Broken Dream (Dark Angel) Read online

  ‘Tania, no! Didn’t I tell you that would happen?’

  ‘I said no.’

  ‘You said no! But you have a great face for the screen – so photogenic.’

  ‘I told him we were only in town until Monday.’

  ‘B-b-but … you’re missing a chance in a million – you know that.’

  ‘I guess I wasn’t thinking straight,’ I said, still trying to keep up the illusion.

  ‘And close up, was he drop-dead, you know, gorgeous – even hunkier than in his movies?’

  Luckily at this point I spotted our lecturer, Adrian Ross, heading down the corridor. Here was my escape from a game that was getting out of hand. ‘Jack was … unbelievable,’ I told Macy as I stepped by her into the classroom.

  And one over-the-moon Jack Kane fan followed behind with her dream intact.

  By coffee time both Macy and I had had our fill of Adrian’s two major topics for the day: abstract art house movies and East Village grunge flicks. We stood in the small, sixth-floor lobby next to the elevator, close to the Coke machine.

  ‘So what are you doing for Christmas?’ My question was a time-filler before we returned to the classroom for more grunge.

  ‘I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided.’ Macy looked down and fiddled with the ring-pull on her Coke can.

  ‘I’ll be in Bitterroot with Orlando – Christmas and New Year.’

  ‘You’re lucky. I don’t have anyone like him in my life right now.’

  ‘So you’ll spend time with your family?’

  ‘No family either,’ she muttered. ‘My dad left home when I was eight. My mom died.’

  ‘Oh, Macy, when?’

  ‘January this year.’

  ‘That’s so sad. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Hey.’ She threw her can into the trash with a sudden movement. ‘I still have Mom’s house, so at least there’s a place to call home after I’m done with New York.’ She looked up at me with a defiant tilt of her head. ‘No pity, please. I’m totally fine where I’m at in my life – free to visit with friends, free to study.’

  ‘That’s cool,’ I agreed. But all through the next session I was distracted by the sad thought of Macy home alone on Christmas Day.

  I stuck with her as the lecture finished and the classroom emptied out. ‘Come for coffee,’ I told her, pressing the elevator button and hearing it whir between floors.

  ‘No – you and Orlando, you guys need time together.’

  ‘Come!’ I insisted, stepping into the elevator.

  But then a bunch of fellow students pushed ahead of Macy, leaving her stranded in the lobby as the doors closed and we went down to ground level. Planning to go back up to the sixth floor to collect her, I waited for the elevator to empty then pressed six on the control panel. There was a jolt. Instead of rising again, the arrow on the panel told me that we were headed for the basement. I frowned, wondering how long Macy would wait before she gave up on the elevator and headed for the stairway.

  Another jolt prepared me for the doors to open. Sure enough, I was below ground, staring out at a dimly lit, empty car park. No one waited to step into the elevator so I chose the sixth floor and pressed again. The door stayed open. Nothing happened.

  Great! I stepped outside, took a look around, stepped back in and tried the control panel again. Taking a second look at the concrete pillars and oil-stained floor, and the absence of cars, I knew there was something odd but it took a while for me to work it out – the car park must be empty because the elevator up to street level was out of order. Except that, weirdly, it had decided to bring me down here in the first place. That was when the first creepy, skin-crawling sensation began.

  It started at the back of my neck as I finally gave up on the lift buttons and set out to find a stairway out of there. Then, just as I was crossing an open area towards what looked like a pedestrian exit, the yellow safety lights started to flicker and cold panic spread through my whole body. With a final glimmer the lights went out. I was in total darkness.

  I hear voices yelling out a warning. Rocks fall, the roof caves in.

  I see a faint beam of light and crawl towards it. Behind me, boulders scrape and grind, falling and forming a barrier. Ahead there is a pocket of air. Three men lay curled on their sides. Their faces are bruised and cut. Their eyes are dark with fear. One has a flashlight. He shines it on my terrified face.

  ‘We’re dead men,’ he gasps. ‘We’re dust.’

