He sits down and sets his elbows on the table. “This is cause for celebration, not mourning. You’re a Linker and a Fighter. Not only that, you have a—”
“Shhh!” My sharp hiss has him drawing back his chin. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather that not become common knowledge on top of everything else.”
“Why not?”
“Because, everybody will have expectations.” And I will do nothing but fail to meet them. A sudden and unexpected lump rises in my throat. Why couldn’t I just be a Fighter—a regular, ordinary Fighter with no Keeper and no other anomalistic abilities? And why does the one Keeper we know have to have a dead anima? If Luka was obsessed with my safety before, he’ll only be more so now. A tear gathers and tumbles. I drag my forearm across my cheek.
Link’s excitement softens into concern. “Hey. You okay?”
Great. So now I’m not just a freak, I’m a blubbering freak. I shake my head, an attempt to downplay my embarrassing meltdown. “I’m fine. Really. I—I’m just sick of being cooped up. I want to see the sun.” It may not be the reason for my tears, but it’s no less true. I’d give anything to be outside, surrounded by the towering redwoods of Northern California or the lush palm trees of Florida. Even the frozen, danger-strewn landscape of Detroit sounds appealing right about now. “I miss being outside.”
Link twists his lips to the side for a moment, then scoops up my tray and stands.
“What are you doing?”
“Come with me.” Without any more explanation than that, he sets my plate of mostly uneaten food in front of Rosie, who brightens with gratitude. I catch a glimpse of Claire. Her animosity has reached a whole new level. Too curious to care, I follow Link out of the cafeteria.
He leads us down the main corridor, then turns down the hallway that belongs to the adults. The very one we left behind not more than half an hour ago. Maybe he means to eavesdrop on whatever Cap and Luka are still talking about in the supply-closet-turned-conference room. “Uh Link? Where are we going?”
He stops in front of a door. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Come on, Xena. If I’m going to be training you, you will need to trust me.”
Letting out a sigh, I do as requested.
The door unlatches. Hinges squeak.
Link takes my hand and pulls me inside. The warmth on my skin has my eyelids fluttering open before Link gives me permission to look. If he’s mad that I cheated, he sure doesn’t look it. In fact, he’s wearing that Christmas-morning grin again. So am I.
Flowers, vegetables, fruits, and lush green plants grow up from pots and planters. It smells like earth and grass. The bright lights are as warm as the sun with strategically placed mirrors to maximize the brightness. The humidity in the air reminds me not of Thornsdale, but Jude. “What is this place?”
“The hub’s very own underground greenhouse. Anna and Fray are in charge of it. Non says the light and the warmth offer them some much needed fortitude.”
I step in further and turn a slow three-sixty. “It’s amazing.”
Link leads us toward the back, where the vegetation is thickest. He lies beneath an unidentified bush with palm fronds for leaves and pats the floor beside him—unspoken code for join me.
There’s a moment of self-conscious hesitation, barely longer than a heartbeat. The temptation is too strong to resist. I lay beside him on my back, staring up at the light as it dapples through green leaves.
Link folds his hands behind his head and gives my shoe a tap with his. “It’s almost like you’re outside, huh?”
The gesture wiggles its way inside my heart, pushing aside all the junk, warming me straight through. In this moment, right here, I’m no longer scared or confused or tired or homesick. I’m lying outside in the woods beside my really thoughtful, new friend. “Thanks.”
“You bet.”
As we lay in the silence, I do not let myself entertain questions about Gabe or his anima. I do not let myself think about letting everyone down when they discover I’m not as powerful as I should be. I do not think about Luka and whatever he had to say in private to Cap. I force all negative thoughts out, unwilling to ruin this moment.
“You can go outside anytime you want, you know.”
“How’s that possible? Gabe’s always guarding the door.”
“It’s one of the great perks of being like me. You can go anywhere you want to in your dreams. You can dream anything you want to dream. You’re the one in control.”
