by G. R. Lyons
They'd have to wake Ryley before someone got hurt.
Asher turned toward the bed just in time to see something appear in midair, the object glinting with firelight.
“What–” Master Ross began to ask.
Asher stared at the object, just hovering there. A knife. A blood-stained knife. Where had it come from? And what was it doing there? He looked at Master Ross, ready to ask him to make the blade go away.
Before he could say anything, Ryley let out another cry, and the blade slowly turned, aiming straight at Master Ross.
Asher lunged forward as the knife began to fly. He slapped the hilt, knocking it out of its path. The knife clattered to the floor, and both Asher and Master Ross stood there, staring at it, before glancing at one another.
Then the flames in the hearth suddenly grew again before dying down to almost nothing as Ryley lurched upright in bed, gasping for air.
Ryley sat there, panting, staring at the two men like he didn't recognize them. Before anyone could say anything, Ryley blinked and looked around, his gaze landing on the blood-stained knife on the floor.
“Ry,” Asher murmured, holding out his hands. “It's alright. You're safe. It was just a dream.”
Ryley shook his head, staring at the knife for what felt like several minutes. “It's not a dream,” he whispered, then looked up at Asher with wide eyes.
Asher slowly lowered his hands. “What?”
“It's not a dream,” Ryley repeated, shaking his head. He glanced at the knife again, then back up at Asher's face. He swallowed hard, the movement of his throat visible in the dying light of the fire.
Asher held his breath, watching the man, seeing a look of stunned realization cross his face.
“Ry?”
Ryley took a deep, shuddering breath. “I think it's a memory.”
Chapter 26
BLOOD. IT was everywhere. On his skin. In his lungs. Matting his hair. So much blood.
And it was real. All of it was real.
At least, it had been. Ryley wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. The nightmare wasn't just a dream. It was a memory. Something that had actually happened. Something his brain had been trying to make him remember. For years.
But what did it all mean?
There was only one thing he could do. Ryley shot out of bed and scrambled about for his clothes. He needed answers, and he needed them right now. He didn't care if it was the middle of the night. This couldn't wait. It wasn't like he could go back to sleep even if he tried.
“Ry?”
Ryley looked up in the midst of dragging on his jeans. Asher was watching him with concern, and then he spotted Master Ross. Ryley blushed, realizing he'd popped out of bed completely naked. He shoved the thought aside. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but answers.
“Are you alright?” Asher asked.
Ryley nodded absently, hunting around for his shirt. He dragged it on, then stopped at the sight of the knife lying there on the floor, shining in the light of the dying fire. Ryley found another shirt and used it to pick up the knife without getting his fingerprints on the handle. He tilted his head, studying the blade. He'd seen it before. It had been in that evidence box on Vic's desk. It still had blood on it.
How had it gotten there?
“Well,” Master Ross said, breaking the silence, “it seems you are capable of transporting objects, after all.”
Ryley looked at him. “Huh?”
Master Ross gestured at the knife. “I did not conjure that blade, so you must have done so in the midst of your nightmare. I assume you know the original location of this object?”
Ryley nodded slowly. “It came from an evidence box, from where I used to work.” He studied the blade, shaking his head. He'd used magic to transport the thing all the way over from Agoran, all while asleep? Ryley dropped the knife on the bed and took a step back. Gods, he was still dangerous.
His eyes went wide as another realization set in. He'd felt threatened during the dream. And there were two men standing over him when he woke.
“Oh gods,” he breathed, looking from Asher to Master Ross and back. “Did I–”
“Mr. Arden intervened just in time,” Master Ross said.
“Fuck.” Ryley sank heavily onto the edge of the bed, looking up at his mentor. “I'm so sorry.”
Master Ross waved a hand dismissively, but Ryley could see the man was shaken.
“Ry?” Asher asked after a long silence.
“Right.” Ryley jumped up. “Master Ross, I have to go home for…Gods, I don't even know how long. I need to find out what this dream means.”
