For The Want of Time

By L. Hinrichsen

There are no secrets that time does not reveal- Jean Racine

Eva Reyes is a bright, hardworking college student. Her most pressing concerns should be how to win a fellowship for graduate school and making rent, but what she doesn't realize is she's keeping an extraordinary secret th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Jul 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649908742

L. Hinrichsen

Although Lenore Hinrichsen now makes her home in New Jersey, she considers herself a true New York girl. She loves the look, the energy, and the remarkable history of the city. A born and bred New Yorker, her spirit still yearns for that crazy place. Even though her family is now scattered, she has her husband and daughter to inspire her every day. Their love and encouragement mean everything to Lenore. Creating her own worlds gets Lenore's mind racing late at night. When she is not writing, she enjoys dance, music, and the visual arts.

Book preview

Chapter One

H

eels struck wet cobblestones, breaking the silence, as a man raced the dawn home. A splash on the fine leather of his shoes hinted that this mission wouldn’t end as well as it had started. Irritation furrowed the man’s brow; he glowered at a soggy boot, while weather-beaten hands angrily furled his soaked umbrella. For at storm’s end, as day chased night, thoughts nagged like a shrew demanding notice. You were once a man of influence; now just a glorified errand boy.

Clatters of a horse-driven cart interrupted his bitter reproach, and their echo turned him eastward to find a ribbon of light warning at the horizon. Uncertain if he was still being pursued, he quickened his pace, rounding the corner of East Ninety-Second, where crushed shells and muddy hollows replaced the slick stones of the avenue. The shadowy street was more desolate than Lexington, with only a row or two of newly built brownstones, and shudders traversed his spine. Neither chilling gusts nor the conjuring of imaginary voices had caused the old man’s trepidation, but perhaps the dark edge of the glow of each gaslight provoked the tense side-step, landing a foot in another shimmering puddle. This chill is a longtime companion; why aren’t you used to it?

He looked up; blue-gray clouds dashed across the sky, revealing the limitless brilliance of the constellations. Decades had passed since his last visit to a place where the night’s stars were taken for granted, but at this moment, his eyes dropped, his steps more watchful, they twinkled at his feet. Black skies lightened to midnight blue; with a mere ten yards remaining in this mission, three figures turned onto the block. Two men, one short, the other a full head taller, charged forward. Hindered by a long skirt, their female companion lagged a few strides behind—it was her cry the weary old man heard.

Juan, please, wait! Even at his age, well-honed instincts insisted he run, but casting that preposterous notion aside, he swung his umbrella into a defensive posture as the pursuers advanced. Don’t go up those stairs; listen for a change, the taller assailant hollered.

Chin defiantly tilted, threat ignored, Juan planted a drenched boot on the bottom step. Frustrated by the old man’s arrogance, the lanky man clutched him, bounding his arms to his side, and turned his captive toward the others.

And don’t try anything. The slighter man glowered at the umbrella, taking a stride back. We know there’s a blade in the handle, and we know your skill with that thing.

Grip tightening around his brolly, Juan scoffed. Henry underestimates you, Benjamin.

At the base of the stoop, conflict escalating, the woman, assured of Juan’s restraint, extracted the possible weapon from aged hands. Still, she regarded the others with equal apprehension and set it a distance from the tussle. Don’t make us harm you, sir, she pleaded. Nobody wants that.

The young woman was neither a ruffian nor a harlot, and her plea conveyed concern even as they accosted the elderly gentleman. Not one to submit, Juan struggled to get free and all but succeeded until the short man threw a jab to his middle. In that moment he remembered long-forgotten training, and intentionally falling forward, he dragged himself and the man clutching him downward, breaking the hold. Without hesitation, Juan reached for an inside coat pocket, and at his assailants’ feet, his right hand flew over his head while the crook of his left elbow shielded weary eyes; a blinding light overwhelmed his assailants. Struck unconscious, they dropped to the ground.

Juan removed his arm from his face when the glow faded and struggled to rise to appraise the damage. Why did they force my hand? There was no other choice.

Rumors had been circling that the sphere was lethal, if one believed idle talk, and regret gripped the old man’s heart. Distressed by the mission’s conclusion, he experienced a moment of vertigo before he was able to snatch the fallen umbrella; steadying himself with slow, deep breaths, he rose to stand.

