Chapter Nineteen

Richie carried Ang back to his car. She kept her face buried in his chest the whole way, and was trembling. When they were in the shadow of the house, Ang cried out, sobbing in anguish and pain.

He hurriedly climbed into the front seat of his truck, pulling Ang to sit across him, and fumbled for the key. When the engine roared to life, Richie threw the transmission into gear and tore out of the driveway, a rooster’s tail of gravel kicking up in his haste. Speeding down the lane toward the main road, Ang gradually released her death grip on Richie’s neck until she finally felt secure enough to slide across to the passenger’s seat. She curled up into a ball on the seat and closed her eyes.

Richie kept one eye on Ang and one on the road until he saw Ang slump against the door. He pulled over and stopped the truck, leaning over to make sure she was still breathing. Relieved that she seemed to be okay, he straightened and dropped his head back on the headrest. What the hell had just happened? Ang was living Kirstin’s life – well, her death anyway. He had never seen anything like that before. If he was scared, Ang must be terrified. But, he thought, at least now that she’d gone through that nightmare, they had something to work with – they had a name.

He started the truck again and headed toward Ang’s house. When he pulled into the driveway several minutes later, Ang still hadn’t stirred. He turned off the truck and circled around the front of the vehicle to open Ang’s door, and she spilled out into his arms. He held back a sigh as he carried her up the steps to her door. He tried the knob, it was locked. “Of course it’s locked, you idiot,” Richie muttered to himself. He sat with Ang on the porch swing and gently set it swaying. The soothing motion, combined with the emotional turmoil of the afternoon’s activities had Richie snoozing within minutes.

A rolling rumble of thunder startled Richie awake. A zig-zag crack of lightning flashed in the distance, and dark, menacing clouds were rolling in. Ang was unaffected by the noise and the light. Richie gently shook her shoulder and talked in her ear. “Angel Rose, the skies are gonna open soon, and I can’t get into your house.” Nothing. “Angel!” he called louder. She stirred, but didn’t wake. When the first fat raindrops started splattering against the pavement, Richie looked at the house, then at the woman in question.

He followed the porch around to the backyard, and descended the three steps into the lush green grass. The rain was cool and felt cleansing, and Richie tipped his head back to feel the drops hit his face, Ang frowned in his arms as the rain began to fall harder, plastering her hair to her scalp and soaking into her clothes. Richie sat on the lawn, water soaking into his own clothing, holding Ang close to his heart, and waited.

Ang came to with a gasp, startling Richie.

“Shhh, Angel Rose, it’s alright,” Richie said.

“Where, how, what happened?” Ang was disoriented. It looked like she was home, but why were they sitting out in the rain?

“You don’t remember anything about being at my house and Kirstin?”

Ang’s face went ashen and her limbs began to shake. “Oh, God, that wasn’t a horrible dream?”

Richie just shook his head and gathered Ang to him, trying to soothe her trembling. “I’m so sorry, Angel Rose,” he said. “Please don’t cry.”

“How can I not?” she said simply. “God, you must think I’m insane,” Ang said, shaking her head. She braced her shaky hands on Richie’s shoulders and pushed like she was going to stand up, but Richie held fast. At her questioning look, Richie’s eyes hardened, and Ang’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, skimming his biceps before coming to rest on his forearms.

“I do not think you’re insane,” Richie said slowly. “I think you’re going through something awful and scary and just plain fucking SICK, and it’s a wonder you’re NOT insane.” He gave her a little shake when she looked away from him, clearly embarrassed. “I don’t know how you were linked with her, I mean it was like you WERE her, and you were DYING for Christ’s sake; that was just about one of the scariest – ”

His words were cut off abruptly when Angel Rose tightened her grip on his arms and pressed her mouth firmly to his. When their lips met, the tenuous hold Ang had on her control shattered. She sobbed and raised her arms to wrap them around Richie’s neck, and shifted so her legs were around his hips. She held him close, feeling his heart beating against her chest, trying to get his warmth to seep into her body, and she kissed him as if her very life depended on it.

