Amber no longer felt scared. She had moved past the adrenaline-filled, heart-pumping feelings associated with being scared. Terrorized was more accurate.

Terror was opening up a mindset she had tried so hard as a child to shut out; thoughts and senses, aspects and notions. Perceptions.

Perceptions of a dark and mysterious world that had only previously existed in tales. A world of make-believe with made-up spirits, witches and ghosts. She never wanted to give them life, never wanted to accept them into her reality.

No, Amber no longer felt scared. The shadow figure in the woods had brought those perceptions to life. The terror of that realism took hold with a talon-like grip and she was numb.

She and Cain zipped mindlessly through the streets not entirely sure of what they were running from. What was predominantly clear was that whatever it was, embodied evil. Instincts told her not to risk leading that thing back to the sanctity of where she lived. However, the simple child-like horror of knowing it existed was pushing her, hurling her to the safety of her own home; to some semblance of normalcy.

The narrow road weaved precariously through the woods. They were still miles from town and streetlights were not yet a luxury. Amber took note of how ominous things appeared as darkness heavily pressed down on the headlights of the car. Much more threatening than being assisted by the yellow-glow of streetlights cascading from above.

She glanced over at Cain, then back to the nefarious road. He remained silent, deadpanned.

“I cannot fathom what you must have experienced in that house,” she said softly.

“It’s like I never left,” he muttered. His stare never broke from the windshield. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Amber. Amber Shelton,” she replied quickly, empathetic. She turned for a brief moment to look at him again.

“I don’t think you should be alone tonight, Amber Shelton.”

There was a brief moment of silence as they both seemed entangled in thought.

“Well, I don’t exactly have anyone,” she finally replied. “I mean... I have a boyfriend but let’s just say he would not make for the best company tonight. And... well, my family moved away.” Her voice lowered. “I really don’t have anyone.” She paused. “It’s fine... I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay with you,” he said, even-toned. “Quite honestly, Amber.” He turned to face her direction. “I’d advise neither one of us go to sleep tonight.”

“What? Why not? What are you saying?”

There was another moment of brief silence. Cain broke it. “Truman Capote once wrote: ‘Dreams are the mind of the soul and the secret truth about us.’ There is a reason he wrote that, Amber Shelton,” he exclaimed.

For a moment, her stare darted back and forth between Cain and the road.  

She was too tired, too disoriented, too confused with terror to probe deeper into what he was saying. Home was the best place to be. Maybe not the wisest option, but the safest and most comfortable. ‘Just have to get home,’ she thought. ‘If I’m going to die tonight in the clutches of whatever evil is stalking me, then it may as well be in my own bed.’

The rest of the ride was silent.

Amber was still not entirely certain about him. Cain was just another mystery being thrust upon her at the speed of thought. It wasn’t fair to ask her mind to process these things as fast as all of them were unfolding, but where Amber’s mind fell short, her feels would step in, fill the void.

Cain felt easy to her, feather-like. There was no weight to him, to his motives, at least none that she could feel. He gave her no immediate cause for concern and at that moment, he was her only possible connection to finding Cara.

Darkness still shrouded them as they reached her condominium complex. It would be hours before the refuge of daylight would bestow upon Amber and Cain. Still, misery loves company and having each other somehow promised to make the wait better. So, she led him into her home.

“I’ll put on some coffee,” she said, placing her keys on a side table then turned toward him. “Make yourself at home.”

Cain removed his jacket, took a seat on the couch and ran his fingers through his dark hair. His eyes closed and he took in a deep breath. He had more answers than she did, but maybe his mind was trying to process the new components. Maybe his mind was already devising a plan. Was it a plan of attack, or just one of defense?

Amber caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror as she passed en route to the kitchen. She looked drained and worn. Her long, raven-black hair was disheveled; wayward strands stuck out here and there. Her skin, normally an olive tone, appeared pale and her eyes were sunken behind puffy-dark bags. She was tired, more than just physically. Exhausted.

‘Fuck. Maybe I’m the witch?’ The thought gave a much-needed snicker. As she continued on to the kitchen, she caught Cain staring at her.