Daybreak at the horizon signaled journey’s end, and the want of time obliged him to abandon the three where they lay. Best to retreat before a constable started his rounds for the day. Hanging from a watch fob and chain, keys jangling in nervous hands unlocked his front door.

Before shutting out the world, a glance to the road betrayed a glimmer of satisfaction until three clangs bolted the mahogany door, securing his residence. One turn of a gas lamp key in the foyer illuminated the area enough for Juan to stagger to a window and gather back velvet drapes and silk curtains for a final peek. Tranquil in the safety of his home, adrenaline depleted, his whole body ached, causing him to release the draperies before stumbling to the rear of the parlor. Before a tall standing mirror, he paused; with a sharp tug, the velvet cloth that obscured the mirror pooled on the floor. Unconvinced he had strength to go on, he slumped on a nearby chaise, powerless to suppress a grunt, but after a brief meditation, his eyes widened as he glimpsed his reflection and the bleak image staring back. Time, in its cruelty, had forsaken him. At what point had it changed from ally to adversary? In agony and lightheaded, he found it a struggle to stay composed, but his return was crucial—it was time. A tremulous palm opened to a miniature jewel-like portrait of a woman with an inscrutable expression of reproach and delight; and for an instant, that was enough.

Behind fabric left askew, a splendid green illuminated the brownstone’s windows, but only a moment passed before the glow faded and the day transformed. The sky was clear and concrete sidewalks bone dry, while the building’s facade exhibited the passage of time, with chipped paint and crackled window boxes full of buds close to flowering. The sounds of morning were muted until a yellow taxi sped by and a woman jogged past without hesitancy. She didn’t gawk, and no concern crossed her face as she passed, for the three bodies had vanished, along with gaslights and rattle of horse and wagon. In their place was the commotion of a modern city awakening for another day.

Chapter Two

S

unrise brightened a cramped bedroom from black to soft gray. Before long, the golden light of morning invaded, provoking a groan from one of the room’s occupants.

God, why am I awake.

Even though a blanket covered her head, Eva could tell the shade was up. The East Harlem apartment faced the river, and without the shades drawn, she was up much too early.

And why can’t I move my feet?

Her eyes peeked open, and she tugged the blanket away from her face. A stretch of each leg found the culprit curled at the foot of the bed. Maya, wake up!

She freed a limb from under her petite roommate’s leaden body with slight nudges to jostle her friend awake. They achieved no response. Eva was undaunted, and a stronger shove produced results, if noisier than expected, as Maya hit the floor.

Dude, what the fuck? Her friend grumbled, half-asleep.

Don’t wake the others, Eva shushed her roommate and stepped to the window. The shade’s up—I wanted to sleep till seven.

Maya rubbed her bottom. So you toss me on my ass?

Taking a moment to recall the past evening, Maya struggled to remember. Right—last night. Josh sang in the street. With a hand to her forehead, Eva’s best friend was painfully hung over. I lifted the shade to get the idiot to stop. Man, the boy was being so romantic.

And you’re sleeping at the end of my bed…why? Eva crossed her legs over the edge of the mattress, prepared to listen to her best friend’s excuse.

Cider. Maya stretched, triggering a throb to both temples. Ow, ow, ow, yeah, too much cider. I guess I wanted to talk.

Eva’s eyes rounded, lifting both brows. Wanted to talk?

Screw you, Eva; you wake me up all the time. So I forgot to lower the shade. Josh was looking at me like I was something special. He had that—

"You are special, and Josh is an idiot if he’s just getting that now. Eva interrupted, declaring what she considered obvious. He serenaded you?" A giggle escaped while she pulled Maya up to the bed.

Everyone’s heard your boyfriend’s attempts at singing. Her tongue stuck out, and her eyes crossed. Remember karaoke last month?

That’s why I had to shut him up. The girls’ raucous laughter aroused thumps from the other side of the wall. Two roommates in the second bedroom shared the residence and were far from happy.

We pissed off Ginny and Maribeth, Maya said with a giddy snort. Do they have to bang so loud? Fuck, my head hurts.

