by Vicki Leigh
“How are you feeling today, Kayla?” the nurse asked.
“I’m all right.” Even her voice was beautiful. The way she said the words were as if she was singing, her tone a melodic alto sound.
“Glad to hear it, sweetie. I brought your medicine. You should take it before you come down for lunch. You had a rough night.”
Kayla pouted as she took the small, paper cup and swallowed the pills with the glass of water.
“What’s she thinking?” I asked Tabbi. As a Dreamweaver, she could read humans’ minds. Weavers were limited in the fact that they couldn’t read other Protectors, but if a human was within a certain radius of Tabbi, she could focus on the person’s thought pattern and hear what they were thinking.
Tabbi shook her head. “It’s all a jumbled mess. She’s trying not to think. And the nurse thinks she’s crazy. They gave her a shot two nights ago. The nurse hopes they won’t need to use it again tonight.”
They used a tranquilizer on Kayla? She couldn’t weigh much. How could she possibly be a danger?
The nurse took the glass back from Kayla and told her they’d be back for her in thirty minutes for lunch. Kayla returned to her chair and continued working on her portrait.
“Why did they give her the shot?” I asked.
“She was screaming, and when the nurses tried to calm her down, she fought them. She scratched one and wouldn’t wake up. She kept screaming, ‘He’s going to hurt me! Don’t let him hurt me!’” Tabbi shuddered, and I frowned.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle this?” I’d seen some pretty freaky stuff before. But from what I’d read in the emails she sent, Tabbi had only helped Weave for old people who lived happy, quiet lives in nursing homes. She’d yet to see anything like this.
Tabbi’s green eyes bore into mine. “Stop babying me, Daniel.”
I raised my hands in defeat. There was no point in arguing that she was still, technically, a child. “All right, sorry.” I returned my attention to the beautiful girl in the chair. Who would want to hurt her?
e followed Kayla to her dining hall for lunch. The room was large with white walls and a white, tiled floor. Steel tables and chairs were bolted to the ground. Kayla sat near a window in the far corner of the room with one other boy, a red-haired, freckle-faced kid with glasses that covered the top half of his face. He spoke with a bit of a lisp, and he rocked back and forth as he conversed with Kayla. Still, he appeared to be quite intelligent.
“Did you ever read Charles Darwin’s theory on evolution? Maybe we’re not crazy at all, but instead, we’re fundamentally different from the rest of the universe because we can see things and hear things. Maybe we’re supposed to be part of this super army that protects other people like us when the zombie apocalypse takes over the world and destroys all the people who haven’t mutated like us.”
Okay, maybe he was crazy.
Kayla smiled. “So, we’re going to be like X-Men during a zombie apocalypse?” She listened with intensity, as if she was truly interested in hearing what he had to say, and although his idea was absolutely idiotic, she had replied with a level of kindness I never would have managed. Impressive.
“Exactly! Ooh, I know. You could be Rogue, and I’ll be Cyclops.”
Kayla’s head tipped backward as she exploded with genuine laughter. “Why Rogue? I mean, maybe I want to be Storm. She’s badass, you know.”
“Yeah, but you’re pretty, like Rogue.”
Kayla blushed as if she hadn’t gotten those kinds of comments a million times. “Well, thank you.” She patted his hand.
He smiled and looked down at where her fingertips touched the back of his hand. Then he looked over his shoulder and glared. Kayla’s instant frown made me spring up on the balls of my feet.
“No, you’re wrong!” He yelled at an empty spot in the room.
Kayla grabbed his wrist. “Marcus, calm down.”
He snatched his wrist out of her grasp and turned in his chair toward whatever invisible person he screamed at. “No! I don’t have to listen to you! She’s my friend.” He stood up and marched over to the empty space, swinging like he was backhanding someone.
Kayla jumped from her seat and stood in front of him. She placed her hands on his upper arms. “Marcus, they aren’t going to hurt you.”
“Get off me!” He shoved her away from him, hard. Not weighing much, Kayla flew into the chair behind her. Bolted to the floor, the chair didn’t budge. She yelped in pain and crashed to the ground.
