She releases an irritated sigh. “Megan, you’re not getting your phone back and you’re still grounded.”
“Mom, will you please talk to me? I have to tell you something.”
She groans, gets up, and follows me into my room. She acts like I’m the biggest nuisance ever and that’s another reason why I never tell her anything. Anything that deals with me is always such a problem for her.
“What is it?” she asks as I sit on my bed.
I clasp my hands together, trying to find the strength to tell her. The best way to get this out is to say it. No sugarcoating. “Saturday, I left work early with Cherry. We went to a party and things were fine until someone spilled beer on me. I went upstairs to get the stain out and I was…attacked.”
She crosses the room and sits next to me. “Megan, are you okay?”
“Nothing happened. My friend Casper stopped him in time. I didn’t go to work Sunday or any day this week because I needed time to deal with it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, and I see tears in her eyes.
“I was scared you’d be upset that I lied.”
“Yeah, I’m upset about that, but Megan, you were attacked. Did he hurt you? Did you call the police? Who was it?” Her eyes water.
Seeing the tears in my mom’s eyes makes me break down and she holds me. We stay up pretty late talking and crying about what happened. I come clean. I tell her everything that happened that night. Including staying with Casper. Her reaction surprises me because I expected less. She’s not pleased that I lied, but it’s the first time Mom and I have bonded like this in a long time. I feel like I can come to her with anything now, but I wonder how long it’ll last. She wants me to go to the police, but I don’t want to. I’m too scared he’ll find me.
Mom gives me my phone back but says she will have a tighter leash on me. I don’t care. I got everything off my chest, and I can still talk to Cherry and Vincent while I’m sick.
When Mom leaves to go to bed, I check my phone, which has several missed text messages.
Cherry: Megan! Are you ok?
Cherry: omg! Why aren’t you answering your phone? Something’s wrong, I can feel it.
Vincent: Are you okay? I miss you so much.
Casper: Megan, we need to talk.
My heart skips a beat when I see Casper’s name. My heart swells. He’s awake and I’m so relieved. I immediately send him a message asking if he’s okay.
While I wait, I reply to Cherry and Vincent letting them know what’s wrong. Cherry tells me she’ll drop by after school to give me my homework. Vincent simply apologizes and tells me to get better soon so he can see me. I don’t hear from him more than that. His texts sound rather formal. I can’t figure him out. Anytime I can’t see him, he gets weird and upset.
My phone rings and it’s Casper. I answer in a mumbled voice, though my throat feels like sandpaper when I talk. It’s late and I should get some rest, but I long to talk to him for some reason. It’s been a while.
“Casper, are you okay? What happened?”
“Someone’s after us.” He speaks with a gravelly voice. He sounds weary and angry, but I detect a hint of sadness.
“What?”
“I only remember bits and pieces. I was driving home from school after the fight with Vincent and next thing I know, I wake up in a hospital. I remember feeling mud though. The police said there were several bullet holes in the car. They think someone might have thought I was someone else or something. One of the bullets hit my shoulder. But I’m okay.”
My breathing accelerates. Bullets? Someone tried to shoot him. Casper could have died. The thought overwhelms me. I don’t know what I would do without him. Where did that thought come from? “Someone shot you? Did you see anything?” I’m shaking all over.
“I don’t remember. They said my car was crumpled in the ditch and that I must have crawled out. They’ve been questioning me, but I’m no help and there weren’t any witnesses.”
A breath leaves my lungs. Someone attacked both of us, like in our dreams. “Adam,” I say.
“What?”
“It had to be Adam. You attacked him, so he came after you.”
“Why would he be after us?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can we find out?”
“I don’t know. I’d make sure someone guards your room. He could still come after you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“What if he comes after me again?” I ask.
“He doesn’t know where you live. You’ll be safe.”
A few minutes pass in silence. I’m trying to figure out a way to find Adam. I can ask Vincent to help, but I can’t mention Casper’s accident. Why is he after us? Or am I completely delusional and have no idea what’s going on? That’s possible. With the dreams, the medications, all of it makes my brain foggy. I take a breath and focus on what’s important. “I’m so glad you woke up. I was so scared.”
“I’m much better now.”
“Good medication?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure, that’s it. Did you ever.” He pauses. “Visit me in the hospital?”
“Um, yes.”
“I knew it. I felt you.”
“What?”
“It’s hard to explain. I had this overwhelming sensation. I felt you and I think it gave me the strength to pull through. You saved me.”
I’m speechless. I remain quiet, biting my lip.
“I have to ask you something. Did you send Vincent to fight me?”
“What? No! Why would you think that?”
“He threatened me to stay away from you. Said you were his and wanted to make sure I understood it. Told me to stop hurting you and spreading rumors about you. I never said a word to anyone about you staying.”
My chest aches. “Then how did everyone find out? What am I supposed to think? Vincent and Cherry didn’t say anything.” My heart is pounding and I’m crying which wears me out. “Vincent said you told him we slept together. Why would you say that and then wail on him?”