Karma, baby. Eva cackled, drawing a pillow to her face to smother the sound until laughter faded to quieter giggles. She wiped watery eyes and smacked Maya with a pillow, rising to start the day. On the opposite end of the room, her friend opened a nightstand drawer, fishing for aspirin. With two sips from a water bottle, she downed a pill, and then slipped under a blanket.

I’m going back to bed; I’m beat. Only have afternoon classes today.

Yeah, do that; the internship’s this morning, Eva mumbled, pulling clothes off hangers.

Crap, I forgot. Guilt accompanied her shrug while Maya turned to her side, giving her best friend a teasing middle finger salute.

After a breakfast of coffee and hard-boiled egg, Eva entered the shower, letting lather cascade over waist-length hair as sleepy eyelids shut. Once rinsed and out of the tub, she wiped fog from the bathroom mirror with a robe’s terry cloth sleeve. Clipped back wet tendrils revealed circles under chestnut colored eyes, prompting frantic fingers to dig through a cosmetic bag in search of concealer. Last night she had chosen the ideal first-day-at-the-job outfit, but this morning a face appearing alive may take a great deal more effort. Thrilled with the opportunity to intern at the New York Historical Society, it surprised Eva she had landed the job, considering the interviewer hadn’t seemed bowled over by her stats. Yawning as she got a second cup of coffee, hoping to endure past two thirty, when she took care of her history professor’s kids, she was back in the bathroom to get ready when a tap at the door startled her, though it wasn’t unexpected.

Eva, get out. Maribeth knocked harder. I gotta pee.

Okay, okay. I’m out. Eva grumbled, flinging open the door.

Wild laughing at five thirty; you’ve gotta be kidding me. Was it that dream? Maribeth slid by her friend. Go see somebody already. It’s the fourth time this month. And she shut Eva out before receiving an answer. The sound of flushing ended as the faucet started, so Eva knocked to get her roommate’s attention. When the door opened, Maribeth planted her butt on the tub’s corner.

What do you mean see somebody? Hands on hips, Eva was indignant.

Maribeth rubbed her eyes. Therapist, shrink, whatever; you can’t keep waking us. Ginny has a job, and I’ve got classes.

Ever since Eva could remember, a recurring dream plagued her slumber. An occasional thing—until it wasn’t, Maribeth’s hadn’t been the first complaint. Ginny may not have been as civil with her rant, but she couldn’t blame either of them. While listening to her roommate vent, she experienced a rush of guilt since in the last two months the nightmare had happened often, disturbing the sleep of everyone in the apartment.

If it was the dream, would you have heard laughing? Maya passed out at the end of my bed and I pushed her off, um, when I was sleeping.

With a huge stretch, Maribeth yawned. Didn’t you notice her come in after the big date? The girl should lay off the booze. She was wasted.

Eva reached over her roommate to grab a comb. Her boyfriend sang out front in the street.

That was Josh, at two a.m.? Shit, if he woke Mrs. Ramirez, we’re getting a nasty call from the super. That busybody spies every time a guy visits. Does she do that when Marcus picks you up?

Eva peered in the mirror, attacking a nest of tangles. We’ll find out next week, when he takes me to Jas’s party. You’re going, right?

Uncharacteristically bashful, Maribeth stood and said, Um, Sam crapped out on me. Can I tag along with you guys?

Eva found her friend’s unease odd and continued to pull knots from her hair No problem; when Marcus was just my friend, he couldn’t care less, but we’ve only been dating a month, so I have no clue what boyfriend Marcus thinks.

But you’ve been buds since third grade.

Kindergarten. Eva took her roommate’s spot on the edge of the tub. But dating Marcus is brand spankin’ new and a little scary.

Never mind; I’ll go solo, Maribeth mumbled, disappointed. She had been pals with Maya, Eva, and Marcus since junior high, on the fringe of their tight-knit group, and they considered her a close pal.

Didn’t mean it that way. Eva hated making her feel unwelcomed. He’s your friend too. What guy wouldn’t love a girl on each arm?

Maribeth drifted closer to her room, whispering. Okay, thanks. Are you leaving now?

Leaning on the doorframe, Eva enviously watched her roommate head back to bed.

