As I stood blinking through the freeze-frames of my memories, my attention shot to a low, vibrating sound growing behind me. I spun around and scanned the wooded perimeter of the grounds, trailing my vision down the road that led me to the estate. The unsettling sound came from the narrow drive. A wave of shuffling and dragging along the dirt and gravel stiffened my spine.
But it was the eerie moaning that made my hair stand up on end—several voices united in collective despair, resonating through my brain, forcing me to run and hide. I jumped behind the famine pot and held on to the rim as I crouched and peeked around its bulging side for a better look.
I pinched my leg to gage reality as I realized I was reacting within my vision. I’d never actually responded in one before. I had only observed from afar, but this time, I was here, living it. Terror widened my eyes as my heart rate tripled.
Haunting groans and desperate wails grew louder as the rhythm of staggering footsteps sent a chill into my heart, stopping my breathing like ice. I held my breath and stared at the road, anticipating whatever it was that would appear from around the bend.
Then, like slow motion, a band of ragged, skeletal people moved into view. At first twenty, then forty, then a hundred. Stumbling and dragging their own weight, they pushed themselves onward toward whatever it was they sought. Tattered and worn, their clothing hung from them. Their drawn faces held no color or life, only grief.
Without slowing, they continued to move closer and I inched away from my hiding spot, looking behind me for a place to run. I stumbled on wobbly knees, stiff from crouching for so long, and scrambled back behind the caldron. But it was too late.
The movement got their attention and all eyes shot in my direction. With hollow stares, their gazes locked on me as if I were really there. I’d never been seen before within a vision so it made no sense, but their eyes met mine with clear desperation. My breath sucked in as their pace quickened and they moved directly for me. Their moans grew to a higher pitch, one of hope for salvation, as they hobbled and limped with focus and determination.
I stepped backward, again and again, shaking my head in fear as they came closer with arms stretched out toward me—ripped fabric hanging from skin and bones. Death itself was coming for me.
I turned on my heels and ran up the wide expanse of granite stairs to the estate. Smashing into the huge white door, I pushed and pulled on it, banging with all my might. My fists pounded onto the door in panic, pulling paint and splinters off and tearing bits of my skin.
"Let me in! Help me!" I screamed.
I turned back to look over my shoulder and my heart rate went into overdrive, beating in my ears as I watched the tattered, broken people moving up the lawn to the terrace.
I tore along the front of the manor to the corner and pulled myself around the side. Searching for another way in, I peered back at the endless wave of walking dead and exhaled the air I'd been holding since first seeing them.
They'd stopped their pursuit of me.
Instead, they swarmed around the caldron, reaching into its vast emptiness, and their wails broke out into cries that shattered my mind and my soul.
Several of the hopeless fell to their knees. Others laid on their backs staring into the sky, waiting to be taken from their misery. Some collapsed and died before they hit the ground.
My hands flew up to my open mouth and then pulled back through my hair. As my head shook in denial of what I was seeing, my feet carried me backward, away from the horrific scene.
I turned and ran without stopping, without looking back.
I ran across the open lawn behind the manor and went straight for the thick of the trees. I flew into the cover of the forest and tripped over roots and rocks. The more I stumbled, the slower I moved.
Looking down at my tripping feet, I screamed out in shock as I stumbled across burial mound after burial mound. Mud sucked at my feet as I tramped over countless fresh, unmarked graves that surrounded an elaborate family cemetery of masterfully carved crypts and decorated plots of ornate stonework. The mess of hurried, shallow graves all around the cemetery filled my sight everywhere I looked and the terror of being trapped amongst the dead nearly dropped me to my knees.
In a final gasping attempt at escape, I turned and threw myself out of the thick cover of the woods, back onto the massive, open lawn. And I ran.
Fists pounding, hair flying behind me, I ran faster than I'd ever run. My lungs burned for more air as my feet fumbled and squished through the boggy ground and I tore around the far side of the estate. Tears streamed from my eyes, blurring my vision, and my ankles twisted on the uneven terrain. Stumbling down a hill, I slowed my pace and wiped at my eyes for clarity.
