Jen, for all their support and love. I especially want them to know how much they mean to me. To Greg…I admire your courage. You ARE an inspiration to us all.
Prologue
Smoldering with hatred and rage, eyes followed her every move. Early morning sun peeked through the window, highlighting Logan Massey’s slim, soft curves. It filtered the red and copper strands intermingled with her long predominant brown curls, spilling onto her face. Absentmindedly, she brushed fine wisps of hair from her cheek while she hastily threw jeans and sweatshirts into a suitcase. Lost in thought, with furrowed brow, unaware of watchful eyes, she checked the contents, making sure she remembered everything for a quick flight plan.
The sunlight also picked up glints of yellow in her brown eyes, the color of a fine piece of topaz, and a flawless complexion, without signs of tension that come with age. The whole effect epitomized a beautiful woman in the prime of life, not quite twenty-seven, a birthday still six months away.
Those watchful eyes, full of evil, wished only the worst for Logan, showed no interest in her at all, only decisive vigilance.
Hands on her hips, she studied the clothing with intense concentration, causing lines across her forehead to crease her otherwise smooth face, so deep in thought, mentally and physically unaware of the watcher.
Again, taking time to stare into the case, a mindless occupation with trivial detail to double-ensure nothing is forgotten. “Let’s see…do I have everything?”
Nothing forgotten, she fought off the urge to replay the details of the last few days in her mind. Squeezing her eyes shut as small tears formed under her lids, “Why is this happening? Why me?”
Eyes continued to bore into her with a red-hot loathing that was both terrifying and evil. A twisted, cruel smile formed on the watcher’s face. He enjoyed observing his prey; he only wished she could see him, but in due time she would.
Snap! Wrapping fingers around the handle, “it’s finished,” she declared. Forget the past. Forge a new beginning…thoughts playing over and over again in her head. Because of me he took his life…trembling slightly, inner struggle raging on…Because of me he took his life!
Quickly her body stiffened; senses were on edge; something, a tension maybe, there was an uneasy stillness in the air. With autonomous motion, holding her breath, gazing slowly and timidly at first, then faster, she felt the signs of panic invade her. Her head swimming, dizziness forced her to slow down, breathe easier and calmly evaluate the feeling. The safety of the past wasn’t there as she took in the familiar surroundings. Her apartment was small, cozy, very comforting. She tried to reassure herself that it had always signified a refuge from the stress and rigors of the outside world.
But, at the moment, Logan didn’t feel safe. Staring at the four walls, movement! She blinked. Wait a minute, she thought, wait just a minute! Is it my imagination or did the walls move? She blinked again and looked away, more out of doubt than any fear of what she couldn’t see or didn’t know.
Her eyes traveled down to the piece of luggage in her hand. Knuckles gleamed stark white from holding onto the case with such a force, causing her hand to ache. The brain, finally registering the tightness with which she held onto the handle, instantly relaxed her fingers and she exhaled. She felt a physical relief, dulling of the pain from holding the handle so tightly, although no sense of relief from the alarm she still held inside.
This is so ridiculous! Shaking her head in disbelief at how scared she felt. Now reaching out to touch a wall, steady herself, quickly her hand fell to her side as she remembered that movement she thought she had seen. I can’t let this stop me. It just shows how much I need to get away right now… and that is precisely what I plan to do!
She headed toward the bathroom to grab her cosmetic bag, continuing in her quest to rid herself of the apprehension she couldn’t seem to shake.
The eyes watched her every move with such intense hatred that it caused the walls to undulate. A palpable energy, borne of evil, was brought forth by the sinister presence. Walls moved; eyes glared, fear crept in.
Grabbing for her cosmetic case atop the makeup table, swinging around with single motion and purpose, the case slipped from her grasp and slid slowly to the bathroom floor, making a soft ‘thud’ when it hit.
Staring straight ahead, eyes never wavering, she looked as if she was in a hypnotic trance. A twinge of fear crawled up her spine, filling the blood stream with ice as she continued to focus on the mirror, her brain trying to make sense of it all-the isolated word, in blood-red lettering, traced there for her, the meaning clear-DEATH.
Logan closed her eyes, jerking her head back and forth, yearning for denial. Eyelids fluttered as she caught herself from fainting, leaned to one side and grabbed the countertop. Gathering her senses, she continued to support her body and lowered her head.
Breathe! Think! This is absurd! Terrible things happened the last few days and I desperately need a rest! But, this can’t be! It all played in her mind as she once again prepared to look up.
“What!” Gasping, she slid to the floor. Nothing was there; the mirror was clean and unmarked, just as it had been earlier that morning.
How can that be! Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Possibly, she admitted; the stress of the last few days weighed heavily. Even her boss had urged her to take time off.
Well, Bill was right; I could use the vacation if this is any indication of my state of mind!
Despondent, shoulders sagging, she reached for the cosmetic case, and, tightly clasping the bag, she took another breath, looked at the mirror one more time, and scurried from the room.
Penetrating, the eyes followed her exit, glistening hard and cold with desire for revenge.
Reaching the front door of her apartment, Logan hesitated, still sensing something, what, she didn’t know. Nerve endings tingled with raw electricity; her body tensed. “I’m leaving!” yelling to no one in particular, twisting the doorknob, jerking the door wide open. Not knowing why she said that, resisting the urge to look around one more time, she slammed the door shut with a resounding crack, exiting her home.
Fear went with her, leaving a false sense of reality behind. Hatred trailed her departure like the unseen shadow lurking in the dark.
The tiny apartment throbbed as a figure slowly formed in the quiet compound of the room, giving substance to the unholy eyes that previously watched with such piercing fierceness. As the misty form took shape, announcing its presence, it spawned into a creature, not of this earth, and even though the specter exhibited some human traits, they were frightful in appearance. At one time it might have been considered a handsome enough being, but now ugliness and hatred oozed from every pore. The face was an evil mask of the soul, horrible to look at, let alone envision as the body palpitated with a satanic energy barely contained beneath the surface. All of this wickedness had one focus- Logan Massey. A smile curled up on the cruel lips, so terrifying that it would elicit fear in the heart of any human with the misfortune of being in its line of sight. So grotesque, it pondered the fate of its victim, and a spray of spittle accompanied a roar of words, “THE BITCH WILL DIE!”
Chapter One
“Harry,” came the soft, weak voice from across the room. He looked up from his book but his first inclination
