Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Read online

  The cat was staring at the man at the far end of the trolley, head cocked in thought. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his eyes locked on the man, who had his face turned toward the window and away from the door.

  "Kyrri, is this normal?" she whispered, holding her arm up. It was shaking violently, as was the rest of her body.

  "I... I don't know,” The cat turned his gaze on her, the other passengers forgotten. “How do you feel?" asked Kyrri, sitting close in front of her and placing his front paws on her knees. He sniffed at her, his whiskers tickling her cheeks.

  "Dizzy, a little dizzy," she said, or tried to, she wasn't sure she was speaking out loud or... could she even send thoughts here? The world seemed to be growing darker, and the buzzing noise in her ears was so overwhelming that she touched her earlobe to check for blood. She looked over at the old woman, who was perched on a familiar chaise lounge. It looked identical to the new one in Victor’s office. Movement caught her eye and she saw the blue-robed man turn his face toward the newcomers; his face was shadowed, but the shadows were all wrong.

  "Gina-Dreamer!" hissed Kyrri, but it sounded so far away, and she was hitting something, her head hit something, she was sure, and was this the ground? All went black.

  9

  Chris climbed back into the driver's seat and shut his door, buckling his seat belt with one smooth movement.

  "I'm surprised you still bother with that," commented Nathan.

  "Don't start. You should put one on too," growled Chris.

  "You going to keep me in suspense? What's your big plan?"

  "You'll find out when we get there," Chris replied, easing the van back onto the road.

  Nathan sighed, exasperated. "And where exactly is 'there'?"

  Chris shot him a look, but otherwise ignored the question. The sky was darkening quickly, the winter days shortening as the year progressed. Nathan stared up at the sky through the window. Dark clouds lined the horizon but the sky overhead was clear, painted with the sunset palette. "Wherever we're going will probably be closed," he continued.

  "Nope. She said she'd wait for us."

  Nate turned on his friend excitedly. "Ha! Who is 'she'?"

  "Just forget it. You forget everything else, add this to the list."

  "C'mon man. I don't mean to,” grimaced Nathan, guilt twisting at his insides.

  "I know," replied Chris, and his voice held no enmity. "Look, I'd tell you, but I don't want you to laugh at me the whole way there. Just let us get there, and see if she can help."

  "Shit, now I'm really curious," murmured Nathan, but he let it drop. It probably won't actually matter, he thought to himself. Let him keep hope, I guess. Nate had no such illusions. There didn't seem to be any hope to be seen from behind his eyes.

  The sun continued its slow descent behind the hills, until the last streaks of paint faded to black. Chris kept driving, stopping occasionally to review his handwritten notes taken during the pay-phone conversation earlier that day. Nathan sat lifelessly in his seat, buckled in to avoid confrontation, floating in and out of conscious thought. Whenever he felt real, felt truly there, he would look out the window and wonder if he were viewing the same sunset as before, or a sunset on an entirely different day. Time lost meaning, and Nathan lost time.

  "We're almost there," announced Chris, slowing to a stop at a traffic light.

  Nathan suppressed the urge to ask where "there" was. He thought he'd encountered this half-aware fuzziness before, and he felt he needed to wait and piece together their current situation from context, or simply hope something triggered his memory. "Okay," he replied evenly.

  Chris raised an eyebrow and looked at Nathan suspiciously. "Not excited anymore? You were so set on knowing where we were going."

  Like a shot, the memories flew back into place, his mnemonic puzzle pieces sliding home. "No, totally," he said, breathing heavily with relief. "Where are we..." They were parked in a small, sideroad parking lot in front of a rundown strip mall. Nate read the sign in the window ahead of them and grinned, turning toward Chris. "Seriously? This is your plan?"

  Chagrined, Chris turned off the van and pocketed the keys. "Told you you'd laugh."

  Nathan chuckled under his breath, smiling his first genuine smile since the Very Bad Times started.

  He unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of the van, not bothering to lock the door before shutting it. After all, there was nothing else of value left inside. The "Open" sign on the door was not lit, but there was a soft glow illuminating a set of sheer colored curtains. "She said the door would be unlocked," said Chris, glancing nervously at him.

