Chapter 1: Cognizance

Twelve years later…

Eve Halliday woke suddenly, lurching upright in her bed.

Her whole body was shaking; her chest rose and fell in staggering hitches as she struggled to catch her breath. She ran her hands across her face, her clammy palms wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that clung to her forehead. She could still feel the spot on her lower spine tingling where the creature had sunk its teeth into her flesh. The muscles in her back contracted, arching her spine inward, trying to escape the illusionary pain.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, she chanted, though her central nervous system was arguing otherwise. Her back twitched again involuntarily, reality at odds with the power of suggestion.

Taking several deep breaths, Eve attempted to calm her nerves as she cautiously revisited her dream in order to make sense of the nightmare.

It was the same recurring one from her childhood; a dream she hadn’t had in at least ten years. She had all but forgotten it; the consummate fears of her youth receding into the depths of her adult subconscious. Until now.

She laid back against her pillow and pulled the comforter around her balled-up form, trying to shake the lingering jitters of the nightmare and go back to sleep. But the image of the rabid dog was imprinted on the insides of her eyelids. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was his drooling snarl and mangy black fur standing on end, about to pounce. Her back spasmed again in response, anticipating the bite that would come next.

Eve rolled over, pulling the covers with her. The digital clock on the bedside table glowed 3:33am. Groaning at the hour, she wondered why the dream had returned.

I’ve been way too stressed lately.

Flipping onto onto her back, she desperately tried not to think of all the things she had to do tomorrow; that would only make falling asleep that much harder.

It’s April, her sluggish mind reminded her, bringing her thoughts back to the dream she was trying to forget. The exact same time of year I used to have the nightmare. She sincerely hoped that didn’t mean anything. She turned her head to the side and watched as the clock changed to 3:34am.

Eve sighed and rolled over, away from the reminder that she had only a few spare hours before she had to get up and face a new day. Already she was trying to figure out if there was space in her schedule for a nap. Maybe I can sneak off and take a nap on my lunch break…. She had been so tired lately. No amount of sleep had been able to quell the constant bone-weary fatigue she’d been suffering the past few months. Or had it been longer?Eve couldn’t remember the last time she had felt well-rested. Despite getting a full night’s rest, and taking naps whenever she could squeeze them into her day, she still struggled to get out of bed each morning. Even the copious amounts of caffeine she consumed on a daily basis had stopped being an effective stimulant.

Sighing heavily once more, Eve gave in and threw back the covers, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and sat up. Her mind was too wired from the dream to sleep, no matter how tired her body was. She briefly thought about taking a Tylenol PM to help knock her out, but it was too late for sleep aids; if she took one now, she’d be even more of a zombie than usual come morning.

With the futile thought that maybe a glass of milk would help, Eve headed toward the kitchen. Not bothering to turn on any lights, she sat down at the table with her cup and stared out the window at the bright, waxing moon. Silver-blue beams of moonlight filtered through the budding trees, lighting up the lawn, and streamed into the house with an air of esoteric magic. She stared at it, mesmerized, the glowing orb calming her, soothing her. The low hum of the refrigerator recycling ended, sending the house into a sudden silence, and her ears strained for any sounds it could pick up. The faint tick-tick-tick of the clock in the next room worked like a hypnotic metronome and her mind began to wander, as it usually did on the rare occasions when she found herself alone.

It had been almost three years ago that her life had irrevocably changed.

The dream forgotten, her heart lurched anew, and the constant dull ache she felt in her chest deepened as it always did whenever she thought of him. In all the time that had passed, she could still remember the day they met with detailed clarity, and her emotions bubbled to the surface yet again. Eve inhaled a shaky breath and swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat. Her vision blurred for a moment as her eyes welled up, but she held back the unshed tears as her brain dredged up her past on instant replay. Numbly, she rewatched the events play out in her mind that had led up to that fateful moment.

.. .. .. ..