Master Ross nodded. “As you wish, dear boy.”
Ryley blinked. “That's it? No argument?”
His mentor shook his head.
Ryley frowned, studying his face, then took a step back. “You know something.”
Master Ross glanced at Asher, then returned his gaze to Ryley as he nodded. “Very little, but yes.”
Ryley looked at Asher, who also nodded.
“Fuck,” Ryley breathed. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then shook his head, pushed his hair back behind his ears, and sighed, stomping across the room to find his shoes. “Alright. I gotta go.” He went back to the bed and carefully picked up the knife, wrapping it up in the shirt. “Ash, I'm sorry–”
“I'm coming with you,” Asher announced.
Ryley nodded, then cast Master Ross a parting look before he brushed past the man and headed for the door. Asher followed in silence.
They made their way through the gardens in the dark, heading for the starglass Gate that would take them back to Agoran. Neither Ryley nor Asher said a word.
Ryley didn't even hesitate when the portal came into view. For so many months, he thought he'd never set foot on Agoran again, but in the next breath, he was back, blinking against the afternoon sunslight. He stopped just long enough to get his bearings. The sudden change from midnight gardens to daytime in a city was jarring.
Asher gave Ryley's hand a comforting squeeze, not saying a word. Ryley shot him a grateful look, then took a deep breath and turned away, heading down the street.
It was going to be a long walk. Without his car or any money to pay for a cab, he had no choice but to go the whole way on foot.
“You don't have to come with me,” Ryley said. “It's kinda far.”
“Ryley.” Asher stopped, grabbing Ryley's hand to stop him as well. “Here.” Asher pulled out his wallet, looked around, and raised his arm, hailing a cab that was headed their way.
“You don't have to do that–”
“Get in,” Asher ordered, opening the cab's back door, his tone allowing for no argument.
Ryley slid into the car with Asher right beside him.
“Where to, folks?” the driver asked.
Ryley glanced at Asher, then turned back to face the driver. “142 Lupine Lane.”
“Where's that?” Asher asked as the car took off.
“My folks' house.” Ryley fidgeted as he focused on the view of the road between the two front seats. “If anyone would know, it's them.”
Asher gave Ryley's hand another squeeze, and they continued the journey in silence.
The cab pulled into a residential neighborhood and came to a stop at the house where Ryley had grown up. His parents had never moved, opting to stay in the same place, year after year, while Ryley had moved several times ever since he'd gotten a job and become independent, never quite able to settle down anywhere.
Asher paid the driver, and Ryley led him up to the front door. Ryley knocked, then glanced at Asher while they waited.
The door opened, and Ryley heard a squeak of surprise. “Ryley!” His mother threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank gods.”
Ryley hugged her back, realizing he'd never even told his parents he was leaving. He'd been gone for months, left without a word of warning.
His mother stepped back and pointed a finger at him. “Don't you ever do that to me again, young man. Yo
ur father and I were so worried. If it hadn't been for Vic–”
Ryley blinked. “Vic?”
“He said he saw all our missed calls on your phone, so he called us to say you were out of town,” his mother explained. “I swear, running off like that without a word!”
“Wait, Vic had my phone–”
“I'll explain later,” Asher whispered, leaning close.
“Alright,” Ryley agreed, frowning.
Then his mother seemed to finally notice Asher was there. “Oh. Who's this?”
Ryley blushed. “Um, Mom, this is Asher,” he said, then paused, looking up at the man. “My boyfriend?”
Asher grinned and nodded, then offered Ryley's mother his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh!” Ryley's mom beamed at him, pulling Asher in for a hug. “Ryley, you never said you'd met someone after Vic–” She broke off with a grimace and looked from Ryley to Asher and back. “Oh, sorry, did I–”
“It's alright,” Asher assured her. “I know Vic. He's a good friend.”
“Oh. Good. Well.” Ryley's mom smiled and stepped back. “Sorry. Come in. Come in.”
