Dream Under the Hill (Oberon Book 8)

by P. G. Forte

  Finally, it did end. Almost. He was faced once more with a fall of rocks, held in place by a tangle of roots. But in the spaces between the rocks he could see stars and a sliver of sky.

  Clearing the rocks away was the work of a few, short minutes, thanks in part to the pick he’d brought with him, and then he was free. He half crawled, half stumbled out into the night and stood up; gratefully breathing in the fresh air, trying to get his bearings. He saw no houses, no lights, only trees and the rolling slope of hills.

  “Oh, great. Where the fuck am I?” he muttered as he started to turn, but he never completed the motion. The blow came out of nowhere, he neither saw nor heard it coming, but he sure as hell felt it. Something large and heavy landed on his back and dropped him, face down into the dirt. There was a bright starburst of light as his skull struck against something hard, and then darkness swallowed him up.

  * * *

  “What are you up to now, you son of a bitch?” Chay demanded of the recumbent figure beneath him. He waited, poised for a struggle, but none came. The body stretched beneath his remained motionless. “Ah, shit.”

  He levered himself off Liam, but just far enough to reach for the flashlight he’d seen the other man drop, careful to keep one eye trained on him, just in case his unconsciousness was an act.

  Nope, not an act, Chay decided when he turned Liam over and played the light over his too-still features. The bastard was out for the count, and then some. There was a small cut just below his temple, where his head had made contact with the side of the pick axe.

  Chay felt a twinge of guilt. They were lucky. A couple of inches more, the guy could’ve lost an eye. As it was, the cut didn’t look too deep, but it was oozing blood and would probably need stitches. If nothing else, Liam was for sure gonna have one hell of a black eye. To make matters worse, from the looks of things, this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten roughed up tonight either.

  Which stood to reason, Chay supposed. Any guy who made a practice of messing with people’s sisters was likely to have a whole bunch of people waiting for a chance to take a swing at him. Chay shook his head. It was just his bad luck that he’d gotten the drop on Liam only after someone else had already taken most of the fight out of him. Now, instead of teaching the jerk a lesson – and working off some of the anger he was feeling—Chay was going to have to haul Liam’s worthless hide all the way back to where he’d left his car and then drive him to the hospital.

  “You’re just lucky I drove here tonight, brah,” he said grunting a little as he maneuvered the unconscious man into position, draping him over his shoulders and slowly straightening his legs to bring himself to a stand. The son of a bitch weighed a ton, too. “Because I tell you what, there’d be no chance you’d catch me carrying your heavy ass all the way back to town. No chance of that at all.”

  * * *

  Sinead was dead. She took one look at her surroundings and she knew. There was something so odd about the way everything around her looked, about the way it felt and smelled and sounded. It was all a little too real to be a dream, and much too perfect to be real. So what other choice was there?

  She glanced around again, longer this time, admiring the way the golden sunlight streamed down between the trees. She appeared to be in a forest glade of some sort, and if the angle of the sun’s rays was any indication, it was late afternoon. The air that caressed her skin was soft and warm. The grass that cushioned her bare feet was springy and green. The trees that towered above her head were singing... .

  She paused to listen. Yep, definitely. Singing trees. And that meant she was definitely dead.

  She couldn’t remember much of her former life, the details of it were like water or sand, or like shadows passing on the grass, easy to observe, impossible to grasp. But, even without memories, she was pretty certain that, wherever she’d just come from, the trees there didn’t sing.

  No, she was dead all right, and if this wasn’t heaven... well, it certainly ought to be.

  Heaven or not, she felt a lingering sense of regret at finding herself here, as though there were things she’d left behind that she had not been ready to leave. Important things. Unfinished, unresolved, unremembered; they nagged at her.

  She glanced around uneasily, feeling lonely and lost. She hadn’t ever pictured the afterlife as being quite so quiet, either. Where were all the people? Why wasn’t there anyone here to help her, to tell her who she was, where she was, to remind her about all that she’d forgotten? Or, at least, to explain why she couldn’t remember. Shouldn’t there be someone here to meet her?

  Surely, that’s how this was supposed to work, wasn’t it? Relatives, friends, people you knew who had passed on before you came to greet you, to escort you to your final destination. But maybe she had been the kind of person who had never gotten close to anyone? Or maybe this was her final destination?

  She stood where she was for a moment longer, irresolute, trying to determine what she should do next, where she should go, when it suddenly occurred to her that she wasn’t alone after all. She glanced over her shoulder and sighed in relief. There was a man watching her from beneath the trees. He looked familiar and somehow... he seemed trustworthy. So, even though he was glowering at her rather fiercely, when he waved her over to join him, she went.

  “Hi,” she said, greeting him tentatively, wondering if she should ask him his name. Or would that seem rude?

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded before she had a chance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from here?”

  Sinead stared at him in surprise. “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything.”

  “What?” A look of dismay raced across the man’s face. It was instantly covered up. He shook his head. “Shit, that’s great. I shoulda guessed he was using some kind of mind control on you.”

