I bolted up and snatched the remote from Katie’s hand. “Her name is Lisa,” I snarled, pointing the remote in her face, fighting off a flash of heat. “And she didn’t kill anybody.”
“Alright, alright.” She held her hands up in surrender while balancing her bowl on her lap. “Sorry, it’s just the biggest thing to happen in Cedarbrook in a long time. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Yeah?” I snapped and threw myself back into the cushions. “Well, maybe you should think before you open your mouth. What if whoever killed him followed him from the store? He was taking the deposit to the bank before. If I wasn’t late, maybe I would’ve seen something.”
“Or been killed too,” she said.
“Katie!”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. You’re right. Shutting up now. How’s mom taking it?”
“Like mom,” I grumbled. Staring holes into me.
Silence stretched between us. Katie always knew exactly which of my buttons to push, and exactly when to back away. Only this was a big button; my boss’ murder wasn’t a joke, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it. But I could only turn my phone off for so long before Emery showed up at the house. And Natalie, if I didn’t reply to her texts before she got back from her family trip to California. I swallowed a groan.
“Sooo, what are you doing today?” Katie finally asked.
I tucked the blanket under my armpits. “This.”
“Oh no. You’re not going to sit around the house moping again. Weren’t you just lecturing me about enjoying vacation?” She hopped up and tapped my knee. “Get dressed.”
I wasn’t moping. I was processing. And avoiding. My friends weren’t the only reason I turned off my phone. Multiple news outlets called to get inside information on Randy like I would know anything about his personal life, and a Detective Bell wanted to ask me a few questions. My parents took his calls.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Shopping,” Katie sang to the ceiling.
“For what?”
“I’ll have a dorm room to decorate soon. Maybe I’ll get some new clothes, too,” Katie called over her shoulder on the way to the staircase. “Who cares? Mom told me she left some money in the jar. We’ll hang out at the mall, grab some lunch, and then you can drop me off at the theater to meet Jen.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What you’re really saying is that you want me to chauffeur you around all day.”
“Maybe.” She winked at me over the railing. “But I’ve been having these creepy dreams, so I need to get the hell out of this house.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Dreams? Plural? And creepy? Creepy was the furnace kicking on when you were alone in the cellar. It was a portrait with eyes that followed you around the room. It absolutely was not something that made a person scream, like Katie had screamed. I swung my legs off the edge of the couch and untangled myself from the blanket. My head swam, thoughts clouding. “Wh… What do you mean? Creepy dreams?”
“I call dibs on the shower,” she yelled in a high sing-song voice.
The Sandman was gone, Katie was having bad dreams, and that voice in the stairwell… Dreamer, Dreamer. I rubbed my forehead against the distant echo of it. All of that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? When I shivered, it had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
The sweet aroma of sesame chicken mixed with burnt cheese from the pizzeria behind us. Half of the people jammed into the food court were our age, but I only recognized a handful of them. A handful too many, that is. I prodded my fries around my tray, dunking the occasional one in catsup before eating it. Three boys from my school, juniors, stared in our direction. I tried to ignore their loud whispers, catching only bits and pieces.
Body.
Murder.
It was no secret I worked at Howell’s but there was no reason I should know anything. Except the voice knew. Didn’t exist. Didn’t happen. My foot bounced under the table.
“Where to first?” Katie scooped fallen guacamole off a plastic wrapper and shoved it back into her taco.
“This was your idea.” And a horrible one at that.
“Ask her,” one of the boys said a bit louder.
“No way. You do it.”
Katie slammed her palms down on the table and twisted toward them. “Take one step toward this table and you’ll be the ones on the news tonight.”
A fry flew to the back of my throat, sending me into a coughing fit. The guys bolted, disappearing into the center of the mall, before I regained my composure. “I can’t believe you just did that,” I wheezed.
“Why? They deserved it,” Katie said around another bite of taco. “Anyway, like I was saying. Should we start on the top floor and work our way down?”
