“SPREAD THE LIGHT,” SHE MUTTERED.
And a fusion bomb of energy went off below, followed by the unnatural hisses and groans of dozens of Lost Souls—the newer, weaker ones being eviscerated, and the older, stronger ones fleeing. Moments later the mist dissipated, the helicopter stopped sputtering, and the path to rescuing Helena was clear.
Kristina looked pleased but she wasn’t smiling. “I hope any that got away slowly and painfully decompose into nothing.”
The colonel looked at her somberly. “Charlie will be remembered for all eternity for his bravery.”
“We have visuals on the boat,” Brickson said, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. All the data, for nothing. You ready to go down, Monty?”
As Monty was lowered down on a line to rescue Helena, Archie went back down to be with her too. He seemed to regret his choice with the spotlight shining over his body, though.
“Yikes,” he said materializing next to us. “I look rough.”
“Yeah,” Kristina said, “ghosts don’t normally like to hang out near their bodies for a reason.”
“Because the body starts to look like a blistered toe?”
“Something like that,” she said.
We watched in silence as the rescuer secured Helena and was lifted back up to the helicopter. She was unconscious, and Brickson went to work on her, taking her vitals, hooking her up to an IV, and assessing her body for injuries. Meanwhile, the rescuer went down again to collect Archie’s body. It was an eerie scene as the helicopter hovered over his body, the rotor’s force creating a small storm in the waters below, the powerful spray hitting my face.
“What do you remember about the day you went missing?” Kristina asked Archie, trying to distract him from the retrieval.
“Feeling totally out of control,” he said. “We weren’t supposed to take the boat out—I’d actually promised my dad I wouldn’t—but Helena really wanted to go for a cruise, so I agreed, thinking it would only be for thirty minutes or so.”
“Oh no,” Kristina said, grimacing. “Breaking a promise is the textbook example of bad karma. It makes people extremely vulnerable to dark influences, and your situation was that much worse being on open water with some Lost Souls lurking nearby. I’m guessing you lost control of the boat pretty quickly?”
“It was like we got caught in a tornado or something,” he said, his eyes wide. “Everything went topsy-turvy, we were flailing all over the place, and next thing we know, we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere. I honestly thought we would be rescued in just a few hours. We hadn’t gone that far from shore.”
“And then no one came for you?”
“Yep. And hours turned to days, except I had no concept of day or night because I felt like I began to lose my mind.”
She nodded. “I think you did a little bit. The dreams of the dying are said to have special properties; I think that’s one reason you were able to communicate with Baylor.”
“You knew I was dying?”
She looked embarrassed. “I suspected it.”
“Is that why you looked so sad when we first met?”
She frowned. “I didn’t mean to look sad. I just couldn’t help but feel like I knew what was going to happen to you, and I didn’t think it was fair.”
“Well, you turned out to be right.”
“Unfortunately.”
* * *
Helena was shocked for a number of reasons when she finally came to.
First, the confirmation that Archie was dead.
Second, the mere fact she was alive at all—she’d been convinced she was going to die on that boat.
Third, the news that a boy medium named Baylor Bosco had aided in her search-and-rescue. She had no memory of me. My conversations with her had only been part of Archie’s dreams.
Her parents were equally shocked to discover that it was their darling daughter who’d been the one to want to take the boat out. They’d been so convinced it was Archie; the thought it may have been Helena had never crossed their minds.
I wasn’t there for any of these revelations, though. I found out the personal stuff from a few phone calls with Helena and her parents in the days that followed, and many other details I’d learned on the news. My face was, once again, plastered across the news stations; this time I was being touted as a national hero.
That title was ridiculous, but it did help me out with Jack.
His friends, though still scarred from the experience at the house, seemed to think it was cool that I’d helped find those two lost kids that had been all over the news.
Jack had invited them over again, and they’d agreed—but not at night. They’d stick to hanging out at the Bosco residence during the daytime. I thought that was a fair compromise.
* * *
I no longer had the amulet, which Kristina didn’t see as a problem at all.
“It was never meant to be permanent, anyway,” she said as we walked home from school, “and I can’t help but think it did more harm than good.”
“But we were able to save Helena with it and destroy those demons.”
“That’s true,” she said, “but I can’t shake a feeling.” She furrowed her brows. “I’ve been thinking so much about it. Archie’s dying dreams were one reason why you might have connected with him, but that can’t be the only reason. There are a lot of dying people in the world, and you don’t talk to all of them in your dreams.” She looked at me side-eyed. “At least, not that you tell me about.”
“I don’t!”
“It might sound crazy, but what if the stone retained some of the Bruton’s negative energy, and that’s what connected us to Archie, Helena, and the Lost Souls?”
“Could that be true?” Something tickled my hair, and I looked up. A light flurry of snow was dropping from the sky. The first of the season. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, her voice ominous. “But it’s a much better option than the alternatives.”
“It is?” I said, semihorrified. “What else do you suspect?”
She shook her head. “I need to do some more investigating before I worry you.”
“Let it go,” I said, putting my hoodie up.
