June 28
Andi was running. She could hear the laughter--echoing, reverberating, sending shivers down her spine. She ran faster, her heart pounding into her throat, but still the laughter grew ever louder . . .
And louder . . . and louder . . .
Her legs buckled, spilling her into the sand. She rolled onto her back, using her elbows and heels to propel her away from Vic, who stood before her, his white teeth bared in a hideous snarl, his laugh still audible even though neither his jaw nor his lips were moving.
She stared, transfixed, as Vic’s image suddenly wavered and split into five separate shapes, each one possessed of the same evil phosphorescent grin.
“No,” she whispered, her features turning to ash. She tried to move, to run, but a burning pain began in her side, quickly spreading throughout her body, paralyzing her as the five began to close in once more . . .
She awoke with a gasp, the laughter still echoing in her ears--even in waking. Her hand shot over to the side of her bed, where her sword lay waiting.
“They’re here,” she whispered.
~*~
Mike was lying in bed, listening to Andi’s restless murmurings from across the room. She thrashed in her sleep, still trying to fight off enemies who were no longer there.
He heard her gasp suddenly. The metallic whisper of her sword that followed made his skin crawl. He looked up in time to see her throw the bedroom door open, the long silver blade flashing in the light of the full moon. Her features were taut and tense, and the blade quivered in her nervous grasp.
He slipped out of bed and approached her, gently touching her shoulder. She let out a startled, wild cry and rammed the butt of her sword into his stomach, doubling him over. Her elbow came up and caught him under the chin, nearly making him bite his tongue in two. He fell backwards, his head connecting firmly with the floor. He managed to chase enough of the stars away to see Andi standing over him, bringing her sword down, point-first, upon him. At the last second recognition entered her crazed eyes and she moved slightly, the sword burying itself deeply into the floor not half an inch from his head.
For several agonizingly long moments neither one moved. Micky was sitting up, his face as white as his sheets, watching, paralyzed, as Andi breathed noisily through her nose, her shoulders heaving with each inhalation.
“That was not the smartest thing you’ve ever done, Michael,” she said darkly, yanking her sword out of the floor.
Mike was stunned, not only by the blow on the head, but by the cold, dispassionate gaze on her face. She stared down at her sword with a blank, numb expression before allowing it to slip from her nerveless fingers and clatter to the floor. She slowly backed her way to the door as Davy and Peter appeared.
“Out of my way,” she murmured, pushing past them.
Peter ran over to Mike. “What happened?”
Mike shook his head, wiping blood from his lip. “I don’t know, man. She was actin’ funny before, but this is just . . . ”
“’Acting funny’?” Micky exclaimed. “She almost killed you!”
“No, she didn’t!” Mike snapped. “I startled her, and she didn’t realize what she was doin’.”
“Man, admit it! She’s going crazy!”
“SHE’S NOT CRAZY!” Mike roared. “Look, she’s been through a lot, and I don’t want none of you making it worse, okay?”
Peter and Davy nodded, wondering how things could get any worse. Micky’s brows drew together in an uncharacteristic glare.
Why is he defending her?
~*~
Andi stood in the living room, shaking violently, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. I can’t believe I did that, repeated over and over in her mind until the words threatened to overwhelm her. Is this what it’s like to go mad? The thought only made her shake harder.
A pair of warm, gentle hands touched her arms. She looked behind her, half expecting to see Peter or even Mike, but this time it was Davy.
“It’ll be okay, luv,” he whispered. “We’re here for you.”
She wanted to be relieved, to let Davy’s hands support her, but a tight, unyielding lump in her chest froze her--within and without.
She shrugged him off, shaking her head. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help.” She stalked over to the far side of the room--a trapped animal pacing the confines of a very narrow cage.
She’d heard Mike shout, and now she could hear him arguing loudly with Micky. Her blood ran cold as she thought about what was happening to them. And it’s all because of me. They’re fighting because of me.
As if it were an affirmation of her thoughts, she heard another roar followed by a crash. Davy headed up the stairs, Andi following a few seconds behind.
Mike and Micky were on the floor, wrestling. Though normally that would not have worried her, she saw that they were hitting each other with closed fists, and cursing quite fluidly while they were at it.
The frayed, frazzled, sparking wires that were the remains of Andi’s nerves snapped. She grabbed Micky by the shoulders, ignoring the burning protest issuing from her side, and hauled him up. Turning her body, she threw him over her hip. She moved to stand between them, her eyes glowing with anger, as if challenging one of them to try something.
“Go back to bed,” she said to Peter and Davy, who dared not argue. After they departed she looked at Micky and Mike, who were still glaring at each other.
“What’s this all about?” she growled.
Mike snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. Andi turned to Micky. “Well?”
Micky grabbed a pillow and blanket from his bed. “Nothin’,” he said. “I just don’t want my throat cut, that’s all. I’m gonna sleep on the couch.”
The muscles in her neck and back tensed as he left, slamming the door behind him. When all was silent again she stared down at the floor, willing the tears to stay behind her eyes.
Mike hesitated before putting his arms around her. For a few moments it seemed like she would return the embrace, but then she stiffened.
“No. No,” she mumbled, breaking away. “Don’t touch me right now, I . . . ” She trailed off and retreated into the bathroom.
Mike dropped back upon his bed with a sigh. What in the world is goin’ on? He rolled onto his side and stared at the weapon that was still lying unsheathed on the floor--a weapon which had nearly cleaved him in two.
Did he really know Andi as well as he thought he did?
On to Chapter Eight
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