She thought of Lacey, her own daughter, who had also gone for months without feeling her mother’s embrace. Lacey, who probably no longer even knew whether her mother loved her or not. It had been so long. Everything poured out of Laura, a dark wave of misery: was she ever going to get the chance to really be there for these little girls who needed her?
But no, she realized, as she squeezed Amy one last time and then tried to pry her off. No, the darkness wasn’t misery.
It was a feeling. Not quite a vision, not yet. Whatever she was seeing was too vague now, maybe too far in the future, to trigger a vision of something concrete. It was just a feeling that something was off.
That something in Amy’s future was destined to be dark.
Reluctantly, Laura let Amy go. If she could, she would intervene again, stop anything bad from ever happening to her. But the truth was, if Amy was kept away from Laura, there wasn't much she would be able to do. Her visions only came with physical contact, be that with the person in the center of the vision or something related to them. Just like she had only been able to see Amy's future by touching the rabbit, she had no idea if she was ever going to be able to get close enough to Amy again to trigger something else. She didn’t know if she would even be aware that Amy was in danger ever again, so how could she prevent it?
For a moment, as Amy followed Director Grenford with sobs still wracking her body, Laura saw a flash of something else. She saw herself, raising Amy at her own home. The two of them sitting together for a tea party, doing the kind of things that six-year-old girls were supposed to be doing. She imagined, too, Lacey joining them. One day, Laura might be able to get her own daughter back, and one day she might be able to make Amy safe. Both of them felt like far off dreams at the moment.
What she had seen was not a vision, not in the normal sense. It was a dream, a fantasy of what might one day be. But that didn't mean that it couldn't come true.
It didn't mean that Laura had to keep letting people down, over and over again. First Lacey, and now Amy. Both of them must think she didn't care for them at all.
But that wasn't true. She would do everything she could behind the scenes to make sure that Amy had the best life possible. Just as she would do as much as she could in all of her power to make her ex, Marcus, trust her again so that she might get access to Lacey.
She’d come so far already. She’d stayed off the alcohol for longer than she had before, with Lacey’s image inside her mind’s eye keeping her sober. She could go further. All she needed to do was to make Marcus listen to her, to see that she was serious about sobriety now. To prove that she was never, ever, going to let alcohol come between her and her daughter ever again.
Which was why, as she left the FBI building with a heavy heart, it was odd that Laura's next intended destination was a bar.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He walked after her, unseen, studying her every move. Worshipping her.
His muse. His inspiration. The only perfect being in the world.
He watched how she moved through patches of dappled sunlight between buildings, the way she didn’t flinch at the touch of the sun but instead gloried in it. It brought her to life, from the highlights in her hair to the tan of her skin.
She was perfect, in every way. He studied her from a distance away, watching the gestures she made. They were so casual, so easy, as if she didn’t even have to think about what she was doing. But every single move was just right, like a perfectly choreographed dance. This was what it was like, he thought, to observe the pinnacle of life in action. This was the peak of existence. Floating on the currents of the world, attuned to them exactly, everything around you moving in time.
He stu
died her movements, from the way that she walked to the most subtle gestures. Her body language told so much without saying a single word. He could read emotions in every line, from the way her finger extended through her arm to the way her foot landed on the floor. When he was sure that no one was watching him, every now and then, he would attempt one of these moves himself, committing them to the memory of his muscles. Trying them out, how they felt on his own frame. Learning.
She spoke to people on the sidewalk, exchanging a quick word before moving on. He heard the light-hearted peal of laughter, so free and fine. So happy. It was like a recording of a laugh, like the archetype of a laugh. Something that could be recorded to film and used again and again. Almost too good to be the real thing, but it was real. She was real.
She was real, and she was perfect. Every single move, every word, every expression that passed over her face. He saw it all, and it was perfect.
He didn't know how he had missed it before. The last one, he had been so sure that she was the one. He had believed that she was perfection, the muse he was waiting for. But time had passed, and as he had observed her, he had noticed more and more. Seeing the mistakes. Seeing how she did not move in time with the current of the world, but instead tried to fight against it.
Over time, he had come to know that he was wrong. He had come to realize that what he had thought was a muse was nothing more than a human being, just a person. Nothing special. In many ways, a liar. The realization had been so hurtful, so disappointing.
And the one before that, too. She had been even more of a liar. It had all begun back then, when he was so angry with her that he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t be lied to like that. He couldn’t allow someone to trick him into worshipping a false muse, a fake idol.
But that was over now. He finally had found his muse. This time, he was sure that she was the one. She danced through the sunlight on the sidewalk like no one else. She floated like a butterfly on the breeze, bringing life and light to everyone that she passed by. He could even see it in the faces of those she passed. It would be in his own face, if he turned to catch the reflection in a window.
When you found the one true thing in the world, there was no mistaking it. He had found her now. It had been a long and difficult journey to get here, but he was happy at last. His heart felt light. Everything that had gone before, all the anger and disappointment, all the blood, it had been worth it.
Because now he could walk along the street behind his muse, watching her, learning from her. Worshipping every single thing that she did. And he would continue to watch her until he had learned it all, because that was what a muse was for. Inspiration that could last a lifetime. He wasn't going to waste this chance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Laura rushed in through the doors of the bar, feeling scattered and frantic. She would have liked to think this wasn’t normal for her, but the sad truth is that it was. Alcohol had been a strong force in her life for years, the only thing she had been able to turn to that could numb the pain of the visions she had. Disorganization, lateness, the constant capacity to let people down. These had become hallmarks of Laura's life.
But she was turning a corner now, trying not to do these kind of things anymore. Trying not to let people down. That was why she felt so flustered, because not only had she failed to get Governor Fallow put behind bars where he belonged, but she was also running horrendously late for an appointment that she herself had made.
She had been looking forward to this meeting for a while. While she and her partner Nate were out of town during the last case they worked on, she'd had a hit on one of the forums she frequented looking for other people like her. She had organized to meet him, even though she wasn't totally convinced that he was the real deal. But he seemed more convincing than anyone she had come across lately.