Brightest Kind of Darkness (10 page)

I laughed, picturing him zapping microwave meals. Poor guy. The school’s cafeteria food must’ve started to look pretty good near the end of his brother’s three-week trip. “We’ll just have to make sure you have at least one good meal while your brother’s gone next week.”

His eyebrows shot up in excitement. “Pizza?”

I grinned. He was determined. “We’ll think of something.”

Ethan opened my car door. “You’d better get going. It’ll take a while to get to Barboursville.”

The intimate moment we’d shared earlier had passed, but the memory of Ethan’s smoldering gaze stayed with me as I drove off.

I’d only driven a few miles down the road when it occurred to me that I’d never told him where my aunt lived.

* * *

“This is a special piece, so let your imagination go wild.” Aunt Sage handed me the plier-like tool and then returned to her own stool and counter workspace. I stared at the gorgeous light blue prism-shaped crystal and thin silver wire in my hands, thinking about the pointers she’d given me on twisting the thin threads of metal around the crystal and how to create tiny spirals on the ends to add decorative flair.

For the first several minutes, I gazed out the huge glass windows into the woods, hoping for some inspiration. Leaves were falling from trees like heavy colorful snowflakes, but a cluster of them had gotten caught in the breeze and whipped into a spinning kaleidoscope of brilliant colors. What caught my attention was the odd dark-colored leaf that spun around with them. Another gust of wind slammed the tunnel of leaves into the window and that’s when I saw the unusual leaf wasn’t a leaf at all, but a black feather.

An hour later, after a few false starts with slippery jewelry pliers, discarded wire and some hair-pulling frustration, I held up a delicate silver chain. “What do you think?”

Aunt Sage inspected the pretty crystal hanging by a swirled bail and its intricate holder I’d painstakingly designed. She smiled with pride as she took the chain from me to inspect the detail. “It’s a beautiful feather motif. You’re a natural, Inara! I’m so pleased with how it turned out.”

When she stepped forward and slipped the chain over my head, I touched the crystal lying on my chest and glanced at her in confusion. “I thought you said this piece was a special project.”

Her hazel eyes crinkled. “It was.
You
were the project.” Touching the crystal, she continued, “Who better to create this necklace, than the person who would benefit from it? By working with the wire and the crystal, they’ve absorbed your energy.”

“Are you saying this necklace will help my dreams return?”

“That’s right. The crystal is a Celestite, and one of its main properties is to reduce stress and settle the mind. It creates stillness, an inner peace that allows for worries to leave the mind, opening it back up. It’s associated with astral journeys but most importantly for you, it can also be used for dream recall.” Tilting her head, she touched the crystal.

“What?” I asked, curious about the small smile tilting her lips.

“I wouldn’t normally have chosen this crystal. It’s not the first one that comes to mind for help with dream recall. Red jasper, agate and rose quartz are better known to help with that.”

I rubbed my fingers across the blue crystal. “Then why did you pick this one?”

Her smile widened. “Because this particular crystal appeared in a dream last night. One minute my hand was empty and the next, this blue gemstone was there. And if that wasn’t a sign about the best crystal to help with dreams, I don’t know what is.”

Hope swelled and my fingers folded around the stone. I wasn’t much of a believer in the healing power of crystals, but it was worth trying. “Thanks, Aunt Sage.”

“You’re welcome. Be sure to wear your crystal to bed. Before you close your eyes, tell yourself you’re going to dream.
Will
your dreams back.”

During dinner, Aunt Sage cut into a piece of chicken and said, “You and Ethan seem to be close. Tell me about him.”

Heat filled my face when I thought about our “almost kiss” in the parking lot. Swallowing my food, I said, “Obviously, he loves working with animals. He’s a bit of a loner and quiet until you get to know him. He’s wicked smart—oh, and he’s a fantastic soccer player.”

She smiled broadly. “You two sound like a perfect match.”

I was afraid to think beyond tomorrow, to hope for too much. I didn’t want to jinx anything so I gave a half smile. “Yeah, he’s been a good friend.”

Dinner zoomed by and as much as I wanted to hang with my aunt, I needed to get home. Mom and I were getting up early tomorrow to drive the hour and a half to the furniture store in Farmville, Virginia.

