Grey Haven (Book 1: The Dreamer Chronicles)

Madam George’s shop was dark and stuffed with books. The ceilings were low and had bronze, aluminum panels that made the space feel claustrophobic. The aisles were barely walkable from the books that were squashed on the shelves and stacked on the floor. The shelves ran in diagonals from the main door to the middle of the store, where the counter was set up. Walking through the door felt like walking into a spider web.

A thin wisp of a woman was standing at the counter sorting through a box of books as we entered. She was wearing an ankle-length denim skirt and a white blouse that made her look more like a librarian than a bookseller of the occult. Large glasses took up most of her face. She frowned in confusion when she saw us, unaccustomed to one young person in her store, let alone four. She was instantly suspicious. “Can I help you with something?” Madam George asked in a strong voice that bellied her wispy appearance.

Carrie took in the packed bookshelves and cluttered aisles with a resigned expression. It would take us weeks to find the book she was after without help. Carrie had no choice but to ask and trust that her lie would hold up under the scrutiny of Madam George.

“Uh, yeah,” Carrie agreed. “I’m looking for a book called: Dream Interpretations, A Guide to Nightmares; 3rd Edition.”

“Studying up on dreams?” Madam George asked slowly.

She eyed me suspiciously. I had gone into her store two days after arriving at Grey Haven. Our meeting had been strange, awkward. I had wanted to look around, my introduction to Grey Haven making me curious about the occult, but her strangeness had forced me out of the shop quickly. She had hovered over me, her bug eyes making me feel as if she had been trying to decide if she was going to make a meal out of me or not. I shivered, not caring if she saw.

“It’s for a psychology class,” Carrie answered. “I have to write a paper.”

“I see,” the woman replied. “Well, I’m afraid the last copy of that book sold out no more than twenty minutes ago.”

Carrie, Tommy, and I shared a loaded look. The person who had bought the book could be the same person who had stolen it from the library. We had to know more.

“Do you know who it was?” Carrie asked. “Maybe I can buy it from them. I really need it for the report I’m writing.”

Madam George frowned at Carrie. Her eyes glittered darkly behind her glasses. “Never seen him before.”

“Did he pay with a credit card?” Carrie asked. “Maybe his name is on the receipt, and I can find him that way.”

“He paid with cash,” Madam George replied, her expression turning frosty with Carrie’s nosiness. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Madam George’s question was polite, but it suggested she wouldn’t tolerate any more prying. It also suggested that we either buy something or leave. Carrie knew better than to press the issue. She focused on getting the most out of the situation. “Do you have any other books that are similar?” she asked.

Madam George’s expression cleared with Carrie’s return to books. Her frown turned thoughtful. “Let me look,” she said. With strangely graceful movements, she disappeared into the back of the bookstore. Carrie gave me another meaningful glance, but she didn’t say anything about her suspicions. Sully was looking between us curiously, doing his best to catch up to our strange looks and odd behavior. He didn’t ask what was wrong, but I sensed him figuring out that our search for the book wasn’t as innocent as it had seemed.

Tommy fidgeted uncomfortably. “I’m going to go outside,” he whispered to us. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Carrie nodded and stepped forward to join the woman in her search. She was determined not to give up hope, even though we kept arriving too late to find what we needed. I admired her determination, but I also knew it would take more. It would take luck.

I followed Tommy out of the shop, just as eager to get away from Madam George. Sully followed us, still trying to understand our strangeness. My certainty that we were barking up the wrong tree left me frustrated, but I had known before we came to town that Madam George wouldn’t be the answer we needed.

What frustrated me more was that I didn’t know how to refocus our efforts. We were stuck, with no clear path in front of us. Maybe I needed to approach Harry after all.

I greedily drew in the fresh air as we stepped outside and blankly eyed the streets for answers to the questions plaguing my brain. I couldn’t help but feel that we were on the wrong path. All we had was a guess that someone at Grey Haven had sent a shade to kill me. The conversation I had overheard in the woods could have been any number of things. The immediate danger had been the man’s knife against my throat. The conversation felt trivial in comparison.

Almost as if my thoughts had drawn him, the man appeared around a building on the opposite side of the road. I hadn’t noticed his motorcycle in front of a clothing store. It had just been another motorcycle on a street crowded with vehicles. Unlike the motorcycle, the man was impossible to miss. He was wearing the same leather jacket and heavy boots. His dark clothes fit in with the dark clouds swirling above us, almost as if he had brought the clouds with him.

