Harbinger

by Emme DeWitt

  “I always wonder the same thing,” a guy’s voice said behind me.

  I spun around, my fist ready to strike. I lashed out first, panicking at the loud noise in a place that used to drive me insane from its stillness.

  A warm hand grabbed my fist, easily deflecting my attack but holding on. My eyes focused on the hand first, verifying it was in fact human. Normal. Alive.

  My eyes followed the arm attached to the hand, which thankfully was also attached to a set of shoulders, a chest, and a very amused face. Not a translucent image on repeat, but an actual human being. Or the closest proximity to one that could exist here.

  “Who are you?” I growled at my captor. Even after he’d clearly sidestepped my assault, he still held onto my hand. My free hand flexed in agitation, but I held back from surrendering my other hand to the stranger.

  My eyes surveyed the rest of the owner of the hand pressing my fist firmly in place. A boy about my age, with broad shoulders and only an inch or two on me, which was still impressive considering I nearly cleared six feet. His blue eyes matched the color of the sky in the daytime dreamscape, making the color drain from my face. Was he like me? Did he get stuck here every day, like I did every night?

  “Say something before my fist does the talking for me,” I growled, my free hand clenching in solidarity.

  The boy laughed, letting my hand go. He took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m sure I could take you, but just in case I can’t, I’d rather keep the peace and my pride intact,” he said with a wide grin. His shoulders shook with contained laughter, which just made me want to punch him even harder.

  “What are you doing here?” My words were laced with steel.

  “What are you doing here?” he replied, his good nature twisting the words from a demand to a curious request.

  “I asked first,” I argued.

  “I was here first.” He shrugged.

  “Hardly,” I said. “I’ve been visiting this place since I was ten.”

  “I’ve never seen you before,” he said. “And I’ve been here for what seems like forever.”

  “It’s not like this when I’m usually here.” I crossed my arms violently against my torso.

  “Oh?” His eyes glittered with curiosity. “It’s always like this for me. How does it normally look for you?”

  I squinted my eyes at him, trying to determine if he was messing with me. Was the dreamscape different depending on who visited it first? Or when it was visited? How many people had access to it?

  My feet circled around the boy as I surveyed him from all sides. The questions circling my brain fueled my physical circuit, and I made it around two times before he broke in.

  “Anything I can help with?” He tried unsuccessfully to keep a smile off his face.

  “I already asked you who you are and what your business is here, but since you’re being uncooperative, I’ll have to figure it out myself.” I paused in front of him.

  “You haven’t offered any of that information either,” he argued. He stuck his hand out to me. “Nice to meet you, fair lady. My name is Colm. And if you can figure out what I’m doing here, I’d like to know, too.”

  I shook his hand, a deep wrinkle creasing my forehead.

  “Noah,” I replied. “How long did you say you’ve been coming here?”

  Colm shrugged.

  “It’s been almost all the time lately. If I’m not here, it’s just blackness. Before that, I think I went to school.” Colm scratched the back of his head. “That’s where things get fuzzy. It’s, like, almost in my grasp, but then it slips away. You know what I mean?”

  “Hmmmm.” I stared at his face again. I got on my tiptoes, placing my hands on his shoulders. I stared into his clear blue eyes, searching for something. Some hint of recognition. Colm stiffened.

  I finally stepped back and crossed my arms.

  “I don’t think you’re a night visitor,” I said haltingly. “But I’m not sure that’s true either.”

  “Okay,” Colm said.

  A heavy silence dragged on, and I could hear the wind in the trees around us. As I shifted my weight, the grass crinkled beneath me. I brushed my ear against my shoulder in agitation. The noise was deafening.

  “You said it’s different when you come here,” Colm prompted me. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re sure as hell not here,” I said, the noise around me causing my tone to come out more prickly than I intended. I sighed. “It’s dark. There’s fog along the ground. No noise. And the people…”

  Colm’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “Well.” I paused to search for the best words to describe them. “They’re not as lively. Not in the traditional sense.”

