She scoffed. “You’re wasting time making me a dress. I won’t wear it.”
“No special occasions coming up? Or maybe a special someone…?”
Those telltale twin spots of color appeared on Roksana’s cheeks. “No. And no. There is no one. Are you almost finished?”
“Yes.” While Ginny helped Roksana out of the garment, guilt prodded her in the side. “Sorry, I think maybe I’m forcing girl talk on you because I never get a chance to have it. There doesn’t need to be a special someone to dress up, either. Right? Therefore, I’m making you a dress.”
Roksana looked like she wanted to protest, but reached out and rubbed the material between two fingers, instead. “Blood would blend in very nicely with this color, I suppose.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Ruth, founder of Embrace the Lace Dressmaking Endeavors, blew into the church basement with an arm full of fabric sample books. Her son, Gordon, and Ginny’s one and only date, trailed behind her with a red Radio Flyer wagon loaded down with a sewing kit and endless bolts of fabric.
“Ladies, I’m so sorry to be late. Please forgive me.” Ruth slipped her fingers up beneath her glasses and rubbed at her eyes. “I got all the way here and realized I’d forgotten everything, including Gordon.”
The son in question grimaced and waved, his gaze searching out Ginny. When he saw her, his spine snapped straight and he dropped the wagon handle. Clank.
“Another besotted male, eh, Ginny?” Roksana said out of the side of her mouth. “When it rains it pours.”
Ginny started to tell Roksana that this was definitely her first downpour, but she quieted when Galina marched in Ruth’s direction. On her way, the twin sent a pointed look at Ginny, clearly intending to make a complaint. “Uh-oh.”
Roksana sighed. “I really don’t like that bitch.”
Ginny sighed. “At least she’s consistent.”
“Ginny,” Gordon called, approaching with his wagon once again in tow. “You brought a friend.”
“Hi Gordon. Yes, this is Roksana.”
Roksana stuck out a hand for him to shake. “Cool wagon.”
“Oh, uh…thanks.” He scrubbed at the top of his head, making a mess of his ginger hair. “So, listen. Ginny, I was wondering—”
“Yes, yes, Galina. Yes. A couple of reminders, ladies!” Ruth’s voice rang out, unknowingly cutting off her son. “The dress expo is nearly upon us. Now, we’ve been preparing for this night for what seems like ages! I’m sure you’re all very excited to show off your creations to friends and loved ones. But I’ve been keeping a teeny tiny little secret.” Ruth wiggled her hips, fingers crammed to her mouth. “The dress expo will also be a silent auction! All those in attendance will have a chance to bid on your dresses—isn’t that exciting?”
The members erupted with gasps and squeals.
For Ginny’s part, her stomach clenched. Ruth had been planning this dress expo for the better part of the year. Ginny was apprehensive about showing off her designs at first, but steadily grown used to the idea. Now she’d be jockeying for bids?
“One more thing.” Ruth sent Ginny a genuinely apologetic look. “Please remember, if you’re going to bring a guest, let me know if advance so I can plan for the extra person. We like guests to pay in advance and of course, we have limited space.”
A leak dripped nearby, echoing in the barely filled basement. Roksana made a huge show out of turning in a circle and pointing out all the empty seats, only stopping when Ginny poked her in the ribs.
“Oh, uh. Mom.” Gordon cleared his throat. “I forgot to tell you, Ginny mentioned to me last week that she’d be bringing a friend tonight. She already paid the fee, too. I can’t believe I forgot to mention it.”
“Oh!” Ruth seemed relieved. “Crisis averted.”
“I don’t think she knows what crisis means,” Roksana muttered, turning to Gordon. “Thank you for the kindness, my dude. However, I see your motive is brownie points with my friend. And while Ginny is not technically dating someone, you are in grave peril just standing this close to her—”
“Roksana!” Ginny cut in, with a high-pitched laugh. “She’s joking.”
The slayer scoffed. “I assure you, I am not—”
“I think it’s time to go.” Ginny shuffled Roksana away from Gordon. “See you at the expo, okay, Gordon?”
“Actually, I was thinking I’d come by for a visit.”
“Sure, sure,” Ginny said, not really registering what he’d said. As quickly as possibly, Ginny packed up her material and tools, tucking them in her burlap tote bag. Gathering her courage, she called a goodbye to the ladies on the opposite end of the basement, not expecting a response and not receiving one, either.
