Chapter Two

From somewhere in the distance, Roxy called my name. My eyelids remained glued shut. It was like being stuck in the kind of nightmare where you know you’re dreaming but your subconscious won’t allow you to fully wake up. I was whimpering, still spinning out of control, when a pair of hands gripped my shoulders.

My eyes flew open, suddenly free from whatever force had been keeping them closed.

“Oh my god, Jules, are you okay?” Roxy’s own eyes brimmed with concern. She tugged my hand and forced me to sit on the bed.

The room finally stopped moving. “I think so. I’ve got a wicked headache all of a sudden,” I muttered, massaging my temple.

“Do you want some aspirin?”

“No.” I shook my head, swallowing hard. “Was just a bit dizzy for a second. I better go.”

“Just rest here for a couple of minutes, then I’ll take you home.”

I didn’t argue. We sat side by side in silence. But when Roxy drove me home, she resumed her steady stream of chatter, and I was grateful.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Jules?” she asked when she pulled up to Aunt Karen’s house. “You looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

“I’m okay…just tired.”

But I tried not to stagger as I walked to the house, hoping she wouldn’t be able to tell just how weak I really was.

* * * *

I stood in the foyer of the house on Ennis Avenue as debris rained down all around me. I opened my mouth to cry out for Mom and Nick, but the sound died in my throat. White-hot waves of fire danced around me, burning my skin, and thick black smoke curled into my lungs, choking me.

A male voice called out from the back of the house, pained and muffled. I stumbled along the rapidly crumbling hallway.

Nick! My silent scream echoed in my head. Where are you?

I tripped over something in the hallway, landing on my hands and knees. As I did, the smoke cleared and a dirty teddy bear stared up at me, its hard, black eyes taunting.

I bolted upright in bed, my sweat-soaked pajamas clinging to my body and my breath coming in sharp gasps.

The glowing red numbers of my alarm clock, showing three-eighteen, were the only light in my room. The rest of it lay shrouded in a darkness that was closing in on me.

Light. I needed light. I fumbled for the lamp switch. It slipped uselessly for a moment between my clammy fingers before I heard the satisfying click. The room was bathed in soft, yellow light.

But the shadows of my nightmare remained.

* * * *

I woke mid-morning and padded downstairs. Aunt Karen had left for a three-day surgery summit. The house was quiet without her, but at least it would buy me some time to see if the necklace turned up at school. I touched the spot on my chest where the heart-shaped pendant used to lay. I felt its absence like a physical ache.

Even though I wasn’t hungry, I forced myself to eat a bowl of cornflakes and a piece of toast. The cereal tasted like cardboard and the dry toast stuck in my throat like a wad of cotton. I washed them down with black coffee and grunted, thinking about what had happened in Roxy’s bedroom. I was going to need something much, much stronger than Karen’s dark Colombian roast. Scott’s party could not come soon enough.

Back upstairs, I took a hot shower. As I lathered myself with soap, I shuddered at the memory of the night before. What the hell was that? A hallucination? A panic attack? Whatever it had been, it had been more than just a dizzy spell. The sense that I couldn’t open my eyes, the desperate feeling of wanting to be somewhere else… The whole thing had been intense and terrifying. Could grief really do that to a person?

The other thing I couldn’t make any sense of was the awful nightmare that had plagued my sleep.

It was the first time I’d dreamed of the fire. The disturbing images of flames and smoke had been bad enough, but the teddy bear? What was I supposed to make of that? I stepped out of the shower, shivering. My subconscious was seriously screwed up.

In my bedroom, I threw on a hoodie and a pair of jeans with a rip in one knee. There was no way I was going to sit around the house all day, worrying that I might be going crazy. So, without giving myself any more time to think, I grabbed some change for the bus and jogged down to the corner. I got there just in time to catch the Number Two.

I took a seat near the back and stared out of the window as the bus rolled on. I was never fully conscious of the traffic, buildings and trees that drifted by on these trips. Usually I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds the bus made as it lumbered along—the loud hum of its engine, the chime of the bell when someone pulled the cord to request a stop, the squeak of the doors as they opened and shut for passengers. It all had a strange calming effect on me. On the bus, I could be lulled into a false sense of security for a little while. Today I didn’t have a destination. I just wanted to kill time.