Holding my breath, I looked behind me and all around, to be sure they weren't coming after me, the living or the dead. But all I saw was vast, rolling green hills leading out to a blissful sea. My air released from my lungs in a huff as I blinked into my new, safe surroundings.
Doona stood proudly by the sea. My gaze moved back up the landscape toward the clearing. I'd left it far behind in my panicked run and my eyes scrunched, trying to understand what just happened.
It was my vision.
It had found me again and its familiar haunting still twitched in my muscles.
And this one was more powerful than any I'd ever had. I'd never actually run from anyone in them before, or been chased. I would always just watch as the vision unfolded, like a bystander, but this time…this time they saw me and they came for me.
A shudder ran through my soul and shook my bones. Something had shifted, expanded. I looked behind me one more time to be sure the tattered people hadn't followed me back here. Back to the present. Because something else was different now. My vision had actually taken me to a different time, rather than just showing me a scene to watch.
My hands ran through my hair as my eyes grew wide. Then my face twinged and I squinted in pain. I pulled my hands out from my hair but they snagged in it, causing jabs of sharp burning as the hairs caught on jagged bits in my skin. As I scanned the outer edges of my palms, my jaw fell open. I stared at the splinters and deep scratches that covered them. I picked the larger slivers of wood out of my skin and winced in pain. Cracked white paint covered each piece and my shallow breathing shot to rapid panting in an instant.
My desperate pounding on the enormous front door. It had torn at my fists, causing them to bruise and bleed. But that was in my vision. I stared at my damaged, jittering palms again, and held my breath in wide-eyed panic.
Shaking my head, I picked up my pace and hurried to the car. I had to get the hell out of there.
It was real. Somehow it had all become too real.
The sound of my feet crunching through gravel filled my ears as I raced to the car, looking back over my shoulder every other step. Off in the distance, somewhere on the wind, the dragging and shuffling of the ragged people in my vision filled the spaces between the grinding of the stones under my feet. Swatting at my ears, I couldn’t stop the haunting sound. They were still close, somehow.
Throwing open the car door, I dove in and dug for the keys feeling like I was being tracked by the mob of undead. My heart pounded out of my chest as my voice squeaked out of me. “Jesus, Izzy. Get a grip.” I looked up to be sure the car hadn’t been surrounded by flesh-hungry zombies. “I’m losing my mind now, for real.”
The keys fell out of my jacket pocket after I shook it and my head reeled back in utter relief as the engine roared to life. Shooting gravel in two powerful streams behind me, I tore down the dirt road like I’d seen a ghost.
And I had.
Hundreds of them.
And now it was different.
I pulled at small splinters in my hands with my teeth as I drove.
It was a new feeling this time. One that terrified me.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Gram always said. And now, her words rang true as I drove away from my threatening vision. The one where, this time, I had con
trol within it. Control I had been searching for and dreaming of for years.
But now, all I wanted to do was run.
Chapter Three
I needed help. And there was only one place I could hope to find it.
My heart beat continued to pound in my ears, heightening my internal alarm. Instead of running straight home to Gram's and hiding under my bed, I flew through the roundabout on two wheels toward NUIG to find Declan and Michelle.
I had no doubt they’d be at the university in their usual spot drinking coffee and researching the paranormal. My eyes rolled at my judgmental thoughts about their graduate work. I mean, I was sure their dissertations would be great, but their perspective was padded and safe. I, on the other hand, was living this crap. I only wished I could write about it from their cozy place in the college library, instead of running from it all time.
I parked and flew past the gothic spires of the ivy-covered university quadrangle, then trailed along the walkways toward the library. My lips moved as I mumbled to myself, shaking my head and processing what I had just witnessed.
