Dark Surge Read online

  “Later,” they both replied in unison, never once missing a beat in their game.

  Speck turned away, hands shoved into the side pockets of her denim jacket and began her trek across the park in the direction of the library. She hoped it would be crowded enough to keep the weekend librarian from noticing her. The old bat always recognized her and kicked her out, threatening to call the police. Even on snowy winter days, she’d cast Speck back out into the elements, telling her to go home, go home, like she was a mangy old stray dog. In a way, Speck supposed, that’s exactly what she was.

  CHAPTER 3

  Grimacing, Josh Waters peered into the mirror over the bathroom sink, tweezers in hand. Unbeknownst to anyone else, he’d been plucking the space between his eyebrows since he was fifteen years old and he wasn’t about to stop now. It was something as natural as shaving, just part of his morning ritual.

  He had his eye on one tiny stray hair and was raising the tweezers towards it, when someone thumped the door behind him.

  “Daddy, Gillian said to tell you if you don’t hurry up, she’s gonna come and drag you out by the short hairs.”

  Josh dropped the tweezers into the sink where they clattered loudly against the porcelain. He grabbed them and tossed them into a drawer before opening the door to see his daughter staring up at him, still dressed in her Spiderman pajamas.

  “She said that?” he asked.

  Emily nodded earnestly. “That means she’ll drag you out by your head.”

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl, so he did neither. “It sure does. I guess that means I’d better hurry up, huh?”

  “That’s what it means alright,” Gillian said from the bedroom doorway. Both he and Emily turned towards her and saw that she, unlike them, was already dressed for the day. “While you two lazy bones were still asleep, I was up making your favorite breakfast.”

  Grinning, Emily looked back up at her Dad. “Blueberry pancakes!”

  Josh couldn’t help but return the grin. To Gillian, he said, “And I suppose the next thing you’re going to say is that they’re getting cold.”

  Gillian crossed the room, swaying hips clad in tight blue jeans, and stopped in front of Josh. She touched his bare chest, the tips of her fingers like feathers on a breeze. “They’re getting cold.” Her green eyes flashed with mischief as she suddenly raked her nails down to Josh’s hard, flat stomach. His response was a sharp intake of breath, just as she’d known it would be. Her smile matched her eyes: she was looking for trouble and thoroughly enjoying the search.

  Josh took her hand in his, doing his best to ignore her teasing. He cleared his throat, glancing at Emily who gazed back, the grin still plastered across her face. “We’d better hurry up, Em,” he said. “We don’t want to get ‘the business.’ ”

  He didn’t know what ‘the business’ was, but it was something Gillian threatened him with on a regular basis, albeit always in a playful tone. Emily also knew of ‘the business’, though Josh was pretty sure that whatever Gillian had in store for him would be vastly different from whatever way she might find to ‘punish’ his daughter.

  At least I hope so, he thought and smiled at his girlfriend.

  “Last one at the table is a rotten egg!” Emily shouted and ran from the room.

  They listened to her little feet race through the hall and pound down the stairs. Josh grabbed Gillian around the waist and pulled her in to him. “Are you trying to give me a hard-on in front of my daughter?”

  She raised an innocent eyebrow. “Of course not. I was merely letting it be known that I do not slave over a hot stove for just anyone and I certainly wouldn’t want my efforts to go unnoticed.”

  “Ah.” He kissed her nose. “I wouldn’t want that either.”

  “In that case, you’d better put some clothes on and go join your kid at the table. I even made bacon.”

  Josh had been sliding his hands down to her hips. Now, the hands stilled and he looked at her with concern. “Gill, you know Tess doesn’t like Emily to eat much meat.”

  Gillian rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. She’s a little girl! She needs protein!”

  “She gets plenty of protein.”

  “From what? Broccoli?” She let out a little laugh. “Didn’t you grow up eating bacon?”

  “Well, yeah. Sure, but--”

  “So did I! So do most people. We’re all okay, aren’t we?”

