Ghost Walk

by Cassandra Gannon

  “Rhawn.” She breathes, her lush body opening to his and her mouth curving in bliss. “Wow... I wish I could dream of you every night.”

  He loves that she says his name in that breathless tone.

  Her eager response lights a fire in his already overheated blood. His methodical process of discovering what makes her happy has earned her desire. In return for his efforts, she’s giving him back more than he ever imagined. Her body welcomes him… Her clear eyes are heavy with passion and excitement… She smiles in anticipation at his touch…

  Rhawn’s hand grips the small triangle of fabric shielding her black curls, trying to rip it off her. He’s still tempering his strength, but it should be enough force to shred the thin covering. Instead, the edges of the fabric unexpectedly stretch in his grasp. Rhawn frowns in confusion, trying to get her free of it. Somehow, he ends up flipping her over so she’s on her stomach. That position will work fine for him.

  “Hang on. It’s elastic.” She pants. “Here.” She takes over, moving beneath him. She slides the material down her legs, her back towards him. Rhawn instinctively shifts to give her room.

  …And that’s when he sees the marking.

  His jaw drops open in shock.

  Rhawn’s hand clamps down on her thigh, stopping her from moving. He gapes at the patch of skin just above the thin, top band of the fabric. Her skin is branded with very familiar image.

  He doesn’t want to believe the ramifications.

  “What is this?” He whispers, although he already knows. He’s seen it before. Knows what it means and what it is.

  Knows what she is.

  Rationally, there’s no other explanation. According to the Clan, rationality has always eluded him before and he wishes he could switch it off, again. Because the truth is going to kill him.

  “The tattoo?” She asks blankly and cranes her neck around to look down at the mark. “It’s supposed to be Times Square. Yeah, I know. It sucks, right? I got it a couple months back. There was a bachelorette party and lot of tequila involved. Trust me.”

  Rhawn swallows hard and slowly raises his eyes to meet hers. “Who are you?” The words leave aching holes inside of him and he already has too many pieces missing. At this moment, he can feel himself shattering into nothing.

  “What?” She seems confused.

  Rhawn forces himself to let go of her. To move off the unbelievable softness of her body and into the isolated cold. He crouches on the pelts and struggles not to give into mindless despair. “This is… a lie.” He brings the heels of his hands up to press against his temples. “You are a lie.”

  “You don’t want me, all of a sudden?” She has the audacity to look hurt. “After all this time, all the nights I needed you, you’re just stopping? Because I have a tattoo?”

  “No!” Rhawn roars. “I can’t have you because of what you are!”

  “What I am?” She echoes blankly. “Well, I mean, I don’t have the greatest job in the world, but a lot of people who are over-educated in useless fields have to work in bookstores, so…”

  He cuts her off her. “Why did you pick me? Because you know that I’m stupid?”

  “You’re not stupid! That’s idiotic.” The woman --who isn’t just a woman-- winces at the phrasing, but keeps going. “Seriously, why would you think that?”

  “Stop lying!” Rhawn stands up, pulling her to her feet along with him. “I know your marking! I have seen it before, in more dreams that you can imagine.” He half carries her to the wall of the cave. It’s covered in his artwork, even in this fantasy world. Countless pictures stain the stone in every direction, one on top of another. “Look!” He gestures towards the rough depictions of his dreamscapes. “Look at it! And tell me this isn’t your homeland.”

  She stares at the drawings, her head tilting.

  The impossible images fill Rhawn’s head when he sleeps. He remembers all of them, so he doesn’t even have to look at the wall to know what she sees. Every time he closes his eyes, he pictures that world in vivid, incredible detail. When he awakens, he tries to recreate it, but it’s so hard to capture all the colors and shapes. Structures that tower over the ground. Lights that shine in the night. Boxes that move along smooth trails that stretch off into infinity.

  That place –that fantastic, beautiful place—is what he dreams of when he doesn’t dream of Lucy.

