Mari Bailey - Christmas Stalking (Retail) (PDF)

Christmas StalkingA Byte√Me Teen FictionMari BaileyPublished by Awe-Struck E-Bookswww.awe-struck.netCopyright ©2002ISBN: 1-58749-320-9

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

~ To Brian, for giving me the chance ~

Christmas Stalking by Mari Bailey

Chapter One

The dreams were back. And with them came the terror, the fear that ranlike an electric shock through every inch of my body.

The alley was long and dark, and I could see only a few feet in front of me.I had no idea where it led but I knew I had to keep running forward. Someonewas after me. I heard the footsteps keeping up with mine, no, coming faster thanmine. Heavy footsteps.

I heard something else too, something that registered in my brain butmade no sense to me. Keeping up with every footstep, was the faint jingling ofbells.

I bolted upright in bed, cold and sweaty, my nightgown damp and thesheets tangled around me. My heart thumped wildly against my chest and Ibreathed in huge gulps of air. I felt like I was tied up and struggled to break looseof my bonds.

I looked around in a panic. Where was I? Everything was dark and theroom was full of unfamiliar shadows. I was not in my own bed. No way was I inmy own room.

Then my gaze fell upon the purple lava lamp, shining like a beacon, on thenightstand next to the bed and I let my breath out in relief, knowing I could onlybe in one place. My great-aunt Delilah's apartment in Greenwich Village, NewYork. I reminded myself to breathe normally, and took a deep cleansing breath,filling my lungs with the air I had not found in my dream. I lay back down, turningto watch the shapes inside the lamp swirling gently in a lazy rhythm, and let itsslow graceful movements calm my breathing until it was normal again.

Not quite a week back in New York City, and I'd been having nightmaressimilar to the ones I'd had during my first visit, a year and a half ago. Someonewas stalking me, chasing me and making me run to escape. But I never didescape.

I always woke up without getting away.I had similar dreams a year and a half ago. And someone really was

stalking me then. Someone who almost killed me.I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom where I splashed my face

with cold water from the tap and took a long drink. When I came out I noticed thelights on in the huge room that served as combination living room/dining room/artstudio in my aunt's loft apartment. Great-aunt Delilah – or, Lilah, as she prefersbeing called – was just putting the kettle on. Tea, her favorite all-purpose drink,was Lilah's medicine for any situation. I had learned that during my last trip, onethat started out as a great vacation but turned into a nightmare. This time I'dcome to experience a New York City Christmas and to spend the holiday with theaunt I'd grown to love so much right from the start of that first visit.

I changed out of my sweaty nightgown into a fresh one before I went in,sat down at the dining table, and watched my great-aunt. She was wearing


turquoise silk lounging pajamas with red piping and red Chinese-style fasteners.Frogs, I think those are called. Her mass of beautiful silver hair was pulled backand tied with a turquoise satin ribbon. Lilah was definitely the coolestoctogenarian I had ever met. Not that I had met that many folks in their eighties.When you're a teenager anyone over thirty seems ancient. Although maybe bynext year, when I turn twenty, I'll start to feel a bit different.

I glanced over at one corner of the room where, just two days before, wehad set up a ten-foot Christmas tree. One of the nice things about having suchhigh ceilings – you can buy a big tree. Lilah had to hire a couple of men to bring itup five flights of stairs – no elevator in this building -- and set it into its stand.Even at that early hour of the morning, what seemed like thousands of multi-colored lights twinkled a merry greeting. My aunt loves Christmas as much as Ido.

It made me smile to look at some of the ornaments. Dozens of little goldand silver ornaments, shaped like the moon, the sun and the stars, caught thereflections off the colored lights and bounced them everywhere around the room.It was no surprise to learn that my aunt and I had still another thing in common. Alove of celestial shapes. I had put glow-in-the-dark stickers of a starry night onthe ceiling of my room back home in Oregon.

Lilah's other tree ornaments were different styles of shoes. Not real shoesof course. I don't think anyone would hang real shoes on a Christmas tree, noteven my artistically adventurous aunt. Each of the shoe ornaments was onlyabout three inches long. There were so many different styles and colors andeach one was decorated in fine detail. The shoes represented various periods inhistory so some of them were very old-fashioned looking while others seemedquite modern.

There were a few tapestry shoes embroidered with flowers and otherdesigns. I loved the open-toed shoes and sandals, especially the one that washot pink and decorated with a glittering butterfly. Some had fancy buckles andchunky heels. Some were from past centuries, a few from retro fifties and sixties.There was a pink ballet slipper and a sequined ruby slipper like the ones Dorothyhad worn when she followed the Yellow Brick Road to Oz.

I was totally absorbed in admiring the shoes and it wasn't long before Lilahbrought two steaming cups of tea to the table and sat down.

"Here, Heather, this will help," she said in her brisk, no nonsense manner."Chamomile." But I could tell by the look in her brilliant sapphire blue eyes, thesame blue as my own, that she was concerned, maybe even worried. Onceagain, like my last visit, worried about me and my nightmares.

I looked at the pretty cups she served the tea in. My great-aunt alwaysserves tea in delicate cups and saucers of fine bone china made in England. Sheinsists it just isn't a good cup of tea unless the rim is thin and the handle delicate.I guess she would never drink tea from the sturdy mugs my family used at home.

"You had another dream," Lilah said, a statement, not a question."How did you know?" I asked, even though I already knew about her keen

intuition. "Were you awake? Did you hear me scream or something?"


"Well, I was awake and doing some sketches for my next project." Shepaused. "And, no, you didn't scream, but I could tell anyway. An aunt's insideedge."

I sipped my tea, finding the hot liquid immediately soothing, and began tofeel some of the terror gradually ebbing away.

I told my aunt, "It is so déjà vu, being here again and having scary stalkerdreams. I mean didn't I already go through this? Why do the dreams still freak meout? I'm older now and enough time has passed so that I shouldn't let a dreammake me paranoid."

"Heather, after your stalker experience, you have every right to let thesedreams bother you. Recurring dreams of this nature would frighten anyone." Myaunt's voice was gentle but I could tell she was worried too.

"I thought I was totally rid of those old stalking nightmares," I said wearily."I thought I had finally put the memory of Curt Bonner to rest."

Curt was the boy who had stalked me during my first New York visit a yearand a half ago when I'd traveled with my best friend Tara Leonard. In fact Tarahad sensed the guy was a creep from the beginning, as soon as we met him inthe airport shuttle van when we'd only just arrived. But I thought he was a totalbabe and actually tried getting to know him, even teasing Tara that I might havea brief summer romantic fling, not that I was really the type. But what a mistake ithad been, encouraging Curt. It was a totally bad idea paying any attention to himat all!

He tailed us all over New York City! I still shudder to think of how he justhappened to pop up every place we went, either right in my face, or lurking in thebackground. Like he was somehow aware of my every waking moment and knewwhere I'd be and when.

My stalker had gone so far as to follow me all the way across the countryto my home in Oregon and he showed up at my front door pointing a gun in myface. Thanks to Tara's quick thinking -- and she called the police -- we got thegun away from him before he had time to do anything fatal. He was arrested oncharges of stalking and menacing behavior but was given, as is too often thecase, a very light sentence. After the scare he gave me I would have liked himput away for life. But I did some reading up on stalkers and stalker incidents andlearned that many arrested and charged stalkers only serve a short amount of jailtime.

"You don't think that boy would stalk you again, do you? Isn't he in jail?"my aunt asked, frowning. "Have you heard from him at all since the arrest?"

I shook my head. "No, Lilah, I haven't. I suppose I should take that as agood sign. I read that some stalkers bug their victims for years, despite courtorders and arrest and imprisonment.

"But Curt is probably already out of prison," I said, making her set herteacup down on its saucer with a clatter.

"Well, I guess with our country's overcrowded prison system," Lilah said,"the murderers and rapists must be given a better chance at the jail cells."

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. I could always picture Curtso vividly in my mind. And even though a year and a half has passed with no


further contact from my stalker, that hasn't kept me from looking over myshoulder all the time. Nor from being suspicious of every guy I meet.

I had already told my aunt about how, after a year and a half of college atPortland State, I didn't know much about any guy I met there. I'd dated a guy Iknew from high school for awhile, but it never got serious. Since then I'd said noto every single one who asked me for a date. Not that there were that many. I'dlearned I had a reputation around campus as cool and unapproachable. Stuckup. An ice princess.

"You can't live your life like a hermit just because of one bad apple. Oneday you'll want to marry and have children, I'm sure." Lilah said suddenly, as ifshe'd been reading my thoughts.

I smiled at her observation. She was such a neat lady and seemed sototally cool with everything I talked to her about that I often forgot she was, inage, so very far from me. But then she'd use some old-fashioned phrase like"one bad apple," and I would be reminded that she and I grew up in totallydifferent times.

But for now I wanted to talk about something else. "What about you, Lilah?Haven't you ever met anyone you wanted to marry and spend your life with?"

My aunt blushed, an annoying habit we both shared. She waved hergraceful, ring-laden hands in front of her, something she did when she feltpassionately about whatever she was trying to express. Then she pushed herempty teacup aside and folded her hands neatly on the table in front of her.There was a sudden sparkle and a faraway look in her eyes.

"There was someone once," she admitted. "A very long time ago. Hisname was Trevor and we met during the war."

"You mean World War II?" I asked. I had recently seen a movie aboutPearl Harbor but it seemed so strange to realize that my aunt had actually livedthrough that awful time, that she was just a young woman then, in her mid-twenties. Not much older than me right now.

"Yes," she answered. "He was in the Navy and I met him while he was onshore leave in Oregon. We spent one fabulous weekend together, the best in myentire life." Her eyes glistened, bright with unshed tears. "He asked me to marryhim, even gave me an inexpensive ring, a thin band and a piece of glassbasically. I treasured that ring as if it was the finest diamond in the world. Stillhave it too. He shipped out the next day, headed for Honolulu. He arrived onDecember 5, 1941."

"Oh, my gosh," I said in a hushed whisper. "Two days before they bombedPearl Harbor." My throat felt tight and my eyes filled with tears.

"You lost your soul mate and so you could never love another man." Ifinished the story for her. A romantic tragedy.

Lilah stood up and went into the kitchen for the teapot to pour us freshcups of the soothingly fragrant chamomile tea. I didn't know what to say to herafter learning of her tragic love affair. Even though it was sad, I couldn't helpthinking the story was also romantic.

When she came back into the dining room, after returning the teapot to thestove, she picked up a sketchbook that was lying on one of the other chairs.


"Let me tell you about my new project," she said, all business and no-nonsense once again.

"I'd love to see your sketches," I encouraged, knowing that she would tellme no more about Trevor and the tragic end of her one true love.

Lilah was an accomplished fabric artist and could do some amazing thingswith a little material and some thread. Her bedroom is this totally awesome jungleof stuffed fabric trees with quilted leaves and vines in different shades of greenand brown. I bet there's no other bedroom like it anywhere in the world.

She handed her sketchbook over to me and I checked out the drawings. Itlooked like she was working on a collection of different masks. I recognized thetheater masks of comedy and tragedy, the phantom half-face from Phantom ofthe Opera, and others that looked decidedly international, both African andOriental. There was even a mask that was a bird's head and beak and one thatwas a bright yellow happy face!

"This looks intriguing," I said, handing the book back to her. "What do allthese masks represent?" I wanted to hear all about my aunt's new project.

"This sculpture will be a bit different for me," she began. "It will actually bea mixed media design, detailed fabric masks surrounding an ordinary dressingtable-type of mirror. The piece will be titled ‘Which face today?'"

"Wow that sounds awesome. What was the inspiration for it?" I was an artstudent myself and I loved hearing where artists got their ideas.

"Well, one day I was in a local jewelry shop where the sales clerk waslistening to the radio. I was just holding a crystal necklace up to my throat andpeering in a mirror to see how it looked when a song caught my attention. It was‘Eleanor Rigby' by the Beatles."

"Oh!" I interrupted, immediately getting the connection. "'Wearing the facethat she keeps in a jar by the door,'" I said, repeating one of the lines from thesong. "Mom has that CD and she really likes it!"

My aunt smiled her approval. "Yes, they did make some very good music,didn't they? So I started picturing a young woman sitting at her dressing table inthe morning surrounded by all these different faces, wondering which one to puton that day."

"Depending on her mood that morning," I said, intrigued by the concept."That reminds me," Lilah said. "I want to take you to one of the galleries

where I display my work. In fact, why don't we go later on this morning? It'll takeyour mind off those pesky dreams. And there's someone I want you to meet."

"Oh, Lilah! Not some guy," I protested.My aunt looked surprised, even offended. "You know I would never do that

to you, honey. You're young and you've got plenty of time for men. No, thisperson is a budding young artist, like yourself, who I've taken a liking to, althoughI've known her only a few months. Her name is Crystal and she works as ageneral assistant at Innovations, a gallery right here in Greenwich Village."

"What kind of artwork does she do? Does she sell anything there?""Oh, heaven's no. She's still very much a beginner. Crystal buys plain silk

scarves every payday – she orders them through the gallery and gets a discount-- and then she paints acrylic designs on them. I do think she has the talent,"


Lilah paused. "But I'm hoping I can talk her into taking some art classes todevelop it and perhaps channel it in a different direction. Although she doesseem to have a strong will of her own."

"What's her stuff like now?" I asked, curious."Oh, bold and showy, very abstract, sometimes even violent. She has an

interesting concept of color combinations. Such an unusual girl." Lilah frownedfor a moment and I was on the verge of asking her to explain her last commentwhen she stood, picked up our empty cups and took them over to the sink."That's all I'm going to say for now. Anyway, I think it's time for the two of us tocrawl back into our beds and see if we can get at least a little more sleep. We stillhave a few hours until sunrise."


Chapter Two

The dream picked up right where it had left off.I was running through a dark alley, pushing myself to run faster and faster,

pushing myself to keep on going, although I struggled to catch my breath. Thefootsteps behind me were coming strong and fast. It sounded like my stalker waswearing heavy boots. I dared to throw a quick glance over my shoulder but all Icould see was a massive crimson blur that made no sense to me. And again thesound that had come to terrify me. The jingling of bells.

Later that morning, a delicious breakfast of croissants from the cornerbakery, along with a double cappuccino for me and hot tea for my aunt, helpedimprove the awful mood I woke up in. Then I told Lilah every detail of the dream.She was interested in dreams, I'd learned during my last visit when she'd helpedme try to figure mine out.

"Okay," she said, "so we have heavy footsteps, possibly boots, a greatmass of something red, and the sound of jingling bells." She thought for amoment.

"Honey, I want you to know that I'm in no way making light of your dreamsituation, or making fun of you, but it sounds to me like your stalker might beSanta Claus."

"Santa Claus?" I echoed.Her face was dead serious. I was totally shocked."I've never been afraid of Santa Claus! Not even when I was a little kid.

Why would I be afraid of him now? And why would I even dream about a stalkerSanta?"

"Well, Santa does seem to be everywhere at this time of year," Lilahoffered as explanation. "Rather like your stalker, Curt, being everywhere youwere."

So now, because of Curt, I'm even leery of Santa Claus. My questionsstayed with me as we headed off to the gallery where my aunt exhibited and soldsome of her fabric art.

Lilah had told me all about Innovations, and the nice people who ran it. Iknew she was eager to introduce me to Crystal, her young protégée, but I wasmore excited about seeing my aunt's work that was on display there. I'd quicklydecided during my last visit that I thought Lilah's fabric art was totally awesomeand she said she had several new pieces on display.

There were two women working in the gallery when we walked in and theyboth came rushing over, all smiles, to greet Lilah. It was obvious other peoplebesides me thought she was one cool lady. She introduced me to the twowomen, Jeanette and Elena, the gallery owners, and we shook hands.

"It looks so festive in here," I commented, noticing the silver and goldtinsel, the strings of colored lights, and I could hear a hint of Christmas musicplaying overhead.

"Thanks," Elena said. "We both love the holidays. By the way," she added,"Your aunt is one of our favorite artists." Jeanette nodded her agreement.I grinned back at them. "She's one of my favorite artists too," I said.


"Though not as favorite as Van Gogh," Lilah said with a chuckle, and a liftof her expertly penciled eyebrow, referring to the first artist who had gotten meinterested in art when I took an art appreciation class in junior high.

"But you're my most favorite fabric artist," I hurried to say. Everyonelaughed.

"She knows who's fixing dinner tonight," Lilah teased, giving me a wink.Her statement was an inside joke between the two of us. I remembered very wellfrom my first visit that my great-aunt's cooking skills were limited to microwavablefrozen dinners and ordering in. Actually, she preferred going to restaurants andwe'd already eaten out for every meal since I'd arrived. "So we don't have to dothe dishes or launder the napkins," she was unembarrassed to admit.

