The Dream Catcher's Daughter Read online

  “What are you pointing at?” said Darlene.

  “The giant.” And he jabbed his index finger at Talshe.

  “Giant? Jason. They’re extinct. Nothing there, see? Just a bunch of space.”

  Talshe chuckled. “She obviously has bad vision. Recommend an eye doctor, Jason. It’ll be the last thing you do.”

  “Darlene,” said Jason.

  “Look,” said Darlene, “we both saw the shadow. The paladins will want it captured. Can you think of what they’ll do if we catch it? They’ll probably give us whatever we want. I could get my internship. You could…you know…on your birthday.”

  “I’m telling you, this is a little more important.”

  “And I’m telling you, forget it. If you want to sit around and play with your imaginary friend, go right ahead. But I’m going to catch the shadow.” And Darlene jogged away.

  Talshe’s grin turned smug. Jason shook his head. “Well, I’m safe here. You’re too big.”

  Talshe tilted her head, glancing at the surrounding buildings. She looked back to Jason, and his neck hair bristled. “Well,” she said. “We’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

  She washed him in a gust of stale breath. He closed his eyes, coughing a bit. When he opened them again, she had disappeared from the sky. She no longer towered over the array of abandoned warehouses and factories. Jason didn’t spot her until he heard her footsteps only a few feet in front of him.

  She now stood inches taller than him, still gray, almost zombie-like in the shadows. She placed her hands on her hips. Her faced tightened, and she arched her neck back to stare down her nose at him. “Now. Tell me. Where is my king?”

  THREE

  Running, he called for Darlene. Talshe wasn’t behind him and Darlene had vanished. Jason hoped the buildings would continue to surround him. Night was falling and had hidden the brick Jason tripped over. His hands and left cheek scraped against the pavement. He sat up, coughed at the dust in his nose and throat, blood trickling down the heels of his palms and his face.

  “I smell your blood,” a voice floated to him. “I want it inside me. All of it.”

  He pushed himself up and sprinted away. He tried to imagine himself as a bullet. But a bullet could only go straight, and the labyrinth of brick, concrete, and broken glass threw a dead end in his path. His eyes flickered and scanned his surroundings. To his right a fire escape hung from the side of a building. It looked old from disuse, but there was a broken window about halfway up. All he had to do was climb. He gripped the first rung tightly and shook it a bit. Despite the coat of rust, the ladder seemed sturdy.

  Shattering glass rent the air. Talshe was down the alley. In her hand she grasped a long strip of metal shaped like a crowbar. Just left of her was the broken window, gaping like a jagged wound. She held up the metal; one edge looked extremely sharp and rusty. Talshe smiled, stuck out her tongue, and ran it across the jagged edge.

  “If I can’t swallow you whole, I’ll have to chop you into fun size bits.”

  Jason scrambled up the ladder, the rusty metal skeleton whining and shaking. By the time Talshe reached the ladder, he’d put one floor between them. Only two more, and he’d reach the broken window. He’d escape. The whoosh of air: hngh, huuh, hngh, huuh—in, out, in, out—rushed up the back of his neck. He was halfway up. Only a few feet from freedom. Never mind the feeling of two large eyes on his neck. Only four feet now. Three. Two—

  Her fingers hooked around him and ripped him away from the ladder, his already bloodied hands screaming in pain, his joints throbbing. The world around him blurred for a moment, then settled. When the stars faded from his vision, Jason could only see Talshe’s broad face. She had grown, but only so her shoulders barely passed the roof. She couldn’t move, and she couldn’t possibly eat Jason at this size. At least, she couldn’t swallow him whole. Then she smiled, and two rows of pearly-white teeth glimmered at him. Her nostrils flared and she took a long drag, nearly sucking him inside her nose. She gasped, stuck his hands in her mouth, and sucked on them. Jason squirmed and groaned; his hands stung and burned.

  She removed his hands with a slick pop, then held him high above her head. “Now, where is my king? Where is King Lukoje?”

  Jason said nothing. Talshe narrowed her eyes.

  “This is goodbye, then. Pray the chewing won’t hurt.”