I stood in the doorway, saying goodbye, when Bo threw himself against my leg, demanding attention. As I bent to scratch his ears, my aunt spoke in a casual tone, “Inara, you should answer that text message.”

My hand froze on Bo’s head and I slowly lifted my gaze to hers. The unspoken rule between us had always been that we didn’t talk about my dad. Sage might be his sister, but as far as I knew she hadn’t forgiven her brother for leaving us, nor had she had any contact with him. She gave us a monthly check that came from my dad’s trust fund, and that was the extent of anything related to her brother. At least now I knew how he’d gotten my cell number.

My throat burned as I straightened, but I managed to speak past the anger welling inside me. “Aunt Sage, please don’t give my number to strangers.”

Chapter Ten

Once I crawled into bed, I slipped my new necklace over my head, then tucked it inside my t-shirt. Clasping my fingers around the crystal, I closed my eyes and concentrated on falling asleep. My mind tried to fight me several times. I kept thinking about my dad texting me and my aunt giving him my number, but I shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind and concentrated my energy on my desire to dream again. As I began to doze, I whispered with conviction, “Come back, dreams.”

Claws tore into the warm blackness surrounding me, yanking me from my safe cocoon, tossing me into the air. I landed with a hard thump, skidding across pebbles in a deserted parking lot. Every bone in my body ached and my palms burned from the unforgiving asphalt.

Dust stirred, stinging my eyes and clogging my throat, but I quickly jumped to my feet. Three monsters closed in on me, their dark eyes spewing hatred.

One looked like a wild-eyed minotaur, moving on cloven hooves and snorting through a curled black snout. Another appeared as a slimy brown blob with no real form other than thick arms, meaty fists and razor sharp teeth hanging in gelatinous goo. The last creature snapped his sharp, pointed teeth at me. It looked like an oversized Pit Bull with a powerful chest, a half-chewed nose and a severely scarred muzzle.

The blood-thirst radiating from the three of them made my stomach churn. I scrambled to my feet, fists raised. My shoes slipped on bits of gravel as I turned in a defensive circle.

The goo creature swiped his claws at me first, shredding my jacket. Gripping my aching, bloody shoulder, I jerked back while tears streaked down my face.

Sharp teeth suddenly dug into the spot between my shoulder and my neck. Crying out, I stumbled forward. The Pit Bull had attacked me from behind. He gave the death shake, inflicting horrific pain as he buried his powerful jaws deeper into my flesh.

I collapsed to my knees but barely felt the tiny rocks digging into my kneecaps. Gritting my teeth, I used all my strength to grab the dog’s huge head and yank him forward. My shoulder tendons popped and my bones crunched as I flipped his body over my shoulder, but at least I’d gained my freedom. Pain raged through me as he landed hard on his back. That was about all the fight I had left in me. Blood oozed down my neck and my arm hung like a limp, shredded noodle by my side. As my vision began to blur, the minotaur dug his claws into my other shoulder and yanked me toward him, his wide, sharp-toothed mouth swooping toward my face.

“I don’t want to die,” I tried to say, but all that came out was a sticky gurgle.

I woke screaming and drenched in sweat. The moment I sat up, nausea slammed hard. I stumbled for the toilet, tossing last night’s dinner. After I’d rinsed my mouth, I walked over to my bed on shaky legs and sat down.

“Are you okay, Inara?” Mom called from downstairs.

Breathing deeply, I tried to calm myself. The scent of burnt bacon registered in my mind, making my stomach roil. Was there ever a piece of bacon my mom hadn’t burned? Looked like we’d be stopping at Starbucks on the way out of town. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve made breakfast. Get a quick shower and come on down. We need to hit the road.”

“Okay.” My voice was hoarse, as if I’d been screaming nonstop, which I had been in my dreams.

Grabbing the crystal from inside my t-shirt, I quickly pulled it off my neck and set the necklace on my nightstand. “Never again,” I said with a shudder.

Some of my dreams had been physically violent and others where an emotional wrenching of the mind. Between each dream there was a void of blessed darkness that radiated quiet peacefulness. In the enveloping blackness, I thought I saw an outline of a circle; some kind of symbol, but when I tried to focus so I could see it, light began to bleed in and another nightmare began.

Running my hands through my damp hair, I wondered if the dreams I’d had were what other people called nightmares. If so, I never wanted to experience a “normal” dream again! Where had
my
dreams gone? Why had they deserted me?

