The Shadow of a Dream

by Molly Lavenza

  The Shadow of a Dream

  The Changeling Covenant, Book One

  by Molly Lavenza

  cover design by Marsha Black

  ©2019 Molly Lavenza, All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All similarities to any person,

  living or dead,

  is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter One

  I never wanted to see the future, but dreams are impossible to control.

  Homeroom on the first day of senior year should have been exciting, but it was all I could do not to fall asleep after another long night battling dream-induced confusion and terror, even when Delilah Paxton and Robbie Jacobs got detentions for making out in the hallway and, consequently, being late to class.

  “Some things never change, do they?”

  My friend Corrie spoke up behind me, leaning close but not enough to touch the back of my head. She knew better than to make any sort of physical contact with me, even if she didn’t understand why. A flash of dream memory made me blink quickly, as if I could wipe it away, and it took me a moment to respond to her because of it.

  “True.”

  As I said it, I forced myself to stare ahead at the chalkboard, where the teacher was scratching out some numbers and letters while most of the students talked. Robbie was giving Delilah a shoulder massage, and Delilah held her head to the side, her long, black hair draping over the back of her desk like a dark waterfall.

  What was that like, I wondered, to feel someone’s body heat, the pressure of their hands, the softness of their skin?

  “Could he wear a little more aftershave already? Seriously, does he even have facial hair?”

  Corrie continued her tirade against the couple, who I definitely agreed were annoying. Robbie reeked of some cheap cologne, but Delillah didn’t seem to mind. Everyone knew they hooked up in the backseat of his car in the woods behind the school, but as much as their public demonstrations of affection grossed me out, I was still intrigued.

  Having sex in the backseat of a fifteen year old junker was not my idea of romance, but with seventeen years of my life behind me, I was sorely lacking in experience with other human beings in just about every way.

  Not that it was my fault.

  “I would really appreciate it if no one got pregnant in my class this year,” Mr. Coles, our teacher, suddenly turned around and spoke. Several kids laughed, and the boy in front of me, who was swallowing Cheetos practically whole, started to choke. Mr. Coles strode over casually, as if this kid wasn’t spewing bits of processed cheese product all over the desk, and slapped him between his shoulder blades three times.

  A fragment from last night’s dream suddenly played out before my eyes, quick and shocking. A woman with green-tinged skin and yellow-blonde hair piled high on her head, held by a crooked tree twig, shoved a dark-haired boy hard so he stumbled away from her. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt bad for him, as I could tell that he had no control over what was happening. I knew what that felt like, that lack of control.

  “Miss Lampers. Everything okay?”

  I looked up to find Mr. Coles staring at me with concern and maybe a little trepidation. He held his hands up by his shoulders, as if to reassure me that he wasn’t going to touch me. I nodded and tried to smile a response, but I knew my smile wasn’t as reassuring as I needed it to be to convince him.

  Who was the boy in my dream, I wondered. The woman couldn’t have been a real human being, not with that creepy-toned skin like a lizard. Maybe she was a metaphor for something in my head that I was worried about, like one of my psychologists had explained years ago.

  None of my parade of doctors had ever explained why my dreams came true in one way or another, and so, instead of continuing to drain my parents’ bank account and waste all of their time, I had acted like the dreams were no more, and that my sleep was untroubled.

  It was a lie.

  As soon as Mr. Coles walked away, the Cheetos boy turned and wiggled his fingers at me.

  “Still Hopeless, eh?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and didn’t respond to the years-old taunt that had followed me from middle school. Hopeless Hope, the girl who couldn’t be touched. The girl who was allergic to everything, caught every illness that went around. The girl who used to scream at invisible figures on the playground, and warn her classmates about evils to come.

  Corrie had heard the stories, but she had moved to Castle Heights when we were in ninth grade, so she hadn’t seen firsthand what I had been like. No one else had wanted to be friends with me, and Corrie had no problem with the fact that I didn’t want to be touched.

  “Shut up, idiot. What’s hopeless is your pathetic life,” Corrie hissed at him from behind me. I looked down at my desk and smiled a little. She didn’t really understand me, but she still ate lunch with me and defended me against morons like Cheeto Face.

  “Like you two could talk,” he grunted back at her. I was starting to get uncomfortable being in the middle of their insult fest when Mr. Coles dragged a piece of chalk on the board. The screeching was almost unbearable, and I joined several of my classmates in covering my ears.

  “Ah, I see that I have your attention. Deliliah and Robbie, please keep your tongues in your own mouths while you are on school property. Now, I have something to tell you before I start class, so listen up.”

  The giggles and conversations died down a little, but Mr. Coles didn’t wait for the room to be completely silent before he continued. The door to the classroom was open, although usually the teachers closed them once the bell rang, making it difficult for stragglers to sneak in without being called out for tardiness.