She ushered the two men inside, and they all headed for the living room, where they found Ryley's dad. The man jumped up and pulled Ryley into a hearty hug, thumping him on the back, then shook Asher's hand when they got introduced.
“Can you boys stay for dinner?” Mom asked, flitting about the room. “I could make your–”
“Actually, I just came here to talk,” Ryley said.
“Oh.” His mom came to a stop, a curious frown on her face. “Alright.”
They all sat, an awkward silence settling over the room.
Ryley glanced at Asher, who gave him an encouraging nod, then looked at his parents. “What happened to me?”
His parents frowned, sharing a glance before looking back at him. “What do you mean?” his mother asked.
“That nightmare I've always had,” Ryley said, and he saw both his parents' expressions go carefully blank. “The one with all the blood.” He paused, then said, “I think it's a memory.”
“Oh, honey, that's silly,” Mom said, laughing nervously, her eyes shifting from Dad to Ryley and back.
Ryley shook his head. “I'm sure it's a memory,” he insisted. “Maybe my first memory.” His father looked down at his hands while his mother got up and paced behind her chair. “Did something happen to me? Maybe when I was a little kid?”
His mother stopped pacing and shared a look with his dad, then went back to pacing while his dad looked up at Ryley with a sigh.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Ryley tensed, literally on the edge of his seat, waiting for more. He felt Asher's hand at the small of his back, offering his presence and comfort, though he could tell Asher was tense as well just from the pressure of his hand.
“So?” Ryley finally asked when the silence stretched too long. “What happened?”
Mom let out a little cry and covered her mouth while she kept pacing, and Dad took a deep breath.
Dad looked up at Ryley. “You killed someone.”
Ryley's jaw dropped, his heart racing as he stared at his father. “What? How–” He glanced down at the rolled-up shirt in his lap, the blood-stained knife hidden away inside, the whole thing suddenly feeling a whole lot heavier as it rested across his legs. Ryley swallowed hard. “Who?”
His folks shared another look, resignation on both their faces, before Dad looked back at Ryley and let out another sigh.
“The man who killed your parents.”
Chapter 27
RYLEY BLINKED dumbly. There was no way he could have heard that right.
“What?” he asked, looking at each of his parents in turn. What in the world could they possibly mean? His parents were sitting right there. Yet they just said his parents were dead?
It didn't even begin to make any sense.
Mom stifled a sob and turned away, still pacing, while Dad gave another resigned sigh. “Ryley, we're not your parents.”
Ryley slowly shook his head. “You're lying,” he breathed. Dad had to be lying. There was no way it could be true. Ryley refused to believe it.
“I'm sorry, son,” Dad said, “but we're not. We're actually your aunt and uncle, and we adopted you when you were three years old.”
Ryley kept shaking his head. “But…No. You're my parents. You are. I don't remember any–” He broke off, seeing blood again. Blood and…bodies.
Three of them.
And the sound of a little boy screaming, “Mamma!” filled his head.
“No,” he whispered. He looked up at his parents, pleading with his eyes. It had to be a lie.
Dad sighed again and looked at Mom. “Go get the video.”
Mom gasped. “Frank–”
“He might as well see it.”
“What video?” Ryley asked.
Mom and Dad both looked at him, then Mom let out a choked cry and hurried off.
“What video?” Ryley demanded.
“Your dad—my brother—accidentally caught the whole thing on tape,” Dad said.
“What whole thing?” Ryley asked, then took a deep breath to try to calm himself when he felt Asher's hand press against his back. Inhale, one. Exhale, two. He looked up and watched as the overhead lights, just starting to flicker in response to his upset, went back to normal. “What whole thing?” he asked again.
Dad didn't answer. Merely gestured at the hallway. They waited in silence until Mom returned, clutching a flash drive in her hand.
“Frank, are you sure–”
“It's time,” Dad said with a nod. “He deserves to know the truth.”
