Dream Dancer (Ghosts Beyond the Grove Book 2) (13 page)

23.  Turning Tides

     After months of waiting for even a scrap of new information, I was now on information overload—the tide was finally starting to turn.  I had to be in Charlotte’s Grove no later than eleven o’clock and I was already behind schedule from the word go.  With closer to an hour and a half to make the two hour drive, I was going to have to drive faster than the posted speed limit.  Way faster. 

     I wasn’t the world’s best driver so I was nervous as hell as I merged into traffic and scooted over into the fast lane.  This wasn’t a drive I wanted to make on my own.  I wasn’t even a mile down the road when I called on my spectral minion for moral support. 

     “Clay!  Get your ass in this car!  I need you—NOW!”

     “Oh my God,” were the first words out of his mouth when he appeared in the passenger seat.  After he took a quick peek at how far I’d buried the needle on the speedometer, he got a crazy look in his eye and repeated himself.  Several times.  “Oh my God!  What suddenly makes you think you’re Danica Patrick?  You definitely have the body for it but, honestly Ruby, you’re a terrible driver!”

     I didn’t have time to be flattered
or
insulted.  Instead, I maneuvered around a pesky eighteen wheeler piled high with what had to be twenty foot long logs in the flatbed.  I practically had to break the sound barrier to do it but it was worth it.  No one who’s ever seen the movie Final Destination Two would stay behind a disaster waiting to happen like that one.  No one. 

     Once I caught my breath and Clay stopped shouting, “Oh my God!” again, the new information I had started spilling out of me.  I started with the reason why we were shooting down the interstate like we’d just robbed a bank.  Zach.  Zach was the only thing in this world worth risking my life for.

     “I got a text from Rachel earlier—she and Zach have been working on a plan to bust him out of the looney bin.  It’s going down soon.  Very soon.  He said they’ve been holding him there against his will—that he’s been ‘normal’ for quite a while but they still won’t let him leave.  If that’s true, we need to get him out of town immediately.  If not, I have a backup plan.”

     Which lead me back to the email I received from Roxanne.  The new advice from Salma was worth the wait.  According to her, moonstones change color when they absorb your aura.  That was fascinating enough on its own but the fact that I had somehow channeled Zach’s aura from a distance impressed even Salma.  The bond Zach and I shared was a strong one.  But whatever had a hold on him was equally powerful and unwilling to let go. 

     “She suggested that I anoint his half of the stone with the patchouli oil she gave me and then press it to forehead to attempt to cleanse his third eye.  If it weren’t for his well-timed escape plan, that of course, wouldn’t have been possible.  Serendipity strikes again.”

     “Sara who?” Clay asked, then muttered his new phrase one more time as I darted around a string of slow moving vehicles.  “Oh my God.”

     “Oh my God, Clay, how many times are you going to say oh my, God?  If I weren’t so busy trying to not die in a fiery crash, I would have counted the number of times you’ve said that in the last five minutes.  I swear it’s been more times than I’ve heard your usual response—scout’s honor.  And besides, it’s not like you can die again.  I don’t think.”

     “Way to reassure me there, Ruby.  So seriously, who is Sara Dippity?”

     Laughing on the inside, I explained to him what serendipity was.  And also synchronicity.  Lately, those two words had pushed patience and paradox almost entirely out of my vocabulary.  And I certainly wasn’t complaining.

     “Wow.  You’re right—things really are coming together.  All you need is to find Josette and you’re all set.”

     “I’ve already found her.  Take a look at that envelope you’re sitting on.”

     I giggled internally again as he contorted himself to get a better look at it.  I kept forgetting that he couldn’t manipulate objects like a living person can.  I nearly rear-ended a Toyota while watching him thrust his behind onto the dashboard.  Seriously, ghosts were going to be the death of me one way or another, weren’t they?

     “So that cop found her for you then?  Took him long enough.  Cops
never
had a problem finding me.”

     “But that’s just it, Clay.  Detective Bailey
didn’t
find her.  I did—by accident.  With a little help from serendipity.  I got this irresistible urge to take swimming lessons and that’s where I found her.”

     So this is the part where my inability to keep a secret for very long came into play.  I swore to Gabby that I wouldn’t tell anyone who she really was but I wasn’t going to be able to keep that promise—not entirely anyway.  Secrets were caterpillars and I was the cocoon.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop them from writhing around inside of me, trying to emerge.  But at least if Clay was the only one I could manage to tell, I would be doing better than I normally did.

     “My swim instructor, Gabby,
was
Josette.  She had to enter the witness protection program years ago.  She didn’t tell me why and I figured that I wasn’t supposed to ask.  But how coincidental is
that
?  I mean, the whole time I was searching for her, she was practically in my back yard.  And what made me decide to take swimming lessons in the first place?  It’s all mind boggling if you ask me.  She told me so much about Mom while I was there—it explains so much about who I am.  That envelope contains two letters my mom wrote shortly before she died.  One of them is written to me but I haven’t the time to read it yet.  I’m kind of scared to.”

     Okay, a
lot
scared.  According to both Roxanne and Gabby, Mom was able to predict the future through her dreams.  If she knew something bad about my future but couldn’t tell the four year old version of me, would she go so far as to warn me this way?  What if I opened that letter and found out the exact day, time, and manner in which I was going to die? 

     It wasn’t what I typically thought of as time travel but it still fit the abstract definition of it.  Knowing something you weren’t supposed to know yet could mess things up severely.  For my sake, I didn’t want to read that letter.  For Zach’s sake, I knew that I might need to.  But I wasn’t going to cross that bridge until I came to it.  And I was fully prepared to burn that thing the very second I was on the other side of it.

