[Night Walkers 02] - Paranoia (2014)

by J. R. Johansson

  She reached her right hand up and around my neck, pulling me closer … then, slowly, she placed her left hand against my chest and pushed me away with a groan.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Or … we could do other things instead.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheek. I curled one arm around her back and trailed kisses down toward her lips. I could see in her eyes that she was serious, but I could also see that she didn’t really want to talk.

  I kissed her lightly at first, tempting, teasing her … pushing to see just how important this conversation was. Addie sighed and gave in quickly, wrapping both arms around my neck and kissing me back the way I’d hoped she would and more. She pulled me in tight, scratching the back of my neck lightly and twisting the calf of one leg playfully around mine.

  She was the perfect mix of everything I wanted, everything I needed. She was sweet and sexy, truth and trust, unwavering loyalty, a friend and so much more.

  Then Addie pushed me gently back, her breath coming in erratic gasps that matched my pounding heart. “I missed you too … now, we have to talk.”

  “Okay.” I smiled reluctantly and checked to make sure no one had come back out of the house. I cradled one of her hands between both of mine.

  She looked a lot more hesitant now than she had before the kiss. I felt suddenly wary.

  “Jack asked me on a date.”

  My skin went cold, and Darkness appeared so close behind her it was like she was in a Parker sandwich. I felt sick and furious and extremely sad, all at the same time. Jack and I weren’t friends—we’d never been friends—but still, him making this move on Addie surprised me. I’d make sure not to underestimate or trust him again.

  And if I couldn’t trust him, then he shouldn’t be able to trust me. My free hand clenched by my side.

  But Addie was my bigger focus at the moment. While we’d never agreed not to date anyone else, never even talked about it, it hadn’t been an issue before. Darkness looked so angry it was terrifying, and as upset as I was, I didn’t want to look like he did. I didn’t want to scare her. I counted to ten slowly in my head before responding.

  “That’s what you agreed to think about?”

  “That’s all you have to say?” Darkness practically screeched, releasing his pent-up frustration.

  “Yeah … ” She nodded, but her eyes fired sparks when I tried to release her hand. “This is really your call though, Parker. It’s been your decision all along, and I’ve been pretty patient.”

  I stopped, my teeth making a strange noise as I ground them together, and I held her hand tightly in mine. “Okay, then I say, NO.”

  “It isn’t that simple.” Now Addie tugged her fingers free. “You don’t get to pretend you don’t care about me when everyone is looking and then tell me what to do.”

  My voice was full of emotion, and I felt weak that she could hurt me so easily. “Then don’t tell me it’s my decision.”

  “I meant you need to decide whether you want to be with me, out in the open where everyone knows about it.” She folded her arms across her chest and the light from a nearby streetlamp reflected back at me accusingly in the tears I hadn’t realized were falling down her cheeks. “I need … I deserve better, Parker. I—I shouldn’t have to be someone’s secret.”

  “I know, Addie.” I hated that she would ever feel like that. I hated even more that it was my fault. Reaching out, I brushed the tears off her cheek with my thumb. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I’ve already decided we should tell everyone. I’ll tell Finn … ”

  She froze, waiting and listening with the slightest glimmer of hope in her eyes. I flinched when my next words appeared to snuff it out completely.

  “But I think, with the way he’s acting right now … ”

  “No, Parker.” She took a step back and my hand fell to my side. “There will always be a reason not to. This isn’t a threat. It’s a fact. No more secrets. I hate them—I hate that I’ve become one of your many. I don’t want to be with anyone else, but I can’t be happy with the way things are anymore.”

  “So, what? You’re just going to go hook up with Jack? The next guy to come along?” My words and voice were beyond bitter, and I regretted what I’d said the instant it rolled off my tongue.

  The slight gasp I heard from her cut deeper than any of her words could. I hated myself for hurting her. Especially when I knew everything she was saying was true.

  “I guess that’s none of your business anymore.” She turned and ran to the front door.