“Of course, he said that. He threw the first punch, but you believe what you want. And I never said we slept together.”
Did Vincent lie about the fight? Or is Casper lying to me now? “Tell me what happened.”
“You won’t like it.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“He asked me about Adam. I told him what I knew, but that he didn’t need to worry about it because I took care of it. We said a few choice words. He punched me and we fought.”
“That’s the truth? You aren’t lying?”
“Megan, I have never lied to you.”
My stomach twists. I keep thinking about the two versions of the story. I watched Casper attack Adam, so I know it’s possible for him to beat up Vincent, but it seems like he would need a good reason. I’ve never seen Vincent violent, but I’ve witnessed his jealousy, which seems somewhat possessive at times.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Casper asks.
“I have mono.”
“Oh, wow. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I feel terrible.”
“Do you want me to let you go so you can rest?”
I should say yes. “No, it’s okay. What happened? When did you wake up?”
“Last night. Or the night before. I don’t know. My days are mixed up.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. About to go crazy from boredom in the hospital room. Luckily, my mom brought my phone. It’s hard to stay awake for very long because it feels like every bone in my body is broken.”
“I’m so sorry, Casper.”
We talk more and joke around. I hear him laugh and I miss that. I miss this. Him. In my dreams and out. This can’t be healthy. But he’s my friend, and I care about him.
He asks about my writing and we talk about our dreams. He says he doesn’t dream of me. He was shot but didn’t die. His friend found him, and they returned home. He describes his home as if it’s really
his.
“It’s beautiful in my homeland,” he says. “It’s hard to describe. It’s like it comes straight out of a book. The colors are so vivid and extraordinary. The greenery is so lush. There’s a garden that’s filled with fireflies and it’s so dark at night, you can see thousands of stars. It’s unreal. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. I wish I could show you.”
I love hearing the passion in his voice. It’s strange that our dreams are still connected even though we aren’t dreaming of each other.
“I think about you constantly,” he says. “In my dreams. It’s bad. The hurt and grief and sorrow. It makes me so depressed when I wake up.”
I know how he feels because I feel the same way when I wake up.
“Where did they take you?” he asks. “I mean, what is your homeland like?”
“I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s an enormous palace. All I’ve seen so far are bits and pieces of the palace, but it’s all very familiar to me. It’s very Rococo. It seems as though it’s the late 18th century France. What do you think this all means?”
“I have no idea. You mentioned Vincent in your dreams. Do you share them with him, too?”
“No. But,” I trail off. I chew the inside of my mouth.
“What?”
Am I about to confess this? Who better to tell it to than the person I share dreams? Heat pricks beneath my cheeks. “When we kiss, we both see visions. They look like events from our past and it seems to match what’s in my dreams.” What is going on with my life? It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I’m on the verge of crying. More or less, I think I’m freaking out. I can’t sleep without having something to worry about, since there seems to be a life inside my dreams. “Are all of us connected in some way?”
“I don’t know, Megan.”
“I’m scared to talk to Vincent about it. I mean, we talk about the visions and he’s just as freaked out. Because he’s jealous of you, I can’t tell him about us.”
“I know. I don’t think you should tell him. I wish I had answers. I wish I could see you.”
I wish I could see him, too. But I’m not going to tell him that. “I know,” I say.
This is dangerous territory that I’m encroaching. I can’t help the way my heart feels when I hear Casper’s voice. I need to stop, but I can’t. We talk more about Adam and how we can proceed to find out more. But with Casper in the hospital and me confined to a bed, our options are limited. I’ll talk to Vincent. He can help. But I don’t want Adam coming after Vincent, too.
Vincent parades me around the large palace and most of the people seem so glad to see me, however, there are some who seem to dislike the fact that I’m back. I hear their whispers. Saying I’m a traitor and how I don’t deserve to be back. The ones that are glad to see me smile and tell me how much they missed me. We stand in a circle talking to others in the parlor. I have known these people my entire life, yet I feel out of place.
“Megan,” a loud voice calls behind us. “Is that really you?”
I turn and meet the green eyes of a woman with large blond curls and a voluptuous body. Florence, my childhood friend. It’s so good to see her.
Her jaw drops and she smiles widely. She rushes up to me and hugs me. “Megan, I cannot believe it’s you.”
“Florence.” She pulls away and her smile is infectious.
“You remember me.” She gushes and glances at Vincent.
“Yes. I don’t remember the last seven years,” I say.
“What did they do to you? We have so much to catch up on.”
“Maybe some other time, Florence,” Vincent says and tugs me along. I silently apologize to Florence and walk with Vincent out of the room.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him as we stride down a long hallway with a red rug.
He smiles impishly. “I’m selfish right now.” He pushes open ornate double doors and we walk out into the hedge maze.
We meander along the gravel path, my hand intertwining with his. I remember playing in this labyrinth with Vincent. We have so many memories together, perhaps we can make new memories. He’s all I need.