  Sinead felt her eyes widen. “Mind control?” In heaven? Was that why she couldn’t remember anything? “Who’s he?”

  “Never mind that now,” he replied. “Come on, we gotta get you out of here pronto.”

  He took hold of her hand and began to lead her along a narrow trail that had appeared beneath their feet, but they hadn’t gone more than a couple of steps when night fell with startling abruptness. “Oh, God damn it,” the man swore. “No! Not now!”

  Sinead bit her lip. Okay, so most likely he wasn’t an angel. And, all things considered, the odds of this being heaven had just taken a major drop. “Where are we?” she asked, not at all certain she wanted to know.

  He frowned at her impatiently. “Look around you. We’re in the woods, where else? But we’re going to be up shit’s creek if they find us here. Come on, we gotta hide.”

  As he dragged her away from the path and quickly pulled her down to duck beside him in the bushes that lined the trail, Sinead felt a sudden qualm. Why was she going along with this insanity? Why was she letting some strange man dictate her actions – without even the benefit of an explanation? Good thing she was dead because, otherwise, this whole thing would be spelling trouble. Big trouble.

  She studied him out of the corner of her eye. What was going on? He was peering through the branches at the clearing they’d just left. His expression was alert, intent. Scared. Somehow that surprised her. He didn’t have the look of someone who was easy to frighten.

  Without warning, a name swirled out of the depths of her memory. “Nick.”

  “Huh?” he grunted, without taking his eyes from the clearing. “What is it now?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I-I–” She was just thrilled to have finally remembered something – anything, even a name.

  “Yeah? Well, then, keep quiet.”

  “Why? What’s happening? What are we doing here?” she asked, and then gasped in surprise as a campfire flared suddenly to life in the center of the clearing. She stood up for a better look and was immediately yanked back down again.

  “Jesus, are you stupid, or something? Didn’t I just tell you to keep your
head down?”

  Had he? If he had, she couldn’t remember it. Before she had time to ponder the vagaries of her memory, she heard a sound that chilled her soul. A low chanting had arisen in the glade. She swung around to face the clearing again. From out of nowhere, a group of robed figures had appeared and, dead or not, Sinead didn’t want to be anywhere in their vicinity.

  Without thinking, she jumped to her feet and tried to flee. But Nick was on his feet in the same instant, grabbing hold of her arm and spinning her back around to face him.

  “Stop it,” he ordered, having seemingly forgotten his own advice to stay quiet. “Why won’t you listen? Why won’t any of you listen to me? How can I keep you safe if you don’t do what I tell you?”

  His words took her by surprise, but before she could question him, something else occurred that surprised her even more. A quick glance confirmed it. The scene around them had changed somehow. They were no longer within the glade, but standing on an empty stretch of highway. No cars. No street lights. No signs to tell her where they were. But she could smell the tar of the road. She could feel the asphalt beneath her feet.

  The woods no longer rose above them. There were still trees to be seen – and to be heard. But their song had changed to a mournful keening and they’d receded to the sides of the road. Their branches writhed in the wind that rose from the fire that continued to lick along the base of their trunks, and through the smoke Sinead could just make out the shape of a car at the center of the conflagration.

  Most of the robed figures had disappeared as well. Only one remained.

  “Who’s that?” she asked, raising a shaky hand to point at the man who stood a short distance away from them smiling unpleasantly at the lifeless body of a woman that lay sprawled at his feet.

  “She’s dead,” Nick replied in a dull voice. He stared hopelessly at the woman. “I was too late. I couldn’t save her.”

  “But who–”

  “Someone I’d promised to protect.” Nick’s eyes blazed as his gaze swung back to connect with Sinead’s. She felt the impact of his emotions crash into her consciousness jolting her. Tears sprung to her eyes, just as though she’d been physically slapped.

  “Why don’t any of you get this? I can’t help you if you won’t let me,” Nick continued to rage at her. His fingers bit into her arms as he shook her. “I’m only one person. I can’t be everywhere at once. I can’t save everyone from everything. I can’t–”

  “Stop it,” Sinead ordered, wrenching free of his hold, clapping her hands over her ears, shutting her eyes. Shutting him out. “Stop yelling! Go away! You’re scaring me!”

  There was silence then. Even the crackling of the flames went out. Even the trees fell still. Sinead felt rather than saw the night diminish, like a weight that had been lifted from her spirit. Curious, she opened her eyes. This time, it was less of a shock to find herself somewhere new.

  It was daylight once more and she was gazing out at the same forest glade where she had first found herself. But she was viewing it from a distance this time, and through a pane of glass.

  “Where am I now?” she wondered aloud.

  “The high school,” a voice behind her replied.

  Sinead turned. A teenage girl was gazing back at her from her perch on top of a rather plain, utilitarian folding table, the kind you’d find in any school cafeteria. But this was neither classroom or cafeteria. “High school?”

  “Senior lounge, actually.”

