Fate Foretold

by Jaliza A. Burwell

  The four of them stand around, and I shift as the wind blows past me, pushing a strand of my dark brown hair into my face. I move it away only to feel eyes on me. When I open my own, the man around my age is staring right at me. Shock ripples through me as his gaze leaves a burning trail along my skin.

  “Who are you?” he asks in a gravelly voice, his expression hardening. “Show yourself properly instead of skulking in the woods.” The others around him stiffen before turning to face me.

  I swallow hard and force my feet forward.

  Just a dream. It’s just a dream. I can’t be hurt here.

  Stepping out into the clearing, my eyes focus on the group as they gather closer together, their bodies tense with awareness. Each one of them are in a stance ready for battle.

  “How are you here?” asks the Asian man.

  “More like why am I here,” I reply, because, truthfully, I don’t understand how this could have happened.

  “You shouldn’t be. You haven’t been invited.” His eyes narrow on me.

  “And I didn’t See this happening and yet here I am. Who do you work for?” I ask. If this is a new way for Holsen to get a hold of me, it’s brilliant. Attack me both in the real world and the dream realm, breaking down my spirit each day.

  “Work for?” a calming voice asks and I turn my focus on the oldest looking one, the average, yet not so average man with the energy tendrils. One of those tendrils tries to reach out for me, but years of practice allows me to easily block it from touching me.

  His eyes widen in surprise.

  “Don’t touch me,” I say, and his cheeks turn slightly pink with embarrassment. Even among the gifted, not many would have noticed if he brushed his energy against them. It’s an intimate touch, the energy able to go deeper than just brushing against skin.

  “I’m not going to ask again, how did you get into my dream realm?” the Asian man asks in a hard voice, stepping forward with his friends moving behind him as a single unit to show solidarity.

  “Your dream realm?” I ask, my eyes widening as it all clicks into place. There is only one way into a dream walker’s realm and that is with an invitation. “This is wrong. All wrong.”

  I’ve never seen these men. I would know if I met them before. This shouldn’t be happening. They were never a possibility. They were never an existing choice.

  I look at them all, anxiety clawing through me. “Why did you call me?” I ask as theories flash through my mind. Are they the enemy? They have to be.

  They furrow their eyebrows in confusion.

  “No one called you,” the Asian man replies.

  I shake my head. “You’re a dream walker and this is your dream realm. You, of all people, know the only way to enter is through invitation. I’m not a dreamweaver. I can’t create a world like this nor can I enter other’s. So why? How?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” the dangerous looking man asks, glowering at me.

  “I’m saying your friend called me here.” Fear crawls up my throat. I don’t know any of them so they have to be working for Holsen. That’s the only option that makes sense. “Why am I here?” I ask, keeping my gaze steady as I look at the Asian man. I can’t even wake myself up. For all I know, I’m stuck here in the dream realm while someone sneaks into the cave to take me.

  My eyes widen with complete horror. Someone could be moving my body right now and I wouldn’t know it. The men all take note of the terror in my expression and move forward.

  I raise my hand up and step back, desperate to keep distance between us. “Let me go,” I say. “Let me wake up.”

  The Asian man freezes and gets a contemplative look on his face as his gaze travels down my body and then back up, taking in my roadkill appearance.

  Roadkill looks better than I do. Maybe a mud monster?

  “Only after we get answers. You shouldn’t have been able to get in here.” His response breaks me from my thoughts.

  I lick my dry lips. “And yet here I am. What do you plan to do about it? No matter how real this place is, you can’t hurt me. You can only trap. In that case, I’m completely useless to anyone. So let me go. Let me wake up.” My mouth snaps shut when I realize I’m rambling. My mouth always seems to get the best of me when I’m scared.

  “Okay, calm down,” the boy-next-door says, holding his hands up. “How about we start over? I’m Colton McCaire. May I ask who you are?”

  “You don’t know?” I ask, looking them over. None of them look like they have anything nefarious up their sleeves. In fact, they look curious, a little wary, and even interested.

  Colton smiles. “I wouldn’t have asked if I already knew.”

  Or you’re a seasoned liar.

  “Lyn,” I say, not willing to give them my full name. Adalyn is a dangerous name for anyone to know. “You can call me Lyn.”

  “Lyn,” Colton drawls the name out. “Okay, Lyn. I hope I’m not lying when I say it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I don’t say anything, looking at the Asian man.

  “I’m Dae-jung Maeng, but you can call me DJ,” he says, flashing me a smile. I see a hint of dimples, but they’re gone as quickly as the smile disappears.

  The other two introduce themselves reluctantly, suspicious about my presence.

  Eli Garrison is the one with the olive-green eyes. Only a few moments after meeting him I realize his gift is superhuman senses. He’s always focusing on something off in the distance that catches his attention.

  Jackson Adair is the man who screams danger and has a deep, quiet voice. His dark brown eyes focus on me briefly, and I swear he can see my deepest desires, and can probably fulfill them and then some. His complete focus, mixed in with the others, is almost too much, and I suppress a shiver. Their intensity slowly chips away at me, and I fear what will happen if they ever get through all my defenses.