“I don’t want you to be sad,” he says.
“I know, but why would I be sad? It’s Florence.”
“The man who took you had a friend who was seen with her. People say they saw her with him, in love, and before we returned from the mission, the man left, but he wiped her memory of him completely.”
“Why would they do that? We know they exist.”
“So, she wouldn’t remember what they looked like or where they hide out.”
“Why did some of the people in the palace give me such dismayed looks?”
He sighs. “Some of them think you’re a traitor.”
“Is that why I was in the cellar? Because they think I betrayed them?”
Vincent nods and I look away.
It’s unsettling to think that people I have always known now see me as a traitor. But something else is disturbing. Not only have I lost the last seven years of my life, but something heavily weighs on me.
We reach the end of the maze and walk through the tall wheat field. Something tugs at me when I see the golden wheat sway in the wind. As my hand caresses the tops of the blades, I meander through them, knowing Vincent is behind me at a distance. The wind is brisk, and the scent of lavender fills me. The blond color of the wheat has an unusual effect on me. It makes my heart beat fast. I can’t make sense of it. How can a simple color make me feel this way?
I feel Vincent’s hands on my shoulders, and he turns me slowly to face him. “Having you here, it’s so surreal.”
I touch his weary face. “I have missed you. Though, my mind feels like it’s only been four months.”
“You can’t imagine the pain I went through when I came back only to find you gone,” he says, tears welling in his eyes. “I tried so many times to come for you, but they told me I couldn’t risk it, so they sent others to find you.”
“Risk it? Didn’t they know I’d been kidnapped?”
“Yes. We all thought you had been taken back to Belle Palais.”
Belle Palais is where our enemies live. I had known that my whole life. I have never been there, but I wonder why the Elf didn’t take me back there himself. “Why didn’t he take me back?”
Vincent shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
“Will they come back for me?” I tense.
“I killed the man who took you. We are at war with them, so we have extra security here.”
“War?” Tears pool in my eyes. I know that can only mean one thing: Vincent is sure to leave again.
“It won’t come close to here. You are safe. We are fighting with them at sea. Please do not worry, mon trésor.” He draws me closer to his chest.
But I’m not worried about being safe. I worry about him leaving. I meet his eyes. He tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear. I reach behind his neck pulling him to me until our lips meet. He gives me no vision this time, but I want him like never before. I feel his arms around me, pulling me closer. I love the feel of his soft lips on mine, almost possessive yet tender. But something feels wrong and I don’t know what it is.
That night after I blow out the candle next to my bed, I think of the blond color again. It drifts through my mind in an endless stream like water smoothing over stones. The color leaves me with something—the feeling that I loved something more than life itself. I can’t understand the intensity of it, but it weighs in my stomach like a brick.
Something wedges its way into my mind but vanishes. It’s frustrating trying to remember, only to have it stripped from me. The flashes of a man with a gun enter my mind again. I close my eyes and the gunman saunters closer. I hurriedly crawl backward, away from him, but he only takes his time.
“Megan!”
My eyes bolt open and my heart pounds. Someone else is there with the man, calling my name.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mom comes to check on me when she comes home from w
ork and makes me some soup again. Savannah jumps on the bed and curls up against me. It’s nice having company.
“Cherry stopped by after school,” Mom says as she helps me into a sitting position. “She gave me a list of your homework. So, when you’re feeling up to it, let me know.” She sets the soup down onto a pillow and shoos Savannah away from it. “I’ve called the school, so they know you’re going to be out for a while. Hopefully not too long though.”
I nod. I want to take a shower and get the sickness off me, but I can’t move.
Mom stays with me while I eat and talks about her day at work. I feel bad for her because her boss is a jerk, but somehow, she manages to suck it up so she can have a paycheck. I’ve told her several times she can easily find a better job elsewhere. We don’t talk like this. It’s kind of new territory for me. But I like it.
Mom gives me more antibiotics and leaves for the night. I reach for my phone and my heart picks up its pace when I see a text from Casper. This isn’t a good sign. And it bothers me that Vincent hasn’t sent another message. Is something wrong? Did something happen with his mom?
I open Casper’s message.
How are u? I know ur probably sleeping, but I hope u get well. I miss u. In my dreams and out. There’s something I need to tell you.
My stomach ties in knots. What’s he going to tell me? I hope he isn’t going to confess anything. Not like he hasn’t already. Only one way to find out.
Hi Casper. I’m ok, very tired. How are you?
I only have to wait a few seconds before he responds.
I’m ok. Im so glad to hear from u. Can u talk?
Sure.
A few seconds later, my phone flashes with his name and I answer.
“Hey.”
“Is it weird that we talk so often?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he says. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Has your back healed?”
“Yeah. I’ve taken the bandages off. Have the police found anything new about your accident?”
“No. How are your dreams?”
I clear my throat, which feels like gravel raking across it. “More and more bizarre. I feel so out of place since a lot of people think I betrayed them.”
January Dreams Page 20