  “Addie,” I called after her, in a voice even I could barely hear. I crumpled onto the curb and tried to sort out how to fix things with her without making things with Finn—and possibly Mia—irreparable.

  The moment I sat down, the exhaustion hit. Everything else had me running on pure adrenaline … now, facing everything that had just happened with Addie, I felt like a deflated balloon after a party. Empty, wasted, and left in the gutter by the side of the street. It had been days now—and rough ones at that—since I’d slept, and all the effects were creeping back up on me.

  “That wasn’t pretty … but I can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”

  “Oh, will you just shut up and go away for once?” I snarled, wishing I could physically punch only the part of my brain he lived in.

  “Fine.” Finn stepped out from the shadows on the side of the house. I had to blink for a minute to decide whether or not he was real. He’d sounded just like Darkness—or at least my tired brain thought he did. Was he another hallucination? I watched, waiting for him to dissolve or disappear the way Darkness did.

  But he didn’t. He was real, and from what he’d just said, he’d heard part if not all of my conversation with Addie.

  Shaking his head, Finn turned toward the house as I stood staring at him.

  “No, wait! I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  He didn’t respond as he stomped toward his front door, and I barely caught up with him before he climbed the stairs. He brushed past me and pushed through the door just as Mia and Jack were opening it to come out.

  They both looked from Finn to me with wide eyes. I just shook my head. I didn’t know how I’d managed to lose both of my best friends within a few hours of them coming home, but it was clear that I had.

  “I know you wanted to talk to me, Mia.” My hands and voice shook with a terrible cocktail of exhaustion and frustration. “Can it wait?”

  She bit her lip and then nodded. “Sure.”

  “Let’s go back to your house, Parker.” Jack’s face was unreadable, but as he walked back inside to grab his jacket, I heard Addie’s voice.

  “You … you can start teaching me tonight.” She sounded upset even from here, and it felt like a punch to my gut. I didn’t know how I was supposed to fix all this, but I would. I forced a breath of air out as hard as I could and tried to push away the emotion. Even if it made me sick to think of them going on a date, it was still just one date. They’d have one date, and Addie and I would have years. She was too angry right now. I’d give her a night to cool off, and then I’d figure it out. After a full night of sleep, hopefully my brain would be ready to help me out.

  After one last, long look at Mia’s dark blue eyes, I plodded back to my car. Jack and I drove home in frigid silence, and I barely made it to bed before everything went dark.

  chapter fourteen

  Mia’s dream started with the touch of soft leaves beneath my hands, the salty-tang of ocean in the air, and the sound of waves crashing far below us. Every sense was as crisp and clear as reality. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in the Hollow, as Jack called it, before entering Mia’s dream. Everything had felt so hazy there, and my head was throbbing in a rhythmic pattern. Nothing made sense. My brain couldn’t sort anything out through this new agony.

  I cupped my palms over my temples in a futile attempt to ease the pain. The only thing I wanted, the only thing I could think about, was getting some
sleep. Mia showed up in her white dress in front of the canvas and picked up her paintbrush—and a jar of red paint. I stared, all thought of sleep vanishing as I climbed quickly to my feet. I’d seen the canvas and paintbrush dozens of times … but the jar of red paint was absolutely new.

  Mia used to paint all the time. She’d wanted to become an artist. But after watching her parents burn in a house fire along with all her paintings, she hadn’t been able to touch a brush to canvas since. In every dream, she stood before a blank canvas in frustration. The addition of red paint felt like a massive step forward.

  I stopped a few feet away and watched Mia dip her paintbrush into the red … but when she pulled it out, she froze in place. The paint moved on the brush almost in slow motion, filling up the tip until a single drop of blood-red paint fell onto the skirt of her white dress—then another, and another. The brush seemed to have an endless supply. It spattered her dress and then fell on her bare foot. Mia might be making progress, but she still couldn’t make that final leap to painting.

  … or maybe she could.

