by Nicola Marsh
Something akin to amusement shifted in his eyes before he eradicated it with a deliberate blink. “You’ll need that sense of humor around here, Holly.”
He knew my name. Just like that, my bravado vanished. I tried to speak, but fear clogged my throat.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. For now.”
I didn’t like his addendum any more than I liked being in this freaky dream. “Who the hell are you and what’s with all the cryptic crap—”
“That’s enough.”
Rude jerk. His frown deepened; his social skills were on par with mine: not good. Could his rigid posture and grim expression make it any more obvious he didn’t want to be near me?
He couldn’t have been much older than me, but the awareness in those too-blue eyes, like he’d seen what the world had to offer and had come back for seconds, made me feel gauche and awkward and naïve. Nan would’ve called him worldly and promptly warned me off guys like him. I probably would’ve listened. I didn’t go in for the whole bad boy thing, the palpable danger that emanated off brooding guys like him.
While I’d always hated being tall, standing around five-eight in my ballet flats, he was dauntingly taller, towering over me by at least a head. As he continued to study me with those hypnotic eyes, my stomach flip-flopped. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was hormones, but I’d never felt such an instant connection with a guy before; just my luck it had to happen in a dream. A million hyperactive butterflies slammed against my ribcage, leaving me breathless as I racked my brain for something witty to say.
“Joss.” Grudgingly, he held out his hand, and after staring at it longer than polite, I shook it. My palm tingled with the same heat that made my face feel like it was on fire. Joss. Impressive name. Matched the guy. Shame about the personality.
I released his hand and flexed my fingers, wishing the buzzing would stop. If his handshake rattled me, it had nothing on his reluctant smile as the heat from my hand spread through my body and, embarrassingly, stuck in my cheeks.
“The heat? The tingling? It’s normal.”
“Yeah, if you’re a freak.” Great, I’d finally found my voice, only to sound like a total loser.
“You’re confused.” He took a step toward me, and those damn butterflies started breakdancing on my heart. “Let me simplify this. I’m here to protect you.”
Flinging my ponytail over my shoulder while silently cursing my grungy jeans, faded cherry “I Heart Reading” T-shirt, and navy striped hoodie, I gave him my best don’t-jerk-me-around glare. “Don’t need protection. I’m a big girl, so thanks but no thanks.” Under my breath, I added, “Some dream.”
“It’s not a dream.”
I raised an eyebrow, begging to differ.
“You’ve teleported.”
My jaw sagged. None of this made sense. Weren’t hot guys in dreams supposed to make you feel good, not confuse the hell out of you?
“You astral traveled. Transferred to another plane. Eiros.”
“Where?”
“New York’s Innerworld.”
“Right, well, that clears up my geographical confusion.”
He chuckled, a low, smooth sound that warmed me better than Nan’s hot chocolate. But the thought of Nan made my eyes sting and I blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. Mistaking the reason behind my tears, he touched my arm and wham, more of that scorching heat.
“Hey, don’t cry.”
“I’m not!” Which, of course, served to bring on the waterworks in a big way.
“Let me explain.”
I didn’t want an explanation. I wanted to wake up back at school. Or better, back at Nan’s, in my old room surrounded by my books, my fifteen pairs of jeans, and the only photo of the mother who’d abandoned me six months after I was born.
I stood almost toe-to-toe with laugh-a-minute Joss, rolling on the balls of my feet, wanting to punch something. “Explanations are a waste of time. I’m going to snap out of this dream or whatever any second, so save it for someone who cares.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and some of my resentment dissipated. Leaning against a nearby tree, arms folded, biceps bulging nicely, thank you very much, he reminded me of James Dean, that rebel dude in one of Nan’s old movies. Nan said he’d been hot in his day. Joss had the same sense of coiled tension, of inner restraint, ready to snap at any second.
“You’re special, Holly, more than you know.”
Now he was trying a line on me?
“It’s not a line.”
