And until now, I believed—or wanted to believe- that the ghosts were gone from Gracefield. I never saw them anymore, except for the aforementioned white mist. Could I have imagined that? Sure, I could have. I’d been taking cold medicine that week. It always made me loopy, but I didn’t recall hallucinating.
Humming happily, I walked out of my bedroom and my eyes immediately went to the built-in bookcase at the top of the stairs.
All Marnie’s red birds were out of place--every single one of them.
“Oh, my God!” I walked closer to the disrupted display. Some of the birds were knocked over and, to my horror, at least one of the red birds had a broken wing. That had been one of Marnie’s favorites too. I caught a sob in my throat. What was happening? Who would have done this? Instinctively, my hand went to my waist, but there was no gun there. I had a gun, but it was in my bedroom. Had an intruder broken in? I raced back to my room to retrieve my gun from the closet. I slid the bullet magazine into the gun and took it off safety. I began walking through the top floor of the house. I tiptoed as quietly as possible; the floor creaked a few times, but I opened each door and searched every room. Nothing else was out of place, not a dang thing. I decided to head downstairs and do the same thing.
Same here. The doors were locked and none of the windows were opened. Everything was locked up tight, just like I kept them. And naturally, the doorbell rang.
“Gennifer!” I sighed with relief as I opened the door. I forgot I still had the gun in my hand. As soon as I realized I had it I slid it in the back of my jeans. “Sorry about that.”
“What’s going on, Amara?” She paused on the doorstep, unsure what to do. I couldn’t blame her. I invited her over here and then welcomed her with a gun.
“I’m so sorry. I…I thought I had an intruder. Please come inside. I’ll put the gun away.”
Gennifer paused before coming in and asked me, “Should we call the police? Want me to check out here?”
“It’s all clear. I swear. But something happened to my bird collection.”
Gennifer laughed nervously, “Bird collection? Do you have birds? I can’t say why exactly, but I didn’t take you for a pet person.”
I welcomed her inside and closed the door behind her. “It was my stepmother’s collection and her grandmother’s before her. I don’t think they are worth anything except for sentimental value, but I am confused by this. They are very precious to me. Come, take a look. I’ll take you on an official tour later, I promise but let me show you what I’m talking about.”
“This place is amazing, Amara. It’s huge. Even bigger inside. And you live here by yourself? This is a lot of space. I could put four of my apartments in here.” She smiled prettily and my heart skipped a beat. What was going on with me? I never experienced anything like this before. “Show me.”
We cleared the stairs and stood before the built-in bookshelves. To my surprise, all the birds were in their place. All of them! Even the bird with the broken wing was as it should be, nothing was broken at all.
“I don’t understand, Amara. Are these the birds you were talking about?” She touched my arm lightly as she stepped closer to examine my collection.
I closed my eyes and opened them again. I was a smidge away from crying. This wasn’t right! I know what I saw and I hadn’t taken cold medicine for weeks. I wasn’t hallucinating any of this.
“What’s going on here? I can’t believe this. This one, the big one, it’s wing was broken and this whole shelf was cluttered with broken pieces.” I covered my mouth with a shaky hand. My palms were sweaty, my heart continued to pound, for different completely different reasons now. “I’m not crazy, Gennifer. I know what I saw—I know it!”
“Amara, I don’t think you’re crazy. I don’t have an explanation, but I know you. You are not crazy. Maybe we should go have a glass of tea or something. Let’s just leave this alone for now. And if you wouldn’t mind, please put your gun away.” Gennifer’s frightened expression saddened me. She might be saying I wasn’t crazy, but I sure felt that way. Crazy as hell.
I did as she asked. What was I going to do with this thing anyway? One couldn’t shoot a ghost. Gennifer patiently waited in the hallway as I slipped into my bedroom and put the gun back in the closet. When I came back she was studying the birds and pointing at something.
“Does this belong here? It doesn’t look like it. I mean it has some red paint on it, but it’s not a bird. That’s some sort of rock, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked as I joined her at the bookshelf. There were four shelves loaded with red birds. Some of my favorites were covered in red rose florals. Others were all red, in various shades. But what she was talking about was the rock.
The painted rock. Like one of the ones I buried down by the creek at the direction of the shaman, New Eagle. I don’t recall this one being in the stack, but it was possible. I carefully reached past a few of the bird statues and removed the stone.
It felt as I expected it too, cold and heavy. Dead. Just like the person it belonged to.
“What is that, Amara? You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”
I didn’t think about it. I told her everything. She deserved to know the truth. She deserved to know it all. She’d been my friend, my comforter when Dad had been close to death. Gennifer deserved to hear the truth.
“Gracefield is haunted, Gennifer. It is haunted and I am a dream catcher. I dream about ghosts. I thought I could get away from that part of me, but the ghosts won’t let me go. They haunt my dreams. I am a haunted person.”
