by Debra Kristi
That night, for the first time in forever, I dream like a normal teenage girl fantasizing about a certain new boy at school. One who exudes alluring appeal as he steps from the pool, water sliding off his rippling body. When he shakes the last drops from his mahogany hair and smiles at me with his sparkling, jade-hued eyes, not only am I mesmerized, I am hopelessly enamored.
He reaches down to retrieve his shirt, the muscles in his arm tensing slightly, and something familiar slips between the watery fantasies. A pendant hangs from his neck. I think I recognize it, and I want to look closer. Jaden retrieves his clothing from a rock, water dripping around its edges. The pendant is covered. The school pool is gone. Grass squishes beneath my feet, the scent of fresh jasmine wafts around me, and a sparkling natural pool spreads out before us.
We’re in Hiddenkel. And this feels like a memory.
Jaden is leaning against my locker! I approach with caution, considering my track record with guys. One dead, two denied.
He thrusts his hand out. “Hi, we haven’t had the chance to meet. I’m Jaden Vidente.”
His hand is splayed out before me, and I don’t move. Don’t speak. I only stare, recalling the last time I touched him. Really touched him. And everything went all electric eel.
“Sorry.” He starts to retract his hand. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“Don’t be silly.” I grab his hand. “Anala Janssen.” The heat and electricity radiate from his hand, up my arm, swiftly spreading through my entire system. They knock me off balance. Placing my free hand against the bank of lockers, I steady myself, hoping he doesn’t notice. Maybe he’ll only think I’m anxious to switch books.
He shifts to the side, allowing me access to my locker. I’m edgy. Him standing so close, silently watching me, makes me itchy. The whole time I fight against the pull wanting to drag me toward him.
As much as I may want to stall indefinitely, I can’t, so I close my locker and face him. Too close—my body trembles from the proximity. What if Skylar sees us? I glance down the corridors, searching for any hint of the bitch queen. Then I remember, this is the year I planned to stand up to her. Steeling my nerve, I employ the calming technique of inhaling deep. The scent of Hiddenkel’s forest soothes me. But we aren’t in Hiddenkel. It’s Jaden scent. He smells of fresh cedar.
Heat from his body flattens me against my locker. I hesitate, unsure of my next move. Frazzled, I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind. “What kind of name is Vidente? Italian?” My voice rises, and I hate myself for it.
Jaden appears unflustered, like he expected me to say something stupid. “Galician, actually. An old family name. Nothing exciting.”
He motions for us to start walking. I step away, thinking our strange encounter is over, only to find him walking beside me.
“My next class is this direction,” he says. “You don’t mind, do you?”
I shake my head and watch my step, sure to steer my body in a straight line. Magnetic pull or not, I will not embarrass myself by walking directly into him. My class is right around the bend. With each student filing around the corner, I hold my breath, distressed one of them will be Skylar. We walk down the corridor, past banks of darkened windows and an endless stretch of sun-bleached yellow and red walls.
I glance at Jaden. “Why are you talking to me?”
“What do you mean? I only wished to meet you. Is there a crime in that?”
I bite my tongue, fighting the desire to yell, Yeah, before you came along I could think straight! Instead I stare at my feet and mumble, “I guess not.”
His fingers brush along my brow as he draws my hair back, tucking it behind my ear.
I flinch. “What are you doing?”
His hand snaps back, taking hold of his backpack strap. “I only wanted to see you better.”
“Don’t.” Using my fingers, I comb my hair back in place to hide my mark. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? Won’t Skylar get upset if she sees us, you two being an item and all?”
“An item.” He face lights up with laughter. “Do you always believe everything you see?” He gazes down at me, and the pull is overwhelming. The hammering of my heart, the buzzing in my ears, the wobbling of my knees. I can’t concentrate on a proper answer.
“You’re not together?”
“She is entertaining, but girlfriend? No. Do people ask you if Ryland is your boyfriend?”
