Free Chill of Fear by Kay Hooper Page B

intermittently as though by flashes of lightning. There was a peculiar smell she couldn't identify in the air, and it was cold. It was very cold.
    Eerily, in the flashes of light she could see Quentin sitting across from her, looking at her with a slight frown, but he vanished in between them.
    And when she looked down at the table, she could see in the flashes her hand gripping his strongly, as if she were holding on to a lifeline.
    Between the flashes, her hand was holding... nothing.

    She was completely alone in the grayness of almost-night.
    Diana.
    She didn't want to, but Diana found herself turning her head slowly to the right. There were two large potted palms flanking the steps that led down to the lower terrace, lawn, and the garden paths; at first, that's all she could see.
    Then there was a flash, and between the plants stood the little girl.
    Long dark hair. Big, sad, dark eyes. Pale oval face.
    Missy.
    In the gray twilight separating the strobelike flashes, she vanished, only to reappear in the bright white light.
    Help us.
    She didn't appear to speak; her lips didn't move. But with every flash she was moving closer and closer, closing the distance between them, her pallid face beginning to twist in an expression of pain, her eyes dark pools of terror.
    Her hands reached out toward Diana, pleading—
    "Diana!"
    She jerked her head around to stare at Quentin, blinking in the abrupt return to the bright warmth of the veranda. And then in the next moment a loud rumble of thunder made her look up to see dark clouds rolling overhead, swiftly blotting out the sun and bringing a chill to the air.
    "We'd better get inside," Quentin said, over the sounds of chairs scraping against the stone surface of the veranda as other guests came to the same decision. "This storm came out of nowhere."
    "Did it?" she murmured, feeling very... peculiar. "Or was it here all along?"
    "What?"
    Diana realized that she was indeed holding his hand, and it required an enormous effort to force herself to let it go. "Nothing. It's... it doesn't matter."
    "We should get inside," he repeated, frowning, as he got to his feet.
    Diana rose as well, automatically. She was cold. And she was scared. Her body was tingling oddly, as if an unfamiliar energy coursed through her. And yet... there was something familiar about the sensation, like the distant echo of a forgotten memory.
    Without meaning to say it aloud, she murmured, "Why do they call it second sight? Because you can see what's underneath the surface? Because you see what isn't there? Because you can see... through a glass, darkly..."
    Quentin stepped around the table and grasped her shoulders with both hands. "Diana, listen to me.
    You are not crazy."
    "You don't know what I just saw." Her voice was shaky now.

    "Whatever it was, it was real." He glanced up impatiently as the first drops of rain began to splatter around them, then took her hand and began leading her inside.
    Diana went, almost blindly. Maybe, she thought later, because she really didn't want to be alone just then. Or maybe it was because the answers Quentin offered were less terrifying than the probability of her own deepening insanity.
    Madison looked up from the very old doll she had found in the trunk and frowned as thunder rumbled. "Daddy said there'd be storms."
    "It storms a lot here," her new friend said.
    "I like storms. Don't you?"
    "Sometimes."
    "I also like this room." Madison looked around at the very pretty, very girlish bedroom, with its old-fashioned furniture and lacy curtains. "But why is it secret?"
    "Because they wouldn't understand."
    "They?" Madison frowned and absently patted Angelo, who was curled up next to her, trembling a bit. He hated storms, poor baby. "You mean my parents?"
    "Yes."
    Suddenly wary, Madison said, "It's your room, right? I mean, it doesn't belong to somebody else?
    Because I'm not supposed to go into other people's rooms, not without being asked."
    "You can always come into this