Dreams: Part One Read Online Free

the open door. “I wonder if you’re going to regret this as much as I will.“
    “Probably not,“ she said dryly. “I have nothing to regret.“
    “Lucky you.“ He strode past her, out into the night.
    Diana closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. Outside in the yard the engine of Colby’s black Jeep roared to life. Diana listened to it for a moment. Then she drew a deep, steadying breath and looked at Specter.
    “I think,“ she said to the dog, “that I may have just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Either that or I had an extremely close call.“
    Specter came and leaned against her, offering silent comfort. Diana stroked his fur with an unsteady hand. “He scares me sometimes, Specter. But he fascinates me, too. I can’t shake the feeling that I know him from some other place or some other time. Part of me says he’s dangerous, but I can’t figure out how I know that. And why do I have this strange feeling that he needs me? Worse yet, why do I need him?“

2
    Scarlet mist and thundering red water roared past him. The waterfall had turned to blood.
    High above him yawned the black depths of the cave. Hidden in its deep shadows lay the entrance to the small grotto. The wrenching sense of longing and desperation that lapped at him in painful waves originated in that secret place.
    He was working his way up the path behind the falls, knowing he would not be free until he had satisfied whatever lured him from within the cave. He could not leave until he had done what was required. But he also knew he could not do it alone. He needed her, but she must come to him willingly this time or they would both be trapped forever.
    Colby snapped awake, shuddering as the last of the dream fragment faded. It was getting worse. He’d had the dream many times during the past twenty years, but it had never been as intense, as real and disturbing as it was this summer.
    He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He started to switch on the lamp and changed his mind at the last instant. He didn’t need light to show him that his hands were shaking. He could feel the faint shivers in his palms.
    Annoyed, he got to his feet and padded, naked, downstairs to the old-fashioned kitchen. He opened the aging refrigerator, and stood contemplating its contents in the weak glow of the appliance light.
    He had his choice of leftover tuna salad, sliced cheese, or pickles and beer. He chose the tuna and the beer.
    Closing the refrigerator door, he carried the bowl and the bottle over to the scarred oak table where he had eaten his haphazard meals as a boy.
    Aunt Jesse hadn’t been into cooking, either for herself or for the small nephew who had landed on her doorstep after the death of his mother. She’d been far more interested in her doomed career as a poet. Colby had learned early to keep food stocked in the refrigerator. If he forgot to do the grocery shopping, he and Jesse didn’t eat.
    Looking back he realized the kitchen experience had been good, practical preparation for the future. He owed Jesse for that much, at least.
    Now, at forty, it was easier for him to feel a certain sympathy for Aunt Jesse’s eccentric ways, her poet’s ravaged temperament, her tendency to wallow in long bouts of depression and her desire for privacy. She had never wanted or needed anyone else, but she’d been stuck with Colby.
    His hands were steady again. With a quick, practiced movement, Colby opened the bottle of beer. He took a long swallow of the brew and thought about how badly he’d screwed up earlier that evening.
    He’d probably gotten exactly what he deserved.
    What the hell had happened to him during the past few weeks? He’d been unable to get Diana Prentice out of his mind. She’d been haunting him in almost the same way the dream fragments had. But he’d figured he could do something about Diana, even if he was helpless against the dream. He could take Diana to bed and satisfy his obsession