  I inched forward, trying to remember everything Jack had taught me. I focused on being part of the dream. It was harder than I expected. Everything here was manufactured through the self-hypnosis methods Mia had learned from Dr. Freeburg. Since Mia had created it, it was much harder for me to blend into than Mom’s dreams. I tried again, pushing aside my aching head and focusing all my energy on being part of my surroundings. I pictured myself doing the only thing Mia knew I did in her dreams. Somewhere in her brain, she knew I slept here … so that was worth a try. Relaxing onto the ground next to her feet, I took a deep breath, and suddenly I could feel myself sinking into the dream the same way I had with Mom’s. It had worked.

  Moving slowly, I reached out my hand and pushed my fingers through her ankle. Instantly, all the air was shoved out of my lungs like the wind had been sucked right out of me. It was as if that one movement broke open a dam and spilled image after image from Mia’s mind into mine. I saw gorgeous paintings stacked against the walls of a room. There was one of her mom and dad looking at each other. Mostly, though, there were stunning landscapes: a beautiful valley with mountains and a stream, a lush green forest … even the lighthouse across from the cliff we were now standing on. Every scene that had filled her dreams was beautifully depicted on the canvases across the room.

  And then they started burning.

  The flames started with a candle that was left too close to a curtain, and then it spread quickly across every painting and toward the stairs. I saw Mia dash from her room on the lower floor, tripping as she flew out the back door and rolled onto the backyard. A few scrapes marked her cheek and she had a bruise forming on her forehead as she made her way around to the front lawn and waited in tears for the parents, who would never make it out.

  I watched her parents start down the stairs, only to find them already blocked by flames. The fire moved so fast it felt unreal, chasing them like a living, breathing monster back up to their room. In an instant they were trapped, so they went to the window, but it was stuck and wouldn’t open. The room filled with smoke so fast; they were coughing and pounding on the window … then something happened that I’d never seen in her nightmares before. Mia ran up to the front door, but it was locked and when she grasped the knob it was so hot it burned her hand. She screamed and grabbed it again, then kicked and pounded on the door before running back out to the front and watching her parents through their window. Her mom looked out at Mia, placing one palm flat against the glass. I could see her mouth moving, forming the words that were so important for Mia to see before the flames stole them away forever.

  “We love you.”

  Then her dad wrapped his arms around her mom and pulled her away from the window. There were a couple of muted crashes as he tried to break the window. It cracked with the last hit, but the fire moved so fast, and then there was only silence. Silence followed by the crackle of the flames as they burned away everything Mia had ever loved.

  I pulled my hand free of her ankle. The memories stopped, and I rolled face-down into the groundcover and inhaled the strong scent of dirt and life. I let it soak into my skin and my brain and tried to wash away Mia’s pain … but you can’t forget or leave behind something like that.

  Something wet fell onto the palm of my hand, and I looked up at the paint still dripping from Mia’s brush. I pulled in a long slow breath and reached for her ankle again.

  This time I saw Dr. Freeburg and my breath stopped in my throat. He ushered her into his office and she lay back on the couch as he hypnotized her. As he scooted his ottoman closer, I didn’t dare even breathe. I didn’t want to interrupt him. I needed to see inside Mia’s mind, to know for sure if he’d actually done the things I’d killed him for.

  Dr. Freeburg sat perfectly still and closed his own eyes as they spoke. He moved his hands over her, but unlike in his dream, he never actually touched her. No wonder Mia had never remembered anything he’d done to her. He hadn’t done it at all. In his dream, and in his mind, he’d abused Mia—but in reality, he’d stayed an inch away.

  That inch gap was what separated his memory from his fantasy. That’s why it had felt so real. It almost was real …

  And yet, it wasn’t. Pulling my hand free, I pushed aside the sudden sickening knowledge that Dr. Freeburg hadn’t acted on his impulses, and I had. The understanding that he’d been innocent, at least with Mia, and I’d murdered him made my stomach clench and roll with waves of nausea.

  I shouldn’t have watched this. It had been a mistake. I didn’t want to know, and I could never take back what I’d already done.

