The Book of Dreams

by O. R. Melling

  At school, she had become adept at avoiding her new teacher. Though Ms. Woods appeared to be kind and good-natured, Dana had already made up her mind. There was only one person she intended to trust on her mission, and she was waiting for him.

  • • •

  The day Jean returned he walked slowly into class, avoiding the curious stares of the others. Though he bore no evident scars from his ordeal, there were shadows under his eyes, and he looked pale and thinner. He didn’t glance once in Dana’s direction, nor did he respond whenever she tried to catch his attention. She finally had to accept that he was ignoring her.

  Dana was crushed. Had he forgotten their time in the Brule together? Perhaps he only remembered the night on the road, when she had left him to die? There was also another possibility: he might well have no memory of either event. Her heart sank at the thought. That would be the worst case of all, for then she would mean nothing to him. She would just be another girl in his class. Dana couldn’t accept that. She wanted, needed him to join her. There was no question of what she had to do. She needed to convince him somehow. Her heart sank further. What could she say to him?

  • • •

  After a long morning spent mustering her courage, Dana confronted Jean in the hall between classes.

  “Ça va?” she said, unsure how to begin.

  Jean frowned and shrugged, then tried to move away.

  She blocked his path. “Wait. Please,” she pleaded. “I know it was my fault you were hurt. I’m really sorry, believe me. It’s no excuse, but I honestly didn’t know what was going on. I thought you were my enemy or at least on his side.”

  Jean’s frown deepened. She saw the wariness in his eyes. There was anger there too, but also confusion. Did he or did he not remember? The moment had come. It was now or never. She moved closer to him. Then, turning in such a way that he could see her hands, though she shielded them from others, she called up the light.

  Nothing happened. She was too nervous. She had never shown her gift to another human being before.

  Jean made an impatient noise and was about to leave when at last the light shone. His eyes widened. But he didn’t look as shocked as she had expected. He grasped her hands and stared at them.

  “What are you?” he demanded quietly.

  “You asked me that before,” she answered, in the same low tone. “I’m more than I seem. I’m something … different.”

  “Le Brûlé!” he swore suddenly. “Les feux follets! It was no dream! Maudit, c’est incroyable!” The green eyes flashed. All the anger and confusion vanished. Excitement lit up his face. “Dis-moi. What is happening? What aventure is this?”

  Dana was abashed by his intensity. She could feel the full strength of his personality concentrated on her, and it threw her into a muddle.

  “The w-w-olf,” she stammered. “The … the one that follows you? He tried to save me that night. I want to thank him and maybe … could I meet him?”

  It was as if a mask was clamped down on Jean’s face. His eyes went cold. He backed away from her.

  Dana understood. She, too, was protective of her otherworld friends. She, too, guarded her secrets. But, as she herself had learned only recently, sometimes you had to open up. Sometimes you had to share your secrets. He was the one person she was ready to trust, and she needed him to feel the same way about her. Casting aside her usual shyness, she rushed out her words.

  “I’ve shown you my light. It’s a gift from my mother. She’s a fairy queen. A sky-woman. But I think it’s my human side you’ll accept more. My last name is Faolan. Faol is the old Irish word for ‘wolf.’ My father’s people are the Clan of the Wolf. We belong to the wolf. She’s our guardian.”

  It worked! He was caught, she could see it. A strange delight shone in his eyes. He grinned with a sudden flash of white teeth.

  “Alors, the wolf in you wish to meet my wolf?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  “And you don’t fear?”

  “No!” Dana declared from her heart. “I love the wolf!”

  “C’est vrai?”

  Jean’s grin widened. Mischief sparked in his eyes. He was so hugely amused, she was nonplussed. Was there some joke she was missing?

  Jean leaned toward her. His grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Disoriented, unsure what she was seeing, Dana found herself staring into a maw of white canines. Grandma, what big teeth you have.

  A laugh growled low in his throat. “Like you, I too am more. I too am différent.”