Eve and her best friend, Norah, were just finishing their junior year of college. After being extremely shy and reserved throughout her childhood, Eve had found herself opening up in college. Maybe it was the relief of being able to make her own decisions, for better or for worse, and no longer being under the constant scrutiny of her over-protective, untrusting and strict parents that allowed her to lose some of her previous inhibitions. She had been so used to their rules and their control over her that it took a whole semester of being away from them before she realized if she wanted to stay out with her friends until 2:00am on a Wednesday night, no one was going to tell her she couldn’t. For the first time in her life, she was in control. It was like a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying had been lifted off her. She had a newfound freedom and a new level of confidence that left her almost giddy.

Eve had been used to walking the hallways of her primary schools with her head down to avoid making unnecessary eye contact; people tended to stare when they noticed her eyes. Thanks to a genetic anomaly called heterochromia, her left eye was blue and the right one hazel. As a result, she had been ridiculed, teased, and rudely stared at her whole life, and it had left her very self-conscious.

But now, as she walked across the college campus confident and happy, she wasn’t afraid to make eye contact and even smile at complete strangers. She secretly thrilled at watching people be unable to help but smile or nod back. She felt really happy, even a little powerful.

Unlike Eve, Norah D’Avignon had always been the outgoing sort. In fourth grade when her family had relocated to Minnesota from New Orleans, she had been the one to boldly walk up to Eve, stare her straight in the eyes, nod once, and announce they were going to be best friends.

Eve, as an especially timid and shy child, and had mostly just stared in awe as Norah kept up a non-stop stream of chatter, giving Eve her entire life’s story in less than three minutes, and barely pausing to breathe: Her mom was a museum curator and her dad was a photographer and they’d had to move when her mom had been offered a job at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. She had a younger brother and sister that were twins in first grade and they’d had a cat that had recently died, but that was ok because her mom had promised they could get two new kittens once they were settled in their new house. She had been to Spain and Italy and Africa and France and her aunt had been teaching her French before they moved and she wondered if this school had a foreign language program and did Eve speak any other languages? Last year she had accompanied her dad on a photo shoot in Tanzania and had gotten to go on a safari where she’d seen real zebras and elephants up close and she thought she’d seen a lion from far away, but it was hard to tell because they were laying down and blended into the grass and she wasn’t allowed to get closer for a better look. But her dad had been able to get real close and had taken some really amazing photos and later she got to ride a tame elephant and help give a bath to a baby one and did Eve want to come over after school and see the pictures?

Norah had to stop her rambling exposition when the final bell rung, signaling the start of class, and all Eve had managed to get out in that time was her name.

But since that day, Norah and Eve had been nearly inseparable. As children, Eve had been Norah’s silent shadow, following in the wake of her exuberant, outspoken personality. Norah made friends easily and her friends became Eve’s friends. Norah stuck up for Eve and unabashedly told people off if she thought they were staring. While still timid around strangers and new people, when Eve was around Norah, her infectious personality made it easier for Eve to open up, and throughout middle school and high school they were part of a small group of closely knitted girls. But even within their circle, Norah and Eve were a group unto their own.

After high school, when the rest of their friends went their separate ways to separate colleges, the two girls had remained together, choosing to go to the same university where Norah resolutely studied Art History and Eve had changed majors more often than the boys downstairs did laundry. It wasn’t that she couldn’t find something that interested her; it was that she had too many interests and couldn’t decide on just one to focus on. Eve had in turn declared her major as Earth Science, then Anthropology, then History, then Travel and Tourism, then Chinese Medicine for a semester before finally landing in International Business. And now, as she neared the end of her Junior year, she debated about switching again.

“It doesn’t matter what your major is,” Norah had lectured more than once. “Just get your degree in anything. Most people don’t get a job related to their college major anyway. Companies just look to see that you have a degree; most don’t care what it’s actually in. That’s what on-the-job training is for.”

That was easy for her to say; she knew what she wanted to do with her life. Thanks to her mom’s museum connections, Norah had already been getting offers from antiquity dealers and museums that wanted to hire her when she graduated, and a couple had additionally offered to pay for grad school. Eve was just keeping her fingers crossed that she’d be able to find a job when she graduated. Any job. Period.