  “New York?” Her fingers moved to brush the painted image of a stoic woman in flowing robes holding a torch above her head. “Yeah.” Her expression is baffled. “Of course, I live there. Well, I live in Jersey, but I commute.”

  “Newyork?” Was that where Earth, the home of the gods, was located? It had to be.

  She shakes her head. “This dream is some kind of symbolic thing, because of the reunion, right? Fifteen years out of high school and --okay fine-- I’m not the most successful graduate that Woodward High’s ever seen. I didn’t live up to my potential and do something special. I never changed the world. But, I’m certainly not ready to curl up in a cave and die just because…”

  He cuts her off. “Tell me.” It’s hard to get the words out. Even now, Rhawn knows he’s a fool for asking. For needing her to verify what any child would already know. But, how could it be true? How could she possibly be evil? “Are you… the Destroyer?”

  Her face crinkles into a baffled squint. “The what...?”

  The world begins shaking around them, cutting her off. Under their feet, the small pebbles slide back and forth on the stone floor. He can feel the vibrations running up from the ground, through his entire body, and the island sink another foot into the Infinite Sea.

  What other answer does he need, besides that?

  Lucy glances at him in surprise, pretending not to understand. “Is it an earthquake?” She reaches over to steady herself on his arm, as the floor moves beneath them.

  “It’s the Ardin.” He corrects, softly. “The sinking.”

  She, of all beings, knows that.

  “The what?”

  “The end of the world.”

  “The WHAT?”

  Voices shout outside.

  Rhawn’s head turns to look at the entrance of the cave, although he already knows that he won’t see anyone else inside this dream. He never does, when she’s here. It’s always just the two of them. The yelling comes from the waking world. They’re already coming for him.

  He’s about to wake up. They can both feel it.

  “Wait! Don’t go. Not yet.” Her fingernails dig into his arm. For some reason, she’s tinted them a red so dark they’re nearly black. It’s probably a mark of evil, but that does nothing to lessen how pretty he finds them.

  Or how much he wants her.

  Even knowing that she’s manipulated him for cycle upon cycle with dreams and that she’s the Destroyer of All, destined to sink the world… Everything inside of Rhawn still wants this woman. Still loves her. Still knows that she is his.

  He really is an idiot.

  “Tell me what’s going on?” She gazes up at him in bewildered worry. “Will you be alright?”

  “No.” Rhawn intones. He will be blamed for the shaking and possibly executed. The Clan is too on edge for reason.

  …But, if he’s going to die either way, he’ll die with the taste of her seared into his memory. Rhawn yanks her forward, his mouth slamming over hers, again. The woman’s lips part beneath his, welcoming and sweet. “Kissing” her is worth anything. Her naked body presses against his, her arms going around his neck. And, honestly, he doesn’t care if this damns him. Not a bit.

  “Rhawn!”

  His eyes snapped open at the shout. The world was still quaking underneath of him, but the dark comfort of the dream had faded. The cave felt twenty degrees colder without the warmth of the woman beside him. He turned to look towards the paintings on the cave wall as if she might somehow still be standing there looking at them. An echoing hollowness filled him when he saw that Lucy was gone.

  But then, she’d never real
ly been there, at all.

  It had all been a dream, hinting of what was to come.

  The legends of the Clan had long predicted the Ardin, a battle between the gods. A heroic man and an evil woman would return to the island in its final days and determine the fate of the world. The Savior would pluck the worthy from the sinking island and lead them to a glorious new home. The Destroyer would try and stop him, wanting to doom them forever.

  No one knew which deity would emerge from the fight victorious. The last chronicle would be written by the gods and their respective followers, during the Ardin.

  The final days.

  These days.

  Rhawn stumbled to his feet and made his way to the mouth of his cave. He’d deliberately picked a spot away from the others. For obvious reasons, Rhawn didn’t do well with neighbors. His visions ensured that they did not welcome him in their midst.

  No one welcomed him.