  "Of course she did," laughed Nathan, rereading the sign. Mama LaVey's Psychic Hotline. "I'm sure she did. Desperate times call for higher rates."

  Chris grabbed him by the shirt collar, rougher than Nathan thought he deserved. "Look, Nathan, I am trying Really. Hard. To keep my cool. I don't think you realize what you're going through, hell, what you're putting me through. You mumble all of the time, you talk in gibberish half the time, like not even words. Sometimes you reach out and hit me, and you'll be staring me right in the eyes when you do it. You are different, like you said, and if this psychic nutbag can help, I will pay her whatever it takes. Whatever. It. Takes."

  Taken aback, Nathan gaped at his friend. "I... hit you?"

  "Yeah," Chris dropped his hand and his gaze followed suit. "You're not okay."

  "Shit, I'm sorry," managed Nathan lamely. He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he pushed open the heavy glass door and entered the shop. Tiny bells tinkled above his head, and the heavy aroma of incense immediately made him aware of how poor his recent sleeps had been.

  "Whew, that's thick," coughed Chris, letting the door close behind him. The bells continued to tinkle for a time, finally falling to silence as they stood still. Chris and Nathan exchanged confused glances.

  "Do we just go back there?" whispered Nathan.

  "Please come in. Mama LaVey is ready for you." The voice was cracked and old, but rolled through the syllables in a lazy, relaxed sort of way. Nate grinned and walked through the sheer curtains, and he was not disappointed to see the owner of the voice. She looked exactly like the voice suggested to him, a greying, large woman with dark skin and bright, rheumy eyes, dressed in gaudy gold lame and sitting behind a bowling-ball sized orb of clear crystal. Candles covered the table between them, and lit candles lined the walls.

  "Now, cher, you said on the phone that this was an emergency. Just so we're clear, emergencies are $400, up front, hear?" She lifted her hand from the crystal ball and turned it over, palm-up, her long nails reaching up like claws.

  Chris handed the money over without a word.

  "S'good, s'good," she said, counting the money before sliding into a hidden pocket. "Sit down, my doves, sit down."

  Nathan obediently sat down sharply in his chair, and noticed Chris did the same.

  "Let me get a good look at you, now," she said, sliding out of her chair and rounding the table to Chris. She was surprisingly sprightly for her apparent age, thought Nathan with surprise.

  "Mm-hmm," she said. "Mm-hmm." She studied his face for a long time, and peered into his ear for a full minute. "Mm-hmm."

  "Christ," muttered Nathan, grinning in spite of himself.

  If Mama LaVey heard him, she gave no indication. She continued with her silent study of Chris (which left Nathan with a silent study of her prodigious backside), and Nate found himself becoming drowsy, the incense thick in his nostrils. The scent was familiar somehow, and it tugged at his memory. It reminded him of a golden summer day for some reason, and he saw green fields and a vast blue sky streaked with white lines of cloud stretching before him, he was a boy, young, young enough to roll down the grassy hill and his vision filled with grass, then sky, then grass, then sky, then some sort of shadow passed over his eyes…

  "BOY!"

  The voice was sharp and it stung his ears. Nathan blinked and Mama LaVey was standing over him, h
er hand extended toward his face. Chris stood, wide-eyed, half-crouching behind the back of his chair.

  "Did it happen again?" asked Nathan, shaken.

  Chris nodded.

  "Boy, you touched." Mama LaVey's eyes looked like they might burst from her head, and her hands were shaking. "Nuh-uh. You touched in the soul. Take it," she withdrew the wad of cash and threw it on the table, murmuring something under her breath. "I don't want no part of this."

  "No," stammered Chris. "No way! No! You have to help us, please!"

  "I cain't help you boys. Nobody can help him. You gotta get away from him," she hissed, and this was directed at Chris. "Death follows. But first, take him far, far away from here, cher. Far away."

  "Please!" Chris dug in his pockets and threw piles of money on the table. "Please! I'll pay whatever you want! I'll get more, if it takes more. But please help us. Please." He leaned toward her, looking straight into her eyes. "Please."

  "Nuh-uh, cher. No way. I ca..." Mama stopped and cocked her head to the head slightly, as if listening to something. She let out a long groan and sat down hard in her chair. "Fine. Sit down."