Soon; it’s so freaking early. There’s an aikido class on Lex, and then I guess I’ll walk across the park. Eva waved and returned to getting ready for her day.

While staring at her reflection, crossing one damp section of hair over another in a loose braid, she had to stop as her vision blurred. After one step backward, the image sharpened and an unfamiliar woman stared at her. Eva was confused; blinking didn’t change the mirror’s reflection, but the nauseating sense of falling into the mirror, with a bonus twinge to the right temple, prompted a mighty headshake.

Terror spun her in a circle as she discovered the tiny bathroom transformed into an elegant bedroom. What appeared to be a mother and child spoke as the mother, an exotic beauty, pinned up a stray lock of hair. She reached for a jeweled comb the toddler held in her hands as she stood before an ornate, full-length mirror flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows. While the woman smoothed the skirt of her gown, which in turn skimmed delicate satin shoes, she fiddled with the clasp of a pearl choker and fastened it around her neck. Pleased with her accomplishment, she lowered her gaze to the adoring child. Eva observed the interaction, spellbound, struggling to hear what the mother was saying, but she failed to do so as the illusion vanished.

A trembling palm covered her mouth, her own pallid face staring back; disorientated, she searched the room for ghosts. Uncertain wobbly limbs could keep her standing; she gripped the rim of the sink. The pain at her temple pounded, causing her to clasp her head as legs weakened. Am I sick or just crazy?

Knees on the floor, Eva hugged the bowl and threw up. My God, what’s wrong with me? Please, not today. This can’t be happening. Is it possible to dream when awake?

Even as she clung to the toilet, awareness hit hard that she needed to pull herself together; the day was too important. The likeness lasted seconds, but left the young woman shaken. With trepidation, she rose, checked the mirror, and splashed her face with water. I have to get out of this room!

She quickly snatched a toothbrush and paste as she hurried, gathering clothes to dress in the living room. Hands gripped both knees, perching on the arm of the sofa, while she craned her neck toward the bathroom. Inch by inch she shifted closer. The door wide opened, with lights on, the room was vacant, but nothing could convince Eva it was unoccupied.

* * *

The morning’s chill provoked a shiver; whether it was from spring breezes or the earlier mirror episode, Eva couldn’t tell. Once aikido class finished, a stroll through Central Park proved to be the remedy for any lingering tension. She reveled in the emerging tulips, daffodils, the yellow-green leaves of the maples, and the golden fuzz adorning the oaks, grateful for the diversion. Circuitous paths turned west, and familiar views of Bow Bridge and Bethesda Fountain eased remaining worries. By the time she reached the Westside, the park had performed its magic. A quickness to her step showed a brighter mood, and after four blocks, Eva entered the New York Historical Society.

Eva…Eva Reyes. The administrator shook the new intern’s hand, leading her to the desk she’d share with another student, who worked afternoons.

Our archive is at the end of the corridor to your left. Begin with ‘Pre-colonial Forts and Armories of Manhattan.’ The dean at Hunter explained you’ve done this type of assignment at the college; still, please follow our instructions and see me with questions.

Yes, thank you; I will.

The supervisor filed Eva’s student information and pointed to a cubicle. Elizabeth is in early to help you but returns to her usual shift tomorrow.

A terse grin followed her counsel before the two girls got acquainted. With the project’s due date looming, there was no time for small talk, and she had to stay disciplined. Files of illustrations and photos needed retouching, digitizing, and editing before the next presentation to donors. Carefully placing a crate of material on the desk, Eva nodded to her fellow intern. Gosh, look at this place; it’s unbelievable.

Gosh? Ah, yeah, a regular treasure trove. Elizabeth stifled a grin, tickled by her coworker’s prissy enthusiasm. I expected a more interesting subject—armories are damn boring—but the resources here are exceptional. Dig through the stacks, but be aware—it eats up your break. Just make quota before exploring.

Glancing up, Eva went on to sift through fragile sketches in a file box. No, I need to keep this job; I’m working on a fellowship for a master’s degree. She put on white cotton gloves for closer inspection of rare photographs.

Elizabeth’s eyes rolled. Duh. You, me, and everybody else.