  A yellow-gold color seeped into his eyes, drowning the green irises. Now the amber glare of the wolf stared out at her.

  Instinctively Dana backed away.

  “You!” she gasped. An unreasoning fear gripped her. This was more than she had bargained for. This was not the wolf she knew. “You’re a werewolf!”

  His grin was wicked. “So, not all wolves you love, eh?”

  Dana recovered quickly, ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry … really … I … I never met a werewolf. Not in Ireland or Faerie.”

  Jean shrugged good-naturedly. The wintergreen color returned to his eyes.

  “I am not werewolf,” he said. “I am loup-garou. You know what is this?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s a French-Canadian thing. I tell you later. Maintenant, we go with chemistry. You know how to do this?”

  For a moment Dana was totally confused. Her face flushed red. Did he mean—?

  “Oh,” she said with sudden understanding. “Our science homework? Yes. It’s an experiment with hydrogen. I’ve done the first part.”

  “Bon. I sit with you.”

  • • •

  Dana entered the science lab in a happy daze. New and peculiar feelings were bubbling away inside her. She felt as if she had taken a turn in the road and was now wandering through exotic territory. It was exciting and disturbing and promising and terrifying all at the same time. For better or worse, she was no longer alone on her mission. A new kind of magic had entered her life and with it, a boy. She wasn’t sure which was more fascinating.

  There was a lot of laughing as they struggled with a Bunsen burner that refused to light.

  “We do the feux follet, we can do this,” Jean assured her.

  • • •

  At lunch in the cafeteria, he joined her in the line.

  “You eat with me, non?”

  He was obviously not shy with girls. His manner was both casual and confident.

  Battling her own shyness, Dana followed him to a secluded corner. She was painfully aware of the looks cast in their direction. At one table, the older girls she had questioned about Jean raised their eyebrows at each other. At another table, Janis and her circle sat stupefied.

  Indifferent to their audience, Jean drew up his chair close to Dana’s. If he was aware of her discomfort, he didn’t show it. Unwrapping a baguette of ham and cheese, he tore into it hungrily. His manner toward her was both casual and intimate.

  To cover her embarrassment, Dana spoke quickly, keeping her voice low so no one else could hear. “How did you become a werewolf? Were you bitten by one?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Mais non, I tell you I am not this thing. I am loup-garou.”

  Mesmerized, she watched as he took another voracious bite of his sandwich and almost swallowed it whole.

  “It happen to mon grand-père … my grandfather … and he tell me of the others, my great-grandfather and his great-grandfather. The first one, he come from Poitou in France but it only happen here, je pense. He don’t go to Mass for seven year, so he become a wolf at night. He can be normal again if he confess the sin to a curé. A priest catholique. Then he go back to the Church and he is loupgarou no more.”

  Dana thought for a moment. “The men in your family didn’t go to a priest?” Then she grinned. “They liked being a wolf.”

  “Mais oui.”

  Jean’s teeth flashed white. He threw back his head to laugh.

  Dana coul
dn’t help but join him. Their laughter was so loud and wild, they drew more looks. She no longer cared. She was caught up in the wonder of a Canadian fairy tale.

  Enjoying her response, Jean was happy to continue his story.

  “Unless the man confess, it stay in the blood of the famille. But not all the peoples. My father is not loupgarou. But my dear grand-père he see that I am. He wait for me outside the house the night I have seven year. When I turn, there is much fear. Terreur. Here I am a petit boy in my bed, then I am on the floor with four legs and so much hair and big teeth. I am all—how you say?—shivering. Then I hear the call to me. This howl in the night. This cri de coeur. A cry from the heart, yes, that is liberté … freedom … the freedom of the wild. It is like a fire in my head, in my blood. I jump out the window to start my new life.”

  “Was it less scary being with your grandfather?”

  “Mais oui, but also with the wolf comes courage.”

  “Of course,” Dana murmured, remembering.