More often than not, my dreams control me, pulling me into places I don’t want to go. Link’s version sounds wonderful, yet unattainable. “How is that possible?”
“How do you dream hop?”
“I don’t know, I thought you were going to tell me that.”
“C’mon, you know. You know even if you don’t know you know. When you visit Luka in your dreams, how do you do it?”
I squish my face up, trying to recall. Luka figured it out before I did. “I think about him before I go to sleep.” As soon as the confession escapes, warmth pools inside my cheeks. It feels too intimate to share with Link—that I think about Luka in bed at night. But it’s true. And a glimmer of hope breaks through my sour mood. Does this mean I can visit my mom whenever I want? My dad and Pete and Leela, too? Is it really so simple as thinking about them before bed?
“Same principle applies. If you want to dream that you’re outside, go to sleep thinking about being outside and you’ll wake up outside. You can even create a tropical island for yourself if you want.”
It sounds too good to be true. Like my own personal bedtime heaven. Can dreams really be pleasant, highly anticipated things? “Really?”
“Really and truly. You may be cooped up when you’re awake, but you don’t have to be cooped up at night.”
I turn my head. “Is this a training session right now?”
“Nah, you’ll know when you’re being trained. I’m more of a teach-by-example kinda guy. In fact, I was thinking we’d have our first training session tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“I’ll find you while we sleep.”
“Oh.”
Link gives me a friendly nudge. “No reason to look worried, Xena. I promise it’ll be fun.”
Chapter Nineteen
Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are
I toss and turn in bed, wishing there were an on-off switch in my brain so I could turn off my thoughts and go to sleep. I’m quite positive Luka will hate this idea—me and Link sharing dreams. But then, in theory, if Link thinks about me before bed—a thought that makes my stomach kind of fluttery—he’ll be in my dream whether I want him to be or not. It hits me, suddenly, how much freedom a Linker has. Dreams are often very personal things and here we have the ability to barge in on any we like. What if I end up on the beach with Luka and Link shows up? The very idea twists my muscles into knots.
I must not think about Luka. Must, must, must not think about him. I flip over on the mattress and force every ounce of mental energy I have on my family. The last time I saw my brother, he was in a hospital room. How’s he doing now? Last I heard from Leela, my father’s job was on the line. Is it still? Anytime Luka creeps into the crevices of my mind, I push him out and focus all the harder.
Pete, Pete, Pete.
I take a shovel to my memories, digging up as many as I can of my brother. Carefree, laid-back, everybody-loves-him Pete. Until we moved to Thornsdale and he changed so drastically—turning dark and taciturn and moody. Little did I know there were powers at work in his life, powers my father and most of the world would laugh off as pure fiction.
Medicine prevented me from saving my brother the first time. Medicine almost prevented me from saving him the second. How vividly I remember the man with the white scar, searing my brother’s skin with that strange symbol—the same one I saw on Wren, the girl who barked at my old English teacher. If not for Luka, that symbol would have remained on my brother’s forearm and the Pete I grew
up knowing and loving would have been lost forever. But I brought Luka with me to fight that battle and he threw out a force field that gave the man with one scar two.
Luka, my brother’s hero. Luka, the boy whose touch sets my skin on fire. Was he really created for the sole purpose of protecting me? And if that’s true, how do I feel about it? I give my head a fierce shake.
Pete, Pete, Pete.
Instead of counting sheep, I count my brother. I imagine a long line of Pete clones, sitting in a large circle as I walk around them tapping their heads. Three-hundred-six Pete, three-hundred-seven Pete, three-hundred-eight Pete …
Until my eyes grow heavy and my breathing becomes effortless and I open my eyes in a place that is every bit as dark and dank as the hub, but it’s not my new bedroom. I reach out and curl my fingers around cold, metal bars. This is a prison cell. Only instead of being inside of it, I’m outside looking in, at a man huddled in the corner. A man who is awfully familiar …
“Dad!”
