Chapter 13

 

Alex and I sat in the coffee shop. It seemed safer to meet him away from his house, since I needed time to work things out. My fears lay in the what-ifs.

What if I didn’t draw him out and just blew my cover? What if everything worked and Grayson was the bad guy? Or, what if the amulet Nina made for me didn’t work and I ended up trapped in the dream realm?

My coffee didn’t agree with the churning in my stomach.

“Everything okay?” He caressed my hand.

“Yeah.” Smiling, I changed the subject. “What should we do today?”

“I have an idea, c’mon.” He interlaced his fingers with mine and led me outside.

The holidays had passed and I sensed the arrival of spring. Though still cold outside, the sun was bright and little signs of life stirred. Everyone seemed happy, everyone but me. My heart ached when I thought about Grayson, which meant Nina was right. It was broken. Maybe everything else she said was right too. Someone meant me harm.

“Here we are.” Alex came to a stop. I looked at the building in front of us.

“Dry cleaning? You brought me to pick up your dry cleaning.” I pretended to swoon. “So romantic.”

“No, I’m talking about that.” Alex chuckled. He pointed to a street peddler sitting on a little stool with a bucket of art supplies and an easel. He asked the old man, “How much?”

When the old man looked up, his eyes were glassy and white, but he still made direct eye contact with Alex.

After handing the man money, Alex guided me to a bench.

“What are we doing?”

“He’s going to draw our portrait.”

The man smiled, exposing missing teeth. “Don’t fret now, it’ll be glorious.” He reached for a charcoal pencil and studied the two of us. “Don’t let the cataracts fool you. I sketch from the soul. These eyes of mine are of no concern.”

His head tilted as he observed us, eyes lingering on Alex. He set frantically to work, never looking back.

“He’s amazing,” Alex whispered. “I watch him all the time. His work’s unbelievable and this whole creating from the soul thing is crazy. He looks at the person just one time then somehow he just draws.”

The old man’s bushy eyebrows scrunched together. It was fascinating to watch as he bared his soul.

After about twenty minutes, he finished. With a fair degree of skepticism, I approached his easel. No way, had he drawn us that quickly. My mouth fell open. It was exquisite and complete.

“Do you mind?” I asked and reached for the picture.

The old man smiled. “Of course not, it’s yours.”

Everything down to the last detail was there like a perfectly drawn photograph. My eyes stared back at me and I wondered if they always looked that sad. Something else caught my attention. I seemed doubled. I blinked hard, trying to adjust my vision, but with a quick glance, noticed Alex hadn’t been drawn like that. My image appeared blurred as if two identical portraits were laid one on top of the other, just a fraction from perfect alignment. I looked at the man with a questioning gaze, but he just kept smiling.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, though the word didn’t seem adequate.

“As are you.” The old man replied kindly as he tidied his station.

“I told you he’s good.” Alex motioned for me to follow as he walked away.

I reached into my purse, pulled out some cash and handed it to the man. His calloused fingers contrasted with his gentle touch as he pushed my hand back and shook his head.

“Your friend’s already paid me.”

“I know, but this is amazing. You deserve more.”

“As do you.” He stared in Alex’s direction. “Something’s off. I can’t explain it.” He turned his glassy eyes back on me. “The soul doesn’t match the body and it’s tearing you in two. Be careful, little dreamer.”

“I’m sorry? What do you mean?” How did he see that? How did he see anything, honestly?

“Don’t worry, you’ll find a way to feel whole again.”

“Emory? Are you coming?” I stood there baffled, glancing between the awaiting Alex and the man.

“How do you know this?”

“I told you, I sketch from the soul.” He chuckled. “Not my soul. I’m sorry. I should have clarified. I draw yours.”

What was this man capable of seeing? Did he actually see my soul or just somehow sense it? I looked back at the drawing to recheck Alex’s image wondering why he seemed to know the soul didn’t match yet drew him as Grayson.

“Emory?”