* * *

On the way to Farmville, I sipped on my Starbucks mocha, all the while thinking about my dreams. When the sugar and caffeine kicked in, I asked my mom, “Do you ever dream?”

She glanced my way. “All the time.”

“Do your dreams make sense?”

“Sometimes they do.” She laughed. “Other times they make no sense whatsoever.”

“Do you ever have nightmares?”

Mom cut her gaze my way. “Every once in a while. Why?”

I eyed the trees and farmland zooming past. “We talked about dreams in school, so it was on my mind. What are your nightmares like?”

“I don’t know really.” Lifting her shoulder, she shifted her attention back to the road. “I guess a nightmare would be one where I get lost and can’t find my way back. Or when friends or loved ones walk away, leaving me behind.”

“You could tell they were your friends or family? I mean, you recognized them?”

“Sure. Though every once in a while I’ll dream about someone I don’t know too.” She chuckled. “Those dreams fall in the ‘weird dreams that make no sense’ category. What about you? What do you dream about?”

I dream about getting my dreams back
. I shrugged. “I don’t dream.”

“Of course you dream.” Mom snorted. “Everyone dreams. You’re such a heavy sleeper, you probably just don’t remember yours.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, thrumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

My stomach dipped. “What’s a shame?”

She met my gaze briefly. “The fact you don’t remember your dreams. Even the bad ones can be beneficial in a way.”

“How?”

“Nothing makes you appreciate life more than when you wake up from a nightmare and realize it was just that. It’s a good reality check.”

I grunted in response. What I’d dreamed last night could’ve been ripped from a twisted, mind-freak show. Reality check? More like, pulse check. I was just glad I didn’t die in my sleep!

My cell pinged with a text message at the same time Mom patted my leg and nodded encouragingly. “Once you stop keeping zombie hours, you’ll probably start remembering your dreams.”

When I didn’t immediately check my cell, she raised an eyebrow. “Something’s definitely on your mind.”

I held my breath as I glanced at the sender.

It was from Aunt Sage.
Did your dreams return?

I quickly typed back.
No. Thanks for trying though and hit send
.

A few seconds later, she sent another message.
I’m sorry about last night
.

I typed back.
Tell him NOT to text me
.

“Must be Sage,” Mom said.

My fingers paused over the keypad and my heart began to pound, until I realized Mom wasn’t looking at my cell phone display. Quickly hitting send, I put my phone away. “How’d you know?”

She looked smug. “None of your friends get up before eleven on the weekends.”

Yawning, I held my coffee up in silent agreement.

* * *

Monday was a mixed blessing. I’d finally dreamed again the night before, but as the day wore on, indecision ruled my thoughts. I wished Ethan were there to distract me. While I knew my own day would flow along without a hitch, one of my teammates wouldn’t be so lucky.

Tonight, Miranda would send an email to the team.

Jody had an accident during tonight’s riding lesson. She has a concussion and her doctor banned her from sports for a week. She’s upset that she won’t be able to play this week, but we’ll just have to do the best we can without her. See you at practice
.

Among the flurry of teammate emails asking for details, other tidbits would come through: Jody’s saddle had loosened, causing the fall. Yes, she’d cinched it tight. She always did. She’d told Miranda she was so shaken by the accident she didn’t know if she’d continue to ride.

The knowledge of Jody’s impending accident stayed with me all day at school. Whenever I saw her short, athletic frame strolling down the hall between classes, I couldn’t help glancing her way.

At the end of the day, as I was pulling my backpack from my locker, Kristin passed by then stopped at her locker down the hall to grab a new book. Seeing her notched my guilt higher. I didn’t have a choice with the bombing event. I had to try to stop it, and I’d helped Kristin because I couldn’t let the girl go through life with a scarred face, not if there was something I could do to prevent it. Thankfully, in both cases everyone had ended up fine, but Jody’s injury
was
something she would recover from.

When Kristin walked away from her locker, my line of sight fell on my teammate opening hers.
Should I or shouldn’t I help Jody?
The question ping-ponged through my mind as Kenny, the guy whose backpack I’d carried a couple weeks ago, opened his locker next to Jody’s. At least he was finally off his crutches.

Why was everyone’s wellbeing suddenly on my radar, anyway? It wasn’t fair.

