(Un)wise (Judgement of the Six Book 3)

by Melissa Haag

  Checking into the cheapest room I could manage, I headed to my room. I wanted sleep. Bad. My stomach cramped. I wanted food, too. However, both food and sleep would need to wait because I just couldn’t stand my own smell anymore. I walked to the bathroom as I peeled off my clothes. The money I had stuffed in my bra fell to the floor. The thin fold of bills worried me. I counted my remaining cash. Less than fifty. Enough to buy a few meals, but it wouldn’t get me much further, which meant I needed to earn some more. I set the money next to the sink with a sigh. I was tired, hungry, and poor. Could anything else knock me down?

  I looked in the mirror, cringed, and added looking like crap to my list. A poster child for runaway teens stared back at me. I didn’t even look seventeen. Most of the makeup I’d worn to the mall had rubbed off. The dark circles, sallow complexion, and weight loss just made me look very young and very sick. Shaking my head at the thought, I picked a few items out of the duffle bag to wash. Since most of the clothes on the floor of my bedroom had been dirty, they needed it. The longer I’d traveled, the more strange looks I’d gotten on the bus. I didn’t need to call additional attention to myself by looking like a vagrant.

  Back home it’d been part of my act to hide the fact I wasn’t sleeping. I didn’t need to hide that anymore. There wasn’t anyone around who’d care. Besides, staying awake seemed stupid now, anyway. I still didn’t want to see or feel myself dying in my dreams, but I didn’t like the idea of dying in real life because of tired mistakes, either. And if I kept avoiding sleep, that was going to happen.

  The high-pressure showerhead made washing quick and easy for my underthings and shirt. The bar soap smelled okay, too. I rinsed until the water ran clear. The jeans were a pain. Waterlogged, they weighed too much to easily maneuver under the spray of water. Giving up, I stepped in and pulled the curtain closed. Standing under the steamy stream and alternating between rinsing the jeans and washing myself kept me awake until I finished.

  Thankfully, towels abounded in the bathroom. After drying off and wrapping my hair, I used another towel for my jeans. I rolled them inside the towel and stomped on the roll. The towel came away soaked. I grabbed a new towel and did it again. The second time the jeans no longer dripped water. I hung them on the rod and trudged to bed.

  The pillows called to me. I tossed back the bedspread. Again, a dream wrapped around me as I climbed under the covers.

  Glowing embers floated in the air, red stars against the night sky.

  A dark haired girl stood before the blazing huts, facing the fire. The heat curled her hair and burned her skin, but she didn’t back away. She screamed a name, searching fruitlessly in the shifting orange flames.

  Her desperation crowded into me. My heart stuttered as we merged, her every thought and feeling becoming my own.

  Turning I ran into the darkness only to return a second later with a crude clay container filled with water. I tossed the contents toward the flames, but it fell short. Frustration and terror tore at me. I raced away to try again, this time stepping closer. Water hit the burning grass walls but didn’t slow the consuming progress. With a hiss and sputter, the moisture evaporated.

  Deep, mocking laughter echoed behind me.

  “Child! You are not meant for this. Step away.”

  I spun toward my tormentors. “Help me! If you care as you claimed when you set the fires, help me put them out.”

  Auburn-hued from the reflection of the flames, a group of men stood watching. Several wore taunting grins.

  The leader tilted his head as he studied me.

  “Why? They are all dead,” he assured me. “There is not one heart left beating, save yours.”

  A well of guilt hit me. My family, gone. I screamed my anguish and fell to my knees. The soles of my feet, still so close to the flame started to blister. My hair curled back from the heat and started to smoke. I fell silent and looked up with dull eyes.

  I knew her choice as it settled in her mind. I fought her, wanting to wake up. Falling had been bad; this would be worse.

  “You win. I will choose.” I stood, embracing the pain in my feet. It’s what my family had all felt while trying to protect me. Searing pain.

  “You are indeed wise. Who will it be?” the leader asked. Several men stood back from the flames waiting eagerly for our choice.

  “Not who. What.” I smiled as his triumphant grin fell. “Death.” I turned and ran into the flames.