  "Thank you, thank you," gushed Chris, retaking his seat and looking over at Nathan. "Thank you."

  "I ain't doin' it for y'all, now," she sighed. "This little cherie says she ain't gon' let me get any sleep for the rest of my life if I don' let her talk to you two, and damned if I don' believe her. Fine. Let's get this over with."

  "A little girl? Who?" Chris asked.

  "Shut up and let me concentrate," Mama ordered, her high brow furrowed with effort.

  "What do we do?" asked Nate.

  "Nothin'. You just sit there all pretty and wait," snapped Mama. "Quietly."

  "Stay here, Nate," whispered Chris, looking worriedly in his direction. "It's getting worse when you go."

  Nathan nodded and concentrated on Mama LaVey's face. It was almost serene now, the wrinkles having smoothed out into a blank mask and her jaw slackening, eyes closed, illuminated only by the flickering candles. Nathan shivered. The last time he had seen a candle, they were huddled around the last one, hoping against hope the light might make it through the darkness. That candle witnessed Luke's death, before dying its own. Nathan yanked his mind back to the present, panting, cold chills traveling down his spine. The scene hadn't changed; no one appeared to have noticed his momentary absence. He took a long, shaky breath and watched LaVey, hoping whatever was going to happen might happen soon.

  Mama LaVey twitched, and slumped over to the table.

  "Um... Miss LaVey?" asked Chris, already halfway around the table.

  "Back up off me," came the muffled reply. "She's here." Mama LaVey's voice sounded faint, as though it were traveling a much larger distance to get to their ears than simply across a wooden table. She slowly sat back up, rolling up to sit stock straight in her chair. Nathan gasped; her eyes were different, cloudy, as though cataracts were obscuring her vision.

  "Hello, boys," and this time it didn't sound like Mama LaVey at all, even though her lips moved in sync with the words.

  Nate heard Chris' sharp intake of breath and knew he wasn't wrong in recognizing it. The voice wasn't one they'd known long, but it was embedded deeply in their memory. It belonged to Melissa, the voluptuous and surprisingly proficient actress who had met her demise first in the house, and taken her revenge in the end. Luke's face, frozen in its rictus of pain, floated back up to the front of Nate's mind, and he pushed it away, clawing to remain in the present. "Melissa?" he squeaked.

  "Look, I don't know how much time we have," she explained in a rush. "Let me get out what I know and I'll try to answer what I can, but I know Nate's gonna fall off that bull sooner or later."

  Chris looked over at Nate, and Nate hated the fear he saw in his friend's face. "I'm okay," he asserted as strongly as he could muster.

  "Like hell," snorted Melissa. "Yeah, and I'm okay too. Sure. Look," she said. "I know you don't really know me from Adam. We barely met."

  "We know you," whispered Chris, and Nate noticed that his cheeks were wet. "We carried your dead body. We remember you."

  "Really? What's my last name?"

  Nate flushed a deep red as he realized he didn't know. The silence from Chris made him flush even darker.

  "It's Mathers," she sighed. "See? You know virtually nothing about me. It doesn't matter," she waved her hand. "It's not important anymore. Do you remember the shadow we saw at the van, Nate? There was a blackness, a fog. Can you see it still?"

  Nate concentrated on keeping control of the present moment, but he could remember. "Yes," he gasped, shoving the memory aside and white-knuckling the table. "There was something else there with us."

  "No, there wasn't," argued Chris. "I was there."

  "There was, and it needed four people. Four souls. We were marked, Nate. Sealed to it, somehow. You still are." Melissa fluttered one of Mama LaVey's meaty hands across her chest. "You have to feel it. The heaviness."

  "I do," admitted Nate, placing a hand to his chest to mirror hers.

  "You were supposed to die, too," she said sadly.

  "Told you," he remarked to Chris.

  "No, you misunderstand me. He wanted you to die, but you didn't. He needs you to die, but you won't. You can’t."

  "What?" Chris was leaning forward, eyes bright. "What do you mean? Who is 'he'?"

  "I don't know exactly." Melissa contorted LaVey's face into a mask of annoyance. "I've been trying to dig, but it's hard. He's really powerful."

  "Where are Danny and...?" Nate stopped himself. He couldn't bring himself to speak Luke's name, especially not in her presence.

