The Darkest Midnight. R. A. Finley

no, I’m sorry,” she said—to none other than Thia McDaniel, leaving the restaurant for the hall.

      Bloody hell. She should have tried to disguise her voice. Made it more American, at least. Then again, this was a hotel in a town geared for tourism; hers couldn’t be the only English voice around.

      “Who was that?” Beatrice asked through the phone.

      Edith put herself close to the wall and ducked behind a topiary trimmed in festive silver bows and tiny lights before she answered. “Thia McDaniel.”

      “Is she gone now? Did she suspect anything?”

      The woman in question joined the two others at the lift. They were clearly concerned about something, but it hadn’t to do with her, Edith decided with a measure of relief. None of them looked her way. “No. I don’t think so.”

      “Good. See that she doesn’t. We want her safe. We want to know what she does. We do not want her feeling smothered.”

      “I understand.” She’d been told it often enough, hadn’t she? Of course she understood. But it was harder to do than she’d anticipated, blending into the sidelines of someone’s life, watching her and those around her without drawing notice.

      The three women hurried into the lift, and Edith waited for the doors to close.

      “You weren’t scheduled to report till later,” Beatrice said. “What’s happened?”

      “Today there was a man in her store.” Edith left her impromptu blind to approach the lift. She needed to see what floor the women wanted. “And tonight, she and her friends are chasing after—well, I think it’s the same man. Only different.”

      In the pronounced silence that followed, the display counted down the lift’s progress.

      “Explain,” Beatrice said at last. And something in her tone gave Edith chills.

      

      Tributary Road, Granite Springs

      It was easy to get caught up in one’s internal craziness when there wasn't much to see but silhouettes of trees against a moonlit sky and road reflectors brought to momentary life by headlights. When one's companion was not inclined to talk, either, it was inevitable.

      After they’d collected their boxed dinners, Thia had driven Abby back to Eclectica so they could switch cars. It had seemed a lot of bother, but now she saw the merit. Given how scattered her thoughts had become, she was glad she wasn’t the one behind the wheel. On this road especially, lack of focus could be deadly.

      “Do you think that was him?” Abby asked, breaking the silence as she held the Mini to a long, tight curve.

      The clutching of Thia’s stomach might have had to do with how close the steep drop-off was and the absence of safety barricades, but she had driven this road countless times since November. (What better place to try to get a handle on her new powers than Abby's isolated property?)

      She fidgeted, careful not to kick the bag of carry-out boxes by her feet. “I’m really not sure.”

      Abby's gaze flicked her way, then back to the curve. “You sure you're not sure?”

      “For a moment, I was. Sure that he was Cormac, I mean. But now?” She sighed. “I’m too confused.”

      “Twice in one day.”

      “My being confused? More like hundreds of times. Today and yesterday. And the day bef—”

      “Two men, I meant,” Abby cut in, unamused. She steered into a brief straightaway. “Two men that caught your attention, so to speak.”

      “Oh.” Thia cleared her throat. “Yes, well. That's true.”

      “Both could have been Cormac.”

      “But why would they have been?” Uncomfortable, she tugged at the belt across her chest. “Why would he come to town in disguise—well, okay I can understand that. Maybe. Beatrice told me he has something of a checkered past.” No surprise there. “But to not tell me who he was? To pretend he doesn't know me? Why would he do that?”

      The possibility not only hurt, it infuriated. Because she couldn't see it as anything but some sort of game. Or worse, a prank. Was he laughing at her?

      The passenger-side mirror caught the lights of Kendra’s Audi, following so she could return to town on her own later.

      “If it is him,” Thia said, tugging again on the belt, “he's going to be sorry. He can't just come here, make a fool of me by pretending to be other people, and expect me to….” Words failed as her anger abruptly dropped.

      Expect her to what, exactly?

      She had no idea. No idea what he might think she would do. What he might want from her.

      She remembered all too clearly what she had wanted from him, though.

      Everything.

      And the intensity of that had pushed her toward a line that she’d had to draw: The line between wanting everything but being desperate enough—needy enough—to settle for anything.

      Such as a five-minute-or-less anonymous exchange in Eclectica. Or a two-second gaze held across a restaurant.

      It was awful how much she missed him.

      “Maybe he does have good reason,” Abby offered quietly. “Goddess knows I'm no fan of his. And you know I think you would be better off if he stayed out of your life. But I suppose it’s vaguely possible that he's thinking of your safety, trying not to attract attention your way.”

      “Then why come here at all?”

      When no answer followed, Thia realized Abby's focus was divided between the road ahead and the rearview mirror.

      “Abby?”

      “Someone's back there. Behind Kendra.”

      Thia twisted to look. The headlights—the annoying, super-bright kind—were easy to spot.

      “Following?” Thia asked. “Or just going the same way?”

      This was the main road through these mountains, and a long one at that. Anyone could be using it, and for any number of perfectly innocent reasons.

      Still, Thia worried. And Abby hadn’t responded.

      “Maybe it’s Cormac,” Thia tried. He had followed her before, when Matt and Cassie were driving her to what they had planned to be her sacrificial death.

      Maybe it was Cassie, come to make good on her promise of revenge. Thia fumbled for her cell phone. “Should I call Kendra, let her know about the car?”

      It was, in retrospect, a really stupid question. Of course Kendra was aware of the situation. She’d probably noticed those damn xenon headlights before Abby had.

      While they had never spoken about it, Thia suspected there was military in Kendra’s past. She wielded all manner of weaponry as if she’d been born to it and was equally adept in hand-to-hand maneuvers—as revealed recently when she had tried to acquaint Thia with self-defense that went beyond the basic “shout and run” Thia had relied upon (with varying levels of success).

      “I wonder if I should turn off,” Abby said with a glance at the mirror. “Or slow down, see if they pass. But that could be what they want.”

      Thia had her phone in hand. “I could ask Kendra.”

      Abby’s lips compressed into a tight line as she increased speed. “Yeah. Do it.”

      Again looking