by Melissa Haag
As he strode toward me, the remnants of his wings disappeared behind his back.
This was, by far, the weirdest and best dream I’d ever had. I just wished I could remember falling asleep. I’d probably passed out because of the fumes from cleaning the windows and boredom.
“You’re not real,” I breathed. Yet, despite the fact that he stood there naked as a baby and had only minutes ago sported massive wings, talons, and a beak, something about him seemed very real.
“Fenris said you seemed naive. Aubrey thought it was an act.” His gaze swept over my face. “Which is it?”
The mocking curiosity in his eyes annoyed me as much as the fact that he actually seemed to be waiting for an answer. Instead of replying, I balled up my fist and slammed it into his face. He grunted, his head moving slightly with the impact, and he caught my wrist before I could fully pull back.
“What was that for?” he asked. Anger had wiped out any hint of mocking curiosity from his tone.
I could also feel the throb in my fist. He had a hard nose.
“To see if you were real.”
“Most people pinch.” He sounded a bit more nasally than he had before.
My imagination was sure good at adding the little details needed to make this all feel real. I didn’t let it distract me from the moment, though.
“Most people don’t walk around in someone else’s backyard while butt naked.” Not that I actually minded that part. His biceps were clearly defined, and his thighs were thicker than my head. Realizing where my gaze had wandered, I quickly looked up again.
He shook his head and released my wrist.
“Where were you going?” he asked.
“To town. Do you own pants?”
“It would be better if you stayed here.”
“For who?”
“You.”
“Stay in a house where a guy shows up naked in the backyard? Yeah, that’s not sounding like a good option.”
“It’s the safest one.”
“Of course you would think that. But since this is my dream, I’m going to see how many more naked men are frolicking around this place.”
He stayed quiet for a moment, studying me. I was just about to turn and walk to the front of the house when he spoke again.
“The people in this town are going to eat you up and spit you out.”
Without warning, he scooped me up and walked into the house with me. In the light of the kitchen, I studied his face. He looked mad, his jaw hard and a frown tugging his lips. Very nice lips. High cheekbones and a strong nose. His gaze flicked down to me just before he started up the stairs. Deep blue eyes. I had amazing taste in dream men.
When he turned to my room, my heart skipped a beat. Was I really going to dream this? A naked man carrying me to bed? I knew where this was headed.
“I think this needs to stop here,” I said.
“Oh, it will.”
He tossed me so hard, I landed on the mattress with a double bounce.
“If you’re smart, you’ll stay. You’ve been warned.”
By the time I looked up, I only caught a glimpse of his bare backside. Flopping back down onto the mattress, I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax, the only way I could think of to wake up from a dream.
* * * *
I woke up, not in a pile of used paper towels and high on cleaner, but in my bed, dressed as I’d been to go to town. Frowning, I sat up, rubbed my face and looked at the daylight pouring in through my window.
There was no way that had been real. Obviously, I’d finished the windows and changed with the intent to go to town, but I’d laid down, instead, and just couldn’t remember that part. The stress of the idea that my mom actually abandoned me had probably caused some kind of weird mental snap where my dream had replaced those real events.
But to dream a griffin, of all things? I could totally understand why the dream man had mentioned Fenris. In the little bit of time I’d spent with him, I’d actually liked Fenris. No doubt, that’s the same reason his dog’s name had made a cameo in my dream, too.
Yet, I couldn’t shake just how real the dream had felt. The way the dream man had looked at me when he’d carried me upstairs…
My stomach churned with that same “oh-oh” sensation I got whenever I had to tell Mom I’d gotten into yet another fight. I didn’t think it was because I’d punched the dream man, though. He’d been annoyed by it but not really hurt.
Thinking of Mom, I got out of bed and checked the other bedroom upstairs. Nothing looked changed, and my anger with her started to outweigh the hurt. So I’d gotten into a fight. She’d raised me. I always got into fights. Taking off like she had wasn’t cool.
I turned away and went downstairs. A nice, long shower helped the weirdness of the dream fade.
Feeling a little better, I made a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast and sat down at the table. Alone. Before I could stop myself, I wondered what Mom was doing. Did she miss me? Probably not. I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Even though she’d ditched me, I missed her. How messed up was that?
Suddenly the eggs didn’t look as good. I sat there and wondered why I was playing along. Why stay here? I was almost eighteen. Okay, not really. I still had six months. But still, why stay?
I stood, went to the kitchen drawer, and grabbed the checkbook the note had mentioned. The register showed fifty thousand dollars. I snorted and rolled my eyes, doubting the number was real. Hopefully, there’d be at least five hundred in there, or at least enough for a night in a motel while I hoofed it back to our old place. I didn’t doubt for a second that Mom was either still there packing or having alone-time with Darren.
Tucking the checkbook into my back pocket, I quickly devoured my breakfast then took care of the house. Once I had the trash out and everything put away or closed up, I shrugged into my jacket and stepped outside.
