“Aren’t you glad I came back?” I asked, deciding to ignore his loaded comment and change the subject.
He tilted his face toward me and frowned. “Having you close was a distraction, as I thought it might be,” he said. “But in the end, I think it was good you were there.”
Warmth rippled through me. “Were you afraid?”
Brent closed his eyes. “Yes,” he answered honestly. “At first I thought I had things under control, but then you changed that confidence. I had a moment where I knew I was going to fail. When it got a hold of me, I was sure it was over. It’s a miracle we weren’t taken.”
“I know you didn’t want me here, but I had to—”
“I’m glad you were. Turns out you came in useful,” he half-teased.
“I’m still amazed at how you did that. I had no idea how much strength you had. You were right about him just having caught you off guard before. It was like watching a sorcerer.”
His chest puffed up in pride. “Really?” He paused thoughtfully. “I might have been showing off a little. I didn’t really need the lightning. I just thought it gave a dramatic flair.”
“That sounds like something you would do.” I laughed, breaking a small twig off one of the leafless branches that had fallen to the ground during our skirmish. “I have never seen anyone else do what you did today.”
“Have you looked in a mirror recently? I have never seen anyone, besides myself, able to do what you did, especially after such a short amount of time. You are . . . gifted.”
I gave him a withering glare. “Right. Please don’t tease me.”
Brent laughed heartily, ruffling my hair. “I was being serious. According to Neal’s journals, hardly anyone can do the sort of stuff I’ve been teaching you.”
I waved off his compliment. “I think we need to go. I feel like we’re too easy to find here.” Brent was still lying on the ground, completely exhausted, surrounded by what looked like the aftermath of a hurricane. The skirmish hadn’t taken that much out of me, so I stood and hoisted Brent up, placing his arm around my shoulder and my arm around his waist. As we slowly made our way out of the clearing, Brent was practically limp at my side, unable to walk by himself, his left leg dragging behind him. I kept checking on him out of the corner of my eye.
“Will you please stop peeking at me like that? This is degrading enough as it is.”
“Did it ever occur to you,” I said, with a sly smile and a wink, “that you’re so irresistibly handsome, I can’t keep my eyes off of you?”
He threw his head back in a laugh. “Of course. I should have realized.”
I stopped for a second repositioning my grasp on Brent. We had only gone a few yards and it felt like we had walked miles. As he tightened his arm on my shoulder I realized how tired I truly was.
When we finally arrived in the Headmaster’s garden, I helped Brent down beside the gazebo and gracelessly plopped down beside him. He reclined heavily against the wood panel. The dark circles under his eyes contrasted against his gray skin.
A dull ache in my ankle I had been feeling since the fight became a painful throbbing. I lifted my dress to check out the damage, only to find it perfectly fine, but still pounding. My eyes narrowed at Brent. I was pretty sure I was experiencing sympathy pain from Brent’s injury. I reached out for his leg and his closed eyes flew open.
“What are you doing?” He asked, snaking his leg away from me.
“What does it look like?” I snapped, grabbing his leg firmly. He relented with a grunt. Sometimes I could be persuasive, especially when he was too weak to protest.
“Just don’t make it worse,” he retorted, crossing his arms grumpily.
I scowled at him as I rolled up his pant leg and gasped. “Ouch.”
A piece of the mist was stabbed into his ankle wriggling like a worm burrowing into the flesh. The whole area surrounding it was black, the same blue liquid that had been on my wound leaked around the edges. “When did this happen?”
“When you pulled me free.”
The black on his ankle was slowly spreading like a spider web, climbing up his leg. It reminded me of blood poisoning, climbing up his veins toward his heart. I moved to grab it when Brent stopped my hand. “Don’t touch it.”
“Right.” I bit my lip and raised my fingers over it trying to pluck it out using my mind. It clung to him, refusing to let go. I could feel its resistance and I tugged harder. It wobbled a little until it finally pulled free with a loud sucking sound that was lost in Brent’s stream of profanity.
