Free Shattered Illusions by Karen Michelle Nutt Page A

and looked up at the inky blackness
waiting for her.
    She had to go up there. She had to make sure
Tara was okay.
    She'd only taken a step when a guttural cry
of terror rose above the storm's violence. "Oh my God, Tara!" Brona
raced upstairs to her sister's room. She threw open the door,
sending it slamming against the wall. Nerves at full stretch, she
searched frantically for the light switch. Finally her fingers
brushed over it and she flipped it on. She shielded her eyes with
her hand to block the brilliance of the light. It took her a second
to focus.
    She gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth.
Near the bed, blood pooled starkly against the light grain of the
hardwood floor in its greedy eagerness to be seen. "Tara, where are
you?" The sharp coppery scent hit her nostrils, making them flare
in protest.
    Brona leaned against the wall, her whole body
numb, her head pounded as if someone had clobbered her with a
sledgehammer. She blinked, trying to focus and make her limbs obey
her. She needed to stay on her feet and not pass out.
    She steadied herself as she looked on with
half-startled wariness. What had happened? Did someone hurt her
sister? Where was she? There was so much blood. She scanned the
room, wondering where an intruder might hide. The four-poster bed
had drawers added to it, leaving very little room between the bed
and floor. Unless the intruder was a small child, no one could hide
under there. The only place would be in the closet.
    She needed a weapon, anything that would help
her. She went for the crystal lamp—the nearest object to her, but
then her eyes locked onto the letter opener resting peacefully
beside it.
    "This will do." Brona grabbed it.
    She moved toward the closet with slow careful
steps. When the floorboards creaked, she cringed and held still.
When no one burst out of the closet, she took a step toward it
again. The lightning flashed and the rain pelted harder against the
window. She held her body rigid. She unclenched her left hand, but
she kept her right hand poised with the letter opener in front of
her. She held her breath and threw open the closet doors. She flung
the clothes aside and stabbed the letter opener in a forward
thrust.

Chapter Three
    No demon greeted her and no murderer slashed
at her throat. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "I'm a
thundering eejit. Why would an intruder hide in a bloomin' closet?
Why would he hide at all? He's gone. He wouldn't stick around to be
caught." Brona tried to convince herself, but it didn't explain
what happened to Tara. "I need to find her. If the blood is hers,
she's hurt or..." No, she wouldn't go there. Her sister was alive
and needed her help. She turned toward the bed. Her gaze landed
where the puddle of blood should be, only it wasn't there. Her
breath solidified in her throat, choking her.
    How could it be gone? She took a tentative
step forward. Her whole body tensed and a cold sweat trickled down
her back. What in the hell is going on? It was as if someone had
mopped the floor while she had her back turned and removed the
damning evidence.
    Waves of grayness overtook her, threatening
to make her pass out. She fought it, trying to tame the roaring in
her ears. She stumbled to the bed and sat down, taking in deep
gulps of air.
    Clear as day, she had seen the blood. How
could it be gone? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
She needed everything to make sense again. She'd heard Tara scream
hysterically as she had entered the house. That was real—wasn't it?
It couldn't have been her imagination.
    She forced herself to leave the safety of the
bed. She knelt down and felt the floorboards. They were smooth
beneath her fingertips and dry as a bone. Obviously, there had
never been any blood other than what her wild imagination had
conjured up, but that still didn't explain why Tara was
missing.
    She flew to her feet and rushed to the door.
"Tara," she called. The roar of absolute silence greeted her, which
did nothing