Chasing Starlight: Cassandra's Story (The Daughters of Night Chronicles)

by Jennifer Siddoway

  When I opened them again, Luna was ready for me. She glided through the air and out the window to the street beyond. I followed her over the darkened city to a distant neighborhood. The streetlamps cast pools of light on the sidewalk below them, and all the buildings were cloaked with shadow. Everything looked so much different from this vantage, and I wondered where she was taking me.

  Luna slowed when she came to a house with a single light illuminating the bottom floor. It was a charming, two-story home with an enclosed garage—the picture of an American dream. We went through the wall together, and entered a home office where a man slumped over in his chair. The moth flitted lazily across the room and landed on his shoulder. I nodded in confirmation and closed my eyes so Luna’s power could wash over me. It pulled my consciousness from my body and eased it carefully into the dreamer’s mind.

  It was the most challenging part of being a Dream Weaver, and the only part of my fae magic I did not understand.

  Every time I stepped into the Realm of Dreams, it was a new surprise; I had to figure out what was happening. Nothing was ever evident beyond the basic concept, and there was no handbook. It was very much based on instinct and playing the part you’d been assigned.

  When the vertigo subsided, I felt the clock ticking. I looked down at my hands and clothing. To my surprise, I didn’t recognize the body I was in, and there was a wedding ring on my finger. It was a random glitch in the dreamer’s consciousness that allowed me to take the form of whoever they needed to see.

  The man I recognized as the dreamer from the chair stood across from me, his eyes welling with tears. “Melissa, w-what are you doing here?”

  I smiled timidly, hoping to coax information from him. “You wanted to see me. Was there something you wanted to say?”

  His tears instantly spilled over, and he took my hand. “I am so sorry, Melissa,” he blurted desperately. “I love you. I never meant to hurt you. Please forgive me.”

  Oh gosh, it’s one of these.

  “She meant nothing to me,” the man continued. “If I could take it all back, I would. You’re the only woman I ever loved, and you’re all I want. Please, take me back.”

  My lips pursed once I understood—he’d been unfaithful. I’d seen this in other dreamers, their dreams stemming from a guilty conscience. It was the burden on his brain that wouldn’t allow him to sleep as he subconsciously punished himself over and over.

  I didn’t know what to say, but a sudden flash of insight allowed words to flow from my lips. “I love you too, but that doesn’t mean I can come back home and pretend like it didn’t happen.”

  “Is there any way you’ll forgive me?”

  “Forgiveness is not the same thing as acceptance. I can forgive you and still think that we shouldn’t be together. I need time.”

  He nodded somberly with tears streaming down his cheek. The man looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and said, “I understand.”

  I waited as he took the time to cry and feel his emotions. In situations like this, it was never my intent to rush. Even with the Shadow Demon closing in, it was more important not to force the issue—if I did, the dreamer would never achieve their solace. People work through their emotions at different rates. Some were fast, and others took their time like the dreamer I was serving.

  “Have I ever told you what a wonderful mother you are?” he blubbered. “It’s one of the things I always admired about you. You’re always there for them. I know you’ll take good care of the kids once I’m gone.” He paused. “You can start over with someone new—someone who deserves you.”

  A chill crept up my spine. What did he mean, exactly? I shook my head and stepped to the side when he came toward me. “What are you talking about?”

  Tears spilled over as he placed his hands against my cheeks and cradled my face tenderly. “I’m just glad I got to see you one last time.”

  Realization struck me like a ton of bricks.

  He’s taken something.

  I glanced at the desk in panic. A bottle of pills sat there. I hadn’t noticed them when Luna and I first arrived. Something about the dreamer’s behavior sent warning signs and the way he was talking shredded any doubt. “What did you do?”

  I wasn’t a liaison between the worlds who could usher him from this life to the next, nor was I prepared to face that responsibility. The Dream Weaver’s magic doesn’t work like that.

  “It doesn’t matter,” the man replied. “You’ll be happier without me. All I’ve ever done is hold you back.”

  “NO! You need to wake up,” I told him frantically. “This is all wrong. You can’t give up like this.”

  My mind flipped back through our conversation, trying to remember anything that could help me to convince him life was still worth living. Then it occurred to me; he mentioned kids—he was a father—I could work with that.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “You can’t just run away from this. Our children need you; they need their dad. Do you want them to grow up without a father? You’re feeling sorry for yourself, and I get it, but this isn’t only about you. You’re going to have bad days, but there are going to be good ones too. Don’t you want to see them graduate high school, get married, and raise sweet babies? If you give up now, then you’re throwing away any chance of being part of that.”

  He shook his head with resignation. “I don’t want to die, but I don’t see the point in trying anymore. Things will never go back to the way they were—you hate me.”

  My stomach lurched as the chilling tendrils of the Shadow Demon crept into the corners of my vision. It was getting closer, and I was running out of time. If I didn’t collect the Dust of Dreamers soon, it would be too late, and I’d lose my chance forever. Worse, this suffering man might lose his life.