  She opened her mouth and her tongue unfurled to her bottom lip. Warm, rotten-chicken-salad-breath rushed up and engulfed Jason as he stared at her dangling uvula. He urged himself to struggle, to kick, to scream. But he froze, just like before. The two fingers suspending him above her mouth loosened, slowly but surely. There was a smirk in her eyes. Pleasure. Primal hunger. The pink tongue below him twitched.

  She dropped him and he wrenched his eyes shut.

  Music, he realized. I hear music.

  He smacked not into a slippery tongue but the stone block of a roof. He struggled to his feet, eyes darting around, trying to spot the giantess. As the music continued, the impossible dawned upon him: Talshe had disappeared yet again.

  As he stood, Talshe’s laughter echoed around him, followed by her voice: “Better run while you can. I’ll keep chasing you, my sweet flesh pop.”

  Jason’s knees trembled as the music faded. He looked around. It was the music he’d heard at the house on South Hollow Avenue, where he first encountered Talshe and found that note. He found nothing here.

  The sun had all but set, and Jason decided to ease down the rickety fire escape and return home. After reaching the bottom, someone padded toward him. A figure appeared in the alley, in the darkness. It had to be Darlene. Of course she returned after Talshe disappeared. He dismounted the bottom rung of the ladder, and walked toward Darlene on wobbly legs. Jason was sure he looked drunk. Maybe he was high. Who else would imagine a giantess trying to eat him? Her breath—he could still smell it in the folds of his clothing.

  “Hey,” he said, staring at Darlene. “Did you catch it? ‘Cause if you didn’t…”

  Darlene stopped, and so did Jason.

  “Kind of sucks that you ditched me,” he continued. “I know you want to be a paladin but…Are you even listening to me?”

  “Jason!” It only took a split second: He looked up, past the Darlene before him, and spotted another Darlene farther down the alley illuminated by a nearby streetlamp. She was running, waving her hands out in front of her. “Get out of there! The shadow!”

  The creature’s red eyes flashed as it lunged at Jason, shoving him into the wall. A stench like curdled cheese and dirt rolled over him and he doubled over, retching all over the alley floor. The shadow bent down next to him and whispered:

  “you’ll pay you’ll pay for your betrayal.”

  The remaining light in Jason’s vision ebbed along with his consciousness. Darkness cradled him, and it said, “Sleep and forget. Forget and sleep. Sleep and forget…” So he did.

  ***

  “Wake.”

  The darkness dissipated, and dim light filtered in around him. Something warm touched his forehead and Jason jerked awake. Someone placed their hand on him. He whipped around, eyes unable to focus. Someone whispered urgently in his ears as he twisted and writhed. Finally, his ears processed the whispers, and he heard his father’s voice:

  “Jason, calm down. Hold still. Please, son.”

  Jason gasped, and everything materialized before him, as if his brain and eyes had just connected. He was in his room. The Megatron figure sat on his desk. Mr. McKinney kneeled beside him, his callused hands planted firmly on Jason’s shoulders. The dim light came from the lamp on Jason’s nightstand.

  He leaned into Mr. McKinney, who graciously accepted his son’s trembling, hyperventilating body. He patted and rubbed his son’s head as though Jason were still five years old.

  “Are you okay?” said Mr. McKinney. “Darlene brought you home. Said you slipped and fell in an alley, chasing after a lamia.”

  “Dad…”

  “No, I do
n’t want to hear it. It was reckless. What’s worse is those two punks.”

  Jason looked up at his father. “What?”

  “Darlene told me. Ronnie and Boone, from the store…First they mess with the garage’s enchantments, then they send a mannequin after my son? They’ll definitely be short a paycheck this Friday. And every Friday afterwards!”

  “Mannequin?”

  “Oh, sorry. It’s a doll created by magi. It can be controlled and does whatever its master desires. It only needs certain material. Like hair or something, and then something to bind it.”

  Nodding, Jason sat up. He’d often heard that he looked just like Mr. McKinney—pale face, strong chin. Even his prematurely thick facial hair came from his father, who sported a neatly-trimmed goatee. The glimmer in his blue eyes also passed into Jason, just not the color blue itself.

