Chương 43: Chapter 42 - Nightmares

I was laying on the table. Again. There were the whispers of the nurses, telling me to be calm. I couldn't hear them over my whimpers. What did they know? Had they ever been through it? Had they ever felt the slow-mounting terror that built from the floor up to the sky with you trapped inside—pressed into a slip of yourself—a nothing that can't move, can only lay there and endure the pressure. It was more maddening than anything else. I'd thought that before, hadn't I? Was it the last time I was here?

I couldn't remember. The thought felt familiar, but the memory was gone. That was happening more and more frequently. It was like I was losing my mind. More maddening than anything else… I wondered if, afterward, I still believed that. A swirl of nausea rolled through my stomach. My fear leapt to a new peak. I clenched my whole body. Not that it would help. The convulsions started. Water hit my face. That was the first real thing in my world—the cold slap of water. Then my eyes were open.

I was sitting up on the couch. The lights were on. My blankets were on the floor below me. Rivulets of water were running down my face and neck. Conrad was kneeling over me, looking terrified. My brain clutched at what I'm sure it thought was the most important question: What scares a wolfman? My heart beat like a jack-hammer. Before I could say anything, the fear left his eyes and his ears cautiously rose to a neutral position.

"Mera?" he said.

"Yeah." I heard him exhale. He turned and put the disposable cup he was holding on the coffee table behind him. Someone had shoved the table out of the way.

"Are you normally a deep sleeper?" he asked.

"Or is that a part of…whatever you've got going on?" I rolled my hands into fists and put them to my forehead but jerked them away as soon as they touched it. My forehead was wet.

"You threw water on me to wake me up?" I don't know why I thought that was so funny, but a hysterical mirth bubbled through my chest.

"Sorry," he said.

"I didn't know what else to do." I theatrically rung out the front part of my collar.

"Do you have another shirt I can borrow?"

"Yeah."

"Then I guess I can forgive you. Can I pat your head again?"

"You're asking this time?" I reached out, dug my fingers into his fur, and ruffled his ears.

"There. Double forgiven." The last of the tiny bubbles of mirth burst, leaving me feeling flat and sad. I pushed myself into the corner and put my feet up on the couch. Conrad sat on the floor where he was.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"I…uh—yeah? I mean"—I forced myself to nod confidently—"Yes, I'm okay." I hesitated.

"Darius isn't here, is he?"

"He's going through the dorms, trying to figure out where he heard the noises coming from." That's right. There was a boy out there having nightmares like mine. I wrapped my arms around myself.

"Do you want me to call him?" Conrad asked.

"No. I'd rather he didn't see me like this." Every once in a while, Conrad would look up at me, his pale-yellow eyes all soft and thoughtful, and my heart would melt a little—but I was careful to never mention that to him. After nearly cheating my way into being allowed to ruffle his ears, I didn't think I could get away with telling him that he had puppy-dog eyes. I might have to. At least then he'll get embarrassed and look away.

As it was, he simply watched me, and I had to tell him things because, if I didn't, he'd keep looking at me until my heart turned to mush and I started making baby noises at him. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. That would probably get me eaten.

"I'm worried he might ask me to leave," I admitted. Conrad opened his mouth, but I was already glaring at him, daring him to say it was a good idea or something. His teeth clicked back together. He used one of his claws to pick at the rug.

"You don't want to?" he grumbled.

"Kind of." A wash of sadness piled into my chest.

"The nightmares, they're…pretty bad. When I first wake up, all I want to do is get out of here—""Then why don't you?"

"Because that's only at night. The rest of the time it's me wandering around this big ol' castle of a school or playing around with the musketeers. I missed my whole senior year—did you know that?" He shook his head.

"It's probably stupid of me, but it feels nice to be back in a school. It's like I'm getting a taste of something I missed."

"At an all-boys school…in England."

"Hey!" I pointed at him.

"Beggars can't be choosers. Besides, this way I don't have to worry about homework or tests." He hummed.

"And yet you're still having panic attacks." My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open, but out of my open mouth poured a long laugh.

"I can't believe you said that!" I cried.

"You laughed," he pointed out.

"There's a line, Conrad. It's behind you somewhere." The edge of his lips lifted in a slight smile. He hoisted himself into a crouching position and leaned closer to me.

"You still laughed." I let the matter drop. I wasn't really upset—he could probably smell that—and laughing had made me feel better. Conrad sat on the couch beside me. Part of his leg was covering my toes. I didn't move them. The dude was warm.

"It looked like you were having a seizure," he said.

"I don't think it was a real one. I think it was only a dream."

"The insane asylum again?"

"Norris said they thought it helped." I shivered. Conrad lifted a blanket from the floor and passed it to me. I bundled up as I said, "Do you think the psychic has the same dreams that I do?"

