. Jason tossed the letter on the table and stared at the scribbled note. He could see no explanation to this message—unless … Unless someone knew about his dreams. The possibility made him dizzy, and he sank onto the couch. It made no sense. He was sure Matt and Debbie were the only ones who knew.

  Matt and Debbie, he suddenly thought. He grabbed the phone, but resisted the impulse to call them. Too late for phone calls. They’d only worry.

  It was too late for him to string words together anyway. He was so exhausted the room started spinning, the colors of the furniture blurring together. He staggered towards his bedroom, peeling off his clothes as he walked, and tossing them on the floor. When he finally lay in his bed, he stared up at the ceiling for a long time, still feeling ill.

  I won’t be sleeping much tonight, he thought. But as he closed his eyes, sweet darkness welcomed him in.

  Chapter 6

  The alarm clock screamed, and Jason was suddenly wide awake, frantic with the impossible fear that the ringing sound was coming from inside his head.

  He rolled onto his back, and light spilled over his face. Squinting, he shielded his eyes with one hand, hoping to shut off the stinging brightness. His hands were reluctant to obey the orders of his drowsy brain, but he groped for the raging clock and banged on it as hard as he could.

  “Shut up!” he murmured.

  To his relief, the alarm clock fell silent.

  No dreams, no nightmares. That was all he needed. Not too much to ask for, was it? Untangling himself from the sheets, he struggled to his feet then made his way out of the room, ignoring the crumpled clothes piled along the way. He shuffled through the hall, his steps labored and slow though the cold floor tickled his feet, then cast a wary look at the coffee table.

  He’d hoped the letter had been a figment of his imagination, a trick of his exhausted mind, but there it lay. Giving his coffee table a wide berth, Jason entered a sunlit kitchen, picked up a remote, then hammered a random button. A weatherwoman’s cheerful voice filled the room as she swung her arms to point at spots on the map, then jumped from the right corner of the screen to the left as if there were a mouse chasing her. Jason mustered a wan smile. If only life could be that simple.

  He switched on the electric kettle, listening to the weather report as he waited for the water to boil.

  “Hot, dry weather returns to New York,” the woman was saying, “whisking away the limited relief brought by yesterday’s thunderstorm. The National Weather Service has issued a red flag warning, urging residents to avoid the use of open flames and …”

  Jason peered outside, falling deaf to the forecast. The sky was featureless except for a layer of thin cloud, giving a white tinge to the blue. The color pressed against his eyes, and the glare made him blink. Beads of condensation ran along the air conditioner tray and dripped onto the baked concrete. There seemed no end to the blistering heat. Jason didn’t need a weather report to tell him they were in for another hot day.

  After a cup of strong coffee, Ja
son changed into his suit and left the apartment. The elevator carried him down to the basement, but he decided to leave his car in the garage and take a taxi to Evelyn & Laurens instead.

  When he arrived, Debbie was at her desk, busy with papers. She looked up at his entrance and blinked, looking contrite.

  “Morning,” he mumbled. “Sorry I left so soon yesterday. How did the evening go?”

  “Pretty good. Um … Evelyn called and asked you to come to her office as soon as you arrive.”

  Jason had known this was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. “Crap. Did she tell you why?”

  Debbie glanced away and started rummaging for something in her desk drawer. “No, she didn’t say.”

  “It must be about the presentation.”

  Sucking up his nerve, Jason knocked on his boss’s door, and she welcomed him into her lemony scented, pristine office.

  “Good morning, Jason. Please sit down. Would you like coffee or tea?” Evelyn’s face beamed with hospitality, which only served to unnerve Jason further.

  “No, thank you.” He frowned. “Debbie said you wanted to see me?”

  “Ah, yes.” Evelyn’s expression became somber. “I think we need to talk.”

  Jason sat stiffly, expecting the worst.

  “I think you need to take a break,” she said.

  For a moment, Jason said nothing. He simply blinked. This was not at all what he’d been expecting. “A break from what?”

  “From work. This month was difficult for you, and yesterday’s presentation is proof of that. Take a break and go somewhere nice. You need a change from the routine.”

  “Who said I wanted change?” Jason protested.

  “Debbie’s worried about—”

  Jason blew out his breath, feeling easier now that he knew it hadn’t actually been Evelyn’s idea. Except now he felt a little betrayed. “So Debbie told you I need to take a break?”

  “I think you need time off work.”

  “But—”

  Evelyn pursed her lips and stared him down. “That’s my final decision, Jason.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. There was no point in arguing. “Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth, then stood and returned to his office. Slamming the door closed behind him, he went directly to Debbie’s desk and glared down at her.

  “Thank you very much,” he snarled. “You know, I never expected this from you.”

  Debbie stood slowly, her mouth half-open. “But Jason, don’t you understand? It’ll be better if—”

  Jason darted out of the office without listening to her objections, a furious scowl twisting his features. Coworkers looked up as he passed, startled, and those standing in his way parted to avoid him. He burst through the revolving doors and into the outdoors, and ran into a nearly solid wall of heat. Even in the shade of the skyscrapers he found it difficult to breathe. He paced, restless. Needing to walk off some of his anger, he thrust his hands in his pockets then started roaming the streets, weaving through the rush hour crowd.

  His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d only had a cup of coffee that day. So he dropped in on a café a couple of blocks from the office and slid into a booth. After ordering a sandwich and a Coke, he closed his eyes with relief as the chill of air conditioning swept against his back, relaxing him somewhat.

  Where should I go?

