Read Online The Touch Of Twilight by Vicki Pettersson - Free Book Online Page A

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Between the fence and the paint booth,” she said, nudging me closer. “Soften your gaze.”
    I stared again at the auto shop, letting everything at the forefront of my visual perception blur. Then, like a lighter being flicked, a canary yellow portal popped out at me from over the glass door. After a moment, however, it slowly bled over into a deepening burgundy. The woman moved closer when I gasped in surprise. “What’s wrong with it?”
    “Nothing. Why?”
    “It’s just…I’ve never seen one turn that color before,” I said, gaze lingering on it before I turned fully to face her. “I thought they all looked like tiny stars.”
    Under the spotlight of the streetlamp, I could see her hair beading, constantly re-forming at the root, sliding down the shaft in effervescent droplets, and fracturing at the tips to keep it blunted below her glistening shoulders. More surprising, however, were her eyes. They lacked irises or even a tint of color; pure orbs as white as carved out pearls, though brightly alive. She returned my intent look, almost as if drinking me in, and I drew back a bit, reminding myself that while beautiful, as well as my rescuer, she was also extremely powerful.
    “It’s fine,” she said, her lips repositioning themselves on her face as she smiled at me. It wasn’t just her expression altering, I realized. It was her whole face, constantly forming and re-forming. “Come.”
    I hesitated. If there was one thing I’d found in my short time with the troop, it was that limitations were placed on us for a reason. We learned of things when we were meant to, and too much knowledge could skew one’s actions in the same way going to a psychic could alter mortal behavior. I bit my lip, not wanting to offend her—
owing
her—but not wanting to go somewhere my troop leader couldn’t find me. She smiled, noting my reluctance.
    “Just a quick peek,” she encouraged, hand again guiding my back. But this time it chilled to the spine.
    I angled away from her touch. “Why would you want me to look inside there?”
    “Because I want to help you.” Now she gripped my arm. “The Tulpa was right about the fallout of disjoined energy. A person cannot be divided against herself.”
    And anyone who thought the Tulpa was right needed to not be touching me.
    “No, thank you.” I placed my hand over hers and firmly pulled it away. She didn’t resist, just angled her head so a gossamer glob dropped from her hair. “I should get back. My troop will be worried.”
    “Your
troop, is it?” Her beautiful laugh turned brittle when she saw my mind was made up, and she pointed to my face with one disconcertingly honed fingernail. “My goodness, is that a mask or blinders that you’re wearing? Either way, it works brilliantly.”
    But peer pressure did not. I squared on her and put some distance between us. “Why did you save me from the Tulpa?”
    “Now
you’re asking the right questions.” But the edge in her voice reminded me of steep cliffs, sharp rocks, and divers poised tenuously on the edge. She was going somewhere with this, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow there either. “Well, obviously it wasn’t out of the goodness of my heart.”
    And she crossed her heart in a playground promise, those razor-sharp nails cleaving layer after radiant layer of glistening skin to reveal a gaping cavity where there should’ve been organs.
    “No heart,” I whispered, half to myself. She was like a balloon twisted into shape by a circus clown, with only a translucent outline to define her as a woman. Horrified, I glanced back up into her face. Now I knew what her sparkling achromatic eyes were swirling with. Air. What I didn’t know—and what suddenly bothered me all the more—was why her teeth were so sharp.
    She tilted her head, the innocent movement clashing strongly with the severed chest and that razored grin. “I thought maybe you’d