"I'm gonna look around," I said, eager to see some art."Where's Crystal?" Lilah asked as I wandered off. I heard the reply that

she was out on some errand and should be back soon.I didn't know if my aunt's was the only fabric art that was in the place so I

started with anything I thought was recognizable as her style. But by the time Igot to the other room at the back of the gallery I was looking at everything, herwork and the other artists. There was a lot of talent represented at Innovations. Ihad already found so much to be impressed with. I was studying an interestingmetal sculpture when I sensed someone else coming into the room. I looked upjust in time to see a tall teenage girl heading towards me with a beaming smile.

"Dani!" she said. "It's so great to see you!"She threw her arms around me in a big hug that I just sort of accepted out

of sudden shock. What had she called me – Dani? I pried myself out of herstrong grip, a little uneasy; although it was obvious to me after a second that shehad mistaken me for someone else.

"You must be mistaken," I started to explain, but she cut me off."I thought I would never see you again," she said, beaming with a look of

great pleasure. "You never gave me a chance to apologize. But I really am sorry,Dani. I'm thrilled you came back to see me and how awesome that you found mehere! Sisters should stay close, don't you think?"

She didn't give me a chance to reply. All I could manage to do while shewent on chattering was to stare at her with my mouth open. I mean, hello?

"I think --" I tried again, but did not get very far."Oh, and you should see the cool place I'm living in now. You'll really like

it," she said, finally stopping to take a breath.I jumped in before she could continue. "You must have me mistaken for

someone else," I said quickly. "My name isn't Dani."She looked at me with a puzzled frown, seeming uneasy, giving me a

moment to check her out. I glanced towards the door into the rest of the gallery,wondering if my aunt and the gallery staff might come back here soon, realizingin my anxiety how much I hoped they would.

She was a big girl – maybe five foot ten inches tall and about two hundredand fifty pounds. I'd always been pretty good at estimating height and weight,usually within just a few inches or pounds. She was probably a little younger than


me, dressed totally in black, plain looking without a spot of makeup on her face.She stared at me.

For awhile I thought she was going to disagree with what I'd said, to insistthat I was this Dani she had mentioned, that I had to be. But then she took a stepback from me so that she was no longer so in-my-face and this totally differentexpression took over. She smiled.

"Oh, I feel like such a dope," she said. "Of course you're not Dani. But youdo look a lot like her. And I haven't seen her in such a long time. Years," shesaid, a far off look in her eyes. "But you could really be her double. I'm sorry," sheadded. "For mauling you like that. I'm not normally in the habit of throwing myarms around total strangers."

I started to relax. It was all just an innocent mistake. "That's okay," I toldher. "You know what they say about everyone having a twin out theresomewhere."

She gave me a blank look like she had no clue what I was talking about.She must not have parents or an aunt like mine, who were fond of repeating oldclichés.

Just then Lilah came into the back room with a flourish, wearing a bigsmile. Her silver quilted-down coat was open to reveal a pantsuit of stunningemerald green wool, not unlike the lounging pajamas she favored at home. Shehad added a flowing scarf patterned with a bold design of peacock feathers, anda green velvet ribbon to tie back her mass of beautiful silver hair.

"I see you two have already met," she said to me."Um, not really," I disagreed while noticing a happy look on the big girl's

face. Did my aunt know this weird person?My aunt waved her hands in a gesture of introduction. "Crystal, this is my

niece I told you about. Heather, this is Crystal. She works here in the gallery andis a budding artist herself."

No way! This was the girl my aunt liked so much? I thought about howshe'd hugged me and said all those weird things to me when she thought I wasthis other person, Dani. And she was so plain, I thought, eyeing her up and downone more time. But a lot of artists did wear black and I suppose there were thosewho never bothered with makeup. And I guess anyone can make a mistake.Maybe I really did look like her sister and anyway, I didn't want to overreact. So Iplastered a smile on my face and said hello.

Crystal and Lilah were obviously delighted to see each other and the girlhugged my aunt, though not with the same fierce energy she'd used on me whenshe thought I was her long lost sister.

"My aunt tells me you're an artist yourself," I said, determined to befriendly, pushing aside my shaky first impression. "What kind of art do you do?"

She seemed puzzled for a moment, looking over to my aunt and back,almost like she was looking for permission, before she went ahead and answeredmy question.

"I paint clothing," she said, sounding proud, but then hesitated. "Well,mostly just scarves for now."

I remembered then my aunt saying she did acrylic painting on silk scarves.


"I like your hair long like that," she told me suddenly, and I was cluelessuntil I wondered if she still thought I was this other person.

"Oh, I do too," Lilah agreed, jumping into the conversation. "Such a niceshade of blonde, and I do so like long hair on a girl," she said, and then added."Although some people are really better suited to short."

I thought perhaps the last bit was added to avoid hurting Crystal's feelings.Her hair was dark brown and straight and reached no farther than her chin. Hereyes were dark brown too, making me think that if her sister Dani lookedanything like me, blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes, then they must not lookanything like each other.

"Your eyes are so blue," she said suddenly, coming closer and stoppingjust inches away from my face. I blushed under her intense scrutiny. Instinctively,I backed away.

"Just like mine, you may have noticed," Lilah chirped, making me smiledespite my discomfort. My aunt is so pleased that we share the same unusualeye color. "But getting back to your scarves, Crystal, do you have any here in theshop to show Heather and I?"

This time it was the other girl's turn to blush. She mumbled something thatsounded like a negative. I guess she was still shy about showing her work topeople, an insecure habit of my own that I'd only started to change after my firsttrip to New York.

"Getting feedback from others is one of the best ways to improve," Lilahsaid. It was the same thing she had said to me a year and a half ago. I'd justgradually begun to share my drawings and paintings with people other than myteachers at school. But it still made me nervous, showing anyone a work of minefor the first time.

"I'll show you the next one," Crystal promised. "I threw the last onesaway."

"Threw them away?" Lilah's eyes widened in a look of shocked surprise."You threw away silk scarves?" I asked, horrified."Never throw your work away!" my aunt said, waving her long fingers and

including me in the scolding, even though I've kept practically every single pictureI'd ever drawn or painted.

"How can you afford to do that?" The question was out before I could stopit but I immediately realized the answer was none of my business. And, like, whoknows? Maybe she has a ton of money. It just seemed so totally wasteful.

Crystal didn't seem bothered by my question. She smiled and said, "Oh, Idon't use the silk for most of my practice. I buy yards and yards of inexpensivefabric for most of my practice projects. So I don't feel bad throwing them out," shesaid looking at Lilah with a hint of challenge. "I buy used clothing at thrift shopstoo, and I paint designs on them."

"When do you have your lunch break, Crystal? Heather and I are goingshopping but we can come back and meet you for lunch."

Crystal's face lit up. "That'll be great, Lilah," she said, giving her anotherbig bear hug. It was obvious she adored my aunt, was maybe even a little in aweof her. Then she turned to me. "I'll be so interested in hearing about your artwork


too, Heather," she said. "And maybe we can hang around New York togetherwhile you're here. I could show you some really cool sites."

"Sure," I said. "That'd be great." I turned to my aunt. "How about if afterlunch I come back here? This place is awesome and I haven't had nearly enoughtime to look at everything."

"Fine with me," Lilah said. "But I'll go back home to work on one of mycurrent projects and leave you young girls to get acquainted."

Lilah was one of those people who had more than one project going at atime. In fact, she had many projects going. I didn't see how she could keep trackof them all. I usually worked on just one drawing or painting until it was finishedbefore moving on to something else.

For the next hour and a half my aunt and I wandered in and out of nearbyartsy-trendy shops, as I liked calling them. I bought a cuff-style bracelet madetwisted and polished brass forming two delicate five-petal flowers and a few curlytendrils. I was thrilled with my find and put the bracelet on immediately, wavingaside the box and gift bag the store clerk wanted to put it in.

In a different shop, Lilah purchased a long flowing scarf with a bold purpleand blue design, made using the wax and dye process of batik. But later, whenshe showed her purchase to the ladies back at the gallery, I thought Crystallooked a little hurt.

"One of these days, Lilah," she said, lifting her chin, "I'm going to designone of my scarves especially for you." But then she looked down. "When I'mgood enough," she added in a much smaller voice.

Lilah put an arm around her. "Plenty of time, dear. Plenty of time," shesaid.

I noticed my aunt didn't try to boost Crystal's ego by saying that wouldhappen soon or anything like that. I wondered again what the girl's work was like.I thought if she was actually throwing her painted scarves away, they must not bevery good. And if they were any good, wouldn't she be selling them there in thegallery?

Once we settled into a sub shop and ordered our sandwiches and drinksCrystal asked me what I was planning to do while I was in New York. Shebecame very excited when I mentioned that I was planning to spend the followingday at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

"Oh, that's my favorite place in the whole entire city," she announced. "Oh,please, let me go with you."

"Well, that's okay with me but don't you have to work tomorrow?" Was I sohoping she did?

"Nope. Day off. I'm only part time, you know," she said. "But it's aninteresting job and it does help pay the rent."

I wondered if she had any other source of income, the way she said that.But I also thought she sounded a lot more responsible than the odd girl I'd firstmet who thought I was her long lost sister and who threw her painted art projectsaway. I had asked Lilah while we were shopping if Crystal was always a bitstrange. "She said some rather off-the-wall things back there."


"Oh, that's just her personality. You know how we New Yorkers can be,"my aunt said, dismissing my concern.

So while we ate our sandwiches and chips, Crystal chattered about herfavorite things in the museum we would visit the next day. On one thing thattotally enraptured her was the Museum's Christmas Angel Tree. She lookedshocked when I said I had never heard of it.

"Every year the Metropolitan puts up this very special angel tree," Lilahexplained. "At the base of the tree they display the most glorious seventeenth-century Neapolitan Crèche. Your mother would love it, Heather," she saidreferring to my mother's collection of nativity sets.

"The Angel Tree is a New York holiday tradition," my aunt added."Yes, and it's huge, oh, about thirty feet tall with really full branches."

Crystal's brown eyes were shiny and her face glowing. "Wait till you see it,Heather. It's hung with all these gorgeous angel figurines and, underneath thetree, are the figures of the nativity. The whole scene. There are lights too, thatlook just like real candles and everything is absolutely brilliant from their glow. Istill can't believe you didn't know about it," Crystal scolded. "I thought you saidyou went there before."

"Well, I did," I said, unable to help feeling a bit defensive. "But it was in themiddle of summer. There was positively no Christmas tree in the place and theonly nativity scenes and angels I saw were on painted canvas or as sculpture."

I had to be impressed by Crystal's enthusiasm. After all, wasn't I just thatway about many of my favorite artworks?

"I really love angels," Crystal said, her tone rapturous and a far off look inher eyes. "I know some angels," she added in a whisper.

Lilah smiled. "Yes, I think we all know some people who are like specialangels to us," she said.

Crystal frowned. "No, I mean real angels. Like Dani. Dani is an angel."I had started gathering up the remnants of my lunch, eager to get back to

Innovations to finish looking around. But her strange words made me stop andglance over at Lilah to check out her reaction. As always, my aunt was perfectlycalm and not a bit flustered. Always in control. If Crystal thought Dani was a "realangel," that could only mean that the sister she'd mistaken me for was dead.How creepy was that? I shivered and looked around the table. Everyone elsewas gathering their trash too, very calm.

Oh, well. Some people are just kind of off the wall and I was beginning tothink Crystal was one of those types. She was so one of those types. And, cometo think of it, she seemed perfectly suited to my aunt's own Bohemian ways. Iwondered, amused, if I was actually strange enough to become a New York artistmyself.

Well, no way would I give up my pursuit of art for a stupid reason like notbeing weird. And what I really wanted next was to sketch some of the pieces so Icould remember them but of course I knew there was absolutely no way anygallery selling art would let me do that. I would just have to remember what I'dseen and maybe do some sketches from memory when I got back to Lilah'splace.


My aunt said goodbye to us outside the restaurant. "I think my currentpiece will be at a good place to show when you get back around dinnertime," shesaid to me, and she and her peacock feather scarf floated off down the street.

Crystal and I headed for the gallery. "Do you know what time it is?" Crystalasked. "I hope I haven't gone over my lunch break. It's so easy to get carriedaway when you're with special people." I was actually pleased to be included withmy aunt as one of those special people.

I looked at my left wrist where I usually wore my watch. But I had moved itwhen I bought the floral cuff bracelet. I'd put the watch on my right wrist.

Crystal touched my arm gently. "That's a beautiful bracelet," she said.I opened my mouth to thank her, and to say that I had just bought it and

where, when she demanded, "Did mama give that to you?" Her voice suddenlysounded angry, even challenging.

"What!?" I was confused. Did she mean my mom back home in Oregon?She added, "You always got all the nice stuff." I wondered if she was

thinking of me as her sister Dani again. Maybe Dani had a similar bracelet. It waskind of unnerving having this girl blurting out such weird things. I mean, like, rightthen I felt like waving my hand in front of her face and saying, "Hello? Are you incontrol?" I would definitely want a talk about Crystal when I got back to Lilah'splace later on.

Crystal stuck her right arm out in front of her, pulling up her sleeve, andturning her wrist this way and that. She wanted me to see from different anglesthe bracelet she wore. I looked closer. It wasn't actually a bracelet, it was atattoo!

There around her right wrist was a blue-ink tattoo of an Egyptian cobra.The cobra looked like it was ready to strike. Gross!

"I just got a new bracelet too," Crystal said. "And this time I'll never lose it."Okay, whatever she meant by that. I guess she had lost a bracelet

sometime. I looked at her wrist some more, even though my instinct was to turnaway. I wanted her to pull her sleeve back over it so it would be covered upagain.

"Didn't that hurt?" I finally asked.She shrugged her shoulders and finally pulled her sleeve back down over

the tattoo. "Oh, I can tolerate a lot of pain. A lot," she added with extra emphasison the word.

Hello again? But this time I wasn't even going to ask. I was sure herexplanation would be just as creepy and I didn't need any more nightmarematerial, thank you very much.

When we got back to the gallery there was a guy at the counter talking toJeanette and Elena. And, to my surprise, my Aunt Delilah was standing therewith them. I thought she was going home earlier to work.

I gave the guy a closer look. Make that an awesome-looking guy.He was tall, at least six feet with blond hair in a short spiky cut. He turned

around to look at me and I was awed by the most incredible blue eyes. It hadbeen awhile since I'd paid any attention to men but this guy was definitely cute.Way cute.


I looked at my aunt, wondering when she was going to introduce me, butshe was caught up in a story and didn't pay any attention to me.

"Hey," I decided to cut in. "I thought you were going back to the apartmentto work?"

Everyone at the counter turned to look at me, instantly making me blushand regret my quick words and my rude interruption.

The cute guy smiled at me and I smiled back, feeling like a total dork. Ididn't usually pay too much attention to rock star looks but this guy sure hadthem. He so had the looks.

"Ah, Heather," Lilah said, as if noticing me for the first time. "I stopped byto get some feedback on my new project and ran into this young man shoppingfor a Christmas present for his grandmother."

She indicated him with a gesture of one long-fingered and ring-ladenhand.

"Heather, this is Aaron. Aaron, my niece, Heather.""Hi," he said, looking at me, sounding almost shy.I opened my mouth to say hello back."Hi, Aaron!" Crystal burst out, interrupting, like she was totally thrilled to

see him. She jolted me out of a daydream that most certainly included him andme but not her.

Was he Crystal's boyfriend? She hadn't said anything over lunch abouthaving one, but then we hadn't talked about boys at all.

"Hey, Crystal girl," he said, turning to her. They did a high five and shepositively beamed with pleasure. So he liked her. I felt disappointed.

"Heather, this is Aaron West," Lilah added to her introduction."Are you one of the artists who displays here?" I asked, hoping I didn't

sound too much like a groupie. "Do you know Lilah?"He grinned. "Well, the answer to question number one is no. Sadly," he

added with a wistful though teasing glance at Elena and Jeanette, the ladies whoran the gallery and chose the art they would display. And to question numbertwo," he went on, "I met your aunt a couple of times before. She knows mygrandmother. Lilah's one cool lady."

I could feel a dreaded blush creeping its way into my face. He must think Iwas a total airhead the way I'd blurted out my questions.

"But Aaron is an artist," Crystal said, looking proud. What was herconnection with him?

"What kind of art?" I asked, feeling brave again. "Do you sell your work?""Do your questions always come in pairs?" he asked, causing my already

flushed cheeks to flame."Not that I mind," he added and I relaxed some. He was only being playful,

teasing me."Are you coming to the gallery Christmas party, Aaron?" Crystal

interrupted again. She obviously was head over heels for this guy. Did Aaron feelthe same way about her?


"Well, Lilah invited me so I just might drop by." He looked at me. "Are youcoming to the party, Heather?" Did he want me to come? But what aboutCrystal? I swallowed hard and looked at Lilah.

"Such a gala event," she said with a broad sweep of her arm. "Of courseshe's coming. We both are."

"I love to participate in anything that's to do with art," I said, finding mytongue at last. I turned to Aaron. "What's your work like?" I asked again, sinceCrystal hadn't given him the chance to answer the first time.

"I do my own thing in art. I like to let my creativity run wild."I frowned. That still didn't answer my question. Maybe he was shy about

his work and would rather not say."Aaron takes photographs." Lilah said, once again taking the matter into

her own hands, beaming like she was proud of him. "Then he enhances themwith paint."

