I met his gray eyes. "You made a connection with me. What does that mean?"
"It means our minds and souls are open to each other. It works both ways, so that's probably how you got into my dream, as your power is dreams. In old times, it was said that two souls could connect and share gifts, but I don't know about that," Thorn said quietly. "Don't tell Oliver about it. He gives me enough grief."
"Our secret," I promised. "I think I've heard of that connection, actually. My grandmother called it Anam Cara. It's Gaelic, I think. It means soul friend. I've never even had a regular friend before." I laughed and shrugged.
Thorn eyed me. "I've never had the luxury myself. Not a real friend. Too many secrets to hide."
I nodded. "That I understand."
Thorn said, "I saw your dream too, you know. I know what you’re looking for."
"You do?" I asked warily.
He nodded and replied, "You’re looking for the soul river."
"At the center of this mountain is a very special river that ferries the souls of the dead to their next life. People have always sought to take advantage of the power inherent in the river, and nothing could deter them. In the twenties, an earthquake rocked this area. It was so strong it changed the course of the river, and most people forgot that river ever existed or chalked it up to myths and legends," Thorn said as we sat against the tunnel wall. "My grandmother believed that Caroline had been brought here to find the river. She didn't tell me that, but I heard her tell my dad. It was his duty to keep the river safe. He tried to find Caroline, but he couldn't. No one could. He believed that someone from the Mullen clan had compelled her to find the river, forcing her to have a connection with the river that never should have been."
I stared at my hands in the dim light. "She was a dreamer," I whispered.
"I don't know that for sure, Victor. I watched you because you kept finding me. I thought there had to be something I was supposed to see, but truthfully, I couldn't see anything about you. It was like you were protected from me." Thorn said. "Dreamers are easily compelled, but you were never meant to have this full link to the spirit plane."
"Now that you can see into me, can you tell who compelled me?" I asked, honestly wanting to know. I pulled my coat up around my neck to ward off the chill.
Thorn said, "Not really. If I had to guess, I'd say the Mullens. They're the only ones on this mountain who could ward you against me, not to mention compel you. They swore off the dark arts years ago, but I've never trusted them."
"I keep hearing water down here, and no one else seems to. That must be the river," I said, thinking out loud.
Thorn rolled his head to the side and gave me a smile. "I can hear it. I always have. My dad used to bring me to the Devil's Cauldron, and we used to listen to the river babble deep in the mountain. He always said that there is a difference in just acknowledging the sound of the river and actually heeding its call."
“So, you hear it, but you can resist it?" I ventured as I looked at him.
He nodded. "It took years to build up the resistance to it. Dad said I needed to be able to resist it so that people couldn't use me to find the river."
"No. They can just use me," I said with humor.
Thorn laughed. "Not if I can help it." We sat in the dark for a long time, and no one came. "We need to get out of here," he said finally. "I don't know what's taking them so long, but we can't wait anymore."
I agreed. "So, the cave entrance, then?"
He nodded, and we turned down the tunnel. After a few yards, I came to an abrupt halt, and Thorn stopped too. I strained my eyes in the dim lights of the phones.
We looked farther down the tunnel and stared at a shape that appeared to be a couple feet off the floor. I watched in horror as its front arms reached out and dragged itself along the ground; it looked like it didn’t have back legs. I gaped at its mangled form. "That's a Morlan?" I inquired.
Thorn whispered, "I think something is wrong with it."
"I'm mustering all the compassion I have," I informed Thorn, who just grunted.
There was a movement down the tunnel, and another form moved swiftly. With a sudden fierceness, the first creature's torso was torn in two by a second creature. I stared in shock as the second creature chewed on the innards of the first.
"Do we still have the gun?" I asked.
"Oliver has it," Thorn said, and the creature's large, dead eyes pivoted onto us. I backed up a step, and Thorn stepped in front of me.
"Do you realize that you do that?"