  “Maybe that’s true,” I told the man desperately. “But this isn’t about us, or our marriage, it’s about being able to forgive yourself and move on. Learn how to live, with or without me, because your life didn’t end just because our marriage did. I know you’re sad and struggling right now, but you have to overcome that and be there for our children. You need to have a reason to live outside of your relationship with me. Can you do that? Can you accept the consequences of what happened and, at the same time, forgive yourself by moving on?”

  He choked back a gargled sob and said, “How?”

  “By never giving up. You have to wake up first and get out of this chair to call the hospital.”

  Confused, he looked down at the carpet and said, “I-I’m… not in a chair.”

  “Yes, you are,” I reminded him forcefully. “You passed out in the office after taking a bottle of pills. Get up and call 911.”

  “What?”

  “You’re dying! Now wake up!” I shouted.

  I slapped him hard across the face, and his image faded slightly like it was losing coherence.

  Good, that means he’s waking up.

  When my hand connected with his face again, it shook the ground and gave me a powerful sense of vertigo. “Wake up!”

  I could feel the Shadow Demon slithering closer, looming over me as I frantically tried to wake the dreamer.

  “What are you doing?” the man demanded.

  “I’m trying to save your life. NOW WAKE UP!”

  I slapped him a third time. This time, it broke the connection. I shot from the dream with great force but, as I passed from one realm to the other, the icy chill of a hand reached out to grab me. Clammy fingers wrapped around my bicep and a flash of burning cold seared the skin where it touched.

  When my feet landed back in the Mortal Realm, I fell against the bookshelf of the dreamer’s office, winded. I glanced at the man in the chair and saw his eyes fluttering. His body glowed, and there was a bittersweet smile on his lips while his eyebrows knit together. The sparking white powder of his dream essence spilled down on us as I caught my breath and stood to hold open the bag tied around my waist. Dust of Dreamers was pulled into the void of my bottomle
ss container and sent to the Fae Realm until it disappeared entirely.

  The dreamer stirred in his chair, still groggily waking up and unaware of anything that was happening. He rolled over the arm of his seat and vomited, which was probably for the best. I felt better seeing him awake and hoped it was enough to save him, but my heart was still racing from the emotional encounter, and I was breathing heavily.

  Luna fluttered to my side, and we flew off before he realized we were there. Finished, we returned to my apartment. With the aid of magic, it took us less than a second to get there. Now that the adrenaline was leaving my system, extreme exhaustion hit me and I sagged. I went over the last few moments in my head when the Shadow Demon’s cold hand grabbed me.

  What the hell was that?

  The creatures from the Realm of Dreams followed me every time I entered their domain. I accepted that when I took on the mantle of Dream Weaver, but, until now, they had never come this close. We’d never made contact with one another, and I feared this was another shift in my relationship with magic. I swallowed hard and glanced at my arm. A red mark in the shape of a hand blistered across my skin and wrapped around my bicep.

  My eyes widened as I stared in shock. Oh, shit…this isn’t good.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed and exhaled as I concentrated on my breathing. One thing was for sure. I would have to be more careful. With a swish of my hand, I dismissed the magical container holding the dreamer's sleeping essence and sent it to the Fae Realm.

  At least my job was complete; I didn’t lose him like I feared I might.

  I picked up the mug of tea, which was now cold, and downed it in one gulp.

  An Apple a Day…

  Chapter Six

  I didn’t sleep that night.

  After my heart stopped racing from the man’s near-death experience, my mind still reeled. My stomach twisted up in knots, and I didn’t know what to do. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, and I only made it out of the dream by a hair. Luna dissipated into a puff of glitter the moment we returned, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which was always dangerous. It was times like these where my role as Dream Weaver made me ask, What the hell am I doing?

  After the chamomile tea, I switched to coffee, knowing full well I would not be able to sleep after what I’d been through. Luckily, I didn’t have to. One of the traits I inherited as a Dream Weaver was that I didn’t need to sleep at all if I didn’t want to—that was purely out of habit. Tonight, I was grateful because otherwise, I would have been miserable after pulling an all-nighter, then still going in to work.

  I brought the mug of coffee with me from the kitchen to the couch and gazed out the window to watch the sunrise. The city was beautiful, all quiet and cloaked in shadow until the faint light of the morning sun crested the horizon. I sipped my coffee and watched the sky turn brilliant hues of pink and yellow. I wondered what would happen if I couldn’t save the next one. The dreams were becoming more dangerous, and I was frightened.

  I wanted to help—but what if the dreamer didn’t want to be saved?

  I brought it to my lips and took a deep sip of the hazelnut-flavored brew, finishing the last remnants.

  As I turned away from the window, my shawl fell across my shoulder, exposing the skin on my upper arm. It still carried the mark where the Shadow Demon touched me, like a giant welt that would not go away, but it had faded considerably. Slowly, I wandered back to my bedroom to get ready for another day of teaching. I pulled myself together for work and left the experience behind me, locked away for another time.

  Samantha’s alarm clock went off as I walked past her door. Her bed squeaked as she rolled over to silence the noisy buzzing. I grinned, imagining her sleepy attempt to wake up, and allowed her the moment of privacy.