After about twenty minutes, the bus pulled into a large shopping district. My plan had been to stay on the bus for the entire route and get off when it looped back to Karen’s neighborhood, but the big, newly built Shoppers Drug Mart caught my eye as the bus screeched to a halt. I got off with about a half dozen other people, and a minute later, entered the drugstore through its automatic sliding doors.

Inside, everything with bright and new and shiny. I passed by racks of glossy magazines, prominent displays of school supplies and shelves arranged with colorful bottles of hair products. As I neared the perfumes, a heady mix of scents wafted under my nose. I skirted the main cosmetics counter and slipped into the makeup aisle.

I hovered over a shelf of lip gloss, trying to choose between three shades of red.

“Julia?”

I turned around. A tube of luscious scarlet slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.

Nick’s mother, Sarah Allen, stood looking at me from the end of the aisle. Her short ash-blonde curls peeked out from under a green beret. Her thin figure was clad in a long black cardigan. Closing the gap between us, she exclaimed, “I thought that was you!”

“Hi, Mrs. Allen,” I said.

She clasped my hand in her own, her expression grave. Dark bags hung under her eyes, contrasting sharply with her pale cheeks.

“It’s so good to see you!” She pulled me in for a hug.

When we drew apart, I bent to pick up the lip gloss. “It’s good to see you, too. The principal made an announcement about the scholarship fund. I hope you get a good response.”

She gave me a watery smile. “Me too. We just wanted a way for his humanitarian work to live on. He did so much for so many people.” She paused. “How are you feeling, dear?”

I shrugged, rolling the lip gloss between my thumb and forefinger. Like I’m going to explode any minute. “Oh, you know. I’m okay.”

“You’ve always been so strong. I’ve envied that about you. With Nick gone, I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Some days it still doesn’t seem real.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She dug a notebook from her purse, scribbled something on a page. “This is my new cell phone number. Please call at any time. If you want to come over for a cup of tea or if you want to talk or…anything.”

I took the piece of paper. “Thanks. That’d be nice.”

She hesitated. “I was actually going to call you today. My cousin works at the fire department, and he heard through the grapevine that the land at your house is going to be cleared.”

Something rattled loose inside of me. “What? Why?”

“Well, they did close the investigation into the fire.”

Recently the lead fire investigator had concluded that the damage was too extensive to pinpoint the cause. I knew that. I didn’t like it, but I’d accepted it. At least I thought I had. Now, hearing that the rubble was going to be cleaned up, it seemed so…final.

“You’re right,” I said in a hoarse voice. “It’s just—”

“I know, dear. It’s a lot to take in.” Mrs. Allen touched my arm. “Listen, Mitch and I would love to see you. I know you must be busy with school, but keep in touch, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll, ah, give you a call soon.”

“Great.” She glanced at her watch. “I hate to run, but I have an appointment to keep. Say hello to your aunt for me, would you?”

“I will.” Normally, I would’ve done the polite thing—asked her if there was anything I could do for her or at least send a greeting to Nick’s father. But still shaken by her news, I couldn’t find the words.

She patted my arm again. “Take care, Julia.”

“You too,” I said, swallowing. I watched her walk away, then looked down at the tube of lip gloss still in my hand. Suddenly it seemed like the least important thing in the world. I dropped it back onto the shelf.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans then just stood in the aisle for a moment, thinking about Mrs. Allen’s news. How could they take away what was left of my childhood home? How could they take it away without knowing what caused the fire? It just wasn’t right.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was being irrational, but I didn’t care. I hurried down the aisle and out of the store.

This time I did have a destination in mind.

With my heart beating like a drum in my head and my throat aching, I stumbled onto the bus that would take me to Ennis Avenue.

* * * *

A short time later, I stood in front of the pile of rubble that used to be my home.

My legs were frozen in place. I stared at the mass of debris where the two-story once stood. Scorched wood, broken glass and scraps of metal were strewn across the square of land that would soon be cleared.