My head snapped up.

Alex looked at me expectantly. I lowered the drawing deciding to inspect it further in privacy. “I’m coming.” I glanced back at the man. He’d already returned to his supplies. He replaced everything with meticulous detail, but I noticed he guided the objects by feel. He would hold a pencil, run his fingers along it and with the other hand find its place. I shook my head and ran to catch up with Alex.

“What was that about?” He slung his arm around my shoulder.

“Nothing. I asked him about his technique. I wondered if he had any training.”

“Did he?”

“Huh?” I blinked. “Oh no. Self-taught.”

“Now that’s talent.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

* * * *

I made an excuse that I needed to get some work done. We decided to meet later and parted. I sat in my office staring at the drawing.

After scrutinizing every detail of myself in the picture, I examined Alex. It was unusual, considering the drawing looked like Grayson, yet somehow the artist managed to pick up the things that made him Alex. It wasn’t Grayson. It was different somehow. The turn of his lips, the way he held his body, the look in his eyes. The eyes.

Realizing they were different, I leaned in. They were all off. As a black and white sketch, they obviously wouldn’t be golden, but it wasn’t just that. The sketch didn’t have the right sheen. It lacked alternating flecks of color. Only darkness filled them. As if he’d drawn a man with brown eyes.

Was it his poor vision or was it as the saying goes? If the eyes are the window into the soul, did the artist catch a glimpse of Alex? It seemed farfetched, but I had a feeling that the man saw something I didn’t. He said he drew the soul, and if Alex’s physical body matched his soul, were those his eyes? I scanned the picture for other inconsistencies but didn’t find any.

A knock caused me to jump and flip the picture over. I opened the door and Johnathan walked in.

“Hey.” He paused. “You do remember your client for next week switched to tonight right?”

“Crap. Yes. No. Ugh, I forgot.” I found my calendar. Tonight I had a man who kept getting lost–his dream trapped him in a rat maze. I planned to help him through it Labyrinth-style. Like Ariadne and Theseus, we’d use string.

I reached for my phone to call Alex.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Emory.”

“Hey. I just realized I have something I need to take care of tonight.”

“Come by whenever. I’ll be working anyway.”

“Are you sure? It might be late.”

“Positive. I want to see you tonight.”

A wary, tense feeling crept up my spine, but I dismissed it as nerves. I knew it was a matter of time until we met in the dream realm and thinking it might be tonight probably caused some jitters.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight.” Hanging up, I turned back to Johnathan. “Make yourself comfortable.”

A knock at the door announced the arrival of my client. Johnathan, who stood closest, answered it and greeted the dark-skinned man with broad shoulders and a buzz cut. He looked to be ex-military or maybe a cop but I never asked and he never offered. In his hands, he carried a giant ball of string.

I stared at the string.

He raised the spool and chuckled. “You asked for string.”

I dipped my chin once slowly. “Yes. In the dream.”

“It helps me visualize if I can physically see and touch something. Trust me. We don’t want to get lost in there. I’m not making any mistakes.”

I smiled. I preferred to have someone over-prepared rather than unprepared. “Sounds like a good idea then. Well, let’s do this.”

* * * *

My client wasn’t kidding about the rat maze. Giant hedges and concrete walls surrounded us. Thankfully, I was with him in the dream and didn’t need to find him too, which concerned me going in. Now the goal was to get the two of us out.

“Here goes nothing.” I smiled at Lance and tied the end of the string to a nearby bush. “I guess we just start walking and if we see the string we know not to go that way.”

I attempted small talk to keep things light, the last thing we needed was to panic, but even I would admit the place gave me the heebie-jeebies. A tingle between my shoulder blades made me tense and I felt like someone watched me. Several times, I glanced over my shoulder expecting to find someone but found no one.

Along the way, we realized the string allowed us to progress quickly. Several times, we stumbled back upon it, recognized we’d already been there and tried a different route.

A flash of something caught my eye. “Did you see that?” I heard the nervousness in my own voice.

