Entranced Read online

  The fuel light turned on, and I stopped at a gas station a few blocks from my house. A car pulled up next to me, and an older woman got out. The lemon smell wafted over me, and I braced myself. She glanced at me, and I forced myself not to look away when our eyes met.

  “That’s right, Emma. Put the green one here.” Abigail guides little Emma’s hands over the puzzle pieces until the right one clicks into place. Smiling at Emma’s bright, happy eyes, Abigail lands a kiss on her forehead. “My sweet girl. Who’s Nana’s angel?”

  “Emma,” Emma answers, and Abigail smiles. She has the most perfect granddaughter on earth.

  The front door opens, and she looks up to see Becky walking in.

  “Mama,” Emma says, pushing off the floor and wrapping her arms around her mother.

  Abigail picks up her purse and joins Emma and Becky. “How was the appointment?”

  “Oh, great,” Becky says, smoothing back Emma’s wild blond curls. “Everything looks great.”

  Abigail's eyes flash to her daughter’s belly, even though the new life growing within can’t be seen yet. She swells with pride at the thought of another beautiful grandchild. “Of course it does, sweetie. You’ll have a perfectly healthy, darling little one.” She pats Becky’s hand. “I better go make sure your father’s all right.”

  “Thanks for watching Emma, Mom.” Becky gives Abigail a quick hug before turning her attention to Emma.

  “Anytime.” Abigail beams at them and then lets herself out the front door. She hums as she starts up her Oldsmobile. The engine stalls a moment before kicking in. “Come on, old girl,” she scolds the car. “You’ve got to hang in there a bit more.” She and Frank don’t have the budget right now to invest in a new vehicle. And at their age? Who would buy a new car, anyway?

  She pulls out of the neighborhood and starts down the highway, just crossing an intersection when the car stalls again. She glances around the quiet street, glad there are no other vehicles behind her. She tries the car again. The engine turns over but doesn’t start.

  In front of her, the light changes from green to red. Her heart begins to pound anxiously. She’s in the middle of the intersection. “Come on, come on,” she murmurs, turning the key and pushing on the gas. Nothing.

  She looks out the window in time to see a truck approaching from her left. Her breathing comes in raspy gasps and her body tenses up. “I’ve got to move, I’ve got to go!” she cries, pumping the gas and pounding on the steering wheel. Her heart thumps in her ears, and a splitting pain tears through her left side. Abigail groans, clutching at her shoulder. The pain hits her again, so hard she can’t think. She slumps forward, fading into unconsciousness.

  I shook the vision off me, forcing my eyes away from Abigail as she turned to the gas pump. From my perspective, a perspective Abigail didn’t have in her blind panic, the truck had been slowing down. It had seen her in the intersection. I doubted it would’ve rammed into her.

  So how would she die?

  I touched my left arm, still aching from the searing pain. What could cause that kind of pain? Abigail was elderly; maybe arthritis? I hadn’t experienced arthritis and I knew it hurt, but could it really hurt that bad?

  A heart attack. The thought hit me over the head with sudden clarity. Abigail scared herself into a heart attack. Abigail, with her sweet little granddaughter and another on the way.

  Her death didn’t need to happen. But she wasn’t my call. I pulled out my phone and texted Laima, telling her to pass the details on to Karta (reminding her again that I’d like Karta’s number, thank you).

  I’d barely put my phone away when Abigail finished fueling. She dropped the hose and turned around, walking away from the car.

  I watched her. Where was she going? My curiosity turned into alarm as she moved toward the street. She stood on the sidewalk, overlooking the cars. Now would be a great time to cross, during the break in traffic. But she didn’t move.

  “Abigail?” I called out tentatively.

  A car whipped around the corner, approaching rapidly from the north. Before I could so much as scream, Abigail thrust herself in front of the moving vehicle. Her body collided with the bumper with a sickening thud, followed by the screeching of tires. I whirled my head away, squeezing my eyes shut, but the horrible sound of the car as it rolled across her body echoed in my head. Car doors slammed, someone screamed to call 911, and all I could do was tremble next to the gas pump.