I took a step toward her, every fiber in me wanting to make sure she was okay. But then I remembered what I was and ground my teeth.
Seeing the violence, the nurses rushed in. Two of the bigger men grabbed Marcus as he fought them, eventually having to resort to a tranquilizer to calm him down. Two others jogged to Kayla where she sat on the ground, her eyes wet with tears. She clutched her side where her ribs had hit the metal chair. I balled my hands into fists, angry that I could do nothing but watch as the nurses helped her to her feet and led her out of the cafeteria.
After Marcus’ outburst, Kayla had been taken to the first floor where the medical part of the asylum was located. They’d run x-rays and eventually treated her for a bruised rib. But she still winced every time she breathed.
With my arms crossed over my chest, I watched Kayla converse with her psychiatrist.
“How many times have we told you not to intercede when Marcus is having an episode?” the psychiatrist asked. The name on her coat read Dr. Malcolm.
“I know.” Kayla’s eyes dropped to the floor.
“Then why did you confront him?”
“I just wanted to help.”
Dr. Malcolm’s stare was intense. She folded her hands in her lap and sighed. “Kayla, it’s not up to you to fix Marcus. You know that.”
Kayla nodded but didn’t look up at her doctor.
“You have a good heart. But sometimes you need to take a step back and let the people who can help intercede. Do you need a sedative tonight?”
Kayla raised her head and shook it no.
“Okay. Well, push the call button if you change your mind.” She patted Kayla’s knee and stood.
Kayla nodded and, with a soft smile, Dr. Malcolm left the room. Kayla whimpered as she rose from her chair and lay on the bed. She took a well-loved teddy bear out from under her blankets and gripped the stuffed animal tight, her dark hair falling into her face as tears overflowed.
I turned to Tabbi. “Let’s do the spell now and go relax before nightfall.”
Tabbi nodded. She placed her small hand in mine, and together we crossed the room. In our invisible state, anything we touched—though we could feel the objects—would be undisturbed on the other side of the veil. It was the only way a Dreamweaver could touch a human without the human knowing they were there. Tabbi placed her hand over Kayla’s heart and waited for me start speaking.
“Cum vota nostra, nobis iurare ad protegendum. Angeli ligare nose simus unum.”
Tabbi spoke the words alongside me: “With our vows, we do swear to protect. Angels, bind us so we may become one.” When Kayla’s skin under Tabbi’s hand flashed blue, we knew the spell worked. Now, if Tabbi focused hard enough, she would be able to get inside Kayla’s head and see what Kayla saw, feel what Kayla was feeling, even if they weren’t in the same room. The spell helped us stay connected to our charge. Then whenever Kayla needed us outside of her normal sleeping pattern, like a nap, Tabbi would alert me, and I’d evaporate to wherever Kayla was.
“Whew. Humans are complicated,” Tabbi said, removing her hand from Kayla’s chest.
“If you could read Protectors’ minds, I think you’d find we’re complicated, too.”
Tabbi shrugged. “Probably. Hey, you want to get food?”
I chuckled at her sudden change in thought. “Sure.”
We evaporated.
At nine o’clock, Tabbi and I returned to Kayla’s room. She was sitting on her bed, a textbook open in front o
f her and a notebook in her lap. I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised that she still had to remain up-to-speed in school. Her large, hazel eyes flicked back and forth across the pages, and her hand scribbled notes with a mechanical pencil.
Following a knock at her door, Kayla slid her notebook into the pages of her textbook, marking where she’d left off, and set her book on the floor. She stood with a wince as a nurse entered with more medicine.
“How are you feeling?” the nurse asked.
“I’m still in a lot of pain. Was there nothing else Dr. Malcolm could give me?”
“The doctor prescribed you more Vicodin, but if you still can’t sleep, let us know.” She handed Kayla the small, paper cup. Kayla took the pills and downed them in one big gulp of water.
The nurse turned off the light and left the room, then Kayla crawled into bed. Within minutes her soft snores filled the room.
