Jonathan: Prince of Dreams

by A Corrin

  He stuck his grill into mine, the plastic clicking together, and shouted, “Waz up?” Cheering, he ran to join his whooping teammates.

  I struggled to my feet, furiously dusting myself off and rubbing in my grass stains. The stadium loomed in the corner of my eye, stringy verses of an encouraging chant drifted past my ears. Was Garrett up there in those bleachers? That’d be great; he showed up to his first football game ever in time to see me fail. After all, the vision swimming in my head was nothing more than the ghost of an epic dream. Reality was a much harsher, colder mistress—here, I was no chivalric knight. I was just...little old me.

  We adjusted the line of scrimmage, and this time the Minotaurs intercepted the ball, running it back for a touchdown, and added the extra point on the kick. They were up 7-0.

  I tried not to seem too discouraged. Coach slumped deflated on the sidelines. I stood tall, ready to run to him and receive a play but he noticed, shook his head, and gave a series of gestures. I hesitated but nodded and returned to my position. The Minotaurs were winded after their hard work. It would benefit us to avoid a huddle and defy them a chance to rest and catch their breath. I envisioned myself as the knight in my dream, side by side with comrades in arms, leading them into the charge. Maybe I wasn’t really some armored hero, but Firestone needed this win after what had happened to Tyson. I needed this.

  I returned to my position behind the center and squeezed the shoulders of the guys behind me as I went. One of them, Manuel, his chest heaving and breath leaving him in clouds, gasped, “Damn, they’re quick!”

  “Tomahawk Down Hot!” I shouted, my breath exploding from my helmet like dragon’s breath. “Tomahawk Down Hot!”

  Okay, Griffins, I thought, replacing my mouthguard, we let them have that one. The Minotaur defense was fast and tough. But with the right holes plugged and Alex and Drew flanking me I could do a pump fake, acting a pass, sprint through, and try to get us back on the road. Alex, one of the leanest guys on the team, was our speedster. I could see through his helmet that his bright, pointed face was alight with the thrill of the game. Drew, about a hundred pounds heavier, would be an unyielding wall of muscle defending us.

  The whistle was blown, and after the snap the center thrust the ball back into my hands. I gripped it and joined Alex and Drew.

  Faking as if I’d passed Alex the ball, I slowed down to a jog, and Alex sped up, beelining right. The Minotaurs’ linemen veered to chase him, and Drew strayed away to tackle someone coming up on my tail. Now I picked up speed, twisted and turned, flying over the grass.

  A great weight pulled on my leg, and I looked down to see the same Mr. Brawny who’d taken me down before. The dream-dragon in my mind roared its fury and snatched at me with its great talons. But I was so close, and I would not be defeated. I dragged us both forward and fell over the line. Touchdown.

  The Griffins screamed in ecstasy, the school colors flashing in the stadium.

  I looked the disgruntled Minotaur in the eye where he was still leeched to my leg and shot cuttingly, “Waz up?” He looked away and strode off stiffly, a dragon defeated.

  After that, we fell into our usual rhythm and even the dream faded reluctantly in clutching tendrils. My worries about Tyson, fighting Garrett, and Dad all coalesced into an imaginary foe there on the field. If I could win the game, I could overcome my other troubles as well. Every time I ran the ball, my eyes zeroed in on the goalposts, urging me to move faster, dodge sharper, remain positive. When on defense, I prowled the sidelines like a general surveying his troops, scouring the Minotaurs for an advantage we could use.

  The ref started to dole out penalties as the game progressed and became more violent. But despite the false starts, the players trying to discreetly stomp on one another’s legs after a tackle, and the increasing attempts the Minotaurs made to hit me hard enough and bring me down violently enough to put me out for the rest of the game—despite all of that, the score ended up with us winning 48 to 26.

  The Minotaurs wore stricken stares. The griffin mascot ran sideways before the stadium, pumping his fists. The cheers were rekindled, the band struck up. The football team hustled together, hopping up and down in a roaring mass, many shouting Tyson’s name. Some of the school spilled onto the field.

