Out of Mind

Prologue

Two hundred pink, spun sugar pigs.

Billy Baker ripped off the top copy of the order and put it with the others on a counter behind him.

The bell still jingled a little on the bakery shop door. Willow Millet had just closed it behind her as she left. Working on her catering jobs—the unusual stuff of course, because that was his specialty—never bored him.

It was almost time to shut the place for the night. He bent over to slide a tray of napoleons from one of the glass cases.

The bell jangled again and the door slammed.

Billy popped up, smiling, always ready to serve a customer. “Hey!”

The shop was empty.

Someone had changed their mind about coming in. Shrugging, he looked down at the confections he had to get put away for the night. Many of them would go for half price in the morning.

Click.

The neon open sign in the window went out and the chain that turned it on and off swung a little. He hadn’t touched it.

A sharp sliding sound made him jump. A snap followed and he jumped again. And felt slightly sick.

The long bolt on the door had slid down and seated in its hole in the floor. A sliver of shadow in the rim of light along the jamb showed him the door was locked.

Billy’s rubber-soled shoes squished on the linoleum when he could finally make a move to go around the counter and see who was playing tricks on him.

A needle-sharp prick into the flesh between his eyebrows stopped him where he was. He muttered, “Ouch,” and touched the spot. It left a tiny speck of blood on his finger.

Bees?

Not in his shop.

But there it was, a buzzing sound. Where… “Damn!” The thing jabbed him again, and again and again on his forehead.

Each time he swiped at his face, more blood smeared his skin.

His heart sped up.

This was stupid. He was panicking over a bee. And the thing was so small he couldn’t even see it.

A jab to his neck all but buckled his knees. It was a sharp, throbbing bite.

Every breath he took got shorter.

He broke out in a sweat. Another poke stung the soft tissue beneath his left eyebrow. His ear was the next target.

Whirling, he flung up his arms, beat the air, blinked while the left eye began to swell. “Get out! Go! Fucking bees!”

“Simone!” He yelled for the girl who did the light, late-day cleanup in the kitchen. “Simone.”

She didn’t come.

Thwack. A hard thing smacked the back of his head. He spun around, but there was nothing to see.

He wanted out of the shop and headed for the door to the kitchens. A broad wing, with spines he could see inside its transparent gray skin, slapped Billy’s face, knocking him backward behind the cases.

Then the poking came in a flurry, thrust knifelike points into his face and neck, his scalp, in rapid succession.

Not a bee, a bird. A bird with a bloated body, wings like spined webs, and no eyes.

Billy got to his feet and reached for the broom. A blow to his head made him giddy and the handle fell from his grasp.

Again, there was no sign of the bird.

The lights went out. It wasn’t dark in the shop yet, just dim. Bile rose in his throat. He had never seen such a creature before and now he couldn’t tell where it had gone. But he could still hear its buzzing noise, or its whirring. The wings set up a roaring and a great current of air swept over the room.

Louder and louder it roared.

From behind the case, rising, came a swift surge of darkness and two black and shining globes. Eyes that must have been shut before they bored into Billy. Talons sprang out, and the beak snapped, shooting out a long, black tongue each time it opened.

And the eyes came straight at Billy, straight at his face, eye to eye.

He opened his mouth to shout again, but a deep, dull pain flowered in the middle of his back. Gasping, clutching at the end of the nearest display case, he saw his cell phone on the counter and reached for it. His fingers slipped on the glass.

He stumbled, gagging.

The tips of two sets of talons embedded in his face, fleetingly.

Back came the bulging eyes and this time they didn’t stop. They collided with his face, and the foul-smelling tongue swiped across his mouth. The beak emitted a harsh, howling caw.

Billy grabbed at his neck and jaw, he pounded a fist into his chest, clawed at the racking pain.

His heart?

Blackness spread from the edges of his vision.

It was done.