“You know what you need?” Norah had asked during Spring Break that year as they sipped virgin piña coladas in the campus apartment’s common room. In an attempt to cheer up those students who were staying behind for the break, the Activities Committee had decorated the room in a tropical cabana theme, complete with plastic pool-side loungers, several inflatable palm trees, and a fake tiki hut decked out in multi-colored twinkle lights. Today, student volunteers were handing out virgin tropical drinks in brightly colored plastic cups with paper umbrellas in them while Caribbean music played from someone’s portable speakers in the corner.

“A shot of rum?” Eve asked despondently, holding out her drink. Rather than cheering her up, the festive room only made her more depressed that they were stuck in Minnesota during Spring Break. To rub it in, there were two feet of snow outside that stubbornly refused to melt, with more snow in the forecast. Even more depressing, they had been simultaneously discussing Eve’s lack of commitment to a single major and her recent breakup with her boyfriend.

“Besides that,” Norah waved her hand dismissively and took another sip from her neon pink cup. She was turning twenty-one the following month, but unlike other college students, alcohol wasn’t a big deal to her. Her parents, having traveled the world with their children, had a more European view on alcohol. Both Norah and her siblings had been allowed to have wine with dinner since they were little, so underage drinking didn’t hold the same rebellion it did for some. Eve, however, wasn’t turning twenty-one until the end of the summer; she didn’t exactly condone underage drinking, but it sure would have been nice to drown out her problems for a couple hours.

Eve sighed and fiddled absentmindedly with the tacky yellow plastic lei that had been ceremoniously placed around her neck when they had first walked into the common room. “A real vacation?” she tried again, jealously thinking of all their classmates that were sitting on a beach in Mexico sipping real piña coladas and soaking up the sun that her pasty skin hadn’t seen in six months.

“Exactly.” Norah sat up straight in her lounger and swung her long legs to one side so she could face Eve. “We’ve got one year of college left,” she began.

“You’ve got one year left,” Eve interrupted. “Me? I’ll probably be here until I’m old and gray. I’ll find a guy, get married, have kids, and they’llgraduate college before I do.”

“No, they won’t,” Norah countered absently, ignoring Eve’s self-loathing. “Like I was saying, we’re both going to graduate soon. We need to have some fun before we’re stuck in full-time jobs with families and kids. You know, get out, see the world and all that.” Norah looked at Eve with a glint in her eyes that said she was up to something.

“Yeah…,” Eve agreed hesitantly, wondering what Norah had in mind. There was a reason they were both stuck here over Spring Break; neither of them could afford a cheap trip to Mexico, let alone a trip around the world.

“Remember Nana?” Norah began, and Eve nodded. She had met Mrs. D’Avignon a year and a half ago when the woman had been visiting from France over Thanksgiving. Norah’s dad had been born in France, but the family had emigrated to the U.S. when he was five. After Norah’s grandfather died, Mrs. D’Avignon had decided to move back to her native country to be close to her childhood friends. Despite being in her late seventies, she was a spry old woman, quick-witted, and charmingly eccentric. When they had first been introduced, Mrs. D’Avignon had held out a delicate-looking withered hand, and when Eve went to gently shake it, she had shocked Eve with her strength by pulling her into a big bear hug, kissing both her cheeks, and telling her how beautiful she thought Eve was. The old woman had gone on about how lucky her favorite granddaughter was to have such a long-standing friendship, and how important it was to have dependable friends. She insisted all Norah’s friends call her “Nana” and that Eve should sit next to her at the dinner table. She always called Eve “Eve-child” and had wanted to hear all about Norah’s best friend, from Eve’s family life to school to boys.

It was easy to see where Norah’s personality came from. Nana had a soothing way about her that made it easy to open up and talk, and Eve found herself telling Nana things she’d never in a million years discuss with her own mother, let alone grandmother. Like the fact that she was still a virgin. Talk about embarrassing.

