I forced myself to pay attention. She was staring at me inquisitively. I cleared my throat.
"Yes?"
"What about you? I don't know anything about you."
"Right. So, life story, the Cliff Notes version?"
She laughed. The sound was amazing. Like tinkling bells, but softer. I felt a shot of warmth go right to the pit of my stomach.
"If you like."
Krista leaned forward and placed her chin on her hands. I couldn't help but chuckle. She'd put me on the spot and wasn't being shy about it.
"Alright."
She took a sip and leaned forward again, her head tilted slightly to the side. I stared at her long graceful neck. I had a sudden urge to bite it.
Hard.
Yeah, no eating your date Dean. No matter how cute she is.
"I'm from New England — you knew that already — but I didn't tell you that my great-great-great-great-Grandfather is the one who founded our town. It's actually named after us. Westenville."
"Ooooh fancy. Go on."
I grinned at her self-consciously. I never felt particularly proud about my background, but it was a bit weird talking about it this way. I knew she didn't come from a family like mine.
But if she wanted to know, I’d tell her. I would do anything this girl asked of me.
Like, eat glass. Or walk through fire. Or sleep on a bed of nails.
No joke, I knew that I would do it. No questions asked. And no whining either.
It was strange, but true.
"Okay, here's something spooky. Each generation of my family has only given birth to one son. Supposedly it goes back hundreds of years. But we all seem to live to be, um, unusually old."
"That's… really weird."
Krista had an odd look on her face. She looked a bit spooked — which after everything that had already happened was more than a bit disconcerting. If knowing each other from the dream world hadn't spooked her, why would this?
"What is?"
She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to mine.
"In my family only one girl is born. They usually live a long life. Except for my mother, I guess. She, um…"
She trailed off, looking distressed. I hastened to put her at ease again, as quickly as possible. I was still afraid she would run out on me.
I didn't want our mutually weird families to mess up this date.
"It's okay. We don't have to talk about it."
She shook her head, as if dispelling the unpleasant thoughts inside.
"No, it's okay. She disappeared when I was seven. We don't know what happened to her to this day. She wouldn't just run off though. She loved us. Nan and me. We tried to find her, even hired a private detective after the police stopped looking. But we never found a trace."
Her eyes were shining with the force of her emotions. I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Or felt someone else's sadness as keenly.
"I like to think… that's she's out there somewhere. Trying to find her way back to us."
My eyes were wide as I stared at her. Krista was so proud. Too proud to cry in front of me, even if it seemed like she might want to. She'd been through so much and was so strong. Brave too.
My life had been more than charmed compared to everything she'd told me.
The crazy part was I could tell she was just scratching the surface. Growing up as an orphan… with no idea what had happened to her one parent. It must have been so hard.
"I'm so sorry, Krista."
"Thank you. Anyway, she's not dead. I would know it if she was. But I can't find her when I'm— you know…"
"Dreamwalking."
"Yes! That's it exactly. Dreamwalking. I never called it that before, but it's perfect."
"What do you call it?"
She shrugged gracefully.
"Traveling I guess. Or just… going places. You have a special way with words, you know that? I'm not special like you."
I leaned across the table and took her hand.
"Yes, you are. Only you're even more special. I can barely do what you can do. Plus, you're much prettier."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head adamantly.
"All I can do is draw. I'm a hard worker and my grades always came easy. But that's it. Other than—"
I smiled at her. She was such a funny little thing. Didn't she know how incredible she was? She started fidgeting with her empty desert plate, self-conscious under my frank gaze.
Apparently not.
But I would be happy to show her.
In fact, I was going to make it my life's purpose.
I truly believed that. I did.
Right until the moment I fell asleep that night.
And then everything changed.
Chapter 20
Krista
If this is a movie, I am the lonely girl who gets ghosted.
I hadn't seen Dean since our date. He hadn't called. He hadn’t even taken any meals at the field house. At least, not when I was working.
I tilted my head, wondering if that was something he would do: find out when I was working somehow and stay away.
He was definitely avoiding me for some reason. And it hurt. It hurt me to the core.
But that wasn't even the worse part.
I hadn't even seen him in my dreams.
It had been over a week now. The only glimpse I’d gotten of Dean had been in English lit. And that hadn’t exactly been romantic.
I’d spent the entire period excruciatingly aware of his nearness. Three times I’d nearly caught his eye. He'd been watching me surreptitiously but turned away the moment I’d looked.
Our eyes caught for a split-second before he looked away again.
For that brief moment though, the look in his eyes had been utterly bereft. No, devastated. He looked at me as if I’d done something wrong. Something to hurt him.
What the hell was going on with him?
I waited for him after class but he was gone. He must have snuck out through the fire exit. Yeah… he was that desperate to avoid me apparently.
That was just an extra dollop of humiliation on my banana split sundae of pain.