  With a sigh, Josh said, “I’m pretty sure some studies debate that fact.”

  “There’s a study to debate every fact under the sun.”

  “I just think we should abide by Tess’s wishes. I don’t need her climbing up my ass for something that could have easily been avoided.”

  Gillian made a face. “She’s your daughter too.”

  He didn’t know how to respond to that. Why was it that all the females in his life left him speechless so frequently?

  “And anyway,” she continued, “It had been in the refrigerator for nearly a week, I had to use it or it would have gone bad. I know how Tess feels about being wasteful.” She said the last word with a detectable tone of smarminess that made Josh wince inwardly. “She’s quite the tree hugger, that wife of yours.”

  “Ex,” he said. “Ex-wife.”

  Gillian smiled again. “That’s right. I hear you’re a bachelor these days.”

  “Far from it.” His own smile widened. “I’m just about as taken as a man could get.”

  “Without wearing a wedding band on his finger.”

  Her voice was coy and flirty, but her words made Josh wonder. Was she trying to drop a hint? She’d never hinted at a desire to get married before. In fact, when they’d first begun seeing each other—well over twelve months ago, unbeknownst to Tess—she had flat-out stated that she wasn’t the marrying kind. Had that been a lie? Had he just been dense in believing her? Or was he being dense now, while Gillian just toyed with him, trying to see what his reaction would be.

  She laughed suddenly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost there, handsome. Don’t worry. I’m not dropping hints that I have some secret yearning to be Mrs. Waters the second.”

  Visibly relieved, Josh nodded. “I didn’t think that.”

  “You did too! I could read it in your terrified expression. You went all pale and looked like you might throw up.”

  “Yeah,” he said, deciding to play along. “I felt a coma coming on, if you want to know the truth.”

  Gillian swatted his arm playfully. “That’s enough out of you, smart guy. Now put on some clothes and join your daughter for the best breakfast you’ll ever have.”

  “I can’t just eat in my boxers?”

  Twisting out of his arms, she replied, “No. I don’t think I could concentrate on any kind of intelligent conversation with Emily if you were to be sitting there in your undies.”

  “Intelligent conversation? She’s six. How intelligent does it have to be?”

  Shaking her head in mock disgust, Gillian exited the room and left Josh to his own devices.

  CHAPTER 4

  By the time Gillian entered the kitchen, Emily was already sitting at the table, having helped herself to a glass of orange juice from the carton that sat before her.

  “I like orange juice,” she announced. “Mom says if you drink a glass everyday, you might live longer. She says it’s good for me.”

  “Your mom is right,” Gillian smiled pleasantly. “Weren’t you going to get dressed though? Or do you plan to be in your pajamas all day?”

  Emily shrugged. “It’s Sunday. Mom says that’s lounge day.”

  “Oh.” Gillian made her eyes go wide and pursed her lips. “That’s great but, don’t you want to go to the zoo like we talked about last night?”

  Emily’s face brightened. She had to be the most cheerful kid Gillian had ever met. “Oh, yeah! I forgot all about that!”

  “Forgot all about it, huh? Well, smart guy, if you want to go before it starts to rain, you’d better get a move on.”

&nbs
p; “A move on?” Emily’s face morphed into confusion. “What’s that?”

  “That just means you should hurry up, get dressed so we can eat and then get going.”

  The girl appeared to ponder this quite seriously for a moment before saying, “But what difference does it make what order I do stuff in?”

  Gillian repressed the urge to sigh. She said, “It doesn’t make that much difference, I suppose. It’s just the way things were done when I was a little girl. When you wake up in the morning, you brushed your teeth--”

  “I did that!” Emily said proudly.

  “You brushed your teeth, took your bath, got dressed and then had breakfast. And once all that stuff was taken care of, you went on with the rest of your day, whether it be school or chores or playtime.”

  Again, Emily considered before speaking. Finally, she replied, “Playtime is for Sundays right?”