Before today, I’d avoided my old neighborhood at all costs. But after running into Nick’s mother, the burning need to view the damage firsthand had reared up and taken me by the throat. It wasn’t like I could figure out the cause of the fire just by looking at it. I just wanted to—I don’t know—try to make some sense out of that night. It seemed like I’d been living under a rock the last two months, sitting idly by and accepting what everyone told me without batting an eyelash.

Now a million questions zoomed through my head, and I wanted answers. How had the fire spread so quickly? Why hadn’t Mom and Nick been able to get out in time? We had smoke detectors. And the biggest one of all… What had caused it in the first place?

The fire department needed to try harder. They shouldn’t stop until they found out who or what was responsible for burning down my home. That fire had taken everything from me. Everything.

The piles of wood and debris swam in front of my eyes. I backed up against a tree and brought my hand to my face. Was I…crying? Furious, I wiped away the tears before they had a chance to fall.

I shook my head and sucked in a breath. And that’s when my gaze fell on the JP plus NA etched into the ground. Two years ago, when they’d been putting in a new sidewalk, Nick had used a stick to draw our initials in the fresh cement mixture. I sighed, falling to my knees to run my fingers over the letters. Two years ago, he’d become my boyfriend, but we’d been friends for a long time before that.

I closed my eyes and relived that summer day when we’d met for the first time. I’d been riding my bike when a rut in the sidewalk had caused me to topple over. Suddenly a dark-haired boy had been by my side, asking if I was okay and offering up a bag of M&Ms to take my mind off my skinned knees. From that moment on, we had been the best of friends. Over the years, we’d been there for each other through thick and thin, through the highs and lows of growing up. And no one had been prouder than me when, at the age of seventeen, Nick was recognized by the Canadian Red Cross. He would receive a Young Humanitarian Award at a dinner in July, eleven years after we’d met.

Of course, he never got that award. The fire had robbed him of that chance…had robbed him of his life.

My throat started to swell again. Why had I come here? Why was I torturing myself? I had to go, had to get away from this street and all the memories. But I was feeling dizzy and all I wanted to do was keep my eyes closed.

Stay in control.

The mantra in my head, coupled with the sound of a nearby car door slamming, brought me back. I surged to my feet, dashed out of the yard and ran from Ennis Avenue as fast as I could.

* * * *

I was glad to have the house to myself while getting ready for the party. With the borrowed dress and shoes on, I stood staring into the mirror that hung in the front hallway. The halter dress was made out of a silky fabric that clung to my hips and had a hem that fell mid-thigh. I slipped on a jean jacket to cover my bare arms and shoulders and pursed my lips in the mirror. They were coated with the rosy red lipstick I’d borrowed from Aunt Karen. I tried a smile. It looked totally fake.

The forced smile turned to a scowl as I caught sight of my unruly hair tumbling down my shoulders. I twisted the whole thing into a knot at the nape of my neck and secured it with a clip, just as Jimmy’s horn sounded outside.

Roxy and Jimmy greeted me cheerfully as I slid into the backseat.

“Hey, guys.”

Jimmy glanced at me before pulling away from the curb. “So cool that you decided to come out tonight, Jules. Rox was beyond stoked. I mean, I literally had to put the phone down and back away from it. She was screeching that loudly in my ear.” He put a hand to it now, wincing. “I don’t think my hearing will ever be the same.”

When I smiled this time, it did feel genuine. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed lanky, goofy Jimmy. “Well, I couldn’t miss the party of the year, could I?”

“Yeah, should be a good time,” Jimmy said. “And a bunch of us are going to the football game next Friday, maybe get a bite to eat after. You should come.”

“Uh, maybe.” The truth was that I was far from ready to plunge back into social events. I was just going to the party because of the alcohol. It would be flowing freely there, and I planned on consuming as much as it took to take the edge off.

My gaze flicked over the empty seat beside me, the seat where Nick would sit when we went on double dates. I stared straight ahead for the rest of the ride, my chest tight.

We arrived at Scott’s house just as people were starting to trickle inside. I stepped into the foyer behind Roxy and Jimmy, blinking up at a huge crystal chandelier that glittered from the ten-foot ceiling.