  “Now that we have introductions out of the way, can you explain why you’re here? How you got here?” DJ asks.

  My eyes flicker over the four men, and I lick my lips. I shrug. Maybe if I talk to them, they’ll be able to give me answers. “I decided to take a nap and at one point, it felt like someone or something grabbed me and yanked me. And then I landed here, in the same dream realm as you.”

  DJ’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks hard. “I know for a fact I didn’t call you here. I don’t even know you.”

  He shares a look with the others, and they all shake their heads. None of them have met me before.

  “I know. I know I haven’t met any of you either.” And I’d remembered if I did. They’re not the type of guys people forget about.

  Colton flashes me a grin. “Oh, I have no doubt we would have remembered each other.”

  DJ rolls his eyes. “So if I didn’t call you here on purpose and we have never met, then how the hell did you get here?”

  That’s the question of the century.

  “Let’s just agree none of us know. Can I wake up now?” I ask. I need to get out of here and get moving. I can’t tell how much time has passed. I glance around the area and frown. “Why are you sleeping in the middle of the day?” I ask.

  “Says someone who’s doing the same thing,” Jackson replies, staring at me. I glance away from him, unable to focus on him for too long.

  “We’re just training,” DJ says. “Doing that in the dream realm is a lot easier than in the real world.”

  I frown at his answer but it does make sense. What they learn in this type of dream will easily translate into the real world. And practice does make perfect.

  “Training?” I look them over more slowly, taking in the clothes that easily look like workout clothes.

  If they’re here to train, they’re serious about it. This isn’t a basic jog in the park or a couple hours at a gym. Being here would allow them to run drills and get the logistics down. Train in a military fashion.

  My instincts scream out, telling me these gifted aren’t normal. I can see it by the bulk of muscles on thei
r frames, in the way they move together as a unit, by the way they communicate silently together, not needing to say anything.

  “Lyn, are you okay?” Eli asks, his eyes narrowing as he stares at my chest.

  My face heats, and I cross my arms over my chest, grabbing onto the chain with my dad’s ring for comfort. “I-I’m fine.”

  “Then why did your heart rate pick up? What’s going on inside that brain of yours?” he asks, his head turning slightly to the side. My eyes widen with realization. He’s listening to my heartbeat. How good are his senses?

  “I just want to wake up,” I say. “I only intended to take a quick nap to rest.”

  “Let her go,” Jackson says.

  “But we still don’t know how she got here,” DJ interjects.

  “We can’t keep her here,” Colton speaks up. “And she doesn’t want to be here. Let’s just chalk this up to a fluke.”

  DJ’s shoulders slumps. “Fine.” He stares at me. “I’ll be seeing you, Lyn,” he says ominously before waving his hands.

  The world spins around me, melting and blending to blurry blobs of nothingness as the dream realm disappears, along with the four men I just met. As I disappear, the strong feeling that something has just changed settles deep in my chest. Meeting them changes everything.

  I just wish I knew how.

  3

  I wake up in the cave, taking in deep breaths, trying to work through what just happened. I somehow managed to go into someone’s dream realm.

  I shouldn’t have been able to do that.

  And who are those men?

  They aren’t normal. I could tell the moment I saw them. They’re militaristic, but no way are they in the military. My instincts tell me that isn’t quite right. I go over each of them, trying to figure out what brought us together.

  Eli Garrison, the green-eyed beauty. Nothing would get past his heightened senses.

  Colton McCaire, definitely their leader. He’s your average man, someone you would pass by on the streets. You’d give him a once-over but never a double take. He’s too subtle for another take, which makes him even more dangerous.

  Then there’s DJ, the dreamweaver. Dreamweavers aren’t common, but they aren’t rare either. What makes him rare is his ability to bring others into his dream realm. He’s powerful.

  Lastly, Jackson. Not someone I want to piss off. Something weighed him down, but I could tell by the way he looked at me that he didn’t have any qualms about hurting me if I posed a danger to them.

  A familiarity washes over me as I think about the four men. Something about them draws me in, but I can’t pin down the reason. I shake the feeling off. They’re all powerful. I can feel it still, their energy against my skin, their intuitiveness, their hardness.

  Dangerous. Definitely dangerous.

  I sit up and look around the cave, reminding myself of my reality.

  No one is around, and that includes four handsome, mysterious men. I’m by myself. And I’m still in danger.

  As I move to collect my things, my body reminds me of its aches and ignoring it is almost hard. There’s no time to stop to rest. There’s never enough time. I need to get into town. My destination is an empty house I can hide in and rest up before continuing with the journey.

  Releasing a tired breath, I hike the bag onto my shoulder and carefully making my way out of the cave. The light still in the sky is harsh against my eyes when I step out. The sun only serves as a reminder that time is ticking away. There is only about an hour left before I need to be in my next spot, otherwise, unpleasant men are going to find me.

  Needing to collect my thoughts, I lean against the rocks surrounding the cave and take a moment to just sense everything. The energy inside of me thrums, and I use it to send out feelers all around the area to pinpoint the location of everyone within a five miles radius of me.