Four hours of work at NYHS was over before it started. It felt like no time had passed at all when Eva had to leave for her second role as the nanny to her professor’s kids.

Professor Martin’s wife’s Wall Street position provided for some luxuries, such as a maid and a nanny, but the family didn’t live an ostentatious lifestyle. Veronica and Professor Martin lived with their two kids in an older apartment house on East Ninety Second Street his wife’s parents left to her. Although it wasn’t a luxury high-rise, three bedrooms, two baths, and an eat-in kitchen made it a unicorn as far as Manhattan apartments go. There was no doorman, and after Eva announced her arrival on the intercom, the maid, Jessica, buzzed her in. Since the apartment was on the third floor, it was a swift elevator ride, and as the door opened, the maid pointed to a duffel bag on the living room sofa.

Hiya, Eva; the kids’ stuff is on the couch.

Man, Jess, it looks like it weighs a ton.

All necessary, so claims the missus. Whatever these kids want, they whine and get it, the maid said with a shrug.

While Jess went on complaining, Eva swung the duffel to a shoulder and peeked out the living room window to a brownstone across the street. Drawn to that house whenever she was on this block; it charmed her with its cheerful window boxes, and when the weather turned warmer, they’d be bursting with violet and fuchsia pansies.

Did that curtain just move? She squinted for a better look. An elderly man is staring at me? That’s creepy, but maybe Jessie knows him. Jess, do you…

Oblivious to Eva’s question, the maid continued speaking.

After school, Mrs. M. wants the kids at gymnastics. If the weather lasts, let the monsters run around the park till dinner. Ronnie prefers them good and exhausted so they don’t make her evening a living hell.

Will I see you later, Jessie?

Nah, I have a thing; I’m out of here in ten.

Downstairs, duffel securely on her shoulder, Eva again glanced across the street to the brownstone with a relieved sigh; the drapes were stationary, with no one peering out.

Why am I so paranoid? The young woman sulked on the way to pick up the children. As she headed toward Lex, a crawling sensation on her neck stopped her in her tracks. She transferred the duffel to the other shoulder, allowing a glimpse up the street.

Strangers in a mirror, and now I’m imagining things. Could I be any lamer?

On the corner she spotted a mom pushing a stroller, a dog walker with four dogs, and several yards away, an elderly man, heading east, with a cane. Is that the same guy?

Spooked, she sprinted across the intersection, not slowing until approaching the kids’ school. With a calming breath, she relaxed at the gate and waited until the bell rang. Eva broke into a grin as children seven to thirteen spilled out of the school’s entrance celebrating their freedom. She caught Anthony in a hug midleap as he dove in for a greeting. Eva, you’re so pretty; hold my backpack a minute?

The sneak tried to hand over his schoolbag, but his wise nanny spun the boy, placing it on his back. Not so fast, mister. Do I look like a packhorse?

What’s a…packhorse? Ah, come on; it’s heavy.

I’ve got the duffel. Wanna trade? The young nanny shifted the duffel higher noticing a group of girls headed her way. Twelve-year-old Anna Lisa arrived with two classmates. She was the tallest of the group and easy to spot even though the three girls’ heads were lowered, staring at their phones. Eyes glancing up from texting, Anna scowled. I’m old enough to get home myself.

Eva shrugged, holding the little boy’s hand. Hello to you too; I’m here for your brother, but it’s Monday and your mom wants you both at the gym.

As was her habit, Anna rolled her eyes as precursor to a quarrel. But my friends are going shopping.

Eva ignored the whining, shaking her head. You can go tomorrow.

Tomorrow is too late. The girl grumbled as her friends wandered off.

Anna Lisa picked up her brother’s free hand, plowing through swarms of youngsters with their parents or sitters. By three o’clock, pupils from various schools took up most of the Upper East Side’s sidewalks.

Even Eva got a wave or two from college classmates hunting for their favorite food truck. After dropping off the children at the gym, with an hour to kill, she couldn’t wait to get to the best taco truck on the East Side for a bite.

