No, they were blue from slamming against my neighbors’ doors in the fire. Be logical, Price.
I tugged and screamed and cried and pleaded, but still, everyone ignored me. Finally, the judge turned to me, her brows raised, and I caught her eye, each staring at each other for a long moment of heavy silence that weighed around us. “A witch, you say?” She narrowed her steel grey eyes at me again, her lips pressed together in a tight line. “Please, Ms. Jones, tell me where you were the night of the fire, again?”
I breathed heavily, my throat aching and dry. “I was home, in my apartment.”
“And where is that exactly?”
I shook my head, trying to think. I tried to process the thoughts that ached in the back of my mind. It then came to me. “Portland.” I then paused. That wasn’t right. “Er…Salem,” I finally corrected, my voice barely a whisper. I had moved when Gerard and I broke up. Salem, Oregon, I wanted to add, but the words didn’t come.
The judge nodded quickly before turning her attention back to the cat-headed man. “That’s all I need to know, thank you, Sir.” The judge began taking notes, scribbling on her piece of paper as the police officers in uniform around me stirring, their eyes eager as they peered at me, hungry in anticipation. I knew what was going on in the minds. They wanted to take me away, to lock me up forever. To drop the witch, as the chanting rang out in the back of my mind. My eyes burned as the tears streams down my cheeks. “I was at home! I had nothing to do with any of this. I’m not a witch. That’s ridiculous. This is the 21st century, what are you all even talking about?”
But again, something stirred at the back of my mind. A thread that tugged my consciousness, trying to tell me something, but I was too consumed by fear to notice.
Just then Tom and his fireman companion showed up, standing at the back of the crowd staring up at me. “Think,” Tom mouthed at me. My jaw clenched as I pressed my lips together, eyes narrowing in concentration.
Think, okay think. I could do that.
I wrapped my aching hands around the railing before me and squeezed my eyes shut, doing my best to ignore the scene that was crumbling around me as the judge began repeating my sentencing all over again. Think, price, think.
But now the only thing I could think of was Agatha. My eyes flashed open, and I scanned the crowd, looking for her. For a moment I forgot where I was, my mind fixated on the fact that our dear Agatha was missing. She was kidnapped, and we were all wasting time here. I tugged my hands yet again, thrashing against the cuffs, aching desperately through my metal shackles. “Agatha,” I quickly said, turning back to the judge.
Her eyes met mine, her expression curious. “Who?”
I let out a quick breath, glad she was at least acknowledging me now. “Agatha, my landlady. She was taken, she disappeared. I wasn’t at the shop, I was looking for her. I was at home in bed, waiting for news of her.” Part of that felt right, at least. If only my brain were functioning in any form of normal capacity.
The judge began shuffling through pieces of paper before finally turning back up to me, her expression souring. “I don’t know of any Agatha, and if you don’t mind holding your tongue, young lady, we’re almost finished here.”
I turned my attention back to Tom who was looking up at me with stormy eyes. “Think,” he whispered again. Music began sounding in the back of my mind, the same rhythmic melody from my nightmare. Light suddenly blinded me yet again, colors flashing everywhere.
I heard the cry of cats around me before I gasped, my eyes opening wide as I caught Tom’s attention. The cats, the lights, the sounds… My eyes fell to the strange cat-man, the same crowd I recognize from the game show. Of course. I felt my lips twitch. “This isn’t real,” I whispered to myself. A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched Tom’s expression change from worried to pleased. My voice came out so much stronger this time, steadier. This was all just a figment of my smoke-addled imagination. I called out to him. “This isn’t real? None of this is real!”
He nodded his approval, and I let out a slow breath, calmness finally returning to me once more. My mind cleared somewhat, and I began to breathe. I closed my eyes, my head falling back, relishing in the understanding that none of this was reality. None of this was happening.
I tugged my hands free, but they were still shackled, still tied together. I blinked down at them, confused. If none of this is real, how could I still feel this? I looked around again frantically. If this is a real, then what could it be? Some mental fabrication in my own mind? Had I finally lost it and gone crazy? The idea threatened to cause yet another mental breakdown, and I began thrashing my hands against the cuffs yet again.