That ogle was a familiar look. She’d seen it almost daily waitressing at Reggie’s Diner, and almost always from the men. It didn’t bother her in the least. A fifteen-percent tip could easily bump to twenty with the charming wiggle of her ass. Brush their shoulder with a smile, twenty-five percent, guaranteed. She knew how to work the benefits of being attractive. Part of the job and in a way, flattering.

“Do you like your coffee black?” she called into the living room.

“Some cream if you have it,” he answered back. “Why did your parents move away?”

“That’s a long story,” she said moments later, sliding back into the room carrying two mugs. She set one down on the table before him.

“We have all night,” he smirked.

“Well, dad worked in the quarry for years,” she said, cradling the warm mug in her hands. “Worked there from when he was a kid, actually. Made his way all the way up to head foreman.” She turned to a picture on a nearby bookshelf; her father holding a hardhat pinned to his hip, dirty denim jeans and a bright fluorescent-green safety vest. Smiling. Proud.  

“That was the day of his promotion,” she gave a nod to the picture then turned back to Cain. Their eyes connected.

She took a sip of her coffee. “Just about four years ago he started coughing. No big deal at first, but then mom caught him spitting up blood.” She paused. “He had developed a serious lung infection.” Amber curled her feet under and settled into the sofa next to Cain.

“The muscles in one lung weakened to the point he needed treatments in what they call an iron lung.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cain said.

Amber looked at him, once again connecting eyes. “He’s a fighter. He was more upset that they had to move to the city than the fact he was sick,” she smiled and once again caught herself staring at him.

Exposed by more than just the dim flashlight from her phone, she could see the deep crystal-blue of his eyes, inviting and warm. His hair, a bit tousled, made him seem vulnerable in a child-like innocence. She blinked and subtly shook her head. ‘Snap out of it.’

As she settled her mind the questions and concerns resurfaced. “What did you mean in the car,” she asked, “when you said that quote about dreams?”

Cain let out a slow exhale and rocked his slender frame to sit on the edge of the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees and his fingers loosely interlaced at the first knuckle. His head hung a bit like Amber had just delivered him a piece of devastating news.

“Gail Hathaway was mad,” he started then paused briefly. “She was brilliant, Amber,” he turned to face her with a sideways tilt of his head, “but she was mad.”

He looked back to the floor, Amber remained silent. She felt the weight, knew her questions would most likely be answered, just let him speak.

“I was fourteen when the dreams started,” he continued. “They were just weird at first. ‘Everyone has weird dreams, Cain,’ she’d tell me. Then she would have me recount them so she could analyze them, analyze me.” He paused again. “Soon, the dreams started getting…”

Amber reached out and put a hand on his knee. “We don’t have to, Cain, if you’re not comfortable,” she assured him with a squeeze. She was not quite sure she wanted him to continue.  

He turned once again and narrowed his eyes, staring straight into hers. “Yes... we have to.” His brow furrowed into a look of anguish.

“The dreams turned to nightmares. Visions of a woman being burned alive while a crowd chanted and cheered.”

“Jesus,” was all she could reply.

“I would watch, off in the distance, hidden in the shadows. Her spirit separated and rose from her body and then flew spear-like through the temples of each person in the crowd. One by one, they dropped where they stood. Silencing the chants.

“That dream became recurring and each time it added more details to the start and finish. Some nights, I watched the crowd gather in the square. They’d whisper about how she was a witch. ‘Burn her alive… Send her to an eternal hell…’ they’d say.” Cain's head was shaking back and forth like the methodical swing of a pendulum. “Other nights, the dream had me sitting with the woman while she hid. I shared in her terror as they hunted her down.

“The last dream I remember… emblazoned that fucking monster into my mind.” He took a deep breath.

She remained engrossed.

“The shadow had dropped the last townsperson then flew back to hover over the woman’s burning body. The spirit stretched its arms outward in a cross-like fashion, fists balled-up tight.

“As the woman below took her final breath, the shadow’s head pitched back dramatically, thrusting its chest up the heavens as if challenging the higher power. Taunting it.” He paused and his head stopped rocking. “Then… it let out a screech, a blood-curdling, ear-piercing, high pitched scream. It raised its head back up and looked straight at me.”