  “That first night we run together, I never forget. Mes parents, they live in Trois-Rivières at that time but grandpère he live in Labrador City. He invite us to visit at his house for my birthday. He know I am to turn that night and he want me to run free in the wild place with him. Câlisse, c’était merveilleux! I have not the word to describe. It is the winter. The land is all white with snow and the ice. The trees, they are tall and black like arrow that shoot into the sky. We run across many lake that are frozen and across many hill with snow and many river that are like a road of ice … c’était très beau.”

  Eyes shining, face aglow, he was lost in his memories. Dana could see that he was far away, running with the wolves through the cold white interior of Labrador and Quebec. Oh, how she yearned to be there with him!

  “Is it up to you when you turn?” she asked. “Do you have any choice about becoming a wolf or not?”

  “Toujours. Always I choose. Except when the time is full moon. Then the moon, she call to the wolf and the wolf he come out whether the human like it or not.”

  Again, the wide grin.

  “And during the day?”

  Dana saw immediately that she had said the wrong thing. Jean’s face darkened suddenly. His features seemed to close in on themselves.

  “It is not good to turn wolf by day. Then you stay wolf forever. You can never be human again. But I don’t want to talk about this.”

  She didn’t press him. From her own experience, Dana knew all too well that magic was a two-edged sword. Enchantment could be beautiful and exciting, but it was also perilous. Fairy tales did not always end happily. She could sense an old wound, some deep loss he had suffered. Instinctively, she rested her hand on his.

  “Back in Ireland, when I was lost in the mountains, a wolf came to be my friend. To guide me. She was my anamchara. That means ‘soul-friend’ in Irish. She … she died. I loved her so much. I … I’ve never told anyone about her … till now.”

  She could see that her words affected him deeply. His features worked with emotion and he seemed unable to speak at first. Then he took her hand and kissed it lightly.

  “The first time I see you, you feel like famille. The life of the wolf can be lonely, non? But he always know his people. Your wolf friend, she is gone. I will be in her place. I will be your soul-friend. How you say this beau word in your language? Anamchara? In my language, it is âme soeur. Alors, now tell me. Why do this monster want to kill you?”

  For a moment Dana was overwhelmed, not only by his charm, but by the generosity of his offer. This was what she had so dearly hoped for: that she could set out on her quest with a companion by her side.

  “I don’t know who or what he is, only that he’s an enemy of Faerie,” she began. “He took over Mr. Crowley somehow. I guess to get closer to me.” Even as the thought struck her, Dana went pale. Felt sick. How many more innocent people would suffer or die as this thing tried to kill her? She fought back the fear and the nausea. There was only one thing she could do to stop it: succeed in her mission. “He’s trying to keep me from finding something. It’s a bit like the quest for the Holy Grail, except it’s not a treasure, but a book I’m looking for. The Book of Dreams.”

  As Dana told her story, she grew afraid that Jean might not want to join her. After all, it was not his battle, the mission had nothing to do with him. He already knew from his experience with Crowley that the dangers were real, could even be fatal. Why would he want to risk his life for someone he hardly knew? She faltered at the end of her tale and waited anxiously. How would he respond?

  The wintergreen eyes glittered with excitement. There was not a moment’s doubt, not a second of fear.

  “Already I meet the monster before the night I try to save you. He attack me in the city. He is my enemy too. In my heart I know this—he hate all the thing that live, all that is good. Alors, I do this quest with you! We go together.”

  Dana caught her breath. She could hardly speak she was so happy. How much her life had changed in so short a time! As if she had stepped out of the shadows and into the light.

  “So where do we look?” said Jean.

  With a thump, she was back to reality.

  “It’s somewhere in Canada,” she said lamely. “That’s all I know. Talk about a needle in a haystack!”

  “Needle?” He looked confused. “Haystack?”

  “Sorry, it’s an expression,” and she began to explain.

  His face cleared. “Ah oui, it’s the same in French. Chercher une aiguille dans un botte de foin.”