To my surprise, she put her arms around me. “Oh God. That’s horrible, Amara. I am so sorry. I mean I knew something was happening to you, but I would never have imagined this. And the birds…Do you think that what happened is a warning? Why? What does this rock mean?”
I released her from the hug and stepped back. “You should go, Gennifer. A friend of mine, her name is Carrie Jo, she’s coming here to help me. She’s a dream catcher too. We’re going to try and end this. I don’t want you to be here for that. You should go.”
Gennifer’s hurt expression broke my heart.
“You don’t have to walk through this alone. I want to be here with you, for you. I know about spiritual work. I can help protect you, Amara. Don’t send me away. You always do that. You push people away. I don’t want anything from you except your friendship, to be your friend. To help you.”
“How can I put you in harm’s way? I can’t. You have to go, Gennifer. I’ll call you later; when I’ve put the last of the ghosts to bed. When it’s all over I’ll reach out to you. I promise.”
“I don’t want to leave you, Amara. I’m not going and that’s the last word. You better get that gun if you want to run me off.”
I hugged her again. I knew she meant every word. And then, at last, I cried.
Chapter Eleven—Lily
I didn’t know what to make of Katrina’s confession. Did she believe that her step-brother was trying to kill her? I had no idea, but Katrina Valentine was my friend and a friend in need was a friend indeed. I think Ben Franklin said that, but I couldn’t be sure. Why was I thinking about old Ben Franklin?
In the back of my mind, I remembered that my aunt warned me about doing this sort of thing. I mean specifically warned me not to dream catch here. It wasn’t wise to step into other people’s dreams, what if Orr was truly an evil guy? We’d only had a few minor exchanges throughout my friendship with Katrina. He grunted a greeting to me occasionally and said a few swear words in my presence, but I didn’t think he would poison his stepsister. Who would do that?
But to put Katrina’s fears to rest I pushed my own to the side. I took off my socks; I couldn’t sleep with socks on and settled down to crash on my fluffy pallet. “What do you need? How do you do it, Lily? Sorry to ask so many questions. I’m just curious as all get out.”
“It’s difficult to explain. You’ve had dreams before. It’s like that only when I dream I�
��m more awake than most people.”
She was silent for a few seconds as she pondered my answer. “That’s cool. Hey, it sounds like he’s finally settling down up there. I’m guessing he has to be asleep, too?”
“Yes, that’s right. It would be helpful if I had something that belonged to Orr--I can use personal items as a trigger object. It could help; I’m not as good at this as my Aunt CJ.” I secretly wondered if I should ask her for help. That would be the wise thing to do, but Katrina’s fear was almost palpable. Almost a tangible thing. I was eager to bring her peace of mind—or evidence.
“He’s got a shirt in the dryer. I’ll grab you one. Be right back.”
I turned on my side and closed my eyes as I heard Katrina’s bed creak and the door to her room closed, opened, and closed again. Physically I could do with a good night’s sleep, but I could not predict how long it would take me to enter the dream world. If I could at all. These were new surroundings with new sounds and people. It was much easier to do this at home.
“Here it is, Lily. Are you asleep already?”
“No, and do me a favor. Don’t talk. Let me get into my dream. It might take me a while to get there.” Accepting the gray t-shirt she handed me, I pulled the blanket up around me. There was nothing unusual about the shirt. Nothing at all. That was good, right? If it belonged to a psycho it would have some sort of vibe, I lied to myself. I had no idea.
“You told me to watch over you, Lily. What am I supposed to do if I can’t talk? What am I looking for?”
Now my eyes felt tired. Yes, sleep beckoned me and I was eager to dream. Oh yes, a dream waited for me. But what kind of dream and of whom? With any luck, I’d step in and out of Orr’s dreams without detection. Most of the time the people I spied on didn’t notice me. But then again, most of those people were dead. Or they were family.
I sighed as I rubbed my sleepy eyes.
“I don’t know. Just lock the door and make sure I don’t leave the room. Sometimes if I go deep into a dream I move around.”
“I wish I could investigate people’s dreams. Hey, you aren’t looking at my dreams, are you? You can’t do that, can you?” Katrina’s anxious voice surprised me. Did she have secrets too?
“I’ll try not to, but no promises.”
Katrina turned off her lamp and I peered at her in the darkness. “I’ll stay awake and watch over you. Don’t worry. I won’t let you leave. I promise.”
“Thanks, Kat.”
My eyes felt so heavy as if the Sandman himself dropped a sack of sand in them. Or as Uncle Ashland would call them, sleep boogers. Yuck, but also hilarious.
I closed my eyes and stared at the back of my eyelids for a while. As usual, falling asleep under pressure was always tricky. Not nearly as restful. Not nearly as easy, but I was determined. Aunt Carrie Jo described her dream entrance as similar to stepping into a sepia photograph, my experience was very difficult. I tried explaining it to her, the closest way to explain what I saw was Technicolor, a kind of bright illustration. At least the first few steps into the dream. After that, it was anything goes.
