Shadowed (Unbound, Book 2)

Chapter Twenty Seven

           

The alarm went off at six-thirty in the morning, though I didn't remember setting it. Even after over twelve hours of sleep since Calin left, I was tired. Onyx nudged my neck with her nose and whined, but then settled back into sleep. She didn't move again, even when I crawled out of bed.

Still in the clothes I wore to bed, I found my way down the stairs and turned into the first doorway to the left of the main entrance.

Devland was in the dining room on the first floor, eating breakfast and reading a newspaper. I stopped in the doorway and looked down at my clothes, feeling grungy. In another suit and tie, this time solid white, he didn't appear like the kind of man who tolerated less than impeccable, especially in his child. Hoping my ignorance would excuse my lack of etiquette, I shuffled into the room and sat on his right-hand-side despite noticing a place setting at the opposite end.

The chair scraped the floor as I pulled its closer and he looked up.

"Did you have a good rest?"

I nodded.

"Did you remember anything?"

I shook my head. "No. I didn't even have a dream, I don't think."

"That's good," he said. "I mean, it's good about the dreams. I'm sure it would be confusing to dream of something you don't understand."

"You think dreams are about reality?"

He shrugged and took a sip from his cup, still steaming with the string of a tea bag hanging over the side. "They say dreams are your subconscious way of working out your conscient problems. Sometimes you dream about things you want or decisions waiting for action—maybe the past or future. Who knows?"

"Do you know what I think about dreams?"

"What?"

"No." I shook my head and fingered the napkin folded on the plate in front of me. My eyebrow rose and a laugh, dry and humorless, escaped. I dropped my hands to my lap and refocused on Devland. "That was a literal question. What did I say about dreams?"

"Well, I... I don't know." He set his cup back onto the table and leaned forward. "I'm not sure what you thought about dreams, but I think they help us. Whether it's our mind working out problems or just letting our brain rest so that we can face issues with a fresh perspective is open for debate. But, in the end, it produces the same results. I'm smart enough to just accept it as it is."

"I don't think I'm that smart."

"You are," he said, nodding, "but right now your head is filled with so many worries, it's incapable of dreams."

What was he? A shrink?

"Maybe." I looked down. What had my mother believed? Devland's version seemed so clinical, I hoped it wasn't him that I took after.

"Hey!" Devland clapped his hands and I glanced up. "Why don't we go do something fun?"

"Don't I have school?"

"You haven't made it to a single afternoon class since returning to school," he said, looking like he was biting the inside of his cheeks to keep his amusement in check. "One more day won't hurt."

"I—"

The front doorbell rang, cutting me off.

"That is for you," Devland said. He looked from me to the door, all amusement gone.

"Should I...?" I pointed to the doorway but looked at Devland. Pushing back my chair to stand, I hurried to the foyer, calling over my shoulder, "Be right back!"