  Ambulances and police arrived moments later. I sat in my car, hands on the steering wheel, unable to think. I knew they’d want to question me, so I didn’t leave the station.

  My phone rattled on the console next to me. Seeing “Mom” on the screen, I picked it up. “Hello?” Even to my ears, my voice sounded dead.

  “Jayne! I just heard about an accident close to our house. I had to make sure you weren’t involved.”

  “Not involved, really,” I replied, suddenly emotional. “I saw it, though.” And then I was crying. Not the soft, sniffling crying, either, but the shoulder-shaking, body-racking sob crying. “It was . . .” I couldn’t even get the words out, I was crying so hard.

  “Where are you?” Mom demanded.

  “The gas station,” I managed to eep out.

  I didn’t catch what else she said before she hung up. A few moments later, a policeman knocked on my window. I got out, holding my sides and choking back tears.

  “Miss,” he said gently. “Can you tell me what you saw?”

  I nodded, fresh, hot tears escaping. “She was getting gas. We didn’t talk to each other. She just turned and walked into the street.”

  A commotion by the police cars distracted me, and I turned my head enough to see my mom parked outside the police barricade, arguing with an officer. I jerked my hand up and waved. “Mom!” Another sob followed at the end of the word.

  My mom broke through. In a moment she held me in her arms, and I welcomed her comfort, crying into her shoulder.

  “Ma’am?” the officer said. “I’m almost done talking to your daughter. Then you can take her home.”

  She pulled back and looked at me, her blue-green eyes swimming in emotion. “Is that all right, Jayne?”

  I nodded.

  The cop continued his questioning. “Did she say anything? Anything at all?”

  I shook my head. “Not a word.”

  “What happened when she got to the street?”

  I took a deep breath. “She walked to the edge and looked at the other side. I thought she wanted to cross, but she just stood there. Then a car came around the corner, and she stepped off. Right in front of it. It was—” I shook my head. “It seemed as if she was waiting for it. Like she wanted to step in front of it.”

  My mom’s arm tightened around my shoulders.

  The cop scribbled quickly, catching all my words as they left my mouth. “But she didn’t say anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Thank you, Miss.” He looked at my mom. “You can take her home. Come back in a few hours and we’ll have the barricade down. Then she can get her car.”

  “Thank you.” Mom nodded curtly, as if she blamed him for my emotional distress.

  I leaned into her, grateful that she had come for me. She buckled me into the passenger seat as if I were a toddler, then stroked my hair and kissed my head. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Jayne,” she murmured.

  I stared at the glove compartment in front of me, willing myself not to cry again. I was shaken to the core.

  I didn’t think to text Laima until I got home. Mom sat me down on the couch in the den and made a cup of hot chocolate. I held up my phone and read Laima’s contact information.

  Laima used to appear every time I Saw someone’s death. Those were the two things I could count on: the lemon smell before I had the vision, and Laima’s appearance after. That was before I knew who I was, though. Now, she said I didn’t need her.

  I obviously did.

  I pressed her contact info and put the
phone to my ear. It rang twice before an automatic recording began. “You have a reached a number that has been . . .”

  I hung up. It wasn’t the first time I’d tried to call, and it always went that way. I typed out a brief message.

  Third time now. I had a vision of a woman dying in a car accident. Five minutes later she walked into the street and died. What’s going on?

  I hit “send” and then laid my head on the armrest of the couch.

  *~*

  “Aaron! Come on in.”

  My mom’s voice drifted from the entryway down to where I lay on the couch in the den. My eyes pried themselves open, and I lifted my head. Either I’d been dreaming about Aaron, or my mom was talking to him. A blanket lay on top of me, and I gathered it around me as I stood up. I’d only taken two steps from the couch when Aaron walked into the room.

  “Hey,” he said with a grin. Though he smiled, tiny lines around his dark eyes showed his concern. “Are you sick? I’ve been ringing for an hour.”