"Sounds great," I commented. "I'd love to see your work." I hoped I didn'tsound too forward. "I'm into drawing and painting myself and will be majoring inart here next fall."

He looked interested and I was like so glad. Maybe he didn't think I wassuch an airhead after all. For the first time I noticed he wore a thin gold loop inone ear. I loved one simple earring on a guy. So classy.

"What school?" he asked, nudging me out of my admiring reverie.I mentioned the art school I was so proud to have gotten into. "I'll be a

sophomore.""Hey, cool. That's where I go." He sounded pleased. "I'm a junior."A junior! That meant he'd be a senior next year, which made him two

years older than me.I smiled at the news and blushed again. Like, why did the age of this guy I

just met even matter to me? I'm probably never going to see him again, even ifwe will be at the same school for a year. Get a grip, Heather, I reminded myself,even though I still thought he was so hot.

"Then I guess I'll be seeing you around," Aaron said to me. He turnedback to Lilah. "I'll think over your suggestions," he told her. "I've still got awhilebefore Christmas."

He picked up a backpack lying on the floor near his feet."Goodbye, ladies." He saluted Jeanette, Elena and my aunt. "See ya,

Crystal girl." They high-fived again. Then, with a parting smile in my direction, hewas on his way. He turned around when he reached the door. "Nice meeting you,Heather. Maybe I'll be seeing you around," he said for the second time, and Ismiled.

I sighed as the door closed behind him. Wonder what he meant when hesaid he'd be seeing me around. Twice! Get a grip, Heather, I reminded myselfagain, turning back to the others.

"Well, he seemed nice…" I began, and then froze at the look on Crystal'sface. She seemed furious and was glaring daggers at me.

What is her problem? Did she like him? More important, did he like herback? Aaron didn't act like he was her boyfriend. Anyway, I didn't say or do


anything inappropriate if he was. I didn't even flirt with him, although I'd wantedto.

Abruptly, Crystal's expression changed to one void of emotion, and shewandered off to do some work. Lilah said she was finally going home and I wasleft pretty much on my own to continue my tour of the gallery, which is the way Iusually like to look at art. I hummed along with a favorite Christmas song, thenjotted down some artist names and titles of pieces I especially liked so I could tellmy aunt when I got back to the apartment. By the time I'd worked my way to theback room again, the room where I'd first met Crystal, it was starting to get kindof late and I thought I should probably be heading back soon.

I was just checking out the last piece when I felt the hairs on the back ofmy neck prickling and I had the distinct feeling that someone was watching me. Ihad seen a few other gallery patrons checking out the artwork too but when Iturned around there was no one there and a sweeping glance told me I was theonly one in the room. Still, I shuddered, feeling suddenly cold and I wrapped myarms tightly around myself to ward off the chill.

After awhile I went back out into the main gallery showroom whereJeanette was talking to a man standing in front of a large abstract oil painting.Elena was behind the main counter working at the computer. I located Crystaland saw she was engaged in dusting a display of hand blown glass vases,goblets and abstract sculptures. I found myself thinking how delicate hermovements were for such a big girl. Each piece was handled like it was a fragilerobin's egg that she was returning gently to its nest.

I went over to the counter and spoke to Elena. "This is such a lovelygallery you have," I told her. "To me it would be a dream to work in such anenvironment every day."

The other woman smiled. "Thank you," she said. "It did start out as adream to Jeanette and me, many years ago. We kept focussed and set goalsand, today," she indicated the gallery with a sweep of her arm, "it's a reality."

I chatted with her awhile longer. She told me they'd been open eight yearsnow and that the first two years had been tough, but then business steadilyincreased with each year after that. Eventually the man who'd been looking at thelarge abstract walked over, wallet and credit card in hand, and I watchedJeanette take the painting into the back room to wrap.

I knew it was right before closing time so I went over to say goodbye toCrystal and to confirm our plans for the following day. I was still a little leery ofher unusual behavior, especially after the bit with Aaron, but I still couldn't helplooking forward to seeing many of my favorite paintings again, ones that were inthe Met's permanent collection. And, since hearing so much about theirtraditional Angel Tree, I was looking forward to seeing that too.

I would also check the gift shop for any nativity sets they had for sale. Iknew Mom always loved an addition to her collection.

Crystal said if I could wait a minute, she would grab her things and walkoutside with me. I felt impatient to get going, but reluctantly agreed to wait forher. We bundled up in our coats and scarves and I pulled on my gloves, more


clothing than I was used to wearing in our usually mild Oregon winters, and leftthrough a side door leading into an alley.

"I've been wanting to ask you about something," Crystal said, stopping justoutside the door, digging her gloves out of her coat pocket. Lilah had given memoney to take a cab back to the apartment since it was so cold and I was eagerto get out near the street to look for one, but I stopped to listen. I don't know whyI was surprised her coat and gloves were both solid black.

"I couldn't say a word when Lilah was with us," Crystal began. "I didn'twant to spoil the surprise." She suddenly looked shy, and maybe a bit smug too,the proverbial cat who swallowed the canary. I couldn't help grinning, thinkingLilah would probably use just that same exact phrase. I guess we all use clichésnow and then.

"I'm planning to paint a special silk scarf for Lilah," Crystal told me,obviously pleased with her plan. "As a Christmas present. And I wondered whatyou thought of the idea."

She looked so eager to please it would have been mean to say anythingother than it was a great idea and she should go ahead with it. Having neverseen Crystal's work and recalling her remark about having thrown all her practicescarves away, I had to wonder if she was yet at a stage where a person wouldwant to wear one of her creations. But since Lilah seemed so fond of her Icouldn't help thinking that she would wear something made especially for her, nomatter what it looked like. Lilah was in no way shy about wearing the brightestcolors and the most flamboyant styles.

"Can you tell me what colors she likes?" Crystal asked."That's easy," I said, laughing. "Anything bold and bright. She likes purple,

crimson, emerald green and sapphire blue. Oh, and turquoise," I added,mentioning the colors that immediately came to mind. The colors I had glimpsedin her closet while I was in her room the day before.

Crystal seemed pleased I thought the scarf was a good idea. Keeping mythoughts to myself, I figured that, with the way my aunt had taken Crystal underher wing, she'd be sure to show herself as delighted to receive the gift, even if itwas an amateur attempt.

I started walking towards the street, on my way out of the alley. Crystal stillhadn't put on her gloves. I wondered how she could stand being in such coldweather without freezing her fingers off. Of course she did live here so I guessshe was more used to it than me.

"The scarf is a great idea," I said again, hoping my comment would betaken as my parting words so I could get going. I didn't like hanging around in adark alley after seven o'clock at night. I'm sure I would have felt that way evenwithout my scary stalker incident and the recent return of my bad dreams.

"I'll meet you outside on the steps of the Metropolitan around ninetomorrow, okay?" The Met opened at nine-thirty and we wanted to get there earlyto stand in line.

"Sure," said Crystal. "Nine o'clock. On the dot."


I thought it was a funny expression for a teenager – more like somethingmy aunt would say -- but I repeated it to her before saying goodbye and headingout of the alley.

All at once I heard the gunning of a motor and the ear-splitting screech oftires. I felt a sudden shove from behind and my body thudded against the wall.Something black and monstrous came out of nowhere and plunged into the alley,whooshing past me, missing me by mere inches. The car never stopped, nevereven slowed down so the driver could see if I was all right.

I had put my gloved hands out instinctively to keep my face from hittingthe brick wall and they still felt plastered there, even after the car had gone andthe alley was clear once again. My heart was beating like a time bomb and mybreath coming in quick gasps as I struggled with each one.

"Are you all right?" Crystal asked, suddenly right there beside me. "Thatcar almost hit you!"

Well, duh, was my immediate thought. I turned from her concerned face tolook down the alley. There were no cars in sight. But we both had seen it.

"He tried to hit me!" I said, still numb, still gasping for breath. "He almostkilled me."

"Oh, no, do you really think he tried to hit you on purpose?" Crystaldisagreed. "Like to murder you?" Her use of the M-word word made me wonder ifI was overreacting.

"I'm sure it was just some reckless kid," she continued. "Maybe drunk orhigh on something. Are you hurt?"

"No, thanks to you," I said, starting to breathe easier and my heart rateslowing back to near normal. "That was quick thinking, pushing me out of the waylike that. Thanks. You probably saved my life."

I inhaled a great gulp of the frosty air surrounding us. "Tara, my best friendback home, saved my life once too." I remembered Curt Bonner on my doorsteppointing a gun in my face.

"New York is a dangerous city," Crystal said. "You learn to move fast."Once again I took note of how graceful and agile she was for such a big

girl. I focussed on what she had said. New York is a dangerous city. Well, for meit sure was! It was only my second visit and once again I'd almost been killed.First there was my stalker, and now? Was New York just an unlucky place forme? As much as I wanted to come back here and study art and stay with myAunt Delilah, I wondered if I should rethink my plans.

Wait until I told Lilah what had just happened. And my best bud Tara.They would be freaking out.


Chapter Three

Freaking out was so right!"Listen here, girlfriend," Tara said in a bossy, take charge tone, I think you

should be on the next plane out of LaGuardia. "I'll come pick you up at PDXmyself," she added, referring to the Portland Airport. It took awhile to reassureTara that I was totally all right.

The only way I could convince my best bud to quit trying to get me out ofNew York was by mentioning Aaron. That got her attention real quick!

"You met a guy you think is hot? You hardly look twice at guys anymore.Even the ones who are so cute. Didn't he make you nervous? That's whathappens with guys you've met since you know what. You immediately thinkthey're gonna start stalking you."

Tara was right. Ever since my stalker experience the summer before last, Idid freak out if a guy looked at me more than once.

"Well..." I said, "but he's an art student.," I forgot for a moment that mystalker had claimed to be an art student too. "Anyway," I added, "My auntintroduced him to me and she knows his grandmother so he's not just somestranger off the street. And he seemed so nice."

Even revealing that little bit to Tara over the phone had me blushing. Imust be so losing it.

"Listen, Tara," I said, hearing my aunt coming out of the bathroom whereshe'd been showering when I got in. "I've gotta go but I'll try to check in with youagain tomorrow, okay?"

I hung up, knowing it was going to be so not fun, telling Lilah about mynear miss with the speeding car in the alley.

My aunt, at first, wanted me to stay inside the apartment for the remainderof my visit. An unusual overreaction on her part and we both knew the idea wasunrealistic as well as totally ridiculous. So after Lilah calmed down and thoughtabout it, after we'd had some more of her special lotus blossom tea, the onlyexplanation was that my near miss was totally accidental. I truly believed it hadnothing to do with my old stalker.

And I didn't even mention how much I liked Aaron. It's not like I'm going tobe seeing him again, I reminded myself. Even if he was at the Innovations party.And if we did end up at the same art school next year. Why would he want tobother with a lowly sophomore when he'd be a senior?

The next day, after a night of peacefully dreamless sleep – now there wasa surprise -- I woke up energized and ready for my day at the Met. I was reallylooking forward to it despite my shaky first impressions of Crystal. I mean she didsave my life after all, even if she was a little strange.

She was already there sitting on the steps when I arrived a few minutesafter nine. "Are you sure you're okay?" was the first thing out of her mouth.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine, I'm fine." I really wanted to get past the incidentin the alley.

We went in and bought our tickets and of course the first thing we lookedfor was this huge Angel Tree the ticket clerk told us was in the Medieval


Sculpture Hall. The tree was even better than I imagined it, every bit as stunningas Crystal said, and then some.

"That is the most totally awesome Christmas tree I've ever seen in mywhole entire life," I told her, trying to look at every part of the tree at once.

Crystal had a huge grin plastered on her face, like you'd think shedecorated the tree herself. "I knew you'd like it," she beamed.

Crystal and my aunt said it was huge but I hadn't really expected it to bethirty feet tall! I thought they had exaggerated. But it truly was so gigantic andwas hung with dozens of angel figurines, like Crystal had told me, and a lot oflights that looked like real candles but of course had to be electric. There was abig star made up of many tiny lights at the very top of the tree. Totally awesome!I felt kind of the same way as when I saw the Statue of Liberty for the first time.

After awhile, when I could finally stand to tear my eyes away from the tree,I read in the brochure that the figures were eighteenth-century Neapolitan andhad been donated to the museum by the same lady who created the tree in thefirst place almost forty years ago. She had always liked nativity scenes andstarted her collection with only three pieces back in the 1920's.

I thought of my mom, who displayed a few crèche scenes of her ownevery Christmas. She would go so nuts seeing this!

"What do you think?" Crystal asked. "Don't you just love all the angels?""Totally awesome," I said still again, before stepping back from the tree to

let other viewers in."Do you believe in angels?" Crystal asked in a hushed whisper, as if we

were standing in a church instead of a noisy museum. She looked at me withwide wondering eyes and I wasn't sure how important the right response wouldbe.

"Well, yeah," I said, "I guess I do. What about you?"She leaned in close enough to whisper in my ear, so close that the feel of

her warm breath sent a prickle down my spine. "I know an angel," Crystalclaimed.

Hello? I remembered what she'd said about angels yesterday."A lot of people think of some of their friends as angels," I said, trying to

lighten up the moment, maybe bring her back to reality."But I do know a real one," she insisted, her voice a little louder, her

stance confrontational."Well, that's great," I said, desperate to change the subject and move into

some other room. "Hey, let's move on and see the rest of the museum, okay?""Goodbye angels," Crystal said as we turned away. "Bye, Dani," she

added in a whisper.I looked at her and she had the most radiant look of peace on her face. I

knew better than to say another word. So what if she did think her sister was areal angel? There was no way I could prove otherwise so I wasn't about to getinto it.

Crystal and I decided to split up after that, since we each wanted to look atdifferent things. We agreed to meet around one o'clock at the entrance to thedining area.


I was excited, heading to what I called "the Van Gogh room" again, a roomhalf covered by some of his most awesome canvases. I had spent a lot of timethere during my last visit and Tara had to practically drag me out of the room sowe could go have lunch. This time, I was starting early. I had several hoursbefore lunch.

I stayed in that room and its surrounding nineteenth century European artuntil about an hour before I was supposed to meet Crystal. Then I suddenlyremembered Tara had asked me to bring home an Egyptian poster for her kidbrother. He had just learned about Egypt in his fifth grade class and was totallyinto it. I decided I should also check out some of the Egyptian exhibit myself, sothat if he asked me about anything, I'd have a few things to report.

Following the museum map, it didn't take long to get downstairs andstraight to the rooms where the Egyptian collection was displayed. I startedlooking at some of the pitchers and bowls and utensils, not too interested at first.Egyptian art was not really my thing. But when I got to a case full of reallyawesome jewelry, I started paying more attention. There were some beautifulgold pieces, a pair of the most amazing gold sandals – well, that wasn't jewelrybut I still liked them -- a wide cuff bracelet and a collar-like necklace. I wonderedif the museum gift shop had a replica of that bracelet. I could just see it on Lilah'sthin wrist and I didn't have a Christmas present for her yet. I had barely evenbegun to think of one and Christmas was coming up fast.

From the gold case I just sort of wandered around and looked at whatevercaught my eye. I checked out the painted faces on some of the stone mummycases called sarcophaguses but I didn't like it when they had one of them openand you could see the actual shriveled up mummy inside. Too creepy for me!

I kept on going farther and farther into the Egyptian section and afterawhile I saw this huge sort of stone structure with a lot of letters and carvings andit looked like you could actually go inside so that's what I did. The sign said it waspart of an actual tomb that had been excavated and brought to the museum. Itwas fascinating looking at all the scenes painted on the interior walls and I beganto understand why Tara's brother had become so fascinated with Egyptian art.

Of course I had no idea what anything said since it was all written inhieroglyphics. I leaned in close to check out the pictures, imagining what some ofthem might represent.

Suddenly, I heard heavy breathing and I felt the hairs prickling at the backof my neck, just the way I started feeling after I had been stalked for awhile. Iwhirled around, almost expecting to see Curt Bonner there in the tomb with me.But no one was there. It was just me. I was the one breathing heavy, practicallyhyperventilating. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I hurried out of the tomb, andlooked all around to find who or what had spooked me. But, just like in the tomband in the art gallery's back room the day before, I was totally alone.

You are so losing it, Heather, I told myself before hurrying into the nextroom where I saw that there was a museum guard. I breathed easier just beingaround another human being. A live human being!


I checked my watch. It was time to meet Crystal at the restaurant forlunch. I was looking forward to hearing about what she had seen while I was withthe Van Gogh paintings and the Egyptians.

It wasn't hard to find Crystal when I got to the restaurant. She was big andstood out from the crowd. She smiled the minute she noticed me.

"Hey," I said. "Let's trade exhibit highlights. But first let's get in line."Crystal agreed ‘cause there were a ton of people waiting to get into the

cafeteria-style restaurant"I had such a great time," Crystal said after awhile. "I spent mostly all of it

in the costume exhibit and I checked out this section that had some ultra modernpaintings. How about you?"