"Do what, Victor?" Thorn asked absentmindedly. The creature started toward us, but Thorn raised his hand and made a movement. The creature hit the wall with a sickening thud. I cringed at its gurgles.
We eased down the tunnel cautiously. "The whole always-putting-yourself-between-others-and-danger thing," I whispered back as we crept past the fallen creatures.
"Do I?" Thorn asked as he bent down to shine his phone's flashlight into the opening leading to the cave we’d entered into on our first trip. "It looks clear. Want to go first?" he asked as he stood up.
I shook my head. "All yours, hero."
Thorn smirked and ducked down to crawl through the passage. I followed him, and soon enough, we were making our way back through the caves. We stilled as the ground rumbled under our feet.
Thorn and I grabbed each other as the ground rolled. We moved forward, desperate to get through the last room of the cave before the roof fell in. There was a cracking overhead, and we ran hand in hand through the room. Thorn cursed as the entrance started to give way.
"Go!" Thorn yelled. I pulled on him, but he was concentrating on the ceiling. "I won't be able to hold it for long," he said urgently.
“Let it fall!" I said, pulling him. "I'm not leaving you!" I called defiantly.
He gave in and grabbed my hand, and we were off running. There was a loud crack, and then the rocks were falling around us. I clenched my teeth as a rock knocked me forward. Thorn was pushed away from me, and I yelled out his name as the boulders buried us.
SEVEN
I was now sitting in the snow, and flakes drifted down around me. The evergreen trees were covered in the fine substance. I did not feel cold, I noticed right away. This must be a dream, I thought to myself, sighing. Was I asleep or unconscious?
There was a noise behind me, and I turned around. Leaning against a tree nearby was Thorn. I got up and walked over to him, calling his name. "Are you okay?"
"No, and neither are you," Thorn said. "We're buried. Wake up."
My eyes widened. "I don't know how," I said to him. I didn’t know whether he was real or part of my imagination, but I was scared. "What do I do?"
"You're the dreamer," Thorn said. "I need you to move when I lift the rocks."
"What?"
Thorn said, "There's no time. Move."
The dream melted away, and I blinked in the darkness. "Thorn?"
There was no reply, but I felt the boulders begin to vibrate, and I tensed. Slowly they shifted and rolled, and I took a deep breath. He had come to my dream, so I bit my lip and tried to envision the rocks moving. After a stronger vibration, the rocks floated up into the air, and I stared at them hovering above us. I found Thorn and scrambled over to where he was lying on the floor. Gaping at the rocks, he appeared just as surprised as me.
"Come on," I said, tugging his coat sleeve.
He rolled over with a grimace and followed me across the floor. We dug the snow out and climbed through the opening. Thorn looked back at the rocks hanging in the air, and they suddenly came crashing down. Cringing at the loud noise and dust, we backed instinctively away from the entrance.
“Did you just tap into my telekinesis?" Thorn asked, eyeing me warily.
I eyed him back and shrugged. "I figured it was worth a shot. I mean, you stepped into my dreams, so I thought it might work."
We stared at each other and began to laugh. We were cold, exhausted, and probably certifiably crazy. We had a lot going
for us right then. We trudged through the snow in the general direction that the truck should be—if it were still there.
We were just about there when we saw Oliver and Ginger through the trees, running toward us. There were lights and sirens behind them. We undoubtedly looked frightful. We were cut, bruised, and disheveled. Thorn was walking with a bit of a limp, and I was cradling my arm.
Ginger embraced me, crying with relief. "You guys are okay!"
"Barely," Thorn said, and Oliver braced his brother as we walked to meet the EMTs rushing over to us. In short order, we were in the back of the ambulance getting checked over. The EMTs said we were lucky that we’d gotten out with just the wounds we had. They insisted on taking us to the hospital for treatment of a fractured leg and possible broken arm. Oliver agreed, and we were soon on our way to the hospital in separate ambulances.