  “We have a new student this year. I’m sure starting a new school at the beginning of senior year isn’t easy, so I ask that you be kind and welcome him,” the teacher had caught everyone’s attention with these words, and the voices that chattered away only seconds before went silent.

  A new kid? I thought my life sucked, but this poor guy had it rough. Starting his last year of high school in a new place? That would be the worst time ever to transfer.

  Corrie’s voice rose behind me.

  “Lousy for him, but honestly, we need some fresh blood. I’ve only been here a few years but I’m so done with the totally random guys we have here.”

  It wasn’t like Corrie was promiscuous, it wasn’t that at all. Unlike me, though, she had a definite and age-appropriate interest in dating, and the choices we had didn’t range far from Cheeto Face or Robbie Jacobs. I didn’t respond, hoping to reinforce my disinterest in the subject in general, which was, in this case, entirely false.

  I folded my arms on my desk and leaned my head on them, resting my chin on my forearms. Just as curious as everyone else, though, I did turn my eyes to the door, and the empty space filled with a figure clad in dark, worn jeans and scruffy cream-colored Converse.

  Somethin
g made me focus on those canvas shoes, while a low hum of female voices began to churn around me. Whatever the other girls saw, they liked, and the comments whispered between them were less than varied.

  “I want one of those!”

  “Where did he come from? Can they send more?”

  “Did Keanu Reeves lose his son? I think we found him.”

  Clearly he was hot, but I swallowed hard and fought the urge to look up at his face, unsure why I was afraid to do so. Maybe I wasn’t afraid as much as aware, just like I was during a dream, that something was going to come of it. Something I didn’t want, something that would disrupt my life . . . something I couldn’t control.

  “Declan, would you like to introduce yourself?”

  Mr. Coles’ voice was firm over the soft whispers around me, and as I continued to fight against the urge to look up, I kept my eyes on the boy’s feet as he stepped from the doorway to the front of the classroom. Obviously he was up on what was cool at our school, since anyone who was anyone had a pair of Converse. Except me.

  “I’m Declan. That’s probably all you need to know.”

  A shiver trailed up my spine when I heard him speak that first time, and I took a deep breath to clear my thoughts before letting my eyes drift upward. Black, messy hair with a set of contrasting ice blue eyes that were vaguely familiar from the brief glimpse I had in my memory of him.

  The boy from my dream, the one who was shoved by the lizard woman, was standing only a few feet away, and he was staring right at me.

  Chapter Two

  “You can sit back there, over by Delilah. Perhaps you can help me accomplish my goal of getting this senior class graduated without a single pregnancy by interrupting the love nest currently in existence.”

  The teacher wasn’t laughing, although there were a few snickers throughout the room. I hardly heard any of it, as if it was behind some sort of screen that separated them from the reality of what was happening between Declan and me.

  Not only did I realize that he was the boy the woman in my dreams was harassing, but when my eyes reached his face, it was very clear that he was staring at me. Did anyone else notice?

  I didn’t check, and I didn’t care. I also couldn’t pull my gaze from his as he took long, slow strides towards the corner Mr. Coles pointed out to him, his head turning so his eyes didn’t leave mine as the rest of his body moved away from me.

  “Hope!”

  Corrie’s voice hissed behind me, louder than a whisper but not enough to pull my full attention from Declan. He was dressed in a way not to draw attention, with those faded, grayish jeans and a worn, plain black t-shirt that was wrinkled just enough to look cool, as if he had slept in it. I couldn’t have been the only one watching him, but I was the one he was looking at in return.

  Did he know I had seen him before? Could it possibly have been in the dream, even though so much about it couldn’t have been real? A green woman - seriously?

  “Stop staring, goofball. He’s totally checking you out already, so calm down.”

  Corrie pulled at the ends of my hair a little and I nodded to let her know I heard what she was saying. After Declan sat down, leaning forward on his arms a little, I blinked a few times and pulled my focus from him to my friend. I took a few strands of my hair, which my mother had always referred to as dishwater blonde in a teasing manner, and twisted them through my fingers.

  I was surprised that Corrie had actually touched me, although it was just barely. It was different than if she had touched my skin in any way, though, and I didn’t have any weird visions or effects from it. What would Declan’s hair feel like, I wondered, forcing myself to look down at the empty notebook on my desk. I unzipped my purse and fumbled around inside for a pencil.

  “For those of you in independent study hall during third period . . .”

  The teacher’s voice continued to drone on like static in the background of my thoughts. I flipped open my notebook and started to draw, a few lines here and there, as flashes from my dream propelled me to keep moving the pencil across the page.

  I didn’t sketch as a habit, but every once in a while, especially when a dream was particularly frightening, it helped to get it out of my head and onto paper.

  “What the hell?”

