Chapter Eight

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Luke let Zoe go home early that night. Things had been quiet all afternoon, he said, and he could handle the closing on his own, so he had sent her off to "get some rest". She had been more than grateful by that point. The day had exhausted her, and she wanted nothing more than to go home to her bed and get a proper night of rest—something that she hadn't gotten all week. She was hopeful that this night would be different.

But she had been wrong.

Those dark eyes were haunting her.

She had fallen asleep the moment her head had hit the pillow, and those eyes had been waiting for her. Even in sleep they made her uneasy; she couldn't shake the feeling that they were more than just a dream, that they were actually watching her. He was watching her. It was a ridiculous thought—but so, she reminded herself, was the idea of a girl who could see and experience peoples' deaths before they actually occurred. And if her death dreams were a real thing...

There would be no sleeping after that.

It had just gone ten-thirty and her father was already asleep, tired from trying to organise their escape as quickly as he could. He had been busy on the phone when she had returned home, only able to give her a quick squeeze before he'd gone back to his conversation. Ten seconds of listening in had told her what was going on: he was talking to somebody about the Torana, about his wanting to sell it. He had sounded confident enough, but Zoe couldn't see past the look in his eyes. Parting with the car was going to hurt him. She only wished there was some other way for them to make the money they needed for their grand exit.

Unfortunately, her gift didn't extend to foreseeing lottery results.

She rescued her laptop from beneath the pile of clothes on her desk instead, bringing it back to her bed and booting it up while she made herself comfortable under the covers. It had been a little while since she had attempted to research what she could do; maybe there would be more information out there now, or somebody who was able to do what she could do in the same way that she did it. There were plenty of people out there who claimed to dream of deaths before they occurred, but Zoe had yet to find a single person who claimed to also experience the death while it was happening.

And maybe there would be something out there about eyes watching people through their dreams—and how to get rid of them.

She could only hope.

But neither search came up with anything of use. The former gave her only the results that she had already poured over several times before—people who claimed to have premonitions of deaths; people who wanted to have them, for whatever reason. She thought those people were crazy, though she never said so in any of the forums. Her father was paranoid enough about her messaging her victims—what would he say if he knew she was posting in forums where people claimed to have psychic abilities?

Even if most of these people were liars just looking for attention, she couldn't risk the wrong people seeing.

The latter search got her a plethora of web pages about interpreting dreams, and sleep paralysis. She didn't need to know any of that; the meaning of her dreams was perfectly clear to her already, and this was no ordinary bout of paralysis. She'd had enough dreams now to know the difference.

But then there was one result that caught her eye: The Nighttime Adventures of Spirits and Demons.

Zoe had never put much thought into such things. Spirits and demons were just villains in some of the horror movies that she watched—nothing more or less. They were stories made up to scare children, cons produced by fake mediums to make a quick fortune off the mourning or the unsuspecting...

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