by Mary Martel
"Fine," he murmured in defeat. "I'll tell you, but it's your own fault if you can't sleep afterwards. You had to push, had to know."
He sounded frustrated and I didn't blame him. I also knew it wasn't me he was frustrated with, but himself, and the fact he had to share things with me he so obviously didn't want to. But I wasn't going to bend on it. If it involved me, then I felt I deserved to know, that I had a right to know, and no one was going to take it away from me. I wouldn't apologize for wanting, no, demanding, to know what was going on. Nobody had asked me to be strong but myself, and I wasn't about to let myself down. Not when I was working so hard on being the person I wanted to be, and that girl didn't apologize for taking control of her life.
"Agreed," I told him. "If I can't sleep, then I will have no one else to blame besides myself. I would never dream of blaming you, Dash. I will own up to my own crap."
Maybe I would own up to it, it all depended on who I was talking to at the time. I didn't like to own up to things when I was talking to Quinton, it made things too easy for him, and we couldn't have that.
He sighed again. I ignored it and laid my head down against his shoulder. I closed my eyes and waited.
He didn't make me wait long. They never did.
"I had my door closed, and it was Binx who woke me up," he whispered for some reason. Maybe he was afraid to say it any louder, but I didn't know why, because as far as I knew we were alone in the house. There was no reason to whisper.
When he didn't seem in a hurry to continue, I prompted, "Binx woke you up?"
"Yeah, sorry. Binx woke me up. He was at the door, hissing and clawing at it like he wanted out or there was something on the other side that he wanted to get to. I didn't think much of it because he did it the first night you stayed here, and he did it then because he wanted to be with you. I opened the door and let him out. He immediately bolted and ran down the hallway towards your room, but it was weird because he never stopped hissing. I followed him because that's not usually like him. I stopped at your door because I didn't want to just barge in on you while you were in your bedroom, but then I heard it..." His voice trailed off and he was quiet and still.
Did I really want to know?
I was almost too afraid to ask, but I had to. "What did you hear, Dash?"
"I heard you," he said. "You were making almost whimpering noises, and when I looked in to check on you, because, Ariel, I had to go in and check on you after that, you were moving around a lot. Your arms were out at your sides and above the covers. You kept sweeping them up and down, over the covers. Almost as if you were swimming. You kept whimpering, and your arms kept sweeping. It was unnerving, and it scared me. I called out your name, trying to wake you, but it didn't work. Binx didn't stop hissing until he hopped up on the bed beside you and sniffed your face. For whatever reason, he scented your cheek and went and curled up at the foot of the bed against your feet. I don't know why, but you kept moving after that, and he started to purr and immediately dozed off like nothing had been bothering him in the first place, and all was right in his world. It was bizarre."
I believed him because it sounded bizarre. It also sounded scary.
I looked down my body to said furball. He hadn't moved since the last time I'd checked on him. How often did Dash have to get out of bed and open the door up for Binx when he wanted to come and sleep with me? Did it happen every night? And, if so, then why didn't he simply sleep with the door cracked open? I realized then that the door to his bedroom was almost always closed, whether he was in there or not. Did he do that because he had a roommate now, or had he always done it? It seemed weird to me. Maybe it was just me being a chicken. I knew that if I lived all by myself I wouldn't have the doors shut. I would leave them all wide open with the lights on inside so that I knew what was going on in there when I wasn't in there. Any number of things could be hiding behind closed doors, especially when there was a dark room on the other side.
"I kept saying your name over and over again, and, yet, you still wouldn't wake," he said, cutting into my thoughts.
My arm around his middle tightened, and I wondered if I was hurting him. He didn't complain, so I left it. I needed something to hold on to, and he was all there was. Not that I was complaining.
I moved my eyes from the end of the bed where the cat was and turned them up, to where my dreamcatcher hung above me. It kept the bad the things out while I slept, Tyson had sworn by it.
