Time Travel & Serial Killers...What Could Be More Fun?
You're running through the forest. You can barely make out the branches as you weave your way through the fog. The only sound you hear aside from the ringing in your ears is your own labored breathing. You look behind—to see if the homicidal maniac is still chasing you—with his sharp pointy dagger but he’s disappeared. Relief floods your nervous system as you swivel your head back to the front -- just in time to watch as he steps out from behind the tree directly to your left. You trip…
Who hasn’t read or watched a thriller like this and maybe had a scary dream or two about it, but what if this was your reality? What if your soul was tied to an evil spirit? How far would you go to get away? Would you travel through time into your past lives if you were given the option – back to the beginning to hunt the hunter?
That’s the dilemma Sophia Marcil faces. Cursed by a magical family heirloom, she is destined to be murdered in each life by someone close to her. Her only hope to beat him is to find the Purple Delhi Sapphire.
Dead still, he watched the house, well hidden by the oak tree in the back. Stiff, he shifted, growing irritated. He was weary of chasing her. “Where is it?” a voice inside him cried out.
Just break in. Force her to hand it over …
No. Patience was key. After all, it had called to him across time; surely he was meant to have it this time.
Feeling something push against his legs, he jerked back and nearly fell over. He looked down. A cat. Her black cat. He stared at the creature, reached for it. He gripped it tightly. The animal began purring softly. “Pretty kitty,” he said, stroking the animal. He glared at it with hatred. ”So trusting!” he repeated, his tone soothing, his teeth gritted together. He gently stroked it one last time.
Hurrying to my car, I started thinking about what to do. The shift in the air set my teeth on edge, and I looked over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being followed. I had to stop being so paranoid. I unlocked the doors, sliding into the driver’s side before I turned to investigate the backseat, assuring myself I was alone. I turned on the radio—loudly. Music was a good way to drown my anxiety. I drove, humming to the tune, all the while reminding myself that I was safe. Yet somehow I felt like I was being watched.
Arriving home without incident, I forced myself to walk at a normal pace. I desperately needed a drink. I unlocked the front door and flipped on the light, stepping inside. Gigi’s sweater still hung on the hook from her last visit. My heart ached for her.
Though the entrance hall was empty, I felt watched. I listened. Raindrops murmured against the windows, as though the house grumbled of the moist wood rot and dampness that permeated its elderly skeletal structure. All was quiet, and yet an ill-omened hush seemed to scratch at my neck, like Daphne sharpening her claws.
I’m just being paranoid.
My gaze swept the living area, and I froze in my tracks. The place had been trashed, furniture shoved aside and strewn about. Kitchen drawers were dumped upside down. Oddly enough I was reminded of a story Gigi once told me about Grandpa Eugene’s jewellery store being ransacked.
Panic gripped me. What was I waiting for? What did I expect to hear? I was fearful to make a sound, a sudden move, terrified that something concealed waited for me in the shadowy recesses of the room. I had to force myself to take the first stride.
The cushions were torn and the tables toppled over. Someone had been here looking for something.
I flung down my purse and barrelled back toward the door, narrowly missing the elephant statue laying on its side. Every moment I anticipated a blade between my shoulders. I was almost to the door when I heard he footsteps rush up behind me a split second before I was grabbed. A coarse sack was pulled over my head.
Intuitively, I fought back. Shrouded by darkness, I struggled like a feral beast, even when I was hit so hard that I lost my footing, nearly collapsing to the floor.