Two days later, when Eve had seen Nana again before she and Norah returned to school, Nana gave Eve a beautiful, delicately soft, ivory and gold-flecked scarf she had knitted and said “matched Eve’s aura.” Eve had raised her eyebrows and looked questioningly at Norah at the odd sentiment, but Norah had just smiled and shrugged as if to say, “That’s Nana for you.” Eve thanked Nana sincerely for the thoughtful gift, and the scarf had since become a staple of her winter wardrobe, which, living in Minnesota, meant she got to wear it nine months out of the year.

“So,” Norah continued, “I was FaceTiming with Nana last night…”

“Wait,” Eve called out, shaking her head in disbelief. “Last night? What time was it in Paris?” she asked, mentally doing the math. Paris was seven hours ahead of Central Standard Time.

“Yup,” Norah laughed. “It was 5am there. Nana actually called me. It’s a good thing I’m a night owl and she’s an early bird. Otherwise I’d never get to see or talk to her.” Eve nodded agreement, and Norah lay back in her lounger, nonchalantly looking up toward the ceiling. “Anyway, she mentioned that she’s not coming to visit this summer because Emily—remember her, she’s my cousin?—” she glanced in Eve’s direction and Eve nodded “—well, she’s been staying with Nana while she goes to la Université de Paris,” Norah continued, affecting a perfect French accent. “She’s finishing her Master’s degree in Architecture there,” she added as a side note, and Eve nodded again. She was beginning to feel like a bobble-head doll.

“Sooo…,” Norah began slowly and Eve could hear the underlying current of excitement in her voice. “Nana suggested that I come out and spend the summer with her instead. And she wants you to come with! Andshe insists on paying for everything, including your plane ticket!” Norah sat up, her eyes shining with excitement, waiting for a reaction. Eve was speechless. An all-expenses paid vacation to Paris? For the whole summer? How could she say no?

.. .. .. ..

Eve got up from the kitchen table and placed her empty cup in the sink, her mind four thousand miles away in Paris. As always, she caught herself wondering what would have happened if she had said “no.”

She shook her head. In a million years, she wouldn’t have turned down that opportunity.

But if she had never gone to Paris, they never would have taken that side-trip to London. And if they had never taken that side-trip to London, she never would have met him. And if she had never met him, she never would have had…

Her.

Eve wandered back through the apartment and paused by the second bedroom door, which had been left cracked open. She hesitated, then quietly opened the door enough to slip in.

A small nightlight lit the closet-sized room enough for her to see her two-year-old daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib, her small fingers now relaxed from their earlier grip on her favorite blankie. Eve stood there a few moments, mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing. She could have watched the small cherubic face for hours, but the child stirred slightly, perhaps recognizing Eve’s presence even in sleep, and she quickly retreated, not wanting her to wake.

Eve felt the lump in her throat return, and the tears that she’d kept at bay so far resurface, as she returned to her own bed. Her daughter was practically the only evidence she had that he existed. Without her, Eve would have driven herself mad wondering if their affair hadn’t been something she simply dreamed up. The child was real, so he had to be real, too. And while she had never wanted to be unwed and pregnant at the young age of twenty-one, Eve was grateful she had some piece of him to hang onto. Eve had ultimately lost everything in London. Her daughter was all she had left.

The tears finally welled up and overflowed, running silently down her cheek to stain the pillow. As she’d done so many times before, Eve cried herself to sleep, aching for the man who held her heart.

Rhys, my love, where ever did you go?

Jodi Lind Kuehn

Prologue: Genesis

Terrified, she ran though the empty town.

Every nerve in her body was buzzing on edge. Her breath came in short gasps as adrenaline coursed through her veins. While she ran, her eyes darted about, alert for the danger she could sense nearby.

She took in her surroundings with the heightened clarity of someone moving in slow motion. The brightly painted row houses and market stalls normally would have been quaint, but there was an eeriness in the air that had turned the coastal island village into something distinctly sinister.