"I shook your shoulder and you stopped moving your arms, but the whimpering didn't stop there. It only stopped after I got in bed with you and wrapped my arms around you. It almost seemed like you were trying to escape something, and you couldn't. Not while you were alone. You immediately calmed after I was next to you."
“What-"
"I don't know," he said and this time he hadn't whispered, but his voice sounded tired.
"Did you sleep at all after you came in here?" I asked him. If he'd stayed up most of the night keeping vigil over my sleeping body, then it would make sense why he sounded so tired, and why he kept insisting we go back to sleep.
"No, not for most of the night." He admitted. "I think I dozed off right before the phone started to ring.”
Yup, that would explain why he was tired and pushing we go back to sleep. I didn't blame him. If I had stayed up most of the night watching him sleep and making sure he didn't get weird on me again, I would have wanted to get some more z's, also.
The only problem was, I no longer wished to sleep. He'd been right about that. After hearing what he'd had to say, I no longer wished to go back to sleep. Heck, I might not even want to go back to sleep when night fell once again.
His breath evened out as I stared up at the dreamcatcher, memorizing every part of it that my eyes traced over.
It was pretty, to be sure. But I wasn't so sure I wanted to be sleeping underneath it any longer. Tyson had cast the spells, etched in the words, and likely bled over it. It had to have been a labor of love for him, and, no, that's not me saying I thought he loved me because he'd put the labor and time into it because of me. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that I had asked little to no questions when he'd given it to me, and I had trusted in it completely. I had assumed it had been working and doing its job because I hadn't had so much as a bad dream since I started sleeping under it. In fact, I hadn't dreamed of anything, and it had started to bug me. All my life, I'd had vivid, memorable dreams, that always stuck with me when I woke up after having one. And I had always believed they meant something, but I had never had it confirmed one way or the other.
I had overheard a phone conversation Quinton had had with an unknown to me person where he'd talked about someone being a dream walker. I was sure he hadn't been talking about me when he'd said it, but it certainly had spiked my curiosity, because my dreams had always been so important to me, so I'd listened carefully to the one side of the conversation that had been, unbeknownst to Quinton, open to me. He'd called himself a dream walker, and I knew that by the tone of his voice that it was something he thought he had a right to be smug about. I wasn't sure how serious I should take it, because I didn't think it would take much for Quinton to be smug.
Adrian had brought the term up to me briefly in a conversation we were having about searching for Rain, but he never got too in detail about it, and, at the time, I'd been too intimidated by him and the Council and all that they represented to ask him about it. Perhaps he'd felt the term spoke for itself, because there didn't seem to be too many ways to interpret the term dream walker. Adrian had spoken of another member of the Council, who I'd yet to meet, that could supposedly walk through dreams, and Adrian had hoped to see if maybe this mystery member would be able to walk through mine. I hadn't agreed to try anything out because I hadn't been a hundred percent on what the hell he'd been talking about. Now, I wondered if maybe he'd been counting on that. Counting on the fact I would have been too intimidated by him and the rest of the Council to have asked in depth questions or pushed
for more information.
Now, I wondered if Adrian and his witchy cronies had actually tried to invade my dreams in some witchy way. Would that explain why I had been whimpering and moving my arms around in a way Dash would describe as me trying to escape someone or something?
That thought absolutely terrified me and left me shaking in the warmth of Dash's embrace. His heat, his magic, would normally have been enough to chase of any chill. I wasn't sure there was any kind of warmth that could ever chase this cold horror away.
I needed to talk to Quinton and let him know my suspicions, my fears.
If what I had thought was true, then how many of the others in the Alexander Coven had been visited in their dreams by members of the Council, or had had an attempt to visit and invade their dreams take place without their knowledge? For all I knew it could have been none, and that included myself. But, then again, it could have just as easily been every single one of us.
Did that fact that Quinton was what he'd called a dream walker make him harder or easier to have his dreams invaded? Were any of the other ones dream walkers? Had any of them been having bad dreams lately, or interrupted sleep?