“This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real,” I repeated loudly.” The Judge rolled her eyes and murmured something under her breath then spoke more clearly for me to hear. “You tell yourself whatever you need to to get through this, Miss Jones. But it doesn’t change my decision. You’re going away for a long time for what you did, arson and insurance fraud are no joke.”
“This isn’t real, this isn’t real,” I repeated to myself. But when nothing changed, tears began streaming down my face again. Tom’s eyes narrowed as he caught my attention. “Think,” he repeated.
I was, I was thinking! I solved it, this wasn’t real. What else did I need to do to escape this mental prison? I nearly screamed, opening my mouth to cry out, desperate for help, when Dot, lovely little Dot from the bakery in Salem came blundering in from the back door. My jaw dropped as I watched her shuffle in.
The audience turned their attention toward her as she fumbled her way up to the front. She peered up at the judge, her arms waving frantically as she sighed in exasperation. “Oh come on you steel-hearted little wench, you know Price. She didn’t do anything.” My gaze fell from the judge to the baker and back again, my breath held as I waited for the judge to respond.
The two women stared at each other, the steel-eyed gray-haired judge and the small plump woman in her baking apron, flour dusting her round flushed cheeks. I looked back and forth between the two of them, my initial recognition confirmed. Of course, they knew each other, the judge was Bianca. I knew it was! But what were they doing here, in Portland?
...What were any of us doing in Portland?
My mind began whirling, my knuckles white against the metal bar in front of me as I struggle to think, desperately piecing the tiny fragments of this puzzle together. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I thought hard, forcing myself to solve this. In any way possible. I had no choice, I had to get out of here.
Then it hit me. “This is a dream.”
Tom and his companion smiled. That was it, I had figured it out. “This is a dream,” I shouted louder and smiled as the man with the cat head slowly began disappearing. “I solved it.” I couldn’t hold back the laughter that spilled from my lips as relief filled me. “This is a dream.”
The room whirled, and the audience blurred. Dot and Bianca disappeared with a loud pop, and suddenly I was standing in the empty courtroom, Tom and the sandy-haired man peering up at me, smiles plain across their attractive faces.
“Good girl, Pricetag.” The tanned, sandy-haired man’s smile was so perfect, his eyes so bright, he looked as if he belonged on the cover of a California surfer magazine. His gaze caused my cheeks to grow hot, and I pulled my attention from him, my eyes falling to my wrists. A weight was suddenly lifted.
I raised my hands, the bruises disappearing, and the shackles gone. Falling to my knees, tears streamed freely now. But this time in relief, not desperation or despair. “This is just a dream.” And it was, of course, it was. What else would it be? I was stupid to not have figured it out sooner.
A thought came to me, and I pushed myself up, stepping forward to the men in the now empty room, nothing but tall, stark white walls surrounding us, bright light glowing from above. Something still didn’t feel quite right. “If this is a dream, why are we still here? Why haven’t I woken up yet?”
Tom stepped forward, pl
acing a heavy hand on my shoulder, the weight all-too-familiar as the heat of his skin scorched me. I bit my lip, heat returning to my cheeks. His smile widened, softening that hard-cut face of his. “Now that, Price Jones, is the right question.”
5
In the blink of an eye, the entire scene around me disappeared entirely, and I found myself standing in the middle of a park. Thin sunbeams flooded through the trees above, casting flickering shadows and bands of light and darkness across the emerald green grass that surrounded me. The breeze was cool, but the sun warmed my skin. My eyes took in the scene around me. I know this place.
I looked around, but there was no one to be seen, the sound of the wind and the birds chirping the only noises I could hear. Looking down I noticed I was barefoot and still in my pajamas. “Still in the dream,” I told myself. Something in the back of my mind still tugged at my consciousness, confusing me. Why wasn’t I waking?
