Free Disenchanted by A.R. Miller Page B

stupid, but I do need to find out what’s going on.”
    Sidestepping him, I head straight for the knife drawer in the kitchen. My Talents are far from defensive. Grabbing the largest blade, I take a deep breath and head to the door. Bare feet have an advantage; they’re quiet. Clinging to the wall, I make my way down the stairs, one at a time, trying to remember which treads squeak.
    The closer I get to the door the stronger the warning pulsating across my flesh, until I’m virtually vibrating. Sounds on the other side grow more violent as the intruder attempts to bash their way through the door. They’re probably counting on the daylight to stop Dara and figure I’m too big of a chicken to interfere.
    I swallow back a wave of nausea. Someone has invaded my space. I don’t care why—you would think I would—I just stand there shaking and sweating. Everything is fuzzy, muffled, I feel like I’m reliving the tub incident only this time I’m drowning in fear.
    It has to be a thief. Why else would anyone want to break in? For all I know it could have been a disgruntled client, maybe one of those fairy fever–infected idiots wanting revenge for refusing their requests.
    I shriek as a hand grips my shoulder and the violence on the other side of the door stops. Spinning around, I stand toe to toe with Dara. Her hand grasps my wrist just before the tip of the blade touches her shoulder, the intruder’s footsteps fading to nothing.
    “The alarms woke me.” She looks me up and down.
    I’m probably a sight to behold, still in my pj’s, hair standing on end, gash on my cheek, holding a rather large kitchen knife. Unlike Dara, in her silk robe and disheveled hair, looking like she stepped off the set of a photo shoot.
    “Are you alright?”
    “Yeah, a little shook up, but not hurt.”
    One of those ridiculously perfect brows rises.
    “Seriously, I’m fine.” I touch my fingers to the scrape on my cheek. “You can ask C.C. about this later, right now I think I should check the salon.”
    “I do not think that is such a good idea.”
    “Oh come on Dara, we scared off whoever it was. Why would they hang around?” I know the tremor in my voice isn’t convincing her, or me that I’m past the fear of some shadowy figure lurking around the corner. Even if it is just the corner of my mind, gods know there are plenty of shadowy figures hanging out there lately.
    “Can you wait until the sun goes down so that I can go with you?”
    I shake my head, the look on her face admitting she already knew the answer. I have to keep telling myself it was just a botched robbery, not something foreshadowed by my dream. Going into the salon would help justify this little fantasy. Da Nile ain’t just a river in Egypt.
     
    ***
     
    Dara refuses to let me go alone, even though she can’t enter the salon, too much sunlight.
    The frame around the door held, barely. Splinters of wood push outward and the door itself sits at an odd angle in the frame.
    Dara grabs me. “Do not touch anything.”
    “Want to tell me how in hel I’m supposed to get in then?”
    “You are not. You should wait until dark.”
    “That’s not happening.” I snag the spare key secured behind the small light outside the door. “Let’s hope they didn’t screw up the lock so badly this won’t work, or I’ll be going around to the street entrance.”
    The key slips in and with a little extra jiggling I finally hear the lock click.
    “Are you still set on doing this right now?”
    I nod, not really set, but not willing to flip on my back and let my yellow belly show. I step over the threshold. This is the point in the movie where everyone cringes at the sacrificial babe’s stupidity and screams at the screen, ‘Don’t go in there!’ Does she listen? Hel no, the big boobied blonde gets it, but not before she can pull the classic scream scene. Hands held in front of a teary face as she begs the monster not to ax her. If it all goes south, I hope I can live