I had no freaking clue because that wasn't something we'd ever talked about before, our dreams or our sleep. Now I was regretting all of the questions I had yet to ask them, all of the things I didn't yet know about them. Things I now desperately wanted to know because I thought all of our safeties might have been at stake, and no one but me knew anything about it.
That thought rang a little too close to home and made me feel like I was keeping secrets from the rest of them when I wasn't. Or, I hadn't been until Tyson had tried to force me to run his ass over when he'd stood behind my moving vehicle.
Oh, how I wished he'd never told me about his extracurricular activities with the ex from hell. I wanted to say I'd been better off not knowing, but that wasn't entirely the truth. If not for me knowing, then Tyson would have been all alone, and alone wasn't any place any one in a coven full of other people should have ever felt. I know he didn't seem to have enjoyed the fact he'd been forced to partner with me, but I really wanted to believe that I'd helped him in some way by being stubborn and forcing myself on him. Like, maybe he'd felt alone and helpless before I'd come on the scene and almost run him over and then forced him to divulge his feelings and share his secrets with me, even though he hadn't seemed to want to do any of it. But at least he knew he wasn't alone any more.
But, I digress, because none of that made me feel any less like the liar I felt keeping Tyson's secret for him.
Did I want to call Quinton and confess the whole thing to him?
Yes and no.
I know, the answer surprised me as well.
But, here's the thing. If I called Quint and told him everything I thought I might have learned about Adrian and the Creepy Council, which I had no proof for, by the way, then there was a very good chance I might spill the beans about Ty and the mess he'd gotten himself into, and I really didn't want to do that. As much as I had promised Quinton about every other thing that there wouldn't be anything but the truth between the two of us, I had no intention of telling him what his nephew had gotten himself up to. I had also promised Ty, and I didn't take that lightly either. If I had thought we'd need the help or that maybe we were going to end up hurt, then I would have broken my promise and gone to Quinton with everything. But I felt compelled to give Tyson a chance. He never really asked me for much and he was always there for me when I needed him to be. I very much wanted to be able to return the favor.
Tyson never asked me for much, but always seemed to be there for me when I needed him to be whether I wanted him there or not, and he always gave me anything he thought I needed.
I thought back to him showing up outside of Mr. Cole's house in the middle of the night in his pajamas while flashing that killer smile of his that always made me just a little bit stupid whenever he pointed it at me. Often times, I thought of him as my best friend, and my Salt and Pepper twins had told me once that Tyson had referred to me as the same.
Did I love Tyson? Probably.
Did I love Quinton? Yes, sometimes it came out as unfortunately.
Did that mean I should throw Ty under the bus every time he wanted me to do something that I knew Quinton wouldn't like either of us doing? I knew Quinton would have wanted me to say yes, but he'd never hear it come out of my mouth.
I could love Quinton just as I could love them all. But I would never, ever allow my love for one of them to affect how I handled my relationship with the rest of them. I wouldn't choose one over the other. And I would never give up their secrets when they trusted me enough to keep them to myself.
Ty's plan, whatever it may have been, I didn't know because he really hadn't shared much with me, was safe with me when it came to sharing it with the others.
Part of it was because I wouldn't betray him.
I was honest enough to admit that a large portion of it was also because I wanted to try my hand at being the witch bitch version of Veronica Mars, only I didn't want to carry something as weak as a stun gun and a camera as my weapons of choice. I wanted a real gun and my magic to be on point enough to harm another human being if I thought I needed to.
Surprisingly, I fell asleep with my eyes locked onto the dreamcatcher that Tyson had made for me and hung over where I laid my head to sleep every night. Dash's arms were wrapped around me in a tight, comforting embrace, and it was one where I knew he wouldn't willingly let go of me.
I hadn't thought sleep was possible after all I had learned.
But, by then, I should have known anything was possible. Just so long as I had my boys with me.