"I went straight to the Van Gogh room where I must have stayed looking atthe same three walls for over an hour. I looked in the nearby rooms too. MostlyEuropean paintings, some Impressionists, and several great Degas pastels. Youknow, his ballet dancers."

Her expression was blank for a minute and I thought that maybe shewasn't familiar with Degas' work. I was just such an art nut and sometimes Iexpected everybody else to know exactly what I was talking about. Then shesmiled. "Oh, yeah, sure," she said, making me even more sure she had no clue.

"What about the Egyptian exhibit?" she asked. "How was that? Was itscary?"

I had to stop for a minute and think. I didn't remember telling Crystal I wasgoing to the Egyptian exhibit for Tara's brother. In fact it had been a spur of themoment decision when I remembered about the poster. And why would she askme if it was scary? Did people generally think of Egyptian art that way since somuch of it was about death and the afterlife?

I remembered how I felt while I was inside that tomb. Like someone wasthere watching me. And how I couldn't breathe normally and I had to get out. Butbefore I had a chance to say anything about it, someone bumped into Crystaland she in turn bumped into me.

"Hey," she said in a loud voice. "Watch it!"I looked at her in surprise, then focussed on the person who had bumped

into her, a short stocky, older man who mumbled an apology and moved away,red-faced. Crystal had sounded so rude and upset, you'd think somebody had hither or pushed her deliberately. I mean people bump into each other all the timeand it's so not a big deal. Crystal should have been used to it, living in New York.Or maybe her anger was just part of the crusty New Yorker attitude you alwayshear about.

"I hate when people don't watch where they're going," she told me,scowling.

I shrugged. "No biggie." My brain cast around for something that mightmake her lighten up but before I could come up with anything, a woman passingby on her way out of the restaurant stopped right beside us. "Crystal?" thewoman asked. "Crystal Burke?"

Crystal turned to look at the woman and a look of surprise and distrustclouded her eyes. She also turned a bright shade of red.


"D-Dr. Freeman," she said. "N-nice to see you." Crystal's whole demeanorshouted that it was anything but nice to see this woman. Her shoulders stiffenedand the expression on her face clearly said she was even a little afraid of thedoctor. I watched Crystal, but said nothing, figuring she was too upset tointroduce us.

"Are things continuing to go well for you, Crystal?" Dr. Freeman asked andI thought she must have been Crystal's doctor at some point.

Crystal nodded stiffly and mumbled something I didn't hear.Dr. Freeman frowned. "You will call me if things start to change? If things

get bad again?" she asked, digging out a card and handing it over. Crystalstuffed it into her pocket like she couldn't wait to get it out of sight. But shenodded again and the woman finally left.

I was dying to ask what all that was about – what happened when thingsgot "bad" like the doctor said -- but it wasn't any of my business. I wondered ifLilah knew.

Crystal seemed perfectly fine after a minute and we chatted during lunchabout what we had seen so far and what else we'd like to see after lunch. Shetalked about the costume exhibit on the ground floor and I mentioned that myfriend Tara had spent most of her time there during our visit, telling her about myfriend's interest in theater.

"It must be great to have a best friend to be close to," Crystal said,sounding wistful. "I've never had a best friend."

"Yeah, Tara's great," I said. "In a lot of ways. She even saved my lifeonce. I think I told you that yesterday."

This time Crystal wanted to hear the details. "You said that yesterday afterI pushed you out of the way of that car," Crystal remembered. "Tell me about it."

I didn't tell many people about my stalking experience. It was too upsettingto relive. But Crystal was a young girl living on her own in New York and the verysame thing could easily happen to her. She should be made aware of thestalking danger that existed today.

So I launched into the whole incident of Curt Bonner who we'd met on thevan ride from the airport during our first visit a year and a half ago and how hehad "coincidentally" shown up everywhere we happened to go. Crystal appearedfascinated by the story.

"Then when we got back home to Oregon," I said, nearing the end of mytale, "he kept calling me and sending me weird presents. Then one day heactually turned up on my front doorstep pointing a gun in my face. He said hewas going to kill me, and then himself, so we could ‘always be together.' Luckyfor me, Tara was such a quick thinker. She lured him up to my room where shesprayed hair spray in his face, giving us a chance to grab the gun. And, alsothanks to Tara, the cops were already on their way."

"Wow, that's some scary story," Crystal said when I had finished. "It's agood thing your friend was there to save you."

I grinned. "Something she will never let me forget."


"And yesterday I saved your life," Crystal said with a dreamy look on herface. "So now we'll always be best friends too." She stared at me as if waiting forme to confirm her statement.

I hoped she didn't think we were going to become best buds and hang outtogether the whole time I was in New York. I mean she was okay but shedefinitely had some weird things about her. Things that actually made meuneasy. I decided I'd better not say anything to encourage a deeper friendship.

While I struggled to think of something that would change the subject,Crystal continued to stare at me.

"You're so lucky," she said after an uncomfortable silence. "I wish Lilahwas my aunt."

"Do you have any relatives close by?" I asked"Oh, I don't have time for them," she said with a shrug.Hello? What did she mean by that?"It's just that none of them are as cool as your aunt. I mean your aunt is

beyond cool," she said and I could hear the worship and longing in her voice. "Iwould do anything if she could be my aunt."

I glanced at Crystal's lunch tray, looking for an excuse to get going. I wasnot into this conversation.

"Oh, good, you're finished too," I said, gathering my things. "Let's get backout there. There's so much to look at and too little time." Another cliché borrowedfrom my aunt.

"Sure," Crystal agreed. "Just let me finish my water.But instead of reaching for the half-filled glass on her tray, she first dug

into her shoulder bag tucked beside her in the chair and came up with a plasticpill bottle, the kind prescription drugs come in. I watched in puzzled fascinationas she unscrewed the childproof cap and poured the entire contents of the bottleinto her hand. It was an assortment of maybe a dozen pills, all different shapesand sizes and colors, and she popped them all into her mouth at once, thenwashed them down in one gulp from her glass of water.

I couldn't help staring at her but I did manage to shut my mouth after it hadfallen open as a reaction to her pill taking. I had never seen anyone take thatmany different kinds of pills before, and especially not all in one swallow. Howcould she do that without choking? And what kinds of pills were they –prescription meds or over-the-counter? Was she seriously ill or something? Orwere they illegal street drugs, uppers, downers, hallucinogenic, whatever? Wouldshe have some kind of weird psychotic reaction right here in the museum?

I thought again about how Crystal had made such a favorable impressionon Lilah and wondered why. My aunt admitted the girl was "unusual," but did sheknow about any of the things I had noticed today? The moodiness, her reactionto the doctor we'd run into and now the pill thing. Maybe I should tell my auntabout how she'd glared daggers at me when Aaron talked to me the day before.And the angry way she responded to the man who bumped into her in thecafeteria line.


Crystal seemed cheerful as she gathered up her things to go. We startedto stand when she plunked herself back down in the chair and gave me a strangelook. "By the way," she said. "Don't get too friendly with Aaron."

"What are you talking about? Is he like your boyfriend or something?""He's my real friend," she said, sounding a lot like a child referring to an

imaginary friend.I just looked at her, my mouth hanging open, unable to think of anything to

say.But then, just as quickly as the topic came up, she moved on to something

else. Standing up with her tray, she said, "Lilah recommended I see someOriental art for fabric painting inspiration. Especially the Japanese colorwoodcuts on the second floor."

Crystal looked at me and smiled. "She's such a nice lady," she said, herexpression suddenly dreamy.

Yikes, I thought. Talk about mood swings."See you back by the entrance at closing time," I said, mentioning the time

and place we'd agreed to meet. Suddenly I couldn't wait to get away."Okay," she replied. "See you, Dani."I didn't say anything to Crystal but I planned to hit the gift shop for a quick

run-through before I headed back to the exhibits. That way if I found anythingtempting I could think about it for awhile rather than impulse buy.

I was halfway to the gift shop before I realized she had slipped and calledme Dani again. I wondered, did I really look so much like her dead sister that shewould keep making the same mistake? How creepy was that? And how old wasDani when she died? Was she a teenager like me? The thought sent a shudderslithering through my body and my stomach felt kind of queasy all of a sudden.Could it be something I ate?

But somehow, the suspicious nature I'd developed in the past year and ahalf said that was so not a chance. I was definitely uneasy about my so-calledDani resemblance. Maybe Crystal had a photo she could show me. Then I wouldpoint out Dani's and my differences in appearance and that might put an end tothe slipups.

In the gift shop, I browsed through the dozens of art books, thinking howhard it would be to choose from such a big selection. I found several things Ithought my mom might like. She had always loved stained glass and there werecoasters, placemats, and scarves depicting some fabulous Tiffany designs.There was a book about the angel tree and die-cut note cards in the shape ofangels. I thought she'd like those too.

I walked into a room containing mainly all jewelry cases and gazed atsome of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life. There was a replicaof the gold Egyptian cuff bracelet but it was pretty expensive. I'd have to thinkabout it. There were some earrings I thought were so Tara, I would probably getthem later on.

I saw a couple of pieces I would like for myself, but I was hesitant aboutgetting anything too pricey unless it was a Christmas gift for someone. Still, itwouldn't hurt to try something on. I asked to see a necklace and a pair of earrings


to match, delicate clear crystals suspended on fine threads of deepest black. Iwas just stepping back to look in the mirror when I saw another face reflectedfrom over my shoulder. Automatically, I spun around.

Crystal."What are you doing here?" I demanded, before I realized the question

sounded rude. Crystal apparently didn't notice because she gave me a dazzlingsmile.

"You look gorgeous in that set," she said, eyes shining bright. "I didn'tknow they had such beautiful jewelry here. I've never been in here before."

"You've never been in the gift shop?" I asked, shocked. I just assumedthat with her love of art and her hope to become a successful artist, she'd havebeen here a lot. I know I would be! Anyway, who goes to the museum andbypasses the gift shop? Especially more than once.

"No, I avoid most shops," Crystal said. "I don't have a lot of money, youknow?"

This from a girl who throws away silk scarves if she didn't like the resultsof her painting. After awhile, she wandered off again and I decided to head backinto the galleries for more looking around. But for some reason I wasn't as intothe art as I had been that morning. I actually thought of just leaving the museumand heading back to Lilah's place. Too many things were weird about Crystaltoday. And yesterday.

But, although I was tempted, I knew I couldn't do it. Not only was it mean,it would probably upset my aunt if I treated Crystal that way. I had committedmyself to spend this one day with her and I would do it. But I would also avoidmaking any other plans with her the rest of the time I was in New York. Thatshouldn't be too hard to do.

I recalled Lilah's exuberant praise of Crystal. Even she had called her"unusual" but sometimes I knew my aunt purposely drifted towards the unusual. Ihadn't seen any of Crystal's work yet but she must be one heck of a buddingartist to have so charmed my aunt.

Already I felt so guilty, about even thinking of abandoning Crystal there inthe museum. I could imagine several different scenarios of what could happen asa result. What if she alerted the security guards that I had disappeared? What ifthey thought I was hiding out in the museum the way those two kids had in abook I read once? What if Crystal thought something had happened to me andcalled my aunt before I had a chance to get home? What if she waited outsidethe museum until after dark, expecting me to turn up?

What if someone played such a mean trick on me?That did it as far as my conscience goes. I decided to actually go looking

for Crystal. I didn't find her among the Japanese art although I did take a fewminutes looking at the color woodcuts she had mentioned.

I found Crystal on the second floor among the drawings, prints andphotographs. She was standing inches away from a framed photograph,practically with her nose pressed against the glass. I went closer so I could takea look at what was drawing such fascination.


Crystal didn't move as I stood beside her, nor did she acknowledge mypresence. She was studying a picture of a bright red flower and I looked at it withcurious interest. The photographer had obviously spread the flower's petals andarranged them just so, and although it was taken close up, every part of theflower was totally in focus. It reminded me of a Georgia O'Keeffe painting, brightand bold. It made me think of Lilah, and I asked if Crystal was absorbinginspiration for the scarf that she planned to paint and give to my aunt forChristmas.

But either Crystal ignored my question or hadn't heard what I said. Shecontinued to study the photograph, looking like she'd been hypnotized.

"Crystal?" I tried again.This time she turned and looked at me and her eyes were glassy. It took a

moment before I saw the recognition on her face. Had she been so absorbed inher study of the photograph that she'd forgotten who I was? Or was it thathandful of pills she had swallowed after lunch?

"Oh, hello. Heather?" she said at last, blinking like she'd been asleep or ina trance. "I was just gonna go look for you."

Sure, I thought. She didn't look like she planned to move anytime soon.But at least she had called me by my right name and not that of her dead sister.

"I came to see what you were into," I said. "We don't have much more timebefore closing and I'm heading for the gift shop soon."

Her expression turned gloomy. "I haven't got the money to shop," shesaid. "You go on ahead without me. In fact, I was about to leave soon. You don'tmind going back on your own do you?"

I was stunned by her brush-off. And there I'd been scolding myself for mythoughts of leaving her behind. Well, whatever.

Since I'd already browsed the gift shop earlier, I knew pretty much what Iwanted to buy and it didn't take long before I'd picked up a few Christmaspresents. A scarf, patterned after Tiffany glass for Mom, different from one I knewLilah had. I thought Mom would love the scarf because she really likes stainedglass. I also got the book about the fabulous angel tree but not the angel notecards. Mom wasn't much into writing to people.

Then I headed back to the jewelry store where I chose a pair of prettyEtruscan bead earrings for Tara in silver and – her favorite color – blue.

I really splurged on Lilah, getting her this outrageously bold gold and silvernecklace. I decided it was more "her" than the Egyptian cuff bracelet. Thenecklace was expensive but I had saved a lot of the money I made working as awaitress full-time during the summer. And anyway, my aunt meant so much tome, ever since I'd gotten to know her better on my last visit.

I always had a difficult time shopping for my Dad but I found a book ongarden ornaments that I thought he'd like since his weekend hobby wasgardening

I picked out a box of Van Gogh notecards for myself and more postcards,ones I didn't pick up the first time I was there and ones from the current visitingexhibit. Also, this book of all the Van Gogh self-portraits, which I always thought,


were so amazing. Then, although I wasn't usually a scarf person, I added a scarfpatterned after one of my favorite Van Gogh iris paintings.

I left all of my selections with a clerk at one of the checkout counters andran upstairs to the poster shop to pick out the Egyptian poster that I promisedTara's kid brother. As I passed through the children's shop, the title Secrets ofthe Mummies caught my attention. It was just a thin book but it was filled withexplicit color pictures of mummies and shriveled up corpses, really gross stuffthat made my skin crawl. But it was exactly what an eleven year old boy wouldlove. There was something about a mummy's curse that sounded pretty spookytoo. I would buy the book for him for Christmas. In just a few minutes I'd alsopicked out a poster and went back downstairs to pay for my stuff.

It had been a fun day but I knew I would give Tara a call when I got backto my aunt's place. I had missed my best bud and wished she could have beenwith me on my second visit to the Met. Instead of Crystal, I thought, unable tostop myself.


Chapter Four

I couldn't help thinking about Crystal as I carried my shopping bags downthe steps of the Met, wondering if she'd left the museum or if she was stillstanding in front of that one photograph, staring at it.

I wondered how much I should tell Lilah about her behavior. But then Ireviewed the day as I rode back to Greenwich Village in the taxi, and decided notto express my wary feelings about Crystal. I was sure that if I did my aunt wouldthink I was just being paranoid. Maybe I was, because of last time's stalker plusthe recent return of my nightmares.

Maybe there was nothing really weird or strange about Crystal, just thatshe was a little bit quirky and different. That unusual personality Lilah hadmentioned.

I was heading up the stairs to my aunt's apartment, five flights up and noelevator, when I heard footsteps behind me. Automatically, I turned and lookeddown. There, just stepping up to the third floor landing was the cute guy I'd metyesterday. Aaron.

I felt a pounding starting from deep inside my chest, rising up to my throatand into my brain. What is he doing here? Following me. Stalking me.

I turned and made a dash up the stairs, faster than I'd ever climbed thembefore. I could still hear his footsteps coming up. He was getting closer withevery step. I thought he called out my name but I couldn't be sure with thethrobbing in my head. I made it to the fifth floor and jammed my key into the lock,thrusting open the door and bursting into the apartment.

Lilah was seated at one of her sewing machines and I could hear themotor whirring like crazy. She tossed a greeting over her shoulder but I could seeshe was totally into her sewing project. I leaned against the double-locked doorand tried to breathe normally.

"Heather, are you all right?" she asked, looking at me. "You sound sowinded. I know the steps are a challenge but…"

I rushed down the hall and into my room, calling over my shoulder, "…beright back."

It gave me a chance to calm down and also to stash her Christmaspresent in my room. I hid the boxed necklace in one of my clothing drawers anddumped everything else on the bed. I would show off my purchases later onwhen my aunt took a break from her sewing.

I was just leaving the guestroom when I heard a knock on the door. Ifroze. Would Aaron be so bold as to follow me here? To actually knock on myaunt's door? Do stalkers knock?