At the hospital, Ginger came into check on me and explained that Oliver was with his brother. I just nodded. I’d just gotten back from having X-rays. The doctor came in thirty minutes later to tell me that it was a fractured ulna, and they were going to put me in a cast. Ginger stayed with me and gave me encouraging smiles. The doctor released both Thorn and me a couple hours later, and Oliver drove us home in Thorn's truck.
Oliver said as we walked toward the cabin, "I called Mom and told her about the cave-in, just so you know. “They say that they think Darren is going to make it. But part of his skull was cracked. It was lucky he got treatment when he did, or he might have died."
Thorn sighed. "I'm glad he's going to be okay." I could practically feel the relief in the man's voice.
Ginger added softly, "We told them about Donna, too—as best as we could. They said they were going to send in a search party, but with the cave-ins, I don't know how long that will take." She cleared her throat. "Oliver, don't forget that you were going to take me home."
"Oh, yes. Here, Thorn." He handed Thorn's truck keys back to him, which the blond took with a raised eyebrow at his brother. Oliver turned toward his jeep with Ginger in tow.
Ginger turned and gave us a wave, which I returned and then winced. "Oww," I whined.
Thorn chuckled and turned stiffly toward the cabin. They had given him crutches and a cast on his ankle, which was broken. I went over to him but was little help in getting up the stairs with my own cast.
When we got in the door, Thorn's mother came out of the kitchen. The relief was evident on her face. "You two are going to give me a heart attack!" she exclaimed before coming over to envelop us both in a hug. "Sit down next to the fire. I'll go get you some food and drink. Don't even think about trying to get up those stairs, young man." Mrs. Durant said the last bit to Thorn specifically, who sighed and sat down on the couch in front of the fire.
I joined him, staring at the flames. Mrs. Durant came back in and brought us trays filled with crusty bread and a robust vegetable soup. We both thanked her, and I took a sip of my tea. We ate in companionable silence.
I pondered what a connection with the blond man beside me would mean for us both. I had never known it was more than a metaphor. There were some concepts that one just assumes are simple mental constructs without any substance. Sometimes we get the opposite proven to us.
When we’d finished eating, Mrs. Durant took the plates away and asked us if we needed anything. We both declined. "Are you two going to sleep down here? I can get blankets and pillows if you are." Mrs. Durant worried herself like a mother hen with her chicks.
"We're fine, Mom…but yeah, I'll probably just stay down here," Thorn said.
"I'll grab the blankets for you, Mrs. Durant. I just have a fractured arm. I can get around fine. Why don't you go lie down? Do you need me to help with the dishes?" I said as I got up off the couch.
"I can get the dishes, but you are welcome to get the blankets if it makes you feel useful. Thank you, Victor," the woman said with a smile as she made her way toward the kitchen.
When she was out of earshot, Thorn said, "You don't have to sleep down here."
I laughed. "I'm not sleeping down here for you. I don't think I could sleep by myself in a dark room tonight after our time in the mines."
Thorn conceded, "I can understand that, I guess."
I woke with a start. The room was quiet, and the fire crackled softly. There was no obvious reason as to why I’d woken up, and I sat up carefully. Thorn was asleep at the other end of the couch. I eased myself up slowly and went over to the fire.
The embers glowed merrily. My sleep had been fitful, and I now felt deeply tired. Drifting snowflakes caught my eye, and I felt drawn to the window. I moved over and peered out the glass.
Before I fully registered what I was doing, my hand was on the doorknob. I fought with myself, my muscles clenching as I struggled to take my hand off the knob. What is going on? I tried to call out for help but found I could not speak. The panic rose as my hand slowly twisted the knob.
The door opened, and I tried everything I could think of to stop myself from walking forward. I shouted in my mind to Thorn. I heard him move behind me, and I screamed at him mentally again.
"What are you doing?" Thorn called over to me.
I wished I could answer him, but I could not as I walked out the door. Help me! I screamed the words at him mentally, because my mind might have been my own but my body was not. I felt hands close around my arms. Thorn could not stop me from moving forward.
"It's going to be okay," Thorn said as he maneuvered himself down the steps.