  “What does that mean?” Colm asked, his eyes innocent of the weight of his innocuous question.

  “They’re like holograms,” I said. “You know, like in space movies?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Colm said. “That seems kind of weird.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a dry chuckle. “Kind of.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, shocked to find my uniform had transferred with me into the dreamscape. Normally at night, I was dressed in the same black clothes regardless of what I wore to bed. I frowned at the wool blend pants, demanding they answer for their presence.

  I felt Colm’s presence enter my personal space bubble.

  I looked up, and his face was only inches from mine. I stiffened, wondering what his play was.

  Instead of coming any closer, his hand reached out. His thumb traced the insignia on my lapel, and a ghost of a smile flickered across his face.

  “Do you recognize it?” I asked softly, not wanting to spook him.

  Colm’s eyes flicked up to meet mine. He seemed surprised at our sudden close proximity. I didn’t blink, holding his gaze. The air between us sizzled with energy, and Colm held his breath.

  I stepped back, creating an arm’s length distance between us, leaving Colm to bounce up on his toes. He shook his head, as if he’d been in a trance. My heart was pounding as well, but I tried to calm my breathing imperceptibly. My eyes were locked on Colm.

  Who was this kid?

  “You said you probably went to school, right?” I asked him, giving him something tangible to focus on. Colm’s eyes met mine again, this time with his head cocked in confusion. I tapped my lapel and the Windermere crest he’d latched onto only moments before. “Did you go to Windermere?”

  “Windermere,” Colm repeated softly to himself. Slowly he nodded his head. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

  The realization hit me like a sack of bricks.

  My mind flashed back to my conversation with Sean earlier this morning. His sort-of friend in the coma. The one whose practice room I was using. Because the kid was in a coma.

  I took a deep breath in, walking away from Colm and into the trees. My hands reflexively shot to my temples as I worked out the timeline of events again. Plugging in all the details, I could come to only one conclusion.

  “Noah,” Colm called after me, his feet making soft landfalls in the grass as he tried to catch up to my quick pace. “What is it?”

  “I need to think.” I waved him away.

  He caught my wrist instead, jerking me to a stop. He pulled me around to face him, his eyes darker in concern.

  “Tell me what’s going on in there.” Colm softly tapped my temple.

  I turned my head away from his touch, but his grip on my wrist was firm. I held it up in my line of sight.

  “Let me go, Colm,” I said in a low voice, the heat of my anger leaking through my vocal cords. Even here, it burned.

  I counted primes in my head to calm down. The anger had to go down, or I was going to lose control in front of Colm. If I threw a tantrum in the dreamscape at night, no one was there to get hurt. I could let it all out with no consequences. Now that I was in the daytime version along with Colm, I couldn’t be so sure my voice wouldn’t hurt him more than in real life.
>
  Colm let my wrist fall to my side, but he moved to block the direction I’d been moving in.

  “Talk to me,” he demanded. “What is it?”

  “I don’t even know. Not for sure.” I tried to walk around him. He blocked me easily, and I didn’t try to move him. “I don’t know enough yet to know for sure.”

  “Then what’s your best guess,” Colm pressed.

  “I hate guessing,” I muttered aloud to myself.

  “Humor me,” Colm said. “Hypothesize. Best educated inference.”

  His play on words made me take a step back, but he closed the gap, pressuring me with his presence. I could feel the desperate energy rolling off him, and it made me flinch.

  “Fine, but could you just,” I put my hands out in front of me, “give me some breathing room?”

  He obliged, but I could tell he wasn’t happy about it. His eyes scanned me continuously, as if trying to figure out if I was about to run or not.

  “I’ve heard your name,” I admitted. “At school.”

  “And?”

  “And.” I took a deep breath. A voice in my head warned that telling him he was in a coma would probably be the worst thing I could do. I didn’t know how he would take the news. “You’ve been in a coma since the beginning of the summer. It’s October now.”

  “October?” Colm stepped back at the news.

  “You’ve been unconscious for almost six months,” I said slowly.