  Mr. McKinney said, “Your eyes—brown like your mother’s.”

  “Cut it out, Dad.” Jason sat on the edge of the bed, grasping his knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know the Guardian would be in your office.”

  “Well, you didn’t know about the prank, either. So we’re even.” Mr. McKinney grinned. “You’re my son. Of course the store is important, but you come first. Besides, one of the most important rules—bolded, underlined, italicized—is the enchantment rule. Those enchantments are put there for a reason. They either keep people out or keep things in. It’s my fault for keeping the seal in such an easy hiding spot. I hope they didn’t hurt you.”

  “Dad, I’m okay. The…mannequin was a lot worse. But they didn’t hurt me. Just, you know.”

  His father shrugged, looking at the Megatron figure on his desk. “So, you dug out the old Transformers. Any special reason?”

  “Trevor…the boy I mentored two years ago? I said he could borrow it.”

  “Ah. I see. That’s nice of you.”

  “Well, I don’t play with them anymore.”

  Mr. McKinney clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing a bit. “Son, you’re a great kid. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Um…I wasn’t going to give you a choice, but I know school comes back from their midterm break tomorrow. If you want, I’ll let you skip until the weekend. I know school’s been hard since you got back—”

  Jason scanned the ceiling. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but it was something important. So important, he knew that, as soon as he found it, it’d sweep away the vast awkwardness emanating from his father. His eyes fell on the desk. The second chair flashed through his mind. But it didn’t materialize. Not like before, when the chair and the girl who sat in it appeared before him and nearly turned him to stone.

  “Jason?” said Mr. McKinney. “What’s the matter? Are you having an episode?”

  Jason shook his head, rather slowly. “I’m just tired. That last prank wore me out. Glad I won’t have to deal with them again.” And he tried to return his father’s smile, hoping the concern would leave those great big pools of sparkling blue. But he couldn’t smile, so the concern remained, though it did take a backseat to the enormous, beard-outlined smile of his father—the smile he knew and loved, the smile that made him feel safe, despite the Guardian’s looming presence in his mind.

  “Well,” said Mr. McKinney, “if you want to go tomorrow, I won’t stop you. It’s good to see you take initiative.” After awkwardly rubbing Jason’s shoulder, Mr. McKinney stood and turned off the lamp, leaving only the moonlight to filter in through the window above Jason’s desk. Mr. McKinney walked to the door and turned, smiling at his son. “I love you, Jason. Never forget that.”

  He moved to leave, but Jason called out, “Wait. Dad…I have a question.”

  His father turned, his smile shrinking. “Anything, son.”

  His heart raced. His eyes flicked to the desk. The second chair appeared, but no girl yet filled its seat. Mr. McKinney leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. The smile on his face was one that usually encouraged new employees at Silver Moon. “You can do it,” he would say. “Just put your best foot forward.”

  Jason wondered if he’d even remember how to walk after he turned eighteen.

  “What is it, Jason?”

  The words came out in a rush, and even Jason didn’t understand the half-mumble half-speed-rap that flopped out of his mouth. Mr. McKinney scrunched his brow, turning an ear toward his son.

  “What’s that? I didn’t quite catch you.”

  He repeated himself, just as fast.

  “Speak slowly. Get the crap out of your mouth.” Mr. McKinney smiled at this.

  Great, thought Jason, he finds this amusing. He took a deep breath, trying to remove the chair, Talshe, the music, the mannequin—everything—from his head. There was only one thing that mattered. And if it didn’t get said, when would it ever? Not after my birthday, thought Jason.

  Another deep breath.

  “Will you let the Guardian erase my memories?”

  For a moment, Jason felt as if the room was stuffed with cotton. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His lungs burned and itched, begging for oxygen. His head ached. His eyes swam as he moved them from the dark corners of his room—away from that important thing he couldn’t find—and toward his father in the doorway. Mr. McKinney stared at his son as if Jason had just sworn, and didn’t know whether to be proud or angry, encouraging or punishing. Jason expected him to turn and leave without a word. Jason wanted that.

  His father moved from the doorframe and uncrossed his arms. He turned, and Jason sighed, his shoulders slumping.

