by Sarah Noffke
“You weren’t planning on leaving the house like that, were you?” she asks with a disappointed glare as she sizes up my appearance.
“I was—”
“Looking for your blazer, right?” Zack plucks my black blazer from underneath a cushion on the settee behind him and holds it out for me.
Reluctantly I eye it and then him. He’s wearing his most encouraging look. It partners well with his slick blond hair and winning smile. He’s right, politics is the right career for him.
I take my blazer from him and slip it on. “Thanks,” I say, pulling my tangled blonde curls out from underneath the jacket.
“Oh, you’re still here?” Dee says, tromping down the stairs behind me. “You really take advantage of our father’s unending patience, don’t you?” Her black heels make note of each of her steps. When she meets me at the landing she pushes my hair behind my ears. “And really, if you’re not going to at least dress like an upper-class Reverian you could brush your hair once in a while.”
I bat her hand away and clench my teeth together. Insulting my sister will not release me from my mother’s wrath, which seeks to make me even later for my appointment. Still, someone should say something about how my sister looks more and more like an obsessed Goth whose only mission in life is to give the Catholic clergymen a heart attack. She wouldn’t understand that reference though. Most people in Austin Valley wouldn’t. My sister is wearing her usual get-up: short pleated skirt, starched black button-up shirt open to reveal too much, heels, and an assortment of gold jewelry.
Instead of commenting on how she looks like a confused Catholic schoolgirl I lick my finger and press it to a flyaway by her hair line. “You have a hair out of place. Here you go, dear.”
She steps back, grotesque horror written on her face. “Eww, don’t touch me.” My sister turns to our mother. They don’t just share the same disapproving scowl, but also the same straight red hair, which they wear similarly. “Oh, Zack, you’re here,” my sister says, strolling in his direction. “I had no idea.”
“Are you blind?” I say dully.
She throws me a contemptuous glare over her shoulder before turning back in Zack’s direction. “You could obviously teach my sister something about dress, couldn’t you?”
He coughs nervously, flicking his eyes over her shoulder to me. I know Dee makes him nervous. Hell, she makes the devil nervous, probably because she’s soulless. I shrug and sling my bag over my shoulder.
“Well…I…” Zack begins.
“There are not many students who choose to wear a suit before they’re chosen for positions,” Dee says, having cleared the space between them. Her long pointy fingernail has found his shoulder and is now tracing its way down his pinstriped sleeve until she finds his hands. She pulls his fingertips up close to her face and inspects. “And such clean nails. This says so very much about you. Obviously you take a great deal of pride in your appearance.”
“I’m merely tryin—”
“Zack is actually here because he’d like to interview your tutu in order to better understand cultural changes which have transpired within our society over the generations,” my mother informs Dee, pride evident in her tone.
“Impeccable dresser and ambitious,” Dee says, her hand still gripping Zack’s.
“Yes, I dare say that if you stay on this track then you’ll make great contributions for the Reverians once released from your studies,” my mother says, her stare not on Zack, but rather on my sister.
Although I realize I’ll be punished later for interrupting this crafty attempt at mating I dare say something. I have other punishments way worse I’d rather avoid. “Well, I really must take my leave,” I say, injecting pleasantry into my voice. “I don’t want to keep Father waiting any longer than I already have. Goodbye.” Again the brass knob greets the palm of my hand.
“Yes, you are so late,” my sister says, eyeing the ancient grandfather clock in the entryway. “He’s going to be livid.”
“I’m going that way too,” Zack says, taking hurried steps in my direction. “I’ll walk with you.”
Just over his shoulder I catch a fiery glare flash in my sister’s eyes.
“Sure,” I say with a shrug and turn at once and hurry out the door.
The humid breeze is a welcome relief from the frigid air in my house. Sunlight greets my eyes with a quiet satisfaction and I smile at the blue sky like it’s an old friend.
“You always do that, don’t you?” Zack says, hurrying to keep up with me.
“Make my mother and sister furious? Yes.”
“Well, yes, that, but I was referring to your reaction to the outdoors. You always break into a relieved smile when you walk outside.”
I snuggle my shoulders up high, enjoying the warm sun on my cheeks. “I do love it,” I say, pausing to allow a group of elderly Reverians to pass in front of us. Zack pauses with me but gives an irritated expression while we wait. “I’m already late,” I finally say to him when they’ve moved on and we continue down Central Boulevard.
“I don’t get you, Em,” he says, shaking his head. “Why do you make your life harder when you know what they want you to do?”
“I just find it difficult to conform to their standards. I mean, why in the hell should I have to wear a blazer in the middle of the summer?” I say, scratching at my forearms which are already sweating under the tight-fitting jacket.
“It’s just customs. If you followed them then they’d leave you alone and let you do what you want.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Zack.
“It seems you’re looking to get in trouble: being late when it’s easy to be early, dressing inappropriately when they supply you the right clothes, and not following etiquette.”
“And may I point out that you seem to only notice my shortcomings,” I say, taking an early turn. It’s a shortcut down a less than desirable neighborhood, but still completely safe and will save us an extra minute on the commute.