  All around us there are creatures who never saw the light. Bloodless, the same as the first time I saw them, but now I have longer to breathe in the dust and see them advance, writhing like snakes, burrowing through the earth towards me. They want me and I can’t run, I can’t move. I’m staring at death.

  The lights in the basement car park flickered back on. In my panic I saw that I’d lost my sense of direction, turned away from the exit and blundered towards a support pillar. Now I leaned against its rough, cold surface, my breathing shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs.

  I didn’t see but I sensed that there was someone down here with me, close to where I stood. I picked up small movements, body heat and almost inaudible breathing.

  Still no one emerged from the shadows. I swallowed hard to beat the constriction in my throat then tried to take a deep breath. Fixing my sights on a red Exit sign beyond the parking bays, I inched towards the door.

  He sprang from behind the nearest pillar, bare-headed this time and wearing a black T and jeans, planting himself in front of me, blocking my way. It was the same small but stocky mixed-race guy minus the hunter’s hat and leather jacket. And today he held a knife.

  He stood three paces from me, his face blank of expression, the hand with the blade raised slightly.

  I had enough time to register a few thoughts. How unexpected this was, after rock star Zoran Brancusi and the charming, elegant Laurent twins. This guy was nobody – a punk with a knife. I hadn’t expected this, then I realized how clever it was for my dark angel to take an everyday shape, lurk in the shadows and finally corner me without fireworks or fanfare in an underground car park, alone and helpless. I knew with total clarity that this could be the end.

  My oh-so-ordinary dark angel didn’t open his mouth to gloat or deliver a victory speech. Instead, he stared at me with expressionless eyes, keeping the knife raised.

  The only thing I could do was cut and run. I turned back the way I’d come, away from the Exit sign towards what I hoped was the elevator shaft. I sprinted in the dark between concrete pillars, across empty parking bays. When I didn’t hear my attacker’s footsteps coming after me, I glanced over my shoulder to see that he was in fact right there behind me. I stopped suddenly, turned and swung my bag at him. Its buckle caught the side of the face and I was shocked to see blood spurt from a cut above his eye.

  It ran down his cheek and into his mouth. He touched it with his fingertips, giving me a split second to run on ahead and hope that he would lose track of me beyond the next pillar. I got my bearings, spotted the sign for the elevator, allowed myself to hope.

  Then the doors opened and Macy stepped out.

  ‘There you are, Tania!’ she cried. ‘I’ve been up and down, up and down in the elevator trying to find you. What the hell happened to you?’

  5

  Macy appeared and the guy with the knife ran off. White striplights came on and flooded the underground car park.

  ‘You look terrible. What happened?’ she asked.

  I stumbled into the elevator with her. The door closed behind us and I felt the lift judder then rise. ‘I just ran into the guy who stole my phone – the one in Central Park. He had a knife.’

  ‘You’re sure it was the same guy?’

  ‘One hundred per cent.’ I still shook with fear and felt a big knot form in my stomach and threaten to rise into my throat.

  ‘You have a stalker!’ Macy cried, pulling me out of the elevator through the ground-floor lobby and out on to Lincoln Plaza.

  ‘
Oh God, I feel nauseous!’

  ‘Take deep breaths. Is that better? OK, now quickly, Tania – call the cops!’

  ‘Wait. First let me speak with Orlando.’ Before I did anything else, I needed to hear his voice. But when I called his number, it went straight on to not-available-and-speak-after-the tone. ‘Orlando, it’s me,’ I said hurriedly. ‘Call me. I want you to meet me outside the Lincoln Center.’

  ‘Now the cops,’ Macy insisted. While I’d been trying to contact Orlando she’d had a better idea than dialling 911. ‘We get a cab to drive us to the nearest station. You tell them face to face.’

  I was too shocked and confused to argue and soon I found myself in a taxi with Macy beside me asking the driver which precinct we were in and telling him to drive us the fastest route to the cop station.

  But you get nowhere fast in Central Manhattan. We hit all the red lights and got stuck behind guys riding Harleys all dressed up as Santa Claus – a phalanx of them stretched out across the street. The cab driver had seen all that city life has to offer so eight office-party Santas on motorbikes drew no reaction.