She shrugged at Roksana. “Oh well. Maybe next time.”
Roksana started to follow Ginny from the room, but stopped in the doorway and turned to glare at the foursome. “Good luck sewing yourself a personality,” she called, waving her middle finger at them.
“Roksana,” Ginny scolded her half-heartedly, while trying not to laugh—at least until they were out of earshot. “I can’t believe you did that.”
She waved Ginny off. “I should have thought of something better.”
“No, I loved it. It was perfect.”
Roksana cracked a smile and sent Ginny some prideful side eye. “I guess.”
That evening, they ate hot dogs from a cart on the boardwalk for dinner. While Ginny tried her best to find out more about Roksana, she came away with the barest of details. She’d moved from Russia to Boston as a child and made her way around the major cities, where she claimed vampires liked to congregate. Her preferred music of choice was synthetic pop, she’d been a competitive gymnast into her teens and suffered from seasonal allergies. That last one she’d been most reluctant to reveal because it exposed a weakness.
Sunset signaled the shift change between Larissa and Ginny at the funeral home and that time was approaching fast. Not wanting to risk getting caught with the slayer, nimble and adept at hiding though she was, they parted ways at the end of the block. Ginny entered through the front entrance, waving at Larissa on her way to the stairs, before detouring and letting Roksana in the back way.
With an hour to go before sunset—and the start of her shift—Ginny left Roksana sharpening her knife on the fire escape and turned on the end of The Quiet Man, since she’d missed it last night. Maybe it was the beautiful, green scenery and musical accents of the movie. Or maybe it was the memory of falling asleep against Jonas during the same scene the night prior. Whatever the reason, Ginny found herself lulled to sleep, her face nuzzling into one of her couch’s throw pillows.
The dream that crept in was unfamiliar, as in she’d never had it before, but somehow she knew the exact steps to take. Knew what was coming before it happened. There she was, walking through the county fair, the hem of her dress flapping in the nighttime breeze. Around her, lights flickered, games ding-dinged and people laughed. There was a roasted chestnuts smell wafting past and a sense of wonder in the air. The brassy womble of a lone trombone dipped and lifted, coming from the direction of the bandstand. Happiness bubbled in her belly, anticipation, though she couldn’t say for what.
She only knew if she turned the corner at the cotton candy stand and left the loud, main drag, she’d see him. That’s where he’d been the night before. Standing under the willow tree in the shadows in his newsboy cap and suspenders, watching her. Making no attempt to lure her closer, but luring her nonetheless with the promise of…what?
The mystery he represented excited her. It had excited her the first night of the fair, but she’d exercised caution like she’d been taught and stuck to the crowd. What would she do tonight? Would she play it safe and spend another sleepless night wondering what if? Or would she go find out why, at such a distance, this unknown man could have such a wild pull on her being?
She took a step off the path and his body went on alert, separating from the tree. He shook his head at her. “Don’t,” he mouthed. “Please, don’t.”
His warning only made her more determined. More curious.
Another step was taken…
And then the dream changed. Shifted like sand.
One moment she was on the edge of the lively fair and the next, she was floating. Floating, kind of like last night when Jonas carried her to bed. White haze passed over her like torn shrouds and she left them twisting in her wake. Was she moving? Bright dots of light hung high above her and below, there was a sound of movement. Large movement. Rushing air and muffled music. And it was getting closer. Or, maybe she was moving closer to the sounds?
Ginny tried to open her eyes and find the source of the noise, but her head was muddled in a way she’d only ever experienced after an abundance of cold medicine. Rousing herself was repugnant when she could just float and sleep…
Suddenly, her feet touched down on something hard, jolting her, and the lethargy cleared like it had never been there to begin with.
When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the center lane of a highway with a semi-truck bearing down on her.
CHAPTER SIX
It was the kind of fear that couldn’t be described.
There was no build to it, just a precise slice straight through Ginny’s body—a very horrifying certainty that her life ended there. Now. In the middle of a three-lane highway.
I’m going to be road kill.
Would it be painful?
Please don’t let it be painful.
The worst part was she’d never know how this happened. How she’d gotten there. Oh, something similar to this had happened once before. She’d been lucky to escape. But she wouldn’t escape this. The semi-truck’s brakes were squealing and the driver was shouting behind the windshield, but he was going too fast, right?
Right.