Chapter Eight

Despite the fact that my dad still watches Tanner like a hawk, my mom absolutely adores him. I texted her during my last class to let her know Tanner was coming over to do homework. Her response, a smiley face with a promise of cookies. She delivered on the smiles and the cookies.

“Now, Tanner, you’ll have to tell me if you like these better than the peanut butter cookies I made last time you were here. I’ve been experimenting with new recipes and I’m just not sure which one is better,” my mom says. She is completely serious.

“I will,” Tanner answers dutifully.

Mom smiles again and excuses herself to the backyard to work on her flower beds. Tanner doesn’t waste any time. Two cookies are devoured before she evens makes it to the back door. I take one bite, actually taking the time to think about the cookie’s texture and taste. Tanner may not think so, but my mom is totally serious about wanting feedback.

“So?” I ask, gesturing at the cookies Tanner is about to grab.

He shrugs. “They taste like peanut butter.”

I sigh and shake my head at him. No wonder his mom won’t let him work at her ice cream shop. “These ones are way softer than the last batch, but there isn’t as much peanut butter flavor. I think there’s too much baking soda, too. They kinda have a weird aftertaste.”

The blank look Tanner gives me cuts off any more discussion of the cookies. “Anyway, reflections. Where do we start?”

Now Tanner gets serious. “I was thinking about it all during my last class. What if it isn’t just the reflection that’s the problem, but the fact that it’s a mirror? Even the window was acting as a mirror. There are a lot more folk tales and superstitions about mirrors than reflections specifically. The Amish and some other cultures don’t want their pictures taken because cameras use mirrors and they believe cameras can steal parts of their souls.”

I actually hadn’t thought about that. Sibeal was so intent on the reflection in the dream that I supposed that was the problem. It still may be, but Tanner’s suggestion gives us a better starting point. Turning back to my laptop, I type “folk tales about mirrors” into the search engine and scan the results.

The first one on the list is about vampires and demons having no reflections. I giggle at the thought. “Well, at least we know she isn’t going to drink our blood when we aren’t looking.”

Tanner chuckles, but his attention is on another search result. “Click on that one.”

The page is titled, “Mirrors in Folklore and Superstition.” We both scan the article for something that jumps out at us. I pass over some of the more common superstitions, like the Amish belief Tanner mentioned and the ones about breaking mirrors bringing bad luck. I pause for a moment when it mentions mirrors being used as scrying objects, but after a few minutes I decide that if Sibeal is trying to scry information about something, she isn’t doing a very good job of it.

I keep reading and something catches my eye. “Hey, what about this thing about shadow souls?”

“It is believed that mirrors reflect the shadow soul. A shadow soul reveals the true nature of the person being reflected.” Tanner reads. His eyes light up. “That could explain a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Tanner says excitedly. “The first dream showed Sibeal crying as she looked at her reflection in the window, like seeing it made her see something she didn’t like. Then in the second dream you see her going from Miss Innocent to some psycho seductress girl. If something bad happened during her crazy stage, maybe seeing her reflection reminds her of what happened.”

Tanner’s theory has a lot of merit, but it’s missing one thing. “That still doesn’t explain the power needed to send the dreams.”

“Or who sent the dreams.”

Yes. That is really the crux of this mystery. Even the source of the power won’t help me as much as figuring out who used that power to send the dreams. The sender will tell me what is behind them, what I’m supposed to figure out, and how I’m supposed to help them. Without knowing Sibeal’s past indiscretions, I have no idea how to find out who she hurt except for what I see in the dreams. If only I could rely on them to come as regularly as the ones from Kivera.

“Eventually,” I say, “the dreams will tell me what Sibeal did. I don’t know how to find out anything more about them on our own.”

“What if the police got involved? It would have been in the papers. Why don’t we search the Boston newspapers and news programs for stories about Sibeal?” Tanner suggests.

My fingers start typing. The first search of “Sibeal Ahearn” turns up nothing relevant. Not even a Facebook page or Twitter account. Normally, I would find that pretty odd, but Sibeal isn’t exactly outgoing. Apparently, online friends are as few and far between as offline friends for her. I try adding more key words like “police,” “crime,” “investigation,” anything I can think of that will bring up some hint of what trouble Sibeal got herself into when she went off the deep end. We get nothing until I decide to try Sibeal’s mother’s name instead of her own.