  His home sat on the southern end of the island, with an unobstructed view of the ocean and the volcano. Every day the waves below got closer. When he was a boy, he remembered the vast width of the beach and the variety of animals that had lived on the island. Each passing cycle saw the land growing smaller and the creatures growing rarer. The water was swallowing them so quickly. He wasn’t sure if the entire island would sink before the Clan ran out of food or if they would starve before the final plunge occurred.

  One way or another, they would all be dead very soon. It was inevitable.

  Rhawn reached the entrance and blew out a long breath at the sight of the unforgiving sea. It was so close, now.

  “Rhawn!” Notan, the Clan’s leader climbed up the twisting pathway to Rhawn’s cave. In his youth, he had been the Clan’s greatest hunter, but then a mammoth stepped on Notan’s leg and left him with a permanent limp. The old man’s hair was gray now and he supported himself on a walking stick, but righteous anger kept him moving at a quick pace. “What have you brought upon us?”

  Damn it, why did things like this always happen to Rhawn?

  He was deemed responsible whenever anything went wrong. His dreams. The color of his eyes. His massive size and lack of intelligence. It all worked to ensure that Rhawn was the scapegoat for every unsuccessful hunt and bad omen that came the island’s way. He was forever hated by the other members of the Clan, no matter how hard he tried to be worthy.

  Of course, they’d blame him for the Ardin. He’d been marked by the gods. He had dreams of their lands. The Destroyer had sought him out. For better or worse, his destiny was tied to the darkness.

  It was Rhawn’s own fault they distrusted him. As a child, he’d told Notan about his dreams of “Newyork.” The old man was understandably alarmed by the possible ramifications of Rhawn’s curse. After that, he did his best to keep Rhawn away from the others in case of contamination. Rhawn couldn’t even blame him for it.

  “Of course Rhawn is to blame.” Skoll, next in line to be the Clan’s leader, sneered in derision. “We all know he is in league with the Destroyer.”

  Skoll stood behind Notan, offering protection in case Rhawn went crazy. They were continually prepared for him to do something dishonorable or deranged. Skoll would undoubtedly be pleased if Notan died and he could assume control of the Clan, but he also had designs on Anniah, Notan’s daughter. He needed to at least put in a pretense of caring about the old man.

  “Rhawn, the Accursed, tell us all you saw or suffer the consequences.” Notan thundered. None of them found Rhawn worthy, but they always wanted him to reassure them about his dreams. Everyone knew they often happened in conjunction with the shakings. “The day of the Ardin grows closer. Have you at last seen the Destroyer’s unholy form?”

  The familiar question struck him as darkly hilarious. Rhawn roared with laughter, while the land shook, and their island sunk ever deeper into the bottomless sea, and the end of the world loomed on the horizon.

  Notan and Skoll stopped their approach and watched him warily. He could tell they were thinking he was just as stupid and sinful as they’d always believed.

  Maybe they were right.

  “Yes.” Rhawn got out. “I finally saw her.”

  Every inch of that dark-haired, green-eyed, soft, treacherous, deity from the magical land of Newyork was burned into his mind forever. The Destroyer might’ve been the embodiment of strategic genius and all-powerful evil…

  …But she was also his mate.

  Chapter One

  There’s a caveman staring at her. A really big, really handsome one.

  Lucy’s eyebrows soar. Her prom night has been such a total loss that she’s fallen asleep in her stupid dress, but suddenly things are looking up. She’s having a sex dream about a really big, really handsome caveman! Cool! Usually, she just gets random crap about singing Boston Terriers or being late for an AP English exam. She’d much rather dream about a half-naked hottie.

  “Hi!” She says eagerly.

  The caveman tilts his head to one side, like he is amazed at what he’s seeing. Amazed by her. For two seconds, he just stares. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it and starts purposefully towards her. His expression is intent, his eyes scanning up and down her body. He seriously looks like he’s ready to ravish her or something.

  Lucy smiles. Oh yeah. This dream is going to be awesome!

  Rhawn and Lucy’s First Dream- Fifteen Years Ago

  “Tony the Cruise Director hates you.” Marnie-from-third-period-bio stage-whispered. “Like a lot.”

