The Watcher

“Quickly,” I replied, relieved he hadn’t mentioned anything else, then added as if I was his PR person, “Michael was really helpful. I don’t know how I would have gotten out of that creek without him.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “That’s our Michael.”

Was it me, or was he uncomfortable receiving the praise? He crossed his arms over his chest, looking positively gorgeous. “You would have done the same thing,” he said to her.

“We should probably get inside,” I suggested to Farouk, “before the movie starts.”

We exchanged polite goodbyes and went off to find our seats. Heather waved when she saw us, happy that her night out was going so well—considering. Even Dean, playing a pre-movie trivia game with Jesse, seemed cheerful. As for me, I had a 400-pound sumo wrestler sitting on my chest. It wasn’t until after the opening credits, when we were well into the movie’s first scene, that I let myself cry. Fortunately, the movie grabbed everyone’s attention and whisked them away, so I had time to pull myself together before they noticed.

On the ride home, Farouk played the movie highlights over in conversation, and I was grateful for the recap. I hadn’t been paying attention. Neither of us mentioned Michael, or Fiona for that matter.

When we pulled up in front of my house, Farouk said, “I’m glad you wore the necklace. It suits you.”

“It’s beautiful! I love it,” I exclaimed. “It’s really sweet that she thought of me.”

“It’s a Hamsa—a ward against the evil eye.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of protection from people sending you bad thoughts. You know, when people are jealous or wish you harm.”

“I could sure use that,” I said, thinking first of Elaine, then Fiona. Had someone been sending her bad vibes?

“We sell them at my father’s store. They’ve even been blessed by an imam—a Muslim priest.” He gave me a shy grin. “I guess that must sound odd to you.”

I shook my head. Who was I to judge his beliefs?

“You know how I told you about her gift the other day?”

“Yeah,” I said, remembering how he thought I was seeing things. I still didn’t want to talk about it.

“She thinks that someone means to harm you, and that wearing the necklace will protect you.”

Invisible, icy cold fingers danced up my spine. “Oh.”

“I hope it brings you luck.”

Chapter Eleven

In my dream, Michael and I walked hand in hand up an arid, grassy hill. Sheep grazed in the meadows, and gardens stretched out like patchwork blankets below. Heat waves shimmered in the air around us, and the sky shone a crystalline shade of blue. Halfway up the hill, Michael stopped. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me close until our bodies grazed each other’s—not quite touching. I pressed myself into him. At first his kiss was gentle. Then those kisses became hungry, intense.

A voice in my dream said: Open your eyes.

When I did, I was surrounded by darkness, and I wasn’t with Michael anymore. I was with Damiel. Startled, I tried to back away, but he was so strong I couldn’t move. His smile sharpened, the corners of his mouth pulling fiendishly tight, and his brown eyes glowed red. I got the sense his hunger had nothing to do with kissing. He put his hand over my heart and it lurched, as though it would rip out of my chest. I gasped, pushing away from him with all my strength, but I was starting to weaken…

***

As she pulled her mom’s minivan into Fiona’s driveway, Heather cleared her throat so loud it made me jump. I’d spaced out.

Fiona lived with her mom and dad in a big, modern house with huge windows overlooking Puget Sound, and the view from their living room was incredible, especially today. The sun peeked through the clouds and beamed rays of light onto the water below like something from an inspirational greeting card. Fiona sat on her bed, fully dressed, reading a horror novel. A large gauze bandage was taped to her left wrist; she must have gotten stitches.

When she saw us, she sprang off the bed, her arms outstretched to hug both of us at once.

“So good to see you guys!” Fiona said.

“You too.” I hugged her.

Heather backed away first. “I’m so sorry,” she said. I wondered where she was going with this. “You’re my friend. I should have—”

Fiona cut her off. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to put everyone through this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just…” She sat back down on the bed. When she looked up at us, her eyes were shining and wet. “Don’t know what happened. I really don’t.”

Heather sat on the bed and put an arm around Fiona. I grabbed the chair near the vanity table. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re going to get through this together.”

Fiona shook her off. “You don’t get it. I’ve been sad in my life, sure, but I’ve never been depressed. Over the last few days, I’ve been examined by doctors, psychiatrists, psycho-everything and all they could say is I didn’t fit the profile for a suicide attempt. My mom was ready to think I did it for attention.” She choked out a sob. “But I didn’t.”

I’d never seen Fiona so emotional before, and it worried me. Was she denying what happened? “Hey,” I said. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. We can just hang out.”

“No, I want you guys to believe me. Nobody believes me! I’m not crazy, okay? I know it sounds nuts, but when I was in the changing room… You know me—I’m afraid of kitchen knives. I don’t even know where it came from. It may have been my hand holding the knife, but it wasn’t me in there.” She took in a deep breath and let it out, shaking her head. “Then, as soon as I…cut myself…it’s like I came around. I tried to stop the bleeding and couldn’t. I called out and Ms. Callou came to help.”

“Dissociation,” Heather muttered under her breath.

“Heather,” I said. “Now isn’t the time for psychoanalysis!”

My mind flashed back to that morning when Damiel spoke to Fiona in the hall. He was so intense, and she didn’t seem herself.

“I believe you,” I said to Fiona. “I saw you that morning. You looked sad.”

“I was sad that morning. All I could think was what a loser I am, and how no guy could ever want me. Not Dean. Not anyone.”

“You’re a total babe, Fi! Don’t you ever forget it.” Heather put an arm around Fiona’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Have you talked to Dean?”

“Yeah. We’re good, I think,” she said. Gri

I couldn’t shake the image of Damiel whispering in Fiona’s ear. I wasn’t sure if now was the right time to bring it up but I had to know. “Did Damiel say something to you?”

“Damiel? No. He’s never really spoken to me other than to say hi.” Fiona leaned forward tapping her foot. “Why? Did he say something?”

“No. Not at all.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say next. Hadn’t she seen him?

Heather cut in. “Mia’s got a date with him tonight.”

“Oh my God! Really? You lucky—”

“About that…” I began. I couldn’t go out with Damiel, not if he’d said something that hurt my friend. But if he did, she didn’t seem to remember it. While I thought I saw him talking to her, I could be wrong. Maybe it was just my imagination. Was I the one going insane?

“Don’t you dare cancel that date,” Fiona said. “I want to hear all about it.”

While the idea of going out with Damiel felt far from right, I agreed to go. My gut was telling me there had to be some kind of link between Fiona’s suicide attempt and what I saw that day. Even if he hadn’t been in the hallway talking to her, I must have seen something. Farouk had said his sister had visions of future events. Maybe I was having them, too. What if he was going to talk to her later and that was what I saw? Some possible future event. It was almost too strange to consider. The only way to know for sure was to ask Damiel. He had answers, and I wanted to know what they were.