  "His grip on them is way tighter. I can't talk to them, I'm sorry." Melissa sighed. "It's not really their fault, Nate. Not completely. It's not mine either. What Luke did was awful, and I don't really feel bad for being part of his death. It was kinda fair."

  "Why wasn't I affected?" asked Chris.

  "I don't know that either," replied Melissa. "He needed four, not five. Luck of the draw."

  "I don't feel lucky," he muttered.

  "You are," urged Melissa, leaning forward. "You have no idea." She turned toward Nate, and her eyes were bright with urgency. "Nate, you can't die. You have to fight him. If you die, the contract is complete, and he consumes us. He EATS us, Nate. All of us. And then he gets really, really powerful and all bets are off. That’s the plan he’s working from, and I know he didn’t make it up. Something else is pulling the strings, something bigger and way, way worse. He’s just one of the army, trying to work his way up. That's all I've been able to find out so far, but that's why I had to talk to you. You gotta fight him. You have to live.”

  "You seem different," remarked Nate, remembering the vacuous blonde twittering around Luke.

  "I'm dead. And you didn't even really know me before. So shut up."

  "How do we stop people from dying?" asked Nate. "Every time we go somewhere, somebody dies.”

  "I know. It's him, he's like a cloud of poison that spreads around you. I don't know why it doesn't affect you, Chris," she added, seeing Chris leaning forward to speak. "I really don't. But look, he has to expend energy every time he does something like that, and until Nate dies, that's limited to us. He doesn't mark those people you've met, I don't think he can. Not while there's an open link like Nate. An open contract.”

  "How the hell do you know all this?" Chris gaped at her. "I mean, no offense, but you didn't really seem all that... um, book-smart in life."

  Melissa turned LaVey's eyes to Chris. "I always liked learning. Man, guys are so judgmental," she grumbled under her breath. "And when your options are find out what's going on or get your soul EATEN by some asshole and vanish, yeah, I guess you could say I'm a motivated learner."

  "Is... is my Mom up there?" asked Nate, struggling to keep memories from washing him away.

  Melissa turned toward Nate sadly. "I'm not 'up there,' if there even is an 'up there,' Nate. I don't know, I'm sorry. I can see st
uff happening here because that asshole linked me to you, I can see Danny and Luke barely, but I can't really talk to them... they mostly just scream," she added, barely audible. Nate and Chris looked at her, horrified. She smiled. "You have no idea how excited I was when you drove up here. Super good idea."

  "I just thought she'd be able to read cards or tea leaves or something and tell us where to go," admitted Chris.

  "Well, she did you one better and got you me. I don't know how to save you yet. I think it's possible, but I have to dig more."

  "Will Mama LaVey die?" asked Nate, remembering the man on fire at the gas station.

  "If you stick around for a while, probably. I'm not her first possession, which means his Jedi mindtricks don't work as well on her. She’ll probably be okay if you clear out quick and don’t come back."

  "Dammit. Where do we go?" Chris leaned against the table in disappointment.

  "I don't know. I'm sorry."

  "How do I keep him out of my head?" Nate asked the question through gritted teeth.

  "Well, when I died, everything was him. You get that, that playback, like a movie of your greatest hits, you know? That really happens. But he was in all of the scenes, this shadow, just watching, and I got so angry that he got to see all of my private moments. I was a kid on Christmas morning opening presents and he was hovering over my little sister playing with the princess toy I picked out for her, and I got so mad. I stomped over to him and pushed him with my little kid fists as hard as I could, and he disappeared. He's still in my other memories, so I don't go there. I just go back to Christmas morning whenever I see him coming, and he can't seem to get in."

  "Huh," said Chris, and Nate thought that summed his feelings up perfectly too.

  "I can't stay much longer," said Melissa, looking around worriedly. "I can feel him searching."

  "Will we be able to talk to you again?" asked Chris.

  "I don't know that either. But I wouldn't have been able to do this a few days ago. Something's changing. I can see more of what you guys are doing, I could see Mama LaVey in here smoking a joint before you got in here. I'm not limited to what Nate can see anymore." Melissa stood and placed her palms on the table. "He's coming. Stay alive, Nate. Good luck.”