Afternoon turned to early evening while Anna and Anthony played in the park. They were home by six for supper, and it wasn’t long before the professor arrived and wanted to discuss their day. By eight Eva rushed to her apartment with every intention of studying but exhausted by her busy day, she was asleep after reading one chapter. Minutes later fatigue sparked the recurring dream for the fifth night that month. Causing her to toss and turn, it began as it invariably did, with Eva floating through a manicured garden, bare feet skimming cool, lush lawns, while flowers and topiaries decorated an immense courtyard. But even in this splendor, she found she was more preoccupied by the hedge surrounding the space. While exploring the vast garden with marble fountains and sculptures, she observed a gathering in progress of two dozen people conversing in sets of fours and fives. From afar Eva admired the guests’ smart attire of light-colored clothes, with several of the men sporting rakishly tilted straw boaters and the women in gauzy linen gowns, flowery bonnets, and parasols shading faces from the sun. As Eva neared, each guest turned, making it impossible to see faces. The party seemed lovely but static; there was no music playing, nor dancing, no barbecue or children getting into mischief, but on closer inspection, she saw one solitary little girl in a pale dress playing with a hoop near the mansion. Three or four years old, she was mindful not to stray too close to the grown-ups. By her side a lady hovered. Eva assumed by her plain dress she wasn’t a guest but a servant there to keep the child out of the adults’ way.

Close to a long table of delicacies, Eva watched a small gathering surround an alluring beauty. On the arm of a stern man at least twenty years her senior, she appeared to be the party’s hostess. Shying away from his partner, the man glared, seeking an escape to a group of men having a spirited discussion. Eva studied the scene with curiosity, but her gaze kept wandering to the edge of the garden, where a shadowy figure stood, concealed by a towering hedge, waiting, scanning the crowd.

As her focus shifted again, she noticed the hostess staring past her group, eyes roaming the garden—searching. It was at that moment the child collapsed, doubling over, clutching her stomach in terrible pain. The hostess bolted from her visitors to join the woman guarding the child. Only when both reached for the little girl did the man from the shadows appear by their sides.

There, in the midst of a social function, both women wept and placed the child, writhing in agony, in the man’s arms. After several uncomfortable minutes, he advanced to the hedge and vanished.

Frozen with indifference, guests and the hostess’s companion were too absorbed in conversation to trouble themselves with a weeping child. Panic-stricken, the hostess screamed, and Eva woke screaming too, her face in her pillow, hyperventilating. Heart racing, she sat up with a jolt to find Maya on her own bed with glassy eyes. Eva, sweetie, are you awake? Is it over?

Yeah, it’s done. Eva whimpered, opening her eyes. The dream was so clear. People’s faces were hazy, but the screaming woman…

Maya pushed black curls off her face. What do you mean?

The woman is unusual. God, I don’t know what I mean. She’s not tall, but regal, ya know? The gown she wore was so…so…dignified.

Good. You admire her taste in clothes. What’s different…her face?

Eva sniffled as she curled to one side. Stop being such a smart-ass, Maya. Ya know—black hair, a long, straight nose, dark eyes, dark blue or gray. She’s not like the other guests. They’re so stiff, but she’s vibrant…but the man with her is so cross.

Her roommate stretched and yawned. Sounds like a trophy wife a rich guy has in order to impress friends.

It’s so Edith Wharton. Eva sighed. "Very Age of Innocence."

I saw that flick, half of it—fell asleep. Maya mimicked snoring, trying to get a laugh out of her friend. Sweetie, dreams are symbolic; it’s rare they reveal the obvious. Slumping, rolling to face her best friend. That’s an anxiety dream. School, second job, taking care of those kids—your subconscious is blowing a fuse.

I guess, this morning I totally freaked— Eva paused, eyes frightened. The woman, I saw the woman from my dream…in our bathroom.

Maya sat up, frowning. What the hell are you talking about?

She and the little girl too; it spooked me so much I threw up breakfast.

Maya turned, legs dangling off the bed. Okay, will you listen? The internship is too much. I only have a few classes and the call center, and I’m stressed out.

I need both jobs. Eva rolled onto her back with a sigh. Sorry I woke you again; go to sleep.

You’re changing the subject. Eva’s best friend wagged a finger. You do that when you won’t listen. Honestly, you never take advice.

I do too; sleep, crazy girl. Eva yawned, covering herself with a blanket. I won’t feel guilty if you get back to sleep.

