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pyrophile and a fine pyrochemist. After
However, he has only once before experienced a montage like this, images flashing at him like quick cuts in a film, with smells and sounds—and it was this identical sequence of these same scenes. Never until now has a vision repeated, which suggests this one is more urgent and of greater importance than others he has endured.
“Regina,”
within his skull, a figure floats, more mist than material, a beautiful woman with pale hair and purple-blue eyes, who passes in a moment and recedes into a darkness where he cannot follow.
The entire vision—from the ponytailed imp with peppermint breath to the toy rabbit lying on rain-puddled pavement in the grip of a hand without its girl—surely must be a premonition of terror oncoming. Whether it is a chain-reaction traffic accident involving many vehicles or something else, he can’t imagine how it can evolve from—or have a connection to—Danny Doyle. It must be an event that will occur a week from now, or in a month, a year.