Zack’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. I stop and look at him, ready to defend the route I’ve chosen. His denim blue eyes lock on mine. “That’s not all I notice,” he says, a firmness in his voice.
“Mmm…” I say, gauging his expression which is so familiar and also year by year growing indistinct, like my father’s. “Yeah, what else do you notice?” I say, turning and continuing our trek. The alleyway here is a little more crowded, but only because this is a Middling street where they build the houses too close together and the insides are too small for the families who are forced to reside within them.
“It doesn’t matter,” Zack says, eyeing a man leaning in his doorway up ahead. “We can finish this conversation later. Let’s just get you to Chief Fuller’s office quickly.”
“Right,” I say, kicking the contents of a puddle, which is no doubt a result of poor drainage from the sprinkler system. It splatters droplets on my shoes and bare legs, but doesn’t irritate me in the least.
At my father’s office Zack stops, eyeing the door and then me with an uncertain expression. “You know I’m just trying to help, right?”
“Then you shouldn’t have offered to escort me here,” I say, pushing him playfully in the chest. “Dee will probably set fire to my bed while I’m sleeping tonight as retribution.” Literally she’s done that a time or two. I have no idea why the most hostile Dream Traveler born to the gods was given the gift of pyrokinesis.
Zack doesn’t respond, but instead gives me his usual commiserative expression. He doesn’t know what to say. I get that. “Yeah, I know you’re trying to help,” I finally say. “You may want to consider there’s no help for me. I’m a Dream Traveler whose only talent is I disappoint my family.”
“Oh, Em, I’ve told you that your gift is delayed. It will come on soon and when it does you’ll blow all of them away.”
“Thanks, Zack,” I say, reaching out and straightening his tie. It isn’t even that crooked, but I know he likes when I do it
because it sharpens his appearance. “Are you off to go take over Austin Valley?”
“Not quite yet,” he says with a wink. “I’ve got a thing or two to learn still.”
“Don’t we all,” I say, returning the wink and then dismissing him by facing my father’s ornately carved door. I’ve stalled long enough. Now I must face that which is certain to be extremely unpleasant.
Continue reading:
Defects.
Sneak Peek of Awoken (The Lucidites Series, #1):
Prologue
The howling wind always marks his arrival. Tonight I’m not sleeping when it shakes the trees and sends debris flying around outside. The recurring nightmare woke me an hour ago. I wipe away the sweat beading my hairline and steal a glance out my window. The figure lurks in the shadows. He’s never any closer than the old oak tree, but that’s near enough. A chill shakes my core. I can’t do this one single night more. Shaking fingers scroll through my phone contacts until I find the right one.
“Hello,” a groggy voice says on the other end.
I speak in a whisper. “I’m not sure I believe what’s happening, but I’m ready to let them protect me.”
“Good,” the voice says with relief. “You’ll be glad you did.”
“What do I do now?”
“They want you to meet someone. He’ll explain what happens next.”
Chapter One
Forty-eight hours later
I wouldn’t believe any of this was real if it wasn’t for the two-inch gash in my arm. Still, denial has rented a room in my head and frequently stomps around slamming doors. I have never considered myself normal, but only now do I fully realize how extremely abnormal I am. That’s not the part I’m denying anymore. It’s my potential fate.
Now I have to do the one thing that feels impossible: focus. It’s difficult when my life has quickly turned into a mass of confusion. I force myself to shake off the distractions. The answers I seek reside in a place I can only get to if I let go.
With immense effort, I relax enough to concentrate. In my head, I see the dam. The concrete stretches out like a barrier, pushing the water away. I pay attention to the water, how it voyages down the spillway. Slow breaths intensify the meditation, giving it color and sound. I continue to visualize until I sense the change. It’s polarizing, in a good way. My body remains planted in the comfy bed while my consciousness dream travels. Now I’m racing through the silver tunnel—my transport to the other dimension. Adrenaline tastes like salt water in my mouth. And too quickly the journey is over, leaving me panting as I’m tossed into a vast space.
The tunnel deposits me at the edge of the spillway on a concrete embankment. A cursory glance behind reveals a calm lake reservoir; ahead the spillway plummets for a hundred feet or more before cascading into the lake. The moon overhead is full. Beside me is a woman.
“I was beginning to think you were lost again,” she says.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say.
“I assumed you already knew my name.”
Apparently the Lucidites don’t believe in greetings. “Well, some ID wouldn’t hurt.”
Shuman’s black hair resembles strands of silk. She wears a leather vest and blue jeans. I straighten, feeling smaller than usual next to her.
“Did you decipher the riddle on your own?” Shuman says, ignoring my comment. The moon reflects off her high cheekbones, making her appear angular.
“No,” I admit, “Bob and Steve helped.”
I’m confused why Shuman gave me a riddle instead of just telling me where to dream travel to meet her. I guess as the Head Mentalist for the Lucidites she has to make everything as perplexing as possible. She must be great at her job.
“Yes, it was forecast that they would assist you,” she says.
“Right, of course,” I say, not masking the irritation in my voice. It isn’t Bob’s and Steve’s help I resent, it’s that the Lucidites are privy to my life through psychic means.