My first instinct at seeing him was anger. I wanted to march over to him and punch him in the face for attacking me. My second instinct was caution. I figured caution was less likely to get me killed.

I pulled Sully in front of me as the man walked past his motorcycle headed for another street down the road. He had a small book in his hand and was walking at a quick pace. He looked preoccupied, as if he had just received troubling news.

Sully was confused. He didn’t try to move, but his expression suggested he knew that I was hiding from the man. Tommy was also looking at me questioningly.

“That’s the guy,” I whispered as the man continued his path up the road.

Tommy’s expression turned hard, and he stared at the man with a combination of anger and suspicion. Sully was even more confused at my words. “Who is he?” he asked.

“He was on the road the other night when I met with you. He was sneaking in the woods. He was…”

I hesitated. It was difficult to explain why I hadn’t called the cops over the man holding me at knifepoint. It was even more difficult to explain that I thought the man might have something to do with what had happened at the school. The knowledge that he was aware of Grey Haven’s purpose, and could be involved in it, held my tongue. The explanation was too difficult to share with Sully. Even a lie made things complicated. I settled for a vague truth.

“He was up to something,” I said. “Dangerous…”

Sully thought he understood. He thought the man had scared me, even threatened me. He was suddenly defensive. “I can go have a chat with him,” he offered, his expression darker than I had ever seen it.

“No!” I hissed. “I mean…I want to see what he’s up to. There’s something weird about him. I want to understand.”

“You want to follow him?” Sully asked.

I thought about that. I liked the idea of knowing where he was headed and, perhaps, finally answering one question I had faced in the last week. It refocused our plan in a way that felt better than searching dusty books for clues.

“Not me,” I said. “He’ll recognize me. Tommy, you get ahead of him, so you can see where he’s headed. Sully, you follow him, but do it smartly. If he gets suspicious, walk away.”

“What are you going to do?” Tommy asked.

I eyed the man’s motorcycle. “See if he left anything behind.”

Sully and Tommy nodded in unison. Tommy marched up the street, pulled his bicycle out of the back of Sully’s truck, jumped on it, and immediately started pedaling up the road. Sully smiled at me, excited to be doing something so mysterious, then started his way down the street. He was perfectly casual and confident as he walked.

I waited until they were gone, then I crossed the busy street. I knew the motorcycle had a compartment under the seat. I also knew it would be locked. The lock didn’t worry me. I had come prepared.

It might have been strange to carry lock picks everywhere, but it had saved my life once and I would never forget them again. I pulled them out of my pocket and did my best to look casual as I stepped up to the motorcycle. No one looked twice at me. I had his seat open within ten seconds. There wasn’t much inside, not nearly as much as I had expected. I pulled a stack of papers out as well as a key. The key had a tag attached that read: Sunny Point Hotel, room 9. The papers were mostly bills and receipts. His name wasn’t on any of the papers. He paid cash for everything. The bills were strange though, mostly medical equipment and things I didn’t see anyone needing for an innocent reason.

I was thumbing through the papers for a second time, searching for clues I had missed, when I heard a shrill whistle from across the street. Carrie had come out of the shop. She held a large bag with Madam George’s logo on the front, and her eyes were wide. She gestured me away from the motorcycle, and her eyes darted to the corner of the road in a warning. I didn’t need words to know that the man was coming back. It was in her expression. I stuffed the key and the papers inside the seat and locked it up again.

I dashed to the edge of a building, to an alley that smelled of urine and garbage, and held my breath. I stuffed the lock picks back into my pocket and hoped the man left without checking the alley. A minute later, the motorcycle roared down the street. I exhaled sharply. Carrie’s warning had come in time.

Carrie stepped into the mouth of the alley as I mentally congratulated myself on getting away with the break in. She was holding her shopping bag in a death grip that suggested she was contemplating using the books as a weapon against me. Her conflicted expression told me she couldn’t decide if she wanted to yell first or not.

“That was the man who attacked me in the woods,” I said before she could start lecturing me about the risks involved in breaking into a stranger’s motorcycle.

Carrie’s grip loosened on the bag, which was good. “Well, he has friends apparently. Madam George saw you digging around in his stuff and kicked me out. I heard her call him right before I left the store.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said.

Carrie shook her head, but she preened at the thanks. She was glad to have helped. Tommy came to a skidding halt next to Carrie, his tire creating a black mark on the sidewalk. He was sweaty and looked as if he had pedaled four miles in a matter of minutes. “I lost him,” he confessed.