  He chewed his sandwich slowly, sipping between bites. After all, he had heaps of time. Nothing but time. When he was done eating, he stepped back into the heat and roamed towards the George Washington Bridge, still unsure of his destination. He paused on a corner, waiting for the red light to change, and glanced at his watch. Frowning, he brought it closer and stared at the rapidly moving minute hand. It was turning as quickly as a second hand should. Darn. My favorite watch. He shook his hand, hoping to set the watch straight again, then looked up and froze.

  The sun was racing across the sky, and it was speeding by. Panicked, Jason glanced around and saw all the people and cars speeding past him at an impossible rate. It was as if the whole world was moving on a fast-forwarded videotape while he stood still.

  He took another look at his watch. 1:45 p.m. A few seconds later it turned to 1:47 p.m.

  Suddenly Jason remembered the letter on his coffee table, telling him to be at Times Square at 2:23 p.m. After a few tentative steps he broke into a run. Times Square was several miles away from the bridge. I won’t make it in time, he thought as he darted along the pier.

  Except … as soon as he began to move, he noticed the people around him had slowed again. The faster he moved, the slower the rest of the world moved. It made no sense, and his head spun with adrenaline and panic. It made his arrival at Dave and Buster’s seem suddenly very important. His feet pattered against the pavement as he rushed along block after block.

  At 2:09 p.m. he was still too far from Times Square.

  I need to run faster, he told himself. In that moment, the entire world stopped moving—except for Jason. Pedestrians froze in mid-step; police sirens that had been wailing in the distance went mute.

  Times Square loomed before him. He was nearly there. But he’d already run for many blocks. His leg muscles burned and forced him to slow. As he did so, everything around him began to move again.

  When Jason finally stepped onto Times Square, he stopped short at the excruciating pain coming from his wrist. He grabbed for his watch, but it had become white hot and was singeing his skin. He scraped frantically at the clasp with his nails, but it fought back. When he finally undid it, the watch fell to the pavement with a dull thud. Jason rubbed his wrist, careful in the spots where it had blistered from the heat.

  He bent to take a last look at his ruined watch and stared in disbelief at what he saw. The time on its face was 2:23, and the watch had stopped working. Fear crawled up his spine.

  People swarmed the square, and Jason scanned the crowd, waiting, though he had no idea what he was waiting for. Each second ticked inside his brain until the time somehow seemed perfect. Then he took a breath and blinked. Bright light filled the space, turning people to beautiful silver ghosts, their movements graceful and smooth. Everyone looked perfect … except no one seemed to notice the phenomenon but him.

  He sensed someone approaching from his left and turned his head slowly toward it. Instead of a person, four ominous red lights swirled and pulsed, weaving easily through the crowd towards him, seeming to hiss at the silvery existence which filled the air. As they came closer, he saw they were indeed people, but the red lights flowing from them looked far from human. With each step they took, Jason’s heart thumped faster.

  Was this who had sent the letter? Are they coming to kill me, just like they killed the people in my nightmares?

  He took a few steps backwards, then was attracted to the sight of a silver star floating in from the opposite side of the square. The star pulsed throughout the entire space, filling him with warmth. Jason blinked again, and the heavenly light was gone, replaced by a familiar cloaked figure, his blond hair soft against strong shoulders.

  Steps echoed off the pavement, and Jason braced himself. Whoever it was, the red-lighted creatures were approaching too fast for him to get away.

  Jason grabbed at his ears when a bestial howl tore through the air: a horrible wail of misery and death. In the next instant Jason lay sprawled on the ground, his left shoulder smoldering. Everything around him had turned chaotic—screaming people raced by, cars screeched, and glass crashed. Jason clutched at his shoulder, consumed by agony, knowing he had to get away. He raised his head and barely held in a cry as a pulsing pain sliced through his temples, threatening to pierce his brain. Just when he felt he could stand no more of it, the warmth he’d felt emanating from the cloaked figure flowed through his veins again, and the pain subsided.

  “Jason! This way!”

  It was Debbie. She was in the driver’s seat of his sedan, and the passenger door stood open. She waved frantically, and her voi
ce gave him strength. He staggered to his feet and managed to roll into the car just as Debbie stomped on the accelerator.

  Jason took one last glance back and saw his pursuers fighting his cloaked savior.

  “How did you find me?” Jason yelled over the squeal of her tires.

  “Why did you switch off your cell phone?” Debbie countered.

  She roared around a stopped car, slammed on her brakes, then hit the accelerator again, driving hard. “First answer my question, then I’ll answer yours.”

  As she wove expertly between cars, Debbie reached into her suit pocket and pulled out a familiar piece of paper.

  “I found this in your apartment.”

  “You were in my apartment?” Jason asked, reaching for what he could see was the letter with the TW seal.

  “Of course! I was trying to find you. Where else was I supposed to look?”

  “Why?” Jason stared at the piece of paper and noticed how badly his hands shook. No wonder, he thought. Those people wanted me dead!

  “Because I think I know what’s going on with you, and I’m really scared.” Debbie said, then gulped to stifle a sob. “Take a look at the newspaper in the back seat.”

  He grabbed the paper and didn’t have to go any farther than the first page. The headline caught his attention, and he started reading.

  ARCANE SIGNS SCATTERED AROUND THE WORLD

  Signs Imprinted on Flesh

  Four people from around the world have recently gone missing in a series of strange abductions. The latest victim, a boy from Minsk, Belarus, disappeared on Sunday. His mother reported seeing a luminous image on a wardrobe in her son’s room after he had disappeared. Similar images have been noted on the bodies of the four victims found on June 4, 7, 11, and 16. There are no clues yet as to who is behind these mysterious abductions, but both local and international police organizations are currently investigating.

  (see the continuation on page 7)