Richie gently broke the kiss and tilted his head to one side, confused. “Angel Rose, not that I’m complaining about kissing a pretty girl,” he smiled and smoothed her hair away from her face, “but what’s going on?”

Suddenly, Ang was a frantic ball of energy, tearing at his shirt and hers until they were skin-on-skin. “Darlin’, what are you doing?” Richie asked in between kisses.

“Please,” Ang answered. “Please, I need to know I’m still alive,” she said, nipping at his neck. “I need to know I’m still ME, and not HER,” she said, scratching her nails down his chest. “Please, help me.”

Richie grabbed her hands. “Angel Rose, you don’t want to do this. This isn’t like you.”

Angel Rose pulled her hands from Richie’s grasp. “You don’t know anything about me,” she said as her face turned red. This time she stood without his interference and headed to her house.

“Son of a bitch,” Richie muttered, and followed her. He caught up with her on the porch as she was pulling a spare key from under a flowerpot on the railing. Richie stifled a chuckle. He’d never thought to look there – didn’t think she’d be so obvious. “Angel Rose. Please, listen to me.” He put his hand on her shoulder to stop her but she shook him off.

“If you don’t want me, just say so,” she said. “I’m a big girl.” She got the door unlocked and flung it open. When she tried to slam it in Richie’s face, he slammed at the door with the flat of his hand.

“I asked you to listen to me,” he said. He was still dripping with rain, the water beading up into drops on his face and chest. His jeans were glued to his legs; outlining his thighs, and cupping his obviously hard cock. “I never said I didn’t want you, Angel Rose.”

Ang just gulped as she stared at the man in her doorway. His eyes were burning holes into her, seeming to see all the way through to her soul. She took an involuntary step backwards as he crossed the threshold into her house.

“I-I-It’s just that – ” Angel Rose started to explain but Richie shook his head.

“I know what you were trying to do,” he said, stepping further into the kitchen. “You wanted to use me to ground yourself.”

Angel Rose wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant to – “

This time her words were interrupted as Richie closed the distance between them and hauled her into his arms. “Did I say ‘no’?” He drilled his tongue into her mouth and kissed her until she was breathless. He palmed then roughly squeezed her breasts, and smoothed his hands down her sides and to her ass, pulling her fully against him so there’d be no mistaking his desire for her.

“Be sure,” he rasped, as he pulled away from her to suck on the side of her neck.

“I’m sure,” she answered, grabbing fistfuls of his hair into her hands.

Mouths fused once more, they stumbled through the kitchen, dropping their shirts with a wet plop onto the linoleum. They passed through the living room and into her bedroom.

Richie leaned Angel Rose against the wall and unfastened her jeans. Though they were wet and tight, his need was growing to be as great as hers and his strength doubled as he wrestled with the wet fabric. He buried his face in Ang’s curls, inhaling the scent of her mixed with that of the rain. Tentatively, he stretched out his tongue for a taste. In response, Ang widened her stance and threaded her hands in Richie’s hair.

Smiling, Richie licked and lapped at Ang until she was gripping his scalp almost painfully hard. He backed away long enough to blow cool air on her over-heated flesh, and she screamed and bucked. Richie pushed her hips roughly against the wall, holding her fast, and drove his tongue into her, curling it so he could stroke her from within. When Ang’s cries became more fervent, he swirled a calloused fingertip around her clit. He could feel her tensing, and he eased back.

Angel Rose gasped, “NO!”

Richie looked up at her face. There was something raw and primal and scared in her eyes and he was so very afraid of doing what she asked because he didn’t want her to regret her rashness later.