Fresh-caught fish and freshly picked produce waited in their sellers’ stalls for buyers that would never come. A small pull-cart holding fresh flowers had been tipped on its side, spilling roses and lavender out into the street. Their sweet perfume hung in the air where they had been trampled and mingled with the briny ocean air. A wicker shopping basket had been dropped and abandoned; loaves of bread, new potatoes, and apples littered the gutter.

The houses were as empty as the streets. A few doors swayed open in the breeze, revealing half-eaten dinners left abandoned on their tables. A few lamps had been left lit. Curtains fluttered in open windows. Thin gray wisps of smoke rose from the chimney of one home. The soft tinkling of a set of wind chimes hanging from the eaves of another home only emphasized the sense of danger she felt as she continued to flee.

The sun was setting; she must hurry. She tripped and stumbled on the cobblestones that lined the main street, but somehow managed not to fall. She could see the docks where the boat was waiting, the last trickles of orange sunlight sparkling off calm blue waters. Everyone had already boarded. They were just waiting for her.

She heard it, then. A low, menacing growl coming from the shadows. No! she thought. I’m too late! I’ll never make it! She glanced behind her and saw a mangy dog step out into the dying light.

.. .. .. ..

One day, a few months ago, a stray dog had followed her home. She tried to shoo it away, but it whined pathetically until she tossed it a chunk of bread from her basket. It scampered off with its meal, and she thought it’d had gone. But the scrappy dog was back on her doorstep the next morning, sad droopy eyes begging for food. Soft-hearted soul that she was, she took him in, fed him, cleaned him up, and brushed out his matted fur. He licked her hand and rested his head in her lap contentedly as she scratched behind his ears. The dog seemed to trust her, but ran away at the sight of anyone else. She thought she might eventually tame him, but he came and went as he pleased, always showing up at her doorstep for breakfast and dinner.

A few weeks later, the peaceful little town became the scene of increasingly vicious and gruesome nighttime killings. It seemed harmless enough at first: the butcher was missing a leg of lamb, then a fresh cut of flank steak. But a couple weeks later it was poor Mrs. Avery’s cat. The woman had put her tabby out as she did every night, only to find him dead on her doorstep the next morning. After that incident, things got worse. A goat was found mauled and half-eaten on the hillside behind the town. And then a whole sow went missing. The townspeople grew nervous and a curfew was put into effect until the predator could be caught and disposed of.

The first night of the curfew, she had tried bringing the dog indoors to keep him safe from the predator, but he’d whined and complained and scratched at the door until, in an absolute frenzy, he broke through a window, shattering glass everywhere. She’d fretted all night, worried about his safety, but the next morning when she stepped outside, he was sitting there waiting for his breakfast, tongue lolling and tail wagging happily. He jaunted in through the open door and curled up on the rug by the warm stove.

She’d been so relieved. More so when the word in the market was that nothing had been killed the night before. Maybe the dog was the town’s savior! Maybe he had killed whatever was hunting the animals and livestock!

Weeks went by with no more killings. The curfew remained in effect, but the townspeople had became lax about upholding it. Then one evening, a few weeks later, she had been caught out at dusk. Nervous, she began walking briskly towards the edge of town, telling herself there was nothing to be afraid of. There hadn’t been any killings for weeks; not since the curfew had taken effect. But her heart raced and her skin prickled as fear flooded her veins. She broke into a trot, then found herself jogging. The faster she returned home, the better, she reasoned.

She was racing past a dark alleyway when she heard it. An animalistic scream followed by a nasty ripping, tearing, breaking. She froze, her heart pausing as her breath caught in her chest. From out of the dark, two yellow eyes glowed as they looked up at her from the depths of the narrow backstreet.

A snuffling snort came from the beast as it dropped its prey and stalked slowly towards her.

Her heart wrenched. No! It can’t be. She knew this animal; it was her dog. Part of her thought it was ridiculous that she’d be afraid of her own pet, but the other part of her was truly terrified.