“Okay, kiddo. You’re up,” I said to Tabbi.
Tabbi’s eyes tightened in concentration as she climbed onto the bed, positioning one leg on either side of Kayla’s body. She leaned forward, tucking her red hair behind her ears, held her hands close to Kayla’s face and closed her eyes. The dream Tabbi created for Kayla shone on the wall above her bed.
At the beach, a young Kayla was carried on the back of a man I guessed was her father. He had the same dark hair and the same hazel eyes, and their smiles were identical. Kayla’s arms linked around his neck, and her legs wrapped around his waist. Laughing, they barreled into the ocean until the water got deep enough for her father to fall backward. With a squeal, Kayla and her dad disappeared under the waves. When their heads popped back up, they were both still laughing.
What had happened to force this happy child into the one locked away in the asylum?
I continued to watch Kayla’s day at the beach until the sun peeked over the horizon here in Ohio. The clock on the other side of the room read seven in the morning. How had we not received a visit from any Nightmares?
Frowning in confusion, I tapped Tabbi’s shoulder. “Come on. Nightmares only come out when it’s dark. Let’s get some rest.”
Tabbi’s eyes opened, and she moved her hands away from Kayla’s head. The dream playing above the bed flickered into nothingness.
I knocked on Tabbi’s door around one o’clock. Lunch would soon be over at the asylum, and Kayla would return to her room. Giovanni demanded we watch our charge for two days to really get to know them. Sometimes I felt like I was going to the zoo.
Tabbi cracked open the door and glared at me through the gap. “Ten more minutes?”
I shook my head with a smile. “I know the first few days are rough, but you know how Giovanni gets when we don’t follow directions.”
She rolled her eyes and closed the door. Ten minutes later, she emerged in sweat pants and a too-big T-shirt. “Okay, let’s go. But for the record, I sleep until four.” She stuck her hand in mine, and together we evaporated.
An older woman sat on the bed across from Kayla. She had auburn hair that twisted into a bun on the back of her head. She was dressed in very expensive business clothes, and the white coat of a doctor draped over the same rocking chair where Kayla painted. It didn’t take me long to figure out this was her mother. Their facial features were too similar. I listened to their conversation.
“How are you feeling?” Kayla’s mother asked. She placed her hand on Kayla’s knee.
“Fine.” Kayla fidgeted with her fingernails.
Kayla’s mother removed her hand. “The doctor tells me you had a good night last night. She said she put you on new medication. Do you think it’s working?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what about your group therapy? Is that helping?”
Kayla shrugged and stood from the bed to stare out the window at the garden below.
“Have you been playing your violin lately?”
“No.”
“Are they not letting you? I thought I made it very clear that music helps you.”
“I don’t want to play.”
A look of horror split her mother’s face. “You don’t want to play?” She spoke every word as if it was its own sentence.
Kayla’s body snapped around so fast I would’ve had whiplash had I been in her shoes. “No, Mom. I don’t want to play. In fact, you can take it with you.” She stomped across the room, pulled out a case from under her bed and threw the violin in her mother’s lap.
Kayla’s mother’s eyes reddened. “But you love your violin.”
“No, I loved my violin. Past tense. As in I don’t want anything to do with the life I had before you and your boyfriend ruined it.”
Pain and anger radiated off Kayla like heat from a furnace on a cold day. And I wasn’t the only one who felt her fury. Tabbi shot me a sidelong glance, and Kayla’s mother stood up from the bed, her cheeks flushed. She left the violin where she once sat, patting the box.
“Its home is here with you.” She crossed the room to where her doctor’s coat laid and threw it on. Then she grabbed her purse and walked to the door. With her hand on the door’s handle, she turned back around to her daughter. “I love you, Kayla-Bear. When you’re ready to come home, just let me know.” She left the room without waiting for a word from her daughter.
Ten seconds later, Kayla collapsed to the floor in heaving sobs. My heart lurched in my chest. I took a step forward, my body aching to hold her in my arms. Then, realizing what I was again about to do, I snatched my hand away.