“Let’s go see what new—” The words stuck in my throat as I spotted Ben walking straight toward our table, a white bag hanging off his wrist. His curls bobbed around his forehead as he focused on the phone in his hand. “Crap.”
“New crap? That’s vague,” Katie said with a snort.
I slid lower, the wire seat grating against my spine. I bowed my head to hide behind my hair. With hundreds of people in the mall, why did he have to be the one in my current vicinity? The last thing I wanted was to be reminded of Howell’s or the Sandman. This trip was supposed to get my mind off those things.
“Who are you hiding from?”
Crap. Crap. Crap. “Ben.”
“Ben?” Katie shouted and sat up straighter to scan the crowd over my head.
“Shut up.”
Quickly, I glanced in Ben’s direction, with the feeble hope he was too engrossed in his phone to notice, but it was too late. His head snapped up and our eyes met. Ben’s perfect lips parted in surprise and his hand rose to his temple, grabbing at air again. Recognition rippled from my head to my toes but I willed the sensation away. Why did he have to be so impossibly attractive? Even with the weird contacts and tattoos that made no sense, I couldn’t help but be drawn to him. Maybe he merely reminded me of the Sandman because I needed to see him so badly. It certainly wasn’t because they looked alike; I had never seen an inch of the Sandman that wasn’t hidden beneath black cloth.
“Ben, from work?” Kate asked, practically bouncing in her seat.
I gave a small nod. He was two feet from our table now; I had to say something. Perhaps, that we were just leaving or that I had to pee. Any excuse to avoid a conversation.
“Hey,” he said brightly.
I slid up in the chair. “Hi.”
“How are you?” His eyes never left mine while he waited for an answer.
“Um,” I stammered. “I’m... okay. Good. You?”
The corners of his lips curled sympathetically. “Same.”
I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his hands and arms. Looking closely, his fingertips were solid navy blue. It wasn’t until after the first knuckle that any hint of silver played along his skin. The specks were more condensed there, spreading out and swirling together the higher up they climbed on his arm, until the cuff of his T-shirt got in the way.
“New phone?” I blurted, hoping for his quick answer and even swifter exit.
He shrugged and dropped the phone into the bag. “I figured it was time to join the twenty-first century.”
“You didn’t have a phone before today?” Katie asked, her brows raised. I kicked her under the table. “Ouch. What?”
Ben kept watching me, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure, but it felt like more than a few words of casual conversation. “I should have checked in with you sooner. Lisa mentioned you’ve worked with them for almost a year, so I figure this must be hard.”
“Well, you’re here now, right?” Katie asked, offering a wide smile. “We’re done eating, and I was just about to drag Nora to the jewelry store. Want to come along?”
I shot daggers at Katie from across the table. I’m going to throttle you, I promised with a steady gaze. My pursed lips vowed it would be a long, long process. Either she thou
ght I had a secret crush on Ben, or she was developing one herself—not that I could blame her. No part of me wanted to spend the afternoon with him trailing us from shop to shop, though. The corner of my eye twitched. Well, almost no part of me.
Regardless, I was definitely not done eating.
“I’m sure he has better things to do than follow us around the mall,” I said with a stiff smile.
“I don’t!” Ben cut in fast, his voice overlapping the end of my sentence. A rogue blush colored his cheeks. “I mean, if you don’t mind me tagging along.”
Katie nudged me with her toe and scowled, “Yeah, it’s totally fine with her.”
Ben beamed, “Here, let me.”
He scooped up our trays and headed toward the garbage cans. I eyed the half-eaten food before whipping around to my sister. “What are you doing?” I whispered through my teeth.
Katie shrugged. “He’s hot.”
“Hot? Since when do you like guys with tattoos?”
“First of all, I meant for you. When it comes to guys, he’s not my type, but a girl can appreciate beauty when she sees it.” Katie squinted at Ben from across the food court. “Secondly, what tattoos? How much have you seen of him exactly?”
“Katie,” I snapped. I was in no mood for her games. Not about this. “Seriously? Are you blind? He’s covered in them.”