Sometimes what I saw in the dreams rolled out before me in crisp black and white; other times the dreams were almost like real life. The only difference being I couldn’t engage all my senses in the dream world--not at once. Not like in life. I could smell, or taste, or see, but not all at once.
I continued to focus on the muted colors that moved behind my eyes. Focusing my inner vision on those shifting hues helped me to cross over into the land of dreams.
Sometimes.
As I confessed to Katrina, this wasn’t a perfect science. Not for me at least. But then I was in the dream state but something weird was happening. I was quietly being invited into not one, but two dreams. What was happening?
The dreams overlapped one another in a crazy, psychotic sort of way. Like two movies playing at the same time. What was really going on here in the Valentine's home?
I remembered to breathe evenly and tried to focus on the more muted dream, the one with the boy in it. Yes, definitely. That’s the one I need to walk in. He didn’t look like Orr, but then again it could be Orr as a young kid. I couldn’t see into his dream clearly because someone else’s dream was playing too loudly. I waved my hand in front of my face. Interacting with the dream space often moved me further down the path. Like opening a door in a dream moved you from one scene to another, moving your hand in a wiping motion helped me see closer, more intently.
And with that, the woman’s Technicolor drama lifted and I was standing in a very different place altogether. I felt as if I wasn't even in the same house anymore. That was kind of unusual except for the whole Gracefield thing. I dreamed about that place long before I'd been there. But dreaming here in Katrina's room- that's where my body was- just didn't feel right.
Foreboding crept over me. Another one of my favorite vocabulary words. Foreboding... meaning fearful apprehension, a feeling that something bad will happen.
I probably should not have done this, but I was here now, deep in the weeds as they say. Aunt Carrie Jo was going to have my head when she found out. Knowing my luck, she already knew. There was always the possibility that she’d come walking up the hallway at any moment. My aunt had a sixth sense about this kind of thing. She always knew when I wasn’t doing the right thing. Or if I lied to her about my homework which, for the record, I only did twice and one of those times was because I was sick. Too sick to work on complicated math formulas and make a decent grade. My math teacher understood and gave me an extra day to complete the worksheet. It’s not like I regularly skipped homework assignments. Not regularly.
A thick gray mist surrounded me. As I’d been lost in my thoughts it formulated, I waved my hand, but it didn’t dissipate. It appeared to be growing thicker by the second. At least before I could see walls and a floor, but now there was nothing but mists. Where the heck was I?
The mist began to move like smoke. It swirled and different directions as if someone invisible walked through it back and forth, stirring it up. And then I got the sense that, indeed, I was not alone. Someone else was here for sure and it wasn’t Aunt CJ.
It wasn’t Orr either. I didn’t get the vibe that it was anyone I knew. Not AJ following me around like the tagalong he sometimes could be and not any familiar ghost.
But oh, this was a ghost.
I’d seen him before on my balcony, me and AJ. And now he was here. I’d seen him at the school too, in fact, I’d seen him a lot lately. Peeking out of the janitor’s closet, standing at the top of the landing that leads to the second floor of my school. I’d walk past him, the rest of the crowd didn’t appear to notice him, but I couldn’t pretend I didn’t. Those spooky dark blue eyes of his made my skin crawl.
His face appeared in the midst of the mist…or smoke. I couldn’t tell which. I could smell nothing. I found myself paralyzed.
I could only watch and wait.
This wasn’t going to be good.
Chapter Twelve—Lily
“Who are you?” I asked the boy who was beginning to emerge from the swirling mist before me. Nothing about him appeared friendly. Not the washed-out color of his skin and clothing, and not the angle of his head and the intensity of his ferocious blue eyes. This was not a friendly apparition. Not Katrina’s stepbrother either.
The girl is mine. She will always be mine. You will be mine too.
Was he talking about Katrina? What did he mean I would be his? His strange voice gave me the creeps. The ghost sounded as if he were speaking to me from the bottom of a well. Or the pits of Hell. I couldn’t be sure. I wanted to pinch myself to wake myself up to end all of this, but I wasn’t sure that I could and I was here for a reason.
I had to do this for Katrina!
Okay, Lily Stuart. Be the voice of reason. Be calm, cool, and collected. Keep your wits about you and you’ll be okay. You are a dream catcher for goodness sake.
“I know you — I have seen you before. I did not come h
ere to harm you. Tell me your name. My name is Lily. I know you want to tell me something because you have been reaching out to me and my cousin. Why?”
No answer, only a low rumbling growl.
Oh, that’s not good. Should I wake myself up? It was getting more difficult to fight the fear, but the goal was to keep my head on straight while I figured out how to navigate this dream.
Although I was beginning to doubt that this was Orr’s dream at all; it couldn’t be, unless Orr was somehow related to this boy.
Okay, if I’m in a dream I should be able to interact with this mist.
Typically, I have some control over what’s happening. I waved my hand in front of my face, my intentions set on pushing back the cloudiness to get a better look at my surroundings.
Grace Before Dying Page 7