It landed a few feet away from us and shimmered and wiggled gelatinously before vanishing. The wound was blistered and oozing, but the black continued to spread higher. I lifted my fingers and tried to pull the infectious liquid out but it wouldn’t come. Without even thinking about how dangerous it was, I lowered my mouth to the wound and my lips pressed against Brent’s leg, closing over the cut. Brent’s leg jerked and I looked at him, mentally asking if it was hurting him.
He strangled a laugh. “Not exactly.”
Not really feeling reassured, but knowing I needed to hurry, I began sucking on his leg, pulling the poison out, much like my grandpa had done for my sister after a rattlesnake bit her when we were young. The poison had my gag reflex working as it touched my tongue. It tasted horrible, like a mix of moldy grapes, rotten eggs, and open septic tank—chilled, fermented, and topped off with rotten milk. Slowly, the black in his leg began retreating.
It took several times of sucking the poison and spitting it out before I got it all. As soon as the black substance touched the earth, it vanished, absorbed into the dirt, killing the grass. I bent over and heaved, black and blue saliva trickling down my chin. I drew the back of my hand across my mouth, clearing it away, then wiped it on the browning and brittle grass. If evil had a taste, that was it.
Brent looked at me strangely, rotating his ankle a few inches off the ground.
“What?” I asked, leaning my back against the gazebo’s white-painted boards.
He didn’t respond right away and I checked to see if he had fallen asleep, but he was watching me. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Did it help?” I asked, trying to determine whether he sounded impressed. He nodded mutely, holding up his leg, his pant leg fell enough to see the small, newly formed black scar on his ankle. It looked like a tattoo of a black rain cloud. “Good, because that was totally gross, and if it didn’t help I think I would cry.”
“Weep not, m’lady; it helped,” he said, with a slight bend of his waist. “You can’t keep your lips off me, huh?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Yes, I’m sorry my motives are so transparent.” I mentally threatened to dig up whatever poison I could find and reinsert it into him, causing him to sputter a laugh.
“In all seriousness, thanks,” Brent mumbled, dropping his leg with a hard thud. “That was brave. Stupid, but brave. What if you got some of it in you?’
“I didn’t . . . besides, you would have done the same for me,” I said simply, stretching my sore body.
“Yes, I would have,” he answered without any hesitation at all.
I felt the nightly pull of my death and I slumped.
“Oh, man.” Brent groaned. “I’m too exhausted to watch you drown again.”
“I’m even less up to it than normal,” I complained as we were lifted from the ground and carried toward the pool.
After I had drowned and Brent had failed to revive me, we again walked toward the garden.
“I’m so tired.” Brent yawned, dropping to the ground and pulling me down beside him. “I think I need to sleep.”
“Sleep then.” I started humming softly, a melody I made up as I went along.
“I shouldn’t, though. I need to be ready in case it comes back.”
He sat up straight, slapping his face lightly, trying to wake himself up.
“I’m perfectly capable of keeping watch.”
“Maybe for a few minutes,” he
said. He smiled weakly as his eyelids drooped, his face toward the sky and his arms folded across his waist. I could feel the tension still coiled inside of him, leaving him too anxious to sleep.
“It’s okay, Brent. Go to sleep. You kept us safe,” I whispered, leaning close to his ear, resting my hand lightly on top his. I continued humming until he finally drifted off.
When I was sure he was asleep, I pulled my hand away. Alone with my thoughts, I was able to really concentrate on what I had learned in Cherie’s room. Eventually a dull pain pulsed behind my eyes, and my head lulled back as I massaged my forehead. My eyes slid closed as my murky thoughts merged with my unconsciousness to form equally horrible dreams.
****
I was in the center of the groves, running hard, trying to make it to the edge of campus. Brent was beside me, holding my hand, urging me to move faster. My lungs burned, trying desperately to breathe. I could feel the mist growing stronger as it chased me, nipping at my heels. Cherie stood at the edge of campus, frozen. Brent was on the ground beside her, and yet still beside me. I was there, too, lying next to him, wearing my necklace.