Even though I’d been to parties at Scott’s before, I was still blown away by the place. The house was like a mansion. It had plush carpeting, gilt-framed mirrors and crown moulding. There was a big-screen TV in every room, a Jacuzzi, sauna, swimming pool, pool table, walk-in closets and a guest loft above a double-car garage that had its own private entrance. Couples often escaped to the loft for their own little private party.

We headed to the kitchen for a drink. At the long stainless-steel island, Roxy and I mixed vodka and cranberry juice, while Jimmy grabbed a beer and joined a group of his friends from the lacrosse team.

Leaning against the counter, I took a long swallow of my drink. It burned my throat and sent a trail of warmth down my stomach. I sighed. That was what I needed.

I listened to Roxy’s chatter with half an ear as I continued to drink. By the time my glass was empty, I was already feeling steadier, the emotions pushed down beneath the surface where they belonged. I poured another drink and gulped it down. Oh yeah, I had a good buzz going now. I was lighter, the constricted feeling in my chest considerably loosened. I even felt my face break into a bright smile as a few girls from our grade swarmed around us, begging us to join them in a game of pool downstairs in the rec room.

“I’m in!” Rox said. “What about you, Jules?”

“Maybe in a little bit. I want to check out the patio first.”

“All right. But don’t be too long.” She leaned towards me and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “I need your help kicking their asses.” Then she bumped her hip against mine with a laugh. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one enjoying a nice buzz.

I gave her a playful shove. “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”

In order to get to the back patio, I would have to go through the living room. With a new drink in hand, I headed in that direction, eager for some fresh air.

In the cavernous living room, with its large ornate fireplace and long leather sofas, Trisha sat with one of her cheerleader friends.

Emboldened, I walked over to them, my steps just a tad wobbly. “Hey, Trisha.”

Trisha raised her head, her eyes narrowed. She was wearing way too much makeup. The thick eyeliner, bright blush and heavily caked-on fuchsia lipstick made her look even trashier than usual. Her purple miniskirt was way too tight and the matching top way too low. If she leaned forward even a little, her boobs would probably fall out.

“What do you want?” she said.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “I’m just surprised you aren’t here with Luke, since you guys are so close.”

Trisha scowled. “He was supposed to meet me here, but he didn’t show. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“He blew you off, huh? Tough break.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever.” Turning back to her friend, she bent her head and whispered something in her ear. The other girl laughed in response.

I rolled my eyes and took another drink. “I know you asked Luke to call me a witch. And I also want you to know I don’t care. Don’t you get it by now?” I added, swaying on my feet a little. “Your pranks don’t bother me, especially this stupid one.”

Trisha rounded on me. “What prank?”

I set my empty glass down on the mantel. “Don’t play dumb with me. You got Luke to make up some crazy story about me doing witchcraft on him when we were kids. I mean, really, Trisha? Witchcraft? That’s a new one, even for you.” Through the haze of alcohol, the notion struck me as being not only crazy but completely hilarious. A laugh bubbled up in my chest.

Trisha’s face contorted into a look of utter contempt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you better get out of my face before I get really pissed off.”

“You can deny it all you want,” I said, still laughing. “It’s obvious you put him up to it. You’ve given sexual favours for a lot less.”

Trisha’s jaw dropped and her face went an even brighter pink. “You…you little bitch!”

“Anyway, have fun being stood up.” I waggled my fingers at her and strode from the room. Out in the front hallway, I stopped and leaned against the wall, shaking my head in wonderment. I couldn’t believe I’d finally stood up to Trisha. It was amazing what a little liquid courage could do.

Now, where was I heading? Oh right, the patio. The confrontation with Trisha had distracted me so much that I’d gone in the wrong direction.

A group of girls entered the foyer, their loud voices carrying around the corner.

“Did you guys see Julia Parsons at school this week?” one of the girls asked. “Ugh, she’s still going about her day like nothing happened.”

“I know,” another voice chimed in. “I heard she didn’t show any emotion at the funeral. How heartless is that?”

“Yeah, they’re calling her ‘Ice Princess’. Sounds about right.”

“I would totally lose it if my mom and boyfriend died.”

They rounded the corner and stopped in their tracks when they saw me. Their chatter ceased abruptly. In the awkward silence, I lifted my chin and studied each one of their mortified faces in turn. Tenth graders.