I didn’t know how it could get much worse. It was about the time that Thorn grabbed me again, and I felt myself being physically forced down to the ground. The snow rushed up to meet me, and I cringed as the cold embraced me. Thorn lay on me for a moment and then pushed himself up. "Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.
"You tackled me?" I said in astonishment.
Thorn shrugged at me as I rolled over. I was relieved to have control over my body once more as I sat up. He said, "I didn't know what else to do. I was just hoping that if I could disrupt you enough, that it would break the compulsion charm."
"Good hunch," I said with relief.
Thorn chuckled. "I've learned to trust my hunches over the years." He stood up and offered me his hand. I let him pull me up. He winced a bit as we walked back toward the house. "I can't even go one day without ruining my cast," he mused as he levered himself up the steps with the handrails.
I laughed. "Sorry." My own cast was on the damp side, too, I noted.
"No worries; it's my job," Thorn said in a way that made me wonder whether he was joking or serious. We made it back inside and sank onto the couch, exhausted. "Give me your hand," Thorn said.
I did as he said and held my left arm out to him. "Are you going to tie me to the couch?" I asked in amusement as he retrieved a piece of cord out of Oliver's pack that he had deposited nearby.
"Better than that," Thorn said as he laid his hand next to mine. Before long, we were tied together.
"This is going to be comfortable," I said sarcastically.
"Maybe not, but we can't risk you getting compelled again."
I nodded in agreement. We stretched our feet out in front of us toward the fire and pulled the blankets up over us. Before long, we fell asleep again from exhaustion despite our hands being tied together.
The next morning, I woke up to Oliver shaking me. "Morning, sunshine," he said cheerfully.
Thorn grumbled, "Could you shut up?"
"No. Mom will be down soon enough. What's with the cord?" Oliver asked as Thorn moved his arm and remembered too late that we were still tied together.
"It's a long story," Thorn spat.
Oliver looked interested as he sat on the end of the couch. "I can't wait to hear it."
"Victor wanted to try something a little different," Thorn said in amusement. I sat there for a moment before I glared at him.
Oliver looked at us, dumbfounded. "Forget I asked!" he said and got up. "Mom will be down soon, so you might want to get
rid of the cord!" he added over his shoulder.
When Oliver was out of earshot, I asked, offended, "Why did you say that?"
"It was funny," Thorn said as he untied the cord and put it back into Oliver's pack. "Besides, Oliver would only be in the way of us finding out about who is responsible for the compulsion charm. I like to keep him out of the supernatural fights as much as possible."
I supposed I could see his point. Oliver was pretty defenseless when it came to the magical arts, and we had plenty of our own liabilities. "So, how are we going to find out who’s behind this?" I asked curiously.
"I think we should visit the sheriff," Thorn said.
I scoffed. "Yeah, we'll take him on. You hit him with your cast, and I'll hit him with mine."
Thorn chuckled. "I didn't mean to have a showdown. I meant you could question him in regard to your book, remember?"
"Oh yeah, that's right; I'm a writer," I said, almost as if I had forgotten. "Can you drive the way you are?" I asked doubtfully.
Thorn considered that. "Probably. It's my left foot, so it should be fine. The trick is going to be getting Mother to leave us alone long enough for us to do it. I have an idea about that, actually."
"Do tell," I urged with mock enthusiasm.
He pulled himself up. "We're going to go stay at the cottage," he said, as if he were announcing something grand.
"We are?" I asked. "Wait—cottage?"
"My grandmother's cottage…technically my cottage. I stay there. Frankly, it would be easier to navigate the cottage with this cast, anyway. No stairs to worry about."
I suddenly realized that he had been staying to keep an eye on me. "You were staying here to watch me," I said softly. It was natural that he’d be wary of me. I knew that, but it did not stop the sense of hurt that the revelation cost me.
Thorn hopped over to me. "I trust you. I just don't trust whoever sent you."
"But you didn't trust me," I said as I looked up at him.
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