Suddenly, I had a vivid memory of Curt Bonner at my front door pointing agun in my face.

Before I could think what to do, I heard Lilah unlock the door and throw itopen. "Aaron," she cried. "What a nice surprise. Come in, come in. I was justgoing to make some tea for my niece and me."


"Thanks," he said. "I'll come in out of the cold for a minute but then I needto get back downstairs. Grandma's taking me out for dinner. Actually, I came upbecause I thought I saw Heather on the stairs. Did she just come in?"

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to relax my hands, whichwere clenched tight at my sides. I'm going to have to go out there.

A minute later, Lilah called to me down the hall. "I knew you'd likeHeather," I heard her say as I walked towards the front room. "Did Millie tell you Ihad an attractive guest at my place?" Her voice was teasing but it didn't help. Imay as well have been walking down Death Row the way my stomach and chestfelt.

"Actually," Aaron replied. "I enjoyed running into the two of you yesterdayat Innovations."

Lilah nodded, beaming, and turned to me. I forced a smile onto my face.They sounded like old friends. Wait until I told my aunt he had followed me here.

"Hey, Heather," Aaron said, smiling at me. "I guess you didn't hear me onthe stairs. I tried calling you but you'd already come in. I wanted to ask you ifyou'd like to go out for coffee tomorrow night. If you're not too tired from sightseeing and shopping," he added with a grin.

I hesitated. Lilah clasped her hands together. "Splendid," she announced."I'll go downstairs and keep Millie company. We haven't had a good long chat inawhile. Anyway, it's wonderful for you two young people to get out of our stuffyapartments."

I stared at my aunt. Had she totally freaked out? No way was I going outwith a guy who's stalking me. I still hadn't said anything.

"Um, I…" My throat closed and I couldn't say a word. I looked at Lilah."Of course you must go, Heather," she insisted. "I can't believe I didn't

think of telling you that Aaron is living right downstairs."Hello? What was she talking about? Why was Aaron living downstairs

from my aunt? I thought this building was full of senior citizens."I probably should have mentioned yesterday when we met that I was

staying with my grandmother just one floor below you and your aunt.""Downstairs," I said, still in shock. "You live downstairs? Your grandmother

lives in this building?" Duh, Heather, get a grip."Yeah," he said, smiling."Well, it is a small world," Lilah announced, bustling off into the kitchen to

put the kettle on.Aaron looked at me with those amazing blue eyes. "About tomorrow?" he

asked. Did he actually look hopeful?I took a deep breath and smiled at last. "Sure," I said. "I'd like that," and

realized I truly would."We can talk about art," he said. "Among other things." He winked just

before heading out the door and my breath caught in my throat. "I'll come by atseven." Then he was gone, closing the door behind him. I heard the quiet click asit locked behind him.

"You didn't say a word about Aaron after meeting him yesterday," Lilah,set two fragrant cups of jasmine tea on the dining room table.


"I am so embarrassed," I said, sitting down. "Yesterday, I thought I'dprobably never see him again. And today I thought he was stalking me."

Lilah clicked her tongue in understanding while I told her about my panicon the stairs. "I don't blame you for being nervous about strange men, honey,"she sympathized. "But I'll tell you right now Aaron is one of the good guys. I'veknown his grandmother for many years and she's always talked about him."

I felt like an idiot but Lilah was understanding and soon had me laughingabout my paranoia as we finished our tea.

"Show me what you were working on when I came in," I begged, eager tosee her new project.

My aunt sat back in front of the sewing machine and pulled her projectonto her lap.

"I finished the first two masks for my faces sculpture," she told me, holdingone up. It was the spooky half-mask associated with Phantom of the Opera, ashow we'd seen during my last visit. The other was an African style mask thatreminded me of a Picasso painting I liked. Both of the masks were gorgeous,made with shiny satin fabric.

"You're so good at that fine detail," I said, noticing some of the tiny handstitches.

"I was just about to take a break and have some tea," Lilah said, settingthe masks aside. "I want to hear all about your day at the Met. And I want to seewhat's in those shopping bags you tried sneaking in here," she added, a twinklein her blue eyes.

"Well," I teased, "I won't show you all of it."I went back to my room and spread my purchase out on the bed for Lilah's

inspection. She oohed and aahed over Mom's silk scarf and Tara's earrings, tinysilver and blue beads on dangly, one-inch hoops, saying they would look greatwith my friend's short, sassy hairstyle. She shuddered over the creepy pictures inthe Secrets of the Mummies book I bought for Tara's kid brother.

"Yes, young boys do like that sort of thing, don't they?" she agreed.I mentioned how I'd felt spooked in the Egyptian tomb, then showed her

the new book I'd picked up, the one that showed all of Van Gogh's self-portraits –more than forty of them!

"I've tried doing my own self-portrait and had a ton of fun with the project,"I told my aunt. "I think I'll draw and paint some more of them later on when I gethome.

Since I was in New York longer this time – two weeks instead of just one –I had asked my aunt to help me select a fabric art project to do. So that's what Ihoped we'd talk about during dinner that evening.

Like I said before, Lilah ate out or ordered take-in almost every evening. "Inever claimed to be Betty Crocker," she says, making me laugh. I can rememberlearning to bake from Betty Crocker baking mixes and I can cook pretty well. Butabout as near as Lilah got to cooking was thawing frozen dinners or re-heatingleftover take-out in the microwave. There were a million different restaurants nearher Greenwich Village apartment, a lot more than at home, and I enjoyed tryingunusual kinds of food.


Of course she wanted to hear about my day at the Met, so I told her aboutmost of it, leaving out the parts about Crystal's weird behavior. Maybe I wasoverreacting or even looking for things to be wrong with her, just because myaunt had said she was an unusual girl. I pushed my uneasy thoughts aside andlooked forward to the evening ahead. I would think about Crystal again tomorrow.

That night Lilah and I were both tired, she from working on her sculptureall day and me from my adventures at the Met, so we decided to order in pizzaand spend the evening just hanging out at home. The next day Lilah, Crystal andI would be heading for Macy's and more Christmas shopping. I had forgottenLilah wanted to include Crystal. Maybe Crystal wouldn't act so weird with my auntaround.

My relationship with my great-aunt is so cool – we never run out of thingsto talk about. And I was excited about the small fabric project that she would helpme get started on. I would leave the hard stuff, the big and complicated projectsshe produces, to experts like her. But I did want to have the experience of tryingsomething new, something in a medium I didn't normally work in. It would be afun evening.

And it was fun. Right up until the time I went to sleep and had anotherscary dream...

I was in a huge dimly lit hall and the pillars were like ones I'd seen in theMetropolitan Museum. The place was crowded with people and I craned myneck, trying to see what everyone was looking at. There was an altar in themiddle of the hall and everyone around it was dressed in old-fashioned Egyptiancostume. In fact, so was everyone else around me. Some carried tall featheredfans and guards, holding long sharp spears, stood at every doorway.

The creepiest part was that some of the people wore masks which fittedover and covered the entire head. The masks hid their human faces and showedfierce looking creatures. A snarling dog, a goat with long pointed horns, and asharp-beaked bird. Just the sight of those creatures terrified me.

A smoky haze drifted throughout the room, causing my eyes to burn. Thesmell of incense filled my nostrils, making it difficult to breathe.

I stopped someone who was trying to squeeze his way through the crowd."What's going on here?" I asked. "What is everyone trying to see?"

The man scowled at me, impatient, eager to move on. "A sacrifice," hesaid. "There's going to be a sacrifice." He licked his lips in anticipation. Shivering,I moved away from him.

I knew I should get out of there, but somehow could not stop my morbidcuriosity from taking over.

Looking around, I noticed several balconies above the room with stairsleading up to them. It would be easier to see from up there. I pushed my waythrough the crowd and began to climb. The staircase seemed longer than itlooked and I climbed and climbed until, at long last, I reached the top. Again Ipushed through the crowd of people until I was standing at the railing lookingdown at the altar and the rest of the room.


A body was lying still upon the altar, a crimson cloth draped over it,including the head, covering the face and hair. Men in white robes circled thealtar, chanting in a language I didn't understand.

After awhile, one of the men raised his arms and shouted something in aloud voice, again in that unfamiliar tongue. A hush fell over the room and thecrowd below parted to make a path from the door to the altar. A figure emerged,the robes showing the obvious form of a woman, a big woman. She was wearingan elaborate gold and sapphire headdress, making it impossible to see her faceor her hair.

"The high priestess," someone beside me breathed into my ear.I held my breath as one of the robed men removed a large-bladed knife

from his robes and handed it to the high priestess. She raised her arm up highand held the knife poised over the unmoving figure on the altar. The long bladegleamed in the light of the many candles.

I knew with a cold chill creeping over me that the sacrifice was to be thevictim's life. The chanting began again and grew louder until the sound filledevery corner of the room, pressing painfully against my eardrums.

One of the men pulled back the red cloth covering the body and it fellaway onto the ground like a pool of blood. For the first time, I had a look at thevictim's face.

The victim of the sacrifice was me!"No-o-o-o," I screamed, or tried to. "I can't be your sacrifice! I'm not one of

you. I don't belong here." But no matter how hard I tried, no sound emerged.Helpless, I could only watch in silence as the priestess held the knife up high,ready to plunge into the victim. Ready to plunge the knife into me.

Suddenly, a young man pushed through the crowd and rushed to the altar.There, just as the knife began it's downward plunge, he knocked it out of thepriestess' hand. The knife fell onto the ground with a clatter that echoedthroughout the hushed room, just before the roar ran through the crowd as thepeople realized they were denied their sacrifice. The priestess ripped away herheaddress and glared at the young man picking the knife up off the floor.

"How dare you?" she screamed. In English this time, so I understood.Crystal! The high priestess was Crystal.But my rescuer ignored her and everyone else, reaching for the body still

lying on the altar. My body.He picked me up and carried me away.Suddenly, I was no longer an observer in the balcony, looking down at

myself.In the young man's arms, I began to stir, feeling groggy and confused. I

opened my eyes to see who was carrying me from the room.Aaron. My rescuer was Aaron.I woke up with a silent scream caught in my throat. The dream was totally

different from the ones I'd been having but it was just as scary, maybe even moreso. Me as a human sacrifice with Crystal about to plunge a knife into me? AndAaron, a guy I had only just met, as my rescuer. Too weird.


I guess all those mummies I looked at in the museum had gotten to meafter all, I thought, getting out of bed to get a drink of water. I hoped the book andposter I'd bought for Tara's kid brother wouldn't end up giving him nightmares.But little boys usually loved stuff like that and never let the creepiness get tothem. They can be so gross.


Chapter Five

Amazingly, I got back to sleep after that and slept dream-free until latemorning. Lilah and I had decided to sleep in and then treat ourselves to a latecontinental style breakfast at a coffee shop just around the corner. One of theneat things about Greenwich Village is that there are so many great businessesthere. Restaurants, coffee bars, interesting bookstores and unique boutiques. It'sa whole neighborhood of Bohemians, which is the word my parents sometimesused to describe Aunt Delilah. But I had to admit that if this was the Bohemianlife, then I was ready to join.

After breakfast we took a cab into town to meet Crystal for our shoppingtrip to Macy's. The only thing I knew about Macy's was that it was a big olddepartment store, that was the setting for the famous Christmas classic, Miracleon Thirty-fourth Street. I had missed the store completely on my last trip to NewYork City and, when my aunt said we were going there, Crystal had begged tocome along.

When Lilah told me that Macy's is the biggest department store in theworld, I playfully scolded her for not insisting I go there during my first visit. Taraand I both loved to shop and had done quite a bit of damage to our wallets atsome of the many other stores. But we'd totally missed out on Macy's!

Lilah reminded me that Macy's is in charge of the big Thanksgiving DayParade. It's often their employees who dress up and carry those huge andwonderful balloons along the parade route. I could picture great singers anddancers performing in front of the store from the many times I had watched theparade on TV with my family. My favorite performers were the Radio CityRockettes. Great legs. I didn't think my legs were bad but I would always be alittle envious of theirs.

Crystal was waiting for us in front of the store, dressed much like the othertwo days I'd seen her – a plain black coat that was open to show worn blackjeans and a black shirt. Her scarf and gloves were the same black as her coat.And of course she still wasn't wearing an ounce of makeup. For someone whoworked in a New York City art gallery she sure didn't dress the part. Maybe Lilahand I could steer her in the direction of something colorful when we got inside.Actually, I was surprised that Lilah hadn't already worked some of her artisticmagic on Crystal.

"Hi," she said, a bit breathless as we got out of the cab."Ready to shop?" I asked, getting to the point right away."Window shopping counts," said Lilah, and I wondered if she added that in

case Crystal didn't have money to spend. She had a job but she also was livingon her own and that can be very spendy. Someday I would find out about that formyself.

When we first arrived at Macy's I wanted to look at all the holiday windowdisplays. It was obvious they were ready for Christmas.

But Crystal had noticed that Lilah and I were both wearing Christmas treepins on our coats and fussed over them a bit. The pins were similar in style butvery different in color.


"I've never seen a purple and blue Christmas tree," she said to Lilah,before coming over to study mine.

"My aunt gave me this pin last Christmas," I said proudly. "Its colors aremore traditional, don't you think?" My tree was green with red, yellow, and blueballs.

"I noticed," Crystal said to me. "I notice everything," she said in a voicethat gave me a chill. "Everything."

She touched my pin with the tip of one finger. "Pretty," she breathed, as ifshe'd never seen anything so wonderful in her life. "I wish I had one," she said ina whisper so that I barely heard her. Then she turned and marched ahead of usto open the door.

The minute we walked into the store I spotted a little case showing off acollection of cosmetics that was a free gift when you spent a certain amount ontheir products.

"Gift with purchase," I shrieked. "My favorite way to buy cosmetics!""A gift with purchase is always a good thing," Lilah declared, sounding like

Martha Stewart, while Crystal stood there looking at us, from one to the other, asif we were speaking Chinese.

"Haven't you ever done this, Crystal?" I asked, surprised by the puzzledlook on her face. "It's a ton of fun. You buy some product in their brand and thenthey give you all this stuff for free. Look in that case, I said, warming up to mytopic. There's a little green and white makeup bag and it comes filled with allthose things you see there. Lipstick, nail polish, moisturizer, and eye pencil,makeup remover and mascara. All for free! That is so great a deal!"

"Who'd want it?" Crystal asked.I just stared at her. Was she kidding or was she for real? No way was she

like any teenage girls I knew. She wasn't like any women I knew!"Everybody does it, Crystal," I coaxed. "It won't hurt you."She looked at me, confused, as Lilah excused herself and went in search

of the ladies' room. Great. Now I was stuck trying to explain about the joys of freemakeup to a girl who obviously had no clue.

As soon as my aunt was out of sight Crystal grabbed my arm and pulledme behind a free-standing poster display of some new fragrance. "I want to showyou the scarf I'm making for Lilah," she whispered, pulling a small plastic bag outof her purse. She reached in and took out a long, wildly-patterned silk scarf, andlooked at me with a mixture of pride and nervousness.

I looked at the scarf. It was painted with bright streaks of color, mainlyvarious shades of red, with dabs of black added in at random. She had painted itwith a combination of bold rich brushstrokes and what might have been a driptechnique, which resulted, in my opinion, in blood-like crimson splatters. It wasn'tthe worst thing I had ever seen, but it really did make me think someone mighthave used it to bandage a bloody wound.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Crystal asked in another breathless whisper."Here, try it on," she said, as she began winding the scarf around my neck. "I'mso worried she won't like it. Do you think she will?" she asked again, not having


given me a chance to answer the first time. I had to think carefully. What to sayand not hurt the artist's fragile feelings?

"I think the bold use of color and pattern will suit her," I said, cautious.Crystal continued to wrap the scarf around my neck, pulling tighter than

the way anyone would wear one. "Not so tight, okay?" I said, gasping. I quicklytucked my fingers beneath the part closest to my throat and pulled. What waswrong with her? Was she trying to choke me to death? "Crystal, Lilah should beback any minute. You'd better put this away."

I was relieved when she accepted my reason, unwound the scarf andstuffed it back in the plastic bag and then into her purse. I put a hand up to mythroat where I could still feel the sensation of tightening silk. I mean yikes, Ithought she was going to strangle me right there in the middle of Macy's!

I looked around, hoping my aunt would hurry and return from the ladies'room soon. Like, right now. Luckily, when Crystal and I emerged from behind theperfume display, there was Lilah, almost as if I'd conjured her up myself. I smiled,feeling a bit like Sabrina the teenage witch.

"Well, ladies," Lilah said, "How much makeup have you picked out?"I looked at Crystal and she looked back at me, both of us, I'm sure, with

guilty expressions on our faces. Neither of us could talk about the gift scarf and Iwas still flustered by my near-strangling.

"I just started…""I'm just not into…"Crystal and I both began to speak at the same time, then we both

snapped our mouths shut and looked at one another some more."What, no makeup yet?"My aunt's expression was one of both outrage and amusement. She

looked from one to the other of us, then decided to step in, putting an arm aroundCrystal's shoulders. "Come on, dear. Just follow me. I'll take good care of you. Ithink Heather will do just fine on her own"

"Yeah," I agreed, getting back into the spirit, remembering the freecosmetics gift offer.