  No one dangerous hits my radar, including Holsen’s men. There are a couple of families about three miles out, a hiker a mile away going in the opposite direction, a group of teenagers still playing at the park, but no bad guys. Holsen’s men have a feel to their energy since Holsen requires all his men to make a blood pact with him, leaving a little piece of him in all of them. All I have to do is track that part of them and I’ll know if I need to stay away from them or not.

  Things get difficult when Holsen hires mercenaries. I don’t have a way of tracking them.

  With my pursuers not around, some would write this opportunity off as luck, but I know the truth. Nothing about my situation relies on luck. It relies on me staying a few steps ahead of my pursuers. At this moment, they should be heading out of town, thinking I hopped a ride with a trucker. A few of them pass by the major highway near here and most would think that would be my main goal because the moment I get on it, I can easily head east or west.

  Which is why I’m going south, away from the main highway, and to do that I need to get into town.

  I follow the stream out for a few minutes, letting the area do its thing and hide my energy. After reaching the spot I Saw in my head, I climb up over the slippery rocks, doing my best not to slip back into the cool water.

  For the next half an hour, I make my way carefully through the forest. At the end sits a town small enough to be overlooked by tourists, but still large enough for the presence of strangers to not be a big deal. I’ll be able to slip in and remain hidden without drawing attention.

  The forest opens to a huge field with houses about seventy yards away. I sigh with relief.

  So close.

  I straighten my spine, pretending to be mistaken as a hiker. There are popular trails in the woods, so no one should be raising their eyebrows if they see me walking across the field. And I’m dressed to look like a hiker with an old T-shirt, cargo pants, and boots. The mud is a nice extra touch, even if it isn’t something I planned on.

  My eyes flicker around for signs of movement, but at this point, most people are inside for dinner and settling down for the night, maybe in front of their television, oblivious to the woman outside being hunted.

  Mental exhaustion becomes my new best friend, and I want nothing more than to lie down on the ground and not move for a week. I take a moment to get my bearings and smile when I realize the house is less than a mile away. The moment I reach the road with the clean sidewalks, my pace quickens, wanting to get to the house sooner rather than later. Later would be a very bad idea. I need cover soon.

  The back of my neck prickles, and it takes all my willpower to not break out into a jog. Instead, I strengthen my mental walls, protecting my existence.

  The sun finishes setting as I round the final bend and smile at the small cottage-looking house before me. Relief relieves the tension in my shoulders.

  The house isn’t so much abandoned as it’s more like an extra building the owners don’t use. They could rent it out if they wanted, but they haven’t bothered. I circle the house twice, making sure to stick to the shadows as to not draw suspicious eyes. I find my way in on the side where a window was left unlocked. Stopping myself from diving inside like I want to do, I peek through the window into a small bathroom, the tub right underneath the window.

  Opening a window from the outside isn’t as easy as movies or books make it seem, but I manage, having to patiently spend a few minutes to do it. Once the screen is popped off, I hoist myself up and climb through. To make sure no one follows me inside, which is a real possibility, I close and lock the window.

  The bathroom door is closed, so I press my ear up against the dark wood and listen anxiously, struggling to hear over the pounding of my heart. Just because the house is supposed to be empty, doesn’t mean it is. Of all the possibilities I Saw, the house being empty had a ninety percent chance of being true. The other ten percent, either the owners were visiting for maintenance, or others had already broken in.

  Hearing nothing, I carefully open the door, looking up and down the short hallway. Across from me is the second bedroom and then to the left the master b
edroom. The living room, kitchen, and dining room are off to the right.

  I do a quick sweep of the house to verify it’s empty before going into the master bedroom and right into the bathroom. I’m in the bathroom long enough to feel like a human being and to create a puff of steam when I open the door and let the heat out. Smiling, I brush and braid my hair, loving that it no longer feels like I have living things crawling over my body. My skin is clean, pale, with some pink from the hard scrubbing. Now I just need a good night’s rest and I’ll be in a good place.

  With no bedding in the room, I settle on the small throw blanket shoved into my bag. I dig it out, my nose curling in disgust at the smell of mold coming from it. It’s warm out, it being mid-summer, so I toss the offending blanket into the corner and curl onto the bed without it. No way am I going to use it when I feel clean for the first time in a week.

  I don’t fall asleep right away like I should. Instead, my focus turns to the sound of the cars rushing by, expecting to hear the crunch of one as it pulls up to the house. Eventually, even the sound of cars grow distant as the quiet thickens. Closing my eyes, I hope sleep will just fall over me so I’m not haunted by the dark thoughts and images of my dead father.

  He died to protect me. They tortured him because of me.

  All because of my rare gift.

  I roll to my side, tucking the sweater underneath my head to act as a pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. Since I found Dad dead, I haven’t had a moment to just grieve. Since this spot is going to be my home for the night, I allow myself to feel some of the pain. Not all of it, but just enough to remain functional.

  His death weighs heavily on me, all that guilt rubbing itself in my face. He shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should have Seen it happening.

  But I didn’t, so they broke him. And when they realized he wasn’t going to talk, they killed him.