Salvation's Kiss (Tales Of Mython Book 1) by Kathryn Jayne (old books to read .TXT) 📗

because he does it. Speaking of which, are you insane?” Conrad grasped her arm again having brought the conversation full circle. For a moment, she was glad to have the extra layer of protection her cardigan provided. The heat from his touch soothed her, yet the manner in which he set his jaw spoke volumes about the anger he was restraining.

“I needed the money,” she whispered through gritted teeth, trying to free herself from his grasp. She could have, if she’d have tried harder, but a weak tug was all she managed.

“We will talk about this later.” He matched her volume, allowing both his concern and disappointment to hang in the air.

Tess’s fingers snapping before his gaze drew Jack back to the present as she questioned if he was okay. He realised he was still staring, but Ashley had long since moved her arm.

“Sorry, I zoned out there for a moment. Hey, where’d Will go?”

Ashley inclined her head towards the vampires, but it seemed their friend was no longer amongst them. He let his gaze fall back to Ashley’s arm, relieved when the covered flesh caused no more images to assail him. Lately he had been daydreaming a lot, and it was the strangest things that triggered him to zone out in the way he had just moments ago. As he had stared at her arm, he had felt the familiar pressure building in the centre of his forehead, pulling him away to a reality where his daydream overlapped reality.

It was difficult to always remember what he had been dreaming, but this time he recalled at least a few of the jumbled images. Pulling out his sketch pad, Jack spread his art supplies across the table and started to draw what he’d seen.

“I should get to class.” Tess rose, followed by Ashley and Conrad. “You got a free period?” Jack nodded, his pencil working its way feverishly across the page. “Alright, we’ll catch you later then.”

“Alright, oh hey, are we still on for tonight?” He lifted his gaze towards his friends to see their confirmatory nods. All except for Ashley, who shifted uncomfortably, her hand rubbing over her elbow self-consciously.

“Actually, I can’t make it tonight,” Ashley whispered, lowering her head to avoid his gaze. “I’m finally back at work, although I am only doing a few shifts for the next few weeks. Next time, okay?”

“Sure, but I can’t promise not to spoil the movie for you.” Jack smiled, finalising their meet-up arrangements before they left. Turning his page back towards his first sketch, he frowned as he realised he had moved on from the drawing of a bike resting on the pavement, to a picture of a dark figure standing in the doorway. He might not have recognised it as Ashley’s kitchen if it hadn’t been for the sheer number of times he, Tess, and even William had dined there, sitting on one of the distinctive barstools that was just visible at the edge of his drawing. The entire image had been sketched in black charcoal, except for the mouth of the figure, where a few red lines created the impression of blood-red lips. With a shudder, he turned the page, unable to recall what other images he had seen.

He leafed through his earlier drawings, stopping when he saw one of his grandmother seated on a bench overlooking a beautiful flower garden. His mother had told him for years to ignore her ramblings about psychics and gifts and understand they were nothing more than an extension of the fantasy she had created for herself, but Jack was sure he could remember her talking of such things even before his grandpa died. After his death several years ago, his nana had slowly started to slip away from them.

His mother said she couldn’t face any world without him and had created her own reality in her mind where they were still together, as a way to keep going. His nana, however, told him she was journeying to a different existence, one where they would sit hand in hand on the bench of a beautiful garden and talk. When he showed her the picture he had drawn, she’d nodded, placing her weathered and wrinkled hand upon his with a smile that creased the corners of her wrinkled eyes. It wasn’t long after this that his mother had made arrangements for her to be moved to the nursing home where Ashley worked, unable to keep up with her care needs as she deteriorated. She spent more and more time in her make-believe world, and it took a toll on her physical body. Now, she spent her days sitting in her rocking chair, gazing out of the window with a faraway expression, only pulling herself back from time to time to talk with Jack.

On one of the occasions he had visited, it had been almost as if she had awoken from her dream to the sound of his voice. She said his grandpa had told her to return to prepare him for what was to come. She had spoken of their family history, and how their tree could be traced back to one of the well-known oracles of ancient times. She told him stories of how their family tree had once been filled with Seers, and she could see that gift in him trying to awaken. It had been around that time he had felt the first tingle in the centre of his forehead, and a few days later when he saw his first nonsensical daydream. They hardly ever came at an opportune time, and so he committed what he could to memory, sketching them when time allowed.

Flipping through the pages, he saw as many vague and bizarre images as he did ones he could identify. He stared at the tombs and gasoline for a moment, before flicking forward to a moonlight sketch of the bandstand, with a figure lying on the steps. This he now recognised as a scene from Ashley’s attack.