Behind her, not ten feet away, was Dagan Krayl. He
looked exactly as she recalled. Same long, honey-blond
hair. Same piercing gray eyes. He looked straight at her
and then turned toward the motel, as though he, too,
thought they were being watched.
EVE SILVER
89
With a sigh, she ignored him. He wasn’t real. She
knew that for a fact because this wasn’t the first time
she’d had this sort of waking dream. First time it’d
happened, she’d thought it really was him. Maybe even
the second or third time. Eventually, she’d figured out
she was just a bit touched in the head, dreaming about
him with her eyes wide-open.
The illusion or delusion or dream or whatever the
hell he was tended to pop by periodically, appearing
like her own fucking fairy godmother or early-warning
system when she was anxious or on alert.
And sometimes he came to her when her eyes were
closed in the darkest heart of the night…
She blew out a breath and looked past him, studying
the shadows. All she saw were street and walls and
clumps of ragged grass. And when her gaze shifted
back to where he’d been, he was gone. No surprise. He
tended to do that, too. Disappear at will.
With the driver’s door open, she rested her forearm
on the roof of the car and drummed her fingers in a
staccato burst. Again, she scanned the lot, turning all
the way around to study the empty field across the
road.