  An hour? I glanced at the phone in my hand and saw three missed calls. I also saw that it was seven o’clock, more than an hour since I’d gotten home. “I’m okay. It’s been a hard day.”

  “You were upset with me.”

  I pressed my hand to my temple, trying to soothe my aching head. I still felt angry at him, but I couldn’t really remember why. Maybe I was too tired. Or maybe it just wasn’t that important. “People are dying.”

  He nodded. “People die, Jayne. You’re just unfortunate enough to get a sneak peek.”

  “But it’s not right,” I whispered. I had to make him understand. “I’m Seeing people die one way, and then in real life they die another way.”

  “And your visions couldn’t be wrong? Maybe they are just one possibility.”

  “No!” Tears pricked my eyes again. “They can’t be!” But even I was starting to wonder. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

  I took Aaron’s hand and guided him up to my room. He sat down on the bed while I started going through my desk drawer, looking for the green file folder I always kept there. I opened it up and handed him the sheet of paper. “Here.” I joined him on the bed, checking that the bedroom door was open. Mom was fine with us being alone in here, as long as I left the door open.

  He scanned the list of names. “These are all the people whose deaths you’ve seen?”

  “Yeah. And what I saw, and then the date they actually died, if I found the obituary. And the new column I added, saying if I asked Laima to change it or not.”

  “Why is this photocopied?”

  “Um.” I blushed. The original had Aaron’s death on it. I’d whited it out and written over it, then made a copy and thrown away the original. I had no idea if Laima would grant my petition to save his life, but I refused to imagine any other scenario.

  “You changed something on it,” he said, his steely blue eyes reading me like a book.

  “Yes,” I said, knowing I couldn’t get away with lying. But I wasn’t going to disclose the truth, either. “A death that got changed by Laima. I took it off.”

  I could tell from the way his gaze didn’t leave mine that he knew there was more to it. But instead of asking, he turned back to the paper. “How do you know none of these were changed also?”

  “Until Laima told me I have the powers of Dekla, I didn’t even know I could change them.” I pointed to the names that didn’t have dates of death next to them. “These ones haven’t died yet. Hopefully when they do, it won’t be the way I Saw it.” I hesitated, not sure if it was safe to bring this up with him again. “This is Matthew.” I pointed to the second-to-last name on the list. “He’s the man who drowned by your house.”

  “The one I tried to save and couldn’t,” Aaron murmured, his eyes losing focus for a moment.

  I waited, and he looked back at me. “You must’ve imagined it, Jayne.”

  I pulled the paper away and shoved it back into the folder, bruised at his lack of belief. I couldn’t begin to tell him about today if he already didn’t believe me. “How did I know his name, then?” I demanded. “Never mind. I don’t have the patience to try to convince you. Don’t believe me, fine.” Holding the folder to my chest, I stood up.

  Aaron grabbed my hand. “Don’t act like a child.”

  If he was trying to calm me down, he was going about it all wrong. “Oh, thanks. First you tell me I’m imagining my visions, and now you tell me I’m a child?” I pulled my hand away. “Forget it. I’ll figure this out myself.”

  “Jayne.” He stood up, but I didn’t meet his eyes. Once again I found myself near tears. “I know you believe your visions—”

  “You don’t know anything!” I exclaimed, jerking my chin up and glaring at him. “You have no idea what it’s like to think you might See someone’s death at any moment. Worse, you get to experience it with them, as if you were them! Talk about walking in someone else’s shoes! Try dying with them! And then, just when you think there’s a silver lining, that maybe there’s a purpose and a reason to Seeing people die, everything you know turns upside down! People aren’t dying the way you’ve been shown and you don’t know what to do about it! And you don’t know who to talk to about it, because the only people who know DON’T CARE!”

  Aaron pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh, Jayne, or your whole family will know too.”

  He was right. I glanced toward the open door, hoping no one had heard my outburst.

  “All right, I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I believe you. I’m just trying to find some answers.”