  At first, I felt nothing. Then the pain of every blister and crack as I turned into a human candle consumed me. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. There was only pain, everywhere.

  I struggled to escape the pain. My heart thumped heavily as I shifted in my sleep, crying out. A hand soothed a tear from my cheek. Lips pressed against my forehead. A voice whispered, “I’m here.” I tried to open my eyes, tried to breathe air that wasn’t smoke-filled. My fight was in vain. I sank deeper as the dream shifted.

  Hidden in the trees, a mother cradled her child in her arms. Sweat still shone on the woman’s skin from her recent labor. Birds sang, and sunlit spots danced on the forest floor.

  Still matted and slick from birth, the child suddenly squalled loudly.

  The mother smiled at her child. “I call you Jin, for Strength, as she promised us. I will keep you as safe as I am able and love you always. Protect us with your strength. Keep them at bay.”

  She put the child to her breast and lay her head back against the trunk of the tree.

  Before her, the taupe gowned woman appeared. “There can be no rest. You must run.”

  The startled woman opened her eyes and looked down in concern at the infant. “She’s so fragile,” she murmured.

  “If she dies, she will be reborn as often as necessary each cycle. She will know pain and hardship.” The gowned woman knelt to stroke the smooth cheek. She felt compassion and sorrow seeing the fates of the child. “Balance must be maintained. The world will burn if they find her.”

  * * * *

  I lingered on the edge of sleep for several minutes before opening my eyes. My stomach churned as I remembered the newest death. I curled into a ball under the covers.

  Why wouldn’t the dreams just stop already? I’d run like the visions showed me. Maybe too late, though. The face of the man from the mall surfaced in my mind. His warm eyes looked gentle and amused, not malicious like the others. But I knew better than to trust them. I wrapped my arms around my knees. There was nothing gentle about the things chasing me. Every memory followed the same pattern. I ran from something that terrified me, the “something” exposed itself as a dog, turned man. The dogs—always a group of them—possessed large sleek heads, intelligent eyes, vicious teeth, and claws, which they put to use. After changing forms, they always talked about choosing. Choosing what? The way they acted and spoke, I guessed they wanted me to choose one of them. But to what purpose?

  If I didn’t kill myself, they tried forcing me to choose. The methods they used...I shuddered. I wasn’t sure whose method was worse. Theirs or mine. In all my past lives I died horribly. I thought I understood the messages of the dreams—run. But if that was it, the dreams should have stopped. Instead, they’d changed. Two now had felt like a memory even though I hadn’t merged with anyone. The two about babies.

  Last night’s second dream made my need to run sound like there was more at stake than just my death. Not that my death wasn’t important enough to keep my feet moving. That woman made it sound like I didn’t really have a choice.

  If I hadn’t connected with any of the women, why would it feel like a memory? My brows rose as I realized whom I overlooked. The infants in the first unique dream. Of course. Six of them just like the six variations of past lives I kept dreaming about. In the first unique dream, they hadn’t been born; and in the second, the newborn hadn’t yet experienced her gift, the things chasing her, or much of anything, really. Perhaps that’s why I hadn’t connected.

  So, if those two dreams were still memories, then wh
at that woman said scared me. Would the world truly burn if those dog-men caught me? I shuddered remembering the feeling of the flames consuming my flesh. Thankfully, the searing pain had been cut short.

  I stopped that thought and with wide eyes froze under the covers. A gentle hand had soothed me. The kiss. Had it been real? I tried to breathe as quietly as possible as I listened for any strange noises in the room. All I could hear was my own heartbeat. Scrunching my eyes for a moment, I braced myself for the worst. I took a deep breath and quickly sat up, looking around the room.

  Everything remained as it had when I’d gone to sleep. The outside door remained securely bolted, and the bathroom door still stood open. I let out a large shaky sigh.

  That touch, like the dreams, had felt real yet it hadn’t been a part of either dream. Rather, it was a fragment of the shift between them. That was one of the difficulties with sleep deprivation. The confused haziness between reality and imagination was hard to figure out. Well, that plus the headaches...

