Кей Хупер - Chill Of Fear

"I know. But being on our side here — here at The Lodge — is much more dangerous for you. Besides, he'll be here soon, and he won't let you stay."

"He? Becca—"

"This way. Hurry, Diana."

Knowing from long experience that protest was useless, Diana followed her guide. They were always like this, taking her places, insisting that she see what they wanted to show her, do what they asked of her. Or just listen to them.

She had listened to a lot of them, over the years.

"Why is it more dangerous for me to be here while I'm at The Lodge?" she asked, hoping for at least one answer.

"Because it started here."

"What started here?"

"Everything."

Diana wondered if she'd expected the "answer" to make sense. Tough luck, if she had.

"Becca, I don't understand."

"I know. But you will."

Diana picked up her pace, since Becca definitely had, and followed the little girl into the first of three barns making up The Lodge's stables. They walked down the long, silent hall, past stalls with their half-open Dutch doors. Diana didn't have to look to know that each stall appeared empty.

She also knew there were a dozen horses stabled here. Here in this barn at The Lodge. Not here in the gray time.

It had taken her a while to get accustomed to that.

There were no animals here, not because they lacked whatever energy or spiritual essence survived death, Diana believed, but because nonhuman creatures seldom lingered in the gray time, caught between two worlds due to guilt or anger or unfinished business. Only people did that.

"Not much farther," Becca said over her shoulder.

"Becca, is this about you?"

"I called you, didn't I?"

"We both know that doesn't mean anything. I had one guide who called me a dozen times, and it was never about him."

Becca stopped about halfway down the hall and turned to look steadily at Diana. "This time, it's about you."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean?" Diana crossed her forearms over her breasts and rubbed her upper arms with her hands, trying to fight off the chill. Not that it helped. It never did.

"You were always meant to come here, Diana. To The Lodge. You've been tied to this place your whole life."

"How could that be? I've never been here before."

"Connections."

"Is that supposed to make sense? Because it doesn't."

Becca shook her head slightly, but said, "Things have to happen the way they happen. When they happen. Do you think it was an accident that the doctor took you off all the medicines when he did? That there's been just enough time to get your mind clear and all those chemicals out of your body?"

"Just enough time?"

"Enough time for you to be ready when you came here."

Diana was conscious of a new chill, a deeper one. There was something wrong here, something different. She had talked to guides for more than twenty years, and this... this wasn't the way those conversations had gone.

Like Jeremy and his bones, most of them had needed her to act on their behalf. To find something for them. To pass on some sort of information. To finish their unfinished business. It wasn't about her. It was never about her.

Becca nodded, as though she had heard those unspoken thoughts. "It feels different, doesn't it? That's because you're here, really here, in the flesh. You could do it sometimes before, when you blacked out, but never when you were asleep. When you were asleep, it was just... like a dream. Only a part of you was here, on this side. The medicines mostly kept the rest of you from crossing over."

"I'm not dead," Diana said slowly.

"No, of course not. That's not what this is about. It's time, Diana. Time for you to start remembering the places you go to when you sleep or black out. Time for you to realize what you can do. What you've been doing most of your life. Time to come here, and meet him, and begin to find the answers you need. It's all part of your journey."

Confused, Diana said, "But I won't remember. When I'm awake. I never remember."

"You never remembered before because of the medicines. They couldn't keep you from doing what you had to do, but they could keep you from remembering. Think about it. You haven't blacked out since they took the medicines away."

"The drawing. The painting."

"He explained to you. That was different from the blackouts. That was just like a kind of daydreaming."

Diana was silent.

"If you let yourself remember now, let yourself understand and believe, there won't be any more blackouts, Diana. There won't need to be. It'll still be easier to open the door and come here when you're asleep, but you'll be able to do it when you're awake. Whenever you want to. If you believe."

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it? You're halfway there. You've been remembering your dreams," Becca said.

"Nightmares," Diana said involuntarily. "And I don't remember, I just... They scare me."

"They're supposed to."

That young, grave, sweet voice sent another of those deeper chills darting through Diana, and she fought an urge to take a step back. Instead, she said, "You called me. Brought me down here. Why?"

"To show you something. So you'll really start to believe."

"Show me what?"

"A secret place."

"Becca—"

"There are secrets everywhere, Diana. Remember that." She pointed off to the side, where the door to this barn's tack room stood closed. "One of them is in there. Tell him to look for it. Tell him it's hidden there."

"What's hidden there? Becca—"

The little girl tilted her head to one side, her expression solemn. "In the attic too. There's something you need to see up there. It's important, Diana. It's very important."

"Why?" The question had barely emerged when a sudden flash made Diana blink. For an instant, just a split second, she thought she smelled hay, thought the grayness all around her changed. "Becca, why?" she repeated quickly.

"Because it's the truth. And you need to know the truth. Until you know that, you won't understand what's happening here."

Another flash brought Diana the smell of hay and horses and the sight of fluorescent lights stretching down the barn's hallway. She felt a sudden warmth grip her upper arms and realized instantly what was happening right now, this moment.

She was being pulled back.

"Becca, what is it? What is the truth?"

Another flash. Then another. She could see Quentin now, in the flashes, standing before her.

"I can't tell you, Diana. You have to find it out for yourself. You and him. You need him. Because—"

"—it's coming," Diana said as she opened her eyes.

"What's coming?" Quentin demanded, his hands tightening on her bare and chilled upper arms.

A horse snorted nearby, making her jump, and the strong if pleasant scents of hay and horses were suddenly thick in her nostrils. The strips of fluorescent lights down the barn's hall seemed so bright they hurt her eyes. She wondered vaguely if they remained on all night, then decided that Quentin had probably turned them on when he had followed her into the barn minutes — or maybe hours — before.

Her feet felt like ice. She felt like ice.

"Diana, what are you doing down here? It's five o'clock in the morning."

She blinked up at him, for a moment totally baffled, her mind a blank. But then she remembered.

She remembered all of it.

"I was... following," she murmured.

"Following what?"

"Not what. Who."

Quentin's frown deepened, but before he said anything else, he took off his zip-up sweatshirt jacket. "Here, put this on. Your skin's like ice."

Diana looked down at herself, abruptly aware of her very skimpy attire. The silky camisole was clinging to her chilled flesh like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. Feeling heat rise in her cheeks, she hastily shrugged into the jacket, wrapping herself in the warmth and scent of his body.