Harbinger

by Emme DeWitt

  My eyes couldn’t help it. They shifted directly into his line of sight as soon as I stopped telling myself to avoid it.

  “Are you sure? Because I’m not so sure,” I admitted, a lump forming in my throat. “I’m not sure I’m not dead right now.”

  “You’re definitely not dead,” Colm assured me with a pat of his hand. “If you were dead, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

  “How do you know?”

  “A very smart girl told me I wasn’t dead, just sleeping. Your consciousness is here, but you’re definitely still breathing on the other side. If that logic works for me, it’s gotta work for you, too, right?”

  “That very smart girl doesn’t know everything,” I muttered darkly. “If she did, she would know how to get out of here.”

  Colm squeezed my hand, bounding up and dragging me with him. “Come on, let me show you something.” Colm led me through the trees. “It’ll take your mind off solving the world’s problems for a minute.”

  “Just solving my own for starters would be great,” I said, sulking as I was dragged behind Colm up molehills and around twisted root systems.

  As soon as we ducked under a low-hanging branch, Colm stopped abruptly. I ran into his back, but he remained unmoved.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Colm asked, making me step out from behind his shadow to see what I was supposed to be looking at.

  We were standing in front of a lake. I did a double take at the expanse of water bordered by a rocky beach and a sea of thrushes and marsh weeds. My jaw dropped.

  “I know, right?” Colm said. “It’s breathtaking.”

  “When did you find this?” I asked, my eyes bouncing back and forth between the variety of elements in the lake. Another look and the size was more pond like, but it was much larger than I ever expected anything to be in the dreamscape. The trees were always thick and endless, but the perspective never allowed me to think of it in its entirety. It always presented itself like a false image loop on endless repeat.

  Colm shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “I’ve never seen this before,” I said.

  “Really?” Colm turned to face me. “I thought you said you’d been visiting since you were little.”

  “I have been,” I said in a hushed tone. “Don’t forget it looks different at night. I don’t even know if this part is here at night.”

  “Has to be, right?” Colm said.

  “That’s in the no friggin’ clue column,” I muttered darkly. “It’s a really crowded column these days.”

  “So, how did you get here today? Not that I’m complaining.” A smile pulled at his cheek. For the first time, I noticed he had a dimple.

  I sighed heavily.

  “No friggin’ clue?” Colm asked. “Well, that’s a shame. It’d be nice to see you more.”

  I stopped glaring at the marsh grass and turned to look at Colm instead.

  “Why?” I asked bluntly. I bit the inside of my cheek as soon as it came out.

  “Not sure,” Colm said with a full smile. “It’s nice to talk to someone.”

  “Bet you’re wishing someone much nicer than me was able to visit.” I snorted.

  “Nah.” Colm bumped my shoulder slightly. “Wouldn’t be nearly as eventful.”

  “I am good for some party tricks,” I replied in a dry voice. Looking out onto the lake, a wave of sadness came over me. “Yeah, I would definitely remember this.”

  “It’ll give you an excuse to visit,” Colm said. “Other than me, of course.”

  “Of course.” A halting chuckle escaped me. Somehow I was feeling a little less doomsday about my possible death. I’d been convinced Colm was just stuck here as a daytime visitor because his consciousness was stuck between life and death. Now that I was here though, my logic felt weaker somehow.

  My knees buckled underneath me, but Colm caught me and lowered me to the ground.

  “Noah?” Colm’s face was creased with worry.

  “Sorry.” I shook my head. I was feeling lightheaded.

  “I think you’re getting pulled back,” Colm said. “Better not fight it.”

  I groaned, sticking my head between my knees to stop the lakeside from spinning.

  “Whoever is piloting this sucks at the landing,” I muttered nonsensically.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Colm’s voice said from too far away.

  I felt a warm pressure on my head, but it was gone as soon as I registered it.

  My palms stung. I could feel the scrapes on my knees as well, but I couldn’t seem to open my eyes.

  Slowly, I flexed my fingers, then my toes. Pins and needles lanced through my limbs, and finally I could feel the scratchy carpet against my cheek. It smelled like bleach and old socks. My nose crinkled, and I opened my eyes.

  I was on my side on the floor of the practice room. Sean hovered over me.

  “Are you okay?” Sean asked, his perpetual grumpy frown laced with concern.

  “Your guitar is fine,” I gurgled, wincing at the pain in my throat. My hand flopped toward where I’d set the guitar safely against the wall before I passed out.

  “Have you eaten today?” Sean grilled me, taking my pulse and counting the beats to the ticking of his wristwatch.

  “What kind of question is that?” I asked, trying to push him away so I could sit up.

  Sean shoved me back down, keeping his focus on my pulse. “A necessary one. Get out.” Sean bounced up from his heels. “Go grab dinner.”

  “I’m fine.” I teetered to a sitting position. I had to pause, waiting for the pendulum in my head to stop swinging so erratically all over the place. My free hand went to my temple.

  “Shut up and go eat,” Sean said brusquely, “or you’re never touching Sharon again.”

  “Who the hell’s Sharon?” I muttered before I could catch my tongue.