  This was what I had craved for years—to be the object of people’s adulation, not their sympathy. The world at large may have been falling apart, Tyson may have been in the hospital, but now I felt brave, fierce—ready to challenge the next calamity that dared rear its head to confront me. And that calamity was Garrett.

  I pulled away from a noogie from Vince and trotted over toward the locker room, spitting out my mouth guard and removing my helmet. The cold air felt good in my steaming hair.

  Nikki came up from behind and hugged me, squealing, “We won, we won, we won! I’m so proud of you!” She swung around and gave me a kiss that I tried to return just as passionately, but I was still in battle-mode, riding the high of the game and ready to channel it into crushing Garrett, slaying my next dragon. I scoured the crowd and Nikki searched my face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I was torn. Should I stay and celebrate with Nikki and my teammates? Or go find Garrett? The desire to fight was so strong that my hands shook. It felt as if the hair on my neck was standing up like the hackles of some rabid animal.

  “Babe, are you hurt?”

  I looked down at Nikki, trying to cobble together a believable excuse for leaving her on the field and going to pulverize Garrett, but then I saw the worry in her face, drawing her eyebrows together. She was looking at the bruise on my face and she said gently, “We should get some ice on that.”

  The boiling bloodlust churning in my guts cooled to a simmer. I couldn’t leave Nikki behind just to go and pick a fight with some bully. I didn’t want to disappoint her and turn into someone who thought the epitome of greatness was whoever could throw the hardest punch. The vision in my head of myself as a knight in shining armor, a hero, drifted lazily across my mind’s eye as if in gentle reprimand.

  Garrett was no dragon stooped over the remains of a decimated village of innocent victims. He was a sadistic bully that wasn’t worth the effort it would take to beat him up. I wasn’t going to become my father, and I wouldn’t stoop to Garrett’s level.

  “Ice sounds good,” I said. Nikki smiled and we put our arms around each other, walking back toward the whooping and cheering throng to join in the celebration.

  Chapter Six:

  Rankers

  After I’d washed up, and after we’d helped to scarf down a pizza with my team at the busy Firestone pizzeria, crowded with other post-game revelers, Nikki and I went for a walk through the park nearby.

  I picked a hot-pink bee-balm flower and tucked it behind Nikki’s ear.

  She leaned on my shoulder and murmured sleepily, “Read any good books lately?” From the sly tone in her voice, I knew she was referring to the ones Josiah had given me.

  I watched a bug drone by and replied offhandedly, “You could say that. For one thing, did you know that werewolves have fur the same color, length, and volume as their human hair? It’s what helps people identify who’s infected and who isn’t.”

  Nikki was quiet, and then said, “No, I did not know that.” She pulled away from my arm and looked sideways at me. “‘Helps people’? Present tense?”

  I cringed in the dark shadows of the trees beside us. “Well, I mean, helped. Or would help. That is, hypothetically.”

  “Getting a little too into our research project, Jonathan?” Nikki teased.

  I struggled to change the subject. “Getting a little into you!”

  Nikki pulled in close, her face inches from mine. “A little? Is that all?” she whispered.

  I inhaled her scent and closed my eyes. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this peaceful.

  “Maybe a lot,” I mumbled into her hair
.

  She kissed my bottom lip and whispered playfully, “Good game, quarterback.”

  I hugged her tight, our hearts bouncing dizzily off each other’s. And what a magical moment it was…for about a second or two.

  Cold hands wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me roughly away from Nikki. It was so dark! In a panic, I kicked out with my legs, tossed my head, bucked, and shoved at whoever was holding me. Nikki screamed. I saw silhouetted figures wrestling her still. With an animal snarl, I redoubled my efforts to get to her, towing my captors along a few feet, my muscles straining against their grip.

  But they succeeded in shoving me to the ground, driving me down on my back into the frosty dirt, and when I fought to rise again, a muddy boot pinned my chest. I kicked my legs, then saw that the guy pressing me to the earth was holding something like a butcher’s knife over my eye. Oh. I ceased wriggling and absorbed the details.