  ‘How far now?’ Macy demanded. She kept checking to see if I was still about to vomit or pass out. ‘Preferably the latter,’ she muttered, uncertain of the level of sympathy we’d get from our driver if I puked all over his cab.

  Looking in his mirror and judging the situation on the back seat, he cut down a couple of side alleys and when he found a delivery van blocking our way he swore and blasted his horn. No one came so he gave a second blast, again without a result. He turned and told us it would be faster to get out and walk. ‘Take a left. Walk two blocks and you’re there.’

  Macy thanked him, paid the fare and dragged me down the alley. Five minutes later we were facing a female cop across a high counter.

  ‘My buddy is being stalked by a maniac with a knife,’ Macy announced.

  The cop didn’t look up from her computer screen. ‘Anybody get hurt?’ she asked. She had a great figure and wore her uniform well. Her blonde hair was held back in a neat ponytail and her face had a Scandinavian look – high forehead, small nose, strong cheekbones, pale-grey eyes.

  ‘He had a knife,’ Macy repeated. ‘If it hadn’t been for me stepping out of the elevator and messing with his plan, he’d totally have used it.’

  A click of the mouse told us the good-looking cop had finished her task and logged off. ‘Anything stolen?’ she enquired.

  ‘Yesterday he snatched her phone and her bag – the same guy.’

  ‘And today?’

  ‘Zilch,’ Macy admitted. ‘But you heard what I said about the knife?’

  The cop ignored Macy and focused on me. ‘You have his name?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Any means of identification?’

  Another shake of my head made her sigh so I did my best to fill in some details. ‘He was about nineteen or twenty, I guess. Around five eight or nine, mixed-race, a bodybuilder type.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  This time I nodded.

  ‘So you want me to arrest the half-million kids in Manhattan who fit this description?’

  ‘No, but she needs some protection,’ Macy cut in. ‘When I showed up, the stalker took off. He’s still out there somewhere.’

  Seeing how pale and shaky I was, the cop decided to go easy on me. ‘You’re from out of town, right? What’s your name and how old are you?’

  ‘I’m Tania Ionescu. I’m eighteen and I’m from Bitterroot.’ I was trying hard to stay calm but my voice croaked and my hands shook.

  ‘That’s Colorado, right? Actually, I have an uncle in Bitterroot. It’s a pretty place. And you’re here in town with your buddy … ?’

  ‘My name’s Macy,’ she volunteered. ‘No, I just met Tania on a film course. She’s here with her boyfriend, Orlando.’

  ‘Orlando … ?’

  ‘Nolan,’ I told her.

  ‘And Orlando is … where exactly?’

  Realizing I didn’t know the answer to this, Macy jumped in again. ‘Right now he’s probably on set at the Jack Kane movie they’re shooting in Central Park.’

  The cop clicked her tongue but said nothing.

  ‘It’s true. He and Tania got special passes to go on set. They met Jack Kane, they spent one-on-one time with Natalia Linton. Tell her, Tania – it’s the absolute truth!’

  This was it – the moment our cop decided there was probably no case here and she was dealing with a couple of celeb-crazed fantasists. ‘So what I suggest you do now,’ she said, directing her attention back to me and making it clear that the police would take no action, ‘is take the subway to Central Park, find your boyfriend and make sure you two stick together for the rest of your trip. Don’t walk the streets alone, OK?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You’re not going to even look for this stalker guy?’ Macy demanded.

  ‘I’m going to file the theft of the phone and the bag. I’m going to give you a reference to take to your insurers.’

  ‘Cool. Thanks.’ I jumped in before Macy could protest. ‘Sorry we wasted your time,’ I told the cop.

  ‘You didn’t,’ she replied, in a tone that clearly meant ‘you did’. Then she created a file and typed the bare details, gave me a printout containing a crime number. ‘Say hi to Jack Kane from me,’ she kidded as Macy and I left the building.

  We didn’t follow the cop’s advice to take the subway back to the park. Instead we walked, me constantly checking my phone to pick up a call from Orlando, Macy quizzing me about my subway phobia.