  Flopping backwards, I scrubbed my hands over my face. Maybe my first inclination to question my sanity had been right. What if all of this was really in my head? I laughed at myself. Of course it’s in my head. But what if it was all just my imagination? That guy in the mall might have really just wanted the bathroom. And my physical reaction to him? Well, he was really good looking, and he had an accent. Who wouldn’t suffer a little tummy tickle over that?

  What did I really have as solid proof that something was out there? I cringed. I didn’t have any. That just furthered my insanity theory. My poor Mom. And school. Exams were in a few weeks. I’d skipped so much school my grades were in the gutters. I had enough credits to graduate at semester if I passed my current class load. If I went back now and asked for help, I could still do it. Maybe. I’d probably still end up in a padded room for a while. But, the details of the dreams, and my ability to recall everything—touch, taste, smell—bothered me. It seemed so real. What if all those feelings were memories? If I went back home, would I be setting myself up for another non-choice...where I sacrificed myself?

  With a sigh, I flipped back the covers and got out of bed. No matter what I chose, I needed to get dressed first. Padding across the carpet, I stepped into the bathroom to check my clothes. Dry, but stiff.

  Dressing slowly, I mulled over my options. Home called to me. I had very little money left and nowhere to go. But I needed to be sure. I didn’t want to go back and bring trouble with me. This was a big enough town. I could find a job and wait out a few weeks. See if the dreams got better.

  Gripping my jeans to pull them up, I felt a crinkle in the front pocket. Odd. I hadn’t felt anything when I washed them. Something dug into my hip when I tugged them up the rest of the way.

  I reached into the pocket, and my fingers brushed something. Hard plastic. I dug deeper. Paper. A chill swept through me as I wrapped my hand around the items and pulled them out. I stared at the five neatly folded hundred dollar bills, a note, and a cell phone lying in my open palm for a moment before I instinctively dropped them on the tan bathroom tile. Nothing was mine.

  The hand wiping the tear from my face...

  Icy fear pierced my stomach, and I sat heavily on the toilet seat. With shaking fingers, I tentatively picked up the note. Each crackle as I unfolded the hotel stationary sent a shiver down my spine. The paper had nothing on it but a phone number. No. No way! How had he found me again? Could it be the same guy? I crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage along with the phone.

  The dreams. People chasing me. It wasn’t in my head. I stared at the solid proof that it was real. I couldn’t go back home. I needed to keep running. Move. I eyed the money. I wasn’t about to use the phone to call that number, but the money...I’ll be taking that, thank-you-very-much!

  Wasting no time, I gathered my things. At least, I’d showered and slept. Looking around to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, I spotted stationary on the bedside table. The pen lay beside it. Lifting the pad to the light, I saw the indentations of the phone number that had been in my pocket. Of course, I already knew someone had been in my room but seeing the used pad of paper gave me the shakes again.

  Run!

  I didn’t look back.

  Chapter Three

  When I stepped outside the hotel, the chilled air slapped some sense into me; and I schooled my terror-filled expression. I couldn’t doubt myself any longer. Not even slightly. The dreams had continued after my discovery for a reason. I had lifetimes of wisdom in me. I just needed to remember it all. Remembering would help me survive. But to remember, I needed a safe place to sleep...I needed a lot of it. Where though? A public place would be good. A place where moaning in my sleep wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary. Somewhere low cost. A homeless shelter? I’d never been to one in real life and hoped they offered beds like in the movies.

  Decided, I hailed a cab. The driver let me know about an overflow shelter where I’d have the best luck in winter months. After showing the cabbie I could pay, he took me there but dropped me off a few blocks away. I didn’t think it would look good if I arrived there in a taxi.

  I managed two nights before I admitted to myself I’d made the wrong decision. All of the dreams—each memory—depicted hellish nightmares of brutal past deaths, further driving into me the need to run. I still didn’t have a destination. I just needed to keep moving. They were closing in. I would die.

