[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]
“It won’t be long now,” the woman’s voice hissed, the sound of it scraping against the fibers of his nerves.
Standing at the edge of the tarn, staring into its inky depths, J.T. spun, vainly seeking the source of the voice in the darkness that closed in around him.
“Soon,” the voice crooned. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck began to rise and J.T. shuddered.
“Show yourself,” he demanded, his voice calm and commanding, belying the queasiness and panic rising in his gut, threatening to choke him.
The voice laughed. “So demanding for one so young. Do you think seeing my face will change what is to come?”
“Show yourself or begone.” J.T. turned a little more to his left. He thought he saw a flash of white in that direction. “I have no interest in your vague threats from the shadows. Come out and speak to me in the open if you want to talk. Otherwise, leave me in peace.”
He knew this was more than a dream—had known it as soon as he opened his eyes to find himself standing in front of the dark, ancient tarn. It was the one she had drowned herself in centuries ago, before he could stop her. It was an act he understood now, but then…
“Show yourself,” he said again, more quietly this time. “Or I’m leaving.”
Her laughter sent chills down his spine and made him want to cover his ears. It was like claws against slate, like something sharp scraping against glass, and set his teeth on edge. He fought the rising urge to strike whoever she was, to break her jaw just to make the sound stop.
It was a dream that wasn’t a dream. What he did here and now would have some kind of consequence in reality—the question was what and when that would come to pass.
He hadn’t quite expected her to show herself, but she did, stepping out of the shadows he’d turned toward. She was slender and pale-skinned, her dark eyes sunk into hollows, her blonde hair hanging in a hundred braids around her face. She wore a tattered gown, its ermine-trimmed hem stained with mud and blood. When she smiled at him, it sent a fresh shudder through him. Her smile was a predator’s smile, a sociopath’s smile.
“We are coming,” she said softly. “We will have our justice for what was taken from us.”
She blew him a kiss.