“I’m sure,” she said again, sinking to the floor with him. She unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them as far as she could while he was on his knees. She kissed him as she wormed a hand into his pants and over his coarse hair but there wasn’t enough play in the fabric to allow her to explore the way she wanted. She stood, urging him up with her before sinking to her knees again to haul down Richie’s wet denim. She pulled on his pants until they had joined hers in a wet heap on the floor, and rose to lead him to the bed. Richie stopped for just a moment to pull a condom from his wallet while she pulled back the covers, then he followed her.

She crawled up on the mattress, and lay on the pillows, opening her arms to him. “I want this,” she said. “I want you.”

He crawled up to kneel between her legs, rolled the condom on and slid into her, pushing slowly past her constricting walls until he was fully seated in her. He waited a moment for her to accept his size, then started stroking her; his abdomen muscles bunching and flexing as his hips began their dance.

When Richie was satisfied that he wouldn’t hurt her, he knelt up and grabbed Ang’s calves. Pushing at them so her knees were spread wide, Richie started pumping faster. Ang made a little nose in her throat and Richie stilled. “Am I hurting you, darlin’,” he gritted through his teeth.

“No,” she whispered in response. “Don’t stop,” she begged.

Richie started his motions again, slowly, and watched as his sweet Angel Rose, for she most certainly was his now, blushed pink from her chest to her forehead. He watched as her hands flailed about, trying to decide where to go, and finally fisted into the sheets on either side of her hips. He watched as the veins on her neck stood out and her head tilted back, and her back arched ever so slightly, and he watched as a slow smile crept across her face a second before she screamed with release.

The vice tightening around Richie made his head drop back in pleasure, and he let go of Ang’s legs. He dropped so his hands were braced on either side of her head, and he pounded into her until the top of his head flew off, and “Sweet mother of God” escaped from his lips. He stayed seated fully in her until his arms grew weak, and he rolled them to the side, keeping them intimately joined.

He kissed her gently as her pulse calmed, and after a few moments, slipped from her and her bed to take care of the condom in the bathroom. When he came back to the bed, he saw she was lying on her side, and had pulled the covers up over her. Her eyes were almost closed, and she smiled and got into bed on the other side of her, and gathered her close.

“Thank you,” she said sleepily, gripping his hand in hers.

Chapter Eighteen

Richie framed Ang’s face with his hands and examined her eyes. They were haunted, pain-filled, and she looked afraid. After a moment, Angel Rose eased back and started to stand. Richie sprang to his feet and helped her up, waiting for her to tell him what was next.

“Do you understand what just happened to me?” she asked. She needed to be sure that he knew what he was getting into.

“I think so,” Richie said. “You were somehow possessed by Kirstin’s memories? Reliving what must have been her last day?”

Ang nodded. “Something like that. I saw her memories as if they were happening now. Snatches of colors, sounds, smells, emotions” she broke off, shaking her head. “It’s all in there, mixing around with my own memories. I can’t stop it, and I can’t control it, so I need you to understand that. When we go in there, it’s going to get strange.”

Richie chuckled. “And the last half hour, what was that?”

Ang’s smile was wobbly and didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That was just a teaser. I’m going to say the same thing to you that you said to me: you don’t have to go in there with me.”

Richie looked surprised. “The hell I don’t,” he said. “Not only is it my house, but I promised Kirstin that I would help her.” He smiled a wide smile, his eyes crinkling and his dimples showing, “And I never break a promise to a woman.”

Ang nodded. “I can feel her getting more agitated,” she said. “If we are going in, it should be now.”

Richie looked into Ang’s eyes, and saw steely resolve there. He knew she wouldn’t back down from this. There was nothing he could say to change her mind. The pair turned to the house and brushed the dirt and stray leaves off their clothes, before joining hands. They made their way slowly back around to the front of the house. They climbed the dilapidated steps to the porch and opened the door. With a shared shudder, they passed into the house.

It was cold.

Very, very cold.

Angel Rose gently pulled her hand from Richie’s to wrap her arms around herself. Richie looked around at the living room, surprised that everything appeared to be just as he had left it. There was no upended furniture, no shattered glass. He touched a few things, surprised to find them warm when the room was so cold. He turned to find Ang staring up the stairs. As if in a trance, she climbed; her step heavy on the treads. Richie followed silently, unsure and a little afraid about what was going to happen next.