I had a terrible feeling in my chest. It was as if someone had reached inside me and put a block of ice inside, where my heart should be.
Snap out of it Krista. He dumped you. Get over it.
He didn't like me anymore. That was all. End of story. He was a rich gorgeous guy and I was… me.
I was just a mousy little girl who barely talked to anyone. There was nothing remarkable about me. Not like him. There was no reason for him to like me to begin with other than our odd connection.
And yet… he had liked me. A lot. I knew he had.
Something must have turned him off. My breath must have been bad, or my kisses had left him cold. It happened all the time. It was a simple story that happened every day all over the world and no reason to cry.
Boy meets girl. Girl gets dumped. The end.
Except, it wasn't just a simple story this time, and I knew it.
I worked yet another shift at the athletic center, working even harder than usual. I needed the distraction once I’d realized he wasn't going to show up. I volunteered to carry the heavy crates full of produce, stacking them in the cold room.
I kept hoping that if I worked hard enough, I’d wear myself out so I could sleep. Every night this week had been the same. I had barely gotten any rest. Just fitful sleep with no traveling and no visitors.
Even Charisse was starting to notice the bags under my eyes, silently handing me an eye mask and concealer this morning. We might not have anything in common other than gender, but Charisse wasn't the selfish brat she had seemed at first. She certainly had a soft spot for me, even if she called me a waif.
I walked back to my dorm, bones aching and miserable. But at least I was tired. I showered and climbed into bed, finally falling into an uneasy slumber.
That night when I slept, something different happened. Som
ething bad. It was like someone else was in the dream with me. But not Dean.
Something dark.
For the first since I started dreamwalking, I couldn't control where I was going. The dream had me, not the other way around.
I screamed silence as I was dragged toward something. Or someone. Every instinct told me to fight it, to grab onto the earth beneath me, to hold on as hard as I could.
I woke up with a scream. It was still dark and I was sweating. I turned on the tiny clip on light I used to read or draw with when Charisse was sleeping.
I stared down at my hands. They were locked in a claw shape, like a crone or an animal’s. I rubbed them, gingerly trying to bend and straighten them. It took a half hour before I could press my palms flat together.
I didn’t go back to sleep. I just lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and praying for dawn.
I had been fighting something after all. But what? I’d never felt threatened in the dreams before. They were journeys, fun little trips full of curious exploration. And Dean.
My hands were sore for days.
Chapter 21
Dean
I was cursed.
Every night since our date I had the dream. Every night, it was the same. I was alone, in a cold dark room. It was stone. Underground somewhere. Chains held me down, with shackles around my wrists and ankles.
No, they didn't just hold me.
They burned me.
I wish I could have said I was brave. That I knew I was dreaming and forced myself awake. That it wasn’t real.
But it was.
And I was freaking scared.
I was there again, for the fifth night in a row. I twisted against my bonds, making them burn even more deeply into my flesh.
I opened my mouth to scream but a strange sound came from my throat. More like a roar than anything human. I sounded like a wild beast, trapped and frightened and angry. I sounded like an animal.
A big one.
Each morning I woke up exhausted, less rested than I’d been the night before. I would feel every ache and pain from the dream. They stayed with me.
So did the marks. Every morning, I woke with bruised and chafed skin on my wrists and ankles from where the chains had held me. Each morning, I watched as the marks slowly faded before my eyes.
I was tired and mentally exhausted but my body was stronger than ever. Abnormally strong. In fact, I felt like a freak of nature.
My reflexes were twice as fast. No, they were ten times as fast. And it was getting harder to hide the changes.
I knew what the guys were saying about me. That I juiced. That there was something wrong with me. Nobody should be that fast. That strong.
But I was.
I was a machine.
I thrived on the competition. Thrived on the game. I’d always loved sports but I’d never wanted to crush my opponents.
Now I did. Even during a practice skirmish. I went hell for leather against my own teammates.
But there was a problem. After practice, I had to eat. I had to risk seeing her or stay away. And then I’d have to go to sleep again. The urge to sleep came earlier each night. I’d be filled with dread as I fell into bed, profoundly exhausted, as if I could not stay awake another second.
As if the dream was claiming me, against my will.
And then the horror began again.
Every night, I’d hope for something new, for some relief from the pain. I’d hope to see her. But it was her fault somehow.
Krista had done this to me.
It was the same hell, every single night since the I’d kissed her lips. For the first time, I was dreamwalking without her. But somehow, she had started it all. It was her. I knew it was.
The same thing that drew me to her was the thing that I needed to stay away from.
I knew what I needed to do.
I needed to end it. To cut all ties. Sever the bond. Hide from her.
Then maybe I would go back to normal again.
It would be like cutting out a part of myself, but I had no choice. The hunger and aggression was too strong. It was tearing me apart. I was afraid I would hurt someone.
I was afraid I would hurt her.
For her own safety, I had to do something to stop it.
Otherwise I was afraid of what I might do.