Chapter Six
I let out a high, girly scream as I came awake to hands latched on to my ankles and I was dragged at an angle towards the foot of the bed. The room was dark, and no light came from the window. The lights had been turned off, the curtains closed.
Dash was nowhere to be seen, and I remembered the curtain had been open around the window when I'd fallen asleep.
What was going on?
Panic threatened to choke me.
I came to an abrupt stop with my legs hanging off the bed by the footboard, my butt close to sliding off and my hair covering half my face. The large, dark shape of a man appeared above me, and I screamed again. This time it didn't sound girly at all, but, instead, like I was afraid of being butchered by a serial killer, and I was all out of places to hide, so I was screaming and running for my life.
Only there was nowhere for me to run to since I was laying on my bed and someone was blocking my way to the door.
What I should have been doing was fighting and kicking instead of screaming like a moron.
"Ariel, Ariel," Tyson shouted from above me. "Shut up and stop screaming. God damn it. What in the hell is the matter with you, girl?"
The figure above me, that I now knew was Tyson, moved away from me and towards the door. My screams cut off, and I sucked in much needed air. Over and over again I inhaled deeply, hoping I wouldn't pass out from lack of oxygen. I hadn't realized I hadn't been taking in air while I'd been stupidly screaming like a maniac. My chest rose and fell, expanding as far as I'd ever seen it expand before, as I sucked down air and blew it back out as fast as I could.
I feared I might have been on the verge of a sudden panic attack, not that I could ever remember having one before. Who knew, maybe I had had them, but I'd passed out from lack of oxygen to the brain and hadn't remembered having them in the first place. Stranger things were known to have happened to me.
The light above me blinked on as my breathing finally mellowed out and I didn't feel like I was going to lose consciousness. Yay for me. Not so much for Tyson, though; he was back to being on my shit list. Again.
I sat up straight, not realizing just how close I was to the edge of the bed, and my butt slid right off of the blanket. I landed hard on the rug that covered the wooden floor in front of my bed. I bit the inside of my che
ek on landing, and immediately tasted the metallic copper taste that I always associated with blood. It pooled in the inside of my cheek, and I swallowed it down before I could gag at the taste of it. I could never be a vampire because blood didn't taste good to me. I knew there were some people who could cut the tip of their finger and then stick it in their mouth to slow down the bleeding or to help contain the mess, but I wasn't one of them. I had tried once before and almost thrown up because it had tasted so bad to me. Perhaps it was different after you'd become a vampire? Perhaps there was something about becoming a vampire that made blood just down right tasty to you? I didn't know and hoped I would never find out.
"Ow," I mumbled as I tongued the new wound inside my mouth. If I had thought Tyson was on my shit list before, he really was now. Not just because he'd scared the crap out of me and caused me to bleed. No, now my butt hurt on top of everything else.
I should probably consider myself lucky I hadn't bitten off a serious chunk of my tongue instead. That sounded like it could be pretty terrible, along with extremely painful. Not to mention, it would probably have given me a serious lisp. Scarred up face and missing the tip of her tongue. What more could any girl ask for? Yeah, no thanks. I didn't think there was anything wrong with having a lisp, I even found them to be quite adorable at times, but I had more than my share of things I had going on for me, and didn't need another.
Tyson was suddenly kneeling in front of me. His dark brown hair was down today and hanging around his face and shoulders in careless waves. His eyebrows were half way up his forehead and crawling higher by the second.
"Why are you on the floor?" he demanded to know quietly. "When I left, you were on the bed still. How did you make your way down here?"
I shook my head and started to laugh. I stopped laughing immediately when my new wound rubbed up against the corner of one of my teeth and sent a sharp pain through the side of my face.
"I hate you right now," I grumbled sullenly. I didn't mean a word of it, but I wanted him to sweat it out because I was in pain and felt he was the reason behind it. "My butt hurts now," I grumbled, this time giving him honesty instead of lies. Not that I felt he deserved it at the moment, but whatever.