  “The law states,” said Mr. McKinney, “those who can’t use magic aren’t allowed to remain in our world. They must have their mind erased, and anyone who interferes will be dealt with swiftly and without mercy.”

  Mr. McKinney disappeared from the door, his feet thudding down the hallway.

  ***

  Jason didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he didn’t sleep long. When dawn’s light broke through the window, his alarm whined. There was no closing his eyes again, so he sat up and cracked his neck, then shut off his alarm. Ten minutes later, Jason was dressed and plodding downstairs to the kitchen. He found a note on the table from his father:

  Already went to work. Don’t wait up. Love you.

  The fourth day in a row, thought Jason.

  He pulled a bowl and a box of cereal from the cupboard. As he reached for the milk, he felt a buzzing in his pocket. It was a text from Darlene:

  meet ya at the u top!

  A year ago, Jason might’ve chuckled at their inside joke. The u top was a broken, glassless structure on the north side of Sheriffsburg High School. Faded letters on the rusted green paint might’ve read BUS STOP if age hadn’t overtaken it. Instead, it read U TOP. Jason snapped his phone shut, shoved it away, and ate breakfast. Before heading out the door, he remembered the Megatron figure on his desk, and went back to retrieve it. Once Megatron was stowed safely in his backpack, Jason locked the front door and headed out.

  Sheriffsburg High sat northwest of Jason’s house by six blocks, just two past Silver Moon. As Jason crossed the bridge, he spared a glance toward the abandoned district just underneath. He could see the alley where Talshe had cornered him.

  He continued, and soon a peach-colored building rose into view, its cathedral-shaped gymnasium piercing the sky. The main building was a squat brick cube the shade of light cocoa. Imprinted on the side in thick white letters was SHERIFFSBURG HIGH SCHOOL. Out front was a sign that read: SHS, HOME OF THE DEPUTIES. He crossed in front of the sign and walked along the east wall toward the north. Darlene sat on the U TOP’s bench, clicking away at her cell phone. She looked up and smiled at him. The smile was filled with concern, much like the one Mr. McKinney had offered the night before. Darlene patted the spot next to her, and Jason sat.

  “How you feeling?” she said.

  “Better. Thanks for taking me home.”

  “What’s a bro for?” And they bumped fists.

  Jaso
n checked his phone. They had about fifteen minutes before the bell rang. Then they’d have another five minutes to get to first period. Usually, Jason would chill in the library. He wouldn’t read. But he used to, over a year ago.

  As he felt a stony prickle in his fingers, Jason turned to Darlene.

  “So, what happened to the mannequin?”

  “Disappeared.” And she snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Kind of bugs me, ‘cause mannequins don’t just vanish. They’re puppets; they need something to latch onto. A doll or hair or something. There should’a been something left over.”

  “Well, maybe this one was different.”

  Darlene raised an eyebrow at him. “Remember who made the thing. Speaking of the devils…Wonder if they’ll show up to school?” Jason shrugged. “Better not,” she continued. “Or I’ll beat ‘em so bad, slugs’ll mistake ‘em for family.”

  Darlene laughed, and Jason longed to join her. But he couldn’t. He tried, but it was like his lips were too lazy, his lungs too depressed with the burden of breathing.

  “I might skip today,” he said.

  Darlene’s eyes widened, and a sly grin ran across her lips. “Didn’t know you were the kind. Aren’t you Mister Straight-A’s?”

  “It won’t matter after my birthday.”

  “Oh, guess so. Sorry, didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine. You should get to class. Don’t they set out the guard dogs at about five after?”

  Darlene stood and heaved a sigh. “Yeah, they upgraded to a couple of dragons. Wingpeople, from overseas. They’re damn clever, and nothing gets past ‘em.” She flashed another grin at Jason. “If only you could see ‘em. One has red hair and wears a cowboy hat. The other’s kinda chubby, but more our age. He likes talking to me. I think you’d like him.” When Jason said nothing, Darlene re-checked her phone for the time. “Anyways, I’ll go. Don’t go chasing mannequins without me, ‘kay?”