Amber could tell by Cain’s demeanor that he had most likely never told anyone about that dream. She treaded carefully but needed more.

“Did you share that with Gail?”

“No.”

“Do you think the shadow spirit possessed you?” She pressed. “Is that what you meant in the car, Cain… about our dreams being a secret truth?” Her voice was firm.

“No,” he spat abruptly. “The quote was just the basis for Gail’s thesis, The Gossamer Thread.”

Amber once again pulled back and remained quiet. Attentive.

“Gail discovered a gateway, a conduit if you will. Dreams. Thoughts. I told you we are all connected. Some of us more so than others. Gail found a way to pass, or travel through the subconscious. She called it the Gossamer Thread.” He looked at her. “This ethereal portal, Amber... Gail may have been the one to unlock it, but it wasn’t Gail’s invention. It was the shadow’s.”

“What the fuck does it want with us, with Cara?” her voice raised as if she was blaming Cain for all of it. Blaming him for her terror. Blaming him for her childhood isolation. He was giving her information, trying to explain something that was unexplainable which was only leading to more confusion, more fear.

For the second time of the night, realism terrorized Amber. Her eyes welled and her face remained expressionless. She blinked hard, releasing a silent tear down each delicate cheekbone.

Cain slid next to her, wrapping an arm around. Amber melted into his embrace, curled her head onto his shoulder, and simply let go.

They sat silent for a while. Only the soft sobs and sniffles of Amber’s tears surrounded them.

“You are gifted, Amber Shelton. You have an ability, a power. I can feel it.” Cain lifted her head and cradled her face in his slender hand. “Amber, there is something more I need to tell you... about me, about the house.”

She shook her head, didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to let any more thoughts about that house enter into her mind. She refused to acknowledge any possibility that she may share some commonality with Gail, with that fucking shadow witch. No. She just wanted normalcy. She needed to feel normalcy, something real, something tangible to shut the door on the world of witches and warlocks, to pull her back to reality.

She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, passionately, mindlessly.

There was a sense of relief when Cain kissed her back and didn’t try to break the connection to talk more. Talking would only try to justify, and Amber did not want justification.

She pushed her tongue into him, fervently. The stale taste of coffee filled her mouth. His fingers slid behind her ear and firmly pulled her in. A slight exhale accompanied a satisfactory groan.

Rapid smacks and slurps replaced the sobs that surrounded them moments earlier. She felt her pulse race, forcing her breath to quicken sharply through her nose. With a push, she abruptly broke the kiss, stood and wiped her hands outwardly across her cheekbones, clearing away any trace of tears.

“This… this is good,” she was panting and speaking quickly.

Cain sank backward into the couch, kicked off his Rockports and swallowed the build-up of their mixed saliva in his mouth. He made no attempt to speak, but she preempted it anyway. “Shh. No words. No more talking.” She was racing to undo her jeans, pushing them to the floor, stepping them off.

“If we talk, this won’t work,” she said, shaking her head, then moved onto her shirt lifting it up and off. Cain seemed content to oblige the silence.

Amber stood before him in just her panties and bra. Her pace slowed as the reality of the situation began to ebb back in. “Nope,” was all she muttered as she dropped to her knees and started to unbuckle his pants.

Sliding her fingers, she hooked into his undergarment then tugged to pull Cain’s pants off. His legs were lean and pale, only slightly muscular, like a marathon runner. His cock lay to the side, semi-swollen from the kiss. Amber bit her bottom lip. Even semi-erect, his girth was larger than Patrick’s.

The thought was quickly thrust aside with a drag of her nails up his inner thighs, taking hold of his shaft to lift it to her lips. She didn’t look up, didn’t make eye contact, and Cain seemed fine with that.

She eased the bulbous head of his prick between her lips and began to suckle. There was no scent, no aroma of arousal that she could detect. And the heat of his cock seemed faint, but he swelled to a hardened-steel nonetheless.