They stopped outside Kirstin’s door, and it opened of its own accord. Ang’s eyes went wide as a rush of frigid air passed through her. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Richie was blown back by the force of the air that came through the door, and he had an almost overwhelming urge to snatch Ang up into his arms and leave the house.

Richie and Ang stood on the threshold of the room, and he gasped. He could see Kirstin in the middle of the room. This Kirstin was the woman-thing from his dreams. Her hair hung in damp, dirty clumps around a badly swollen face. Blood and dirt crusted her lips. As he watched, Kirstin’s eye blackened and he could hear a snap that was unmistakably a bone breaking, and watched in horror as a welt rose on her cheek. Her head was snapping back and forth as these marks marred on her skin.

“What is happening?” Richie asked, horrified.

Tears were streaming down Ang’s cheeks. “She’s being beaten,” she whispered. Richie looked at her, and was horror-struck. Matching welts and bruises were covering Ang’s face.

“You, Angel, your face…” Richie reached out a fingertip to trace a blemish on her forehead.

“I know,” Ang said.

Richie shuddered. “This is her death?” Ang nodded. “Sweet mother of God,” he whispered. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and block out the scene in front of him, but he couldn’t. He felt helpless as he watched Kirstin relive her last moments.

The Past

“Where are the children?” Kirstin asked her beloved, as she shut the front door behind them.

“They are preparing for the party tonight,” Geoffrey answered. He hugged his wife and kissed her temple. “You’re shaking, my love,” he commented. “Is everything alright?”

Kirstin laughed a carefree laugh and waved him off. “Oh I am quite fine,” she answered. “Just got a bit of a Hallow’s Eve scare down by the lake. An animal was walking about in the bushes.” She blushed. “I thought it may have been you coming to join me for a tryst,” she finished softly.

Geoffrey groaned and pulled his wife fully to him. “Ah, my dear, had I only known,” he said on a rumble, “I would have loved to lay you atop that boulder.” He leaned in to trail kisses from her mouth to her ear. He lowered his voice even more, and breathed to her, “I would have worshipped your body.” He bit her earlobe gently, and laved away the sting. “I would have stripped your clothing from you, one garment at a time, until you were fully nude,” he said, nibbling on the pulse point under her ear.

Kirstin’s heart quickened at her husband’s words. “Then what would you do, my love?” she asked, softly, breathlessly.

Geoffrey chuckled. “You will just have to wait until tonight to find out,” he said, sipping from her lips. A knock at the door brought them reluctantly apart.

“Yes?” Kirstin called. “Come in.” The door opened to reveal a child, one of the neighbor’s, standing on the porch. Kirstin smiled. “Well hello, Nell. The children are about somewhere,” she said. “You’re a bit early for the party.”

“Mrs. Maddox, Mama sent me to fetch you. She said she needs help with her costumes.”

Kirstin sighed and smiled. “Alright, Nell. Tell her I’ll be along directly.”

Nell smiled. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Maddox!” She dashed in to hug Kirstin. “Mama is beside herself. Daddy’s ready to shake her.”

Kirstin laughed. “You tell your daddy I said he will do no such thing.” Nell nodded and with a ‘yes, ma’am’, took off. Kirstin looked to Geoffrey. “I am looking forward to the unveiling later,” she said, smiling wickedly. She leaned up to press a kiss to her husband’s lips. “I love you,” she said.

“And I you,” Geoffrey answered. “Hurry back.”

“To you? Always,” Kirstin answered, and left to help her friend.

Kirstin skipped down the road like a child. She was so happy she couldn’t help it. She had her husband’s words in her head, the promise of tender and passionate lovemaking making her heart sing. She trailed a hand along the shrubs that lined the lane, feeling the silky texture of the gorgeous purple blooms. Before she could leave the boundaries of her property, however, a large hand sprang from the bushes and grabbed her arm. Kirstin let out a scream, twisted free, and started to run.