  I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, the cold water waking me fully. Shivering, I wrapped a towel around me, walked into my bedroom, and closed the door. My eyes drifted to the closet, and I examined the choices before me in search of something that would be both comfortable and professional. Eventually, I landed on an acceptable skirt and top and brought them over to the bed.

  The sound of Samantha clamoring down the hall alerted me to her presence, so I quickly changed and went out to meet her in the living room. I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail and wandered into the hall with my purse slung over my shoulder. Sam was in the kitchen drinking coffee as she leaned against the counter. Her dark, brown hair was disheveled, and she wasn’t wearing any pants, but that didn’t seem to bother her.

  I approached her with a sigh and said, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

  She took a sip of her drink and nodded. “It is now. You made coffee! Bless you.”

  “Yeah, well, I was up early, so I didn’t mind.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed as she peered over the mug at me, saying, “You’re not turning into one of those cheery morning people, are you?”

  I laughed. “Nope, just couldn’t sleep.”

  “Long night?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Now I feel like I jackass,” she responded. “I’m sorry for teasing you.”

  Sighing, I glanced at the clock and said, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m going to head to school early. I need to set up.”

  “Oh? You’ve got a fun lesson planned?”

  I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Something like that.”

  “’Kay, see ya later then. Have fun.”

  “With a bunch of third graders?” I joked. “You know it!”

  “A ll right, class, single file!” I said loud enough for all to hear. “It’s storytime in the media center. Let’s line up at the door; Ethan, you first.”

  The students closed their notebooks and rose from their seats. The morning lesson helped get my mind off last night’s dreamer and turn my focus on commanding a room of boisterous eight-year-olds. Occasionally, the memories of what happened would resurface, and I’d have to push them from my mind. I watched the children scramble toward the door excitedly, talking to one another with big smiles. The scrappy, blond-haired child named Henry walked slowly behind the others and sauntered up to me with a shiny, red apple in his hand.

  I bent over to look him in the eye and said, “Good morning, Henry. What is this?”

  He smiled up at me. “Ms. Whitaker, says you give an apple to your teacher as a way of saying thank you and let them know you appreciate them.”

  The edges of my lips curved into a smile. “Oh? Thank you, Henry, I love apples. Who is Ms. Whitaker?”

  “My foster mom,” he responded sheepishly.

  “Ah, well tell her I’m very grateful. Do you mind if I enjoy it as part of my lunch?”

  He nodded happily as I accepted the apple from his outstretched hand.

  He ran off with an enormous smile and took his place in line and I smiled after him.

  Alice Haywick’s class joined us at the door and followed us into the hall toward the media center. I shuffled behind them with a wary eye, making sure none of them got out of line or disturbed the other classes.

  “Shh! Use your indoor voices,” I reminded them.

  The media center aide greeted us with a smile when we arrived and ushered the children to sit on the floor in a circle. “Welcome! We’re so glad you could make it! Come in and take your seats,” Savannah Torres told them. “We’ve got a very special story picked out for you today.”

  Alice and I watched, letting the aide take her place at the front of the room in an empty chair.

  “Now, class, just because we’re not in our regular space, I still expect you to be on your best behavior and give Mrs. Torres your full attention.”

  “Yes, Ms. Williams.”

  Savannah pulled a beautifully illustrated children’s book from underneath the seat. “Thank you for coming to the media center. The story we’re going to read today is The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Have any of you heard it before?”

  A few of them raised their hands, and
I took a seat in the back of the room near Henry. Savannah continued talking about the book and opened it to the first page. I knew the story well; it was one of my favorites growing up—twelve sisters, the daughters of a king, sneak out of their palace at night and are whisked away to a secret world of dancing and frivolity. No one knew where they disappeared to. It was a secret they shared only with each other. In many ways, the fable paralleled my own.

  Halle and I were also daughters of a noble king—our fates woven together with the Lord of Night. There were five others, seven in total, who shared that royal lineage. We had our secrets also, much like the princesses in the children’s story, and it was something only the seven of us understood. Even though we had different mothers, we still had Ellyllon in common. I knew I could call on them for anything.

  I smiled as I pondered the analogy and shifted my attention back to The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Everyone was fascinated with Savannah’s take, and I glanced around carefully to make sure no one else was listening when I leaned in to whisper in Henry’s ear, “What did you mean the other day when you said that I was glowing?”

  The boy smiled, breaking his attention away from the story. “You can’t see it?”

  “Let’s make sure I understand first.”

  Henry pursed his lips, looking at the other teacher nervously. Alice seemed just as entertained as the children were, so he continued. “I don’t know how you do it, but you’re surrounded by light.”

  “Oh?” I pressed in a kind voice, careful not to agitate him. “What color is it?”

  The boy cocked his head to the side. “You really can’t see it, can you? It’s green—a light green.”

  Crap.

  It was not the response I’d been hoping for—it was too specific and confident. I was expecting him to tell me something that could be excused as childhood whimsy. My pulse raced, and anxiety built in my chest. My breath caught in my throat, and I frantically tried to calm myself without scaring Henry or alerting Alice and Savannah. Even as I smiled, I took deep, calming breaths through my nose and clamped down on the building fear with an iron grip.