     The last forty five minutes of the drive flew by faster than the boring, snow covered interstate scenery while I told Clay what Gabby had said about that night at the Grand Canyon so many years ago and the full ramifications of what it meant.   

     “Are you going to tell your dad?” Clay asked just as I whipped us onto the exit ramp. 

     Holy.  Crap.  I was so wrapped up in everything else that that particular thought never entered my mind.  According to the clock in the car, I only had seven minutes to race across town to the Hideout.  Zach first, Dad later. 
Much
later and only after a serious conversation with Shelly about what I should do.

     I wound my way through town as fast as I could—including running what was definitely a red light near the library.  There wasn’t any oncoming traffic and no police cars in sight otherwise I wouldn’t have done it.  But as the minutes ticked down, I knew I needed to shave off every possible second just in case the police were busy hunting down my now-fugitive boyfriend.  As long as I could get to him first with the moonstone, things would be okay.  All I needed to do was keep him calm while I hunted down the last few answers that were almost within my grasp.

     I flew down that backroad and caught a glimpse of something bright yellow making its way into the path leading to the spot that Zach and I called our own.  It was unmistakably the tail end of Daisy, Rachel’s Volkswagen Beetle.  They were here.  Zach was here.  And there were no sirens or police cruisers in sight.  This was it—the perfect moment to administer the only possible cure for the entity that had such a stranglehold on him.  Serendipity was on my side.

     There they were, leaning casually against the trunk of the car.  His face lit up when he saw my car pull in beside them.  He looked much thinner and paler than the last time I’d seen him.  But his smile brightened my world the same as it did the day I met him.  I breathed a sigh of relief as I threw the car into park and leapt out to meet him with the moonstone nestled firmly in my clenched palm.

     I ran toward him with my arms wide open for the embrace I’d been waiting months for.  And that’s when his demeanor changed.  He became visibly uncomfortable—anxiety ridden to say the very least.  One second, he looked happy to see me.  The very next, he began backing away from me with a twisted look on his face like I repulsed him to the point of physical sickness.  Instinct told me to back off but all of the signs led me to ignore my own gut—for better or worse.

     “No, no, no, no, no,” he kept repeating, shaking his head rapidly back and forth.  Then he darted for the car. 

     I ran after him, grabbing ahold of his arm before he could close the door behind him.  All I needed was a few seconds to get that moonstone in place but he shook me off and reached for the door handle again.  Reeling from the adrenaline of what was quickly becoming a physical altercation, I leaned forward to balance myself against the side of the car.  He fired up the engine before the door was even shut.  This was my last chance to do what I needed to do.

     But before I knew what hit me, the car door slammed shut and a crushing pain seared through my right hand.  My fingers were caught in the door frame and I couldn’t get them out. 

     “Zach!” I screamed as loud as I could, “You have to open the door—my hand is stuck inside it!”

     The pain was excruciating—similar to the sensation of four appendages being amputated at the same time, I assumed.  But what hurt the worst was his reaction to it.  I watched terrified as he ignored me completely, still shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

     Once they realized what was happening, Rachel and Clay began to scream along with me but he ignored us all.  I rapped sharply on the window with tears streaming down my face—
begging
him to open the door for me.  Then he fell silent and stared straight ahead.  I watched him click the lock on his door in utter disbelief.  And then the car began to move.

     It was barely moving but I was still stuck, desperately dragging myself along with every inch it crept forward.  I had to get out before he sped up and ripped my hand to pieces.  In a split second, I somehow forged a plan. 

     “Rachel!  Catch!” I screamed then tossed her the moonstone.  “Get inside that car—now!  Press that thing to his forehead!  It’s the only thing that might stop him!”

     Confused yet compliant, Rachel snatched the passenger side door open a mere second before he attempted to lock it.  I clung desperately to the car, peering inside to see if my plan was going to work. 

     Rachel flung herself at Zach and forcefully smacked her hand against his forehead.  He slumped over instantly yet the car began to gain speed.  His unconscious foot was weighing heavier on the gas pedal and I was tripping over myself to keep up with the new rate of acceleration.

     The pain became so severe that I squeezed my eyes shut to block it out.  I was at the point of passing out when the pressure suddenly released and I was free.  Relief brought me to my knees and I sat there cradling my throbbing fingers in my other hand.  Rachel ground the car to a halt then crawled overtop of Zach to join me.

     I was besieged with shows of concern from both Clay and Rachel yet answering them was the furthest thing from my mind.  Why?  Because I’d caught a glimpse of something odd half-buried in the pile of rotting leaves I was crouched over.  With my good hand, I dug at them until that object was plainly visible.  I knew what I needed to do.

     Despite their pleas to stay where I was and rest for a minute, I hauled myself to my feet and stumbled to my car—dragging my new find along with me.  I threw it onto the passenger seat and reached for that envelope.

     I untucked the flap and dumped out what was inside of it.  Two letters in sealed envelopes fluttered down in front of me.  I snatched the one with my name on it and ripped it open with my teeth.  Speed reading through it, I honed in on one thing that confirmed my suspicions.  Then I hit the speed dial on my phone. 

     “Shelly!” I cried into my phone, the instant she picked up.  “I need to go to New Orleans.  Are you coming with me?”

     Serendipity wasn’t always sweet.  That was a painful lesson to learn.  But dark things often carried beauty too. 

24.  A Fire Inside

     I woke up back in my room at the hospital having no idea how long I’d been asleep.  My memories were all a jumble but the war inside my head had dissipated from a full-on rage to a distance rumble.  On my bedside table sat an oddly shaped, murky gray stone.  I didn’t know how it got there but I liked looking at it.  Curious, I picked it up to get a closer look at it. 

     It was smooth, warm to the touch, and strangely soothing.  I’d barely had it in my hand for a minute when something peculiar began to happen.  Right before my eyes, that stone started changing.