  “I don’t remember you.” Colm shook his head.

  “I just transferred in.” My hands rose slowly in front of me. I felt like I was trying to placate a bear. I could tell Colm was one step away from losing his tenuous hold on reality. “I’ve been using your practice room. Your friend Sean told me about you.”

  “Sean?” Colm said. “Sean let you use my room? He hates everyone. He would never do that.” Colm frowned at me.

  “He said he would rather have it used than let it sit and gather dust. I promised not to be a bother, which is the only reason he let me.” I spoke softly. I took a tentative step toward Colm, but he seemed to be back on the downward spiral of panic.

  Panic I had caused.

  I closed the gap I’d created for myself as I saw the light in Colm’s eyes darken and almost extinguish. I kicked myself mentally for opening my big, dumb mouth.

  “Colm.” I laid my hands gently on his chest. The waffle texture of his thermal shirt was warm to the touch, but the light pressure of my hands didn’t seem to register to him.

  “Hey.” I moved his chin down to meet my gaze.

  Colm’s eyes snapped into focus once he saw my eyes.

  “Hey,” Colm said, the laugh lines near his eyes crinkling a little as a tightlipped smile forced its way onto his face.

  “We’re going to figure this out, okay?” I moved his head up and down in a nod with my grip on his chin.

  A flash of a toothy smile broke through the fog of panic, and Colm grabbed my hand, keeping it on his face.

  “Deal,” Colm said just as a cold knife stabbed through my gut.

  I doubled over in pain, but it was over as suddenly as it came. My breath came out in ragged pants, and I could hear Colm calling my name behind the ringing in my ears.

  “Noah!” Colm crouched next to me on the ground, my hands still in his. “Noah! Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I said through clenched teeth. Another shot of pain lanced through my stomach, and I screamed.

  Not a normal scream. A banshee scream.

  My throat was on fire, and I shut my eyes against everything. I could feel tears trickling down my face, and I crumpled to the ground as another stab joined the others, this time in rapid succession.

  “No!” I screamed, my voice raw with power. I could still feel the warmth of Colm’s hands cradling mine.

  Finally, I opened my eyes, determined to see the harm I’d caused Colm with my voice. I had to learn. I had to get better.

  But Colm’s clear blue eyes were staring at mine. Somehow, he had thunderstorms in his, I thought idly to myself. He seemed otherwise unharmed, which sent me reeling in surprise. I wasn’t allowed very long, however, before another lance broke through.

  “Noah,” Colm said softly. “Just give in to it. Fighting it isn’t helping you. I’ll be here. You have to go. Now.”

  I screamed again. All the anguish and the pain I’d bottled up from the past day of continuous torture finally came out. As soon as I ran out of breath, though, another shot of pain came. This time, I opened myself up to it, letting it swallow me whole.

  The warmth of Colm’s hands seeped through my consciousness as I was dragged back into consciousness.

  Once again, I could feel the hard wooden seat beneath me, my sweaty forehead still pressed to my wool-clad knees. I took a steadying breath, praying silently none of the screams I’d let loose in the dreamscape had filtered through to this side. I prepared for the padded van and the hug-me jacket.

  I felt a hand on my back. Something cold and inky was leaking through the barrier of my jacket, and my stomach dropped. In one movement, I grabbed the arm, moving it into a locked position before I launched the heel of my free palm into the solar plexus of whoever had been touching me and felt a satisfying sting on the palm of my hand.

  Twelve

  “Well, she’s sure awake now,” Mags’ voice said above me. “Remind me never to try and wake her up if she oversleeps again. I don’t think I can take the hit.”

  Adair groaned next to me, his body curled up on itself. I had to give it to him though. He didn’t even take a knee.

  “You all right?” Mags whispered to Adair, peering over his head. “Ms. X is still down there.”

  “It’s fine,” Adair gasped, his lip warbling into a grimace. “Just gotta walk it off.”

  Mags snorted. “You should probably go to the nurse to make sure she didn’t break a rib,” Mags whispered back.