“He took off on his motorcycle,” I said. “Carrie thinks he’s friends with Madam George. She warned him I was digging around in his stuff.”

“Oh,” Tommy said.

“Where was he going?” I asked.

“He was headed down Culver Avenue when he disappeared. I had him, then he was gone. I don’t know what happened.”

“What’s on Culver?” I asked.

“It’s mostly just office buildings,” Tommy said. “They were closed for the weekend.”

“So, he probably wasn’t meeting anyone,” I said.

Tommy shrugged. “He could have been. I guess we’ll never know.”

“Where’s Sully?” Carrie asked, searching the roads for him.

“He was following the man,” I said. “He should be back by now…”

I stepped out of the alley to look for him. There were plenty of people wandering the sidewalk, but Sully was missing from the crowd. I swore. Something must have happened to him.

“You don’t think…?” Tommy left it hanging.

“Let’s go,” I said.

I followed the road to the corner and took a sharp left, following the man’s path. Carrie walked with me, while Tommy cycled at a slow pace in front of us. Fear and guilt ran through me. I was afraid the man had attacked Sully. It was possible he hadn’t let Sully go the way he had me. Sully didn’t belong in the world of dreamers, after all. I had pulled him into Grey Haven’s world without thinking of the consequences. Our world was deadly, and I had knowingly asked him to follow someone who wasn’t afraid to use a knife on strangers. I mentally kicked myself, wondering what kind of a person would send someone untrained to follow someone so obviously dangerous. It was foolish and selfish. I had been so focused on the truth that I had forgotten to think of Sully first.

We were passing an old building with large gargoyles on the corners when I finally heard Sully’s voice. He didn’t sound happy. “All right, fine. I’ll be there.” He walked out from around the building, his hand still working to put his cell phone away. He startled when he saw us staring at him, but then his expression turned sheepish.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I lost the guy,” Sully confessed. “And then my mom called. Something’s come up. I have to get back to her…”

I didn’t press for details. I knew his mom had a tough time, and that she needed extra care. It wasn’t something Sully talked about easily. “Okay,” I said.

“I’ll drive you back to the bridge,” Sully offered.

I nodded and followed him down the road. As I turned, I saw Carrie’s expression. It was thoughtful and more than a little suspicious. She was biting her lip as she thought over whatever was on her mind.

“What?” I asked her.

She shook her head and didn’t answer. From her silence, I figured she was thinking about the man and didn’t want to share the details with Sully. She would tell me what she was thinking when it mattered.

The ride back to the bridge was silent. Sully and Tommy made no effort at conversation. Sully was preoccupied; his face a mixture of irritation and worry as he drove. Carrie read from one of the books she had bought, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I focused on the road and contemplated what to do with what I had learned about the man.

What would going to his hotel accomplish? If Madam George had told him about me snooping in his stuff, it was likely he would switch hotels or be expecting me. I didn’t want another confrontation. I wanted to understand his connection to what was going on. I wanted to know if he had sent the shade to attack me. I wasn’t looking to be a hero and fight the bad guy by myself. I would let Mrs. Z. do that. I just wanted the truth.

Sully dropped us off at the bridge. He helped us unload our bikes, gave me a kiss goodbye, and drove back down the narrow road. I felt sorry for him as I watched him drive away. I knew that running a business and dealing with a broken mother wasn’t as easy as he made it look. I didn’t know how he managed.

I sighed and followed Carrie and Tommy up the road. We walked our bikes, not as eager for the exercise after the drama of our chase. The guard stopped us at his station with a brusque command. He held a small phone in his hand. He asked our names and checked it against pictures he had of us on his phone. He checked it twice, newly paranoid, then waved us inside with an offhand gesture.

Dreamers were lounging on their front yards or playing games like ultimate Frisbee or football in the streets. Some were doing homework, but they were the exception. Most were content to relax and enjoy their weekend. I wasn’t sure if Dana and the others were back from town yet. I wasn’t eager to see what trouble she had brought. So, instead of going home, Carrie and I followed Tommy to his house. His front yard was deserted. We set our bikes down and spread out on the grass.

“I found the man’s hotel key in his motorcycle,” I confessed.

“Did you want to go snoop?” Tommy asked in an eager voice.

“He did have a book in his hand when we saw him,” I pointed out. “And why was he headed for empty office buildings? He’s hiding something.”

“But then we have to worry about him killing us,” Carrie said, not looking up from the book she had pulled out.

“So, what do we do? Go to Harry? Tell him we saw a man with a book in town?” I asked. “Harry will think we’re idiots.”

