Dead Is Just a Dream - [Dead Is - 08] (3 page)

Our choir director, Ms. Clare, was super-strict about public displays of affection, so I had to be happy with just holding Dom’s hand.

“How was your first day?” he asked.

“Tons of homework,” I told him. “You?”

“Me, too,” he said. “I thought the teachers might go easy on us senior year.”

“Settle down, everyone,” Ms. Clare said. “Let’s get started.”

We obediently took our places.

“We don’t have much time before our first performance,” Ms. Clare continued.

“When is that?” Harmony asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” her mom replied. “There will be a Day of the Dead party at the Wilder estate, and the choir has been invited to perform. Now who has suggestions for Halloween-themed songs?”

“How about ‘Monster Mash’?” Connor suggested.

“How about something from the last decade?” Selena teased.

“Like what?” Ms. Clare challenged.

That stumped Selena for a few seconds. “What about an a cappella version of ‘This Is Halloween’?”

The suggestions flew and Ms. Clare wrote them all down on the board. “One of the numbers will be a duet,” she said. “So think about your audition piece. It should reflect the theme.”

I hoped Dominic would ask me to audition with him, but he didn’t say anything before I left to meet the other viragoes.

Raven, Andy, and I had arranged to meet by the oak tree in the front of the school. Eva walked with me. “Are you going to audition with Dominic?” she asked.

I shrugged. Dominic and I had performed a duet with Side Effects May Vary at the Battle of the Bands but hadn’t sung together since then. I wondered if the other band members didn’t like me horning in on their gig.

“I need to swing by the library,” I told Andy. She had her license, so she usually drove me and Raven around.

“Me, too,” she said. “I can’t believe how much homework I already have.”

My favorite librarian, Ms. Johns, was manning the front desk when we arrived. She looked like she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong, Ms. Johns?” I asked her. “Allergies?” I thought I’d give her an out if my question was too nosy.

She shook her head. “I guess you haven’t heard the news yet,” she said. “Mrs. Lincoln died last night.” Mrs. Lincoln had been one of the older librarians, but she wasn’t
that
old.

Raven gasped. “What happened?”

“Nobody really knows,” Ms. Johns replied. “She lived alone. She didn’t show up for work today, so I went to check on her.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do,” she said. “It was just so strange. The look on her face. It looked like she died screaming.”

“Screaming?” Andy asked. “That’s odd.”

“I know, right?” Ms. Johns said, sniffling.

“Then what happened?” I asked.

“I called the police and they took over. Deputy Denton wanted to drive me home, but I didn’t want to be alone, so I came here.”

“How do they think she died?” Raven asked.

“They think she was murdered. There were signs that she was smothered.”

“That’s horrible. Is there anything we can do?” I asked.

“No, I think it’s being handled already,” she replied. “Mrs. Lincoln had a nephew, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with him.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said again.

After we left, Andy said, “Do you think Mrs. Lincoln’s death has something to do with the horse on the beach?”

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” I said. “But my tattoo did tingle when we saw it. And then someone was murdered right after we saw that ghostly horse.”

Raven held up the stack of books she’d checked out. “I’m about to find out what that was all about.” She read aloud while Andy drove.

“Here it is,” she said finally. “A supernatural horse called a night mare is also known as a Mara. A Mara gallops into someone’s dreams. Even a glimpse of the deadly Mara is enough to scare some people to death.”

“How can we stop it?” I asked.

“It doesn’t say,” she said.

“That’s not good,” Andy grumbled. Understatement of the year.

My little sisters Katie
and Kellie had their first riding lesson after school on Wednesday. Mom had roped me into going too, but since I didn’t have my driver’s license yet, she was paying our next-door neighbor Poppy Giordano, Daisy’s sister, to take us. In fact, Poppy was running the ultimate kids’ chauffeur service in between her classes at UC Nightshade. She picked my sisters up from school and then drove them all over town for their various activities when Dad and Mom couldn’t make it.

When Poppy arrived, Kellie was eating a snack in the kitchen, but there was no sign of Katie.