  Cheeto Face interrupted me as I emptied my dream memories through the pencil, and I stopped to take a look at what I had drawn. The sage-skinned woman grinned viciously as the boy in front of her stumbled, and I had caught him in the image leaning forward just enough to make it clear that his footing wasn’t sure.

  Unlike the dream, though, this sketch included Declan’s face completely, his expression subtly angry with a slight frown on his lips and his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t looking back at the woman responsible for his situation, however. Instead, I had turned his focus outside of the paper and right on me.

  “Mind your own business,” I snapped as softly as I could, while attempting to convey my annoyance as I closed the cover of the notebook. Cheeto Face turned around, shaking his head.

  “Hopeless Hope. Some things never change.”

  I stared at the back of his head, wishing I could smack him. It would hurt me more than it would hurt him, though, and as someone who had learned the hard way too many times to count, I wasn’t about to let myself give in to that temptation.

  Corrie sighed loudly behind me and I looked down at the cover of the notebook. Without turning my head to look, I knew that Declan was still watching me. As the teacher kept talking and pacing at the front of the room and the other students whispered and giggled together, I put all my energy on not looking back at him.

  When the bell rang, I nearly jumped straight out of my desk chair. Had it really been an entire class period already, with my thoughts focused on the new boy and absolutely no notes taken from whatever the teacher had been saying?

  Great start to the new school year, I thought, shaking my head at myself as I stood up, tucking the notebook into my messenger bag among several others along with a few binders. Corrie waved as she walked by.

  “Have to be at the other end of the building for next period, so I’ll catch you later.”

  As she walked away, her dark ponytail swinging behind her, Cheeto Face snorted at me like the pig he was and turned to follow. I stood alone as everyone else walked towards the door, holding the strap of my messenger bag against my shoulder as if it would protect me from something.

  Mr. Coles faced the blackboard, swiping a worn chalk eraser over it and mumbling to himself. He was probably sick of us already, and I couldn’t blame him.

  I looked down at my shoes and began to take a step forward, but as I started to look up, a pair of feet clad in worn, ivory Converse appeared on the floor beside my own tired looking moccasins.

  “Please allow me to escort you, Hope.”

  Declan had been beautiful from a distance, intriguing from my dream, but face to face with only a few inches between us, he was absolutely breathtaking. I thought of my pale skin, often marred by pink patches of dryness, my thin, dry hair, my boring greenish brown eyes.

  Nothing about me was pretty or interesting, and this boy was like an image from a painting. There was no reason for him to be standing in front of me now, not if he was looking for a girl to hook up with who was on the same level as he was when it came to appearance.

  Unless he recognized me from my dream, in which case . . .

  In which case that made no sense. It would be impossible for him to know that I had dreamed of him.

  Wouldn’t it?

  I opened my mouth and answered before I could stop myself.

  “Sure.”

  He nodded and for the first time, smiled. His clear blue eyes lit up and his whole face changed, as if it had been warmed somehow from within.

  I stood up a little bit straighter, empowered by the idea that I had such an effect on him. Everyone I knew avoided getting too close to me for good reason, but he didn’t know, and it was a reminder of what I had been missi
ng all this time.

  No, I considered as the two of us stared at each other. This was entirely different. Declan was different. I had never missed this interaction because no one had ever affected me like this before.

  He stepped a little to the side and gestured for me to walk ahead, without trying to put his hand on my arm or touch me in any other way. It was as if he knew that I didn’t like to be touched, or rather, that I couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t the same thing at all.

  As we walked side by side across the front of the room, Mr. Coles stopped his chalkboard efforts and turned towards us.

  “Be careful, kids,” he said, drawing his eyebrows together. What did he mean? I wondered, offering him a small smile that I hoped reassured him. Did he know something about this new boy that I didn’t?

  Other than the fact that he had quite literally appeared in my dreams only hours earlier.

  Declan walked close to me, nearly brushing his shoulder up against mine as we navigated the busy hallway. My next class was only a few doors down, and he kept pace with me like he already knew where to go.

  I couldn’t even think of what to say to him, but it would have been difficult to hear over the talking and shouting going on around us.

  I was tempted to lean into him just enough for us to make contact. What would I see if we touched? Would the dream come into my head again, or something new, something stranger, something more revealing about him and why he was right here beside me?

  “This is us, I believe.”

  Declan’s voice was soft but confident, and I wondered how old he was exactly. He didn’t seem like he was seventeen like most of us, but much older, much more mature than his teenage appearance.

  Wait, I thought. How did he know which classroom I was supposed to be in for this period?

  “Hope?” he asked, and the larger question loomed first and foremost in my thoughts.

  How did he know my name?

  Chapter Three

  Declan stood at the open door, his arm held out in a gesture to encourage me to go in before him. Two girls started to walk in front of me, between us, but Declan reached out and put his other arm forward, blocking their path. They stopped abruptly, looking from Declan to me, their eyes growing wide.