With one hand she stroked the long, thick shaft while continuing to bob her soft full lips in short sucks around his helmet. A sharp inhale through his nose was heard as he pawed at the cushions in an attempt to stifle his wriggles. Amber’s free hand fell to her lap. A finger found the folds of her pussy and pressed the cotton of her panties into the growing wetness between her lips. Her moans danced with his growls.

Amber could tell that the combination of her stroking and sucking was propelling Cain to the edge. His balls cinched up tight and, as she released his head with a pop, a tiny bubble of precum eased its way to the surface. She stood, still making a conscious effort not to make eye contact. Cain still did not protest. He was along for the ride.

Amber spun to face away from him then eased back between his long legs, bracing herself on his knees. Her firm athletic ass inched backward and down toward his lap. She did not bother to remove her panties, keeping them on added more impulse to the act. She simply pulled the damp material to the side and with the other hand, reached between her legs for the object that was going to make her feel real again.

The room was awkwardly silent, but the pounding in her chest and the thoughts in her head were anything but. She dragged the tip through her slit to coat it. The connection gave her a jolt, a strong throb directly to her clit. She used his spongy head to capture it, forcefully mashing him into her nub with the flat of her fingertips.

Her thighs burned from hovering over him, but she didn’t care. The sting made her feel alive, slowly working to erase the night. Amber closed her eyes, inhaled sharply through her nose then let out an exaggerated moan as she sank Cain deep into her tunnel. Slowly at first, letting her juices lubricate, then eventually settling until her ass rested on his pelvis.

She held the position, hands resting just above his bent knees. If she concentrated, she could feel his heartbeat pulsing inside her. It was slow, steady, methodical. She wondered why he hadn’t touched her yet. His grip was still latched on to the sofa cushions. It didn’t matter, she had what she needed and for the next several moments, life felt restored.

Turning to her left, she could see most of their profile in the hall mirror. Cain’s head was pressed back into the cushions, eyes pinched closed, jaw clenched tight like he was already trying not to cum. While still looking at him, she slid slightly, gyrating her hips. His expression didn’t change.

That slight pang of selfish guilt tried to weave its way back into Amber’s mind but was again quickly dismissed. She slid once more on his cock.

This was necessary, at least that was what she convinced herself, and that made it okay. She pushed some more, grinding into him to press his shaft deeper, massaging his head against her cervix. Her nails dug into his flesh as a wave of self-induced pleasure washed over.

She lifted and lowered, rode him, fucked him. Lifted. Lowered. Fucked herself with him.

The pace quickened. Gentle slaps reverberated as her ass met his lap. Juices gathered along his base, just above his balls. She was soaking wet and moaning. She continued to bounce, thighs continued to burn.

Amber dropped a hand as her lower back arched. Her ass jutted further into him, begging for attention, a pinch, a slap, a caress, anything. Nothing. She cupped his balls with her fingertips while simultaneously pressing the heel of her palm into her swollen clit. The combination of his tightened balls with her throbbing nub coated her skin with a frisson of excitement.

Thoughts continued to race through Amber’s mind; flashes of Patrick eating her out in the van. A warmth swarmed her. She tried desperately to compartmentalize but, that arrested orgasm from earlier in the night was racing back with a momentum that she was powerless from stopping. She fucked Cain’s cock harder, selfishly. He grunted. Spurts of his cum erupted inside her in an almost convulsion-like orgasm.

Her walls tightened and he continued to fill her. Cum dribbled out as she lifted. She smeared it into her clit and rubbed fast and hard until she came. Waves of pleasure washed over every part of her. Physically. Mentally. Powerful, orgasmic undulations riddled her body. Her surroundings faded as she closed her eyes to revel in the moment.

She’d succeeded. Climaxed. Achieved the orgasm she needed and felt fucking real doing so; no Gail, no ghosts, no shadows.

“Are you sure about that, Amber?” The voice echoed in her mind with reverb in a doppler-like fashion.

She froze, then slowly blinked her eyes open. Confused. Suddenly terrified.

The room was dim and murky, lit only by a few candles placed sporadically here and there. The air was dank, acrid and chilled. It was most certainly not Amber’s condo.

