Silent Fall

"Don’t. Go away. Stop!"
    "Catherine."
    She heard Dylan talking to her, but his voice wasn’t as strong as the other man’s.
    "Where are you, little girl? Where are you hiding, sweet pea?"
    She held her breath, shrinking into as tight and small a ball as possible. He couldn’t find her. He couldn’t. She chanted the words over and over again, her gaze catching on the drops of blood staining her toes. She buried her face in her cotton nightgown, smelling her own fear, tasting her own vomit, hearing the screams in her head. If he found her he would kill her, too .
    She felt the car swerve, then come to a jolting stop. The seat belt snapped her back into place. Her eyes flew open as Dylan grabbed her hands, pulling them away from her ears so she could hear him.
    "Dammit, Catherine," he said forcefully. "Talk to me. Look at me."
    Dylan’s commands drove the other man back into the recesses of her mind.
    She stared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe. Dimly she realized he’d pulled over to the side of the highway.
    "What the hell is going on, Catherine? Are you having another vision? Are you connecting with the guy who’s trying to kill us?"
    She wanted to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come. Her present and her past were blurring together. She wanted to escape, but there was no way to leave the terrors of her own mind. She felt very close to the edge of a perilous cliff. All her life she’d wondered if one day she would snap, one day she would break in two, one day she would go to sleep and never wake up. A person could only take so much. And tonight’s attack on her life had reminded her of the last time she’d dodged death.
    Blinking rapidly, she tried to focus on something real, something right in front of her. She feared she was losing it big-time, and she couldn’t help wondering how many more chances she would get before someone succeeded in killing her.
    "Catherine, pay attention to me."
    Dylan’s words made her turn her head. His hands reached again for hers, his warmth cutting through the cold chill.
    "You’re freezing," he said, rubbing her fingers hard. "I should have stopped before this."
    "I’m... I’m okay," she said finally. One day she would have to face what was in her head, but not today, not now. She wasn’t ready. She had too many battles to fight, too many killers to face. She couldn’t beat them all at once.
    "Can you tell me what you saw?" Dylan asked.
    "He’s going to kill me first. Then you."
    Dylan’s eyes widened. "Where? When?"
    She shook her head. "I don’t know. But he’s somewhere out there, and he doesn’t seem worried about finding us. How can he know where we’re going to be when we don’t know?"
    "He doesn’t know where we are right now. He can’t," Dylan told her. "He’s not that powerful."
    "I think he is -- or someone is," she amended. "Someone who’s telling him what to do. And that person wants you to watch me die."
    He cupped her face with his hands. "That’s not going to happen. I swear to God I won’t let that happen."
    "I know you’ll try --" she began.
    He cut her off with a shake of his head. "No, I won’t just try. I’ll succeed. You have to believe in me, Catherine, the way I believe in you."
    For the first time she looked into his eyes and saw complete and utter acceptance. He’d told her earlier that he’d lost his faith, but somehow he’d found it in her. She was overwhelmingly touched. And if he could believe, then so could she.
    "I do," she whispered. "I do believe in you." She ran her finger along his strong jaw and saw the pulse jump in his neck. "I want to show you how much."
    "Catherine." He breathed her name on a note of husky desire.
    "Take me somewhere," she said. "Let’s stop running just for a little while."
    * * *
    Her head hit the bed two seconds after they entered the motel room.
    The reckless energy between them exploded as their mouths met, their tongues tangling together in an impatient dance of need and desire. Catherine didn’t want to think anymore. She didn’t want to lose herself in the past or the future, just the present -- in Dylan’s arms. She wanted to feel him on top of her, beneath her, inside of her. She wanted to take his strength, his confidence, his power, and make them her own. She was being selfish, but she didn’t care. She needed to take, and he