“And we are here because of a different prediction.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about it.”
“Have you also heard that it involves you?”
“Well, I know there’s a potential I’ll be involved.”
“We have new information. Your name is the only one in the forecast now.”
“What?” I breathe with quiet disbelief. “No, that’s impossible.”
“It is possible and I assure you it is true. The speculation of predictions solidifies as the approaching event draws closer. Now forecasters see you as the true challenger.”
“No,” I say too fast, denial evident in my tone. “And I’m not here because of the forecast; I’m here because they said you’d help me.”
“They are correct. The first way I can help is by getting you to accept what has been predicted.”
“Predictions are just guesses though. What if they’re wrong?” I say.
Shuman raises her eyebrow in disapproval, shakes her head. “Roya, do you doubt it because it involves you?”
“Mostly I doubt it because it’s absurd. None of it makes sense.”
“Maybe not yet, but it will,” Shuman says. “Unfortunately we are running out of time. The forecasters have determined the static moment to be twenty-one hundred hours on June thirteenth.”
That’s in a month. My throat closes and my chest shrinks in on itself. “What? I can’t…There’s no way…” I trail off, lost in morbid thoughts of my impending death. “Why not you or someone else more qualified?”
“If I was chosen I would be honored, but I was not. You were.” Shuman gazes at the full moon, her silver earrings highlighted by its white light. “I have tracked Zhuang for decades without success. Many of us have.” She turns and looks at me for the first time. Her dark eyes resemble amethysts. “This fixed point in time is the only chance anyone will have the opportunity to challenge him. And the forecast states you are the person with the best opportunity to end his brutal reign.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not a threat to anyone.”
“A few days ago you saw yourself very differently than you do now, is that right?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then consider it possible that in a month you will be a deadly force.”
After what I’ve learned, I’m almost willing to believe this might be true. I sigh. “So what do you really want from me?” I ask.
“Make a choice,” Shuman says at once. “You must decide whether you accept this role. If you do, then I can give you the help you asked for.”
“If everything you’ve said is true then I don’t have a choice.”
“It is all true,” she says through clenched teeth. “And in waking life and dreams, you always have a choice. This is what makes Dream Travelers different from Middlings. We do not sleep and fall into dreams that happen to us. We create our dreams. We choose where we travel.”
I rub my eyes, frustrated and strangely tired. “It’s just facing Zhuang sounds like a death sentence. I don’t want to go through all this just to die in June.”
“If you make the choice to be the challenger then you will face many dangers. You may not even make it to June. You may die tonight.” Shuman’s face lacks any compassion.
“If you’re trying to convince me to do this then you’re not doing a very good job,” I say.
Shuman stares at the moon for a minute as if she’s calculating something. “I will need your answer.”
“What? Now!?” My voice echoes over the spillway. “Just like that? I don’t get a minute to think it over or go home and weigh out my options?”
“You do not have a home,” she reminds.
My foot connects with the concrete curb in front of me. I want to throw an all-out tantrum. Running and hiding also sounds like a good idea. Shuman’s oppressive demeanor, indifferent to my predicament, makes it tough to think. I wait for her to say something, but she just stands motionless watching the moon. She’s starting to creep me out.
; “What’s going to happen to my family?” I ask, the last word sounding strange as it tumbles out of my mouth.
“I suspect Zhuang will maintain his hold on them, but who he really wants is you,” Shuman says indifferently. “Your family is officially classified as hallucinators. He has the ability to keep them like this for a long time. Or he could finish them rather quickly.”
Finish them? Does that mean what I think it does? This man, this parasite, is stealing my family’s ability to dream, causing them to fall into hallucinatory states. And I’m powerless to stop Zhuang if he decides to drain them of their consciousness. Then they’d be shells, sleepwalkers. Dead in no time. A shiver runs down my spine.
Shuman continues, “Zhuang’s plan was to make you panic and surrender to him. It is fortunate we found you first. My guess is your family will hang in limbo. Zhuang’s attention will be on finding you. If you want to help your family then stay away, otherwise he will use them against you. And if you want to release them then you need to fight Zhuang.”
“And win,” I say, doubt oozing all over the words.
“Well, of course.”
“This whole thing makes no sense.” I rub my head with a shaky hand. “Why me? I’m barely old enough to drive. I’ve only known about this mess for a few days. How was I chosen? How am I the best person to face him?”
“I do not know the answers to these questions,” she says, still fixated on the moon.
“Then why should I do this!? Why should I jeopardize my life without knowing why I’ve been chosen?”
Shuman takes one long blink as though contemplating or meditating. Her words are airy and quiet when she finally speaks. “The great Buddha once said, ‘Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.’”
I bite down hard on my lip. So this is the way it is? Either I live my life alone on the streets and watch as Zhuang ransacks humanity’s dreams. Or, option two, I volunteer to kill him and most likely die trying, but my consolation prize will be I’ll know why I’d been chosen. I’ll know who I was and where I could have belonged…if I hadn’t died in Zhuang’s hands. This seems like a scam, although an ingenious one.