My jaw sagged for the second time in as many minutes. “How did you do that?”
“The protection thing? Means we’re connected. I can read your mind.”
Dream Boy was psychic? Could this get any weirder?
“So go easy on the nicknames like Dream Boy.”
Blushing, I plucked at the edge of my T-shirt before pinching myself, hard, trying to wake up or snap out of this heatstroke. It hurt like the devil, but did little. I was still here.
“We’ve been waiting for you.”
We? Was he using the “royal we” or referring to a load of other figments of my imagination?
“The Sorority of the Sun.”
I hated the mind reading thing. Couldn’t a girl have a little privacy in her own dream? “Sororities suck.”
His lips thinned in an unimpressed line. “Not this one. Trust me.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“Easily rectified.” He pushed off the tree, invading my personal space and I gulped, more from his serious hotness than fear. I wasn’t used to guys hanging around me, let alone standing this close, and no matter how hard I honed my tough-girl exterior, inside I was a bundle of confusion and edginess and hopeful hormones.
Joss was the type of guy I’d admire from afar. An untouchable. Someone way out of my league. Which didn’t mean I couldn’t look and dream, right?
Guys like him didn’t give girls like me a second glance—I should know. Been there, done that, pined over a yearbook picture of the hottest jock at Wolfebane High for an embarrassing two years before snapping out of it.
As he leaned forward, the faintest waft of sunshine and apple orchards washed over me, tempting me to bury my nose in the crook of his neck and inhale deeply. When he lingered near my ear, close enough that if I turned my head slightly our lips would be inches apart, I nearly passed out from the anticipation.
“We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other before this thing is through.”
His soft breath feathered my ear and sent another tingle shimmying down my spine. I didn’t dare move, no matter how much I wanted to, afraid I’d shatter the moment, afraid I’d read too much into this encounter, real or otherwise, and that I would make an absolute idiot of myself.
When he straightened, I exhaled in relief—and disappointment. What did I expect, for Dream Boy to kiss me after knowing me ten seconds?
He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. His voice, his eyes, his body, all screamed knowledge of me, and an intimacy I didn’t understand. But I wanted to. Despite my false bravado, I wanted to know why I was having such a vivid dream and why a guy like Joss was scrutinizing me like I was the only girl who existed on the planet.
He acted like he knew me, really knew me. Impossible, considering I didn’t know myself. I preferred not to overanalyze, because digging deep could reveal stuff I’d rather not know. Like the real reason Mom abandoned me.
And why I’d recently started having freaky visions.
“Sorry to disappoint, but this thing is all in your imagination.” Shaking my head, I held up my palms, backing away. “Or mine, actually. Your protection jargon and getting to know each other? Wrong girl, wrong dream.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in—”
“You’re full of it. Teleporting isn’t real. Your ridiculous Innerworld isn’t real. I’m not really here. So you can take your protection and your stupid sun sorority, whatever that means, and stick it.” If I had teleported, they wou
ld’ve heard me all the way back in Wolfebane, I was that loud.
“You’ll see. This is just the beginning.”
Like hell. If he thought I’d be having another dream like this in a hurry, he was sorely mistaken. I folded my arms and glared. How did you get through to a stubborn figment of your imagination? “You’re seriously pissing me off with the aloof, cool act and all the crap you’re spouting.”
He shrugged, like whatever I said meant jack. “You’re rebelling. Understandable. But our bond is real, whether you like it or not.”
He touched the center of my forehead with a fingertip and traced a spiral pattern. The blinding pressure from that light touch made my knees wobble and something indefinably scary explode in my chest like a fireball.
I staggered and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t grabbed me and set me back on my feet. When he touched me, I felt some kind of connection that made me feel safe, rather than terrified. After the initial shock wore off, the heat and the pressure felt strangely comforting, like he’d wrapped me in my favorite duvet, sat me down next to a blazing fire, and plied me with hot chocolate. I was that toasty, that secure, and so freaking out of my mind I was starting to buy into his whole “we’re connected” crap.