“Where am I?” she asked nervously.

Gail stepped from a shadow. “You’re in my home. My world.” Her voice was strong.

“I… I don’t understand. Where is Cain? How did I get here?”

“You and Cain have become quite acquainted. I owe him a bit of gratitude. You see, your little act opened you up. Opened up that perverted, beautiful, guarded little mind of yours.” Gail stepped forward into the soft orange-glow of the flickering flames, an arm’s-length from Amber.

She was young, Amber’s age perhaps. Pretty. Not at all like the threatening witch she had envisioned.

“What the fuck do you want with me? Where the fuck is Cara? What have you done with her?”

“Oh Amber, darling, so full of questions.” She trailed the back of her cold hand across Amber’s cheek. Amber flinched and turned away. “I’m certain Cain has given you a history lesson,” she hissed.

“Fuck you!” Amber snarled.

Gail answered with a throaty cackle. “In time. For now, Cara has given me what I needed. But you, I have proper plans for you. I knew you were special the day you touched my fence. You remember it, don’t you? You were just a child then, but I could tell you had the gift.”

Amber eyed the room. There was the black outline of a doorway directly across from her.

“Fuck... YOU!” Her adrenaline surged, she thrust Gail aside and bolted for the door.

“Go,” she laughed. “There’s no escape, Amber.” The voice returned to a ghostly reverb in Amber’s head. “Go, explore my world, find yourself, find Cara.”

The hardwood-floor was cold on her bare feet as Amber skidded into a hallway. A faint glow appeared to her left, she followed it. Murmurs, whispers, indiscernible voices trickled their way into her ears. She felt the touch of fingers on her skin, fingers that weren’t there.

“Cara,” she called out in a whisper, shivering. Swiping her hands at the phantom gropes like she’d stepped through a cobweb. “Cara!” she whispered again, this time a bit louder.

“Amber!” It was a man’s voice from a distance off to her right.

 “Cain?” She turned down a corridor.

“Amber, here.”

Amber ducked into a room. It appeared to be a study or a small library. Books lined the walls and six or seven gas lamps provided a dim bloom of light. A man stood in the center. He was small for a male. He wore slacks, a button-down shirt, and a vest. Neatly kept.

“Who are you?” she asked in a low tone, still paused in the threshold, unsure of who he was or what to expect.

“Amber, it’s me.”

She squinted. It was near impossible to make out his features in the low light, but he certainly did not look like Cain.

“We don’t have time for a full-length explanation,” the man continued, “but what you knew out there as Cain… was… well, a subconscious version of me, so to speak.”

“What? How?”

“It was a part of the thread, I explained the Gossamer Thread, correct?” he asked. His voice was polite, welcoming but with a nervous, anxious tone. His head swiveled side to side as if scanning the room for intruders. He walked toward her.

“Somewhat, yes,” she answered.

“Excellent. You are here via Gail’s doing, but eventually you will learn how to travel of your own free will.”

Amber suddenly realized she was naked, clothed only in her bra and panties. She covered as he approached.

“Oh my, where are my manners.” He stopped and looked around. A few robes lay draped across the edge of a small stage toward the front of the room. He scurried to get one, then back to hand it to her.

“Thank you.” She slipped on the robe. “What is this place? Do you know where Cara is? How do we get out of here?”

“Ah yes, Cara. Lovely girl. Shame what Gail has done, but there may be a way to reverse it.”

“What has she done?” Her voice was desperate.

He seemed perplexed. “She is evil, Amber as I’m sure I warned you?”

“He… you mentioned it. This is all so confusing.” She surveyed the room, still in flight mode.

“I know, I know. This place is the Hathaway Mansion. You are here, but physically you are not. I am out there,” he pointed behind her, “as the Cain you were with but physically I am trapped here.”

“Jesus,” she shook her head and turned away from him. “You’re speaking in circles.”

“You will learn as I did. For now, you will just have to trust me,” he answered. “You and I, we are  in a place where reality, as you know it, bends.” He spread his hands in an upturned manner.

