Chapter 31

Just before dusk, they rounded a bend and the farm came into view. Sam felt an enormous weight slip from her shoulders. Now, life would become normal again. She could be . . . she again. She smiled at that thought.

Sergeant must have felt the same. He stood up in the back of the wagon and put his front paws on the side, craning his head around the seat to see the house. His nose sniffed the air and he made a snuffling sound.

Sam laughed and rubbed his head roughly. “Home, boy, home.” She whispered in his ear.

As John pulled up in front of the house, Sergeant leaped over the side of the wagon and darted off, sniffing hedges, bushes, steps, everything he came in contact with. John helped Samantha down and then took out her bag.

“I’ll check out the house and barn and then I’ve got to head home. You’re welcome to come with me and stay a few days.”

“Oh, I think my traveling days are over for a bit. It was nice to see new things and meet Aunt Isabel but I’m so glad to be home I just want to curl up on my sofa and look at the furniture.”

John looked around the yard, his eyes scanning every tree, bush, and building in his sight, the way Sergeant sniffed everything. “I think I better check the barn, too.” He snapped his fingers and Sergeant turned from sniffing the grass near the steps, and moved ahead of him toward the barn. If there was any trouble, Sergeant would deal with it first, giving John time to react and defend himself if needed.

As he disappeared inside Samantha felt the hair on her neck stand up. There wasn’t anyone around and she knew it but her sense of well-being has been disrupted by her hired hand’s disappearance. John reappeared with Sergeant trailing behind. They both looked disappointed that they had not discovered a screaming horde. John, like her father, liked a good scrap once in awhile.

“All clear there,” he called as he approached. “Your hired hand seems to have left everything spotless. You’d never know someone has been staying in the tack room. I’ll walk through the house and then be on my way. You are to lock up tight tonight and do not open that door to anyone you have not known for less than ten years.”

Laughter bubbled up into her throat but she squelched it, knowing that John would think she wasn’t taking his orders seriously enough. After all, if someone did actually want to break in on her there wasn’t much she could do to prevent it. The dog would die defending her but a weapon could bring him down with very little effort. Then, she would be fair game. The stifled laughter died with that thought.

After he was satisfied that the house was secure and there wasn’t a band of thugs hiding under the sink, John headed for his own hearth. Samantha watched him out of sight as she scratched Sergeant’s head. “I think we’re on our own again, fella.”

He barked and darted as a rabbit dashed from beneath the porch, headed for the meadow. He stopped when the smaller animal passed beneath the fence. Sam smiled. He would chase them but never beyond the fence. Once into the meadow, they could graze in peace. She always suspected this was a game. Her father had said it was training. The dog was trained not to lose sight of the subject he was protecting. The fence was a barrier that reminded him.

She whistled and he trotted back to her. “Inside, boy. I have to unpack.”

He followed her into the house and found his favorite rug in front of the fireplace. Sam set about putting away her things. She paused to fix a pot of coffee and put food and water down for the dog. Once the coffee was done, she fixed a cup and sat down in her favorite reading chair, feet propped on a stool and sighed. There was just no place like home, especially after a journey. She sat her cup aside, lay her head back and closed her eyes, listening to the quiet of the house.

When she opened her eyes again it was to pitch dark in the room. The dog nuzzled her hand and she stifled a scream and then laughed at herself. It was several minutes before her eyes adjusted to the darkness and then it was only slightly better. She could make out where the windows were by the slits of the shutters.

Using caution, she got up and moved across the room to find a lantern, barking her knee on the end of the sofa. She rubbed it as she stumbled into the kitchen, feeling along the wall for the counter. The lamp she always kept on the table near the door was missing. She tried to remember where it could be and when she could have moved it. There was another lamp on the wall above the counter with matches in the top drawer. Her hand brushed the baking pans on the wall, knocking one to the floor. As it struck, Samantha stopped in her tracks. There had been no echo, no clang of metal pans striking the floor. For the space of three breaths, she stood there, stretching her senses. She knew someone was coming but this time something was different. The usual thick feel to the air was still there but something more. She turned back and fumbled to open front door.

It seemed silly to feel afraid to open her own front door. Had there been threat, the dog would have alerted her by now. If anyone approached the house, friend or foe, Sergeant would have told her. The heavy door swung open on silent hinges and her breath caught in her throat. Always the air was clear and sharp when someone came through. Tonight, a mist had rolled in and it was thicker than any she had ever seen. It roiled like smoke from a raging inferno and emitted a pale glow that she could only attribute to the full moon that she knew was out tonight. As if sensing the open door it moved toward her, seeking to fill the void of the house. This isn’t right, she thought, something is wrong.

Something moved inward and hands, and then a face pushed through. Instinctively, she stepped back, throwing her hands up before her. “NO!” she screamed, stumbling back and whirling away. She yelled, “Sergeant! Protect!” Her foot caught the edge of a throw rug and she fell. “Sergeant!”

There was no response. He moved to stand next to her and looked down at her, his head turned to one side as he tried to puzzle out why she was sprawled on the floor. He didn’t rush forward and lunge at the intruder. He just stood looking at her with bright, inquisitive eyes.

She looked at the dog looking at her and then, she looked toward the door where the mist twisted and writhed and a tall man clearly stood, looking around as if he had stepped into a nightmare.

“Who are you?” she could only whisper.
He must have heard her because he looked at her. “How did I get here?” he asked.
The confusion and fear on his face reflected her own. He appeared completely disoriented. Samantha got up, keeping her distance. Sergeant sat down on his hunches and watched her, head cocked to one side, pondering the odd behavior of a mistress who always seemed to know what she was about. He acted as if the man were not even there.
The man looked at her, his eyes wide and filled with dread. “Where am I?” he said, stressing the where. “How did I get here?”

She shook her head, rubbing her hands down her skirt. With each word, Sam felt as if a band were tightening around her chest and she couldn’t breath. “I . . . I don’t know. Where did you come from?”

He looked behind him, into the mist and pointed. “There,” he hesitated and repeated, “In there.”

Slowly, he turned back to face her. “Help me.”

The moment he spoke those two words, his fear, frustration, confusion, all raged through her mind like a blow and she staggered under the impact, gasping and clutching her head. This is not how it happens, she thought. The mist never surrounded the house this way. She never saw the comings when she was awake. Never, not even in her dreams, had those she saw spoken to her or appeared to see her. And never had she felt what they felt.

She released a long slow breath and closed her eyes. Immediately, she was back in the Circle of Seeing. She could feel the cold stone against her hands, could hear the surf of the ocean a dozen yards away, feel the breeze that flowed around her. Warmth circled her and as she breathed in, it filled her, circulating throughout her body. The sense of drifting was followed quickly by a rushing sensation. She was rushing through the mist at an unbelievable rate but just as suddenly stopped. It opened around her and then. . . she saw.

She gasped and her eyes flew open. “You have to go back! You have to go back!”
He frowned at her, shook his head. “I can’t. Look at that! I’ll never find my way in that.”

Samantha rushed forward and shoved him. “GO! NOW!” The force of her body as she struck him, sent him reeling back, through the doorway and into the boiling white cloud. He cried out in surprise, stumbling to regain his footing and grappling for a handhold. He clutched at Samantha but she anticipated him and twisted away. He disappeared into the fog.

Samantha slammed the door and dropped the bar. Then, she put her back against it and slipped to the floor, covering her face with her hands. Her heart felt as if it would explode and her breathing rasped loudly in the room. She drew her knees up and rested her forehead on them as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Something had changed and she had a strong feeling that it could not be fixed.

“Oh God,” she whispered into the darkness, “please . . . help me.”