Page 20 of Dima's Vision
Cracking an eyelid I take a quick peek to check that her ridiculous little car is still parked outside of Celene’s. Confirming that it is, I close my eyes again, running through the scenes in the recurring dream I have. She’s dressed in white, a long gauzy gown and something so unlike what I’ve ever seen her in. La Strega is a manic punk pixie, not a summer dress type of woman. Slowing my breathing I concentrate on where I am in the scene. My back is to a column, I can feel the cold of it seeping into me. Tearing my eyes from Kristie I turn, looking up at the large house. It’s an older ornate Italian style home, at odds with the creole flavor most homes in Orleans adopt. It’s expansive, wealthy and I know immediately what district it’s in. Turning, I watch Kristie run, dress tangling around her legs, dark hair flying around her shoulders. Taking another breath I tear myself from the scene, already knowing how it’s going to end. My gaze roams the lush gardens of the house. Tall trees, layered flower beds, a wrought iron fence typical of the era the house was built in.
My brows pinch as I will the version of me in my vision to move. Move closer to the front gate, look for a house number, anything that will tell me where we are. Kristie’s screams have me squeezing my eyes tightly shut, to block out what I know will be her dark blood staining the front of her dress before she hits the ground. Where are her boots? Her guns? Why is she barefoot in a nightgown? None of this strikes me as usual for Kristie. Yes I know we’ve only spent one day and most of a night together, but Iknowin my soul that the version of her in my dreams isn’t the real her.
I jerk slightly, eyes flying open. The version of her in my vision isn’t the real her. Could this be some sort of trickery? I mean, between me being blessed with visions, and Strega being cursed with death, there’s a lot of weird fuckery in terms of people like us that sit in the middle. The between spaceof completely normal people and those of us who have been touched.
My tapping resumes on my steering wheel, as my mind runs from scenario to scenario, trying to figure out the how and the why. Have my visions been sent to me to save my soul mate, or the imposter in my dreams? Has Kristie been thrown in my path not for me to find her, but for us to work together on something? Is my dream a distraction?
Movement across the road has my eyes landing on Kristie, skipping down the steps of Mama Celene’s house, waving to her in such a light, happy fashion that it’s hard to believe death follows this woman. I watch as she climbs into her little beetle, then tears off down the road. Waiting until she turns the corner I get out of my car, gently closing the door behind me and make my way to the house my woman just left.
Climbing the front steps I find Mama Celene sitting in her rocking chair on the porch, pouring two glasses of sweet tea.
“Ya gon sit, Ghost?”
I nod, not that she notices as she leans her head back, eyes closed to the small sliver of sun gracing her lined, dark face.
“Ya gon ask?”
“Which question do you want first?” I ask, leaning to sit in the empty rocking chair to her left. It creaks alarmingly but manages to hold my weight.
“De one ’bout trickery. It don’t never end, sweet.” She turns, dark eyes roving my face. “Ain’t jus’ you an’ her, cher. Out dere, somethin’ else walkin’. Beins made of shadow, full up wit’ darkness. Dey de ones playin’ tricks on ya.”
“How do I stop them?”
Her eyes narrow, as if looking deep inside me for something only she knows. “She de other half’a you, cher. You feel it? Like fire catchin’ in de bones?”
“Da,” I whisper. I do feel it. It’s not only like fire in my bones, it’s in my blood. A burning deep inside, almost painful but exquisite in its torture.
She wriggles in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips as she tips her head to the fall sun. “Listen now. She hold de key, an’ you guard de gate. But de fight? Dat belong to her. De whisper gon’ fade, de dark gon’ break when La Strega rise.”
I roll her words around, “It’s never been about me.”
“Mm-hmm, you a smart boy, cher.” She grins, her little face lighting up.
She leans forward, her hand resting on my knee, eyes on mine. A faraway look comes over them, black irises turn hazy, milky as she stares at me, holding my gaze with hers. I wince when sharp stabbing pain tears through my vision, as if a needle pierced through my left temple, and exited through my right and then it’s gone. She gently pats my knee, then leans back, getting comfortable in her rocking chair.
“Ya ready now, cher. Go stand by ma daughter. De curse chase her, but wit’ you… maybe she live.”
I stand to my full height, gazing down at Celene. I have a feeling that this won’t be the last time I’ll see her. I open my mouth, to pledge my vow, that I will protect her adopted daughter with everything in me, but she grins and waves me off.
“I know.”
I can’t help but huff out a laugh, nodding once in her direction before moving quietly down her front steps. I walk down the uneven path, out onto the sidewalk jerking when someone walks into my shoulder, barging past.
“Watch it, Phantom.”
My eyes snap to his at the name, too close to what Celene and Kristie call me to be a coincidence. The guy is in the shadow of the neighbor’s large overhanging trees, but I can’t miss the evil grin that’s plastered on his face, whispers filling my head asI stare at him. Evil whispers of misdeeds and cruelty. He steps to cross the road and the whispers stop but the ill feeling I had as soon as he touched me lingers. Not once has anyone ever bumped into me. It’s not how I move, it’s not how I exist in this world. Something is fucked up.
Looking over my shoulder to Celene’s porch, she’s standing, eyes on the man across the road as he disappears down an alley between two houses. Her gaze meets mine and she nods simply before moving back to her chair with a view.
I blow out a breath and unclench my fists, making my way back to my car. I need to find Kristie. Not only to make sure she’s OK, but because after that encounter I need her teasing and simple view on life to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Shit just got a lot more complicated.
Chapter 10
Dima
She’s magnificent in every way. The way she stalks her prey, the way she throws her head back and laughs when they beg. The way she toys with them before ridding the world of their evil. But after? That’s when she’smywoman. The one I saw last night. Lost. Fragile. Heart so big it’s painful for her to carry. It’s when she’s listening to the whispers that guts me, that makes me step out of the shadows to comfort her.
