Vision In Love (Legends of The North Book 1) (3 page)

Pulling into the car park, the building looked more like an old farmhouse than an office. Outside the entrance, she saw a sign swinging from above the door. She smiled, realising it was an old pub converted into offices. Smoothing a clammy hand down her blouse, she pushed open the wooden door and saw who she assumed was the receptionist sitting behind what had probably been the original bar. The woman looked friendly, a little younger than her parents if the few laughter lines were anything to go by. As she walked nearer, she could see the odd, yet prominent grey hair that broke up her natural brown. Her thin lips spread into a wide smile when she saw Emma approaching.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

"I have an appointment with Mr. Jayson. I'm Emma Williams."

She turned, and Emma heard the tapping of nails on keys then the flipping of pages before the receptionist looked back up at her.
 

"Ah, yes, here you are. Take the stairs, turn left, and you'll see his assistant."

"Thanks."

Hitching her portfolio folder over her shoulder, she took the stairs slowly. Her palms had gone from clammy to sweaty, and she was finding it difficult to swallow. She had to remind herself that this wasn't an interview; she knew the job was already hers.
 

She saw the glances of the women in the office and felt some hostility. Did they know how she had snagged the position? Then she reminded herself it didn't matter. She wouldn't be spending time in the office with them. That was just one of the things she loved about being a photographer. And working in advertising would mean her time would be spent with clients or on location.

But she'd never taken a job she hadn't earned before. Yet she hadn't really earned this one, had she? Hoisting the portfolio higher, she vowed she would have by the end of the month. And she'd make sure Mr. Jayson and her dad knew it.

Emma filled Barney's water bowl, placed it on his mat, and gave him a scratch behind his ear. Once he was in bed, she switched off the kitchen lights and climbed the stairs, counting the creaky ones as she went. They had been there less than a month, but they already had their own routine. She found that she liked it, found comfort in the predictability; it made her feel in control. Apart from the visions and dreams that had become part of the norm, they had settled in easily. She even liked being back home more than she thought she would. Enough, she realised guiltily; to almost forget one of the main reasons she'd moved back. Pulling the bed covers back, she shook her head, not wanting to think about her mum right then. Snuggling under the covers, she buried her head in the pillow. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the lavender scent on her pillowcase and felt herself relaxing, felt herself surrender to sleep.

***

Cold air blew across Emma's skin. She reached for the covers, but her hand grasped at thin air. She opened her eyes to be met by nothing but an empty blackness. The smell hit her then, and she knew where she was. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the hedgerows, the towering trees.
Not again.
She was sick of this, this dream–if that was what it was. The sky lit up with the crack of the forked lightning. She watched as it hit the tree, splitting it in half, again.
 

That time, she'd had enough. She planted her feet in a wide stance, felt the mud ooze through her toes. Fisting her hands at her sides, she watched as the tree fell towards her, her heart hammering, but she refused to run. Any minute, she'd wake up back in her bedroom completely fine. Covered in mud, but fine. As the tree fell closer, she squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath.
Please, God, don't let it hit me.
 

She felt the scratch of branches across her bare arm, heard the crash of the tree as it met the earth beside her. Opening her eyes, she let out a shaky breath as she saw the tree trunk a foot away from her, flattening the hedgerow on her left. She thought she'd be back in her bedroom once the tree fell.

"What?" she yelled towards the sky. "What do you want from me? What am I doing here?"

As if in answer, the sky lit up with another fork of lightning. Something glinted in the fallen tree before the sky fell black again. She made her way to where the lightning had been reflected. As she moved closer to the tree, she could make out the shape of someone. Emma jumped as another flash of lightning crackled around her; it looked like they were wearing a helmet. As she stepped back from the tree, she could see it had a face carved in it and a peak like a baseball cap. Shaking her head, she blinked, not believing what she saw.

