Z: The Abilities Series

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Blackness, suffocating, deadly blackness. Usually this is how my nightmares start, ending with a blood-soaked Allen strangling me. Something is different this time.

"Nadya. Nadya. I finally found you, my sweet princess. It's time to come home." This voice is soft and smoky, almost hypnotic. I feel cold fingers slither around my arms, hovering just over my skin. It's almost a pleasant feeling, like mist cooling you on a warm summer day. But as the grasp tightens, the coolness turns into sharp frigidness, escalating into what feels like icicles stabbing deep down into my bones, hooking in and attempting to drag me toward the voice.

I wake up shrieking, covered in a cold sweat. Toenail charges through the sectional sheet, our small .38 revolver in hand.

"Down, Shrek, I'm fine. Just a nightmare, sorry." I wipe away the sweat, lying back down.

"Jesus, Z, you sounded like you were getting murdered. Was it the one about Allen again?" He puts down the gun we had stolen for protection since we tend to camp out in some pretty seedy places. T sits next to me and starts rubbing my hair. He always does this when I wake up from a nightmare.

"No, this one was different. All I can remember is it was creepy as hell. The rest is kind of fuzzy. What time is it? Were you still up reading?"

"It's exactly 12:02. Happy birthday, Z!" He pulls out a party blower he had hidden in his pocket and toots it a few times. "I was planning on waking you up with this, but no time like the present."

"Ha-ha-ha," I laugh sarcastically. "You're a nerd. I still love you though." I give him a sleepy smile, slowly drifting back off to sleep as he continues to rub my hair.

Another dream. It's strange I can always tell when they are coming.

"Hold on, Nad, I'm coming. Stay away from any strange people. It's not just me that can sense you now. You're open to everyone." The strangely familiar scent of cut grass and leather drifts to me. A comforted smile slides onto my face. "See you soon, little sister."

*****

After flashing our fake IDs, we enter the dark nightclub. Toenail begged me to wear a dress, but I refused, saying I can't dance freely if I have to worry about my hooha showing. I settled for a wife-beater (I had cut a few tactfully placed holes), jean shorts, and fishnet stockings with my combat boots. My hair is in a side fishtail, and Toenail did my makeup—bright red lips and cat-eye eyeliner.

The bass is like a siren's song, luring us to the dance floor. We make our way through the mass of gyrating bodies, finding a spot in the midst of them. We dance for about an hour before we decide to take a water break.

"You want me to see if I can sneak us some drinks?" Toenail yells into my ear. I shake my head.

"Water is fine. You know I don't like stealing unless it's absolutely necessary."

"All right. You want to dance more or get some air? You're sweating like a sinner in church."

"I feel like a sinner in church in this outfit."

He snorts at my comment. "You look good, Z. It's your birthday, relax a bit. Why don't you step outside for a minute, and I will meet you with a special birthday drink."

"Toenail, no stealing."

"Chill, I sold a few things so I can treat you tonight."

"What things? Toby Torrez, we agreed. No more selling drugs. It's too dangerous and not right. Who are we to exploit people's addiction for a few extra bucks?"