Last Light (Novella) Read Online Free PDF

mirror, weaving effortlessly among the swarm of jostling vehicles by virtue of some
third
power that the sonofabitch had not yet revealed.
    When first her gift had come upon her almost a decade earlier, she had been frightened. In time, fear twined with consternation and dismay, as she began to understand how completely her life had been changed forever. She might have surrendered to enduring dread and depression if, without quite realizing it, she had not dealt with the fear of her psychic talent by testing—and strengthening—her courage in a long series of half-mad challenges to the sea and all the dangers that it offered. Already at sixteen, she had long been a bold surfer. So she became a reckless one. Surfing where beaches were closed due to a temporary abundance of large sharks spotted by shore-patrol choppers, straddling her board, feet dangling in the water, as she waited for the next set to roll toward her and offer her a ride, watching nervously for a dorsal fin and for a menacing shadow in the water, aware of the insane risk but intent on taking it, each wipeout an invitation to be dined upon. When others fled storms, she ran to them and launched her board into the raging sea, struggling out against the turbulence, hoping to find a few rideable liquid mountains among the mushy waves blown over by strong onshore winds, fearless of rip currents, tossed in churning white-water soup, spitting out foamy swash, struggling for breath, at risk of being caught inside a breaking wave and held down until she drowned, but at least without concern about sharks, because those predators had fled the storm-racked coast for deep-water calm.
    After all these years, the sea inspired in Makani little fear but much respect. Considering Rainer Sparks’s ability to enshroud himself and his potential victim in a kind of invisibility, where he could do as he wished without fear of witnesses, and considering as well his enthusiasm—his
thirst
—for violent murder, only a fool would not be terrified of him.
    Still no white Mercedes GL550 in the traffic behind her.
    At the end of the peninsula, she crossed Coast Highway and drove as fast as she dared into Newport Heights, where she lived.
    Her residence phone was unlisted; the street name and number were not in the phone directory. But her home address could be found with little effort. Sparks was many things, but he wasn’t stupid; within an hour, he would know where she lived.
    She had to pack what she needed and get out fast.
    When a wave is waning, it’s said to be “on the die.” In this case, Sparks was the wave, and he was
not
on the die, but swelling higher by the moment.
On the die
was also lingo for someone who was heading for a wipeout. Makani had given Sparks the slip; and in all other circumstances, she had long been confident of her ability to fend for herself. But now she felt intuitively that she was on the die, and she could not shake the feeling.

7
Round One
    Her house was a modest Craftsman-style bungalow in the sunny highlands above Newport Harbor, shaded by queen palms and skirted with ferns. The land had more value than the structure, though the lot offered no view of anything except the larger houses on the farther side of the street. Hers was a cozy home, with a deep front porch, and Makani hoped that she wouldn’t have to leave it forever.
    She parked in the driveway rather than in the garage, took the porch steps two at a time, keyed open the front door, and slammed it behind her. She stripped off her long-sleeve wrap and T-shirt and sports bra and boardshorts, discarding them as she hurried through the front rooms to the master bedroom at the back of the house.
    Naked, she felt two things: vulnerable and the need for a shower to wash off the sea salt, though the first ruled out the second. She donned fresh underwear, jeans, a bra, a clean T-shirt.
    After fetching an overnight bag from the walk-in closet and filling it with a change of clothes and a