I wanted to move, wanted him to release me, but when his hands started stroking my upper arms in a soothing rhythm, my potential freak-out faded and I swear I sighed like a lovestruck goof-off.
“I didn’t expect our bond to be so powerful.”
His eyes widened until I could see my reflection in all that gorgeous blue. I didn’t like what I saw. A girl in serious danger of believing in a fantasy that wasn’t real.
I shrugged off his hands and took a step back. “What did you do?”
“Tested our bond.”
“You’re a freak,” I muttered, fearing I was more of a freak than I’d realized. “This can’t be happening.”
“You must learn to control it.”
“I would if I knew what it was.”
“Your teleportation gift.” Joss raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I already told you.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it real.” I thrust my chin up, daring him to deny it.
He smirked. “It’s real. All of it. You’ll come to know that in time. But for now, it’s not safe for you here. Cadifor’s gaining power. The gray Eiros sky is a pale imitation of its former brightness, hovering between Cadifor’s darkness and the light.”
“Cadifor?”
His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “The Lord of Darkness.”
Okay, now I’d seriously crossed into fantasyland. “You’re making this up.”
“He’s evil.”
“So is half the world’s population. Get over it.”
He shook his head, glaring at me like I was a problem child. “This isn’t a joke.”
I quirked an eyebrow and pretended to study my chewed nails as if I didn’t have a care in the world. “Do I look like I’m laughing?” Realizing how bad my nails were, I thrust my hands into my pockets. “I’m over this dream. So if you could kindly wake me up—”
“Listen, Cadifor is a monster and he needs Arwen to regain control. If Cadifor finds Arwen, he obliterates our world.”
“Liv Tyler’s in on the dream too?”
He frowned and I rolled my eyes. “Lord of the Rings movie? Liv as Arwen? Get it?”
Annoyed my smartass comment didn’t elicit a glimmer of a smile, I glared right back, trying to pretend his reference to a monster, hot on the heels of my visions, didn’t scare me as much as the wild gleam in his eyes.
Feigning indifference, I shrugged. “Fine, I’ll humor you for whatever time is left in this freaky dream.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. Yeah, as if grumpy Dream Boy would crack a smile. He was so focused on all this evil-lord-of-darkness crap that he couldn’t be any tenser if he tried.
“Though don’t you find all this stuff a tad overdramatic?”
His eyes narrowed, not diminishing the beautiful blue one iota. “You said you’d listen.”
With an exaggerated huff, I said, “Fine.” I gestured around us. “When you say ‘our world,’ you mean this place?”
“You’ve never studied the druids in history?”
Unimpressed, I blew out an exasperated puff of air aimed at my bangs. “Do you think I would’ve asked if I knew?”
Unfazed, he thrust his hands into his pockets, seriously distracting me for a moment with the way his biceps flexed. “The original druids were based in Ireland. Thanks to the Irish settling in New York many moons ago, much of the Innerworld is based on Celtic mythology. Ever heard of Newgrange?”
I shook my head, more intrigued by his impromptu history lesson than I cared to admit.
“Newgrange, An Liamh Greine, means Cave of the Sun. Basically, it’s an underground grave complex made from stones. We have something similar here.”
I quaked at the mention of an underground grave, my visions fresh in my mind.
“It has a long, narrow entryway with a high shaft at one end. For about a week before and after the winter solstice, around December twenty-first, sunlight enters the shaft, travels along the passageway, and ends at a stone block decorated with spirals.” He seemed reluctant to go on. “It’s believed the stone was originally an altar used for human sacrifice.”
I usually loved spooky stories—give me anything from wizards to vampires to zombies and I was in fantasy heaven—but real-life historical stuff like this? Too creepy.
I wanted to bolt, but he rushed on. “Eiros worships the sun as a god, which is where you come in.”
“Me?”
