by Jane West
Jane West delivers once again scorching tension, unshakable danger and unparalleled loss. She never fails to keep the action tense and the risk high. This riveting tale brings a chilling touch to the reader making it impossible to put it down.
I'm not sure how West is able to keep doing it, but with each novel proves more exciting than the previous as she continues to raise the stakes in this spine-chilling tale leaving readers sitting on the edge of their seats.
Dream Angel is a masterstroke, sizzling romance, amiable characters and characters you love to hate and unbending suspense makes this a read to be savored.
Dream Angel
Copyright © 2016 by Jane West. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgements
My love and thanks to my daughter who has been my biggest fan. She is the inspiration that keeps me going. Thanks to my readers and their wonderful reviews. This wouldn’t be possible without you.
Dream Angel
Book 1
Jane West
Journey
Seriously
The Foreshadower
Dreams and Dreamy Boys
Principal: Dr. Van
A Message from the Dead
Buried Secrets
Forget Him
Misunderstanding
Man in Black
Evidence
Kicking Rocks
I Didn’t Invite You
Wayward Woes
Castle Manière
Kiss My Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep
King of the Castle
Flames of Magick
Forget-Me-Nots
Evil Follows
The Other Woman
The Knowing Eye
Feast of the Beast
Treachery
Lilies of Decay
We Belong
Magick’s in the Air
The Rose
Duplicity
To capture the Louisiana’s lingo, I purposely misspelled some words. This is the list of words that I have used.
ta = to
da = the
‘em = them
mofo = motherfuc….
y’at = you at
y’all = you all
magick = magic
momma = mom’n’em
gul= girl
gurrrlfriend = girlfriend
Journey
Isn’t it funny when fate throws you a wrench and the perplexity of life forces its ironclad hand upon your chest? When confronted with the truth so profound that you can’t fathom how you came to this very point in your journey? And the unrequited question that caresses your parched lips and taunts your every dream is not who you are… but what you are?
It began in midsummer. The smell of honeysuckle wafted through the air. I’d been hanging with my two BFFs, Laurie, and Becky. We’d gone to the movies, and watched a super crappy film, an alien takeover, sci-fi. The only good thing about it was the lead actor, a cute boy. The three of us had a blast eating popcorn and laughing over the lame lines. Poorly written romances really sucked!
Later, we went to grab a bite at Big Boy’s Bar-B-Que, messy, but the best in Sweetwater, Texas.
We were sitting at a booth eating our sandwiches when Logan Hunter sauntered in the small diner. He carried the impressive title of the all-star linebacker for the last two years at Sweetwater High. He was a grade higher, a senior. Logan had the cutest smile than any boy I’d ever met. And I, Stephanie Ray, had the biggest crush ever.
The door jangled, and I happened to look up. Fretfully, I twirled in my seat, about to have a cow. I jabbed Beck, who sat next to me, in the ribs. “Don’t look up!”
She snapped her blonde head up and asked. “Why?”
Of course, she did exactly what I asked her not to do. Looked!
“He’s here! Logan,” I whispered frantically.
Laurie had just come back from the restroom, sliding into her seat. “What’s wrong?” Her blue eyes bounced between Beck and me.
I leaned over the table, “Logan!” I whispered feverishly as my eyes rounded for her not to repeat his name aloud.
She laughed, swatting her hand at me. “Pfffeaseee! Stevie, chill-out for Christ’s sake! I invited him to your birthday party tomorrow night.”
Beck started jumping in her seat, ecstatic. “No, you didn’t!”
Laurie poked back. “Oh-yes-I-did!” She threw a fry at Beck, laughing.
I hunkered down in my seat. The gratitude for sitting next to the wall fluttered through me, easier to hide.
“Y’all need to get over yourselves,” Laurie practically yelled.
I shushed her. “He’ll hear you!” I fretted watching my life go down the crapper in only a matter of seconds. Logan stopping by our table, and I’d spill food on myself or choke on my drink. I mean, the possibilities of me screwing this up were endless.
Laurie, the level headed one of us three, leaned over the table, parting words of wisdom. “I don’t know why you hide from him. He likes you, and you like him.” She laughed. “Besides, you owe it to all us girls.”
I scoffed jokingly. “Owe you what?”
She rolled her eyes. “We can all live vicariously through you and your hot sexy make-out sessions.”
My mouth dropped open. “I’m not going to share details about my sex life with y’all,” I whispered at Laurie, appalled, mortified, but laughing inwardly.
Beck jabbed me with her elbow. “That’s because you don’t have a sex life.”
Laurie fell out of her seat, roaring with laughter, and Beck lay over in my lap, screaming with chortles while I sat there with a blistering face.
My lovely friends knew I was a virgin. I think they were hoping I’d get laid on my eighteenth birthday by the one and only Logan Hunter. They were throwing me a party tomorrow night. That was why my girls invited Sweetwater High’s all-star football player, and, well... I think the fact that I liked him had a big impact on their decision-making too.
I didn’t voice my thoughts. Hands down, Logan was the best-looking boy at school. His humorous smile never wavered, a rarity with meatheads. A term of endearment I used often. Most jocks usually thought they were the cock of the walk.
