by Dana Davis
Daisy nodded. “Well, it’s a start. At least it communicates with you while we’re here. Think it’ll let me ask a direct question?”
Zoey shrugged. “Go ahead.”
The witch licked her lips and focused on the box. “Am I supposed to help Zoey with the Anguisher?”
Silence. Zoey repeated the question but still got no answer. “Sorry. I told you it has a mind of its own.”
Daisy nodded and focused on the box again. “Are you a living thing?”
Zoey stared at her cousin long enough to be rude. I never even thought to ask it that. It unnerved her that the box might be alive somehow. Her mouth went dry as she waited for the answer. When it didn’t respond, she silently asked the same question. Again, nothing. Just as she and her cousins started up from their respective seats, Zoey thought she heard a faint, Help.
What? Say that again. She stared at the box. Nothing. “What did you say, box?”
“Zoey, are you all right?” Daisy studied her with a worried gaze.
“Huh? Yeah. Thought I heard something but it must’ve been my imagination.” She eyed the box. Its silence unnerved her almost as much as the appeal for help. Almost.
Chapter 14
School Days
The professor dismissed class and Zoey packed up her things. Fortunately for her, there were many hopeless people in the world, keeping the Anguisher busy and with less time to expand his power over those who still had dreams. Sounded harsh, yes, but she couldn’t think about the lonely ones, the forgotten ones, not now. Anyway, what could she do besides nudge dream ribbons to the box and feed it with her powers? And she did that each day.
She sensed the box at all times and wishes found her no matter where she went. Colored auras emanated from people and she had to force herself not to stare. When she was away from the box, like now, dreams spiraled out towards her, like ribbons in the wind, and wound around her hands and arms until she mentally nudged them toward the box. A wish, desire, dream, hope making itself known to the Dream Catcher. She was now beginning to sense the wishes inside the aura ribbons, another distraction she could do without. Two more waved toward her from classmates and she sent them to the box as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed out into the hall.
Kids, in particular, could dream like nobody else and she sometimes silently wished for nice child-friendly muzzles to quell the box’s demands for energy. Most wanted clothes, toys, phones, computers and other gadgets they saw on television. Cool stuff. Others wanted a trip to a theme park or beach. A few chose a famous museum or an international vacation. The ones who hoped for an end to wars and violence, well, she had no idea how they would make that happen, not with the likes of the Anguisher around.
Retired couples often wanted money to move to that exotic locale or closer to their grandkids. Others wished their families would visit more often. They also put in the occasional longing for world peace, though most were more realistic than children. And college students could be as bad as kids. Most of the wishes Zoey had intercepted on campus lately had to do with cars, phones, sex, larger body parts and smaller other ones. Not to mention the really awesome apartment or dorm room that could be party central. Most wanted better grades. Many wishes seemed trivial to Zoey but the box urged her on.
If people couldn’t make the seemingly insignificant things happen, what hope would they have for the larger, more important ones? The ones that made a difference in the world. Nonetheless, she silently hoped for the day when this job wouldn’t be such a distraction, but she didn’t dare say that aloud.
She slung her backpack over one shoulder, her purse over the other, and stepped into the hall.
A woman shared something on her phone’s screen with two others. “That’s my new niece.” She grinned. The other two cooed over the photo as Zoey passed.
Despite the frustrations the box gave her, babies made her smile. They had the brightest auras, the cleanest, sometimes almost clear, and she really enjoyed looking at them. They were so full of hope, their wishes simple. Babies seemed to focus on her too, ignoring other people whenever she was around. In fact, just this morning when she’d stopped for a java fill-up, a set of twins had kept their eyes on her the entire time at the checkout.
Unlike the Dream Catcher, other people didn’t have to vocalize their wishes, hopes and dreams. Although they did have to be sincere. One up side to this job—she hadn’t seen any disturbing wishes of violence, corruption or other negative things.