I listened carefully and was lulled by the babble of the river in the distance. Following the familiar trail I had walked through not weeks before in my waking life, I made my way to the river bank. I walked slowly, taking in my surroundings as the fresh air invigorated me. “Okay, Price, as nice as the park is, it’s time to wake up now.” I concentrated on waking, but it was no use. I wasn’t waking, I was somehow locked in my dream with no way out. “Well, poop.”
Pursing my lips together, I pushed myself forward. The sound of the rushing river was quickly replaced with the screeching of cats, and I paused, frozen in place. I knew that sound. Dread filled me. Not again. I ran forward, my heart pounding in my chest as my legs propelled me to the water, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I came to the river and cried out frantically, my eyes scanning the surface of the fast-moving water. My gaze fell to three drowning cats in the middle of the river. I gasped. Sucking in a breath, I sprang forward, diving into the freezing cold water of the river, desperately swimming toward them to save them, to pull them from the water.
What were three cats doing near the river, anyway? This may be a dream, but I couldn’t let the cats drown! I swam and sucked in water as I fought the current, spitting and coughing as I finally reached them. But they were three, and I was one, and I did my best to grab them, my fingers through their collars as I tried to hold them up, my own head dunking deep below the river surface. First fire, now water. Man, my dreams sure did want to kill me.
My thoughts clung to the memory of the fire, and I could feel my lungs burning the same way as they did while I crawled near death, the flames licking around me. You damned cats will be the death of me.
I wasn’t sure what was better, death by fire or death by drowning. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to find out. Gasping for air, I struggled to maintain my head above the water as the current pulled us downstream. My legs kicked, trying to push us to the edge of the bank, but the current picked up, drawing us down farther, faster, my breaths sucking in more water each time I pumped back up at the surface.
The cats cried and pawed at me, their claws raking my skin as I tried to hold them above the water’s surface. We finally turned around a bend and came upon a rock, and I crawled desperately on top of it, pulling the four of us out of the water. My eyes swam as I struggled to catch my breath, throwing the three soaking cats on the riverbank, my forehead pressed down onto the rocks as I struggled to suck fresh air into my lungs.
Minutes passed until I finally regained my breath. I pushed myself up to a seated position, my eyes meeting the cats who sat on the bank next to me, their coats soaked and their expressions sour. I closed my eyes with relief, but when I opened them the cats were gone. I jumped up to my feet looking around, but there was no sight of them. I listened intently, but I couldn’t hear their cries. I scanned the surface of the river, but they didn’t seem to be back in the water.
“Where’d you go?” I pleaded. This nonsense was turning into a much more stressful ordeal than I bargained for. My eyes caught something bright red in the distance, and my feet lead me toward it as if following a mind of their own. When I finally came to it, I looked down at a large empty picnic basket, my favorite mug from my juice shop sitting next to a small piece of folded paper. “Okay brain, what are you trying to tell me now?”
Scanning my surroundings once more for the cats, I knelt down and picked up the folded paper. It was a wedding invitation, perfect handwritten cursive writing spelling out my name with a sickening heart over the ‘i’. My skin grew cold as I read the inside. It was an invitation to Gerard’s wedding. An invitation to the wedding of the man I was supposed to marry. My stomach clenched in knots and I felt bile rise up in my throat, burning it even further.
I crumpled the piece of paper in my hand and threw it, my heart beat raising faster as I shook my head, my eyes burning again. “Okay, now’s a good time to wake up, Price.”
I pinched my arm to no avail. I fell back onto the ground, exhaustion setting in. I tried to focus on my breathing, sucking in a quick breath, holding it for three long seconds and exhaling. I looked up at the trees, the daylight sparkling through the leaves that blew in the wind. A large oak tree loomed next to me, my eyes trailing down the trunk, a memory of Agatha consuming my thoughts yet again.
She’d been with us in the park last time I was here. I swallowed hard, trying to think. Tom’s words sounded in the back of my mind. “Think.” I was thinking, and all I could think of was Agatha, her name just kept repeating over and over and over again in the back of my mind. I pushed myself up, staring out at the far distance. “Agatha, why are you stuck in my head?”
