Fate's Return (Twisted Fate, Book 2)

Chapter Thirty-Five

The dreams were worse; more horrifying and real than living it with variations full of malice. It wouldn't let me go. Sleep. It gathered me tight and sealed me into its cocoon of terror. Trapped, I couldn't scream or move, but simply watch as I was forced to endure, hovering over the scene in the parking lot so I didn't miss a single moment.

Sweat glistened over my whole body, and rustling became clear, like inmates scratching the walls of their cage. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Louder. Faster. Insistent and terrifying and still, I couldn't scoot away. Then there was knocking and the shake in my limbs I couldn't control ceased, freezing my muscles mid-tremble so I couldn't breathe.

I crashed awake. Opening my eyes, I could see my room: the dresser, the desk, the closet, the bed. Only, instead of lying in it with the covers pulled snug, I was looking down. Three, maybe four feet, just enough so that I could see my own shadow as I hovered above, floating.

Another knock rapped like it had escaped my dream, and I fell, belly-flopping, cushioned only by my soft, overstuffed pillow filled with feathers. Tears pricked behind my eyelids before slowly running down my cheeks. I tried and failed to piece it together, but, how could I? Insanity wasn't reasonable. What the hell was happening to me?

Rap, rap, rap.

I froze, unable to see anything through the black, sun-blocking curtains. Had I locked it? With the tree just outside, anyone could find easy access. Had Brenan somehow found a way back?

Knock!

Oh, God, please be a branch.

Wiping my cheeks, I padded over to the window, hesitant at what lay hidden. Five steps, four steps. I reached my hand forward with the third and grasped the curtain with the second. One to go.

I took the final step and yanked the heavy material aside, jumping back with a gasp I barely managed to supress before it became a squeal. Scruffy scurried away from my bed and into the closet to hide. I crossed my arms, feeling underdressed in a tank top and boy-cut underwear, and glared. My trepidation vanished, and anger took its place. I didn't care about what I'd seen, or even if it were real, but I wanted answers.

More than that, I wanted Raffy's smile to get away from my window. Maybe, if I was lucky, he'd fall. I could tell it was windy as his hair lifted and the branch swayed. All it would take was a misstep—or a firm nudge.

His lips began moving but I couldn't figure out what he was trying to say. His dark clothes concealed all but his face, and in the waning light of the quarter moon, it was hardly bright enough to tell he was there, like a shadow in the night. I shrugged and shook my head, cupping my hand over my ear. He pointed to the latch and lifted his arms.

"No way," I mouthed.

He nodded. I looked at the latch and then at him once more, all the while shaking my head. We both knew he could get in; you don't have to be Superman to break a window. But would he? It wouldn't be quiet, and I would be even less so, and by now my parents must be home. If he didn't, if he respected what I wanted, did that mean I could stop feeling like I didn't know them? He would somehow be good? Trusted? Hard to say. He was, after all, at my window at—I looked at my clock—three in the morning dressed like a freaking burglar. That didn't exactly scream trust.

Where were Gabe and Mike?

I looked past him and squinted. He shook his head as though he knew what I was checking. Probably did, but I didn't care. The conversation he wanted wasn't happening. Not while I was standing in clothes boys like him were never meant to see. I could have dealt with the whole looking like a burglar thing, but not so much the Mike killed someone thing. That I was having issues with.

I raised my hand in the air and smiled. He looked confused and then relieved and smiled back. I wiggled my fingers at him and winked, and just as his confusion returned, I grabbed the curtain and yanked it shut once more.

Knock!

Turning my back to him, I padded back to bed and crawled under my covers. Maybe with the light off he really would fall. But the knocking persisted. I watched the clock as ten, twenty, and then thirty minutes ticked by.

Well, I wasn't about to cave. He could knock all night. I grabbed my pillow and my blanket and padded barefoot into the bathroom with Scruffy at my heels. It only took two minutes. I lay back against my pillow in the tub and pulled my blanket close. Scruffy lay on the floor mat beside my new bed and we both fell into a dreamless sleep. Just before giving in, I realized that not only was I able to fall back to sleep, I hadn't felt sick when Raffy woke me.

A part of me hoped that changed by morning so I could stay home and avoid Gabe and Raffy, not to mention Suzie. How was I going to answer the inevitable questions about Brenan? Where was he? How did he take it when I told him I didn't like him?

Again, where was he?