“Hi, girls,” I said in a cool voice. “Well, don’t look so surprised to see me. Just going about my business.” Anger penetrated my buzz, coursing through me in thick, hot waves. My hands started to shake. Just like that, I was losing control of my emotions again. I needed more alcohol to beat them back.

Pushing past the girls, I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a half-empty bottle of vodka from the counter. A couple of football players whistled and hurled catcalls at me, but I ignored them and ran from the room.

Back in the hallway, I hesitated, the girls’ words resounding in my head. I wouldn’t have been able to show any emotion at the funeral, no matter how much I’d wanted to. At that point, the shock of Mom’s and Nick’s deaths had still been wrapped around me like a cocoon. I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. Everything and everyone had moved around me in a blur.

Now I wished for that numb-like state again. All I wanted to do was drink until I couldn’t feel anymore.

I looked around wildly, anxious to find somewhere to be alone. The problem was that there was nowhere to be alone at this party. The rooms were crammed with people drinking or making out. Music reverberated through the house, and the roar of laughter and conversation made my head hurt.

Then I remembered the guest loft.

While I might not be totally alone—a few people might’ve already gravitated up there—it would definitely be quieter than the main house.

Clasping the bottle against my chest, I shouldered my way through a new crowd forming in the foyer and stumbled onto the front steps. I paused for a moment to draw in several breaths of the cool, crisp air, then hurried around the side of the house.

The loft was situated over the three-car garage. I mounted a short flight of stairs and turned the knob on the solid oak door. Finding it unlocked, I pushed it open and looked around.

The large, open space had a combination living-dining area with white Persian rugs, glass tables and brocaded lamps. An adjacent kitchenette gave way to a short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. I heard a giggle from one behind one of the closed doors, but the main part of the loft was empty. That was good enough for me.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I sank onto a plush brown sectional and curled my legs underneath me. I tilted the bottle up to my mouth, took a long swallow, then coughed and sputtered as the vodka stung my throat.

“God, that’s nasty by itself,” I muttered. Still, I forced myself to take a second drink before plunking the bottle down on the coffee table with an unsteady hand. With my eyes closed, I leaned back against the sofa and let the alcohol do its work, numbing my pain like ice on a swollen, throbbing ankle. Soon a sleepy, relaxed feeling flowed from my head to my toes.

Through my mellowed state, I heard the door to the loft open and close. I opened my eyes, lifted my head and gave a slight jerk of surprise. Luke stood across the room.

Perfect. Just perfect.

He wore tattered Levi jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with the gold and white Harley Davidson logo. His jet-black hair stood up in wild tufts, and a cigarette was stuck behind one ear. He stared at me with eyes that glittered like blue ice, his dark brows raised slightly.

“So this is what a witch does on a Saturday night—hides out at a party, drinking alone.”

“If Trisha asked you to follow me and continue your little witchcraft story, you can forget it. I already told her I figured out her sick joke.”

“A joke,” he repeated, his voice flat.

I snorted. “Come on. Enough is enough already. She’s had her fun. Now just leave me alone, okay?”

He dug in his jeans pocket and withdrew a silver lighter. Then he crossed to the sectional and sat down close beside me. He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear, and as he lit it, I noticed the initials LM engraved on the front of the lighter in big block letters. He took a long drag before speaking again.

“Cut the bullshit, Julia, and just admit what you did.”

“Me? What did I do? Trisha is the one who—”

“Would you shut the hell up about Trisha? This has got nothing to do with her.”

“But she said you were supposed to meet her here and—”

“She lied,” he said, his tone rife with fury. “I only came to this lame party because I heard you tell your friend you were coming.”

“No, you’re the liar. You’re new at school and Trisha pounced on you. She made you say those things.”

“She didn’t make me say or do anything. Look… I heard the rumor around school. She wanted your boyfriend. You can blame her all you want for that, but—and I repeat—she has nothing to do with this.”

Through the fog of alcohol, a sense of apprehension was beginning to creep in, but I fought to keep my voice calm. “Just because Trisha didn’t tell you to say it doesn’t mean you’re not lying. And I don’t have to sit here and listen to you. You’re…you’re just some psycho who just got out of juvie.”

