Out of Body

Chapter 35

“Gray?”

Nat sounded uneasy.

“What?” Gray said.

“Something’s wrong,” Nat said under his breath.

Then Gray realized what the other man was talking about. Marley’s hands hung at her sides and she stared toward the house. Her face wasn’t so much rigid, as lifeless—except for her staring eyes.

Gray took a step toward her and felt an invisible force pushing him back.

“Do you think you should touch her?” Nat said. “What’s the matter with her?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said. “Marley?” he added quietly. He wanted to get her away from what he felt stirring around them.

Something deeply evil.

“She can’t hear us,” Nat said. “They don’t have a handbook on this one. Not that I’ve seen. Did you ever see her do this before?”

Gray was past his usual level of caution. “Not exactly.” A current buffeted him and he was surprised he didn’t stagger.

“Something like it, though?”

Gray ran a hand over his hair. “She’s seeing something we can’t see. Let her go.” It would be better for him to be alone with her.

Marley walked directly toward a door that opened on a room barely visible through large windows. She paused, then took another step.

“She’ll walk right into the glass,” Nat said, talking about the panes in the upper half of the door. Gray broke from the restraint and shot forward to grab her.

The door swung open of its own volition and Marley walked inside.

“Holy shit!” Nat said. “I didn’t see what I just saw.”

“We both did,” Gray said, following Marley.

“You can’t just walk into other people’s houses,” Nat said.

“We’re being let in. Invited in, if you like. But you can stay here if you feel better about it.”

He went after Marley with light, rapid steps and realized he was behaving as if he were dealing with a sleepwalker.

Lamps on bentwood tables glowed, beads swinging gently from the shades. They hadn’t been turned on a moment ago. The room was typical of its period and purpose. Widely spaced rattan furniture covered with cool-colored cotton fabrics grouped for conversation beneath wooden fans on heated days. Large, faded floral rugs on gleaming old wood floors.

Gray felt Nat enter the house behind him and signaled for him to stay put. For himself, Gray allowed Marley to get farther ahead. He could reach her fast enough, but he didn’t want to risk intruding into whatever she was involved with in that other world of hers. Instinct warned him of the danger he could cause by breaking her concentration.

He wished he could hear her speaking to him in his mind as he had before and narrowed his eyes, willing her to talk to him.

Nothing.

Soft and muddled, a familiar sound came to him, a sound with a beat at its center, a cadence. He stood still and waited, straining to hear any discernable words that might separate themselves from the whispery jabber.

Marley entered a hallway leading toward the front of the house and Gray went after her. He glanced back at Nat and shook his head once. Nat raised his hands to indicate he would wait where he was.

“Dangerous, very dangerous.” The words snapped clearly from the otherwise meaningless vibrations. Many sibilant voices seemed to argue, and he felt he was supposed to be included. “This one is a neophyte. Whatever happened to him as a child stunted his paranormal development.”

A slow, heavy beat started in Gray’s head. He knew they were talking about him. What he didn’t know was how much truth there was in the suggestion they made that he had started life as a paranormal talent, but that his progress had been arrested.

Or perhaps he did know and chose not to look too closely at a past no human should have endured—particularly as a child.

“He’s all we’ve got if the Embran attacks her.” There was a bustling quality about the voices, a determination to press ahead with whatever they decided was best.

He had never heard them use the word Embran before.

“He could separate Marley’s consciousness from her body forever.”

“Or give her a chance to return just when all seems lost. He has power if he can learn to use it.”

He wanted to yell for someone to teach him—quickly.

“You follow her,” a voice said sharply. This time a different voice and a familiar one.

“It is not my way to interfere directly. That is not in our rules. But this Embran threatens her life. He threatens many lives.”

Gray felt shadows move. A man, tall, with long, graying hair but a young and vibrant face materialized, but without substance. His image was clear for a moment, then foggy. His dark clothing was from another era and Gray wasn’t sure when it might have been.

“Who is the Embran?” he asked. “Or what?”

“If you need to know, you will know. You, Gray. You follow Marley. Be there. Do nothing unless you’re told. The Embran wants Marley, but we don’t know his intentions for tonight. When the time comes you will have to make sure her body is kept warm. Stay back.”

Another whisperer broke in irritably. “Remember he can only see what happens on his own aware side. What goes on beyond the veil will be invisible to him.”

“Hush,” the man told this one and muttering gradually faded away.

“You, Gray. Pay attention. I don’t think the Embran is aware of you. Your powers are not developed enough, but neither are you the weak stuff of his chosen prey. And you are not a Millet, which is to your advantage.” He gave a humorless laugh. “But one day I believe you will have to fight him—unless you choose to abandon Marley—and you will have only your instincts to follow. Be ready.”

Silence rushed in where the voice had been. The shadow form was gone, and Gray felt like shouting for the man to come back. “I’ll never leave her,” he said.

Ahead of him, Marley turned right, into a room illuminated by a few bulbs in an old chandelier. She walked to the center of the room where the only furniture was one pale couch.

Gray hung back, tucked himself just out of sight, but made sure he could get to her rapidly. He heard music. Lightly and from a distance. The tune was familiar, but old and remembered from another place. Gray didn’t know what it was or anything about it except it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

He dug finger and thumb into the corners of his eyes and concentrated.