A slight laugh escapes his lips. I fail to see the humor in what he said. Of course, he doesn’t know what happened between Ry and me. He can’t. My face falls.
“I see I’ve upset you. I’m sorry. Although, I must admit, you’re rather cute when you’re angry.”
I look up to find him transfixed on my lips, his breath tantalizing my skin. We’ve stopped in front of my class, and people are swerving around us to get through the door. This is bad. This will have repercussions.
“Your lips, they’re very kissable.” The words are soft and mumbled. I don’t miss a single one.
Even as my senses sharpen, some of them jump with glee at the idea–‒a kiss with him. Jaden. My green-eyed guy. Only I haven’t lost my head or sight of my goal. Not yet, anyway.
My feet fumble over themselves as I take a step back. “What did you say?”
His hand jets out, steadying me by the elbow. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what came over me.” Shaking his head, he walks away.
Hugging my books to my chest, I shuffle into class. Oh holy hot guy! He feels it too!
Butterflies, they call it. My fingers and toes are tingling. I keep breathing deep to calm my nerves. It’s Saturday. The day my swim class is having a “for fun” swim meet in Bixton. My stomach is full of warring yellow jackets. Not only do I need to perform, but I need to perform at my best—with Jaden nearby. Fun, my ass.
Finally, the girls’ 200 Individual Medley is called, and I’m up. Tugging on my red Speedo, I take my mark. The onset of nerves hits me like nuclear explosions in my belly. This must be performance anxiety to the max. I try to get my head in the competition, take several deep breaths, and wait for the signal. The buzzer blows, my feet launch off the starting block, and I dive into the water. Throwing everything into my strokes and kicks, I’m once again powerful and centered.
Nothing else exists. There’s only me and the water.
Far wall. Flip and thrust. I start back on the second phase of the first lap. My stomach tightens, head pounds. Still I press on, holding my lead. I’m at the wall again. Touch, flip, and head back. Lap two.
Something scratches internally, and my confidence wanes. Won’t phase me. I shove forward. The lead is mine but not by much. I’m slipping. Something’s dragging me down, like an anchor’s been hitched to my back end. I fight harder to charge through.
Wall. I swing back and return. Almost there. I can do this. Midway across the pool, I battle to keep my eyes open. My limbs are awkward, eyelids weighted. My body schleps through the water like a stone, and I struggle to stay at the surface.
A voice resonates through the splashing. “Come to me, Ana.”
My arms and legs flail.
“Come.”
This can’t be happening. Not now.
Concentrate. Shake it off. Wake up! Wall—get ready to turn. Can’t. Keep. Eyes. Open.
I hit the wall.
Somewhere in the distance, there are shouts. My name. A whistle. A large splash.
It’s so peaceful. I’m floating away.
Light, airy, ethereal. My surroundings have a heavenly feel. Like I’m standing on a cloud. Maybe I am.
“Puteri?”
There’s that word again. I spin around and behold an angel surrounded in a brilliant violet aura. He’s divine, yet vaguely familiar. If only I could see him better. The aura is too bright, it blurs everything. The air around us glimmers. The all-encompassing glow makes it practically impossible for me to discern anything. And the smell, drastically different than I expected. Chlorinated—like a swimming pool.
“Am I dead?”
“No. You did hit your head rather hard, though.”
“If I’m not dead, then where are we?” I consider the possibility I’m lying facedown in pool water somewhere.
“You tell me. You brought us here.”
“I did?” Surveying the scene, I ponder the thought. “Did I suffer brain damage?”
My angel chuckles ever so slightly. “No.”
“Then how did I bring you here?”
“We are connected.”
“Are you my guardian angel?”
He tilts his head. “Nothing so grand. But listen, Anala. I do not know how much time we have, I must warn you. I sensed you were in danger. You were pulled, were you not?”
I’m not sure what to say. I didn’t feel a pull from Jaden. Not this time. I was doing all right. Or so I thought.
“You call it dream-walking,” he says.
The light bulb goes off. Dohlan, of course. How did he know? Oh, right, the angel gig. Duh.
