Valon: The Ghost of Cambria - Book Three

Chapter Eighteen

Kristen shook whenever she remembered the demon's words uttered by Tony's voice. She struggled to remain in control of her courage, though she second-guessed every decision ahead of her.

At Kristen's request, Tony left with Penelope for a run. She asserted that poor nighttime sleep likely played a large role in his blackouts. Kristen promised Tony that cardio exercise was the best thing he could do to ensure he slept through the night. She also promised to research his symptoms and provide him with a plan of action.

But her promise was a lie. It was impossible that Tony's symptoms amounted to Dissociative Identity Disorder or any form of Schizophrenia—sleep anomalies alone didn't qualify him for those diagnoses. Any doctor would review Tony's environment for toxicity, then send him off to a sleep therapist.

Kristen also knew pragmatically that if mental illness was present in this situation, it was all within Kristen's mind. But she no longer believed such a thing was possible. Unless everyone around her was unreal and part of some extravagant delusion, it must all be true. There were simply too many supporting elements to discredit these events.

Tony confided how he'd fallen asleep during the day at least three times in the past two weeks. At the end of each instance, he realized he couldn't remember what he'd been doing for several minutes beforehand. The first time, Tony sat down for lunch and only awoke when Kristen fetched him later that afternoon. Another time, he blacked out on his way to the men's locker room only to awake twenty minutes later, standing in the shower. The last time, Tony lost time working in the powder room. He wondered if the chemicals in the cement adhesive might be the cause, but the timelines of usage didn't match up, and he dismissed the notion.
Kristen laid back in bed and closed her eyes, looking toward the only reliable source of information left to her.

"Valon," she whispered, attempting to prime her mind into a restful state. To Kristen's shock, someone lifted her hand from where it laid upon her abdomen, and her eyes shot open to find Valon standing beside her.

Though the ghost had appeared to Kristen several times, he had never shown himself without first contacting her through her dreams.

"I'm afraid," Kristen whispered with panic.

Valon attempted a response, but his throat would not make a sound. Kristen recalled he had failed to speak aloud before, and she understood his inability was likely the result of her being conscious.

She pulled Valon's hand and drew him to her, guiding him to lie beside her on the bed. He placed his arm under Kristen's neck and held her close to his body.
Was there warmth there? She couldn't feel it, but his touch comforted her deeply.

Valon's hand reached to touch Kristen's forehead, and her eyes closed as if she'd just received a large dose of sedative. If anything, it felt more like the anesthesia she'd received once just before dental surgery. It cut every faculty of control available to Kristen, and the last thing her waking mind felt was the sensation of floating into darkness.

In time, she opened her eyes to find them both lying on a narrow raft in the late afternoon sun, gently pulled forward by a quiet river. Hundreds of towering pine trees stood alongside them, grown to magisterial heights above the steep hills which the river carved a path through. The giants stood quietly as if watching the pair with indifferent scrutiny while their vessel floated by.

Valon held Kristen close to him, and she nuzzled against his shoulder.

"Where are we?" she whispered in his ear.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "Somewhere my father took me when I was a boy, I think. Maybe this is Truckee River?"

"It's beautiful." Kristen closed her eyes lazily. "The breeze feels so warm, I want to fall asleep."