  Two people held Nikki, who was whimpering in shock, and three stood around me, including the one with a boot on my chest. I also noticed with a sharp intake of breath that all five wore medieval-looking cloaks with hoods. I thought of the nightmarish creatures in my new bestiary book.

  “Rankers?” I breathed to myself. The one resting half his body weight on my torso chuckled darkly and leaned over.

  “Hello,” he greeted in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. “It’s been a while, He’klarr.”

  “What? Who are you?” I tried to push the guy off of me but he wasn’t budging.

  “I’m not surprised that you don’t remember. It’s been a while,” the man said. “You really hurt Garrett’s feelings when you didn’t keep your little playdate.”

  Nikki made an angry noise behind the hand of one of the guys holding her, and I asked falteringly, “Garrett? Did he put you up to this? Are you Rankers? Is he a Ranker too?”

  The black-hooded head tilted to one side, as if intrigued.

  “What’s a Ranker?” he asked. His voice was playful, mocking. I was struck again by how strangely familiar it was. I searched my memory, trying to place it.

  The man pressed harder on my chest and gazed hungrily down at me like a lizard with a tasty, bloody morsel beneath its claw. “If you’re asking whether or not this is a nightmare, then I would have to say yes, I guess, figuratively, it is. But everyone knows that you can defeat a nightmare if you’re brave enough. Are you brave enough, little griffin?” He removed his boot, and I gasped for air. His thugs yanked me up, holding my arms, and I watched him stride coolly over to Nikki.

  I felt like lightning had just zapped my skin. Now I remembered.

  “I dreamed about you! I dreamed that you were the guy who killed my mother!” The guys restraining me let me pull myself up into a sitting position, but my legs were too weak with fear to support me. All I could do was cower there in the dirt, confusion and terror washing over me like peals of thunder.

  “Now Jonathan, how could I kill your mother? That would mean I would have had to rise from the grave!” He snickered, and moved closer to Nikki, circling her slowly like a shark scenting blood.

  “Then who are you? How do you know Garrett? Have I seen you before?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Let’s put it this way: you pissed Garrett off, so he sent me here to make you pay. You may be king of the school, Jonathan, MVP and beloved boyfriend,” he paused to make a gagging sound and his companions chuckled darkly, “But not here. Here in the darkness, you’re nothing. And that’s what Garrett wants to make you...a nothing. A ghost. A memory. And he wants to do it nice...and slow...and painful...”

  “B-but why? How?” I managed to ask. My voice sounded squeaky. “This has always been between Garrett and me, always! What is he doing bringing you guys into this? Bringing Nikki into it? What’s changed?”

  The man studied me, weaving around his companions like a snake through grass, the dark space beneath his hood fixated in my direction.

  After a long moment, he said in an undertone, “You’re a football player, so I’ll say this in a way you can comprehend: In the first quarter, you test your opponent, try to gauge their strengths and weaknesses, see if they deviate from what you already know or have learned about them. You might let them win a few points just to lull them into a false sense of security. Goad them into hubris—into making mistakes.”

  He paced closer to me, his black cloak freckled silver in the moonlight through the sparse autumn leaves above us.

  “The game only really starts in the second quarter, when you start to push back, when you rip that false sense of security out from under them and watch them tumble. And the big guns? You only pull those out at the very end, to pulverize whatever weak defense your opponent has managed to cobble together.”

  Now he stalked back over to Nikki, stroking her hair behind her shoulder tenderly. Nikki twisted her head away, her eyes narrowed. She kicked out but seemed to miss. The man laughed and pulled her face toward his, removing his friend’s hand. “You and Garrett have similar tastes, Jonathan,” he hissed. “He likes them feisty too…”

  I clambered up to my feet and started jumping and twisting, renewing my efforts to help Nikki, and almost broke free, but one of the guys restraining me drove his fist into my kidney. I cried out, falling slightly before catching myself. My heart thudded so hard I felt it beating behind my eyeballs. Everything pulsated with a weird neon light. I felt detached from what was happening—drifting above everything and watching as if through someone else’s eyes.

  I couldn’t let this happen. Not to Nikki.