I looked around, trying to solve the puzzle. “Okay, think, Price,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “This is a dream. This is all a dream, and all you need to do is figure out how to wake up.” But how? How does one wake up from a lucid dream? Agatha’s name repeated in my mind. “Ugh, you pesky little woman. If I find you, will I wake up?”
At my words with a loud pop, Tom and his friend re-appeared, this time wearing paramedic gear rather than their previous firefighter suits. “Atta girl, Pricetag.” I looked up at the sandy-haired man. What was his name again? I knew that I knew him, but his name kept escaping me. I turned to Tom, his ordinarily austere face tugged into a smile.
“Good work.” He extended a hand to pull me up, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “Now, we need to go.”
My muscles tightened at his touch, and I felt my face burn with heat. There was an electricity between us. If only I could remember why I felt this way… I looked up at him, my eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them in turn. I cleared my throat. “Go where? Where are we going now?”
Watching their faces fall, I instantly knew something was wrong. “Follow us,” Tom said before turning and leading the way back to the parking lot. A silent, heavy weight pressed against my chest as we walked. An ambulance waited for us in the parking lot, the lights flashing but the siren off. My steps slowed as I followed the two of them around the back of it. I paused and turned back to the park, my mind growing cleared. “Finn?” I remembered. The last time I was at the park, the three guys were there, too. If only I could remember more.
Tom opened the back door of the ambulance and pulled my attention back from the park. Lying inside on a gurney was Finn, frail and much smaller than I remembered him. “Finn?” I gasped, bounding into the back of the ambulance beside him. His eyes were closed, and a soft moan escaped his dry lips. I ran my hands over him, dark circles of purple and yellow were haunting under his eyes.
I turned back to Tom, my eyes widening. “What happened to him?”
He lifted his broad shoulder slowly but kept his silence. His gaze fell to his friend, and he frowned. “He’s sick.”
“Of course he’s sick, look at him,” I snapped. I choked on my own breath and looked up to the machine he was hooked up to. “He’s dying.” Silence weighed heavily around us, the lack of spoken words telling me everything I needed to know. I turned back to Tom. “What can I do?”
&nbs
p; Tom took my hand in his, squeezing it tight. “What is the purpose of this dream, Price?”
I paused, considering. My first thought that it was undoubtedly trying to kill me, but that wasn’t right. Agatha’s name flashed through my mind again, and the worry of her being missing filled me. My eyes grew large. “To find Agatha,” I said.
Tom nodded slowly. “Yes.”
I turned back to Finn, running my hands gently over his face, my fingers tracing the normally soft and vibrant lines of his jaw, now sunken and thin as he lay on his deathbed. “If I find Agatha, will Finn make it?”
Tom’s shoulders twitched softly before falling, all the while maintaining his silence. The second man quietly stood there watching, his expression unreadable and his eyes creased tight.
“Finn, wake up,” I said, shaking his shoulders gently, careful not to hurt him. His eyes flickered open as he looked up at me, his gaze blurred and distant, but I knew he could see me. A tear escaped my eye and fell onto his cheek, and I wiped it away. “I’ll find Agatha, and everything will be okay. I promise.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was so hoarse, barely a whisper. I could barely hear him. I leaned forward, my ear close to his lips. “Solve it, Price. Solve this, and everything will be okay.”
I closed my eyes and planted a soft kiss on his lips, his lips ice cold under the heat of my touch. I looked out of the back of the open ambulance, staring into the far distance at the city of Salem in the backdrop, Portland nothing but a distant nightmare. I steeled myself, controlling my breathing, focusing, thinking. Think, Price, think.
“Where do you want us to take you?” Tom asked, settling in beside Finn, adjusting the controls of the machine he was hooked up to. The sandy-haired man slunk around us, sinking into the driver seat and turning the ignition of the ambulance on. Think, Price, think. My eyes fell on a large stone building in the distance. “The thrift shop.” I remembered. I remembered everything. “Our home. Take us home.”
Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection Page 36