Blinking again, she lowered her empty, shaking hands. Back in her bedroom, she pulled in deep breaths, her heartbeat starting to slow. No mask, no man, but that was different. She hadn't dreamt of a helmet before. She wrapped her arms around herself as the horrible thought that she could have died hit her. Couldn't she? If mud could cover her feet then yes, a tree falling on her could kill her. Emma pulled a pillow into her lap and wrapped her arms around it. Trying to stop the shivers down her arms, she squeezed the pillow tightly to her.
 

The tears started then because she was alone, alone and afraid. The question kept repeating itself over and over in her mind:
What do you want from me?
But she couldn't answer it and didn't have anyone to try and work out the answers with, not that Ben would have helped anyway. Even if she did, would they believe her? She wasn't sure she believed it herself. She lay there listening to her breathing until it returned to normal, until the reality of her quiet bedroom pushed down the fear. As she swung her feet off the bed, she saw the mud splashed across her feet.
 

Emma cleaned herself up and made her way downstairs, the creaking loud in the quiet of the night. She heard Barney's bark from the kitchen.
See, if I'd been sleepwalking, he would have heard me coming downstairs.
But if it was just a dream, how did she end up covered in mud? And what about the dreams throughout the day? She gave Barney a scratch behind his ears, glad she wasn't completely alone, and took a cup down from the cupboard. If she was going to go back to sleep, she was going to need some help. Grabbing the milk from the fridge, she poured it into the cup and added some cocoa. She put the cup in the microwave and watched it rotate inside, a lot like her thoughts right then. When it was done, she added a shot of rum for good measure.

 
She sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around the cup as she watched the steam rise from it. The sweet smell of the cocoa replaced the remnants of the smell of her dream. The helmet had to be the key. Emma had been having the same dream for the last week, but that night, it had changed. She hadn't run, had stood her ground, and saw someone wearing a helmet. When she tried to picture it again, it seemed vaguely familiar. But where would she have seen a helmet recently?
 

She rubbed her eyes with her hands, slipping them up into her hair, locking her fingers together over her head. Lifting her head, she glanced at the clock: one a.m. It was too late–or should that be too early–to think about this. Taking her cup with her, she made her way back upstairs. She'd think about it in the morning, try to figure it out then, if there was even anything to figure out. All she wanted to do right then was sleep so she could forget about it all for the time being.

Emma had avoided walking Barney across the fields since her visions had begun. But after the change in her dream the night before, she thought it was time to alter that. Grabbing Barney's lead, she heard the scratch of his claws across the tiled floor as he ran towards her. Clipping his lead on, she locked the door behind them.
Autumn is definitely getting into swing,
she thought as she kicked at the fallen leaves. Red and gold, they covered the ground like confetti. As they headed out of the village, she saw the signpost for the museum. Of course, she'd seen it every night she walked Barney but had never given it much thought,
until now.

After one of the quickest walks she had ever taken Barney on, the two of them headed back home. Opening the front door, she unclipped and hung up Barney's lead, filled his water bowl, and gave his head a quick scratch.
 

"Be good, I won't be long."

Grabbing her bag, she rushed back out of the house. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of the museum, since she walked past the sign every day. And every day, right in front of her on the sign, was a helmet. Okay, so it wasn't exactly the mask in her dream, but it was similar and it seemed like as good a place to start as any.
 

Hurrying down the street that led to the museum, Emma drew a few looks, but she didn't care as she dashed past them. Stopping abruptly, she stared as she stood outside the building she assumed was the museum, despite the fact it looked more like someone's house. As the rain began to fall again, the warm glow through the windows seemed inviting. She walked down the side of the building to the entrance. When the sliding doors opened, she was hit by the smell of the museum. It reminded her of musty old libraries but with a hint of lemon, maybe from the gleaming wooden floors. It was quiet inside, just the low hum and whir of something electrical. Slipping off her jacket, she shook the rain from it and hung it up on the old-fashioned coat rack.
How quaint.
She made her way to the desk, to the man engrossed in whatever he was doing. His dark hair hung past his forehead as he bent over the workstation.
 