"I don't know." I frowned and pulled the blanket around me tighter.

"You're really upset about that, aren't you?"

"I've got you," I said, looking into his eyes.

"Who does he have?" For a second or two, we stayed like that. Looking at each other. Black and yellow eyes—what a pair we made. Then Conrad turned away. He said, "His roommate, hopefully."

"Not if he's hiding it." Conrad sighed and rubbed his brow with his open hand. An idea popped into my head. My heart leapt at it, and I grabbed onto Conrad's sleeve.

"Conrad, could you smell him?"

"You know I can't smell psychic powers."

"No, I mean smell him. His emotions. He's got to be upset and scared, and…" Conrad was shaking his head. I let go and leaned back into the corner.

"Not at all?"

"Emotions are hard. If I'm trying to pick out an individual, I have to be standing close to them."

"And?"

"Mera, everyone smells upset and scared when I'm standing that close to them."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone except Wuller and Dustin." Every thought in my head vanished. My shoulders went slack and my forehead furrowed with total confusion. I could understand why Wuller wasn't afraid of him. I had watched the headmaster talk to Conrad during the meals when Darius was gone. Conrad had groaned about it afterward. The phrase "interrogation session" made an appearance, and the wolfman kept insisting that he wasn't that interesting.

I knew that curiosity was a powerful motivator and that you only had to talk to Conrad for a while before you realized how nice he was. But…

"Dustin Walman?" I said.

"Your friend," Conrad said.

"Dark hair, Scottish accent. I don't know his last name."

"Why isn't Dustin afraid of you?"

"I assumed it was because you told him about me."

"I did! I told all of them about you! I thought it would take a little more than that. Are the others still scared?" The fur between Conrad's eyes crinkled. He nodded.

"Was Dustin ever scared of you?" I asked.

"I don't know, but I remember being surprised when he came up to ask me why you weren't at breakfast."

"Because he wasn't afraid." Another nod.

"Conrad, out in the yard, when the other boys were…standing up to you…was Dustin afraid of you then?" Conrad closed his eyes and turned his muzzle away from me. It looked like he was trying to recall the scene, so I stayed as quiet as I could.

"The others were terrified," Conrad muttered.

"You were scared and frustrated."

"And Dustin?" Conrad opened his eyes and looked at me.

"I don't think so. He might have been nervous, but it wasn't as powerful as your scent." I have a dim memory from my childhood. I couldn't tell you where I was, or how old I was, but I remember this weird toy. It was a series of thin, wooden blocks held together in a column by ribbons. A woman—I think it was a woman—would hold it up, move her wrist, and down would tumble a wooden block, except it never fell off. It was caught at the end by the ribbons holding them together. She called it a Jacob's ladder.

I had been mesmerized by it and frustrated, almost to tears, because I couldn't make it work myself. Knowing me, I had been gripping the top block too tightly—probably with both hands—and ignoring all the well-meaning instructions she tried to give me. The key was to hold it loosely. Let everything fall into place. At that moment, I felt the same mesmerizing satisfaction I had as a child. I could almost hear the clicks as my thoughts fell into place, one after another.

Dustin was a second-year student, known for his spot-on guesses and oddly perceptive comments. There were rooms in the building that he didn't like. What if he was unusually calm because he'd trained himself to be? Wes had said he had bad dreams, and Wes Osborn, the first and most powerful psychic, was his roommate. The night that Wes's powers woke up, Dustin had reached through the fire and pulled him out. It's possible Wes had forgotten to mention that Dustin had been burned…

but what if Wes hadn't mentioned it because it had never been an issue? Judging from the last school Dustin went to, his parents could afford to send him to any school they wanted to—Latin and Greek didn't sound cheap—so why would they choose to send him to a school like Setlan on Lee? And anyone who could read minds would know that Conrad wasn't a threat. My phone rang, startling me. I gasped and put a hand to my face. Conrad reached out to grab my phone off the coffee table.

"It's Darius," he said. He passed it to me. I answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Emerra! Thank god." I frowned and my eyebrows pulled together when I heard the relief in his voice.

"Darius, is everything okay?" The silence that followed was not a comforting one.

"First tell me if you're all right," he said.

"I-I'm fine."

"You couldn't sleep?"

"No, I had another nightmare. Conrad woke me up. We've been talking about the psychic. Darius—""What was your nightmare about?"

"What?"

"What was your nightmare about?"

"Induced seizures. I think." There was another painful silence.

"You're probably going to want to come down here," he said.

"Where are you?"

"Head to the front entrance. That's where Wuller's meeting the ambulance." I stood up.

"What happened?"

"It's Scott Shipp. He's had a seizure."