  “Pretty much, I guess.” Gillian was getting bored with the conversation, so she moved over to the stove to pull out the pancakes that she’d been keeping warm on a cookie tray in the oven. “Tell you what. You rush upstairs and get dressed and by the time you get back down, your breakfast will be ready.”

  “Okay!” Emily practically jumped out of her seat and ran for the stairs, her dark pixie hair sticking up in all directions and her tiny bare feet slapped the hardwood floor. “Last one dressed is a rotten egg!” She shouted as she began the ascent, presumably a challenge to her father.

  Gillian moved around the kitchen, preparing plates as though she’d spent her entire life cooking for and serving a family. In truth, she was winging it. She’d never dated anyone with children before, had intentionally avoided it. But Josh was something special. The first thing, of course, was that he was so gorgeous. Dark hair that almost shimmered blue if the light hit it the right way. Flame-blue eyes that darkened to indigo around the outside of his irises. A body he obviously worked hard to keep fit. He was forty-four but looked like a twenty-five year old. Straight white teeth that he took care of almost obsessively. A year-round tan that didn’t stop at his waist and then continue again at his thighs.

  Not to mention the fact that he had a great job working for Microsoft. Gillian wasn’t sure exactly what he did for the conglomerate, but she didn’t much care either. She knew he drove a fire-engine red Ford Ranger during the week—brand new—but that he also drove an aqua-blue Corvette—vintage—on weekends.

  He’d had a small townhouse for a while before moving in with Gillian, having left his wife and daughter a beautiful Tudor-style home that dated back to the 1920’s. When Gillian had first seen the house, she’d felt a pang of jealousy. Despite knowing that if she'd wanted to, she could have afforded a place much more extravagant herself. But the Tudor represented a part of Josh's life that, frankly, she wished didn't exist at all. There was a history in that house that she would never know.

  She paused in the middle of forking pancakes onto plates, gazed out the window over the sink at the gray morning, wondering if it really would rain. She hoped it would. Rain had always managed to soothe her nerves, even when her life was at its most stressful.

  The kitchen was warm from having kept the oven on for so long. Maybe a little fresh air would be good. Leaning over to open the window a few inches, it occurred to her that this was the first time since last fall that she’d cracked it. The window had no screen and therefore, she kept it closed more often than not.

  The window hadn’t been open more than fifteen seconds when two flies buzzed in, chasing each other through the air like tiny fighter pilots. Gillian’s eyes narrowed a fraction as she watched the insects zip by her, plenty close enough to hear their angry droning.

  I wonder if they’re attempting to mate? Perhaps the female is playing hard-to-get? Or maybe it’s the male…

  Gillian realized she had no idea how to tell one gender from another. Probably no one did, beside an entomologist. Fascinated, she watched them circle the kitchen in an elegant ballet near the ceiling, humming around the fluorescent light fixture as if it were that inanimate object they were trying to seduce. For some reason, she thought of sperm trying to penetrate an egg.

  Several seconds passed where Gillian forgot her surroundings, transfixed by the flies, her mind elsewhere, and then, without even thinking about it, she reached a hand towards the ceiling as through she were beckoning the insects to come to her.

  To her amazement, one of the flies landed on the tip of her index finger. She flinched, causing the fly to swoop away as she began to lower her hand.

  How bizarre.

  Both flies flew lower, circling her where she stood, serving fork in one hand, while her free hand remained extended from her body, palm up, elbow crooked at her waist.

  She blinked, wondering just what in hell she was doing, and then both flies set down in the center of her palm. Her lips parted slightly as she inhaled sharply, stunned at the insects behavior.

  The flies, both fat and black, strolled around her hand, exploring the fingers and the thumb before reversing direction and crawling up to her inner wrist where the skin was sensitive and the tiny legs caused a faint tickling sensation. Gillian did her best not to twitch and watched with wide eyes as the flies made their way back to her palm. At that instant, with reflexes faster than she’d known she possessed, Gillian snapped her fingers closed. One of the flies, far quicker than her, managed to take off before being trapped in her fist, but the other was firmly caught. She was careful not to crush the insect, but held it carefully, listening to the buzz that seeped out from between her fingers, bringing her fist to her ear in order to hear it better.