“Is he?” She wagged her eyebrows.
“And who wears colored contacts like that?” I added, my voice struggling to stay level.
“Been staring into his eyes, have you?”
I drew in a breath and clenched my hands under the table. If we weren’t in public, there was every possibility that I would strangle her. Wasn’t there some sort of sister code about this stuff? Her baby pictures were so coming out the next time Jen came over for dinner, especially the one where she decided to go streaking down our street when she was two. It was currently stuffed in the back of the hutch where my dearest sister assumed no one would find it. I cocked one eyebrow, a dare for her to try anything else.
“All right, all right. You’re going to have to tell me all about the tattoos later, but his eyes are brown. If he’s going to go through all the trouble of colored contacts, he could’ve picked something fun. Like red. Oh, or cat eyes. That would be cool.”
“You’re not funny.”
Ben approached the table again with his hands in his pockets—his eyes unmistakably violet. “Ready?” he asked.
Cards full of cheap earrings and necklaces lined the walls of the jewelry shop. Mirrors hung every few feet, interspersed by spinning racks. I broke away from Katie and slowly scanned all the jewelry that I would never wear. Ben kept a respectable distance between us, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from fidgeting. Something inside me rustled, a living thing writhing beneath my skin, determined to undermine my decision to stay away from him. However, practice made perfect, and I had years of experience, pretending to appear calm and collected.
I glanced at the cashier—a brunette in a floral shirt—and stepped up to a clearance rack at the end of the counter. A magazine was open on the glass case. The girl’s eyes drifted closed, her chin slipping off her palm, before she caught herself from face-planting on a perfume ad. I knew exactly how she felt. She raised a hand in a small, embarrassed wave. Ben, of course, gave her one back.
My eyes grazed over beaded necklaces without really seeing them, latching on a zebra print sleep mask with Sweet Dreams embroidered in purple. Katie asked something on the other side of a podium, but her words were far away, drowned out by the memory of her scream echoing in the recesses of my mind. It grew louder and louder. I couldn’t decipher Ben’s answer to her over the upbeat music coming from the ceiling speaker. My pulse raced, a loud whomp, whomp, whomp against my eardrums, seemingly in time with the bass.
“Nora?” Ben touched my wrist with gentle, warm fingers. The sensation tore through me, pushing at the macabre chorus until it was nothing more than a faint ringing in my ears. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I turned back to the rack, unable to stand the weight of his stare. It felt as if his gaze burrowed into me and latched onto something hidden. Secret. An enemy invasion and yet, for some reason, a welcomed homecoming. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You look tired.”
I shrugged.
“Are you worried about what happened with Randy?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Or is something else bothering you?”
“Nora.” Katie scooted between us with a wide blue headband. “Does this clash with my hair?”
“It’s perfect,” I told her, and Katie bounced away. “If you want to look like cotton candy,” I added under my breath.
Ben chuckled. The sound snapped me awake, warming me to him just a little.
“Don’t you want anything?” he asked, glancing around at the myriad of ornamentation.
“No. I try to go through life unnoticed… and everything in here draws attention.” I bit my tongue. Did I really say that out loud? Next thing I knew, I would be telling him my whole life story. Ugh.
“I noticed you,” he said quietly, tugging on one of his curls.
Heat flooded my cheeks. What was I supposed to say to that? Thank you, but don’t? Because I was ten pounds of crazy in a five-pound basket. This was the worst time imaginable for someone to take an interest in me, and an even worse time for me to maybe be interested back. He was nice. And hot. But I had to figure myself out first. Once I stopped seeing Ben as the Sandman, there might be a chance. Until then, I couldn’t afford more confusion.
“Hello?” Katie asked the cashier. “Hey.”
“I was thinking—” Ben froze, his eyes wide. I followed his gaze to where my sister reached over to shake the brunette’s arm.
The girl leapt from her stool and stumbled back. “Get them off.” Her voice cracked. “Get them off. Get them off!”