  When I looked up, the man was looking at me. “Some changes are going to come your way real soon, He’klarr, and we’ll have the upper hand.” His tone became casual. “Have you ever seen fresh blood? Bright from the arteries?”

  I felt like if I opened my mouth to answer, I’d throw up. A squirmy tendril of premonition swam in my innards.

  The stranger looked from Nikki to me and back again. “What would it take to break a prince’s heart? What would it take to crush a hero?” he asked no one in particular. I felt the grips on my arms slacken as my captors became distracted by what would soon happen.

  The man held the knife to Nikki’s throat. “What does a hero become when he’s lost everything?”

  “Jon!” Nikki screamed.

  I ripped away and jumped at the man, pounding his back and neck with my fists. He stumbled to the side, flinching. I scrambled back, warding off one of the thugs with a wild haymaker, and stood in front of Nikki protectively. The knife-wielding stranger wasn’t even fazed.

  “Lucky shot, Jonathan. But you won’t be able to protect your little girlfriend forever—”

  “Hey, what’s going on?” I heard hurried footfalls coming along the path as a group of people, other kids from our school taking a walk after watching the game, approached.

  The man from my nightmare gave a prim little sigh and said, “If you intend to become any kind of threat then you have a lot of work to do, Jonathan. I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

  They departed down a trail, and I collapsed onto my knees. After a few quiet seconds I felt Nikki’s shivering hands helping me up, heard her sobs.

  “C-come on. They—they left,” she said.

  “Sshh,” I soothed, getting myself up. “It’s alright, baby. We’re safe, sweetheart.”

  Supporting each other, we waited for our inadvertent rescuers to come over and tried our best to make sense of all that had just happened.

  By the time Nikki and I were done talking to the police, it was close to two in the morning. Everyone at Vince’s house was already asleep, but even though I felt exhausted, stiff, and sore, sleep was the farthest thing from my mind. When I finally made it to Vince’s house, I collapsed on his sofa and turned on the news, trying to calm down, trying to relax, pressing a bag of frozen corn against my swollen face. But if anything, I grew tenser with the incomi
ng reports. There had been a slew of savage murders overnight by some unknown assailant in a small town in Oklahoma. Only a handful of residents out of a little more than a hundred remained alive.

  On closer-to-home news, a girl about six years old had been kidnapped from a town not far from mine. She was presumed dead, and no suspects had been named. The tearful parents just said that during the night they’d heard their daughter crying out from her room. When they’d entered, she was gone. They were astounded as to how the intruder had been able to commit his crime. The girl’s room was locked from the inside and seemed untouched when they had gone to investigate. The super-religious family ventured to say that they suspected evil entities to be involved in the incident.

  Nothing ever happened in Firestone, and yet, tonight, Nikki and I had been jumped by people that looked a lot like the Rankers I’d read about in a make-believe book, and Nikki had almost died. Even more bizarre was the fact that the man with the knife had sounded exactly, impossibly, like the man in my nightmares. And now Garrett wasn’t just interested in having your average school-yard brawl; he had recruited a gang of roughs to harm Nikki solely because that would hurt me. Now Garrett and his new cult, or whatever they were, seemed to have crawled right out of a book about monsters like a nightmare come to life.

  I shut off the television and fell back, massaging my face and finding my eyes damp. I didn’t know if it was because of the sad reports or the stress of the day. What had happened to turn the world inside out? And why did I have the feeling that it was about to get a whole lot worse?

  Chapter Seven:

  Fighting Garrett

  I couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer. Although they didn’t complain, and I tried my best not to be a nuisance, Vince’s family couldn’t house me forever. I desperately needed a change of clothes, and there was a pile of homework biding its time in my backpack that I needed to complete before Monday. After what had happened in the park, I also wanted to get a hold of the three books Josiah had given me and see if they said anything more about Rankers, like whether or not they had attracted a cult of followers over the years. The man in the park the previous night hadn’t admitted to being a Ranker, but he’d known what they were—had compared them to nightmares. Even if he wasn’t one of the monsters from my books, that didn’t mean he and Garrett weren’t affiliated with them in some way.