Early morning light shifted through the trees as I walked down the road heading out of town. After paying better attention during the car ride home yesterday, I knew where to turn. Before long the twisty roads opened up to a long stretch of nearly treeless pavement ahead.
Smiling to myself, I imagined Mom’s reaction when I showed up at her front door. I’d tell her that I was done playing her stupid game and that she’d need to Mom up for a few months before I’d be out of her life for good, like she obviously wanted.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the waver that looked like ripples of heat rising off a summer-baked blacktop. I did notice, though, when the hair on my arms stood at attention. My pace slowed. Not because I wanted it to but because my legs grew so heavy that each step took a considerable amount of effort.
“What the hell?” I muttered, looking down at my feet.
Due to the direction of my gaze, I didn’t see how close I’d gotten to the weird waves until a bright light flared and sent me flying backward. I landed hard on the pavement, my head connecting with a hollow thud.
I didn’t know how long I laid there, but the bitter smell of burnt hair and the taste of blood in my mouth roused me. I opened my eyes and blinked up at the clear blue sky above. It took a second to recall why I lay on my back in the middle of the road.
Given the stench filling my nose, I sat up and patted my head in panic then exhaled heavily when I felt a full head of hair.
“It doesn’t actually burn anything,” a voice said from beside me. “Just smells like it.”
I turned my head and found the man from my dreams squatted down nearby. This time, he wore jeans. My eyes still feasted on his broad bare chest, though, as my scattered thoughts tried to form an explanation for what was happening.
How could I have dreamed an actual person? I doubted I had psychic abilities. If I did, I would have seen myself getting knocked on my ass. And, I doubted I’d seen him somewhere around town because I hadn’t left my house. Even as I thought it, I recalled stepping out the back door in my dream and how he, a winged creature, had swooped down and steppe
d out of the shadows as a man.
There was only one answer. He still didn’t exist. The fall had caused me to hit my head harder than I thought, and he was now the result of a concussion.
Sunlight glinted off his blond hair, clearly defining strands in vivid detail. Detail I couldn’t possibly dream up.
“This isn’t real,” I whispered with growing desperation.
“Not that again.” He stood and leaned down to offer me a hand, which I ignored. As soon as I got to my feet, he took a step back.
“If you feel the need to test reality, pinch your arm,” he said.
I shook my head, not to answer him but in denial of the whole thing. However, the strength of my denial faltered when I looked down the road and saw the shimmering waves.
“I wouldn’t try it again. In fact, if you were smart, you would start running through the trees to get home before Trammer reaches the barrier.” I tore my gaze from the waves in time to see my dream man nod toward the woods to the left.
I understood what he was telling me. Run before I get caught. But caught for what?
“Barrier?” I asked.
“Yeah. You really have no clue, do you?” He sighed. “Parents do that sometimes. Keep us in the dark then ditch us. Do yourself a favor and run home. Don’t try to leave again. No one leaves until they prove they can handle themselves around the humans.”
I opened my mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about when I caught the sound of an engine. His warning about Trammer echoed in my mind. I couldn’t afford another run-in with the police. Without waiting, I sprinted into the trees.
“Smart girl,” he called from behind.
His high-handed superiority was starting to annoy me.
The thought had barely formed when I heard a huge whoosh behind me. The heavy beat of wings had me looking up as I ran further into the trees. Through the multi-colored canopy, I saw the creature soaring above. It flew in the direction I was headed, its speed quickly making it disappear from sight.
He was real? It was real?
The sound of the engine quickly faded. I didn’t slow. I was freaking out too much. As I wove through the trees, my mind raced. What was really real? All of it? Where had my mom brought me? As much as I wanted to think the hit to my head was the cause of the big griffin flying above, doubt kept me from believing it. I hadn’t hit my head last night.
Not more than a minute after the thing disappeared, it circled into view again and repeated the path as if pointing the direction. I veered slightly to the left. It made a deep sound like a rumble of thunder and swooped lower toward the trees before turning again. It circled back around and repeated the move until I corrected my course.
Yep. Definitely leading the way. I was so preoccupied watching the sky that I didn’t at first know where I was when I burst through the trees into a clearing. The hacked-up lawn gave it away before the house or leaning shed. While I looked around, wondering where to run next, the griffin circled once then took off toward town. Staying where I was became the safer option.
I quickly let myself in and locked the door. The back of my skull throbbed, and I still tasted blood.
“What the hell is this place?”
I had no answer and no one I trusted to ask. At that moment, I hated my mom. But, I hated myself more. If I could have just learned to control my temper, none of this would have happened. I would still be back home, where I belonged, not in this crazy town.
The computer on the table caught my eye. I sat down and booted it up before tapping out a quick search of Uttira, Maine. A page of the town’s activities, which included an upcoming Fall Festival and a reminder to be neat and orderly citizens, pretty much summed up the message on the town’s pathetic website. It wasn’t any more helpful than the stupid pamphlet I’d gotten the day before.
