mirror,
then turned away. She loved it. She could move in this clothing. She could run, she could fight
. . . who?
Dark flashes surged through her mind, electric images of gunfire, blood and death flashed
like vibrant lies amid a midnight landscape.
Hurriedly stripping the new clothes from her body, Lilly pulled the dress back on, slid her
feet into the heels that she knew she could never run in, then gathered up the articles she had
tried on.
Stepping from the dressing room, she gave her mother a careful, cool smile in response to
the frown on Angelica’s face. She knew better than to upset her mother. At least, she had
known better six years ago. There was a part of her now that balked at giving into another’s
dictates or the threat of the consequences.
“I’ll take these.” She handed the clothing to the saleslady, while trying to ignore the
irritation in her mother’s eyes. Perhaps it was best that she remain the daughter Angelica
thought she was, but another part of her demanded that she be something else, something
more, and that she be prepared.
She had to maintain the illusion, she thought. Survival depended upon blending into this
life she was living now. Even the smartest prey understood the value of playing dumb. And a
killer well understood the hunt.
Lilly almost came to an abrupt halt at the thought. Shock was a bitter taste in her mouth as
she fought not to sink into the shadows and the memories that were just out of reach.
She wasn’t a killer! She was a social butterfly; a scheming little debutante, her father had
once accused affectionately. She knew well how to blend into this life, she had learned at an
early age. She wasn’t a killer. But the blood in her dreams indicated otherwise.
She resisted the urge to stare at her hands, a part of her desperate to ensure no blood stained
them.
Who the hell was she and why did the memories of the past six years seem so elusive while
the nightmares seemed more real?
She was indeed Victoria Harrington. DNA had proven it. Her blood was a perfect match for
the DNA that had been taken from the Harrington children a decade ago to ensure they could
always be identified, no matter the circumstances.
She knew who she was, yet she felt like an imposter. Whatever had happened in the past six
years she had lost had changed her in ways she couldn’t explain. It had ensured she no longer
fit in with her family, her friends, where once before she had blended into this life seamlessly.
She had memories of her life up until the night before the car crash that had killed her
father and left her struggling for life six years ago. The memories of the past six years eluded
her, though.
And why was she searching for a face in the crowd, anticipation surging through her at the
thought of one brief glimpse of a man she didn’t know? A man who felt more familiar to her
than her own face. The man she had caught watching her earlier.
“You’re acting very strange, Victoria.” Angelica sighed as they left the shop and moved
back to the tree-shaded sidewalk and the shops that Angelica insisted on visiting.
Lilly could hear the edge of anger in her mother’s tone and she knew she should be wary of
it. Angelica Harrington had a hard, sharp edge when angry. One that cut with brutal strength.
And she had no problem slicing into one of her children if she felt the need.
“I’m well, Mother.” She watched the crowd intently, careful to keep her mother’s body
shielded as they continued the impromptu shopping spree they had decided on that morning.
She couldn’t understand why she was doing that. Why did she suddenly know how to
protect her mother, and what was she trying to protect her from?
“I didn’t ask if you were well,” her mother said, exasperated. “I said you’re acting strange.”
“So, I look strange and I feel strange, as well.” Lilly snorted. “And could you please just
call me Lilly?”
They both
then turned away. She loved it. She could move in this clothing. She could run, she could fight
. . . who?
Dark flashes surged through her mind, electric images of gunfire, blood and death flashed
like vibrant lies amid a midnight landscape.
Hurriedly stripping the new clothes from her body, Lilly pulled the dress back on, slid her
feet into the heels that she knew she could never run in, then gathered up the articles she had
tried on.
Stepping from the dressing room, she gave her mother a careful, cool smile in response to
the frown on Angelica’s face. She knew better than to upset her mother. At least, she had
known better six years ago. There was a part of her now that balked at giving into another’s
dictates or the threat of the consequences.
“I’ll take these.” She handed the clothing to the saleslady, while trying to ignore the
irritation in her mother’s eyes. Perhaps it was best that she remain the daughter Angelica
thought she was, but another part of her demanded that she be something else, something
more, and that she be prepared.
She had to maintain the illusion, she thought. Survival depended upon blending into this
life she was living now. Even the smartest prey understood the value of playing dumb. And a
killer well understood the hunt.
Lilly almost came to an abrupt halt at the thought. Shock was a bitter taste in her mouth as
she fought not to sink into the shadows and the memories that were just out of reach.
She wasn’t a killer! She was a social butterfly; a scheming little debutante, her father had
once accused affectionately. She knew well how to blend into this life, she had learned at an
early age. She wasn’t a killer. But the blood in her dreams indicated otherwise.
She resisted the urge to stare at her hands, a part of her desperate to ensure no blood stained
them.
Who the hell was she and why did the memories of the past six years seem so elusive while
the nightmares seemed more real?
She was indeed Victoria Harrington. DNA had proven it. Her blood was a perfect match for
the DNA that had been taken from the Harrington children a decade ago to ensure they could
always be identified, no matter the circumstances.
She knew who she was, yet she felt like an imposter. Whatever had happened in the past six
years she had lost had changed her in ways she couldn’t explain. It had ensured she no longer
fit in with her family, her friends, where once before she had blended into this life seamlessly.
She had memories of her life up until the night before the car crash that had killed her
father and left her struggling for life six years ago. The memories of the past six years eluded
her, though.
And why was she searching for a face in the crowd, anticipation surging through her at the
thought of one brief glimpse of a man she didn’t know? A man who felt more familiar to her
than her own face. The man she had caught watching her earlier.
“You’re acting very strange, Victoria.” Angelica sighed as they left the shop and moved
back to the tree-shaded sidewalk and the shops that Angelica insisted on visiting.
Lilly could hear the edge of anger in her mother’s tone and she knew she should be wary of
it. Angelica Harrington had a hard, sharp edge when angry. One that cut with brutal strength.
And she had no problem slicing into one of her children if she felt the need.
“I’m well, Mother.” She watched the crowd intently, careful to keep her mother’s body
shielded as they continued the impromptu shopping spree they had decided on that morning.
She couldn’t understand why she was doing that. Why did she suddenly know how to
protect her mother, and what was she trying to protect her from?
“I didn’t ask if you were well,” her mother said, exasperated. “I said you’re acting strange.”
“So, I look strange and I feel strange, as well.” Lilly snorted. “And could you please just
call me Lilly?”
They both
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