“You’re bound to Belenus, the sun god.” He cleared his throat, as if his revelations were somewhat uncomfortable. “You’re the Scion.”
“What’s that?”
“By definition, the youngest member of the family.” He shrugged. “In your case, you’re the sun’s progeny. An heiress of powers.” He sighed, as if the thought of me being the heiress of anything made him supremely uncomfortable. “You’re the most important member of our culture.”
His low, steady tone willed me to believe, but all I could think about was how my life could have gotten so crazy.
“The Innerworld is real. Think of New York City with a veil around it. Eiros is the extra layer behind the veil. We exist on a different plane, but run concurrently to the present, kind of like a parallel to the Outerworld. We’re fringe-dwellers, caught between the city and the druid history that binds us.”
I was a little intrigued as he continued. “Belenus created the veil initially, establishing Eiros as a place for his gifted descendants to reside comfortably without being made to feel like freaks. Anyone with special powers is welcome, but you must believe in Bel and his solar reign.”
“Guess that counts me out, then.”
“Not really. Most of the inhabitants were born in Eiros, but those who are gifted non-believers can cross between the Inner and Outer worlds. Like you.” His smirk irked me. “Think of us as New Jersey. On the outskirts of NYC with an interesting population.”
I shook my head and glared at him in disbelief. “You honestly expect me to believe this crap—”
“Eiros is where you belong. You’re one of us.”
His calm, his conviction, almost made me believe him.
“Who are you?” I whispered, caught up in the magic of his story and the otherworldly sense of this place despite my reticence.
But before he could answer, I heard a footfall, and he stiffened, his head snapping up. “Someone’s coming.” If Joss was a warrior, every muscle in his body screamed he was ready to do battle as he held a finger up to silence me.
“Joss is behaving strangely again. Guilt, perhaps?”
He paled at the nearby voice, and before I had time to ask what he’d done to be guilty of, he hissed, “Go. Now.”
He placed three fingers on my forehead, the heat licking along my skin and erupting in a fireball. Panicked,
I squeezed my eyes shut, my stomach churning until I thought I’d barf, but thankfully it faded quicker this time, only to be replaced by a cold clamminess I knew all too well.
The images started, fragments on fast forward, flashing before my eyes, making little sense.
Dark cave. Altar. Circle of stones.
I willed more to come, focusing so hard a sharp pain cleaved my brain. But I persisted, desperate to control this, to make sense of it.
Some kind of offering. Daintily arranged within the stones. The monster steps forward to the altar, holds out his hand to a nearby figure.
A faceless shadow whispers, “I’m right here, Cadifor.”
Hand reaches out, accepts his, sets a match to the offering.
The flames illuminate them standing hand in hand, very much together, very much a couple.
They peer into the flames, their heads so close they touch.
The shadow isn’t faceless anymore as she watches Cadifor in adoration.
Mom, how could you …
I moaned, a low, guttural sound ripped from deep within.
Then nothing.
Blackness. A terrible, empty void that left me gasping and clutching my stomach, wishing for more, yet terrified it would come.
When I opened my eyes, I was crumpled in a heap outside the dorm door, with Quinn’s arm around my shoulder, his expression one of fear and confusion.
That’s when the waterworks started, because the last thing I needed now was for one of the few friends I had in this place to think I was nuts.
“Shh … I’m here.” Quinn wiped away the tears streaming down my face and smoothed my back while I sobbed, helpless and frustrated.
I wasn’t a weak person. I’d been through worse as a kid, had wallowed in the pits of despair when everyone around me at school had the perfect families, the perfect moms who helped in the classroom and baked cookies and hand squeezed lemonade. I had tried to be stoic for Nan, had determinedly studied hard with a single-mindedness no one could understand.
Yet seeing my mom happily holding hands with a monster who abused the crap out of her ripped a hole through my bravado and left me vulnerable. As for me being a Scion and being able to teleport? Didn’t help my susceptibility.
