Sleepless (12 page)

A vein on the side of my brow pulsates with heat. Chimere straightens. “Don’t fret, my pet. Everything is in order.”

“In order? How can you—”

“Mr. Colburn did well with the seduction last night, did he not? I was very pleased. And do not trouble yourself if you were only human a short time today. These things vary. Everything will come together,” she says soothingly.

It’s infuriating. I seem to recall Chimere being much less indulgent when I was learning the trade. They stare at me until
my cheeks burn. “But … he hit me,” I sputter, very aware that I sound every bit of two years old.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he returns indignantly. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to slap that smug expression off his lying face.

“Nonsense, Eron,” Chimere sings, turning to him. “He has been here, with me. For quite some time.”

They exchange looks, and I can tell someone is not being truthful. Perhaps they are both lying. I’ve always trusted Chimere, though she can be naive, but she is not above telling lies. She hates conflict. Her eyes turn to me, pleading.

I sigh. “Fine, fine,” I say to Chimere. “But tell him. Make sure he knows that he can’t touch humans. If he gets sent to the Last Place and I’m stuck here, I’ll—”

Colburn exhales. “I get it, I get it. See that dead horse in the corner?”

Chimere smiles. “It looks like we are all in accordance. I’ll leave you both to your work, then. Please try to get along.”

I meet Colburn’s sneer with an icy glare. We don’t speak for several moments. Finally, he says, “Sure we will.”

Even after Chimere disappears, we continue our staring match. I sigh. “Why did you hit me?”

“I was trying to show you. Bret was in the window, watching you, and—”

“I know.”

“So then you know what I said was true.” I’m about to say that I’m still unsure, when his face softens. “So was it me hitting you that shortened your time down there?”

“I imagine so.”

He shakes his head. “Bret had his hands all over her today.”

“He … did?” The thought alarms me, but I push it away. This is not something we need be concerned about. “Well, perhaps that is what she wants.”

“No way in hell. You didn’t see the look on her face. She was just being nice.”

He does have a point. Julia is nothing if not polite, but she
did
cry out against him when he kissed her in her dream. “Still … I have a hard time believing that this young man, your best friend, can be as evil as you say.”

His eyes narrow. “Why would I lie?”

“Because you are obviously too attached to her to be thinking straight.”

“Oh yeah?” He rubs his chin, and his face falls, revealing him in a rare vulnerable moment. Clearly hurt, he mutters, “Screw you.”

Everything he says blurs the line between truth and fiction. If Julia truly is in danger … if I knew that for certain, I couldn’t stand idly by. I didn’t before; though I knew it was against the rules, my emotions got the best of me. Colburn’s face reveals nothing, but I don’t need to take his word for it, I suppose. I have the answers at my disposal. It will take some careful research, perhaps require the bending of a few rules, but the answers are there.

I give him a pointed look. “Fine. I will check into it. If you follow the rules.”

He nods. “Fine.”

“I’m quite serious. If I so much as suspect you’re not where you should be, I won’t do a thing.”

He sighs. “Got it. I promise.”

Since he’s almost sounding reasonable, I go further. “And please don’t play with Chimere like that. She may be an Original but she’s quite naive to humans.”

He grins. “Are you jealous, old man?”

I straighten, thinking of how she let him do something so compromising as massaging her foot. “Of course not. It’s simply … I can tell she has taken a liking to you, and I would hate to see her hurt.”

“Seriously?” He grins. “But you said she’s not interested in that. She’s not a girl.”

“You are not a man,” I remind him. I’m relieved when the door to Julia’s room opens and I see her enter, then settle down on the bed. Though it’s a warm June day, she pulls the comforter over her body. The sun is setting, but still strong, streaming orange rays through her blinds. It’s much too early for Julia to be sleeping. And yet I can feel that it’s time. The compulsion to visit her is overwhelming, drawing me toward her window. My student inches forward, feeling the drive as well. He casts me a questioning look, and I shrug. “I suppose,” I say, following him through the window and into the bedroom.

We separate and move over her, one of us on each side of her bed. Only her forehead and a few wisps of her tea-colored hair are poking out from the blankets. I gently ease the sheets down and study her. There are deep worry lines in her brow, and her jaw seems clenched in pain. “Is she ill?” I ask, mostly to myself. I bring my hand over her forehead but feel no heat there.

But there’s no mistake, I realize, as I look at her hands clutching her pink comforter, that she’s trembling.