Not Logan. He was different. There was intelligence behind the glint in his soulful browns. A kiss or two from him would be a girl’s dream come true. Yet bumping it up to the next level? I wasn’t quite ready for such a serious move. Oh, I was crushing big time on the guy. I mean, look at him, a handsome compact boy who walked with a spring in his step. His shoulders, a yard wide and tall like a towering spruce. And his soft blond curls reminded me of golden honey. I exhaled starry-eyed ogling Logan standing at the food counter. “He’s a he-man.” I let out a long sigh, instantly covering my mouth, eyes gone wide. “Tell me I didn’t say that out loud?” I swear I was about to die of shame.
“He-man!” Beck cackled, and Laurie followed.
Then my small window of happiness came to a screeching halt like a plane nose-diving into the Atlantic Ocean. Sara, my mother, decided it was time to bugger off, pack our bags and vamoose to the next dive town, another town, another school, another miserable life. I didn’t know why I thought Sweetwater would be any different. Sara never stayed anywhere for long.
Since Dad’s death, we’d been living out of a suitcase. At the te
nder age of eight, a stupid hit-and-run driver had taken Dad’s life. And just like that, our lives had changed forever.
To this day, Dad’s case sat cold, collecting dust on a shelf somewhere along with other cold files. The police never found the driver. For ten years, the thought of Dad’s killer running amok grated against me worse than a spit-bath. I refused to let it go until the authorities caught the driver and thrown in jail.
***
As long as I lived, I’d never forget Sara’s harsh words.
“Mom, this isn’t fair!” I snapped. Apparently, Sara’s bi-polar must be relapsing. “I don’t want to move to Louisiana!”
“Tough! Get over it.” Her tone bulldozed me down with a heavy dose of asperity.
“What about my birthday party this evening? My friends, Laurie and Becky, went through a lot of trouble. You haven’t so much as bothered buying me a cake!”
“Don’t get an attitude with me, young lady!” She cut her eyes at me and then inhaled a calm breath, though keeping the ice on her tongue. She replied, “I’ll get you a cake. I’m sure there’s a Wal-Mart somewhere between here and where we’re going.” She returned to her packing as if she were preparing for some tropical vacation. Bright-colored swimwear spread across the bed, along with shoes and other various dress wear.
As I stared at the luggage, a scowl crept across my face. That tattered suitcase had passed through more towns than most people saw in a lifetime. My stomach writhed every time I laid eyes on it too. It represented everything I hated starting over.
“That’s not exactly my idea of a birthday, Mom!” I blew out a frustrated breath. “What’s wrong with this town? I like Sweetwater. You have that great job at Fashion Boutique. It doesn’t make sense moving again.”
Sara snapped her eyes back at me like a rabid dog. “Why does it have to make sense? Besides, I hate Texas!” Sara shrieked as if she wanted to throttle me.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but this move felt different from the other times. I mean, we were always rushing out of town for some tucked-away reason. Either Sara got caught in bed with her married boss or we were getting evicted. Apart from the usual get-out-of-town-before-I-get-arrested list of reasons, this time seemed eerily aberrant. It was as if some compelling force had Sara by the hair like a breechcloth Neanderthal dragging her off to the land beyond. Which only existed in Sara’s head. It baffled me. “Can’t we leave in the morning?” I reasoned. “We’ll both have a good night’s sleep, and I can go to my birth ”
Sara cut me off in midsentence. “I’ve made my mind up. We’re leaving.” Lines etched deep across her forehead like grooves carved in petrified wood. Nothing was going to budge her decision. Turning back to her fanatical packing, my loving mother dismissed me like a disposed tampon.
I rolled my eyes right before the words spewed from my heedless mouth like a toddler puking. “Mom, moving’s nuts!”
Sara quickly snapped, pointing her combative eyes at me. “Are you saying I’m crazy?”
Instinctively, I stepped back out of range of her reach. I liked my teeth. “That’s not what I meant.” I backpedaled. At this point, I’d say anything to stay. “I’m sorry.”
Hands white knuckled, cinching her hips, she glared at me as if I was the Taliban. “I’ve about had it with you!”
I blinked back at her wondering who was the adult in this family. Sara often struggled with her adult role. From her miniskirts to her blatant behavior mimicking a spoiled child, the lines often blurred. I’d become the designated adult. “Mom,” I calmed my voice. “I have friends here. The school is great. My grades are dope. Doesn’t that have any weight?”
It was as though my reasoning went straight to voicemail without box-set-up. She pointedly replied, “You’ll make new friends. You’re young. You’ll adapt. We’re moving, and that’s final!”
“Do you care at all how I feel?” I bit my bottom lip holding back what I really wanted to say, selfish, self-absorbed, self-serving, self-centered, something like that.
“Oh don’t be ridiculous!”
“Every time we move it eats at me.”
“You’re such a drama queen!” she snarled.
“No, I’m not!” I defended my stance. “Normal people don’t do this.” I pointed to the suitcase. “Normal people settle down, get a steady job, and build a life.” I continued making my point. “Normal people don’t move from town to town, living in suitcases, not knowing where their next meal is coming.” For once, I was speaking my mind. “No, Mom, only you prefer living like a gypsy! Your behavior is irrational.” I’d heard once that the truth would set you free. Not in my case. Not ever, and especially not today.