She couldn’t run fast enough. Every time she chanced a glance over her shoulder, he appeared closer -- this faceless, hulking monster that chased her. He wore a mask, a simple burlap sack over his head, but it was enough that she could not identify her attacker. She thought of her children as she fled, and her Geoffrey, and put on an extra burst of speed, willing her God to give her strength to keep running. She stumbled just once, but it was enough for the man to just reach out and touch her sleeve. With a scream, she veered off the lane, crashing through the rhododendron bushes, trying to get far enough ahead of him that she could hide.

Maybe if she could just get through to the lake, she’d take her chances swimming across.

Kirstin raised her arms against the branches that were battering her face. She ran deeper into the thicket until it became difficult to maneuver. She heard the masked man’s horrible laughter follow her through the beautiful blooms.

“You can’t run from me, Kirstin,” he sang, like a child. “I will catch you!”

Her heart tripped at his words, adrenaline pumping into her system anew. She chanced a half turn to look over her shoulder. She didn’t see him coming up from beside her, and he pushed her. She started to fall.

As soon as she hit the ground, he was upon her, straddling her thighs and tearing at her dress. “Stop! No! Geoffrey, help me!” she screamed.

“Your precious Geoffrey can’t help you,” the man said, barely out of breath. Kirstin thought she recognized the voice, but with the blood pounding in her head, it was hard for her to be certain. One thing she did know, she did not want this man to soil her body with his seed. With all her strength, she brought her knee up, firmly coming into contact with his manhood. The man hissed and backhanded Kirstin, and she felt her lip split.

Crying and spitting blood, she begged the man for her life. “Please,” she said. “Please, let me go back to my children. I will give you anything you want, just let me go home to my children.”

“Shut up,” the man said, hitting her again, this time blackening her eye. He pressed his hand hard over her nose and mouth, and she couldn’t breathe. “Shut up or your precious children will be next.” Kirstin grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand further into her mouth so she could bite him. He howled in pain, and reared up, shaking his hand. Blood droplets sprayed as he shook. Kirstin tried to lever the man off of her, but he was too strong. He grabbed her wrists and brought her arms down to her sides, pinning them with his knees.

His hands closed around her neck like a vice, choking off her airway. She started to get dizzy, and random images of her children and her husband floated through her head. She smiled at one memory, and the man got angry. “What are you smiling at, bitch?” he demanded, and loosened his grip long enough to smack her hard across the face. Kirstin snapped back to the present, and struggled anew when she felt his hands close around her throat once again. She was able to gouge his hand with her fingernails, but she was too weak to push him away.

As she struggled for breath, Kirstin tried to pull the mask away from the man’s face. She had to know who had done this to her. Maybe then she would know why. She caught the edge of the mask’s chin with a fingernail, and it slipped enough so she could make out her attacker. There was only one person on this planet that possessed those dead, green eyes. As her world turned black, she started to weep. She wept for her husband, her children, and herself. She thought she saw a shadow looming behind her attacker, but she couldn’t focus. She was so weak. With her last breath, she gasped a name…

The Present

Back in Kirstin’s room, Richie watched in horror as Ang slumped toward the floor. He caught her and laid her down gently. “What’s happening?” he asked, hating that his voice wasn’t strong for her.

“She’s –” Ang licked her lips before trying again. “She’s being suffocated.” Her hands scratched at her throat, but there was nothing there to loosen.

Richie watched as a look of recognition came over Ang’s face, and he heard her croak out the name “Jeremiah” before she passed out. Her breathing had become shallow, and her complexion ashen. Richie scooped her up and ran down the stairs. He ran outside with her in his arms, and started up the lane. The further he got from the house, the better her skin tone looked, so he kept running. He ran until he got to the main road, and then crossed the street into the wheat field beyond, not caring whose property he was on. He ran until Angel Rose started to stir in his arms, then he stopped, and sank into the chest-high stalks.