"We'll get you hooked into the gift with purchase club," I told Crystal."You mean I have to join a club?" she asked, her eyes wide for a moment,

then narrowed in suspicion."Well, not a real club," I admitted. Where had this girl been that she didn't

know about free makeup offers? "That's just what we call it. My best bud Taraand I try to get in on every offer we see and we've gotten tons of free stuff."

At the cosmetics counter I dug in and started looking for something to buy.It didn't take me long to find an extra moisturizing hand cream, great for dryhands in cold winter weather. I also selected a bottle of nail polish called BigApple Red. It was from a "New York Collection" so I couldn't resist.

"When in Rome, they say," Lilah commented when I showed it to her.She had picked out an eye shadow duo of iridescent lavender pearl and

blue onyx, plus violet eyeliner, colors not many women could get away withwearing. But I knew Lilah could wear anything with style and always look exactlyright.


Crystal was around on the other side of the counter, out of earshot, I wassure. I nudged my aunt. "See if you can talk her into a free makeover," Iwhispered. "She could use some sprucing up, don't you think?"

Lilah appeared to be thinking it over. "Well, a little lipstick always helps.Lipstick and a smile is what I like to say. Makes just about anything seem just alittle bit better."

She walked over and said something to Crystal while I continued trying outthe sample products, using my hands as paint palettes like I always did, drawinga blue line here and a pink smudge there. After awhile one of the sales girlsbehind the counter asked me if I wanted a makeup wipe which I gladly acceptedso I could clean the makeup off my well-streaked hands.

I saw that Lilah, and even Crystal, were buying something from thecosmetics line and were getting their gift with purchase. I couldn't help wonderingif Crystal was actually going to use any of the stuff. Maybe we should invite herback over to the apartment with us for a glamour girl makeup party. That's whatTara and I called it and we did it at least once a month.

But Crystal was a lot more serious than Tara. Would she be able to loosenup enough to have some fun? And surely she had just gotten carried away withher scarf winding because she was nervous about my aunt coming back andruining the surprise. Yeah, right. What about her strange behavior in the gallerythat first day and yesterday in the museum? I had to admit it to myself again.That is one strange girl.

I paid for my purchases and, after peeking happily into my bag of goodies,walked around the counter to where I'd last seen Crystal and my aunt. Anotherlipstick display caught my eye and I picked up a color that carried the same nameas my new nail polish. Big Apple Red. I pulled it out of the rack and drew a thickline along the back of my hand. It was pretty, but I really didn't need another redlipstick, even if it did go with the polish. I was sure I had one at home that wouldwork just as well. I started to rub the color off.

"Heather?"I turned around the minute I heard Lilah say my name. I couldn't wait to

see if she'd had any success sprucing up her friend. I looked up in time to seeCrystal, an expertly painted mauve mouth open as wide as her horrified, thoughmade-up, eyes.

"Dani," she cried. "You're bleeding!"


Chapter Six

"I can't believe Crystal thought that lipstick I put on my hand was blood," Isaid later that evening as Lilah put a cup of jasmine tea down in front of mefollowing our delivered Chinese dinner. "You would think she'd never seenmakeup before," I went on. "I mean hello? Can't she tell the difference betweenblood and a little try-it-out smudge of lipstick?"

"You know, there are a lot of people who don't wear makeup," Lilah said.Was she defending Crystal or just trying to be diplomatic? I stared at her.

"I know," she said, shrugging her elegant shoulders. "I don't understand iteither but there it is."

I was struck once again with the thought of what a beautiful woman myaunt is, even in her eighties. She must have been a real knockout in her youngerdays.

"Well you did warn me that Crystal was different.""Women who don't wear makeup are missing a woman's personal delight,"

my aunt announced. She batted her well mascaraed eyelashes at me, makingme laugh. But I sobered up quickly.

"It so gives me the creeps when she calls me Dani, though. I thought shehad quit doing it but that's the name she said when she thought I was bleeding.Does she really keep thinking I'm her dead sister? I wish she had a better grip onreality."

Lilah looked concerned. "I don't know anything about her sister," she said."But it seems that losing her was a rather traumatic experience. Maybe Jeanetteor Elena could tell me something about her. They've supposedly known Crystal along time. In fact, I think they hired her as a favor to one of their special clients."Her emphasis on the word said the special client was a big-spender.

"Hey, are you going to model those new pajamas for me?" I asked,wanting to change the subject, and, remembering how Lilah had shooed us outof cosmetics and into lingerie shortly after Crystal's lipstick/blood incident. Shebought a pair of silk lounging pajamas in a deep ruby red, one of her best colors."For the holidays," she announced.

"I knew you'd look great in those," I said a few minutes later when Lilahcame out of the bedroom wearing her new purchase. "You're lucky to be so tall. Imust have gotten Mom's short genes," I said, sighing. Don't most short girls wishthey were tall? I'd be willing to bet very few tall girls wished they were short.

"You're just tall enough," Lilah announced, heading down the hall to herbedroom.

In a few minutes, she was back in the dining room, dressed in a woolpantsuit of royal blue. "Are you ready for your big date?" she asked.

I felt an annoying blush creeping into my face.Aaron had promised to take me on a nighttime holiday walk along Fifth

Avenue to look at Christmas lights and window displays. Lilah was goingdownstairs to have tea with her neighbor, Aaron's Grandma Millie. "Sure," I said,feigning a confidence I didn't feel. Although I wouldn't admit it out loud, I wasnervous about spending time with him. Not that I was afraid. I was still


embarrassed that I had thought Aaron to be another stalker who followed mehome.

Aaron suggested we start back at Thirty-fourth Street, actually Thirty-fourth and Fifth, at the Empire State Building. I didn't want to go up to the top –Tara and I had done that on our last trip – I just wanted to see it lit up in red andgreen the way Lilah said it was every Christmas. We would see the famous hugeChristmas tree at Rockefeller Center, and then go across the street to see theshop windows, starting with Saks Fifth Avenue and working our way down.Somewhere along the way, we'd stop for a hot drink.

Rockefeller Center was alive with Christmas and the tree was awesome."I'll bet it's fun to be here for the tree-lighting," I mused. "Tara and I

watched it on TV.""I've never seen it live either," said Aaron. "But maybe next year, when

we're both here at school."Was he talking about the two of us seeing it together next year? Just the

thought made my heartbeat quicken while we walked over to the skating rink."Do you skate?" Aaron asked, after we'd watched the skaters for awhile.I laughed. "Well, a little. We have this skating rink in a mall near where I

live and sometimes Tara and I go out there to skate. She's pretty good but Iseem to spend a lot of time on my butt."

Aaron laughed too. "You just need a little more practice," he said, makingme think he was probably pretty good at it. I was glad he didn't suggest we goskating that night. I would have been so embarrassed. But right then, as westood watching skaters glide effortlessly across the ice, I vowed that I wouldspend more time at the skating rink when I got home.

It seemed like there were a million people bustling around going everywhich way, some of them holding briefcases like they had come from work andothers holding great big shopping bags bulging with what I imagined werewonderful Christmas gifts. Anyway, I knew we didn't have anything like NewYork's Christmas décor back home in Oregon. I wished Tara could see all thelights too. She would totally love them! But I have to admit I was glad it was justAaron and me.

The December air was chilly and we could see our breath big time. It waskind of fun for me since it usually didn't get so cold in Oregon. Anyway, walkingalong the streets of New York City at Christmas time with Aaron had to be themost fun thing I had ever done. There were a lot of people around, going backand forth and being busy with their lives. But there was something different aboutthe crowd this time. More people were looking at each other, actually smiling ateach other, instead of ignoring everyone or scowling when someone got in theway. Call me naïve but it just had to be the Christmas spirit.

"Don't you just love the sounds of Christmas?" I asked Aaron."Well," he said, "I think those Salvation Army bell ringers on every corner

are a bit of overkill.""Oh, we have those at home too. You get used to them. But I love the way

some of the stores have Christmas music piped outside, adding to the merrimentand enticing people to come inside and shop."


"I can see those marketing tactics work on you," he teased."Careful," I teased right back. "You're sounding a little bit like old

Ebenezer."We both laughed and continued navigating through the crowds.After awhile, Aaron actually took my hand as we walked along, and even

through our gloves, I could feel his warmth. I blushed at the thought of just howgood it felt. And how natural.

I breathed in deeply the combined scents of evergreens and roastingchestnuts, just like in the Christmas song.

"What's that you're humming?" Aaron asked."Oh, I didn't realize I was doing it out loud," I said, a bit embarrassed. But

then I thought, hey, I'm into the Christmas spirit. So I sang, "'chestnuts roastingon an open fire,'" just as we passed one of the vendors. We decided to stop andtry some, a first for me, and they were good. We actually fed them to each otherwhich seemed such an intimate, though fun, thing to do.

"I really love the smells of Christmas too," I told Aaron a little later. "Youknow, like cinnamon and apple cider and gingerbread. The spices remind me ofbaking cookies with my mom. This year with me out here we didn't get to dothat."

"Well, maybe you can bake some after you get back," he suggested."There's no law that says you can't bake Christmas cookies after Christmas."

I can honestly say I've never seen so many Christmas lights anddecorations than I saw on Fifth Avenue. Stores like Lord and Taylor and SaksFifth Avenue had the most amazing window displays! Not the mechanical Santa'sworkshop elves like I was used to but elaborate animated scenes like one fromthe Nutcracker ballet and another that was a nativity scene where the figuresactually moved. It was so cool to see the baby Jesus moving in his cradle justlike a real baby with his parents and the angels and shepherds and animals allaround. It reminded me of a long time ago being a kid playing an angel in aschool Christmas pageant.

"Years ago," I told Aaron, "When I was just a kid, like in the third grade, Iplayed an angel in my school Christmas play."

"I'll bet you were a cute one," he said, so that I blushed even more. Iturned my face away from him a bit, trying to hide what I'm sure were glowing redcheeks. Maybe he'd think my face was flushed from the cold. Yeah, right.

"Anyway," I continued, "my mom made my costume and there were theseangel wings and a halo made out of Christmas tinsel wrapped around a thin wire.I thought it was the coolest thing!

Except," I rolled my eyes at the memory, "when I got to the school gym onthe night of the performance, I discovered that Mom had made a mistake. Mywings and halo were gold and all the other kids had silver ones.

Like, I thought, there was no way I could sing in the angel choir with thewrong color wings."

"So what happened?" Aaron asked, laughing now, making me feel lessself-conscious.


"Well, I did what any insecure little kid would do when faced with a crisis ofthat magnitude. I burst into tears. Then, to make everything worse, I couldn't stopcrying."

"Poor kid," Aaron sympathized. "So what happened?""Well my teacher, Mrs. Pierce, a lady who was so cool, took one look at

me and said I couldn't be in the angel choir. Of course all that did was to makeme cry louder. It was awhile before she and my mom were able to convince methat Mrs. Pierce wasn't kicking me out of the pageant. She was just giving me adifferent part."

I paused, smiling. "I'll never forget how I felt when my teacher said I couldplay the special angel of the Lord. You know, the one who says, ‘hark, I bring youtidings of great joy.'"

"Way to go," Aaron cheered. "But it was the night of the pageant. Didn'tshe already have some other kid playing that part?"

"The part originally belonged to Barbara Ann Sullivan, one of those kidswho always get picked to do the special stuff."

"Ah, the ‘teacher's pet.'""Right. But just that morning Barbara Ann woke up with the chicken pox

and had to stay home.""All right. Chicken pox to the rescue for you then.""Yeah," I agreed. "I was thrilled until Mom pointed out it wasn't very nice to

be happy about someone being covered with big itchy red spots. Even if it didbenefit me."

"I guess," Aaron agreed. But I got the impression he would have felt justlike I did at first. "So how'd you do?"

I grinned. "Mrs. Pierce told my parents afterwards that she hadn't seen abetter angel of the Lord in all her years of teaching. I was especially thrilledbecause to me she was pretty ancient and must have been teaching for a longtime. But I realize now she was fairly young -- perhaps in her thirties."

Aaron laughed and we continued on our walk. He was so fun to be with hehad me feeling like I didn't have a single problem in the whole entire world.

Almost.I had to admit it bothered me that there were so many Santa Clauses

around. Not that I'm afraid of Santa Claus but they were all ringing these littlebells and the sound reminded me of the jingling bells I kept hearing in mynightmares. The Santas made me want to keep turning to look behind me to seeif anyone, like a Santa Claus, was following us. I also tried to walk quickly, as if Ihad to hurry to safety. Was I safe? The last time I came to New York I hadn'tbeen, with Curt Bonner following me everywhere. I was having threateningnightmares then too.

"If you don't stop walking so fast," Aaron finally said, "you're going to missall this."

"What?"He stopped and put a hand on my shoulder. His touch was strangely

comforting."Is anything wrong?" he asked. "You seem kind of nervous."


"I'm sorry," I said. "Guess I just got swept up in the New Yorker pace.""You're walking like you're in an awful hurry. You look like you're trying to

run away from something. A New York Christmas doesn't usually have that effecton people. And, hopefully, neither does my company."

He smiled and gave me a wink with those gorgeous blue eyes.Even though he smiled when he said it I knew he thought I was acting

weird. Despite the December cold, I felt the heat of a blush creeping into mycheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you nervous about something?""I was never very good at hiding my feelings," I admitted. "Why don't we

stop somewhere for a hot drink? I'll tell you all about it."It wasn't long before we found a little café and went inside. The café was

toasty warm compared to outdoors, and was filled with the most amazing smells.Nutmeg, cinnamon, freshly baked gingerbread. Yummy! We both ordered hotchocolate, and the drinks arrived in big mugs with whipped cream on top and acandy cane for stirring.

"How festive!" I was cheered by the extra holiday touch. When we settleddown to drinking our chocolate, I told Aaron about my bad dreams, convenientlyleaving out the part about my scary stalker experience during my last visit. Forsome reason, I didn't want to unload such a heavy, negative experience whenAaron and I had only just met. I figured guys don't like girls with too manyproblems.

Aaron listened intently, but I noticed he didn't look so worried as he hadwhen I first suggested we talk. I wondered what he thought I was going to say.

I paused for a sip of the delicious hot chocolate. A sudden movementcaught my eye and I looked out the café window. What I saw didn't help myearlier uneasy feeling. Crystal stood outside, her hands, glove-less like the timein the alley, plastered against the glass. She was peering in, her gaze lockeddirectly on Aaron and me.

Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone, leaving me towonder if she had been there at all. Was my imagination playing wicked tricks onme? Was I still so rattled from last year's stalker experience that I might now besuspecting Crystal of stalking me? Did teenage girls even stalk other teenagegirls? Or was she actually stalking Aaron? It was obvious she had a crush onhim.

I set my mug down carefully and looked out the window again. I could seenothing but the blur of people passing by.

"Anyway," I said, turning back to Aaron, "I guess it's those stalker dreamsof mine reoccurring since I've been here. Remember I said I always hear thejingling of bells?"

"I guess that makes all of these street corner Santas suspect" Aaron said.His tone was light but I knew he wasn't making fun of me.

"I feel like a little kid afraid of big scary Santa Claus," I admitted.We talked about other things while we finished our hot chocolate and

when we got outside, Aaron put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me


close. I felt like I could melt with pleasure right there on the cold sidewalk. Ihoped he would kiss me when he took me home.

Someone brushed against me, startling me and bringing an automaticapology to my lips, even though I didn't think it had been my fault.

Crystal. So I hadn't imagined seeing her from the café window."What are you doing here?" I blurted, before I realized my question

sounded rude."Hey, Crystal, girl," Aaron said, removing his arm from around my

shoulders and giving her a high five.Crystal looked dazed, as if she was confused seeing us there, seeing us

together. Or was she on drugs again?"Hi," she said after a moment. "What are you guys doing here?"As if she hadn't been peering in the café window at us.I still couldn't find my tongue but Aaron spoke up."We're just checking out the Christmas lights," he said. "We stopped for

hot chocolate in that little café."She gave him an odd look. "I've never been there, Aaron," she said, totally

ignoring me. We stood there awhile in awkward silence."So have you got all your Christmas shopping done?" I asked, to fill the

gap.Crystal looked at me, seeming surprised that I was there. What was it with

her?"No," she said. "I don't do Christmas. Except for my sister, Dani."I was stunned. What about the scarf she said she made for Lilah's

Christmas gift? And wasn't her sister dead? Crystal herself had called her a "realangel."

To my relief, Aaron interrupted the silence following that announcement."Well, we gotta run. See you, Crystal," he said, taking my gloved hand in

his.Crystal looked at our hands, then at me, sending daggers straight through

my body. You know that old saying about if looks could kill?I thought of the knife in the high priestess' hand in my dream. In Crystal's

hand. I was relieved when she mumbled goodbye and left. But now I knew forcertain. Crystal had a crush on Aaron, which meant she'd see me as unwantedcompetition. I shivered.