I meet my student’s eyes. He gives me the same wide-eyed expression he wore when I accused him of lying to Chimere.

I draw in a breath. “Mr. Colburn. What did you do to her?”

In the early morning, satisfied that Mr. Colburn is doing what needs to be done to care for our charges, I make my way across town, checking every so often to see if Chimere has followed me. Again, she will not be pleased to know what I am up to, but this is something I am compelled to do as Julia’s protector.

I stop at a large brick house I know only vaguely. Once or twice, when Julia didn’t come home, I was drawn here, only to find her yawning away on the leather sofa in the basement. Perhaps Mr. Colburn and Mr. Anderson had been nearby, but I’d never seen them. This time, I venture to the window of Bret’s bedroom. A girl with white-blond hair is perched on the landing, and she’s dressed so revealingly I can’t bring myself to look at her. Her breasts spill out of her tight red dress, which barely covers any part of her long legs. She narrows her eyes at me as I approach.

“Good morning,” I say.

She doesn’t answer; she’s too busy inspecting me, clearly wondering why I’ve come. As I’ve said, this is solitary work.

I know she isn’t going to like what I have to say, so I speak in my friendliest voice. “You may leave. I’m going to take care of your charge until he wakes.”

She moves in front of the window. “Hell you will. Bret Anderson is mine.”

I can tell she’s new to the seduction. I haven’t had much inter action with the new ones, other than Mr. Colburn, but besides their less than adequate formal dress, they can be so crass. So boorish. And so overly possessive. “There is a … rather perplexing situation. I don’t have time to explain, but I should like to read his dreams. He will be perfectly safe.”

She stiffens. “That’s not allowed!” she spews, but I can tell she’s thinking, Or is it?

I move closer to the window, and she scurries away like a frightened mouse, still grimacing at me. I pass inside, into a dark room. Mr. Anderson has not yet woken. He’s snoring loudly and the room smells like old cigarettes and alcohol. I move to the side of the bed and put my hand over his head.

The dream is horrific. In it, he’s with Julia, and so much of her pale skin is visible I can only gasp. Her makeup is heavy and her features are distorted in such a way that she looks cheap and obscene, almost like Evangeline. Her body is pressed against Mr. Anderson’s and I can barely tell where she ends and he begins. He’s running his tongue along her neck and she’s making a horrible, animal noise I’ve never imagined someone like Julia could make. But this is
his
dream. This is how he sees her, as wrong as it is. I pull myself out quickly, my body hot with rage. When I turn to the window and pass the blond girl outside, she is studying her fingernails. The shadows darken her face, but she is grinning, triumphant, happy to see me speechless as I slip away.

•  •  •

Mr. Colburn joins me as I’m trembling on the sidewalk outside Julia’s house, thinking about Bret Anderson’s dream. As much as I hate to admit it, he was right. When I tell him this, his face twists. “How do I protect her, then?”

“You warn her, in her dreams. That is the best you can do.”

“That’s not enough. I tried to get through to her last night, and she didn’t listen.”

“She was in quite an agitated state. Something you created, mind you. And if she isn’t willing to listen, there’s nothing you can do.”

“There is
something
I can do,” he whispers, his eyes sparkling like firecrackers. “Something you can do, actually. You are going to be human.”

I don’t like the wild look in his eyes. He had it when he tried to seduce Julia, and I am not at all comfortable with it. “And?”

“I may not be able to protect her. But you can.”

I remember the way she looked at me when I introduced myself. It was so cold. “I’m but a stranger to her. She’d never believe me.”

His eyes are intent. “Tell her it’s a message from me.”

This is what I was afraid of. “That is completely out of the question. Chimere would be—”

“Saint DeMarchelle. Afraid of getting your hand slapped by the old lady, are you?”

I glare at him.

“Why did you go to the school, anyway, old man?” he says, prodding. “You weren’t just passing through. You wanted to see if what I said was the truth. You went there to protect her.”

“No, I …,” I begin, but I know that the truth is written everywhere on me. It’s in my nature to protect her. It’s something I cannot
not
do.

He moves so that his face is level with mine, and presses his palms together. “You want her to be safe, don’t you?”

I don’t answer. He knows already. He knows what buttons of mine to press. And though I promised myself, promised Chimere, I’d never disobey the rules again, I can already feel my resolve weakening. That is not a promise I can keep.