  A shiver ran up Dana’s spine. She loved to hear him speak his own language.

  “I have an idea,” he said suddenly. “You can run with the wolf?”

  She frowned nervously. “I … I’ve done it before. But it’s been a long time.”

  He gave her a stern look. “It is necessary you run with me. I can be no help if you don’t.”

  Her throat tightened. She had no idea if she could do what he asked. All her recent attempts to shape-shift had gone very badly. It was one of the most difficult of fairy arts. But she could see that he was growing impatient.

  “Yes, of course I can,” she stated, with more confidence than she felt.

  “Bon!” he said. “When we do this? We go the whole night, n’est-ce pas?”

  “How about on the weekend?” she suggested, thinking fast.

  She needed time to prepare, not only for the magic, but to cover her tracks. If she was going away overnight, she would have to do it in secret.

  “Bon,” he said again. “Saturday. We meet chez toi. Your house. I know where you live. I go there as wolf.”

  “I saw you that night!” she said. “What—?”

  He shrugged, but didn’t bother to explain. He would make no apologies for the lupine side of his character.

  • • •

  They were still discussing their plans when their teacher approached them.

  “You’re hard to get ahold of,” Ms. Woods said to Dana, smiling tentatively. “But it’s really important that I speak with you. I understand if you’re afraid or suspicious. Believe me, I know what’s going on. Well, I know something. I want to help you.”

  Jean looked surprised and leaned forward with interest, but Dana’s eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  Ms. Woods glanced around her anxiously. Her presence in the cafeteria was already drawing attention. Teachers usually kept to the staff room. Some of the nosier students edged closer in an attempt to overhear. Who was in trouble? What had they done?

  “If you would just come with me,” she urged Dana, in a low voice “where we could talk in private. If you’d like to bring your friend, I don’t mind.”

  “Leave me alone,” Dana said. “If you come near me again, I’ll report you.”

  Ms. Woods was taken aback. Yet it seemed for a minute, as she regarded the two of them, that she also looked pleased.

  “Very well,” she said. Her sigh seemed to echo sad
ness. Then, reluctantly, she withdrew.

  “You don’t like?” said Jean, as he watched their teacher leave the cafeteria.

  “I don’t trust.”

  “She seem très gentille. She don’t feel bad like Crowley. But who can know for sure, eh?”

  “Exactly,” said Dana. “I’m not taking any chances. The less people involved, the safer it is. We don’t need strangers.”

  “D’accord. So, we got a date for Saturday?”

  Dana blushed furiously.

  It was late when Jean finally appeared outside Dana’s house. She was watching for him at her bedroom window, ready to go in jeans and parka. She had grown worried that he might not come, but there he was, in the shadows beyond the street lamp: the great black wolf.

  Dana glanced toward her bed, at the lump under the duvet. What should have been a simple enchantment had taken all week. In theory, she knew how to fashion a changeling: bind leaves, twigs, branches, and clumps of earth with a string of words, a spell, to make a human shape. Getting the materials from the backyard and up to her room was the easiest part; but the magic itself eluded her at first and the early attempts left a rotting mess on the bed. Days of frustration and sometimes tears finally brought the desired result. There lay the counterfeit Dana with dark curls of hair, fair skin, similar height and weight, wearing her pajamas.

  Gabriel and Aradhana had retired earlier that evening, but there was always a chance they might look in on her. Aside from the musty smell that lingered in the room, all seemed normal.

  Dana leaned over the sleeping form for a final check.

  The eyes shot open.

  “Go ’way,” it said grumpily.

  Dana jumped back. The eyes closed again.

  Perfect, she thought. And creepy.

  She tiptoed into the hall and down the stairs. By the time she had shut the front door and crossed the road to the park, Jean had returned to his own shape to greet her.

  Hands plunged into the pockets of his jacket, he leaned toward her eagerly with a big smile on his face. Though the rest of him was human, the eyes glowed like polished amber.