"Cold?" Aaron asked, putting his arm around my shoulders again. "Howabout if we head for home?"

"Sure," I agreed. No way would I admit I'd shivered because of Crystal'spoisoned look and not from the cold.

When we got back to the apartment building Aaron walked me up all fiveflights directly to Lilah's door.

"I had a great time tonight," I told him, meaning it."Me too, Heather. Say, how about being my date for the Innovations

Christmas party coming up tomorrow?" he asked."Sure," I said, my heart beating fast. "I'd love to."


He leaned forward and brushed a light kiss across my lips. "See youtomorrow," he said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. "Maybe the magic ofChristmas in New York will give you sweet dreams tonight," he added, then wasgone.

I closed the apartment door, leaning back against it while I pulled off mygloves. Aaron had kissed me. So quick and so light but I knew I hadn't imaginedit. I put my fingers up to touch my lips.

At that moment I was willing to believe that whatever magic I'd felt beingwith Aaron could make a difference. That maybe I wouldn't have bad dreamstonight.

"Well, I‘d say you look like a girl who's just been kissed."I came out of my reverie and looked at Lilah sitting at her sewing machine.

She was grinning like she was thrilled Aaron had kissed me. So was I but hernoticing still made me blush.

"Tea?" she asked, heading for the kitchen."Sure," I said. "Just give me a minute to change into my jammies." It was

so fun to sit and have tea with my aunt like we were girlfriends at a slumberparty. We had taken some lazy days just in the time I'd been here. Days when westayed in our pajamas all day and talked and watched old Christmas movies likeIt's A Wonderful Life and White Christmas. In between movies, I would sketchand Lilah would sew. We had tea and Christmas cookies purchased from thebakery, and phoned out for pizza or Chinese at dinnertime.

"Tea's ready," my aunt called down the hall.When I walked back into the living, something white on the floor near the

front door caught my eye. A sheet of paper, folded over. I immediately thought ofAaron. Had he come back up and slipped a note for me under the door. The notehad my name scribbled on it so I picked it up and unfolded it with pleasedanticipation. Then froze.

Looking forward to seeing you again, the note read, and was signed C.B.C.B. Curt Bonner. Just the thought of my summer stalker caused a chill to

run through my body, making me shiver despite the warmth of the apartment andthe comfort of my flannel pajamas.

Curt Bonner was back in New York City. And he was after me again.A brilliant full moon shone over the city. But somehow, the luminous moon

only made the night feel extra spooky.I could hear the breathing and the heavy footsteps. And the bells, the

jingling bells that made no sense. I ran from the sounds, ran from whoever it wasback there chasing me through the streets of New York City.

Suddenly I realized I was running along a dead end street. Where was Isupposed to go? What was I supposed to do? Wildly, I looked around, only justspotting the alley when I thought I would have to give up and let myself becaught.

I ducked into the alley and kept on running, kept up the pace that I knew tobe my limit. The stalker followed me. Into the alley came the boots and thebreathing and the bells, coming closer, always coming closer.


Every gulping breath I took felt like it might be my last. I was running out ofenergy, running out of breath, just as I was also running out of time.

I chanced a look behind me, my feet keeping up the pace. Once again Iturned to look in front of me, desperately checking for some form of salvation upahead. But when I saw the barrier, the flash of red strung across my path, it wastoo late to stop. I ran right into it.

Something touched me, wrapping itself around my neck in a choking hold.Something soft but deadly.

Crystal's scarf.


Chapter Seven

When I woke up, the clock said it was one a.m. I groaned and snuggleddown farther into bed. I couldn't talk to my aunt about the dream I'd just hadwithout spoiling the surprise that Crystal was giving her a hand-painted scarf forChristmas.

It took me a long time to fall asleep last night. I figured it was mostlybecause of the note from Curt Bonner and my recurrent stalker problem. Not thatmy stupid new nightmares helped anything.

But part of me had to admit I was also happy about meeting Aaron, thenew guy in my life, and excited about seeing him the following evening. It wasironic that, on my first trip to New York I'd joked about having a romantic summerfling and instead, I'd ended up meeting my stalker, Curt Bonner. Since then I'dbeen definitely guy shy, but this time, despite the fact that my stalker was back, Iwas actually able to take a chance on a guy and I have to say it felt great. In factone of the reasons I couldn't get to sleep that night was that, lying there in thedark I kept grinning like an idiot, despite my terror at finding the Curt Bonnernote.

I was happy about Aaron, and actually glad Tara wasn't with me this timebecause I knew she'd tease me about it. But thinking of Tara made me miss herand I was dying for even a quick phone chat. When I looked at the clock, mybrain quickly subtracted the three-hour time difference between New York andOregon. Ten o'clock. She'd still be up for sure. Tara never went to bed muchbefore midnight. So I got out of bed and crept down the hall, not wanting todisturb my aunt in case she was asleep.

"Hi y'all," Tara answered after the first ring. I laughed, gripping the phone alittle tighter.

"Still practicing the Southern belle routine, huh?" I asked. Tara was adrama major and her group was doing a shortened version of Gone With theWind in the spring. My best bud would play the part of Scarlett.

"Yeah," she said, returning to her normal Tara voice. "My parents arealways rolling their eyes at me and my brother runs the other way whenever hesees me coming."

"Maybe you better can it for the holidays, girlfriend," I suggested. "Youhave until March to be ready."

"Yeah, maybe. So what's up in the Big Apple at your time of night?""Well, I couldn't sleep so I thought we could talk awhile.""Sure thing. Too much worry about the bad dreams?" she asked. "Any

proof that it's Curt Bonner again?"I told her about the note."Are you sure it's from him? I mean is it his handwriting?""I don't actually remember his handwriting from over a year ago. But who

else could it be with those initials?""What about that weird chick you told me about? What's her last name?""Crystal? I don't actually remember it. I guess she is kind of creepy but

why would a girl be stalking me?" I asked. "Besides, she did save my life," I said,


remembering how she'd pushed me out of the way of a speeding car. But theimage of her face pressed up against the coffee shop window brought anotherbad feeling. Why had she been spying on Aaron and me?

Had Crystal staged the near hit and run in the alley so that she couldappear to save me? So that I would trust her to be a friend?

"Yeah, well, who knows?" Tara said, as if reading my thoughts. "One life-saving maneuver doesn't mean she's a totally sane person either."

"Well, yeah," I said, unable to resist a small dig. "You saved my life tooand look at what you're like."

"Oh, funny, ha ha. Next time I'll just let old Curt have at you," shethreatened.

Then, despite her teasing tone of voice, I couldn't help the little shiver thatran up my back, as I recalled the vivid image of Curt Bonner standing at my frontdoor pointing a gun in my face.

"Time to change the subject," I announced. "I'm really excited about mysecond date with Aaron tomorrow night. Well, tonight I guess, since it's aftermidnight. I think that's maybe keeping me awake too."

"Ah ha, now the truth comes out. Well, why didn't you say so, Heather? Soyou think you really like this guy, huh? I am, like, so excited that you finally met awinner."

I blushed, knowing that Tara couldn't see me, but embarrassed to onceagain find myself grinning like an idiot.

I told her all about our first date to see the New York Christmas lights andabout Aaron's and my plans to attend the Innovations Christmas party. We talkedabout a bunch of other stuff until I caught myself yawning out of control andfigured I'd have a better chance of getting right to sleep if I went back to bedthen. And maybe, just maybe, I would have a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

As if.I was up in my room studying when the doorbell rang. Studying for finals

was bad enough but I was in no mood for interruptions. Not only that, Mom wassupposed to be home so I figured she would get it.

But the doorbell rang again and again. I looked up from my chemistrybook, annoyed. Where the heck was my mom and why wasn't she answering thedoor? Then I heard knocking, low key at first, but getting louder and moreinsistent the longer I ignored it. Obviously, Mom was not around, so answeringthe door became my chore.

The knocking sounded again, heavier and louder.I got up and headed downstairs, my mind still half on the chemistry

equations I was trying to remember for the test."Yeah, yeah," I muttered at the pounding as I reached the bottom of the

stairs. I pulled the door open and blinked in surprise. Santa Claus was standingon our front porch, holding his pack slung over his shoulder.

"Ho, ho, ho, Heather," Santa said. "Have you been a good girl this year?"My mouth dropped open. "Um, yeah, I guess," I said. This is just too

weird.


Santa pulled his sack in front of him and fished around in it awhile. "Ah,here it is, just for you," he said, his bright cherry lips forming a big smile as hepulled my present out.

My feet suddenly felt glued to the spot and all I could do was stand thereand stare as Santa Claus pointed a gun in my face.

"Ho ho, ho, Heather," he said again. "Merry Christmas.""No!" I told him. "I've been a good girl. You can't --"The shot was a deafening explosion in my face, all noise and brilliant

flashes of light. I felt myself falling to the ground, hearing the echo of another "ho,ho, ho" and a jingling of bells as I fell.

Lilah woke me up. "This is getting to be a habit," she said, attempting alight bit of humor, but I could tell she was worried. She brought me a cup ofchamomile tea in bed and listened while I told her about the dream.

"Do you want me to call my doctor and have him give you something foranxiety?" she asked when I had finished the tea. "It might help you sleep better."

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm not that bad. Not yet anyway. I meanit was just a dream, right?" I tried for a brave smile but from the look on my aunt'sface I must have failed miserably.

I looked at the clock, surprised to see it was already six a.m. I guess Imust have slept okay for awhile before the dream got me.

"How about going out for the best Belgian waffles in all of New York?"Lilah brightened suddenly and grinned. "Believe me, I'm qualified to know."

That she was trying to keep up her good humor made me feel a littlebetter. "Sounds good to me," I said. "As long as I can have strawberries andwhipped cream to go with them."

Despite my continuing nightmares about a stalker Santa Claus, despitethe note signed 'C.B.', I refused to make myself a prisoner in my aunt'sapartment. I was determined not to let last year's experience with Curt or my baddreams make me paranoid enough to spoil another New York vacation. Not eventhat awful note would keep me from having a good holiday. Especially aChristmas holiday. And, especially since I'd met Aaron.

Lilah and I talked about him at breakfast and later on in the day as wehung out at her place listening to Christmas carols and drawing in oursketchbooks. I was working on a shoe collage, inspired by the unique collectionof shoe ornaments hanging on my great-aunt's Christmas tree. And I'd evenstarted sewing together a soft sculpture shoe. Lilah made some more progresswith her faces collage.

I still couldn't believe Aaron had talked me into going out with him so soonafter we met. But Lilah was right. Life is all about taking chances. It wouldn't bemuch of a life if nobody took any. I'd had a pretty good time with Aaron on ourfirst date, so when he asked me out again it was easy to say yes.

The Innovations Christmas party was a blast. Aaron picked me up at myaunt's apartment. Lilah and his Grandma Millie shared a cab with us to thegallery.

Innovations looked twice as festive as it had the first time I saw it. Whathad to be thousands of mini white lights had been added to the Christmas


strands and a huge tree dominated the center of the main room. The tree, evenbigger than the ten-footer Lilah had, was decorated with white satin balls pluslights and strands of gold beads, and was finished off with sparkly gold bows. Itwas absolutely stunning.

Aaron looked totally hot in a tuxedo. I was wearing a slinky black dress I'drecently bought from a New York boutique. In my opinion, we made the perfectcouple.

He brought me a glass of sparkling cider and also gave me a sip of hischampagne as we walked around looking at the various works of art.

"I really wish I could see your work," I told him."Well, maybe I'll send you some pictures after the holidays," he said. "I can

take them with my digital camera and send them to you by e-mail."I felt the tingle all the way down to the pointy toes of my high heeled

shoes. He was planning for us to keep in touch!"I'll show you some of my sketches later on," I offered, feeling brave.

"Maybe tomorrow."Aaron and I had plans to go to F.A.O. Schwarz so I could help him pick

out the ultimate Barbie doll for his little sister, Lindy, and it sounded like a funidea. Plus it reminded me of just how much Tara liked teddy bears. We'd neverhad a chance to get her one on our short summer trip. I was hoping to buy themost adorable stuffed bear in the store and give it to my best bud at the Portlandairport when I arrived back home.

Aaron said we could go have coffee somewhere when we were finishedshopping. I have to admit the idea of seeing him and of sitting with him again inan intimate little coffee bar gave me a thrill.

We'd been at the party awhile before I noticed Crystal. She walked over tosee us – well, presumably to see Aaron – and said hello. She was dressed all inblack too, no surprise there, and she held a glass of champagne.

"Aaron, you look super in a tux," she gushed, latching onto his arm. Shelooked at me like she was seeing right through me and it was then I noticed hereyes had that glassy look again. I couldn't help wondering if she had also taken ahandful of pills the way she had at the Met the other day. I'd begun to think of heras one scary person.

"Nice to see you again, Crystal," I said, although it was anything but."Hi, Dani," she said, making me cringe and I glanced at Aaron to see if he

noticed her slip-up on my name. He was looking at me with a confusedexpression.

"I think you mean Heather," he offered, to my relief.Crystal laughed, a shrill sound, way phony, and apologized – sort of.

"Oops, I did it again."It was then I noticed the Christmas tree pin she wore on her black

sweater. The pin was blue and purple and looked exactly like the one my aunthad. Wasn't she wearing it tonight? Where had Crystal gotten hers when Ithought my aunt said it was one of a kind? Might Lilah have actually given it toher? Or had the girl stolen it? Just seeing Crystal wearing the pin made me feeltotally uncomfortable.


Suddenly, she drained her champagne glass in one long drink and walkedoff in search of more.

"Do you know Crystal well?" I asked Aaron, trying to sound casual. Heseemed surprised by the question.

"No, but I think maybe your aunt does," he said. "She's the one whointroduced us a couple of weeks ago."

"You mean you just met her recently too?" I was shocked, since they'dseemed like longtime buds. "It's obvious she really likes you."

Aaron looked surprised again. "No way," he said. "She hardly knows me."Lilah and Grandma Millie joined us, looking splendid in their holiday finery.

I noticed my aunt wasn't wearing her Christmas tree pin."Is it tomorrow night you're off to F.A.O. Schwarz?" Aaron's grandmother

asked."Yes, it's a date," he said, taking my hand and giving me a wink. My

heartbeat sped up a notch."Ooh, can I come too, Aaron?" Crystal cried, appearing out of nowhere."Uh..." Aaron hesitated.I just looked at her with my mouth hanging open."Crystal, dear," Lilah said, stepping in. "Haven't you ever heard three's a

crowd?" She looped her arm with Crystal's. "Let's go and have some of thosefabulous Christmas cookies. Mildred?"

The three of them walked off but not before I got to see the look of purehatred that Crystal sent my way. It was a face that would surely haunt mydreams.

But when I woke up the next morning after a restful, dream-free night, Ibegan to think maybe, just maybe, Aaron could save me from my terror. Like inmy dream. I had fallen asleep with the memory of another wonderful kiss.

My aunt and I spent another pleasant day at home, each of us sewing onour projects. I pushed both Crystal's weirdness and Curt Bonner's note out of mythoughts.

I had turned the 'C.B.' note over to the New York police. They promised tobe on the lookout for him. Lilah tried to reassure me that if Curt Bonner was backin town he would have shown up by now.

How else to explain the note was something I refused to think about. Itwas so much nicer to think about me and Aaron.

Of course it had to be my aunt who first noticed that talking to her abouthim made me smile.

"When does your young man come to pick you up?" she asked early thatevening.

I felt a blush creeping up my face. "First of all, he's not my young man," Isaid. "And picking me up amounts to him walking up one flight of stairs andknocking on your door."

But although I wouldn't admit it to my aunt, not yet anyway, just thethought of him coming up those stairs and knocking on that door made me feelall tingly inside. I fussed about what to wear and must have tried on every outfitI'd brought from home, before settling for black jeans and a burgundy turtleneck


sweater. A classic look usually worked fine. From the look on Lilah's face when Icame out of the bedroom, I could tell she agreed.

Two minutes later there was a knock on the door. I was tempted to runback into my bedroom to hide and let my aunt answer the door, but I was too oldfor games like that. I was probably just nervous because of the note and thenightmare.

I couldn't help thinking about Santa Claus on the other side of the doorwith a gun. I refused to let my dreams run my life. And I refused to let CurtBonner run my life. I opened the door myself, ready with a big smile.


Chapter Eight

Shopping with Aaron at New York's biggest toy store started out as a tonof fun.

"I hope we both find exactly what we're looking for," I told him on our wayover there. "I really hope I find Tara's perfect teddy bear and that you get a terrificBarbie for your sister."

"Lindy's Barbie is my excuse," he admitted with a grin. "But to be totallyhonest, I just like to play with the toys."

We both laughed as we approached the storefront and one of the twoSantas outside held open the door for us. All those guys dressed in Santa suitsstill made me jittery, but I had to admit I felt a lot safer in Aaron's company.

Is it because he rescued me in my dream? a little voice asked inside myhead, making me check out his expression carefully as we went inside. I stilldidn't like dwelling on that rescue stuff imagining that if I did it might jinx our newrelationship.