“Ang,” he said breathlessly, rocking her and kissing her forehead. “Come back to me. Breathe for me.” She started to moan, and Richie encouraged her. “That’s it, come on, you can do it.” He had tears in his eyes. “You’re safe here.”

Suddenly Ang sat upright, nearly knocking heads with Richie. “Jeremiah!” She screamed. “I think I saw the man who killed Kirstin. She called him ‘Jeremiah’.” She burst into tears and curled into Richie’s chest.

“Oh, Angel Rose, I’m so sorry. I should never have brought you into that house. I’m so sorry.” Over and over he apologized while this poor creature sobbed in his arms. He started to rock her back and forth, and eventually, Ang’s tears subsided.

“Richie,” she said in a small voice.

“Yes, Angel Rose?”

“I think I want to go home now,” she said. Richie picked her up in his arms again and slowly retraced his steps, heading for his car. When he crossed the street to his property, Ang’s arms tightened around his neck.

“Are you alright? Do you want to wait here and I’ll get the car?”

“N-n-no,” Ang said, unconvincingly. “I’ll be okay. Just don’t let me go, ok?”

“I promise,” Richie said. Who the hell was Jeremiah?

Chapter Seventeen

They drove to Richie’s house in silence; there were no words to distract them from the dreadful images that Ang had captured. Richie was horrified on Ang’s behalf. No wonder she called her gift a curse. To have these images mingling with her memories... Richie just shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to stand it. He couldn’t get those drawings of Kirstin being attacked out of his head.

Ang was lost in her own thoughts. She was grateful that Richie didn’t dismiss this whole episode as too weird for him. She thought about warning him that it was going to get a whole lot weirder, but decided against it. He would find out for himself soon enough. Ang tried to relax and prepare herself for the next onslaught. She knew it would take a lot out of her. She fidgeted in her seat, twisting her hands around each other nervously.

As Richie drove, he saw Ang’s discomfort. He reached across the seat to touch his hand to hers. With a grateful smile, Ang twined her fingers through his and drew from his strength. As they approached the house, the sun was shining brightly in their faces. When they pulled to a stop at the top of the driveway, that room, Kirstin’s room, was spotlighted by the sun, at an angle almost impossible from the sun’s position in the sky.

“What the hell?” Richie asked, pointing upwards as they got out of the car. The window to Kirstin’s room was open, and though there was no breeze, the curtains flapped visibly through it.

Shading her eyes, Ang looked up at the third-story window. “There’s no way the sun can shine at that angle. Something’s wrong,” she said softly.

“Jesus,” Richie swore. “What could be happening?”

Ang shuddered. “I think she’s scared. Or pissed.”

“Pissed?” Richie asked, his mouth ran dry. “As in ‘Poltergeist’ pissed?” He had visions of all his belongings strewn around the room. Of furniture upended and shattered against the walls. He suddenly didn’t really want to go inside anymore.

Ang shook her head. “Most likely not. More likely, she’s scared. She’s probably reliving her death.”

Richie jerked his head back to Ang. “Reliving it?” He was horrified.

“Yes. Until her spirit is at rest, she’s doomed to relive the end her life, over and over.” Ang had tears in her eyes, and Richie felt like crying himself.

“That’s just awful,” he said, his deep voice thick with emotion. Then he had a thought that made his blood run cold. “Can she feel it? I mean how does -- ” Richie knew what he wanted to say, but didn’t have the slightest idea how to say it.

Ang knew. She knew more than she wanted to say. “Yes, she can feel everything; the physical and emotional pain. She doesn’t have a body, but her soul remembers. It remembers everything. And it hurts. The fear, the betrayal, but mostly the actual death.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It hurts so much.”

Richie looked at her, something in the tone of her voice catching his attention. “Ang, look at me,” he said. Richie waited until she did, then continued speaking. “These footprints she – they – leave…” He trailed off, almost afraid of the answer.