Links pop up in an instant. I click on the first one and start reading.

“Brianna Ahearn, wife of prominent Boston lawyer, Clarence Ahearn, hosted today’s charity event benefitting the local children’s hospital.”

“I didn’t realize Sibeal’s family was so well off,” Tanner says.

“Me neither.”

The article goes on to describe the particulars of the event and the hospital. I stop reading pretty quickly when I realize it won’t be helpful, but I click on the image linked with the article. Mrs. Ahearn stands with her arm around Sibeal. Both look like perfect ladies, proper and polished. The caption under the photo simply reads, “Mrs. Briana Ahearn and daughter.”

Sibeal’s name isn’t mentioned once. Pictures of her with either of her parents are rare, but when she is photographed, she’s always addressed as Mrs. or Mr. Ahearn’s daughter. One article even comments on the Ahearn’s desire for privacy when it comes to their family life. I’m sure they had the best of intentions, but her parents sure are making it hard for me to figure out anything about the dreams.

We try searching for Sibeal’s father, but that only brings up loads of articles about cases he was involved in. After another disappointing hour of searching for anything related to the Ahearn family, Tanner pulls my laptop out of my hands and closes the lid. He rubs his eyes and stretches, one arm falling around my shoulders at the end.

“I give up,” he says as he pulls me down next to him. “The internet does not have all the answers as I have been led to believe.”

“What a shocker.”

Tanner laughs. “No kidding, but I thought we’d at least find a few clues about Sibeal’s past before coming to Grainer.”

“Yeah, me too. I can’t believe she doesn’t even have a Facebook account.”

Her total lack of online social presence is bizarre, like she’s purposely trying to hide her life from prying eyes. Even the most wallflower-ish, nerdiest teens have social media accounts. For some of them, it’s their only social life at all. Not Sibeal. She is definitely hiding something.

“Our only other alternative is to actually get to know her,” I say seriously.

Tanner grunts unhappily. “How long is that going to take?”

“I wish I knew,” I say with a sigh. “It could take too long. What if we don’t figure this out in time?”

Tanner frowns at me. “In time for what? Who said there’s a deadline?”

“There’s a deadline. I can feel it.”

“What do you mean?” Tanner asks. He comes up on his elbow to look at me straight on.

“I don’t know,” I admit, “but it feels the same as it did with Kivera. After every dream, there’s this sense of urgency, like I have to figure it out or something bad will happen. I have the feeling that time is running out.”

The concerned look in his eyes intensifies. “How long?”

I sink against him and sigh in frustration. “I don’t know. I wish I did. At least with Kivera I knew when it was going to happen. With this, it could be today or next year, but I’m guessing it’ll happen sooner than later. Whatever it is.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to get to know Sibeal and dredge up her darkest secrets before somebody gets…uh, whatever it is.”

Somewhat surprised, I look up at Tanner. “You’re with me on this?”

Tanner kisses me playfully. “I still think you should stay away from her and let Sibeal deal with the consequences of whatever she did, but I know you won’t be able to let this go. So yes, I’ll help you get to know Sibeal, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“If this becomes dangerous,” Tanner says, “you walk away.”

“Tanner …”

He shakes his head at me. “I’m serious, Arra. It’s one thing for you to offer yourself as a sacrifice to save your brother’s future daughters, but it’s a whole different thing to put yourself in danger for some girl who might be a complete psycho.”

I know he’s right. What do I owe Sibeal? If she got herself into trouble, doesn’t she deserve the consequences? I tell myself that, but the thought of standing by while she gets hurt, or possibly dies…I don’t know if I can do that. Not if I have the power to save her.

I know the answer Tanner needs to hear right now, so I say, “Okay. If it gets too dangerous, I’m out.”

He looks relieved to hear me say it. I smile, but inside, I’m wondering if I just lied to him.

“Arra,” my mom says as she walks in from the garden, “your father is going to be home soon. It’s his early night, remember?”