“Oh, juvie.” He laughed humorlessly. “That was just a misunderstanding. Some asshole store owner charged me for robbery. Truth was, I was just an innocent bystander. But enough about me.” He tossed his half-smoked cigarette onto the snow-white carpet and ground it under his shoe. His mouth turned up in a nasty smile. “Let’s talk about you—and what you did to me when we were kids.”

“I didn’t do anything to you.” He was taking this way too far, and I wasn’t going to stay and listen to his delusions. I lurched to my feet. “I have to go.”

I had barely taken a step when Luke shot up and seized my wrist. He yanked me back onto the sofa. I let out a cry of indignation and struggled to stand up again, but he tightened his grip on my wrist, holding me in place.

“It seems like I need to refresh your memory, Parsons.”

My stomach twisted into anxious knots, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. “I told you that I don’t remember anything from when I was five.”

“Well, I don’t remember a lot either. My father does, though. He saw everything that happened that day.”

“What day? You’re not making any sense.” And he was a total psycho. I was regretting my decision to come up to the loft alone.

The cool blue eyes locked with mine, boring into me with an intensity that unnerved me. “The day you threw a temper tantrum and used your freaky power. You opened up some world and I almost got sucked into it. You tried to send me away, witch. And a couple months ago, your mom used the same magic on my old man. Only she succeeded.”

Opened up a world? The idea was so ludicrous I almost laughed. I would have if he hadn’t been holding me against my will. “That’s crazy. Absolutely crazy.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “Now let me go.”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere until you bring my father back.”

By now my mellowed state had completely faded. It its place was a hot rush of anger that had me reeling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m sick of your twisted games. Now take your hand off me. My friends are waiting for me downstairs.”

In response, Luke pressed his fingers into my flesh so hard that I yelped in pain. “This isn’t a game. This is my dad’s life we’re talking about. Now, get him back.”

“And where exactly do you think he is?”

“Your mother sent my dad into that ugly mural you painted.” He leaned close, and the scent of cigarettes irritated my nostrils. “Like I told you yesterday, you Parsons witches can send people anywhere you want—even into a goddamn painting.”

My anger rose even higher now, and I was breathing rapidly as I tried to contain it. My face burned and my head ached. “Stop it,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Stop it right now.”

But even as I said it, I recalled what had happened with the poster in Roxy’s room—that freaky sensation of not being in control of my body—and the recent dizzy spells. Then, like a bolt of lightning, an image of the ratty teddy bear flashed through my brain again. Except this time, it hovered in the air, suspended against a backdrop of blue and white. I swallowed and shook the image from my head.

“You know it’s true,” Luke said. “Now I need you to do whatever it is you do when you move people between worlds and get him out of there.”

Before I could say anything else, the door to the loft opened and Roxy and Jimmy burst in.

Jimmy took one look at Luke’s hold on me and rushed forward. “Hey, let her go!”

Luke grunted but released me, lifting his hands up in surrender. “No worries, man. We were just having a little chat.”

“It didn’t look like that to me.” Jimmy narrowed his eyes at Luke.

“Chill out,” Luke said. “This has got nothing to do with you.”

“Actually, it does,” Roxy said. “Julia’s our friend.” She turned to me. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

I took another deep breath, and as I focused on my best friend, my vision cleared. I found my centre again. “No, I’m all right,” I answered her, rubbing my wrist.

“When you didn’t come downstairs, I started to get worried. Someone told me they saw you come up here.”

“Yeah, I just wanted a few minutes alone. Then this creep”—I nodded in Luke’s direction—“followed me up here. But I’m fine, really. I just want to go home.”

“You got it,” Jimmy said, still shooting daggers Luke’s way. “Don’t let me see you touch her again.”

Luke ignored him. “We’re not done here, Julia.”

“What’s he talking about?” Roxy asked.

“Nothing. He’s crazy. Let’s go.”

We moved to leave. Jimmy led the way, Roxy bringing up the rear. At the entrance to the loft, I couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. I immediately wished I hadn’t. Luke’s eyes were cold, dark and calculating. I could feel them on me even as I turned and walked out of the door.