Well, those don’t have anything to do with humankind’s hope. Now do they? Maybe average people weren’t as corrupt as the news liked to portray. Or maybe evil wishes found their way to some other paranormal. Like the Anguisher. That was more likely the case. She felt a slight tickle at her chest, the box confirming her suspicions, as she stepped around a soda spill in the hallway. She was learning to cherish the confirmations and warnings and began to gain more control over her mouth. At least she liked to think she had more control.
Another student’s dream ribbon drifted to her, this one undulating with various shades of pinks and greens. It wound around her right hand, light as a spider web, revealing a wish for a good grade on an upcoming final, and she mentally nudged it toward the box. It released her and drifted upward through the ceiling. She brought her gaze to the floor as she took the stairs with several other students down to the first level. At least summer classes were lighter than the rest of the year. She couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like when the fall semester began.
She walked a little brisker when she saw the exit doors, sandals slapping the polished floor. Her school day had ended. In two more days, she’d have a break. Her desire to avoid crowded places kept her home more and more and she longed to be there now.
Just before she reached the door, she stopped, put her purse down, slid her backpack to the front and dug around for her sunblock. Her father’s Mexican ancestry had gifted her with medium skin tone, but not dark enough to forgo sunblock, especially in the desert. She slipped the bottle back into her pack, scooped up her purse, and slid her sunglasses down from the top of her head to shade her eyes.
“Tough day?” a familiar voice behind her said.
She smiled and turned to Jason. “Every day is tough.” But much better with you here.
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He kissed her then put his arm around her as he walked her out the door and toward the parking lot. The two didn’t mention their betrothal and Zoey didn’t mind not discussing the subject. Jason’s breath touched her ear. “Becka Lipner. Two o’clock.”
She grinned. They’d put that emphasis on the woman’s name since the sixth grade. “I see her. Too bad she didn’t take the summer off.”
It had taken all her composure not to slam a fist in Becka’s mouth when they were kids. The idiot woman, along with a few of her cronies, seemed to think she was still in high school, where she’d spent a lot of time tormenting Zoey, and that mouth of hers never seemed to take a vacation. Becka wore clothes more appropriate for a nightclub than school and sneered at those in which she disapproved, which tended to be everyone outside her little clutch. Never mind that she was attending Arizona State University just like the rest of them and not some Ivy League school. She wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Guess money can’t buy everything.
Now, Becka stood beneath one of the numerous palm trees along the sidewalk, talking with two girlfriends, the only ones that seemed to be on campus for the summer semester, and gave a pointed stare when Zoey and Jason walked by. Becka was also a business major and Zoey had a couple of classes with her. She’d been especially annoying the entire week.
“Yeah,” one crony said. Slyness creeping out of her voice like syrup. “I see what you mean.”
Jason’s voice found Zoey’s ear again. “If they only knew what you could do to them.”
She smirked. “Maybe a few zits would keep them home.” A ribbon flowed from Becka, and Zoey sucked in an audible breath.
“You okay?” Jason took her hand as they stepped off the curb into the parking lot.
“Yeah, it’s just—” She stopped herself before she revealed too much. She couldn’t sense Becka’s wish just now, thankfully, but she guessed it had something to do with designer clothes, shoes, or an expensive car. “I guess everyone has dreams.”
He seemed to understand and glanced back at the annoying woman. “Tough one.”
“It’s so damn hard sometimes.” She nudged Becka’s ribbon home to the box and it sailed off into the azure sky.
They walked silently the rest of the way and stopped near Zoey’s Jeep. This prime spot had opened up just as she’d arrived this morning. Probably wouldn’t happen again her entire college career. They carpooled to school on Wednesdays and this week was Zoey’s turn to drive. Once they got settled, she started the engine, put the Jeep in gear, and eased out of her spot.
“Wanna come by?” she asked as she made for the exit.
“Can’t. I have a finals paper due tomorrow. Sorry.” Jason grinned.
“You don’t look sorry.”
