Edge of Twilight. Maggie Shayne

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СКАЧАТЬ turned her attention back to her cereal, but Will’s hand came across the table and encircled her wrist, stopping its progress. The spoonful of bran flakes quivered in her hand.

      “What aren’t you telling me, Amber?”

      She swallowed hard, blinked twice and finally met his eyes. “I’ve been having … dreams.”

      “About?”

      “About him. About Edge.”

      He sighed. “Hon, it’s normal. Don’t let that worry you. When there’s an attraction, the subconscious sometimes—”

      “I’ve been having them for a year, Willem. I met Edge for the first time on my way here, when I hit him with my car. But I’ve been seeing him in vivid, recurring dreams for months and months. And I don’t know why. I don’t know what it means. But I think … I think it has to mean something.”

      He blinked slowly, licked his lips, his gaze turning inward, no doubt remembering dreams of his own. “You’re right,” he said softly. “You have to find out what it means.”

      She nodded, glancing at the clock. “There’s still an hour of daylight left. I thought I might go out to his place, rifle through his things and see what I can find.”

      “You want company?”

      She shook her head. “No. I think I need to handle this on my own.”

      “Just let me know if you need any help, Amber. And be careful. Where is he staying, by the way?”

      She looked at him with her brows raised.

      “Just in case you fail to come home one night, I’ll know where to look.”

      “Oh. Uh, there’s an abandoned church a mile up the beach.”

      “I know it.”

      She tipped her bowl to her lips to drink the remaining soy milk from the bottom, then put it on the table. “Guess I’ll get dressed, then.” She got to her feet.

      Will did, too. He came around the table, put his hands on her shoulders. “Your father wouldn’t like this.”

      “My father still thinks of me as a little girl. But you know I’m not.”

      “I know,” he said. “Just … don’t let this Edge character get the best of you. No matter what you decide to do or not to do, make sure it’s what you want. Your decision, Amber. For your reasons. Remember what you know about him and be mindful of what you don’t.”

      She nodded, thinking there was a lot more she didn’t know about Edge than that she did.

      “If he hurts you, I’ll take him out,” he added, as if for good measure.

      She smiled. “I’m counting on it.” Leaning up, she kissed Will’s cheek. “I love you, you know.”

      “Love you, too, Amber. Be careful.”

      “I will.”

      Amber took her time, walking along the edge of the rocky beach, barefoot, her jeans rolled up so the cold water could lap at her ankles as the waves rolled in. Guilt niggled at her for mistrusting Edge as much as she did. But only a little. She tamped it down by reminding herself how often her parents and their paranoia had turned out to be dead on target. There were bad people in the world. Edge might be one of them.

      When she reached the church, the shutters were closed tight. She wondered where he was resting and sent a nervous glance toward the sky. The sun was still there, beyond the trees, hanging low, but not yet setting. She had time.

      She stretched her arms, reached the very bottom of the shutters and tugged on them. They didn’t move; something held them from the other side. So she yanked a little harder, popping them open, but only just slightly. She didn’t want to let a shaft of sunlight in if he were lying within its reach on the other side. Pulling herself up, she peered through the crack she’d made and saw no sign of Edge, so she opened the shutters farther and climbed through. A little puff of dust rose from the floor when she landed. She quickly turned to close the shutters behind her, then faced in again as she brushed her hands against each other.

      And then she frowned as she took in the changed appearance of the church.

      The pews had been moved to one side, and in the large open space where they’d been, there was … equipment. A weight bench, with barbells balanced across its upright arms. A punching bag dangling from the rafters, a mat on the floor.

      “What’s he up to?” she wondered aloud, pacing through the church, examining the items, which were stamped with Salem Fitness Center, Salem, MA. She crooked an eyebrow. Edge had been busy.

      She looked around for his duffel bag but didn’t find it. The pew on the dais still held his strange little collection of keepsakes. There were more candles now than the three that stood on the pew. He’d affixed one on each windowsill. All unlit, of course. She wondered why he saw the need for candles, when he could see better than she could in the dark.

      Where was he?

      She went through a door at the rear of the church. It stuck a little, swollen from the weather and hanging by only one hinge, but she shoved it open and stepped into a dark, dusty storage room. There were shelves, a couple of disintegrating boxes with candles spilling out of them, and another door. Amber shoved that door open and stared down a rickety wooden staircase. Some of the steps were broken, others missing.

      He was down there. Naturally he was down there. It would be the safest place to rest. No one in their right mind would attempt to navigate the broken-down stairs in the pitch-dark to invade his privacy. His duffel bag was apparently down there with him, since she hadn’t located it anywhere else.

      Drawing a breath, she started carefully, stepping past the missing first step, past the broken second step, and slowly lowering her weight onto the intact-looking third step from the top.

      The distinct sound of wood splitting told her she’d made a serious mistake.

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