“See what?” Lance mirrored my concern.

“Are there ever people in your dream?”

“No, that’s part of what makes it terrifying. I’m lost and alone in this nightmare.” He shivered. Trapped alone must be horrible, but the thought of someone sneaking around was pretty scary, too.

“Did you see someone?”

“No, it was probably just my eyes. We’ve been here too long.” Though I swore I saw a shadow on the concrete wall. “Let’s pick up the pace and get out of here. It has to have an end, right?” I grew skeptical myself.

“I sure as hell hope so.”

“Here’s a deal, if it gets bad, I’ll pull out of the dream and wake you. No point in us both being stuck here if there’s no way out.”

He nodded, but my gaze darted past him. I saw it again. Someone was there. Was it Grayson? I was mad at him, but he would still show himself. He wouldn’t just creep around a dream, would he? Unless of course he wanted to harm me. Panic rose in me.

“Let me know if it gets to be too much for you.” I intended for my comment to sound casual, but secretly prayed he would want to end it now.

“Let’s just keep going. I’d like to think there is an end to this.” Lance glanced around as he spoke. I mumbled my assurance, wishing I believed it myself, and we continued.

We walked for what felt like forever, until Lance spoke. “Do you hear that?”

My heart raced. I knew someone had been following us and now he heard it too.

“It sounds like water,” he said, his eyes widening.

“Water?” I scrunched my nose.

“Yes. We’ve got to be nearing the exit. We haven’t crossed the string recently. I think we’re going the right way.” He sounded hopeful.

“You’re right, we haven’t.” I strained to listen. “I hear it.”

We both perked and quickened our pace, following the sound of rushing water. We made a left and a quick right, followed by two more turns. Our swiftness was rewarded by a blast of cool air as we stood looking at green grass, sunshine and a flowing stream. Relief washed over me.

“We did it.” Lance pulled me into a big hug. “You did it. You’re amazing.”

I hugged back feeling like I’d just accomplished the impossible. I squeezed him, giddy with the surge of adrenaline, but the moment was lost. Something caught my attention. I squinted toward the exit and made out a departing figure. A male, with dark hair, but I’d caught such a quick glimpse I didn’t make out who. I chewed on my lower lip. It had to be Grayson. He’s the only one that would know to find me here, but why? Did he follow me to ensure I got out safely, or like Nina said, were his reasons more sinister? I pulled back and looked at Lance.

“Let’s get out of here.” He eagerly agreed. “I’ll see you on the other side.” I found my body and flew back into it, anxious to find safety out of the dream realm. I sat up in bed. Not wanting to be alone, I immediately sought my friend.

Johnathan’s fingers flew over his phone as he texted someone. “Hey, Emory. Everything go okay?”

“It did, unusual dream but we handled it well.”

“Good. Hey, Nina wanted me to remind you about your necklace.” He raised the phone in explanation. “She said if you haven’t done so, you need to put it on.”

“Oh right.” I’d forgotten about it. I walked over to my bag and fished it out. I hung it around my neck, tucking the vial into my shirt.

His phone chimed, and with a chuckle, he read it aloud. “She says ‘thanks’. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how she does that.”

“So, you really believe she’s psychic?”

“Of course. Don’t you?” He seemed surprised by my lack of faith.

“It’s not that I think she’s lying. I just have trouble believing people are capable of that.”

“Says the girl who walks dreams,” he quipped.

“I know, I know, but there are so many fakes. But you believe in her, don’t you?” I didn’t need an answer to know he did.

“Absolutely.”

I nodded, turning at the sound of Lance opening his door. He smiled broadly and headed to the bathroom. I found my shoes and gathered my stuff, with plans to head over to Alex’s as soon as Lance left. Johnathan’s phone chimed again.

“She says for you to be careful.” I scrunched my face and it chimed again. “She’s seriously worried about you which means now I am too. What do you have going on Emory?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I hoped.