  She smiled a dazed smile, staring down at her closed fist for a moment before raising it to her face. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she parted her fingers slightly, though not wide enough to allow the fly to escape, brought the hand up close to her nose and inhaled deeply through her nose.

  Trying to catch the fly’s scent.

  Sniffing it.

  “What are you doing?” Josh asked.

  Gillian squealed, startled, and her hand flew open, releasing its tiny captive into the air where it sailed straight for the open window and disappeared. She looked around quickly for its companion, but it was nowhere in sight.

  “Jesus, Josh! You scared the hell out of me!”

  “Sorry. Where were you? I said your name twice and you ignored me.”

  Emily came up behind him, dressed in blue overalls over a hot pink T-shirt, holding a Barbie doll against her chest. Her eyes traveled from her father to Gillian with curiosity.

  Gillian shook her head. “Just spaced out for a minute there. Sorry.”

  Josh gave her an uncertain smile. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, just spacing out.” She rubbed her eyes with the same hand that had held the fly. “Haven’t had my coffee yet, I guess.”

  “Well, we should rectify that then, shouldn’t we?” Josh looked down at Emily. “What do you say, Em? Want some coffee?”

  Emily burst into lively giggles. “I don’t drink coffee, Daddy! That’s for grown-ups!”

  “Is that so?” Josh bent down and lifted Emily into his arms. “I don’t know. You’re getting pretty big. You sure you’re not a grown-up?”

  The two of them continued their banter and Gillian went back to serving breakfast, relived the attention was no longer on her. Her head felt foggy, as though she had recently woken from a long, drugged sleep.

  I really do need coffee, she thought and proceeded to pour herself a cup from the freshly brewed pot.

  She tried to remain in the present all through breakfast, tried to contribute to the conversation and at least appear to be paying close attention. But her mind kept wandering back to the two flies and her experience with them. It was just so odd. She’d never seen insects behave that way and she’d certainly never known herself to behave the way that she did.

  Had she actually tried to sniff the thing? Jesus Christ, why would she do such a thing?
And why, for God’s sake, was she sorry she’d been interrupted? She’d wanted to catch the scent of the fly and, even more strangely... she still did.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tess loved her new job.

  She’d been at it for over a year already but it still felt new to her. Being a college instructor was something she had longed to do full-time, ever since her days of working in social services and teaching the occasional class on early childhood development and behavior.

  When a full-time position had opened up at the community college to teach in Social and Human Services, Tess had leapt at the chance to leave the daily grind of facing abused children and their angry parents behind. The stress had become too much; she had burned out.

  Sitting at the computer in her home office, she checked the various student message boards, answering questions and posting quizzes. The best part of her new teaching position was that nearly half of her workload was online classes. That meant more time at home to spend with her daughter in addition to less money paying a babysitter on the days she couldn’t get home before the bus dropped Emily off half a block from their house.

  Right now, she was enjoying the near silence of her home, the only sound being the soothing taps of the keyboard as she typed. Nearby on the desk sat a steaming cup of green tea and a plate of small apple-flavored rice cakes. Every few minutes, she would pause in her work for a sip or a nibble, relishing the simple pleasures of a Sunday afternoon without a demanding child at her elbow.

  Though she loved Emily with all her heart—would die for her without a moment’s consideration or hesitation—she had to admit that she looked forward to the days when Josh had her, and she was secure enough in the love she felt for her daughter that she didn’t suffer a single pang of guilt for those feelings.

  Her computer dinged at her, signaling a new email arrival. Tess ignored it, deep into typing a response to a student who had a question about the current assignment. When she was finally able to check her inbox, the computer had dinged twice more, all new messages from still more students.