Ryley held his breath, waiting while his parents shared a look, then he saw the resignation on his mom's face as she sighed and handed over the drive. Dad took it and plugged it into the port on the side of the wallscreen, then grabbed the remote and selected the file, though he paused before hitting Play.
“Ry, honey,” Mom began, “are you sure you want to see this?”
Ryley glanced at Asher, who gave him another encouraging smile, then Ryley gave his mom a sharp nod. Whatever it was, he needed to know.
“It's…bad–” Mom argued.
“Just play it,” Ryley insisted.
His parents shared another look, then Dad slowly lifted the remote again, and the video began to play.
On the screen, Ryley saw a man's smiling face come into view.
“Alright, looks like we're on,” the man said, then the camera turned, showing a woman and a little boy sitting together on a couch, the boy grinning and bouncing in his seat. “And there's the birthday boy!” the man's voice continued from off-camera. “Say hi, Ryley.”
“Hi, Daddy!” The little boy waved.
Ryley choked. “Oh my gods.” That was him. That little boy was him.
Asher squeezed his hand. Ryley looked at him quickly, then turned his wide-eyed attention back on the screen.
“Are you excited about your birthday?” the woman asked in the video.
“Uh huh!” little Ryley said with an eager nod. “Can I have cake now, Mamma?”
The woman laughed. “Not yet, silly. In a little while.”
Oh gods. Ryley stared at the screen. Mamma. That woman was his mother. His real mother, apparently. One he didn't even remember.
“What do you think we–” the man began to ask. No, not just a man. Ryley's father. Ryley tightened his hold on Asher's hand as he stared at the screen. The man had gotten interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. “Oh! Sounds like our first guest is here, kiddo. Should we go see who it is?”
“Yeah!” little Ryley cheered.
“Alright, let's just turn this off–”
“No!” little Ryley protested.
“Yeah, just for a bit, buddy,” Ryley's father said, the view wobbling as the man moved the camera, presumably to shut it off. A beep sounded, and the camera was set down on something just behind the couch, the image slightly crooked
as the camera tilted on some uneven surface. Still, the video kept running. The man must have hit the wrong button.
And it left them with a complete view of the decorated living room. Ryley gasped, clutching Asher's hand. Oh gods. He knew that room. It was much brighter than he was used to seeing it, but he recognized it anyway.
The room from his nightmares.
In the video, the man walked off, presumably to answer the door, while the woman—Ryley's mother—came into view, scooping up the little boy and giving him a big, grinning kiss on his cheek.
“Who do you think it is?” she asked the boy. “Maybe Uncle Frank and Aunt Carol?”
Ryley slowly shook his head, staring at the screen. Frank and Carol. His parents' names.
Or so he'd always thought.
“Or maybe Grandma?” Ryley's mother went on.
“Yay!” little Ryley cheered.
“Yeah?” his mother asked. “You excited to see Grandma?”
Little Ryley nodded. “Is she bringing the puppy?”
Ryley's mother laughed. “I'm sure she is–” She broke off when Ryley's father returned alone. The mother frowned. “Who was it?”
The man shrugged. “I have no idea. There was no one there.”
Little Ryley pouted. “Not Grandma?”
“Not yet,” his father said. “Sorry, buddy. I'm sure she'll be here soon–”
The sound of breaking glass interrupted him. The man made a sharp gesture, silently telling the woman to stay put as he strode out of sight in the opposite direction he'd gone before.
“Mamma?” little Ryley asked.
“Probably just the neighbors playing catch again,” his mother said.
Little Ryley brightened. “Can I play, too?”
“Maybe later, baby–” the woman said, then she cut off with a gasp, sucking in a huge gulp of air as though preparing to shriek.
“Scream and he dies,” another voice said.
Ryley stared intently at the screen, seeing panic in the woman's eyes as she clutched the boy to her chest, turning him away from whoever was approaching. A moment later, Ryley's father reappeared, being marched back into the living room with a knife at his throat.