“Not all dream-walkers are to be trusted, Anala.” His violet aura darkens. “Has he told you what he is?”
Fire courses through my veins. I don’t understand it, but I let the fire control me. “I should trust you? Someone I just met and know nothing about?” I step back, expanding the space between us. “You’re trying to turn me against him.”
“Search your soul. You’ll find the truth. You’ll find me. You already know what he is. You’ve felt it. Think about the way your system fights the control he tries to cast over you. Remember the pain?”
I do remember. The agony that rocked through me in Dohlan’s crumbled ruins. “How is controlling another person even possible?”
A gut-wrenching pang tears through my abdomen, clenching tight. I double over. The angel lurches forward, coming into focus a smidge too late. I’m ripped from the clouds, like I’m swirling down a sink drain. Everything spins around me straight out of sight.
At first blurry, the high white ceiling gradually gains clarity. I’m lying on the wet tile floor of the Bixton pool. My coach, Ry, and Jaden are leaning over me. This can’t be happening. Have I truly embarrassed myself on such a monumental level, in front of all these people, no less?
I cough, and water oozes from my lungs. My head aches. I rub it, feeling the sticky warmth of blood. I want to disappear, be anywhere but here. I settle for rolling to my side and curling into a ball.
Sleep is one of the last things I want. The thought actually scares me. I’m scared of Dohlan. Scared of what waits on the other side. But how do I tell Mom these things, when she ushers me to my bed as soon as we get home?
Ry offers me tea, and I nudge it away. “I don’t want this. I will not be forced to sleep.”
He places the cup on my nightstand. “You think I drugged it?” His shoulders and chin drop.
I nod.
“It’s chamomile tea. Nothing strange.”
I scrutinize him, making it clear the trust between us is damaged. “I’m not thirsty.”
His hands drop to his sides, and he expels a lengthy, low sigh. “All right. I may have added a small amount of sleep aid, but only to kickstart your healing process. You could use it.”
My lips torque. “Yeah, about that healing—what are you not telling me?” I grab his arm, holding him so he can’t escape my question.
Mom enters the room with a tray in hand. I sit back. “Did I interrupt something?” She glances between us, a hint of concern betraying her otherwise flawless features.
“Not at all, Ms. J. I was just taking this tea back to the kitchen.” Ry leans close and whispers for only me to hear. “Ask your mom.” His eyes spark mischievously, then he whisks the tea from my nightstand.
Grilled cheese sandwich with hot tomato soup. Yum. Mom places the tray on the bed, and I bite into the delicious goodness right away. “Thanks, Mom,” I say between chews.
She dons a satisfied smile and leans against my dresser. A question teeters on the tip of my tongue. I’m about to set it free when Crystia ducks into the room. Mom seizes the opportunity to slip out.
Crystia drops the photograph for my art project on the tray. “As promised. Do us justice, please.”
It’s extraordinary and couldn’t be more perfect. Before me on the tray is a shot of Crystia with Caesar. Caesar is an astonishing creature, and it amazes me she was able to get so close to him. She sits beside him, her arm around his neck. It’s an extraordinary close-up of his face, with Crystia perched at his side. She’s literally glowing. I can practically see an aura around her in the picture.
“Wow! This is great. I can’t wait to get started.” I shift papers out of the way and perch it against my lamp on the nightstand. “Thanks.” I watch her stare at Caesar’s picture. Love flows from every cell of her body. It’s like someone forgot to turn off her emotion faucet. I can’t help wondering aloud, “Why is Skylar’s party so important to you?”
She bites her lip and blushes. When she speaks, she shoves her hands in her pockets and scuffs the carpet with the edge of her shoe. “Promise you’ll keep it a secret?”
“Do I even need to promise?” My brows arch. “Without a doubt.”
She sighs. “I’m going to meet someone there. And you can’t tell anyone!” She accentuates the last sentence. “We met a few months ago and found out we go to different schools. So sucks. We’ve been looking forward to meeting up at the party and having a little fun. Please don’t ask me anything more.”