She doesn’t say it, but the way her eyes linger on Tanner and I lying on the couch together tells me that we better find a more appropriate position before my dad comes home. I have a better idea.

“No problem, Mom. I’m going to walk Tanner home. I’ll be back in time for dinner, unless you need me to help.”

Mom smiles. “No, that’s fine. We’re having cobb salads for dinner tonight. I’m sure I can handle that on my own. Have a nice walk,” she says.

“Thanks, Mom.”

I stand and pull Tanner up after me. I can see his eyes look wistfully at the kitchen. His mom makes the best ice cream I’ve ever had, but her skills don’t seem to translate into cooking dinner very well. I think Tanner would eat dinner with us every night if he could.

“Oh, come on,” I say as I pull him toward the door. “You don’t even like salads.”

“So? It’s still going to be better than whatever my mom makes.”

His pouting is absolutely adorable, but I want to be out of here before my dad pulls up. I shove Tanner at the door.

We’re about to leave when my mom stops us. “What about the cookies from earlier?”

Tanner looks over at me, surprised that she was serious. He fumbles for an answer. “They were really good, softer than before, I think.”

I shake my head at him. “Too much baking soda, not enough peanut butter,” I tell her as we hurry out the front door.

We walk a few blocks before turning the corner toward his street. As we turn, I see my dad’s car pull into the driveway. I sigh in relief. Eventually my dad is going to have to deal with the fact that I am dating Tanner, but not tonight. I have too much on my mind to get into another argument with him.

“Is there anything else in the dreams that might help us figure out who’s sending them?” Tanner asks.

I shake my head. “I’ve been wracking my mind for more clues, but the only thing I can think of is the stone from the first dream, the one Sibeal wouldn’t touch.”

Seeing Tanner’s eyes light up, I continue. “I can’t remember it enough for it to be helpful, unfortunately. It was small enough to fit in a person’s palm, and there was some kind of design on it, but I can’t remember what it was no matter how hard I try. I only saw if for half a second before she covered it with her hand.”

“You can’t remember anything about the design?” Tanner asks.

“Not really.” I try to think back to the dream, but the brief glimpse I got just wasn’t enough. “I think there was some kind of swirl on it, but that’s really all I’ve got. Not very helpful.”

Disappointed, Tanner agrees. “Well, keep an eye out for it in other dreams. It could be a big clue if you see it again.”

“I’ll let you know if I get anything else.”

We make it to Tanner’s house too quickly. His mom’s car is already in the driveway and interesting smells are wafting from the kitchen window. I squint and look a little closer. Is that smoke?

“Uh, Tanner, I think you might need to get in there and help your mom with dinner.”

His eyes travel to the kitchen window. He groans. “Maybe she’ll let me order a pizza.” He shakes his head. “At times like these, I really miss my dad. He could make anything.”

I try not to smile, but it’s hard not to. “I’m sorry, Tanner. Text me later if you need me to sneak you some dinner that isn’t charred.”

“You laugh,” he says, “but I’ll totally call you on that offer.”

We both laugh and Tanner pulls me into his arms. For a moment, I breathe in his scent and focus on his warmth. Everything seems so much easier when I’m with Tanner. I can almost convince myself that if I just stay in his arms, nothing bad can ever touch me. I know that isn’t true, but it’s a comforting thought.

“Hey,” Tanner says softly, “thank you, for earlier today.”

Not sure what he means, I say, “For what?”

“For not letting what I told you change the way you look at me.” He kisses me softly. “I appreciate you listening and understanding.”

My irritation at Bas for making Tanner feel so terrible about a mistake that happened years ago rebuilds, but I try not to let it show. I focus on Tanner and smile. “Nothing is ever going to change the way I look at you.”

“Still…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say before reaching up to kiss him again.

A strange noise coming from the kitchen makes Tanner sigh. “I better get in there.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After one more kiss, we part ways. I think about the stone the whole way home, coming out of my thoughts only when I see a familiar backside walking in the front door of my house. My body tenses up as I wonder what on earth Bas is doing at my house. I can only imagine the trouble he’s trying to stir up.