But Aaron was looking up at a great big clock tower. A singing clock tower!"Welcome to our world," sang the clock and I just stared at it in

amazement."Try to tune out the clock's song," Aaron warned. "Otherwise it'll be stuck

in your mind for hours.""Well, it is a catchy tune," I admitted. We watched the big round smiley

faced clock and the toys that danced around it. It reminded me of the "It's ASmall World" ride at Disneyland with its mechanical clock and dancing figures.

"I had no idea the store was this huge!" I said, trying to look at everythingat once. "I've never seen so many stuffed animals in my whole entire life!"

All along the walls, shelves of plush animals, dolls and other toys, werepractically up to the ceiling. Tables and counters were filled to overflowing withthem. Some of the toys, like a huge stuffed panda bear I fell in love with, weresitting on the floor.

"I don't think I can take this bear home to Tara," I told Aaron. "I'd have tobuy another ticket to get him on the plane!"

He laughed. "Hey, look over here!"We stopped at a display of battery operated stuffed animals and had some

fun putting our toys in a race from one end of the table to the other."Yes!!" Aaron whooped and punched the air with a triumphant fist when

his trumpeting elephant won over my oinking, curly-tailed pig."Come on," Aaron said. "Let's go downstairs." He took my hand and pulled

me toward the escalator. It looked like it went up two more floors, but Aaronclaimed all the best toys and games were downstairs. "Wait'll you see it. Absolutegame heaven. They stock electronic games, computer games, board games, andall kinds of puzzles."

Downstairs, I was enthralled with the setup, interactive games inviting usto play, computer games and board games. It was a popular area though andboth kids and adults, waiting for their turn, surrounded most of the games. Afterawhile, we did manage to squeeze in and have at it.


An hour sped by and then, as much as I hated to spoil our fun, I said toAaron, "How about if we pick out your sister's Barbie and Tara's bear? Then if wehave time left, we can come back down here?"

He agreed and we headed upstairs, back to the room full of plush bears.Every so often one of us would hold up a bear for the other's opinion.

"Well, Tara likes all kinds of bears, so I think she'll probably be thrilled withany of them," I said after awhile, realizing I was back to where the huge pandasat, running my fingers over the soft fur on his head.

Aaron looked worried. "Heather, you said it yourself. There is, like, no waythat you are going to get that home on the plane."

"I know," I admitted. "I wouldn't really get it. But it is fun to touch sincewe're here."

"How about one of these?" he asked, picking up an adorable fuzzy brownbear and holding him up for me to see. The bear had a bright red bow around hisneck and on the pad of one of his lower paws was embroidered FAO Schwarz.

"It's adorable," I admitted, taking the bear and looking at him from allangles. "And since it's exclusive to this store it would make a really specialsouvenir." I smiled at Aaron. "Yes, I think this is totally perfect."

"All right!" he said. "Now let's check out the next level. I think the dolls areupstairs on Two."

Almost all the way up the escalator, I turned around to say something toAaron who was one step behind me, and as I did, I suddenly noticed two SantaClauses stepping on at the bottom. Immediately, my words died in my throat andended up coming out in a strangled sounding cough.

"Are you all right?" Aaron asked, as we reached the second floor.I stood aside for a moment, panicked, struggling to catch my breath. By

the time I could breathe normally again, I looked down at the escalator and sawonly regular shoppers, just like Aaron and me. No men in Santa suits. Had Iimagined they were there because of my stupid dreams? I hadn't heard any bellshere.

"I'm fine," I finally said to Aaron. "Just had to catch my breath. Let's go findthat special Barbie for your sister," I added. Suddenly I couldn't help wanting tofinish shopping and get out of the store, even if we had been having such a goodtime. Until my imagination spooked me out, I thought. At least Crystal hadn'tshowed up this time. I was thankful for that. I guess she'd finally accepted thefact that Aaron and I liked each other and given up on her crush. I hoped.

It was easy to find the Barbie aisle. All we had to do was find the one withthe most pink! It seemed like there were hundreds of Barbies to choose from inmany different roles and outfits. I picked up one doll dressed like a fairy withdelicate wings and a gorgeous dress, then a figure skater, then a princess.

"How will you ever decide which one to buy for Lindy?" I asked Aaron, myarms filled with beautiful dolls plus Tara's fuzzy bear.

He looked up and down the many shelves of dolls and for a momentseemed at a loss. "I never expected this many," he admitted.


"Hey look!" I pulled another doll off the shelf. "This one is an FAO FunBarbie. Special to the store, just like the teddy bear I'm getting for Tara. Do youthink Lindy would like it?"

He took the box from my hand and studied it critically. It was a long haireddoll holding a little brown and white pug dog in her arms.

"You know she just might," he agreed. "Come to think of it, one of the lastthings she said to me at the airport was that she was jealous I'd be going to the‘best toy store in the world.' And this little dog Barbie's holding kinda looks likethe kind of puppy she's hoping to get for Christmas. I already know Mom andDad are getting her the dog," he added with a grin.

A sudden noise made my stop to listen. "What was that?" I asked, more tomyself than to Aaron.

He gave me a strange look. "Sounded like bells," he said. "Probably somekids playing with the toys."

"Are you sure?" I asked, shoving the extra Barbie dolls back onto theshelves. "Maybe we better go pay for our stuff and get out of here," I said, feelinga tightening in my chest that I was sure would kill me. Do teenagers have heartattacks?

I headed down the aisle the way we'd come in. Someone in a Santa suitpassed by, then lingered at that end. I spun around, "Let's go this way," I said,grabbing Aaron's arm and pulling him in the other direction.

"Hey, what's the big hurry? Heather, are you all right?""Yeah, I'm fine," I said, though distracted by the millions of thoughts

swirling around in my brain. The strongest one was the fight or flight response. Ididn't care if it made me a coward. I was ready to fly.

Aaron kept up beside me until we reached the end of the aisle and turnedtoward the exit. "Oh, hey I almost forgot. There's this one Barbie outfit my momasked me to pick up for Lindy. I'll be right back."

Suddenly, I was all by myself, and there was Santa Claus, right in front ofme. I backed up, turning to look down one aisle. Another Santa on that end!What was going on in this store? I ducked into the next aisle, where I saw just acouple of little kids and an adult, probably a parent.

"Santa Claus!" one of the kids shrieked and I stopped dead in my tracks.The Santa was behind me and the shoppers were in front of me and I hadnowhere else to turn.

My stomach was tangled in knots as I faced the Santa who jingled a stringof bells he had slung from a wide black belt. He reached into his bag and Ibacked away, nearly stepping on the family behind me,

"Ho, ho, ho, young lady," he said to me. "How about some candy, courtesyof Santa Claus and F.A.O. Schwartz?"

Candy? He was a store Santa giving out candy. I let my breath out in arush but remained speechless until he held out a piece of shiny wrapped candyand dropped it into my hand. "Merry Christmas," he said, and winked, thenwalked past me and on to the kids.

"Ho, ho, ho, kids," he said "If you've been good little boys and girls, I'vegot some candy for you too."


I walked slowly down the aisle, blushing and feeling foolish. What was thematter with me, being so scared of a toy store Santa? And the way I'd tried torush Aaron. He must think I was loony tunes for sure.

I went back to the Barbie aisle but he was no longer there, so I walkedacross, peering down one aisle after another, looking for him. I wonder if he'salready gone downstairs, I thought. Maybe he was waiting for me there.

I was heading for the escalator when somebody came up behind me andshoved me aside. "Hey!" I shouted, struggling to maintain my balance, more thana little annoyed at someone's rude behavior. But when I turned around there wasno one there. What was happening to me?

I turned back towards the escalator and there was Santa again, standingnear the top, waving at people going down and offering a much quieter ‘ho, ho,ho' than before. He must be getting tired, I thought, wondering how many hourshe had to work at keeping up the Santa routine.

"I already got my candy," I told him, heading for the first step of theescalator. But the Santa put a hand on my arm and pulled me back roughly,blocking the exit with his body. "What are you doing?" I cried, stumbling away,back toward the aisles. If this was a different Santa from the one giving awaystore candy, then I was outta here. But how could I get out if he was going tostand there blocking my way? People, I thought. I had to find some other people.

"Heather?" I heard my name coming from several rows away. Aaron muststill be up here after all.

"Aaron?" I called his name, turning once again into the Barbie aisle, butfinding no one there. I turned around and there was the Santa coming down therow after me.

"Get away from me!" I cried, knocking a couple of boxes off the shelves asI ran to get away. I hurried out one aisle and ran down the next, but there was aSanta in that row too. Were there no other people on this entire floor besides theones dressed as Santa Claus? Were these guys for real or had my imaginationgone totally crazy?

As I ran back out of one of the aisles again, I had a clear look at theescalator and there was nobody at the top. I am outta here, I thought, runningtowards my exit. Somebody grabbed my arm in a rough hold and spun mearound. I stumbled and when I caught my balance I could see the Santa wasstanding once again beside the escalator. I knew he wasn't going to let me pass.Frantic, I took another look toward the aisles. I turned around just as Santa Clauswas pulling a switchblade knife out of his coat. He flicked the knife open with asharp click and took a step in my direction, holding his other hand out, like hewas daring me to come after him.

"Why? Why are you after me?" I shrieked, "Somebody, help me!"Suddenly it registered that Santa wasn't wearing gloves. The other Santa,

the one who gave me the candy, was wearing white gloves. This Santa hadnone. But what he did have was a snake tattoo, a vicious cobra, curling aroundhis right wrist. A hissing cobra tattoo, just like the one Crystal had shown me afew days before.


"Crystal?" I peered into her face, trying to see beyond the hat and the fakebeard.

"Heather!" Aaron suddenly emerged from one of the rows and headed myway. "I couldn't find you…" he broke off, seeing the danger I was in.

In an instant, he had thrown his sister's Barbie box at my attacker,knocking the knife out of Crystal's hand. It made sense so I threw Tara's bear atSanta too, which smacked her right in the face and made her sag back againstthe railing. She lost her balance and began to teeter over the edge.

"Dani!" she screamed. "Dani, help me."Somehow, despite my fear and confusion, I reached out and grabbed

Crystal's hand, pulling her back away from the railing, stopping a fall that couldhave been fatal.

Then she collapsed at my feet, sobbing and saying she was sorry overand over again. Aaron put his arms around me and held me close until the policecame and took her away.


Chapter Nine

It was after midnight, Christmas Eve morning, when we got back to AuntDelilah's apartment. She and Aaron's Grandma Millie were waiting up for us witha pot of hot tea on the stove. They each hugged us both, and then Lilah huggedme again. We'd phoned from the police station and explained a little of whathappened at F.A.O. Schwarz. At that point we didn't know when the police wouldlet us go home.

They kept us at the station a long time asking questions about Crystal,like, how we knew her and where she worked. They asked if we knew why shewas wearing a Santa suit and we had no clue.

It was the police who told me her full name was Crystal Burke. C.B. Sameas my first stalker. That explained the note under the door. I'd been so sure itwas from Curt Bonner.

I had to sign that I was agreeing to press charges against Crystal forcarrying a concealed weapon – it's against the law to even have a switchbladeknife -- and for attempted murder. I felt like I was in one of my own bad dreams.Although it was such a serious and scary situation, it was also totally déjà vu, asthey say. I mean hadn't this already happened to me once before? A crazedstalker after me, in my face wherever I went. An attempt against my life. A yearand a half-ago Curt Bonner had shown up at my front door pointing a gun in myface. And now Crystal Burke had shown up at a toy store with a switchblade knifemeant for me.

We learned a lot about Crystal from the police too. Almost more than wewanted to know. So, back at my aunt's apartment, it was our turn to fill them in onwhat had happened, plus tell them the truth about Crystal's background.

"Crystal hated me for two reasons," I began, once I'd had a few sips ofAunt Delilah's warming citrus tea. "First she had this bizarre delusion that I washer younger sister, Dani, a sister she'd hinted had died a long time ago. And,even when her thoughts were clear enough to know who I really was, she hatedme because, with the major crush she had on Aaron, she saw me as competitionfor his love."

My saying the word ‘love' out loud, when it had something to do withAaron, made me blush. I wondered briefly if he knew I had fallen for him, then gotback to my story.

"She truly believed that Aaron was her one true love, that they were soulmates."

I looked at Aaron and he still had a grim look on his face. When he and Ihad both put our teacups down, he reached for my hand. His touch immediatelyhad a calming effect on me.

Lilah had a question. "Was it the person who loved Aaron who tried to killyou?" she asked. "Surely she wouldn't have tried to kill her own sister."

"W-e-l-l," I drew out the word, hesitant even now to reveal the spookytruth. "That's where it gets tricky. You see Crystal spent the last ten years of herlife in a hospital for the criminally insane. She was supposed to be there for life,but some glitch in the system got her released about three months ago."


"That was right around the time I met her at Innovations," Lilah said. "Sheseemed perfectly sane to me. I had no idea."

"Yeah," Aaron said, joining me in the telling. "Here's the really freaky part."He turned to me. "Tell them why she hated you when she thought you were hersister."

"Just thinking about it makes me feel all creepy inside." I paused andswallowed hard past the lump in my throat. Lilah and Grandma Millie were at theedge of their seats.

"The reason she hated her sister was that she always believed everyoneliked Dani better and gave her special gifts and favors while Crystal went without.So when she was eight years old and Dani was just six, Crystal stabbed hersister to death with a kitchen knife."

"Oh, my gosh!" My aunt and Aaron's grandmother spoke as one. Theywore matching looks of horror.

"And that's why when Crystal thought I was Dani, she kept telling me shewas sorry. She knew she'd done something bad to her sister, but she doesn'talways remember what." I concluded the story.

"So the police got all this information from Crystal herself after everythingthat happened tonight?"

"Not exactly," Aaron said, and then looked at me to pick up the story."When she was released from the psychiatric facility, she was supposed to

report to a therapist in New Jersey – that's where she's from -- once a week. Butafter the first two appointments she disappeared and no one knew where shewas. But since it had been reported to the police nationwide, the New York Citypolice had no trouble getting her file. They actually talked on the phone to thedoctor who'd spent the most time with Crystal at the hospital. The doctor we raninto at the Met was just one of the many who had treated her over the years, butwho didn't know she was wanted as missing. Oh, and I almost forgot."

I went to the closet for my coat and dug in one of the pockets. Lilah wassurprised when I gave back her blue and purple Christmas tree pin.

"Where did you find this? I thought I'd lost it.""Crystal was wearing it on her Santa suit. She was wearing it last night too

and I wondered then if it was yours. But it was still difficult to believe she wouldhave found it and not given it to you when she had to know it was yours."

"So now what happens to that poor girl?" Lilah asked."Well, she goes back to the hospital of course, and this time I think it really

will be for life.""My goodness, what a story!" Aaron's grandmother said, standing up and

taking her tea things into the kitchen. "That's more than enough excitement forone night. I think I'll head downstairs and try to get some sleep."

She stopped in front of Aaron and he stood up so she could give himanother hug. "Knowing that poor girl all this time," she said. "And to think of thedanger you both were in."

"Now, Mildred, he's fine," Lilah said, standing up too. "And a hero to boot!"She patted the other woman on the shoulder. "Come on, let me walk you home."


"Oh, Lilah, it's just downstairs," Grandma Millie fussed, and then lookedfrom me to Aaron and back again. "Oh," she said, "yes, that would be nice."

I started blushing again but was glad they were giving Aaron and me a fewminutes alone. We sat down and he took my hand again. "Well," he said, "it lookslike another exciting New York adventure is ending for you."

While we waited at the police station I had told him all about Curt Bonnerand my first stalker experience.

"Uh-huh," I agreed. "I go back home the day after Christmas.""Me too," he said. "But just until school starts up again in January.""At least this time I feel like my stalker experience ends here," I told him. "I

mean I know Crystal won't be showing up at my front door once I get back toOregon."

"No, but I just might," he said giving me a sly grin."Really? When?"Stay calm, Heather, I had to tell myself. Don't let him know you're that

eager to see him again. It might make him back off.But he just laughed and put an arm around me, pulling me close. "Oh, how

about spring break?" he asked. "You know, I've never been to Oregon.""That would be super," I said, trying to control my eagerness at least a

little bit. I didn't want to sound desperate or anything but the truth is, I'd reallyfallen for this guy.

He brushed my lips with his own and I dared to hope he felt the same wayabout me.

"In the meantime," he said, leaning back, "there're e-mail and telephones.""And next August I'll be back here for school," I said."So you're not freaked out about coming here after what happened the

first two times?" he asked."Well, I am a little bit, I have to admit. But I'm not letting anything stand in

the way of my art career. And besides, if I can survive two stalkings, I'm sure Ican survive anything else New York throws my way."

"Now what about those dreams?" Aaron wondered."Well, at last, something wonderful came out of my dreams. Tonight was

just like my dream. You really did save me.""Merry Christmas, Heather," he said.I looked at him, suddenly shy."Merry Christmas, Aaron."He pulled me close and kissed me, a sweet dreamy kiss.

THE END

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