“Brent,” an eerie voice called from behind us. “Please don’t run from me.”
Without warning, he stopped and spun around, dropping my hand. “Neal?”
“Brent,” I begged, “we have to keep going.”
I frantically grabbed his hand but he shook me off, stepping away from me and closer to the dark.
“Brent,” I began, but he ignored me and took another step further away.
Tears ran down my face, and my burning lungs were no longer getting air as I started hyperventilating.
“He needs me,” Brent explained. I reached for his hand again, but missed. I looked up and saw that the shadow had grown stronger. Two figures stood out from the rest: Neal, who was calling out to Brent, and Thomas, partially hidden in the shadows.
“That’s right, Brent.” Neal smiled with his mouth, but it didn’t reach his brown eyes. “Come to me.”
“I can’t leave her,” Brent explained to his brother.
His smile became more sinister. “Then bring her with you.”
Brent smiled at me like this was a good solution. He started toward me, and I fell to the ground, devastated, as the rain started pouring down. My heart broke in betrayal as I watched him draw closer, a vacant look in his eyes.
The mist hovered, closing in on Brent as he slunk toward me.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Yara,” it hissed as it glided ever closer. “You’ve avoided us for too long.”
I began crawling backward on the ground, trying to get away, slipping in my haste and whimpering in fear. I knew it was over. I heard myself scream as it overpowered me.
****
I sat up screaming, my eyes wide with panic. I gulped hard, urging my breathing to slow. It took some coaxing to convince myself it was only a nightmare. Brent still lay sleeping beside me somehow undisturbed by my scream. I rolled onto my side and watched the rise and fall of his chest, appearing untroubled in his sleep. Even though my nightmare had the same vivid texture of my prophetic dreams, I refused to be scared by this one. I knew Brent wouldn’t betray me. He had his chance and he didn’t take it. He hadn’t abandoned me. He had already made that choice. Right? Brent stirred beside me and I scooted closer to him, feeling safer as I did. My fingers rested next to his, a whisper away from touching. I closed my eyes, listening to his rhythmic breathing.
The terrible sentry that I was, I must have dozed off again because when my eyes slowly blinked open from a heavy sleep, the sun had risen over the mountains surrounding Corona. I wasn’t sure if I had dreamed, but at least I hadn’t had another horrible nightmare and I awoke feeling peaceful. My mind started dissecting the earlier nightmare, but found it was still too terrifying and shoved it aside until I was ready to deal with it.
The sun’s rays warmed my face, languidly rousing me even further from sleep. Birds were singing and the fountain was on. It was a beautiful day and I couldn’t help but smile. I felt happy, connected to this gorgeous garden, to Brent, and to my limbo existence. I lifted my arms and stretched, realizing that my connection to Brent at the moment was literal. His arm was wrapped around me and he was snuggled in close. My body involuntarily jerked in surprise, rousing Brent from his sleep.
I managed to free myself from his embrace and turned to look back at him, trying to appear normal, but feeling awkward. With me kissing him and then sleeping in his arms he was going to start getting the wrong idea.
Brent, now fully awake, rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. I heard the smile in his voice as he sang softly, “’As I was drifting off to sleep, a dream washed through my mind and carried me to our embrace, so warm and soft and kind, and then you promised me your heart and told me you would stay, but when the morning broke at last I found you’d gone away. It breaks my—”
“Shut up, Brent,” I growled, my good mood souring like rotten milk. I recognized the verse from ”Can’t Stop Dreaming of You” and cut him off before he got to the chorus. I let out a frustrated breath of air and glared at him. “If you keep singing and whistling that song, it won’t take long until I don’t like it anymore.”
“I’m surprised you even know it.”
“Kevin was really into older music, mainly jazz and folk, but this was his favorite song. I’m not sure why. But after hearing it so often, I started to like it, too.”