The creature before her was mangy, frothing, menacing; not at all the sweet, loving, adorable stray she’d come to love and look to for protection. She turned and ran, fearful that she’d be pounced on and ripped to shreds at any moment. But she made it safely home, and as she hurled herself over the threshold and slammed the door shut, she risked a look behind her.

There was nothing there.

Panting and out of breath, she locked the door and shuttered the windows all the same, unable to shake her lingering fear.

The next morning, as she opened the door to the garden, there was her dog as usual, tail wagging. Her heart jumped into her throat as he trotted inside and took his usual place by the stove. She wondered if she’d somehow been mistaken. But when she heard on the street that something had killed and half-eaten Mr. Morris’ grey gelding last night, she knew it wasn’t a mistake. She secretly sought out the town council and told them what she’d seen.

A sixth sense warned her that she couldn’t let the dog see how terrified she had become of him. She forced herself to act like everything was normal, despite her inner revulsion.

Now that the council knew what was behind the gruesome killings, traps were set to capture the animal, to dispose of it. But the dog somehow managed to avoid them all. Worse, he became wary and suspicious of the townsfolk. He’d begun guarding the docks, growling and snapping at anyone who got near the boats, preventing anyone from coming or leaving. They were trapped.

Finally, a meeting had been held and a decision was made to leave the island town that evening. All the townsfolk would go, taking only what they could carry. They’d sneak out at dusk, just before the sun set, while the dog slept off his dinner. They’d leave everything behind.

.. .. .. ..

As she sprinted for the docks and the waiting boat, her every step grew more and more sluggish. She could hear the dog running behind her, snarling, frothing at the mouth, furious at her betrayal. Familiar faces stepped out of the crowd standing on the prow. “Hu-r-ry! R-un!” they called in slow-motion voices, arms outstretched. She was almost there…just another 50 yards.

The boat silently eased away from the docks, sending her into a panic. “Noooo! Wa-it!…I’m com-ing!” she shouted back. Terror gripped her anew. She was running down the dock now as the boat slipped ever farther away, but her feet were leaden and her steps short.

The last rays of sunlight dipped below the water. She launched herself off the dock, but the dog pounced at that exact moment, his teeth snapping at her lower spine. She hit the cold water and everything went black.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

.. .. .. ..

“Eve! Evie, honey, are you alright?” Eve’s mom came rushing into her daughter’s room as her little girl startled awake. Eve was sweating, crying, and her heart was racing. She squinted against the light coming in from the hallway.

“Did you have a bad dream, sweetie?” Mom crooned as she sat on the edge of the bed. Eve flung herself into her mother’s arms, grateful her mom hadn’t abandoned her like those who had in her dream. Too upset to say anything, she simply nodded.

Stroking Eve’s hair as she rocked her back and forth, her mother said soothingly, “It’s okay now. It’s all over. It wasn’t real.” She paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Eve shook her head, buried in her mother’s warm embrace. It was always the same; somehow, she felt that talking about it would just make the dream seem more real. There were some nightmares you could talk about and others you just couldn’t.

Mom was reluctant to let it go. “Are you sure, honey? Maybe it would help.”

“I’m sure,” she croaked, clutching her teddy bear for added security.

“Do you want to come and sleep in my room?” she asked tenderly.

“No. I’m ok,” Eve insisted.

Sighing, and watching her daughter closely, she finally conceded. “Well, let me tuck you in, then.” She held back the covers while Eve climbed under, then tucked them snuggly around her. She kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “I love you, Eve-angel. I’ll see you in the morning.” She backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Eve noticed she didn’t shut it tight. The sliver of light from the hall dimmed as her mother turned off the switch and returned to her own room.

Despite her shaken nerves from the nightmare, Eve was a little relieved. This was a recurring dream, but it only came once a year, in early spring. She’d been nervous for the past month, wondering every night when she went to sleep if tonight would be the night. At least now she could sleep soundly; she was safe for another year.

This was the sixth time Eve had had this exact same nightmare. She was eleven years old.

Jodi Lind Kuehn