  ‘You get claustrophobic, right?’

  ‘Kind of. I hate the whole idea of being underground.’

  ‘The same way a lot of people freak out over heights. With my mom it was spiders, moths and driving her car. Stupid, huh? It got so she wouldn’t exceed twenty miles an hour. She broke out in a sweat every time she had to overtake another vehicle, even a bicycle. It drove me nuts.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your mom,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Losing her was tough,’ she admitted. ‘Breast cancer. But promise me you don’t think this is weird – we’re still in contact.’

  ‘Don’t Walk.’ The red hand held us up as we tried to cross East 72nd Street. Steam rose from an air vent and we heard a train rattle beneath our feet. ‘In contact, how?’ I asked warily.

  ‘You’ve heard of spiritualism, right?’ Macy took out a packet of gum and offered me some. ‘You know you can visit a medium and they put you in touch with the spirit world?’

  ‘Walk’, the yellow light ordered. We stepped over a frozen puddle and crossed the street.

  ‘These people are psychic – you probably know. They pick up messages from members of your family who have passed. I know how crazy that sounds. Before this happened to Mom no way did I believe it.’

  ‘But now you do?’

  ‘Totally,’ she said, glancing at me to judge my reaction. ‘Actually I talk to Mom all the time.’

  ‘That’s not weird,’ I assured her. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m into that psychic stuff myself.’

  ‘So who passed? Who do you talk to on the other side?’ Macy sounded eager to know.

  ‘I don’t talk to anyone. They talk to me.’

  ‘You’re an actual medium? Wow, tell me more.’

  I hesitated. ‘I don’t usually admit this to people.’

  ‘OK, cool. If you don’t want to talk – no problem.’ She stepped out under a weak winter’s sun, bold and bright. Her red hair and silver face studs marked her out from the monochrome crowd.

  ‘But I think you’ll get it.’ I decided to take a risk. ‘The spirits I’m in contact with – they’re angels.’

  She had another ‘wow’ moment, which almost led her into a collision with another pedestrian. ‘Angels, as in wings and halos?’

  ‘Not exactly, but the good ones – they appear in a weird silver light. Usually I have one special good angel to protect me,’ I explained.

  ‘From what?’ She
picked up another hesitation.

  ‘There’s also an army of dark angels,’ I explained. ‘They’re tortured souls who fell from heaven and can never get back. Now they’re totally evil.’

  ‘And you can see and hear them, as if they’re here in the flesh?’

  I nodded. ‘I feel them all around but I never know what shape they’ll take. They’re clever that way. They know I have this special connection with their world, that I’ll fight them whenever they try to win more souls on to their side.’

  ‘They do that?’ Macy whispered with a shudder.

  ‘They tried it with two friends of mine. They feed off young love and will try to drag you on to the dark side by showing up in your world as that perfect someone you’ll fall in love with. They flatter you and get inside your head, make you fall out of love with the guy you’re already with. Then they seduce you.’

  Macy gasped. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yeah. But if you make love with a dark angel you’re finished. After that he has your soul.’

  ‘What about your body?’

  ‘He doesn’t care about your body. It dies.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll remember that,’ she sighed, half kidding. There was a pause and then she said, ‘And I was worried you’d think I was weird!’

  ‘Sorry if this bothers you. Maybe I shouldn’t have …’

  ‘No, don’t be sorry.’

  ‘Sometimes I wish it wasn’t like this,’ I admitted. For a moment I pictured how romantic and easy life would be for me and Orlando if all we had to think about were starry nights and midnight swimming in the lake.

  ‘Tania, I think you’re amazing – I’m blown away,’ Macy said. ‘But does it mean that you always have to look out for the next time?’

  ‘Always.’ I nodded.

  ‘And I guess you can’t take things at face value any more?’

  ‘That’s the worst thing – not knowing who you can trust.’

  ‘Except Orlando, I guess. You know you can trust him.’

  Macy had read my situation exactly right. ‘Without him I wouldn’t get through this.’

  She nodded and forged her way through the crowds. ‘So let’s go find him,’ she said.