“Katie, Poppy’s here,” I called, but she didn’t answer. I was pretty sure she was upstairs playing with her dollhouse. Normally, playing with a dollhouse wouldn’t be worrisome, but Katie’s was enchanted. We’d discovered it in the old Mason house, and Natalie had given it to my sister. The dollhouse was amazing, a miniature medieval castle, like something straight out of a fairy tale.

Princess Antonia, the main occupant of the dollhouse, was a royal pain in the butt.

I walked up the stairs to Katie’s room. She was having a conversation with Princess Antonia. “I don’t think Jessica will like it,” Katie said.

The princess, who had a very loud voice for a little doll that had come to life, said something I couldn’t catch.

“All right,” Katie reluctantly agreed. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?” I asked.

Katie and the princess both jumped about a foot.

I leaned in and gave Princess Antonia a stern glare. “Do not get my sister into trouble,” I said, “or you will regret it.”

She shrugged and turned back to her gilt-framed mirror. “I have no idea what you are speaking of.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “I mean it, or I’m going to have to have a talk with the prince.”

“The prince,” she sniffed.

Sounded like trouble in miniature paradise, but I didn’t have time to worry about the royal relationship right then.

“Katie, are you ready?” I asked. “Poppy’s here. Make sure you wear the boots Mom bought you.”

She put out a leg and admired her new riding boots. “I’m ready.”

We found Kellie downstairs, tugging on her boots. We piled into the car.

“Jessica, not that I mind the extra cash, but isn’t it almost time for you to be driving by now?” Poppy asked.

I nodded. “I just got my learner’s permit,” I explained. “I still have six months before I turn sixteen.”

“What made your mom decide on riding lessons, anyway?”

I shrugged. “She was the Realtor who sold Phantasm Farms to the new owner,” I said. “Have you ever been out there?”

“We went a few times when I was little,” Poppy said. “The place is huge. There’s the stables, of course, but there’s also a couple of barns, pastures for all the horses, and the original house, which was deserted. The last owners built a huge new house but left the old one alone.”

“Why would they do that?”

Poppy shrugged. “Everyone said it was haunted.”

I glanced back at my sisters, but they were busy staring out the window at all the horses in the pasture.

“We’re here,” I said.

Poppy nodded. “Kind of,” she said. She pointed to a sign that read
PHANTASM FARMS
. “We turn up that lane and then the stables are still about a mile away.”

“Yikes,” I said. “No wonder Mom didn’t think we could walk.”

“Here we are,” Poppy said. “I’ll meet you guys in about an hour.” She pointed to a picnic table under a shade tree. “Wait here if I’m late.” She let us out and we headed to the stables, where a short blond man in jeans, checkered shirt, and a black hat was waiting for us.

“Hi. We’re the Walsh kids,” I said.

“Anton Plasky,” he replied. “Let’s get you saddled up.”

We were on the horses in a matter of minutes. Katie and Kellie had placid old ponies, but my horse looked like he wanted to take a bite out of me.

“Buttercup can tell you’re afraid,” Mr. Platsky said. “He has to know you are in command.”

I held the reins a little more firmly, which seemed to help, but I was still nervous.

We rode around the farm until some of my skittishness evaporated.

The horses carried us along a trail leading into the woods. Katie was in the lead when her horse veered off course and went crashing through the brush.

“Katie!” I cried.

“Wait here,” Mr. Platsky commanded, and took off after her.

There was no way I was going to just sit there. “C’mon,” I said to Kellie. “But be careful.”

We followed them at a more sedate pace. Whatever had spooked Katie’s horse seemed to be gone now, because Buttercup plodded along, and stopped to chew grass as he went.

We caught up to them near a dilapidated old house. It must have been the one Poppy had told us about. It looked like something out of one of Eva’s favorite horror movies.

“Look, Jessica, it’s the haunted house,” Katie said. “Can we go in?”

“It’s not haunted,” I assured her. “Just deserted.”

“But I saw a ghost,” she replied. “A girl in a white dress. Up there.” She pointed to an upper-story window.

“There’s nobody there,” I said.

“Lesson’s over,” Mr. Platsky snapped.

He hurried us back to the stable. He and my sisters had already led their horses to the barn while I was trudging along. As I dismounted, I landed wrong on my left foot and it twisted hard. I tried to stand, but it hurt too much. The ankle was swelling rapidly.