A couple college girls passed me and stared with raised eyebrows, then chuckled as they looked back for one more glance. Shit. No matter how I tried, I always looked like the awkward freak, standing out like a sore thumb.
But this was college. I stood a little taller as I shook off their rude behavior. Somehow, it was safer than secondary school and I could let things roll off me more easily. I'd always felt at ease here, like I belonged—unlike my own school where the kids shunned me. I'd been labeled 'untouchable' to the point where if anyone sat with me or spoke with me, they would jeopardize their own social standing and would fall in rank. It was foolish, the rules of high school, but it was also desperately painful.
I returned my focus to my own mission. I had to remain focused on me, not them. I was what mattered and they, well, they would disappear from my life after graduation. I ground my molars at the fact that I was still even thinking about them.
"Ugh!" My head fell back. "Grrrrrrr…" I allowed my growl to lead me away from thoughts of my school tormentors to the people who really mattered in my life. My big brother, Declan, and his awesome American fiancé, Michelle.
I leapt up the steps of the library and flew inside, allowing the door to slam behind me, leaving behind my fears—the real ones of dying people stalking me and the unreal ones of insidious social collateral and pecking order.
I hesitated as I considered my concepts of what was real versus unreal and my eyebrows scrunched together.
The smell of old books and the calming, hushed tones of murmuring voices blanketed me and my shoulders fell from my ears as I welcomed the comfort. I snaked through the maze of computer stations and bookshelves to their favorite spot by the corner windows overlooking the Corrib River.
I plopped into an armchair next to them and released my tense muscles, allowing myself to be absorbed into the fabric of the chair. Declan and Michelle looked up at the same time and their studious faces turned ashen.
"What the fook happened to ya?" Declan’s voice fell out of him as he leaned toward me from the edge of his chair. "Jazus."
"What?" I pulled back in offense and ran my fingers through my hair to try to comb it down.
Michelle fumbled with her phone and reversed the camera. She held it out and passed it to me.
I peered into the phone at my image and nearly died. I'd forgotten about the heavy black eyeliner I put on this morning and my futile attempt at mascara, both of which were streaming down my face like I was a goth-zombie.
"Shit!" I blurted out while licking my finger and wiping at the black smears that trailed all over my face. "Well that's the last time I make any attempt at the cat-eye thing."
Michelle burst out laughing in a blast of air and spit. Her loud guffaws and vibrating snorts always released her built-up stress, making it obvious when she was uncomfortable. It was one of my favorite things about her, aside from her Boston accent, but this time not so much, considering I was the source of her discomfort.
"Izzy, what the hell happened to you?" she gasped. "You look like you’ve been to hell."
"Yeah. Kinda," I replied in a whisper. "I think I have, actually."
Declan straightened in his chair and smacked his laptop closed. "What did you do, Izzy?" His judgmental tone disciplined me before he even heard my explanation.
The moment my story hit the part where I was alone in the clearing, having a vision, Declan stood, gathering his things. Michelle's eyes followed his every choppy move as he shoved his computer into his bag.
"Does Gram even know you took her car? And you're supposed to be in school. How many days is that now? They probably won't even let you graduate at this rate." His lecture shut me down and I looked to Michelle for relief.
He was right though. From his perspective, I was the wayward sister who had fallen off her path. He worried about me all the time. But in my heart, it felt like I had finally fallen onto my path, allowing myself to be who I was meant to be and to embrace my visions somehow. I needed him to know this.
Michelle took Declan's arm and pulled his attention off me for a minute.
"Come on, Declan," she said. "Let's just get Izzy home and figure things out there. No one got hurt, so let's just—"
"She could've got hurt though," he interrupted, then shot a glare at me. "You need to be more careful. Don't, don't invite these things, these visions, into your life. You're just looking for trouble,” he snapped.
I couldn't blame him, I guess. He had taken on the parent role for me long ago. I mean, Gram was my actual guardian since my parents passed, but she was, well, old and clueless. She loved us and took care of our every need, but old-school was an understatement. She basically followed the church ladies around, hanging on their every word and helping them with every new project.