“Irrational! Unlike your stuffy self, I’m adventurous!” Sara picked up a mirror checking her cherry-red lipstick. Then she tossed it on the bed, with a deep sigh, she attempted to wheel the voice of reason into this insanity. “Look! Try to look at this as a going-away birthday.” She forced a smile, fake as her hot pink fingernails.
I exhaled a defeated sigh. As my hope crumbled, I punched back. “I hope you’re not planning another excursion, camping in the city? Or should I say homeless?” I stiffened knowing the consequence of my riposte.
Sara glared at me with murder in her eyes. A glint I saw often. “Why, I don’t have a clue to what you’re talkin’ about!” Sara’s Southern accent was more distinct whenever she lied.
At that moment, I thought of my father. A touchy subject for Sara. “If Dad were alive, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We certainly wouldn’t be bouncing from town to town chasing rainbows and unicorns either.”
Bringing up Dad in an argument was fighting dirty. And watching Sara winch over the mention of him gave me a spike of triumph. She couldn’t handle memory lane very well. It was as if she’d put Dad’s memories in a shoebox and stuffed it away in a dank basement. She even went as far as forbidding me to speak of him. I reckoned his death hurt her so much it was like a dagger to her heart. And at times, I didn’t mind twisting the proverbial knife.
“You can call your friends when we get on the road.” Sara bit out. “Go pack! I want to be on the road by sundown.”
“I’m tired of getting dragged off to these flea-bitten towns.” Determination became my fuel to get my point across or else die trying. “I want to have a normal teenage life. Do stuff with my friends.” I threw my hands in the air. “I can’t do this again! I won’t go!” For the first time ever, I stood my ground, and it bit like a snapping turtle.
“You don’t have a say!” Sara shouted, hands to her side, flexing. Then she paused, taking a deep breath, dousing an extra coat of honey on her lies. “Sweetie, you’re going to love this little town. I promise it’s our last move.”
“What’s so special about this town? It’s not even on the map!”
“I heard the town is real good. Friendly folks, cheap living too!” Sara forced a sugarcane smile.
I stood there, eyeballing her suspiciously. “What’s the real reason, Mom?”
She dropped her clothes and flopped down on the bed, sitting on the edge. She reminded me of someone giving a confession, shoulders slumped, eyes fixed to the floor. “Okay, don’t get mad.” She sighed. “We don’t have the money to pay rent.”
“What did you do?” My body stiffened.
“I used it on a psychic. Legend Red is famous!” Sara had to be off her meds, nothing unusual.
“Don’t you know psychics are cons?” I couldn’t believe she fell for the oldest trick in the book! I gawked at her in disbelief.
“Not Red!” Sara’s hazel eyes gleamed as if she was defending her lover. “He’s real.”
“Mom, he’s no more a psychic than Miss Cleo on television.” I refuted. “Remember her? She got canned for fraud. He ain’t no different!” I crossed my arms, knowing she couldn’t dispute my claim.
“Look, Red, foresaw us in this little town living on easy street, baby!” She scrunched her shoulders together appearing childlike.
> I stood there swallowing my anger. This wasn’t the first time Sara had fed me a tale, all ending in lies. “Homelessness isn’t easy street!”
“Stop killing my buzz!” Her tone suddenly turned sharp as a razor, springing to her feet, acting as if she was going to Donnybrook me.
Lucky for me, I was quicker on my feet. I spun on my heels and stormed out of her bedroom. I’d had a belly full.
“Stevie Ray! Don’t you walk ”
I cut Sara off in midsentence. As her bellow nipped at my heels, I sprinted out the front door. One more word from her and it’d send me over the edge. Going off, half-cocked to these dead-end towns might be her idea of happiness. I sure as hell didn’t share the same aspirations.
***
Since Dad’s death, dealing with Sara’s bipolar hadn’t been a walk in the park. Merely a child myself, I was ill equipped. It was near impossible to handle her highs and lows. As I became older, age didn’t really make it any easier dealing with Sara’s manic episodes. I still struggled and dreaded every waking day.
Looking back, some might say it was a stroke of luck that I’d made it this far. I called it survival 101. Until I was old enough to work a secular job, I did odd jobs for the neighbors from babysitting to dog walking. The cash came in handy for school lunches. I would’ve qualified for a lunch program, free meals, but Sara felt it’d give folks the wrong impression. I reckoned she didn’t realize they already knew we were poor. My faded clothes were a dead giveaway.
When I became old enough to hold a secular job like at McDonald’s, I worked after school and full time in the summer. It helped with the bills, but it didn’t do much for my social life.
Getting to hang out with friends was a rare treat. Between school and work, and then riding out the waves of Sara’s roller-coaster episodes, there wasn’t much time for fun stuff. It sucked too.
As reality spun its bitter web, I discovered far worse things. Sleeping in a cardboard box in the middle of winter under a bridge was on top of my do-not list. A life no child should ever have to know.