Shutting my own locker hard, I turned and stalked off to my car to get my gear for practice.

* * *

During the first half of practice, I managed to stay focused and worked extra hard throughout the drills. I’d hoped the exertion would expel some of the frustration that simmered inside me every time Jody entered my line of sight. Then scrimmages started.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to
not
look at a soccer player while you’re scrimmaging each other? Especially one who’s a leading scorer and you’re playing goalie? Watching Jody’s dark head buzzing all around was like an annoying hangnail that wouldn’t stop snagging on everything, tearing deeper and deeper.

“Nara!” Coach yelled down the field. “Sophia needs some time in the goal. Take the sweeper position.”

The change Coach made meant I’d be the last defender between Jody and the goal. As I pulled off my goalie gloves, I realized I’d just been given another way to help my teammate. I was going to yank this hangnail until it bled.

When the opposing players passed the ball down the field and Jody took possession, my heart thudded and my leg muscles tensed. I was ready. 

Another player stole the ball from Jody, but then her teammate got it back, punting it down the field to Jody once more.

Jody’s shorter stature made her lightning fast on the field. She quickly dodged one of the fullbacks before sprinting straight toward me.

I could’ve met her head on, but I wanted to approach from behind, so I let her think she’d beat me as she zoomed by.

Pivoting, I quickly sprinted after her, then bent my right leg as I slid my left one between her feet in an aggressive slide tackle.
Yeah, I admit it. I went for her cleats and not so much the ball. Illegal, all the way
.

As Jody tumbled forward, Coach’s whistle screeched across the field.

“Nara! What the hell was that?”

“Not cool, Nara,” a couple players mumbled as Coach jerked his finger toward the bench with a deep scowl. “You’re out the rest of practice for dangerous play.”

Glancing at Jody, who was rubbing her ankle and glaring at me with hateful eyes, I stood up and held my hand out to her, saying in a sincere tone, “I’m sorry, Jody. It’s been a while since I’ve slide tackled. Are you okay?” I didn’t mean to seriously injure her. I was just hoping to bruise her enough that she’d decide to skip her horseback riding lesson today.

“What does it look like to you?” Ignoring my offer to help her, she pushed herself up. As she began to hobble around and test her ankle, she stopped briefly and snapped at me, “Aren’t you supposed to be on the bench?”

* * *

After practice, I sat in my car listening to the radio and worrying my bottom lip until it felt twice the size of my upper one. All I’d accomplished during practice was to piss Jody and Coach off. I’d be lucky if I got to play in the next game.

As I watched Jody kick off her flops and pop open her trunk, tension made my shoulders and neck ache. When my cell phone rang, I turned down the radio and welcomed the distraction that kept me from making a final decision. “Hello?”

“How was school?”

I was surprised to hear from Ethan, but my heart ramped at the sound of his voice. “Boring. How’d the roof repairs go?”

“Done.”

He sounded tired and relieved. “Now you can come back to boring old school tomorrow.”

“School’s never boring with you around.”

“Ditto,” I said feeling warm inside, but my attention snapped back to Jody when I saw her pull another bag and her riding boots out of the trunk. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Wait!”

I paused. “Yes?”

“I wanted to talk about our history project.”

Jody had opened her passenger door and set the bag and boots inside. My stomach churned. “Well…I—”

“I was thinking maybe we should pick a different angle on war than the teacher would expect. The U’s library should have resources—”

“Ethan.” Jody had opened her car door.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got something I need to do. We’ll talk about this tomorrow in study hall, okay? Bye.” I hung up before he could say anything else.

I’d just opened my car door, when my radio’s sound bumped up. Frowning, I reached over to turn it off and the digital numbers started flickering in and out. The radio station switched at such a rapid pace that all I heard was a snippet, “Do—” before the station moved again.

“—not.”

And another station buzzed in.

“—enter.”

Annoyed, I pushed the button, but the radio didn’t turn off.

“—ear”

My heart slammed my ribcage and I pounded on the button harder. But the radio kept up its station selection schizophrenia, blaring out in rapid succession.

“Don’t.”

“Enter.”

“Fear.”

Freaking, I jerked my keys out of the ignition to cut off the power. Instant silence filled my car, but the hairs on my arms stood on end. I clenched my shaking hands into fists, welcoming the pain as my keys dug into my skin.
What the hell?