Something dawns on me as a slow smile spreads on his face. He can see my strength crumbling. “It would be a shame if I wasn’t able to take your place, wouldn’t it? I mean, if I can’t manage my duties as a Sandman? If I get thrown in the Last Place? You would be stuck up here for another hundred years, right?”

I nod, the heat rising in my neck. “But you wouldn’t …”

He laughs and looks up at the pink clouds swirling through the early-dawn sky. “If you don’t help me, you bet your ass I would.”

CHAPTER 17
Julia

A
car horn beeps in my driveway, right on time, but by then, I’ve been sitting in the hallway for a full twenty minutes, twiddling my thumbs anxiously. I almost called to cancel with Ebony about fifty times, but then I decided I was just being stupid. Everything that had happened to remind me of Griffin was only a coincidence. That is the most logical explanation, and a hell of a lot more believable than the idea that his ghost is haunting me. School is out. I should be happy. Instead, for the past two days, I’ve been walking around scared of my own shadow, when in two weeks I’ll be going to New York City. Growing up. This is no time to slink back into being the poor victim that everyone thinks I am.

I slide into the backseat, next to two other girls. Ebony is driving, and the girl in the front passenger seat, Gloria, is smoking a cigarette. When Ebony speeds
away, the hair I spent an hour trying to get just right blows around like a tumbleweed, in a cloud of thick smoke. Perfect. As I’m smoothing it down, Ebony glances at me in the rearview mirror. “So we’ve all been talking about you. And we want to know. Give us the scoop.”

My first thought is Oh, God, they saw the kiss. The kiss that I’ve regretted since the second it happened. I didn’t even need a pinch in the ass for that. Luckily, since then, Bret has probably been too busy recovering from his hangover and preparing to walk the football field in his cap and gown to track me down. “Um, what?”

“Duh. The hot guy at lunch?”

Oh, him. I’d almost been able to forget him. Well, sort of. I still catch my breath when I remember those gorgeous dark eyes. But there is really nothing to tell. I convinced myself that he had the wrong Julia. “I have no idea who he is,” I say.

The girls sigh collectively. Clearly they were looking for some good dirt. The one next to me, Amber, laughs, and I can smell something fruity on her breath. Peach schnapps. I think they already started drinking, without me. She says, “I was hoping he was your long-lost brother or something, and you could fix me up.”

Ebony turns onto Main Street. “He was
fine
. I still think he was a stripper. He looked like he had a nice bod under that tux. What did he say to you?”

“Nothing really.”

“Oh, wow. Totally mysterious. Maybe it
was
a strip-o-gram. Too bad the bell rang before he got naked for us.”

I shrug, doubtful. The guy was hot, but stiff; he didn’t look
like he was ready to peel off his tuxedo shirt. Besides, who on earth would send me a strip-o-gram? Griffin, maybe. No, not possible. It was a mistake. That’s all. He just had the wrong girl.

When we arrive at the party, I look up at the stately white colonial. All windows are lit, and I can see the outlines of people. It’s almost like the walls are pulsing in beat with the music coming from inside. Screams and shouts emanate from the brightly lit backyard. I hold my hands together, since they are about to drip sweat onto my denim skirt. Every party I’ve ever been to, I was cut off from the rest of the world. I had my two bookends, my two buffers, shielding me from the outside. Now I can’t stop quivering. It’s nerves, yes, but something more. Excitement. Before, my outlook was limited, but now anything can happen.

Amber wraps her arms around Gloria and the other girl and they stumble toward the front of the house. Yep, definitely drunk. I follow them like a tail, wishing I had the guts to join in. Ebony stuffs her keys into her wristlet and says, “Let’s get this party started.”

The second we get inside, my body is smashed up against the wall. It’s that crowded. I try to follow Ebony, but she’s so tiny that she squeezes between two football-player frames and disappears into the mass of bodies. Great. I’m not sure what gave me the impression when Ebony said we should go together that we’d actually
stay
together. All the people in the room, pressed together like they are, look foreign, like students from some other school. They still seem to be enjoying themselves; I can barely breathe. I begin to wonder if it’s possible for me to survive a party without Griffin and Bret. I push my way through,
into the kitchen. It’s not much better here, but there’s an open door across the way, and I can feel the night breeze on my forehead. I push forward, being knocked here and there, until finally, I put my hand on the knob of the screen door and throw it open. Freedom.