What the hell was that? I had never felt like this before, not even when I was still human myself. Tabbi stared at me with a raised eyebrow, and I fought the urge to clear my throat. “You know, I think we’ve seen enough. What do you say to getting in a nap before nightfall?”
“Yes, please!”
When she slipped her hand into mine, I evaporated us back to the apartment building.
fter Kayla’s emotional breakdown—and my near slip-up—I’d tried to force myself to sit down in front of the television and pay attention to Sportscenter. But my attention had only stayed on the show for about twenty minutes before returning to her. Annoyed, I’d found a late afternoon course on OSU’s campus and hid, invisible, at the back of the room, listening to the professor lecture about imagery in eighteenth century literature.
Now, I stood next to Tabbi in Kayla’s room, watching as she put finishing touches on the portrait she’d drawn of the old man sitting in the courtyard. The in-progress version had already impressed me, but her finished product was incredible. She used only pastels, yet the picture looked life-like and had captured so much beauty of the garden below.
The door to Kayla’s room opened. A heavy-set nurse walked in with Kayla’s usual nighttime cocktail. “Lights out, Kayla.”
Kayla closed her crayon box before taking the cup of water and swallowing her medicine.
“Push the button if you need us,” the nurse said, leaving the room.
Kayla climbed into bed when the nurse flicked off her light. Her soft snores were our cue. I pulled two daggers out of my belt while Tabbi went to work.
Above the bed, the dream Tabbi weaved came to life. This time, Kayla stood on a stage in a long, black gown. She brought her violin up to her left shoulder and placed her chin in its rest. In her right hand was the bow, and after taking a deep breath, Kayla moved the bow across the violin’s strings.
Music filled the room, each note on perfect pitch. It was a beautiful, melancholy tune that she played with so much emotion the song took on a life of its own. The melody sped up and slowed down in just the right places, grew louder and fell softer in a way that told a story. Goose pimples rose on my arms.
I closed my eyes and listened to the music, letting the notes transport me to a place of serenity. Only when the last note played and her dream filled with an eruption of claps and cheering did I open my eyes. The Kayla in the dream wore a smile that made me smile in return. She was so beautiful, so happy. And she looked so confident, like
she knew where she belonged.
Then the scent of sulfur filled the air.
Bugger. The Nightmares were coming.
Moving closer to the bed, I gripped my daggers tight in my hands. Tabbi sensed my movement and glanced in my direction. I knew she felt them too.
“Just keep working. I’ll keep you safe.”
Tabbi nodded and weaved another dream.
The first Nightmare came through the wall at the far side of the room. The creature slithered through the white stone until its whole scaly body was in view. Breathing through my mouth—the sulfur smell was intense—I threw my dagger. My blade, spelled to kill what was already dead, entered its skull right between the eyes. The beast hissed as it fell to the floor. I quickly disposed of the monster, lighting its body on fire, then waited for the second.
From behind the first came the other, the Nightmare’s glowing, red eyes staring holes into me. Got you, bitch, I thought, bringing my hand back to throw my dagger. But through the window came a third, through the door a fourth, and near the rocking chair came a fifth.
What the hell? Nightmares never came out in fives. I might have gotten five in one night before, but never at the same time.
Yanking my mobile of my back pocket, I sent a “1-1-2” text—standard emergency number in Italy—to Giovanni. He would document the message and send Samantha to help me. Before I could stuff the phone back into my pocket, the Nightmare from the door rushed me, the nails in its claw-like hands extended like a cat’s. I blocked the beast’s first slash and kicked it in the stomach, sending the creature flying into the wall. It hit with a thud and fell to the ground.
A Nightmare neared the bed from the window. Sprinting, I leapt over Kayla’s body, slicing off the hand of the Nightmare before it could touch her. The monster screamed, its voice earsplitting, like a baby’s cry through a megaphone. I groaned at the sound, knowing if I covered my ears, I would lose my defense. The Nightmare sliced at me with its other hand, but I chopped that one off, too. Again the beast shrieked, and I kicked it into the window while fighting the urge to cover my ears.