  Though I’d slept every chance I got, it felt like I’d stayed awake since I left the hotel. Hyped up on caffeine, I caught another bus. This time going south. I didn’t pay attention to the destination, nor did I make small talk with sweet old ladies.

  On the outside, anyone looking at me would see a calm, sleepy girl. Inside, I twitched and jittered; I moaned and cried as I remembered all the slow tiny cuts from the night before. It had taken a week to die. In that dream, they hadn’t meant to kill me...her...us...whoever. A past version of one of the others like me had pretended to be more alert and resilient than she had actually been. When they’d realized they’d gone too far, it’d been too late.

  * * * *

  The ride left me in a small town with no motel.

  I cast my eyes in every direction trying to decide my next move when I spotted an old iron support bridge just down one of the side roads. Its metal skeleton blended with the leafless branches on the banks surrounding it. Trudging in that direction, I kept alert for someone following me.

  Since staying at the shelter, something had changed. The sleep-inducing memories pulled at me even while awake. The pull had an edge to it. It wouldn’t be denied for long. I needed a power nap. Thirty minutes tops, I promised myself.

  I checked for cars before I stepped off the road and made my way into the ravine that the bridge spanned. The wooden decking provided covering but didn’t make a good shelter due to the gaps. Crushed stone had once covered the embankment. Weeds and other growth concealed much of it now. The dry winter vegetation snapped in the quiet as I headed under the bridge and picked a spot where most of the rocks were still exposed.

  Peeling off my hoodie, I lay down. The rocks and cold wouldn’t allow for a deep sleep. The waiting dream pulled me under before I lay my head on my arm.

  I immediately merged with the past.

  In this dream, I was myself, or at least a past version of myself, and remembered the man standing before me. He had been responsible for my death twice in the same cycle. He looked much older now.

  “This time, we’re going to do things a little differently.” He motioned for two of his men to step forward. “Hold her, and open her mouth.”

  One man stepped behind me, grasping my already bound arms. Another man gripped my jaw roughly and pressed his fingers inward until I opened my mouth.

  My face ached. His fingers left bruises on my skin but I showed no fear, no pain. I had remembered him. I remembered everything. This, however, was new and I wondered what he had in mind.

  He motioned for another to j
oin our little group.

  This man I’d never seen before. Something about him pulled me, and I felt certain it wasn’t good. His eyes roamed over me from head to feet, lingering in any place that caught his interest.

  “Her scent is perfect.”

  “Go then,” the leader motioned the man to step toward us.

  I braced myself for a brutal Claiming, but the man surprised me by stopping a step away. He tilted his neck to the side. I didn’t have time to wonder what it meant. The man holding me shoved my face forward into the man’s neck. I pulled my bruised lips back just before the second man holding me moved his hands on my jaw. Instead of forcing it open, he forced it closed so fast and hard that I bit the man’s neck. He howled in excitement. I pulled back, stunned and not understanding what had just happened. Both men let go of me and stepped back leaving me with the man I’d just bitten.

  He pulled me to him and kissed my mouth passionately. He bruised my lips further. Still, I felt a stirring within me and tentatively responded. His hands tugged at my clothing.

  “Stop. You can’t mate with her. Not yet.”

  The man kissing me lifted his head with a feral growl.

  The leader didn’t back down. Instead, he partially shifted. “She’s weak. She’s died on us twice already. You need to be in control, not newly Claimed. Wait.”

  My hands, still bound behind my back, prevented me from catching myself when the man I’d bitten abruptly let go. I fell backward, landing hard on sharp rocks that bite into my thighs and buttock.

  Dream and reality blended in that moment. Rocks still bit into my butt, but they bit through my jeans. I needed to wake up but couldn’t open my eyes. The dream still lingered. I hadn’t died yet. I always died...except for those dreams with the Taupe Lady. Why hadn’t I died?

  Something settled over me gently. The physical contact gave me what I needed to pull myself from the dream world. My eyes popped open.

  The bronze-haired, hazel-eyed man from the mall swam into focus. He hovered over me. His hands were on my hoodie. We stared at each other for a heartbeat then he moved, straightening the hoodie over my shoulder.