the scene, knowing the impossibility of what she had witnessed. The darkly beautiful man who had materialized out of thin air was responsible for Charlie’s death, she was positive. She had been visited by something unnatural, but what? A phantom? He had appeared so at first, but his body had been as solid as her own when she… Oh, God.
Feelings of shame and guilt overwhelmed her again. She had not fought to keep the man, or whatever he was, from her. She had wanted him, lusted for him. God help her, it was true. Only afterward had she even thought about her husband lying dead on the floor. And yet, she knew in her heart the man must have done something to cause her unnatural behavior. She remembered the strange lethargy she’d felt, as if she’d been drugged. No matter which way she viewed what had happened, she was not able to come up with a believable explanation.
Certainly, the police had not believed her disjointed ranting. Yet neither had they suspected her of being involved in her husband’s death. In the end, the officer in charge had assured her solemnly that a thorough investigation would be conducted into Charlie’s murder and that every effort would be made to find the intruder, and she was permitted to return home.
As the taxi turned onto the street leading to the train station, she fumbled through her purse for her wallet. She found foreign currency confusing and didn’t want to take the chance of missing the express train. As she rummaged through her bag, her hand touched something metallic, and she yanked it out, momentarily taken aback. She didn’t remember having put the pendant inside her purse, but that wasn’t surprising. Her mind was all over the place, she hardly remembered packing.
The old silver gleamed in the morning sunshine. It felt warm, a little too warm, as it rested in the palm of her hand. Her thoughts began to blur. The dizzy spells from her illness hadn’t completely left and nausea struck again. She cranked the taxi window lower to gasp in hot but fresh air, big gulps of it, over and over, until her thoughts cleared and her stomach stopped being queasy.
As she looked at the pendant, an eerie sensation rippled through her. For some reason, holding the pendant made her feel inexplicably afraid. The thing seemed…wrong, somehow. She could almost see the bad vibrations coming off it in waves. Suddenly, she knew she didn’t want it anymore. Acting purely on impulse, Lilli put her hand out the open window of the moving car and tossed the pendant. She watched it strike the pavement and then disappear as the car sped forward.
A second later, she worried whether she’d done the right thing in throwing it away. It was a gift from Charlie, she told herself, the last thing he had given her. A shadow of guilt passed over her briefly, replaced almost immediately by an overwhelming relief at having rid herself of the pendant. And soon she would rid herself of this country, a place that had filled her with shocking opposites and that had propelled her from joy and awe to a grief she knew would last forever.
Chapter 3
Tampa, Florida–1988
Lilli snapped awake, gasping for air. They’re back. Fear exploded as she struggled to sit up. Can’t breathe! A heavy weight crushed her chest, making it impossible to move. Breathe, goddamnit, just breathe! The thought raced around her mind like a trapped rat. Gasping for air, she scanned the shadowy corners of her bedroom. Mounting panic quickly replaced the certainty that she was going to die.
Time stopped. She focused her entire being on the simple act of taking a breath. Blackness crept into the edges of her vision, the pressure on her chest enormous; she was suffocating.
Suddenly, the weight lifted from her chest and she gasped, taking air into her lungs in ragged bursts that seared her throat. Calm down, she commanded herself. No longer paralyzed, she bolted from her bed and ran to the hallway, where she sat down on the floor, hugging her knees until her racing heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal.
This was not the first time she had awoken this way in the past months. Rarely did a week go by without one of them arriving in the middle of the night to torment her. Still, each episode brought with it fresh terror. Lilli listened carefully, but the taunting voices she often heard during the visitations were silent. When she regained some composure and her breathing returned to normal, she leaned her head back against the wall and rubbed the taught skin of her enormous belly. Her baby. She had to remain calm. Her baby was due to arrive any day now.
Awkwardly, she got to her feet and walked unsteadily to the kitchen, trailing remnants of her fear. With shaking hands, she poured herself a glass of milk and carried it into the living room. They’re gone. They’re gone, and they’re not coming back. She repeated the mantra over and over, until she almost convinced herself it was true.
In the living room of the house she now shared with Dora, Lilli listened for any indication that they had returned. How she wished Dora was home. She was sorry now she had insisted Dora go out when her friend had called. But poor Dora had spent the past seven months fretting over her like a mother hen, ever since she’d learned Lilli was pregnant following her return home from Morocco. Dora deserved a night out after all she had done.
Lilli had accepted Dora’s invitation—insistence, really—that she return to live with her in their parents’ old house. It should have been a comfortable haven for her while she waited for the baby to arrive, but Lilli had come to understand that no place was safe for her anymore.
She recalled her dismay at Dora’s shocked reaction when she’d confided in her about the unnatural events that had taken place in Marrakesh. Her sister was a practical soul, and Lilli could tell by the look Dora had given her that she did not believe her, even though she had not said so in so many words. Oh, Dora believed Lilli had been raped and her husband murdered, all right. But when she described the phantom-turned-to-flesh being who had appeared, Dora’s first question had been the same as the policeman’s in Marrakesh—she’d asked if they had been doing drugs at the time. When Lilli reminded her that the last time she’d smoked a joint was in high school, Dora’s next reaction had been to press Lilli to seek therapy. Lilli had adamantly refused to do so, and never mentioned the phantom to her sister again. Regardless, Dora had steadfastly stood by her, even after Lilli’s behavior became erratic, bordering finally on the bizarre—especially after the voices began.
She’d not told Dora about the voices, knowing her sister would not believe her, and probably think her delusional. Lilli herself had trouble believing she was being visited by dark spirits. There were times, usually after waking up the way she had tonight, when an insidious voice would steal into her thoughts, telling her that oh yes, she was crazy, had to be. She had imagined everything. The baby was Charlie’s, and what happened in Morocco last year could not possibly have happened. And the voices were nothing but a by-product of trauma, the trauma of having watched Charlie die. Yet, in her heart, she didn’t think so. She didn’t feel crazy. Only alone and afraid of what she knew.
“The baby isn’t due for another week,” she’d told Dora. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy an evening out. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own for one night.”
But she wasn’t fine at all, not by a long shot.
She turned to study her reflection in the dark window, perturbed at the sight of the haggard face peering back. Her long hair, once silky, hung in limp, greasy strands around her pale face. Puffy eyes, underscored with dark circles, stared back at her. She looked like a ghost, a shadow of the woman she’d once been.
Lilli turned away from her reflection and used the remote to turn on the television. Muting it, she sat back, gazing blankly at the moving pictures on the screen. She missed Charlie. Always, she missed Charlie. Yet she knew even Charlie would not have been able to stop what was happening to her, or help her to protect