“Well, it’s for a mythology class.”
“Better get an ‘A’ on that one.”
“Wouldn’t it be a hoot if I failed?”
She smirked. “Your parents would probably turn you out into the street.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.” He slipped out of his shoulder harness, leaned over, and gave her a peck on her right ear, sending a chill through her. “Sure wish I had time though.” Since no ribbon accompanied this wish, he wasn’t serious about it. Schoolwork came first. For both of them.
She smiled. Her loins ached as his warm breath tickled her cheek and she wanted him. Or did she just want the sex? Aura sex. She took a right out of the lot and headed toward Apache Boulevard.
Jason gave her ear a quick flick of his tongue that made her squeal. “Hey! I’m driving here.”
He chuckled, sat back in his seat, and slipped the shoulder harness over his head. After a brief silence, he said, “Do you see my wishes?”
Zoey was a bit surprised he’d taken so long to ask that question. “Yes.” Though she didn’t know every single one, she offered an erotic smile.
“Well, that should make our marriage easier.”
She laughed but an uneasy feeling sat in the pit of her stomach. Jason seemed so much more at ease with this whole arranged marriage thing. She quickly changed the subject back to finals.
* * * *
Once they arrived at Jason’s house, Zoey pulled into his circular drive. “Well, here we are. Homework sweet homework.”
He gave her a lingering kiss, which left her thinking about sex again, and grabbed his bag. “See you tomorrow, sexy.” He winked and she grinned.
She sat idling until he disappeared into his house then pulled out of the drive and drove the short distance home.
Once the Jeep was safely in the garage, she triggered the automatic door and went inside. Her backpack took a place on the dryer as she headed to the kitchen, where she exchanged her water bottle for a can of diet soda.
It was only two-thirty but she was tired. After a few sips of soda, she curled up on the couch and shut her eyes. She hadn’t dozed long, maybe half an hour, when the box pulled at her. One eye still shut, she gazed at it. It opened, which usually meant something urgent.
Not now. Shit.
Zoey sat and forced the sleep from her brain. She stared into the vortex as the spider web engulfed her and Becka Lipner’s image appeared. The woman sat alone on her bed, crying. Wishes drifted into Zoey’s mind. Becka envied Zoey, longed for a boyfriend to hold her when she was upset, not the superficial men she ended up dating, the ones who wanted her for sex or money and little else.
How did I miss that?
Becka still lived with her parents, as did most local college kids, and Zoey got the sense no one had been home for many years when she arrived from school. She had no siblings. Her parents gave her things, expensive things, the vision revealed, but they took little interest in their daughter’s life, other than ordering her to keep out of anything that would make the family look bad. Becka wanted her parents near, longed for them to care about her and guide her. The woman’s sobs rocked Zoey’s senses and she had trouble focusing.
“Keep calm.” She put a wall between Becka’s emotions and her own, glad that she’d discovered that talent. It was always a thin wall, like cheesecloth, and the dreamer’s emotions sifted through like a filtered breeze, but it helped distance her.
Zoey knew what it was like to have a parent ignore her, send her away to boarding school just to get rid of her, choose others over her. She’d hated Rena for that life and she’d gotten back at the woman with tantrums and disobedience, troubles that got her kicked out of two different boarding schools. Until her aunt and uncle took her in.
Rena would never change and she’d stopped hating the woman several years ago. She also had her doubts that Becka’s parents would change. Her aura brightened as she gave energy to the box. She had no idea just how Becka would solve her problems, as the woman had been wishing much the same thing since she was little. No matter how much she was tempted, how much she despised Becka, Zoey couldn’t ignore the woman’s hope. And she gave of herself to the dreams.
Chapter 15
Smarty
She met up with Jason for lunch outside the college bookstore on her shift break, and the two sat on a bench, gazing at the playing field’s parched grass and several palm trees that dotted campus.
“We need rain,” Jason said just before he took a bite of his overstuffed burrito.