It’s not me who shouts the word, but the young man beside me. He grabs onto the bars and shakes them for all he’s worth, as though enough strength might bend them apart and allow my father to walk free. “Dad, look at me! Please!”
But my father—our father—won’t look up.
I set my hand on Pete’s shoulder.
He stops his shaking and spins around, his dark eyes going wide. And before I can brace myself, his arms wrap me in a hug so tight it’s hard to breathe. His tall body—the one that has always grown too fast—is ganglier than usual. His bones feel sharper, more prominent than they should.
“Tess! I can’t believe you’re here. Where have you been?”
I lean away, wanting to see my brother’s face, and as I do, the setting changes. We’re no longer inside a prison. We’re in the woods, the ones outside my house in Thornsdale. For one brief, unadulterated moment, I want to spread my arms wide and sprint through this familiar place. Feel fresh air on my face and in my hair. But then I remember where we came from—the image of Pete desperately trying to get our father’s attention—and the woods turn dark and ominous, as if danger lurks behind every leaf.
Pete must sense it too, because he takes my wrist and begins dragging me up the path with urgent, frenzied movements that aren’t like my brother at all. “I have to get you out of here.”
I dig in my heels. “Wait a second.”
“He’s coming. He’ll know you’re here.”
“Who?”
“The man with the scars.”
Dread sinks through my stomach like an anvil.
“He’s after you, Tess. He’s looking all over for you.”
I grab Pete’s shoulders, desperate to calm him down. “Listen to me, this is a dream.”
“What?”
“This isn’t real. It’s a dream. You’re having a bad dream.”
“Then how are you …?”
There’s too much to explain. Too many questions I have myself. I don’t know where to start. “I found out a way to visit people in their dreams. That’s what’s happening right now. This is your dream and I’ve hopped into it.”
Pete’s eyes are wild and frantic, moving about inside his head as if at any minute the man with the scars will jump out and kill us both. My brother’s terror is palpable. Of course it is. When a person gets as close to evil as Pete did and lives to tell about it, they know full well the danger it poses. I will get no answers unless I can calm him down. So I do the same thing I did to Leela. I pinch him as hard as I can—nails and all—on the bony part of his hand.
He draws back, a divot forming between his eyebrows.
“You didn’t feel it because you’re dreaming. Nothing can hurt you.” At least not physically.
Pete’s eyes start to clear. His fear slowly ebbs. “Leela was telling the truth. She said something about getting a message from you in a dream, but it all sounded so …”
“Crazy, I know. Did she give you my letters?”
He nods.
A flood of gratitude washes through me. Where would I be without Leela?
“Tess, how are you? Mom’s worried sick. She’s not eating. She’s not sleeping. And now with Dad gone …”
“What do you mean with Dad gone?”
Pete bites his lip, as if to stop the tremble in his chin. It’s a look that brings me back to our innocent childhood, when the worst trouble Pete faced was getting caught for breaking Mom’s favorite vase.
“The police have him in custody.”
“What?” The word tumbles out in a horrified whisper.
“There have been all these allegations that he broke into a mental facility in Eugene.”
Oh, no.
“The police won’t let us see him. All we know is he’s being questioned and accused for a crime he swears he didn’t commit. Nobody will tell us anything. But the evidence isn’t good, Tess. They traced the break-in to Dad’s iPad.”
I shake my head, the horror in my throat spreading to my heart. When Luka and I asked Leela to divert attention to Shady Wood, we never considered the possibility that the police might trace the break-in to my father. It was his equipment we used. How couldn’t we have considered it? “Pete, Dad didn’t break into Shady Wood. That was me and Luka. We’re the ones who broke in.”
“Luka’s with you? I knew he had to be, but the police aren’t saying anything about him at all. It’s you they’re after. Mom thinks that by locking Dad up, they’ll get you to come back.” But why? Why, why, why?