“I remember it too,” Ang said in a small voice. “All of it. The fear, the heartache, the pain, all of it. The memories become as real to me as my own until I can exercise them.”

Richie didn’t know what to say. “You mean now?”

Ang nodded. “I feel so scared, I’m ready to throw up. I feel a panic welling up inside me like a giant air bubble. I want to run, but I can’t move. I want to scream, but I just can’t.”

“Jesus,” Richie said, wrapping her in his strong arms, trying to protect her. “And the pain?” Richie’s voice was quiet, soothing in Ang’s ears.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t feel it yet. I think the bastard toyed with her first. I don’t know, but that’s what I feel. But it’s coming. It’s in there and it will come out.”

“Can you see him?”

“Not clearly. I see a vague shape: green eyes, wild hair; you saw what I drew. I have a sense of him being big and powerful. And strong, so strong just his presence is intimidating. Kirstin didn’t show me fully the man who killed her.” Ang slumped toward the car, and Richie reluctantly let her go. “Whoever he is, he’s long dead now. There’s no justice to be had for Kirstin. But maybe we can give her peace.”

Ang sighed, straightened from the car and started forward toward the house. Richie watched her take a few hesitant steps, then gasped when Ang’s whole body stiffened. “Angel Rose?” he said tentatively, and stepped toward her.

Ang felt the cold a moment before her head exploded with colors, sounds, and smells. She could smell the fall flowers that were native to this area. She could smell freshly carved pumpkins. The smell of pumpkins was overpowering. She could see flashes of green and purple, and there was breathing. Labored, evil breathing.

Angel Rose whipped around to look behind her. She saw a large man behind her, and started to run. Richie ran after her. Ang headed around the house and into the maze. She was so fast, Richie thought.

“ANGEL ROSE!” he called, but she didn’t respond. Almost immediately, Ang stumbled on the overgrown hedges, and cried out. She started to fall, but Richie caught her. “Get away from me!” she screamed, her eyes glazed over. “NO!! GEOFFREY!! HELP ME!!”

Richie held fast, though Ang was struggling against him. He could feel her heart pounding, and knew his was beating just as rapidly. She pounded at his chest, and was screaming and thrashing about, trying to hit him with her head. “Angel,” he said softly. “Angel Rose, come back to me.” He repeated that over and over, and eventually, Ang stopped fighting back.

Ang was in a panic. In her head, she was being chased by this large shadowy figure, and he was gaining on her. She stumbled on a root and started to fall, and suddenly he was upon her. No matter how she struggled, he was bigger and stronger than she was, so she could not get free. The panic was so complete that it took some time before she heard a familiar voice in her head calling her “Angel”. She concentrated on that voice, and gradually, the feeling of terror subsided and was replaced by a feeling of safety. Slowly she realized where and who she was. She was sprawled on the ground in Richie’s arms. His face was a mask of fear and confusion, and she all at once wanted to run away again.

“Richie?” she asked, and the tremor of unshed tears in her voice broke Richie’s heart.

“Right here, sweetheart. I’m right here.” He kissed her temple and rocked her, holding her close to his heart, not giving an inch. She sat there, her head pressed against Richie’s warm chest, listening to the erratic sound of his heartbeat, and cried.

There were no words of comfort he could offer Ang. Nothing he could do to take the pain away. He drew her closer into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. He held her for a long time, while she sobbed. She sobbed for Kirstin’s pain and anguish until her throat was raw and her eyes were burning. With a final squeeze, she looked up at Richie.

“Thank you,” she said to him.

Richie dropped a light kiss on her temple. “You don’t have to go in there,” he answered. “In fact, I don’t want you hurting anymore than you already are. You should go; I’ll figure something out.”

Ang took his hand. “It’s too late for that, Richie” she said. “Kirstin and I, we are already linked. I already feel what she feels, and she’s so afraid...we have to go to her.”