Free Style and Disgrace by Caitlin West Page B

the door open and fell against him, clinging as desperately as a drowning woman would to her savior.
    “What’s wrong?” Ian’s arms closed around me, his hand lifting to pet the back of my head. “Abigail, what’s happened?”
    “Dream…” I gasped. “I think…people…next door…argument…murder…”
    “Oh dear…” He let out a sigh. “It’s okay, Abby. I’m here now.”
    “What was it?” I still couldn’t risk raising my voice above a whisper. “What did I just see?”
    “Shadows of the future,” he replied. “Something that could be…will be most likely. That was your father’s talent as well. He was able to see events in great detail, even feel what the participants felt. It was quite extraordinary.”
    “Extraordinarily horrible!” I leaned back and looked up at his face. “What do I do? Call someone? Intervene? How do I prevent what I saw from happening?”
    His brows lifted. “Do you want to?”
    “Of course I want to! I don’t want the person to die!”
    “I was under the impression you didn’t want to use these gifts…that you wanted the life you built. If you go down this path, then it’ll be harder for you to put it behind you.”
    “I’m not going to let someone die,” I said. My fists were full of his jacket, holding so tightly my wrists trembled. “I can’t do that.”
    “Very well,” he muttered. “We can do something about it. What can you tell me about the people? What happened?”
    I opened my mouth to respond when there was a knock at the front door. I held my breath, my eyes moving to his. His expression changed so slightly I couldn’t be sure I had seen any alteration at all. His posture stiffened and he gently pushed me away. The two of us moved to the stairs and started down.
    “Go ahead and answer it.” He moved to the side of the door.
    I peeked to see who was there and cursed loudly, slapping my thigh. “I can’t believe this! It’s my mom again!”
    “Oh…” Ian tilted his head, perplexed. “That’s…unexpected.”
    “You’re telling me. Get ready. The only stop this train bothers with is kookoo station.”
     
     

Chapter Eleven
The Returning
     
     
    More advice from Abigail Wright: Never tempt fate by crossing the street against the light, make sure your friends know you’re going away before leaving the state, and always smile when you’re getting a traffic ticket. It may not get you out of having to pay, but at least you were pleasant about it. Right?
    —Abby’s Facebook
     
    My mother stepped inside, still dressed in the ridiculous suit and fur from our first encounter. I wondered if this was her new look for night-time visits to estranged daughter . It was like her to create a theme to her outfits and keep them up long after they had gone out of style.
    The problem was I doubted she had ever been in style.
    “What the hell, Mother?” I asked, slamming the door. “I thought we had left our conversation with me calling you and by that I mean we were never going to talk again.”
    “Don’t be an idiot, dear,” Mother replied. “I remembered what it was your father wanted me to give you.”
    “Really, do tell.”
    She hesitated as she saw Ian, looking him up and down. “Hm, you’re rather handsome. What’s your name?”
    Ian cleared his throat, but did not respond. He turned his attention to me.
    “He’s none of your business, Mother.”
    “This is not the man you had when I visited,” she said. “How many do you need, honey? Are you that much of a wanton you can’t be satisfied with one man?”
    “That’s like King Kong pausing during his rampage to ask someone where to buy a monkey suit. Are you kidding me, Mother? You slept with so many people, it’s a miracle you have a clue who my father is!”
    “No need to be crass, honey.” She walked into my kitchen. “I see it’s at least clean this time.”
    “I swear to God, you’d better get to the point of why you’re here again or I’m going to throw your