“Yeah.” We’re talking about the weather now? The fucking weather? Zoey plucked a baby carrot from her salad and popped it into her mouth. But the desert really could use the rain. She leaned close to him. “Hey, why don’t you ask your mom about it? Get her to whip up a monsoon.” She twirled a finger in the air.
A Catcher could make many of her own wishes come true, especially simple ones that affected no one else, but Zoey didn’t dare make a frivolous request for rain. She didn’t have enough control over her powers to make such a grand wish. Who knew what would happen? Besides, she had no reason to believe she could affect the weather. There wasn’t exactly a Catcher handbook and the box could be stubborn with information sometimes. She thought about Native rain dances. Perhaps there was more to them than she ever suspected. Indians had stories about ancient gods with magickal powers, like peoples all over the world, and many were descended from paranormal ancestors.
Jason smirked. “I’ve asked. She says it’s complicated.”
Of course it is. Why would any of our jobs be easy? What was I thinking?
“Weather changes in one locale affect the entire world, so she can’t encourage rain any time she likes.” Jason’s voice was loud and several students turned to look at the two. He frowned and focused on his burrito. “Guess that was a bit vocal.”
“Who cares? They have no idea what we’re talking about.”
He lowered his voice. “We’d better keep it that way. Anyway, it’s that whole Butterfly Effect Chaos Theory thing. You remember our physics prof touched on it?”
“Butterfly wings affect the atmosphere someplace else, like move a tornado. Yeah, I remember. That stuff makes my head hurt.” Zoey shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth, glad she didn’t have to worry about the weather on top of humankind’s hopes.
“I read a tale last night where a god punished his son by encasing him in pain.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine the torture?”
Zoey swallowed and gaped at him. “Think our ancestors could really do that shit?” The thought made a chill waltz up her back.
“Don’t know. But I sure wouldn’t want to find out.”
She concentrated so hard on him she didn’t see Becka Lipner and her two minions approach. They looked as though they were headed to a nightclub. Big surprise there. Becka had worn what Zoey referred to as “disco heels” even in middle school. The little snob
had gone to public school, not private. She wondered if Becka’s parents were in debt from trying to keep up with big mortgages, expensive cars and designer clothes they really couldn’t afford.
Pretense never suited Zoey. Her family had money. Old money. But they didn’t flaunt it. She preferred to invest the way her aunt and uncle had taught her. As a kid, she’d opened a savings account, where she’d put the majority of her allowance. When she was old enough, she began investing in money markets, stocks and bonds. Uncle Alex had started some for her and taught her how to diversify. I miss you so much, Uncle.
She got a whiff of Becka Lipner’s expensive perfume, bringing her thoughts back to the woman. Today, Becka wore her brown hair loose around her shoulders. It was only a shade lighter than Zoey’s but somehow looked much better, shiny and full, like a shampoo commercial. Her designer top and short shorts showed off her perfectly tanned skin, probably spray-on. Zoey glanced at Becka’s sandals. The heels were at least two inches high. The woman wore way too much makeup in Zoey’s opinion.
“I think that guy over there’s more your type, Zoey,” Becka said. Her two minions giggled.
Zoey glanced at an undersized man with oversized glasses sitting alone on a bench beneath a mesquite. He obviously had some sort of disability. She remembered all too well Becka’s sobs and wishes but couldn’t say anything about them. She frowned and eyed her campus enemy, hoping the poor man hadn’t heard the insensitive remark. “We’re not in high school anymore. You really should grow up. All of you.”
Becka seemed not to hear her. “Don’t you want to go over there and make wedding plans with your future husband?”
“Knock it off,” Zoey said in a dangerous tone. Just one punch. Right in the mouth. That’s all I want. She clenched and unclenched her fists.
Becka studied Jason and sneered. “Or maybe he’s more your type, Jason.”
He lowered his burrito and gave a cool look to Becka. “Actually, Zoey’s my type.”