Declan wasn't home much anymore though. He lived with Michelle now like they were an old married couple, so most of Gram's focus was now on me. Which was fabulous.
They followed me along the coast road in Michelle’s car and as I passed my school, a twitch of guilt tightened my stomach. It was too late to go in now and I crouched low in my seat as I turned onto Gram’s road.
My eyes followed the semi-attached townhouses, one by one, all of them identical, yet I knew each one individually like the back of my hand. I'd walked past these houses my entire life. We pulled the cars into Gram's short driveway and hopped out. I prayed she hadn’t noticed her car missing. Again.
The front door was open before we reached the stoop and Gram greeted us with open arms.
"A sight for sore eyes. In wit' ya." She hugged us all and pulled us into the foyer. "I've just taken the scones out ta cool and the kettle's on."
She looked back out at the car, wiping her hands on her apron. Her squinting eyes proved things weren’t adding up for her but she closed the door anyway and walked to the kitchen with us.
The smell of the house filled my senses and brought a comforting smile to my face. My eyes trailed up the stairs along the old-fashioned carpeting and absorbed the ostentatious floral pattern of the wallpaper that clashed with the design on the steps. The musty smell of antiques laced the air, mixed with fresh-baked scones and newly dried laundry. It was home.
We sat in the dining room on orange-cushioned seats and my arms rested on the seasoned wood table, barely propping me up.
Gram poured the tea and placed marmalade and butter on the lazy-Susan. Starving, I grabbed a scone and covered it in both and shoved it into my mouth. The emptiness in my stomach ached as a desperation to fill it consumed me.
"Easy, lassie, ya'll choke on the crumbs." Gram rested her hand on my shoulder and smiled.
But she was right.
The crumbs lodged in my throat as it constricted with emotion, tightening with guilt while I thought of the starved souls in my vision. I coughed and crumbs flew from my mouth.
My eyes locked on the images in my head and I stared into space.
Visions of the dying people filled my sight and I reeled back in horror. Another cough. More crumbs. More pictures of starving, ragged villagers coming for me with outstretched arms.
I shook with terror and my shoulders jolted. Then, like waking from a dream, I blinked back to Gram's table as Michelle and Declan stared at me, jaws dropped. Gram continued to shake my shoulders and then pounded a heavy thud onto my back.
I coughed more crumbs out and gasped for a life-saving breath of air as all eyes pierced through me, searching for an explanation.
I stared back at everyone as embarrassment washed over me. I watched Gram take a step back. Her face transformed from happy homemaker to concerned guardian.
"It's happening again?" she asked in a low tone.
I nodded slowly.
It had never stopped actually, but I’d been able to hide my visions from Gram for the most part. I wanted to protect her from worry, but more so, I needed to protect myself from her aggressive interventions.
Gram had taken me to see every specialist, every esteemed shrink, and even had me sectioned—twice. The emergency psych ward was the worst. I'd been taken by ambulance for immediate evaluation and easily convinced them I was sane, but Gram rattled on about psychosis. I squeezed the rest of my scone to crumbs from the awful memories.
I was determined that would never happen again. Ever.
I was old enough now to push back as well, though I didn't want to have to do that to Gram. But there was no way I'd go to a hospital again. They were filled with meds that made me comatose and caused me to lose days of memory, the staff trying to make me believe I was insane. No way.
But I saw the familiar look in Gram's eye. It held fear and desperation.
Maybe if I explained things for her, maybe she would understand better.
I looked to Declan and Michelle for help. They could usually temper things so Gram wouldn't overreact.
"Gram, please don't panic. This is just a part of me. It's who I am.” I started with caution. “I have these strange visions but it doesn't mean I’m insane or certifiable or anything like that. Please stop trying to get me hospitalized and just listen." My trembling voice pleaded with her.
Urban Mystic Academy: Graduation (A Supernatural Academy Series Book 6) Page 14