"Excuse me. I'd like a ticket to the museum, please."

At the sound of her voice, his head lifted, revealing the most unusual-coloured eyes she'd ever seen. Most people would call them copper or amber, probably. To her, they looked like golden honey, and she couldn't help but stare. Until she realised he was staring at her, and she knew there was nothing unusual about her eyes.

Clearing her throat, she said, "One adult ticket?"

The question was answered by a stain of colour across his cheeks, even reaching the tips of his ears.

***

Matt knew he was staring, knew he was blushing, but he just couldn't seem to help either reaction. They didn't get lone women visitors to the museum. Especially not young, attractive, lone women. Her dark blonde hair was starting to curl around her face, probably due to the rain. Her eyes, slightly crinkled at the edges from the half smile she wore, reminded him of warm slate shimmering in sunshine. Was she smiling at him? Yes, she probably thought he was a few displays short of an exhibition, seeing as he had yet to utter a single word. And yet, he was still staring at her as though she might hold the answers to the universe. Shaking his head, he finally looked away from her.

"Sorry. One adult ticket, you said?"

"Yes, please."

The sound of his fingers on the computer keys broke the silence that surrounded them. He checked the printer as it began to hum then spat out a ticket.
 

"That'll be five pounds fifty, please."

As she hunted through her bag, he deemed it safe to look at her. Since the initial surprise had worn off, he realised she was more than just attractive–she was beautiful. Not in a full on, in-your-face glamorous way but in a simple, quiet way. As she handed him the money, he smiled and felt the warmth in his ears again.
Don't stare at her.
He handed over her ticket and she was off before he could start his usual speech about the museum. He watched her head straight for the helmet, notepad in hand.
Definitely not your usual visitor.
Journalist, maybe? Reluctantly, he went back to marking his assignments.
As a part time university tutor, grading his students’ papers helped pass the quiet times at the museum.
 

He dropped his head over the desk again, never good to scare off the sole visitor of the day by staring at them.

***

Emma made her way straight to the cabinet where she saw what looked vaguely like the mask from her vision. The little plaque in front of it said it was Roman, from the late first to early second century AD.
Wait, that was almost 2,000 years ago.
How had it survived that long?
 

The helmet had the peak she had seen in her vision but she could see a strap attached to it that hooked underneath the chin. Below that was the face of what she imagined had been a Roman soldier. Instead of eyes, there were just two holes, and if she was honest, it looked a little creepy.
 

She opened her bag, rooting around inside until she found a pen. Flipping through the notepad to a blank page, she started to make some notes about it, even did a little rough sketch of the helmet. She wasn't sure what she would do with them, it just seemed like a good idea.

***

"Er, sorry to interrupt, it's just that we ... erm ... close in, ah, five minutes."

When she glanced up from her notepad, he saw her look of disappointment. Wanting to take that look from her face, he said, "I guess you're not a tourist?" He nodded to her notepad, filled with her scrawl of notes and doodles.
 

With a half-smile and a shake of her head, she replied, "No, I've just moved to the village. Just doing a bit of, er, research."

The only thought in his head was that he wanted to spend more than the five minutes they had left talking to her.
 

"Well, that's good. This offer isn't made to just tourists."

He felt the blush rising again as he heard the innuendo he hadn't meant in his words.

"Er, I mean, if you want, you could come back tomorrow. I wouldn't charge you. Or if you'd like, I was going for a drink. Maybe you could join me, and I could answer any questions you have. About the helmet, I mean."

God, he hoped he didn't sound as pathetic out loud as he did in his head. Well, he'd said he wanted to do something different, and this was definitely different. Her half-smile turned into a dazzlingly full one that had her eyes sparkling. Or was she laughing at him? He took a step back, readying himself for a hasty retreat.