Brent nodded. “Still, the lyrics fit our situation perfectly—you waited until I was asleep and crept into my embrace—” I put my hand over his mouth to stop his words.
“I had a bad dream last night and . . .” I trailed off letting my mind explain the nightmare and my fear.
He was silent for a minute. “I’m sorry for teasing you. I— ”
“I know.”
“Interesting dream.”
“Yeah, but it’s just a dream, right?”
Brent sat up straight, looking at me strangely. “What do you mean by that?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I bit my lip, thinking about the dream and how it had frightened me. “I’ve had dreams like that before, ones that were scarily vivid. I think it scared me so much because it felt similar, like the dreams I had of me drowning. You know, before I drowned.”
I suddenly had Brent’s undivided attention and he leaned toward me. His brown eyes narrowed as he grabbed my hand. “You dreamed about drowning?” I nodded. “Was it similar to how you actually died?” I nodded again, not exactly sure where he was going with this. “Was your dress caught on the brick bag they use for the swim team?”
“I couldn’t tell; is that what happened?”
Brent thought for a moment. “Yeah, Steve had to rip it free to pull you out.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Tell me, Yara, the first time you had that dream, were you wearing your necklace?” I told him I was. “How about when you left your body?” I nodded again. “But not when you died?”
“No, it didn’t go with my dress. Does that matter?”
Brent scratched his chin as he thought. “It might. Tell me about this new dream again.” With as much detail as I could, I explained everything to him.
“But this dream is different, right? I mean I was with Cherie and I felt . . . alive.”
“I’m not sure.” Brent pursed his lips, still mulling over this new information. “Is that the only time you’ve had dreams like that?”
I took a calming breath before I answered. “No. The week before my brother Kevin died, I . . . I saw it in a dream.” I plucked a blade of grass and watched it hover in the air before me. “I didn’t tell him about it; I had no idea it would come true. If I had, maybe he wouldn’t have gone to that stupid party with his loser friend. Maybe he wouldn’t have let his friend drive.”
It was impossible to miss the loud sound of Brent sucking in a lung full of air. “Oh, man.??
?
I let the blade of grass that I had shredded to pieces fall to the ground. “I never told anyone. I was afraid they’d blame me.”
Footsteps padded on the stone walkway as a man in a groundskeeper uniform crossed to the fountain and began cleaning out the leaves that had fallen into the water.
Brent slid himself closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Why didn’t you pay attention to your drowning dreams then?”
“I thought it was a fluke. I hoped it was. I . . . I don’t know,” I admitted slowly. “I did try and be careful around water though.”
Brent chuckled. “Yes, that seemed to work well for you. Let’s pay attention to this one, then.”
“You’re going to give me to your brother and let the mist have me?” I asked, shaking his arm off of me.
“That’s not going to happen. Haven’t I already proved I wouldn’t do that?” He rolled his eyes at my stare. “The situation might be the same, but the difference will be in the details.”
A lawnmower rumbled to life and the grounds employee began guiding it across the grass. We climbed onto the ledges of the gazebo as stray pieces of grass floated through the air.
“We fight, we lose?”
“What happened to your undying optimism?” Brent asked, raising one eyebrow.
“I traded it for your sense of reality.” I traced around the black scar on my shoulder with my fingertips. “How’s your ankle feeling?”
“Changing the subject? Sure, I’ll stop talking about the important topic if you feel uncomfortable.” Brent stretched his legs out in front of him. “I’m much better. I dreamed too.”
“What did you dream?” With amusement I noticed he blushed and protected his thoughts. “Aren’t you going to tell me?” He shook his head as he stood up and rolled his shoulders.
“But you made me discuss mine in detail.”
“I’ll tell you what, if I have a dream that might be that important, I promise to tell you all about it.” He flexed his muscles in several body builder poses. “My strength is back. Let’s start training again.” I groaned as he yanked me to me feet.