“This is Gail’s realm.” He paused. “For gifted ones like you, me, Cara, it’s merely a dimension, a world metaphysically fractured but very much real.” He took Amber’s hands in a consoling way, then continued to speak slowly. “But for Gail… this place is purgatory.”

“That still doesn’t explain what the fuck she wants!”

“Passage.” The voice came from the dark stage just behind him.

“You don’t have to do this, Gail. I told you, take me,” he spoke to the room.

“A tempting offer, sweet boy. But, she is so much more... enticing.”

“Passage to what?” Amber barked toward the aphothic stage.

“To your world. Permanently,” she hissed.

“My soul had slept for centuries in this hell until Gail, in her brilliance, opened me up, gave me life. But where her mind is strong, her spirit is weak.” The voice seemed to float around them. “There are so many like us, Amber. So many, and I have searched for years trying to find the one.” The voice trailed.

Amber spun to try and follow it, wanting to keep it in front of her, ready to fight.

“They are drawn to you, Amber Shelton. Like moths to a flame; Cain, Cara, even your dolt of a boyfriend, Patrick. But they are each so flawed, not like you, sweet girl. You are harmony.”

“And what makes you think I will help you?”

“Fear,” she spat. “Such a powerful and provocative human emotion.” Her tone returned soft. “You fear, Amber. It is your one true weakness, but not necessarily your fault. The perceived absence of information feeds uncertainty. Anxiety. Confusion. Fear.” The words were silky, her voice soothing and seductive.

Amber’s head felt light.

“That dearth drives the simple, societal brain to react with aversive responses and actions. Reactions, if you will. They burn what they do not understand.”

Just then, a painting illuminated on the wall. Amber turned to look. It was a depiction of a bonfire; sticks and logs piled around a woman tethered in the center, surrounded by onlookers, and flames.

“Kill it. Destroy it, rather than seek the axiom.” The voice remained just a voice as it swirled in the darkness.

“My proverb will provide truth. I will fill the void in your understanding and it is so much deeper than knowledge. It is a completion. But, you must decide, of your own free will, as Gail did and I promise you, Amber Shelton...” The words that followed were drawn-out and slow. “you... will no longer… fear.”

“Don’t listen to her, Amber!” Cain said firmly.

“SILENCE!” she boomed.

Instantly, Cain’s body locked. His arms stretched outward to either side, head pitched up slightly, fingers splayed, breathing suppressed like he was being electrocuted.

“Fight Cain. I know you can hear me. Fight goddamnit.”

“Poor, sweet Cain. I tried to teach him. Tried so hard to hone his gift.” Her voice was back to a soothing motherly tone while Cain’s body remained rigid, twitching. “He was just too fixated on the science behind it all.”

Suddenly, Gail appeared on the stage. She stepped forward slightly and smiled in the direction of Cain’s body. “You know, asphyxiation is the most euphoric death. Just before your soul leaves the body, your mind returns to the womb.”

“Let him go. You can have me. I’ll do it. I’ll be what you need to fulfill your fucking purpose.” Amber was shaking.

“I knew eventually you would,” she directed her attention back toward Amber. “But you see, right now I have your mind. I will need your body too.”

Amber saw a figure on the stage behind Gail, off to her right. Her heart dropped as she was able to make out the shape of a hooded figure in the shadows. A henchman, perhaps. Summoned to retrieve Amber’s body and physically drag her here to this hell. It moved.

The dark figure bent and lifted a lantern from the corner of the stage. Amber cautiously took a step back. As the light rose, it revealed more of the shadowy figure. She took another step. It was wearing dark pants, and what appeared to be a hooded cloak was not, but a sweatshirt instead. Patrick.

The rising glow caught Gail’s attention and she slowly spun to face him.

“This is for trying to suffocate me, you fucking cunt!”

He raised the lantern in a swinging motion and crashed it downward onto Gail. Glass shattered and the oil inside erupted in a ball of fire to engulf her. Cain’s body released and collapsed to the floor.

The room echoed with a screech that was not human-like.

Gail’s body twisted and lurched as the flames grew to swallow her. Patrick leapt from the stage to join Amber in the center of the room.