  “Should have warned me,” Adair grunted, turning toward the exit.

  With his vacancy, the huddled circle barrier was broken and I could see the lecture hall was empty.

  “What happened?” I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples delicately.

  “You passed out in class,” a soft voice said next to me. I jumped when I saw the dark-haired girl from the library. Her large brown eyes looked at me unblinkingly, waiting for me to ask something else.

  My eyes narrowed a little.

  “You’ve been here the whole time?” I half asked.

  She nodded once.

  “Thankfully or you would have caused a bigger scene,” Mags said brusquely. She seemed leery of the dark-haired girl but was somehow begrudgingly grateful.

  “Scenes are no good,” I agreed.

  “We’ve got to stick together.” Mags sighed heavily. “It’s my fault. I should have filled you in last night.”

  “You’d think your foresight would be better attuned,” the doe-eyed girl muttered.

  My head bounced back and forth between the two, who were now locked in a glaring contest.

  “About what?” I said. My head felt like it was filled with cotton, and I pinched the bridge of my nose to try to calm the growing headache that was about to make my ears pop.

  “Little this, little that,” Mags said simply, sticking her tongue out at the other girl. “You okay to walk?”

  “Yeah.” I grabbed my bag but stood up too fast. I reached for the armrest, and someone caught my elbow. I looked over to thank the girl once again, but she was already waving off the thought before I could open up my mouth. After a deep breath, I managed to shuffle to the aisle unassisted.

  “Ms. Young,” Ms. Xavier called from the base of the amphitheater.

  I grimaced before turning on my heels to face her. I schooled my face before I got into trouble for that, too.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, feeling the air being sucked in on either side of me. Great. Clearly a teacher I wanted to upset.

  “To make up for your nap during my c
lass, I hope you’ll join me for some one-on-one tutoring every Saturday for the rest of the semester. Don’t let it happen again.” Ms. Xavier looked down her nose at me above her sharp black frames.

  I swallowed hard, trying to force away the indignant backtalk about to spew out of my mouth. How was an hour of passing out worth six weeks of Saturday detention?

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said again, biting the inside of my cheek hard until the air compressor of the side door hissed shut.

  “Wow,” Mags said, her mouth slightly agape. “That was harsh.”

  “It was good you didn’t argue with her,” the girl said. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

  Both Mags and I peered at the girl as if she’d grown horns from her head.

  “You go then,” Mags said in my defense.

  The girl shrugged.

  “So.” I tried to think about anything else other than my doomed Saturdays for the coming eternity. “What were you saying before? About filling me in?”

  “Right.” Mags checked her phone for the time. “Now’s as good a time as any. Scurry along, I’ve got this.” Mags dismissed the dark-haired girl, who looked mildly put off.

  “Enjoy getting the party line,” the girl muttered only loudly enough for me to hear before she ghosted through the nearest door. She left so quietly, I had to watch her go to make sure she really had left.

  “Weird, that one.” Mags blew a stray chunk of fuchsia out of the way of her clouded eye.

  “Bunch of June Cleavers you’ve got here,” I said dryly back. “Who’s she anyway?”

  “Little Mouse?” Mags leaned against the nearest row of chairs. “That’s Evangeline. The only time she comes out of hiding is for this class. You’ve seen her?”

  “Yeah, couple of times.” I frowned at the door Evangeline had just exited through.

  “She’s got extreme social anxiety. Keeps to herself. She’s in the library more than the librarians.” Mags shook her head. “It’s gotten bad lately. I don’t even see her at the Landing or at meals.”

  “So she’s Landing, too?” I asked. “Is there anyone normal in the Landing?”

  “Scholarship Landing, aka Cavanaugh House, has been home to the weird, the poor, and the too brilliant for their own good since the school started. I doubt your quote unquote normal brethren would dare step foot in that tradition.” Mags snorted and crossed her arms. “Plus, the new dorms have been new for ten years and they still smell like plaster and new paint. It’s toxic.”