  Sean jabbed his thumb at the cherry red guitar, and my brain sluggishly caught up with his meaning.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m only going because I was about to go anyway.”

  Sean let out an annoyed sigh, offering his hand to me in an odd repeat of fate. I took it without saying anything, shoving past him through the door.

  “You’re banned for the next hour,” Sean said. “I don’t want to see you unless you’re about to explode from eating so much at dinner.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” I muttered. “Make sure no one steals my stuff.”

  Sean shut the door emphatically, checking the lock so I could see no one would get in.

  He sighed again, waiting for me to get to the end of the hall. The lights buzzed on as I walked slowly to the staircase. I was mad at myself for dragging him into my mess, but I was secretly glad he’d been the one to find me. As much as he seemed to want to stay out of my drama, he was damn good at being there at the exact right time to turn it all around.

  I trudged up the staircase one loud bang at a time. Just as I was turning onto the next landing, I glanced at the small windowpane in the door, seeing a flash of darkness right before the light dimmed. The jerk had enough heart to make sure I got up the stairs okay. I sighed, sending a silent apology to him for interrupting his practice time.

  My phone buzzed again. Another email from Mags with a bunch of question marks. Succinct. I groaned as I rounded the final flight of stairs. I would have to have an audience for my dinner. I couldn’t avoid Mags or the other Landing kids for very long. The smell of garlic bread lulled me into a false sense of security as I flung the door open. Maybe if I ate enough garlic, my dragon breath would scare them off. I hoped it would be that easy.

  Seventeen

  “About damn time,” Mags said as she sat down across from me.

  I was dutifully shoving my face full of tortellini with only the occasional break for a piece of garlic bread. I could have chosen from the many varied healthy dishes, but today’s episode left me feeling drained and empty. Only copious amount of dairy and simple carbohydrates could turn this day
around.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled through a full mouth. “Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

  “I put read receipts on my emails.” Mags gave me a pointed look.

  I answered with a shrug.

  “We were worried about you,” Adair said, frowning at Mags’ pettiness. “How did your detention go?”

  “Fine.” I filled my empty mouth with another forkful of pasta.

  “I’ve never heard of Ms. X giving detention,” Adair continued. “I’m a little impressed.”

  “Why?” I said, any filter I’d previously attempted being irreparably broken by the past two hours.

  “Oh, just that you seem unscathed,” Mags said with a small smile. “Guess you’re tougher than we thought.”

  “How’s your ribcage?” I asked Adair, my tone flat.

  “Fine, just a little bruised,” Adair said. “Apparently getting beaten by Mags has made me invincible to surprise attacks.”

  “Hardly.” Mags scoffed. Her attention was zeroed in on me. “Noah must not hit as hard as I do.”

  “No need to test that theory, thanks,” Adair said with a fake chuckle. “You can get another volunteer for that.”

  I didn’t even care enough to react to Mags’ slight against me. I stabbed at the remaining tortellini in my bowl, ripping them savagely off my fork.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Adair asked, looking nervously at my four-pronged weapon.

  Mags frowned at me again. “Yeah, you seem off,” Mags said.

  Adair winced, aware that two of the kids were no longer playing nice.

  I looked up from my nearly empty bowl, my arms crossed and bracing my stabbing arm. I glanced between the two inquisitors and sighed. I was not up for this interaction right now.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked, dropping my fork and abandoning what remained of my dinner.

  The two remained still and silent. Not even a shrug.

  “Do you even know me well enough to know if I’m acting quote unquote normal?” I said, finally speaking of the elephant in the room. “Maybe this is my natural disposition.”

  “If you were a cartoon, you would have a black thundercloud above your head,” Mags said. “It doesn’t take a genius to tell something’s up.”

  “Is my dark cloud any of your business?” I shot back. “I didn’t realize that was in the roommate agreement.”

  “If you would let us help,” Mags said through gritted teeth, “I’m sure we could figure something out.”

  “You’re assuming that it’s a super special gifted problem.” My voice was dripping with venom. “What if it’s something as mundane as I had a fight with my mom?”

  “You don’t have one,” Mags said back with equal animosity.

  “Mags!” Adair said, his voice full of disapproval.

  I inhaled deeply. “I don’t know what kind of dossier you have on me, but I can assure you it’s not complete nor accurate.” My throat was burning again. “Stop trying to pretend like you know anything about me.”

  “If you would just let us help you, things would get better. Easier,” Mags said. “Just stop being so arrogant!”

  “You’re one to talk. You say you can help, but can you? Really?” I said. “How can you help Adair? How can you help Evangeline? All you can do is predict the weather and tell me to bring an umbrella.”

  Adair let out a frustrated hiss, pinching the bridge of his nose. Mags’ good eye was shining, and I could tell I’d hit a nerve.

  “We’re stronger together,” Mags said, her voice strangled as she tried to contain her anger without shouting our business for the entire dining hall to hear. “You can’t do this on your own.”

  “Watch me.” I stood and grabbed my bowl. I chucked it so hard into the nearest bus bin that it cracked, which only made me growl in frustration.

  I stormed past the table on my way back to the practice rooms. It was a shame I didn’t have a punching bag in there. Right now, that seemed like the best way to let out steam.