The guys on the team were wrong. I wasn't turning into a machine. I was changing into a monster.
In the morning, I went to see her. I waited outside her dorm, staring up at the window that I somehow knew was hers. I could picture it clearly. The bed covered with the homespun quilt, the other side of the room an explosion of pink ruffles.
My beautiful girl huddled over a sketchpad.
Before I even texted, her face had appeared in the window. It was as if she'd sensed me. It shouldn’t surprise me.
Nothing should surprise me anymore. But it did. The shot of hunger when I saw her face overwhelmed me.
I wanted her. And I wanted her to be mine. For good.
My stomach clenched with anxiety and longing. Another minute and she was downstairs, her face still soft and vulnerable from sleep.
Even now, knowing what I had to do, I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and hold her. Tell her everything was going to be okay. That I would never leave her.
But it would be a lie.
I balled my hands into fists, shoving them deep into my pockets.
Just… get it over with, man.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey. Are you… alright?"
I just stared at her. I wanted to memorize her face. I wanted to make sure I never forgot the girl that shouldn't have been real but was.
"Not really."
"I haven't seen you lately.” She shuffled her feet and I looked down, seeing the worn in penny loafers on her feet. “Did I do something wrong?"
Her face was vulnerable as she chewed her full bottom lip. I felt disgusted with myself for not being stronger. If I tried harder — maybe I could resist the violent urges. Maybe I could avoid hurting her.
But that was a lie. I had fought with everything I had. Nothing would slow the dangerous feelings inside me.
Except this.
I shook my head vehemently. Then I sighed.
"No, it's not you. But you were right. There is something wrong."
"Wrong?"
"There's something too risky about us being together. I wish I could explain it. You feel it too, don't you?"
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. For a moment, I thought she would argue with me. Fight me. I hoped she would.
She would tell me we would face this together. She would tell me she wanted to be with me — even if I was a monster. She would take me in her arms and kiss me, telling me she would never let me go.
She nodded and my heart sank. I’d wanted her to reason with me, to tell me it didn't matter, that we would find a solution together.
Instead she just nodded and gave me a sad smile.
“Yes. I do know.”
I swallowed, the reality crashing down on me. This was it. She was saying it was over.
"Goodbye Dean. And…”
“Yes?”
“Good luck.”
I stared at her slender back as she walked away. I felt my heart crack open and everything inside me poured out. I was empty and alone.
But maybe, just maybe, I would be human again.
Chapter 22
Krista
The next few weeks passed in a blur. I went about my business woodenly, feeling strangely hollow inside. It was stupid to feel that way. I barely knew Dean. At least that's what I told myself again and again.
It didn’t do a thing to ease the ache inside me.
I knew I had lost something precious. Dean had made me feel like I was something more than just a shy little girl. Without him, it felt like the other half of myself was gone.
I was being pathetic. He had moved on. I had to move on, too.
So I picked mysel
f up and got on with it. I went to class. I went to work. I’d been waiting to go to college for what seemed like forever. I might as well make the most of it.
As usual, I excelled at my studies. I was expecting straight A’s in all my classes. All except for Freshman Lit. I barely heard a word the professor said. I almost transferred out of the class, feeling foolish at the way my heart leapt every time I saw Dean there.
Even being in the room with him was enough to soothe me somehow, even though it made me feel twisted up inside. He was pretty much my own private heaven and hell, all at once.
Meanwhile, he ignored me completely.
I hadn't caught him looking at me again. I was certain I could feel his eyes on me sometimes. I noticed that Dean had dark shadows under his eyes as well. That was interesting.
His and hers matching eye bags.
How… romantic.
Of course, I was sure he had moved on, in the real sense of the word. I often saw girls trailing behind him after class or around the quad. They were always approaching him, almost glomming onto him.
But it didn’t make me jealous. He didn’t seem to respond with anything more than polite disinterest. I had a strange feeling that he hated it.
That, like me, he wanted to be left alone.
But there was no way to know if that was true, or if it was wishful thinking. We would have to actually talk to each other to do that, and we had both decided that was a terrible idea.
My ability to dreamwalk had returned, slowly at first. I felt tentative in a way I never had before. Almost like I was a stranger in the once familiar world of night. I stuck closer to home too, exploring the campus and city nearby.
I forced myself to stay away from Dean, even when my feet led me invariably towards the athletic housing complex. I felt his pull though. I was like a walking, talking compass.
A broken compass that always pointed ‘due Dean.’
I knew he was out there, dreamwalking without me. His power seemed to have grown, even as my own diminished.
Or if not diminished, changed.
I shook my head, forcing myself to get back to work. It was mindless labor, which allowed my mind to wander. I was at the dining hall again, working yet another shift. I’d even switched my time slot, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. In case he was avoiding me… there was no way he would know that I would be there.
Original Witch (Dreamshifters Book 1) Page 6