  Lying perfectly still, I felt the paint drip on the back of my hand. Drip—drip—drip—I didn’t care. It could paint me red; the color of blood was fitting. It fit me. I was a monster and no matter how hard I tried, it seemed I couldn’t change it.

  If anything, it was changing me.

  Another drip landed on my hand, but this one felt colder. I looked up and saw that Mia was crying. Mia was my friend—I was right here beside her, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t try harder to do something to help her.

  I probably was damned … but I’d try anyway.

  Pressing my fingers back into her ankle, I tried to ignore the barrage of thoughts and memories and instead focus on the side of Mia’s mind that was keeping them all at bay with the hypnosis. Her thoughts were in heavy conflict. She missed painting with a fierceness that surprised me, but she hated herself because a fireman had told her that all the paint and canvas in the house had allowed the fire to spread quicker than normal.

  And it had been Mia’s candle accidentally left burning in the living room. The candle that had smelled like the sea and let her really envision the setting for her latest canvas. The candle that her dad had reminded her twice to blow out … and she’d still forgotten.

  I felt my stomach clench at everything she’d had to deal with. No wonder she’d stopped painting.

  Gathering all my energy, I focused on one thought and mingled it like a balm in the midst of all her own accusations: It’s not my fault.

  The single seed seemed to take hold and spread slowly, smothering the other thoughts one by one until everything stilled. I withdrew my fingers from her ankle and looked up to see Mia leaning in toward the canvas as her hand flicked the paintbrush deftly this way and that.

  I’d done it.

  With a small smile, I climbed to my feet. Resting my hands on my knees, I drew in a deep slow breath. It might not happen the first time every time, but I could help. I needed to help, to make up for all the times when I’d done anything but.

  My spine straightened as I stood up the rest of the way and I took a step forward to see the painting. Mia’s expression stopped me before I got there, and my stomach dropped. An entire table full of supplies had appeared next to her now and she was painting with broad, violent strokes as tears fell in a torrent down her cheeks.

  I walked around, almo
st afraid of what I’d see. The clouds in her dream cracked with thunder and the wind around us kicked up. On the canvas was a horrifying image of fire and death. Angry flames with maniacal faces licked across skeletons in the midst of heaps of ash and twisted metal.

  Reaching out, I gripped Mia’s shoulder and pulled her into my arms. She fought against me for a moment, so I whispered, “Shh … it’s me, Mia. Everything is okay.” And she folded into me. Her brush dripped red against my black shirt, and my shoulder was wet with her tears.

  “I wanted to tell you … ” Her voice shook, weighed down by emotion, by pain. “About the paint.”

  “I saw.” It was all I could say. I’d learned nothing from watching what Jack did to Mom and me—I’d done the same thing to Mia. I’d pushed too far, and she wasn’t ready.

  “What do you think it means?”

  I pulled back enough to look her in the eyes and focused on everything in the dream around me. Using the second lesson Jack had taught me, about how to repair the damage I’d done, I pictured the easel behind her wiped clean. I pictured all the paints gone but the red one. I used every ounce of my strength to push my thoughts into her own, burying the pain I felt with what she should be feeling: pride at her new step forward.

  “I think it means you’re getting closer,” I told her. “This is amazing, Mia. You’re doing really great.”

  Pushing through her self-hypnosis drained me until it felt like she was holding me up, but I had to finish. “You are starting to understand that it wasn’t your fault … because it wasn’t, Mia. Nothing that happened was your fault.”

  Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks, but she nodded and a new emotion flowed with the pain … relief. She kept nodding, and I saw the easel behind her fade to white and all the paints disappear but the red one. It had worked. I’d finally used my ability to help her instead of hurt her.

  She hugged me again and then spoke. “I really missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” I felt guilty and hoped she wouldn’t take my words to mean something they didn’t, but I wasn’t going to hurt her again at that point. And after the extreme effort it took to change her dream, I could barely keep my eyes open in the only place I’d been able to sleep.