“I’m not saying that,” Carrie said. “But I don’t think going to that man’s hotel is the best idea, either.”

“Then what?” I asked.

Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I was frustrated. ‘I don’t know’ seemed to be the mantra for our investigation. Nothing made sense, yet Carrie was happy to read her books and let the answers come to her with time. Time was easy for her. She didn’t have the weight of knowing that someone had tried to kill her. She hadn’t faced down a difficult shade and still had injuries as proof of the attack. I knew she was worried – it had been her plan to search for the truth – but I wanted to move. I wanted to feel proactive.

I was about to voice my frustration, to let out my anger and fear when a scream startled the comfortable atmosphere of the school. Carrie, Tommy, and I shared a look of surprise, then we jumped to our feet. We ran toward the sound. We didn’t have to go far.

Two streets over, a woman was standing over the body of another woman. They were guardians, and the woman on the ground wasn’t moving. Blood ran from a wound on her head. The woman who was standing had a look of unquenchable hunger in her eyes; she was hungry for more violence. Her eyes turned to us. Others had run over, but Carrie, Tommy, and I were closest. The woman hissed at us, reminding me forcibly of the shade I had fought. Without giving us time to digest the scene, she ran directly at me, her hunger finding a new outlet.

Carrie, Tommy, and I separated and spread out in a small arc with me at the center. The woman’s hands outstretched hungrily. I slapped them away and tried to knee her in the stomach. Before my knee could connect, she tackled me. I hit the ground hard, with her on top of me. Her hands reached for my neck. I fought against her grip, which was unusually strong, even for a trained guardian.

Carrie put the woman in a headlock, while Tommy wrapped his arms around her waist. Together, they pulled her away from me, struggling against her impossible strength. A second later, Carrie screamed in pain and Tommy called out to her. The scream had me rolling to my feet and shaking off my daze.

Carrie was on the ground holding her nose, and Tommy was struggling to subdue the woman. As I moved, the guardian threw Tommy away, who hit the pavement with a controlled roll, and jumped toward Carrie. She reached down to pick Carrie up by the throat, teeth bared. Her fingernails grazed Carrie’s skin, losing their hold on my friend, as I punched her in the temple. She stumbled away from Carrie, holding her face, reeling from the pain. I marched over to her, all sense of restraint gone, and kicked her in the face. She half spun at the force of the hit, then went limp. She didn’t move again. I stood over her, my breathing heavy and irregular. I wanted to hit her again for hurting Carrie. It took a lot to rein the impulse in.

I finally turned away from her to check on Carrie. Tommy bent down next to the woman who had been attacked. He checked her pulse and the injury at her head. I took a step toward Carrie, but she gestured me away, telling me with a sharp look that she was fine. She urged me with another gesture to help Tommy. I bent down next to him and inspected the woman the guardian had attacked. With the blood surrounding her, it was easy to think she was dead. Her weak pulse was the only thing that suggested she was still hanging on.

Mrs. Z. arrived just as I was about to suggest going for help. Bernard and Harry were with her. Mrs. Z. swept past the group of students who had gathered around us with the conclusion of the fight. Her light-colored eyes were full of dark fire. She crouched next to Tommy and inspected the woman. “Bernard, get Dr. James. Hurry, please.”

Bernard ran off toward the school, his expression eager. Harry and Mrs. Z. focused on the woman who had attacked us. They bent down over her and examined her silently. As they did, they carried on a wordless conversation with their eyes that they thought no one else noticed.

Conversation ending with Harry glancing down in submission, Mrs. Z. stood and considered me, anger burning in her eyes. It made me feel as if I had done something wrong. “Miss Aim, please take Miss Flynn to my office. I’ll have Dr. James see to her when we’re done here.”

“I’m fine,” Carrie said, holding her nose. “It’s nothing.”

“No arguments,” Mrs. Z. said. “Please go.”

Tommy helped Carrie stand, hands lingering at her elbow to keep her steady. I stared at Mrs. Z., wanting to argue, wanting answers, but it was obvious that now wasn’t the right time.

As I stiffly turned to Carrie, Ben and Dana stepped to the front of the group. Ben regarded Carrie, then the two women on the ground. “What happened?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” I admitted, and it wasn’t even a lie.

Mrs. Z. gestured Ben over to her. I turned away from them and wrapped a hand around Carrie’s waist. Together, we walked up the hill to the school. We didn’t have to speak to know that we had just lived through something bad. The truth was in the air, humming with looming danger.