  I sank into the carpet and put my head in my hands, unable to stop the tears. Everything was wrong and unexpected, and even those closest to me thought I was making it up.

  “Hey. Hey, hey, hey.” Aaron crouched next to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders, then used his grip to pull me back to my feet. “Jayne, it’s okay. It’s not all that bad.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not just Matthew,” I sobbed out. “Or even Mike. There was another one today—a woman—” I broke off, crying too hard to continue.

  Aaron brushed my tears away. “What happened today?”

  I shook my head.

  He kissed my cheek, and then my mouth. At first I could ignore the gentle touch of his lips, but as the kiss grew more insistent, my emotional agonies fell away to the physical pull of his mouth. My arms went around his neck and I kissed him back, yearning for the closeness.

  Aaron took a step back, his hand dropping to mine. His fingers rubbed my knuckles, and he gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m on your side. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I swallowed hard, working to maintain a grip on my recently regained composure. “I Saw a woman at the gas station today. She was supposed to die from a heart attack. I Saw the whole thing, felt every moment of it. And then, two seconds later, she stepped in front of a car and died!” I trembled at the memory, the smack of her body hitting the car, the tires screeching just seconds too late. “How could that happen? How could she die a different death than the one I Saw?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Did you ask Laima to change it? Maybe she did, and it just wasn’t the way you wanted.”

  “No.” I was already shaking my head. “I can’t change things for adults, remember? That’s Karta’s domain.”

  “Oh.” He looked confused but nodded anyway. “Then Karta changed her death.”

  I thought of Matthew drowning himself. Mike shooting himself. Abigail jumping in front of a car. “They all killed themselves.” Suicides. “Suicide is something we can’t change. It’s something people decide for themselves.” I shook my head in frustration. “I need to talk to Laima. Last time I had to die before I got to talk to her in person.”

  “Let’s not try that again.” Aaron took my hand. “We’ll figure this out somehow.”

  By the time Aaron left, I was less emotional, even if I didn’t feel that much better. I called Dana, the only other person who knew about my talent, hoping I could have a conversation without
breaking down.

  She didn’t answer. What a surprise.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I was no closer to answers when I woke up in the morning, but at least I didn’t feel the same heavy pressure on my chest. I checked my phone, pushing down the rising frustration that Laima still hadn’t answered me. Where was she?

  Mom was in the kitchen starting the coffee. “Are you all right, Jayne?” she asked when she saw me.

  “Yeah,” Beth said, pulling an earbud out. Her legs kicked freely under the table as she crunched on her cereal. “Heard about that old lady. Ew.”

  “I’m fine.” I grabbed a bagel and leaned against the counter next to Mom. “Not at the office?”

  “I’m showing a house at ten. I figured I’d stay here and pull comps and stats. Just as easy here as at the office.”

  I shuddered, my mind on Abigail again. The sound of her body as the car hit . . . I closed my eyes.

  “You okay?” Mom asked again, putting a hand on my arm.

  I nodded and pushed off the counter. “Let’s go, Beth.”

  “I’m not done,” she whined.

  “If you’re riding with me, we leave now.”

  “For the love of cold cereal,” she grumbled, grabbing her bag.

  I turned the radio up and drowned myself in the noise as we drove. The trilling of a phone caught my attention, and I lowered the volume. “Is that yours?”

  She picked it up and put it back down. “Yep.”

  “Not going to answer it?”

  “Nope.”

  I turned the radio off and frowned at her. “Why?”

  She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Just stupid people from school.”

  What was wrong with people these days? “I guess that’s why Mom didn’t want you hanging with that crowd.”

  “Whatever.” She put her earbuds in.

  “Find another hobby,” I said. “Sports. Photography. Journalism.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at me but otherwise didn’t respond.

  I pulled up along the curve and slowed down. The drop off zone was crowded with kids, but not the usual shrieking, laughing, mingling crowd. I eyed the hugging, eye-wiping pre-teens warily.