“Go! He needs to find Cara.” Cain rose to all-fours and called out to them. “You, Amber, get back to the room where you arrived.” He fought to regain his breath.

Gail continued to shrill, crashing against the bookshelves. Flames crawled from her weakened body up the wall of old, tinder-like books.

“I won’t leave her,” Patrick grabbed Amber. The room engulfed in a thick black smoke.

“You must!” Cain snapped with a cough. “She is not technically here but you and Cara are. You must find her and get out before the house burns before the spirit leaves Gail’s body. GO!”

Suddenly, Gail lunged and with another scream crashed down onto Cain. A struggle ensued.

“No!” Amber yelled. She made an attempt to help, but Patrick held her back.

“It’s too late.”  He tightened his grip as the heat from the flames grew. “You’ll only burn with them.”

She stood for a moment and stared over his shoulder in shock. Between the flames, Cain’s arms were locked not trying to fight Gail off, but holding her and not letting go.

Patrick forced Amber toward the door. “We need to leave. Now!” Glass began to shatter in the heat. More lanterns exploded.

“No! We need to find Cara,” she screamed frantically as they made their way into the hallway.
“Get back to that room he told you about. I think I have an idea where she is.” He shoved her and disappeared into the smoky darkness.

~ * ~ * ~

“She’s still asleep.”

Amber entered the living room holding two mugs of coffee and handed one to Patrick. She was dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair, still damp from an earlier shower, was wrapped up in a towel atop her head. She moved slowly, like a runner the day after a marathon.

“Honestly Ams, I really think we need to take her to the hospital, get her checked out,” he replied, taking a sip from the steaming mug.

“She’s been through a lot, let’s just let her rest for now.”

The midmorning sun shone through the condo’s windows to warm the air with a cozy energy. All the drapes were fully pulled open, letting in as much light as possible. Sirens blared in the distance, moving away.

“I guess someone finally called it in,” Patrick said, staring out the picture window. “Let’s hope there’s not much left by the time they get there.”

“It was technically abandoned,” she replied. “I’m sure they will just secure it, contain the flames and make sure it doesn’t spread.”

“Amber,” he spun to face her. His voice was inquisitive, almost child-like. “What was all that? When I found Cara she was old, like really old, and now she’s not.” He was shaking his head, as if his mind was skeptical about even asking the questions. “And the message on my phone telling me where and how to find you guys. Who was that? I almost deleted it and went to bed. Good thing I didn’t,” he murmured.

“You wouldn’t have,” she replied under her breath, knowing his subconscious had forced him to follow her inner beacon. She looked into his eyes, then turned away. “I can’t really rationalize it, Pat. Some sort of perception we don’t really understand, I suppose.” Her voice was apprehensive. “A sinuous connection of mind and matter that I... We cannot explain.”

She glanced down the hall towards Cara’s bedroom, then back to Patrick before settling on a reflection of herself in the hallway mirror. Her eyes were still tired, red and sunken. Her mind was not ready to let her sleep. It would be some time before she felt rested.

Amber’s thoughts drifted to Gail and what was said about the completion. What if she wasn’t mad, if there really was knowledge beyond human understanding? What if the Gossamer Thread was real and feasible and the key to it all was hidden in that spirit trapped within the house?

Just then, Cara appeared in the hallway, wrapped in the comforter from her bed. She was slouched, her skin was pale and a heavy expression weighed on her face.

“Hey,” Amber smiled. “You okay?”

It was a silly question. Like asking someone who is writhing on the ground in clear and evident pain if they were okay. But, it’s what we ask when we see someone hurting, even though we know the response will either be the truth, or a protective lie.

Cara answered in a worn and raspy voice. “I’m fucked up, but I’ll be alright.” Truth. “And you?”

Amber felt a pit of emptiness. Earlier that very morning she had awoken in the condo dazed and alone; confirmation that her time spent with Cain was just a part of the thread.

The entire experience floated in her head, caught somewhere between reality and loving memory, leaving behind an absence. A new void to mire her gifted mind.

She missed him.

“I’ll be alright too,” she replied with a smile. Protective lie.

*** A very special Thanks to AyleJ for once again assisting me with edits.