Maya flopped on her back with a groan. I’m crazy? You and Marcus always call me that. Okay. There was one wild year in high school, but I’m the normal one. She lifted her fingers to tick off her points. One—never got hooked on oxy in junior year, like Santos. Two—not waking up screaming. Three—give excellent advice, and I’m fuckin’ ignored.

Eva rubbed her eyes. Shush. When will you get I’m teasing? And hey, Marcus had emotional and money issues because his dad died, you know that; he’s fine now. Eva raised her hand to take a vow. I promise to consider what you said. Bright side is I didn’t wake Maribeth and Ginny; no banging!

We’re gonna lose our roommates. No one’s getting sleep. Quit the nanny job. We can make rent. Maya turned her back to her friend, yanking the sheet to her chin. Think about it—seriously.

Minutes ticked by as Eva stared at the ceiling. The images from the dream swirled in and out of her thoughts. When she pushed those aside, the face of the woman in the mirror haunted her. Eyes shut tight, Marcus’s face materialized behind closed lids. Even though it was late, she imagined picking up her phone to call him. His voice always soothed rattled nerves, or else his dumb jokes would make her laugh. Warmth coursed through her just thinking of her ex–best friend, now boyfriend. Oh yeah, that’ll help you relax. When a half hour passed with no sleep, a rumbling stomach got Eva tiptoeing out of the room for a snack. She glanced at her friend’s bed, detecting light snoring as the door shut.

Noticing the sound of Eva fussing in the kitchen, Maya turned, grabbed her phone and punched in a number. Carmen, it’s Maya. We need to talk…Yeah. I know the time. It’s Eva and that damn dream…No…Your granddaughter’s hallucinating. She saw the woman from the dream, in the bathroom mirror this morning—awake. It’s getting worse…I have classes the rest of the week…No, I’ll come see you…Yeah, right, like that will happen. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.

Chapter Three

T

he deep, dark mahogany felt impenetrable as Juan leaned against it, relaxed at last. One hand steadied him as he removed soaked boots near the entrance. A moan followed. He arranged his soggy hat and coat on the rack before dropping the umbrella into its holder. It had been ages since he’d been so roughed up, and the blow to his gut made it painful to move without an agonized vulgarity. The brownstone was frigid this morning, and a fire would comfort him if only he could bend.

Mrs. Ryan, the housekeeper, had expected his arrival and had put logs and kindling in the fireplace, ready for igniting, but better still, knowing him so well, she had left a half bottle of port and a glass on the table, next to his favorite chair. He was calm, peering into the unlit hearth, savoring the wine, as an antique grandfather clock in the foyer chimed six. Pondering the evening’s actions, he didn’t foresee criminal implications from this mission, but even so, regret intensified over wielding the weapon. Without question, Wilson, Emma, and Ben had endangered his life, but could he have reasoned with them if allowed more time? Was it possible curiosity had overcome reason? No doubt he wanted to study how the sphere behaved, and that alone may have clouded his judgment.

Years of adventures driven by inquisitiveness had set his path as a young man. Detractors claimed ego and pride brought him his accomplishments, if they tended toward cruelty, and while somewhat true, that was a limited assessment. His attackers knew that in the past he had killed. It was a lifetime or two ago, but one didn’t forget.

Asleep in his armchair, wine bottle drained, no heat from a fire, when the clock again chimed, he awoke hours after midday. Head aching, along with his belly; no food, too much to drink, and a jab to the abdomen never mixed well. Juan rose from sitting and shuffled to the window, dragging back the draperies to allow light to pour in—the sunlight comforted after such a dreadful night. It was splendid outside, and he’d slept through the finest part of the day.

Ah, she’s by the window. I wonder how she is today. The girl’s caring for those two rascals; what a waste of precious time. Damn, she sees me. That mustn’t be.

Curtains dropped as Juan stepped from view. Hungry and ailing, he rang the bell for Mrs. Ryan, getting no response. Too famished to wait for her, the coffee shop on Lexington Avenue was but a brief stroll; they have pie—wonderful pie. He could go downstairs to the kitchen, Juan typically stocked the brownstone’s kitchen well, but