Giving in to the growing headache, I kicked off my shoes, shed my jacket, and went to the bathroom cabinet to take two pain relievers. Thinking to add to the numbing effects, I ambled to the living room and turned on the TV.
Before I could even get comfortable on the couch, the doorbell rang. I cursed myself for forgetting to rip it from the siding. It rang a second time just as I reached the entry.
I yanked the door open, already scowling. My temper frayed further at the sight of Trammer.
“Going somewhere, Megan?”
I looked pointedly at my bare feet before meeting his gaze.
“Yeah, the beach.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Stay where you belong or we’re going to have problems. Do you understand?”
“That you like harassing minors for no apparent reason? Yeah. I understand. If that’s all, I’d like to get back to my nineties re-runs.”
I slammed the door in his face, too angry to care about the consequences. I didn’t belong here, and we both knew it.
Four
Despite my certainty that I did not belong in Uttira, I had no clue how to leave. Every time I thought about trying to walk beyond the township’s limits again, the smell of burnt hair surrounded me so intensely that I struggled to breathe. However, as soon as I stopped thinking about leaving, the smell would immediately disappear.
I could no longer delude myself that what I’d seen, felt, and smelled was a dream. Yet, admitting that there was a magical barrier being used to keep people and creatures inside Uttira sounded completely crazy.
So, I spent the rest of my weekend on the internet, researching plausible explanations. Nothing more turned up on the town than what I’d already discovered. A search on griffins was a joke. Not a single bit of information matched what I’d seen. Magical barriers proved mildly entertaining. People had videos of themselves doing incantations or spells that didn’t prove anything. Yet, their complete certainty that they’d performed and documented an act of magic had me looking for medical conditions that would make a person smell burnt hair.
By Monday morning, I hadn’t found anything to support that what I’d experienced was even possible, and my non-life in Uttira once again felt like one long bad dream, which worried the hell out of me. Last time I thought events were a bad dream, reality bitch-slapped me. I had the bruise on the back of my head to prove it.
Frustrated and lost, I considered my options. Reaching out for help from anyone official was impractical. What would I say? Help me; I can’t leave Uttira because of a magical barrier. At best, it would land me in foster care and at worst, a padded room. I had no one to turn to but myself. And the only way I’d understand what to do was to leave the house again and learn more about this place I now unwillingly called home.
So I showered, dressed, and ate breakfast like a normal person while my mind came up with a ton of weird possibilities regarding what I’d find when I reached town.
A sudden, loud pounding on my front door brought me to my feet. Any triumph I should have felt at disabling the doorbell over the weekend sunk to my toes at the sight of Trammer on my porch. Since he was staring at me through the now clean glass of the door’s side windows, I had no choice but to answer.
“Good morning, Trammer.” I tried for pleasant. I really did. But, it came out more sneer than anything. What was wrong with me?
“Let’s go,” he said, motioning to his car.
“Go where?”
“Girderon.”
The name sounded familiar, and I quickly recalled how I knew it. It was the name for the preppy Academy here. The school that Mom had given me the paperwork for. The very one she said wouldn’t require my actual attendance.
“Why do I need to go there?”
“It’s Monday check-in. If you refuse, they gave me permission to arrest you. Are you refusing?” He set his hand on the device hanging from his duty belt.
“Check-in? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Get in the car or I’m taking your procrastination as refusal and arresting you.”
I focused on breathing and not the increasing need to cause him physical harm.
“Hurry up, and keep the door open.”
I turned and went to the kitchen where I grabbed my phone and the Academy paperwork, all of it untouched since the day Mom left. Trammer stood in the same spot when I returned, and he waited as I locked up.
The ride in the back of his cruiser gave me a few minutes to thumb through some of the Academy papers. The welcome letter gave instructions on how to get to their special website to review the courses offered. They stressed that Girderon specific courses would not be available online for security reasons. Instead, they would be covered during the required attendance Mondays. The dress code, code of conduct, and internet safety policies seemed pretty standard at a glance.
Wondering what I was in for, I neatly stacked the papers once more and watched out the window. The curvy road on which I lived led straight into town. The place had a lot of buildings but seemed dead. No one walked along the street or moved from shop to shop. A bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Where were all the people?
Trammer turned onto a boulevard lined with stately trees. Not far down the drive, he stopped the car at a gate and pushed the button beside a mounted speaker box.
“Yes?” a voice asked from the speaker box.
“I’m delivering Megan Smith as requested,” Trammer said.
“Enter.”
A buzzer sounded, and the gate rolled open.
He drove around a slight curve that revealed a huge stone building at least a mile ahead. The thing rose three stories high and sprawled out to the right and left, consuming more space than any one building should.
The cream stone shone pale in the morning light, giving the whole place a clean, new appearance. Yet, the date beside the grand, double-doored entry clearly stated the building had existed for over two hundred years.
Some part of me registered Trammer stopping the car and coming around to open the door.
“Thanks, Jeeves,” I said, not looking at him as I continued to stare at the building. Preppy didn’t begin to accurately describe the grandness of Uttira’s school.
