In Irina's Cards (The Variant Conspiracy #1) Read Online Free

forward in bed.
    The movement blipped quickly in my cropped view of the sidewalk. I froze. The figure flashed by again, larger and closer. My heart thumped in my throat as I forced myself out of bed and over to the window. I leaned towards the opening in the blinds, waiting. I imagined that a vicious face with fierce red eyes would appear in a blink and scream at me through sharp rotting fangs. How could I defend myself? Why hadn’t I found a motel with kitchenette units? Then I’d at least have a knife or two to grab. I had nothing more than my house keys as weapons.
    Somehow I knew the thing that passed my window was real and searching for me, sniffing the air for my scent. I leaned closer, feeling my face throb with my heartbeat. A flash of light blinded me. And then I sat bolt upright, suddenly in bed, again. The orange-tinted darkness around me had less malice in the air now that I’d woken for real. I made a mental note to tell Bridget about my fascinating experience with lucid dreaming–once I returned to my proper life.
    The next morning I woke with a headache. I immediately made a tiny pot of motel coffee. It wasn’t because of the nightmare or the headache. I would have made coffee anyway. On every family vacation we always scavenged the little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, and whatever other toiletries and supplies a hotel or motel provided.
    Mom was always bitter about the cost of a room. She ranted about ‘wanting her money’s worth’ as she rounded up the room’s consumables. I sipped my coffee, but I didn’t feel much like packing. Instead, I felt light, fit, and energetic. The more coffee I drank, the better I felt. After two cups my mood drifted between the hopeful anticipation of Christmas morning and the first day of summer vacation glee. I had the whole city at my feet. I didn’t have to rush right back to Prince George.
    My loneliness and boredom evaporated. I had a strong sense something fun waited for me downstairs. I felt utterly confused, but not too worried about it. I craved crepes so badly I almost tasted them. I didn’t waste time grooming. I whirled into jeans and a long sleeved oatmeal-colored waffle shirt, and bounded down the stairwell with 110 pounds of thunder.
    I reclaimed the booth from my previous breakfast and picked up a menu. I knew I’d order the same meal, but I needed to busy my hands while I waited.
    “I thought you’d never come down,” said a gravelly voice. A figure had slid into the booth across from me. I snapped up from the menu and there he was, the greasy-haired man, calmly sitting across from me. I froze. His frame was dramatically bony up close. Under the oily sheen his hair was a grey-speckled mouse brown. Grey stubble covered the bottom half of his leathery face.
    I thought to myself and I know I did not say it out loud. Holy shit, it’s the lunatic from the street! He’s stalking me. He’s going to kill me!
    “You do like crepes, don’t you? I took the liberty of ordering some. I hope that’s all right. I felt pretty sure they’re your favorite, but I’ve been wrong on occasion. The meal has been paid for, including a gratuity. I’m not a lunatic. I’m not stalking you and I mean you no harm.” He smiled smugly.
    I stared back, speechless.
    “Sorry, I realize we haven’t been introduced and you’re still new to the city. My name is Rubin. And you must be Irina.” He extended his hand across the table. His blotchy skin had a reddish-purple tinge.
    I shook his sticky hand reluctantly. “It’s nice to meet you, but it seems like you’ve got me at a disadvantage here. How do you know me?”
    “That isn’t important, but not entirely irrelevant,” he said cheerfully. “However, I do believe that’s also not for me to explain. I wouldn’t do the story justice and I’d probably catch hell for talking about it. I can ask you to go shopping in Chinatown today. You don’t need to worry about getting back on the Greyhound