I stepped forward cautiously, my hands raised. “Get what off?”
“Get them off!” She repeated it a dozen times, her voice rising with each scream. Carefully manicured nails dug into her tanned forearms, the white tips disappearing. She dragged her hand back with a horrendous rip. Layers of skin disappeared. Bright red blood streamed toward her elbow, dripping on the tile floor.
My feet were cemented to the ground. Suddenly, Ben leapt over the counter, shaking the cashier’s shoulders, and pried her fingers away. “Wake up.” It was a command, calm and careful. But her eyes were wide open, fixed on the gashes on her arm. “Come on. Wake up,” he urged.
“Off.” The cashier shoved Ben away with more strength than a girl her size should possess and snatched a glitter pen from the counter. “Off, off, off.”
Ben tripped on the fallen stool, knocking them both into the corner. “There’s nothing there,” he said through his teeth. “Wake up.”
“Get them off!” She pierced her left hand with the pen. Blood oozed around the tip.
Katie screamed. The old shriek rose up in my mind to join it until I could hear nothing else. My body shook, and I stretched across the counter to grab the girl’s good hand. To stop her. To give Ben an extra second to restrain her. But before I could reach her, the girl yanked the pen out. In one swift movement, she shouldered Ben through the counter’s gate and into my side. We knocked over a podium as we fell, landing in a tangled heap.
The cashier stabbed again. And again. And again. One blossoming bead of blood after another, moving up, up, up her arm. “Off! Get them off!”
“Stop!” I shoved the fallen podium off my foot, but it used time I didn’t have. I saw what was coming. I saw it, and there was nothing I could do. Time slowed. The scream in my head rose up, muffling my shouts. “Katie, stop her. Stop her!”
But my sister was frozen in slack-jawed horror, as the girl plunged the pen into her throat.
The world stopped in a spray of crimson.
Katie bolted from the store into a gathering crowd. Ben wrapped strong arms around my waist and dragged me away. It all happened so fas
t, so immediately, that we reached the doors before the body toppled with a sickening thud. It was only after Ben took my face in his hands and held my gaze that I realized the scream was no longer an echo. It wasn’t Katie’s. It was mine—torn from some place deep inside. The crowd surged around us, rushing this way and that, calling for help. It snuffed the air from my lungs, and I swallowed against a raw throat.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Ben said. I moved back a fraction of an inch, but he held fast. “Keep looking at me, Nora. Don’t look in there. Look at me. You’re okay. I’m here.”
I was too shocked, too utterly depleted, to do anything but lean on the bit of strength he offered. Something shimmered behind his starlit eyes, an undercurrent of blue. The hint of an inner glow peeked out, before fading into the depths.
“Nothing is okay,” I breathed, unsteady.
Nausea took hold, and I broke away, running to the nearest garbage can. I dry heaved over the pile of rotting food. The stench wafting up from inside did nothing to help. Saliva filled my mouth, and I let it drool from my bottom lip.
“Dreamer, Dreamer, couldn’t free her.” It was the same velvety voice from Howell’s. A voice like distant rolls of thunder, warning of an oncoming storm. “Saw a beetle who tried to eat her.”
I heaved again. This time it wasn’t in vain.
5
The Sandman
A rendering of worlds.
A distortion of nature.
A binding of power.
The Weaver and I had lived through it all together, until the day I trapped him in his realm, snipping the last strand of friendship. I sat on the beach, head in my hands, immersed in the actions of the sand-made figures in front of me. It was as if they were part of a play—these replicas of the Weaver and me. For hours, I watched as we created our realms, clear in purpose, content with our differences. I was the light, he, the dark. The balance was satisfied, and our world was better for it.
But we weren’t the only beings that had to live in it. I forced the sand to skip over the parts featuring creatures more ancient than us, molded from anger and violence. They were dormant now, irrelevant. But they weren’t completely unrelated either. One in particular was the catalyst that changed everything.
Dream Keeper Page 4