The horror in my heart pumps through my veins. Every part of my body pulses with it. My father’s in jail. My mom’s a wreck. And Pete’s having terrible nightmares. Even if my father gets acquitted, he won’t be able to get a job at Safe Guard or anywhere else for that matter. Not with this on his record. Not with me for a daughter. What will happen to my family? My mind grapples for a solution. Anything to fix all that I’ve broken. “Listen, Pete. You need to wake up and go to the police. Tell them it was me who broke into Shady Wood. I stole Dad’s iPad. It was all me. Tell them that if they let Dad out, you and Mom will promise to report me the minute you find out where I am.”
Pete’s eyes grow wide again. “Never. I’m not going to rat you out.”
“Pretend, Pete. You have to. Get Dad out of this mess and then convince our parents that you have to move. Move far away from Thornsdale and start over somewhere else. Convince Mom that I’m not coming back.” My throat closes tight, so tight I can barely breathe.
“Where are you?”
I open my mouth to tell him, to reassure him that I’m safe. But something Pete said earlier holds my tongue. “A little bit ago you were convinced the man with the scars was going to show up. Why? Has he been …?” I can’t finish the question. I’m not sure I want to know. The mere thought of that man tormenting my brother while he sleeps in an attempt to get to me is too much to handle.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” But it’s obvious he’s not, nor will he be. His face is too thin, his eyes too hollow. “I’m not sure about Mom though. She needs to know where you are, Tess. If you tell me now, we can come to you.”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” The white-scarred man will never leave my brother alone if I tell him my location. I refuse to pull the pin and hand him such a grenade. “All I can say is that I’m as safe as I can be. Tell Mom I love her, okay? Tell her not to worry about me. Tell her to focus on getting Dad out and moving away.”
An eerie whistled melody rustles through the leaves.
Pete yanks me behind a bush.
“Oh Little Raaaa-bbit. Come out, come out wherever you aaaaare.” The familiar voice turns my bones cold. “I know you’re here. I’d recognize your presence anywhere.”
I peek through the mass of leaves and spot him strolling through the woods like it’s a beautiful summer day. “You dropped off the map, you know. Imagine my delight to sense you here tonight, in your dear little brother’s dream. Hop, hop, hop, you did. I knew it was on
ly a matter of time before you came.” He walks a few more steps, pulling aside branches to search behind them. “I won’t stop tormenting little Pete in his sleep. Persistence is my middle name. I will continue until you return to me, or sweet Pete goes mad. The choice is yours.”
The threat makes my blood boil.
“Or maybe I’ll just put that mark back on his arm—”
I jump out from my hiding spot, wanting to destroy this man. To thrust my palm up into his nose and drive the cartilage through his demonic brain.
Pete jumps after me. “Tess, no!”
The air fills with an odd song, and just like that, my eyes open.
I’m back in the hub. The stupid hub. No! No, no, no! How could I leave Pete alone and defenseless with that man? Why did I wake up?
Footsteps fall outside my room. Someone is singing.
Artificial light filters through the crack beneath my door, which must mean it’s already morning. I kick the covers off my legs and fling the door open.
Danielle takes a startled step back wearing nothing but a towel and presses her hand against her chest. “What is your deal?”
My deal? My deal!? My deal is that she woke me up. She woke me up on her way to the shower with her too-loud singing and now I’m here, away from Pete, with no clue if he’s okay.
Looking me up and down, Danielle mutters something about somebody not being a morning person, then makes her way to the bathroom with her song following her as she goes. I turn around and stare at my bed, my crashing heart confirmation that there will be no falling back to sleep to find my brother. I throw a sweatshirt over my tank, comb through my gnarled hair with trembling fingers, and pad barefooted into the boy’s hallway. I need to find Luka. I need to tell him what happened.
I march to his door and knock. There’s no answer. So I knock again. And again, and again. Until finally, a door does open. Only it’s not the one I’m knocking on. Declan sticks his head out into the hallway, his flaming red hair squashed and squished in every which direction, rubbing sleep from his groggy eyes. “He’s not in there.”
The Awakening Page 14