A secret love interest she doesn’t want to discuss? Now this is curious. “That doesn’t seem fair. You’re always meddling in my love life.”
“Ana, please?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“Does that mean we can go?”
“Nope. Still thinking about it.”
Crystia narrows her gaze on me. I think she’d shoot a dozen arrows at me if she could. Then she notices my chocolate horoscope on the nightstand and snatches it. “Huh.”
“Pretty crazy, right?” I say.
“Timely, I’ll give you that. Like I’m always saying…magic chocolate.” She sets it back in its place.
I roll my eyes.
“What am I missing?” Ry swings back into the room. It’s beginning to feel like party central in here.
“Oh. Sorry, boyfriend.” Crystia points to the foil square. “We’re talking about that.”
Ry peers across the room, reading the tiny print, as if he has some sort of eagle-enhanced vision. “‘Thy best success comes after thy greatest disappointment.’” He leans back against the doorframe, appearing thoughtful.
“Okay, time for you guys to go.” I wave them out the door, then look back at my horoscope on the nightstand.
The wind rustles through my hair, and a saltwater mist caresses my skin. I know this place well. With all that has happened, it feels like an eternity since I last came to this particular spot. I stand at the cliff’s edge overlooking the water. Below, the waves crash violently into the rock wall. The sea is fierce, furious to be stopped by this unmovable thing called land. The earth’s power surges through my inner core. It’s exhilarating. Every cell, every molecule tingling like static electricity.
Closing my eyes to the soft spray and natural lullaby, I wait for him. He doesn’t come as I assumed he would. It’s been too long since he summoned me here, ruining my performance at the swim meet. At least this time I’m comfortable in my own jeans and cami.
Minutes go by, and still no Dohlan. The only sound carried on the air is the wind whipping at my hair and the waves crashing far below the precipice on which I stand. One noticeable change stands out. Everything here—the landscape, the scenery—is all too familiar to me.
Everything except the guy sitting on the large boulder to my far right. He’s turned away from me, facing the sea, as I was. His dark, disheveled hair hides his face from view.
“Hello?” I shuffle a stride closer.
“Princess.” His wistful tone is intriguing, and his use of the word princess nags at me. He
turns and bows his head. I still can’t make out his face. Though the profile and voice are oddly familiar, as if I should know the man. Only, something interferes with my ability to place him.
I tilt my head to the side, hoping to see him better. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, of course.”
My stomach drops, head clouds. “Why do you wait for me? Why here?”
“It’s not so much a why or where, as a when.”
I flinch. “I don’t understand. How did you know when I would be here?” I scratch at my neck involuntarily.
There’s something about him, I’m just not sure what.
He lowers his head. “Why is the sky above us and the dirt below our feet? I know because I do. I always do. Know things, I mean.”
His riddles cause my cheeks to burn. “Why do you wait for me?”
I take a step forward, still trying to get a better glimpse.
He jumps off the boulder, away from me, his gaze glued on the ocean. Why won’t he look at me? It’s like he’s playing a game.
“Ana. I hope you don’t mind. Formal titles feel awkward between us.” He glances to the side. The wind blows a swatch of his dark brown hair across his eyes, keeping his face hidden.
I study his silhouette. “How do we know each other?”
Within the shadows, I detect a hint of a smile. “Think, Ana. Why do you come here?”
“I don’t know. I always have. Since I was little, this place has called to me.” I gave the same answer to Dohlan once.
“Curious.” His voice is alluring, flirty.
“What does that mean?”
“Maybe I’m the reason you come here.”
I snort and roll my eyes.
“We’re in your dream, not mine.” He turns toward me, the shadow of the carob tree now hiding his face. “Down there is my home. This is where I grew up.” He points to a small village in the far distance, clinging to the cliff side. “I used to meditate here daily.” He pats the boulder behind him. “I’d sit, ponder the sea, and await the call.”