  Lucianne Meadowcroft sighed and took a sip from her watery margarita. “Yeah, I noticed. Thanks.”

  “It’s because you didn’t show up for the official class reunion picture this morning or the mixer last night or the…”

  Lucy cut the list short, getting right to the bottom line. She was a bottom line kinda girl. “It’s because he’s married to Taffi and Taffi still hasn’t forgiven me for wearing the same dress as her to prom.”

  Tony and Taffi were the reason Woodward High School’s fifteenth reunion was being held on a four day Caribbean excursion out of New York harbor. Tony’s job on the small –correction: “boutique”-- cruise ship had gotten everyone a really great discount. But, if Tiffany “Taffi” Dawson could’ve found a way to loose Lucy’s invitation for the trip she totally would have.

  The biggest mean girl at Woodward High, Taffi would never get over that stupid poufy ball gown. To hear Taffi tell it, Lucy should have known when she touched the hanger at Macy’s that Taffi had already selected an identical bouffant vision of blue and lace. Taffi insisted that Lucy should’ve somehow psychically intuited Taffi’s prior claim. Sadly, Lucy’s nonexistent ESP hadn’t picked up any prom-y signals that day. By buying the same dress, she had singlehandedly ruined Taffi’s “MOST IMPORTANT NIGHT EVER!!!”

  God, just remembering the screaming and tears in the ladies room of the gym gave her a headache. Fifteen years and it was still a recurring nightmare. She hadn’t even liked that damn dress.

  Lucy finished off her watery drink and gestured to the bartender to get her another. What the hell was she doing on this cruise? Bad enough to be in high school. Worse to get suckered into a reunion once you escaped. But, to be stuck on a boat with the same people she’d desperately hoped never see again after graduation was just fucking stupid.

  It was all the Alumni Committee’s fault. They’d plastered the event all over the email inboxes of every former student, promising a long weekend of unimaginable fun. It had all sounded like one of those travel commercials with the colorful sunsets and pretty people playing volleyball. In a rush of nostalgia, Lucy recalled her teenage life in Clovis, New York like a misty water-colored filmstrip of football games and slumber parties. For the half-an-hour it took her to buy her nonrefundable ticket, the trip had seemed like a great idea.

  Now that sanity had returned, she was suddenly remembering that the slumber party thing was actually a scene from Grease and that Woodward High’s football team sucked.

  Lucy had hated h
igh school. Granted, everyone hated high school. But, girls with snarky personalities, twenty extra ponds, and a low tolerance for other people’s stupidity really hated it. Lucy had been the kid whose report cards always read, “academically brilliant, but has a bad attitude” or “talks back and refuses to join in with other kids.” Well, she liked having a bad attitude and she didn’t like the other kids. High school had been a nightmare. No way was she pretending otherwise.

  So, what the hell had she been thinking signing up for this boat trip to relive it all? Temporary insanity was the only explanation. Still, Lucy wasn’t about to walk away from so much cash. She’d paid for this miserable trip, which meant she was damn well taking it.

  Even if she didn’t want to.

  Thanks to her brief moment of amnesia and stubborn refusal to write off a week’s salary, Lucy was stranded on the high seas with a lot of annoying people screaming “Go Woodpeckers!” every ten minutes. She wasn’t exactly sure who most of them were. Her brain must have blanked out half the class in an effort to shield her from remembering the horror.

  No wonder she’d never bothered to buy a senior yearbook.

  Marnie-from-third-period-bio leaned in closer. She probably had a last name, but Lucy didn’t know it. Maybe it started with an “A”? She’d definitely been in Mr. Sonovich’s biology class, though. Lucy distinctly recalled throwing a frog at her. “You were always the special one, Lucy. I think Taffi was maybe a little jealous of you.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that must be it.”

  She would never understand why everyone in Clovis insisted she was special. Sure Lucy had a perfect SAT score, but so did a lot of other people. It was hardly the stuff of legend. For as long as she could remember, though, they’d all been poised for her to do something great. Something important, so that the dying town could finally have a citizen to be proud of.