  Whispers followed me as I wove through the sea of half-filled tables of students attempting to grab a leisurely dinner. I ripped my phone from my pocket, finding I’d only been away from the practice rooms for forty minutes. Whatever. Sean was going to have to deal with it or get further entrenched in my drama.

  I took great pleasure in making even more racket on my way down the stairs. The violence of the sound waves bouncing back at me buoyed my mood, convincing me the world was just as angry as I was. If there was something I hated more than illogical people, it was people thinking they knew me when they clearly didn’t. The pretense alone made my skin crawl.

  I hauled the door open and stormed down the hallway, unlocking the practice room savagely before Sean could even pop his head out to scold me for the ruckus. I slammed the door shut behind me, locking it and switching off the lights.

  A banging came at the door, but I slid down against it, exhausted. My anger was extinguished with the light.

  “Noah? Is that you?” Sean’s voice called through the thick wood. It sounded like he was calling through a tunnel. Just enough sound made it through the door that I could hear him faintly.

  He pounded again, and I answered with a pound of my own. My hand stung from the impact, but it was nice to hit something without damaging anything.

  “One knock if you’re okay, two if I should open the door,” Sean called, extending an olive branch through the locked door.

  I pounded once.

  “Knock once if you ate,” Sean said, “two knocks if you’re going to pass out again.”

  I pounded three times.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Sean called through the door. I could hear him grumbling under his breath.

  “Go away,” I shouted through the door.

  “Fine, fine, but if you pass out in there, you’re going to die alone,” Sean warned, slamming his door behind him.

  I sighed, sorry to take it out on him. I just couldn’t handle anything anymore. I was beyond my limit.

  Eighteen

  My brief foray into the daylit dreamscape had thrown off my internal clock. By the time I felt the pull of the dreamscape, I didn’t have anywhere else to go except barricade myself in the practice room once more. Whenever I tried to push the timing, I always felt nauseated. I fought the pull long enough to stick my head out into the hall, checking to see if the light was still on in Sean’s practice room.

  I sighed in relief, seeing his light was the only one lit in the entire hall. As a signal to him, I turned my light on. I had a feeling he would try to check in on me before he left, but at least the light would sate his curiosity.

  As soon as I locked the door behind me, the floor tilted beneath me. I managed to fall softly against the porous soundproof tiles lining the wall, letting gravity set me down like an oversized doll.

  I blinked, and I was in the dreamscape again.

  My heavy sigh disturbed the foggy tendrils that rushed in to wrap around my knees, but it was somehow less satisfying without the noise. I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked. Standing still was making silly thoughts run through my head, like how the dreamscape was much better when it was shared with Colm.

  I tried to walk in the direction of the lake Colm had shown me only hours before.

  When I climbed the same ridge of twisted roots a second time, only the endless forest greeted me.

  I kicked at the fog, but after two kicks, I lost interest again.

  A light blinked at me in the distance, once, twice, then it went dark. I pulled at the sides of my eyes, trying to determine the cause from where I was standing. I could see the different shimmering smudges of the other night visitors, but I’d never seen a light before.

  I took off at a jog, refusing to blink so I wouldn’t lose my destination to distraction. I slowed right before the spot I was convinced was the source of the light show. Several feet to my right was a night visitor, its loop in constant flux. Through the trees, I could count on
two hands the number of night visitors. This was an older section that had filled up a long time ago, but I hadn’t been paying enough attention back then to know exactly when. At least a few years.

  The ground beneath my feet was black, the fog refusing to pass over the spot. The steady tide of the fog split around the spot as if a rock was blocking the flow.

  Or a night visitor.

  I spun around again, trying to remember which night visitor had been here. My thoughts spun around, but the search was ultimately fruitless. I crouched down to the spot the night visitor had been anchored. Unlike the rest of the dreamscape, the black patch on the ground looked scorched and was emitting heat.

  Never in all my years in the dreamscape had I witnessed a night visitor being pulled from the landscape. My stomach turned as my fingertips traced the newly marked land. Was this normal? Or was something wrong?

  I brushed my hand against my pant leg, trying to wipe away the nervous sweat I was convinced had pooled in my hand. My skin was crawling, and I had a sudden urge to run away from the spot. I backed up, tripping over my own feet in my haste.

  Suddenly, the fog froze. I felt a boom erupt in the distance and clapped my hands to my ears in surprise. After so long without any noise, the vibrations struck me violently. My hands came away wet, and I realized I was bleeding.

  Distracted by the red smear lines on my palms, I looked up to find the fog moving once more. This time, nothing stopped the rolling tide from swallowing up the space previously occupied by the night visitor.

  I leapt back into the approximate spot, sticking my hand below the surface of the fog, feeling around for the scorched spot. My fingers bent back, proving my hand was against a hard surface, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

  My hand sliced through the fog as I punched the silent atmosphere. In less than a second, the fog flowed back as it was and I had nothing to show for my angry outburst. My feet were moving before I had a destination in mind. I couldn’t storm around the dreamscape all night.

  I needed a plan. Hell, I needed a hypothesis. Something I could prove was or was not happening.