“No point in fussing over it,” Archie said. He’d been joining us over the last week as he got his bearings on the other side. “What’s done is done. And regardless, you’re not responsible for what those bad spirits do.”
“I know that,” she said. “I’m just still think about the visit from Adam and Minh’s relatives. I can’t help but feel like things are changing, Baylor. For both of us.”
* * *
With the amulet gone, I couldn’t walk around dreams as easily anymore, which Kristina didn’t think was such a bad thing. I didn’t disagree with her, but I still wanted to be able to check in on people; which is to say, I wanted to be able to spy on Aiden and see how he was doing.
However, it didn’t seem too necessary. Ever since he recovered J’s purse from the mysterious masked bandit—and heard J fawn about it anyone who’d listen—he’d been acting with more confidence. I like to think the new dream catcher also had something to do with it—perhaps it actually catch those bad feelings, in addition to nosy friends. He still couldn’t look J in the eye without experiencing a momentary full-body panic, but even baby steps were still steps in the right direction.
Kristina also explained I could still technically dreamwalk even without the amulet. “The trick is recognizing you’re in the dream,” she said. “It might take some practice, but you’ll get there. It took forever to learn how to tune out spirits, but you managed to do that.”
I groaned thinking of the effort that took. Years and years of work. I didn’t want to repeat it. “Can’t we just make a new amulet? Maybe something a bit more subtle this time?”
“We’re discussing it,” she said. “Luckily the holidays are approaching, and all the light and positivity will act as natural protections for you.”
“A demon-free Christmas,”
I said. “What more could I ask for?”
“I don’t know,” she said, lightly, “maybe a girlfriend?”
“Ouch,” said Archie.
TIP
23
Believe in yourself.
BAYLOR BOSCO: NATIONAL HERO OR NATIONAL SHAME?
Self-proclaimed medium Baylor Bosco has done it again. He’s dominated headlines recently, fooling people into believing he single-handedly saved Helena Papadopoulos, the fourteen-year-old Florida girl who’d been missing for a week. Her friend Archie Perceval died while awaiting rescue.
But what if it were to be revealed that there was more to the story?
What if not everything was as it seemed?
Stay tuned for a special series about Baylor Bosco’s exploits, coming up soon.
—Carla Clunders, editor-at-large, NewEnglandRealNews.net
“Hi, Carla? This is Baylor Bosco.”
“Oh, hello there, Baylor. I was wondering if you’d call.”
“That’s nice. Listen, I don’t really care what you’re planning since your website is an embarrassing sham, but I just want you to know one thing: If you talk about any of my family or friends, I will come after you.”
“You’ll come after me?”
“That’s right, in the same way that you’re coming after me, except I’d actually have a reason.”
“Oh, I have my reasons, Mr. Bosco.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
“They’re very personal, as you may have guessed.”
“Well, if it helps at all, I’m genuinely sorry for anything I may have done to hurt you.”
Cough.
“And I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Get off your high horse. You’re only saying that so I won’t publish articles about you anymore.”
“Well, you’re not wrong, but I also would never intentionally hurt someone, unlike you. Tell me, just how long did it take you to hack into Archie and Helena’s hotline voice mail to dig up that information?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice velvety.
“I’m going to hang up now, Carla. Remember what I said.”
* * *
I’d tried sounding brave on the phone, but my heart was pounding the entire time, and my mouth had felt so dry I’d swallowed, like, eighteen times.
“Think it worked?” Kristina asked.
“Who knows,” I said, “but honestly, if she doesn’t listen to me, I meant what I said.”
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked.
“Have you looked at the message boards online recently?” I asked.
“On which website?” In the last week, a new one had sprung up: ImABayliever.com.
“That’s my point,” I said, though my cheeks still burned. “I’ve got a whole army of Baylievers”—my ears felt like they were on fire, I hated saying the word—“at my disposal. If Carla doesn’t listen, I’ll unleash the hounds.”
“Sounds exciting,” said Kristina. “It’s nice you’re embracing your fans.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, “but if they’re willing to help out . . .”
I got ready for bed shortly afterward—threatening someone over the phone really takes it out of you.
I drifted off to sleep, finding myself back in the wide-open field with the brilliant colorful sky beaming overhead. I walked down the field and saw Mr. Moose sitting cross-legged, top hat balanced on antlers, sipping tea from fine china.
“Lovely to see you again, Mr. Moose,” I said. “It’s been a while.”
He bowed, offering me a cup of tea.
“I haven’t seen you since . . . ,” I began to say as I reached for the cup. And it clicked into place—I was dreaming! I hadn’t seen him since I entered Bobby’s dream for the first time last week.
“I’ve gotta go, Mr. Moose!” I said, running up the hill toward the light as the moose stared after me and shook its head, its arm still outstretched with the cup of tea.
I somersaulted back onto Loved Ones’ Lane and admired all the shooting stars. I didn’t really have the urge to visit anyone; it was just nice knowing I was connected to all my loved ones this way.
I turned left down the path, the way I’d been going for the last week, and looked at all the shooting stars. Who were these people? I’d only explored a handful of the doors. I had a long way to go, but I had plenty of time. It’d be easy to devote more time to dreamwalking without having to worry about Archie’s dreams at the end of the lane.