  Sinead looked around. The room contained several snack machines, a couple of couches an assortment of chairs and a very ancient TV. And, of course, the table. All of it only vaguely familiar.

  The girl smiled in sympathy. “You don’t remember, huh? That’s okay. It happens to a lot of us. Don’t worry, it’ll pass.”

  Sinead studied the girl for a moment. “Do I know you?”

  “You must, right? Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I’m Lisa.” Sinead did not know how to answer that, the name meant nothing to her. After a minute the girl continued. “See, that’s how things work on this dimension. You can see whoever you want to see, whenever you want to see them. But only as long as they want to see you, too.”

  “Is that why Nick’s not here now?” Sinead asked, feeling guilty. “Because I wished him away?”

  “Well, yes and no.” Lisa jumped off the table and came to join her. “He hasn’t actually gone anywhere. In fact, he’s kind of stuck where he is. He keeps reliving the same things over and over again. See?” She nodded toward the window. “Look there.”

  For a moment they both gazed through the glass. Night was falling yet again—but only over the forest. Sinead watched as clouds gathered above the trees. The sky grew dark and seemed to collapse in on itself, descending over the scene like a big, black curtain, obscuring it from her sight. “This is terrible,” she murmured. “Isn’t there anything we can do to help him?”

  “Only if he wants to be helped,” her young friend replied. “And you’d be surprised how many people don’t. He’s carrying a lot of baggage, you see. Guilt and anger. And fear.” She paused for a moment and then added. “Just like you are.”

  * * *

  Pain exploded in Cara’s head as Gregg’s fist made contact yet again. This time, she was sure she heard bones crunch. Blood filled her mouth until she felt like she was drowning.

  “Why?” Gregg demanded, over and over again. But she had no answer for him. She didn’t know what she’d done to inspire his rage. He’d been furious enough when he arrived—or so she thought – but seeing that girl’s picture on Seth’s computer had sent him completely around the bend.

  Knife drawn, he’d rushed her. And though she’d tried to fight him off, he just kept coming, slashing at her hands, her arms, her chest, her neck, even her face until he finally succeeded in burying the blade in her chest. The shock of it stunned them both. Their eyes met. Cara was sure she saw regret in Gregg’s face, but she knew it was too late now for second chances. He might be sorry when she was dead, but not sorry enough that it would keep him from completing the job. When he pulled the knife out, she turned and tried to run, but she tripped and went down with Gregg on top of her. Her leg struck the edge of the coffee table as she fell, and she heard something snap. Pain blinded her.

  Next thing she knew, she was on her back, with Gregg on top of her. Apparently he’d lost his knife in the scuffle because he was using his fists on her now. Her head snapped to the side half a dozen times or more. First left, then right, then left again. Back and forth, blow after blow, over and over and over again.

  And always the same question raining on her ears. “Why? Why? Why?”

  But she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, could barely think. It was hard to just stay conscious, and she didn’t even know why she continued to try. Sure, Seth would be back soon, but so what? There was no way she could warn him about Gregg now. And no way at all she could stop Gregg from kidnapping him. Still, she hung on, clinging to life. Too stubborn to give in. Or maybe just too stupid…

  It took a few minutes for her to realize that the pummeling had stopped. Something touched her face, softly grazing her cheek, her nose, her lips, her eye. She felt a gentle, tugging sensation, almost as though someone was attempting to brush stray pieces of hair from her face.

  For a moment, the only sound she could hear was the odd whistling gurgling noise that accompanied each breath she took. Then Gregg groaned softly. “Ah, pet, look at you. Look what you’ve made me do.”

  She ignored him. He wasn’t making any sense, anyway. How could she see herself? One eye was swollen almost shut, the other didn’t seem to be working at all. She couldn’t see anything, other than a thin sliver of light.

  Breathe, she reminded herself. Just breathe. Just in and out. Again. And again. Once more. And once more. And...

  She sensed rather than felt him fumbling with her shirt. Then his fingers were touching her skin, poking at the gashes in her chest, stroking her breasts.
Her nerves were on fire, making the slightest touch painful. She felt her body react with wave after wave of tremors and she wanted to scream at him to stop.

  Breathe. Just breathe. Just keep breathing.

  His hands moved to her pants and there was more pain – white hot, electric, mind numbing pain – as they were pulled suddenly down over her injured leg.

  No! She imagined herself shrieking. She imagined herself balling her hands into fists, striking at him, pushing him away. But, in reality, she couldn’t move. Blood was collecting in her mouth again, gagging her as she tried to breathe and swallow and not choke.

  Too much. It’s too much. I can’t stand it.

  When she felt him settling himself between her legs, lowering himself on top of her, licking her neck; when he thrust himself inside her, she’d had enough. She would not fight to stay conscious any longer. She could not endure any more of this. Not for even one more minute.

  That’s it. I’m through. I’m done.

  She heard herself moan slightly as her tense muscles finally went lax. Darkness settled around her and everything grew faint. Far in the distance she heard a clattering commotion and…barking? Then a gasp of surprise and a voice– “What the fuck?”