“Hello? Mr. Platsky? Help!” I yelled, but there wasn’t any answer.

Even my horse abandoned me. He smelled oats and headed for the barn door, leaving me lying on the ground.

There was a flash of white and then a blond girl in a white dress appeared, peeking out from behind a barn door. “Hey, can you help me?” I yelled. “I twisted my ankle.”

The sound of my voice made her jump. She shied away and looked around fearfully, but when she saw I was alone, she crept closer. Kellie had said she saw a girl in white in the abandoned house. Could she really be a ghost? There was only one way to find out. I reached out to her.

“Can you help me stand?” I asked. “Please?”

She inched closer. The girl’s dress was faded and torn along the hem and her hair was a mass of tangles. Her skin was so pale I could almost see through it.

“What’s your name?” I held out my hand again, but she backed away. “I won’t hurt you,” I added. “My name is Jessica.”

“Sanja,” she whispered.

She helped me up with a hand that was warm and very real. Not a ghost, then. I leaned on her until we made it to the stable door. Sanja was shaking so badly she could barely walk.

“It’s okay,” I soothed.

“Jessica,” Mr. Platsky barked from the barn. “What’s taking you so long?”

The girl bolted. By the time Mr. Platsky had reached the yard, she was long gone.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked suspiciously.

“I was yelling for help,” I said. “I twisted my ankle.”

“Where is Buttercup?”

“He headed for the barn,” I said.

Mr. Platsky left me where I stood and rushed off after his steed. Kellie and Katie came out of the barn soon afterward.

“Jessica, what happened?” Kellie asked.

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I just twisted my ankle. Can you help me?”

Standing on either side of me, my sisters supported me while I limped over to the picnic table. I called Mom. “I think I sprained my ankle,” I told her.

“Have Poppy take you to Dr. Joyce’s,” she ordered. “Your dad and I will meet you there.”

When Poppy arrived, she helped me to the van. “Buckle up,” she said, “and put this on your ankle.” She handed me a Ziploc bag of ice.

“Did Mom call you?” I asked.

“No, Rose told me to bring it,” she said. “Now I know why.”

Rose? Then I remembered that Poppy’s sister was telepathic.

After what I considered to be too much fussing, the doctor confirmed that it was a bad sprain and wrote me an excuse note to skip soccer. I’d have to make a copy for Flo, since I’d probably have to miss a couple of weeks of virago training, too.

Mom made me stay
home from school the next day. I spent the entire time reading in my room with some comfort food for sustenance. It was the longest I’d sat still in years. I even dozed off for a couple of hours from boredom.

I was relieved when Eva came to visit me after school.

“How’s the invalid?” she asked.

“Bored out of my mind,” I told her. “Amuse me. What happened at school today?”

“Nothing much.” She brightened. “We did get a new art teacher.”

“It’s not creepy artist guy, is it? Jensen Kenton?”

She made a face. “Hardly,” she replied. “Mr. Martin is cute and young. And he carves these amazing marionettes out of pieces of scrap wood. Remember the ones at the library? Those are his. We’re even carving our own marionettes in his class. He’s so talented.”

“Does Evan have to worry?” I asked.

She giggled. “Gross. There’s nothing creepier than having a crush on a teacher. Unless it’s a teacher having a crush on a student.”

“Just checking,” I said.

“Anyway, I can’t stay long,” Eva said. “I’ve got to submit a sketch for my marionette by Monday.”

She handed me a stack of homework.

I groaned.

Mom knocked on the door. “Jessica, you have another visitor,” she said. “Are you decent?”

I hadn’t combed my hair all day and I probably had Cheetos breath. “Just a minute,” I called.

“Hand me my crutches,” I whispered to Eva.

“Why?”

“Because Mom never asks if I’m decent unless it’s a boy. It’s probably Dominic.”

Eva followed me to the sink and I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, and then swapped the ratty T-shirt I’d been wearing for something more attractive.

“All clear,” I called.

My boyfriend entered the room. “Raven told me you sprained your ankle,” he said. “So I thought I’d bring you something to cheer you up.” He was holding a bunch of balloons.

“I just remembered I was supposed to meet Evan,” Eva said. She jumped off my bed and headed out the door before I could say anything.