I reached the edge, where the ocean used to roar below, and sighed.
At least we saved Helena. Poor Archie didn’t make it, but dang it, we got Helena back.
I was about to turn and head to my door to dream when I spotted it in the distance—the rectangular door again.
It seemed so far away today, but I was curious, and really, I had nothing else to do except go to sleep. So I leaped into the black nothing and glided forward. This must have been what floating through outer space felt like; I tumbled gently, spinning and flipping and somersaulting my way to the rectangle, the edges of which grew brighter and more intense as I moved closer.
And after what seemed like an hour, I made it. The light was practically bursting at the seams, making the door bulge out. It seemed like if I just tapped it, it might be in danger of blasting open and unleashing its contents into dream space.
I reached for the handle, noticing a funny vibration, a funny kind of pull, like my hand and the handle were both magnets of the same charge, resisting each other. I pushed through and grasped it, throwing it open.
The most dazzling, mesmerizing bright white light flooded my body with warmth, and just as I was about to peek my head in, a sudden force knocked me backward. A million blue sparks exploded around me, and I zoomed back into my bed and woke up with a heavy gasp, like I was sucking my soul back into my body.
The lights flicked on, and surrounding my bed were Kristina, Colonel Fleetwood, and some other ghosts I didn’t recognize—one was a dark-skinned man wearing a colorful set of silky robes; another was a stern Asian woman who was looking me up and down, over and over; and the last one, with about 99 percent certainty, was Albert Einstein, complete with the flyaway white hair, thick mustache, and friendly-but-perplexed smile.
“How did you just do that, Baylor?” Kristina shouted, her voice quivering.
“Do what?” I asked.
She and Fleetwood exchanged horrified glances.
“Baylor, you nearly entered the Beyond,” Kristina said, throwing her arms out.
Her words didn’t land the dramatic blow she’d been aiming for.
I just shrugged and said, “So? What’s the big deal? Who are these people?” I was eyeing the Einstein twin, wanting solid confirmation as to whether I should be filled with excitement or not.
“They’re not important right now! How did you get to that door?”
“It kept showing up last week during Archie’s dreams,” I said.
“During his dying dreams,” she said, confused. “And you still have access to it now? Something’s wrong. Only ghosts can enter the Beyond. If you had moved forward another inch . . . you would have been stuck there forever.”
I scoffed. “How do you know that? Has someone actually tested that?”
“Baylor, you don’t seem to understand the gravity of what I’m trying to tell you.”
“I do understand what you’re saying, but I’m also reminding you that you’re the one who always says there are no set rules.”
Albert Einstein (or his most seasoned imposter) nodded in agreement, and a frisson of excitement passed through my body. I was trying not to freak out in case it was him. Had I just made a point that the smartest guy to ever live agreed with?
“Well, this is the exception to that rule, then,” Kristina said.
“You’re just repeating what someone else told you,” I said. “You don’t actually know whether I’d get stu
ck there or not.”
“Don’t ever open that door again, Baylor,” she said, pointing at me with her index finger, a flare of blue energy escaping from the tip. “In fact, don’t ever go near it again.”
I rolled my eyes. “I hear you. I’ll avoid it from now on.”
“I can’t tell whether you’re being serious,” she said, “but I’m telling you now: If you go through that door, you’ll never come back out of it.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
But I couldn’t help but feel she was wrong. I could communicate with dead people and see demons and make talismans and amulets. I could see memories attached to random objects. I could walk through people’s dreams and save the life of someone hundreds of miles away. And no matter how worried Kristina was, I could surely walk through a door to the Beyond and live to tell the tale.
Acknowledgments
ALL MY LOVE AND THANKS goes to my parents for their never-ending support. Love you, Mom and Dad. Ben, Jenny, and Colin—you guys are all right, too, I guess. Love ya.
A huge thank-you to the rest of my wonderful family. So many of you have shown me immense love and support, and I truly appreciate it. The same sentiment goes to my friends, who’ve listened to me blabber on about the books and put up with me skipping various activities thanks to writing, editing, etc. But just look at this beautiful book you’re holding—it was all worth it!
Special shout-out to Dan Lazar for being such an awesome, hardworking agent, and to everyone else at Writers House, especially Torie Doherty-Munro. My editor, Amy Cloud, deserves endless praise and thanks for her diligence in shaping and shepherding this book through the editorial process. Thanks to everyone else at Simon & Schuster, especially Audrey Gibbons, Karin Paprocki, and Mara Anastas.
About the Author
ROBERT IMFELD grew up in Orlando, Florida, and like any self-respecting Floridian, evenly split his free time between the beach and Disney World. After graduating from the University of Florida, he put his journalism degree to good use by saving lives at a luxury resort (some call this “lifeguarding”) in Orlando, interning/brewing coffee at a production company in L.A., and managing finances for country songwriters in Nashville. He now lives in New York City, where he works on the Diary of a Wimpy Kid marketing team by day and writes kids’ books by night.
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